#I read a fic once where a rider went between

[razzek]

Absolutely horrible Pern thought of the day I woke up with but which I’ve had in mind for awhile:

Every dragon dies alone and separated from their rider.

We all know that when a dragon loses their rider they go between forever. If they’re lucky, they go with their rider on their back. If their rider dies and they jump between in horrible grief. That’s sad enough. But it gets worse.

At the absolute max, humans can survive without oxygen for maybe five minutes. Most people will be unconscious in about three. We learned in All the Weyrs of Pern that a dragon can hold their breath for about ten minutes, sometimes more.

Ergo, even if the rider goes with them, the dragon will be alone for at least five very crushing minutes before they finally lose consciousness. If the rider has died before they went between, they have ten minutes to deal with it and be in mental and emotional anguish.

(Don’t get me started on Beyond Between. That story makes no sense and was almost certainly written because Anne herself was thinking about her own mortality. If a person could just get stuck between like that there is no reason it wouldn’t be common knowledge among the dragons at the very least. And if you got stuck there after being fatally wounded, that’s not any kind of heaven, that’s what we would call hell.)

[callsign-joyride]

John Wayne | Chapter 3 | Rhett Abbott

Despite the mood board suggesting otherwise, my fics are size and POC inclusive.

Series masterlist | Previous part | Next part

Summary: Rhett ends up in the city for a friend's wedding. You're going through a rough breakup. A meet-cute in a cafe changes both of your lives.

Every John is just the same I'm sick of their city games I crave a real wild man I'm strung out on John Wayne

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader

Content warnings: This is a fast burn fic now, fluff

You and Rhett had been texting almost nonstop. It wasn’t like you couldn’t live without talking to each other, but it was that you didn’t want to. Of course, your coworkers were pretty relentless with the teasing. No one really believed you when you said that you were dating an actual cowboy, not even with the pictures to prove it. You promised to call him when you were done with work, which seemed to work perfectly. You got done with everything at around 7, and there was a two-hour difference between New York and Wyoming.

“Can we FaceTime? I’ve been dying to see your face,” Rhett said after you told him that you were back at the apartment.

“I don’t see why not. Just give me a minute to get my food.”

You ate together and had a light conversation until after both of you were done eating. That was when he started to ask some of the more “hard-hitting” questions.

“Okay, so, where do you see yourself in ten years?” He asked. You leaned back in your chair and took a minute to answer.

“Well, I hope I can have all of my student loans paid off by then. I love working for The Times so I’m hoping that maybe I’ll have a change in position or a raise. Maybe a house if I can afford it, one or two kids. What about you?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever leave Wabang. I didn’t go to college and I’m not good at a lot. I think I could see myself with kids. I love Amy, she’s my niece, so I feel like I’m good with kids. Definitely don’t quote me on that, though. I’ve got a foul mouth on me.”

The statement made you chuckle. He was definitely right about having a foul mouth. You completely lost track of time until Rebecca walked in.

“Hey, Rhett,” she said.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t long before you cleaned up the kitchen and went back to your room. You were still on the phone with Rhett, which was surprising. You didn’t normally do long phone calls, but he was special. It was getting late and you had to get ready for bed, but you made sure to text Rhett before you fell asleep.

“Who is that girl that he’s been on the phone with?” Cecelia asked Royal and Perry.

“He didn’t tell you? They met at a cafe in New York. We stopped there for coffee and they really hit it off,” Perry said.

“Huh, well are you sure that she’s even real? That boy has never had a girlfriend, let alone one that lives in the city,” Royal added.

“Oh, she’s real. Super pretty and nice, too.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You were eating lunch with Danielle when your phone chimed. It was a text from Rhett. You read it as it flashed across the screen.

“Oh my God!” You exclaimed.

“What? What is it?” She asked.

You quickly unlocked your phone and slid it across the table. Rhett texted you to ask if you wanted to visit him and his family in Wyoming.

“You need to go. He’s a bull rider, right?”

You nodded your head and took a sip of your drink.

“Ask him when his next ride is and go then. You know he’ll win, anyways. And you have a lot of vacation time saved up.”

“Okay.”

His next competition wouldn’t be for another two weeks, so you had time to get things figured out. The rest of the day seemed to go by alarmingly fast, but it also wasn’t really a busy day at the office. You texted Rebecca to meet in your room once you got back to the apartment because you “had news”. You almost jumped out of your bed as she practically kicked the door to your room open to ask what the news was.

“Rhett asked me if I wanted to go to Wyoming and meet his family… And I said yes.”

“What?! You’re kidding, right? Because you’ve only known each other for like two weeks and maybe that wouldn’t be a super great idea.”

“No, I’m serious. Danielle said to wait until his next competition and go then, which won’t be for another two weeks. So there’s time to get my stuff packed and everything. I’m actually really excited because they sound like nice people and everything. So hopefully, I don’t end up getting murdered.”

“I’ll help you pack but I hate that you are the way you are… I never said that he was gonna murder you.”

“It was heavily implied.”

It took a lot of persuading but you eventually got Rebecca not to pack your bags for you then and there. You were willing to let her take you shopping, but that was it. You didn’t really feel like you needed new clothes for the trip, but you loved going shopping with Rebecca so it was a fine balance. The first week went by in a blur. 

Maybe it was the excitement and the nerves, but that second week was agonizing. You couldn’t wait to get out of New York, even if it was just for a short amount of time. You made sure to send Rhett a picture of your ticket so that he had everything he needed to pick you up from the airport. Shopping with Rebecca quickly derailed as she dragged you into a Victoria’s Secret and picked up a black lingerie set.

“Okay, Wyoming is hot but it’s not that hot,” you said. She glared at you and sighed.

“Wear it under your clothes, dumbass. Or you could just wear it in general. No one cares. Well, no one cares that much. It’s a small town.”

“Yeah, and that’s part of the problem. Everyone knows everyone. It would be embarrassing.”

“Whatever. You’re hot. You know you’re hot, he knows you’re hot. I don’t really see the problem.”

“I guess I’ll buy it but I’m not listening to your advice. I’ve almost been arrested multiple times by taking your advice.”

It was hard not to laugh. Both of you knew that you were right, but it was quiet in the store and you didn’t want to look crazy. You got everything that you needed and (almost) everything that Rebecca thought you needed before walking around the mall some more. The candle store was irresistible even though you had at least one candle in almost every room of the apartment. You only had a gneral idea of what you were going to bring with you to Wyoming, so it took you a while to get your bags packed and put by your bedroom door.

“Okay, I love you, don’t get murdered, and take pictures of all of the cows,” Rebecca said as she pulled up to your gate at the airport. It was barely six in the morning, but you figured that an early flight would be best. You chuckled before making sure that you had everything that you needed in your bag.

“I can do the first two. Not too sure about the cows, though. That’s kind of a weird request.”

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @rosesvioletshardy @anotherr-fine-mess

[marinaiguess]

Sonaze for ask meme 👀

LMAO I LOVE THAT YALL WENT FOR SONAZE RIGHT AHEAD :))

What made you ship it?

It's a bit embarassing, but I was 10, maybe 11, with no internet acceess at my own house. When we'd visit family or friends, I'd play flash sonic games. One day, I bumped into that game where Sonic kisses Blaze and they have to not get caught? Yeah, that day was life changing for me lol. After that, I got truly invested, looking at videos of their interactions and reading every fic of them on fanfiction.net and drew fanart of the two skating with extreme gears (sonic riders zero gravity was the only game i had with blaze as a playable character so yeah). As I grew up and started having a better understanding of the english language, their interactions in sonic rush hit me like a bus and I understood I had made a right choice in what my OTP would be.

2. What are your favourite things about the ship?

I've talked about this many times and I don't wanna end up writing a whole essay. So, to keep it short, I'd say that I'm in love with their chemistry, with the antithesis between their characters that bring them closer, Sonic being the reason for Blaze to accept herself, to understand that her powers are not a curse and that she should ask for help when she needs it, the enemies to friends (to lovers) trope and the symbolism, fire and wind. The thing is, they work together extremely well, even if it just them being friends.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Is there? Idek what is considered unpopular. But I'd say that the whole 'worlds keeping them apart' thing could be something they'd both enjoy. They can't give up their lives for one another sure, but they don't want to, they don't need to in order to make it work, right? That's what I believe. Both would be content with having a long-distance relationship, that's what I'm trying to say. (Even though, I don't know if they'd actually ever get in a relationship, Sonic would hate commitments and Blaze would respect that, she doesn't mind)

Thank you for giving me the chance to talk about them once again, I adore them <3

[yanny-77]

Oooh I had a similar debate with a friend the other day.

I’m a woman but I tend to write and relate to male characters. Why? I spent my college years practically living in a frat house. All my friends are dudes. I’m loud and boisterous and talk sports and make crude jokes. (Fun fact: I got into fantasy romance books to help me bond with my friends’ wives and girlfriends).

I’m not saying all this to be like, “Look at Yanny! She’s not like other girls!” But to explain that it makes sense that people write from the perspectives they relate too.

I would really struggle to write Violet because I don’t relate to her in any capacity…well other than staring at all the shirtless dudes in the rider’s quadrant because 🔥🔥🥵🥵

For me, I also have no interest in writing Riorgail. That relationship has already been explored and getting to write something new is so much more fun. I tried to write a Gwynriel fic (ACOTAR) once and I abandoned it after four chapters because I was bored because I didn’t really have anything new to bring to the ship. I’m pretty sure the same thing would happen if I tried to write a Riorgail long fic.

(I say as if I don’t have a Riorgail WIP that went from 500 words to 5 whole fucking chapters)

I think part of the reason that I’m so excited for the @rq-gift-exchange is that it gives writers a chance to break out of their comfort zones. Based on the sign ups, I think a lot of people are down to try out other pairings. (There’s nothing wrong with writing Riorgail, I just want to build some healthy ship diversity.

As for Violet, I love to tease Violet. Girl has a one track mind and that track leads straight between Xaden Riorson’s legs. But who can’t relate to that at some point in her life?

Also, I’m so fucking proud of her for the way she never gave up and succeeded in the Rider’s Quadrant despite all odds. In November 2022, I got incredibly sick and was left with a permanent disability. My illness is nothing like Violet’s but seeing her overcome obstacles helped me start to realize that my life could stay “normal” and complete.

Girl is right to be pissed at Xaden for the childish games he played in Iron Flame.

“Ask me.” Dude, why don’t you just tell her. I am way more Xaden critical than Violet critical because that man’s a mess and trying to lead a revolution while he can’t even keep himself in order. (Or maybe it’s because ever since I thought of King Bodhi, I’m unwilling to accept anything else. Who’s to say?)

I’ve noticed that a lot of female leads get undeserved hate from readers. Violet and Feyre (ACOTAR) are prime examples of it. Trust me, we want a FMC who makes mistakes and does stupid shit. Do you know how boring it is when the FMC is perfect?

Violet means well, and while she’s often misguided, that’s all I really ask from my protagonists.

But also, why read a book where you hate the main character? Wild.

Why does no one write Bodhi as queer?

There's like hundreds of fics of him with random female OC's but there's 4 fics under Bodhi/Ridoc (and one is literally mine so it doesn't count for me) and 4 under Bodhi/Liam (but only 2 have plot).

Like I can only see him as queer and I want more fic recommendations but I've read them all!

It's really infuriating and I'm writing fics with Bodhi/Ridoc in them (in fact they're the main couple in one) but it's not the same as getting to read others.

Anyway rant over now, I'll just reread the ones posted.

[jetiisyandereclones]

Anchor in the sands, part 1

Yandere! Obi wan x plus sized Jedi! Reader

@professional-yearner

With his mental state deteriorating in exile, Obi Wan latches on to the one constant in his life.

Warnings:

Attempted suicide

Panic attacks

PTSD

NSFW (Sex scenes, Nudity)

Age difference (Obi Wan only became romantically attracted to Y/N in her mid 20s)

Depictions of PTSD and suicidal thoughts/actions may not be accurate!

Notes:

Though not the center of the story Obi Wan is older than Y/N, by about 9 or 10 years. She would be about the same age as Anakin.

In this fic order 66 happens and reader, who was a close friend to Anakin and Obi Wan, chose to stay with him on his mission to protect Luke.

Sex scenes are not my strong point, so take what you read with a grain of salt.

I like to imagine the reader as having one of those builds where they look very soft and comforting, but have a lot of muscle hiding underneath and is more athletic than they look.

In an abandoned moisture farm in the Jundland wastes a man was pacing back and forth nervously. His hands shaking around the com he held as he once again sent a message out to his only companion on this world.

“Y/N, Y/N can you hear me? It’s Obi Wan. Please respond.”

No reply

“Y/N, please pick up. There’s a storm coming in. I’m worried”

Static

Obi Wan wanted to throw the com across the room. His breathing becoming ragged as he imagined everything that could of happened to his lovely Y/N.

Caught up in a drug war.

Shot in a seedy part of town. Parts of town she often found herself in for her role as a healer.

Captured and sold as a slave by The Hutts.

Taken by an inquisitor….

He stopped himself there. Y/N was a far more capable Jedi than people ever expected. Her kindness was not often mistaken for weakness, it when it was, they didn’t make the same mistake twice.

He shouldn’t worry. She was beautiful and charming and could talk her way out of a Krayt dragons den. But still. He wanted her here with him.

Here where he dreams of draping his arm around her beautiful soft body. Tracing the curves and valleys of her skin, looking into her beautiful eyes and seeing his love reflected in them.

He wanted the world for them, but Obi Wan was a coward for Y/N.

So he went back to pacing, the thought of her back home, snuggling up all cute having eased his mind enough to keep trying to reach her, but this calm would not last for long.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

In another part of the dessert, not far out from the Lars homestead a women rode her orlak, heading towards the wastes she called home. The normally unbothered animal started to throw its tasked head at a rock in the distance, getting restless, trying to speed up and prancing in circles when the rider tried to turn it back in the right direction.

“Calm down orla,”

Y/N muttered, hesitant to raise her voice and gain unwanted attention this time of night. She was supposed to be back home hours ago but there had been a spike of fever shooting through Mos Eisley.

She had been told it was a phenomena that strikes each year before the rains fall, and every nurse, doctor, healer and medicine man was needed to contain the outbreak. So she had stayed. Going from patient to patient, doing her best to comfort and take care of the people around her. Occasionally there was a serious case, one where the patient didn’t look like he was gonna make it through the night.

Not finding this an acceptable outcome, she dared to use small, trace amounts of the force. Stimulating the life energy inside the patient long enough for their body to fight off the fever.

Y/N had been successful, but it was hard, and for her, dangerous work. She worried slightly about the possibility of anyone sensing her. But no one came, so she figured she was safe.

This time.

So that’s how she found herself here. Outside the Lars’, in the middle of the night, with what looked like the storm of the century brewing between her and home.

And her usually calm and intelligent Orlak was pitching a fit at a rock.

Perfect.

Finally giving into the animals demands she heads towards the rock that insulted her friend so badly. Getting closer and closer the ‘rock’ started to look more and more like a person. When she was about six feet away Y/N dismounted Orla and approached what turned out to be an unconscious Beru Lars.

On this realisation Y/N quickly got to work assessing her injuries using the light of her torch.

Beru was knocked out alright, but thankfully the cut on her forehead didn’t seem to be the cause, as Y/N saw a needle with a very familiar liquid in it. A harmless enough poison. Too weak to hurt a human but enough to send them to sleep.

However Beru was gonna have one hell of a headache when Y/N woke her up.

Hovering a hand above the woman’s head, Y/N focused a small amount of the force into Beru’s injuries. Picturing it winding itself into the torn edges of her skin and gently sewing it back together, closing the wound.

Job one done, now all Y/N had to do was wake her up.

She didn’t need to use the force for this. Beru was no longer in danger of bleeding out, although concussion was a bit of a worry for her.

Having used too much of the force already today, Y/N went into Orla’s saddle bag and brought out some smelling salts and a water skin. Uncorking the salts the strong smell forced her to recoil, but it did it’s job and Beru jolted back to life.

Dizzy with what seemed to be more from dehydration than anything else, Beru blearily looked towards the blurry figure infront of her.

Y/N offered her the skin and Beru drank greedily, her shaking hands supported by Y/N’s strong, steady ones.

“It’s okay. Orla found you out here like this. Looks like you were darted and hit your head on the way down.”

Y/N said gently as she pulled the skin away from Beru. Concerned she may throw it up if she drank much more.

Suddenly Beru’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Y/N’s wrist.

“LUKE! They got Luke, they took him.”

This got Y/N’s full attention, suddenly not as concerned for the storms anymore.

“Beru, calm down. Who got Luke?”

“The sand people. He wondered too close to a caravan and they took him. I don’t know why, he wasn’t doing anything. I didn’t even see him approach, I turned my head for one second and he was gone!”

She desperately explained, on the verge of tears.

“Which direction?”

Y/N asked, not willing to waste anymore time.

“Umm, north east, it was a caravan that passes through the borders every week to trade with the Jawas. I think they have a permanent camp about an hours ride from here. But you can’t possibly be thinking about going after them alone?”

“I….am?”

I reply, questioningly at her. Worried but determined.

“I know you were a.. a Jedi.. but you can’t go alone they, they’ll…..”

“Beru.”, I say sternly. “Either I go now or we wait gods knows how long for the storm to pass and for Owen to gather enough men who aren’t sick or busy with the sick. Now, can I give you a lift home and borrow a speeder?”

Beru looks at Y/N with surprise, having never really heard her get stern before. A reminder that she used to command armies in battle. That She was perfectly capable of handling the sand people”

“Uh, yeah, that should be fine” Y/N helped Beru up onto Orla’s back, climbing up after her.

“Y/N, uh, thank you. I know you and Owen don’t really get along, at all, but for Luke, thank you.”

Y/N smiled at her, and set off at a brisk trot towards Beru’s house, where she left a very tired Beru, antsy Orla, and left with a speeder and blaster rifle, at the insistence of a gruff, and awkwardly thankfull Owen.

Before leaving he informed Y/N that Orla would be well taken care of, and that when she brings Luke back there will be a bed and meal waiting should she need it.

Y/N nodded at him. Touched by his faith in her abilities.

With that she set out into the night, in what was thankfully the opposite direction of the storm. One thing she forgot though, was her com which was still in her saddle bag constantly beeping and about to die.

As Y/N cut across the dessert she let her thoughts wander a bit. Back to home, where her old friend was and she grew concerned for him. He had grown somehow both more distant and more affectionate in the last few years. Obsessed with knowing where she was, he possessive over her when they were out in public together, pulling Y/N closer to him and laying his arm around her shoulder to ward off any sleezebags that commented about her size and or figure.

And there had been a few.

At first it had flattered her, made her blush. This man was the object of nearly every adult woman’s desire at the temple. Quite a few men too. He was charming, incredibly handsome, and dear gods he always smelt so divine. More than one person had been dared to steal his robes while at the temple.

They had always been friends but Y/N had always harboured a deeper affection for him. Something that had caused no lack of amusement for Anakin. But for the sake of their friendship She pushed it to the side.

It honestly seemed to her like he had a secret relationship going with his commander for a while. A not all uncommon occurrence if she was going to be honest, but one that they needed to be careful with. Then along came Satine back into his life. Y/N was never jealous of her. She was everything a woman wished they could be. Calm, kind, elegant, smart, and tough. She was a firm believer in pacifism and while not sharing that opinion, Y/N could defiantly respect her for sticking to her morals.

It crushed Obi Wan when she died. It crushed Y/N to see him so destroyed, empty and hopeless.

She could not bring herself to confess her feelings to him. Not then. So she fell into the role she knew best. A friend. At the time, she genuinely didn’t think that she was his type. Too large, ungracefull and not all that powerful, if she was going to be honest. She always took the sidelines compared to the absolutely beautiful women and handsome men he seemed to attract anywhere he went. And she got used to that position coming to appreciate the view.

But since coming here, even a little bit before, if Y/N was going to be honest, he had started to get closer. Clingier, more… she could only describe it as loving.

He’d check in on her, keep her company after a rough mission, hug her when in pain and defend her when she was being attacked, whether it was on the field or by someone closer to home.

Maybe one day she would dare to hope. But that would have to wait.

She had found the camp.

——————-————————————————————————————————————————————

Back in theJundland wastes, Obi Wan’s sanity was deteriorating. He was pacing, shaking and breathing raggedly, com in hand.

He had been calling and calling Y/N. Over and over for hours.

“ Y/N, please, darling pick up!”

“Please come home Y/N, I… I need you”

“Y/N, I’m begging you, talk to me, I love you”

“Please come home Y/N. Don’t leave me here alone. I don’t think I can be alone anymore, not since you’ve come along”

“I’m sorry for whatever I did, just please come back to me. Let me love you I’ll be so good to you, my sweet”

He sent one more message. He didn’t mean to but he did, it was a five minute long message of him crying.

He had curled up on himself and accidentally pressed send gripping the device, the only connection he had to his lovely, sweet Y/N.

After his last messages came back with nothing he threw the com across the room, accidentally using the force to destroy it as he curled in on himself and sobbed.

He kept re living all the deaths that had happened during the war. Gruesome and cruel. He kept seeing his darlings face on their bodies. Dull and lifeless. Her body next to Satine’s. Cody and Maul standing over them, mocking his weakness.

His failure.

His inability to keep the ones he loved alive.

His cowardice for running from Satine, leaving his confession too late.

His betrayal of Cody, as he left him behind to be a puppet for the empire.

His failure of Anakin, letting him fall to the dark side.

What a disappointment he must’ve been for Y/N. He never told her how he felt, hiding in the Jedi code. He neglected her for years as he tried to selfishly keep her at arms length, despite wanting nothing more than to bring her in close enough so that he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

He despised how many times he left her to wonder why she never seemed to be enough.

If she wasn’t beautiful enough.

If her body was unattractive.

He should’ve told her. He should’ve told her that she’s angelic to him. She’s soft, and sweet and warm and everything he had wanted after the war.

But now it’s probably too late. She’s probably out in the dessert, being torn apart by scavengers or worse, on a ship in another man’s arms.

And unworthy man’s arms. There’s not a single being in this galaxy that deserves her love and her dedication. He was no different but he knew, if given the chance, he could love her more, and care for her better than any slime ball for a thousand systems.

Obi wan looked up as the lamp light caught something and bounced into his eye.

Up on the table, a knife that Y/N had purchased from market for entirely too much sat. It’s half shined blade gleaming. She was adamant she could fix it up, and he was nothing if not a slave to her desires.

Obi Wan felt a rush of determination come over him.

He would wait for her. Wait for the sun to come up and hopefully bring her with it. But if the morning brought nothing but clouds, darkness and an empty, cold doorway, than he would not be forced to be alone again. He would be with his beloved. In this life or the next.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Y/N approached the camp. Not knowing exactly how to non threateningly gain their attention, she sucked in a deep breath, and let out her best howl, trying to emulate their own calls.

It didn’t work. Not really.

It got their attention, but they still surrounded her, weapons drawn and trained on her.

Through the wall of sandy coloured robes she spotted a small boy with golden hair in white clothes. Looking scared but otherwise fine.

‘Bingo’ she thought to herself.

Slowly, so as to not spook the sand people she began to remove the blaster rifle from her shoulder and put it down on the ground. The lines in the sand peoples shoulders eased but their weapons were still trained on her.

In her best attempt at communicating with them through sign language, she told them that she was not here to fight, merely to discuss terms for taking to boy back home.

Luckily they understood her rough signing and most of the weapons were lowered. All but two which followed her to a fire on the edges of camp, where she was sat down infront of a sand person with decorated robes.

He handed her a melon and gestured to break it open. Taking one for himself and drinking it’s contents. She copied him, despite the foul smelling liquid. Not want to offend and make things more difficult.

Eventually, she managed to drain the melon.

She put its skin to the side and started to explain the situation with Luke.

“He didn’t mean any harm. He is adventurous and curious, not old enough to know better.”

“The boy trespassed onto our caravan and attempted to make off with our supplies. This cannot go unpunished”

“And what did you plan on doing to him? He’s a three year old child, he can barley walk in a straight line. If it’s and issue of damaged supplies or tribute I’d be happy to pay for both his and my own safe release back home.”

“This may be a larger price than you expect. We cannot allow such actions to be ignored and forgotten. Not even for the begging of a pretty lady”

“What do you want” Y/N asked, resolute.

“You are Jedi are you not.”

At this Y/N went white

“How did you know”

“I am shaman and healer for this tribe. I have seen many moons pass by. And I have seen you many times from up on the ridge, healing what cannot be healed.”

“What do you want” Y/N asked again.

“A favour. One single favour from a Jedi that they cannot refuse once asked.”

Y/N weighed her options. It had not escaped her notice that he failed to mention what this favour would be, or when it would be called in. It made her uneasy, but she had no choice.

“Done”

The shaman tilted his head at her.

Despite her best efforts, Y/N could not get a read on his emotions or thoughts, seeming to her like there was an impenetrable fog around his being.

“Careful child. This is no small promise. We will ask whatever we want of you and you cannot refuse us. Are you sure you wish to leave with this promise?”

“Do I have a choice?” Y/N signed

“No”

And with a howl Luke is shoved into Y/N’s arms. They were escorted back to owens speeder, Y/N gratefully accepting the blaster rifle back as they climbed on.

With a rev of the engine and a cloud of dust they were off into the night, Y/N hoping to be able to make it back before morning came and the storms hit.

Explaining to Owen that she had to go back home, he told her to be careful. The sand people were crafty. That if she wanted an escort he’d take her.

Y/N could tell he wanted to stay home with his wife and nephew.

“I’ll be fine Owen. The storms shouldn’t hit for another two hours at least.”

“Suit yourself” he grunted. But Y/N could see the relief on his face.

Y/N took out into the night on Orla, happy to finally be heading home.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

The sun was rising. It’s cold light filtered through angry storm clouds, slow and thick, casting everything in its dimness.

Obi Wan was sitting on the floor, knife in hand watching it come up, but not bring Y/N with it.

Everything seemed to be happening in a slow blur, everything but him and the knife in his hand.

He turned it over, seeing every last detail on the blade with hyper focus.

It was still rusty down near the handle. Y/N had not finished restoring it when she took off into Mos Eisley yesterday. Though the tip and a majority of the blade was wicked sharp and gleaming in the pale morning light.

He wanted to memorise everything about that blade. Something she had poured love and time into. She had wanted to fix the blade just as she had wanted to fix every other broken thing she found and brought into their home.

Obi Wan noted the small engravings on the blade.

Water like patterns that were once hidden behind rust twisted around the knife with traces of what looked like some sort of pinkish, orange metal inlaid into them. Quite a pretty colour, if he was going to be honest. The handle had been in rough shape too. When she picked it up it looked dull. An ugly light brown and very splintered with darker ugly brown lines on it. He could vaguely recognise these as carvings but he had taken one look at the knife and dismissed it as trash, not worthy of the time it would take to fix.

But Y/N saw it and like usual saw the potential it could have. He couldn’t say no to her and she looked so excited so he got her the knife and she got to work immediately, and with a focus and skill that would make a seasoned tradesman blush.

He once asked her why she always chose to fix old things, even when she had the option not to.

“We don’t have the republics wallet anymore. Besides, I’m good at being broke”

He had looked at her confused and she happily elaborated.

“When your poor you have two options. You can look for the slightly rough things with potential and fix them up. Or you can get new shit cheap that looks cheap and falls apart in a matter of months.

If I buy say, a wardrobe, for example, the sides are coming off, the door doesn’t close right and the wood hasn’t been re sealed in years so stain is starting to fade. But it’s a beautiful dark wood, with a crystal mirror, hand carvings and going for 60 dollars, than that’s nothing but opportunity.

Take that bad boy home, find out the repairs are all minor ones, fix it up and boom. Suddenly you have a beautiful restored antique worth hundreds and will outlive your grandchildren that someone threw away, because they were bad at being broke and didn’t know something worthwhile when they saw it.”

She had gone on a bit of a rant about the importance of being able to fix and maintain what you own after that and Obi Wan had listened to every word. He loved hearing her talk and she had a lot to say.

Y/N was an extremely intelligent and skilled woman. She could point out what he saw as nothing but a collapsed pile of metal, wood and leather and tell him exactly what it was and how she could fix it up like brand new. She had bought a lot on new projects that day.

Projects that started to turn the abandoned moisture farm into a home that Obi Wan wanted to come back to. Her touch was everywhere. Old furniture lovingly brought back to life by her hands and had withstood every punishment time had thrown at it. Old broken down speeders and droids and ship parts littered one of the old sheds she had commendered as a workshop. Projects for when the sand storms hit and they were trapped in the wastes for days, sometimes weeks on end.

That’s where she should be now. Out in her workshop going to town dismantling an engine piece or dragging him out onto the roof to teach him how to properly insulate and re seal it from the weather.

Obi Wan mused that he wasn’t so different from the house, or furniture, old droids and weapons. They had all been taken under Y/N’s nurturing wings. Worked on with love where neglect had once ran rampant. And like everything around him, he was completely hers.

Taking a deep breath he lowered the blade to his wrist. The metal shining.

But he wasn’t like the knife.

No matter how much she worked on him, tried to heal him and bring some life back to him he would not come up good and shiny again. He didn’t think he had it in himself to be the man he once was, anymore. He was more of a burden to Y/N now. With his mission and his hiding. She could be anywhere in the galaxy right now. Sitting in the lap of luxury even.

Instead he had chained her to this old remote, broken down farm, with an old, broken down Jedi.

He didn’t blame her for leaving. He was no use to her in this life and he was not going to hold her back any more. He would wait for her in the force instead. Give her an eternity of peace after giving her a happy life without him slowing her down.

Luke would be fine. Owen wouldn’t tell him about his father or his abilities so he’d have no reason to go looking for a teacher or to branch out into the force.

With that final thought he delicately dug the knife down into his wrist, chest heaving as blood started to ooze out of the beginnings of the cut.

He had taken the knife out and gone in for another cut when the door suddenly opened.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

It had taken a lot longer to get home than Y/N had thought it would. While the rains hadn’t come down, yet, a sudden sandstorm had washed in and drastically slowed her journey home. What should have taken an hour and a half took four hours, trying to navigate through the sands using the force and stopping to calm Orla down when she started to panick. At this point all she wanted was to be at home with Obi Wan and take a nice long nap. Tatooines annual snap winter was about to break and they’d be isolated for the duration of the season, which was fine by her. She could nap for as long as she wanted and maybe even make use of the bath while water wasn’t being wanted for.

Y/N loved this time of the year. Loved the milder weather, the sound of the storm and the water that was for once in abundant supply, filling all their tanks, both main, spare and for selling, to the brim and then some, flowing off the roof of Obi Wans and her humble but cosy home.

Y/N was made for rainy weather. The cold and icy winds suited her far better than the unrelenting sun and heat. She was always of the opinion that the cold brought people together, bringing them closer for warmth and creating a bond that could not be replicated. The heat drove people apart, mad them short tempered, irritated and longing for space.

She didn’t tell Obi Wan that. She would never make him feel as though she didn’t want to be here. While she didn’t enjoy the climate his company more than made up for Tatooines shortcomings.

As Y/N approached the farmhouse, she sensed something was wrong. The force was screaming at her. Obi Wan’s signature was wrapping itself around hers like it was trying to bind them together and drag them away. It seemed absolutely panicked in its attempts to latch on to her.

Jumping off of Orla she made a break for the main house area. She wasn’t worried about her friend. Y/N knew the orlak would want to be out of the sun as soon as possible and make her own way to her stables.

Y/N didn’t slow down to open the door, Obi Wan’s force signature was becoming aggressive in its attempts to get closer to hers, battering against the edges of her senses. She ran to the door and just burst her way in.

Looking around the room what she saw made her blood run cold. Obi Wan, on the floor, hunched over his upturned arm, with her knife in hand.

“OBI WAN” Y/N screamed.

He startled, having been too far into his head to hear the door open, but he’d hear that voice no matter what state he was in.

Unfortunately the surprise of her arrival had caused him to slip with the knife, which now was held in his shaking hand, his grip loosening.

Y/N had ran to him and skidded to an ungraceful stop on her knees infront of Obi Wan, who seemed to be more transfixed on her sudden appearance than the blood that was running down his wrists at an alarming rate.

Y/N was on the verge of panicking. The puddle of blood on the floor getting bigger and bigger. She immediately tried to pack his wrists, taking off her outer shirt and wrapping itself around his shaking, but compliant arm.

She knew she would have to use the force again. But the long night and day she had had all but exhausted her, having not exerted herself this much in years. Her hands started to shake as she once again called the force. Obi Wan’s signature still trying to wrap itself around her,making it difficult to concentrate. Y/N’s hands were shaking and tears were falling down her cheeks but she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about her exhaustion or the fact that she might bring an inquisitor right to their home. All she knew was her friend was going to die is she didn’t act fast enough.

Y/N didn’t look up. Didn’t look at Obi Wan but if she had she would have seen his own eyes, wide open filled with tears and an incomprehensible amount of joy, love and possessiveness in them. Delirious and dizzy with blood loss he tried to move, to reach out to her and bring her close. Try to comfort and wrap himself around her like the rolling wave of his force signature was doing to her own. But he was so tired, his chest heaving so bad he could only sit there, repeating, ‘ you came back, please don’t leave me, Why didn’t you answer my calls?’, over and over again in a rough, slightly slurred voice.

Having mended his wrist to the point where their weak, watered down bacta spray and bandages would do the rest of the work Y/N fell back, reaching out to the chest which held the med kit with a shaking hand.

She found the items she needed and shoddily dressed his wound, saying he was going to be okay and that she would fix him up properly later.

Obi Wan suddenly grabbed her wrist. For the first time she looked up at him, at all the raw emotions that she had no doubt were reflected in her eyes, and with a surprising strength pulled her into him. He wrapped his arms around her with a steely grip, buried his face in her shoulder and openly started to bawl. His flood of emotions triggered her own the they stayed there like that. Y/N draped over his lap, their heads pressed as far into each other’s skin as they could get and they cried and sobbed unashamedly, and without restraint together until the adrenaline wore off and the both passed out on the floor in each others arms.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

Obi wan woke up first. His eyes dry and itchy and head pounding with what was honestly the worst headache he had ever had. He felt dizzy and sick and thirsty as he became aware of his surroundings.

The darkness in the room, the rain beating against the walls and roof of the house.

The loose, twisted and bloody bandage around his wrist, and finally, the war, weight of Y/N in his lap.

He paused for a bit, stilling. Trying to dig through fuzzy memories and figure out how he had gotten here.

He looks at the bandage, and it came rushing back to him.

The knife, Y/N disappearing. Her sudden re appearance.

He got a bit pale then. He had almost died.

He had nearly KILLED himself.

Obi Wan, terrified at his own actions unconsciously gripped Y/N tighter, and she shifted, whining at the strength of his arms

Obi Wan, blushing furiously let her go, expecting her to roll off of his lap at the loss of contact.

He expected her to yell, scream, tell him he’s an idiot, a failure. That she shouldn’t have to put up with his shame any longer and that she was leaving him alone with his life of misery and duty. The thought of her rejection was nearly enough to send him into another panic attack, with his currently vulnerable mental state.

However his spiralling thoughts were cut off before they had any real chance of taking off.

Y/N whined again, and had started squirming in protest of the sudden cold that enveloped her when Obi Wan took his arms away.

Looking for more of that heat she tried to bury her face in Obi Wan’s chest. Cutely nuzzling and nosing into his weathered robes. However it wasn’t enough to save Y/N’s sleep and she came to. Groggy and dishevelled and indescribably beautiful to Obi Wan.

Her eyes blinked open. She looked as drained as he felt. Suddenly she jerked. Backing away from him and he desperately tried to follow her, craving her closeness now more than ever.

But she was worried, and looked so heartbreakingly lost.

It looked like she was going to say something, but instead all she could do was cough at the dryness in her throat.

“I need a drink”, she croaked “ stay here I’ll get you one too,”

“Y/N”

“I should also change that bandage as well,”

“Y/N”

“I gotta check on orla, I left her completely to fend for herself”

Obi Wan stepped up to her, his arms going around her waist and pulling her into him as she continued to get more and more unsettled.

“Obi Wan, what are you…?”

“Please don’t do that. Don’t…don’t run away from me.”

