#Like. Make sure that Leandra is comfortable and just take off to be closer to where his brother is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiivg · 4 years ago

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.I decided to just go with my three heroes instead of like all my dragon age romances because I’ve got someone for Blackwall, Gaspard, and I’ve got a mind for someone with Dorian too. Then I’ve got a whole load of OC x OC as well, and trying to draw all of them would be time consuming. However! During drawing this, I realised that, technically, Andrastopher, Anders, Marcus, and Zevran, have all slept with one another. Whether that’s between two people or more just depends on when in the timeline haha…. ,’:)c.

.Anyway there’s some things about my Heroes and their love interests below :), thank you for asking! I’m always excited to talk about my OCs.

...

.Andrastopher and Zevran’s relationship starts out as quite a basic thing. Something that’s not talked about in camp or on any of their journeys, but everyone knows it’s happening. On Andrastopher’s side, it’s something to make him forget for a little while, something to take his mind of everything that’s happening to him. Zevran, after all, offers this to him as more of an incentive to keep him alive knowing that Andrastopher most likely will end up killing him. Something that Andrastopher wasn’t exactly quiet about, he did actually plan on presenting Zevran’s head to Arl Howe at some point.

.Of course, everything changes with the course of time. Fighting beside one another in such dangerous situations, it was bound to leave them closer than before. They save each other’s lives, they tend one another’s wounds, and one night, Andrastopher doesn’t slink back to his own tent with a satisfied hum in his belly and stays curled around the other man. There’s a tenderness that blooms between them both, and what was not talked about before, is shown more and more openly.

.Zevran, I think, falls in love with Andrastopher before Andrastopher falls in love with him. He’s too broken to glue himself back together long enough to even think about such a thing. It probably doesn’t help that Zevran had started off by complimenting him on his looks above anything else, and Andrastopher knows he’s a weird looking man; more of a curiosity than a crush to anyone who looks at him. Anything Zevran had said after that was taken with the knowledge that the man would be lying.

.By the end of the blight, something that Andrastopher had hoped to die in, he’d found a reason to live again. Completing Morrigan’s ritual was a risk to take, but one he did so willingly so he could waken next to Zevran another day. However odd their beginnings were, neither man was willing to see the other one gone.

.After the blight, Andrastopher struggles with everything he knows. There’s no place for him in the world, and he cannot hide in Zevran’s arms as if there is nothing wrong. He takes a year to himself, sacrificing himself to the Qun, accepting that he needed a restriction in being who he was meant to be. It was a hard time apart, but the reunion was a sweet one. Though time and work takes them apart for perhaps months at a time, they remain loyal to one another. They marry at some point, a small thing which really only included the pair themselves, a chantry Mother, and Oghren who was both amused and embarrassed about it all.

.To this day they remain together, and regrets have been spoken about how they had initially started out. Andrastopher knows he should have treated Zevran better, something the man has forgiven him for over and over throughout their years.

...

.Marcus and Anders’ relationship was in-game the rivalmance because it’s so much more delicious than the basic romance. But, in my mind, it’s different.

.They start off butting heads in Kirkwall, Marcus needs Anders’ help, and Anders’ needs Marcus’ help. The idea of anything between them isn’t really on the table at the time since Marcus has been spending his time between Meeran’s legs more often than not. They both find each other insufferable for a variety of reasons; Marcus is egotistic, narcissistic, overtly cocky, and spends most of his time either fighting or fucking or playing that ridiculous lute he won in the Hanged Man. Whilst Marcus thinks Anders’ fight has been blown to unrealistic proportions, and he’s championing something that can be overcome easily enough, the man has a hero complex that grates on his nerves. Marcus is a Fereldan apostate who lives freely, and he can’t understand why people don’t just escape from the circle; his father did easily enough.

.After the Deep Roads expedition, coming home after eating nothing but mushrooms and drinking rock water for weeks, just to return to Carver’s newfound templar job really makes him rethink his attitude in Kirkwall. Marcus becomes openly supportive of the Templars, he has no choice; Carver’s relation to a mage has him under valiant watch, and though money helps, Marcus has to be on his best behaviour. Being seen with Anders can only damage his reputation, but they had kissed in that foggy desperation in the Deep Roads, not that they’d spoken of it, but it remains a memory that tasted sweet despite their breath.

.Marcus spends most of his time in the Blooming Rose in the next few years, wealth and desire letting him flaunt his time in rented beds. Anders yet plays on his mind, pulling him back time after time whenever he hears the man needs his help. They fight and disagree, snapping with magic curling in their fingertips. Anders feels like Marcus is betraying the very core of himself; denying that he’s a mage in every positive song he sings of the Templars. He hates the man with an intensity that boils over in the need to return to that time in the Deep Roads; when mages and templars didn’t matter, and the once fat Fereldan apostate gave away his shares of tasteless fungi to the mage who knew how to heal wounds. They fight and kiss, biting at each other with teeth and nails, and it is Marcus who storms away; burning with confusion and singed footsteps, and awaiting a visitor at the end of the night.

.When things get particularly bad, Marcus gives in to Anders’ way of thinking, apologising for what they had been through over the years. He gives him a key to the Hawke estate. It’s a safe place to hide, a safe place to smuggle mages in and out. He warns him on Carver’s inclusion, Marcus can’t be seen helping; it would only come back upon his brother and he’s not willing to risk such a thing.

.Anders stops by the estate more and more, and the animosity between them settles into something of a comfort. The man is there when Leandra is killed, he is there to stop him from killing Merrill just a few nights after, he is there to drag him home from the Blooming Rose when he drinks too much to remember where he lives. Marcus knows he doesn’t deserve any of it, and he is selfish when he kisses Anders for the first time in years, selfish when he tries to drag him into bed, selfish when he asks him to stay the night. Marcus’ rise to Viscount is the only thing that keeps Anders safe, and is the only reason that Anders is able to be smuggled from Kirkwall after the explosion.

.It’s a year and a half before they see each other again. Justice has been calmed over the months, and Marcus’ attempts at keeping Kirkwall sane had slowly been overthrown by a group of zealots. A mage couldn’t hold position for any longer, and he had no choice but to flee. He’d spent six months building a home for himself in the ruins of Lothering, and he welcomes Anders with laughter and disbelief when he sees the man again. Years had passed since they had first met in Darktown, but seeing Marcus with a small herd and a weight settling in his gut, it’s the most real he’s ever been.

.They settle together, never intending for it to be permanent. But there is a loneliness that could only be combatted together, and when mages begin to find them it’s hard not to fall in love with one another when they work to rebuild what was once lost. A small village sprouts around them, mages seeking safety and succour found under the guidance of a heavy stranger named Conchobhar, and that taller fellow named Jarl.

...

.Goddard and Yetta’s relationship isn’t actually an in-game thing, since he’s seventy-one at the beginning of Inquisition, and like what options do I ever have apart from making him a sugar daddy (I missed a thing there for sure AH), so I gave him a wife called Yetta.

.Essentially, it’s an arranged marriage for them. Which begins terribly, because neither want to marry the other; Goddard is still holding out hope that he will find his first love again, and Yetta was betrothed to him since she was a child so she’s never had a choice. Their wedding is awkward, Goddard tries to convince his little brother, Milward, to take his place, and Yetta is caught trying to escape from the actual event. Goddard also turns up in Orlesian finery in an attempt to insult Yetta’s family and to remind them that he spent a good few years in bed with a chevalier. It works, but, the wedding still goes ahead, and they’re both miserably married by the end of the day.

.Despite his tactics, Goddard promises Yetta that he’d stay truthful to her regardless of whether or not they end up in bed together. And, in the beginning, neither of them wanted to. Goddard spends his nights sleeping on the floor, and there’s a more than obvious rumour floating around that they haven’t yet slept together. Despite all the pushes and shoves they receive; Goddard being pushed into Yetta’s room as she dresses for the day, Yetta being forced into the bathing chambers whilst Goddard is alone in there, conversations of sex being brought up at their meal times, and even being locked in their bedchamber for so long that Goddard ends up bum rushing the guards who bring them food at meal time.

.It’s not the best beginning, but there is a camaraderie that begins between them in their joint frustrations. Their attraction to one another begins in the written letters they send over the years. With Goddard working in Ferelden, and Yetta remaining in Ostwick, it’s the only way of communicating they have. And though it takes years, it’s hard to deny the way that their feelings grow each time Goddard gets some weeks away from the military.

.Together they have three children over the years, agreeing to stop trying after that due to Wakefield’s complicated birth. They remain happy together until this day, accepting a few blips over the years, and the rather gargantuan blunder of Goddard having an affair whilst incapacitated and presumed dead in Ferelden. Everything that is thrown at them is tackled head on and together, and it is obvious in almost everything that the do together, that their love grows ever stronger every minute they spent beside one another.

.TL:DR: all my heroes are happy and loved and alive :)c.

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notabloodmage · 3 years ago

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Even then. (DA2 fic)

doin some writing on my canon version of the Hawke family!! this is kind of messy but i needed to get some ideas down ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway listen to me there is nothing in canon that says malcolm hawke couldn’t be an elf @ bioware let me have this

They hadn’t planned to settle in Lothering. Leandra was five months pregnant, the plan was to keep pressing towards the wilds, in hopes of finding a band of Chasind or Avvar that wouldn’t be so opposed to Malcolm’s magical abilities. The prospect frightened Leandra, but Malcolm insisted it was their best shot at a Templar-free life.

The storm had caught them off guard.

The torrential downpour was on them suddenly, and all at once. Malcolm had enough mana remaining to protect them from lightning, but there was no way for him to subtly shield them from the cold that was creeping in through the wet. Ferelden was not always an easy place to live, but it had to be better than Kirkwall.

At least that’s what Malcolm repeated to himself as he scooped his firstborn child up into his arms, trying to ignore the way his back ached from days upon days of travel. The long nights of sleeping on the cold hard ground probably weren’t helping either.

They’d passed several small settlements on the road, but they always tried to avoid contact with other people. People didn’t even need to suspect him of being a mage--being an elf was bad enough for a lot of the country folk. He couldn’t take five steps in a town without being accused of stealing, it seemed.

They always tried to sleep beneath the stars if they could, or in a tent if they thought it would be well hidden enough. Leandra had accused him of being paranoid, now that they were already so far from home but as far as Malcolm was concerned you couldn’t be too careful.

He had done so much--sacrificed all of his ideals-- just to get them this far, and Maker be damned if he was going to be caught now.

Still, in a storm like this exceptions had to be made, and Leandra had spotted an old farmhouse on the horizon. Malcolm, while hesitant, grew more and more at ease as they approached. It seemed to be abandoned.

The couple trudged through the rain hand in hand. The land surrounding the farmhouse was uneven, muddy, and completely overgrown. Malcolm prayed that the rain would cover their tracks as they made their way to the

It was a little worse for wear, looking like it had been sitting untouched for years which was a blessing in disguise because all it took was a swift kick (combined with a bit of mana, of course) to break the rusted padlock.

Malcolm guided them in cautiously, scanning the room for any threats. Abandoned didn’t mean safe. He wasted no time setting up wards to protect them-- but Malcolm was tired too.

Perhaps he’d missed a spot, perhaps he hadn’t been as thorough as he’d thought. Perhaps his wards were weak with his exhaustion as he joined his wife and daughter on a bed of stale hay. Perhaps he’d been distracted with casting a quick warming spell to ensure the most important people in his life slept soundly. Perhaps he’d given in, for a moment, to the sense of hope burning brightly in his chest as he pulled his family close. He slept far too soundly that night. Better than he had in months.

The high-pitched creak of the barn door swinging open jerked the three of them awake.

Rays of sunlight were streaming in through the rafters--had morning really come so soon?

The sight was so peaceful that Malcolm nearly didn’t register the clunk of boots on the wooden floor, and the wide figure stepped towards him, fiddling with the trigger of a small hunting crossbow. Malcolm scrambled back, drawing Leandra closer with one arm while the other fumbled for his staff--lost in the hay.

“Hold still now, friend, I’d prefer not to use this--”

“Stay away from my family!!” The stranger was interrupted by his daughter’s tiny voice.

She had leaped out of the shadows beside them, brandishing the pocket knife that Malcolm kept strapped to his belt.

How did she-- Malcolm didn’t have time to finish the thought. He rushed forward, intent on yanking her back by the shirt collar. He’d been in such a deep state of sleep that he hadn’t even registered her absence. Then again, she was always so sneaky. Malcolm hadn’t the faintest clue where she’d gotten it from, but she had a way of sinking into the shadows and completely disappearing.

She was only four, and a tiny little thing at that-- shaking in the little booties Leandra had made her. Leaping to defend her family with a .

So brave, even then.

“Minerva NO!!” Leandra was shrieking. “Don’t shoot, serah--please!! Minnie get back here--“

For a moment Malcolm thought that all was lost. He pictured himself in chains, being dragged away by Templars-- leaving his wife and daughter alone and penniless in a foreign land. He’d let them down. He’d failed.

The atmosphere of the room changed entirely, however, when the stranger began to laugh.

It wasn’t a bad laugh.

Not condescending. Not cruel.

It was light and youthful, despite the obvious late-middle-age of its owner. It rang through the morning air like a Chantry bell on the breeze. It was the kind of pure laugh that can only be created by the innocence of a child. In that moment the light in Malcolm’s chest returned, soothing his racing heart. He paused, studying the face of the stranger in the barn doorway as he raised his weapon in mock surrender, humouring the child.

“Oh my! Be careful with that, little dragonling!” The stranger smiled down at the child warmly, crouching down to her level to look her in the eyes, before his gaze rose to her fathers, noting the matching eyes that seemed to burn with something he couldn’t quite name. Malcolm saw what he hoped was understanding in the old man’s eyes. “Put that there knife away, and settle down. We can talk this out, I promise.”

Malcolm hurriedly ushered Minerva behind him-- the child kept her eyes glued to the intruder, even when she began to cling to her father’s pant leg. Malcolm could feel her trembling, so he reached down and carded a comforting hand through a mop of brown curls that matched his own, trying to be as brave as his daughter.

A tense quiet had settled over the barn as Malcolm tried to appraise the man before him, who was doing the same. They must’ve been quite the sight--all clinging to each other, covered in hay. Malcolm didn’t dare reach for his staff, he just prayed that wherever the damned thing was it was out of sight.

Finally the stranger huffed, standing and leaning back on his heels.

“Name’s Barlin,” The stranger jutted his chin at Malcolm, crossing his arms casually. “Sorry for bargin’ in on ya.”

“Malcolm…” He held his head high, meeting Barlin’s eyes as he introduced himself. “Malcolm Hawke.”

“Quite the little bodyguard you have there,” Barlin’s voice was genuine. Warm.

Malcolm’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“Small but mighty,” He could feel Minerva nodding against his thigh, as well as the tears she was smearing into the fabric of his trousers.

He called her that a lot, especially when she was little. Such a simple little phrase, but it always made Minerva feel big, in a way.

“Look, I was just checkin’ to make sure you all weren’t bandits, or bears, or something.” The man shrugged disarmingly. “I didn’t come here for a fight. Lothering’s a peaceful little town, and we like to keep it that way.”

“Peaceful? What’s that like?” Malcolm’s sarcastic question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, and Leandra squeezed his shoulder tightly in warning.

Barlin merely chuckled, smiling at him wryly.

“Y’all don’t look like the type of folk who are accustomed to peaceful.” He observed. “I’m just glad you got out of the storm-- it was a good one!”

Barlin took a step inside, eyes travelling upward, surveying how the roof sagged and leaked. The old building had fallen into disrepair, but it wasn’t unsalvageable.

“Look, this place ain’t even mine. It was my brother’s before he moved to Denerim for work. Place hasn’t seen any life in aside from rats and the occasional nug in a while, as I'm sure you’ve noticed.”

The old man paused for a moment, gaze landing on the family before him. He’d later told Malcolm that he’d had a good feeling in his gut about them, and his gut was just about the only thing he trusted.

“I run the tavern in town, why don’t you all come back with me and let me fix you something to eat.”

Minerva perked up at that, and even Malcolm couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the prospect of a hot meal. Leandra looked cautious, but when he met her gaze she nodded slowly. Barlin smiled at that.

“Come on, while we walk, why don’t you tell me what you know about farming?”

Malcolm would find out through gossip in the years to come that Barlin had been trying to get rid of that property for years, but that didn’t change the kindness. He didn’t ask anything about where they’d come from or why they were running. He asked Malcolm what he did and he’d told him he was an herbalist--which wasn’t a lie, and he suspected Barlin could tell.

“Herbalism? Farming? Sounds like the same thing to me.”

The old man let Malcolm pay him back for the land over time after they’d settled in and started earning some money. He’d also scoffed at the notion of charging interest.

The farmhouse was rotting and falling apart, but with a lot of hard work (and a bit of hidden, domestic magic) they turned it into a home. Minerva grew up toddling around the gardens and helping Malcolm till the fields. She’d climbed gnarled tree in their front yard to watch the sun rise every morning since she was six, regardless of weather, much to Leandra’s chagrin.

His eldest child had grown up far too quickly for his liking, and couldn’t help but blame himself. He knew it wasn’t fair to place her in charge of her siblings, especially with the added responsibility of protecting Bethany--but Minerva would insist that she could handle it. She’d lead the twins on adventures in the fields and forests surrounding the little town-- quests, she always called them.

They had to work hard, but Malcolm had taught her to always try to make it fun. The children would race each other home, Minerva usually in front, although Carver would occasionally shove his way past her. Bethany was a lot quicker than she looked too--and always smarter than she let on. Malcolm would never forget the looks on Minerva and Carver’s faces the time he’d taught Bethany how to freeze their feet to the ground, nor Bethany’s own wide grin as she’d crossed the finish line (their garden gate), cheering with victory as Carver swore and Minerva laughed alongside her.

