#and i do hope you eventually defeat that writers block as i enjoy your writing very much

[flamingredanon]

I’m honestly blown away with how much you can write, it’s impressive! Any advice on getting past writer’s block?

Thank you for the compliment.

As for writer's block, these are some of the ways I deal with it.

The biggest one for me is taking a break from whatever story I'm stuck on, no matter how long that break needs to be.

This might be me but trying to force progress on something you brain doesn't have ideas for is like trying to push a brick wall with your hands.

Sometimes I focus on something else like art, rereading books or favorite fics, watching something or playing video games, or I even write little side stories or what ifs for the thing giving me writer's block.

I also like browsing various general tropes tags on here (like I will literally just search up "tropes" or "writing prompt") and seeing if something pops up might inspire me to write, especially if you want to do something for a favorite ship or character.

Another thing I occasionally do is think about random scenarios involving characters or ships, like what if two characters met in different circumstances, or how far does one character's loyalty go or I just see a scenario and go "what if this happened instead".

Crossing over two favorite franchises is also a fun one.

One more thing I do is go back through any old wips or ideas and see if I get the spark to just randomly complete them or rework them for a different story.

[riddlesb1tch]

Never Alone

Rhysand x reader

summary: how you support Rhysand under the mountain

warnings: allusions to assault

a/n: I’ve had the worst writers block ever and because of that this isn’t the best thing I could’ve written but I figured write something at least to try and get out of it. hope you enjoy :)

You lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to conjure the beautiful Velaris night sky from remnants of memories you had from fifty years ago in the dull white paint of your room. You twiddled your thumbs where your hands rested on your stomach, counting the minutes until the door opened and your broken friend came in, seeking comfort and familiarity in your presence. That has been the routine for the past five decades. Every time Amarantha would use Rhys, he would seek you out afterwards, utterly disgusted with himself yet unable to do anything to prevent the abuse. 

Your heart clenched as you recalled the first time Rhys had sought you out after Amarantha was done with him. You’d never seen him look more haunted in his life, not even when he received the news of his mother and sister’s deaths, leaving you to imagine the absolute worst about what happened. He’d rejected your touch that night. Instead, he’d opted to sit on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and bawl his eyes out. All you’d been able to do was sit beside him, whispering soothing words of affirmation, distracting him to get the horrid memories out of his mind. Eventually, he’d fallen asleep but you stayed awake, ready to fight anyone who dared come in to disturb Rhysand. 

The memory seemed distant now. Rhysand had come a long way since then, allowing you to hold him while he cried. He had become a ghost of what he used to be, only a whisper of the flirty princeling you had met 300 years ago. Once you got out of here, you vowed to yourself to make that bitch pay for what she was doing to Rhys…and to you and every other soul unfortunate enough to be stuck here.

The door creaked suddenly and your eyes shot to the door to see a tall, hunched, no defeated, figure walk in. He padded his way to the bed, sitting down on the edge with hands folded in his lap. You sat up, opening your arms up to Rhys and he launched himself into your embrace. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and his arms went around your torso, holding on for dear life. He took in shaky breaths, exhaling softly when you held him close. His skin was warm, you noticed, likely from a bath he’d just taken. You knew he scrubbed his skin raw, trying to rid himself of her scent, her touch, in an attempt to rid himself of the whole experience. You stroked his arm gently, careful not to touch any bare skin. 

Over the years, you’d gotten Rhys to talk a little about what he went through nearly every night, and you both came up with some guidelines regarding what he was comfortable with. Touching the bare skin of his arms brought back traumatic memories so you were careful not to touch them, or let your nails anywhere near his skin. On several instances, Rhysand had come to your room with scratch marks on his biceps, and his back, as if done by an animal. So you were careful to not let your nails graze his skin. 

Rhysand clung to you, hands fisting your shirt behind your back as he pressed his face further into the crook of your neck. You knew he was crying, could feel the tears falling onto your skin, and all you could do was hold him tighter. Tears gathered in your eyes as you felt his pain and desperation in the way he held you. You gently stroked his hair before resting your hand on the back of his head. 

“You’re so strong, Rhys,” you whispered. 

He let out an anguished sound. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” he cried. 

If possible your heart broke even further. You pressed a kiss right below his ear, slightly rocking from side to side. 

“I know,” was all you could say. “I know, baby.” 

Rhysand sniffled, pulling back from the embrace to look at your face. Tears streamed down both your cheeks as you gave each other weak smiles of false hope. 

Seeing the look in his eyes, you scrambled for anything to say outside of this wretched place.

“Hey, you know, if my calculations are right,” you started in an attempt to distract him. “Today, 300 years ago is the first time we met.” 

That pulled a small but genuine smile from Rhysand, something your eyes had been begging to see for the past fifty years. 

“Really?” he asked and you nodded. “You remember our first meeting?” he asked. 

You chuckled, recalling the night your much younger and naive self went out for a walk along the Sidra. You sipped on your beverage while looking at the beautiful starry sky reflected on the surface of the river, contemplating dipping your hand into the water to see if you might touch a star. Suddenly, a bulky figure bumped into you, causing your drink to spill all over your clothes. 

“Yes, the idiot princeling who didn't know how to walk,” you flicked his nose playfully. 

“The arrogant princess who yelled at me,” he repeated back. 

“You deserved it really,” you shrugged. “You made me spill my hot cocoa. And it was good.” 

“No one but my father in my century of being alive dared to yell at me. And then came along you who so shamelessly called me a blind chicken.” Both of you laughed at the memory of the argument that followed which ended with Rhysand apologizing and the two talking over a cup of hot cocoa. 

As the laughter died down, the sad looks on both your faces returned. You leaned forward, resting your forehead on Rhys’ as your hand went to the back of his neck. He clutched your other hand tightly as if trying to tether himself to reality as he shakily exhaled. 

“We’ll get through this, Rhys,” you muttered. “You’ll get through it. And I’ll be here however you need me. Always,” you promised.

Rhys nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”  

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead before lying down. Rhys laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest, one hand firmly around your waist, the other clutching your hand while the both of you desperately clung to the familiarity and sense of temporary safety the other provided. Tomorrow would be a new day when you’d repeat this cycle. Perhaps tomorrow would be better, with less pain for both of you or perhaps it would be worse. But one thing would always stay constant: you’d always be there for each other.

Masterlist

[bluiex]

To try to get over my writer’s block, I’ve decided to write some drabbles of random AUs of mine. Which brought me back to a superhero AU of mine that I enjoy.

Most needed context is that the hero organization isn’t exactly the best kind of people. They defeat villains mainly to get rid of them, not help the people. Scar is the exception to this. Also in this, Grian got kidnapped and experimented on/given powers. With these powers he decides to become a vigilante and take down the heroes. Everyone thinks he’s dead (except Scar, but Scar doesn’t have any idea how to find him). Grian knows Scar is Hotguy, but Scar doesn’t know Grian is Xelqua (his vigilante identity).

—————

HotGuy draws his bow, eyes laser focused on Grian. It’s a horrible twist of fate, he thinks, to have his lover stare at him with such venom in his eyes. Grian knew this day would come, where he’d eventually face Scar, but it didn’t make it any better.

“What’s wrong Xelqua?” Scar says, voice painfully neutral. “Why so silent? My colleagues all say you’re so cocky, what happened?”

It’s easy to be cocky to people you don’t like, Grian thinks bitterly, not your own partner. He’s also worried that Scar will recognize his voice, not that he wants to admit that. He has to anyways, “nothing’s happened, I’m just in the middle of something.”

“Something nefarious, I’m sure,” Scar replies, stance steady, bow still drawn. Grian’s eyes don’t leave it.

“I’m a vigilante, not a villain.”

“You’re trying to take down the hero organization, that’s what villains do.”

“It would, if the hero organization was actually good,” Grian counters. “The heroes don’t care about the people they’re not true heroes.” Grian huffs out a breath and shakes his head, he’s had this argument with Scar too many times before, and that was when Scar trusted him. “Now, I have business to attend to,” Grian says before he could respond. “I’ll see you around, HotGuy.”

Before HotGuy can react, Grian creates a burst of bright light with his magic, taking to the skies immediately after. He hears a surprised shout as he takes flight, soon followed by the sound of an arrow whizzing by after his partner recovers. Grian has already gained too much distance by then, getting safely out of reach. He heads back to the lower class district with a grim frown on his face. He’d been hoping to avoid HotGuy for longer, but he should have known better, Scar’s taken his job as a hero way too seriously. Grian supposes it makes sense, he is the one true hero in this city.

~ ~ ~

Scar isn’t doing so well after his encounter with Xelqua. It was his first encounter with the vigilante who was very different than the others described him to be. Scar should know better then to trust every word said by his colleagues, but it’s hard to not sometimes.

Of course Scar’s problems has less to do with the vigilante himself, more with what he said. What sounded so similar to another avian’s words. Although a lot of things reminds him of Grian.

Scar forces himself to keep himself presentable the rest of his time working. He can’t show any more weakness to them, even if he wants nothing else than to hide in a corner to have a breakdown. But he’s a popular hero, he can’t be seen falling apart. Especially over something so “small.”

His facade dissolves the moment he steps inside his home. Home… Scar looks around at the quiet place. It doesn’t feel much like home anymore. Too quiet, too… empty.

Scar was already thinking too much about Grian earlier, so seeing his partner’s continued absence hits like a truck. Scar drags himself over to the couch and falls face first onto it, burying his head into a pillow.

Void, he misses Grian.

It gets worse after every dead end and faulty lead Scar finds. If only he could get the higher ups to help him, but they already decided he’s dead. Grian can’t just die, it’s impossible to kill him, Scar’s pretty sure.

Scar is also pretty sure that Cub is hacking into the hero organization’s system to help gather info, but he’s resolutely ignoring that fact. Especially because they refuse to help him.

OH I LOVE THIS AU IDEA. Grian being abducted and forced powers onto him.. Hating the hero organization. Perfect perfect perfect. And I'm so happy to see yo writing again <333 I love your writing so much

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Storm

And it all comes crashing down.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn

word count: 4.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of The Calm

Warning: uhh...very mild violence and blood?? LOL

A/N: okay woww....it’s uhhh IT’S BEEN A WHILE. And honestly, it has been a mixture of....quarantine burnout (is that a thing?? idk this quarantine kinda hit different), wrestling with scene placement, writer’s block, re-writing chunks of stuff, being indecisive about where to end the chapter (ngl i had some pretty killer cliffys LOLL)  i am SO sorry it took so long!! 😫 (the value in having an ✨outline✨) i know i might sound like a broken record, but i cannot stress enough of how thankful i am to your patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜💜 i hope you enjoy this chapter in spite of how short it is 😭😭😭😭

(Also yes, that scene is 100% inspired by that gif even though i had already planned for it to happen; the gif helped me paint a better picture 🥰)

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady​ @youmaiiwasherebeforeu​

The chase more or less ends with Jimin hauling you up over his shoulder, only to dump you into the shower shortly after. You get him back for man handling you when, as soon as he flicks the shower on, you drag him in with you, clothes and all.

He had sighed, defeated, muttering how much of handful you are but as much as he gripes, he still helped you wash your hair with the barest hints of a smile on his lips. You were more than happy to return the favour, though you don't think your scalp massage was as good as his. Eventually, he drags the both of you out before your fingers turn pruney.

“You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your place?”

You nod your head as you're slipping on your shoes by the front entrance.

“I'll be fine Jimin. It's still day time so nothing will happen.” You assure, finally glancing up to his figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed and dressed in a new pair of black slacks and a silk loose blouse, its sheen like the colour of the ocean under a blue moon. You straighten, walking the few steps to stand closer to him until you pick up the faint smell of his body wash – warm cinnamon spice, the one that lingers on your skin as well. “Besides, I have your...emergency contact so there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“You say that, but you promise you'll actually use it right?”

The question makes you inadvertently inhale, the reluctance barely concealable in that breath of air but you give in, meeting his eyes as you say, “I will. I promise.”

Jimin doesn't say anything for a moment, watching you with those dark irises until you see the little tension on his face relax with the slight sagging of his shoulders. He smiles, “Good.”

Your mouth twitches at a corner and you can't help yourself. You reach up on the tips of your toes, taking his face into your hands to land a quick peck on the centre of those pillowy pink lips.

“Then you have to promise me you'll focus on getting better – don't strain yourself over small things like this.”

He blinks, eyes large at your burst of forwardness, hands that had moved instinctively to hover finally nestle themselves on your waist. You hear him huff through his nose after a while, expression smoothing over before your vision is blurred by his figure leaning down to press a proper kiss to you in return as he sneakily asks, “What if I asked simply because I wanted to spend more time with you?”

Now it's your turn to gape, breath caught in your throat and eyes wide while blinking dumbly. The more you blinked, the more amused Jimin became and the higher the blush creeps up your cheeks until the heat became unbearable. You sputter, stubbornly trying to ignore it.

“T-That's – ! You – ! No, I will not let you coerce me like this.”

He bursts out laughing heartily at the way you pout, head thrown back and all you could do is narrow your eyes up at him indignantly. When he's finally calmed but still sees you all puffed up like an angry hamster, he wraps his arms around to squeeze you to him, an easy-going smile lingering on his face.

“Ah, I least I tried.”

You sigh, “I'm serious Jimin. No horsing around if you can help it okay?”

Jimin thinks the look you're giving him is equivalent to that of a puppy's; all big and glossy and paired with the barest crinkle of worry in your brow, it leaves him no choice but to agree.

“Okay cherub. I promise I won't.” He says gently and only then do you seem satisfied.

“Good.”

Now that that's settled, you find yourself just standing in each other's arms, nothing more to say yet perfectly comfortable where you are. You find yourself fiddling with the small, dainty buttons on his shirt, a distraction to how shy you've slowly become under his attentive gaze.

“I should probably go now...” You mumble though you make little to no effort in actually doing so.

You hear Jimin hum, seemingly agreeing but he also doesn't make to show any signs of letting you go, even comfortably adjusts his hold on you. He also takes the time to place a kiss on your forehead. “Text me when you get home?”

“Mm.” You nod.

You remain like that for another good minute before it takes everything in you to drag yourself away from his arms, picking up your bag to sling onto your shoulder. You already feel the chill of the AC creeping into your arms as Jimin holds the door open for you.

“I'll see you then?” You ask, then chastise yourself for letting slip the little bit of disappointment you feel at having to leave so soon, however there's no taking back your text to Jaehee saying that you'll be on your way (she's definitely not someone you want to delay meeting).

Jimin eyes gleam with a knowing look though, like he's tossing around the idea of teasing you but instead, says playfully, “Of course, can't get rid of me that easily.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head which only seems to satisfy him.

The trip home gave you the time to reflect on yourself and on the events that had happened. There's a lightness to your steps – no doubt finally meeting Jimin after a period of confusion and hurt and letting the floodgates to the emotions you've kept buried free has cleared the clog in your heart. On top of that, to have your guardian demon return the feelings you've long convinced yourself were futile; thought nothing more than a self-sabotaging trap designed by no one but you and your only escape from it was to take the plunge.

Yet here you are, relatively unscathed. To be honest, even now you're still in disbelief.

But you won't dismiss this warm giddiness that's taken over easily, just as how you're leisurely soaking in the rays of the late afternoon sun now. It bathes everything in a glow that has every colour in your eyes appear much more crisp and vibrant, making the city lively. It further brightens your mood.

Once you've crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately hear Jaehee's call of greeting from the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?” She asked right off the bat as you enter after toeing off your shoes.

“Yeah, I ate before I left.”

She nods, continuing her chopping for what you can only assume is dinner for tonight.

“So...everything worked out okay?”

It's asked tentatively but the question doesn't surprise you as much as it should; whether it's because of Jaehee's prior awareness to your troubles, your deep-rooted friendship, or simply sensing the obvious complete shift in your mood, she very well knows where you've been without having to probe much.

Still, you can't help smiling.

The forecast calls for mild, clear weather like today for the days to follow. It's no doubt something a lot of people will be capitalizing on, a relief from the unpredictable temperatures between the changing of seasons. Perhaps it's with that same mindset, you find yourself being able to swallow back the niggling uncertainty that seems to always follow you.

You'll save your worrying for another day, but for now, you want to hold onto these promised sunny days for as long as you can.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “Everything's good.”

You see Jaehee's lips quirk up, a light smile that lets you know she's just as happy as you are to hear that. But then as she turns towards you, it morphs into a sly Cheshire grin.

“Spill it, girl. I need those details.”

-

The startled gasp that rings out in the dead of night seemed unnaturally loud in the dark spacious room that for a moment, Jimin thought it had belonged to a tormented ghost that had wandered its way in. After a few shuddering breaths did it occur to him that the sound had actually came from him.

His eyes slip shut once again, rubbing them tiredly as he inhales a deep breath before letting it out. Dragging his hand down his face, Jimin sits up, body feeling as if it's made of lead and rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to relieve the joints that are aching dully before reluctantly hauling himself out of bed, the dryness in his throat uncomfortable as is the clamminess of his skin after being drenched by cold sweat – it doesn't take much to know that he won't be able to slip into a blissfully empty state of slumber for the rest of the night.

His feet takes him into the kitchen and his hand grabs for a glass of water which he downs absentmindedly. The drink soothes the burning in his throat but the same cannot be said for the storm slowly brewing inside of him. Eyes as dark as the sky outside the large windows stare out listlessly, his mind slipping into deep thought.

How many times is that now? Four? Five?

For a number of nights, he's been plagued by these dreams – nightmares.

At first they were vague, mostly indiscernible as if shrouded by thick black smoke that whenever Jimin woke from them, the most he would feel is a sense of unease but soon afterwards, the feeling and the memory of it would fade as quick as it came.

But as the days passed, these dreams slowly mutated into something more vicious, taking a hold of his unconsciousness before he had the time to react.

And it was always the same dream.

Not knowing when or how he got there, Jimin would find himself in a formless space, surrounded from all sides by an endless ocean of white veils. They rolled and danced ceaselessly, much like turbulent waves out at open sea and he was the small boat being battered against the powerful force, threatening to capsize. The shifting and turning disoriented him, made his stomach churn and head spin but no matter how stubbornly he tried to run, he could never escape.

So all he could do was stand in place, and as the dancing veils begin to close in on him, the air around would become thinner and thinner until he was gasping for breath, lungs burning with no hope of holding in an ounce of air. Soon after his knees would collapse under him. As he's reduced to this weakened state, it's only then that he'll see it.

Amidst this deceivingly tranquil prison, a figure emerged in the distance, its shape distinctly outlined by the large pale fabric that continue to billow around by an invisible breeze, appearing very much like a ghostly apparition. At the sight, a chill would instantly run down Jimin's spine as if his blood had turned into ice and in the vast silence, only the deafening beating of his heart would fill his ears. For an unknown amount of time, this figure would simply stand ominously without moving. Then suddenly, it would advance, moving at a startling speed and so soundlessly with each blink of his eyes that before he could think, it was already towering over him like a great marble statue.

Like death encroaching.

Jimin could only wait frozen in place by the oppressive force bearing down on him, staring up with shaking pupils and it's then that he knew what it is that looks down upon him.

Divine judgment.

There's a stale and tar-like taste that blooms in his mouth first, then slowly, as the last remains of his strength leaves his body, he finally notices the cold dampness spreading outwards from his chest.

The blade that pierces through him was as dark as the blood it's coated in.

It's here that he wakes from the shock of the phantom pain so intense they momentarily blur the line between reality.

He's not one for superstitions or 'prophetic dreams', being a demon and all but he's by no means unfamiliar with them, especially now when they hit him in the face like this – so viciously and frequently too. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

The last few days had been quiet; the first in... he's not sure how long. Perhaps that's why he slipped up like this, got caught up in believing that this sweet lie could be true. That maybe, by some miracle, there was a chance for the both of you.

Jimin scoffs a quiet laugh and his mouth twists into a cold smile.

How foolish; to think that they can be more than just wishful thinking.

Heaven is righteous, boasting to have eyes and ears in places without one knowing and yet so frivolous in what they choose to acknowledge.

And it's just his luck that the one time he was counting on that fact, it completely backfired on him.

There's no avoiding this; it's clear that any day now some divine being is going to descend upon him in the name of carrying out justice for the crimes he's committed. If not for the breached guardian contract, then for failing to complete the trials to prove his piety.

Jimin's eyes slips shut, tipping his head down, the ache along his neck and shoulders creeping over him once again – ever lingering, never fading – and all he could do is accept.

Alone in this large and empty penthouse, Jimin felt no anger, no remorse or fear, only a quiet sense of mourning he allowed for himself. However fleeting it may have been, those few days spent with you will be something he'll remember fondly. He thought, if this had been where his luck had went, then he at least can be reassured that it wasn't a complete waste.

Just as his eyes peer back open, the first rays of dawn had begun to bleed through the horizon, dispersing the darkened sky with the coming of a new day. As he watches the sun begin to rise, Jimin's expression hardened along with his resolve.

One thing’s for certain; no matter what happens, he'll keep you safe.

Until the very bitter end.

-

There's something amiss.

He can't quite place his finger on it, but Jungkook didn't go about his day without feeling an inexplainable sense of dread hanging over him like a heavy cloak that won't leave him. It felt as if every nerve in his body is coiled, restless and bracing for something to happen. As such, he's developed an annoying ache across the back of his neck and shoulder which he had to constantly roll in order to dispel some of the built up tension.

It didn't help, so it only made Jungkook endlessly irritated.

Wanting to blow off some of this steam, he had taken to wandering the streets in search of an outlet. Unfortunately, there's only so much he could do given his status in the mortal world. Playing the shoulder devil whispering temptations, tipping the scale between life or death, fortune or misfortune on a person was only fun while it lasted, and Jungkook was a demon who grew bored very easily of those same old basic tricks. Although there's the option of materializing briefly to cause more mischief, it took way too much power to maintain a physical form so at most, he would only be able to have fun messing with one or two souls but not nearly having enough time to really string them along to his heart's content. After all, the thrill of being a demon comes from withering down their prey, dragging them so deep into depravity before they realize it's too late and there's no saving them.

He sighs inwardly, thinking about all the lost potential, especially now that he's in possession of such a fine specimen. How delightful it would be to see the lengths men and women would go to hold onto even a sliver of his attention, to have them so tightly wound around his fingers just to leave them high and dry. Truly, this was the pain of having a great weapon but being unable to use it.

It makes Jungkook consider how more convenient it would be if he had formed contract with someone, similar to what Jimin had done.

Speaking of, he wonders what had become of you and his fellow demon brother, as the last he's heard of either one of you, one was on a war path while the other's aura signature was reduced so greatly that he didn't need to make much of an effort to be scarce. As much as he's tempted to go find out what's become of you both, Jungkook had to hold himself back. He's told himself that after directing you to your lost guardian demon (as you had practically begged him to do), he's vowed to severe his involvement if he knew what was good for him.

Things were obviously only going to get messier, and no doubt he would be catching any of the fallout if he decides to stick around, even if it's just to satisfy his own burning curiousities.

Jungkook continues to wander aimlessly like this, thoughts bouncing from the matters surrounding you pair to toying with the idea of actually finding some hidden cult who's ballsy enough to try a demon summoning (nine times out of ten it's a shoddy job but fuck is it funny to see their faces thinking it had worked, plus he's guaranteed a couple of souls to his count too).

Above, the sun dips in and out continuously, the constant shift in light distracting Jungkook. He watches and notes idly the fast pace in which the clouds travel, how the white wisps grow and the sky begins to look tumultuous until gradually, they become so dense they completely block the sun out altogether. With the warm rays no longer casting down, the world plunges into a gloomy grey overcast.

A frown tugs onto his lips unconsciously, but the premonition of rain was not what troubled him.

He had the mind to quicken his steps when suddenly they falter. It felt like something had told him to stop, so for a moment he stood confused, turning his head in search for a source until Jungkook's gaze stray over to a small, narrow side street. The street looked like a much older part of the city in the style of the buildings; he can't honestly say he's ever noticed this part before so for it to catch his attention....

Jungkook is already taking tentative steps down the rough cobble stone path without realizing, slowly making his way past the few small family owned shops. He's going off solely on this gut-feeling, almost as if in a trance which after blinking, does he notice he's staring at a particular store front of a shop. His brows furrow even more from confusion, not understanding why he was drawn here.

The shop looked like it hadn't been rented out for many years, the paint so worn down and faded that it didn't resemble the rich forest green colour it once was, even peeling in some places to show the wood underneath. The lacquered sign above has also lost its shine, and whatever script that has been written on it has long become indecipherable. Jungkook had to squint just to make out the faint imprint of the letters 'S' and what he thinks might be 'P' and a 'TH'.

Despite the windows being dirtied, he could still tell that inside the shop was nothing but barren space, the wall shelves filled with dust and cobwebs, the tables empty with only traces of the trinkets it once held. Time had let this place be forgotten, erased its name from existing in any memory, yet it's here Jungkook finds himself lingering, wondering why?

What secrets does this place hold?

Naturally, he can't let this anomaly go lest he drives himself mad. Jungkook takes a step towards the shop, a hand outstretched with the intentions of investigating further when from out of his peripheral he sees something. Whipping his head to it, his eyes lock onto a figure standing at the head of the street from where he had came.

The inexplainable driving force he had immediately vanishes, replaced with the sensation of his body going numb all over, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. Not like the presence of this ominous figure on its own incited such a reaction, but it's also in the way it looked.

Tall in such a way that it's imposing, and draped in a pure white cloak, giving away nothing of what lies beneath. The only feature he's able to make out was the golden halo crown encircling it from behind; a stark contrast. There's no questioning whether or not it can be seen by anyone other than himself – this appearance alone clearly did not belong in this world.

It is not of this world.

Jungkook needed to remain calm. He can't afford to let slip that he's unnerved – that's a sure fire way to getting killed first because fear ultimately blinds. Still, he can't stop the tenseness in his shoulders and the ache comes back with a vengeance. Swallowing, Jungkook inhales and jaw clenched, he turns to leave as if having never seen this phantom at all.