She still couldn’t look Obi Wan in the eye. That’s not what he wanted. He needed her to look at him. See him and know that with her here, close to his heart, there was no danger. No pain.

Leaning back and gently taking her face in his rough palm, he tilted her head up towards his, getting in close and leaning his forehead against hers.

“Don’t hide from me. I never wanted to scare you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought you had gone”

Her eyes, wide at his proximity and seemingly not knowing where to look, flickered around his face, multiple times landing on his lips, unconsciously licking her own.

Obi Wan got closer, a hairs breath away.

“Please let me kiss you” he muttered quietly, as if their lips weren’t already touching each other.

But reality kicked in.

He, of course had not recovered properly yet and his dizziness took over.

He slumped against Y/N who stumbled in shock but managed to stabilise the both of them. And get him to the table. The room was washed in a warm glow as Y/N found the light switch, noting they had slept right through until two in the morning.

“Right, ahh, we’re gonna talk about that” at this she gestured to Obi Wan’s wrist, looking a little lost for what to do, “later. For now I’m gonna go get us some water and re bandage you”

She shuffled off, cursing as she ran into the corner of the table not seen in the low light.

As Obi Wan listened to her move around the kitchen he pondered about what to tell her.

He was done with the pretence of only being friends. He wanted her. In every way someone can want someone else. Body mind and soul. What he wasnt prepared for though, was the sheer panick and hopelessness he felt at the thought of her leaving him behind.

His force signature wound itself around hers content and peaceful to bask in her warmth. It tells the truths a person can’t admit, not even to themselves. Qui Gon had once told him.

Obi Wan contemplated what this meant for him and his Y/N.

Maybe for once, he could be brave and selfish and take something for himself. He didn’t want to know what life would be like without her. He couldn’t handle that anymore.

Obi Wan had become dependant on Y/N to help him weather the storms of his depression. Guide him through the stress and strain of his mission. To anchor him in reality when hysteria threatened to close in around him.

He would be brave for once. He would not allow himself to be without his sweet Y/N, and in return, wanted to be everything Y/N wanted in a man.

In a partner

In a lover

Maybe even a husband.

Suddenly the vision of her by his side, a young boy holding her hand as he levitates a miniature ship around a young girls head came to mind. They both had Y/N’s eyes and his nose. It was just them in this little home far away from other people who would hurt them.

There was just him, his love, and his family in a bubble of sweet bliss.

‘Yes’, Obi Wan thought, ‘for that, I can do the hard thing’

Y/N suddenly made an appearance again. Snapping Obi Wan out of his reverie. She had her arms full with two large glasses and a jug of water along with the first aid kit and some boiled candies he knows she swipes from the market occasionally.

Putting everything down she instructed him to give her his arm and slowly drink the water. He ignored her, gulping it down as soon as the liquid touched his lips.

In all fairness she did too.

Obi Wan poured both of them some more. He suddenly spoke up.

“Why didn’t you answer any of my calls.”

After taking off the bandage she looked up

“Huh?”

“My calls. I commed you for hours. Why didn’t you answer?”

“I’m so sorry Obi Wan, I wasn’t on the com all day. There were hundreds of fever cases and I was kept busy the whole time I was in town. I didn’t get away until it was already dark and when I did the storm was already threatening and must’ve created too much interference to get a good signal where I was. Then Orla found Beru knocked out and there was a whole thing with Luke and the sand people…”

At this Obi Wans head snapped up, moving his arm and messing up the gauze Y/N was attempting to apply.

“What.”

With a grunt of displeasure Y/N threw the used gauze to the side, going back to dab at the cut as it started to bleed a bit again from the sudden movement tearing up a scab.

“Stay still. Luke had wandered too close to a caravan. They took him and darted Beru when she tried to get him back. Orla found her and I took her home, swapping for a speeder to go get Luke.”

At this she looked up at him

“I’m sorry. I must’ve left my com in her saddle. I should’ve brought it with me or checked in. I just didn’t think to do that at the time”

She looked genuinely sorry. Obi Wan took her hand with his uninjured one, running his thumb across her knuckles as he brought her palm to his lips, tenderly kissing it and resting it against his cheek.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. If I had thought clearly instead of panicking, this wouldn’t have happened. You saved us both.”

Obi Wan genuinely replied, looking into her stunned, furiously blushing face.

She clears her throat. Trying to gain control of her voice again and praying that it doesn’t crack.

“I think thats done��� she let go of my bandaged wrist and gently took back her other hand, reluctant to part from him.

“I’m gonna go check on Orla, get her stabled properly.”

She took a step towards the door, then turned back.

“You should really hit the sonic while I’m out. We both smell like shit and I’m gonna want it when I get back.”

Her bedside manner had not improved much. Obi Wan had long since discovered Her roughness with her patients, despite her gift in healing.

Y/N strode out into the rain towards Orla’s stable. Needing the familier task to help clear her head. Obi Wan smiled, throwing back the rest of the water and popping one of the candies in his mouth as he carefully headed towards the refresher.

Once in the sonic it hits Obi Wan what time of the year it is. Winter.

Perfect.

Y/N loved the rain and it was the one time of year they didn’t have to worry about conserving water. Which meant they could make use of the giant tub in the corner of the refresher.

It was another buy that Y/N found at market. Back then it had been a giant rust bucket. But now it was a gleaming copper claw foot tub with a shiny black Porcelain Finnish on the outside. It had taken Y/N a while to complete that one. Having to learn how apply a porcelain finish, how to repair and treat the copper and then she had to find the right materials to do so. It was an expensive job, even doing it herself but she wanted it bad, arguing that if they can only take actual baths and showers for one week out of the entire year, they may as well be “fancy as fuck.”

He had since come to agree with her. Having used the bath and more recently water shower to relax when water supplies allowed. But tonight, after Y/N had finished in the sonic shower he wanted to invite her to join him for a bath. She seemed receptive of his advances before and he has waited far too long for a chance at intimacy with her.

The thought of being in the bath with Y/N, candles reflecting light onto her damp skin as she leans against him, nothing and no space between her soft skin and his own scarred skin made his cock twitch, blood rushing south as unbidden thoughts of loving up on, and making love to Y/N came to mind.

He palmed himself gently, allowing one small pump. If he got off tonight he wanted it to be with Y/N. As he brought her over and over to ecstasy, tasting, touching, hearing and seeing all of her, and offering all of himself in return.

Finishing in the sonic he exited and got dressed, hoping his hard on wasn’t too obvious but unwilling to do anything about it just yet.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

Outside the refresher Y/N was dazed. All throughout tending to Orla she couldnt stop thinking about how good it had felt to be in his arms. How her heart had beat when he took her hand.

A million thoughts raced through her head and were replaced faster than she could even recognise. All except one.

‘You idiot, you can’t do this to yourself or him. He just nearly died. He’s probably still suffering from blood loss and you wanna get into bed with him?’

But she couldn’t help it. She had been pining for him for so long. Admired him for so long, and if his actions today were done with a clear mind, which she believed they were, then maybe he saw something in her too.

With her mind still going a thousand light years a minute she raced through the rain back inside. The snap winter had brought the storms in with its usual fury, and the icy cold had made its entrance once again. Y/N though it might hail at some point, and she was glad she had managed to perfect the roofs of her home, ensuring they would not only endure the battering the wind and rain would cause, but that they would properly keep her house insulated and comfortable in both the snap winter and the harsh summer.

Stopping just outside the back door, under the shelter of a small porch, Y/N wrung out her hair and shirt, realising that the filthy rags she had been wearing non stop for three days now were white, soaked and completely see through.

‘Great’ she grumbled, making her way inside trying not to shiver.

‘Maybe I can make it inside and get to my room before Obi Wans done in the fresher.’

She hoped he took his time, cause she had to go past the fresher door to get to her room.

Going into the passage way that held her and obi Wans rooms as well as the fresher room, her luck ran out. Just as she had made it to the fresher door obi wan walked out and right into her…and her shirt that was giving him quite the view.

They both blushed but made no real attempt to look away. Obi Wan stared at Y/N’s chest, which was on full display and extremely obvious due to the cold. Y/N on the other hand could help but notice the tent in Obi Wan’s linen pants, that he had carried with him from his days at the temple.

They stared at each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

In a singular moment of courage that Y/N managed pull out of nowhere she looked Obi Wan in the eye and asked,

“I know you just got out, but do you, maybe…wanna join me in the shower?”

Obi Wan seemed froze for what seemed like an hour, and her heart sank.

She knew it. She had misinterpreted his signals somehow. She had overstepped. He didn’t want her and now she had to try and salvage their friendship.

“Or, or not. It’s okay I mean I just thought with the rain and all that maybe you might want, might like…” she cleared her throat. Looking down in shame “never mind” she said quietly, going to move into the refresher. But Obi wan stopped her.

Once again he grasped her hand, bringing it to his chest, just above his heart. He was shirtless when he came out into the hallway so Y/N could feel his heartbeat. It was going crazy.

“Hey,” he said quietly, intimately with what almost sounded like hope, “you really want, me?”

This got Y/N to look up at him. He looked unsure, nervous. It never occurred to Y/N that as much as she had been worried that he would not want her, wouldn’t find anything about her attractive, that maybe he was struggling with the same plague of self doubt.

Y/N gently took his face in her hand, running her thumb over his bearded cheek.

“Yes. Always” she said earnestly.

Taking her hand away from his face he sweetly kissed her fingertips, then once again stepped up to her.

An invisible bad was tightening around them as he tilted her head back and in a voice that conveyed nothing but longing and Need, Obi Wan whispered,

“Please kiss me my love”

The band snapped. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Sucking, licking and nipping at them softly. Moaning gently at the taste of him.

At this Obi Wan licked her own lips, asking sweetly for permission to enter, which she all too happily gave.

His tongue explored her mouth as he made the sweetest whines she had ever heard. He was all over her, licking at her teeth and cheeks and caressing her tongue as he happily let her explore his own mouth. Reluctantly they parted, chests heaving as they pressed against each other, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths, which Obi Wan bashfully wiped away.

At some point during their kiss Obi Wan had started to unconsciously grind his clothed erection against her leg. Y/N could feel it twitch with neglect and she slowly brought her hand up his thigh towards his cock.

“Is this okay?” She asked, needing to hear him say that he wanted this as badly as she did.

He cupped her hand and brought it to rest against his aching need, her own arousal started to make itself known.

“Please, I need you to touch me.” He begged her with a needing whine.

She smiled and gave him what he wanted. Gently rubbing his cock and occasionally lowering her hand to caress his balls through his pants, swiftly getting hooked on his sweet sighs.

“These have got to go soon.” She gestures to the garment. “But I wanna take this slow okay. Nice and gentle. We’ve got all the time in the world.” She leaned up to lay kisses across his chest and collar bones, “it’s just you and me now.”

He seemed to melt at that, folding down onto her, trying to get as close as possible as he palms at her back, hips and ass through her clothing. His wandering hands never staying in one place too long but never breaking contact either.

She nudges him towards the bathroom and he complies, dropping his shirt and towel which had been draped over his shoulder.

He goes in for another kiss, but before he gets it Y/N leans back a bit.

He looks at her confused and slightly hurt, and Y/N kisses the tip of his nose.

“I don’t want to make this awkward or anything but do we need anything? condoms or lube?”

She awkwardly asks. Wanting to be prepared but not quite sure how to ask properly. But Obi Wan didn’t seem annoyed or put off. He just smiled lovingly, understandingly.

“I have the implant my dear” he leaves smooch on her cheek “and I’m clean. But if you would feel better using condoms then I can go get some?” He kisses her nose, laughing at how his bearded made it scrunch up a bit. “Or we don’t have to go that far. I’d be more than happy to just lay with my head between your legs. All night if you’d let me”

Ignoring the raging blush that’s spreading from her face down to her chest, Y/N swallows thickly.

“While I do like the sound of that, maybe not tonight. I’m clean and have the implant, I just wanted to make sure we both knew what we were doing, what we wanted…” she finished awkwardly.

She groaned slightly, closing in on herself. She was doing so well too, being smooth and sweet like she wanted. But now she was being weird. She ruined the mood. She just implied that one of them may have something and now he’s gonna think she’s gross and just walk out on….”

Her thoughts were interrupted. Obi Wan, sensing her distress and embarrassment at her questioning through the force and seeing how she was wrapping her arms around herself and backing off, reached out to reassure and comfort her.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, my clever girl. My sweet, smart little love. I’m glad you asked these things, that you always look out for yourself and others around you, precious little Jedi.”

She suddenly threw herself around him, hugging him tight. His compliments had made her blush furiously and now she was embarrassed at the praise he had offered her.

Obi wan turned her head up, stepping back so he could see her properly.

“No, no. Please don’t do that. I never want you to hide from me. I want to see every face you make, hear every sound,” he leans down closer to her ear and after nipping at the shell he whispers hotly into it, “feel every sensation you have to offer me as we bring each other to pleasure over and over and over. I want to make love to you all night long”

Y/N could feel her underwear soak through with arousal. Her clit achy and demanding at Obi Wan’s heated words.

“I would love that, but at another time. For tonight I just want you to join me in the shower, then let me take care of you, if you’ll show me how.” She added onto the end quietly.

Obi wan seemed a little bit taken aback by this, and slightly confused.

“Y/N, you have no idea how much I want that. But, and don’t take this the wrong way, but, you’ve had sex before right?”

He rubbed Y/N’s arms and shoulders comfortingly, and I she genuinely felt that he didn’t mind any inexperience that she may have.

“Um, not too many. Not for a while and, well , they were never that good.” She suddenly looked ashamed, “but I want this. I just, need some help.”

Obi Wan didn’t think he could love this woman more then he did when he woke up with her in his arms. He was wrong. Force he wanted to choke the idiots that had made her feel so inadequate. But he would do everything he could to help her past that. Happily.

Obi wan Brought her back into him, tucking her head into his chest, he kissed the top of her head. Holding her there while he spoke.

“You don’t need to be ashamed my dear. And you don’t need to be scared of disappointing me either. There’s nothing you can do that will make me not love you,” she inhaled sharply at this, “yes, that’s right I love you. I truly do. I’m sorry it took this whole mess to tell you. I should’ve told you years ago. But I will spend every day saying how much I love you for the rest of our lives.”

He started peppering her hair and any skin he could reach with kissed, wanting to make her feel the truth behind his words when he heard it. Her gentle confession spoken into his chest, into his heart.

“I’ve loved you so long Obi Wan. I need you to stay here. Stay with me. Please”

“I don’t think I could ever leave you. you will never be alone again. I’ll always be right there with you”

And he meant it. He truly did.

She stepped back from him, holding her arms out to him.

“Help me undress?” She asked shyly.

Obi Wan came up to her and softly ran his hands up and down her sides twice, stopping to play with the hem of Y/N’s shirt, waiting for a final confirmation before he began.

“Please” she said in a sure voice.

Obi Wan began undressing his love for the first time, nearly drooling as he lifted her shirt above her shoulders, her arms up displaying her ample chest to him. She looked so soft he couldn’t help but give her a quick kiss and nip to the top of both breasts, smiling at her shocked giggle which turned into a moan when he cupped one, licked and latched onto the nipple, still hard from the cold and arousal, soothing over it with his tongue.

Slowly getting down onto his knees he goes to take off her pants, smothering her belly with kisses and licks as he passed it on the way. Obi Wan slowly brought her pants down her thighs, bringing her underwear with them, kissing and mouthing at the soft flesh he uncovers as he goes down.

His knees pop a bit when he stands up and he groans as Y/N giggles.

“You think that’s funny? It’s not very nice to tease an old man, you know. Especially not when he’s so desperate to please you.”

He looked at her with heated eyes, his pupils dilated and expression hungry.

Y/N takes his hand and brings it to her mouth, taking his middle and pointer finger in, and sucking on both, playing over them with her tongue.

Obi Wan’s breathing is heavy and he brings her free hand back to his groin, his cock painfully desperate for her soft touch. He stops just before she touches him, giving her the chance to pull away. But she doesn’t want that.

Taking his fingers from her mouth she brings them down to her soaked pussy, at the same time palming him firmly, still through his pants.

“I’m desperate to please you too, sweetheart.”

The groan he let out was nothing short of delicious, and she mewled as he worked dedicatedly against he soaked folds, teasing her dripping entrance.

With a lot of will power, Y/N pulled away from Obi Wan and he whined at the loss of her warm body.

“I don’t think I want our first time to be in the shower, but I wouldn’t mind the company while washing?”

“I’ll stay” he panted out quickly.

Turning to get the shower going and show off her ass a bit to obi wan, Y/N didn’t see him undress himself. But her view when she turned back to face him was un-fucking-paralleled.

He stood there completely naked and beautiful. His chest and body hair was blonde with streaks of grey. His shoulders and chest were broad and strong despite his age. His stomach had a sweet layer of fat that looked soft and Y/N knew she wanted to love up on it the first chance she got. His legs were strong and his cock hung proud between them. Angry red and leaking pre cum like a faucet. He was perfect to her and told him as much.

He blushed then suddenly getting shy. Y/N walked up to him, pressing the softness of their bellies together as she started to kiss and nip his chest.

“It’s true. Your perfect.” She started to make her way down and took his nipple into her mouth, mirroring what he had done to her earlier.

He curled around Y/N at her divine attentions. Obi Wan had forgotten how sensitive his chest was, and how good it felt for someone to love up on him.

Far too soon for Obi Wan’s liking she let go of his chest and took his hand, leading him towards the shower with a pretty, flushed smile.

Once under the spray he took notice of how turned on she seemed to be. Her eyes blown, a blush spreading down her neck to the tops of her chest. Obi Wan defiantly noticed how she seemed to be squirming. She was rubbing her plush thighs together, trying to get some stimulation where she needed it most.

‘Poor thing’, Obi Wan thought, ‘he was neglecting her.’

Y/N reached out to a small shelf in the side of the shower, pulling out a pink bottle of body wash that only saw use maybe once or twice a year. She then gave it to Obi Wan and gestured to a scrubbing net, turning around and giving him her back.

“Would you mind?” She asked

‘Mmhmm’ Obi Wan answered, pouring a liberal amount of product onto the net.

He got to work on her back, gently and thoroughly cleansing it, while chasing the net with his other hand, rubbing and massaging her back.

His hands didn’t stay at her back though. They wandered up to her neck, over her shoulders and then hovered around Y/N’s collarbones.

Obi Wan gently kissed the side of her head, grinding his hips into her ass.

“Can I wash you here?” He lowered the net to her boobs

“Please” Y/N answered.

She seemed to be in a state of bliss. Basking in his gentle affection.

Obi Wan turned Y/N to face him.

But instead of going straight for her chest, like she expected him to, he took one of her hands and rested it on his shoulder, washing down from her wrist, to her own shoulder and back again, kissing her skin as it was rinsed by the water.

After moving on to her other arm and finishing there, making sure to spread as many kisses as he could, he finally made his way down her chest.

Obi Wan seemed to be in a trance, running slow swipes with the net over Y/N’s sensitive flesh. Delighting as the water revealed rosy skin under neath.

He was on her chest for a while. Long after the soar on the net had rinsed off completely. He couldn’t resist how pretty and pink and inviting Y/N’s chest looked so he latched on to her. Sucking and licking and nipping at her delicious curves, moaning at her taste and rutting against her side.

Y/N wasn’t doing much better. She was sighing and mewling, holding Obi Wan close and carding her fingers through his hair.

Eventually she encouraged him to let go. He released her nipple with a pop. His lips red and his eyes blown and loving.

“You still have work to do” Y/N said and urged him to kneel infront of her.

While she prepared the rag again Obi Wan had buried his face into her plush stomach, loving how soft and warm and luxurious it felt. He ran his hand up her equally soft thighs, and played with the curles between them.

“Can I wash you here?” He asked, teasing his fingers along her still wet dripping entrance.

“Yeah, I’d like that”

Y/N handed him the rag and he got to work. Starting at her belly, and quickly making his way down, ensuring that everything was clean before moving past her flushed and ready womanhood to her ankles.

Obi Wan got into a lower crouch, pulling her arms to him and draping them over his shoulders.

“Hold onto me lover” he said.

It was the only warning Y/N got as he entered her with a single finger, noting how tight she was. He didn’t mind. He would spend forever gently opening her up if she asked him to.

Y/N had started to rock and grind against Obi Wans hand, his finger curled inside her, brushing against that delicious spot.

“Oh Obi Wan,” she breathed, “that’s so good. Your so good for me”

Her praise had a bigger affect on him than she realised. He whined and dropped the rag that had been in the middle of cleaning her thighs.

The combination of her words and the result of her pleasure running down his hands almost had him cumming then and there, but he just managed to hold out.

Pulling his hand away from her soft womanhood he looked up at her.

“Darling if you keep talking like that this isn’t going to last very long at all”.

She gave him a small bashful smile, still running her hands through his hair.

“Im almost done here sweetheart. Tell me, is this soap safe to use here?”

He cupped her pussy, grinding his palm against her swollen clit.

“Ye…eahhh” was all Y/N could articulate, feeling she was going to explode if she could have Obi Wan soon.

“That’s a good girl. So clever. And this, pretty fucking flower. I’d hate to see all your delicious slick gone but you’ll feel better completely clean.”

He tenderly worked the lather into her folds and at the junction of her thighs. Never going near her entrance but cleaning around it.

Obi Wan ran his hands around her, washing her ass, making his way from the outside of her cheeks to the inside. When me began to run his hand down towards her hole, she blushed, not having thought he would want to go there.

Obi Wan was thrilled though. He could sense her surprise and slight embarrassment at What must be a new situation for her, but he was thrilled she trusted Obi wan to clean her so intimately.

His force signature was purring.

Obi wan could almost see it working against her own in a sensual dance. He took it as a sign that the force itself wanted them to be.

Obi wan reached up and turned the water pressure down, asking Y/N to pass him the nozzle.

When he got it he tested it against the inside of his wrist to ensure it wasn’t too hot.

Pleased at the temperature he asked Y/N to lean back against the wall, bracing her foot against his knee so it wouldn’t slip and taking her arm in his free hand, leaving a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

He brought her knee to drape over his opposite shoulder, giving him a perfect view of her swollen, flushed, pussy.

Gently he brought the spray to her entrance, watching for signs of discomfort.

“Is this okay” he asked

“S’a little cold” she mumbled, caught up in the sensation of the spray against her.

Obi Wan adjusted the temperature and finished rising her off, letting the water pour down between her ass cheeks.

Y/N looked at him.

“You didn’t have to clean there you know. I could’ve done it.”

He lowered her leg to the floor and stood up.

“I wanted to. I want to take care of you, all of you. Always.”

He turned the heat back up and went to get some shampoo and face wash. He handed the face scrub to her while he worked on her hair.

“Can you wash your face while I take care of your hair love? I want you out of this shower and in my bed”

Y/N swallowed thickly, liking when he turned the general voice on for her.

She washed her face, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensations of his fingers scratching and massaging her scalp. But it was over soon after, with Obi Wan’s patience having started to run thin.

Y/N finished rinsing off and roughly towel dried her hair, not bothering to re dress, when suddenly obi wan came up behind her, mouthing at the junction of her neck and shoulder, kneading the sensitive flesh of her tits and pinching her nipples.

His erection was hot and heavy against her ass as he shamelessly rutted against her, needing contact and friction like he needed oxygen. Y/N could feel herself getting wetter than before, swearing it was starting to run down her thigh.

“I’ll let you take charge and do whatever you want to me later.” He husked into her ear, “But please, It hurts.I need you, us. I can’t wait.”

As if on command his cock twitched violently against her, precum sticking to her back and Obi Wan whined.

“Tell me you need this like I do. Tell me you want me here with you.” He turned her around and ground against her soft stomach.

“I need to hear you say it. Please”

Y/N stepped up so one of his thighs was between hers as she started rutting herself.

Leaning closer, Y/N kissed him tenderly on the lips.

“Obi Wan. I need you so bad. I’ve always needed you”

He crashed his lips back against hers as he moved against her with more force.

He was passionately exploring her mouth when he suddenly groaned, his body tensing and his legs shaking.

“No, no no” he whined, just as his warm thick cum splashed up Y/N’s stomach.

Obi Wan was mortified. His face, neck and shoulders flushed bright red at the fact that he couldn’t hold on. He had cum humping Y/N like an animal. He hid his head in her shoulder, tears forming in his eyes.

Gods, he didn’t even ask if he could cum on her. She must be so angry that he dirtied her up.

His shoulders started to shake as he began to fall into his head.

Y/N however, while surprised, was not disappointed or angry. She wanted to sooth him and make him feel better, sweet and content again. So with her own arousal fading at his distress, she reached for a wash cloth they kept on the sink.

“Shhh, shh, it alright love. It’s okay. You were so good, you did so good for me. You came so hard for me. Let me clean us up okay.”

“I couldn’t wait, it was too much, too good, and Y/N… I’m sorry I got you dirty and left you behind and…and…”

He couldn’t finish. Y/N had gently brought his head down to her chest, presenting him with the opportunity to latch on or just bury his face in her. It seemed to put him in a state of bliss before and it was the only thing Y/N could think to do now.

It worked. His mouth swiftly found her nipple again and Y/N and Obi Wan sighed together, sliding to the ground, Obi Wans face never leaving her chest. He ended up half laying half sitting in Y/N’s lap while she cradled him and calmed him down. When he had stopped shaking she tenderly wiped his cum off of their skin. Making sure to reach the places where it had spread between them.

Y/N saw that he was starting to shiver from the cold she lovingly ran her hand up and down his back, squeezing at the slight layer of fat there and noting how tense his muscles seemed to be.

“Obi Wan. Darling?” She cooed, and his head lifted up off her chest, still flushed, his lips swollen and rosy.

“Come on sweetheart. Let’s go to bed. Go cuddle.”

He grumbled and nodded. But as he went to stand up he felt how sticky and wet his spent cock still was. Coated in pre and cum. He doesn’t know what possessed him to do it but he turned to his love and asked in a small voice.

“Y/N, before we do, could you clean me, like I did to you. Please?”

Y/N looked back, surprised he asked. Of course she had considered it but he was in no position to consent before.

“Of course. Do we need to get back in the shower or is a wipe off enough?”

Obi wan released a long breath. She hadn’t rejected him.

Thinking over his options he decided he was too tired, both emotionally and physically for the shower so he took the cloth from Y/N’s hand, rinsed it and handed it back to her.

“I just wanna go to bed with you.”

Understanding this she gently wiped away at his soft manhood, mindful of his sensitivity and watching for signs of discomfort. There were none. Looking down she noticed there was some mess on his balls as well. Cupping them gently in the cloth but applying no pressure she looked up at Obi Wan.

“Here as well?”

He nodded taking her hand and guiding her on how to best cleanse him while not causing any pain.

With both of them clean they exited the fresher, disappointment and embarrassment still hanging over Obi Wan’s head.

Y/N stopped him. “Love? I’m gonna go get us some water and something to eat. Do you want to come, or meet me in your room” she asked, trying to let him know she was not abandoning him.

He pressed against her front, his forehead on hers, his eyes closed like he couldn’t look at her yet.

“wanna stay with you” he slurred, his exhaustion creeping in.

“Okay.” She answered nudging back against his head, nuzzling against his nose slightly, before pulling away and taking his hand instead.

She lead them into the kitchen. Obi Wan’s hand gripping hers like a lifeline.

She got them two glasses of water and fished out some old ration bars, then they both exited and went to his room, not having any energy for anything else but snuggling down for sleep and cuddles.

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

Obi Wan followed Y/N into his room and allowed her to pull him onto the bed with him.

"How do you wanna sleep? I could lean on your chest, or you on mine? Or we could just spoon..." she suggested.

All he wanted was to curl up in her arms, winding their physical bodies together as tightly as their force signatures already were.

"Can you hold me?”

Obi Wan felt so raw and vulnerable. Brittle like glass. she made that go away. she chased away the helplessness that always creeped up on him in the dark of the night, in his cold and lonely bed.

Looking up at him with her big, darling eyes, her beautiful body silhouetted against the small light in the corner of his room, she didn't reply. she just shuffled over on the bed, pulling the blankets up and inviting him into the warmth of her naked form.

He slid into bed with her, wanting to be as close as humanly possible.

As Obi Wan squirmed restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position he felt her nipples brush up against his chest.

Palming her soft breast tenderly, he looked up at her adoring face.

"Can I put my mouth on you? Please? Just... Just for a little while"

"Yeah, for as long as you like… Obi Wan, you know I’m not mad right? I guess we just got too caught up in the moment."

"I know" he muttered, looking down and taking her nipple into his mouth again. breathing out a sigh of bliss to match Y/N's as he started to suckle on the rosy bud.

Obi Wan shuffled closer to Y/N. Pressing his body up against her plush one, a thigh cradled between her soft ones, his hands palming and kneading the rolls on her back, holding her as close to him as possible.

With her hands cradling his head close to her chest he fell asleep listening to the sweet noises she made, thinking they were the best lullaby he had ever heard. Y/N wasn’t far behind him.

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

when Y/N woke up, it was to Obi Wan's face smushed into her cheek, his face haloed by the weak light of the morning.

Y/N turned, slowly leaning up on her shoulder, trying not to wake him she laid kisses on his cheeks. Light little butterfly touches moving up to his eyelids,covering his forehead, kissing down his nose and ending on his lips.

Y/N decided she wanted some attention too and went about how to wake him up.

She slid quietly out of bed and padded around to his side, waiting for him to stop trying to worm his way into the space she just vacated, looking for warmth.

When he stopped wriggling she climbed in behind him and started kissing his face again. Harder this time though, enough to tickle.

When he started to stir she switched methods, nuzzling into his cheek, rubbing against his beard. From where she was Y/N could feel his eyelids start to flutter, his long lashes brushing against her.

With a small smile she ran her lips gently across his cheeks.

“Buzzing beee…” she muttered.

Obi Wan groaned at that.

“Mmmph, lovebug!” He sleepily grouched one eye open slightly.

Y/N saw the world spin and she was suddenly looking up at Obi Wan’s tired eyes, still half closed and fighting to go back to sleep.

“Good morning sunshine!” Y/N said entirely too cheerfully.

“Mmmm, no. Not morning yet. I want to go back to sleep.”

Obi Wan was already in the process of making himself comfortable on top of her. His leg slung over hers and his body warm and pliant resting above her like a breathing blanket.

He started to nuzzle and kiss into her cheek, neck and shoulder but Y/N wasn’t having it.

Pushing up against his body she attempted to flip them again, however she miscalculated how much space they had on the bed, going over the side and landing with a thwump on the cold floor.

It was a shock to their sleepy systems. The snap winter had set in fully, the temperature plummeting during the day now to freezing temperatures, leaving the surfaces of their home icy to the touch.

They both jumped, gasping at the change in temperature as they raced to get back into The cozy warmth of the bed.

When both Y/N and Obi Wan had snuggled back down into the warm blankets together, with Obi Wan back to resting on top of her Y/N broke the silence, meeting Obi Wan’s heatless glare.

“Ok, Maybe we can stay in bed a little longer.”

“MAYBE I could kick you out of my room for waking me”

Y/N called his bluff.

He was already making himself at home on top of her again. Holding her in a tight hug, only letting go to wrap her arms around him, then plopping his head right back down against her chest, rubbing up against it, listening to her heartbeat.

They lay like that for a while. Just feeling the press of each others bodies, listening to the rain and basking in each others company.

But something was plaguing Y/N’s mind and she eventually brought Obi Wan’s face up so she could look up to him, look him in the eye as he braced himself on his arms, which caged Y/N’s head in.

“Mmm, You’ve had a rough few days haven’t you darling?” Y/N said as she smoothed his hair back.

He leaned into her hand and Y/N melted.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Obi Wan looked at her, into her eyes and Y/N thought he was going to refuse her. But he took her hand, lacing the fingers together and rolled into a more comfortable position on his side, her head tucked under his chin.

“I don’t know what happened. I guess I just panicked. You weren’t here. Weren’t answering. I thought I had lost you.”

Y/N listened intently, a slight crease appearing between her brows.

“I don’t know when it started but being alone, it scares me. Has for a long time. It’s too quiet and the only thing I can hear are my own thoughts. Having you around makes that go away. I can think, function, sleep”

He smoothed the crease in her forehead out.

“At least for the most part. You do tend to distract me… a lot.”

Y/N huffed at that, but got serious again.

“Obi Wan, I was so scared. Why would you think you had lost me?”

“I can’t say. I just saw you weren’t here and all these pictures of you dead, or in another man’s arms came to mind and they wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t shut up. I guess I fell into my head so far I couldn’t climb out. When I commed you and you didn’t answer anything, I felt as though the world had dropped from beneath me. Spitting me out into a reality where I would never see you again, never get to hold you, touch you or love you. In my mind, at the time, it made sense that you had left to find something better. A life you deserve, not the one I dragged you into…”

Y/N rubbed Obi Wan’s cheek, trying to smooth out some of the many lines that had etched their way into his skin over the past few years.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I chose to come with you. I chose to stay and keep you company, keep you safe. I didn’t like the idea of you being out here all alone and honestly, I didn’t wanna be alone either. You know that right? I have always wanted to be with you. It didn’t matter where. Not to me. Not then, not now not ever.”

Obi wan looked on the verge of tears.

“I don’t think I can be alone again, separated from you again. Not anymore.”

He said thickly, tears starting to fall.

“You make everything seem better. Our home, my life, it all seems good when your next to me. I’ve gotten addicted to that…” to you. He wanted to say. Instead Obi Wan let Y/N kiss his tears away, her own falling down her cheeks and onto his chest.

“I just want to be good enough for you. Whole enough but I can’t. Everything about you makes me feel full. When you leave I spiral. I can’t help it.”

His tone suddenly got deadly serious as he looked her dead in the eye.

“I need you to stay. Stay with me, by my side always. As my friend, lover, I’d even find a way to make you my wife, if that’s what you want. Please say you want that too, Y/N, please. I’ll give you everything I have, everything I am. Just don’t go”

“Are you asking me to marry you, Obi Wan” Y/N asked, having trouble wrapping her head around the sudden turn of events.

“If that’s what you want. But I’m trying to say that you already have absolutely nothing less than all of me, my sweet.”

Y/N was shocked. Obi wan seemed genuine in his declaration. The truth wringing out in the force.

She rested her forehead against his, their noses touching.

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you Obi Wan.”

His joy rang out in the force, pure, bright and powerful. And a beautiful smile washed over his face, fresh tears rolling down his face at her acceptance of him.

He wouldn’t ruin this, it would be different than before. He was alone with her on a backwater planet, in a backwater desert, living in a run down hovel.

No one would find him here. He could keep her safe in this unlikely sanctuary. In the home she had made for them far from other people who would destroy it.

High on their emotions and drunk on his love for her, Obi Wan pulled her in close, cradling her to his naked chest, encouraging her to leave her little kisses and licks.

Deciding she had adequately covered him in love she snuggled in for a nap, asking him to join her, which he all too happily did. They drifted off together, their bliss and happiness bright in the force.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) You Control Me (Even If Its Just Tonight) | Explicit | 1591 words

Louis rides Harry and thinks he's in control.

2) Save a Horse | Explicit | 2400 words

Louis goes to a rodeo with Liam, and gets a lot more than he bargained for. Featuring bull rider Harry, obnoxious t-shirts, and one hell of a night.

3) El Comienzo De Una Vida | Teen & Up | 2779 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This fic is the second part of a series. 

After being bartered to Harry to save his kingdom, Louis is on his way to the Alpha's homeland and he would very much like him to stop being so cautious and just kiss him, god damn it!

4) A Treat For You And A Treat For Me | Explicit | 3416 words

Louis blushed at Harry’s flirty tone. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.” He giggled, half joking. “But thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Not just to get in your pants, baby. I’m being honest. You’re always cute. Are you wearing mascara?” He asked, licking over his lips. Louis in makeup always did something to Harry. He loved it.

Louis nodded, leaning forward. “I am. Do you like it? I’m also wearing some cute Halloween panties under my costume.. if you wanna see them later?” He murmured, letting his lips touch Harry’s lightly before pulling away, a tiny smile on his lips.

Harry’s mouth opened a bit, but no words came out. Instead Louis was lifted up and carried in Harry’s arms, up the stairs. “Later? I wanna see them now.” He whispered into Louis’ ear, hot breath sending shivers down Louis’ body. “Missed you so much since last time.”