His children were adventurous-- all three of them. Malcolm had lost count of the amount of times Carver and Bethany had burst through the door, shouting that Minerva was in trouble. She had a habit of getting stuck in trees, that girl... Bethany claimed to be the least so, favouring staying inside to study most days, especially as she got older, but even she couldn’t resist the call of a bright summer day.

Minerva always knew exactly what to say to coax her out of hiding, too. Be it a promise to stop by the Chantry for one song, or spinning a scheme so grand that even Bethany couldn’t resist. Bethany was more competitive than she let on, and Minerva was always too clever for her own good. The eldest sister got herself and Carver into heaps of trouble throughout their youth. They were so rambunctious, and Minerva was always pressing Carver’s buttons on purpose, but never in a way that pushed the lad too far.

Always so precise, even then.

Malcolm had had to come down hard on her only once. She’d set off a tar bomb in barracks of the local Templars, bringing the Knight Captain huffing and puffing to their doorstep, completely unaware that he was in the presence of not one, but two apostates. Leandra was beside herself, disguising her frantic panic for Bethany’s safety as being furious at the tar tracked all over their home. Andraste’s Mercy, she had given poor Minerva an earful. Malcolm knew it was mostly for show-- so the templars could believe it was just a well-meant prank by some kid. Malcolm had a reputation around town for being good around a cauldron, and he promised to supply the knight commander with a free shipment of potions, and assurance that Minerva would clean up the mess. Minerva had inherited his alchemic ability. but not his connection to the fade. He’d taught her the recipe himself, so she could help him fix the thatching on their chicken coop.

He was mostly just mad he didn’t think of this himself--he would’ve done the same at her age. He couldn’t tell her that, though, could he?What he did tell her was that she was old enough to know better, he’d said. Perhaps that was too harsh… For the Maker’s sake she was only ten...

He’d come up to her guiltily that evening, offering her a glass of her favourite tea-- a recipe they’d invented together. She was gazing up at the stars, before she mumbled an apology and he did too.

He made it up to her by telling a story about a similar prank he played on the templars back at the Gallows.

“I know they’re the worst, but provoking them won’t do us any favours, Mighty Mini,” The nickname made her giggle. “It’s not your fight.” That made her pause.

“But…” She looked up at him, eyes full of concern. “They make things just awful for you and Bethany!” She protested. “You shouldn’t have to hide your magic! Magic is good!” She said it with childlike simplicity. He’d taught her well… Maybe a little too well, if he was being honest.

“I know, Min, it isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to cause problems for the templars. You don’t want their attention. Think of Bethany.” He gave her shoulder a firm squeeze.

She stilled, gazing at her feet.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took her up into a tight hug. “It’s just not fair...”

Always seeking justice, even then.

Malcolm was far from the perfect father, but, Maker, did he try. At the very least, he was always there when his children needed him. Even years later, he cherished every moment spent outside the walls of the Gallows.

He was able to give his kids the childhood he’d always wanted-- more or less.

On (idk what the dragon age equivalent to Sundays is but That LMAO) Minerva and Carver would spar for hours, using swords carved out of sticks they’d found exploring woods, while Malcolm, Bethany, and Leandra would go into town. Malcolm would take care of the shopping for the week and the two of them would head to the Chantry for the service. Bethany always tithed her allowance at the Chantry, even when her siblings teased her for it. She was always such a sweet, gentle girl. She wanted to help, and the cloister in Lothering was vastly different from the Kirkwall Chantry. They were a peaceful folk, down to earth.

Once their farm was in its prime the revered mother even asked to buy some of their harvested herbs for their healers on a yearly basis, and Malcolm given it to her for free--inspired by the kindness of his youngest daughter. He knew the gift of magic weighed on the poor girl, and he wished he could take the burden from her.

He would’ve preferred they not have to worry about hiding his and Bethany’s magic at all, but he figured that this was as good as it was going to get.

And it was good, indeed. For a time.

Minerva grew up with a Father who could coax her down from the trees she’d get stuck in, and catch her when she fell. Bethany had a Father who could guide her in the ways of the Fade and teach her not to fear her power, but to control it with ease. Carver had a Father who encouraged his study of the blade despite having no combat experience of his own.

Whatever made them happy, as long as they were safe, just, and kind. That was who their father was.

Malcolm Hawke died too young, and too suddenly.

The fever came when Minerva had just turned seventeen, and the twins were only twelve. The illness swept through their entire family, but it took her Father with it when it left. He was buried beneath the apple tree in their garden as a free man. Not a mage, just Malcolm Hawke. His children worked in tandem to carve a headstone themselves, nestling it with care between the roots.

Lothering wasn’t the same after Malcolm died. Minerva did her best to fill the void, standing in as her Sister’s keeper, trying to smile her way through the tears the way her Father taught her to.

Carver left to join the king’s army as soon as he turned sixteen, prying himself out of his mother’s arms with a groan. Leandra drew her daughters even closer in his absence, especially Bethany. The young mage became even more reclusive, afraid to wander too far from home by herself. She became convinced that the Templars in Lothering suspected something, no matter how many times Minerva assured her of how careful they’d been.

Then, Carver was back, and the Blight was upon them. They’d only had a few short days on the run to cherish their brother’s return before the darkspawn ripped him away from them once more, this time for good.

The farmhouse in Lothering never received a proper goodbye from the family that had inhabited it for all those years. The Blight fell upon them far too suddenly for them to grab anything more than their most precious of possessions before running for the hills.

Barlin visits it sometimes, finding the tombstone beneath the trees. The old man hasn’t died yet, even though he’s buried many of his juniors. He chats to the stone as he clears it of moss, pulling out a book with a dwarvish name on the cover.

The eldest Hawke child--the little dragonling who’d stood her ground in that old farmhouse brandishing a knife while shaking like a leaf all those years ago had done quite well for herself, it seemed. Barlin was glad of it. He hadn’t known Malcolm was a mage, but it certainly made a lot about the strange elf make sense.

Barlin wonders sometimes if the Champion of Kirkwall knows how proud those few that survived Lothering are of her.

#barlin is an icon ok i love that dude #he's just a crazy old man who like poison and i can respect that #anyway here's some Emotions #Hawke #bethany hawke #carver hawke #the hawke family #amell #leandra hawke #leandra amell #malcolm hawke #elf malcolm hawke #rogue hawke #dragon age 2 #da2 #da2 fanfic #minerva hawke #handers #if you squint

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urlocalbunny · 4 years ago

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.lingerie - aaron.

if you came here thinking eloise was wearing the lingerie, you’re wrong.

rated m.

2,400 words. enjoy, babes!

"C'mon, it's this way!" Beliath ushered, eyes gleaming with pride and joy as Aaron followed, feeling out of place and cold. He was already bored, but the shopping was alluring. There were some shoes, nice pants, and even a dress he actually "bought" for Eloise (the clerk already seemed kinda dazed when he came around. They were even looking at his chest as if in a trance. Weirdo.)

Beliath pushed him into a door. In this store, there were some beauty products probably aimed at women, some shoes. But these weren't comfortable at all. They looked painful. A lot of them were shiny and pointy like a sword. Beliath made a sound somewhere else. Aaron followed, with Eloise's baby pink bag and his new plushie of a cat with a cape he found randomly, to remember Ivan. His name was Navi.

If Navi could talk, he would probably curse. Beliath was standing in front of a mannequin wearing a black stripe mess.

"These would look incredible on me, don't you agree?" Aaron quirked a brow and put Navi on the bag. He didn't know what the hell that was, but it was horny and lewd like Beliath himself.

"Fuck is this?" He deadpanned, puzzled.

"... A lingerie set?" Beliath seemed to think he'd understand. He looked at the small stripes again. They were black and quite shiny, the lower piece was supposed to hold the junk in, but it was a small, flimsy-looking triangle held by exactly three black stripes. The top one was a bra without the bust. Therefore, there were two holes in it. He even poked it to see if it wasn't just transparent, but his finger met the cold and gray plastic.

"Make two holes on Eloise's old stuff she threw away. It's for free."

"But it is for free for all of us."

"This is a bunch of stripes. You can make one of these with straws and a blow-dryer." Beliath cackled, rolling his eyes affectionately.

"I think you should try to give Eloise a little show." He teased, making Aaron blush.

"I don't-!"

"You seriously don't understand the lingerie concept? Because-"

"-I do understand, but it's been a long time since I saw any, and they usually dressed people properly." Beliath gaped.

"What do you mean? Eloise never wore any for you? You bang like bunnies!"

"I told her she doesn't need to..."

"You turned Eloise down?!"

Beliath pulled him through aisles without another word on the Eloise subject, asking him what he liked and what he would wear.

"Why did you have to have a girlfriend right when I found that killer one?" He whined.

"You sound like Leandra."

"Ew. Forget that, you're disgusting." Aaron snickered.

"Oh!" His gasp made Beliath look at where he was looking. Then he gasped himself.

A cold, dark green delicate set was there in front of him. A lace thong with green tulle hanging on the sides matched a garter belt and transparent tulle thigh highs, with a delicate corset. It didn't seem as sturdy as the ones supposed to be useful. It was more for the visuals. It had some golden embroidered flowers and leaves, a very subtle and delicate shimmer adorning the threads, and it was smaller to fit between the bra and the belt. There was a bra, but this time covered with a transparent and shiny green tulle similar to the rest, golden bondage straps around the chest area. He didn't even see how he bought it.

Beliath was giddy when they came back, but Aaron could only think about showing it to Eloise and recommending the store so they could take a look. He took a nice bubble bath and put on a robe after getting everything right in place and giving himself a once over. His cheeks were tingling with embarrassment, but he knew Eloise would probably think it was pretty. His eyes wandered to his thighs covered by the socks. The doorknob turning made him squeal.

"Aaron? Are you in there?"

"Hi, Raph. Are you um- okay?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. Are you in need of help?"

"H-help? W-why?" He creaked the door open, clutching his robe into himself and walking backward as his friend tilted his head towards his general direction.

"Well, you are panting, and I heard you cursing under your breath..."

"Oh. I'm fine. Thanks, pal."

"You're welcome. And Aaron?" He stopped by the end of the hall.

"Yes?"

"I'm sure your lingerie looks amazing. Eloise is going to enjoy it. If she doesn't, well. There's always someone else. The embroidery must feel nice to the touch."

Aaron walked away too fast to hear Raphael giggling. When he arrived, Eloise was sitting down on his bed, Navi in her arms. She took a liking to him.

"Um... I have something to show you. Promise you won't laugh."

"I won't unless you bought a rubber chicken."

"No, it was something different." She gave him her attention, motioning for him to continue. He untied the knot on the robe, letting it slide off his shoulders as he turned his front to her. Her eyes widened, and she put a hand in front of her mouth. He was going to cover himself up, but Eloise held the robe and placed it on the bed without realizing he was going to grab it, eyes never leaving his form. She stood closer.

"Look, I think I should-"

"-You look so beautiful."

"... What?"

"God, this green and gold combo compliments your eyes so much. And this corset is so pretty..." Her hand ran along his waist, squeezing in the dip and caressing the curve when she examined the embroidery. Her digits traveled alongside the expanse of his back, sighing when she found the arch, and then she locked her eyes on his chest.

"Eloise? What are you doing?"

"You're a nasty little puppy, aren't you?" He whined, a huff of minty air coming out of his mouth. "Did you let Beliath help you with this?"

"N-no! I- I wanted to save it for you." His puppy eyes made her coo and kiss on his nose, giving an Eskimo kiss afterward and feeling her heart beat fast because of how much he seemed to enjoy such tender touches.

"I'm playing with you, you know. I'm not going to be jealous of our friend." She chuckled, popping one of the clips on the belt open. "You're getting harder and harder, aren't you, puppy?" He sighed, nodding his head.

"I'm going to reward you for this. Let's see if I don't have to use the whip on you for punishments today, huh?" He nodded again.

"Yes, Elo." She rubbed his head, unclasping the belt from the socks to get rid of his thong. After that, she clasped it again, paying no attention to Aaron's raging boner. "Please... I want you to look."

Her eyes locked into his, and he shut his mouth before a whine left his throat. She smiled, sitting on top of him and stuffing his thong on his mouth.

"You've been good the last time I dommed, so I'll give you a choice. How do you want this to go, puppy? Want me to suck you off?" He shook his head no violently. "How about I play with your tight little hole?" He groaned, sighing when she pulled the thong off his mouth and leaned down, kissing his forehead, then his nose. She stood up, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out the strap and the lube. He closed his eyes to relax, but then the rustling the fabric created made him pop them open to watch her strip until only her panties remained. Her boobs bounced off the dress lightly, making his mouth run dry. There were a few bite marks and red marks from the last time, which he appreciated.

She threw the items on the bed, crawling on top of him and bringing his hand to her right boob. Aaron immediately squeezed it, making her arch her back lightly. Her hips moved slowly but surely while she leaned down, unclasping his bra and throwing it aside, leaning down to bite his brown bud. He sucked in a breath and mewled at the slight, pleasurable pain.

Eloise's panties were wet, and the roughness of the fabric against his tip felt delicious, but he needed more, anything more. He pulled her arm down, meeting her lips and whining into the kiss, grabbing her ass and squeezing it. He relished on the moans she let out. His finger trailed, eyes asking for her permission. Eloise slid her panties off, barely registering before he pounced on her, throwing her on the bed and placing himself between her legs, making sure his ass was in the air, his back arched nicely for her.

He kissed her thighs lovingly, feeling her skin and the sweet perfume. His eyes locked into hers as he darted his tongue out, circling her clit slowly. She sighed in contempt, running a hand through his hair in approval. He was itching to taste her, but he knew how she reacted when he changed the pace she set, and this time, she wanted to take it slow.

Her mind was foggy, and pants left her parted lips as he circled his tongue, the wet heat spreading through her abdomen and creating pressure. His lips closed around her bud, sucking it in and letting it out with a pop. His hand trailed that path to her inner thighs slowly, and Eloise enjoyed the view. His nose bumped against her, making her body jolt while he kept her close with one strong arm. The fact that she could snap her fingers and such a big, strong man would bend over for her was more than arousing, but the prospect of how he'd get back at her for taking so long was equally sweet.

Aaron lapped up for a while, circling his tongue and curling his fingers inside her just the right way. Eloise sucked in a breath and curled her toes. The familiar shudder rose from her feet to her upper body. He smiled against her, eyes shining with mischief. Her hand pushed him away, seeing herself on his face and smiling. He'd earned his reward.

"How do you want me to fuck you, puppy?" He eagerly put himself in all fours, giggling at himself when the bed bounced. Eloise gave him vivid laughter, making him smile fondly even when her eyes couldn't see. The bed dipped behind him, and a cold hand came to caress his rear, squeezing and teasing. He moved his hips, coaxing her into giving in slowly, his hair falling to the side and showing his neck that she so eagerly leaned in to kiss.

Her hand slid up and pinched one of his nipples, making him moan lowly and push his hips back. Leaning against him, Eloise wrapped a hand around his shaft, pumping slowly and expertly. His hips wiggled, soft moans left his throat as he rocked like an obedient pet, sighing and squeezing the sheets when she picked up or slowed down. Soon, he felt the shiver that came with the warm lube coating his hole. She stopped jerking him. Her finger prodded, complimenting how pretty he looked over the wet sounds and small gasps.

"Eloise, f-fuck."

"Shhhh, baby. Patience." He whined in frustration, which made her chuckle and grant him her whole finger, making him sigh in relief. He rocked his hips on the pace she set, a pretty arch on his back. Eloise judged it was time to add another finger, so she did it slowly, lubing him to her liking and checking on him. Aaron was a mess. His dick was leaking on the sheets, now abandoned by her. He wanted her to jerk him off already, but he knew she was going to drag this out until he could finally fuck her.

The strap's tip was warm. Aaron's eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling the stretch.

"You're so relaxed, puppy. That's it." He moaned, hips jerking while she cooed at him.

From there on, the only sounds he could focus on were the ones she produced. Her labored breathing from the recent orgasm, her hands sliding against him, her praise, and the light slapping sounds that started to submerge on his mind.

"Anh- fuck! Yes, yes!" He keened, but the pillows muffled the sound, making Eloise pull his hair roughly upwards. He hissed, feeling his dick jump violently.

"Let people hear how good you feel, puppy. Who's making you feel so nice, huh?"

"You, you Eloise, please don't stop, nhg-"

Her hand slapped his ass hard, hips hitting just the right spot.

"Look at you. You're enjoying my dick this much?" He nodded fervently, making her chuckle and soothe the sting on his rear. She let his head go, and he put it to the side as not to muffle more sounds, or else she was going to punish him. The bed hit the wall repeatedly, making him rock back into the dildo. That was heaven to him, being with her like this, skin to skin and feeling so, so good.

His moans got ragged and urgent all of a sudden, making Eloise slow down for a while, then grab his dick and pump it. He punched the wall, making her chuckle.

"Are you ready, puppy? You've been such a good pet." He nodded, barely being able to form any words at all. She moved her hips quickly, pumping him until the knot on his stomach snapped. White-hot pleasure flashed through him as she let go as soon as he came, letting him spurt the load on his own while she focused on fucking into him.

After a while, he pulled away, whimpering. Eloise pulled out, laughing at his disheveled state and pushing him to the side, where he fell like a doll, eyes already heavy. Eloise forgot about herself and dressed one of Aaron's shirts, picking the sheets up and throwing the dildo in the bathroom sink, washing it, and putting it back in place. As soon as she came back, however, there was no sign of Aaron in the bed.

"Aaron? Uh- weird, where is- ah!"