His strides are long, determined to put distance between it and himself, all the while his senses are going into overdrive. He's hyper-aware as he swiftly makes his way through narrow streets and alleys, twisting and turning with no rhyme or reason but he already knows he won't be losing this unwanted tail any time soon. So he changes tactics, figuring that he might as well get the jump on it first before giving it the opportunity.

Jungkook apparates out of the alley, appearing in a busy crowded street and just as fast, he changes to a rooftop. Within these few short seconds, he spins on his heels, gathering a fistful of demonic energy in his hand ready to hurl it the moment he sees any hint of white cloth, body instinctively adapting a fighting stance. However, as his piercing topaz eyes dart around, he finds nothing.

The air around him is still, like the overpowering presence had all but disappeared. Down below, he faintly hears the bustling of people, the sound of cars driving by, even now he becomes aware of how hard he's breathing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins has his heart racing.

Still, Jungkook doesn't dare drop his guard, backing away cautiously as if he's on pins and needles. He's focusing all of his senses, trying to pick up anything that might seem strange over the white noise of the city. He listens, until it all goes eerily quiet.

 Jungkook sees before he can react, its speed far more faster than he could have ever anticipated, and all he manages is a sharp, startled gasp. The rest of the air gets blocked by an iron grip around his throat but even then, he's given no time to fully register this as he feels his back crashing into a hard surface with impeccable force and an explosive pain erupts. He chokes on a mouthful of blood.

“Filthy vermin should not waste time struggling so uselessly.”

Jungkook winces, nauseated by the throbbing of his head alone – now he has this voice that seems to be ringing from inside his head.

“The fate of thy life depends on the answer thee giveth me.” The hold tightens and Jungkook swears his neck would give out before he's able to make a sound (how very counter-productive, he thinks in spite of himself).

“Where is he?”

Struggling through the black dots in his vision, Jungkook finally pinpoints the identity of his aggressor. The dry laugh he wanted to let out comes out as a cough but it carries the disbelief and scorn all the same.

White cloak, oppressing aura, immense strength and speed, and a voice that sounded neither man nor woman. There's no mistaken it now.

Fuck, since when was his luck so shit that an archangel finds him first?

-

The clouds had rolled in much faster than Jimin had thought, the sight reminiscent to being under murky waters. He wonders if at this rate, it would darken even further though he supposes he shouldn't bother. After all, this was no mere storm out of the blue.

He raises the cup and takes a sip of his black coffee, closing his eyes as if to savour the bitterness. Jimin doesn't bother to finish the rest of it, even if it's a waste not to. But there's no helping it, not when he was expecting a visitor. He gingerly places the drink aside on the counter first, then redirects his gaze to the large expanse of his windows at a leisurely pace.

There's not a hint of shock as his eyes meet the figure cloaked in white, hovering on the other side of the glass panels. The layers of chiffon flutter softly against the rising winds, the golden glint of each spike on the crown adorning its head menacing, as if it's a weapon in and of itself.

Behind, the sky darkens forbiddingly, and soon after comes the distant rumbling of thunder.

[writteninchalk]

Chalk In The Mountains

albedo is revered by all in mondstadt but not many know of his origins. many have tried to uncover his past but they all end in failure. this time however, might not be an easy one to shrug off. not when they've already uncovered more than the previous ones. not when they still hunger to dig deeper. to the very depths of his being.

albedo + gender neutral reader/oc (their appearance and name aren't specified)

"Why is it that whenever I go to find you, you're always in Dragonspine? Seriously...are you from Snezhnaya or something?" they shivered, rubbing their arms in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

The alchemist spared them a single glance before returning to his work.

"You just happen to catch me at the wrong time, that is all," he answered curtly, picking up a glass vial and observing it's contents.

"Still, you can't deny that you spend an awfully large amount of time in this place. If I were any dumber, I would've assumed that this place is some kind hot spot for alchemy," they started, wandering towards the wall of research papers pinned to the board.

Albedo watched them carefully through the vial, now ignoring it's contents in favour of observing his uninvited guest.

"This place is just a barren wasteland. Only Durin's bones remain here. There isn't even a single Leyline that runs through here." they traced their fingers across the map of Dragonspine, eventually reaching the unfinished sketches of hilichurls Albedo would so often sketch.

They picked one up, raising it towards the sky as though admiring the artwork.

"The only thing special about this place is the hilichurls and lawachurls with Cryo related abilities but that's not the reason you keep coming back to this mountain. No." they slammed the drawing on the table right in front of him

"Not you, Albedo, not someone like you," they whispered, staring straight into his eyes.

He could feel their gaze momentarily pierce right through his soul, looking through his web of lies that even he is tangled in.

"So why? Unless...the answer was right in front of me all along..." their eyes slowly drifted towards the mark on his neck, causing him to gulp unconsciously.

"Could it be that Durin, the dragon that poisoned Dvalin, was the subject of your research? Or is he just a part of one big question? A question so important that you must dedicate your life to it?"

A flash of warning glazed over Albedo's eyes and it was clearly acknowledged as they took a few steps back.

That was the last straw for him, putting an end to their games. However, his reactions were more than enough to get their brain's gears whirring with new ideas.

"You're asking me quite a lot of questions and yet you've never answered any of mine. I think it's fair if I get to keep a few things to myself, no?" he swiftly spoke as he finally placed down the glass vial, rearranging his workspace.

They sighed in mock defeat as they crossed their arms, still unaccustomed to the cold.

"Touché. Well, you didn't confirm or deny anything so I'm inclined to believe that some of the things I said are true-"

"If I were you, I would be careful with what business I step into. You don't want to be caught in someone else's flames, do you not?" he spoke his final warning and for the first time lifted his gaze to meet theirs first.

They could feel their breath get caught in their throat at the shock of the intensity in his gaze.

Even so, they swallowed their hesitation and met his gaze head on.

"I've never showed myself to be someone cautious, no? I'm here for a good time, not a long time after all. Finding out the secrets of the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius is worth all that precious time, "

Albedo sighed.

This unforeseeable variable was going to be more than just a headache.

hi! this is my first fic and maybe series? i'm not sure yet since i hv writer's block and this blog was just to post the work im somewhat satisfied with. this oc (??) will remain nameless and appearanceless. idk why but im more comfy writing them that way.

thank you for reaching till the end and i hope you enjoyed reading! <3

[yeochikin]

sick days. | j. yunho

a/n: phew i finally did it! this is a sequel to this fic but this can also be read as its own too! i won’t lie, i had so much trouble writing this. the amount of times i typed then erased then typed over and over again was a huge struggle for me in the past week, so i understand if this fic seemed a little... blegh ;;;; writer’s block sucks but it’s alright, i enjoyed writing it anyway hehe hope you enjoyed this. do excuse any mistakes as this has not been proofread ✨💖

word count: 3k+

main focus: yunho x fem. reader

warning(s): none, i think!

“tell me i'm hot.” 

“yeah, you're hot, yunho.”

“aye.”

“you have a fever.”

“aye?”

“say ‘aye’ one more time, and i’m gonna stab you with my paintbrush.”

“aye!”

your eye twitched at his answer, showing him the temperature you had taken for him. the boy in question, who was currently laid all tucked in bed with a wet cloth on his forehead, merely gave you a bright smile despite his face looking all flushed. sometimes, you wondered whether your roommate was literally a golden retriever in his past life who got reincarnated into a human, but still somehow having the energetic personality following his next life.

“little rose, you're gonna catch my fever too. i can take care of myself.” he protested, watching as you gathered the empty ceramic bowl that was previously filled with yunho's favourite soup, mentally thanking seonghwa in your head for the recipe he gave earlier, promptly placing it onto the wooden tray you left on his bedside drawer.

“pup, you know i have a stronger immune system between the two of us. i'll be fine.” you retorted, causing the sick boy to jut his lower lip out into a little sulky pout.

“you're lucky you're cute, pup.” you grumbled, moving the cloth away to feel at his forehead, the playful glare in your eyes melting into a soft gaze. you couldn’t stay mad at him, even if you tried. luckily, his skin wasn't burning as much as before, though the pinkness in his cheeks were still present.

everything seemed like a blur today. all he remembered was trying to get up from the bed but for some reason, yunho felt as if someone had dumped a huge pile of bricks on top of his body while someone kept hitting his head with a hammer. he was lucky that you came into his room to wake him up as soon as his best friend, mingi, called you up to ask where the peachy haired boy was since he couldn't reach him for some reason. that's when you know something was up.

of course, panic started to fill your entire being as soon as you saw how flushed his cheeks looked upon entering the room, along with him shivering underneath his blanket. you immediately went to his side as you phoned your other friends to tell them what was happening. it didn't take long for yunho to be dragged away from the bed by mingi, and jongho (mainly jongho) just so seonghwa could drive them to the doctor's, despite yunho mumbling that he's fine to which he was absolutely not fine at all.

you were thankful that it wasn't that serious, but nevertheless, yunho still received an earful of scolding from you for not taking care of himself more, as if seonghwa’s nagging wasn't enough. 

so now here he is, laying still on the bed as his eyes blinked slowly before his lips lazily curled up into a grin towards you once he felt your palm resting against his forehead. the dazed look in his eyes was already a sign of the medicine he took earlier slowly kicking in. noticing how droopy his eyes were, you made sure the blankets were properly tucked on him. 

“rest, pup. by the time you wake up, it will be when i wake you up for dinner so you can take your meds.” you hushed him, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

poor boy only grunted in response, finally giving up to force his eyes open, letting sleep take over him. you had decided to linger a little longer in the room, just until you were completely sure that the taller male was finally getting that much needed rest. sighing to yourself, your lithe fingers gingerly moved away some of the stray strands that managed to cover most of his eyes. your expression softens at the way his lips parted ever so slightly, chest heaving up and down in an even pace, adoring the way he looked so serene. with quick yet quiet movements so as to not wake the male up, you picked up the wooden tray, and crept up on your tiptoes towards the door. 

you let your body drop onto the couch in your small living room, an arm over your forehead as your eyes stared up at the ceiling. the room was filled with silence that if someone were to drop a pin, it would have created a loud noise. the silence… it was almost a little too eerie for you. normally, it would have been filled with the sounds of you and yunho discussing your assignments as if one could give the other an inspiration to do so. it was when you turned your head to the coffee table that you saw something on the coffee table. 

it was your sketchbook. 

the object sitting idly on the table made you recall a particular conversation you had with yunho a couple of night’s ago.

“what are you up to, little rose?”

yunho’s voice effectively made you look up from your sketchbook, the page though seemingly empty, it was a tad crumpled from your many attempts of sketching, doodling, and the many amounts of erasing. the peachy haired boy made his way from the kitchen overlooking the living room to sit down right next to you with two mugs of what seems to be coffee in both hands, handing one of them to you.

sending him a defeated smile along with a low mumble of appreciation, carefully lifting the mug up to your lips to take a small sip of the drink. as if almost immediately, the bittersweet taste of the drink washed over your tastebuds, warmth being sent throughout your entire being. clearly, nothing can really beat coffee whenever you were in a stumped position. 

“professor kim wanted us to draw something yesterday.” you finally answered, momentarily pausing to take another sip of the coffee, the boy next to you putting an arm on the couch behind your head while his other hand held onto his mug, listening to you intently.

“he mentioned that he wanted something that.. makes our chests swell with a warm feeling that you feel in your chest whenever you look at your own drawing?” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows as you set your gaze onto the blank sketchpad that was laid idly on your lap, lips pursing in deep thought.

“well, surely you must have felt the feeling before, don’t you?” yunho asked, reaching out to place his mug on top of the coffee table in front of where the two of you were seated at.

“i..” you started but somehow, the words died off in your throat. 

you wanted to answer ‘yes, of course i have!’.

you wanted to say, ‘everything makes me feel that way too!’

but..

..you had come to the realisation that you had never felt such a feeling in your life before. but, wasn’t that the same thing as happiness? if that was the case, then everything would’ve been ‘a warm feeling’ to you.  

yunho, who seemed to notice you being in your usual thinking bubble again, merely smiled to himself. from the couple of years being your roommate, and dare he say, your best friend, he had picked up all of your habits, and actions. from the way you would rub your nose due to being flustered, or how you would pick at your lips whenever you felt nervous - to which, he tried to make you stop by giving you a small keychain with a stress ball attached to it, fortunately making you squeeze it instead of picking your lips again - yunho could read you like an open book most of the time. 

though of course, he would have to admit, it is when you seem predictable would be the time where you would be sprouting up something so.. unpredictable. the memory of you pulling a sudden all nighter because of a sudden inspiration from watching a movie would always make you look so endearing in the male’s eyes. it was when your eyes meeting his own was what made yunho flinch ever so slightly in his seat out of surprise. 

“tell me, pup. have you ever felt such a feeling before?” you asked, curiosity evident in your bright eyes. 

your question was to be expected, making yunho’s features soften at you. folding his arms in front of his chest, his back leaned further into the couch as he hummed underneath his breath in thought. the happiness that managed to make him freeze in place, huh? it took him a moment, but eventually, he nodded his head. 

“i have, little rose.” he responded.

“and what was it, if you don’t mind sharing.” you inquired, shifting in your place to sit criss-cross as you turned to face the male next to you.

yunho could only stare at your face, slightly caught off guard upon hearing your sudden interest. he couldn’t help but to release an amused laugh at the way you leaned in ever so slightly, reaching a hand out to playfully ruffle your hair.

“it may sound a little ridiculous. but it was when you threw that birthday party for me last year.” he mentioned, only to feel an amused chortle threatening to leave his lips upon seeing the confused look painted over your face, as if waiting for the peachy haired boy to explain what he meant. 

“you baked a cake for me, no?” the corners of his lips quirked up as soon as realisation seemed to hit you. you did bake a cake for him. but really, it wasn’t that special so made him pick that certain day of all days? before you could even ask, however, yunho already beat you to it by giving out his own answer.

“no one has ever baked a cake for me before, it was either bought from our local bakery in town or none at all. but something about a homemade one.. you can feel the effort and so much love from someone who had taken their time in doing so.” yunho trailed off, eyes somehow shining with an unknown sparkle in them as soon as they landed on your own. 

“and i have you to thank for, little rose.” he continued, fingers gingerly curling the stray strand of hair behind your ear.

you swear you could feel your heart increase its pace, feeling as if it was about to burst out of your chest. your cheeks felt warm due to the feeling of your blood rushing up to them, a hand quickly reaching up to rub your nose before tearing your gaze away from yunho’s warm one. 

you didn’t need any more explanation. you had found your inspiration.

a fond smile curled itself over your tiers at the memory before deciding to stand up as you made your way to your room, grabbing the sketchbook with you along the way. you have a drawing to finish.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

a small creak from a door being opened resonated throughout the small hallway of the house, along with heavy footsteps, and the sound of a deep yawn mingled in the air. yunho rubbed his eyes as he made his way into the living room. his eyes were still heavy with traces of sleep lingered in them before looking over to the wall clock idly hanging on the wall, wanting to know how many hours had passed after he fell asleep earlier. judging by how dark it was outside, it was already night time, or maybe even midnight. with how long he slept, it was possible he slept the whole day away.

although slowly, yunho was thankful that the medicine seemed to make him recover considering how his head wasn’t throbbing painfully like before, though he still felt a little heavy but it wasn’t as bad as earlier. he could get up on his own, and that’s already enough for the tall male. 

“y/n?” the peachy haired boy called out, wandering around the house in search for you. 

it was when he reached the door to your room that he noticed the door was slightly ajar, along with a faint sound of what seemed like a song playing coming from the inside as well. his knuckles, gently knocked against the wooden surface before gently pushing the door a tad wider, just enough for yunho to peek in. 

and there you were. all hunched over your desk with your head on top of your folded arms, seeming to have fallen asleep with whatever you were doing earlier. as much as yunho wanted you to let you have you rest after busying yourself by helping him earlier during the day, he didn’t want you to have a sore neck and back due to the position you were in. he knew how much you would complain about the pain in the two regions afterwards but then doing it again, it was a never ending cycle that yunho was amused to see from the years of living with you. 

walking over to the desk with an intention of wanting to wake you up so you could properly lie down, the male noticed something right next to your head. it was your sketchbook. he walked up behind you, looking down at your sleeping figure. with how your pencil was loosely being held in between your dainty fingers along with a couple of crumpled up papers, mixed in with the other pencils in a variety of colours you had strewn all over the surface of your desk, yunho had made the conclusion that you were working on the assignment you had told him a couple of days ago. 

he was glad to know that you were finally getting started on it, knowing how much you would procrastinate until things were a little too late for you to do. but with how you managed to finish everything right on time despite having such little time left, would never cease to amaze him every time. 

with slow movements (clearly not wanting you to wake up all surprised and accidentally smack him in the face), yunho leaned over you to clear up your desk from all the clutter and coloured pencils around you, only then having a clear view of what you had drawn onto the sketchbook which caused his eyes to widen ever so slightly at the sight, pausing in his ministrations. 

his gaze was set on two drawn figures in what seems to be a bedroom, standing side by side with their faces facing each other, joyful smiles painted over their features, each having a paintbrush in hand. it looked like the two of them were enjoying their time together. but what had caught yunho’s eyes was one of the figures having the similar shade of peach as his hair colour, mirroring yunho’s own hair colour. it was when he saw the familiar details on the walls of the drawing that the peachy haired male noticed what, or rather, who the two figures were in the sketchbook.

“yunho?” a soft voice called out, grogginess laced in their tone as they spoke up which made the tall male flinch ever so slightly in place as he tore his gaze away from the drawing down to you. 

from his mind, he had already answered you calling out his name but in reality, he was staring down at your face. tilting your head up, eyes half-lidded from the sleepiness still apparent in your irises. it was when you looked down that you might have caught the gist of whatever has made him speechless. emitting a gasp out of realisation, your hands quickly covered the drawing, whining at him.

“y-you weren’t supposed to see that. i wasn’t d-”

“tell me, little rose. what do you see in me?” was his sudden question, effectively making your words die down in your throat. gulping thickly, your heartbeat was suddenly too loud in your ears. finally having the courage, your lips parted to answer the male’s question.

“i have found comfort in you.” you whispered, yunho’s eyes staring into your own nervous ones.

“i have found happiness whenever we spend time together.” you noted the way your faces were mere centimetres apart from each other.

“i have found the.. the warmth that made me feel at home.” his hands reached out for your hands, holding them in his much larger ones, feeling the pad of his thumbs caressing your knuckles.

“i have.. found myself falling for..” you murmured, yunho resting his forehead on top of your own, both of your eyes fluttering shut, and your noses touching against each other.

“i have found myself falling for you.” 

you were scared to open your eyes. you were scared that if you did, everything would have taken a completely different turn. you were scared that you would ruin the friendship the both of you have built together. you were scared to see the disgusted look on yunho’s face after the little confession. 

you were scared to lose yunho. 

however, those thoughts were completely thrown out of the window upon hearing the words being uttered by the male looming above you. 

“little rose, can i kiss you?” 

the question kept repeating itself in your mind. you wanted to say yes, you wanted to throw your arms around his neck, you wanted to scream out in relief. yet, not even a whisper came out. not trusting your voice, and the choice of words, you merely gave him a nod. to yunho, that was already enough for him. without wasting any more time, the taller male leaned in to press his lips against your own. yunho wasn’t sure if his fever was coming back or it was due to his heart pumping so fast that blood rushed to both of his cheeks. he wasn’t sure, but his face was undeniably warm. 

your smaller hand released one of the male’s bigger ones, reaching up to rest itself against his cheek while your lips moved against his own in sync. everything around you felt muted, the only thing you could hear was the beating of your heart like some type of drum. you never knew that a simple action could make you crave for more, but of course, the need for air was already screaming in the both of your minds that made you pull away from each other, albeit reluctantly.

yunho could faintly taste the sweetness that lingered over his lips as his eyes stared into yours in silence, his hand squeezing yours, before a gentle smile spread itself over his brims, you finding it contagious as you can’t help but to show him your own smile in return. deep down, he wanted to kiss you again, seemingly longing to feel them on his lips once again. so, he did just that. much to your surprise, of course you weren’t complaining.

you would be lying if you denied any more of his kisses. 

once the both of you pulled away for the second time, one specific thing popped into your mind, eyes widening in realisation which caused yunho to tilt his head ever so slightly to the side in question.

“if you get me sick, i swear.”

“hey, you said you have a strong immune system!”

“jeong yunho!” 

[plazmafields]

Cullrian Mulan AU

Word Count: 27,573

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

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

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are you, ma’am?”

“I beg your pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I help maintain the farm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You there, mage.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cullen. Always Commander Cullen, of course.”

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

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dorian looked at him curiously.

“Is there trouble?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dorian held his breath, waiting for Cullen to react.

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

Dorian nodded, still barely breathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dorian nodded in thanks, his heart finally settling.

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

Dorian nodded, just relieved the whole confrontation was over.

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

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

Dorian turned to listen.

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

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

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Dorian hesitated, Solas spoke up, voice soft and reassuring, “If I am to have an opinion in the matter, I would be delighted to work with another mage interested in the magicks not taught within any Circle. As an apostate myself, I chose to study spirits and ancient magicks, finding lost pieces of history in the fade as I dreamt. Many mages from the Circle believe this means I have made pacts with demons, and explaining my innocent intentions becomes tiresome. I, for one, would welcome the addition of a like minded apostate into our ranks.”

“The only apostate I ever met escaped from the Circle and it’s all he ever talked about. ‘Templars this, rebellion that.’ Had an insane spirit living in him, too. I’d like to spend time with less crazy mages,” Varric chimed in.

“You think about acceptance, but have never come to expect it. I’ve seen the dangers, lived with them. If that’s acceptance, I would have to change for it. Would I be myself after that?...” Cole was suddenly next to him, despite being under the Inquisitor’s arm only a second ago.

“Sweet Andra—! Can you not do that?” Dorian exclaimed, almost jumping away.

“Don’t mind him. He’s some kind of ‘good’ spirit. He doesn’t really understand boundaries.” The Inquisitor said, coming around the war table to pull Cole away by the wrist.

Cullen’s voice, the softest of everyone’s, gained Dorian’s attention immediately, “As the one who recommended this to begin with, I of course think you should accept. You have a wonderful talent that I can’t use among my troops. It seems a pity to waste it under my command.” He gave an encouraging smile, making Dorian’s mind up instantly.

“Inquisitor, it would be an honor to be part of your inner circle. I accept.”

The Inquisitor practically cheered, ushering everyone out so he could explain what would be expected of Dorian. Dorian listened intently, making sure to joke with the elf to gain his trust and form a feeling of comradery.

After stepping out of the war room, Dorian found Cullen waiting for him, leaning against the ambassador’s empty desk, standing upright when Dorian entered the room.

“I’m happy to hear you’ll be traveling with the Inquisitor from now on. As I said before, I truly think your skills will be better suited in the field.” Cullen extended his hand to offer congratulations.

Dorian took it in a confident grasp, giving a single solid shake. “I appreciate the referral. I’m certain it will surprise you to hear, but not many people appreciate my efforts.”

Cullen chuckled, “I can certainly relate; there have been times in my life where I felt the same. Looking back…” the Commander trailed off slightly, “Well, I’m not so certain anymore that my efforts deserved to be appreciated.”

“I assume you mean your time as a Templar?”

The blond sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Yes. I followed faithfully, but I realize now I was not following the right path.”

Dorian smiled, understanding completely, “Believe me, Commander, I know the feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Cullen asked, shyly, “Would you mind if I asked…?”

“My family. What my family had planned for me, for the rest of my life. I followed as faithfully as I could until…” Dorian looked at his feet, eyes full of pain, trying to avoid Cullen noticing. “Until I was older and understood what they expected of me. After I dared to defy them one too many times…”

Dorian stopped. He couldn’t say anymore. Yes, it might give him away, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t speak. He knew, he remembered what his father was willing to do to change his preferences, and it hurt too much to say out loud. The man he thought had his best interests at heart turned out to only care about himself. Saying it out loud was like admitting a truth Dorian didn’t want to accept.

Cullen tried to look him in the eyes, touching his hand ever so gently to gain his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m learning to accept it. It just…isn’t fun to talk about.” Dorian gave a pained smile.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand from Dorian’s in favor of rubbing at his neck again, “I know. One’s past shapes who they are and who they become. Sometimes it’s difficult to accept who you were…”

Dorian saw the familiarity in Cullen’s gaze—distant and unsure—and heard the regret in his tone, but decided not to push the matter.

“Or, uh, who your parents were, I mean. I-I’m sure you’ve always been this wonderful. A wonderful person, that is! Good, uh, good moral standing, and all that.” Cullen’s face was very quickly getting red as he tried to avoid eye contact and stutter through his explanation.

Dorian chuckled, taking pity on the blond. “I understood what you meant, Commander, no worries.”

“Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

The Commander looked up suddenly, looking directly into Dorian’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were nearly gold. “Call me Cullen. You’re no longer under my command, so please: just Cullen.” He smiled so genuinely that Dorian almost forgot to respond.

“Oh, yes, well…” he laughed a little more to fill the silence as he thought. “I suppose I like the title. It suits you.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, the blush coming back, less strong this time. “As you wish, Ser Dorian.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to a more casual stance, finally feeling comfortable, “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Cullen poorly faked a look of offence, “Tease? Never!”

“Mm, you should work on your poker face, Commander.” Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Cullen laughed with him before the two fell silent again, neither wanting to leave, but neither knowing what to say.

“I…I wanted to ask a while ago, but I didn’t want the other recruits to think I was giving you special treatment: would you care to continue sparring when neither of us is busy? As odd as it may sound, I enjoyed the challenge.” Cullen seemed to be looking anywhere but ahead, avoiding Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian grinned, also avoiding eye contact, feeling like a childish school boy dodging around outright flirting with one another. “I would like that, actually.”

The two agreed on a time and place, and parted ways for the rest of the day. Dorian wandered a while until he saw the Inquisitor again, casually asking about continuing to sleep in the barracks.

“Oh! We can find you more private quarters if you like. I certainly wouldn’t want to live with a bunch of other people if I didn’t have to. Talk to Josephine, our Ambassador; she’ll find an open room for you.”