5) A Kiss For Then, A Kiss For Now (And A Million More) | Mature | 6073 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This is the sequel to this fic. 

A collection of moments from Petal's life with her mummy, the stinky alpha and their new baby boy.

6) Terror At Our Door | Explicit | 6201 words

A hurt man comes to Harry's home on Halloween, bringing in a world of mystery that Styles didn't want at all.

What a shame that feelings are involved too.

7) Fight Me Breathless | Mature | 7596 words

Louis Tomlinson has no idea why he’s in a London hospital for asthma, but enter Harry Styles, his doctor, who he definitely doesn’t think is hot, and he’s left wondering if asthma is why he can’t seem to breathe properly with his doctor around.

8) This Ain't Red Wine | Explicit | 9054 words

It’s not until he gets a whiff of the contents of his glass that Louis realizes his grave mistake.

That’s not red wine.

It’s blood.

It’s probably not the most rational, but his first thought is what people are going to think when they discover his body. On the list of stupidest ways for a human to die, accidentally turning up to a Vampire party has to be pretty high up there.

9) Colder Weather | Explicit | 15132 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis doesn’t know what comes over him. “Please H-Harry, take me,” Louis looks back at the farmhouse, swallowing once as his skittish eyes fall onto the master bedroom window, “Take me with you, please.”

Harry’s scent flares, the tinged anger so noticeable that Louis draws back out of the alpha’s space.

“Is he hittin’ on you?”

Louis’ right hand rests briefly against the bruise forming rapidly over the right side of his rib cage, the darkness of the night hiding the movement. “No.”

10) Those Who From The Pit Of Hell, Roam To Seek Their Prey On Earth | Explicit | 17636 words

1889. Louis Tomlinson is a student at the prestigious Harrow School for Boys, nurturing his passion for forensic medicine under the care of a particularly mysterious and dark teacher, Harry Styles, who has set his main focus on a series of gruesome murders, all of them reflecting the year 1888, when Jack the Ripper went rampant in the poor streets of Whitechapel.

11) The Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly Home | General Audiances | 19397 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

An omega Louis and an alpha Harry find themselves in a forced marriage that gives Louis the freedom he desires in exchange for Harry being chained up a bit more.

12) Welcome to The Rivalry | Mature | 19671 words

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

13) Welcome to the Bottom of the World | Not Rated | 20859 words

Louis is an American musher/expedition guide, Harry is a scientist from England. They meet in the middle of Antarctica, what could go wrong?

14) Reach The Heavens Own Blue | Explicit | 21070  words

He steps up to the plate, eyes glazing over as he watches Harry chew sunflower seeds, his jaw moving obnoxiously and exaggeratedly. His eyes drag down Harry’s body, settling on his large bulge, accentuated in those sinful pinstripe pants. The lines cut across it just right, curving where he’s thickest. Louis wants to crawl across the dirt on his knees and just take what Harry gives him.

Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, opening them to find Harry staring at him with a smug expression. He fucking knows. Louis gets into position and waits for the pitch. He swings when Harry throws, missing the ball just barely. Strike one.

15) Terror Of Surrender | Explicit | 31566 words

Harry instructs them to step into Crescent Lunge, stopping when he gets to Louis to adjust his hips. “I think you can bend a little more.” He helps Louis deepen the stretch, his hands tight on his hips. “Good boy.”

Louis gasps quietly, his eyes snapping to Harry’s, his heart pounding in his chest. Harry’s eyes drop to his lips, his hands smoothing down Louis’ stretched thighs, then he’s turning and walking to the front of the class.

16) Eyes Off You | Explicit | 39396 words

A Charlie’s Angels inspired fic where Louis is the brains, Harry is the charm, Liam is the muscle, and Niall drives the getaway car - and Zayn is there, too. sometimes.

17) Puncture | Mature | 43383 words

Note; This fic has mentions of BH.

An alternate universe where Harry bites Louis and hates the taste of his blood but is still obsessed with him anyway.

18) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

19) Just A Flicker In The Dark | Explicit | 57191 words

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

20) Wild Thing | Mature | 65962 words

Harry doesn’t think love is for him, until Louis shows him just how wild love is.

21) Three Days in February | Explicit | 187642 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

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[sojourner-between-worlds]

Panic! in the Quad

Fandoms: Alex Rider/ Hawaii Five-0

Summary: The past comes knocking, Alex has a panic attack at school, and Steve is less than pleased.

Series: Don't You Worry, Child

A/N: An (informal) gift to @just-add-butter who, upon learning I had finally finished a new one, called me her fic dealer, a title I am honored to have 😂

ANyway, this took so long in part because this was supposed to feature Nathan being a Good Bro but the pacing was just terrible and not working so I rewrote the entire thing and poor Nathan pretty much got left out as a result. Sorry, Nathan. Maybe another time.

Read on Ao3 instead

. . . . .

After roughly eight months of therapy, Alex felt like he was more-or-less on an even keel. He certainly still had a fair share of bad days, but the number of good days was ever increasing. The fact that he had friends who would sit with him on both certainly didn’t hurt, either.

Today had started out as one of those good days. He was fairly certain he’d done well (at least passing) on his math midterm, and the only midterm he had left for the day was a presentation in English Lit that he was confident would go off without a hitch.

But then he saw her.

Sitting in his usual lunch spot in the quad, he glanced towards the road that was just visible between the buildings and there she was, smartly dressed in a gray suit, dark hair cut short just as he remembered, walking down the far side of the road. A car sped past, and she disappeared with it. He only caught a glimpse of her, but that was enough to make his heart stop and his breath catch in his throat.

“Alex?”

Forcing his gaze away from the spot she had been one moment and was absent from the next, he turned back to his friends. “Huh?”

Nathan tilted his head slightly and squinted. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Maybe I have, Alex thought wryly. “I’m fine. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Are you sure?” Nathan looked entirely unconvinced.

His phone buzzed where it lay face down on the table next to his lunch tray. Saved from answering for the moment, Alex flipped it up to see the sender and the message preview.

Restricted Number Alex, this is Mrs Jones. I…

He abruptly turned his phone back over, slamming it back to the table with more force than he intended, pushing down the panic that he felt rising. This is not happening. I can’t go back to that.

“Alex?”

He jerked his head up, realizing Nathan and Koa were still waiting on an answer and were looking more concerned by the moment. Swallowing harshly and forcing some semblance of a smile onto his face, he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m fine.”

Before either of his friends could push the matter, the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period. Alex went into his English class grateful for the distraction from the message sitting heavily in his pocket.

. . .

By the end of his last class, curiosity was eating Alex alive. As much as he didn’t want anything to do with that world anymore, he had to admit he wondered what was so important that Jones, who had always been opposed to using him, would contact him about over a year after he had left London for good. He pulled out his phone as he crossed the quad towards the parking lot and, against his better judgment, opened the message.

Restricted Number Alex, this is Mrs Jones. I have a job offer that I don’t think you’ll want to miss out on. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so give me a call. Can’t wait to hear from you!

His phone slipped through his fingers and landed by his feet. Knees giving out, he joined the device in the grass, breaths coming hard and fast, unable to stop the panic this time. He knew he should have deleted the text, but it was too late for that now. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t read it.

Nathan was kneeling in front of him, but Alex couldn’t make out what he was saying. Curling in on himself, he squeezed his eyes closed as if that would erase the words from his mind. He knew he was supposed to be doing something right now to ease the panic, to ease the vice around his lungs keeping him from breathing, but he couldn’t remember what that something was through the thoughts already spinning in his mind. I can’t go back. ...but what if people die because I don’t? The idea punched what little air had managed to get into his lungs right out again, and after it was gone, he couldn’t get it back.

“Alex, hey.”

He started at the words. Every instinct was screaming “danger” but somehow this was something different. He knew that voice, knew it was safe, and safe was what he needed right now, so he latched onto it with everything he could muster.

“I’m going to hug you now, okay?”

No. Nope. Not okay. Don’t touch me! His mind screamed against it even as he felt strong arms circling around him and pulling him close, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head. He tried to fight but only for a moment before he found his hands clenching around soft fabric, and his forehead came to rest against something solid and warm and -- most importantly -- familiar.

“There we go. It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe. Just breathe with me, buddy.”

I can’t! I can’t; it hurts! I don’t want to go back, but I don’t have a choice! I have to! It hurts! It hurts; I can’t!

“You’re alright.”

Am I?

“You’re safe.”

Am I?!?

“I promise. Everything’s going to be okay.”

It won’t be! It never will be!

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it will be. You’re safe.”

I’m not!

“I need you to breathe with me, buddy. I know you can do it. Just follow me.”

Alex shifted his focus -- with no little effort -- to follow and, after what felt like an eternity, the vice on his lungs loosened and his breaths came easier. Usually the worst of the fear would dissipate right along with the vice, but this time it didn’t. The fear stayed, and the tension stayed, and Alex knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere this time. The reality behind the message was too great. This wasn’t something so easily solved.

“How are we doing, buddy?”

Alex frowned as a realization hit and instead of answering, he blurted out, “How’d you get here so fast?”

Steve let out an amused huff above him. “You had a doctor’s appointment today, remember?”

Oh. Crap. Alex groaned. The icing on the cake, he supposed.

“It’s alright; we can always reschedule. It’s not a big deal. I’m honestly more concerned about what happened here. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Alex slowly leaned back. Glancing around, he saw that the quad was empty now, save for Nathan and Koa standing off to one side, out of earshot, no doubt waiting to make sure he was okay. He didn’t want to talk about it -- didn’t even want to think about it -- but he trusted Steve. Or, at least, he wanted to trust Steve, wanted to believe that his guardian would take care of this. So rather than answering, he once again posed a question of his own. “Did you mean it? Back when you said you’d do whatever it took to give me a chance at a different life?”

Even without looking, Alex could hear the confusion -- but also the resolve -- in Steve’s voice when he answered. “Of course.”

He had panicked because he had -- once again -- felt like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. But Steve had told him again and again that he did -- that he always had a say. Now, he would make the choice he wanted. Alex picked up his phone from where it still lay in the grass beside him, unlocked the screen, and handed it to Steve, the message still displayed.

Alex watched as a dark shadow clouded Steve’s face. After a long moment, he sighed deeply and said, “I will take care of this, Alex. You don’t need to worry about it, alright?”

Slumping in relief, Alex nodded. Deep down, he had known that would be Steve’s response, yet he hadn’t entirely believed it until he heard it. Steve was a man of his word; Alex could trust this truly would be the end of it.

“Let’s get you home.”

. . .

Steve leaned back in his desk chair, staring down at Alex’s phone. The kid had been perfectly fine with letting Steve hold onto it after everything that had happened that day. Plus, Steve needed it to get a direct line to the head of MI6. Sure, he could call as himself, but chances were pretty high he’d just get the run-around and never get to talk to this Mrs Jones, much less would she admit to trying to use Alex. Again. But if he called her number from Alex’s phone, she wouldn’t be able to deny it.

Theoretically, anyway.

It was late and Alex had gone to bed an hour ago, but it was the middle of the morning in London, which made it a good time to call on all fronts -- provided Mrs Jones was even in London anyway. Alex had confessed that he had thought he’d seen her outside the school around noon-time. If she was in Hawaii -- well, he honestly didn’t care if he disturbed her sleep or not.

He made the call.

The other end rang twice before it was picked up.

“Alex, I’m glad you called. I wasn’t sure you would.”

Steve felt anger burning deep as he answered. “He didn’t.”

The brief silence was deafening. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-0, and Alex’s legal guardian. If you ever try to contact him again, I will have you arrested -- I don’t care who you are. Though for the record, I do know who are so don’t try to play dumb. Is that understood?”

“Are you threatening me, Commander McGarrett?”

“It’s only a threat if you don’t leave him alone. I know what he’s been through because of your people, and I know he doesn’t want that life. As long as you leave him alone, we won’t have any problems.”

There was a long pause on the other end before she replied. “You can use a spear as a walking stick but that doesn’t change its nature, Commander.”

Steve was momentarily taken aback, her flippant words ringing in his ear. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he was never a weapon in the first place and that he should be able to choose if that life is one he wants for himself?”

“Some people -- it’s simply in their blood.”

“He should still get that choice.”

“Be that as it may, he’ll come back on his own one day. It doesn’t matter how hard you try. Both of you may as well just accept it.”

“I don’t care. Whatever you want him for -- find someone else.”

“I don’t think you fully grasp the situation here. We need him, and he doesn’t even have to leave the island for this.”

“This isn’t up for debate. His answer is no.”

“You’re making a mistake. You don’t know anything about what’s going to happen if he doesn’t.”

“Then why don’t you tell me so I can take care of it. It’s my job to protect these islands and, unlike Alex, it’s a job that I chose.”

. . .

Alex aimlessly scrolled through the newsfeed on his phone, procrastinating his homework.

Terrorist Threat Thwarted -- Five-0 to Thank

Maybe -- just maybe -- he really wasn’t needed in that world anymore. A better thought had never been had.

. . . . .

A/n: I don't normally do notes at the end, but I wanted to quick mention a couple of things:

1. You can decide for yourself if it was actually Mrs Jones he saw outside the school or just A Very Inconvenient Coincidence. (Either one works tbh.)

2. I don't want anyone walking away from this thinking that Steve forced that physical contact on Alex while he was panicking. It's in some prior fic I wrote (honestly it's been a while and I don't remember which one exactly, lol, but I know it's there somewhere) that they talked about what helps Alex and what he needs. Steve has Alex's consent, even if Alex can't consent *at that moment.*

Tags: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @just-add-butter (Its not letting me tag you, so I'm glad you already saw it on Ao3 😂)

[plazmafields]

Cullrian Mulan AU

Word Count: 27,573

Summery: After escaping the Venatori and his family in Tevinter, Dorian finds refuge with a kindly older woman on a farm in Ferelden. When the Inquisition comes knocking looking for volunteers, Dorian can't help but overhear that they are looking to defeat the Venatori once and for all. He could join, but he can't have them thinking he might be a Venatori himself, especially not the Commander.

Forward: Holy jesus mercy, this literally took me years to get to. Between wanting to build out the universe to make it all fit together, then getting some serious writer's block (because nothing I love can come easy), then actually writing the damn thing! This has been a journey, and I really hope you all enjoy. I know it's a pain to read long fics on tumblr, so just let me know if you'd prefer it on AO3 or something. All my love, please enjoy my longest fic ever!!

__________

Just as the sun began to rise over the hills surrounding the farm, songbirds began to chirp, stirring Dorian from his sleep. Though he hated the insistent noise, he had to admit it was a softer wakeup call than Halward pushing ten tired slaves into his room to make him “presentable” before another noble’s daughter arrived. When Dorian had rejected the woman betrothed to him since birth, his mother offered that perhaps they should find an equally suitable candidate that Dorian could see himself getting along with. Poor mother, just trying to help; but she would never understand the true reason for Dorian’s rejection. Or perhaps they knew, and just couldn’t bear to face it as truth.

It took Dorian a moment to fully wake before he was hurriedly getting dressed and cleaned up, hoping to make it downstairs in time to make breakfast. As he descended the stairs, however, the scent of eggs and baking bread filled his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. While it smelled wonderful, he still felt a bit guilty for making his kind host cook for them both.

At the bottom of the stairs, he smiled and gently bowed his head at the middle aged woman at the stove. “Good morning, Miss Ella,” he said as he entered the kitchen just off the stairwell.

“Good morning, dear. How do you like your eggs?” The woman turned to greet him with two plates of food in hand, each set prepared differently.

Dorian didn’t look at the meal before responding, “I’ll take whichever you don’t prefer.”

The older woman frowned, distinctly upset with the answer. “Ser Dorian, I insist you choose. You’re my guest, after all. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The two stood both with expectant stares for a short while until Dorian sighed, taking one of the plates. “And I want to make sure I’m as nonintrusive as possible.” He turned quickly, taking a seat at the quaint kitchen table.

The woman smiled gently as she joined him. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are not intruding. I took you in, and that’s the end of it. You should feel as though we share this house, just as we share this food and the land where it grows.”

Dorian couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he began to eat. “Thank you, Miss Ella. You’ve been far too kind to an undeserving stranger.”

Miss Ella scoffed as she swatted at Dorian’s arm with her handkerchief, “Oh, don’t say such nonsense! Everyone is deserving of kindness, especially when they show such courtesy in return.”

Dorian said a quiet thank you as he continued to eat, trying to avoid another kind hearted argument with the woman. They stayed silent for a long moment until the woman shook her head and laughed.

“The only doubt I have about you is where you’re from. Not that I mind your secrecy; I understand the need. I only wish I knew so I could know who to thank for your wonderful manners.” She teased, wholeheartedly.

Dorian smiled despite the remembrance of home life, and answered gently, “I hardly think my parents had much to do with my manners. They’re not the kindest of people, unless they’re trying to impress someone.” His smile slipped slightly, enough for Miss Ella to notice.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she frowned and reached across the table, patting the back of Dorian’s hand, “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I wasn’t meaning to imply life was perfect, only that you seem acclimated to the finery in life. However, I know that comes with its own stresses and consequences.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Dorian sighed, finishing the food on his plate.

As he stood, he took Miss Ella's empty plate as well, taking the dishes and cutlery to the wash basin to clean. As Dorian began scrubbing away, there came a rather harsh knock at the door. The two glanced curiously at one another before Miss Ella went to answer.

Dorian slowly set the dishes in the water, listening closely to who was at the door, waiting to see if it was a voice he recognized, come to take him back to Tevinter.

Instead, he heard a voice clearly announce: “Hello, serah, we’re here on behalf of the Inquisition. We’re requesting that every household contribute at least one able bodied person, or sign for a draft, if necessary.”

“Oh yes, the Inquisition. You’re the ones who patched up the sky, yes? While I would love to be of service, I’m afraid I am unable to enlist—”

“How old are you, ma’am?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dorian heard the soldier clear his throat. “I asked your age, ma’am.”

Miss Ella, seemingly a bit taken aback by the direct nature of the question, gingerly answered, “Well, I’ll be turning fifty at the end of next month…”

The sound of confirmation and flipping paper piqued Dorian’s curiosity, as he slowly peeked into the foyer to watch the interaction.

The soldiers all nodded, one pulling out a form. “You’re within the age range to sign for the draft. If you would please—”

“I’m sorry?” Miss Ella stared in awe at the men before her. “I am the sole owner of this farm; all the land you see within several acres is my land! I cannot simply leave my property; who would be here to care for the animals? I would be more than willing to donate crops to the cause, but I am not going to leave my animals and harvest to suffer.”

Dorian watched on, ready to stand up for his gracious host, when the soldier tucked the form back into his satchel. “Ma’am, I understand your concerns, but I’m afraid, as valid as they may be, they cannot stand in the way of the fact that we need soldiers. As the Venatori threat strengthens—”

“I would be willing to volunteer,” Dorian stepped into view of the doorway, “on behalf of the household.”

Miss Ella turned with surprise, giving Dorian a worried look. He simply smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Very good, Ser. And thank you.” The soldier pulled out a list of volunteers’ names and began to assign Dorian an ID. “What is your relation to this woman?”

“My son.” Miss Ella spoke up, “Dorian Rider.”

Dorian gave a gentle, thankful look, trying not to make it too obvious to the soldiers.

“I assume, then, you were born in Ferelden?” The soldier studied Dorian’s dark complexion suspiciously.

“Orlais,” Dorian lied, “but I’ve lived here much of my life…”

The soldier seemed to find that more believable as he nodded, noting the answer on the form.

“And what is your role in the household? Just a simple description of what you do around the house will suffice.” The soldier asked, poised to write.

“I help maintain the farm.”

The soldier nodded, “Very good. And do you have any experience with fighting or combat?”

“Spell—” Dorian quickly closed his mouth, remembering mages were not supposed to live or practice magic outside of the Circles in Ferelden. He worriedly glanced at Miss Ella, before he noticed the soldier give him a friendly grin.

“Don’t worry,” The soldier said, lowering his writing board, “the Inquisition is not here to discriminate. We take anyone willing to risk their lives for the cause.” His eyes went soft, as he seemed to sympathize with Dorian. “I was a thief in Denerim before I joined. I’m not one to judge. Thank you for volunteering, Ser. Serah.”

The soldiers each gave a respectful bow before starting off to the next house. The one with the writing board called over his shoulder, “We’ll knock again when we’re ready to head off to Skyhold. Please be ready. You need only to bring your personal effects; we will have weapons and armor for you there.”

Miss Ella quickly closed the door and grabbed Dorian by the shoulders. “What are you doing? I thought you were hiding out! This is a sure way to bring attention to yourself, boy!”

Though she shook him lightly, she was not angry as Dorian looked in her eyes. The only thing he saw there was fear and worry. For him; for his safety.

Dorian took her hands in his and smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be ok. I can handle myself in a fight. Besides, what was I supposed to do, let them take you away from your livelihood? That hardly seems right.”

Miss Ella continued to look him in the eye for a time, all the while tears starting to well, before they eventually fell and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, dear. I just hope they keep you safe from whatever you were running from. Maybe one day you’ll be free of fear, and you can tell me everything.”

__________

Finally at Skyhold, the entire cart full of recruits gazed upon the glory of their new home for the foreseeable future, everyone taken aback by the size of the castle. Once through the gates, Dorian found himself being shuffled through a group of anxious troops, somehow ending up near the front of the crowd. Just as he began to wonder what all the fuss was about, the entire mass fell silent, standing mostly at attention.

A pale skinned man with thick blond hair strode up to the group of recruits, his presence alone demanding full attention. As he scanned the crowd, seemingly impressed with the number of volunteers, he momentarily locked eyes with Dorian.

The mage immediately froze, holding his breath as the blond’s eyes studied him. It seemed like minutes before their eyes met again, the blond saying kindly, “Welcome to the Inquisition.”

Dorian didn’t realize the blond was addressing the whole group, and not just him, until the entire mass said in unison, “Ser, yes, Ser.”

Dorian jumped at the roar, averting his gaze to his feet. The rest of the blond’s speech went by as a mumble, Dorian only picking out a few things. “I am your commander,” “thank you for your service,” “we are all fighting for the same cause,” etcetera.

“Those of you who are weary from the journey may feel free to retire to the barracks and claim a bunk. Make certain your items are secure and accounted for. As for those anxious to begin your service, please follow my associate Seeker Cassandra; she will give a brief tour of the grounds.” The blond gestured to a broad and powerful woman, who already appeared annoyed. “As she will be assisting me in your training, I expect you all to treat her with the same respect and authoritative recognition as you would me.”

The blond Commander took a final look over the troops before dismissing them to follow Cassandra or head to the beds. But just as Dorian followed after the retiring group, he heard a gentle summons.

“You there, mage.”

Dorian turned to see the Commander watching him with a careful eye. “Dorian, Ser.” He answered.

“Ser Dorian,” The Commander let the name roll on his tongue for a moment before continuing, causing Dorian’s breath to hitch in his throat. “I understand you’re an apostate.”

Dorian let out his held breath in a deep sigh, nearly rolling his eyes. “Yes, I am. Ser. I don’t suppose you’re going to turn me in to your recent allies?” He crossed his arms and lifted a brow, challenging the blond standing several feet from him.

The Commander narrowed his eyes, “I certainly wasn’t planning on it.” He slowly closed the distance between the two of them in several long strides, saying in a low tone, “Unless you’re going to have a problem with my authority, Ser Dorian.”

With the blond so close, Dorian felt his heart speed up. Something about his presence made Dorian feel held in place. Not as if he was trapped, simply that he couldn’t make himself step away.

Dorian scanned his eyes over the Commander’s form, noticing the Chantry insignia on his bracers. Ah, Dorian thought, he plans on taking care of me himself.

“Not unless you’re going to play those little Templar tricks to dispel my magic when I’m simply trying to warm my tea.” Dorian could have sworn he saw the corner of the Commander’s lips curl up at his accurate observation.

“That would just be rude. No, I wanted to inform you that, despite my past, I have very little patience for discrimination.” The Commander's eyes scanned over Dorian's body once more, “If anyone says anything, does anything, or even looks at you in a way that makes you suspect ill intent, do let me know. They’ll be dealt with discreetly.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to feel; between the Commander’s word choice and his eyes wondering Dorian’s physique, he felt maybe the blond knew his preferences just by looking at him. Did he have to be more worried about that than being an apostate? Though Dorian knew little about the south, he knew even less about their feelings on…sexual endeavors. More specifically, who you ventured those endeavors with.

Dorian hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at the Commander without answering until the blond tilted his brow up. “That is an order, Ser Dorian.”

He was shaken from his trance by the mention of his name in a soothingly gentle voice; surprising for a man in his militant position. “Yes, Ser.” Dorian responded quickly, eager to have the Commander’s caressing gaze off him.

The blond smiled, seemingly content with the response. “Good. And don’t be afraid to approach me.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even more to an impossibly comforting near-purr, “I don’t bite.” He grinned reassuringly.

Perhaps I’d rather you did, Dorian thought, admiring the Commander’s gait as he strode off, heading for his office.

In the barracks Dorian chose a bed, near to the wall to prop his staff and hang his pack, filled only with a few herbs for mixing potions and a book or two.

Though his sleep was fitful, he woke more or less prepared for training the next morning, those blasted birds even louder in the mountains than Miss Ella's valley farmland. Their loud singing mixed with the shuffle of new troops preparing for training woke Dorian far earlier than he would have liked. But he hurried along, seeing he was one of the last troops to rise, and made it to the training grounds just as the sun rose above the horizon.

He had eyes on him the moment he walked onto the grounds, scared young men and women glaring at him and eyeing the ornament on the end of his staff, watching cautiously as magic flowed through the crystal gem, all originating from Dorian’s fingertips. All the looks, the suspicion, made him feel as though he was not exactly blending in like he had hoped. He scanned his fellow soldiers, finding most were pale. Those with dark skin like his seemed no less acclimated to his presence. Their undertones were all cold blues and greys, making Dorian’s red-brown skin stand out in an unnatural, if stunning, manner against the natives.

As Dorian felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, a voice echoed off the fortress walls from behind him.

“You’re late.” Dorian turned to find the Commander stalking toward him, free of his armor and only covered by simple leather trousers. His chest was dusted in scars of all sizes; some reaching from collar bone to hip, one leading Dorian’s eye down a mischievous path to the Commander’s laces.

“Did the bells not wake you? Perhaps I should make that your responsibility; to wake and ring the bells for everyone else to hear? Since they seem not to faze you.”

Dorian scoffed, “I suppose you would like all your men to be late as well, then? If I were in charge of the bells, we’d all be waking half past tea.”

The Commander seemed equally confused and annoyed with Dorian’s flippant nature, seemingly having no respect, no regard for his position.

As he closed the distance in a quick stride, Dorian simply crossing his arms and sighing, almost bored by the interaction, he said lowly, “Fall in line before I make an example out of you.”

Dorian, sifting his words through his head, began carefully evaluating his next move. While he didn’t enjoy being told what to do, and very much enjoyed testing people’s patience, he decided against saying anything at all, taking several steps back and lining up with the other troops.

The Commander relaxed his shoulders, turning slowly to take his place in front of the herd. As he glanced back to face his troops again, and saw Dorian at the front line of their formations, he quickly changed his mind.

“Alright Ser Dorian, since you seem to enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps you would like to help me demonstrate some defensive maneuvers.”

Dorian tensed. While he was proud of his magical knowledge and ability, he knew things the average Ferelden mage most certainly would not. He had to be careful of what spells he used, as not to let on too much or attract attention.

But he relaxed as he saw the Commander reach for an extra sword and shield, gesturing for Dorian to step forward. He stabbed his staff into the ground and sauntered up to take the weapons. As he did, the Commander asked quietly, “You do know which end to hold it by, don’t you?”

Before Dorian could think, he grinned and responded in a flirtatious tone, “I’ve had plenty of experience handling swords, Commander.”

The Commander stared at him blankly as a slight rosy color filled his cheeks, then cleared his throat as he handed the sword off to Dorian.

“How much experience do you have with shield work?” The Commander asked, getting into a proper fighting stance.

Dorian mimicked his movements, obviously less confident with a sword and shield. “Certainly less than with staff blades and staff defense,” he muttered.

The Commander nodded once. “Let us spar—so that I can evaluate what you know—then, we’ll try it again with your staff. All I want you to do is defend.” The troops drew closer, forming a circle like a fighting ring around the two. “Don’t let me into your personal space.”

Dorian wanted to make a suggestive remark about his personal space, but the time was lost as the blond charged at him with speed and an unfair amount of force. Dorian dodged and defended as best he could with what little knowledge he had while the Commander showed no mercy, but ultimately, in only a matter of seconds, the blond had managed to disarm him and enter his space.

They were nearly chest to chest, Dorian breathing somewhat heavily while the Commander hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Your movements are arrogant,” he announced, loudly for the rest of the troops to hear, “despite having no idea what you are doing, clearly. While half of defense is confidence, not showing your enemy weakness, it is not the whole fight.”

He stepped away from Dorian, acquiring his stance once more. “Again,” the Commander proclaimed, “with your staff this time.”

Dorian smirked as he pulled his staff blade out of the soil, poising himself for a good fight. He knew this was about physical defense, no magic involved, but by the Maker if he wouldn’t fight back.

The Commander once again charged at him, but this time Dorian knew what to do. He twirled his staff, directing the sword’s momentum away and back to the Commander, using his own power against him. Aside from a huff of disapproval, the blond went unfazed, using the off-railed momentum to carry his shield arm forward, bashing Dorian’s staff in an attempt to throw him off balance. But Dorian stabbed his staff blade into the ground, stopping the blond’s shield dead in its tracks. The Commander pressed forward, waiting for Dorian to inevitably lift his staff and take the force.

Rather than lift his staff, Dorian used it as leverage to swing his body around and kick the unsuspecting Commander’s sword from his hand. Unfortunately for Dorian, his opponent was ambidextrous, catching the sword in his left hand and switching the shield to his right. At this point, the Commander was visibly annoyed, putting more force into his blows, testing the mage’s strength. Dorian held his position for as long as he could, motivated by the troops’ shocked mumbling to one another.

Finally, after several minutes, the Commander’s sword came down on the blade of Dorian’s staff, throwing off the momentum and leaving Dorian open for the Commander to once again step into his space.

After this round, however, they were both panting, a sheen of sweat lightly reflecting on the blond’s chest. Dorian kept his eyes up, staring intently into the Commander’s.

“Much better,” He said flatly. “You use your staff as an extension of yourself. You know not only the magical maneuvers, but the physical ones as well. You still need to work on paying more attention to your opponent, and less to your own actions. They should come as second nature, as I’m sure your magic does.” The Commander backed away once again, relaxing his grip on his weapons. “Well done, overall. I’ve worked with and against many mages and, routinely, close combat was their weakness.” He scanned Dorian from head to toe, shrugging slightly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m impressed, but…” extending his hand out to Dorian, “I respect your ability.”

A nearly collective gasp came from the audience of troops around them, all surprised at Dorian’s redemption. From problem recruit, to Commander-respected mage. Perhaps Dorian had nothing to worry about after all.

He took the blond’s outstretched hand and shook it lightly, bowing his head with thanks and returned respect.

“Now then,” the Commander signaled for the troops to regroup into previous formation, “While we have mages among our ranks, many of you would not find the maneuvers performed by Ser Dorian particularly useful, unless you plan on fighting nonlethally.” A quiet chuckle simmered through the troops.

“For the majority of your sakes, I will have my associate Cassandra help me with your training. I warn you, she is a stickler for form. And rightfully so, as it could mean your life…”

The rest of training went by with little incident, other than the occasional calling out and embarrassing of inept recruits. And by the end of the session, nearing lunch, everyone was exhausted.

As the mass headed off for the dining hall, dismissed reluctantly by the Lady Seeker, Dorian saw from the corner of his eye the Commander and Seeker talking in hushed voices, glancing occasionally in his direction.

I’ll speak with him, he made out from the Commander’s lip movements. After nodding and donning a linen shirt, Dorian watched from his peripheral vision as the blond closed in on him.

“Ser Dorian,” he placed a light hand on the mage’s shoulder, “Could I speak with you a moment?”

Dorian acted surprised, even going so far as to ask, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

The Commander chuckled, “Not at all. Performing well in front of your peers in nothing to be punished for. However, on the topic of your performance, I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Dorian’s breath hitched. Kaffas, they’re getting suspicious, he thought to himself, trying not to appear alarmed.

The Commander led him away from the hungry glob of languid recruits and in the direction of a more private location, beginning to ask several questions along the way.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, where did you learn to fight with a staff?” he asked nonchalantly, hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.

“I went to a very prestigious academy; one where our days were filled with nothing but magical and alchemical training. More general teachings—reading, writing, arithmetic—were expected to be taught in the household between school hours.” Dorian explained, leaving out any details that could be traced to Tevinter.

The Commander nodded, humming in understanding before asking, “In Orlais? I read in your recruitment form you were born and raised there.”

“Indeed,” Dorian knew quite a bit about Orlais, and spoke a bit of Orlesian, so he supposed he could continue this lie rather well. “I was lucky to be born to a noble family.”

“I’ve never heard of the Rider family.” The Commander stated bluntly, making Dorian’s heart jump a little.

“Well,” he began, spinning a believable story in his head, “we were unfortunately, when I was rather young, stripped of our finances by a business partner who ran off with my parents’ money. The rest appears to be history.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes, taking Dorian up and down once again. “I prefer my history well documented.”

Before Dorian could comment, a runner jogged toward them, handing off a stack of papers.

“Commander! New reports for you, Ser. Spymaster says they’re not urgent, but could be useful.”

The blond sighed and skimmed several of the papers, a lock of frazzled hair falling in front of his face. He rolled his eyes, handing the papers back to the runner, “Useful seems an over statement. Jim, take these to my office and tell Leliana, respectfully, this matter is a waste of my time.”

The runner nervously nodded, jogging off from whence he came. The Commander sighed and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose as he thought aloud quietly, “I am not the negotiator, that is Josephine’s job and it should remain her job if we are all to stay sane…”

He dropped his hand after a moment with a deep sigh before turning to Dorian. “I apologize, Ser Dorian, but I’ve work to do before the next bout of training. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, Commander…?” Dorian waited for a reply.

“Cullen. Always Commander Cullen, of course.”

“Of course,” Dorian agreed. “Until this afternoon, Commander Cullen.” He gave a graceful bow, the Commander simply ducking his head slightly in acknowledgement before they parted ways.

__________

Dorian tossed and turned that night, nerves and nightmares drilling deep into his conscience. He woke with a start, finding his fellow troops all still asleep, gentle blue moonlight shining through the slit of a window. Determined to clear his mind and be able to go back to sleep before training that morning, Dorian set off for the battlements.

After climbing the steps, passing the few troops on night watch, Dorian found a good spot to clear his head, out of the path of patrolling guards. He leaned against the stone wall and hung his head over, propping himself up on his elbows. He sighed, hoping his nerves would leave with his breath and leave him his confident self once again. But the worry continued; worry about being found out, about being dragged back home, about dying a face in the crowd, no one knowing him for what he wanted to stand for. A man against the fear mongering of his homeland, a man against the all-ruling wants of the Imperium, the good Tevinter.

But above all else, he worried about dying before he could prove to himself that he deserved all that recognition.

Just as the feeling of existentialism began to consume him, he heard a sudden voice from behind him, gentle and light. Soft, in a way.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? You trained hard yesterday, you deserve it.”

Dorian jumped and turned to see the person speaking to him. He found the Commander, once again in linens, leaning in the doorway to what Dorian assumed was his office.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your brooding,” Cullen said apologetically, coming to lean against the battlement walls as well. “I heard walking around out here, and the guards don’t patrol this close to my office. I thought maybe there was trouble. Was I correct?”

Dorian smiled gently, looking out over the mountains again, “If I’m deserving of a rest, you are far beyond deserving. Letting recruits wail on you for hours? You must be tired.”

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it out as he spoke, “They don’t know nearly enough to have actually done any damage. I’ve certainly taken worse.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Cullen spoke again, “But you didn’t answer me.”

Dorian looked at him curiously.

“Is there trouble?”