He clasped a hand in her mouth. The growling sound she heard was a clear answer.

"About time you came back..."

#nsfwbunny #moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers aaron #moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers smut #aaron x eloise #sub!aaron #ml aaron

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 4 years ago

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter Twenty-Three

Chris turned over in the bed and frowned as he felt an empty space next to him. Robyn had to have been gone for a minute because the sheet was cold. He ran his hand over his head before he climbed out of the bed. Slipping his feet into a pair of slippers and pulling a t-shirt over his head, Chris made his way out of the bedroom. The smell of bacon hit his nose as he reached the top of the stairs. He quickly made his way to the kitchen and walked in just as Robyn pulled a pan of muffins out of the oven. He cleared his throat and Robyn smiled over at him, “a little early for you, ain’t it?”

Robyn chuckled, “Good morning Babe. I figured I’d make breakfast since I was up anyway. Did I wake you?”

“No. I rolled over to cuddle you and the bed was empty. I got nervous.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m good. Just wanted to do something nice, that’s all.”

“It smells good.”

“Thank you. I was gonna bring some upstairs to you so we could eat together before the kids woke up.”

“We can still make that happen. What do you still need to do?”

“Just make the plates and put the rest in the oven to keep warm for the kids.”

“I can help.”

“You don't have to do that, Babe.”

“I want to.”

Chris walked over to her and kissed her lips, “thank you for this.”

“You haven’t even eaten yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. The intent is enough for me.”

Robyn smiled as she leaned in to kiss him, “you are trouble.”

Chris chuckled as he moved over to the sink and washed his hands, “point me to where I need to be.”

Within a few minutes, they were sitting on the enclosed back porch, eating breakfast. Robyn cut a piece of pancake and dipped into the small puddle of syrup on the side of her plate then held it out to Chris. He ate the piece then kissed her cheek.

“Eww...now I got syrup on my face.”

“I can always lick it off.”

“Nope. You just trying to be fresh now.”

Chris laughed as he sat his own plate on the nearby coffee table. He took Robyn’s plate from her and set it next to his on the table before grabbing her around the waist to pull her into his lap. Robyn giggled as she settled back against his chest, “what are you doing now?”

“I just want to hold you, that’s all.”

“Well then let me turn around.”

Robyn got up then turned around to saddle Chris’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his hands on the top of her butt. Robyn put her arms around his neck and pecked his lips, “much better.”

“Now who’s being the troublemaker?”

Robyn giggled as she pressed her forehead against his, “what’s our plans for today?”

“You keep moving in my lap like this, I’ma turn on some cartoons for the kids and lock you up in our bedroom for a few hours.”

“You are silly. I’m serious.”

“Depends on if you wanna stay on the grounds or go exploring.”

“We can go out for the day.”

“Ok, there’s a zoo I think the kids will love, then we can just wing it from there.”

“Works for me.”

“Mommy! Daddy! Look at the baby goat,” Anesa exclaimed as the park attendant led her into the animal gate. The attendant handed Chris a plastic sandwich bag full of food pellets. Chris poured a small amount in Anesa’s palm and instructed her to hold out her hand, “just wait a second and the goat will come to you. Just remain calm, Nesa.”

Anesa steadied her hand just as the goat came to sniff at her palm. The animal moved tentatively closer before he began nibbling at the pellets. Anesa held her other hand to her mouth as she giggled. Robyn smiled as she snapped a few pictures of the moment, “Nesa Boo, watch your hand near his mouth.”

“Yes Mommy.”

Chris glanced over at Robyn before leaning over to kiss her temple. “You seem to be enjoying this as much as the kids are.”

“Anesa is loving it. Christian has been asleep this entire time.”

Chris chuckled as he peeked under the blanket covering the carrier affixed to the front of Robyn’s body. Christian was fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth.

“I hope that doesn’t become a habit,” Chris murmured as he kissed the baby’s forehead then placed the blanket back over his head.

“He’ll be alright. You think of where we’re going to eat lunch?”

Chris shrugged as he poured more food pellets into Anesa’s hand, “depends on what you would like to eat. There’s a couple steak places we can try.”

“Sounds good.”

“You know what you want to do tomorrow?”

“Depends on what we do tonight.”

Chris raised his brow in shock and Robyn laughed, “are you starting with me because it’s too early for you to be starting with me?”

“It is never too early, Christopher.”

“If that’s the case, steak restaurant has been scratched from the plans.”

“What? We still have to eat.”

“Oh we’re gonna eat, just not in a restaurant.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying especially since I can’t say it out loud.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned into his shoulder, ��and you call me a troublemaker.”

“You started that first.”

“Whatever.”

“Daddy, I need more food,” Anesa said as she made her way back to the fence. Chris poured the last bit of pellets into her hand, “alright Love Bug, after this we’re gonna see a few more animals then go eat dinner.”

“Can we have pizza, Daddy?”

“Sure. We’ll pick up some pizza on the way. Anything else?”

“And ice cream?”

“We’ll get some ice cream to go too.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

Anesa kissed his cheek before running back over to the attendant to feed the baby goat she was standing with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn hummed as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a plush towel around her waist then another around her head. Just as she opened the closet door, her phone rang. She grabbed it and slid over the answer button, “hello?”

“Hey Sis.”

“Le, what’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Just bored and pregnant,” Leandra replied, “you?”

“About to get dressed. Just got out the shower.”

“Oh ok.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Max is at work and Maxwell is asleep so it’s just me up right now.”

“Well it’s still early, there’s nothing on TV?”

“I’ve watched all the shows, I swear and Netflix is no damn help.”

Robyn chuckled, “I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

“But you can’t. Where’s my brother?”

“He’s making us a late dinner. We’ve been out at the zoo with the kids all day.”

“That’s so cute. How are they?”

“They’re good. They both went down pretty easy so I hopefully they stay sleep.”

“Hope so too. Their parents need to work on getting their groove back.”

“It is not like that.”

“Well it should be. Y’all got almost a year of fucking to make up for.”

“Leandra!”

“What? You know I’m right.”

“I cannot with you.”

“But you can with your husband.”

“He is not my-”

“Girl, whatever. Tell somebody who doesn't know any better. He proposed yet?”

“No. We both know we aren’t ready to go there yet.”

“You mean you aren’t ready to go there.”

“Same thing.”

“Not exactly.”

“Le.”

“What? I need something to do and planning your wedding would be perfect so hurry the hell up.”

“If we do get married again, I’m not having a wedding.”

“What? Why?”

“We’ve already did that part. It wouldn’t be about that anyway.”

“At least let me plan a reception.”

“There’s nothing to plan, Le.”

“Well hurry up so there can be. This pregnancy is driving me insane.”

“How is my niece or nephew?”

“They are fine.”

“They as in you aren’t telling us the gender yet or they as in there’s more than one?”

“There’s more than one.”

“You’re having twins? Yes!”

“I am petrified.”

“Why?”

“What the hell am I going to do with two babies? That’s too much.”

“It’s just perfect. Le, you’re gonna do fine.”

“All I know is my uterus is closed for business. I am getting my tubes tied after this.”

“Whatever works for you.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any more babies?”

“No. I don’t want to go through anymore surgeries right now but I’m definitely not having anymore kids. That last pregnancy took me out.”

“I understand. Well you and Christopher better be careful.”

“We are very careful.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Far as I know, just dinner but he always has something up his sleeve.”

“Well I’ma let you get to it. When you coming back?”

“Probably Monday. He has a class on Tuesday.”

“Cool.”

“I’ll take Tuesday off and bring the kids by to check on you. I need to see that belly.”

“Oh God, don’t mention the belly. I am so fucking fat.”

Robyn laughed, “I love you Le.”

“Love you too, Sis. Enjoy your night.”

“I will. And you get some sleep, please.”

“Will do. Bye Sis.”

“Bye Le.”

Robyn hung up and tossed her phone back on the bed. She squeezed the towel that was wrapped around her hair before pulling it off and tossing it into the hamper. She moved to ruffle through the outfits she had hanging in the closet and decided on a short spaghetti strap dress. It was fitted without being tight, giving her a modicum of comfort. Tossing the hanger with the dress on it on the bed, she grabbed her body cream and sat down on the bed to put it on.

“Underwear or no underwear?” she murmured to herself.

After a few moments, she held the dress up to her body in the mirror then slipped it over her head. She turned to see her backside and smirked, “definitely no underwear.”

“There you are. I was getting ready to come upstairs and get you,” Chris remarked as Robyn walked into the kitchen.

“I had to take a shower. I felt all sticky from being outside all day.”

“Not a problem. I like that dress. It’s cute.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want to get too fancy since we weren’t leaving the house.”

“You’re beautiful in absolutely anything.”

“I could put on a garbage bag and you’d probably say that.”

“Probably be the sexiest garbage bag I’ve ever seen.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned into his side. Chris wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple, “you ready to eat?”

“What are we having, Master Chef?”

“We are having honey glazed salmon, roasted asparagus with crispy garlic smashed potatoes and sparkling grape juice since you can’t drink alcohol yet.”

“That’s the dinner we had on the day you proposed to me. You really cooked or did you order?”

“I cooked. It was one of the first dishes I wanted to learn how to make when I took cooking classes as one of my therapy assignments.”

“Now I feel like I should’ve dressed up a bit more.”

“You look perfect. I really do like that dress.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I’m not dressed up either.”

Robyn gave him a long look then smiled up at him, “definitely a bit more dressed up than me. Is that another shirt that I bought?”

“The one when we went on vacation to Italy.”

“We went on a lot of trips that first year.”

“We did. We never made it to the Maldives though.”

“We could always go when we get the chance. Probably once the babies are older”

“We don’t have to wait. Winter break is always a good time to go.”

“I don’t know if I’ll want to be that far from them just yet.”

“Such a Mommy.”

Robyn chuckled as she nudged his shoulder, “you made me one.”

“I did. You ready to eat?”

“Yes Sir.”

Chris pulled out a chair from the dining table and Robyn sat down. He moved to the oven and started to put the serving platters of food on the table. He poured juice into their wine classes before taking his seat perpendicular to Robyn’s seat. She carefully smoothed the wrinkles from the table cloth, “Chris?”

“Yes?”

“Are you gonna propose to me again?”

“Not tonight.”

“Ok.”

“You really don’t have to worry about me springing a proposal on you every time I do something fancy. I just wanted to remember how much fun we had the first time. Just some nostalgia. That’s all.”

“Ok.”

“I’m starting to think that you’re warming up to this marriage thing.”

Robyn shrugged, “it’s not as scary as it was to me.”

“That’s good. As long as you’re thinking about it.”

“I don’t want to but-”

“You so nervous I’m gonna propose all the time, you can’t not think about it.”

“I guess you could say that.”

Chris laughed as he rubbed the back of her hand, “you know you could definitely start calling me your husband, It could ease your anxiety.”

“Or make it worse.”

“Really? Why?”

“That makes it sound real.”

“It is real, Ms. Fenty-Brown.”

Robyn rolled her eyes as Chris emphasized the “Brown” on the end of her last name, “I carry your name still, I remember.”

“Exactly so I don’t know why you acting like this is so brand new to you”

“I haven’t had a husband in eight years, Christopher.”

“Physically. Emotionally is a totally different thing.”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “you love your semantics, don’t you?”

“When they highlight truth, yes.”

Robyn laughed, “can you just fix my plate so we can eat?”

“Are you claiming defeat, Robyn?”

“I am officially waving the white flag. For now.”

Chris smiled as he leaned over and kissed her lips, “you are so stubborn.”

“You don’t have on underwear,” Chris remarked in slight disbelief as he ran his hands down Robyn’s backside. She was straddling his lap as they sat on the enclosed back porch. It had become their pseudo spot while they were at the cabin.

Robyn laughed as she shifted her weight in his lap, “I’m surprised it took you so long to notice.”

“That ass been jiggling all night, I just assumed you had on a thong or something. You don’t usually go commando.”

She shrugged as she rubbed the back of her neck, “Just in the mood, I guess.”

“You’ve been rubbing your neck all night. You ok?”

“It just feels a little stiff,” she noticed Chris’s body language change, “not like that. I’m not having another seizure, promise. I think I slept on it wrong.”

“Let me see,” Chris replied as he carefully cupped the sides of her neck. He gently massaged each side using just his fingertips. Robyn groaned in satisfaction as she let her neck relax back into his hands. Chris chuckled lightly, “lean forward for me, Baby.”

Robyn leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Chris’s. He smiled, “Hi.”

“Hi Boyfriend.”

“Stubborn ass.”

Robyn laughed then kissed his lips.

“Just close your eyes and relax. You’re really tense around your shoulders.”

Robyn moved to press her cheek to his as Chris continued to gently massage around her neck and shoulders. He carefully tapped his fingertips along her spine and she sighed shakily. Chris continued for a few more minutes, “feel better?”

“I see why massages always end in sex.”

Chris laughed, “why you say that?”

“It’s sexual as hell.”

“Or you’re just kinky as hell and like me wrapping my hand around your neck.”

“That could be it too.”

Chris laughed again as he shifted Robyn in his lap, “how about we take advantage of the jacuzzi and I give you a real massage afterwards?”

“That sounds good.”

“Good.”

“Oh my god,” Robyn moaned as she leaned back against the jacuzzi wall, “Babe, we need one of these at the house.”

“You really want one because I’ll get it for you.”

“You don’t have to be so sweet all the time, Christopher.”

“I’m just saying that I have no problem getting one installed for you.”

“Thank you but I’m just being extra.”

Chris shrugged, “Sit up so I can sit behind you.”

Robyn scooted forward as Chris climbed into the tub behind her. She rested her back against his chest and Chris settled his arms over her shoulders, “what did you put in it here? It smells good.”

“It’s bath oil. Helps soften the skin and it smells good.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve done this before.”

“Google is man’s best friend.”

“What else has Google gave you an idea about?”

“Now if I told you that, I wouldn’t be able to surprise you anymore.”

“Now that, I doubt.”

Robyn shifted against his midsection and Chris groaned before he could catch himself, “I’m sorry, Baby. Did I hurt you?”

“The opposite.”

“Oh well then,” She pressed closer and could his erection resting against her back, “it would be very easy to do something about that.”

“I didn’t do this for that.”

“Never said you did but I’m definitely doing this for that.”

She carefully moved his arms to settle on the edge of the jacuzzi as she carefully turned around to straddle his waist. She stroked his erection for a few moments before she sat on it in one quick drop.”

“Shiii-” Chris hissed through clenched teeth. Robyn giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “feel better?”

“You are dangerous, Woman.”

“And you feel so good right now.”

“I haven’t moved yet.”

“You really don’t have to. You are settled in the perfect spot.”

“Sometimes I think you like him more than me.”

“I wouldn’t want him without you. My heart and body don't work that way.”

“Glad to hear it. May I move now?”

“Yes.”

Chris grabbed her hips and started to push upward as she pressed down. The pace soon quickened and water started to slosh over the side of the tub. Robyn tucked her face into his neck and bit down on his skin.

“Damn it, you feel so good,” Robyn murmured as she gripped the edge of the tub and Chris slid into her from behind. This guttural moan slipped from between his lips as their skin smacked against each other and more water sloshed around them.

“Oh God, Chris, I’m cumming.”

“I’m right there. Come with me, Baby.”

“Mmmm….I can feel it.”

“I’m right here. Just let it go. I got you.”

“Oh MY GOD!”

Robyn bit down on her lip as she felt her body start to convulse. Chris gripped her body tightly around her waist and leaned into her as he felt her walls tighten and her lose grip. He lifted her up and held her back against his chest as the tremors continued through her body. He murmured soft words against her ear as he waited for her body to calm itself, “Just breathe for me, Sweetie. Just deep breaths.”

Her breathing started to slow. Her body started to relax. Chris pressed a palm to her stomach and to her chest, carefully measuring her heartbeat.

“There you go, Sweetie. Nice and easy.”

A few moments passed and Chris kissed her cheek, “you ok?”

“I’m ok.” Robyn replied softly, “I didn’t expect it to hit me like that.”

“I’m just glad I know the difference between your orgasms and your seizures.”

Robyn giggled as she took a few breaths, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s exactly what we both needed.”

“I don’t want to make you nervous about stuff like this.”

“I’m not nervous. I know I have to be prepared for the unexpected. You’re worrying too much.”

Chris kissed her cheek then turned her face to look at him, “I’m not nervous. I’m not scared. I’d never intend to fuck you into a seizure but I won’t be embarrassed if I do.”

Robyn pinched his side and Chris yelped, “OUCH! What was that for?”

“For being conceited.”

“I am not conceited. I am confident in my abilities as I should be.”

“There you go with your semantics again.”

Chris laughed as he kissed her lips, “I love you, Wife.”

“Whatever, Boyfriend.”

“Stubborn ass.”

Robyn laughed as she pulled his arms around her to hold her tight, “we might need to get out, the water is getting cold.”

“In a minute. I like holding you like this.”

Robyn smiled as she rested her head on his chest.

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

5 notes · View notes

dragonagereacts · 5 years ago

Note

Could we have da2 companions react to Hawke each time they lost someone? Like, Hawke would cover their emotions and pretend it didn't effect them, but they'd be more irrational in battle. Almost asking to be killed with how many times they end up injured.

Griffin here! I just wanted to say that the perspective I took while writing this was of the younger Hawke siblings dying or being made Grey Wardens. It gives more angst that way.