And so Dorian did, and by the end of the day, he had moved his belongings to a small—but comfortable—room with a view of the tavern and gardens. Right off the side of the main hall, and up a few flights of stairs, Dorian’s door opened to a balcony where he could see everything. While he knew these rooms were meant for visiting guests, and it may not be a permanent living situation, he had to admit it felt good to have his own space again. He did what had to be done to survive—slept in inns, travelers’ camps, worked odd jobs before finding Miss Ella’s farm— but it certainly wasn’t the lifestyle he was used to.

But that lifestyle was far out of reach now. As he sat on the edge of his new bed, mindlessly sorting his collection of magical trinkets, he wondered if life would have been better if he went along with his family’s plan to begin with. Marry the girl, have another mage son, continue living a lie for the rest of his life. He often told himself it would have been easier, but that wasn’t true. How could it be easy to deny your true self for your entire life? How could it be easy to force yourself to have sex with someone you could never be attracted to until you finally had a child?

How could it be easier than leaving everything you’ve ever known behind? That was difficult enough on its own.

“I don’t know;” he thought aloud, “how could it be harder?”

“Harder?”

Dorian jumped, conjuring a small flame in his palm on instinct, letting it fizzle as he saw the Commander in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cullen said, extending his hand out as he carefully approached, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I would come see how you were adjusting. All this, it must be a bit of a transition.”

Dorian’s palm quickly cooled as he let out a long breath, slowly calming down from the scare. “It certainly is. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it seems so sudden. Too sudden.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’d say you’ve earned it. But of course I would, I made the suggestion. How do you feel about it all?” he cocked his head on a slight angle, like a curious dog.

Dorian gestured for the Commander to sit next to him, the blond taking a tentative seat. “It’s odd. Coming here the way I did. Knowing what I came from—money, power, having to exceed expectations if you wanted to get anywhere in life…it was so stressful, and running away from it all was so stressful. And now…”

Dorian turned his head to see Cullen’s innocent golden eyes filled with understanding, knowing just as well what it was like to run from the only life you’d ever known. He found himself entranced, forgetting everything as he lost himself in wisdom-filled, pained eyes that reminded him of his own, a tired glaze darkening the once bright shine of hope they held years ago.

“And now?” Cullen repeated, hardly voicing the words.

The moment felt so intimate; the bed was somewhat small, so they were seated close, leaning toward each other. Cullen’s hand was pressed to the bed to support him as he leaned, placed right behind Dorian. It almost felt like they were embraced without touching each other. He felt comfortable, so comfortable he couldn’t even bring himself to question what was happening. So he simply let the moment linger. It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel drawn out. It just felt…comfortable.

It seemed like an eternity before Cullen’s leg gently bumped his, the blond letting the tips of his fingers rest on Dorian’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what the intent of the action was, but it only made Dorian lose himself more. At first he was just lost in the ex-Templar’s eyes. Now he could see the entirety of him, inside and out. And after scanning over his body, Dorian’s eyes locked on to the blond’s lips. The room froze, time froze. Dorian saw Cullen’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed harshly, obviously wanting more than just Dorian’s eyes on his lips.

Dorian let himself move closer, just a bit, and Cullen did the same.

“And now,” Dorian’s voice was somewhere below a whisper, “things almost feel easy.”

“They could be,” Cullen’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Dorian wished there was some sort of hoarseness, wobbliness, something in his voice that made it clear what was happening here.

But Dorian wasn’t sure. He needed to be certain before he outed himself here. In Ferelden, in the Inquisition, in this moment with Cullen. He needed to be certain.

So he backed off, leaning away again and closing his eyes. He heard the Commander sigh next to him and clear his throat, shifting away.

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Cullen sounded disappointed, but by this point Dorian had already convinced himself not taking a chance was the better course of action.

“I can leave you with your thoughts, if you like?”

“For now,” Dorian sighed, “That might be best.”

Cullen nodded, standing and heading for the door. “Until tomorrow?” he asked, audibly confused about their situation.

Dorian smiled gently, “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

__________

Dorian slept only a few hours that night, anxious and almost excited for Cullen and his appointment. He wore something more or less appropriate for sparring, forgoing his Inquisition sanctioned armor in favor of his own. It fit his form in a much more flattering way, and the magical embellishments made it more practical as well. He had a bounce to his step as he exited his room, using his staff halfheartedly like a walking stick as he went.

Before he reached the training grounds, Dorian took the time to admire how empty Skyhold felt. There were a few soldiers on the battlement, tired runners getting back from late errands, even two recruits who thought they were being stealthy while stealing a bottle of ale from the closed tavern. They noticed him, swearing as they sprinted off into the bushes to enjoy their find, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at their youthful behavior.

He felt content. Things were going well. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, but Dorian couldn’t force himself to be paranoid in this peaceful moment an hour before dawn. He looked to the sky to see the scar and the moon almost perfectly aligned, about halfway set. He had time.

Just as he took a deep breath, a gentle voice barely rocked him.

“Fancy meeting you here. Any reason you’re up so early?”

Dorian turned to see Cullen with a smirk on his lips and still in full armor, despite normally dressing down to train and spar.

“I believe we had a date, Commander. It appears you may have forgotten, from your dress.” Dorian let Cullen notice as he purposefully drug his gaze over the blond’s physic, deciding against licking his lips. What about the wee hours of the morning made Dorian so openly flirtatious, he would never know. Even when it came to men who otherwise wouldn’t be his first choice, Dorian was always more open minded at the early hours.

Cullen raised a brow under the sensual scrutiny, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I could say the same for you, in your…intricate attire.” He dropped his sword and shield next to him on the ground as he began to remove his upper armor, leaving his boots and trousers alone.

“Oh, do you like it? I would have brought it out sooner if we weren’t made to wear uniforms under your command. Boring, ugly uniforms.” Dorian shuddered dramatically.

Cullen shook his head and smirked as he loosely held his weapons, now shirtless and prepared to spar. “I didn’t assign those uniforms, you can take that up with the Inquisitor. However, I doubt your armor would be very practical when rushing into battle. Too many belts.” He eyed Dorian’s armor, trying to figure out how it worked.

Dorian adopted a pose to show quite a bit of his body, showing himself and the armor off at once. “It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.” Stated matter-of-factly, before dipping his voice to a more sultry tone, “I could show you if you like. With practice, you could become quite proficient. It doesn’t take me much time to strip out of it all.”

His eyes were lidded as he watched Cullen. The Commander’s expression hardly changed as he said, oh so quietly as usual, “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hadn’t hesitated with his response, and Dorian found himself caught off guard at Cullen’s boldness. Maybe the morning hours had an effect on him as well.

“Well then,” he said, squaring up to Dorian, “How shall we start?”

Dorian followed his lead, “Magic or no magic?”

“None yet. I haven’t had to defend against magic without my—what did you call them? ‘Little Templar tricks’?—in quite some time. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Perhaps when we have some supervision.”

Dorian sighed and said in an overly exasperated tone, “Shame; I was rather hoping these would be…private sessions.” He winked.

Cullen’s face heated, but it didn’t stop him from responding, “Out in the courtyard? This is hardly private. Now, if you ever show me how to work that ‘armor’ of yours; that I’d consider a private session.”

The morning was chilly, dew freezing on to the grass, but it was warm enough that Dorian should not have visibly shivered. He couldn’t pull any excuse when Cullen noticed. It was obvious what was happening. The blond smirked at him, Dorian trying not to think about the effect Cullen’s flirtations had on him. Not here, and certainly not now. Dorian had designed his armor himself, and liked that it fit in a way that left few things to the imagination, but if this sparring session got a little too handsy, Dorian may be wishing he had worn the Inquisition’s armor instead.

Thankfully, Cullen didn’t mention Dorian’s reaction, and simply started their training, leading with the initial blow as always. Dorian could dodge and throw up wards like there was no tomorrow, but he wanted to train his defense, not just evasion. So he used his staff to block and parry Cullen’s attacks, focusing his mind on observing his opponent, just as Cullen had been telling him to.

Before long, Dorian was focusing less and less on Cullen’s form, attack patterns, or eye line, and more on his body, movement, and gaze.

His eyes seemed sharp, knowing exactly where he wanted to land a blow. His body was under full control, every muscle accounted for and flowing to where his gaze wanted them. He moved with such grace for a warrior; surprisingly loose and agile for all his heavy armor and muscle build.

Dorian had continued to successfully dodge and defend while in his trance, but he hadn’t been holding his ground very well, slowly backing up and losing awareness of where his feet were.

Inevitably, his foot landed on uneven ground and he slipped. But long before he would have hit the ground, Cullen wrapped his arm around the mage’s waist and pulled him back up, their chests flush.

Dorian was tense, not even having realized he’d been falling until Cullen pulled him back. He returned from his thoughts when he heard Cullen’s voice say with an incredible tenderness, “I’ve got you.”

“You certainly have…”

Cullen cocked a brow, gentle smile still donned, as he waited for Dorian to make a move. He wasn’t letting go until Dorian told him to, and Dorian finally had the confirmation he needed to take the risk of making said move. His body relaxed against the Commander’s as he let his arms slide between them, nimble fingers tracing up Cullen’s marred chest. Dorian let his hands rest on either side of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him forward to let their lips meet.

But just as their lips brushed together, they heard footsteps skid to a halt in front of them.

Cullen sighed and turned his head, growling with frustration, “What!?”

The troop looked stunned, having only just realized what she walked up on. When she failed to answer, the Commander let go of Dorian’s waist and marched slowly, intimidatingly toward the recruit, nostrils flared and steps heavy. The young woman backed away with her hands close to her face as if Cullen might actually hurt her. Dorian couldn’t blame her for thinking he might; the blond certainly wasn’t calm.

“I-I’m so sorry Ser, I just w-wanted to be e-early—”

“What do you think the bells are for? So you can wake up before them? If you showed up to battle early, do you know what would happen?”

“I don’t—”

“It would be you against an army, with your fellow soldiers miles behind you. You would be dead before you even had time to scream.”

The poor girl was shaking by this point, trying to stutter an apology through wobbly breath.

Cullen closed his eyes tightly, grumbling as he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate your incentive,” he began after he calmed down, “I expect you all here exactly when I say. Not a second later, nor a second sooner. Don’t be early, be on time.”

He looked apologetically to the girl as she continued to quiver. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently prodding her back toward the barracks. She walked off slowly, still in shock.

Dorian smiled and shook his head, arms crossed, as Cullen sauntered back over to him with an embarrassed blush, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That poor young woman is going to have nightmares” Dorian looked at Cullen accusingly, but he couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“I’m going to have to apologize to her later. I think I ruined the moment more than her seeing us did.” Cullen’s blush reached from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck and to the bottom of his collarbone.

Dorian chuckled and stepped closer to Cullen again, placing a hand on his cheek only to be greeted with the heat of his blush. “Perhaps we can bring it back before the bells. Unless you’d like to frighten a few more of your troops this morning? Show them who’s boss, etcetera?”

Cullen scoffed a little, but he was smiling. How could he not be, when Dorian was gently caressing his face and coaxing him into a kiss? He replaced his hand on Dorian’s waist and pressed against him, the mage pulling Cullen in tighter by the biceps.

And, finally, their lips met. Dorian meant for it to be rather chaste, leaving Cullen wanting more, but he couldn’t pull himself away. It wasn’t the same kiss he had gotten a hundred times in Tevinter. It wasn’t a formality during a loveless night together. This kiss was warm and soft, tender and compassionate, much like the man giving it.

Dorian’s hands slid up Cullen’s arms to hold his neck firmly, for fear the blond might pull away before Dorian had gotten the chance to relish the kiss. Cullen let his shield clatter to the ground, wrapping both arms tightly around the mage, hands splayed across his back, trying to feel through the armor. For a moment, Dorian considered removing the upper portion of his armor, so the two could be skin to skin, and he could feel Cullen’s callused hands up and down his back. By the Maker, that’s all he wanted in the moment, but he forced himself to save the stripping for somewhere other than the training grounds.

It almost felt like it lasted for hours by the intensity and the way the sun had risen over the fortress walls in the meantime. What finally broke the kiss was the striking ringing of the morning bells sounding Skyhold to wake up. Both men jumped at the sound, completely forgetting their surroundings while locked in each other’s embrace.

Dorian’s surprised eyes locked with Cullen’s with a matching expression, and both couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. Cullen’s arms were still around Dorian’s waist, and Dorian’s draped over the Commander’s shoulders comfortably. It wasn’t until the men caught a glimpse of approaching grounds keepers that their embrace fell away, standing back awkwardly from one another before they were discovered.

“I…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dorian to say something, because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“Thank you. For the sparring, that is. I…enjoyed it.” Dorian didn’t want to believe he was blushing, but he knew blood was rushing to his face.

Cullen smiled, only extending his hand in response. Dorian took Cullen’s hand in a firm grasp, giving a single solid shake. They stared at one another for a moment before Cullen stepped forward, his hold becoming gentle and soft. Eyes still locked with Dorian’s, he pressed a lasting kiss to the back of the man’s hand, the gesture holding more emotion than Dorian knew how to respond to. So, instead, he just smiled and ducked his head.

“So did I.” Cullen said lightly bringing their entwined hands away from his lips.

__________

His mind was in shambles, there was no way he could focus with his heart and head racing like this. Adrenaline had his hands shaking and his legs restless, so he paced. And paced and paced, around the room like it was a stage and all his anxiety and fears were the actors in a play.

But all these were real. Far too real for comfort.

Dorian exasperatedly threw open his door, rushing to the tavern to drown his panic attack away. As he walked—it was more of a jog, if he was honest—he wondered if there was really any reason to be anxious. Had anyone even seen him snogging the Commander? Would it be as scandalous in Ferelden as in Tevinter? While he doubted it, his anxious mind was having none of his logic.

When he entered the Herald’s Rest, it was fairly loud, the Inquisitor and Bull getting rowdy with the Chargers and a few stray recruits. Good, plenty of noise to drown out his thoughts.

Dorian grabbed a seat and a drink and proceeded to drink his feelings.

He hadn’t been counting, but it must have been an hour after he started drinking—and seven drinks in; he had been counting those—before a large and gruff hand smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Dorian jumped, turning quickly and narrowing his eyes. As he looked up, he saw a massive rack of Qunari horns and muscle looming over him, tankard in hand and bare chested.

“How’s it going? You’re that mage who kicked Cullen’s ass, yeah?” he lowered into a chair across the table.

“Is that how the story’s been spun?” Dorian’s words were melding together as he swirled his drink around in its mug.

“Might as well go with it,” the Oxman shrugged. “Better than being known as the undercover Vint, right?”

Dorian immediately sobered, back straightening and voice dropping low. “Who are you? What do you know and what do you want?”

Bull raised his brow, “Not even denying it? I’m guessing you aren’t normally this careless when you’re sober. Don’t think you would have made it this far.”

“Answer me,” Dorian growled through clenched teeth.

Smiling, Bull leaned his beefy arms on the table, dropping his tone as well. “I’m Ben Hassrath. Don’t worry, it’s no secret, actually I think that’s the first thing I said to the Inquisitor,” Bull cleared his throat and adjusted to lean even farther across the table, “It’s my job to read people, know things they would never admit by just looking at them. Besides, you really don’t think a Qunari would recognize a Vint when he sees one?”

Dorian couldn’t think straight; the way Bull talked quietly felt as if he didn’t want to out anything, but why would he bring this up in the first place if he was going to keep it a secret?

“I can pay whatever you want, I come from a very wealthy family. Just name your price and I’ll—”

Bull held up a hand to stop him, “Yeah, your family might be rich, but you’re not, are you? You ran off with the clothes on your back and something expensive to sell, just in case. Isn’t that right?”

Dorian’s mouth hung open as he tried to process the information, the fact that Bull was hitting every nail on the head with no more information than what he could see on Dorian’s face.

“That’s what I thought. And don’t worry, I don’t need you to pay me. I know you’re not Venatori, just a regular cocky mage boy. You won’t hurt anyone, not on purpose anyway.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in triumph, watching as realization washed over Dorian’s face.

“You’re not going to tell the Inquisitor? Or the Inquisition as a whole?”

Bull shrugged, downing the last of his ale, “No point. You’re keeping this a secret for a reason, and it’s a pretty good one. It’s probably what I would do in your shoes.”

Dorian took a moment, then shook his head, “But…you were in my situation. And you told them who you really are.”

Laughter echoed around the tavern as Bull belted out, “Oh, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He let the last of the laughter trickle out in several smaller huffs. “Well, at least the whole world isn’t at war with the Qunari.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “For once,” he muttered.

Bull sneered at him, “Watch it, Vint boy.”

Dorian sighed a breath of relief, hanging his head in his hands. He had no reason to trust Bull would keep his word, but for now it was enough.

After a moment of relative silence—as silent as it can get in a tavern after dark—Dorian heard the chair across from him creak as Bull leaned forward again.

“So, uh…I can see you have a lot on your mind. Think I could help clear your head a bit?”

Dorian looked up in near disgust. He wasn’t sure it was genuine, more just to keep up the Qunari-Tevinter feud. “I think not.”

Bull shrugged and stood, sauntering back to his Chargers. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

While Dorian had to admit he was curious, he was far too enamored with the Commander, thinking back over and over on their moment in the courtyard that morning.

__________

Paranoia had filled his bones for days, taking over his thoughts and actions. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, do as little as possible that could draw suspicion. He separated himself from the troops, the inner circle, the Inquisitor. Bull, especially.

And he tried to separate himself from Cullen, a major source of his anxiety. But every time he saw the blond walking toward him, with a sweet crooked smile that acknowledged their mutual feelings without bringing them to the forefront of conversation, Dorian could feel his shoulders relax and his mind declutter.

And, of course, it happened again. As Dorian trained in the courtyard, he could see the Commander’s infamous armor out of the corner of his eye. He just stood, watched as Dorian put his magic on display, not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but being impressive nonetheless.

At that point, Dorian was finding it hard to tell if Cullen was watching him out of adoration or suspicion. In an attempt to hide his nerves, Dorian ceased his casting and gave Cullen an exaggerated side glance.

“Enjoying the show, Commander?” He shifted his weight to one hip as he poked his staff into the ground.

Cullen raised his brows innocently, “Show? I was just admiring your form. A natural gift, I’m sure.”

Dorian strode up to where Cullen was leaning against a wall, “My form, he says.” He was tempted to run a hand down the blond’s chest, but chose not to out of fear of passersby noticing.

“I was simply studying how you move for the next time we spar, that’s all.” Cullen’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

Dorian grinned, “Is that all you were ‘studying’?” his voice was low and rumbly.

A few seconds passed before Cullen had to look away, his face turning bright red, unable to control a smile. Dorian had to give him props for how long the Commander managed to flirt back.

“I was actually here to ask if you had a bit of spare time,” Cullen’s blush slowly left his cheeks as he spoke, “but I figured I would wait until you were done.”

Dorian tilted his head a bit, “I might, depending on what for.”

“Chess.”

Was the conversation still flirtatious? Was “chess” a euphemism used in the south that Dorian wasn’t aware of?

“Chess?”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes, it’s something I like to do to clear my head, and you’ve seemed…full-headed, let’s say, as of late.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, “That would be one way to put it, yes.”

Cullen smiled and gestured to the garden, “Shall we, then?”

They didn’t say much as they walked to the garden, but Cullen began to explain as he pulled out Dorian’s chair for him, “My sister and I used to play chess against each other in hopes of beating our father one day.” He walked around to take his seat once Dorian was settled. “Eventually, she became even better at the game than Dad, so the new goal was for me to beat her. My brother and I practiced for months, hoping one of us would be able to beat her at least once. The look on her face when I finally won…”

The memory of triumph put the sweetest, most juvenile smile on Cullen’s scarred lips. Dorian couldn’t help but inquire, “A girl and two boys? Sounds like you parents had their work cut out for them.”

“Two girls and two boys, actually. Mia is the eldest, Rosalie is the youngest. I’m the older of us boys, however. Branson is a few years younger than me.”

Dorian scoffed with shock, “Quite a large family, isn’t it? And to think, I have no entertaining sibling stories to share.”

“Only child? You must have been spoiled, getting all the attention.” Cullen moved a piece on the board to start off the match.

Dorian gave a single harsh laugh. “Hardly; if my parents spent money on me, it was for my schooling. Only the most prestigious academies for their little heir.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he made his move, sitting back and crossing his arms after.

Cullen’s expression was so gentle and sympathetic. Dorian didn’t enjoy being pitied, but he knew Cullen wasn’t the type.

“Children should be free to have fun. It wasn’t fair of them to make you work so hard.”

Dorian felt a deep compressed anger bubble up before he said, “Children should be free to have fun, teenagers should be free to have fun, and I believe adults should be free to have fun. We should all just have fun with whomever we want and no one should have the right to judge us for it.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian took a moment to calm down before looking back up to meet Cullen’s gaze. He seemed shocked and a little worried. Dorian looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yes, I agree!” Cullen rushed to assure him, “I’m just not sure where that came from. Is that what’s been bothering you these past few days?”

Dorian sighed, “I suppose it’s part of it. That has been bothering me for most of my life, truthfully.”

The rest of the match was played in silence, Cullen only interjecting once to call Dorian out for cheating. They both laughed as Dorian replaced the affected piece, but they fell quiet again to finish the game.

“I believe that’s Checkmate.”

Dorian shook his head playfully, “You’re in the right line of work, it seems. Strategy is your forte. Good game, Commander.”

“And to you, Dorian. Care to play another round?”

As much as he was enjoying Cullen’s company, Dorian’s mind was tired from all his worrying—though this had been a good distraction—and he just needed to rest.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve things I wanted to get done today, I’m sorry.”

Cullen rose from his seat, “It’s no problem at all.”

Dorian rose as well, but neither went anywhere. They both just stood, looking softly at the other.

“Um…” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Could I walk you back to your quarters, then? Or wherever it is you’re headed.”

Dorian felt a flattered smile tease the corner of his lips. “I would like that, yes.”

On the steps up to the loft of the main hall, Dorian cleared his throat before speaking, “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I’ve just been thinking about my life back home recently.”

Cullen shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s back, “You have nothing to apologize for. I was hoping a game of chess would help clear your mind, so I was expecting you to vent a bit.”

At Dorian’s door Cullen added, “You know, you should feel free to talk to me. About anything. I said that when we first met, and it hasn’t changed just because you’re no longer under my command.”

As he stood in the doorway, Dorian glanced from Cullen to inside his room, wondering if he should act on their mutual attraction, or continue avoiding Cullen forever. How would Cullen be hurt if Dorian’s lies came to light? Not nearly as badly if they were just friends.

Dorian took a deep breath, “Maybe talking would help.”

Cullen smiled loosely.

“Or…” I’m really going through with this, aren’t I? “maybe not talking would help…”

Cullen’s smile fell away as he caught Dorian’s meaning. He didn’t make any move toward or away from Dorian, just like the first time he had been in his room. He simply said, in the quietest voice just above a whisper, “Whatever you’d like, I’m here.”

That was Dorian’s last chance to not do something stupid, but he ignored his racing heart. “I’d like you to come in.”

Cullen took a single stride into the room, closing the door and locking it behind them. He slowly closed the distance between them, placing caring hands on Dorian’s hips, waiting for more invitation.

Dorian let his hands glide up the armor on Cullen’s chest, watching his fingers draw closer to Cullen’s neck, the blond’s eyes studying his unsure expression all the while.

Just as skin met skin, Cullen whispered, “We don’t have to do this. No one’s making us. If you’re not certain—”

“I’m certain about you,” Dorian met his gaze, “I’m only uncertain about letting myself do this. I’ve fucked this up before, I don’t want to fuck it up with you.”

Cullen let out a pained sigh, gently taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him. How could something so soft be so intense all at once? Dorian dug his fingers into the fur mantle of Cullen’s armor, walking them backward toward the bed. With each step, a new article of clothing fell away, until they finally fell onto the bed in only their trousers. Cullen’s attention turned to the mage’s neck, Dorian biting his lip at the sensation.

Cullen’s kisses moved up and down and back up slowly and methodically, making Dorian arch off the bed ever so slightly with each touch, subtle noises escaping his lips. Cullen wrapped his tongue around the shell of Dorian’s ear, breathing heavy but quiet, “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. I adore everything about you. I admire your confidence and how unabashedly ‘you’ you are. I can hardly stand to be away from you the more I get to know you.”

Dorian was nearly breathless as Cullen kissed his way down the mage’s chest. It wasn’t until those callused fingers started to loosen his laces that he felt he couldn’t breathe at all.

As Cullen made tantalizing work of Dorian’s last remaining garment, he whispered with raw emotion, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Dorian Rider.”

With that, Dorian sat up and grabbed Cullen’s hands to pause their work.

“Stop.”

Cullen’s head shot up to look Dorian in the eye, worry flooding his mind. “Are you ok?” he lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to the mage, caressing his cheek with one hand, stroking his hair with the other.

“You don’t know me, Cullen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Confusion washed over Cullen’s features, “I…I don’t understand. I want to know you. I feel like I do, but if I don’t, then I want—”

Dorian shook his head vigorously, “Cullen, you don’t get it! You wouldn’t want me if you knew me.”

Cullen’s eyes went stern, “Dorian, I just told you nothing could change my feelings for you. Nothing. I meant that.”

Dorian removed Cullen’s hand from his face, gently stroking the Commander’s knuckles with his thumb, “Please go, Cullen. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could never hurt—”

“Please,” Tears threatened the rims of his eyes as he tried to hold his ground. He wanted nothing more than Cullen’s body against his, but he knew Cullen would only be let down, falling for a fake man Dorian created.

Cullen took a moment to lean his head against Dorian’s, a wordless goodbye, before he rose and began throwing on his armor, scattered from the door to the foot of the bed. Dorian watched his hands as Cullen silently dressed, glancing back periodically to gauge the mage’s feelings.

As he opened the door to leave, Cullen’s weak voice called back, “You can tell me anything, Dorian. I meant that, too.”

“Not anything.”

The room turned cold when Cullen left, and the breeze from the door closing behind his one chance at love shook the tears from Dorian’s eyes, falling onto his shaking hands.