Dorian chuckled, letting out a breathy laugh and ducking his head. “No, I’m just a bit sleepless. It’s nothing new, nothing I can’t cope with.”

Cullen nodded, quiet for a moment, before saying, “With all due respect, Ser Dorian, I don’t believe you.”

Those were not words Dorian needed to hear. They only added to his nervousness over being found out. He wanted to get out of there, quickly. “I suppose I should head off then, back to bed. Don’t want to be late for morning training again.”

“There’s no curfew, you know. Well, the tavern closes an hour after sunset, but there’s no rule saying you can’t wander the grounds.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to continue, still poised to walk away.

“Would you mind if we talked a moment?” Cullen asked innocently, gesturing to his office.

Dorian reluctantly entered the Commander’s office and took a seat.

“Our ambassador looked into your ‘noble family’, by the way.” Cullen uttered as he closed the door, sauntering over to his desk and pulling Dorian’s recruitment form out to place in front of the mage.

He was fucked, he knew it. They found out who he really was and they were going to assume he was a Venatori spy, interrogate him for information, maybe even kill him.

“Only noble Rider family in Orlais was over two hundred years ago and they died out from inherited illness. So…” Cullen lowered himself into his seat, propping his elbows on the desk and placing his head on his wound hands, “Why did you lie?”

Dorian looked through the papers in front of him; his recruitment form, his payment contract, the information dug up on the Riders, but found nothing about his true identity. Did they not figure out who he really was? Was Cullen keeping the information from him to catch him in another lie? Dorian took a deep breath before testing his luck.

“I was staying with an old friend of mine in the Hinterlands when your recruiters came knocking. My friend manages her land all on her own—it isn’t much, but she’s not as spry as younger folk—and I came to help her. The recruiters were insistent that she ‘volunteer’ or that she sign for a draft. Obviously, she can’t leave her crops and animals to parish, so I offered to go in her place, on behalf of her household.”

Dorian held his breath, waiting for Cullen to react.

The blond took a breath before restating, “Your friend is older and you wanted to make sure she wouldn’t lose her land by being drafted?”

Dorian nodded, still barely breathing.

Cullen pursed his lips and slowly bobbed his head, glancing back down to Dorian’s papers.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, “My recruiters were trying to force her to volunteer? Or sign for the draft? That goes against their orders, which are, simply, to spread the word of our cause and take those who volunteer for a draft, if necessary, or to join the ranks.”

Dorian let out his breath, slowly as to not let on how truly relieved he was. Cullen had not only accepted his story, but truly seemed to believe it. Not all of it was a lie, in fact most of it was true, if not laid in truth.

“Let me ask next, did you give us her name when volunteering? Or some other alias?” Cullen raised his brows like a disappointed parent catching their child in a lie.

Dorian knew giving his real name would give him away and possibly get him killed, so he instead continued the lie. “No, my name is Dorian Rider, however I don’t believe there’s any relation to the Orlesian family. As far as I know, my roots are in Antiva. However, I do not know much about my heritage. My family…” He cringed at the little truth he was about to slip in, “My family disowned me for not following their life plans for me. I only know where my parents were born.”

Cullen’s eyes went soft, emotion slipping through his interrogation mask. “I…I am truly sorry. That’s something I’ve been lucky enough to never have experienced. I won’t press the matter.”

Dorian nodded in thanks, his heart finally settling.

“While your intent was in good standing,” Cullen said, running his hands through his natural curls, “I must still report this as misconduct. You could have worse; I’m going rather easy on you for this sort of misdemeanor. I expect I will not regret my decision, Ser Dorian?”

Dorian nodded, just relieved the whole confrontation was over.

“Good, then I believe everything is settled,” Cullen stated, leading Dorian to the door.

As Dorian began to hurry off, Cullen called after him, “And Ser Dorian!”

Dorian turned to listen.

“I said while sparring I would not go so far as to say I was impressed with your performance. It seems I told a bit of a lie myself.”

Cullen gave a knowing look before closing the door to his office.

__________

After several days of following a simple routine—getting up at the arse-crack of dawn, training for the morning, eating lunch, then training until sundown—Dorian began to feel comfortable with his new surroundings. Since his impressive display sparring with the Commander, people had begun to respect him, addressing him politely as he passed, even if Dorian was hardly their acquaintance. He felt good, confident in himself once again, and sure his secret was completely safe.

As he wandered the courtyard, clearing his mind after a lackluster lunch with the other recruits, Dorian noticed an elf with a powerful stance, Dalish markings on his skin, approaching him with purpose in his step.

“Dorian Rider, yes? I’ve heard much about you from your fellow troops; and our Commander himself.”

“Inquisitor!” Dorian suddenly realized, only having seen the man from a distance before now, “It’s an honor. And I’m happy to have good things said about me.” He bowed, low and respectful.

The elf scoffed, “Please, enough with the formalities. I was hoping to speak with you, if I could.” He gestured forward, in the direction of the main hall.

“Of course,” Dorian answered as he followed, only a slight nervousness rising in his chest.

When they arrived in the hall, few people occupying the echoing space, the Inquisitor began to ask, “From all I’ve seen and heard, you have quite a talent for magic and fighting. While all mages are technically apostates now, I understand you were an apostate before all the in-fighting broke out. Is that correct?”

Dorian nodded, thinking he knew where this was going. “I was indeed. While I won’t claim to be better than a Circle mage, I do believe I had the opportunity to learn many magic forms the Chantry might frown on. Excluding blood magic, of course. A disgusting use of power.” Dorian shuddered slightly, remembering its uses in Tevinter politics.

“Absolutely. You seem an upstanding man, one who would not abuse the privilege of living outside the Circle.” The Inquisitor sauntered slowly toward a door at the side of the hall, pushing it open and beckoning Dorian through. Dorian obliged, waiting in the short corridor before holding the second door open for the elf.

“Among my people blood magic is considered savage and unnatural, as many others feel, Circle mage or no. While I believe the Circle has a place, I do not believe it is to control or constrict mages, but to teach them and help them learn to control themselves and their own power. From what Commander Cullen has told me about Kirkwall, I think the Circle has driven more mages to consider dark magicks as a means to escape. Horrifying things they may never have even conceived of if given more freedom.”

The elf seemed oddly adamant for a non-mage, making Dorian slightly suspicious as to where the conversation was headed. But as the Inquisitor led them to a massive room with a massive map table, Dorian felt there would be no trouble today.

Several men stood behind the map table, some Dorian recognized as the Inquisitor’s associates, and others he’d seen around Skyhold with no context as to who they were.

“I’d like to introduce you to some of my most trusted members and friends of the Inquisition.” The elf gestured forward with a sweeping motion, triggering everyone to bow their heads and smile.

“Firstly, Solas, who has been with us from the beginning, helping me cope with the Anchor and studying its power.”

The tall slender elf smiled softly, “It is a pleasure, Ser Dorian.”

“Secondly—of course you know him—our Commander, Cullen, leader of our forces, ex-Templar, currently slowly dying from lyrium withdrawal he never told me about.” The Inquisitor eyed him angrily as the Commander gave a sheepish smile, muttering some sort of apology.

“And of course, the roguish duo of Varric and his little shadow Cole.”

The Dwarf waved as he continued to tune up his crossbow, saying casually, “Good to meet you, pretty boy.”

The young man behind him, on the other hand, looked Dorian curiously in the eyes before uttering, “You’re different inside your head: lacking, loathing, lonely; soft words never enough, but harsh words too harsh to heal.”

Dorian gave the Inquisitor a side glance, eyes wide with surprise. “Um, yeah. He does…that.” The Inquisitor apologized.

Dorian nodded tentatively to each of them before saying quietly to the Inquisitor, “While it’s lovely to meet everyone, I’m not quite sure I understand what this is about.”

The elf chuckled as he approached the war table and walked around to join his colleagues on the other side. “I, Eridan Levellan, would like to personally induct you into my inner circle, to join me and my allies—and closest friends—in the monumental task of keeping the Inquisition afloat and keeping our allies, and prospective allies, satisfied and compliant.”

Dorian’s jaw fell open in shock, meaning to say something, but at a loss for words.

The Inquisitor laughed again, “Allow me to explain my reasoning: Cullen and Cassandra told me about your skill with fighting and magic after your first display, and have kept me up to date on your progress and ability as it’s been relieved to us through your training. While I am incredibly glad to have you among our forces, I think your skill could be better put to use in the field, when it’s just me and a small group out and about.”

He pulled Cole and Varric into his side, arms around their shoulders and a hand on Solas’s arm as he stated, “While I have other members in my inner circle, these three are the ones who most often join me on my personal missions. Providing immediate aid, closing rifts, dealing with people’s weird family problems in exchange for supplies and alliance—we see it all, and it’s all dangerous. I think I could use someone with your talent out with me, watching my back!”

The short, and surprisingly stocky elf seemed incredibly excited about the concept, raising his eyebrows to question Dorian, imploring him to accept the offer.

When Dorian hesitated, Solas spoke up, voice soft and reassuring, “If I am to have an opinion in the matter, I would be delighted to work with another mage interested in the magicks not taught within any Circle. As an apostate myself, I chose to study spirits and ancient magicks, finding lost pieces of history in the fade as I dreamt. Many mages from the Circle believe this means I have made pacts with demons, and explaining my innocent intentions becomes tiresome. I, for one, would welcome the addition of a like minded apostate into our ranks.”

“The only apostate I ever met escaped from the Circle and it’s all he ever talked about. ‘Templars this, rebellion that.’ Had an insane spirit living in him, too. I’d like to spend time with less crazy mages,” Varric chimed in.

“You think about acceptance, but have never come to expect it. I’ve seen the dangers, lived with them. If that’s acceptance, I would have to change for it. Would I be myself after that?...” Cole was suddenly next to him, despite being under the Inquisitor’s arm only a second ago.

“Sweet Andra—! Can you not do that?” Dorian exclaimed, almost jumping away.

“Don’t mind him. He’s some kind of ‘good’ spirit. He doesn’t really understand boundaries.” The Inquisitor said, coming around the war table to pull Cole away by the wrist.

Cullen’s voice, the softest of everyone’s, gained Dorian’s attention immediately, “As the one who recommended this to begin with, I of course think you should accept. You have a wonderful talent that I can’t use among my troops. It seems a pity to waste it under my command.” He gave an encouraging smile, making Dorian’s mind up instantly.

“Inquisitor, it would be an honor to be part of your inner circle. I accept.”

The Inquisitor practically cheered, ushering everyone out so he could explain what would be expected of Dorian. Dorian listened intently, making sure to joke with the elf to gain his trust and form a feeling of comradery.

After stepping out of the war room, Dorian found Cullen waiting for him, leaning against the ambassador’s empty desk, standing upright when Dorian entered the room.

“I’m happy to hear you’ll be traveling with the Inquisitor from now on. As I said before, I truly think your skills will be better suited in the field.” Cullen extended his hand to offer congratulations.

Dorian took it in a confident grasp, giving a single solid shake. “I appreciate the referral. I’m certain it will surprise you to hear, but not many people appreciate my efforts.”

Cullen chuckled, “I can certainly relate; there have been times in my life where I felt the same. Looking back…” the Commander trailed off slightly, “Well, I’m not so certain anymore that my efforts deserved to be appreciated.”

“I assume you mean your time as a Templar?”

The blond sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Yes. I followed faithfully, but I realize now I was not following the right path.”

Dorian smiled, understanding completely, “Believe me, Commander, I know the feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Cullen asked, shyly, “Would you mind if I asked…?”

“My family. What my family had planned for me, for the rest of my life. I followed as faithfully as I could until…” Dorian looked at his feet, eyes full of pain, trying to avoid Cullen noticing. “Until I was older and understood what they expected of me. After I dared to defy them one too many times…”

Dorian stopped. He couldn’t say anymore. Yes, it might give him away, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t speak. He knew, he remembered what his father was willing to do to change his preferences, and it hurt too much to say out loud. The man he thought had his best interests at heart turned out to only care about himself. Saying it out loud was like admitting a truth Dorian didn’t want to accept.

Cullen tried to look him in the eyes, touching his hand ever so gently to gain his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m learning to accept it. It just…isn’t fun to talk about.” Dorian gave a pained smile.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand from Dorian’s in favor of rubbing at his neck again, “I know. One’s past shapes who they are and who they become. Sometimes it’s difficult to accept who you were…”

Dorian saw the familiarity in Cullen’s gaze—distant and unsure—and heard the regret in his tone, but decided not to push the matter.

“Or, uh, who your parents were, I mean. I-I’m sure you’ve always been this wonderful. A wonderful person, that is! Good, uh, good moral standing, and all that.” Cullen’s face was very quickly getting red as he tried to avoid eye contact and stutter through his explanation.

Dorian chuckled, taking pity on the blond. “I understood what you meant, Commander, no worries.”

“Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

The Commander looked up suddenly, looking directly into Dorian’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were nearly gold. “Call me Cullen. You’re no longer under my command, so please: just Cullen.” He smiled so genuinely that Dorian almost forgot to respond.

“Oh, yes, well…” he laughed a little more to fill the silence as he thought. “I suppose I like the title. It suits you.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, the blush coming back, less strong this time. “As you wish, Ser Dorian.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to a more casual stance, finally feeling comfortable, “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Cullen poorly faked a look of offence, “Tease? Never!”

“Mm, you should work on your poker face, Commander.” Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Cullen laughed with him before the two fell silent again, neither wanting to leave, but neither knowing what to say.

“I…I wanted to ask a while ago, but I didn’t want the other recruits to think I was giving you special treatment: would you care to continue sparring when neither of us is busy? As odd as it may sound, I enjoyed the challenge.” Cullen seemed to be looking anywhere but ahead, avoiding Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian grinned, also avoiding eye contact, feeling like a childish school boy dodging around outright flirting with one another. “I would like that, actually.”

The two agreed on a time and place, and parted ways for the rest of the day. Dorian wandered a while until he saw the Inquisitor again, casually asking about continuing to sleep in the barracks.

“Oh! We can find you more private quarters if you like. I certainly wouldn’t want to live with a bunch of other people if I didn’t have to. Talk to Josephine, our Ambassador; she’ll find an open room for you.”

And so Dorian did, and by the end of the day, he had moved his belongings to a small—but comfortable—room with a view of the tavern and gardens. Right off the side of the main hall, and up a few flights of stairs, Dorian’s door opened to a balcony where he could see everything. While he knew these rooms were meant for visiting guests, and it may not be a permanent living situation, he had to admit it felt good to have his own space again. He did what had to be done to survive—slept in inns, travelers’ camps, worked odd jobs before finding Miss Ella’s farm— but it certainly wasn’t the lifestyle he was used to.

But that lifestyle was far out of reach now. As he sat on the edge of his new bed, mindlessly sorting his collection of magical trinkets, he wondered if life would have been better if he went along with his family’s plan to begin with. Marry the girl, have another mage son, continue living a lie for the rest of his life. He often told himself it would have been easier, but that wasn’t true. How could it be easy to deny your true self for your entire life? How could it be easy to force yourself to have sex with someone you could never be attracted to until you finally had a child?

How could it be easier than leaving everything you’ve ever known behind? That was difficult enough on its own.

“I don’t know;” he thought aloud, “how could it be harder?”

“Harder?”

Dorian jumped, conjuring a small flame in his palm on instinct, letting it fizzle as he saw the Commander in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cullen said, extending his hand out as he carefully approached, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I would come see how you were adjusting. All this, it must be a bit of a transition.”

Dorian’s palm quickly cooled as he let out a long breath, slowly calming down from the scare. “It certainly is. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it seems so sudden. Too sudden.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’d say you’ve earned it. But of course I would, I made the suggestion. How do you feel about it all?” he cocked his head on a slight angle, like a curious dog.

Dorian gestured for the Commander to sit next to him, the blond taking a tentative seat. “It’s odd. Coming here the way I did. Knowing what I came from—money, power, having to exceed expectations if you wanted to get anywhere in life…it was so stressful, and running away from it all was so stressful. And now…”

Dorian turned his head to see Cullen’s innocent golden eyes filled with understanding, knowing just as well what it was like to run from the only life you’d ever known. He found himself entranced, forgetting everything as he lost himself in wisdom-filled, pained eyes that reminded him of his own, a tired glaze darkening the once bright shine of hope they held years ago.

“And now?” Cullen repeated, hardly voicing the words.

The moment felt so intimate; the bed was somewhat small, so they were seated close, leaning toward each other. Cullen’s hand was pressed to the bed to support him as he leaned, placed right behind Dorian. It almost felt like they were embraced without touching each other. He felt comfortable, so comfortable he couldn’t even bring himself to question what was happening. So he simply let the moment linger. It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel drawn out. It just felt…comfortable.

It seemed like an eternity before Cullen’s leg gently bumped his, the blond letting the tips of his fingers rest on Dorian’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what the intent of the action was, but it only made Dorian lose himself more. At first he was just lost in the ex-Templar’s eyes. Now he could see the entirety of him, inside and out. And after scanning over his body, Dorian’s eyes locked on to the blond’s lips. The room froze, time froze. Dorian saw Cullen’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed harshly, obviously wanting more than just Dorian’s eyes on his lips.

Dorian let himself move closer, just a bit, and Cullen did the same.

“And now,” Dorian’s voice was somewhere below a whisper, “things almost feel easy.”

“They could be,” Cullen’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Dorian wished there was some sort of hoarseness, wobbliness, something in his voice that made it clear what was happening here.

But Dorian wasn’t sure. He needed to be certain before he outed himself here. In Ferelden, in the Inquisition, in this moment with Cullen. He needed to be certain.

So he backed off, leaning away again and closing his eyes. He heard the Commander sigh next to him and clear his throat, shifting away.

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Cullen sounded disappointed, but by this point Dorian had already convinced himself not taking a chance was the better course of action.

“I can leave you with your thoughts, if you like?”

“For now,” Dorian sighed, “That might be best.”

Cullen nodded, standing and heading for the door. “Until tomorrow?” he asked, audibly confused about their situation.

Dorian smiled gently, “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

__________

Dorian slept only a few hours that night, anxious and almost excited for Cullen and his appointment. He wore something more or less appropriate for sparring, forgoing his Inquisition sanctioned armor in favor of his own. It fit his form in a much more flattering way, and the magical embellishments made it more practical as well. He had a bounce to his step as he exited his room, using his staff halfheartedly like a walking stick as he went.

Before he reached the training grounds, Dorian took the time to admire how empty Skyhold felt. There were a few soldiers on the battlement, tired runners getting back from late errands, even two recruits who thought they were being stealthy while stealing a bottle of ale from the closed tavern. They noticed him, swearing as they sprinted off into the bushes to enjoy their find, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at their youthful behavior.

He felt content. Things were going well. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, but Dorian couldn’t force himself to be paranoid in this peaceful moment an hour before dawn. He looked to the sky to see the scar and the moon almost perfectly aligned, about halfway set. He had time.

Just as he took a deep breath, a gentle voice barely rocked him.

“Fancy meeting you here. Any reason you’re up so early?”

Dorian turned to see Cullen with a smirk on his lips and still in full armor, despite normally dressing down to train and spar.

“I believe we had a date, Commander. It appears you may have forgotten, from your dress.” Dorian let Cullen notice as he purposefully drug his gaze over the blond’s physic, deciding against licking his lips. What about the wee hours of the morning made Dorian so openly flirtatious, he would never know. Even when it came to men who otherwise wouldn’t be his first choice, Dorian was always more open minded at the early hours.

Cullen raised a brow under the sensual scrutiny, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I could say the same for you, in your…intricate attire.” He dropped his sword and shield next to him on the ground as he began to remove his upper armor, leaving his boots and trousers alone.

“Oh, do you like it? I would have brought it out sooner if we weren’t made to wear uniforms under your command. Boring, ugly uniforms.” Dorian shuddered dramatically.

Cullen shook his head and smirked as he loosely held his weapons, now shirtless and prepared to spar. “I didn’t assign those uniforms, you can take that up with the Inquisitor. However, I doubt your armor would be very practical when rushing into battle. Too many belts.” He eyed Dorian’s armor, trying to figure out how it worked.

Dorian adopted a pose to show quite a bit of his body, showing himself and the armor off at once. “It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.” Stated matter-of-factly, before dipping his voice to a more sultry tone, “I could show you if you like. With practice, you could become quite proficient. It doesn’t take me much time to strip out of it all.”

His eyes were lidded as he watched Cullen. The Commander’s expression hardly changed as he said, oh so quietly as usual, “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hadn’t hesitated with his response, and Dorian found himself caught off guard at Cullen’s boldness. Maybe the morning hours had an effect on him as well.

“Well then,” he said, squaring up to Dorian, “How shall we start?”

Dorian followed his lead, “Magic or no magic?”

“None yet. I haven’t had to defend against magic without my—what did you call them? ‘Little Templar tricks’?—in quite some time. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Perhaps when we have some supervision.”

Dorian sighed and said in an overly exasperated tone, “Shame; I was rather hoping these would be…private sessions.” He winked.

Cullen’s face heated, but it didn’t stop him from responding, “Out in the courtyard? This is hardly private. Now, if you ever show me how to work that ‘armor’ of yours; that I’d consider a private session.”

The morning was chilly, dew freezing on to the grass, but it was warm enough that Dorian should not have visibly shivered. He couldn’t pull any excuse when Cullen noticed. It was obvious what was happening. The blond smirked at him, Dorian trying not to think about the effect Cullen’s flirtations had on him. Not here, and certainly not now. Dorian had designed his armor himself, and liked that it fit in a way that left few things to the imagination, but if this sparring session got a little too handsy, Dorian may be wishing he had worn the Inquisition’s armor instead.

Thankfully, Cullen didn’t mention Dorian’s reaction, and simply started their training, leading with the initial blow as always. Dorian could dodge and throw up wards like there was no tomorrow, but he wanted to train his defense, not just evasion. So he used his staff to block and parry Cullen’s attacks, focusing his mind on observing his opponent, just as Cullen had been telling him to.

Before long, Dorian was focusing less and less on Cullen’s form, attack patterns, or eye line, and more on his body, movement, and gaze.

His eyes seemed sharp, knowing exactly where he wanted to land a blow. His body was under full control, every muscle accounted for and flowing to where his gaze wanted them. He moved with such grace for a warrior; surprisingly loose and agile for all his heavy armor and muscle build.

Dorian had continued to successfully dodge and defend while in his trance, but he hadn’t been holding his ground very well, slowly backing up and losing awareness of where his feet were.

Inevitably, his foot landed on uneven ground and he slipped. But long before he would have hit the ground, Cullen wrapped his arm around the mage’s waist and pulled him back up, their chests flush.

Dorian was tense, not even having realized he’d been falling until Cullen pulled him back. He returned from his thoughts when he heard Cullen’s voice say with an incredible tenderness, “I’ve got you.”

“You certainly have…”

Cullen cocked a brow, gentle smile still donned, as he waited for Dorian to make a move. He wasn’t letting go until Dorian told him to, and Dorian finally had the confirmation he needed to take the risk of making said move. His body relaxed against the Commander’s as he let his arms slide between them, nimble fingers tracing up Cullen’s marred chest. Dorian let his hands rest on either side of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him forward to let their lips meet.

But just as their lips brushed together, they heard footsteps skid to a halt in front of them.

Cullen sighed and turned his head, growling with frustration, “What!?”

The troop looked stunned, having only just realized what she walked up on. When she failed to answer, the Commander let go of Dorian’s waist and marched slowly, intimidatingly toward the recruit, nostrils flared and steps heavy. The young woman backed away with her hands close to her face as if Cullen might actually hurt her. Dorian couldn’t blame her for thinking he might; the blond certainly wasn’t calm.

“I-I’m so sorry Ser, I just w-wanted to be e-early—”

“What do you think the bells are for? So you can wake up before them? If you showed up to battle early, do you know what would happen?”

“I don’t—”

“It would be you against an army, with your fellow soldiers miles behind you. You would be dead before you even had time to scream.”

The poor girl was shaking by this point, trying to stutter an apology through wobbly breath.

Cullen closed his eyes tightly, grumbling as he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate your incentive,” he began after he calmed down, “I expect you all here exactly when I say. Not a second later, nor a second sooner. Don’t be early, be on time.”

He looked apologetically to the girl as she continued to quiver. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently prodding her back toward the barracks. She walked off slowly, still in shock.

Dorian smiled and shook his head, arms crossed, as Cullen sauntered back over to him with an embarrassed blush, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That poor young woman is going to have nightmares” Dorian looked at Cullen accusingly, but he couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“I’m going to have to apologize to her later. I think I ruined the moment more than her seeing us did.” Cullen’s blush reached from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck and to the bottom of his collarbone.

Dorian chuckled and stepped closer to Cullen again, placing a hand on his cheek only to be greeted with the heat of his blush. “Perhaps we can bring it back before the bells. Unless you’d like to frighten a few more of your troops this morning? Show them who’s boss, etcetera?”

Cullen scoffed a little, but he was smiling. How could he not be, when Dorian was gently caressing his face and coaxing him into a kiss? He replaced his hand on Dorian’s waist and pressed against him, the mage pulling Cullen in tighter by the biceps.

And, finally, their lips met. Dorian meant for it to be rather chaste, leaving Cullen wanting more, but he couldn’t pull himself away. It wasn’t the same kiss he had gotten a hundred times in Tevinter. It wasn’t a formality during a loveless night together. This kiss was warm and soft, tender and compassionate, much like the man giving it.

Dorian’s hands slid up Cullen’s arms to hold his neck firmly, for fear the blond might pull away before Dorian had gotten the chance to relish the kiss. Cullen let his shield clatter to the ground, wrapping both arms tightly around the mage, hands splayed across his back, trying to feel through the armor. For a moment, Dorian considered removing the upper portion of his armor, so the two could be skin to skin, and he could feel Cullen’s callused hands up and down his back. By the Maker, that’s all he wanted in the moment, but he forced himself to save the stripping for somewhere other than the training grounds.

It almost felt like it lasted for hours by the intensity and the way the sun had risen over the fortress walls in the meantime. What finally broke the kiss was the striking ringing of the morning bells sounding Skyhold to wake up. Both men jumped at the sound, completely forgetting their surroundings while locked in each other’s embrace.

Dorian’s surprised eyes locked with Cullen’s with a matching expression, and both couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. Cullen’s arms were still around Dorian’s waist, and Dorian’s draped over the Commander’s shoulders comfortably. It wasn’t until the men caught a glimpse of approaching grounds keepers that their embrace fell away, standing back awkwardly from one another before they were discovered.

“I…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dorian to say something, because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“Thank you. For the sparring, that is. I…enjoyed it.” Dorian didn’t want to believe he was blushing, but he knew blood was rushing to his face.

Cullen smiled, only extending his hand in response. Dorian took Cullen’s hand in a firm grasp, giving a single solid shake. They stared at one another for a moment before Cullen stepped forward, his hold becoming gentle and soft. Eyes still locked with Dorian’s, he pressed a lasting kiss to the back of the man’s hand, the gesture holding more emotion than Dorian knew how to respond to. So, instead, he just smiled and ducked his head.

“So did I.” Cullen said lightly bringing their entwined hands away from his lips.

__________

His mind was in shambles, there was no way he could focus with his heart and head racing like this. Adrenaline had his hands shaking and his legs restless, so he paced. And paced and paced, around the room like it was a stage and all his anxiety and fears were the actors in a play.

But all these were real. Far too real for comfort.

Dorian exasperatedly threw open his door, rushing to the tavern to drown his panic attack away. As he walked—it was more of a jog, if he was honest—he wondered if there was really any reason to be anxious. Had anyone even seen him snogging the Commander? Would it be as scandalous in Ferelden as in Tevinter? While he doubted it, his anxious mind was having none of his logic.

When he entered the Herald’s Rest, it was fairly loud, the Inquisitor and Bull getting rowdy with the Chargers and a few stray recruits. Good, plenty of noise to drown out his thoughts.

Dorian grabbed a seat and a drink and proceeded to drink his feelings.

He hadn’t been counting, but it must have been an hour after he started drinking—and seven drinks in; he had been counting those—before a large and gruff hand smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Dorian jumped, turning quickly and narrowing his eyes. As he looked up, he saw a massive rack of Qunari horns and muscle looming over him, tankard in hand and bare chested.

“How’s it going? You’re that mage who kicked Cullen’s ass, yeah?” he lowered into a chair across the table.

“Is that how the story’s been spun?” Dorian’s words were melding together as he swirled his drink around in its mug.

“Might as well go with it,” the Oxman shrugged. “Better than being known as the undercover Vint, right?”

Dorian immediately sobered, back straightening and voice dropping low. “Who are you? What do you know and what do you want?”

Bull raised his brow, “Not even denying it? I’m guessing you aren’t normally this careless when you’re sober. Don’t think you would have made it this far.”

“Answer me,” Dorian growled through clenched teeth.

Smiling, Bull leaned his beefy arms on the table, dropping his tone as well. “I’m Ben Hassrath. Don’t worry, it’s no secret, actually I think that’s the first thing I said to the Inquisitor,” Bull cleared his throat and adjusted to lean even farther across the table, “It’s my job to read people, know things they would never admit by just looking at them. Besides, you really don’t think a Qunari would recognize a Vint when he sees one?”

Dorian couldn’t think straight; the way Bull talked quietly felt as if he didn’t want to out anything, but why would he bring this up in the first place if he was going to keep it a secret?

“I can pay whatever you want, I come from a very wealthy family. Just name your price and I’ll—”

Bull held up a hand to stop him, “Yeah, your family might be rich, but you’re not, are you? You ran off with the clothes on your back and something expensive to sell, just in case. Isn’t that right?”

Dorian’s mouth hung open as he tried to process the information, the fact that Bull was hitting every nail on the head with no more information than what he could see on Dorian’s face.

“That’s what I thought. And don’t worry, I don’t need you to pay me. I know you’re not Venatori, just a regular cocky mage boy. You won’t hurt anyone, not on purpose anyway.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in triumph, watching as realization washed over Dorian’s face.

“You’re not going to tell the Inquisitor? Or the Inquisition as a whole?”

Bull shrugged, downing the last of his ale, “No point. You’re keeping this a secret for a reason, and it’s a pretty good one. It’s probably what I would do in your shoes.”

Dorian took a moment, then shook his head, “But…you were in my situation. And you told them who you really are.”

Laughter echoed around the tavern as Bull belted out, “Oh, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He let the last of the laughter trickle out in several smaller huffs. “Well, at least the whole world isn’t at war with the Qunari.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “For once,” he muttered.

Bull sneered at him, “Watch it, Vint boy.”

Dorian sighed a breath of relief, hanging his head in his hands. He had no reason to trust Bull would keep his word, but for now it was enough.

After a moment of relative silence—as silent as it can get in a tavern after dark—Dorian heard the chair across from him creak as Bull leaned forward again.

“So, uh…I can see you have a lot on your mind. Think I could help clear your head a bit?”

Dorian looked up in near disgust. He wasn’t sure it was genuine, more just to keep up the Qunari-Tevinter feud. “I think not.”

Bull shrugged and stood, sauntering back to his Chargers. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

While Dorian had to admit he was curious, he was far too enamored with the Commander, thinking back over and over on their moment in the courtyard that morning.

__________

Paranoia had filled his bones for days, taking over his thoughts and actions. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, do as little as possible that could draw suspicion. He separated himself from the troops, the inner circle, the Inquisitor. Bull, especially.

And he tried to separate himself from Cullen, a major source of his anxiety. But every time he saw the blond walking toward him, with a sweet crooked smile that acknowledged their mutual feelings without bringing them to the forefront of conversation, Dorian could feel his shoulders relax and his mind declutter.

And, of course, it happened again. As Dorian trained in the courtyard, he could see the Commander’s infamous armor out of the corner of his eye. He just stood, watched as Dorian put his magic on display, not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but being impressive nonetheless.

At that point, Dorian was finding it hard to tell if Cullen was watching him out of adoration or suspicion. In an attempt to hide his nerves, Dorian ceased his casting and gave Cullen an exaggerated side glance.

“Enjoying the show, Commander?” He shifted his weight to one hip as he poked his staff into the ground.

Cullen raised his brows innocently, “Show? I was just admiring your form. A natural gift, I’m sure.”

Dorian strode up to where Cullen was leaning against a wall, “My form, he says.” He was tempted to run a hand down the blond’s chest, but chose not to out of fear of passersby noticing.

“I was simply studying how you move for the next time we spar, that’s all.” Cullen’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

Dorian grinned, “Is that all you were ‘studying’?” his voice was low and rumbly.

A few seconds passed before Cullen had to look away, his face turning bright red, unable to control a smile. Dorian had to give him props for how long the Commander managed to flirt back.

“I was actually here to ask if you had a bit of spare time,” Cullen’s blush slowly left his cheeks as he spoke, “but I figured I would wait until you were done.”

Dorian tilted his head a bit, “I might, depending on what for.”

“Chess.”

Was the conversation still flirtatious? Was “chess” a euphemism used in the south that Dorian wasn’t aware of?

“Chess?”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes, it’s something I like to do to clear my head, and you’ve seemed…full-headed, let’s say, as of late.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, “That would be one way to put it, yes.”

Cullen smiled and gestured to the garden, “Shall we, then?”

They didn’t say much as they walked to the garden, but Cullen began to explain as he pulled out Dorian’s chair for him, “My sister and I used to play chess against each other in hopes of beating our father one day.” He walked around to take his seat once Dorian was settled. “Eventually, she became even better at the game than Dad, so the new goal was for me to beat her. My brother and I practiced for months, hoping one of us would be able to beat her at least once. The look on her face when I finally won…”

The memory of triumph put the sweetest, most juvenile smile on Cullen’s scarred lips. Dorian couldn’t help but inquire, “A girl and two boys? Sounds like you parents had their work cut out for them.”

“Two girls and two boys, actually. Mia is the eldest, Rosalie is the youngest. I’m the older of us boys, however. Branson is a few years younger than me.”

Dorian scoffed with shock, “Quite a large family, isn’t it? And to think, I have no entertaining sibling stories to share.”

“Only child? You must have been spoiled, getting all the attention.” Cullen moved a piece on the board to start off the match.

Dorian gave a single harsh laugh. “Hardly; if my parents spent money on me, it was for my schooling. Only the most prestigious academies for their little heir.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he made his move, sitting back and crossing his arms after.

Cullen’s expression was so gentle and sympathetic. Dorian didn’t enjoy being pitied, but he knew Cullen wasn’t the type.

“Children should be free to have fun. It wasn’t fair of them to make you work so hard.”

Dorian felt a deep compressed anger bubble up before he said, “Children should be free to have fun, teenagers should be free to have fun, and I believe adults should be free to have fun. We should all just have fun with whomever we want and no one should have the right to judge us for it.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian took a moment to calm down before looking back up to meet Cullen’s gaze. He seemed shocked and a little worried. Dorian looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yes, I agree!” Cullen rushed to assure him, “I’m just not sure where that came from. Is that what’s been bothering you these past few days?”

Dorian sighed, “I suppose it’s part of it. That has been bothering me for most of my life, truthfully.”

The rest of the match was played in silence, Cullen only interjecting once to call Dorian out for cheating. They both laughed as Dorian replaced the affected piece, but they fell quiet again to finish the game.

“I believe that’s Checkmate.”

Dorian shook his head playfully, “You’re in the right line of work, it seems. Strategy is your forte. Good game, Commander.”

“And to you, Dorian. Care to play another round?”

As much as he was enjoying Cullen’s company, Dorian’s mind was tired from all his worrying—though this had been a good distraction—and he just needed to rest.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve things I wanted to get done today, I’m sorry.”

Cullen rose from his seat, “It’s no problem at all.”

Dorian rose as well, but neither went anywhere. They both just stood, looking softly at the other.

“Um…” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Could I walk you back to your quarters, then? Or wherever it is you’re headed.”

Dorian felt a flattered smile tease the corner of his lips. “I would like that, yes.”

On the steps up to the loft of the main hall, Dorian cleared his throat before speaking, “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I’ve just been thinking about my life back home recently.”

Cullen shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s back, “You have nothing to apologize for. I was hoping a game of chess would help clear your mind, so I was expecting you to vent a bit.”

At Dorian’s door Cullen added, “You know, you should feel free to talk to me. About anything. I said that when we first met, and it hasn’t changed just because you’re no longer under my command.”