Anders: Anders watched Hawke intently after the deep roads, unsure of how to approach them after the loss of their sibling. Even if Hawke’s sibling is alive, Anders knows how hard it is to have someone you are close to be ripped from you. When Anders is in the party he is always quick to heal a reckless Hawke, always keeping an eye on them. Anders had heard about Hawke’s other sibling, the one who never made it out of Lothering and he felt pity for Hawke. To have come so close and to lose so much in an instant. He tries to comfort Hawke when he can, though he feels like he is not the best person to offer that support. Anders makes sure Hawke knows that they can count on him to be there and to help them if they need it. When Hawke finds their mother’s re-animated body, Anders has no words. He has no words as he watches Hawke, the strongest person he has seen since his travels with the Warden, sob and curse the Maker for allowing this to happen. Anders is a frequent visitor at Hawke’s estate, more so after the incident with Hawke’s mother. After each loss, Anders has noticed a dramatic decline in their stops at his clinic as they no longer bothered getting their wounds patched up. He makes frequent house calls now, dropping by to make sure Hawke is alive after every mission and quest they go on. Most times he is accompanied by some of the other companions as they all worry for Hawke’s safety.

Aveline: Aveline was there when Hawke lost one of their siblings. She had heard the heart-wrenching shout of Hawke as they tried to get to their sibling in time, but it had been too late. She remembered how hopeless Hawke looked as they held their dead sibling in their arms, blood soaking their clothes. After they managed to escape Lothering, Aveline did her best to keep an eye on Hawke, even after they finished their year of work. She took up a position in the guard to help keep tabs on Hawke. If Aveline went with Hawke into the deep roads and if Hawke’s sibling was brought as well, she felt her heart rip open as Hawke lost their last sibling. She felt the pain of losing a sibling as well, now that the Hawke’s had become her family. Even if Anders was present and found the Grey Wardens Hawke had still lost another part of their family. After the deep roads, Aveline saw the beginnings of a problem. Hawke threw themself into combat, even if they were a mage, they were always on the front line. Challenging dangerous opponents and Aveline wondered if Hawke had a death wish. When Hawke found their mother’s re-animated body, Aveline swore she saw all hope leave Hawke’s eyes. They had lost everything and everything they had built was crumbling in front of them. Aveline is one of the first companions to rush to Hawke’s side to ensure they don’t get themself killed. To her Hawke is family and she would do anything to keep them safe. When Aveline becomes Guard Captain, she makes sure there is always a guard keeping an eye on Hawke, especially when she is not around. By the end, Aveline has made an oath for herself. She will be Hawke’s shield when they can no longer lift theirs.

Fenris: Fenris never knew Hawke’s late sibling. He only knew tales of them and he knew the sadness in Hawke’s eyes whenever they spoke of their late sibling. However, Fenris did know their living sibling and despite what he may have others believe, he cared for their safety. Fenris knew that Hawke’s sibling was important to them, he has seen time and time again how Hawke will throw themselves into danger just to keep the younger Hawke safe. If Fenris came with Hawke into the Deep Roads along with Hawke’s sibling, he wishes he had the right words to say to Hawke as they hold their siblings’ dead body close to their chest. It was at that point Fenris noticed a shift, a lack of caution in battle, a recklessness Fenris knew. Hawke had always been strong, confident, and brave, but now, now they were reckless. They ran into danger, head first into the fray and Fenris feared losing them. As much as Fenris despises Anders, he does make frequent trips to the apostates clinic to either gather medicinal supplies to force onto Hawke or to get the apostate to Hawke. The night Hawke was searching for their mother, Fenris heard a pure and raw desperation in Hawke’s voice as they searched. A silent plea hanging on every word. When Hawke finally saw their mother and the terrible things that had been done to her, Fenris would later swear to Varric over a pint in the Hanged Man that he saw everything leave Hawke. Wherever Hawke was, Fenris was sure to be around.

Isabela: Isabela never knew how to react when the topic of Hawke’s late sibling came up. She expressed her sympathy for their loss with ale and some light-hearted jokes in an attempt to get Hawke to cheer up. She did her best not to broach that topic, never liking the look she would see on Hawke’s face. Instead she kept everything light and funny, dashing in the occasional innuendo to further lighten the mood. It wasn’t until she saw Hawke lose their living sibling, either to the taint in the deep roads or to becoming a Grey Warden. Isabela had met Grey Wardens in the past, she knew their lives were hellish. But having seen the pure anguish and agony on Hawke’s face as they cradled their dying sibling, she wishes she had enough ale to wipe it from her mind. To say Hawke was different would be an understatement. Their sense of self-preservation was hanging on barely. Isabela saw that the only thing keeping them going was their companions and their mother. When their mother was turned into that….that things, Isabela saw Hawke crack. She saw the toughest soul she had ever met shatter and after that the Hawke she had met in the Hanged Man all that time ago, was gone. They still pretended to be happy, to have playful banter, but Isabela knew what it was like to lose everything and be met with nothing. She was beside them in battle, blocking daggers meant for deadly spots and like the other companions she made sure they took care of themself. Even if she didn’t say it outwardly much or made it seem that obvious. She cares for Hawke a great deal and each time she sees them throw themself into the thick of battle, without caring about their own life, it makes her fight for them eve harder.

Merrill: When Merrill met Hawke and their sibling, she was ecstatic at the prospect of new friends. Even more so when she got to know them. The playful banter, the teasing, the deep amount of care for the other even if they bickered to no end, it reminded her of happier times in her clan. Hawke would speak of their late sibling and Merrill noticed how their smile never reached their eyes. She would do her best to cheer both Hawke and their sibling up, even when they were in the Deep Roads. However, she found herself heartbroken with Hawke as they held onto their sibling, sobbing into bloody armor. When they returned Merrill felt walls around Hawke and while they may joke and tease, their smile was forced and pain danced in their eyes. When Leandra goes missing and Hawke is searching for her, Merrill does whatever she can to help find her. Merrill was a blood mage and she had never felt ashamed for it. Not until that night when she saw Hawke break. She never knew someone could cry and scream the way they did, the pure agony and suffering in each cry as they begged their Maker, to the Creators to let them save her. Merrill knew Hawke had changed but she was worried she was wrong. It was when they were in Lowtown, walking around and clearing the streets like they usually did at night, that she saw how badly Hawke was hurting. They had a run-in with some Coterie. Merrill remembers Hawke running in, no hesitation. The wound was deep. Deep and avoidable. Merrill had seen Hawke avoid attacks worse than the one they received and with a sinking ache in her heart she knew Hawke was not okay. The Hawke estate always seemed to have at least one companion at all times in it as long as Hawke was there. After a few more close-calls, Merrill made sure to learn more healing spells and to keep a closer eye on Hawke in battle. Creators, she could not handle losing Hawke.

Varric: Varric had always listened to Hawke speak of their late sibling. It didn’t take a wise man to see that Hawke was not stable. They walked an edge, leaning more towards caution at the start, but as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, Varric noticed Hawke teetering more and more towards stupidity. He could have written about the Deep Roads in great detail. The moment Hawke realized their sibling wasn’t alright. It was heartbreaking as they held onto their sibling, tears mixing with ichor blood. The Tale of the Champion left out the cries that rang throughout the ancient thaigs, echoing off the stone as Hawke’s voice turned into a tortured gasp. The Tale of the Champion never covered the way Hawke carried the weight of their siblings’ deaths on their shoulders, how they were being drug down further and further. Varric watched Hawke carefully, knowing that mourning can lead people to do some stupid things. He was right. Hawke would come to the Hanged Man, battered and bruised, bare-knuckles bloody, and blood covering their armor. Varric never asked, he only listened as Hawke drowned their sorrows in his room. The battlefield changed for Varric. His eyes were no longer focused on just his enemies, no they were busy keeping tabs on Hawke, making sure they didn’t get themselves killed. When they found Leandra and Varric watched the last bit of strength leave Hawke, Varric gathered all of the companies together. He sat them all down and told them each what they needed to do. Hawke would still rush into danger but after the talk Varric and the others would be there right beside them, a reminder that they are not alone in this. They were never alone.

#dragon age 2 #anders dragon age #aveline dragon age #Fenris dragon age #Isabela dragon age #merrill dragon age #varric tethras #dragon age #varric dragon age

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crqstalite · 4 years ago

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💋🍒😊⭐💙💗 for Evolet?

ask!

it got so long lol.

💖 Has your OC ever been in love, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise? Who with and did they ever express their feelings or keep it private? How long did these feelings persist / do they still feel this way?

Before Kirkwall, Evolet has had plenty of platonic relationships, being rather well-liked wherever they went. Romance was never really something she was interested in though, what she had with friends and her family was enough.

In Kirkwall however, her friendly attitude is sometimes taken as flirting and miscommunication runs rampant by her much more affectionate tone than most were expecting. She met some pushback with Fenris is the beginning but after that every member of her party could probably claim to having some sort of relationship with her -- though Fenris’ is the only with a clear line in the sand (romantic). For a time, she realized he was somewhat receptive to her flirting, though she kept to herself as not to make him uncomfortable in the beginning.

🍒 What kind of things do they expect from their relationships? Does this differ between platonic relationships and romantic ones? Is your OC “demanding” or a door mat? What kinds of things do people expect from them in a relationship?

She doesn’t expect too much, after having mages effectively trashed in front of her face for ages on end, she figures she’ll be lucky to have any partner at all in the future. You could definitely consider her a doormat in both forms of relationships, often differing to someone else’s leadership or advice even if she’s the one with more knowledge on a subject. She’s not sure she can take being told she’s less than a person in any case.

I wonder what someone would expect from her. She’s somewhat shy and stiff by nature but quick thinking and rather empathetic to the people around her. I suppose people would expect that empathy to translate to them as well, if not to hope to unearth a little more of her personality.

😊 What can make your OC smile even when they’re feeling down? What cheers them up and makes everything feel better for them? Is your OC generally a happy person and do they enjoy making others smile? What about your OC makes others happy?

Evolet absolutely loves being around her family, even if it’s just one of them at a time, especially her brother. Sure, she and Carver bicker sometimes but even getting just a sarcastic quip out of him is enough to make her smile, and his company when she’s feeling especially down and afraid is all she needs to get back on her feet. Leandra always had a kind word and a hug for her when she got back from a day of cleaning up the city, and she’d always been closer to her than Malcom. Even just snuggling her on the couch could make her forget every comment some templar made earlier in the day.

Generally Evolet is a very happy person, or as far as her companions know. Somewhat timid, yes, but she’s a ray of sunshine in the eternal darkness Kirkwall falls into. Everyone can rely on her to have their back, regardless of what they’re doing (which backfires on her only once), and it puts her at peace to see her party smiling because of something she’s said.

For her companions, it’s her ready affection. Everyone’s been hugged at least once (some like it more than others -- she figures it out soon enough). She listens, and has never actually turned someone down before if they ever ask for her assistance with something. Her introspective nature is what keeps people around.

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

Losing people. Evolet is terrified of losing the people around her, but more specifically being taken from them. The horror stories out of the Gallows, even just her brief encounter with Karl and Anders knitted that fear even deeper than it was before she set foot in Kirkwall. The Templar sigil, while comforting for some, is a beacon of dread and paranoia for her. Hiding the lyrium bottles on her belt so quickly had she not had the dexterity, she would drop them all, stashing her staff away somewhere that they could not find it. The sigil of the Chantry stamped on her forehead is a nightmare that chases her at night and leaves her screaming.

Usually she gets very quiet and jittery. Jumpy, nervous. She folds into herself as if to make herself smaller to those around her, forming a shield to possibly protect herself. She gets very narrow minded at night especially if she’s out late, always watching around corners for Templars on patrols. Sometimes if they’ve had a bad encounter years after she’s arrived, she can be inconsolable for hours at a time, begging the people around her not to let them take her. Usually all she needs is to be held long enough to recognize the danger has passed and that she will be okay. Physical affection is what gets her out of these, and will usually ground her better than anything else.

I would doubt anyone would find Evolet scary unless they’ve hurt someone she cares dearly about. While she has a firm grasp on her arcane abilities, whoever is the guilty party has probably had a jolt of fear go through them if they look her in the eyes in a setting like that.

💙 What did your OC want to be when they grew up and why? Did they have any lifelong dreams or ambitions they never got to work on or are they currently working to achieve this dream? Has their life taken a very unexpected turn and put all these plans on hold for a while or have they given up on any dreams?

Believe it or not, at first she wanted to just be normal if anything. She loved spending time with her younger twin siblings and the neighborhood children, and adored baking when they had the money. Her lifelong dream once she grew out of that phase (around the age of 14 when she started realizing then she’d be stuck in this loop of moving from place to place because she was a mage) was to travel Thedas. Evolet always loved to see the sights, and that never changed as she grew up, and she still sort of intends to do it, right after this business with Corypheus is done with.

Her life has taken quite a turn, she didn’t expect to fall in love with Fenris, not in the slightest. Nor did she expect to become viscountess of Kirkwall, or the one who stood with the Templars in the end against Orsinio. Her plan to travel has been put on hold by the whole nobility thing, but one day she will get out of this Makerforsaken city. That’s not say that she doesn’t have new dreams, that have simply changed and shifted due to recent events. Now her focus is learning magic, not the destructive kind, but learning to heal.

💗 What would your OC say is their best feature? Why? What do their friends / family / lover(s) / people they know think is their best feature and why?

Evolet thinks her best feature is probably her hair. There are so many ways to style coiled hair, and she loves it’s texture so much (though she has worn in it in locs for years now).*

Beyond that, I think other people would think her best feature is her eyes. They’re never quite one color, brown, then amber, then black and brown and all over again. One could comment there are flecks of gold in them if looked at in the right firelight. They’re pools of a beautiful auburn that someone could probably get lost in if he were not careful.

thank you for the ask!!

*i wear my hair in locs lolololol. on the off chance someone thinks the sentence sounds weird.

#evolet hawke

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patricianandclerk · 5 years ago

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Peace

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

When Anders entered the little shack the Hawkes called their home, neither Gamlen nor Leandra were to be seen. Gamlen was no doubt out at the Blooming Rose, and as for Leandra, Anders couldn’t be sure – he wasn’t able to get an incredibly good handle on her, much as he tried, and…

Did she disapprove? Of his interest in Hawke, of their spending time together? He didn’t think so. But how could he be sure?

It was a big shack, by the standards of Lowtown. Badly made, and freezing cold even in summer, but it was big, had a lot of space to it, and Anders leaned down to gently stroke the dog’s head. Felix was snoring softly, but he opened one eye to look up at Anders, yawning, and then flopped forward again.

He was still sleeping off their last hike up the Sundermount, Anders supposed, and he stepped over the dog, leaning to look through the door that led to Gamlen and Leandra’s room, but it was empty. The door to the other room, the bigger one where Carver and Hawke slept, and stored their armour, was closed, and when Anders brushed his fingers against it, he felt the glow of magic on the other side.

Shivering, Anders knocked his knuckles against it.

“Come in,” came Hawke’s voice, and Anders pushed open the door, inhaling the familiar ozone tang of magic on the air, but fresh and sweet – the smell of the Fade. Hawke was standing in the middle of a runic circle, his back straight, his hands spread out before him, and hovering on the air were a dozen blue-green balls of flames that floated, gently orbiting the mage at their centre…

Anders could hear the whisper and murmur that came from them, those flames. Even as he stared at them, mouth open, his eyes wide, they began to slowly dim and sink down to the ground, disappearing entirely before they touched the stone floors, and when Hawke turned to meet Anders’ gaze, he looked…

Tired.

“Oh, good,” he said softly, “it’s you. I love Merrill, merely that… I wasn’t ready for her particular baseline of energy.”

“Spirits,” Anders said. “You were— talking to them?”

“Studying,” Hawke said, gently shrugging his shoulders, and Anders watched as he got to his knees, taking a wet cloth and beginning to scrub away the chalk lines he’d left on the floor, soaking them away. “I’m not as good of a healer as you are, Anders. If I don’t put in the hours on the theory, I won’t ever be able to meet you on the practice.”

“Spirit healing isn’t a common field of magic,” Anders said in a low voice.

“No,” Hawke agreed. His voice was almost serene as he continued to wipe over the floor, on his hands and knees, working to clear up the chalk there. “Why are you here, Anders?”

“I was…” Anders trailed off, almost ashamed of the answer that came to his lips. He had been to the Hawke residence before, of course. He’d walked around everywhere with Hawke, had met Leandra, or Carver, or Gamlen, each their own variety of unpleasant to deal with. He had never come here, unescorted. “I needed a break. From the clinic. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Hawke stayed on his knees, but his hand on the cloth stopped, and he kept his gaze on the floor, on the chalk-dusted cloth gripped between his hands. Anders swallowed, hard, and heard Justice in the back of his head, irritable, demanding they return to proper work, demanding—

��Was your sister a spirit healer?” Anders asked. “Your father?”

“No,” Hawke said, standing to his feet and setting the cloth on one of the tables, wiping off his hands as he did so. “Bethany, she… She liked elemental magic. My father, too.” Anders stared at his back, at his exhausted shoulders, the way his head tipped forward slightly, his fingers touching the top of the desk. “Look, Anders,” he said, turning his head. “I’m sorry if you were hoping to go to the Hanged Man for a drink, but frankly, I’m tired. I’m still recovering from the hike last week, and I can’t come help you in the clinic, not today. I wish I could, but—”

“No, no, I wasn’t going to ask you to,” Anders said, stepping forward, the door closing shut behind him, and Hawke watched him, cautiously. “I’m… sorry, Hawke, I didn’t come here to disturb you.”

There were bags under Hawke’s eyes, Anders noted as he stepped closer. Bags under his eyes, and his breathing was a little heavier than usual – he wasn’t slouching exaggeratedly, but enough to be noticeable. Anders ignored Justice’s complaint in the back of his mind as he reached for Hawke’s shoulder, and touched it, gently.

“I can’t sleep in the clinic, sometimes, for people knocking on the door,” he admitted. “I suppose I just thought I could rest here, and it should have occurred to me that you have the same problem.”