He could have been sitting there for hours—he wouldn’t know—just trying to…well, he wasn’t sure of that either. He felt so numb despite the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if he needed a drink, a good sob, or some self-pleasuring. None of them would make him feel better, but they would make him feel something.

He’s gone. Dorian kept repeating in his head. He’s gone, and I sent him away. He confessed his feelings to me, feelings I share, and I told him to go. I can never get him back, I sent him away…

__________

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the bells rang out, his eyes opened. They were dry and sore from crying; probably still red, too. Dorian reluctantly dragged his body out from under the fur blankets and sulked over to his mirror. Yes, definitely still red. He didn’t want to go out like that. He didn’t want to go out at all, for fear he might have to face his lost lover.

No, I didn’t lose him. Dorian stared himself down in the mirror, I pushed him away.

Dorian managed to make himself presentable, but he felt like a fraud in his own skin. He had settled into the identity of Dorian Rider, but somehow Cullen had undone all his hard work. Dorian was once again faced with himself, nothing to cover the shame he felt lying to a man who cared for him so deeply. And yet, he made no effort to tell Cullen the truth.

He would only be hurt that I lied to him, things are better this way. Interesting, the way Dorian continued attempting to convince himself he was in the right, when every part of him knew better.

Before he could psychoanalyze any further, Dorian pushed his chair back from the vanity and marched out the door, leaving his doubt at the threshold.

On the walk to the library, he felt like people were looking at him differently. They weren’t, when he looked closer, but nothing felt comfortable anymore. And things only became more uncomfortable when in the main hall Dorian’s eyes locked with golden ones on the other side of the room.

Cullen was entering the hall to the war room, papers tucked under his arm, when he glanced up, double taking before locking his gaze with Dorian’s. He wanted to run to the Commander, throw himself into the blond’s arms and apologize for everything. But melting on the other side of the hall would have to do. Cullen’s stare went soft as he saw the pain in Dorian’s eyes. They both knew the other was aching for their love, but both were too scared.

Cullen finally shook his head and looked down at his boots, disappearing into the ambassador’s office without a word.

Dorian tried to brush it off, tried to focus on his research, but to no avail. His mind was flooding with his mistakes. Though his eyes trekked the page in front of him, though his fingers turned the pages, he processed nothing. His mind was too full.

If there’s any perfect place to brood, it would be a library. Everyone passed Dorian without suspicion, assuming him to be lost in his work, all the while his crisis played out in silence. By the time the sun was setting, Dorian had read several works, but only had a page of notes. He tried to be productive, at least.

Now he had a choice to make: go back to his room and sleep his problems away, or go to the tavern and drink his problems away. Decisions, decisions.

Drowning his sorrows did sound tempting, but Dorian had pretended to be okay around enough people today. Besides, he didn’t need Bull to dive into his subconscious.

Dorian reached his quarters and, just as he prepared to shed his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep, a frantic knock rattled his door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He waited a moment, but nothing more happened. Dorian slowly approached the door and unfastened the latch. Right as he did, the door flew open, nearly knocking him back.

Cullen charged into the room with a wrinkled piece of parchment strangled in his fist. He slammed the door behind him, and somehow quietly screamed, “What, by Andraste, is this?!”

He held up the letter just long enough for Dorian to see a familiar signature at the bottom of the page. “Halward Pavus.” Oh, Maker, no.

Dorian’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, hands turning clammy. He had no words, not that Cullen was interested in listening.

Cullen threw the note behind him, roughly grabbing Dorian’s shoulders and pushing him into the vanity behind them. Dorian tried to babble a “this isn’t what it looks like” before the backs of his thighs collided with the table and a pair of harsh, sweet, warm lips crashed against his.

Before he could return the kiss, or even close his eyes, Cullen pulled away and stared him down. “You really had me falling for you. Was that your plan? Get close to the Commander of the Inquisition so you could leach information from me to send back to your Venatori parents?!”

“No, Cullen, I would never—”

“You made me fall in love with you.”

That word took all Dorian’s breath. His previously pounding heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what he had done, the pain he caused, the trust he’d broken. This is all he wanted to prevent.

“I-I’m so sorry, I never wanted this—”

“You aren’t even going to deny it?!” Cullen stood back from him, disgust in his eyes. That look alone could ruin Dorian.

“Cullen, please! I’m not Venatori! I tried to hide because I knew you’d think a Tevinter mage was Venatori, I knew you would think I was a spy, or a thief, or—”

“Lying only makes you look guiltier, Dorian! Bull told us exactly what he was going to do if he joined the Inquisition and we took him on his word because we were desperate. If you had told us, told me the truth—”

“Would you believe a mage walking through your gates saying, ‘Yes, I am a very powerful necromancer from Tevinter, but I swear I’m not Venatori’?”

Cullen’s face contorted again, backing up further, “You’re a necromancer?”

Dorian should have held his tongue. If he had stayed quiet, would they have given him a trial? But he supposed staying quiet is what led to this mess in the first place.

“Cullen I—please, give me a moment to explain! I never wanted you to get hurt, I didn’t mean to fool you into falling for me. I promise you, I never wanted any of this!”

Cullen’s voice dropped, “You didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you?”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, “No—well, yes. I—I hoped you were falling too because, Cullen, I lo—”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he nearly gripped Dorian again, taking all the strength he had to hold back. “Don’t…say it.”

“But, Cullen, I really do—”

Cullen was on him in an instant, hands digging into his hair, lips locked in a heated kiss. Passion mixed with anger and confusion as the two men lost themselves in physical sensation.

Dorian gasped for air as the kiss finally broke, Cullen asking through panting breath, “Make me believe you. Prove you’re the same man I loved.”

Dorian searched the blond’s face for something that could help him, but he found only hurt and betrayal. “I…I can’t.” he didn’t know how he could fix this, he didn’t think he could.

Tears finally fell from Cullen’s eyes as he looked to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, not wanting Dorian to see just how much he’d hurt him.

“Get out. Take your things, food, lyrium potions. I don’t care, take whatever you want, just…”

Dorian held his breath, devastated to hear what came next, “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

He was crushed, he felt like his legs would give out from under him. But Dorian moved as he was told, gathering his things, tears staining each item he touched.

Cullen refused to look at him, keeping his back to Dorian as the mage packed all he could.

Dorian approached the door slowly, hoping Cullen would stop him to say something more, something that could bring Dorian hope for seeing each other again. But he got no such reply.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave. I’m going to tell them you vanished into the night before I could confront you. They won’t come looking for you. Neither will I.” Cullen’s glazed eyes rose to look into Dorian’s, puffy and bloodshot. “Goodbye, Dorian.”

His heart sank. He felt like he might vomit, if he had any strength. He felt so weak and lost.

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

With those final words, Dorian was gone. He did as Cullen told him, making sure no one witnessed him leave into the dark. With nowhere else to go, he headed toward Miss Ella’s farm. Dorian didn’t know how he would tell her, but he was done lying. He’d hurt the most important person to him already, nothing could be worse.

__________

Cullen stood in the empty room with his eyes closed, hands over his face, wiping away his tears so he could pretend he wasn’t hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, Cullen began searching the room halfheartedly. He threw open drawers without really looking, making the place look ransacked in a rush. Once he’d scattered things in a believable way, he turned his attention to the lock on the door. He took the hilt of his sword and knocked the latch loose, making it look like he had broken in. That should be enough to convince his fellow advisors.

Cullen quickly returned to the war room where many members of the inner circle, along with the Inquisitor and his advisors, waited in anticipation for the Commander’s return. As the door swung open, all heads turned toward him, each with equally expectant and worried looks. Cullen’s face was blank, but his feeling of defeat was still obvious.

“Well?” Cassandra stepped forward, worry in her eyes but anger on her face, “Where is that Venatori bastard?”

Cullen sighed deeply, the rest of the room raising their brows in unison.

“Gone. I didn’t find him in the ‘Rest or his room.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Then we send a search party. Check all corners of Skyhold, then we—”

“We can send all the search parties you want, Lady Seeker, but there’s nothing left of him here. I broke into his quarters and looked for any information as to where he could be or what he hoped to gain by joining our ranks, but I found nothing. He either took everything important with him, or destroyed it.”

Everyone’s heads fell, shoulders slouching in defeat.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen with sadness strewn across his features. “And to think, we had all become so close…and it meant nothing to him.”

Tears threatened Cullen’s eyes again as he remembered how desperately Dorian had clung to him, tied to convince him he was innocent. But innocent men don’t hide, innocent men don’t lie.

“I know. But that must have been what he wanted. For us all to get comfortable, slowly leaking him the information he needed.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking and dropping his head, “I should have never let him join the inner circle. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor looked back to his party, nodding toward the door. All but the advisors exited the war room, leaving the room silent and cold. Once the space was empty of onlookers, the Inquisitor shuffled over to Cullen with wet eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment before the Inquisitor wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist. Cullen’s eyes widened in shock, looking down at the elf hanging onto him for dear life, before he gave in and squeezed the Dalish’s shoulders in return.

They stood like that for a moment, Leliana and Josephine watching on solemnly, wrapped in their own somber embrace. The elf pulled back but stayed close, saying in a quiet voice, “He was my friend, Cullen. Our friend,” he gestured to the women behind him, “I know he was yours, too.”

Cullen felt his heart stop, then fall into the empty pit in his chest. “Yes,” he said gently, “the closest I’ve had since…in a while.”

The elf made certain the door closed quietly behind him as he left, Josephine following closely behind. Before Leliana made her move to leave as well, she handed Cullen a short stack of papers.

With a soft voice, she said, “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I started digging right after we intercepted the letter. I found the names of a few close friends and accomplices of the Pavus family. One of which has been heavily involved with the Venatori since before the term was coined, before they worshipped Corypheus.”

Cullen flipped through the pages, sloppily skimming the words on each one.

“Name?” Cullen asked, no nonsense.

“Gereon Alexius, a former mentor and family friend, from what I found. If Dorian had anything to do with the magicks Alexius had been developing…”

“I’ll go over it in the morning. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was flat and flavorless.

The spymaster sighed, placing a sympathetic hand on Cullen’s cheek, palm surprisingly warm. “I know what you felt for him. When I first joined the Hero of Ferelden on her journey…”

Cullen looked at her with understanding.

Leliana cleared her throat, never having gotten this personal with the Commander before. “Well, people have feelings that sometimes contradict with their goals. And they choose which to follow. Often, I think, they choose the wrong path.”

Cullen nodded, eyes squeezing shut with hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I wonder if he didn’t lie to you about the way he felt, but knew it wouldn’t align with his plans.”

“I can’t have feelings for someone who supports the Venatori’s agenda. He fooled me, Leliana. I fell for a man that doesn’t exist.”

Leliana’s hand fell from his cheek. “Have you considered his personality may have been real?”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his brow simply furrowed.

She gave a slight smile, “Please rest, Commander. The war can wait a night.”

__________

Cullen didn’t sleep that night, his dreams plagued by images of Dorian and echoes of their final goodbyes. He could still feel the mage’s thin fingers in his hair, the passion and meaning in each kiss they shared. Cullen would wake frequently throughout the night, sweating and conflicted, his emotions at war with reality.

It was futile after a while, and only served to drain his energy more each time he woke, so he stopped trying to rest, instead making his way down to his office to mull over Leliana’s research. The blond felt hopeless as he read, not recognizing any of the names of the influential families mentioned, despite them all being connected to someone he thought he knew.

As he skimmed the next few pages—mostly filled with descriptions of how money was passed amongst the families for favors, something Josephine could use later—Cullen’s eyes paused on a description of Dorian. The quote seemed to be a letter sent from a man called Felix, to Dorian’s father:

“Lord Pavus,

My father has been rather busy with his project, so he asked me to write you in his place. Dorian has been of exponential help with his academic knowledge, but also with his experience. My father truly appreciates you continuing to allow Dorian to remain with us. As promised, he is kept an eye on, allowed only to leave the grounds with the accompaniment of myself or a guard. Speaking personally, your son is a great man. He has been nothing but honest with us, and I consider him a friend. I am starting to suspect he does not know my father’s intent with their project, and I am beginning to worry he may cease work if he discovers its purpose. Know that, should that happen, I will not stop him. Our task was to keep him from trouble, and if he deems the project as such, I will trust his judgement. My father and I have different views on these types of magicks; Dorian seems to enjoy thinking about the hypothetical, but he agrees that these things are better left to imagination. While the project is important to my father—and of course to myself, if it can work to cure me—I feel a need to allow Dorian to do what is best for himself. These are my intentions, not my father’s. He has all intentions to hold up his end of your bargain. I have made no such promises to you. Be aware of that.

Yours Truly,

Felix Alexius

P.S. Dorian asks that you do not attempt to contact him directly. He has nothing to say to you.”

Cullen could deduce two things from the letter: Felix Alexius is Gereon Alexius’s son, and whatever they were working on was magic most people have an aversion to. Could it be blood magic? What would blood magic have to do with curing someone of an ailment? Even if this Felix was possessed, blood magic could only transfer the demon to another living being, not banish it. Blood magic is a demon’s domain.

As much as he tried to focus on what information he could draw about their “project”, Cullen couldn’t help but see how devoted Felix was to Dorian. While he claimed in the letter to consider Dorian a friend, could they have been more? Another detail about Tevinter Dorian had hidden.

“Nothing but honest?” Cullen thought aloud, “If only. Would have saved me a few headaches.”

Cullen drug a hand over his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t noticed pooling in the corner of his eye. This was harder than he thought it would be, to consider his paramour could be capable of aiding the Venatori, or even worse, being one of them.

He took a moment to collect himself before dressing in his usual armor and setting off for the war room where he would wait for the morning to fully rise and his fellow advisors to arrive.

Entering the hall leading to the war room, Cullen was greeted by Josephine at her desk looking exhausted, mulling over paper work of her own. She looked up upon hearing the door creak open and gave him a weak smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, fixing her frazzled hair.

Cullen nodded, “I see you couldn’t either. Manage to dig up anything else?”

Josephine sighed, bringing a tall stack of parchment up from the floor by her feet. “There are many noble families associated with the Venatori. Most are from Tevinter, of course, but there are a surprising handful from Antiva.”

Cullen plopped into the seat in front of Josephine’s desk, about to start sorting through the things she’d dug up, when the door creaked again, Leliana leaning her head in.

“I thought I heard you up, Josie. Commander.” She nodded to Cullen in greeting.

He nodded back, handing her his notes from the morning, “I found a letter in what you gave me, from a young man named Felix. It looks like he’s Alexius’s son, and he knows what they were working on. Something big, something dangerous, something even Dorian seemed hesitant about.”

“Blood magic?” Josephine asked, walking around her desk to peer over Leliana’s shoulder.

“That was my first thought, but the people of Tevinter have a long history with blood magic; I wouldn’t think a Tevinter would have any qualms about using it. No, this must be something people don’t play with.”

The women shook their heads in unison. “Corypheus is driving his followers to play with the laws of nature.” Leliana said under her breath.

“Possibly. We need to find Alexius before he completes his project, if he hasn’t already.”

The women nodded, Josephine rushing off to wake the Inquisitor.

As the door swung closed, Leliana turned to face the Commander, kneeling on the ground before him. “Are you feeling any better? I take it you didn’t sleep well.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning forward in defeat. “I understand you have eyes everywhere around Skyhold, but how is it you knew about me and Dorian, but didn’t know Dorian was pretending to be someone else?”

Leliana sighed, crossing her legs under her, “I don’t know. I feel like I failed us, I let such a huge threat pass through our defenses. He must have been extremely careful. It…it makes me wonder if he has other correspondents in our ranks.”

Cullen nearly choked on his bitter laugh, “One thing at a time, Leliana. If there were any other Tevinters in the Inquisition, they would have fled with Dorian. They’d know they had been found out. We can look into it after we find this mentor of Dorian’s and find out what that secret project is all about.”

It didn’t seem to make the spymaster any less nervous, picking at her fingernails and staring into her lap. Cullen sighed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You haven’t failed anyone. I’m the only fool here.”

Before she could reassure him, the door flew open again, the Inquisitor and Josephine holding yet more research. Cullen stood, bowing his head respectfully.

“What’s this about a secret project?” The elf asked, almost panting.

“I found a letter from Dorian’s mentor’s son describing a project using magicks none of them felt comfortable messing around with. We’ve ruled out blood magic; we think it could be something even more threatening.”

“Are we certain? Dorian seemed very against blood magic when we spoke about it. He almost looked sick talking about it.” The Inquisitor nearly snatched the letter from Cullen’s hand when offered.

“Even if those were his true feelings on the matter, blood magic is not a rarity in Tevinter, and even this mentor and his son seemed hesitant.” Cullen explained, pointing to his notes in the margins.

The elf sighed, sitting in Cullen’s now vacant seat. “This is bad. So bad.”

“Yes…” Cullen sat as well.

After a long silence where the room seemed as tired as the people in it, Josephine spoke up.

“Should we start work on a plan of attack?”

“I’ll see if I can hunt Alexius down. Maybe find his son, if I can’t find the man himself.” Leliana was already heading back to her nook to send out spies.

The Inquisitor absentmindedly nodded, approving but reluctant. “I’ll see who wants to come along to fight an insane Venatori with some mystical secret magic. Wish me luck.” He stood and shuffled toward the door.

“Cullen, form a small band of troops. Some of the more talented Templars, if you could. I have a feeling we’ll require their abilities.”

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said bluntly, watching the Inquisitor as he exited.

Josephine and Cullen turned to one another. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to trade their honor for a bribe. I suppose we’ll regroup after we’ve all finished. Stay strong, Commander.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I will certainly do my best.” Cullen gave a respectful bow before leaving the ambassador to her work.

As he walked down the main hall, ready to turn left through Solas’s quarters toward his office, Cullen noticed the light breeze coming from a door to his right. He glanced over and saw the garden mostly empty before the door swung shut again. He could use to clear his head.

So he turned right instead, stepping out into the garden. Cullen breathed in and held it, letting the silence wash over him. He let the breath out and began slowly pacing the garden. He brushed his gloved fingertips across the leaves in the herb planters, watched on as a bird drank from the well, and stepped over the line of ants making their way to their hill. But when he reached the gazebo, he stopped.

Cullen looked on solemnly at the chess board, pieces still set as they were when he and Dorian had played, a few knocked over from wind. Cullen sat in his seat and stared across to where Dorian should have been. He’d looked so beautiful that day, the sun backlighting and outlining his face. He had still had a sheen of sweat from sparring, glistening off his toned arms and neck. Cullen heaved a long sigh before moving one of Dorian’s pieces forward.

“Check mate,” He whispered, “You got me, Dorian.”

After a moment Cullen stood, making his way into the small Chantry set up in one of the rooms off the garden. Andraste’s likeness watched him as he entered, false golden eyes seeming to follow him. Cullen gently lowered himself onto a knee, clasping his hands in front of his face before the shrine.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this properly.” He admitted.

Cullen proceeded to recite the Chant of Light and several prayers for the men and women he would be taking with him to battle. One for the Inquisitor, one for himself, one for his friends, and one for his family.

Before he stood, Cullen closed his eyes tightly. “He may not deserve it,” he said softly, quietly, “but Maker please, keep Dorian safe. I doubt more and more the decision I made sending him away. I should have let him say his piece. I didn’t know Dorian Pavus, but I knew my Dorian. There has to be something of the man I loved in there. It couldn’t have all been a lie. He cried for me, he told me he didn’t want to hurt me. I can’t bear the thought of it all having been manipulation. Please, wherever he is, keep him safe.”

__________

Cullen would have preferred it hadn’t taken as long as it did, but here they were two days later with plans sprawled out on the war table. Each advisor had done their work quickly but surely, getting as close to the truth as they could in such a short time frame. Cullen had his Templar volunteers and a solid fighting strategy, Leliana had her eye witnesses, and Josephine had her bribed sources.

As the Inquisitor wrapped up the meeting, all attendees on board with the plan, he asked, “Any final questions?” Hesitant to move forward with their search.

The room had a sad sort of silence, none of them sure they would return safely, or return at all. They had been lucky since Haven to avoid any true life or death battles, but they were all well aware this would be like no fight they had fought before.

With the lack of any remaining questions to help him stall, Lavellan turned to Cullen with soft eyes. “Are you ready, Commander?”

After a deep, deep breath, He nodded. They were all on their horses and off in an instant, Skyhold’s gates behind them reminding them there was no turning back.

Hours later, after following the directions Leliana’s spies could write out with any certainty, the party found themselves passing through Redcliffe Farms, past the stables and the druffalo, to a fork splitting the trotted path in two.

“This way, I think.” The Inquisitor said, checking the written description again.

“Are you sure?” Cullen chimed in quickly, riding up to align their horses so he could glance over the elf’s shoulder. “The only thing up the hill is the watchtower. A stream beyond that. I expect if the Venatori were holed up there, the stable master and his wife would have noticed. Certainly our guards in the tower would have seen them come and go.”

Lavellan chewed the inside of his lip as he became less convinced they weren’t out on a wild goose chance. “The reports just say ‘Venatori activity traced back to Redcliffe Farms. Suspected to be in Dead Ram Grove.”

Increasingly frustrated by the vague intel they had managed to scrounge up practically overnight, Cullen let out a scoff. “Dead Ram Grove is the start of the stream, where the water flows down from the mountains. The only thing there is water and sheep. Obviously Leliana’s helpers need their heads examined. It’s pointless to even look.”

As Cullen turned his horse around, ready to head back to the farm and ask around, the Templars all perked up in unison.

“Commander,” Barris pulled his horse to block Cullen’s path. “There is magic here. It’s faint, not like a mage is present, but a spell they left behind. Whether they remain here, or have since left the area, I still believe it’s worth investigating.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder for conformation, the Inquisitor already leading the group ahead. While he trusted Barris’s sense for magic, Cullen also felt dread, part of him hoping they wouldn’t find anything Venatori related. Or at least nothing that would confirm Dorian’s connection to them. But he followed dutifully, returning to his position right next to the Inquisitor.

As they passed the watch tower overlooking the farm, and led their horses to wade through the water as they followed upstream, Cullen’s heart raced. The Templars continued to sense lingering magic, perhaps even an active enchantment; a ward meant to hide things in plain sight.

“Dispell,” Cullen commanded, Barris and his soldiers taking deep swigs of lyrium. Cullen averted his eyes as they did.

Moving as one, the Templars gave two hardy hits each to their shields, and a shock wave erupted out from their group. It made no noise, but bounced off the walls of Dead Ram Grove like an echo. The party stayed silent in waiting.

Distant voices could be heard speaking Tavene.

Cullen and Lavellan whipped their heads around to look at each other with wide eyes. “Venatori!”

Hurried but quiet, the party leapt off their horses, loosely draping their reins over branches to keep the steeds in place. They followed the voices to a low cliff overlooking the grove. There was little foot traffic, with overgrown grass and weeds, dead trees leaning to make a morbid arch. As they inched closer, a small sconce lit on its own, causing the Inquisitor to jump.

He took a hesitant step forward, narrowing his eyes at the greenish blue flame. “Veil fire.” He whispered behind him. “That means mages.”

Part of Cullen’s heart sank. While he knew this would lead them to gaining an edge against Corypheus, a selfish part of him wanted them to find nothing, so he would never learn more about just how much Dorian had lied to him.

Entering the ruins of what must have been an old exit from the deep roads, massive stone pillars loomed, along with menacing statues of cloaked skeletons driving their swords into the ground. The group felt uneasy, each member fidgeting and glancing to every corner of the room. It was dark, but the light from outside showed them a staircase leading even further into the earth, and further into darkness.

Cullen blocked the Inquisitor from continuing, rather taking the lead himself to protect the elf from a possible ambush. Making their way forward only led them to darker and darker rooms, no torches in sight, only dim Veil fires that continued to flare up ominously as they approached each sconce.

Just as they entered the final room of the cave ruin, Cullen starting to think there may be nothing here after all, the room came to life, sconces bursting into multicolored flames, illuminating the space to reveal that they were surrounded.

“Inquisitor,” a dark figure in Tevinter robes grinned smugly from a ruined throne at the far end of the room. “Welcome.”

“Sheath your weapons,” the surrounding mages demanded, drawing ever closer with staves outstretched.

The party looked to Lavellan for instruction, and he nodded, returning his sword to his back. The group followed suit.

“We were beginning to wonder if you might realize how close we had drawn. Corypheus sends his regards.” The mage stood from his seat, tossing back his hood and crossing his arms behind him.

“Oh, we found you out quickly,” Lavellan snarled, “Your little spy wasn’t as stealthy as he thought. Maybe you should handle your correspondents’ communications more carefully.”

The Tevinter’s brow raised, looking surprised, but always taunting. “My ‘spy’?” he inquired with a lilted voice, “Do tell, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “No need to play coy, Alexius. We intercepted Magister Pavus’s attempts to contact his son, whom you so clumsily slipped into our ranks.” Cullen’s bitterness and blame had all lifted off of Dorian in that moment as he directed his hurt onto Alexius, the man responsible for all this heartbreak in the first place, as far as Cullen was concerned.

“Magister Pavus’s son?” Alexius’s grin dropped, “You speak of Dorian, Commander?”

Cullen flinched at the mention of the mage’s name.

Alexius looked to the throne behind him, tracing a finger along the arm. “My poor Dorian; if only he could have seen the good he could achieve. Not only for Tevinter, for the world.”

Cullen was in shock at what he was hearing. If Alexius hadn’t sent Dorian to the Inquisition, then who did? Could all that Dorian said, that fateful night on which he was banished from Cullen’s sight, be true after all? From where he stood, all Cullen could see was a backlit outline, but the mage before them began to make an obvious, sinister movement toward his pocket.

“What Dorian never realized, what I tried to teach him through our research, is that Thedas…Thedas needs direction,” his voice was low as he turned, eyes glistening with intent, knowing he had won.

“Thedas needs control.”

Blue light began sparking in the mage’s palm, lighting his crazed expression from below, broken sounds of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his hand higher.