As he stood in the doorway, Dorian glanced from Cullen to inside his room, wondering if he should act on their mutual attraction, or continue avoiding Cullen forever. How would Cullen be hurt if Dorian’s lies came to light? Not nearly as badly if they were just friends.

Dorian took a deep breath, “Maybe talking would help.”

Cullen smiled loosely.

“Or…” I’m really going through with this, aren’t I? “maybe not talking would help…”

Cullen’s smile fell away as he caught Dorian’s meaning. He didn’t make any move toward or away from Dorian, just like the first time he had been in his room. He simply said, in the quietest voice just above a whisper, “Whatever you’d like, I’m here.”

That was Dorian’s last chance to not do something stupid, but he ignored his racing heart. “I’d like you to come in.”

Cullen took a single stride into the room, closing the door and locking it behind them. He slowly closed the distance between them, placing caring hands on Dorian’s hips, waiting for more invitation.

Dorian let his hands glide up the armor on Cullen’s chest, watching his fingers draw closer to Cullen’s neck, the blond’s eyes studying his unsure expression all the while.

Just as skin met skin, Cullen whispered, “We don’t have to do this. No one’s making us. If you’re not certain—”

“I’m certain about you,” Dorian met his gaze, “I’m only uncertain about letting myself do this. I’ve fucked this up before, I don’t want to fuck it up with you.”

Cullen let out a pained sigh, gently taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him. How could something so soft be so intense all at once? Dorian dug his fingers into the fur mantle of Cullen’s armor, walking them backward toward the bed. With each step, a new article of clothing fell away, until they finally fell onto the bed in only their trousers. Cullen’s attention turned to the mage’s neck, Dorian biting his lip at the sensation.

Cullen’s kisses moved up and down and back up slowly and methodically, making Dorian arch off the bed ever so slightly with each touch, subtle noises escaping his lips. Cullen wrapped his tongue around the shell of Dorian’s ear, breathing heavy but quiet, “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. I adore everything about you. I admire your confidence and how unabashedly ‘you’ you are. I can hardly stand to be away from you the more I get to know you.”

Dorian was nearly breathless as Cullen kissed his way down the mage’s chest. It wasn’t until those callused fingers started to loosen his laces that he felt he couldn’t breathe at all.

As Cullen made tantalizing work of Dorian’s last remaining garment, he whispered with raw emotion, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Dorian Rider.”

With that, Dorian sat up and grabbed Cullen’s hands to pause their work.

“Stop.”

Cullen’s head shot up to look Dorian in the eye, worry flooding his mind. “Are you ok?” he lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to the mage, caressing his cheek with one hand, stroking his hair with the other.

“You don’t know me, Cullen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Confusion washed over Cullen’s features, “I…I don’t understand. I want to know you. I feel like I do, but if I don’t, then I want—”

Dorian shook his head vigorously, “Cullen, you don’t get it! You wouldn’t want me if you knew me.”

Cullen’s eyes went stern, “Dorian, I just told you nothing could change my feelings for you. Nothing. I meant that.”

Dorian removed Cullen’s hand from his face, gently stroking the Commander’s knuckles with his thumb, “Please go, Cullen. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could never hurt—”

“Please,” Tears threatened the rims of his eyes as he tried to hold his ground. He wanted nothing more than Cullen’s body against his, but he knew Cullen would only be let down, falling for a fake man Dorian created.

Cullen took a moment to lean his head against Dorian’s, a wordless goodbye, before he rose and began throwing on his armor, scattered from the door to the foot of the bed. Dorian watched his hands as Cullen silently dressed, glancing back periodically to gauge the mage’s feelings.

As he opened the door to leave, Cullen’s weak voice called back, “You can tell me anything, Dorian. I meant that, too.”

“Not anything.”

The room turned cold when Cullen left, and the breeze from the door closing behind his one chance at love shook the tears from Dorian’s eyes, falling onto his shaking hands.

He could have been sitting there for hours—he wouldn’t know—just trying to…well, he wasn’t sure of that either. He felt so numb despite the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if he needed a drink, a good sob, or some self-pleasuring. None of them would make him feel better, but they would make him feel something.

He’s gone. Dorian kept repeating in his head. He’s gone, and I sent him away. He confessed his feelings to me, feelings I share, and I told him to go. I can never get him back, I sent him away…

__________

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the bells rang out, his eyes opened. They were dry and sore from crying; probably still red, too. Dorian reluctantly dragged his body out from under the fur blankets and sulked over to his mirror. Yes, definitely still red. He didn’t want to go out like that. He didn’t want to go out at all, for fear he might have to face his lost lover.

No, I didn’t lose him. Dorian stared himself down in the mirror, I pushed him away.

Dorian managed to make himself presentable, but he felt like a fraud in his own skin. He had settled into the identity of Dorian Rider, but somehow Cullen had undone all his hard work. Dorian was once again faced with himself, nothing to cover the shame he felt lying to a man who cared for him so deeply. And yet, he made no effort to tell Cullen the truth.

He would only be hurt that I lied to him, things are better this way. Interesting, the way Dorian continued attempting to convince himself he was in the right, when every part of him knew better.

Before he could psychoanalyze any further, Dorian pushed his chair back from the vanity and marched out the door, leaving his doubt at the threshold.

On the walk to the library, he felt like people were looking at him differently. They weren’t, when he looked closer, but nothing felt comfortable anymore. And things only became more uncomfortable when in the main hall Dorian’s eyes locked with golden ones on the other side of the room.

Cullen was entering the hall to the war room, papers tucked under his arm, when he glanced up, double taking before locking his gaze with Dorian’s. He wanted to run to the Commander, throw himself into the blond’s arms and apologize for everything. But melting on the other side of the hall would have to do. Cullen’s stare went soft as he saw the pain in Dorian’s eyes. They both knew the other was aching for their love, but both were too scared.

Cullen finally shook his head and looked down at his boots, disappearing into the ambassador’s office without a word.

Dorian tried to brush it off, tried to focus on his research, but to no avail. His mind was flooding with his mistakes. Though his eyes trekked the page in front of him, though his fingers turned the pages, he processed nothing. His mind was too full.

If there’s any perfect place to brood, it would be a library. Everyone passed Dorian without suspicion, assuming him to be lost in his work, all the while his crisis played out in silence. By the time the sun was setting, Dorian had read several works, but only had a page of notes. He tried to be productive, at least.

Now he had a choice to make: go back to his room and sleep his problems away, or go to the tavern and drink his problems away. Decisions, decisions.

Drowning his sorrows did sound tempting, but Dorian had pretended to be okay around enough people today. Besides, he didn’t need Bull to dive into his subconscious.

Dorian reached his quarters and, just as he prepared to shed his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep, a frantic knock rattled his door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He waited a moment, but nothing more happened. Dorian slowly approached the door and unfastened the latch. Right as he did, the door flew open, nearly knocking him back.

Cullen charged into the room with a wrinkled piece of parchment strangled in his fist. He slammed the door behind him, and somehow quietly screamed, “What, by Andraste, is this?!”

He held up the letter just long enough for Dorian to see a familiar signature at the bottom of the page. “Halward Pavus.” Oh, Maker, no.

Dorian’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, hands turning clammy. He had no words, not that Cullen was interested in listening.

Cullen threw the note behind him, roughly grabbing Dorian’s shoulders and pushing him into the vanity behind them. Dorian tried to babble a “this isn’t what it looks like” before the backs of his thighs collided with the table and a pair of harsh, sweet, warm lips crashed against his.

Before he could return the kiss, or even close his eyes, Cullen pulled away and stared him down. “You really had me falling for you. Was that your plan? Get close to the Commander of the Inquisition so you could leach information from me to send back to your Venatori parents?!”

“No, Cullen, I would never—”

“You made me fall in love with you.”

That word took all Dorian’s breath. His previously pounding heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what he had done, the pain he caused, the trust he’d broken. This is all he wanted to prevent.

“I-I’m so sorry, I never wanted this—”

“You aren’t even going to deny it?!” Cullen stood back from him, disgust in his eyes. That look alone could ruin Dorian.

“Cullen, please! I’m not Venatori! I tried to hide because I knew you’d think a Tevinter mage was Venatori, I knew you would think I was a spy, or a thief, or—”

“Lying only makes you look guiltier, Dorian! Bull told us exactly what he was going to do if he joined the Inquisition and we took him on his word because we were desperate. If you had told us, told me the truth—”

“Would you believe a mage walking through your gates saying, ‘Yes, I am a very powerful necromancer from Tevinter, but I swear I’m not Venatori’?”

Cullen’s face contorted again, backing up further, “You’re a necromancer?”

Dorian should have held his tongue. If he had stayed quiet, would they have given him a trial? But he supposed staying quiet is what led to this mess in the first place.

“Cullen I—please, give me a moment to explain! I never wanted you to get hurt, I didn’t mean to fool you into falling for me. I promise you, I never wanted any of this!”

Cullen’s voice dropped, “You didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you?”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, “No—well, yes. I—I hoped you were falling too because, Cullen, I lo—”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he nearly gripped Dorian again, taking all the strength he had to hold back. “Don’t…say it.”

“But, Cullen, I really do—”

Cullen was on him in an instant, hands digging into his hair, lips locked in a heated kiss. Passion mixed with anger and confusion as the two men lost themselves in physical sensation.

Dorian gasped for air as the kiss finally broke, Cullen asking through panting breath, “Make me believe you. Prove you’re the same man I loved.”

Dorian searched the blond’s face for something that could help him, but he found only hurt and betrayal. “I…I can’t.” he didn’t know how he could fix this, he didn’t think he could.

Tears finally fell from Cullen’s eyes as he looked to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, not wanting Dorian to see just how much he’d hurt him.

“Get out. Take your things, food, lyrium potions. I don’t care, take whatever you want, just…”

Dorian held his breath, devastated to hear what came next, “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

He was crushed, he felt like his legs would give out from under him. But Dorian moved as he was told, gathering his things, tears staining each item he touched.

Cullen refused to look at him, keeping his back to Dorian as the mage packed all he could.

Dorian approached the door slowly, hoping Cullen would stop him to say something more, something that could bring Dorian hope for seeing each other again. But he got no such reply.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave. I’m going to tell them you vanished into the night before I could confront you. They won’t come looking for you. Neither will I.” Cullen’s glazed eyes rose to look into Dorian’s, puffy and bloodshot. “Goodbye, Dorian.”

His heart sank. He felt like he might vomit, if he had any strength. He felt so weak and lost.

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

With those final words, Dorian was gone. He did as Cullen told him, making sure no one witnessed him leave into the dark. With nowhere else to go, he headed toward Miss Ella’s farm. Dorian didn’t know how he would tell her, but he was done lying. He’d hurt the most important person to him already, nothing could be worse.

__________

Cullen stood in the empty room with his eyes closed, hands over his face, wiping away his tears so he could pretend he wasn’t hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, Cullen began searching the room halfheartedly. He threw open drawers without really looking, making the place look ransacked in a rush. Once he’d scattered things in a believable way, he turned his attention to the lock on the door. He took the hilt of his sword and knocked the latch loose, making it look like he had broken in. That should be enough to convince his fellow advisors.

Cullen quickly returned to the war room where many members of the inner circle, along with the Inquisitor and his advisors, waited in anticipation for the Commander’s return. As the door swung open, all heads turned toward him, each with equally expectant and worried looks. Cullen’s face was blank, but his feeling of defeat was still obvious.

“Well?” Cassandra stepped forward, worry in her eyes but anger on her face, “Where is that Venatori bastard?”

Cullen sighed deeply, the rest of the room raising their brows in unison.

“Gone. I didn’t find him in the ‘Rest or his room.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Then we send a search party. Check all corners of Skyhold, then we—”

“We can send all the search parties you want, Lady Seeker, but there’s nothing left of him here. I broke into his quarters and looked for any information as to where he could be or what he hoped to gain by joining our ranks, but I found nothing. He either took everything important with him, or destroyed it.”

Everyone’s heads fell, shoulders slouching in defeat.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen with sadness strewn across his features. “And to think, we had all become so close…and it meant nothing to him.”

Tears threatened Cullen’s eyes again as he remembered how desperately Dorian had clung to him, tied to convince him he was innocent. But innocent men don’t hide, innocent men don’t lie.

“I know. But that must have been what he wanted. For us all to get comfortable, slowly leaking him the information he needed.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking and dropping his head, “I should have never let him join the inner circle. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor looked back to his party, nodding toward the door. All but the advisors exited the war room, leaving the room silent and cold. Once the space was empty of onlookers, the Inquisitor shuffled over to Cullen with wet eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment before the Inquisitor wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist. Cullen’s eyes widened in shock, looking down at the elf hanging onto him for dear life, before he gave in and squeezed the Dalish’s shoulders in return.

They stood like that for a moment, Leliana and Josephine watching on solemnly, wrapped in their own somber embrace. The elf pulled back but stayed close, saying in a quiet voice, “He was my friend, Cullen. Our friend,” he gestured to the women behind him, “I know he was yours, too.”

Cullen felt his heart stop, then fall into the empty pit in his chest. “Yes,” he said gently, “the closest I’ve had since…in a while.”

The elf made certain the door closed quietly behind him as he left, Josephine following closely behind. Before Leliana made her move to leave as well, she handed Cullen a short stack of papers.

With a soft voice, she said, “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I started digging right after we intercepted the letter. I found the names of a few close friends and accomplices of the Pavus family. One of which has been heavily involved with the Venatori since before the term was coined, before they worshipped Corypheus.”

Cullen flipped through the pages, sloppily skimming the words on each one.

“Name?” Cullen asked, no nonsense.

“Gereon Alexius, a former mentor and family friend, from what I found. If Dorian had anything to do with the magicks Alexius had been developing…”

“I’ll go over it in the morning. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was flat and flavorless.

The spymaster sighed, placing a sympathetic hand on Cullen’s cheek, palm surprisingly warm. “I know what you felt for him. When I first joined the Hero of Ferelden on her journey…”

Cullen looked at her with understanding.

Leliana cleared her throat, never having gotten this personal with the Commander before. “Well, people have feelings that sometimes contradict with their goals. And they choose which to follow. Often, I think, they choose the wrong path.”

Cullen nodded, eyes squeezing shut with hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I wonder if he didn’t lie to you about the way he felt, but knew it wouldn’t align with his plans.”

“I can’t have feelings for someone who supports the Venatori’s agenda. He fooled me, Leliana. I fell for a man that doesn’t exist.”

Leliana’s hand fell from his cheek. “Have you considered his personality may have been real?”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his brow simply furrowed.

She gave a slight smile, “Please rest, Commander. The war can wait a night.”

__________

Cullen didn’t sleep that night, his dreams plagued by images of Dorian and echoes of their final goodbyes. He could still feel the mage’s thin fingers in his hair, the passion and meaning in each kiss they shared. Cullen would wake frequently throughout the night, sweating and conflicted, his emotions at war with reality.

It was futile after a while, and only served to drain his energy more each time he woke, so he stopped trying to rest, instead making his way down to his office to mull over Leliana’s research. The blond felt hopeless as he read, not recognizing any of the names of the influential families mentioned, despite them all being connected to someone he thought he knew.

As he skimmed the next few pages—mostly filled with descriptions of how money was passed amongst the families for favors, something Josephine could use later—Cullen’s eyes paused on a description of Dorian. The quote seemed to be a letter sent from a man called Felix, to Dorian’s father:

“Lord Pavus,

My father has been rather busy with his project, so he asked me to write you in his place. Dorian has been of exponential help with his academic knowledge, but also with his experience. My father truly appreciates you continuing to allow Dorian to remain with us. As promised, he is kept an eye on, allowed only to leave the grounds with the accompaniment of myself or a guard. Speaking personally, your son is a great man. He has been nothing but honest with us, and I consider him a friend. I am starting to suspect he does not know my father’s intent with their project, and I am beginning to worry he may cease work if he discovers its purpose. Know that, should that happen, I will not stop him. Our task was to keep him from trouble, and if he deems the project as such, I will trust his judgement. My father and I have different views on these types of magicks; Dorian seems to enjoy thinking about the hypothetical, but he agrees that these things are better left to imagination. While the project is important to my father—and of course to myself, if it can work to cure me—I feel a need to allow Dorian to do what is best for himself. These are my intentions, not my father’s. He has all intentions to hold up his end of your bargain. I have made no such promises to you. Be aware of that.

Yours Truly,

Felix Alexius

P.S. Dorian asks that you do not attempt to contact him directly. He has nothing to say to you.”

Cullen could deduce two things from the letter: Felix Alexius is Gereon Alexius’s son, and whatever they were working on was magic most people have an aversion to. Could it be blood magic? What would blood magic have to do with curing someone of an ailment? Even if this Felix was possessed, blood magic could only transfer the demon to another living being, not banish it. Blood magic is a demon’s domain.

As much as he tried to focus on what information he could draw about their “project”, Cullen couldn’t help but see how devoted Felix was to Dorian. While he claimed in the letter to consider Dorian a friend, could they have been more? Another detail about Tevinter Dorian had hidden.

“Nothing but honest?” Cullen thought aloud, “If only. Would have saved me a few headaches.”

Cullen drug a hand over his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t noticed pooling in the corner of his eye. This was harder than he thought it would be, to consider his paramour could be capable of aiding the Venatori, or even worse, being one of them.

He took a moment to collect himself before dressing in his usual armor and setting off for the war room where he would wait for the morning to fully rise and his fellow advisors to arrive.

Entering the hall leading to the war room, Cullen was greeted by Josephine at her desk looking exhausted, mulling over paper work of her own. She looked up upon hearing the door creak open and gave him a weak smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, fixing her frazzled hair.

Cullen nodded, “I see you couldn’t either. Manage to dig up anything else?”

Josephine sighed, bringing a tall stack of parchment up from the floor by her feet. “There are many noble families associated with the Venatori. Most are from Tevinter, of course, but there are a surprising handful from Antiva.”

Cullen plopped into the seat in front of Josephine’s desk, about to start sorting through the things she’d dug up, when the door creaked again, Leliana leaning her head in.

“I thought I heard you up, Josie. Commander.” She nodded to Cullen in greeting.

He nodded back, handing her his notes from the morning, “I found a letter in what you gave me, from a young man named Felix. It looks like he’s Alexius’s son, and he knows what they were working on. Something big, something dangerous, something even Dorian seemed hesitant about.”

“Blood magic?” Josephine asked, walking around her desk to peer over Leliana’s shoulder.

“That was my first thought, but the people of Tevinter have a long history with blood magic; I wouldn’t think a Tevinter would have any qualms about using it. No, this must be something people don’t play with.”

The women shook their heads in unison. “Corypheus is driving his followers to play with the laws of nature.” Leliana said under her breath.

“Possibly. We need to find Alexius before he completes his project, if he hasn’t already.”

The women nodded, Josephine rushing off to wake the Inquisitor.

As the door swung closed, Leliana turned to face the Commander, kneeling on the ground before him. “Are you feeling any better? I take it you didn’t sleep well.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning forward in defeat. “I understand you have eyes everywhere around Skyhold, but how is it you knew about me and Dorian, but didn’t know Dorian was pretending to be someone else?”

Leliana sighed, crossing her legs under her, “I don’t know. I feel like I failed us, I let such a huge threat pass through our defenses. He must have been extremely careful. It…it makes me wonder if he has other correspondents in our ranks.”

Cullen nearly choked on his bitter laugh, “One thing at a time, Leliana. If there were any other Tevinters in the Inquisition, they would have fled with Dorian. They’d know they had been found out. We can look into it after we find this mentor of Dorian’s and find out what that secret project is all about.”

It didn’t seem to make the spymaster any less nervous, picking at her fingernails and staring into her lap. Cullen sighed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You haven’t failed anyone. I’m the only fool here.”

Before she could reassure him, the door flew open again, the Inquisitor and Josephine holding yet more research. Cullen stood, bowing his head respectfully.

“What’s this about a secret project?” The elf asked, almost panting.

“I found a letter from Dorian’s mentor’s son describing a project using magicks none of them felt comfortable messing around with. We’ve ruled out blood magic; we think it could be something even more threatening.”

“Are we certain? Dorian seemed very against blood magic when we spoke about it. He almost looked sick talking about it.” The Inquisitor nearly snatched the letter from Cullen’s hand when offered.

“Even if those were his true feelings on the matter, blood magic is not a rarity in Tevinter, and even this mentor and his son seemed hesitant.” Cullen explained, pointing to his notes in the margins.

The elf sighed, sitting in Cullen’s now vacant seat. “This is bad. So bad.”

“Yes…” Cullen sat as well.

After a long silence where the room seemed as tired as the people in it, Josephine spoke up.

“Should we start work on a plan of attack?”

“I’ll see if I can hunt Alexius down. Maybe find his son, if I can’t find the man himself.” Leliana was already heading back to her nook to send out spies.

The Inquisitor absentmindedly nodded, approving but reluctant. “I’ll see who wants to come along to fight an insane Venatori with some mystical secret magic. Wish me luck.” He stood and shuffled toward the door.

“Cullen, form a small band of troops. Some of the more talented Templars, if you could. I have a feeling we’ll require their abilities.”

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said bluntly, watching the Inquisitor as he exited.

Josephine and Cullen turned to one another. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to trade their honor for a bribe. I suppose we’ll regroup after we’ve all finished. Stay strong, Commander.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I will certainly do my best.” Cullen gave a respectful bow before leaving the ambassador to her work.

As he walked down the main hall, ready to turn left through Solas’s quarters toward his office, Cullen noticed the light breeze coming from a door to his right. He glanced over and saw the garden mostly empty before the door swung shut again. He could use to clear his head.

So he turned right instead, stepping out into the garden. Cullen breathed in and held it, letting the silence wash over him. He let the breath out and began slowly pacing the garden. He brushed his gloved fingertips across the leaves in the herb planters, watched on as a bird drank from the well, and stepped over the line of ants making their way to their hill. But when he reached the gazebo, he stopped.

Cullen looked on solemnly at the chess board, pieces still set as they were when he and Dorian had played, a few knocked over from wind. Cullen sat in his seat and stared across to where Dorian should have been. He’d looked so beautiful that day, the sun backlighting and outlining his face. He had still had a sheen of sweat from sparring, glistening off his toned arms and neck. Cullen heaved a long sigh before moving one of Dorian’s pieces forward.

“Check mate,” He whispered, “You got me, Dorian.”

After a moment Cullen stood, making his way into the small Chantry set up in one of the rooms off the garden. Andraste’s likeness watched him as he entered, false golden eyes seeming to follow him. Cullen gently lowered himself onto a knee, clasping his hands in front of his face before the shrine.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this properly.” He admitted.

Cullen proceeded to recite the Chant of Light and several prayers for the men and women he would be taking with him to battle. One for the Inquisitor, one for himself, one for his friends, and one for his family.

Before he stood, Cullen closed his eyes tightly. “He may not deserve it,” he said softly, quietly, “but Maker please, keep Dorian safe. I doubt more and more the decision I made sending him away. I should have let him say his piece. I didn’t know Dorian Pavus, but I knew my Dorian. There has to be something of the man I loved in there. It couldn’t have all been a lie. He cried for me, he told me he didn’t want to hurt me. I can’t bear the thought of it all having been manipulation. Please, wherever he is, keep him safe.”

__________

Cullen would have preferred it hadn’t taken as long as it did, but here they were two days later with plans sprawled out on the war table. Each advisor had done their work quickly but surely, getting as close to the truth as they could in such a short time frame. Cullen had his Templar volunteers and a solid fighting strategy, Leliana had her eye witnesses, and Josephine had her bribed sources.

As the Inquisitor wrapped up the meeting, all attendees on board with the plan, he asked, “Any final questions?” Hesitant to move forward with their search.

The room had a sad sort of silence, none of them sure they would return safely, or return at all. They had been lucky since Haven to avoid any true life or death battles, but they were all well aware this would be like no fight they had fought before.

With the lack of any remaining questions to help him stall, Lavellan turned to Cullen with soft eyes. “Are you ready, Commander?”

After a deep, deep breath, He nodded. They were all on their horses and off in an instant, Skyhold’s gates behind them reminding them there was no turning back.

Hours later, after following the directions Leliana’s spies could write out with any certainty, the party found themselves passing through Redcliffe Farms, past the stables and the druffalo, to a fork splitting the trotted path in two.

“This way, I think.” The Inquisitor said, checking the written description again.

“Are you sure?” Cullen chimed in quickly, riding up to align their horses so he could glance over the elf’s shoulder. “The only thing up the hill is the watchtower. A stream beyond that. I expect if the Venatori were holed up there, the stable master and his wife would have noticed. Certainly our guards in the tower would have seen them come and go.”

Lavellan chewed the inside of his lip as he became less convinced they weren’t out on a wild goose chance. “The reports just say ‘Venatori activity traced back to Redcliffe Farms. Suspected to be in Dead Ram Grove.”

Increasingly frustrated by the vague intel they had managed to scrounge up practically overnight, Cullen let out a scoff. “Dead Ram Grove is the start of the stream, where the water flows down from the mountains. The only thing there is water and sheep. Obviously Leliana’s helpers need their heads examined. It’s pointless to even look.”

As Cullen turned his horse around, ready to head back to the farm and ask around, the Templars all perked up in unison.

“Commander,” Barris pulled his horse to block Cullen’s path. “There is magic here. It’s faint, not like a mage is present, but a spell they left behind. Whether they remain here, or have since left the area, I still believe it’s worth investigating.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder for conformation, the Inquisitor already leading the group ahead. While he trusted Barris’s sense for magic, Cullen also felt dread, part of him hoping they wouldn’t find anything Venatori related. Or at least nothing that would confirm Dorian’s connection to them. But he followed dutifully, returning to his position right next to the Inquisitor.

As they passed the watch tower overlooking the farm, and led their horses to wade through the water as they followed upstream, Cullen’s heart raced. The Templars continued to sense lingering magic, perhaps even an active enchantment; a ward meant to hide things in plain sight.

“Dispell,” Cullen commanded, Barris and his soldiers taking deep swigs of lyrium. Cullen averted his eyes as they did.

Moving as one, the Templars gave two hardy hits each to their shields, and a shock wave erupted out from their group. It made no noise, but bounced off the walls of Dead Ram Grove like an echo. The party stayed silent in waiting.

Distant voices could be heard speaking Tavene.

Cullen and Lavellan whipped their heads around to look at each other with wide eyes. “Venatori!”

Hurried but quiet, the party leapt off their horses, loosely draping their reins over branches to keep the steeds in place. They followed the voices to a low cliff overlooking the grove. There was little foot traffic, with overgrown grass and weeds, dead trees leaning to make a morbid arch. As they inched closer, a small sconce lit on its own, causing the Inquisitor to jump.

He took a hesitant step forward, narrowing his eyes at the greenish blue flame. “Veil fire.” He whispered behind him. “That means mages.”

Part of Cullen’s heart sank. While he knew this would lead them to gaining an edge against Corypheus, a selfish part of him wanted them to find nothing, so he would never learn more about just how much Dorian had lied to him.

Entering the ruins of what must have been an old exit from the deep roads, massive stone pillars loomed, along with menacing statues of cloaked skeletons driving their swords into the ground. The group felt uneasy, each member fidgeting and glancing to every corner of the room. It was dark, but the light from outside showed them a staircase leading even further into the earth, and further into darkness.

Cullen blocked the Inquisitor from continuing, rather taking the lead himself to protect the elf from a possible ambush. Making their way forward only led them to darker and darker rooms, no torches in sight, only dim Veil fires that continued to flare up ominously as they approached each sconce.

Just as they entered the final room of the cave ruin, Cullen starting to think there may be nothing here after all, the room came to life, sconces bursting into multicolored flames, illuminating the space to reveal that they were surrounded.

“Inquisitor,” a dark figure in Tevinter robes grinned smugly from a ruined throne at the far end of the room. “Welcome.”

“Sheath your weapons,” the surrounding mages demanded, drawing ever closer with staves outstretched.

The party looked to Lavellan for instruction, and he nodded, returning his sword to his back. The group followed suit.

“We were beginning to wonder if you might realize how close we had drawn. Corypheus sends his regards.” The mage stood from his seat, tossing back his hood and crossing his arms behind him.

“Oh, we found you out quickly,” Lavellan snarled, “Your little spy wasn’t as stealthy as he thought. Maybe you should handle your correspondents’ communications more carefully.”

The Tevinter’s brow raised, looking surprised, but always taunting. “My ‘spy’?” he inquired with a lilted voice, “Do tell, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “No need to play coy, Alexius. We intercepted Magister Pavus’s attempts to contact his son, whom you so clumsily slipped into our ranks.” Cullen’s bitterness and blame had all lifted off of Dorian in that moment as he directed his hurt onto Alexius, the man responsible for all this heartbreak in the first place, as far as Cullen was concerned.

“Magister Pavus’s son?” Alexius’s grin dropped, “You speak of Dorian, Commander?”

Cullen flinched at the mention of the mage’s name.

Alexius looked to the throne behind him, tracing a finger along the arm. “My poor Dorian; if only he could have seen the good he could achieve. Not only for Tevinter, for the world.”

Cullen was in shock at what he was hearing. If Alexius hadn’t sent Dorian to the Inquisition, then who did? Could all that Dorian said, that fateful night on which he was banished from Cullen’s sight, be true after all? From where he stood, all Cullen could see was a backlit outline, but the mage before them began to make an obvious, sinister movement toward his pocket.

“What Dorian never realized, what I tried to teach him through our research, is that Thedas…Thedas needs direction,” his voice was low as he turned, eyes glistening with intent, knowing he had won.

“Thedas needs control.”

Blue light began sparking in the mage’s palm, lighting his crazed expression from below, broken sounds of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his hand higher.

The Inquisitor and Cullen watched on with masked fear as a small talisman on a leather cord began to rise on its own from the palm of Alexius’s hand, crackling in an unstable, uncontrolled manner. Just as dread and the weight of their own mortality began washing over the party, a voice called out from a shadowy corner:

“No! I won’t let you do this.”

The blue cast vanished at once, the talisman dropping from its ominous floating and back into the mage’s hand. Alexius whipped his neck around, eyes worried and shocked at once, obviously recognizing the voice. The young man had dark, tired eyes as he revealed himself from the dark. His skin lacked color, and his hair was thin. He looked as if he had lived a man’s full life in only a few years, and he was exhausted.

“Felix!” Alexius ran to the young man’s side. “My son, you should be resting, you’re too weak; you look so pale!”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed as he heard the familiar name. “Felix?” he said quietly, then directing his question to the man himself, “You were friends with Dorian, weren’t you?”

Felix pushed past his father, standing before the party with confidence. “I am. I know him well, and I know he would never have helped with your project if he knew what you planned to use it for.” He turned to face Alexius, pointing an accusing finger. “You lied to him! You lied to me! You said this was for my health, that you thought this could save me! You betrayed his trust, my trust!”

His eyes went somber as he quietly asked, “What would mother think?”

That sent Alexius into a rage, shouting furiously, “This could bring her back! Both of you would be safe, healthy, happy! I did this all for you both!”

Tears began to well in his eyes as Felix retorted, voice meek and sad, “No. She would have never wanted this.”

Alexius became irate, nostrils flaring and fists clenching, “How dare you!!” he screamed. “You have the opportunity to have your mother back, to have never lost her at all, and you tell me she would never want this? You stand before me, your own father, who has loved and raised you single handedly since she passed, telling me this isn’t all for you?!”

“Raised me? Single handedly?! What about all the days, even weeks, I went without seeing you because you were too hung up on your project? Too lost in the past to spend time with your own son? After my mother died in front of my eyes!”

Alexius’s hands began to burn with fire, the talisman feeding off of his rage and sparking once again. “You would be in the grave with her if it weren’t for me! All that research, just to keep you alive for all these years! You would have died within days of her if it weren’t for all my time spent in that damned laboratory, slaving over revolutionary medicines I now learn you weren’t even grateful for!”

“I wish I had died with her!” Felix’s cry echoed through the stone of the ruin walls. “I’ve been suffering for years! I feel the Blight eating away at me from the inside every moment I continue to breathe! You have no idea the pain you’ve put me through!”

The room fell silent, Alexius thinking on his son’s hurtful words.

“Well,” he said after a long while, voice raspy with emotion, “If my magic can’t serve to help you,” he clenched the talisman with ferocity, “It will serve Corypheus just fine!”

The room lit with blue lightening, the talisman flying into the center of the space and igniting with quick bursts of magical energy, barely controlled. Alexius howled with mad laughter, arms outstretched to feed the talisman with all his mana, fueling the chaotic reaction.

“Father, No!” Felix screamed, throwing himself at Alexius, tackling him to the ground.

While the Venatori were distracted, all watching in awe at the display of power destabilizing in the center of the room, the Inquisitor sprinted forward, drawing his sword and charging to take Alexius out for good. But, from the corner of his eye as he wrestled with his own son, Alexius spotted the elf’s attack. He managed to get a hand free from Felix, commanding the talisman to explode with a magical fury of light spiritual wisps, imploding inward on itself, sucking the Inquisitor in as he screamed in agony, his every essence torn across time and space. Cullen and the Templars watched on in abject horror, Lavellan’s blood curdling cries echoing in their minds.

Though the Inquisitor was gone, his blade continued his momentum, flying across the room and driving directly into Alexius’s shoulder, causing him to tumble off Felix and crash onto the stone floor.

“Venatori! Attack the Inquisitor’s reinforcements!!” Alexius hollered as he stumbled off to his escape.

“Retreat!” Cullen commanded, tailing Barris and the rest of the Templars as they fled, defending them against attacks from behind as they fought through the Venatori hoard before them.

Once there was a hole in the opposition’s defense, Cullen called out, “To the watchtower! Tell them to fire on the river! Shoot anything that moves!”

The Commander fought off those trying to prevent their escape, helping his team push to the ruin entrance. When they reached the threshold, each member jumped back onto their horses, galloping off to the watchtower and the camp just beyond Redcliffe Farms for backup.

“Open fire! Venatori!” Barris yelled to the watchtower guards. A shower of arrows came down almost instantly, flying just behind their horses, taking out many of the Venatori swordsmen. But the mages hadn’t left the mouth of the ruin, and Cullen was right there waiting for them. Dodging the hail of arrows and trying not to fall off the short cliff, Cullen fought back as many of the mages as he could while he waited for backup from the camp. Barris came riding back in just in time to save Cullen’s back from an attack he didn’t see coming.

As their numbers dwindled, it became easier for the Templars to dispel almost all the defensive magicks the Venatori were using, causing the remaining few mages to panic and retreat back into the ruin, following Alexius’s escape route.

Exhausted, but still on edge, Cullen and Barris’s Templars made their way back to the farm to regroup and process what had just happened. What had happened to the Inquisitor?

As they rounded the corner to check on the guards at the watchtower, Cullen heard footsteps running up behind them.

“There’s a straggler!” He called out, pulling out his sword and shield again, ready to strike.

“No, don’t shoot! I want to help you!”

Cullen stayed poised as he watched the man come into view. It was Felix, panting and running toward them, unarmed.

“What did you do with the Inquisitor?!” Cullen inched closer to Felix, still not convinced he could let his guard down.

Felix stopped several feet away, leaving enough room so Cullen felt unthreatened. He raised his hands above his head to show he meant no harm. “He’s not dead, I can promise that much, but I don’t know where he is.” His hands lowered as he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Well, that’s not quite what I mean. I know where he is; he’s here.”

Cullen’s sword and shield lowered and he looked at Felix with confusion.

“What I should say is: I don’t know when he is.”

Frustrated, Cullen ground his teeth, “Enough being cryptic! Just tell us where Alexius took him!”

Felix shook his head. “This is going to take a lot of explaining, and it will sound outlandish, but you have to believe me. I was there when my father and Dorian developed this, I know how it—”

“Spit it out!” Barris barked, now standing next to Cullen, also ready to fight.

Felix sighed, “He sent the Inquisitor through time.”

The Templars looked around at each other, none having heard of such magic before.

“Don’t lie to us, boy! We have you surrounded.” Barris raised his shield in preparation before his arm was pushed down.

“He isn’t,” Cullen held Barris back, then sheathing his own weapon and shield. “When we first suspected Dorian was Tevinter, Leliana found the letter we all read in the mission briefing. The letter was written by Felix, and he said the magic they were experimenting with was magic no one had ever considered manipulating before. Because it’s dangerous; one doesn’t just mess with the laws of nature.”