“I was just about to lie down for a nap,” Hawke murmured, shrugging his shoulders, and his hand came slowly up to touch Anders’, cupping the back of his knuckles. He smiled, exhaustedly, and Justice was absolutely silent as Anders leaned closer, interlinking their fingers. “You could lie down with me, if you wanted.”

“I do want,” Anders said, nodding. “Yeah.”

Hawke didn’t even try to kiss him. Anders would have initiated it, once upon a time – a few years ago, he’d have dropped to his knees in front of Hawke in whatever cupboard he could shove him into first, would have shoved his tongue down Hawke’s throat at any available opportunity.

Times were different, of course. Hawke didn’t try to kiss him, so Anders didn’t try it first: they lay down together on Hawke’s cot, smaller than the one Anders had in the clinic, their legs tangled with one another.

Anders lay his head on Hawke’s chest, breathing in the Fade-smell that clung to him, and Hawke’s breathing was slow and even, Hawke’s hands rested in a comforting weight against his shoulders.

To Anders’ surprise, when Carver came in, he swore under his breath and irritably muttered to himself, but he didn’t open the shutters or light any candles, didn’t raise his voice to get Hawke to wake up. He just closed the door again, and was quiet in the other room, let his brother and Anders sleep together, uninterrupted.

“What was it that drew you to spirit healing?” Anders asked the next morning, burning with curiosity, when Carver was still asleep in the other bed, and Hawke looked at Anders through lidded eyes. “If it wasn’t your father?”

“Spirits aren’t like people,” Hawke murmured. “They’re kind without expectation. They’re kind because kindness is the done thing. They don’t do it for reward, or recompense, but because kindness is what they know.”

“Some people are like that,” Anders said softly, ignoring the warning rumble of Justice in the back of his mind, and Hawke rolled them over, pressing his nose against Anders’ neck, lying on top of him, heavy, warm… He was so unlike Karl, but Anders’ chest ached, anyway.

“Not enough,” Hawke agreed, his breath hot against Anders’ skin, making him shiver. “But enough to make everyone worth saving.”

Anders shuddered, feeling a shiver run over his skin, and a warmth burn underneath. He swallowed, consumed with want all at once, want and affection and a desire to pull Hawke’s mouth against his no matter that Carver was asleep in the cot beside them, no matter, no matter. Hawke, who wasn’t angry, but was so, so kind; Hawke, who cared, who put all his free hours into working alongside Anders at his clinic; Hawke, who lay on top of him like Anders had done anything to earn him.

“Maker, what did I do to deserve you?” Anders asked.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Hawke whispered, and Anders closed his eyes, tangling his fingers in Hawke’s hair and pulling him closer. It was remarkably easy, to sleep like that, Hawke’s body on top of his.

A man could get used to that.

#as defined by dictionary #handers #hawke #anders #fanfic

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pikapeppa · 6 years ago

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Fenris/f!Hawke gift fic: Fereldan breakfast

A little gift fic for the talented and incredible @essequamvideri20, who makes the most incredible Fenris and Fenhawke art and is such a loyal and lovely reader!!!

This fic features @essequamvideri20‘s Eris Hawke and Fenris. This is my first time writing a friendmance Fenris, so honestly I hope it’s okay... [laughs nervously in Tevene]

Posting for @dadrunkwriting Friday; I decided to incorporate a little prompt from @contreparry in here as well. Thanks, friend!

Fenris knew something was wrong the moment he opened his front door.

Hawke stood on his front step with a crooked little smile, and Fenris’s eyebrows jumped up on his forehead. “Hawke?” he said in surprise. He hadn’t expected to see her today; she’d told him and the rest of the crew that she would be spending the afternoon with Leandra and Gamlen.

“Hello,” she said. She ran a hand over the top of her dark-haired head. It was a sure sign of nerves, and Fenris frowned slightly as he stood back to let her in.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “I thought you would be with your family today.”

“I was,” she said. She sidled past him and came inside. “I told my mother that I’d finally gathered the gold and the paperwork we need to get her estate back.”

“All right,” Fenris said slowly. “That would appear to be a good thing.” But clearly it was not. Hawke was standing awkwardly beside the scratched-up dining table in his foyer, and she was utterly still – the kind of stillness that Fenris had only noticed on the rare occasions when she was deeply bothered by something.

It was a side of Hawke that few people seemed to see. The dark-haired mage put on a good show of charm and social ease, and it had taken months for Fenris to realize that that’s exactly what it was: a show. Hawke’s wide smile was a mask she adopted to cope with the fact that she garnered so much attention and fame that she’d never really wanted.

He gestured for her to take a seat. “I take it your mother was somehow displeased?” he said, only slightly sardonically. On the few occasions Fenris had met her, Leandra Hawke always seemed to be displeased about one thing or another.

Hawke shot him a tiny smile as she sat at the table. “How did you guess?”

He quietly took a seat as well, and Hawke sighed. “No, she wasn’t pleased. Despite the fact that the estate is all she’s been able to talk about for months. When she’s not talking about…” She swallowed. “... about Bethany or Carver.” She stared blankly at the tabletop for a long moment, then laughed lightly and ran another hand over her smoothed-back hair. “I’m… so sorry, Fenris. Here I come bursting into your house and interrupting your day just to sit here like a golem...”

“It’s all right,” Fenris said. Hawke’s quiet company was hardly an imposition. But he did have to wonder why she’d come here in the first place.

Funnily enough, she seemed to read his thoughts. She ducked her head slightly and scratched her ear. “I just, um. I just wanted a little quiet. Somewhere to clear my head… Is that all right? I – I can go to Varric’s instead–“

Fenris leaned back in his chair and smirked. “You do recall that Varric lives at the Hanged Man, yes? And that Isabela lives there as well? It’s the perfect place to go if you were seeking a brawl or an outlandish story. A moment of peace…” He shrugged. “Not so much.”

She laughed. “True enough. I… well, if you don’t mind my staying for a while. You can – you don’t have to entertain me. I’ll stay out of your hair, I promise.”

“It is not a problem,” Fenris said. “As long as you truly don’t expect to be entertained. I will be busy practicing my choreography.”

She grinned at the long-standing joke. “I’m sorry, you expect me to not be entertained by that?”

“You won’t be,” Fenris said smoothly. “I will be in the back. No spectators permitted.”

She chuckled, and he rose from the table and pretended his heart wasn’t fluttering from the sound of her laugh. “Make yourself comfortable,” he invited. “As much as, er, possible, given the state of… things.” He glanced around the mansion, which had remained in the same filthy state since he’d first planted himself here just over a year ago.

Hawke, as usual, didn’t seem to mind the mess. She smiled gratefully at him as he stood. “Thank you, Fenris. Really. I won’t bother you, I promise.”

He vaguely waved a hand as he stepped away. “It’s no bother.” Then he wandered somewhat awkwardly away to the back of the house.

Now that Hawke was here, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. It was… strange for someone else to be here. Not that Fenris never had visitors; Hawke visited him not infrequently, and Varric and Isabela were known to stop by as well.

But this was different. Usually when Hawke came, he spent the time with her, conversing about magical theory and the few ways that magic could be safely used by those rare mages who had the control and the knowledge to properly work it. It seemed strange that he was just leaving her to her own devices.

Well, she is seeking peace. She shall have it, he thought. He returned to his bedroom and milled around aimlessly for a bit, then finally settled on sharpening his weapons.

Some time later, when suppertime was drawing near, Fenris emerged from the back of the house on the pretext of going out for something to ea. He was slightly surprised – and admittedly slightly disappointed – to see that Hawke wasn’t there.

Even more surprising, however, was the discovery that the foyer area was… tidy. Not clean, necessarily — scouring away the years of filth on the floors and windows would take serious elbow grease that Fenris had never had the wherewithal to invest. But the rusted armour and broken pottery that was normally clustered in the corners, and the papers and torn books that customarily sprinkled the floor, were all gone.

He warily eyed the semi-respectable-looking space. “Hawke?” he called.

“In here!” She was in the library, which contained shelves upon shelves of mildewed books, and Fenris wandered over to see what she was up to.

He poked his head in the door. Hawke was crouched on the floor with her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and there was a basket of broken dishware and debris on the ground in front of her.

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Are you… why are you cleaning?”

She looked up and brushed a stray strand of hair back toward her bun. “Oh, just keeping my hands busy,” she said. Then her eyes widened. “Is that all right? I didn’t think to ask…”

“It’s… it is fine, I suppose,” he said, but he was feeling a bit nonplussed. She didn’t need to clean this house. It was a magister’s mansion. It didn’t deserve the care that she was showing it now by tidying the filth that filled it.

“Oh Maker, I’m so sorry,” she blurted. She rose quickly to her feet, and Fenris watched with some alarm as her cheeks went red. “I should have asked before I started going through your things, how rude of me–”

He stepped into the room. “Hawke, it’s all right,” he interrupted. “They’re not my things. I don’t… You are free to go through it as you see fit. I’m simply surprised to find you cleaning.”

She shrugged, and Fenris watched as the tension slowly left her shoulders. “It helps me think,” she said. “Besides, I figured it was a good cause.” She smiled slowly at him. “I hate to tell you this, Fenris, but your house is a bit of a pigsty.”

He scoffed. “You think so? I think it has a certain macabre charm.” He eyed the desiccated remains of a mouse that were lying pitifully beside a pile of rust-eaten nails and bolts, then looked at her again. “Besides, it is not my house.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Of course it is. You’ve lived here for more than a year uncontested. Perhaps it’s not registered in your name at the Viscount’s office, but this house is as good as yours.”

He shrugged. “I suppose you would know best about these things, what with… well. Procuring your… the family estate.” He trailed off a bit lamely as he realized how tactless his words might sound, given her discomfort about the Amell estate when she’d first arrived here this afternoon.

Her smile softened slightly, and she dropped her gaze. “Yes, I suppose.” She crouched beside the basket once more and kept picking up the bits of torn paper and other junk from the floor.

Kaffas, he thought. He hadn’t meant to upset her. He stepped closer, then tentatively crouched down and picked up the broken shards of a teacup.

“Do you wish to speak of what happened today?” he asked. He deposited the shards in her basket.

She glanced at him as she continued to collect the trash on the floor, and Fenris quietly did the same until she dusted her hands off on her leggings. “Well. We have everything need to buy back the estate. It’s as good as ours, in fact,” she said. “I spent the whole morning at the Viscount’s Keep getting the papers signed, and you know how much I love the Viscount’s Keep.”

Fenris smirked at her dry tone. Then she sighed. “I took a copy of the papers home to show my mother, and…” She sighed. “Honestly, Fenris, I don’t know what I expected. But I didn’t expect her to start screaming at me that I was trying to buy her off for getting Bethany killed and Carver sent to the Wardens.”

Fenris stopped and stared at her. “That is how she reacted?”

“Yes,” she said. Her eyes were on the basket of trash, and she was idly toying with a mildew-spotted slipper. “Thankfully Gamlen stepped in.”

Fenris looked at her with even greater surprise. “He did?”

She released a little laugh. “Well, in a way. He snapped at her to stop complaining because now she had a big enormous house to live in, while he only had ‘this filthy hovel’. She started yelling at him instead, and I made my escape while I had the chance.” She waved vaguely at herself. “And here we are.”

“Here you are,” Fenris confirmed. “Cleaning a different filthy hovel instead.” He smiled at her and tossed a dirty crumpled handkerchief into the basket.

She chuckled and started tidying again. “Well, for what it’s worth, I like it better here. The company is far nicer.”

His belly jolted a little bit, and he glanced at her. She was smiling still, but her gaze was tracking across the floor for further trash.

Fenris surreptitiously cleared his throat. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order.”

She looked up quizzically, and Fenris gestured at her. “For obtaining the rights to the estate,” he clarified. “You have been working toward that for a long time. It is something you can call your own. You should be proud.”

She dropped her eyes and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s not mine really, I did it for–”

“Hawke,” Fenris said firmly. “It’s an achievement worthy of pride. Enjoy this moment.”

She finally met his gaze, and Fenris admired her storm-coloured eyes as she smiled. “All right,” she said softly. “I… I’ll try. It might be difficult with my mother’s harping, but I suppose that’s what earplugs are for.” She chuckled softly.

Fenris studied her for a moment as she continued to crawl around picking up garbage. Finally he rose to his feet. “I was going to go to the market for my evening meal,” he said. “Would you care to join me?”

She looked up with slightly widened eyes, then smiled and stood as well. “You know what, I didn’t realize I was hungry until you mentioned food. I would love to.” She sighed as she followed him toward the front door. “I should probably go back to Gamlen’s afterwards. I didn’t really say anything to my mother before I left the house. She might think I’ve gone and deprived her of her one remaining child.”

Fenris frowned. Her tone was light, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her face.

He reached for the doorknob, then paused. Hawke blinked at him. “Did you forget something?”

Fenris licked his lips. Before he could stop to think, he looked at her. “Stay here tonight.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, and Fenris’s ears instantly went hot. “I meant – as a break from your family,” he said hastily. “Rather than going back to Gamlen’s. I… there is plenty of room here. And… well, there are no other beds. But there is – you are welcome to have my bed,” he hurried on as Hawke continued to stare at him. “I will sleep on the chaise in the study.” He scratched the back of his overheated neck. “Unless you think your mother would send the city guard after you…”

“I would like that,” Hawke said.

Fenris looked her in the eye. Her cheek were slightly pink, but her expression was nothing but relieved. “Honestly, Fenris, I was trying to find some alternative to going back to Gamlen’s. My mother, she…” Hawke took a deep breath and rubbed her mouth, then smiled at him once more. “Truly, thank you. I just… thank you.”

He nodded. “You are very welcome,” he said, and he opened the door and gestured politely for her to precede him.

She smiled and stepped out the door, and Fenris released a slow breath of relief. Fasta vass, that had been awkward. He’d almost given the impression that he wanted… Well, not that he would be opposed to the idea per se, but not if she thought he was taking advantage. If ever he thought Hawke was similarly interested too, however...?

A flash of a thought entered his mind: his fingers twined in Hawke’s long dark hair, her chin tilted up to expose the pulse in her bare throat. A flush of heat filled his belly, followed by a flash of undeniable fear at the thought her seeing him similarly exposed.

“Fenris? Are you coming?” She adjusted her staff on her back and glanced askance at him over her shoulder, and he nodded and pushed the fanciful thoughts aside as he closed the door behind him.

Now was not the time to be thinking of such idle things. Fenris would have a houseguest tonight – something he had never before had – and that thought alone was overwhelming enough without the added element of his attraction to the woman who would be sleeping in his bed.

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

Hawke’s night at his house was uneventful – or for Hawke at least, it seemed to be. She insisted on sleeping in the study, and once she’d settled in for the night under Fenris’s one spare threadbare blanket, his keen ears detected only the slow and easy cadence of her breathing as she fell asleep.

Fenris, on the other hand, lay awake for hours after Hawke went to sleep. He stared vacantly at the ceiling, then at the glowing embers in his bedroom fireplace, then at the stacks of cobweb-covered books in the corners, and all the while he thought of the strangeness of having someone else in this house.

Fenris was accustomed to his solitude. Over the years of his constant flight from Danarius, he’d grown used to being alone; being alone was familiar and safe, and it afforded no chances for ambush or assault. The logical part of his brain knew that the woman sleeping in his study meant him no harm, but the feral, suspicious part of his mind couldn’t fall quiet, and Fenris spent most of the night wide awake.

He refused to show his tiredness to Hawke the next morning, however. When he emerged from his bedroom the to find her dressed and reading a book at the table, he straightened his posture and hoped he had none of the tell-tale dark circles that often accompanied a night of lost sleep.

“Hawke,” he greeted her with a nod. “I would offer you some coffee, but the kitchen is remarkably bare.”

She smiled up at him as he approached. “I noticed that,” she said. “I wanted to make you some coffee, but there’s not even a single bean in the pantry.” She tilted her head. “You don’t cook at all?”

“I can,” he said. “I haven’t done so here, however. I have barely touched the kitchen in this house, truth be told. I toast bread sometimes in the fireplace in my sleeping quarters.” He tugged idly at his gauntlets. “Are we ready to go out?”

He met her eyes, then raised one eyebrow at the soft expression on her face. “What is it?” he asked.

She dropped her eyes to the table and smiled, then shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, but her smile broadened until she laughed. “You’re such a bachelor.”

He smirked. “You are not wrong. I am, in fact, a bachelor.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” she said. She lifted her staff from the floor beside the table and racked it on her back as they left the house. “Thank you for having me, Fenris,” she said softly. “It was refreshing, honestly. It’s so quiet and peaceful at your house. And that chaise is far more comfortable than my pallet at Gamlen’s.”

Fenris nodded as they strolled through Hightown. An idea was brewing at the back of his mind, and he chewed his tongue as he considered the wisdom of it. He probably shouldn’t share it; through no fault of Hawke’s, her mere presence in his house had given him one of the most uneasy nights he’d had since his arrival in Kirkwall. Thus, the idea at the tip of his tongue was a foolish one, and one he should most certainly keep to himself.

He opened his mouth. “You are welcome to say as long as you need,” he said, then bit the inside of his cheek.

She looked at him in surprise. “Really? You’re certain it’s not an imposition?”

He shoved aside his own misgivings and shook his head. “Not at all.”

She smiled. “Maker’s breath, that’s… so kind of you. Thank you, Fenris. I’ll find some way to pay you back, I promise.”

He waved her off. “It’s all right, Hawke, there is no need.”

She tilted her head. “Please, Fenris, call me Eris. It’s…” She sighed softly. “Everyone here calls me Hawke. It would be nice if my friends called me by my actual name. You know, in case I forget I have one.” She smirked.