The Inquisitor and Cullen watched on with masked fear as a small talisman on a leather cord began to rise on its own from the palm of Alexius’s hand, crackling in an unstable, uncontrolled manner. Just as dread and the weight of their own mortality began washing over the party, a voice called out from a shadowy corner:

“No! I won’t let you do this.”

The blue cast vanished at once, the talisman dropping from its ominous floating and back into the mage’s hand. Alexius whipped his neck around, eyes worried and shocked at once, obviously recognizing the voice. The young man had dark, tired eyes as he revealed himself from the dark. His skin lacked color, and his hair was thin. He looked as if he had lived a man’s full life in only a few years, and he was exhausted.

“Felix!” Alexius ran to the young man’s side. “My son, you should be resting, you’re too weak; you look so pale!”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed as he heard the familiar name. “Felix?” he said quietly, then directing his question to the man himself, “You were friends with Dorian, weren’t you?”

Felix pushed past his father, standing before the party with confidence. “I am. I know him well, and I know he would never have helped with your project if he knew what you planned to use it for.” He turned to face Alexius, pointing an accusing finger. “You lied to him! You lied to me! You said this was for my health, that you thought this could save me! You betrayed his trust, my trust!”

His eyes went somber as he quietly asked, “What would mother think?”

That sent Alexius into a rage, shouting furiously, “This could bring her back! Both of you would be safe, healthy, happy! I did this all for you both!”

Tears began to well in his eyes as Felix retorted, voice meek and sad, “No. She would have never wanted this.”

Alexius became irate, nostrils flaring and fists clenching, “How dare you!!” he screamed. “You have the opportunity to have your mother back, to have never lost her at all, and you tell me she would never want this? You stand before me, your own father, who has loved and raised you single handedly since she passed, telling me this isn’t all for you?!”

“Raised me? Single handedly?! What about all the days, even weeks, I went without seeing you because you were too hung up on your project? Too lost in the past to spend time with your own son? After my mother died in front of my eyes!”

Alexius’s hands began to burn with fire, the talisman feeding off of his rage and sparking once again. “You would be in the grave with her if it weren’t for me! All that research, just to keep you alive for all these years! You would have died within days of her if it weren’t for all my time spent in that damned laboratory, slaving over revolutionary medicines I now learn you weren’t even grateful for!”

“I wish I had died with her!” Felix’s cry echoed through the stone of the ruin walls. “I’ve been suffering for years! I feel the Blight eating away at me from the inside every moment I continue to breathe! You have no idea the pain you’ve put me through!”

The room fell silent, Alexius thinking on his son’s hurtful words.

“Well,” he said after a long while, voice raspy with emotion, “If my magic can’t serve to help you,” he clenched the talisman with ferocity, “It will serve Corypheus just fine!”

The room lit with blue lightening, the talisman flying into the center of the space and igniting with quick bursts of magical energy, barely controlled. Alexius howled with mad laughter, arms outstretched to feed the talisman with all his mana, fueling the chaotic reaction.

“Father, No!” Felix screamed, throwing himself at Alexius, tackling him to the ground.

While the Venatori were distracted, all watching in awe at the display of power destabilizing in the center of the room, the Inquisitor sprinted forward, drawing his sword and charging to take Alexius out for good. But, from the corner of his eye as he wrestled with his own son, Alexius spotted the elf’s attack. He managed to get a hand free from Felix, commanding the talisman to explode with a magical fury of light spiritual wisps, imploding inward on itself, sucking the Inquisitor in as he screamed in agony, his every essence torn across time and space. Cullen and the Templars watched on in abject horror, Lavellan’s blood curdling cries echoing in their minds.

Though the Inquisitor was gone, his blade continued his momentum, flying across the room and driving directly into Alexius’s shoulder, causing him to tumble off Felix and crash onto the stone floor.

“Venatori! Attack the Inquisitor’s reinforcements!!” Alexius hollered as he stumbled off to his escape.

“Retreat!” Cullen commanded, tailing Barris and the rest of the Templars as they fled, defending them against attacks from behind as they fought through the Venatori hoard before them.

Once there was a hole in the opposition’s defense, Cullen called out, “To the watchtower! Tell them to fire on the river! Shoot anything that moves!”

The Commander fought off those trying to prevent their escape, helping his team push to the ruin entrance. When they reached the threshold, each member jumped back onto their horses, galloping off to the watchtower and the camp just beyond Redcliffe Farms for backup.

“Open fire! Venatori!” Barris yelled to the watchtower guards. A shower of arrows came down almost instantly, flying just behind their horses, taking out many of the Venatori swordsmen. But the mages hadn’t left the mouth of the ruin, and Cullen was right there waiting for them. Dodging the hail of arrows and trying not to fall off the short cliff, Cullen fought back as many of the mages as he could while he waited for backup from the camp. Barris came riding back in just in time to save Cullen’s back from an attack he didn’t see coming.

As their numbers dwindled, it became easier for the Templars to dispel almost all the defensive magicks the Venatori were using, causing the remaining few mages to panic and retreat back into the ruin, following Alexius’s escape route.

Exhausted, but still on edge, Cullen and Barris’s Templars made their way back to the farm to regroup and process what had just happened. What had happened to the Inquisitor?

As they rounded the corner to check on the guards at the watchtower, Cullen heard footsteps running up behind them.

“There’s a straggler!” He called out, pulling out his sword and shield again, ready to strike.

“No, don’t shoot! I want to help you!”

Cullen stayed poised as he watched the man come into view. It was Felix, panting and running toward them, unarmed.

“What did you do with the Inquisitor?!” Cullen inched closer to Felix, still not convinced he could let his guard down.

Felix stopped several feet away, leaving enough room so Cullen felt unthreatened. He raised his hands above his head to show he meant no harm. “He’s not dead, I can promise that much, but I don’t know where he is.” His hands lowered as he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Well, that’s not quite what I mean. I know where he is; he’s here.”

Cullen’s sword and shield lowered and he looked at Felix with confusion.

“What I should say is: I don’t know when he is.”

Frustrated, Cullen ground his teeth, “Enough being cryptic! Just tell us where Alexius took him!”

Felix shook his head. “This is going to take a lot of explaining, and it will sound outlandish, but you have to believe me. I was there when my father and Dorian developed this, I know how it—”

“Spit it out!” Barris barked, now standing next to Cullen, also ready to fight.

Felix sighed, “He sent the Inquisitor through time.”

The Templars looked around at each other, none having heard of such magic before.

“Don’t lie to us, boy! We have you surrounded.” Barris raised his shield in preparation before his arm was pushed down.

“He isn’t,” Cullen held Barris back, then sheathing his own weapon and shield. “When we first suspected Dorian was Tevinter, Leliana found the letter we all read in the mission briefing. The letter was written by Felix, and he said the magic they were experimenting with was magic no one had ever considered manipulating before. Because it’s dangerous; one doesn’t just mess with the laws of nature.”

“You saw my letter? To Dorian’s father? So that’s how you knew of me, and that I know Dorian.” Felix approached slowly as he connected the dots. “So you must see now: Dorian knew he was developing a way to manipulate time, but he thought it was for me. He ran away, here to Ferelden, the moment my father started to speak of joining the Venatori. And he would never have helped in the first place if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

Cullen looked Felix up and down, taking in his thin frame, eaten away at by something inside of him. “You said in there that you’re sick. Is it really the Blight? I’ve never seen anyone survive past a day, let alone a year.”

Felix nodded sadly, eyes going even darker, “Yes. While my father is no healer, he is an excellent alchemist, and created many medicines to try and help me while he worked on a more permanent solution to curing me. That’s when he…recruited Dorian to help. It was more like blackmail, but Dorian just wanted to help me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “He was like a brother to me. He never knew this would happen.”

Barris lowered his weapons completely, but would not sheath them. “Then…did you send Dorian to the Inquisition?”

Felix’s eyes went wide, “No, I never even knew he joined. I haven’t been able to contact him for months. It was too risky, I couldn’t have my father knowing I planned to stop him. Dorian always said he would be by my side on that day, But after we lost touch…”

Cullen felt his shoulders relax; Dorian wasn’t Venatori! What a relief. But he felt no relief, as just as the revelation swept over him, another realization came to tighten his chest. He drove Dorian away for nothing. He broke the mage’s heart, and his own, based on assumptions.

“I never let him say his piece…” Cullen thought aloud.

“What?” Barris turned to him, finally putting his weapons away. “You spoke to Dorian? When?”

Cullen wiped a hand over his face before glancing over to Felix. “It looks like the two of us have a lot of explaining to do.”

__________

As they rode their horses back to Skyhold, Barris in the lead and Cullen protecting the rear of the group, Felix tapped Cullen’s shoulder from behind.

“Cullen, is it? Could I ask you something?” Felix said as he shifted uncomfortably on the back of Cullen’s saddle.

“You’ll call me Commander until we know we can trust you.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Commander, I assure you.”

Cullen had to stop himself from groaning. He would have liked to say he was angry, but the only thing jumping around in his mind was confusion. The only thing he was angry about was his decision. And frankly, he was tired of thinking about it. He was only making himself feel worse.

“Just ask your question.”

Felix nodded and asked, “I hadn’t heard from Dorian after his initial letter telling me he had arrived in Ferelden. I’m missing a lot of time between then and now. Could you tell me what happened that led to you believing Dorian was Venatori?”

Cullen heaved a deep sigh, “It’s not a short list of events, I’ll warn you.”

Felix chuckled, “We’ve nothing but time at the moment.”

“I suppose,” Cullen half-heartedly agreed.

When he finished catching Felix up to speed, the young man was silent for a long while, mulling over the details.

“It sounds like Dorian trusted you.” He prodded.

Cullen dropped his gaze to the reins in his tightly fisted hands. “I know I trusted him. I thought he had betrayed my trust when we intercepted his father’s letter, but I…” He squeezed his eyes closed, “I said things I wish I hadn’t. Things I didn’t mean. I know now that I betrayed him, just because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I still can’t believe you spoke to him before he vanished.” Barris chimed in from the front of the formation. “You lied to the entire Inquisition! Even your friends. That’s me I’m talking about, by the way. You lied to me.”

“I know.” Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure he was safe. I didn’t know what the Inquisitor would do to him. But I guess it couldn’t have been much worse than what I did…” Cullen’s voice fell off as he remembered all the things he said.

I don’t ever want to see your face again…

Entering Skyhold’s gate led them directly into a crowd of people wanting to congratulate the Inquisitor on defeating the hidden Venatori forces. But when Cullen passed under the arch and into the courtyard with the Inquisitor’s empty horse led behind him, all the chattering stopped.

“Where is Lavellen?” Cassandra asked with worry. And as Cullen’s horse turned to reveal the second passenger, “And who is that?” She growled.

Cullen lowered himself off the horse, pointedly not offering Felix any help to get down, which he did ungracefully.

As he handed the reins off to a stable hand, Cullen told the Seeker, “Call a war meeting.”

__________

“You WHAT?” The ladies exclaimed in unison.

Cullen drug a hand over his face, leaning on the war table and sighing before he said, “I know it was stupid of me, but Dorian isn’t Venatori, so there’s no danger in him being out there on his own.”

“But you didn’t know that when you sent him away!” Josephine shouted, as much as the mild-mannered woman could.

“Look,” Cullen closed his eyes tightly, pinching the space between his brows, “I lied. I lied to all of you and put you in danger because I let myself get too close. I considered Dorian a friend. I didn’t want him to be in danger in the hands of the Inquisition. I’m sorry. I know I was reckless, and I’m sorry.”

The room fell quiet as the women looked to one another, silently acknowledging Cullen’s apology.

Cullen continued after recognizing the soft looks in their eyes. “But what we need to do now is find him. He’s the only one who might know how to get Lavellen back.”

“Dorian can reverse engineer a spell better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Felix added, “He’ll be able to undo this. I’m certain.”

“Well, mister ‘best friend’,” Leliana turned to Felix, annoyed that he had cut in, “Where do you propose we start our search?”

Felix took a second to think. “In his initial letter, to tell me he had arrived, Dorian mentioned he was staying with an older woman in the Hinterlands. He simply called her ‘Miss Ella’. She has a small farm, he said. I haven’t heard from him since then, so that would be my only guess.”

Cullen nodded, “Even if he’s not staying with her, he might be hiding out nearby. Runaways tend to return to places they know first.”

“I trust your ability to hunt down a mage, Commander.” Cassandra said, too dry to tell if she was joking.

But before the hunt could begin, all of Skyhold needed rest and time to absorb the news of the Inquisitor’s disappearance. No rest came to Cullen, however; as if he expected it to. His mind and heart were racing. What if they couldn’t find Dorian? Who would be able to bring back the Inquisitor?

And what if they did find Dorian? Would he forgive Cullen for what he had said? Would he attack or flee?

Worst of all: what if they found his body? Just another casualty of the war between the Templars and mages. Another victim to Corypheus’s forces.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He couldn’t bear the thought that his final words to Dorian would be his banishment, never able to redeem himself. Never able to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness.

With his eyes still closed, Cullen heard footsteps drawing casually closer, not trying to sneak, but also cautious.

“Can’t sleep either?” the voice was still slightly distant, not wanting to get too close. Cullen opened his eyes to see Felix, immediately skeptical as to why he was being allowed to walk the castle on his own.

Felix read his expression and chuckled. “Your spymaster has someone tailing me. The Lady Seeker isn’t far behind either. You don’t have to worry, I’m not here to assassinate you or something.”

“Who knows, I might welcome it at this point,” Cullen said under his breath.

Felix’s brow pushed together, “What happened between you and Dorian?”

After a long moment of staring through Felix, the Commander dropped his gaze to his folded fingers leaning on the battlements. “He was incredible to watch. So skilled with magic and combat; it was mesmerizing.” Cullen lifted his head to look up at the stars above. “And intelligent, as well. I enjoyed talking with him about the books he was reading, and the documents I was trudging through. He never looked away while I spoke.”

Felix gave a soft smile, looking to the heavens himself. “I know exactly what you mean. Dorian loves to talk about his research and learn what others have been studying. It made him a great student, one of the reasons he caught my father’s attention as a sponsor.”

A silence fell between the men as they both remembered their friend fondly. Cullen quietly asked, “Can you tell me about the Dorian you knew?”

Felix cocked his head curiously.

“I’d like to know if any of him was the real him.”

A sympathetic smile warmed Felix’s expression. “You described Dorian pretty perfectly just then. Always willing to debate—or argue, whichever he would get the most satisfaction from—and always showing off. He pretends to be self-centered, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And while I’m not interested in men myself, I don’t think there’s a person in all of Thedas who can deny Dorian’s charm.” Felix chuckled once, “Always the flirt, that one.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. “So he flirted with everyone?” He asked in a whisper, not really meaning it as a question. But Felix still answered.

“He did, but there were always different kinds. It took me long to learn each of them.” Feeling more comfortable with their relations, Felix approached the battlements himself and leaned his hip on the stonework, crossing his arms and looking out over the mountains. “There are four types, so far as I could tell: for showmanship, for de-escalation, for banter, and for real. The showmanship is self-explanatory, Tevinter is built around relationships and marriages. Dorian had to faine interest in his women suitors to keep up appearances. De-escalation, just flirting to calm an argument. Telling people what they want to hear, you know. And of course a little flattery back and forth between friends was his favorite.”

“How could you tell if he ever meant it?” Cullen asked, hopeful.

Felix ran a hand over his hair as he thought. “Dorian is a very honest man, most of what he says he always means, even if he doesn’t say it directly. He might think a noble woman is quite pretty, for example, and rather than tell her flatly, he will go out of his way to make her smile by flirting. ‘By the Black Divine, my lady, have you any common blood to Andraste herself? You have striking eyes, just like hers! And those cheekbones, they could surely cut marble!’ He likes to make people smile.”

“And he’s very good at it,” Cullen couldn’t help the fond grin that spread his lips.

“That he is.” Felix agreed, finding himself with a smile of his own as he reminisced.

__________

Cullen stood silent with his head down, fist poised to knock against the solid wood door before him. He hadn’t had to do something like this since Kirkwall; sharing the tragic news of a Templar’s death with their family. Somehow, this felt similar, having to tell someone Dorian clearly cared about, that he wasn’t who he said. But at least he didn’t have to tell her Dorian was a Venatori spy.

He took a final deep breath before giving a hardy knock. It took only seconds for Miss Ella to answer, like she had been waiting by the door. The door swung open with an audible whoosh, to reveal an older woman with joy in her cheeks, giving way to pleasant confusion when he looked Cullen up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can do for you, dear?” A sweet smile wrinkled the skin around her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help but give a small smile back before clearing his throat and beginning to explain, “Commander Cullen, at your service, ma’am. We are looking for a troop previously employed in our…”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he sighed, “Dorian. He stayed with you for a while, didn’t he?” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear his informality.

Miss Ella reared back a little, bringing the door closer to her so she could close it at any time. “I...oh, I rent my spare room to travelers, I suppose a ‘Dorian’ could have passed through--”

“Ma’am, please. You’re not in any trouble. Neither of you are, we just…” He couldn’t look the sweet woman in the eyes as he said, “I made a mistake. It came to our attention that he had been lying about his past, and I handled it very poorly. If he’s been back here...please, we need his help.”

Miss Ella still didn’t seem convinced, opening her lips to give a vague excuse. Cullen decided to show a little urgency.

“Ma’am, the Inquisitor is missing. Kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated by the Venatori.”

Miss Ella gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did...did he do it?”

“No, while Dorian is from Tevinter, as we found out, he has nothing to do with the Venatori. But he knows about their magic, and we need him to help us get the Inquisitor back.”

She took a moment to process before stepping aside in the doorway and beckoning them all to enter. Cullen, Felix, and Cassandra crammed into the small farmhouse, while Barris and his templars waited outside. Only Felix accepted an offer of tea.

“He did come back, but he didn’t come inside,” Miss Ella recalled as he stirred honey into Felix’s tea. “He made it nearly to the welcome mat, but no further, and said he was sorry. That he couldn’t stay because I wouldn’t be safe, and it was better if he kept the truth to himself, because he didn’t want to involve me. I figured he must have people after him, so I was expecting a visit, but not from the Inquisition.”

Tempted to sit, but ignoring the urge to slump into any nearby furniture, Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, well, while I’m not at liberty to say much, I made a rather large mistake that--”

“To which are you referring?” Cassandra asked with her arms crossed, scowl doned.

Cullen glowered back and continued, “...that put us all in danger. Dorian included.”

Cassandra let her arms drop, brow softening as she recognized Cullen’s regret.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t stay here long. He headed in the direction of Redcliffe, not taking the roads but going through the woods.”

They stayed long enough for Felix to finish his tea, then they were on their way north to Redcliffe, taking as odd a way they could in hopes of coming across Dorian’s trail.

After nearly an hour of trudging, one of Barris’s templars stopped.

“I smell viel fire.”

Cassandra looked at Cullen with a quirked brow. “Are you certain? How can you tell it isn’t just fire?”

Barris nodded, “I smell it too. It’s like fire but without the smoke, just the heat.”

“Any wards?” Cullen asked.

“None. It shouldn’t be hard to find him if we follow our noses.”

Cullen nodded, letting Barris lead the charge. Soon after, the group came across a very small clearing, staying in the trees to keep cover.

There in the center of the brush, surrounded by wildflowers, sat Dorian, playing with the green flames before him, deep in thought.

Cullen stared longingly, wishing he could just run out and hug the mage, hold him and never let go.

“I’ll go. You all wait here.” Cullen began pushing branches aside.

“You don’t think he’ll give you any trouble?” Barris held him back.

“No, but he will panic if he sees a group of templars coming out of the bushes at him.”

Cullen took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the sun.

It only took a few steps before Dorian shot out of his seat and grabbed his staff, summoning a ball of fire in his hand. Cullen put his hands up, away from his sword and shield. Slowly, Dorian recognized the blond hair, honey eyes, and marble skin. His guard lowered along with his staff, but only slightly.

“C...Cullen?”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief, lowering his hands and taking a step forward.

“Stop!” Dorian yelled, “This is some kind of trick isn’t it? So what type of demon are you, hm? Rage? Envy? Desire?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide before his brow furrowed with worry, “No, Dorian it’s...it’s me. It’s Cullen.”

Dorian scoffed, “No, that’s not possible. He told me he never…” he swallowed hard. “never wanted to see me again.”

Cullen flinched at his words, seeing how much they had hurt. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just scared, I didn’t think before I spoke, and I hurt you. I’m...Dorian, I’m so sorry.”

Cullen watched as emotions came and went in rapid succession across Dorian’s face.

“Make me believe you.” The mage whispered. “Prove you're the same man I loved.”

Those words. They struck him like a knife in the chest, tearing his heart out. Those were his words.

“I can’t…” Cullen whispered back.

Dorian’s staff fell abruptly into the grass, the fire in his hand disappearing into embers as he ran to Cullen. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders, Cullen returning the embrace just as tightly.

They pulled back, only to bring the other closer into a crashing kiss, tears spilling over onto both men’s cheeks.

“Dorian,” Cullen choked, “I’m so sorry, I said so many things I didn’t mean. I should have listened to you. Maker, I’m so--”

Dorian put a finger to the blond’s lips, then brought his to meet them. “I love you.”

Cullen’s eyes only watered more as he leaned their foreheads together and said, with all his heart. “I love you too.”

They both heard the trees opening from behind them, glancing that way to see Cassandra and Barris with his band of templars.

And Felix.

Dorian’s face lit up as he ran to meet his friend. “Felix!”

Their chests collided as each man wrapped an arm over the shoulder and around the waist of the other.

While the two were updating one another on what had happened between seeing each other last, Cassandra approached Cullen with an annoyed huff.

"So that's why you let him go." She crossed her arms.

Cullen sighed, turning to face her. "Yes," he stated, "because I didn't want him thrown in our prisons, because I didn't want him questioned for hours without rest. Because I love him. Is that what you want me to say?"

The corner of the Seeker's lips turned up on one side, barely a smile at all. She placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder. "Yes. And I'm glad you do."

It took him off guard, but Cullen was grateful for Cassandra's understanding. He knew she read those romance novels--Varric made sure to boast about it to everyone in Skyhold--but he never expected Cassandra of all people to be forgiving.

Suddenly her face went stern. Pulling her hand away and pointing a finger, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Don't tell anyone I said that. As far as Josephine and Leliana need to know, I'm still angry with you."

Cullen tried not to grin as he nodded.

He turned back to Dorian and Felix who laughed together as Dorian placed a kiss to Felix's cheek. Cullen smiled as he watched them reconnect, a warmth filling his chest.

"I hate to interrupt a reunion," Barris cut in, "but we have grave news about the Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor?" Dorian looked to Felix, "Your father. He didn't…"

Felix cringed as he nodded, head dropping, eyes closed tightly.

Dorian slumped, arm falling off Felix's shoulders. Cullen came behind him to place a comforting hand on his back.

"He's not dead, is he?" Dorian asked with a heaviness in his breath.

"We...we don't know." Cullen brought Dorian in by the waist, hugging him from the side. "Alexius used an amulet to...send him through time, was it?" He looked over to Felix to make sure he had gotten it right.

"So he finished it." Dorian's eyes widened with fear.

"No!" Felix put himself between Cullen and the mage, "He could never perfect it after you left. Something went wrong when he cast the spell; it wasn't like when you did it."

"You've traveled through time?" Cullen pushed Felix aside to ask Dorian.

Dorian grinned, "What? Never been with a man who invented time travel? Oh, no, of course not, how silly. Because I invented it."

"Dorian." Cullen said sternly, looking for a straight answer.

"No, I didn't go through time. Alexius and I sent an apple core a week forward in time and it came back rotten." As he gave the explanation, a wave of realization washed over Dorian, "But what's when the spell didn't work!" He grabbed Cullen but the hands with excitement. "The plan was to wipe the apple from existence, and only those who cast the spell would remember there ever having been an apple there. The fact that you all remember the Inquisitor proves the spell failed!"

"But how do we know where--when he is?" Barris asked, trying to keep up.

Dorian let go of Cullen's hands to twirl his mustache in thought. "Ah! Have you any paper, my love?"

Cullen grabbed some parchment and charcoal from one of the templars' satchels.

Dorian took the supplies eagerly, kneeling down to use his seat as a writing surface. "Look here," Dorian pulled Cullen in close as he drew a diagram, "We don't know when the Inquisitor is in time, yes? But we do know where. He'll be exactly where he was transported from."

Cullen nodded, following so far.

"So we need to go back to where and, somehow, enter the fade because--"

"Because time doesn't exist in the fade." Cullen cut in, "You can feel for his spirit and pull it back through the veil from the other side of time!"

Dorian smiled, excited that Cullen understood, "Well, I can't. While I studied the dead, I don't have any control over the spirits I use to possess the bodies. But I know someone who does."

"Solas." Cullen, Barris, and Cassandra said together.

__________

Back at Skyhold, they explained the plan to Solas, Cullen's fellow advisors still suspiciously eyeing Dorian.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of the fade, Dorian. Yet you've never entered it, is that right?" Solas sipped at his coffee.

"I still have my sanity, that should be a dead give away."

Solas grinned, "Indeed. And yet you understand its properties well. And this plan of yours is nearly fool proof."

"Nearly?" Cullen leaned in, "We need better than nearly. We need the Inquisitor back."

Solas held up a hand to calm him, "Nearly is the best place to start. I can help you, but the Inquisitor's spirit isn't the only thing on the other side of time. We need to find his body. Both were transported, were they not?"

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's where I'm uncertain. Can he enter the fade without performing the ritual himself?"

"Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe, Commander?" Solas asked, hands behind his back as he rounded the desk.

"You're talking about the incident with Conor and Bann Tegan. I've heard the story." He watched Solas with suspicious curiosity.

"I am. There is a way to perform the ritual on another, without entering the fade yourself…"

Cullen's eyes went wide, "No! No one is doing any blood magic!"

"Blood magic?" Dorian looked to Solas with anger. "You're suggesting I perform a blood ritual on the Inquisitor? Nonsense!"

Solas shrugged, "That is the only way I know of to return both the Inquisitor's soul and body as one."

Dorian scratched his chin as he tried to think of another way. "If I had the amulet here…"

Felix perked up, "What if I could get it from my father?"