“You saw my letter? To Dorian’s father? So that’s how you knew of me, and that I know Dorian.” Felix approached slowly as he connected the dots. “So you must see now: Dorian knew he was developing a way to manipulate time, but he thought it was for me. He ran away, here to Ferelden, the moment my father started to speak of joining the Venatori. And he would never have helped in the first place if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

Cullen looked Felix up and down, taking in his thin frame, eaten away at by something inside of him. “You said in there that you’re sick. Is it really the Blight? I’ve never seen anyone survive past a day, let alone a year.”

Felix nodded sadly, eyes going even darker, “Yes. While my father is no healer, he is an excellent alchemist, and created many medicines to try and help me while he worked on a more permanent solution to curing me. That’s when he…recruited Dorian to help. It was more like blackmail, but Dorian just wanted to help me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “He was like a brother to me. He never knew this would happen.”

Barris lowered his weapons completely, but would not sheath them. “Then…did you send Dorian to the Inquisition?”

Felix’s eyes went wide, “No, I never even knew he joined. I haven’t been able to contact him for months. It was too risky, I couldn’t have my father knowing I planned to stop him. Dorian always said he would be by my side on that day, But after we lost touch…”

Cullen felt his shoulders relax; Dorian wasn’t Venatori! What a relief. But he felt no relief, as just as the revelation swept over him, another realization came to tighten his chest. He drove Dorian away for nothing. He broke the mage’s heart, and his own, based on assumptions.

“I never let him say his piece…” Cullen thought aloud.

“What?” Barris turned to him, finally putting his weapons away. “You spoke to Dorian? When?”

Cullen wiped a hand over his face before glancing over to Felix. “It looks like the two of us have a lot of explaining to do.”

__________

As they rode their horses back to Skyhold, Barris in the lead and Cullen protecting the rear of the group, Felix tapped Cullen’s shoulder from behind.

“Cullen, is it? Could I ask you something?” Felix said as he shifted uncomfortably on the back of Cullen’s saddle.

“You’ll call me Commander until we know we can trust you.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Commander, I assure you.”

Cullen had to stop himself from groaning. He would have liked to say he was angry, but the only thing jumping around in his mind was confusion. The only thing he was angry about was his decision. And frankly, he was tired of thinking about it. He was only making himself feel worse.

“Just ask your question.”

Felix nodded and asked, “I hadn’t heard from Dorian after his initial letter telling me he had arrived in Ferelden. I’m missing a lot of time between then and now. Could you tell me what happened that led to you believing Dorian was Venatori?”

Cullen heaved a deep sigh, “It’s not a short list of events, I’ll warn you.”

Felix chuckled, “We’ve nothing but time at the moment.”

“I suppose,” Cullen half-heartedly agreed.

When he finished catching Felix up to speed, the young man was silent for a long while, mulling over the details.

“It sounds like Dorian trusted you.” He prodded.

Cullen dropped his gaze to the reins in his tightly fisted hands. “I know I trusted him. I thought he had betrayed my trust when we intercepted his father’s letter, but I…” He squeezed his eyes closed, “I said things I wish I hadn’t. Things I didn’t mean. I know now that I betrayed him, just because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I still can’t believe you spoke to him before he vanished.” Barris chimed in from the front of the formation. “You lied to the entire Inquisition! Even your friends. That’s me I’m talking about, by the way. You lied to me.”

“I know.” Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure he was safe. I didn’t know what the Inquisitor would do to him. But I guess it couldn’t have been much worse than what I did…” Cullen’s voice fell off as he remembered all the things he said.

I don’t ever want to see your face again…

Entering Skyhold’s gate led them directly into a crowd of people wanting to congratulate the Inquisitor on defeating the hidden Venatori forces. But when Cullen passed under the arch and into the courtyard with the Inquisitor’s empty horse led behind him, all the chattering stopped.

“Where is Lavellen?” Cassandra asked with worry. And as Cullen’s horse turned to reveal the second passenger, “And who is that?” She growled.

Cullen lowered himself off the horse, pointedly not offering Felix any help to get down, which he did ungracefully.

As he handed the reins off to a stable hand, Cullen told the Seeker, “Call a war meeting.”

__________

“You WHAT?” The ladies exclaimed in unison.

Cullen drug a hand over his face, leaning on the war table and sighing before he said, “I know it was stupid of me, but Dorian isn’t Venatori, so there’s no danger in him being out there on his own.”

“But you didn’t know that when you sent him away!” Josephine shouted, as much as the mild-mannered woman could.

“Look,” Cullen closed his eyes tightly, pinching the space between his brows, “I lied. I lied to all of you and put you in danger because I let myself get too close. I considered Dorian a friend. I didn’t want him to be in danger in the hands of the Inquisition. I’m sorry. I know I was reckless, and I’m sorry.”

The room fell quiet as the women looked to one another, silently acknowledging Cullen’s apology.

Cullen continued after recognizing the soft looks in their eyes. “But what we need to do now is find him. He’s the only one who might know how to get Lavellen back.”

“Dorian can reverse engineer a spell better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Felix added, “He’ll be able to undo this. I’m certain.”

“Well, mister ‘best friend’,” Leliana turned to Felix, annoyed that he had cut in, “Where do you propose we start our search?”

Felix took a second to think. “In his initial letter, to tell me he had arrived, Dorian mentioned he was staying with an older woman in the Hinterlands. He simply called her ‘Miss Ella’. She has a small farm, he said. I haven’t heard from him since then, so that would be my only guess.”

Cullen nodded, “Even if he’s not staying with her, he might be hiding out nearby. Runaways tend to return to places they know first.”

“I trust your ability to hunt down a mage, Commander.” Cassandra said, too dry to tell if she was joking.

But before the hunt could begin, all of Skyhold needed rest and time to absorb the news of the Inquisitor’s disappearance. No rest came to Cullen, however; as if he expected it to. His mind and heart were racing. What if they couldn’t find Dorian? Who would be able to bring back the Inquisitor?

And what if they did find Dorian? Would he forgive Cullen for what he had said? Would he attack or flee?

Worst of all: what if they found his body? Just another casualty of the war between the Templars and mages. Another victim to Corypheus’s forces.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He couldn’t bear the thought that his final words to Dorian would be his banishment, never able to redeem himself. Never able to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness.

With his eyes still closed, Cullen heard footsteps drawing casually closer, not trying to sneak, but also cautious.

“Can’t sleep either?” the voice was still slightly distant, not wanting to get too close. Cullen opened his eyes to see Felix, immediately skeptical as to why he was being allowed to walk the castle on his own.

Felix read his expression and chuckled. “Your spymaster has someone tailing me. The Lady Seeker isn’t far behind either. You don’t have to worry, I’m not here to assassinate you or something.”

“Who knows, I might welcome it at this point,” Cullen said under his breath.

Felix’s brow pushed together, “What happened between you and Dorian?”

After a long moment of staring through Felix, the Commander dropped his gaze to his folded fingers leaning on the battlements. “He was incredible to watch. So skilled with magic and combat; it was mesmerizing.” Cullen lifted his head to look up at the stars above. “And intelligent, as well. I enjoyed talking with him about the books he was reading, and the documents I was trudging through. He never looked away while I spoke.”

Felix gave a soft smile, looking to the heavens himself. “I know exactly what you mean. Dorian loves to talk about his research and learn what others have been studying. It made him a great student, one of the reasons he caught my father’s attention as a sponsor.”

A silence fell between the men as they both remembered their friend fondly. Cullen quietly asked, “Can you tell me about the Dorian you knew?”

Felix cocked his head curiously.

“I’d like to know if any of him was the real him.”

A sympathetic smile warmed Felix’s expression. “You described Dorian pretty perfectly just then. Always willing to debate—or argue, whichever he would get the most satisfaction from—and always showing off. He pretends to be self-centered, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And while I’m not interested in men myself, I don’t think there’s a person in all of Thedas who can deny Dorian’s charm.” Felix chuckled once, “Always the flirt, that one.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. “So he flirted with everyone?” He asked in a whisper, not really meaning it as a question. But Felix still answered.

“He did, but there were always different kinds. It took me long to learn each of them.” Feeling more comfortable with their relations, Felix approached the battlements himself and leaned his hip on the stonework, crossing his arms and looking out over the mountains. “There are four types, so far as I could tell: for showmanship, for de-escalation, for banter, and for real. The showmanship is self-explanatory, Tevinter is built around relationships and marriages. Dorian had to faine interest in his women suitors to keep up appearances. De-escalation, just flirting to calm an argument. Telling people what they want to hear, you know. And of course a little flattery back and forth between friends was his favorite.”

“How could you tell if he ever meant it?” Cullen asked, hopeful.

Felix ran a hand over his hair as he thought. “Dorian is a very honest man, most of what he says he always means, even if he doesn’t say it directly. He might think a noble woman is quite pretty, for example, and rather than tell her flatly, he will go out of his way to make her smile by flirting. ‘By the Black Divine, my lady, have you any common blood to Andraste herself? You have striking eyes, just like hers! And those cheekbones, they could surely cut marble!’ He likes to make people smile.”

“And he’s very good at it,” Cullen couldn’t help the fond grin that spread his lips.

“That he is.” Felix agreed, finding himself with a smile of his own as he reminisced.

__________

Cullen stood silent with his head down, fist poised to knock against the solid wood door before him. He hadn’t had to do something like this since Kirkwall; sharing the tragic news of a Templar’s death with their family. Somehow, this felt similar, having to tell someone Dorian clearly cared about, that he wasn’t who he said. But at least he didn’t have to tell her Dorian was a Venatori spy.

He took a final deep breath before giving a hardy knock. It took only seconds for Miss Ella to answer, like she had been waiting by the door. The door swung open with an audible whoosh, to reveal an older woman with joy in her cheeks, giving way to pleasant confusion when he looked Cullen up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can do for you, dear?” A sweet smile wrinkled the skin around her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help but give a small smile back before clearing his throat and beginning to explain, “Commander Cullen, at your service, ma’am. We are looking for a troop previously employed in our…”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he sighed, “Dorian. He stayed with you for a while, didn’t he?” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear his informality.

Miss Ella reared back a little, bringing the door closer to her so she could close it at any time. “I...oh, I rent my spare room to travelers, I suppose a ‘Dorian’ could have passed through--”

“Ma’am, please. You’re not in any trouble. Neither of you are, we just…” He couldn’t look the sweet woman in the eyes as he said, “I made a mistake. It came to our attention that he had been lying about his past, and I handled it very poorly. If he’s been back here...please, we need his help.”

Miss Ella still didn’t seem convinced, opening her lips to give a vague excuse. Cullen decided to show a little urgency.

“Ma’am, the Inquisitor is missing. Kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated by the Venatori.”

Miss Ella gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did...did he do it?”

“No, while Dorian is from Tevinter, as we found out, he has nothing to do with the Venatori. But he knows about their magic, and we need him to help us get the Inquisitor back.”

She took a moment to process before stepping aside in the doorway and beckoning them all to enter. Cullen, Felix, and Cassandra crammed into the small farmhouse, while Barris and his templars waited outside. Only Felix accepted an offer of tea.

“He did come back, but he didn’t come inside,” Miss Ella recalled as he stirred honey into Felix’s tea. “He made it nearly to the welcome mat, but no further, and said he was sorry. That he couldn’t stay because I wouldn’t be safe, and it was better if he kept the truth to himself, because he didn’t want to involve me. I figured he must have people after him, so I was expecting a visit, but not from the Inquisition.”

Tempted to sit, but ignoring the urge to slump into any nearby furniture, Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, well, while I’m not at liberty to say much, I made a rather large mistake that--”

“To which are you referring?” Cassandra asked with her arms crossed, scowl doned.

Cullen glowered back and continued, “...that put us all in danger. Dorian included.”

Cassandra let her arms drop, brow softening as she recognized Cullen’s regret.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t stay here long. He headed in the direction of Redcliffe, not taking the roads but going through the woods.”

They stayed long enough for Felix to finish his tea, then they were on their way north to Redcliffe, taking as odd a way they could in hopes of coming across Dorian’s trail.

After nearly an hour of trudging, one of Barris’s templars stopped.

“I smell viel fire.”

Cassandra looked at Cullen with a quirked brow. “Are you certain? How can you tell it isn’t just fire?”

Barris nodded, “I smell it too. It’s like fire but without the smoke, just the heat.”

“Any wards?” Cullen asked.

“None. It shouldn’t be hard to find him if we follow our noses.”

Cullen nodded, letting Barris lead the charge. Soon after, the group came across a very small clearing, staying in the trees to keep cover.

There in the center of the brush, surrounded by wildflowers, sat Dorian, playing with the green flames before him, deep in thought.

Cullen stared longingly, wishing he could just run out and hug the mage, hold him and never let go.

“I’ll go. You all wait here.” Cullen began pushing branches aside.

“You don’t think he’ll give you any trouble?” Barris held him back.

“No, but he will panic if he sees a group of templars coming out of the bushes at him.”

Cullen took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the sun.

It only took a few steps before Dorian shot out of his seat and grabbed his staff, summoning a ball of fire in his hand. Cullen put his hands up, away from his sword and shield. Slowly, Dorian recognized the blond hair, honey eyes, and marble skin. His guard lowered along with his staff, but only slightly.

“C...Cullen?”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief, lowering his hands and taking a step forward.

“Stop!” Dorian yelled, “This is some kind of trick isn’t it? So what type of demon are you, hm? Rage? Envy? Desire?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide before his brow furrowed with worry, “No, Dorian it’s...it’s me. It’s Cullen.”

Dorian scoffed, “No, that’s not possible. He told me he never…” he swallowed hard. “never wanted to see me again.”

Cullen flinched at his words, seeing how much they had hurt. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just scared, I didn’t think before I spoke, and I hurt you. I’m...Dorian, I’m so sorry.”

Cullen watched as emotions came and went in rapid succession across Dorian’s face.

“Make me believe you.” The mage whispered. “Prove you're the same man I loved.”

Those words. They struck him like a knife in the chest, tearing his heart out. Those were his words.

“I can’t…” Cullen whispered back.

Dorian’s staff fell abruptly into the grass, the fire in his hand disappearing into embers as he ran to Cullen. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders, Cullen returning the embrace just as tightly.

They pulled back, only to bring the other closer into a crashing kiss, tears spilling over onto both men’s cheeks.

“Dorian,” Cullen choked, “I’m so sorry, I said so many things I didn’t mean. I should have listened to you. Maker, I’m so--”

Dorian put a finger to the blond’s lips, then brought his to meet them. “I love you.”

Cullen’s eyes only watered more as he leaned their foreheads together and said, with all his heart. “I love you too.”

They both heard the trees opening from behind them, glancing that way to see Cassandra and Barris with his band of templars.

And Felix.

Dorian’s face lit up as he ran to meet his friend. “Felix!”

Their chests collided as each man wrapped an arm over the shoulder and around the waist of the other.

While the two were updating one another on what had happened between seeing each other last, Cassandra approached Cullen with an annoyed huff.

"So that's why you let him go." She crossed her arms.

Cullen sighed, turning to face her. "Yes," he stated, "because I didn't want him thrown in our prisons, because I didn't want him questioned for hours without rest. Because I love him. Is that what you want me to say?"

The corner of the Seeker's lips turned up on one side, barely a smile at all. She placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder. "Yes. And I'm glad you do."

It took him off guard, but Cullen was grateful for Cassandra's understanding. He knew she read those romance novels--Varric made sure to boast about it to everyone in Skyhold--but he never expected Cassandra of all people to be forgiving.

Suddenly her face went stern. Pulling her hand away and pointing a finger, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Don't tell anyone I said that. As far as Josephine and Leliana need to know, I'm still angry with you."

Cullen tried not to grin as he nodded.

He turned back to Dorian and Felix who laughed together as Dorian placed a kiss to Felix's cheek. Cullen smiled as he watched them reconnect, a warmth filling his chest.

"I hate to interrupt a reunion," Barris cut in, "but we have grave news about the Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor?" Dorian looked to Felix, "Your father. He didn't…"

Felix cringed as he nodded, head dropping, eyes closed tightly.

Dorian slumped, arm falling off Felix's shoulders. Cullen came behind him to place a comforting hand on his back.

"He's not dead, is he?" Dorian asked with a heaviness in his breath.

"We...we don't know." Cullen brought Dorian in by the waist, hugging him from the side. "Alexius used an amulet to...send him through time, was it?" He looked over to Felix to make sure he had gotten it right.

"So he finished it." Dorian's eyes widened with fear.

"No!" Felix put himself between Cullen and the mage, "He could never perfect it after you left. Something went wrong when he cast the spell; it wasn't like when you did it."

"You've traveled through time?" Cullen pushed Felix aside to ask Dorian.

Dorian grinned, "What? Never been with a man who invented time travel? Oh, no, of course not, how silly. Because I invented it."

"Dorian." Cullen said sternly, looking for a straight answer.

"No, I didn't go through time. Alexius and I sent an apple core a week forward in time and it came back rotten." As he gave the explanation, a wave of realization washed over Dorian, "But what's when the spell didn't work!" He grabbed Cullen but the hands with excitement. "The plan was to wipe the apple from existence, and only those who cast the spell would remember there ever having been an apple there. The fact that you all remember the Inquisitor proves the spell failed!"

"But how do we know where--when he is?" Barris asked, trying to keep up.

Dorian let go of Cullen's hands to twirl his mustache in thought. "Ah! Have you any paper, my love?"

Cullen grabbed some parchment and charcoal from one of the templars' satchels.

Dorian took the supplies eagerly, kneeling down to use his seat as a writing surface. "Look here," Dorian pulled Cullen in close as he drew a diagram, "We don't know when the Inquisitor is in time, yes? But we do know where. He'll be exactly where he was transported from."

Cullen nodded, following so far.

"So we need to go back to where and, somehow, enter the fade because--"

"Because time doesn't exist in the fade." Cullen cut in, "You can feel for his spirit and pull it back through the veil from the other side of time!"

Dorian smiled, excited that Cullen understood, "Well, I can't. While I studied the dead, I don't have any control over the spirits I use to possess the bodies. But I know someone who does."

"Solas." Cullen, Barris, and Cassandra said together.

__________

Back at Skyhold, they explained the plan to Solas, Cullen's fellow advisors still suspiciously eyeing Dorian.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of the fade, Dorian. Yet you've never entered it, is that right?" Solas sipped at his coffee.

"I still have my sanity, that should be a dead give away."

Solas grinned, "Indeed. And yet you understand its properties well. And this plan of yours is nearly fool proof."

"Nearly?" Cullen leaned in, "We need better than nearly. We need the Inquisitor back."

Solas held up a hand to calm him, "Nearly is the best place to start. I can help you, but the Inquisitor's spirit isn't the only thing on the other side of time. We need to find his body. Both were transported, were they not?"

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's where I'm uncertain. Can he enter the fade without performing the ritual himself?"

"Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe, Commander?" Solas asked, hands behind his back as he rounded the desk.

"You're talking about the incident with Conor and Bann Tegan. I've heard the story." He watched Solas with suspicious curiosity.

"I am. There is a way to perform the ritual on another, without entering the fade yourself…"

Cullen's eyes went wide, "No! No one is doing any blood magic!"

"Blood magic?" Dorian looked to Solas with anger. "You're suggesting I perform a blood ritual on the Inquisitor? Nonsense!"

Solas shrugged, "That is the only way I know of to return both the Inquisitor's soul and body as one."

Dorian scratched his chin as he tried to think of another way. "If I had the amulet here…"

Felix perked up, "What if I could get it from my father?"

The room looked over to Felix.

"What? Is it safe after what you did to help us?" Cullen asked.

Felix shook his head, "My father may not be in his right mind, but he's always been a father first. If I need him, he will be there with open arms."

Dorian slowly walked to Felix. "You'd steal from your own father for us?"

Felix smiled, "I would steal sweets from his personal stash for you all the time."

Dorian smiled and gave him a hardy thump on the shoulder. "Then we need to head back to Dead Ram Grove."

The day had been long and exhausting, and while time was of the essence, they all needed rest.

But Cullen couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable spot, but to no avail. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth fighting and went for a walk to think.

He walked the battlements until he was sick of looking at stone walls. When he got back to his office, no more ready to sleep than before, he thought of Dorian, how he had so much more he wanted to say, and so many more apologies to make.

Heading across the bridge to the library, Cullen tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to Solas's floor. The door creaked ever so slightly, and Cullen heard a calming voice say, "Dorian is downstairs."

He looked up to see Solas painting a mural of the fade on the atrium wall.

"Oh I was just…" Cullen started, but Solas gave him a knowing look. "Thank you." He said gently as he headed for the main hall's staircase to the basement.

Once down there, he saw a soft red light emitting from a door across the hall, where a small private office was. He smiled as he heard Dorian quietly talking to himself.

Cullen pushed the door open silently, seeing Dorian's back facing him. He snuck up and wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Dorian gasped before realizing who it was, then leaning his head back and humming in contentment.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Cullen asked in a breathy whisper.

Dorian sighed, "I have to know what I'm doing when I reverse the amulet's magic, if Felix can get it off his father. If we can find his father. Hopefully they've stayed put."

Cullen hummed, acknowledging Dorian's concerns. "I wish we had more time, then you could perfect this."

Dorian turned in Cullen's arms and wrapped his around the Commander's neck.

"I wish we had more time, too." He looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, leaving the silence between them.

Cullen quickly caught on, walking Dorian into the desk, lifting him by the thighs to sit atop it. "We have a couple of hours, at least."

Dorian smiled, bringing Cullen in for a light kiss. It quickly became something more, with hot hands finding fasteners on the other's armor and unfastening them. Their kiss turned deep and passionate and nearly frantic as the men wasted little precious time.

Dorian leaned back and pulled Cullen over him, holding him close as he whispered between kisses, "I never stopped loving you. I couldn't make myself stop after you told me to go. You had me."

Cullen kissed down Dorian's neck as he whispered back, "I thought it was just me. And I need you to know I only sent you away because I was scared. I didn't know what the Inquisition would do to you. I was only upset you'd lied to me."

"But you know why I had to." Dorian held Cullen by the cheeks to get his attention. "Would you have wanted me if I had told you I was a Tevinter necromancer."

Cullen pulled the mage’s hand back and kissed his palm, "I want you now, don't I?"

Dorian's words were thick with need as he whispered, "Do you?"

"More than anything."

And the love they made in the night, in a private tucked away space, far from the eyes and ears of Skyhold, was more than either man had felt in many years. Possibly all their lives.

__________

Cullen smiled as he rode alongside Dorian's horse, listening to him and Felix reminisce. They had a long history, from what Cullen gathered, and cared for each other like brothers. It felt good to see Dorian as his true self, and not a bundle of half truths peeking out from behind an alias.

The group was much larger this time, with closer to fifteen templars, including Barris, along with the addition of Solas and a handful of other mages. Cullen was grateful for the help, even if it meant spending time with Solas, trying desperately to find something to talk about.

When the team arrived, they tied their horses up at the camp near Master Dennet's stables and took off on foot toward Dead Ram Grove, signaling the watch tower to stay on guard.

At the entrance to the cave, Cullen took Dorian's hand and squeezed tightly while giving him a worried look. Dorian smiled gently, squeezing back. Cullen nodded and signaled the group into formation and forward. It was still dark, but with several mages summoning flames into their palms, they would be able to see any ambushes this time.

The team stepped cautiously into the final room of the cave where the Inquisitor had been torn through time. It was quiet, with the scattered corpses of Venatori from their failed attack on Cullen’s crew. Dorian winced as he saw the familiar clothing of his homeland, not happy to be fighting his countrymen.

Cullen looked to Dorian with concern, wordlessly asking if he was alright. Dorian nodded and continued on, reminding himself these men chose this path.

After glancing around the room, everyone turned to face Cullen with disappointed looks.

"There's no one here. How are we going to bring the Inquisitor back without that amulet?" One of the mages asked.

Dorian bit his lip as he thought.

Before he could come up with anything, Felix spoke up. "No, there must be another way out of here. My father didn't head for the entrance when he retreated, he went further in."

Cullen nodded, "That's right, everyone look around! There must be--"

Dorian placed his hands on the wall at the back of the cave and closed his eyes, reciting a spell quietly.

Before anyone could ask what he was planning, the wall dissolved away, revealing a laboratory and a barely conscious Alexius breathing heavily on the ground, books scattered where he sat.

"Father!" Felix rushed to his side as he pulled bandages from his bag. Alexius’s wounds were deep and unhealed, but not from Lavellan's sword, which laid across his lab table, still coated in blood.

"My son," Alexius’s voice was incredibly weak, sounding more like air than words.

Felix began applying pressure to his father's rotting wound, exposed flesh healed open.

"We have healers here, just hold on," he said even as the healers shook their heads, wounds too old to fix.

Dorian approached with caution, nerves rising at seeing his old mentor again. He stepped into view just as Alexius looked up.

"The Venatori," he wheezed, "they left me, abandoned me. Told...told the Elder One I failed them."

Felix's eyes began to well up with tears, "They were using you, father, just like you used Dorian. They wanted your magic, that was all."

Tears tugged at the edges of Alexius’s eyes as well, as he admitted, "The Elder One...Corypheus...he came to take the amulet, tried to kill me. But...but I…"

He began to cough and sputter, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He tightly grabbed Felix's hand, holding on with all his strength as he gasped and panted for air.

The air was stagnant, musty and old. Without a draft present, Dorian and Felix could feel as Alexius’s last breath escaped his chest and hit their skin.

Felix sat back on his hunches, eyes glazed, staring down at their entwined hands.

Dorian looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

A long silence hovered in the room, Dorian's hand gripping Felix's shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at his hand, still clasped in his father's, and felt something heavy and cold kiss his palm. He pulled his father's hand away to find the amulet, pulsating and smooth, as if never used.

"Crafty bastard," Dorian said as he lookes at the amulet in pristine condition. "He repaired it, but not perfectly. The way the magic is calibrated, it should work in reverse."

Dorian looked from the Inquisitor's sword to the books scattered on the floor.

"He was going to bring Lavellan back and try again."

"Maker's sake," Felix dropped his head into his hands.

"It's already 'calibrated' to bring him back? That saves us some time, doesn't it?" Cullen looked to Solas for confirmation.

"I am unfamiliar with time magic. I believe everyone to be, except for Dorian." Solas gestured from Dorian to confirm.

He nodded, taking the amulet from Felix and looking it over for imperfections. "Indeed it does. So long as he's done it correctly."

Dorian began work on his spell with the mages silently watching on. Though he had asked them not to, they often asked questions, to which the usual reply was, "This is time altering magic, you know. Let's not forget the danger of this."

When they began to ask too many questions they wouldn't get an answer to, Cullen stepped in and shooed them away. After they scattered, Cullen placed a hand on the small of Dorian's back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the man from behind. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and close his eyes. And when he would open them, the Inquisitor would be there unscathed and everything would be normal.

Cullen heaved a deep sigh at the thought, Dorian turning to look at him with concern.

"Something the matter, amatus?"

"Who?" Cullen asked, not really having absorbed the question.

Dorian chuckled, "You, silly. Are you alright?"

Cullen shook his head slightly, eyes closed, "No. I mean, yes, it's nothing, just...who is Amatus?"

Dorian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cullen’s neck. "It's Tevene, a term of endearment like 'honey or 'dear'." A smirk came to his lips as Cullen scolded himself for sounding jealous.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about this whole situation. I didn't mean to…" Cullen trailed off.

Dorian pressed a nimble finger to his lips. "It's alright, I'm nervous too. This is something I've never done, never even considered having to do. But it will turn out. The Inquisitor will be fine, I promise."

Cullen stared with anxious eyes for a long moment, "That's an awfully confident promise."

Dorian's calm smile faltered ever so slightly, but Cullen caught it, placing a warm ungloved palm to the mage's cheek. "I trust you, Dorian, but it's not your fault if he doesn't come back."

Dorian cringed, "This has all been my fault. If I had just been honest from the beginning--"

"Stop." Cullen leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, forgetting the others around them. "Hunting down the Venatori has been our goal this entire time. This may have happened eventually, you couldn't have changed this."

Dorian nodded, lips still so close to Cullen's. "You're right, I know you are, but I would feel much better if I could bring him back."

Dorian grabbed the calibrated amulet and a tome off the lab table, breaking free of Cullen's embrace and moving toward the center of the room to prepare the ritual.

Solas stood from his crouched position, holding out his hands to take Dorian's completed spell.

"The most difficult bit will be leaving the fade at the same time you entered. Make certain you do not interrupt the flow of time." Solas warned as he started casting.

Dorian looked to Cullen one last time before a green and yellow tear opened before him and he stepped through.

Hours passed and still Dorian hadn't returned with the Inquisitor. Cullen paced the room along with the mages, while Solas maintained meditation in the center of the room, waiting for the beckon call.

He couldn't take the suspense any longer. Cullen gingerly walked near and around Solas to see if he could still hear him. Solas coldly spoke, quiet and even, "I am entirely aware of my surroundings outside the fade, Commander."

It made Cullen jump at first. He then asked, "Are you...in there with them? Can you help them?"

Solas stayed completely still with his eyes closed and legs crossed as he responded, "No, I cannot. I am simply suspending my mind in the fade, but I am not there as they are. They went in physically, body and spirit as one. I would have gone in myself and done this more quickly, but alas, there must be someone on the other side to pull the Inquisitor back through. Dorian has an excellent understanding of time, but the fade can disorient even the brightest minds."

None of this made Cullen feel any better, or more confident that they were safe. "But can you see them? Are they alright?"

Solas sighed, annoyed at having to dumb things down, "Dorian and the Inquisitor have made contact. I can sense their spirits near one another, but I cannot see anything. Were I there, I could use my senses. I am not, however, so I must feel for their souls. I know not where they are in time, or how they fair."

Cullen grunted in frustration. Why did he expect a clear answer?

A short while passed and Solas began to rise, grabbing his staff again. "Everyone stay back, the tear could pull you in!"

Everyone scattered to the edges of the room, watching in astonishment as Solas tore the veil open, Dorian and the Inquisitor stumbling through back into the 'real' world, haggard and panting.

Cullen approached slowly as the tear sealed behind them. When Dorian locked eyes with him, he ran into the Commander's arms.

"Cullen," he whispered in his ear, breathy and shaking, "Thank the Maker, it's you"

Cullen returned the embrace but was still confused. "Yes, it's really me. What happened? Are you alright?"

The rest of the room rushed to the Inquisitor's aid, healers starting to mend cuts and bruises and wrap them gently but with urgency.

Dorian pulled back to look Cullen in the eyes, tears nearly falling onto his cheeks. "Time moves differently. I hoped we would be out in a few days, but it's been weeks, maybe months for us. Lavellan said he'd been sent into the future and stuck there for nearly a year. I can't begin to imagine…"

Dorian shuttered and pulled Cullen close again, Cullen shushing him softly, running calloused fingers over his hair.

__________

Back at Skyhold, a crowd waited anxiously at the base of the steps from the main hall, nervous chatter rumbling through them. The Inquisitor was in his chambers, healers and templars looking him over, a scholar begging him to recount his experience.

Cullen and his fellow advisors took deep breaths before opening the doors of the main hall and descending the steps until they reached the middle landing.

"People of the Inquisition!" Cassandra shouted over the chatter, "The Inquisitor is safe and in good health!"

The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief as they applauded.

Cullen smiled as he added, "All thanks to the brave and valiant efforts of the templars," they raised their swords from within the crowd, people cheering. "Our mages," they raised their staves as well, Solas smiling as he bowed his head.

"And lastly, this man." Cullen held out his hand, inviting Dorian from the front of the crowd to join him. "This man, who joined with you as a troop, rose quickly through our ranks with his impressive display of magical knowledge; who joined the Inquisitor in the field, and contributed to the important research done in our library."

Dorian was already stunned as he stood above all the people of Skyhold, but Cullen took both hands in his, and faced him full on. "This man, who risked his reputation, his place in the Inquisition, and ultimately his own life, to return the Inquisitor to us from beyond time. Dorian Pavus."

Felix, standing at the front, looked up to Dorian from within the crowd and shouted, "To Dorian!" The crowd joined in with thanks, crying out with joy for their Herald’s great return, and the man who saved him. Dorian looked out over the crowd as they said his name, as they recognized him for all his deeds despite his lineage.

The good Tevinter.

He smiled as he turned to Cullen once again. "A tad overdue, if you ask me."

Cullen chuckled, "You're impossible."

Cullen pulled Dorian in for a long and tight hug, the crowd around them cheering for the Inquisitor. Cheering for the

[alia-turin]

Request:  I wish you would write a fic where Caranthir and Imlerith are being requested by their commander to capture a human sorceress, who is known for her healing powers, compel her to divulge her secrets and spells and then kill her, but things take an unexpected turn

Honestly guys I feel so bad because you sent these awesome requests and I feel like butcher them and turn them upside down :D 

In any case couple of notes - big HC that I was introduced to is that despite everything Imlerith has soft side for animals, so I’m sorry if he sounds a bit OOO, but that whole thing is really about his soft side. If you want more Imlerith + animals, please check out @erinbeast . I have also put some ideas for Caranthir that come from an old fic I posted and another fic I’m currently working on (which I might never post but there is that). I hope y’all enjoy tagging you 

AO3 Link

Warning: mentioning of injured animal 

Caranthir stepped through the portal and Imlerith followed. Neither of them was wearing their armor, at least not in full. His friend still wore gauntlets instead of gloves and some of the metal around his legs and torso. Caranthir on the other hand was more practical, no amount of armor was going to protect them where they were going so he was just wearing his normal clothes and a cloak. He knew roughly where their final destination was supposed to be, but he wasn’t sure so he ended up getting them in the forest and they were going to figure the rest.

“I still don’t understand what Eredin’s problem with that particular sorceress is.” Imlerith groaned as Carathir led the way. He could sense the bitch so it wouldn’t be that difficult to find her at that point.

“Does it matter?” they were alone, even the usual forest sounds were somehow dulled around them. He couldn’t hear birds, just the wind brushing against the leaves. “She is a human sorceress, she is better off dead.”

Imlerith raised an eyebrow but the younger man did not see him as he was leading. Since Caranthir had joined the Red Riders the two of them had become friends. He had trained him to use a sword and spear, art Caranthir never mastered, but he had become damn good with that staff of his even when he was not using magic. He had also seen him grow, become more of a Red Rider compared to the skinny kid who left Avallac’h.

“For someone who uses magic you hate other mages way too much. Jealous they might be better than you?” He mocked but also that was something Imlerith never fully understood. One day something had snapped in Caranthir. The man never showed any real hate to anything but Avallac’h, at most he would just show lack of interest in things which in Caranthir’s cold mind was probably equal to hate. But then something happened, first it was just the darker mood but then during one of their raids he saw the Navigator break the skull of a human sorcerer. Imlerith liked violence, he inflicted it however he could, it made his blood running, but that had been something new from Caranthir. Maybe their friendship was rubbing on him or maybe it was just the Eredin effect.

“There isn’t anybody who is better…” Caranthir suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Imlerith looked around and focused, he could hear it. It sounded like a dog whining somewhere close. Without thinking Imlerith traced the sound and Caranthir was following.

It didn’t take them too far until they found the wolf lying on a bed of leaves and dirt. It was injured, an arrow was sticking from one of its hind legs and another one from its abdomen. Imlerith’s jaw clenched. He liked hunting, but he never did it for sport, it had always been for food or fur and he always made sure to finish his kill fast. He had no issue killing humanoid creatures in an extremely painful way, he even took pleasure in it, but animals were innocent. Whoever did not finish that kill deserved slow and painful death.

The wolf looked at them and showed them his teeth but he looked weak. Imlerith stepped closer, the arrow in the leg did not seem so bad, but the one in the abdomen...that was nasty wound.

Caranthir just looked at the other man as he approached the wolf, the animal was growling, but there was no bite, no danger to it.

“Imlerith, it’s dying, mercy is the best thing you can do for it.” He knew his friend felt some kinship to animals. Everyone always thought Imlerith to be mindless brute, Eredin’s rabid dog, but that was just part of the story. There is a side that almost nobody had seen.