Friends. Something jumped in his chest at the word, and he mentally scolded himself for being so juvenile. It was certainly fitting for her to consider him a friend. They had known each other for over a year now, after all.

He nodded slowly. “All right,” he said. Then he hesitated. Her name hovered there on his tongue like the first drop of a fresh-pressed glass of cider, and Fenris took a deep breath.

“Eris,” he said, and the smile that lit her face was as dazzling as the sun.

Later that evening, after a long and wearying trip to the Bone Pit, Eris returned to his house with him, and Fenris was bemused when she segued straight into tidying the study. She seemed determined to rid the mansion of the detritus that had littered its floors and corners since Fenris’s occupation, and he felt rather guilty simply watching while she worked.

And so it was that he began helping Eris to tidy the mansion he’d taken over in the wake of Danarius’s departure.

To Fenris’s great surprise, he grew accustomed to Eris’s presence quite quickly. He slept poorly again during the second night of her stay, but less poorly on the third. By the time Eris had been staying with him for a week, he was sleeping almost as well as he had before she’d ever come to stay. Two weeks after her first night in the mansion, he had stopped feeling twitchy about her nightly presence, and after three weeks, he found it odder when Eris wasn’t here than when she was.

With each day that Eris remained, the mansion became cleaner. Every evening when they returned from their daily adventures, she chipped away at her self-imposed task of clearing the detritus room by room, and when the clutter was cleared, she moved on to scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees. The sight of Eris washing the floors so diligently raised an odd writhing feeling in Fenris’s gut, and when he first saw her doing it, he had to retreat to the back room to calm his agitation.

It took him some time to figure out why he felt so uneasy. A large part of it was guilt; if he’d taken the time to clean this blasted house at any point in the past year, Eris wouldn’t be crawling around on the floors doing it herself. But there was a reason Fenris had always refused to clean the mansion: this was a magister’s mansion, and the idea of being on his knees in the property of a wretched Tevinter mage for any reason whatsoever made his skin crawl.

Eventually he emerged from his bedroom and watched Eris cautiously as she cleaned her way from the library into the main foyer. She didn’t look displeased or hard done by as she wrung the soapy water from the rag back into the basin. In fact, she looked quite… happy.

Fenris slowly approached her, and she smiled up at him as he stopped at the top of the stairs. “All right?” she said. “No dancing tonight?”

He smiled faintly at her. “Not tonight, no.” He watched her in silence for a moment longer, then slowly descended the stairs and dubiously eyed her basin of soapy water.

She wiped down one ornate pillar of the stairwell banister, then raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure you’re all right?”

He idly rubbed his earlobe for a moment, then dropped his arms to his sides. “Do you have another cloth, by any chance?”

“Yes, I have a whole pile here,” she said, and she gestured at the table. “Why…? Oh.” Her eyes widened as Fenris approached the table and reached for the cloths, and she rose swiftly to her feet. “Oh, Fenris, don’t,” she said hurriedly. “I’m – I wanted to do this for you! If I’m going to stay here, I thought I might as well…”

It was too late. Fenris had already selected a cloth, and before he could change his mind, he was dipping it into her bucket of water. “I will help,” he said. “It is… my house, after all.” He sat on the stairs and started carefully wiping down the next pillar of the banister.

“Well, if you’re certain,” she said. “Stop whenever you like, though. This is my new pet project. I can’t have you finishing it for me.”

He looked up at her. Her smile was broad and her tone was warm, and as Fenris wiped multiple years’ worth of grime from the banister post, he thought that maybe – just maybe – he could see the potential in this place.

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

Weeks continued to slide by as Eris and Fenris lived peacefully in the mansion together. They spent their evenings together, cleaning and talking until late into the night before retiring to their separate rooms, but Eris spent most of her days arranging for the restoration of the long-unoccupied Amell mansion and eventually moving her mother into the newly-renovated property. Fenris knew she was planning to move into Amell estate herself, but she hadn’t yet told him when she was going to officially make the move, and he didn’t want to ask, because he couldn’t deny the truth: he was enjoying Eris’s company.

Fenris had grown accustomed to her presence. During the past few months of her living here, her quiet footsteps had become familiar to him, and the subtle apple fragrance of her shampoo was a comfort. On the evenings when she returned to the mansion late after having spent extra time with her mother, the mansion felt oddly quiet without her, and the return of her smile and her calm and measured voice felt akin to rekindling the fire in his bedroom on a chilly night.

Then came the morning when Fenris awoke to an unusual and overwhelming scent in the air.

He was disoriented at first, and the smell initially alarmed him: it was decadent and rich, and the last time he’d smelled anything this rich was in the Imperium, while kneeling at Danarius’s side with his wrists in chains.

He dragged in a breath and forced himself properly awake. No, he thought fiercely. He wasn’t in the Imperium anymore, he was – this was Kirkwall, not Tevinter. And he wasn’t in Danarius’s cursed house, he was…

He was in his own house. With Eris. So that must mean…

She was cooking. Eris was cooking in his house.

He sat up in bed. It smelled like bacon and toast, and the full-bodied bitter scent of coffee, and… how was Eris cooking? He wasn’t aware that she’d fully cleared the kitchen. He wasn’t aware that the kitchen was even equipped with pots and pans and the like. It was as he’d told Eris before: he’d hardly done more than glance at the kitchen to ascertain that it was as filthy and rundown as the rest of the house.

He padded silently through the house and closer to the source of the savoury fragrance that permeated the air. By the time he reached the threshold of the kitchen, his mouth was watering, and he was feeling more bemused than ever.

Eris was bustling about near the hearthfire with a spatula in one hand and a spoon in the other. She seemed to be juggling three different items over the cookfire: she stirred a pot of water containing eggs with the spoon, and she pushed some rashers of bacon around a pan with the spatula, and four small loaves of elvhen bread were speared on the toasting fork and balanced carefully away from the direct heat.

She flitted over to an odd metal contraption on the table and adjusted the lid, then looked up and met his eye. “Fenris! Good morning!” she chirped. She waved for him to come in and sit at the freshly scrubbed kitchen table.

He slowly made his way into the kitchen. “You… this is… you’ve been busy this morning,” he remarked.

“Yes,” she said. She smiled at him as she lifted one part of the metal contraption, then poured its contents into two small bowls, and Fenris inhaled slowly: it was coffee, dark and thick-looking coffee that smelled both bitter and sweet.

She picked up a small ceramic bowl from a shallow pan of water, then spooned up a dollop of the contents and dropped it into each cup of coffee, and Fenris’s eyes widened. It seemed to be cream of some kind, a fluffy and cloudlike cream that dissolved the instant it touched the surface of the hot beverage.

She slid one bowl across the table to him. “It’s a special recipe of Isabela’s,” she told him, and she lifted the other bowl. “Cheers,” she said happily. “Or… what’s that Tevene word again?”

Fenris carefully lifted his bowl. “Benefaris,” he said, and he took a sip.

The creamy coffee washed over his tongue, bitter and rich and full, and a rush of saliva filled his mouth at the intensity of the flavour. He savoured the coffee on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, then raised an eyebrow at her. “What… what prompted all of this?” he said. He waved vaguely around the kitchen.

“My mother gave me the idea,” she said. She returned to the hearthfire and removed the pot of eggs from the pan, and with a soft whispered word of magic, she drew some energy from the fire and converted it to cold to chill the pot of eggs. She placed the pot on the table, then flipped the bacon while she continued to speak. “When I was having supper with her last night, she mentioned how she used to make full Fereldan breakfasts for my father on special occasions, especially when they were first married, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. We didn’t have the full thing very often when I was a child because they’re so filling, you see, but…” She turned and beamed at him. “I wanted to make you one.”

He stared at her. “Me? Why?”

“To thank you, of course!” she said. She removed the toasting fork from the heat and carefully placed the elvhen buns onto a plate. “I wanted to thank you by cleaning the house, but you ruined that by helping me.” She gave him a cheeky little smile. “So when Mother mentioned doing this for my father, I just…” Her cheeks went slightly pink. “Not that you’re… well, it’s just to thank you. And, well, I thought you could have a meal that you’d enjoy.”

Fenris didn’t miss the parallel she had drawn. To be making him the meal that her mother used to make for her father… A silly little jolt of pleasure trickled through his chest at the thought.

He forced himself to ignore it. She likely hadn’t meant it that way, if her apparent embarrassment was anything to go by. “What do you mean, a meal I would enjoy?”

Her gaze grew slightly cautious as she slid the bacon from the pan onto the toast-laden plates. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you eat rather quickly,” she said carefully.

He frowned slightly. “Yes.”

She bit her lip, then fell silent for a moment as she placed the eggs onto makeshift little cups to hold them up. She carefully cracked the top off of one egg each per plate, then sliced a tomato onto each plate and slid one plate across the table toward him.

She picked up two small bowls of salt and pepper – both of which Fenris hadn’t realized were in the house – then set them beside his bowl of coffee. “I… don’t want to assume, but I can guess why you’re such a fast eater without you telling me,” she said gently. “I just figured… you deserve a nice lazy breakfast without… worrying about how quickly you have to finish it.” She sprinkled a little salt and pepper on her first egg, then lifted a thickly-buttered elvhen bun. “There’s more where that came from, too, if you’re still hungry after.” She took a bite of toast.

“No,” Fenris said. “I… I’m sure I won’t be.” He stared at the soft-boiled eggs and perfectly crisped bacon and golden toast on his plate, all garnished with the bright red splash of tomato. It was more food than he’d ever eaten in a single sitting. It was far more food than he would receive in a whole day during some of his worst days in Tevinter.

He picked up the tiny spoon that Eris had set beside his plate, then stared at his meal for a moment more. Then Eris put down her bread and pointed at his egg. “That’s for the soft-boiled egg,” she said. “Have you–?”

He swallowed the lump that was swelling in his throat. “I’ve had a soft-boiled egg before, Eris,” he drawled. It may only have been once before, when Danarius had condescendingly foisted his leftovers on him, but still.

“Of course,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks started to flush as she picked up her fork and began haphazardly cutting into her bacon. “Stupid question. I’m sorry.”

Fenris softened. “Don’t be,” he said. “This is… exceedingly kind of you.” He carefully dipped the spoon into the egg and watched as the yolk promptly overflowed onto his plate, then picked up a piece of bread to wipe it up.

She swallowed her bite of bacon and smirked at him. “Me, exceedingly kind? You let me move into your mansion for months without complaint. This is nothing compared to how kind you’ve been. I should make you a meal like this every week from now on.”

Fenris licked a bit of yolk from his thumb. “I don’t know if my stomach can handle this much decadent food every week.” He glanced at her, then tilted his head. “I am joking, Eris.”

She relaxed and grinned. “Oh. Oh good. So… shall we call it a date, then?”

He glanced at her. Her cheeks were turning pink again, but stormcloud-coloured eyes were bright with hope, and the swooping in his belly was more than just hunger.

He smiled and dropped his eyes to his food-filled plate, then looked her in the eye once more. “Yes. It… let us call this a date.”

She grinned, then bit her lip and ducked her head in that charming way of hers, and Fenris smiled as he cut into his bacon. The meat was a perfect compliment for the creamy eggs, and the bite of the coffee cut through the fat. Fenris took another bite and enjoyed his breakfast just as much as he enjoyed Eris’s smile.

For the first time, he was sitting in the kitchen as somebody’s equal – as somebody’s friend.

For the first time, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the wafting scents of the breakfast they savoured, this mansion in Kirkwall felt like home.

#fenris #fenris fic #gift fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femHawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

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shadowglens · 5 years ago

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3, 18, 25, 27, and 88 for your sidesteps! (and a bonus fran maybe?)

3. what is the meaning behind their name? do they have any nicknames?

lana— “handsome, cheerful”. that’s ironic. she chose chang as her surname because of her ethnicity; she assumed it would fit, would blend in.

emma— “universal”. she saw it in on a sign and liked it. the surname lamb was a self-deprecating inside joke with herself, a lamb sent to the slaughter. she escaped the abattoir once, though. she can do it again. she will do it again. she’ll burn that abattoir to the ground, one day.

taylor— “tailor”. they liked the thought that they could be named for an occupation as simple as tailoring, as easy and soft and gentle as taking materials and watching them become something else. the transformation. brown was for their eyes.

fran— “free man”. it was an old family name that leandra insisted on using, because her first born may not have the amell name but she’d still have some connection to the family.

18. what languages can they speak? where did they learn these languages?

lana— she’s fluent in english and mandarin, and knows basic spanish from ortega.

emma— english, spanish, italian and french. the farm wanted her for international espionage.

taylor— mostly just english, although they can fumble their way through simple conversations in japanese and mandarin too.

fran— she knows common, but grew up also learning orlesian with leandra for the thrill of it mostly, neither of them realising how helpful that would be in the future when she’s ruling a city state. she also knows a bit of tevene from fenris and her studies, although she’s nowhere near fluent.

25. what is their biggest flaw?

lana— her need to self destroy, and as a result destroy the people around her with the collateral. she can’t let herself be happy, can’t let herself heal or get better without taking a knife or sledgehammer or lighter to herself and burning it all to the ground again. the constant battle up a hill that she keeps purposely falling back down.

emma— answered here.

taylor— their compulsive lying, and secrecy, and paranoia in their own skin. opening up is hard, like prying open a freshly-healed wound, and they’d rather avoid it all together. that, combined with the fact that they’re more comfortable in their puppet eden’s skin than in their own. it’s one thing to manipulate and take advantage of someone, but only a coward does it wearing another’s face.

fran— her pride. her selfishness. her arrogance.

27. what is their biggest strength?

lana— answered here.

emma— she’s a good listener. maybe its the years of training on how to pick up vocal tells without her telepathy in case of dampeners, but she’s good at reading people and really listening to them. usually she’s using it for nefarious means, but if you’re one of her very few almost-friends, then she’ll make sure you’re heard, make sure you know she’s listening.

taylor— honestly don’t know. i’m coming up blank. i’ll get back to this later rip.

fran— if you need her help, and she cares for you, there won’t be any hesitation. she’ll throw herself into harms way without a thought. she’s selfish to a lot of people, but for her friends, she’ll turn up.

88. do they have an accent?

lana— she’s got a smoker’s voice, a bit raspy and cough-edged. a clear west-coast american under it, though.

emma— she sounds closer to canadian than american, a bit softer and quieter. a pretty voice.

taylor— their voice is rough, a bit deeper than normal, like someone took a knife to their vocal cords and fucked them up a bit. nothing pretty about it. american.

fran— it’s a refined british in my head, like that of ferelden royalty. gives off an air of authority and wealth, of being a noble-bred girl, but with the slight rasp of growing up in backwater alleys.

#oc tag #mollymaukerie #ch: lana chang #ch: emma lamb #ch: taylor brown #ch: frances hawke #thanks kite

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timehealsfanfictionbka · 5 years ago

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Time Heals.....Chapter Thirty

“You did what!” Leandra exclaimed.

Robyn huffed as she sat down at her desk, “I sent him home.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because he got on my nerves.”

“Or he made you horny.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Robyn, you had him. So he wanted to touch a little bit, big deal.”

“Huge fucking deal. I’m not some back up plan that he can just fuck and run off when he’s done.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself because who even said that’s what he would do.”

“That’s clearly his m.o.”

“Robs, it’s been eight years. How long are you gonna hold that night against him?”

“I’m not holding anything against him.”

“But you are. We know how much you love him and how much he loves you and I’m not saying that you should’ve slept with him but you overreacted.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Had anybody else said what he said, you would’ve laughed it off. Instead, with Chris, you get royally pissed and kick him out even though he said he was just joking. The man just touched your thigh, something you normally would’ve just brushed off or just popped him back.”

Robyn sighed.

“What is going on with you?”

“I don’t know. I feel like everything is just moving so fast.”

“Everything like what? You haven’t done anything now that you haven’t done before unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”

“No, there’s nothing else to tell you. I just- I don’t know.”

“Robyn, you know. What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna get hurt and I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Who said he’s gonna hurt you?”

“Who says he won’t?’

“That’s not something specific to Chris. Anybody you care about has the possibility to hurt you, that’s life but you gotta take the risk at some point. Don’t get me wrong, he needs to get completely divorced before he really tries anything but you also need to relax. You’re overthinking and driving yourself crazy.”

“I’m not trying to do.”

“You’re not not trying to. I know this is a lot to deal with it but talk to Chris about it instead of lashing out and overreacting. You ruined a perfectly good evening for no reason.”

“There was a reason.”

“A reason that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. Right or wrong?”

“You’re right.”

“Thank you. Have you spoken to him?”

“No.”

“It’s been three days. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him, I just don’t know what to say to him.”

“Has he tried to call?”

“He’s texted a few times before I haven’t really answered.”

“Now he probably thinks you hate him.”

“He’s not that sensitive.”

“You never know. Call him.”

“Later.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“When you go back to work?”

“I’m at work now. I’m just taking a break.”

“He work near you?”

“No, he works in Houston where he lives.”

“And he used to just randomly show up to your job that’s a whole hour away.”

“Yea.”

“I see why his wife was so suspicious. Ch….that man is in deep.”

“Whatever.”

“You ever gonna talk to him again?”

“Yea, I just don’t know when.”

“Now would be good.”

Robyn looked up at the sound of another voice and saw Chris standing in her office doorway with a bouquet of roses, “what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to give you some time to not be mad at me but once I realized how many days had passed, I’d figured I’d chance it and come by.”

“How’d you get past security without them calling me?”

“I’m on your friends and family list remember?”

“Oh. Come in. You can have a seat.”

Chris walked in and sat the vase of flowers on her coffee table before sitting down on the couch. Robyn turned to end her facetime call with Leandra but noticed that she had already hung up. She turned back to Chris, “hey.”