The room looked over to Felix.

"What? Is it safe after what you did to help us?" Cullen asked.

Felix shook his head, "My father may not be in his right mind, but he's always been a father first. If I need him, he will be there with open arms."

Dorian slowly walked to Felix. "You'd steal from your own father for us?"

Felix smiled, "I would steal sweets from his personal stash for you all the time."

Dorian smiled and gave him a hardy thump on the shoulder. "Then we need to head back to Dead Ram Grove."

The day had been long and exhausting, and while time was of the essence, they all needed rest.

But Cullen couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable spot, but to no avail. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth fighting and went for a walk to think.

He walked the battlements until he was sick of looking at stone walls. When he got back to his office, no more ready to sleep than before, he thought of Dorian, how he had so much more he wanted to say, and so many more apologies to make.

Heading across the bridge to the library, Cullen tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to Solas's floor. The door creaked ever so slightly, and Cullen heard a calming voice say, "Dorian is downstairs."

He looked up to see Solas painting a mural of the fade on the atrium wall.

"Oh I was just…" Cullen started, but Solas gave him a knowing look. "Thank you." He said gently as he headed for the main hall's staircase to the basement.

Once down there, he saw a soft red light emitting from a door across the hall, where a small private office was. He smiled as he heard Dorian quietly talking to himself.

Cullen pushed the door open silently, seeing Dorian's back facing him. He snuck up and wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Dorian gasped before realizing who it was, then leaning his head back and humming in contentment.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Cullen asked in a breathy whisper.

Dorian sighed, "I have to know what I'm doing when I reverse the amulet's magic, if Felix can get it off his father. If we can find his father. Hopefully they've stayed put."

Cullen hummed, acknowledging Dorian's concerns. "I wish we had more time, then you could perfect this."

Dorian turned in Cullen's arms and wrapped his around the Commander's neck.

"I wish we had more time, too." He looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, leaving the silence between them.

Cullen quickly caught on, walking Dorian into the desk, lifting him by the thighs to sit atop it. "We have a couple of hours, at least."

Dorian smiled, bringing Cullen in for a light kiss. It quickly became something more, with hot hands finding fasteners on the other's armor and unfastening them. Their kiss turned deep and passionate and nearly frantic as the men wasted little precious time.

Dorian leaned back and pulled Cullen over him, holding him close as he whispered between kisses, "I never stopped loving you. I couldn't make myself stop after you told me to go. You had me."

Cullen kissed down Dorian's neck as he whispered back, "I thought it was just me. And I need you to know I only sent you away because I was scared. I didn't know what the Inquisition would do to you. I was only upset you'd lied to me."

"But you know why I had to." Dorian held Cullen by the cheeks to get his attention. "Would you have wanted me if I had told you I was a Tevinter necromancer."

Cullen pulled the mage’s hand back and kissed his palm, "I want you now, don't I?"

Dorian's words were thick with need as he whispered, "Do you?"

"More than anything."

And the love they made in the night, in a private tucked away space, far from the eyes and ears of Skyhold, was more than either man had felt in many years. Possibly all their lives.

__________

Cullen smiled as he rode alongside Dorian's horse, listening to him and Felix reminisce. They had a long history, from what Cullen gathered, and cared for each other like brothers. It felt good to see Dorian as his true self, and not a bundle of half truths peeking out from behind an alias.

The group was much larger this time, with closer to fifteen templars, including Barris, along with the addition of Solas and a handful of other mages. Cullen was grateful for the help, even if it meant spending time with Solas, trying desperately to find something to talk about.

When the team arrived, they tied their horses up at the camp near Master Dennet's stables and took off on foot toward Dead Ram Grove, signaling the watch tower to stay on guard.

At the entrance to the cave, Cullen took Dorian's hand and squeezed tightly while giving him a worried look. Dorian smiled gently, squeezing back. Cullen nodded and signaled the group into formation and forward. It was still dark, but with several mages summoning flames into their palms, they would be able to see any ambushes this time.

The team stepped cautiously into the final room of the cave where the Inquisitor had been torn through time. It was quiet, with the scattered corpses of Venatori from their failed attack on Cullen’s crew. Dorian winced as he saw the familiar clothing of his homeland, not happy to be fighting his countrymen.

Cullen looked to Dorian with concern, wordlessly asking if he was alright. Dorian nodded and continued on, reminding himself these men chose this path.

After glancing around the room, everyone turned to face Cullen with disappointed looks.

"There's no one here. How are we going to bring the Inquisitor back without that amulet?" One of the mages asked.

Dorian bit his lip as he thought.

Before he could come up with anything, Felix spoke up. "No, there must be another way out of here. My father didn't head for the entrance when he retreated, he went further in."

Cullen nodded, "That's right, everyone look around! There must be--"

Dorian placed his hands on the wall at the back of the cave and closed his eyes, reciting a spell quietly.

Before anyone could ask what he was planning, the wall dissolved away, revealing a laboratory and a barely conscious Alexius breathing heavily on the ground, books scattered where he sat.

"Father!" Felix rushed to his side as he pulled bandages from his bag. Alexius’s wounds were deep and unhealed, but not from Lavellan's sword, which laid across his lab table, still coated in blood.

"My son," Alexius’s voice was incredibly weak, sounding more like air than words.

Felix began applying pressure to his father's rotting wound, exposed flesh healed open.

"We have healers here, just hold on," he said even as the healers shook their heads, wounds too old to fix.

Dorian approached with caution, nerves rising at seeing his old mentor again. He stepped into view just as Alexius looked up.

"The Venatori," he wheezed, "they left me, abandoned me. Told...told the Elder One I failed them."

Felix's eyes began to well up with tears, "They were using you, father, just like you used Dorian. They wanted your magic, that was all."

Tears tugged at the edges of Alexius’s eyes as well, as he admitted, "The Elder One...Corypheus...he came to take the amulet, tried to kill me. But...but I…"

He began to cough and sputter, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He tightly grabbed Felix's hand, holding on with all his strength as he gasped and panted for air.

The air was stagnant, musty and old. Without a draft present, Dorian and Felix could feel as Alexius’s last breath escaped his chest and hit their skin.

Felix sat back on his hunches, eyes glazed, staring down at their entwined hands.

Dorian looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

A long silence hovered in the room, Dorian's hand gripping Felix's shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at his hand, still clasped in his father's, and felt something heavy and cold kiss his palm. He pulled his father's hand away to find the amulet, pulsating and smooth, as if never used.

"Crafty bastard," Dorian said as he lookes at the amulet in pristine condition. "He repaired it, but not perfectly. The way the magic is calibrated, it should work in reverse."

Dorian looked from the Inquisitor's sword to the books scattered on the floor.

"He was going to bring Lavellan back and try again."

"Maker's sake," Felix dropped his head into his hands.

"It's already 'calibrated' to bring him back? That saves us some time, doesn't it?" Cullen looked to Solas for confirmation.

"I am unfamiliar with time magic. I believe everyone to be, except for Dorian." Solas gestured from Dorian to confirm.

He nodded, taking the amulet from Felix and looking it over for imperfections. "Indeed it does. So long as he's done it correctly."

Dorian began work on his spell with the mages silently watching on. Though he had asked them not to, they often asked questions, to which the usual reply was, "This is time altering magic, you know. Let's not forget the danger of this."

When they began to ask too many questions they wouldn't get an answer to, Cullen stepped in and shooed them away. After they scattered, Cullen placed a hand on the small of Dorian's back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the man from behind. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and close his eyes. And when he would open them, the Inquisitor would be there unscathed and everything would be normal.

Cullen heaved a deep sigh at the thought, Dorian turning to look at him with concern.

"Something the matter, amatus?"

"Who?" Cullen asked, not really having absorbed the question.

Dorian chuckled, "You, silly. Are you alright?"

Cullen shook his head slightly, eyes closed, "No. I mean, yes, it's nothing, just...who is Amatus?"

Dorian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cullen’s neck. "It's Tevene, a term of endearment like 'honey or 'dear'." A smirk came to his lips as Cullen scolded himself for sounding jealous.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about this whole situation. I didn't mean to…" Cullen trailed off.

Dorian pressed a nimble finger to his lips. "It's alright, I'm nervous too. This is something I've never done, never even considered having to do. But it will turn out. The Inquisitor will be fine, I promise."

Cullen stared with anxious eyes for a long moment, "That's an awfully confident promise."

Dorian's calm smile faltered ever so slightly, but Cullen caught it, placing a warm ungloved palm to the mage's cheek. "I trust you, Dorian, but it's not your fault if he doesn't come back."

Dorian cringed, "This has all been my fault. If I had just been honest from the beginning--"

"Stop." Cullen leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, forgetting the others around them. "Hunting down the Venatori has been our goal this entire time. This may have happened eventually, you couldn't have changed this."

Dorian nodded, lips still so close to Cullen's. "You're right, I know you are, but I would feel much better if I could bring him back."

Dorian grabbed the calibrated amulet and a tome off the lab table, breaking free of Cullen's embrace and moving toward the center of the room to prepare the ritual.

Solas stood from his crouched position, holding out his hands to take Dorian's completed spell.

"The most difficult bit will be leaving the fade at the same time you entered. Make certain you do not interrupt the flow of time." Solas warned as he started casting.

Dorian looked to Cullen one last time before a green and yellow tear opened before him and he stepped through.

Hours passed and still Dorian hadn't returned with the Inquisitor. Cullen paced the room along with the mages, while Solas maintained meditation in the center of the room, waiting for the beckon call.

He couldn't take the suspense any longer. Cullen gingerly walked near and around Solas to see if he could still hear him. Solas coldly spoke, quiet and even, "I am entirely aware of my surroundings outside the fade, Commander."

It made Cullen jump at first. He then asked, "Are you...in there with them? Can you help them?"

Solas stayed completely still with his eyes closed and legs crossed as he responded, "No, I cannot. I am simply suspending my mind in the fade, but I am not there as they are. They went in physically, body and spirit as one. I would have gone in myself and done this more quickly, but alas, there must be someone on the other side to pull the Inquisitor back through. Dorian has an excellent understanding of time, but the fade can disorient even the brightest minds."

None of this made Cullen feel any better, or more confident that they were safe. "But can you see them? Are they alright?"

Solas sighed, annoyed at having to dumb things down, "Dorian and the Inquisitor have made contact. I can sense their spirits near one another, but I cannot see anything. Were I there, I could use my senses. I am not, however, so I must feel for their souls. I know not where they are in time, or how they fair."

Cullen grunted in frustration. Why did he expect a clear answer?

A short while passed and Solas began to rise, grabbing his staff again. "Everyone stay back, the tear could pull you in!"

Everyone scattered to the edges of the room, watching in astonishment as Solas tore the veil open, Dorian and the Inquisitor stumbling through back into the 'real' world, haggard and panting.

Cullen approached slowly as the tear sealed behind them. When Dorian locked eyes with him, he ran into the Commander's arms.

"Cullen," he whispered in his ear, breathy and shaking, "Thank the Maker, it's you"

Cullen returned the embrace but was still confused. "Yes, it's really me. What happened? Are you alright?"

The rest of the room rushed to the Inquisitor's aid, healers starting to mend cuts and bruises and wrap them gently but with urgency.

Dorian pulled back to look Cullen in the eyes, tears nearly falling onto his cheeks. "Time moves differently. I hoped we would be out in a few days, but it's been weeks, maybe months for us. Lavellan said he'd been sent into the future and stuck there for nearly a year. I can't begin to imagine…"

Dorian shuttered and pulled Cullen close again, Cullen shushing him softly, running calloused fingers over his hair.

__________

Back at Skyhold, a crowd waited anxiously at the base of the steps from the main hall, nervous chatter rumbling through them. The Inquisitor was in his chambers, healers and templars looking him over, a scholar begging him to recount his experience.

Cullen and his fellow advisors took deep breaths before opening the doors of the main hall and descending the steps until they reached the middle landing.

"People of the Inquisition!" Cassandra shouted over the chatter, "The Inquisitor is safe and in good health!"

The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief as they applauded.

Cullen smiled as he added, "All thanks to the brave and valiant efforts of the templars," they raised their swords from within the crowd, people cheering. "Our mages," they raised their staves as well, Solas smiling as he bowed his head.

"And lastly, this man." Cullen held out his hand, inviting Dorian from the front of the crowd to join him. "This man, who joined with you as a troop, rose quickly through our ranks with his impressive display of magical knowledge; who joined the Inquisitor in the field, and contributed to the important research done in our library."

Dorian was already stunned as he stood above all the people of Skyhold, but Cullen took both hands in his, and faced him full on. "This man, who risked his reputation, his place in the Inquisition, and ultimately his own life, to return the Inquisitor to us from beyond time. Dorian Pavus."

Felix, standing at the front, looked up to Dorian from within the crowd and shouted, "To Dorian!" The crowd joined in with thanks, crying out with joy for their Herald’s great return, and the man who saved him. Dorian looked out over the crowd as they said his name, as they recognized him for all his deeds despite his lineage.

The good Tevinter.

He smiled as he turned to Cullen once again. "A tad overdue, if you ask me."

Cullen chuckled, "You're impossible."

Cullen pulled Dorian in for a long and tight hug, the crowd around them cheering for the Inquisitor. Cheering for the

[sweetwritertanya]

Take Care

Summary: You are incredibly stressed due to exam season, but your boyfriend Namjoon comes over with plans to help you through it.

Warnings: None, just fluff! There is a bit of body touching, but nothing major.

Requested: YES! I am SO SORRY it took this long to write it. I went through a few days of feeling uninspired and then I had writer’s block. I struggled for a bit, but I managed to write this today. I truly, honestly hope you enjoy it and forgive me for making you wait!

Word Count: 1671

Your index finger flipped through the remaining pages on the book you were studying, insistently and rhythmically, unconsciously making your anxiety rise at the amount of pages still left to read. And the exam was in less than two days.

The twist at the top of your stomach pulled tighter and you swallowed hard, feeling as if you were about to throw up. Exam season always took your anxiety levels to the extreme, it was the absolute worst time of your life. The hours upon hours of studying, the feeling that nothing really stuck to your brain, that you were completely unprepared, the tight constant squeeze of your heart during this time, the lack of sleep due to the stress.

You screamed and felt like crying when you realize that you have been reading the same paragraph for about fifteen minutes now. Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, you take deep breaths and allow yourself some time to pull yourself together.

“Maybe you should take a break.”

The sudden unexpected voice makes you jump in your chair that squeals under your weight when you turn and see your boyfriend casually laying in your bed, one of your books in his hand and phone on top of the sheets next to him.

“Namjoon! What…? When did you get here?” Your tired brain was foggy and it was an effort to even talk, but his mere presence raised up your spirits just a bit.

“About half an hour ago. I tried ringing you, but you didn’t pick up. I used the key you gave me for emergencies, hope you don’t mind.” He actually looked guilty about that, his strong eyebrows pulling with concern on his tall forehead. You immediately shook your head to reassure him.

“Not at all. I turned my phone to silent so I could study, sorry… But I thought you were busy preparing for a big project next month?”

“Ended it today. I have a few days off so I came here.” He sat up straight in your bed, feet coming down to the floor and a big smile spreading on his thick lips, cute dimples showing up. “Wanted to spend some time with you. Can I stay over the next few days? I really missed you.”

Your eyes glassed over and you hid them behind your fingers as the tears overlapped and eventually cascaded down your cheeks. A heavy weight pushed down on your heart and your face and neck heated up as you sniffled.

“W-Why now?” you complained in between sobs, more to yourself than anyone else. “W-Why do y-you have time off now? I’m in the m-middle of my exams…”

“Hey, hey, Y/N, shh…” You feel your chair being pulled and the wheels roll across the floor until it ends up against the bed, in between Namjoon’s long legs as he pulls your wrists down and he himself cleans the tears staining your blushing puffy cheeks. “I actually think this is the perfect time. That way I can take care of you. Your mom told me you often get too caught up with your studies and forget to eat properly.”

You frown and look up at his small eyes at that, confused.

“You talk with my mom?” you question, surprised.

“Of course. Now, how about you take a break? I’ll make you dinner!” he excitedly proposes.

“You don’t know how to cook, Joon” you remind him.

He seems to ponder that and nods his head in agreement.

“True. I’ll buy you something good for dinner! What do you want to eat?”

“I’m not really hungry…”

He hisses and pinches your cheeks harshly at that, making you scrunch up your face at the slight pain. You irritably stare at him, but he is staring back a lot more vexed.

“You have to eat. You always lose weight during this time” he seriously accuses.

“I could use losing some pounds, actually…” you jokingly counter back, but Namjoon was not even the slightest amused.

“Y/N, stop it” he warns. Having had a conversation regarding your insecurities when it came to your physical appearance before, and he insisting that you were beautiful and size was just a number, not related with beauty at all, he did not take lightly your self-deprecating jokes at all, contrary to most of your friends.

“I have to study, Namjoon” you pouted, sounding reluctant even to your own ears.

“Forcing yourself to continue when you’re this tired won’t help. Your brain won’t assimilate anything, you’re just wasting energy” he explained, hands falling down to encircle your own on top of your lap, dark chocolate eyes focused on yours.

“I feel guilty if I don’t study. All my classmates study up until late hours in the night.”

“That’s what they say. And who cares? Everyone works different. You’ve been studying since early morning right? It’s time for a break.”

You huff and lean back in your chair, defeated.

“Fine. But I still don’t feel hungry yet” you inform.

“We’ll buy some time until you do, then” he smirks as he says.

And before you could ask how, his strong arms are wrapping around your waist and you are pulled out of your chair and into his lap. Your bulgy legs automatically move to either side of his waist, knees landing on the soft mattress, as your arms fall around his shoulders. A soft sigh escapes you at the first contact of his mouth on yours.

The slowest of frictions melts away the tension of your muscles. Thick silky lips rub unhurried yours, languid movements that steal your breath away with the care and love behind them. Namjoon’s hands are spread against the flesh at your lower back as he keeps you in place, respirations mingling together as he leans his head to the other side and his nose rubs against yours before pressing down your cheek when the kiss deepens.

Mouths parting to taste one another, the knot in your stomach disappears to give place to the feeling of butterflies flapping around inside, heavy stressed heart lifting with exciting flutters that have it singing happily in your chest. Your brain shuts off any worries, any input unrelated to the man holding your firmly against his chest, the lovely musky scent of him, the prickling of your skin as his hands squeezed lovingly at your love handles.

Suddenly, Namjoon grasps the back of your neck to keep your lips on top of his as he leans back in the single bed and rests his head on your pillow, your scrumptious body now fully fledged on top of his.

“Nam-Namjoon” you try to call even as he eats your words away. “I’m heavy.”

“You’re perfect” he simply debuted, persistent lips firmly tugging at yours.

Then, the hand that was still holding your meaty midriff slowly makes its way down and you yelp at the strong squeeze of your right butt cheek.

“Namjoon!” you admonish, raising your head to escape his distracting kisses.

“You love it” he accuses with a dimple smirk, doing it again at the same time his mouth now attaches itself to your neck, leaving small butterfly kisses that tickle your skin.

You giggle at the sensation and give in, because he was right. The sound of your laughing invigorates Namjoon and he proudly tickles you for the next few minutes, until you are out of breath and begging him to stop. You had switched positions in the middle of playing, you now laying on the small bed with Namjoon hovering above you, not really enough space for his tall frame to lay next to you comfortably. You look up at his smiling eyes and pull him down by the neck for one last short kiss.

“You really wanna stay here the next few days? I need to study and can’t give you my full attention. Plus, this bed is really small for both of us.”

“Yes, I told you, I want take care of you. Maybe I can help with your studies? I can ask you questions if you want. And this bed is the perfect size. We’ll have to sleep like this.”

To demonstrate, he pulls you into an embrace, one arm around your shoulder and another around your middle, as his back is against the wall and your body his tightly wrapped in his arms, legs tangled together. It was the only position in which both could stay in bed. You smile and look up at him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Let’s order Chinese.”

True to his words, Namjoon stays over the few days he has available and helps you the best he can. He brings you water and reminds you to keep hydrated, orders food for lunch and dinner, not tolerating you skipping any meals. When you asked, he helps you the day before the exam by making you questions that you thought could come up, allowing you to answer them out loud without aid from your notes. Every three consecutive hours of studying or so, he would pull you away from your books and distract you for twenty or thirty minutes at a time, kissing away your pent-up stress and worries.

It honestly amazes you how the time flew by and soon it was the day of your last exam. Namjoon had to go back to work the day before, but his words kept ringing in your ears and reminded you to take care of yourself. Your hands freeze as you write down the last word and the crushing weight that has been with you since the first exam lifts. Turning in your exam, you felt like flying.

Leaving the room, you sigh with relief and smile despite of yourself. It was finally over. And now, Namjoon was the one locked up in the studio working.

“Time to return the favor” you whisper to yourself.

You almost skip down the sidewalk as you make your way to take care of your boyfriend, just like he had taken care of you.

[sincerly-kate]

Falling Skies (Crowley x Fem!Reader)

A/n: Hello! So I’ve decided to start writing on here, and I hope that you guys like it and feel free to let me know about any requests or ideas that you’d like me to write in the future, enjoy! Also thank you to @ourownsideimagines for getting me out of my writers block!💙💙

Warnings:Slight angst, fluff ending and kinda swearing?

Summary: Crowley and Y/n have known each other since before his fall. Unknowingly to the other, they both ended up falling for the other over time. Crowley responds to this in his own ways, but what happens when Armageddon starts and they both need to pick a side?

Y/n; the sister to the archangel Gabriel. Some may say that this had its perks and that she could get away with whatever she wanted whenever she wanted; the ones who said this obviously didn’t know Gabriel very well. If anything, she was kept under a much more watchful eye. In y/n’s eyes, this was so she didn’t hurt his perfect reputation up in heaven. There was only two people in the entire world that truly knew y/n.

An angel named Aziraphale, that was more of a brother to her than her actual archangel brother ever could ever be,

and a certain demon named Crowley.

unknown to the other, they both shared feelings for the other.  And as one normally does, they both decided to ignore this feeling.

The three of them have known each other for about 6000 years, and over the years they’ve seen each other through it all.

From the garden of Eden to modern day, they became a trio of unlikely friends. but if it came down to it, they would be sacrifice themselves for the other when it came down to it.

Right now, you and Aziraphale were in his bookshop. You were there to keep him company, while Aziraphale on the other hand was trying to find a certain object that he refused to tell you about.

"Y/n? Are you quite alright dear?" you were snapped out of your thoughts by a certain blonde haired friend of yours.

“Oh,” You turned your head towards Aziraphale, “I’m fine.” You moved your head from the palm of your hand that you had it resting on and gave him a thin lined smile.

Aziraphale gave you one of his knowing looks, he knows you were lying but he knew you didn’t mean any harm by it; that’s just the way you were.

No thanks to Gabriel and the others, you always kept your thought and feeling to yourself. You were always told that they were a sign of weakness.

You sighed and pushed yourself off the couch and walked towards the bookshelf Aziraphale was in front of.

“Now, I think both of us know that far from the truth.” He gave you a sympathetic smile before taking his attention from the shelf, and to you.

You sighed and leaned against the shelf and looked to the ground in defeat. ‘Damnit, he knows me too well for my own good.’ You thought.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you were daydreaming about Crowley, or are you going to lie?” He said bluntly, not even phased by your cheeks suddenly turning a bright pink. You then straightened out your back, and tried to may your way towards the door.

“Uh- erm. I-I don’t know what your talking about Az…” As you slowly sauntered towards the door to make an exit with at least some of your confidence intact, a force decided otherwise and pulled you backwards by your jacket.

“Dear, you are not leaving until you tell me what’s going on between you two. I may be oblivious at times, but I’m not blind.”

You turned around, to look your ethereal friend in the face. You sighed and then began to speak, “He hates me, I just know it Az! In all of my centuries existing, I’ve never once done anything to him! One day he wants to talk to me and then the next he wants nothing to do with me. He wouldn’t even care if I didn’t even exist.” Your voice becoming lower and lower as you continued.

A book then slammed onto the table, “Y/N! In all my millennia of knowing you and Crowley, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else look at another like the way you two do.” You jumped at not only the sudden noise, but also his words.

Crowley; in love with you?

You don’t think you’ve heard anything more impossible.

“Goodbye Aziraphale.” You said in a monotone, as you walked out of the shop; but this time he let you.

As your face confronted the cold air, you headed into the direction of your flat. Once you were halfway there, you got shoved by one of the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

You turn around to confront them, “Hey! Watch it!” but by the time you turned around all you could see is what looks like to be the older man in an army jacket who was already halfway down the street, and seemed to be heading in the same direction as the bookshop.

-

You were just about to have a nap when you suddenly got a phone call from the demon himself. You picked it up, and before you could tell him off for ignoring you for the past five days, he started to talk.

“Y/n, I need you to meet me at the Tadfield air base. Now.” You could hear something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Crowley, if this is one of your little-” once again; you were interrupted.

“No, seriously angel, I need your help.” You knew it must’ve been serious if he was actually asking, nearly begging, for your help.

“Alright, is Aziraphale coming with us?”

“… no Y/n...” By his tone and lack of nickname, you could tell that something must’ve happened, but you decided you’d ask him once you got to the air base.

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

-

Once you had gotten to the air base, you noticed two other individuals were at the gate as well. This made you confused as to why they would be at the air base, that was supposedly abandoned from what you could see.

“Hello?” You tried getting their attention and hopefully some answers, but as they turned around you noticed that one of them looked familiar.

“Hey! You were that idiot who almost knocked me over!”  you started to aggressively stomp towards him, but a female's hand had stopped you, and spared the gentleman from your wrath.

“Lady, I’m going to have to ask you to get that hand of yours off of me!” you shoved her hand off you, and what happened next will still confuse you till the end of time.

“Y/n dear, I’m going to have to refrain you from harming that man.” Aziraphale’s voice then suddenly coming out of the mystery woman.

“A-Az?” Your brain was incapable of processing what the hell was going on, but before you could ask, a certain Bentley that was engulfed in flames and the sound of Queen coming out of it was turning towards the base.