“Maybe Avallac’h should have shown you some mercy.” the other man pointed at his face where Caranthir’s scars were.

“Maybe your mother should have shown some mercy when she saw you are barely intelligent to get dressed.” the Navigator bit back without hesitation. That’s what they did, Imlerith made fun of the scars on his face, the only person he tolerated to do that, and he made fun of Imlerith’s intelligence, just like true brothers.

Caranthir sighed. He wasn’t heartless, he just didn’t see a point in letting the poor animal suffer. He knelt next to Imlerith and placed a hand on the wolf’s head despite the sharp teeth that were barren.

“What are you doing?” Imlerith grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“I’m not killing it. I can relate to the need to protect innocence and purity in its clearest form.” Imlerith had no idea what that meant. Caranthir had the habit to speak like Avallac’h at times, half of a conversation that made no sense to anyone. He made fun of him for that, but not now. The navigator freed his hand and placed it on the wolf again. Second later the animal was asleep and the laboured breathing was calmer. “We can break the arrows, but we should not pull them out, we need to deal with that bitch, which would be a quick job and then we can take it to Tir na Lia. It should be asleep for about two hours and it doesn’t feel pain, just make sure it doesn’t lose any more blood, because that will kill it.”

Caranthir didn’t have much hope for the animal surviving, judging by the blood around, it had been like that for some time, and his healing powers have always been the weakest from his many talents.

Imlerith scooped the wolf in his arm and followed Caranthir. He constantly looked at the animal to make sure it was still breathing. He decided he would name it Treise, a strong name for a beast like that. It wasn’t too long when they found an old log cabin deep in the woods. Caranthir did not stop, the man had no fear from some human witch, Imlerith followed but left the wolf outside, to prevent any further harm. He had seen mages fight and he also knew the pleasure Caranthir felt in making them suffer.

The Navigator was the first to enter the log cabin, bending his neck in an awkward position to get through the human sized door. Nothing impressive inside, wooden table, chairs, a bed in the far corner. The bitch was sitting next to the fireplace and turned in surprise when they walked in.

“Who…” she started a question, but he never allowed her to finish. His first attack knocked her on the ground, he wasn’t going to kill her, he was going to take his time.

Imlerith watched as Caranthir attacked the witch, she was a pretty thing for a human, small and fragile. A predator grin decorated his lips. Maybe he would let Caranthir have his fun using her to mop the floor and then he will have his type of fun.

“Wait!” the woman was on her hands and knees, her hair was a mess and there was blood running from her mouth. “I can help you.” Caranthir laughed mockingly. “I know you brought an injured animal with you, I can sense it, I’m a healer, I can help.”

Without hesitation Imlerith placed a hand on the navigator’s shoulder. Caranthir turned toward him, there was cold fire burning in his eyes. Funny how usually the roles were reversed. It had always been the younger man stopping him, but now Imlerith had other concerns than simple bloodlust.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers a bit deeper in the other man’s shoulder, his hand sinking in the soft first of his cloak.

“I cannot beat him.” she nodded at Caranthir. “And I don’t know why you are here but it isn’t for fortune reading. I help your wolf, you let me live.”

“No.” Caranthir said, almost offended.

“Deal.” Imlerith spoke at the same time and they both exchanged looks.

The woman wasn’t stupid and she did not wait for the two of them to sort their small differences. She got on her feet with visible effort and slowly limped toward the door.

“Please tell me the plan is to let her heal the wolf and then we kill her?” Caranthir said through his teeth, his jaw clenched. Imlerith did not answer. He wasn’t sure what the plan was. “You will tell Eredin. I’m not dealing with that.”

When they went out Caranthir walked to the nearest tree and pressed his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his cold eyes just pinned on the woman.

“It’s very weak.” the witch said as she placed her hand on the animal.

“Oh great, it’s very weak. Must have missed that.” the navigator said sarcastically, Imlerith couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

The woman ignored them and started working. She pulled what was left from the arrows, thick blood started pooling on the fur but she worked quickly. She chanted a spell and pulled some herbs from her pocket that she applied to the wounds. Couple of minutes later she got up, the animal was still asleep and Imlerith got worried for a moment. Did she trick them? Did she kill the wolf as a final ‘fuck you’? If that was the case, whatever Caranthir was planning to do to her, would be nothing compared to what he would do to her.

“I cannot do anything about the lost blood.” she finally said. “And I cannot wake it up because of his spell. But once it wakes up it will be weak, it won’t be able to take care of itself until its body recovers from the loss.”

Caranthir forced an arrogant smile on his lips. Of course she couldn’t she was just a stupid human mage. It was surprising that Imlerith had been so...soft, between the two of them he had always been the nicer one, had he changed so much? No, it wasn’t that. He felt pity for the animal as well and didn’t really want it to die, but he was the logical one, Imlerith was impulsive. Where was Avallac’h now to see him? Where was his old teacher to call him rash?

“Am I free to go?” the woman asked, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Imlerith nodded, Caranthir was not really sold on the idea, but nodded as well.

He opened a portal and waited for Imlerith to grab the wolf and step through it, then he followed. They went straight to Imlerith’s apartments in the castle in Tir na Lia.

“We are not telling Eredin.” his friend finally said as he gently placed the wolf on his bed. He had never seen Imlerith being gentle with anything.

“We are not telling Eredin.” Caranthir repeated. “You are telling Eredin.”

“No.” Imlerith was still looking at the wolf. “We are waiting for a couple of days, and then we will do what we were supposed to do.”

After Caranthir didn’t speak for a while, he turned to make sure the navigator was still there.

“Why?” the younger man finally asked.

“Because that wolf means more to me than any other life out there and I’m paying her by giving her a couple of days.” Imlerith wasn’t sure if the navigator understood, neither of them was affectionate to anything. He expressed his emotions with violence and Caranthir...emotions did not come easy with him.

Caranthir nodded. He could relate, probably the reason he reacted the way he did was just because he did not expect Imlerith to be so...kind. But he could understand the desire to protect something.

[books-fishlegs-was-awesome]

So... I wrote something!

It's for the HTTYD movies (though I am working on a books!verse fic currently as well) and mspec Snotlout because I'm projecting. (It's part of a oneshot series of this headcanon, though I've only written one chapter so far.)

You can read this work on Archive of Our Own here, however I do understand that some people do not want to visit that site. Therefore, I have also included my writing below the cut.

Still, it would really be appreciated if you read it on there. (Though not necessary!!!)

Find a happy place, find a happy place...

Details: Angst, Hurt Comfort, General Mspec Snotlout, (If You Squint) Romantic Ruffnut/Snotlout, Mentioned Hiccup/Astrid (sorry), Mentioned unrequited Snotlout/Fishlegs, Set sometime in Race To The Edge and after Big Man On Berk.

Cw: Very tiny mention of iternalized bi/panphobia, Struggling with identity.

~

A blush was spreading across his face, creeping down his neck, splotching onto his chest. It burned. He didn't want it to burn, he didn't want to feel this way at all! (But there was nothing he could do to stop it, some things were just out of his control- no matter how hard he tried to keep them in his grasp.) So he turned away from the window, looking away from where Hiccup and Astrid were laughing and joking (as lovers like them did). He sunk down to the floor, sliding his back down the wall until his knees were brought all the way up to his chest- arms wrapped tightly around them. Squeezing his eyes shut, the dragon rider tried to stop his heart from racing so fast. Deeply breathing, he slowed the approach of the eventfully appearing chance of tears. He didn't like when he cried, it made him feel weak. (Like any teenager born and raised on Berk, he didn't like feeling weak.) Sure, he knew that it wasn't bad to cry; Hiccup had told him that. And though it had been reassuring at the time, it just made him feel worse when he thought about it when he felt like crying. Especially if part of the reason he felt like crying was Hiccup himself. Or maybe it was Astrid? It was getting harder and harder to tell as the days went on, like each second that passed was another second where the lines blurred. Another second where he felt bitter about this whirlwind of emotions- of attraction. Another second where he didn't know what to do. A strangled sound left his throat, he couldn't stop it. (The noise was drawn from in his chest, he could feel his lungs punch out the air even though he didn't want to breathe to get it back in. It was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, coming out sadder than he had meant it too. More pained than he even knew he could be.) That was why it was weird, because he wasn't expecting to hear something that represented how he felt. Because he didn't know if there was even a way to capture the internal conflict he had been experiencing over the last few months. (Had it really been that long? How could time fly and yet crawl so slow at the same time, how could this have started then if it felt like it was only yesterday? And yet, how was it that it felt like years since he hadn't felt unsure of what he 'liked'?) He didn't have answers to these questions, except the first one because he knew what day it had been when this had really started. He had been having questions for a while before it, years back even, but they had really gotten stronger ever since that whole fiasco with Fishlegs. Now, that was something he didn't have words to explain. Why had Thor Bonecrusher just been so... Really, there were no words that could show how he felt! Nothing stronger to explain the bitter anger that he had with himself after coming to his senses, after Fishlegs was properly back. No way to show the way his heart did a little dance whenever he thought about the series of events, even if it was laced with the fury and jealousy that came with knowing that if he hadn't accidently hypnotized the blond in the way he had he could have pushed off this identity crises for later. Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? Now he had to relive so many of those emotions again and again, every time he looked at his friends. (Even Tuffnut was doing something to him, and that wasn't very normal.) He curled into and even tighter ball, hitting his helmeted head against his arm again and again, the strength of the action getting weaker each time until it was only a light tap. How was he even supposed to deal with this? Was the answer just giving up; or was it admitting to himself the truth (but, in that case what was the truth)? A whistling sound disturbed his thoughts, and he whipped his head up, turning to face where the noise had come from. Immediately, he made eye-contact with the person standing in the doorway. (He hadn't even heard it open.) Ruffnut. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, the teasing smile that had been on Ruffnut's face disappearing as she made out the intense- real, fear on the

ravenhaired dragon rider's face. Maybe she had been expecting to be able to tease him a little bit, in a friendly way of course, because he had managed to mess up at something again. But no, she saw the emotion behind his eyes before he could realize and put up a mask or anger. She swiveled her head to look out the door, and then turned back to him. "Snotlout?" she asked, "Are you okay?" His face twitched as he tried to smile (managing only something more akin to a pained, teary eyed, grimace). But when he started an attempt to jump to his feet and act like nothing was wrong, Ruffnut rushed forward. She pushed him back down to the floor again, hands on his shoulders and her face full of concern- but firm. "Stay sitting," she demanded, the insistence coming as a surprise to the other as she didn't wait any longer for him to respond. As she went back over to the door and shut it, he tried to argue back. "Why should I listen to you?" he scoffed- though he feared his voice cracked a little in the middle and made the sentence less imposing. But even if this extra emotion wasn't added to the statement, Ruffnut just rolled her eyes as she walked back over and crouched the the ground besides him. "What's wrong?" she asked, taking him off guard with the further worry about his emotional state. "Nothing?" he lied, clear in the fact that the response came out more like a question of it's own. She scrunched up her nose, "You don't sound very sure about that," He was silent. There wasn't any way to keep the 'truth' in his answer evident if he spoke again, so he had nothing else to say. But Ruffnut wasn't taking that as an answer, so she shook her head and reached out, cupping Snotlout's face in her palm and forcing him to face her. "Hey," she stared into his eyes until he flicked his own away, hating to maintain eye contact, "You can tell me, I'm not mean all the time you know," He swallowed, but didn't say anything else. In response, she sighed and let go of his face, leaning her own back against the wall and copied the other's movements- staring forward into the darkness that was the rest of the unlit, empty dragon stalls. Almost in sync, they both wrapped (or re-wrapped) their arms around their knees. Ruffnut smiled at this, turning to see if Snotlout had noticed as well- but he didn't seem like he had. He was still staring forwards, a blankness in his eyes that made it hard to see what he was thinking. Hard to see how he felt. Her face fell once more, and she turned towards the dark parts of the building again- they weren't lit up by the light that made its way through the window behind them, or under the cracks in the door. The dust that floated in the air created little specks of light further in, reflecting what little brightness made it to them through the thickly shadowed space. Trying to keep her spirits up, Ruffnut hummed, "Welp!" She exclaimed, sounding awkward even as she tried to fit in with the shadows and sadness that laced the room. "I don't think this has been a very helpful conversation, but I do really want to help you. I don't bite, you know," Snotlout groaned and put his head in his hands, sounding more aggravated than sad or scared now. Ruffnut bit her lip, "Oh come on, it can't be that bad! I'm not that judging!" Snotlout gave her a look and she thought about it harder. (When she thought about it, it was fair that he didn't trust her fully. Still, this wasn't something she wanted to spread rumors about. This sounded serious.) She had a heart! "Okay," she started. "I'll go first then! I have plenty of things that are stressing me out, and you do too but you're not telling me what's wrong so I'll just talk instead," Snotlout groaned and she looked over at him, "Do you want to speak? Because I'm getting pretty mixed signals here," He didn't respond, but she didn't speak either. She was waiting for him to say something, or leave. He wasn't the type of guy to hide in some stable building and feel bad for himself- usually made some sort of show out of it. Acting like it wasn't that much of a big

deal, so the seriousness he was treating this with was honestly scary. But finally, after minutes that seemed to stretch into years, Snotlout opened his mouth to speak. "I've just been having a lot of questions recently," he said- but it definitely felt like he wasn't telling her the whole deal. "What kinds of questions?" She asked, "Because if it has to do with math or hair care I can't help, sorry," He stared at her, seeming unable to read if she was serious or not. She bit her lip, "sorry," she repeated. "I didn't mean to interrupt you, please continue," Snotlout shook his head. "No, it's nothing," he stated simply, "I should stop wasting your time- go out and build a tower or something," Frowning, Ruffnut shook her head. "You're not wasting my time! I had nothing better to do anyway," "Sure," scoffed Snotlout, "I'm sure," Ruffnut frowned, "Seriously man, please tell me what's wrong. I'm getting worried, you know we both hate to be worried!" Snotlout rolled his eyes and both the dragon riders went silent again. Ruffnut was waiting for the other to speak, while Snotlout was honestly just hoping and praying that she would leave. He was pretty tired already, even if he knew that there really wasn't another way out of this situation. Even if he left, she would be able to track him down if she felt like it. Honestly it seemed like she might feel like it, the worry in her voice seemed genuine, no matter how little he wanted to believe it. (He sort of hated the idea that the people he knew were thinking about him, which was odd considering how much he normally enjoyed the thought. Maybe it was because he felt weak, he didn't want that to be interpreted in anyone's eyes. Things seemed to be changing with him recently, maybe this was the next thing.) It took a long couple of minutes of staring at the dust that floated in the air before the male dragon rider sighed, seeming to give up on the idea of Ruffnut leaving. "Things to have a kind of been on my mind since..." He trailed off, staring into the distance for a second before shaking his head as if coming back to the present. "...since the whole Thor Bonecrusher fiasco," he finished. Ruffnut stared at him for a good long moment, so long, in fact, that he began to wonder if she was judging him. But when she spoke it was clear that she wasn't, "Yeah," she sighed. "I get that," Snotlout blinked, "you... what? With Fishlegs?" The confusion was clearly evident on his face because Ruffnut shrugged, "I don't know man, I guess? But what you would relate to more wouldn't be with him," Suddenly it clicked, "You mean," Snotlout started, sounding quite oddly joyful indeed, "you know what it's like?" Ruffnut cackled, "Of course I do, duh, identity crisis is basically in my name," "Not quite?" Snotlout tried to butt in, but was cut off as the other continued. "Plus, Tuff's also been through similar things- and I'm always right by his side to see it. Though, I guess this is more of realizing that some people actually... are attracted to people and realizing that he's not 'normal' or whatever," The twin turned to smile at Snotlout, "People like you and I go through more questions like 'is it even possible to like everyone?' 'are these emotions even real?' You know?" Snotlout blinked, much of his earlier panic forgotten. She really did understand. He had to admit, it was kind of strange to all of a sudden realize that he wasn't alone in this. That there were other people like him. But it was a good sort of strange. (Something more akin to joy.) It felt... nice to not have to be alone. It was going to take some time to get used to, this solidarity between him and Ruff, but he liked it already. (The plush was returning, but it wasn't bad at this time. It felt sweet, even.) Yeah, he thought as Ruffnut continued on with whatever she was talking about, he could get used to this.

(2,218 words.)

~

Sorry if there are mistakes I was extremely sleep deprived and sad when I wrote this.

[valaks]

Hey Valaks! I love your blog and your writing!

Please could you do 1, 10 and 18 for the writing asks?? 🌺

Thank you for the ask! I have added a cut to hopefully not be that person clogging up the feed XD

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have a few collabs outstanding like Gemini and a Kabir/Alex sequel to Reunion (It’s rated T at the most so still kid friendly) with Lupin and Devil Went Down to Georgia with Galimau. My utter love for both of my collab partners for pulling me through at a time when I’ve been really struggling. I have a WIPs List but I’ll confess to not having touched most of them in quite sometime (partly from life, partly because I’m not sure how interesting they’d be to anyone else other than me which influences my writing more than I would like to admit):

Good Intentions: Smithers never thought he’d be anyone’s moral compass, he was no angel to sit in anyone’s shoulder but trying to keep Alex Rider from following in the ruthless footsteps of his father or worse his former handler, Alan Blunt is as close to hell as he can imagine. (Wherein Alex becomes head of MI6 we watch his morality slip away form the eyes of an increasingly frustrated and heartbroken Smithers - it all culminates when Alex uses a child “just as an informant, simple information gathering” but hidden behind the charming smile of John Rider and the brutal coldness of Alan Blunt’s words is Alex Rider dying as he says them (Smithers just hopes there’s still a part of the boy he once knew in there to mourn)

Walk the Line: Alex thought he was done with SCORPIA. But they kept creeping back into his life in the most unexpected of ways. He thought he could at least count on it being on the other side until he gets teamed up with Walker, his former classmate and current CIA spy. Unfortunately he still hasn’t been able to figure out whose side Walker is really on - attempted deep cover op like his dad, repatriated rogue spy back on the “good” side, or SCORPIA double agent? He doesn’t know but at least he’s nice....in that obnoxious American way.

Temperamental: (Sequel to Sentimental which isn’t all that popular and you would need to read it for the sequel but basically amnesiac Yassen whose memories stop pre John’s betrayal set during the Stormbreaker mission and features him trying to come to grips with the use of chemical weapons against children and how to handle Alex once he snaps back to reality which is where this starts) Yassen had promised Alex Rider that he would be safe from the world of spying but fate had other ideas. In the days after Sarov’s failed plan, Yassen scrambles to find where MI6 have hidden his wayward charge without drawing Rothman’s attention. A request from one of their existing clients to look into suspicious activity at his son’s former school prompts Yassen to investigate under the guise of offering security. He should have known where there was trouble there would be Alex.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Lordy do I ever not have a good answer for this. Typically it involves an idea hitting me and then the determination: would this idea work better as a short to post on tumblr (because the set up would take away the tension or would require a multi chapter which is not really my strength), as a prompt to lob out into the ether for someone better and brighter to touch on, or a fic. Once fic is decided I determine whose perspective the fic would be the most interesting from either because it would create the most tension or their internal monologue/background knowledge would add the most to it. Then the summary is written and a title is chosen. If it’s something I’m really passionate about and I already have it in my head I tend to write it all in one go, if there’s more I need to chew on then it’s a series of dates with the Evil Writing App. The final determination is whether it’s good enough for Valaks or if it gets sent to an alt account.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Allegedly. I’ll try to go in order of posting -

Ruthless has a sequel where Alex just goes *quiet* once the initial dust as settled it’s unnerving to everyone because they’re not used to having to wonder just what Alex is thinking, at least not behind closed doors but what happened isn’t exactly something that can be recovered from easily, not when Alex isn’t sure who all’s in on it no matter what they’ve told him. Failure is the AU where I considered what would happen to Alex to make him want to torture.

Alibi was originally going to have Yassen show up in the end but I found it far more fascinating if MI6 was just testing Alex so out went Yassen and in went Ben. The sequel to it was torn apart and turned into Warm Reception because I wanted to trope flip SCORPIA comes to Brooklands and decided that it was more logical to have a small fight in Mrs. Bedfordshire’s lobby than anywhere else and I wanted to explore some side characters instead of Ben.

Providence’s sequel thoughts ended up inspiring Gentleman’s Agreement but I did write a small short for it “Yassen and Alex encounter each other on mission. Surprisingly they are working to mostly the same goal - Yassen needs to kill the millionaire who Alex needs to get information from. “I suppose I could answer some questions for you, Sasha. /In Russian/“ “Is now really the time for a language lesson?” he ground out in frustration but the man pointedly ignored him “/Fine but I don’t know some of the words/“ “/Then there is no better way to learn/“

I mentioned the Sentimental sequel but changing Sarov to come first and probable for almost a month before Yassen figures out he’s missing made the most sense. It was also a bit of fun at the Yassen would absolutely take Alex away from MI6....just to throw him in a school and throw away the key. Almost had him send him to Point Blanc but decided that wouldn’t quite fit all that well and wouldn’t be as interesting as if Alex had already gotten his feet back under him with MI6 and now sees that Yassen was right that MI6 would just use him until he’s dead but that doesn’t mean Alex wants to be anywhere near Yassen. Julia Rothman might have other ideas when she finds out what her newest second in command is hiding.

Gentleman’s Agreement.....there’s a lot of thoughts on Sequels and AUs, a lot of them have been written by better people, but that fic was written in 45 minutes so there wasn’t much time to recharacterize or change scenes. It did get Turncoat aka the Alex saves Yassen fic I wanted so badly.

Blood Brothers is a fic I really worked hard on considering how John would feel about his son being thrown into SCORPIA assuming Alex was of age. A rocky marriage was characterization that didn’t quite fit what I imagined would have happened but did fit the story so it stayed in. It was a fic that was supposed to get expanded on - the competition between Hunter and Yassen and Nile and Alex who is desperate to beat his Dad and his “apprentice”. I think two teenagers thrown against each other with a bit of a bone to pick, especially Yassen and Alex who can both hold a grudge even if one runs hot and the other runs cold, would have been compelling and a little fun but the premise and specifically John’s characterization doesn’t quite work out to me.

Found and Legends both have their plotting done but it’ll never see the light of day

Little Moments and Sweetest Thing were my guilty pleasure writing pieces for a while and I have about 1000 DMs of scenes for both of them that are lost to the sands of time and an embarrassing amount of self indulgence

Mates has a follow up ending for those who needed resolution in the comments of it. I’m not sure I did a good job of showing that Tom was in a semi abusive relationship since a lot of people seemed to blame him for him and Alex’s breakup. Most of my headcanons for how their relationship goes have them splitting much sooner just because of Tom’s own home life and either being unable to relate/talk to Alex and drifting away because his Mom throwing a plate at his head isn’t being hung over crocodiles but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt or because Alex is just too dangerous/jumpy to be thrown back into a school environment and lashes out even unintentionally especially not under the pressure of being seen as a failure. School is also a barometer of just how much he’s lost of himself and his childhood, bonus points for Alex being completely upfront with Tom about everything he’s done

In My Sights has an AU where this is all post Christmas at Gunpoint and Yassen is there because he knows Ian is already at Sayle’s factory and will have to be...handled. So two weeks of just getting Alex trained for the protection he might need, connecting him to resources, etc. Ian finding out that Yassen had been there was part of a draft at one point which was included Alex wondering about an all too sincere goodbye from Ian “who never hugged him” but I can’t find the snippet anymore ;__;

A Warm Reception was an alternate version. Originally I wanted it to be Alex watching his last chance at normality slip from his fingers and then the crushing realization that it was something that was his own doing, not even MI6 but Skoda who he had picked a fight with and the accompanying breakdown but then decided that Mrs. Bedfordshire was the right way to go upon writing the summary. Because everyone loves some Outsider POV

Adopted was supposed to be a one chapter throw away trope flip of K Unit adopts Alex. I kept it pretty consistent with Amitai and Lil Lupin’s K Units, tried to add in some more characterization just in how they treated some of the details. It has an alt ending/chapter where they find out Alex is Cub when they pull him from Three’s tender mercies almost by accident. I was persuaded into light humored fluff via guilt trip.

The Truth and Other Deadly Weapons has Ben acting exactly like he think he would in front of everyone but my AU was that this interaction happened in the field and absolutely shattered Ben’s trust in him partly because he had worked for the other side and partly because even if it ‘wasn’t as bad as it looks’ it showed a severe lack of judgment. It also featured several chapters of Alex running into the glass ceiling that is having “Member Malogosto Class of 2004” on your resume. Was going to feature Alex running into Walker as well and into problems within MI6 and the CIA but that was eventually cut and it was kept to one chapter.

Guardian....Guardian holds a very special place in my heart. I was given the prompt of a Monster Fic and I wrote what I knew but the interesting parts were all the ones that come after the story but might come across to a general audience as Hogwarts School of Prayers and Miracles. The plotting done post this was going to feature baby Angel Alex reuniting with his parents but...they were strangers to him and so he stayed with Yassen more and more, followed him, learned from him....it encompassed everything from the dynamics of broken families to reflections on theology and references from the Good Book....which is why it’ll never see the fandom but has a very special place in my heart.

In another, more perfect world Glocking Around the Christmas Tree is the Die hard fic this fandom deserves but as Lupin and I untangled the plot of the movie more and more we just couldn’t make it into anything that would be coherent on paper so it was changed and changed and is now a half finished sad abomination that sits on my works list only because Lupin would kill me if I took it down.

Hot Shot was supposed to feature my current favorite character that is not Nile Abara, John Crawley but I wimped out and changed it at the end because I swore I would write the Crawley fic that we all need. Hear me out: John Crawley knew and worked with John and Ian Rider, was respected by both of them, was recruited by SCORPIA within one year in the field, is the Chief of Staff of MI6, the man who “no one gets a knife in the back without him signing off” and is also the man who walks his dog to check on Alex. There’s a mentorship waiting to happen there, preferably in a nice work study program during college where Alex finally gets to see the repercussions of his missions and Crawley helps try and pull him back from the black mark that SCORPIA would have put on him.

My personal fluffy favorite is the spinoff of Devil Went Down to Georgia where Joe Byrne did pull Alex out post Skeleton Key and brought him home. There’s a pretty extended one about where Tom ends up after Mates. There’s also an actual sequel but ask me no questions and all.

Skipping a few collabs and Febuwhump fics but Burning Questions was just supposed to be Branded - a fic where upon being captured by Razim he is brought in and forcibly branded to differentiate the appearances of Alex and Julius (since Razim has decided to have him killed after shooting the Secretary of State). As a result of the pain levels spiking when Alex actually sees that the SCORPIA logo is branded onto his cheek Razim considers that emotional pain might be something to investigate. There’s a couple thousand words on it, one day I might polish it up.

First Impressions is supposed to be a mirror verse of Alex working for MI6 which includes Three as Blunt, Rothman as Jones and of course Sagitta as K Unit while he’s up against his father as Yassen and Yassen as Crawley. But it was cut down significantly even if the ideas are pretty fun to consider.

Sorry this was probably more than you bargained for but it was fun to get everything out there so thank you for asking

[mendesficsxbombay]

don't you wanna see these clothes on me? | s.m

hello! 2 fics in one month? am i even myself anymore? 

Requested ‘non sexual acts of intimacy’ from this prompt list:

7) one adjusting the other’s jewellery/neck tie, etc

 anon requested this be related to or based on the GRAMMYs

Shawn Mendes was a relatively easy client to work with, anyone would tell you that. There were a few demands to be met, yes, but demands came with every famous person. His demands were always attainable, nothing too out of reach. There’s certain types of food, certain brands of packaged water (do not bring a Dasani anywhere near him or he will riot, she’d learned that the hard way), skin care products should not run out, and so on. She wasn’t his assistant or tour manager to know the details of his rider, but this was her first job on the road, you can’t blame her for being observant. 

She was working very closely with him though, if you count picking out his clothes for the day and helping her actual boss, Tiffany, with his show outfits as working closely. The gig with Tiffany was a chance she had taken a little blindly. She was 21, fresh out of fashion school, and her mind was in bits about potential careers. She’d worked at stores, workshops, assisted designers and interned at a fashion week and penciled down her life into two options - styling and client servicing. Would she rather dress people or would she be the one making business happen for a fashion house to dress people? She had no goddamn idea. 

Right after graduating though, she heard of an opening with a ‘well experienced stylist, in the field of dressing musicians, a travel job with months on the road and suitable perks’, and she sent an application in to the agency. 

She’d read of Tiffany Briseno in her copies of Vogue multiple times. A celebrity stylist with years of experience to her name, most famous for styling a world famous Canadian pop star. He shall not be named because she herself just happened to like his music, a little bit here and there. Not like she lined up to buy a copy of his debut album at Target or anything. Of course not. 

When she was called in for a video interview, Tiffany clearly explained the amount of work that went into styling for a world tour and she clearly needed an assistant who was serious with their job, and not in it for the glamour. She, in turn, explained to Tiffany about how she worked all through university, and how serious she was with her career. Her knees shook under the table she placed her laptop on, praying that Tiffany couldn’t see her body locking up with anxiety through Skype. Tiffany complimented her dedication, but also reminded her that absolutely nothing would compare to having to work on the road. She felt her shoulders sink in subconsciously, smiling and nodding as she had throughout her life and ended the conversation. 

She told her parents about how she applied for this job that was just a lot of work and how she was so sure they were looking for someone with much more experience, not just a clueless grad school kid. The agency did not feel the same apparently, because she found an offer letter in her emails a few days later. She was required to meet the rest of the team and Tiffany in a few weeks’ time, and until then it was her job to look for sourcing options for Sha- for her client.

That was a whole year ago now, and as so many of the crew members said, the road had started to feel like home. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, deep in thought while trying to fix a particularly stubborn crease with her steam iron on the deep red suit jacket he was meant to wear in just a few hours. She always had the option of having someone else do the ironing, but she found it calming, found it easier to collect her thoughts with a steam rod and press in her hands than she did otherwise, so they let her be. 

She took the jacket down from the hangar she was using, neatly placing it on another adjacent hangar, and moved to bring in the Louis Vuitton shirt he would be wearing. Going down the front of the high quality linen she thought of how he recently liked unbuttoning way more buttons than he used to. If this weren’t a red carpet and another regular show he’d be wearing a much tighter shirt to hug around his arms, she remembers taking measurements for his other outfits to the exact inch and he said he liked it that way. A tight shirt or even a wife beater that completely let go of any barrier between showing off his biceps. 

She remembered teasing him at times, and he used to blush furiously, until he started asking her if she was looking. Then it used to be her turn to blush. She thought back to the first leg of tour. She remembers them constantly sneaking around each other - but also finding excuses to share their space. She remembers feeling sparks, and she knew he felt them, too. 

What other explanation could they possibly have for the middle school crush they had on each other? She would love to fend these concerns off by saying he was solely worked up because she was the only girl around his age on the crew. But that would be a lie, she knew the team of runners had a few girls their age - she was friends with them now. And the production teams had people close to them, too, even though they had alternating staff.

She could say that she was the only one working close enough with him, but that wasn’t true either. Telling herself it was just an infatuation would be the biggest lie, it had been months and he still behaved the same way around her. She was tired of having to tiptoe around him for as long as she was doing her job. 

Shawn liked her so, so bad. And there was nothing she could do about it. 

She had started noticing the little signs at first. Anytime he’d bring in water for himself, he had an extra bottle for her. He always saved her a spot at the dinner table. Got disappointed when she didn’t come in for at least half of his soundcheck. He liked having her near the stage when shows actually took place. And then there were bigger signs. He bought her a copy of Leave Your Mark, a book she had been trying to find for months - and when she asked him how he only ducked his head and said he found it at one of the airport bookstores. A quick ask around helped her know that he had contacted the publishers themselves and acquired a copy. 

She had started noticing how the people around them moved away if they were talking. She saw the smiles passed at her every time she stepped out of his dressing room. She knew how Tiffany jumped at every chance of leaving her alone to sort his look out before every show. There were looks and whispers and she saw them all, she felt them all. 

He made her nervous. Not because he was a star. God, no, that phase came and went by in a breath. He made her wonder. He made her think of a future with him, doing what she did and being with him on the run forever. He liked her, and she liked him more than she knew what to do with. 

Unfortunately for her, being together all day did not help. At all. She felt hyper aware of him. Every time he walked into a room, she felt the atmosphere sizzle. She felt the change and there was no ignoring it. Just like now. 

“I can feel you staring at me, you know?” 

She heard him laugh once, walking closer to where she was standing, multiple cases of clothes open around her. “Don’t know why you choose to slave over an iron every day - we have people to do that, you know?”

She sighed, hanging the steam rod onto its pole and turned around to look at him, chest constricting at the sight of him in a plain white shirt, tight as she had mentioned before, wearing a pair of glasses she knew he stole from someone on the team. 

“It feels nice to iron, it helps me-”

“De-stress. I know. But maybe if you just hung out with all of us once in a while you wouldn’t be so stressed…”

She crossed her arms before herself, cocking her head sideways. Get to the point, her expression said. 

“Okay, look, after the awards tonight, everyone wants to go to some club where they’ve booked out a private room for the team. I wanted to know if you’re gonna be coming.” He tucked his hands into his jeans. He was one second away from swaying on his feet because otherwise he looked like a little boy asking for candy he wasn’t supposed to have. 

“Ah - I’m not sure, Shawn,” her face was slowly pulling into a grimace, “All your outfits need to be back out first thing tomorrow morning and we need to send them a review as well… plus I need to get the exact details of your outfit so Tiffany can write it in her piece for GQ, and tha-“

“I knew you would say no,” he smiles immediately, and she’s scared. What did he do now? “Which is why… I have booked a table for us. For the - just the two of us, like a date.” He felt shy, felt like he was in high school asking a girl out for the first time. No smiles on his face anymore, just pure hesitation. “There’s this new place, um, it’s called Antico. You said your favourite cuisine was Italian - Antico is Italian, OH and it also has some great vegetarian food so there’ll be so many options for you to choose from…” he’s doing the thing again. He’s blushing and he can’t stop it. He needs to go to the washroom and splash water on his face. He needs to call his friends and tell them he finally asked his pretty stylist out, for real.  He needs her to say yes. 

She matched his expression. Wide eyes filled with wonder and face flushing hot. Was she even ready to go on a date with him? 

“Sh-Shawn,” she breathes out, barely a whisper. Her eyes had grown wide, and he didn’t know if she was hesitant like him or just horrified. She wasn’t prepared for this, and one part of her wants to hug him, say yes, and then run off into the sunset with him. The other part of her though, the rational part, knows this isn’t possible. “I thin-”

“Oh, there you are!” Tiffany exclaims walking into the room, not really noticing how close together the pair were standing, and immediately starts taking clothes off the rack for Shawn to change into. He immediately steps away from her, knowing how she gets. She wasn’t one for showing too many emotions when she was surrounded by people. She did open up to him sometimes, more than she did with anyone else on the crew. He had a sneaking suspicion that unlike his past advances which were subtle and not very direct, it was this one that fully got her attention to how much he liked her, and it had her flustered. Well that makes two of them. “Is it all done, babe?”

“Yes Tiff just, let me finish the shirt and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Shawn, you wanna move to hair and makeup till we wait for your outfit?” Tiffany walks out the door swiftly, not waiting for him to answer, just calling out his name again to make sure he was following. 

“Mhmm,” he says, walking backwards to the door, eyes still stuck on the girl he has pined after for months now. He refused to go down without a fight. “I’ll wait.”

________________________________________

She sees him again when he is pulling his shirt on with Tiffany straightening the material out from the back. He looks winsome in just the shirt and the red  suit pants, and her mouth nearly waters thinking of the contrast the red of the  blazer would have to his skin. Men who were dressed well always made her thoughts run wild, mostly because she learned to focus on the fit and the cut of the fabric, the attention to detail, the simplicity of the design or the lack, thereof. She paid way more attention to the outfits than the men wearing them. Shawn, however, was a different story. She had come to the gasping realisation that she liked him more than his outfits. And she was screwed, because no one knew how soon all of this would be ending for her. 

He senses her staring holes into his back. When he walked away, he only had her expression as a response to his question, and while he wasn’t worried if she rejected him, even if it hurt real, real bad, and he constantly worried about never finding someone like her, it was okay. He was worried about this running deeper than him, she shouldn’t have to look mortified just at the mention of a date. 