“Hey. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It was just Leandra, nothing major. What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Work. THerapy. Kids. The usual. You?”

“Same.”

“You know I really was just playing around the other night. I wouldn’t have done that if I knew it would bother you so much.”

“Well, I kind of overreacted.”

“You had good reason. I crossed a line and can admit that.”

“It wasn’t really a line to cross. You had no reason to expect me to freak out like that. You didn’t do anything that you hadn’t done before.”

“True but-”

“Chris, things are just starting to get complicated for me.”

“What you mean?”

“The hugs, holding hands, all that stuff gets to me and I just-”

“I can stop if you want. I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, it’s just I’m comfortable and I tend to revert back to how we always were, you know?”

“I don’t feel pressured, I feel-”

Chris stood up to sit on the edge of her desk, “you’re scared.”

Robyn nodded her head, “there’s so many loose ends and I really don’t know where this is going but I don’t wnat it to be anything like where we’ve been.”

“I know. My track record hasn’t exactly been the best but I don’t want you scared of me, Bajan. I can’t promise I might not mess up but I’d never hurt you on purpose and you know that.”

“I hope that. I don’t really know anything for sure. I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t appreciate the affection but I also can’t pretend that I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then you still have to deal with your divorce proceedings and I got sucked into that. It’s just too much right now.”

“If I just gave Tiana the alimony and canceled everything, would that make it easier?”

“Chris, that has nothing to do with me.”

“To avoid paying her, I’d have to bring you in the describe our relationship. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or inconvenienced. I’ll negotiate down so we don’t even have to do the deposition.”

“Chris, that affects you more than it affects me.”

“But if it’d give you more faith in me being serious about this then I’ll do it.”

Robyn stood up and Chris grabbed her hand, “I’m not leaving. Just going to close the door. Relax.”

Chris let her hand go and watched as Robyn went to close her office door then drew the blinds across the windows. She moved to stand in front of him and nudged a space between his legs for her to settle between them. She gently touched the side of his face before holding it between her palms, “I shouldn’t be doing this but at the same time, I-”

She didn’t get to finish her statement as Chris pressed his lips against hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed closer as the kiss deepened. Chris gripped the edges of the desk with his hands, knowing if he touched her this would go much further than just a kiss.

Robyn didn’t know why she did it, why she was doing it but she just knew it needed to be done. They had danced around this for a while and being in her office with him just triggered something in her. It could be the culmination of not having been around the opposite sex for eight years, him constantly going out of his way for her or just the fact she really wanted to kiss him. Regardless of the reason, it was happening.

She ran her hands through the curls at the back of his head as their midsections pressed closer together. Moments that felt like hours passed before she pulled back from him, resting her forehead against his. She rested her hands, one on each of his thighs and closed her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.

Chris blew out a breath, the minty sweetness of it tickled her nose as he spoke, “what was that for?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t kiss me like that then say you don’t know why you did it.”

“You actually kissed me.”

“You started it, touching all on my face. I’m sensitive, you know.”

Robyn giggled as she picked her head up and pecked his lips, “that is very true.”

“And you just did it again.”

“Sorry.”

Robyn stepped back and straightened her clothes, “talk about a weak moment.”

“Is that all that was?”

“Not sure what else to call it.”

“I got a few ideas,” Chris replied with a smirk. He watched as Robyn walked backwards until she settled against one of the walls of her office, “you ok?”

“Yea. A little embarrassed but I’m good.”

“Embarrassed? Why?”

“I just made out with you in my office. That’s not appropriate.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“But you did it.”

“And that’s why I’m embarrassed. I know better.”

“Sometimes knowing better just doesn’t hit the right spot.”

Robyn shot him a glare and Chris chuckled, “you gonna come back over here or you scared you gonna kiss me again?”

“I don’t need to come back over there.”

“You don’t want to sit down?”

“I have a couch.”

“You gonna mess up your outfit.”

“I already did messing with you.”

“You liked it”

“Shut up.”

Chris laughed, “You’re back being mean to me, things are back to normal now”

“I guess.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“What you mean?”

“You didn’t give me an answer. I can find a way to keep you out of the situation with Tiana, if that’s what you want.”

“I never wanted to be apart of it in the first place but since she brought me up, I’m in it regardless of what I want.”

“That’s not true. I can just pay her.”

“Do you want to?”

“No but I’ll do it if I have to.”

“Chris, I don’t want you to set yourself up for failure with this.”

“It’s either I pay or she’s gonna drag you deeper into this. I have no clue how this mediation crap is supposed to go and I am not looking forward to spending months in court over something so damn simple.”

“Mediation is for you to talk. Try and see it from her side and made a decision from there. You’re angry that she’s trying to make you out to be someone that you’re not and it’s affecting your judgment. You’re also trying to prove a point to me and that’s affecting your judgment too.”

“None of that is affecting my judgment.”

“All of it is affecting your judgment.”

“Well how about you come over and help me not be affected?”

“How about no? I’ve committed enough sins for today. Shouldn’t you be going back home soon?”

“Nope. I took off work early to try and get on the good side of this very beautiful, green-eyed woman.”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “well you’ve done that. Time to go.”

“I’m not too sure. I feel like you kissed me to get rid of me.”

“What? You think I’ma fuck you so you stay away forever?”

“I’m not opposed to it but no.”

“Chris, you aren’t good at this romance thing.”

“This isn’t a romance thing, isn’t that what you told me?”

“I really don’t like you right now.”

“Considering you kissed me twice, I’m pretty sure that statement would count as sending mixed signals.”

“You just can’t help being an asshole, can you?”

“Only an asshole because I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

“You eat lunch yet?”

“No. I don't go until 2:30.”

“Cool. I’ll be back then.”

“Chris.”

“Not arguing with you about it. I’ll be back. Get some work done.”

Chris grabbed one of the roses out of the bouquet he left on her coffee table and walked out of her office. Robyn slid down the floor and lightly tapped her head against the wall, “what the hell did I just do?”

#chrianna #timehealsfanfiction

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trvelyans-archive · 6 years ago

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when hawke cries, it sears.

she doesn’t cry often. whether she doesn’t let herself or she doesn’t need to, no one is sure, but when she does cry... it positively scorches.

hawke has never been close to her mother - fenris knows that much. but leandra’s death hurts hawke more than he thinks anything has ever hurt her. and he doesn’t know why. carver is still alive, and besides the fact that he’s a templar, he is the same person he’s always been, is he not? lainy even said that to fenris once. “he may be a templar, but he’s my little brother. he’s just... trying to find his place in the world. sometimes you have to dig through wet, sticky mud to reach the rich, hearty soil. that’s something the farmers always told us back in ferelden. it still stands, i think, in this case. it will take him a while, but he’ll reach the place he’s meant to thrive in soon. because the order... isn’t it.”

but perhaps even that small comfort is not enough.

she stays in the estate for days on end. fenris doesn’t visit. he doesn’t think she’d want him to. “i am the last person she’d want to see right now, dwarf,” fenris told varric earlier that day in the tavern.

“how do you think?” varric asked, his eyes flickering between the cards in his hand and fenris across the table.

“it would not help for her to see another person who disappointed her; who left her,” fenris answered. “i left her. returning now would be insulting.”

“i don’t think she’d think so,” varric replied. “i think it’d do a lot of good if you stopped by. it doesn’t even have to be a big thing. just make, i don’t know... an effort?”

“it’s too late,” fenris said dismissively, but varric threw his cards face-down on the table and crossed his arms over his chest.

“it’s never too late to comfort someone after their mother died, elf.”

fenris finds himself in hawke’s room before he even thinks of a good enough retort.

the sheets of her bed are burnt in sections - where there were once smooth, richly embroidered yards of red and gold silk and cotton, there are now crinkled patches of charred, black fabric and smudged gray ash. the air still smells like smoke and fire, and though there’s no light on in the fireplace, the ceiling glows orange, humming and fading yet never going out entirely.

and that’s when he sees hawke. sitting in front of the open window on a collection of thick pillows. there is a fire flickering in her hands, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that her palms are blistering - worst of all, he doesn’t know if she realizes it or not.

“fenris?” she looks up at the sound of his footsteps growing closer.

“hawke,” he murmurs worriedly, all reservation washed away at the sight of her hands. “you must stop that. stop this.”

“stop what?” she cocks her head at him.

he grabs her wrists gently in his fingers and pulls her hands up towards him. the fire winks out almost immediately, and left behind is tender, bubbling skin. few times has hawke ever injured herself with her magic - she has unreasonably good control over it. perhaps this behavior isn’t an accident.

he feels knots growing in his stomach, and he shakes his head.

“do not do this,” he whispers, letting one of her hands falling and running his fingers alongside the burned flesh. “do not do this.” if there is something else he can say, he doesn’t know what it is. but seeing this hurts him more than he can explain, and no other thought runs through his mind but this needs to stop. “do not, hawke.”

“do not what?”

“do this!” he turns her palm so she can see the wounds. “stop. i am... i am begging you.”

hawke stares back at him.

“do not hurt yourself, hawke.”

“i am not hurting myself.” she yanks her hands away from him and rubs the sore skin with a tender touch of her thumb. “i didn’t realize it was burning me.”

“you didn’t smell the enflamed flesh?”

she grunts. “i wasn’t paying attention.”

“so i can see.”

the two fall into silence as he sits down on the ground, ignoring her clear effort to move over on the pillows in order to make room for him. though she doesn’t conjure another flame, she clenches her fists and digs her knuckles into her knee. she often does that to keep herself awake when they’re journeying - she’ll punch herself in the leg or the arm, or ask varric to do it (although he never really does it hard enough and she winds up doing it herself anyway.) but this is different. she already looks wide awake. like she’s been awake for days and days.

fenris doesn’t look at her as he shuffles over onto the pillows.

“i...” sighing, he reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. “i don’t know what to say, but i am here.”

hawke glances over at him, but he fixes his gaze on the window above them - a bird soars by, swooping and swirling through the air. it takes all of the strength he can muster not to reach out and touch her in the ways he desperately wants. his comfort is not complicated - but that would be.

hawke draws her legs to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

“am i to blame?” she says quietly. “for... for not saving her?”

hawke carries guilt around with her like a knife to her throat held by her own fingers. sometimes it seems the only way she values herself is by her level of ability to complete tasks, and complete them well. while it makes her dedicated and driven, and tactically brilliant, if she fails, she marks herself as incompetent, useless, and it weighs her down for days.

this failure is one she will be reminded of with every waking breath, and fenris wishes there was something he could do about it. but there isn’t.

“i could say no, but would that help?”

she laughs bitterly.

“you are looking for... forgiveness,” he says uneasily, “but i am not the one who can give it to you.”

he thinks he hears her mutter a little ‘who can’ before she buries her face into her knees and starts crying.

fenris knows pain. he knows it as well as he knows his own shadow. and yet nothing he can think of is as bad as this. hearing hawke cry - no, not cry, sob - louder and louder and louder with every second until he can scarcely hear his own breathing is worse than any pain he’s ever felt. because there’s nothing he can do. he can kill slavers. he can push his memories of being danarius’s slave out of his mind as best as he can. but he can not save hawke’s mother. he cannot save hawke.

and for once, this time, even she can not save herself.

“hawke,” he whispers, unable to bear the thought of looking over at her. “hawke. hawke.”

“don’t... don’tdont’don’t... there’s nothing...”

she takes in a wheezing breath and lets it out immediately in a splutter, grinding her knuckles against her skull, shaking her head and shaking her head and shaking her head until she must be dizzy.

“hawke,” fenris repeats, eyes widening. “stop.”

“i can’t!” she whirls around, eyes blazing so strongly it’s like she’s lit them on fire. “i can’t f-fucking stop!” she screams, but her voice is hoarse from crying and trying to be loud strains it so much that fenris’s heart breaks at the sound. “i can’t fucking stop thinking about how i let her die! i let her d-d-die, fenris! my own mother! just like i let bethany die! and my father! i want to - i can’t - i just -”

her face screws up and she’s crying again, and fenris, unable to see any other way out, hurries to her and wraps his arms around her, drawing her in until she’s pressed against his chest. she sobs against the soft, dull metal, and bangs her fists against it, and screams, and all the while she twines her legs around his torso and squeezes him so tightly he’s about to burst.

“fenris, i... f-fuck, i can’t do this...”

fenris shuts his eyes. “you can, hawke.”

“no, no, no... not this time. not this time, fenris, just let me... let me...”

“no,” he says firmly. “whatever twisted request it is you are going to ask of me, i am not doing it. you will get through this.”

“how do you know that?” hawke mumbles, but a mouthful of spit and tears slur her words so that fenris strains to hear her.

“because... because...”

he sighs.

“because you are stronger than any storm and brighter than any sun,” fenris whispers, almost so quietly in the hopes she doesn’t hear it. “because... because... you’re hawke. you are... brilliant.”

hawke drags her face away from fenris’s chest and looks at him closely, an image of strength and bravery despite her swollen red eyes and running nose. “you’re... you’re sure?”

“i am.”

hawke tilts her head at him and bites her lip. “i am sorry you had to see me in this state,” she whispers, moving to climb off of him. “i’m... really, really sorry.”

“i am not,” fenris responds, holding her a little tighter for a moment longer. “i do not wish to know what you would have done if i hadn’t visited tonight.”

and then, regretfully, he lets her go.

when she stands, it is shaky, but focused. she fumbles with the hem of her shirt, pulling it down over her exposed hip, and shifts her weight from her left foot to her right. the smell in the air, no longer of raw flesh and smoke, is ripe and vile, and he realizes that hawke hasn’t bathed for days. but it is not his right to correct that, or tell her that she should - she knows well enough already, he’s sure. and then, as if on cue, her stomach rumbles.

it is time for her to get back in the swing of things, he sees her realize.

“you can leave,” she murmurs, bending down to pick up a pillow and tossing it across the room onto her bed. “i... i should be fine. i might go visit the hanged man.”

“that would be wise.”

he follows suit and stands up, looking down to see black streaks across his breastplate where her fists banged into him. frowning, he runs a lazy thumbnail over them. if it weren’t hawke, if he weren’t wearing armor, if he wasn’t so worried and hurt and confused, he’d be angry or alarmed or worse. but instead he is...

tired.

“i can buy you a new one,” hawke says, arms crossed over her chest. “i... we can go out tomorrow.”

“there is no need,” fenris replies, but hawke shakes her head.

“yes, there is, fenris,” she murmurs. “there is every need.”

he hesitates for a moment, his body caught somewhere between walking away and standing still, and hawke takes a step closer. “goodnight.”

he nods curtly at her as he always does when he bids her goodbye and turns towards the door. this is familiar - leaving hawke when her guard is let down and she is tender, wounded. it pains him that he remembers this feeling, but he does. it’s like a punch in the gut that keeps turning and turning.

“hawke?” he calls out when he reaches the door, not realizing he had spoken until he heard hawke’s response.

“yes?” she says, and there’s something hopeful in her voice that makes him shut his eyes.

“aveline is close by, should you need anything else.”

he hears her shoulders sag even though he doesn’t see them. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

fenris leaves the estate quickly, his brisk walk turning into a sprint the closer to his home he gets. he is desperate to outpace the sound of hawke’s weeping ringing in his ears with every step he takes, and yet, he never does. in fact, when he crosses the threshold and slams the door shut behind him, the emptiness and silence of danarius’s mansion makes it even worse.

he starts a fire in the fireplace and curls up next to it, hoping the sound of crackling flame will staunch the memory of hawke’s anguish searing fresh in his mind until it positively scorches.

#wow okay fuck sorry this is really sad #did i cry writing it? fuck yeah!#also i'm tagging this as. self harm tw JUST BECAUSE!!! TO BE SAFE!!!#self harm tw #lainy hawke #lainy x fenris #fenhawke #dragon age 2 #angst #my writing #my ocs #seriously though #this fic is really sad and not for the faint of heart

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royal-babey · 6 years ago

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Connections

Small ficlet I wrote for my Hawke twins.

Main POV is from Logan Hawke’s, but his sister Marian comes in near the end.

Featuring Leandra and Varric.

Logan Hawke was to blame for everything.

From the moment he and his twin sister Marian were born, they were the reason for all the misery in their family.

At least Mari was closer to their mother than Lo was.

When Bethany died, Leandra couldn’t even look at the twins.

When they got to Gamlen’s place after finally gaining entry to the city, she only spoke to Carver and Mari.

Lo was left out.

That’s okay though. He was used to being the unwanted child.

Then one night, Leandra got drunk. It had been a month and Gamlen had brought home some alcohol. Cheap ale but Leandra drank more than her fair share.

She turned on Logan quickly enough.

“You were her big brother, Logan! You were ssss’posed to protect her!...You let mm...My baby die...She should be here...If only you had been a good...A good boy for once…”

Logan was used to these rants. At least Leandra was usually sober when she started. But her being drunk...It made it sting more...She hadn’t said it, but Logan knew she meant “She should be here instead of you”...

And so, he snapped too.

He stood up from the small dinner table all of a sudden, and looked his mother straight in the eyes. Something he hadn’t been able to do since his father died.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a selfish bitch, who relied on other people to fix your problems, and actually took initiative for YOUR OWN FUCKING CHILDREN, BETHY WOULDN’T BE DEAD. DON’T YOU DARE BLAME HER DEATH ON ME. I DIDN’T KILL HER. DO YOU HEAR ME?! I. DID NOT. KILL. BETHANY. YOUR OWN NEGLECT DID.”

The palm that struck his cheek hurt, his mother's wedding ring cutting in and leaving a small bleeding wound. He was breathing heavily, knuckles white as he gripped onto the table.

His mother was seething, face like murder, eyes empty of any love or compassion that was previously there. Not as if it had ever been directed at him anyhow.