You were still speechless by the time Crowley got out of his Bentley,

“Hey, Aziraphale! I see you found a ride. Nice dress. It suits you.”

Your head then turns towards ‘Aziraphale’ with a more than confused expression, he waved it off and said he’d explain it to you later.

Once you guys got into the base, you could already see the four horsemen, and in front of them were four… children?

Upon closer inspection, you finally realized that one of the children was standing out most to you.

“Is that? -” You pointed to the child,

“Yes, that’s the antichrist, get with the program here!” Crowley said to you with an underlying irritated tone.

That just pissed you off more.

“Oh, that’s IT!” You then turned your body around to tell him off; screw Armageddon; he was pissing you off. Unfortunately, ‘Aziraphale’ stood in front of you to stop you.

“C’mon dear, don’t do something you’ll regret.” He then guided you towards the children and the horsemen, but also knowing damn well you wouldn’t actually harm him.

-

Somehow, the children and the Antichrist who you found out eventually was named Adam, got rid of the horsemen. You were about to turn around and head back to your flat, until you heard a wretched voice.

“Y/n! Good to see you, shouldn’t you be in heaven with the other angels?” Gabriel said to you, his voice was laced with an undertone of annoyance and his violet eyes filled with fury, seeing that you were quite literally in between another angel and a demon, both that have been giving him issues since who knows when.

You felt yourself shrink into yourself, and feel your white wings become exposed as you were about to fly up.

But something stopped you, or more like someone.

Crowley was holding your hand and keeping you from leaving again, especially since he realized he’d have to fight you if Armageddon was to start. He would rather be discorporated then fight you in what he’d know would become the death of both of you.

“No, she’s not going anywhere, especially with you.” Crowley then for once stood up to Gabriel, you never thought that in your life he would do that; especially for you.

You were completely shocked but felt a warm feeling that he would even dare stand up to him for you, but I guess what has he got to lose if the end of the world starts in a few minutes?

“Fine then, you win then!” You were confused as to what he meant, until you started to hear a high pitched scream.

You then realized that this scream was yours.

Your back was burning, and you let go of Crowley’s hand as you fell to the solid ground underneath you, and both of your hands went to your back; more specifically your wings.

You then your vision was becoming darker and darker, but before you completely passed out, you heard Crowley and Aziraphale scream for your name.

-

Once you came back to your senses, you tried to stand up, but your back felt as if it was on fire, so you fell back onto the bed.

This caused you to let out a groan from pain, and this also alerted the two beings that were in the other room.

“Angel?” You heard Crowley’s voice coming from the other room and the sudden sound of two pairs of feet making their way towards you. Crowley then turned the corner with Aziraphale in his own body in tow.

“Angel, you’re alright.” He then came up to you with relief filling both of your faces, he then grabbed both sides both your face and kissed you with a passion you never knew he had for you.

You started to kiss him back, tasting some of the salt from tears that were falling from both your faces as you both then pulled away, realizing you weren’t quite alone.

“FINALLY!” You both hear Aziraphale yell, as he makes his way out of the room to give you both privacy to talk.

You laughed at him, but then a sudden jolt of pain stopped you from laughing harder. You tried to grab for your wings, but Crowley’s hand stopped you from doing so.

“Don’t worry Y/n, we’ll get him back for what that bastard did to you, even it’s the last thing I ever do.” He kisses your hand, as you turn around to see your now broken, burnt, pure black wings behind you.

[springwoodswhore-blog]

ahh thank you Anon, it means so much to know you like my writing! <3 sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy! You didn’t specify which Ghostface so I left it sort of vague and open ended ^^’ I’m sorry I didn’t do Bubba’s but I have had a lot of writer’s block so if i ever end up inspired to write it I’ll be sure to do it with a screenshot of this request again. 

Ghostface - “Stop it”

You were home alone, staring blankly at the TV in the living room as you waited for your housemate to come home, mind deep in thought instead of watching what was on. You didn’t feel comfortable going to bed while home alone tonight, a feeling of dread and being watched creeping up your spine for the whole evening. You had been debating sleeping for the last twenty minutes before deciding you simply could not, and remaining glued to your seat with paranoia. 

The landline rang snapping you out of your thoughts and caused you to jump from the sudden noise. No one ever called the landline much less at this hour. You stood with a sigh and walked across the living room to answer, hoping you weren’t about to talk to a your housemate’s relatives they constantly ignored. “Hello?”

“Hello, who is this?” You sighed at hearing a voice you didn’t recognize, feeling like you just answered a prank call and feeling your nerves spike at suddenly being forced to talk to a stranger. 

“If you don’t know who a number belongs then don’t call it.” You promptly hung up and started to walk away, freezing with another chill running up your spine as the phone immediately rang again. Whoever this was clearly wasn’t going to simply leave you alone.

You turned back on your heels, your fear rapidly turning to frustration and picked it up and brought the phone to you ear more slowly this time. “What do you want?” Your words came out with more fear and less sternness than you had intended for them to. 

“I want to talk to you... and know what you’re watching.” You froze at his words, breath hitching in your throat. “I’m not watching anything, creep.” You snapped and pulled the phone away from your ear and went to slam it down onto the receiver when you heard the man on the other end yell, “Don’t you dare hang up on me you fucking cunt!”

The feeling of being watched got the better of you as you looked around the living room and out the windows from where you stood frozen. “Stop it! What do you want?!” Your voice faltered a bit, panic beginning to set in.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners? Maybe if you had some you’d already know what I want!” He snapped, voice twisted with anger and amusement. As he finished speaking you heard a window across your house shatter. 

“Now you better listen...”

The Huntress - “You’re avoiding the question”

You sat on a tree stump away from the campfire, trying to wrap your dirtied jacket further around you to fight the cold of the fog. You craved the warmth of the fire but after your brawl with another survivor over the events of the last trail you didn’t find yourself wanting to be around them. You had come out the loser and had a swelling eye and cheek to prove it. You knew the Entity would heal it either before or after your next trail, but that didn’t help the pain and humiliation of defeat right now. 

You only wanted the company of one person and after what felt like ages in the timeless world you existed in now, you heard the lullaby that filled you with comfort. You looked over your shoulder in the direction it came from to see the towering figure of The Huntress coming towards you. 

Anna knew something was wrong when you didn’t stand to greet her like normal and she quickly circled the stump to stand in front of you. Her eyes narrowed behind the mask to look you over and instantly locked onto your eye. She got down onto one knee and gently cupped your jaw as she got a good look at you. 

“What happened?” Her voice filled with concern as she tried to make eye contact that you quickly broke, feeling embarrassed and awkward and other mixed emotions. 

You kept your gaze away from her’s, not wanting to discuss your defeat “The last trial just.. it’s okay though,” you lied and your girlfriend made a sound like that of a displeased mother. 

“You avoiding question. Tell me what happened.” Her tone was stern and motherly, and you instantly felt compelled to come clean at her tone. You couldn't lie and you knew this time she would not allow things to rest. With a stifled sob you came clean about the fight with your fellow survivor and once you had finished explaining you found yourself being scooped up by Anna.

“Do not worry, little one. I take care of it.” She nuzzled you as she carried you through the fog into The Red Forest and sat you down on her lap upon entering the Enitity’s crude recreation of the cottage she grew up in. Her lullaby filled your ears as she quietly hoped with all she could that the survivor that picked a fight with you would be in her next trial. 

Anna planted sweet kisses on your face as she held you close. There was no need to eat or drink in this realm otherwise she would have already been making you something you liked. Instead she just held in the warmth of the fire beneath the fake moonlight. You eventually drifted off to sleep in her arms, and she silently prayed to the Entity that she could get your revenge and you could have this particular pain taken away. 

[lizziefosterwrites]

Memories

Sam Winchester x Photographer!Reader

Summary: After a rough couple of weeks, you decide to put something together to cheer the youngest Winchester up.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of wounds, blood, injury, etc. Mentions of alcohol. (Not super graphic). Maybe like one curse word. Also, sucky ending because I couldn’t decide how to end it. (ALso, kinda sucky title lol)

Word Count: 1.6k

Request: So excited to see this blog up and running!! You write for so many of my favorite things! Ima say pick the character you feel like writing the most atm, maybe with a photographer s/o? Best of luck, lovely! You’ll be amazing! @squeakingsheep

A/N: All grammatical and spelling errors are my own. Also, I’m so sorry that this is up so late! My husband was sick and then I had to deal with some major writer's block. I hope you guys like it! 

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     The latest hunt was a disaster. Dean was injured while you all were fighting a wendigo. This was only one incident of many that had happened over the last few weeks. About two weeks ago, you had sustained a mild concussion after being thrown against one too many walls while fighting a couple of witches in Jacksonville; and about 5 days after that while investigating a Tulpa, both Sam and Dean had received lacerations on more than one appendages. This certainly wasn’t the end of the injuries, however, this routine was nothing new to the three of you. So as you and Sam helped carry Dean into the Bunker there was nothing but groans of pain from Dean and quiet words of reassurance coming from Sam. You stayed quiet, thinking about how eventful the last few weeks were. You all were tired, cranky, and desperately needed a few days off. You watched as Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey that Sam had brought over from the kitchen and you began to sew the open wound on Dean’s side. It was during times like this where you could take a moment to reflect on the time that you had spent with the boys.

     You had met the boys a few years prior while you were still hunting solo. You had tracked down a nest of vampires, assuming there were only two or three, however, there were more than you had anticipated and you found yourself in way over your head. Sam and Dean, thankfully, had been tracking the same nest and found you being held as the nest’s personal blood bag. They put an end to the vampires and released you from your shackles with concerned looks on their faces. That was only the first time you had run into them. Over the next couple of hunts, you kept running into the Winchester boys and eventually, you all had agreed that maybe sticking together would be for the best. 

     Sam, who was more soft-spoken than his older brother, was a bit easier to talk to. Dean, on the other hand, was more reserved and closed off at first. You assumed that this was because he either didn’t fully trust you or was afraid to lose you. After discussing how you felt to Sam, you found that your assumptions had been correct. Throughout the years of knowing the boys, you and Sam had taken a liking to one another. You both had agreed to take things slow, seeing how any day you spent with one another could be your last. These last few weeks had been a testament to that, and you knew the toll it was taking on Sam. He was looking more worried jumped at every noise he heard, most likely afraid that something was there to take either you or Dean away from him. The way he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white and was constantly flickering his eyes to the backseat where you sat keeping pressure on Dean’s wound was the final straw. You weren’t sure how much more he could handle before breaking into a million pieces. You were pretty sure if he lost anyone else, he wouldn’t be able to recover. It was then that you decided to put something together to ease his mind. 

     Snapping out of your thoughts, you finished stitching Dean’s wound and headed off in the direction of your room without another word. Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look but let it slide for now. They both were exhausted and in need of rest themselves. 

     Closing your door behind you, you fished out an old box that you kept under your bed. Opening it, you removed your old polaroid camera and placed it by your side. You carded through the collection of photos you had taken throughout your time owning the camera. There were pictures of your family before they died, some of Sam and Dean from your years of knowing them. As you sort through the photos you set a few aside that you decide you like the most. A majority of them were of Sam but there were a few sprinkled in of Dean and yourself. You labeled each picture with a date and a memory and a couple had some corny captions just for fun. You looked at the clock and marveled at how time was able to pass so quickly. Resolving to finish your project tomorrow, you showered, slipped on a pair of pajamas and climbed into bed for some much-needed sleep. 

     The next day you got up early, intent on finding a photo album of some sort. So you searched through the bunker hoping to find maybe an old album left behind from the previous hunters that lived here. In your search you found Sam, asleep at the table in the front room. You padded up to him quietly and sat in the seat next to him. You thought about how peaceful he looked when he slept. Devoid of all worry or fear, he just looked at peace. It saddened you to know that it wouldn’t last for long, but god forbid that you all could have a peaceful moment here and there. 

     After a couple of hours, you were finally able to find your album. You removed any photos that you could find and started to replace them with your own. A knock on your door drew your attention away from your project. You shoved the album and the photos back under your bed and got up to answer the door. In front of you was a disheveled looking Sam. 

     “Hey, just wondering how you’re doing. You didn’t say much last night.” Sam asked, scratching the back of his head. He still looked exhausted, but you figured he was used to it by now. 

     “I’m doing good. I was just really tired after these past couple weeks,” you replied, hoping that Sam wouldn’t look into it too much.

     You let Sam into your room, ushering him to sit down on the bed. The two of you relaxed and talked, enjoying one another’s company. It was only when you both heard Dean struggling with something in the kitchen that you both decided to go and investigate. Of course, being the stubborn man he is, Dean had managed to rip his stitches while reaching for a glass in the cabinet because: “I don’t need help getting a fucking glass.” He had proclaimed loudly. You and Sam chuckled to yourselves and partially at Dean before setting to work restitching him. 

     Later on that night, while the boys were relaxing and talking to one another, you finally had the time to slip away and finish the album you were putting together. It was mostly for Sam, seeing as he had been so defeated lately, but you’re pretty sure Dean would enjoy it as well. You placed the last Polaroid in the album then went to go find the boys. 

     You found them at the table, drinking beer and reminiscing on old memories. They did that every once and a while, just to try and diffuse the tension that was your everyday lives. 

     “Hey guys, can you come here? I have something that I want to show you.” You asked, ushering the boys to your room hoping that they would enjoy your little surprise. 

     They followed you, interested in what you wanted to show them. The trip back to the room was silent, except for the soft padding of yours, Sam’s, and Dean’s feet. When you finally reached your room, you picked up the photo album and beckoned the brothers to sit with you. They did as you asked and you looked at each of them.

     “I made this. After we came back from that hunt. I think we all need some cheering up.” You looked between the two of them, who stared back at you with confused faces. 

     You flipped open the album and began showing them the photos that you had pasted inside. The three of you talked and laughed. Sam even shed a small tear though he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that. By the time you all had finished looking through the album, it was pretty late. Dean was tired and headed off to bed leaving you and Sam. 

     “How long have you been collecting these?” he asks, gesturing to the photographs both scattered along the floor and pasted into the album. 

     “Since before I met you and Dean. Once I met you guys I just had a couple of new subjects to photograph.” you responded, thumbing a few older photos of your family from before. 

     Sam kissed you softly, cradling the back of your head with his hand, the other wrapped around your waist. You kissed him back, the love you held for him swelling in your heart. The need for air separated the two of you and Sam looked down at you, smiling lovingly. You smiled back, content that your project had brought some happiness to the dismal world you all lived in.

Tag List: @squeakingsheep

[positivelypetty]

A REALLY long rant on the Joint Training Arc.

Okay, so since the Joint Training Arc is basically done, I thought I would share my various opinions and adress certain issues that A LOT of people had with this arc.

But, before we get into the actual rant, I think I should distinguish the difference between an opinion, criticism and just plain antagonism.

Here is an example of just misinformed toxicity:

This is just being TOXIC!!! You can’t shelter these horrible comments by saying “it’s just an opinion.” Please don’t act like after 4 years of really enthralling writing, he’s now the worst writer ever. Instead, explain why you don’t think this was the best story choice, instead of being clearly misinformed. It’s nothing absolutely terrible, but just a simple example on how people can be so demanding and completely inconsiderate to the creator.

“Forbidding” Horikoshi from writing is actually ridiculous. He WROTE AND CREATED your “precious sons” that you love so much. So, if you claim that the manga is now utter trash because it doesn’t personally cater to you, please abandon or take a long break from the manga/anime to maybe clear your head. Thank you.

We don’t need any more toxicity in this fandom than we already do.

Now with that said, let’s talk about the arc! (Also keep in mind that these ideas spurred from Reddit so, I decided to expand on it)

1-B vs 1-A situation:

I've been reading a ton of comments too, the good, and the bad and it's fine, everyone has their opinions and that's cool, but for me, it didn't seem it was about who won or lost, it was more about how each class was taught. And this boils down to both Vlad and Aizawa.

Vlad has obviously been pushing his students and their quirks to the max in regards to working in teams. This shines through in all of the fights they all work together very well and know the strengths and weaknesses of each other as well as their enemies. They go into a battle with a plan and are ready to execute the plan flawlessly.

Whereas Aizawa I believe has pushed for more individualist thinking style, and I think this comes from his basis of fighting villains. No one will come to save you, you have to be able to handle yourself whether escaping or defeating. He doesn't coddle his students, and he does push them to the brink as well. What's interesting is Class A has had more hands-on experience. With Aizawa’s teaching style I think they sometimes have a harder time working with one another and they can fall apart with their teamwork. HOWEVER their real-life experience has taught them that the best-laid out plans can not go as plan, and they are able to utilize their 'individual' thinking to fight regardless of a plan falling through.

I found it really interesting and I think there's value in both ways of thinking for Vlad and Aizawa. For Class B, they will have to learn how to abandon a plan that's not working and strategize on the fly, and Class A will have to hone their teamwork for long-running battles.

And let's be honest, these are just kids, pushing their bodies and minds to the limit, I don't find Class B to be 'trash' just because they lost, they still fought hard and worked better together in the long run then Class A. Class B didn't have any dead weight with their battles, everyone was utilized and contributed to all their fights. People are so set on who “won” or who “lost” the battle, that people overlook everyone’s overall individual quirks and techniques. I personally believe that many of the 1-B students were amazing and are forces to be reckoned with. It’s just that 1-A knows how to handle themselves when things don’t to go to plan rather than 1-B (as mentioned before) which gave 1-A the upper-hand in most of the battles, but I can definitely name a few fights where Class A's members were carried by their team.

Now to address the Shinsou thing:

To everyone who was PRESSED that Shinsou didn’t win....

What do you expect from Shinsou? I feel like people were overestimating him. Even with those cloth bindings and his quirk. All you need to do is shut your mouth, grab his cloth bindings (at best he has a few months training) keep focusing on him,restrain him, and boom you're done.(I obviously know it’s not that simple, but basically) I love Shinsou, I really do, but he’s basically Aizawa (I love Aizawa too don’t get me wrong). Aizawa mentioned that it took FIVE YEARS for him to truly master his quirk, and even though since this is the younger generation, so he’ll probably get the hang of it sooner, how long as he really been “training” his quirk under Aizawa? Definitely not long enough for him to go 1v1 with someone who is a close combat fighter. (It really isn’t that shocking that Deku won, he could probably win without Black Whip). Don't get me wrong Shinsou has improved MONUMENTALLY but not to the extent of 1-A who has direct experience in fighting villains. I just think people are mainly mad that 1-B lost is as because they think Shinsou won’t get into the Hero Course. Like chill. One of the main reasons 1-A won in the first match was because of Shinsou, so I think that proves that he is MORE than capable to get in to the Hero Course.

The whole OP Deku thing:

First off, I honestly don't expect him to ever match All Might at his prime in terms of consistent pure raw strength. Deku isn't a giant man of pure muscle, so I don't think he'd be able to go 100 and maintain it like All Might could. Deku is more of a person of different techniques and strategy, rather than brute force. Like, I don't know if Deku is going to be throwing punches that can blow away a city block.

That being said, each generation is getting stronger. Like, Endeavor will be surpassed by Todoroki by the time he graduates (if it even takes that long). Iida is already faster than Gran Torino. In the very beginning of the manga, they mentioned Deku will be the strongest holder of OFA, since it gets stronger each generation. Deku will have formidable rivals if the other strong students also reach their full potential. Hell, those rowdy kids we saw at the makeup exam already had really strong quirks at their young age. Generational power creep means that everybody around Deku will get way stronger than the current pros.

I understand the sentiment that Deku doesn't need more quirks, but Deku's quirk development was already approaching a plateau in terms of being able to fully control what power he could handle. He'd just work on his technique and slowly get stronger and stronger. Sure, he's gonna eventually be able to punch/kick hard enough to shoot himself around in the air, but we've already seen that stuff (plus Bakugo does that too). I know Horikoshi is creative and will develop some cool moves for Deku, but Deku's struggle to control OfA was mostly over. All he had to do wast master OFA steadily and he’ll be good. More quirks means that he may unlock more quirks when he's able to use more %. So instead of reaching 30% and just being X amount stronger physically, he may unlock a new tool to try and master/incorporate into his combat toolkit.

If this is a negative turn for the story, we won't even be able to tell until many, many more chapters are released. We may look back and decide that this was a bad move, but we shouldn't assume that's the case when it was literally introduced TWO WHOLE CHAPTERS AGO. (even though I don’t think it was a bad move AT ALL)

What I hope to see in future Arcs:

I think what fans would really enjoy and we could all use some real Deku character development. Deku’s my favorite character, but I feel like people can’t connect to him as much as someone like Todoroki, because his lack of emotional development. He’s indeed way more confident then he was in the beginning, I still feel like he has low self esteem. Someone needs to tell him that he’s worthy of this mega powerful quirk. ( he needs it 😭)We know so much about him, but rarely see him living his day to day life outside of training, costume updates and the occasional villain attack. Last time we got anything close to development in was only told through Aoyama's development.

These next few chapters will definitely give us something, but only as it relates to One for All. I'd honestly like to know Deku's thoughts about his situation, he seems determined that's for sure. Does he feel stressed, uninformed, unprepared, scared...resentful? We can infer a bunch, I'd just like to see him talk to All Might, Bakugo or his mom about it.

In Conclusion:

Honestly, to me,It never seemed to matter who won or lost any of these matches people were gonna complain regardless. When Class A wins they call it predictable and when class B won they say call it BS or plot amor. Even when it’s a draw people got upset saying Todoroki was disappointing. Some people wanted the matches to be fleshed out over a couple of chapters rather than rushed, then a few weeks later complained that it was taking to long. Bakugo wins his match quickly and those same people lose their minds about how they wanted the match to be longer. People complained about Horikoshi not letting the girls shine in battle after the second match, but conveniently forgets Tsuyu was the MVP of the first match and Kendo and Mushroom girl made 1-B win the second match. (AND WE’RE NOT GONNA FORGET HOW URARAKA AND MINA DOMINATED THE MATCH)Then you have the people who say all of 1-B is worthless and then Juzo and Tetsutetsu prove otherwise. Now we have people think Deku is OP but in this new chapter it seems that he much has a limit to using these other abilities but I’m sure that won’t stop the myriad of complaints. Every week the same people come to see the spoilers and complain based off of a fragmented non-contextualized summary of the chapter and wonder why they enjoy the chapter itself less. Maybe going into a chapter with a negative outlook will do that. The part that irks me is that virtually everyone whose binge-read this arc seems to enjoy it only seems to be us week to week readers with a issue. Either way I hope the discussion going into the next arc are far more level-headed constructive than they have been.

I think this will be one of the arcs that played out better once it was animated. Individual panels maybe favored over the anime, but overall pacing will surely favor the anime. Waiting week in and week out, over analyzing every short chapter has really done no favors for fans and Horikoshi.

[taekookieah]

Memories

Authors Note: This story is one that I hold close to me. It is one that I found that I needed to write for me and to let my emotions flow. I wanted a story that held some weight to it but also had some light fun in it too.  So if you end up reading this story I thank you and hope you enjoy yourself.  I am always open for any constructive feedback as I am still learning as a new writer.  Thank you and enjoy.  Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drug consumption, Sex scenes, Emotional damage.  I will put warnings at the beginning of each chapter in case there are things you do not want to read. They are mild but I do not want to upset anyone xx 

Prologue

Morning. Riley slowly blinks her eyes open, squinting as the light coming through the small opening in the curtains blind her. Yawning as she stretches her arms above her head, Riley rolls around in her bed as she feels her tense muscles stretch and her bones pop and crack with every move. It’s peaceful in her room as she lays back down with a sigh, running through her foggy brain as to what her schedule is for the day.

A loud thud and a slight curse come right outside her bedroom door causing Riley to take a deep breath in to welcome the chaos in three, two, one…

Her door swings open without even a knock on the door. The young man whom so rudely interrupted her peaceful rest stands in her doorway, only wearing a baggy pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips.

Riley was used to the boy’s weird shenanigans so it came to no surprise that he casually flings himself on top of her, arms crossed on her stomach and chin resting on his folded arms.

“Hey Riley would you like to—”

“Nope” Riley pushes him off the bed and rolls over, dragging her blanket over her head to block out any unnecessary noise coming from her friend.

“But you don’t even know what it is” the boy grunts as he climbs back on the bed and spoons Riley, pulling her burrito form into him.

“Knowing you it’s something potentially illegal or embarrassing and I’m not about to go through a traumatic experience” Riley jabs her elbow into his stomach but he doesn’t budge. Stupid Taehyung and his god damn abs…

“I swear it’s nothing embarrassing, and it’s something I think you’ll really enjoy” Taehyung snuggles in closer, arms wrapping comfortably around Riley’s middle.

Riley sighs knowing what Taehyung is like. He’s stubborn as hell, persistent and will not give up until he gets what he wants. It’s the reason why he is as successful as he is but man it can be hell to have to deal with this brat.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeease, just here me out” Riley can feel the puppy dog eyes before she even sees them. Riley gives in and slowly turns her body around so she is facing Taehyung.

This close she can see just how picture-perfect Taehyung really is. His hair is a light brown which almost turns golden in the sunlight. His eyes are soft but have a deep intensity about them, his jawline could cut diamonds and his lips look so soft. A shame that he is super gay but Riley shouldn’t complain as even the thought of dating the man in her bed makes her shiver in disgust. Riley loves him dearly, but good lord this kid is clingy.

“What is it?” Riley regrets the words leaving her mouth but she knows it’s the only way for Taehyung to get out of bed, the sooner the better.

“God your breath stinks” Taehyung scrunches up his face in disgust.

“I just woke up, deal with it” Riley breathes heavily, deliberately blowing hot air into his face.

“Ew gross stop!!” Taehyung pokes at Riley to stop which she eventually does.

“That’s what you get for disturbing me this early in the morning” Riley states as she covers her mouth with the blanket knowing that Taehyung won’t stop complaining unless she gets up and brushes her teeth which she is in no state to do so because that requires effort.  