He looks down at his feet, the tailored hem of the pants at perfect length, discreetly raising his head to still find her looking at him. To his pleasure, the corners of her lips were upraised, eyes still on him but not really looking at him. He flashed her a smile, and she quickly realised what she was doing, scrambling to put down his pair of shoes for the evening along with the jewellery box she picked up on the way. 

She starts talking to Tiffany about his accessories, and, something. He can’t really be bothered to be focusing on yet another conversation about what he’s going to wear. He wants to talk to her. He wants to know things she hasn’t told him yet. It’s been a year of this slow burning attraction between them, but is it only attraction if he wants what’s in her mind and not just what he can already see? 

He already knows what stories he wants to talk about over dinner. He wants to tell her about his cheek scar, and then ask where she got the one on her right hand from. He wants to tell her about his high school prom and then ask about hers. He wants to know why she fell in love with fashion the way she did, because it consumed her fully, and she has to make conscious efforts to pay attention to things beyond art and fabric and clothes, he knows she does. He wants a deeper understanding, not for the sake of dissecting her personality, but just to know her, if she only allows him. 

He only zones back in when he knows Tiffany is directly addressing him. “Shawn, you finalised the BVLGARI one last week, we’re still okay with that?”

“Yes,” he says, not sure of where to look, so he continues looking at himself in the mirror. 

“Great, honey, you can put this and the chain on him and I’ll go check with the rest of the team.” Tiffany squeezes her arm with a bright smile, and turns to Shawn again, “Looking good, little Dean, it’s almost show time!” 

Shawn smiles back silently, watching Tiffany leave the room, as does she. She makes quick work of walking back to him and placing the box on the vanity before him. She takes his vest off the rack, helping him get into it and buttoning him up, and then does the same with his blazer, not a word exchanged between them two. 

Shawn used to be an “I can do it myself” guy until Tiffany just had to go ahead and hire the prettiest, shyest girl he’d seen, and he suddenly never wanted to button anything up on his own ever again. 

She carefully picks the royal white and blue beaded necklace from the box where it was placed amongst a few other expensive ones. She clears her throat and he leans his head down out of instinct, coming to a more approachable height for her to hook the necklace in. 

“So,” she starts, and he chokes on a breath he didn’t know he took, “I just, I googled Antico. It looks … upmarket to say the least. Very pretty, though. Looks like a place you would pick.”

She feels his eyes continue to follow her around, she still chooses not to look him in the eye, how could she? She delicately pulls out the chain meant to be hooked into his vest, the one that will complete his look for the night. He looked… beddable, to say the least. 

“But I also saw another thing,” she says, stepping closer into him and he inhales deeply. “Antico doesn’t stay open on the weekends, Shawn. How were we supposed to go there on a Sunday?”

shitshitshit. He’d been caught. Honestly what was he expecting? She’s literally one of the smartest humans he knows, what did he expect her to do? Say yes? No questions asked?

She looks him dead in the eye now, letting out a hmm? and he’s choked up again. He staggers around a bit, she pulls at his hands to adjust his sleeves and tuck in his cufflinks. 

“You said, um,” come on, brain, pull it together. “Remember when we were in  London? And we all went out together and when we got out there was this whole crowd waiting?”

She remembers. Of course she does. It was the first, albeit not the last time she had come really close to having a panic attack in front of all her coworkers. He recognised the look on her face. He’d seen it on his own face in the mirror when he tried to talk himself away from breaking down. He knew what this anxiety felt like, even though years of being in the business had numbed him to large, loud crowds, overzealous fans and intrusive paparazzi alike. He had taken her hand in his and pulled her back inside the pub immediately, calling his driver and asking him to pick them up ‘round the back, and getting out of there in record time. He didn’t know what came over him but he pulled her into his arms as soon as they were in the car. He murmured softly into her ear, he was here, they couldn’t get to her anymore and she had sniffled and cuddled closer - until they reached their hotel and it was back to being a standard five feet apart from each other. It was one of the last times she had gone out with the whole team, especially him. 

“I made a special request, they’re opening up only for us tonight. I don’t really want to stay for the whole show, thought we could sneak out a bit early. I just didn’t want us to be crowded again.”

Her hands froze around his, he left her tongue tied on most days but this was something else. At the lack of response from her, he gently pried her hands off his wrist, holding both lightly in his. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go. I won’t like you any less.”

Her mind rushed back to all the times they had stood close just like this. The time he almost kissed her on her birthday and she almost kissed him on his. The one night they both passed out on the couch in his tour bus, when she wasn’t even supposed to ride with him. She thought about the offer letter that had been in her emails for two days now, offering her a place in the client servicing team for Burberry in London. She thought about the 4 weeks’ notice she had typed out for Tiffany weeks ago, the only reason for her not sending it out standing in front of her. Her mother’s words rang in her head, as they have her whole life. If you’re not moving, you’re not growing. 

He squeezes her hands once, ducking his head to the floor and walking away. She thinks about letting him go, but she refuses to. 

Her fingers clasp around his wrist, pulling the gentle giant back a little bit. 

“Will you wear the silk shirt? The black one?”

He looks confused. Didn’t he just get dressed?

“To Antico? Thought we could match.”

taglist: @shawnwyr​ @mendesstories​ @lanallaa​ @sleepybesson​ @rulerofnocountry​ @luvluvxx​ @wholesomemendes​

dm to be added or removed ♥️

[changing-constantly]

Telmeraine Warrior Pt. 1

Requests:

-okaayy I have an idea! What about y/n being best friends with caspian and she’s a great fighter too so she helps him escape from miraz’s castle and when they meet pevensies she kinda likes Peter but chooses to just focus on her mission but also still talks to Peter sometimes and when caspian and Peter argue she can’t help throwing herself in the middle and caspian is like??? And kinda jealous IDK just an idea, you get the point

-I was wondering if you'd maybe like to do a Peter Pevensie fic where, thanks to Caspian, he and his siblings meet this woman, a strong and fierce soldier of the Telmarine army, and he slowly starts to fall for her?

Ship: (eventual) Peter Pevensie x reader

Warnings: none this round I think :)

A/N: sorry if this first chapter is so short, I just wanted to get it out :). Also wanted to make it one post but (after weeks of struggling) decided that a series would work better. Hope you enjoy!

-

“Caspian!”

His eyes flew open and his hand moved to grab at the figure standing over him. A hand firmly caught his wrist and as the moon flooded through the windows, he recognized the silhouette of y/n.

“Oh-“

He started, but a finger to her lips silenced him.

“We haven’t got much time.” She whispered, ripping away the blankets and pulling him to a standing position. The sudden motion caused Caspian to stumble and almost fall

“Y/n wha-“

“Your aunt has just given birth” she pushed a set of armor into his hands and flung a bag over her shoulder “to a son”

His heart dropped. She was right, he didn’t have much time. Blinking out of his stupor, he clumsily started to pull on the armor, suddenly much less tired

“What are you doing?” He asked “you’re the head of the royal guard, saving me isn’t exactly being loyal to my uncle”. The sound of nearing footsteps echoed in their ears and y/n turned to the cupboard in the corner of the room, wrenching it open and pushing aside the coats to reveal a secret passageway.

“Come” she commanded, and with one last glance, Caspian followed; closing the door behind him.

Hurriedly they raced down the stairs and pushed open another door to find the professor waiting with a horse

“Professor” Caspian breathed rushing over to him

“Hurry Caspian it won’t be long before they realize you’re missing” the old man responded, grabbing the young Prince’s hands in his and looking into his eyes “you must get as far away as you can my boy. You are our last hope” he pulled a small white horn out of his cloak and handed it to Caspian “use this to call for aid when you need it”

“We have to go” y/n said, swinging herself on to the horse and reaching a hand out for Caspian

“We?”

“Yes we, did you really think I was going to let you go alone?” she retorted, smirking jokingly. He tried to protest but distant shouts of alarm spurred him to grab her hand and pull himself up in front of her. He turned to the Professor one last time “will I ever see you again”

“Perhaps. Now go!” He slapped the horses hide and they were off

Wind whipped through their hair as Caspian and y/n burst out onto the bridge. Not soon after a band of Telmeraine soldiers appeared behind them. A sudden explosion of fireworks from the castle caused both the young fugitives to jump and look back at what they once called home.

Their horse galloped on, carrying them across a great field and towards the forest; the pack of Telmerains slowly gaining. Y/n pulled her crossbow from her back, twisted her body around and aimed, hitting a soldier in the chest and knocking him from his steed. She shot again and again, thinning the crowd of pursuers but soon realizing she couldn’t waste all her shots when their journey had just begun.

She turned back around just in time to see the last glimpse of clear sky before the canopy of the forest covered them. Her heart beat began to return to normal, feeling oddly relaxed in the forest they’d grown up learning to fear. Caspian looked back to scan for Telmerains and before y/n could open her mouth, his head collided with a fallen tree. She ducked, but the weight of his body pulled them both off the horse and onto the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs.

He groaned, rolling over and pulling himself to a sitting position

“well that didn’t go as planned�� she smiled grimly, also pulling herself up

“Not exactly”

Suddenly, out the roots of a large tree came 2 very peculiar looking little men. Y/n gasped. She had read about Narnians of course and was fascinated by their history but she had never met one in real life.

“They’ve seen us” one of them growled, and the other started towards them with a knife the size of his arm. As quick as a flash y/n’s sword was out and pointed at the, what she assumed was, dwarf.

“Don’t. Touch him.” She glowered, her e/c eyes gleaming “we have no intention of-“ before she could finish the thundering of hooves grabbed their attention and the Telmeraine soldiers appeared between the trees

The dwarf with the knife glanced back at Caspian and then to the horn at his side

“Deal with them” he said to his friend, and started towards the oncoming riders. Doubting his ability to defeat 12 or so armored riders alone, y/n clenched her jaw and scrambled after him, hoping that Caspian could stand his guard. The dwarf jumped, slicing his knife into a Telmeraine’s leg and spinning quickly to defend against another. Y/n followed suit, skillfully twisting her sword to deflect attacks and knock riders from their steeds. She spun gracefully, easily anticipating their attacks considering she had been the one to train them. As she moved to strike down the last few soldiers, the piercing blow of a horn split through the forest and broke her focus. She whipped her head around just in time to see Caspian fall to the ground, the white horn in his hand.

No..

In that split second of distraction, she didn’t notice the horse come up to her side. Before she could look up, a sharp pain shot through her skull and everything went black.

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

Today’s Variantology theme is Team Awesome, and wouldn’t ya know it, I have another fic for you! Hope you like!

*note: this fic takes place in an AU where Varian didn’t become the bad guy and instead moved into the castle after QfaD until he could figure out a way to save his dad. It takes place between season 1 and season 2* Also I don’t really have a title for it so I’ll just make one up now

A Late Night Chat

Eugene was sleeping soundly in his room in the castle. It had been another long day of helping Rapunzel try to figure out the mystery behind the black rocks, as well as tagging along with her as she did her usual princess duties. Life in the castle with the royal family of Corona was busy, and sometimes it was a little crazy, but he couldn’t ask for a better life than what he had now. He considered himself incredibly luckily to even be in the same kingdom as Rapunzel, let alone to live with her in the castle. It was a charmed life for sure. As Eugene lay on his bed dreaming his cozy dreams, he suddenly felt his slumber be interrupted by a knock at the door. Shaking himself awake, he sat on his bed rubbing his eyes, wondering if he’d even heard the sound right. After a few moments, another knock tapped on the door.

“Who is that trying to wake me up this late?” Eugene muttered to himself as he felt around in the dark for the oil lamp he kept on the bedside table. “I bet it’s Cass,” he grumbled as he finally found it and switched it on. “Doesn’t she know not to interrupt me when I’m trying to get my beauty rest?” Eugene grabbed the lamp and went to the door. Opening it and looking out, he at first saw nothing. Holding the lamp up to Cass’ height and expecting her to be there, he was startled when he heard a voice that most definitely did not belong to her.

“Uh, Eugene?”

“Gah!” Startled, Eugene almost dropped the lamp but he managed to catch it before it could fall to the ground and wake the whole castle with its clatter. He held the lamp out again, this time a little lower, and its light illuminated the young face of Varian standing in front of him. His hair was a bit messier than usual and his soft blue eyes were tired. He was wearing a faded blue shirt, pants that went down to a little bit above his ankles, and white socks with gray patches on the heels. One of them was pulled up a little higher than the other, with the other sock starting to slip down his foot just a bit. When he saw Eugene acting startled, he held his hands up and stepped back a little.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Eugene had grown accustomed to seeing Varian a lot more frequently now that he lived in the castle with them, and more specifically right next door to Eugene, but he still wasn’t expecting to see the young alchemist so late at night. Eugene took long calming breaths after startling himself.

“Oh, Varian, it’s just you.” He held the lamp up and looked him up and down. “I hardly recognized you without your goggles and gloves. Don’t you know what time it is?”

“S-sorry.”

“What are you doing up so late?”

“I, uh, I just-“ Varian shuffled his feet awkwardly and sighed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” With the light of the lamp, Eugene could see that Varian was trying not to meet his eyes and he had a look on his face like there was something bothering him, or at least something on his mind. He looked pretty tired from the late hour, but mostly he just seemed a little unhappy. Understanding, Eugene moved out of the way of the open door. “Oh. Uh, well, do you want to come in then? Maybe talk about it?”

Varian nodded softly, still not meeting his eyes, and entered Eugene’s room. Eugene closed the door behind him and set the oil lamp down on the bedside table and turned it up brighter and lit a few candles to give the room additional light. Varian stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not moving to sit anywhere, rubbing his right arm nervously. Eugene sat on the edge of his bed, watching the boy.

“What’s on your mind, Varian?”

“Well, lots of things,” he replied. He started rambling off, going about a mile a minute. “I’m a scientist so I’ve always got something on my mind. Especially with these rocks. I mean we still don’t know what they are or where they’re coming from and no matter what I try my alchemy just can’t seem to break them. And I’ve been charting their growth and they seem to be spreading at an exponential rate, so that’s a concern of mine. And then there’s Rapunzel with her hair. I don’t know what that’s about or how she’s connected to them but it’s very unusual, and-“

“Varian,” said Eugene calmly, interrupting his rant. He knew exactly what was going on. After all, he’d been a young boy once too. He knew Varian was trying to sidestep over what was actually bothering him. Varian stopped his rambling and made himself look at Eugene, and Eugene looked him in the eyes knowingly. “What’s really bothering you?”

Varian sighed and hung his head low.

“It’s...it’s my dad. I just can’t stop thinking about him.”

Eugene looked at Varian with sympathy as he continued his thought.

“He’s been stuck in that crystal for a while now. I’ve tried lots of things to set him free but nothing seems to be working. And the more I try, the more I’m reminded of what a failure I am, and how reckless and irresponsible I was to disobey him when he told me not to mess with the rocks. I just wanted to...to prove myself to him. That I’m not just a screw up. That I can figure out a way to get rid of the rocks and save my village. I just wanted him to be proud of me for once. But now, all I really want is for him to be back. I just...just miss him.” He wiped a tear from his eye and glanced up just in time to see Eugene looking at him. Feeling embarrassed, his face turned a bright shade of pink and he looked away awkwardly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all emotional like that. I know I should probably try to be a bit stronger about this.”

“No. No, Varian,” said Eugene, his voice warm and kind. He got off his bed and put his hands on Varian’s shoulders and knelt down onto the floor so that he could match Varian’s height. “Don’t apologize for feeling emotional. That’s totally normal. It’s not healthy to suppress your feelings. You don’t have to put on a brave face and act tough. You’re not very good at acting tough anyway,” he said in an affectionately teasing manner.

“I know,” Varian replied, cracking a slight smile and letting out a little awkward laugh. Eugene continued.

“No, but seriously. What you’re going through, that’s a very difficult thing. I can understand why it would keep you up at night. Nobody should have to deal with what you’re dealing with. And uprooting yourself to come here and stay in the castle, that was probably a very hard decision, and you’re brave for making it. Don’t be embarrassed for feeling sad about what happened. Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t miss him.”

“It’s just, he’s the only family I have left. My mother passed away when I was very young. I barely remember her anymore. Without him, I’ve got no one. I’m all on my own. And I’m not a little kid, I can handle myself, but-“

“You don’t want to be alone,” Eugene finished. Varian looked up at him. Eugene shook his head in understanding. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It’s hard to tell because of my roguish charm and confident personality, but I was a lot like you growing up.”

Varian smirked at him for his comment, but he listened as Eugene finished his story.

“See, you thought me and Flynn Rider from the books were the same person, but that’s just not true. ‘The Tales of Flynnigan Rider’ books were just something that I adored as a kid, and I would read one every night in the orphanage to all the younger kids.”

“The...the orphanage?” Varian asked, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yes. I’ve only told this story to two other people so you should consider yourself lucky that you’re hearing this. But I grew up in an orphanage. I was put there as a baby. I never knew who my real parents were, or if they were even still around. I always imagined they were these great adventurers, and that one day they’d come back and find me. But they never did, and no one ever wanted to adopt me. It was hard, growing up feeling lonely all the time. Never having answers about my parents and wondering why no one seemed to want me. I felt alone very often. But I loved the Flynn Rider books and the way that he could travel around doing whatever he wanted to do with no worries, just a life of adventure. He wasn’t a thief, but for a kid with nothing, I guess it just seemed like the better option. No one ever seemed to be coming, so my buddy Lance and I struck out on our own when we were about your age. I took the name from the books, and the two of us started our life of crime. Now I’m not telling you this to condone the idea that we were right in our actions. I know that being a thief was wrong. I’m only telling you this so that you can know that someone understands how you feel. Afraid of being alone, always seeking approval from others, I know exactly where you’re coming from.”

“Wow. I had no idea,” Varian said softly. Eugene shrugged.

“I guess we all have some element of our past that we’d rather not discuss. But if we can use it to help others, then it’s worth it. The important thing to remember is that our pasts don’t have to define who we are. Whoever we were in the past, whatever decisions we made, it’s true that they shape us into the people we are, but we don’t have to let it rule our lives. We have the power to change. What happened in the past is over and done, but the future is ours for the taking, and it can be whatever we make it out to be. Maybe I was a lonely thief then, but now I’m an honest citizen surrounded by people that I love. You don’t have to be defined by your past either, Varian. You are not a failure and you are not a screw up. You made a mistake, sure, but what matters is that you’re learning from it and you’re trying to fix it. Varian, you’re a good kid. A smart kid. I know that you’re gonna figure this thing out eventually. And until then, you don’t have to be afraid of being alone. You are surrounded by people who care about you. Rapunzel cares about you, Cassandra doesn’t have a soul but she still cares about you. And I care about you, too. And one thing I learned in the orphanage is that I hate seeing sad kids, so you better smile before you leave or this whole conversation will be pointless.”

“Thanks for talking to me, Eugene. It really did make me feel better.” Varian yawned and stretched his arms. “And you’re right. It is pretty late. I should probably get back to bed.” Varian walked over to the door and stood in the doorway for a moment.

“Goodnight, Eugene.”

“Hey, now, what about our agreement?” said Eugene.

“Oh, right,” Varian replied. He flashed him a quick grin, showing off his two little front buck teeth. Eugene smiled back at him and nodded.

“There we go! That’s better. Goodnight, Varian.”

He made his way out of the doorway and started to close the door behind him.

“And Varian,” Eugene called. Varian held the door open wider to catch what he had to say. “If you ever need to talk again about something that’s bothering you, or if you just want to talk about whatever, you know where to find me. You talk, and I’ll listen.”

Varian smiled and nodded, then closed the door softly behind him. Eugene sighed in relief for having helped the boy out. Then, with a yawn and a stretch, he blew the candles out and switched off the lamp as he gave himself back up to sleep.

And that’s it! Hope you enjoyed!

[lacrow]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Didn’t know this was a thing, but I’m so glad it is cuz I’ve been looking for an excuse to share a little of my next fic on AO3. Most because I’m not posting it until all the chapters are finished, I’ve got too many ongoing projects as it is. This is the beginning of the first chapter. Let me know if you’re interested in reading!

Title: Long Rider

Fandom: Spy x Family

Genre: Western/Outlaw AU

Rating: M

Floorboards creaked as patrons walked in and out. The usual crowd, a group of local ranch hands, held up in the corner of the room nearest the piano. It was the most contested seat in the whole bar; secluded and quiet, seeing as how no one in town knew how to play the thing. The boys sauntered in from a long day out in the heat and stuck their fingers up in the air as both a greeting and request for booze. Luckily for them, Yor had served them enough times to not take offense at the gesture. She smiled and went to work fetching their beer.

Such was how things usually played out in Berlint, at least for Yor. The frontier town itself was young, probably no older than she was, and it still had that nice veneer of a place yet unsoiled by the ravages of the west. That wasn't to say it was perfect; no, far from it, but everyone had their place and filled it dutifully with few complaints. Yor's was behind the bar, serving local ranchers and travelers making their way through to the open plains. Berlint was the last threshold of civilization. Beyond its boundaries, there wasn't nothing but sun and buzzards.

Some of the rowdier hands snapped their fingers and told Yor to pick up the pace. They were the new ones; the more experienced men quickly smacked them outside the head and told them hush, and not just because they were being rude as hell. Yor overheard their exchange. She paused and shook her head, knowing exactly what they were talking about. With a sigh, she gathered up all the bottles and put them on a serving tray. A moment later and she dropped them off at their table with a pleasant smile before turning to walk away.

It didn't take long for newcomers to figure out she was the sheriff's sister.

People always treated her funny after that. She couldn't hardly blame them, though; Yuri had a bit of a reputation as a...firm hand when it came to dispensing frontier justice. His was a difficult job and Yor understood that, but she couldn't help but feel that he took things a bit too far sometimes. And if she as his sister could come to that conclusion, then she could only imagine what the average person thought of him. It was no wonder everyone treated her with kid gloves. God forbid they upset her and incite her brother's wrath.

Never mind the fact that she was a barmaid. Part of her job was to take things on the chin and keep a firm upper lip, especially with some of the people that strolled through her establishment. Yor had seen her fair share of fights, both armed and unarmed, and not a day didn't go by that one of her patrons didn't try to peek up her skirt for a cheap thrill. Yuri never had to intervene for any of that, because she was more than capable in handling herself and her bar. Only time she ever called him is when the dangerous sort walked in. Outlaws and the bunch. Course, they were few and far between. Even then, Yor usually kept things to herself; so long as everyone behaved, there was no point in ratting someone out to her brother.

Yor dropped the tray off behind the counter and started to wipe things down. It was slow that day. Yor wanted to keep busy though, so she went about cleaning musty bottles and rearranging them to make them look more appealing to the discerning customer. Not that anyone around here drank anything other than draft beer and whisky, but she could keep herself occupied till someone else walked in. Besides, she liked to clean. It was about the only thing she was good at besides pouring drinks (and that last one was still debatable to some).

As she went about her business, a floorboard creak alerted her to another visitor. Yor didn't turn around right away though, and instead politely told whoever it was she'd be with them in a moment. A stubborn smudge just wouldn't wipe out. Yor attacked it as best she could; her eyes twisted as she focused and she stuck her tongue out, leading to a less than flattering face. It was a good thing she was turned around...or at least it would have been, were it not for the fact that mirrors lined the wall. Everyone behind her could see everything.

"Papa, she looks funny!" a little voice giggled out from behind her.

Immediately Yor froze. That...sounded like a child? She quickly turned around and found two strangers standing there in front of the counter. One of them was a little girl who looked sweet as honey. Her face was dirty, as was the rest of her, but she stood tall and proud for such a little thing. Her pink hair was as bright as the beam in her face, and the green of her eyes rivaled any shade Yor had seen outside of pure emerald. The little girl walked out from the shadow of a much taller figure.

Papa, Yor assumed. He stood several heads taller than she (even without the boots) and wore an old, shabby duster coat like so many others. He was in the process of removing his hat as she turned around, and revealed to Yor a head of blonde hair softened by heat and sweat. Stubble textured his face after not having shaved in a few days, and streaks of dirt clung heavier to him than it did his daughter. Even with all that though, Yor still paused under the gaze of his eyes. The prettiest blue she'd ever seen. Sky blue. Just like the open air outside.

"Anya, what did I tell you about making fun of people?" the man growled as he flashed a warning look to the little girl.

"N-no! That's alright, she was just playin'!" Yor piped up, caught off-guard. "Although, um...I can't have children in here, sorry."

The man nodded. "I figured as much. It's just we've been rolling through for a while now and this is the first place we came across."

"Is that right?" Yor smiled pleasantly. "Where ya'll coming in from?"

Anya's papa shrugged. "Other side of the valley. If it's got a name, I don't know it."

"...Wait, you mean the two of you came from the west?" Yor's eyes widened when the man nodded. "Both of you?"

"Well, she's my daughter so, yes," the man replied, this time with a faint chuckle. He smiled at Yor, and she pinked a little.

Everything out past the valley was no man's land. There was enough to eat and drink of course, assuming you could hunt, but there wasn't anything else out there besides the elements. That's where bandits, natives, and travelers on their way west could be found...certainly not the place for a little girl to be out and about, even if she did have her father with her. Stranger still, why would they be making their way east? Most people would be trying to reach the far shore for a chance at hitting it rich in the gold mines. There wasn't nothing out back east.

"Well, we'll be heading out then," the man spoke up, bringing Yor back to reality. "Sorry to bother you."

He went to put his hat back on, but was immediately stopped when Yor jumped in place. "No, wait! I can, uh...make an exception. Just this once!"

Anya's papa blinked. Genuinely surprised, he eased into a smile. "Much appreciated, ma'am. Thank you."

"I want whiskey!" Anya grinned as she pointed at the bottles behind Yor. The barmaid gasped.

"When I'm dead and buried!" The man grabbed his daughter by the scruff of her dirty dress and walked her to the counter. "Sit!"

Anya's papa collapsed onto a bar chair. He quickly picked her up and dropped her into his lap, and she huffed in disappointment. Yor tilted her head at the strange pair, but couldn't stop a smile from forming at their antics. It was a refreshing sight to see, what with most of her days spent babysitting grown men before sending them off to do god-knows-what.

"Would you like a cold glass of milk, Anya?" Yor asked sweetly, which earned her an incredulous look from the little girl.

"Cold milk!?" Anya slammed her hand on the counter in amazement before looking up at her papa. He seemed just as surprised as her.

"Mhm," Yor nodded. She motioned to a door on the far side of the bar behind her. "We've got the only ice house for thirty miles, and I milked the goat this morning myself!"

"How 'bout that," the man nodded, impressed. Anya continued to stare at him pleadingly, and he smirked. "Sure. What do I owe ya?"

"First round's on the house!" Yor smiled. "And what'll it be for you, mister...?"

"Forger, ma'am." Anya's papa bowed his head. "Loid Forger."

Yor's smile grew wider. "What'll it be, Mr. Forger?"

"I'll take a scotch, missus...?"

"Miss Briar," she corrected. "But you can call me Yor!"

[mrcleanheichou]

Forever and ever chapter 2

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut

Word count 2K

Warnings Mention of a boner

Author’s note soooo long time no see lol I am such a bad fic writer, I literally start a WIP and don’t touch it for months. I have 4 WIPs that I bounce between when i get writer’s block. Slowly but surely I want to start writing consistently so I can get better. So I offer to you my Bangtan cowboy yeehaw fic. I really want to read cowboy fics but there’s barely anything so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and wrote my own.

Here’s chapter 1

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1 week later Jungkook had just finished working on sections of the barbed wire fence with Jimin when he saw his hyung Jin getting the wagon ready. As soon as he put the roll of extra wire and his gloves back in the shed he jogged over to Jin. “Hyung! Are you going to town?”, He asked a little too loud making the horse Jin was hooking up to panic a little. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.”, Jin says trying to get the horse back under control. Once he gets the nervous animal to calm down he looks toward the sweaty young man. “Yeah, I have to go to the market. Do you want to go?”Jungkook said yes a little to excitedly. “Ok, but go wash up. You stink.”

Jungkook hurried to the room he shares with Taehyung in the large ranch house where all seven of the men who work on Bangtan cattle ranch live. 

**~~~~~~~~~** The whole operation is split four ways between the four older men. Namjoon and Yoongi run the majority of everything between Yoongi finding buyers for their livestock and Namjoon negotiating deals. They are both very knowledgeable cattlemen despite being in their mid twenties. They do not let other cattlemen try to dupe them because they think they’re young and gullible. Multiple times meetings have almost come to blows since the older men don’t like being shown up by the quick witted duo. The other partners are Jin and Hoseok. Jin takes care of feeding six very hungry mouths. He is a very good cook and he is also very skilled at fixing leather. He makes money on the side by fixing bridles and saddles for other people. Then there’s Hoseok who used to be a bronco rider on the rodeo circuit and now he uses his skills to break in young horses. Jimin and Taehyung were a couple of trouble makers that would do little odd jobs and play cards to get money to drink and entertain the women at multiple saloons almost every night. They ended up at the same poker table as Yoongi one night 6 years ago. They got to talking and he told them about needing workers on his ranch. Jimin automatically said no. He was very against that idea since he didn’t want to do actual hard labor in the sun. Taehyung was more open to the idea of a consistent pay check. Yoongi made them a bet. They’d play three rounds of ‘7-card-stud’ and if Yoongi beat them at least two times then he’d stop asking. But if he did beat them then they both had to come work for him. They took the bet and obviously Yoongi won. Although Jimin still to this day swears Yoongi cheated. Jungkook’s story is a little different. He made the 50 mile journey to Coyote Creek from his family’s farm after one of many fights he had with his father. When his mother died his father turned to alcohol to drown the pain. He became a monster of a man and resented the fact that Jungkook looked like his mother. The only time an argument turned physical was right before Jungkook ran away. He accidentally burnt the dinner he was making. His father immediately got up and grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yelled in his face about how useless he was. He told him he regreted ever having him and that he has never loved him. When Jungkook started crying his father slapped him across the face. That was the final straw for Jungkook. As soon as his father was too drunk to even know where he was, he started packing some of his things and stole some money his father’s stash in his closet. He raided the storehouse for as much essential foods that he could reasonably transport and packed it all up onto one of their horses. Taking one final look back at his childhood home, Jungkook finally stopped fighting his tears. He sobbed, allowing himself to mourn the loss of both his mother and father. Once he calmed down he got on his horse and left his old life behind. At the age of 14 Jungkook set off for a better life. It took him  two days to reach the town where he promptly started asking around for a job. Unfortunately no one was interested in hiring him, even for simple jobs. After six days he was out of cash, hungry and desperate. He went to the horse auctions and was going to sell his horse to survive when a man who was wearing an expensive looking black cowboy hat asked him why he looked so sad. Jungkook told him he couldn’t get money any other way and he had no home to return to. The man gave him a sympathetic look and told him to stay where he was. That he’d be right back. A few minutes later he came back with a shorter man in tow. “My name is Namjoon and this is Yoongi.”, the other man tips his hat at Jungkook “I’d like to make you an offer.” Jungkook was about to say thank you when Namjoon cut him off, “But, I don’t want the horse. We’re looking for a new ranch hand and you look like a hard worker. Would you like to come work for us?” Jungkook immediately says yes. “What’s your name kid?” “Jungkook.” “Where are your parents?” Yoongi asked looking concerned. When Jungkook looked down at the ground trying to come up with an answer Yoongi put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” The two men take Jungkook with them to purchase the two horses they came to the auction for. They then head out for the ten mile ride it takes to get back to their ranch. Namjoon notices that Jungkook’s face looks sunburnt so he asks him if he needs a hat. “No, no it’s ok you don’t have to give me anything, I’m fine.” Namjoon pays him no mind as he takes the obviously expensive hat off his head and places it on Jungkook’s. “Every man needs a good hat.” Six years later Jungkook still wears it. **~~~~~~~** Jungkook took his time looking through his clothes. He finally chose a white button up, the pair of jeans he never wears when he does work and his nice town boots. After he washed up and changed he walked back to where Jin was waiting for him. ”You know we’re just going to town for supplies right?” Jin commented looking him up and down while Jungkook climbed onto the wagon next to him. Jin himself was wearing his work overalls that had leather oil on them. “Yeah, I just felt like dressing up that’s all.” Jin just shrugged and snapped the reigns to get the horse to start moving. When they got into town Jungkook immediately looked toward the school and was disappointed when it seemed like no one was there. Dejectedly, Jungkook got off the wagon and followed Jin to the first shop. “Ok, I made a you a list so we can split up and get it done faster”, Jin said handing Jungkook a piece of paper leaving him in front of the farmer’s market. Jungkook sighed and went into the shop that housed fruits and vegetables and opened the door. He grabbed a woven hand basket from the counter and went for the first item on his list. Apples. Not just any apples either, Jin wrote ‘***GOOD APPLES***’ Which caused Jungkook to stand confused in front of all the different types of apples for a few minutes. “What the hell does ‘good apples’ even mean? I thought all apples were good.” “Would you like some help?”, A sweet sounding voice asked. Jungkook looks to the side and almost gasped when he saw who was talking to him. It was the school teacher, she was stunning up close and her eyes were exceptionally beautiful. She smiles at him and he swears he felt his heart skip a beat. “You seem a little out of your element here.” “Y-yeah.”, Jungkook manages to say while trying to not stare at the woman. He doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with her. He doesn’t even know her. “Do you know what kind of apples you want?” Jungkook feels his face getting hot because, no. Jin just wrote apples and there’s a bunch of different kinds in front of him. “No, my hyung didn’t write down what kind he wanted.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’m completely lost.” “That’s ok, can I see your list? Maybe I can try to guess what he’s making and get you the right apples for it.” Jungkook handed her the shopping list and their hands briefly touched causing Jungkook to completely stop breathing. The woman started reading the list and mumbling to herself with a look of concentration. Jungkook thought it was was the cutest thing ever. “Ok! I think he’s gonna be making apple pie because he wrote down; flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and butter. But you can’t get that here today. Mr. Lee only comes to town with his milk and butter 3 times a week so you’ll have to come back for that tomorrow. But we can definitely get your ‘Good Apples’ today.”, she giggled and he looked at her in awe. How could someone so lovely actually talk to him. He almost felt unworthy of being in her presence. “Ok so I’m going to be biased and get you the apples I personally think are the best for pie. If your Hyung doesn’t like them then tell me and I’ll give you money for different ones.” she said looking over her shoulder at a nodding Jungkook. “I love these ones. They’re ‘Pink Lady’ apples.”, she says grabbing a small light red apple “They’re Sweet but not too sweet. They make the pie come out much better than green apples and their name sounds classy.” She handed it to Jungkook and started picking out the best apples from the pile. After finding 6 perfect apples she put them in the basket he was carrying. Once again accidentally touching him In the process. Jungkook completely froze, he felt as if he was shocked by electricity. “I can help you with rest of your things” the woman said looking up at the poor awestruck man. “I mean only if you want me to...” she added when Jungkook just stared at her without answering worrying that she might have been intruding. Jungkook just nodded, he couldn’t trust himself to speak without fumbling over his words. The woman smiled and spent the next 30 minutes helping him with the rest of Jin’s list. After Jungkook payed the two made their way to the wagon. “Thank you for helping me. I would have been lost for a long time.” “You’re welcome” the teacher smiled at him brightly. “It was my pleasure. By the way what’s your name Mr apple pie?” “Jungkook” the woman pondered that for a second before extending her hand. “I’m y/n” Jungkook silently hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand was. If y/n did she didn’t say anything about it while grasping his calloused hand with her smaller and much softer hand. Jungkook felt ashamed when his thoughts immediately when to a dirty place when he imagined her soft hands touching him somewhere else. Mentally slapping himself he snapped out of it before he, as Jimin liked to call it, popped a boner. “Well, Mr. Jungkook, I’ll see you at the school house bright and early tomorrow” she said while turning to walk away. When y/n was gone Jungkook raised his hand to his face to make sure this was all real. With his luck this would end up being a dream. At least it would has been a really good dream. He must have zoned out for a while because he was startled back to reality by Jin clapping him on the shoulder, “Stop staring into la la land and help me tie everything down.” Jungkook took one last look at his hand, “You were right hyung” ...’love at first sight does exist.’ “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re barely realizing that now”