Logan fled the house, slamming the door shut behind him as he stormed out into the freezing cold night air. He isn’t sure how long he ran for, but when he stopped his lungs were burning and he dropped to his knees behind a building, trying to catch his breath.

Once he had, he brought his scarf up to his face.

And he screamed.

He screamed until anger and grief were no longer choking him. Screamed until fat tears were rolling down his flushed cheeks and he was shaking and shivering.

If anyone thought he was getting murdered, well, they weren’t very concerned.

Eventually he had to stop. He lowered his scarf from his face, and tired breathy sobs left his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to cry properly anymore. He was surprised he even had any tears left.

He felt a hand on his shoulder all of a sudden, and when he looked up, there was a dwarf with blonde hair pulled back and abnormally large crossbow attached to his back.

He nodded towards the inn, the hanged man Lo thought it was called, in offer of a drink.

Lo sniffed and nodded, and took the hand being offered to pull him back up on to his feet.

He was glad to be inside, even if the place smelled of ale, mead and stale piss. It was warm, the large fire roaring in the fireplace, and Lo was more than happy to take a seat in the corner of the room and rub his face with his scarf until he hoped the tear tracks were no longer visible.

When he removed the scarf again, the dwarf was back and sliding a tankard of..Something, across the table to him.

“Drink, it’ll warm you up.”

Logan nodded silently, not thinking to question it much. He slowly took it and rose the tankard to his lips.

Then immediately began coughing as soon as he took a sip, choking as the alcohol burned his throat and he slammed the cup back down on the table, causing a small spill.

The dwarf burst out laughing, then quite easily chugged his own.

Logan watched in horror and worry, and wondered how the dwarf wasn’t dead by the end of it.

He also had a few burning questions though, to accompany the burning in his mouth.

“Um...Who are you?”

The dwarf smiled and winked, then offered a hand for Lo to shake.

“The names Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong. What about you? It’s not often I find a kid in the middle of the streets. You can’t be, what...Older than fifteen?”

That brought a tight smile to Logan’s lips, and he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yet you still bought me a drink..? I’m twenty one, for the record. And my name is Logan...Logan Hawke…”

Varric raised an eyebrow at that. Logan had a feeling he recognised the name. But he never said anything. Instead, he pointed to the wound on Logan’s cheek.

“What happened there?”

Logan winced and looked down. The pain had long since numbed but thinking about it…

“...Nothing…”

He knew it was a lame excuse, vague if anything, but Varric didn’t push. And Logan was grateful for that.

He did plan to either ask another question or just drink his drink in silence, but the the tavern door is swinging open and there’s a familiar voice calling his name.

“Lo!”

He looks over and sees his sister racing towards him, and in a matter of seconds, she’s pulling him up out of the seat and hugging him tightly.

Lo just hugged her back, feeling tears begin to well up in his eyes again. He fought them back though, and rubbed at his eyes furiously once she pulled away.

Lo looked at Varric, who was smirking at the two of them, and Logan thought he better introduce them.

“This is my sister...Mari.”

Mari grinned and wrapped an arm around her brothers shoulder, giggling and winking at Varric.

“Before you ask; I’m the older twin. Thanks for finding my idiot brother. I was sure he had went and wandered off the docks or ended up in the Viscounts underwear drawer.”

Logan’s blue eyes widened and he turned to stare incredulously at his sister, who in turn just stuck her tongue out.

Varric chuckled and stood up, patting the both of them on their arms.

“Need directions back to your Uncles?”

Lo was confused for a few moments, wondering how Varric knew they were staying with their uncle, but then he remembered that Varric recognised his name and Gamlen isn’t exactly unknown in the city…

Logan shook his head.

“No thanks, I think we’ve got it. But um...Thanks for the drink.”

Varric smiled and shook his head, then offered them a piece of paper. Mari took it, Logan figured he could ask her about it later.

“No problem kids. Stay safe out there.”

They both nodded and replied with “We will” at the same time, and then Mari was dragging her brother out of the inn and back out in the cold. She did pull off her cloak though and throw it over her now very concerned brother.

“What are you…?”

“You’re freezing, and I feel warm anyway.”

Mari shrugged nonchalantly, and Lo just sighed as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself.

“Is she…?”

“She pretty much passed out straight after you left. Carver is looking after her. Gamlen said to give you some time….Logan?”

Logan make a small inquisitive noise, turning his gaze towards the ground and kicking a rock once it came within reach.

“...No ones angry at you...For what you said...In fact, I had to stop Carver from lunging at mother for hitting you...You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong…”

Logan just sighed quietly, shrugging. He was too tired to talk about this...It was comforting to know he wasn’t completely hated though..

“Thanks, Mari…”

His twin bumped shoulders with him playfully, and he looked up to give her a weak smile.

Whatever the morning brought would be hell he was sure, but at least for tonight he could rest easy.

There was still that note Varric handed them though…

Dear Hawke Twins.

My brother and his people have heard of the work you’ve done so far for the Smuggling group and mercenary company.

In eleven months time, we are planning a trip into the deeproads.

Hope to see you there.

Sincerely, Varric Tethras

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 4 years ago

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter Ten

“Ms. Robyn, would you do my hair for me?”

Robyn turned at the sound of the soft voice behind her, from her seat on the couch. Anesa was standing there clutching a Winnie the Pooh stuffed bear in her arms. Robyn smiled, “sure I can. When’s the last time you washed your hair?”

“The last time I was with my auntie so a long time ago.”

Robyn chuckled, “I guess we’ll need to start there then. How about you get two towels and meet me in the kitchen? I’ll grab all your hair stuff.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“No problem, Love.”

Chris stepped out of his bedroom when he heard music and a soft voice singing along with it. He walked slowly towards the living room then frowned when he noticed it was empty. Taking a second to think, he headed in the direction of the kitchen and stopped at the doorway to lean against the wall. He smiled as he watched Robyn carefully wash Anesa’s hair and sing along to the music coming from the speakers on the table. He tried to quietly enter the room but knew he had made noise when Robyn paused in her singing and turned to face him, ”Hey you.”

“Hey Beautiful. What you up to?” Chris replied as he walked over to the sink. Anesa was stretched out on her back on top of a blanket with a towel supporting her neck and her hair hanging over into the sink

“Just helping out. Anesa wanted her hair done.”

“Oh Nesa, you didn’t ask your Auntie when she picked you up?”

“She didn’t get around to doing it before she dropped me back off.”

“Oh ok. So what are you gonna do, Robyn?”

“It depends on what the Princess wants.”

“So Anesa?”

“I don’t know Daddy. Can you do braids?”

“I can do braids. We’ll see what we can come up with once I get your hair dried, ok?”

“Ok Ms. Robyn.”

Robyn finished washing her hair, wrapped it into a towel then set Anesa on her feet.

Chris sat on the couch opposite of Robyn, who settled Anesa on top of some pillows that were situated between her legs.

“You comfortable, Sweetie?” Robyn asked softly.

Anesa nodded as she pulled a blanket over her legs and held her teddy bear in her arms, “Ms. Robyn?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not? Do you not like children?”

“I love children, I just never got around to having any.”

“Do you want any?”

“I do but I am getting older so it might not be as easy as before.”

“Oh but you could still try.”

“That’s true. Why do you want to know this?”

“Well since you and my daddy are friends, if you have children then I can play with them and they can become my friends too.”

Robyn chuckled and gently rubbed Anesa’s head, “you’re a smart kid, Anesa.”

“Thank you. So what do you think?”

“I think that I will never say never but we’ll see what the future holds.”

“Ok. Daddy? Are you gonna have more kids?”

“Well Anesa, that would require having a woman in my life unless I adopt again.”

“Why don’t you and Ms. Robyn both adopt, then? Problem solved.”

Chris chuckled, “Anesa, it’s not always that simple. People have to be ready to adopt, it’s not always a simple process.”

“It’s not?”

“No, remember it took two years before I got the greenlight to adopt you.”

“Oh yea, that’s true.”

“Adoption takes time and it’s not the easiest in terms of paperwork and stuff. And not everyone is a baby when they’re adopted either.”

“Yea, there were a lot of big kids at the group home. They were there for a long time.”

“Do you remember much?”

“No, I just remember seeing a lot of kids bigger than me. The daycare lady sometimes had them help out with me.”

“Raising children in general isn’t simple because you’re dealing with human beings who don’t always need the same things.”

“Oh. Would you adopt again, Daddy?”

“Maybe in a few years.”

“Cool.”

Robyn smiled over at Chris as she started to part Anesa’s hair to start her style.

It ended up taking about two hours to braid her hair and Anesa was fast asleep in Robyn’s lap.

“You want me to take her?” Chris asked softly.

“Nah, let her sleep.”

“You know Anesa had a point?”

“What?”

“You definitely could adopt.”

“And you had a point, people have to be ready to adopt.”

“What makes you not ready?”

“I haven’t completely given up on the idea of having children of my own.”

“Adoption doesn’t require doing that anyway. What’s the fear?”

“I adopt then get pregnant at the same time. One baby is one thing, more than one at once? That’s like jumping in the deep end of the pool knowing I can’t swim.”

Chris chuckled, “that doesn’t necessarily have to be the case.”

“Chris, I am a single woman meaning I’d be a single mother. I’m not quite prepared for that journey.”

“Single parenthood isn’t as scary as people make it.”

“I’m not scared of it, it’s just not what I had planned for my life and I’m not in a position to want to change paths at this point, that’s all.”

“Understandable.”

“How do you do it?”

“What? Be a single father?”

“Yea.”

“The same way you do anything else, you just do it. Parenting is trial and error, you don’t and can’t know everything no matter what anyone tells you besides I do have some help so it’s not just me doing it all alone.”

“Is that what convinced the adoption agency?”

“My qualifications, my history and my income helped and the fact Anesa had immediately taken to me didn’t hurt too bad either.”

“Things have really changed then.”

“You can say that. It’s becoming less uncommon for single people to adopt which really does help children.”

“I can agree with that.”

“You’d be a great mommy, Robyn.”

Robyn smiled, “Thank you. I really appreciate you saying that. You’re doing a beautiful job with her.”

“I’m trying. Thank you for helping.”

“It’s just braids. Not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. You really didn’t have to”

“Well she asked.”

“You didn’t have to say yes.”

“I guess but she’s cute so it’s ok.”

“So what if I had asked?”

“Well you’re cute too so I guess.”

Chris chuckled, “so I’m just cute.”

“For now, yes.”

“And how do I move beyond cute?”

“Coming closer would be a good start.”

Chris smirked as he moved to sit next to her, careful not to disturb Anesa, “is this good?”

“Perfect.”

Robyn leaned her head on his shoulder and Chris kissed her temple, “I don't want to assume but are you staying the night?”

She glanced down at Anesa, “not sure I have much of a choice.”

“You always have a choice. It’s been long enough, once she gets this deep into sleep, not even an earthquake can wake her.”

“No, it’s ok.”

“I think she really likes you, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed. I appreciate it.”

“Appreciate it? You sound very out of it. Are you tired? I can move her to her bed.”

“No, I kinda like having her here, it’s comforting.”

Chris’s brow furrowed for a moment before he got up and left the room. Robyn absentmindedly brushed her hand over Anesa’s back as she waited for him to come back. Chris came back carrying two blankets. He sat them down then carefully moved the coffee table from in front of the couch. Shifting the pillows off the shorter end of the L shaped furniture, he pulled out the pull-out bed and prepared it for Robyn to sleep in it, “this should be a little more comfortable. Come on, I’ll put Anesa right next to you.”

“Chris, you don’t-” Chris gave her a look as he picked up Anesa and placed on top of the bed. He gingerly pulled her cover up to her neck then turned to Robyn, “would you like me to pick you up too?”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “No thank you. I can manage.”

Chris chuckled, “at least let me tuck you in.”

“Christopher.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.”

Robyn walked around to climb into the bed on the opposite side of Anesa, leaving some place for the young child to be able to move around. She reached for a blanket but Chris stopped her hand and spread it over her, himself. He sat down on the edge, “you comfortable?”

“I’m not a child, you know.”

“I know, doesn’t negate the fact I want you to be comfortable.”

“Yes Christopher, I’m comfortable.”

“Good. See you in the morning?”

“You’re not staying out here?”

“I’ll be on the other end of the couch.”

“You know there’s enough room.”

“I know but I don’t think it's a good idea for us to be that close with Anesa in the bed with us. No worries though, I’ll be right over there.”

“Chris, at least sleep in your bed. It’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable being able to wake up to you in some form. Don’t worry about me, I’m good.”

Robyn went to speak but yawned instead, “I guess I am tired.”

Chris brushed his hand along her cheek before leaning to kiss her cheekbone, the corner of her eye and her temple.

“Can never give me just one.”

“Even three isn’t enough but it gets the point across. Goodnight Robyn.”

“Goodnight Chris.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oooh Chris, you’ve filled out nice.”

Chris jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to see Robyn holding up her phone and Leandra’s face was on the screen, “you scared the shit out of me.”

Robyn and Leandra laughed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to be up. I thought you went into your room when I saw you weren’t on the couch.”

“It’s fine. I normally make breakfast on the weekends. Hi Leandra.”

“Hi Christopher,“ Leandra replied, “what you making for breakfast?”

“Eggs, toast and grits. How about you?”

“I’m going to brunch with Maxwell.”

“For all the dates y’all go on, you might as well get back together,” Robyn interjected.

“We’re talking about it but I don’t know yet.”

“Stop stringing that man along, Lele.”

“He’ll be alright. Well I’ll let you get back to your boyfriend.”

“He is not-” Robyn’s voice cut off as Leandra hung up the call. Chris smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, “don’t say a thing.”

“Not saying a word. Did you want something else to eat this morning?”

“No, whatever you make is fine, Chris.”

“Is Anesa still asleep?”

“Yea. She really does sleep like a rock.”

“I know my girl.”

“So...about last night.”

“What’s up?”

“The real reason you didn’t sleep in the bed with me.”

“I can’t be in a bed with you and not touch you.”

“Oh.”

Chris chuckled, “what did you expect me to say?”

“Definitely not that.”

“My honesty has gotten a lot better over the years.”

“I see. Before you would’ve at least pretended to play coy.”

“We’re grown. Play coy for what.”

Robyn shrugged.

“I want you, that has never changed or been in question. Pretending that I don’t, gets neither of us anywhere.”

“I can agree with that.”

“So...about last night.”

“What?”

“Did I earn my kiss yet?”

“Like I don’t know you kissed me in the middle of the night.”

“I knew you were awake.”

Robyn laughed, “I woke up as soon as I heard movement from the couch. At first I thought you were going to the bathroom or your room but then I felt some body heat above me. You could’ve woke me up.”

“Nah, I wasn’t trying to do nothing. I just wanted a peck.”

“You know it’s dangerous to kiss people in their sleep.”

“But I knew you weren’t really asleep, that’s why I hovered a bit to see if you were gonna open your eyes.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. I could see your chest moving but it was moving too fast for you to be asleep.”

“Whatever.”

“You wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Robyn.”

“Huh?”

“You wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?”

Robyn shrugged and Chris chuckled as he walked to stand in front of her, “what are you doing?”

“Giving you the kiss you wanted.”

“Last night though.”

“Last night was the kiss I wanted. Not the same thing.”

Robyn blushed as Chris tilted her chin up and gingerly placed his lips against hers. Other than his hand on her chin and his lips on her lips, none of their bodies touched. A few moments passed before Chris stepped back releasing her chin and her lips. Robyn ran her fingertips over her mouth as she waited for her mind to clear. Her eyes fluttered open and Chris was standing in front of her smiling, “you’re still standing here?”

“Was I supposed to leave or something?”

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“No Darling, that was real. I can do it again if-”

Robyn shook her head as she reached beside her for a stool to sit on, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Chris chuckled as he leaned a hip against the island, “you ok?”

“You can’t kiss somebody like that then ask that question. Too soon.”

“And here I was thinking I lost my touch.”

“Yea right. If there was one thing you didn't lack, it was confidence.”

“Well...you make me nervous, Robyn.”

“I make you nervous? Why?”

“Because it’s not like we don't know each other.”

“Well technically it’s been years, we don’t know each other.”

“As much as things change, a lot stays the same.”

“Well at the risk of inflating your ego, my attraction to you has not changed.”

“I was concerned that was the case.”

Robyn leaned into her palm, “really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I haven't been with anyone since we got divorced 7 years ago and you were concerned about me being attracted to you?”

“That doesn’t automatically translate to you still being attracted to me.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

Chris shrugged as he moved to stand in between her legs, “I just don’t like to assume.”

Robyn leaned back to look up at him and her mouth opened slightly. Chris’s eyes darkened as he stared at her, “I am really tempted to put my tongue back between your lips if you keep looking at me like that.”

Robyn went to speak when they heard a small voice behind them.

“Daddy, is breakfast done?”

Chris winked at Robyn before he turned to pick Anesa up in his arms, “Daddy got a little distracted so how about we go out for breakfast?”

“Can I get French Toast?”

“You can get whatever you’d like. How about you go get dressed and then we can get something to eat?”

“Can Ms. Robyn come?”

“It depends on if she needs to go home.”

“Ms. Robyn, can you come to breakfast with us?”

Robyn smiled and gently tickled her belly, “Anesa, Love, I would love to.”

“Yay!”

Chris kissed Anesa’s cheek and set her down on her feet. She rushed over to hug Robyn’s leg before running down the hall to her room. Chris turned to Robyn, “Do you really want to come?”

“Don't ask me that while looking at me like that.”

Chris laughed out loud then leaned forward to peck her lips, “I think Jessica has some sweats for you to change into.”

“Works for me.”

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

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