“I’ve got a friend who runs an arts studio and has offered me, and a plus one,” Taehyung winks and does some weird finger gun action. “to come and try out their art classes for free”

“And let me guess, all you have to do is some instagram promotional photo and tada free goodies?” Riley asks as she finally pushes herself up into a sitting position, crossing her legs to face her friend who rolls onto his back and folds his hands behind his head, flexing his abs because that’s the type of tease he is with everyone.

“Bingo bongo, so you in?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll go” Riley sighs out heavily in defeat making Taehyung jump out of the bed in triumph but Riley stops him just before he exits the room.

“On one condition” Riley calls out as she swings her legs off the bed and stands up.

“Leave me out of any photos or videos while we are there” Riley waves her hand as she begins to look through her drawers for some comfortable clothing.

“Oh sweetie, don’t you worry, you’re not exactly model material anyway” Taehyung states as he bolts down the hallway.

“Why you little—” Riley turns and chases Taehyung down the stairs and into the lounge area, past the kitchen where the smell of bacon and eggs are being freshly cooked.

“PausepausepausepauseRILEYISAIDPAUSE” Taehyung screams as Riley tackles him to the ground, tickling his underarms and sides as she pins him down with her legs either side of his hips.

“Oh, I don’t think so” Riley giggles herself as she continues her assault.

The two tumble about on the ground and eventually Riley stops, only when she noticed a figure standing a few feet away.

“Good morning kids, did you sleep well?” a gentle voice calls out making the pair stop their antics and look towards the man standing next to them, an apron hugging his slim frame.

The man is small and only a few inches taller than Riley. His build is strong but his face is soft and sweet, one that grabs everyone’s attention wherever he goes. His silver hair is styled up so his fringe is out of his eyes but has a natural look to it despite the abnormal colour. His ears are pierced with a few silver earring’s, some studs and others long chains that move with every slight twitch.

“Jiminie!” Taehyung calls out in glee, arms reaching out towards the man but Riley just shoves at Taehyung’s chest making him fall back down onto the fluffy rug. Riley huffs as she pushes herself up onto her feet, a slight sheen of sweat built up on her forehead.

“Morning Jimin” Riley gives the boy a sweet smile and a big hug before letting go and making her way up the stairs to shower.

“You guys are quite energetic this morning” Jimin helps the wounded Taehyung up onto his feet without much effort and heads back to the kitchen where he finishes plating up the food.

“Tae interrupted my me time” Riley grumbled as she had to tread back up the steps, legs sore from yesterday’s workout.

“oooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooo why didn’t you tell me you were having some TLC huh?” Taehyung calls out to Riley with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Riley just rolls her eyes and flips the male off while heading into her separate bathroom. Luckily this was a place where it was a no-go zone for the boys, an unspoken rule that Taehyung actually followed. Jimin was always a good cookie so Riley didn’t have to worry about someone walking in on her as she was showering.

“Common now eat up, I cooked breakfast for us” Jimin nudged Taehyung’s side as he finished prepping everyone’s meals for the day.

“Oh, Jimin you’re an angel” Taehyung gives Jimin’s cheeks a squeeze before going to grab the plate full of sausages and grease but was rudely slapped away.

“Ouch! What the hell Jimin?” Taehyung rubs the back of his hand where Jimin had slapped him with a spatula and pointed towards the plate where there were cooked egg whites, chicken and sad looking spinach.

“You’re on a diet for your upcoming photoshoot remember? I’ve packed your meals for the day so don’t go eating anything else” Jimin gave Taehyung an intense glare before taking the plate that Taehyung had originally wanted and started digging in happily, deliberately licking his lips and gulping down a glass of orange juice just to rub it in.

“Sometimes I think you’re worse than Satan’s child” Taehyung looked towards the second floor which earned another whack but on the back of his head this time.

“Eat your breakfast and behave” Jimin scolds Taehyung making him jump and start shovelling his food down his throat. Taehyung couldn’t really complain necessarily as this food always tasted good even though it was the blandest food known to man-kind, but his precious Jiminie made it just for him so he couldn’t say no.

“Riley, your plate is in the microwave I’ll see you this evening at class!” Jimin called out whilst untying his apron and hanging it on the hook by the cupboard.

“ThankyouyourethebestIllseeyoutonight!” Riley pokes her head out of her bathroom, a towel tightly wrapped around her body and her hair dripping wet from the shower.

“Don’t” Jimin points towards Taehyung who was just about to make a remark about her appearance and thus sulks silently as he finished his food.

“Will you be home tonight or are you staying at the studio again?” Taehyung asks quietly as he takes a seat at the dinner table and twirls his hair between his fingers, briefly wondering if he should keep growing it out or get it cut.

“Depends on how much work there is to do, I’ve made extra food and labelled it all out for the next few days so on the off chance I’m not back for a while you’ll be fine” Jimin says as he walks over to Taehyung and fixes his hair that was now sticking in every direction.

“Don’t look at me like that” Jimin giggles as he sees the big pout forming on Taehyungs lips. Jimin just sighs and pinches his friend on the cheek.

“I’ll see you later” Jimin says with his sweetest smile as he turns on his heels towards the front door.

“Have a good day guys!” Jimin calls out as he closes the front door behind him.

“You too” Taehyung says mostly to himself as he slumps down into his chair, slowly picking at the rest of his food but not feeling hungry anymore.

“You need a lift to your meeting today?” Riley asks as she walks in bare foot, fully dressed in a pair of black pants and a navy-blue top provided by her work. She looks over her shoulder as she takes her food out of the microwave and munches down quickly only noticing how hungry she really was.

“Nah I’ll be fine it’s close enough to walk to” Taehyung pushes himself up from his seat and walks over to Riley who’s shoving the last bit of meat into her mouth before going to wash her plate in the sink. Taehyung stands behind Riley and snakes his arms around her waist, cuddling up close and hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

Riley was used to his touchy nature but she could tell he was troubled but decided not to push. Riley continues to clean her dishes and cutlery, waddling her way around the kitchen with Taehyung clinging to her like a baby koala. Once finished she places her hands on top of Taehyungs much larger ones and slowly pries them open. Taehyung complies but not before gently squeezing Riley closer for a small moment. Riley turns in his embrace and wraps her arms around Taehyung’s middle bringing him closer as she rubs a hand back and forth over his back. This causes Taehyung to slowly loosen his tension in his shoulders and calm his emotions before letting Riley go completely. Riley looks back and forth between Taehyung’s eyes and gives him a small smile, one that Taehyung returns before he turns to go get ready for the day.

Riley knows all about how big of a crush Taehyung has on Jimin. He hides it well, most of the time, but it’s getting to the point where Riley can see the cracks more clearly with each passing day. Had it not been for the pinkie promise that she gave Taehyung to never ever EVER say a word to Jimin she would have spilled the beans long ago, but it’s not for her to decide whether or not they start dating so she sits off to the side watching and waiting for what everyone is expecting. If only Jimin wasn’t so dense he would be able to clearly see the true feelings his housemate has for him and stop denying the feelings he has for the other as well.

“I won’t be back until this evening but give me a call if you need anything” Riley calls out to Taehyung as she grabs her shoes and balances on one leg at a time trying and shove them on. Taehyung yells out a quick ‘ye’ from his room as he’s going through his wardrobe picking out a white v-line shirt, black skinny jeans and a denim jacket to throw on top. The weather was starting to cool down so it was finally becoming comfortable layering clothes which Riley was happy for as she was not a fan of the heat.

“Go crack some bones” Taehyung calls out as he skips down the stairs whilst tucking in his shirt and buckling up his belt.

“For the last time Tae, I’m a physiotherapist not a chiropractor” Riley complains as she rummages through her bag making sure that she has everything packed for the day ahead.

“Rightrightright” Taehyung says as he brings out his black combat boots.

Once they were both ready to leave Taehyung locks the door behind them as they exit their apartment and head towards the elevator. The doors open relatively quickly and they step inside, Riley checking her phone for new messages that she received during the night and Taehyung checking his reflection in the mirror, constantly fixing his hair and pierced ears.

Once the doors open on the ground level Taehyung nods his head to Riley and puts on his pair of aviators and heads out the entrance of the apartment complex, keeping his hands tucked into his jacket. Riley watches Taehyung’s retreating form as she presses for the level below to reach the basement where her car is parked below.

 --

 “Good morning Riley!” the receptionist welcomes Riley with a sweet smile and hands her the files for the day.

“Good morning Danny, how are you today?” Riley smiles back. She’s always liked Danielle, an absolute sweetie and one that needed to be protected from those slimy clients who would try flirting with her every chance they could get.

“I’m doing well thank you for asking. Sorry to dump this all on you, but Mark won’t be coming in today… his mother had another heart attack” Danny whispers sadly as Riley packs her bag away and looks through the pile of files given to her.

“Again? I do hope she’ll be ok, she’s always been such a kind woman” Riley’s face falls upon hearing the news, making a note to call Mark at an appropriate time. For now, Riley had to focus on the task at hand.

“I’ll organise to send some flowers to the hospital” Danny says as she swivels in her chair, setting up her headset.

“That would be nice I’ll give you some money later today” Riley nods her head towards the girl who’s busy already making phone calls to clients and reminding them for upcoming appointments.  

Riley heads down the hall towards her office where her desk and treatment table are all set up. This job had been one that Riley had worked so hard for. The ungodly number of hours she studied and sacrificed to get to this point was almost soul crushing, but in the end, she achieved her honours with high distinctions which landed her the job that she loves with every fibre of her being. Making sure that her appearance was presentable Riley brought out her first file and had a quick flick through, memorizing the client’s previous treatment and looking at ways to improve for the future.

Helping people was always something Riley loved to do, she was always dubbed as the mother friend. Riley was always there for her friends, picking them up from parties and taking them home, bringing them food when they are sick, protecting them from creepy unwanted attention, the list goes on. Her mother always gushed about how she was going to help so many people, telling her that she was a natural helper and knew that one day she would help people live better lives which she was doing just that.

There were plenty of days where she felt tired but that’s just natural when you’ve been working nonstop for years without taking a proper break, but that was Riley’s nature. You have to work hard to get what you want. She knew how hard life is and that thing’s aren’t just given to you on a silver platter. She rolls her eyes at those whom boast of their wealth, which was really handed to them by their rich parents.

“Alright let’s get this day going” Riley says to herself as she checks the time and walks out of her office greeting her first client of the day.

“Jesse Walker?” Riley calls out into the waiting room and sees a young man a few years younger than her stand up from his seat and walk towards her.

“Just down the hall and to the left”

 --

 The day was long and hard since Riley had to cover for most of her co-worker’s clients on top of her own but it made time run by quickly. Once Riley had finished with her last client she tidied up her office and packed up for the day. Wasting no time Riley locked up her office and made her way to the front desk checking tomorrows schedule.

“Another busy one tomorrow I’m afraid” Danny says as she writes down some sticky notes and tags them on her computer screen as she logs out.

“That’s alright, did most of Mark’s clients take the news well that he will be out of action for the next week or two?” Riley rummages through her bag and takes out her container of food that was meant to be lunch but she didn’t have any time to spare despite feeling ravenous.

“They took it well mostly but I got a few huffy puffy gents” Danny stands and fixes her skirt in place having been sitting down all day.

“Did Jimin make that?” Danny asks pointing at the container of stir-fried vegies and chicken that Riley was currently consuming.

“Yes he did. Alright alright stop it with the begging, open wide” Riley laughs as her co-worker opens her mouth and flaps her arms about like a baby bird. Riley scoops a generous amount and carefully spoons it into Danielle’s mouth who hums happily as she chews, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmsogooooooooood” Danielle claps as she grabs her keys makes a round through the office, locking up the doors and switching off the lights.

“You go on ahead, I won’t be too far behind” Danielle calls out as Riley slings her bag over her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow” Riley calls out as she makes her way out the door and heads straight for her car. Riley had finished a little later than what she would have liked but she has enough time to get to the dance studio and change before class starts. Just as Riley gets into her car her phone starts ringing so she quickly puts in her wireless earphones, curtsey of one Kim Taehyung, and presses accept.

“Hey Riley, you coming to class tonight?” Jimin’s sweet voice comes through the earphones clear as day. He’s sounding a little out of breath but that’s to be expected as he would have just finished a class.

“Just on my way now” Riley pulls out of the car park and onto the road, making sure to check her blind spots as she switches lanes.

“Oh good I was worried since you’re usually here by now. Hey would you be able to have a look at one of my students, she’s landed awkwardly and her ankle isn’t doing so great” Jimin asks, worry evident in his voice. Riley is no stranger to many people asking for “free services” outside of work because she is their friend, however her and Jimin have been friends since university and one she considers family.

“Absolutely, I’ll be there in 10 so that should give me time to change and have a look before class starts” Riley smiles as she hears the sigh of relief coming from the other end of the call.

“Thank you so much, you’re a blessing” Jimin says happily.

“I know you hate asking for favours but it’s ok Jimin, you know I’m always happy to help you whenever you need” Riley replies.

“What did I ever do to have an amazing best friend like you?”

“Well you make me food every day so I think that evens things out”

“Good point, I really should start charging you now that you have a full-time job” Jimin teases.

“Wow rude, alright I’m pulling up soon so I’ll see you in a bit” Riley ends the call as Jimin says goodbye over the phone.

It doesn’t take long for Riley to find her usual parking spot, Jimin being ever so kind as to allow her a staff members parking spot. Riley jumps out of the car and grabs her gym bag which carries a spare change of clothes. Riley walks through the front door and is greeted with many people waving her way and calling out her name in delight.

“Riley over here!” Jimin calls out over the small crowd, waving his hands above his head and jumping up and down. His silver hair is damp with sweat and his clothes have started sticking to his body which leaves little to the imagination. Riley walks through the throng of people and greets Jimin and gives him a big hug despite his protests not wanting to get Riley all gross and sticky.

“Give me a minute to change” Riley asks as she makes her way to the changing rooms.

“Ok, I’ll be in room 1, meet me there?” Jimin throws his thumb over his shoulder and Riley gives him a thumbs up as she walks away to get changed.

Once Riley had changed into her dancing outfit, she quickly shoved her work clothes into her bag and makes her way to go meet up with Jimin and his student. Riley found the room easily as she had been there many times and gave the door a few knocks before entering.

Jimin was sitting on the floor legs crossed and quietly chatting with a girl whom was laying on the ground with one leg bandaged up and covered with ice and resting on a chair to raise it up.

“Hey Alex, wasn’t expecting to see you laying about, what’s going on?” Riley chirps in trying to keep the mood as light as possible. She knows how serious injuries can be to dancers, especially when they have competitions coming up, so she wanted to make sure not to dampen the mood anymore that it already was.  

“Hah, well you know how hard this one pushes us I just wanted some rest” Alex jests but Jimin genuinely starts to panic, waving his arms about and apologizing profusely.

“Relax Jimin I’m joking, seriously you’re an amazing instructor and this had nothing to do with you” Alex pats Jimin on the leg as she brings her leg down off the chair and gives Jimin the icepack.

“What happened?” Riley sits down and inspects the ankle from a distance wanting to know the full story before she started touching anything that may cause severe pain. Alex relayed the story how she had been practicing with Jimin and the crew for the upcoming showcase and that after a flip she had landed awkwardly and her ankle gave out and started hurting badly.

“We wrapped it up just in case and iced it but we aren’t sure what the problem is” Jimin says as he bites his thumb nervously, leg bouncing as he was becoming jittery.

“Alright, well do you mind if I have a look at your ankle?” Riley gestures towards the bandaged ankle and Alex nodes in approvement.

Riley takes her time as she unwraps the material, closely watching the dancer’s reaction from any sudden movement but nothing was badly effecting Alex. Once the ankle was free Riley had a close look to see if there was anything abnormal and then started moving the joint, checking its range of motion to see any areas of stiffness.

Riley made sure to constantly check in on Alex, asking whether what she was doing hurt or if there were any particular areas that hurt more than others. Alex pointed out the certain areas and with a few quick tests Riley was able to make a statement.

“Well it’s definitely not a break, and there isn’t any bruising or swelling so I doubt that there is any tearing. If you really want to be sure I can give her a referral to get a scan done but honestly my advice is giving it some rest and try to walk on it as normally as you can. You’re more than welcome to come in and I can give it a good massage if you want” Riley pulls out some proper tape that she always brings with her and starts to strap it up, just to give it some more support.

“Thank you so much you’re an angel” Alex gives Riley a hug once she was up on her feet.  

“You sure you’ll be ok?” Jimin worries once more and Alex just punches him on the arm showing that she really was fine. Jimin rubs at his arm and laughs lightly as he watches Alex grab her bag and slowly limp her way out the room.

“I’ll be kicking back into action soon, just watch me!” Alex calls out as she leaves.

“Seriously thank you again for checking in on Alex. She’s a brave girl but gosh she is stubborn when it comes to having injuries checked out, I worry for her sometimes” Jimin sighs as he leans a hand on his hip pursing his lips deeps in thought.

“Common, you’ve got one more class to take and then I’ll have a look at your neck after” Riley nudges Jimin as she grabs her bag off the floor and heads towards the main room where the advanced classes are held.

“Ay ay captain!” Jimin salutes and runs after Riley giving her butt a quick slap as he runs out the room.

“Hey!” Riley yelps as goes to run after Jimin but nearly runs straight into someone.

“Sorry!” Riley calls out as she shuffles around the man and continues to chase after Jimin.

Authors Note: This story can be a very typical one and I didn’t write the guys as they would normally be in real life but I had fun writing their characters 

[thegizka]

What’s In A Name?

New to the superhero business, the Shazam family has a lot to learn if they're going to make this vigilante stuff work. Step 1: Figure out secret identities and hero names.

Written for Writer's Month 2019 Day 6: Kids.

Note: I do not own these characters.

Read it on Ao3.

“Okay,” Freddy began, turning to face his siblings after checking the security of the bedroom door.  “If we want to do this superhero thing right, we have to establish some ground rules.  I hope you brought paper to take notes because there will be a quiz at the end of this.”

“Wait, seriously?”  Eugene’s eyes were panicked as he glanced up from his computer screen.

“Of course not.”  Billy rolled his eyes.

“Besides, if you did write anything down, we’d have to burn it afterwards so no supervillains could trace it back to our secret identities.”  Freddy smiled sarcastically.  He was really laying on the dry humor, a sure sign that he was nervous.  He was the closest thing to a superhero expert they had, even though he’d only been in direct contact with the superhero world for a few weeks.  It wasn’t like there was any pressure to keep his family safe or anything.

“That’s a good place to start,” Billy jumped in.  As the only other family member with marginally more exposure to superheroing, he was also partially responsible for the success of this meeting.  “Let’s talk secret identities.”

“The number one superheroing rule,” Freddy announced, “is never tell anyone your secret identity.”  He looked pointedly at Darla.

“But what if it’s someone who can help you, like a teacher or a police officer?” she asked innocently.  “Rosa says we’re not supposed to lie.”

“Leaving out your name isn’t lying,” Mary reassured her.

“But you can’t make friends unless you tell people your name.”

“Well you’ll have a superhero name.  You can use that.”

“Do I get to pick my own name?” she asked, an eager shine in her eyes.

Billy found everyone looking at him.

“Uh, I think so?”

“Great!  I’m going to be Princess Purple Sparkle Rainbow.”  Darla beamed.

“How can you be both purple and rainbow?” Eugene asked.

“Anything is possible through positive thinking and imagination.”

Someday they’d have to collect Darla Wisdom and sell it as a book.  They’d make a fortune.

“That name is too long.  No one will be able to remember it, not even you,” Freddy declared.  Mary shot him a warning look.

“I will,” their youngest sister declared confidently, “and all of my new friends will, too.”

“Pedro,” Billy said, eager to avoid the potential of an argument, or worse--Darla being sad.  “What’s your name going to be?”

The quietest member of the family just shrugged.

“The Jolly Green Giant,” Eugene suggested while he tapped away at his keyboard.

“That’s the veggie man.”  Freddy dismissed it with a nearly offended frown.

“The Shield?” Billy offered.

“I think that one’s already taken.”

“Wait,” Mary commanded, and instinctively they all followed the eldest’s lead.  “Should we work with a theme?  We are a team, after all.”

“The Justice League doesn’t have a theme,” Freddy pointed out, “or the Teen Titans, the Justice Society, the Doom Patrol, the-”

“Okay, okay,” Mary conceded even though half of those teams sounded made up to her.

“But those teams aren’t family,” Darla said softly.

“She’s right,” Pedro agreed in his quiet, honest manner.

They digested these truths in silence for a while.

“What about something Greek?” Mary suggested.  “Our powers come from Greek legend.”

“Mercury is technically Roman,” Eugene clarified.

“Solomon’s from the Bible, isn’t he?” Billy added.

“Besides,” Freddy continued, “a theme based on the source of our power could give supervillains a clue about how to defeat us.”

“Well how do other heroes come up with their names?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know.  My knowledge of superheroes starts after they’ve already come up with their costume and name.  And even if I had tried to figure out some of their secret identities like a total nerd, there’s no way for me to verify whether I’m right and ask them.  I mean, it’s not like I have a way in to superhero society, such as, I don’t know, a brother who knows Superman or something.”  He looked pointedly at Billy.

“Dude, just transform and introduce yourself next time you fly to Metropolis.”

“How can I introduce myself when I don’t have a superhero name?”

“Yeah, are we going to figure that out right now or not?” Eugene demanded.  “Because there’s a Twitch stream going live in twenty minutes that I don’t want to miss.”

“Well Billy already has a name,” Pedro observed.

“Right!”  Darla beamed.  “Because when he said ‘Say my name’ we said Shaz-”

“Shh!” everyone hissed.  Mary covered her sister’s mouth before she could finish the word.

“Not inside, remember?  We don’t want to blow the roof off.”

“Sorry,” she sighed.  “I got too excited.”

“It’s okay,” Mary reassured her.  “We just have to be careful.”

“It’s a bit dumb not being able to say your name,” Freddy mused.

“Hey, I didn’t choose to make it like that.”

“Yeah I know.  That’s why we should come up with an alternative name so we can actually communicate on the job and stuff.  Ooh, wait a second!” Freddy cried, face lighting up with that look he always got when he discovered a new and interesting fact.  “I think I have an idea…”

-----

That night they tried out the new nicknames.  While Rosa and Viktor were enjoying a rare night out, they hit the streets to stop what crime they could.  Of course, whenever it was easy to sneak away and do superhero stuff, there was never anything notable to do.  They helped stop a car chase after the first few blocks, cleaned up a park, and adjusted one family’s TV antenna so they could watch Phillies games in perfect clarity.

“We’d better head back soon,” Maelstrom suggested, trying to check the time on the watch she habitually wore, but it had disappeared when she’d transformed.

“Can we get ice cream on the way back?” Lightning asked with hope in her eyes.

“Not if we didn’t bring money with us.”

“We don’t need money.”  Vortex shrugged.  “Bil- Uh, Storm and I discovered during his early days that when you ask nicely, people are willing to give superheroes all sorts of things for free.”

“That sounds like stealing.”  Tornado frowned.

“It’s not if they willingly give it to you,” Storm argued.

“If I asked Tech Stop for a new PS4, do you think they’d give one to me?” Thunder wondered.

“We are not using our new roles to ask for free stuff!” Maelstrom said firmly.  “Our main purpose is to protect and help people, not abuse their trust in us.  Besides, how would you explain a new PS4 to Rosa and Viktor?”

“Sh, no secret identity clues!” Vortex hissed.  Maelstrom just rolled her eyes.

“So we’re not stopping for ice cream?”  Lightning’s expression was dangerously close to a pout.

“I’ll buy you ice cream,” Storm promised.  “I brought some allowance along just in case we’d need it.”

“Thank you big brother!”  She zoomed over to him and gave him a big hug.

“Lightning, we agreed to use hero names only,” Vortex sighed.  “We can’t give hints of our secret identities!”

“You sound paranoid,” Thunder warned.

“It’s the number one rule!”

“I can’t remember everyone’s names yet,” Lightning admitted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you memorize them,” Maelstrom promised.

“If we want to grab ice cream, we should go now,” Tornado quietly reminded them.

“We’d better hurry!” Lightning cried, ready to save time by flying there directly.

“Hang on, I have to get my money out.  SHAZAM!”

In a flash of lightning, Billy replaced Shazam Storm.  He dug into his pants pockets, eventually passing a wad of crumpled bills to Maelstrom.  With another shout and another flash, he was once again a superhero.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Maybe I’ll get butterscotch, or chocolate chip, or birthday cake!  There are so many yummy flavors, I don’t know how I’ll decide!”

Lightning continued chattering on the way to the ice cream shop.  The late-night workers looked a bit shell-shocked when six large and brightly dressed heroes stepped into the shop talking and teasing each other like children.  Maelstrom tried to keep them on task, but Lightning kept changing her order, Vortex was shooting irrelevant questions at the overwhelmed workers, and Storm was nervously calculating whether they’d have enough to pay.  Twenty minutes (and a few photos) later, they poured back out onto the street, sweet treats in hand.

“Home?” Tornado suggested.

“Race you!” Thunder dared, already taking off.  The others released surprised shouts and followed.  Lightning, normally the fastest of them, trailed a step behind.

“Hang on!” she cried around her spoon.  “I don’t want to drop my ice cream!”

x

I tried finding comics-based names for the Shazam family, but only Billy, Mary, and Freddy have been around long enough to have options. Wikipedia mentioned Shazam Thunder, Shazam Lighning and Shazam Strong for Eugene, Darla, and Pedro respectively, though I'm not sure where those came from. I liked Shazam Thunder and Shazam Lightning, and since their symbol is the giant light-up lightning bolt on their chests, I decided to go with storm-based hero names for the squad.

[honestdreams]

Fairy Tale | Noah Centineo

Well i'm going on a cruise soon and i was wondering if you could write something about meeting noah on a cruise and really hitting it off but when the cruise is over you have to go home but you live in a different country so it's sad 😞 hahaha but i realllllly love your writing and thanks for doing such a great job 😍😍

A/N: SORRY SORRY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! I’ve been having writers block again and it sucks, I feel so disappointed in myself for not writing. Therefor I’m super happy I was able to finish this. I hope you guys like it! Thank you for requesting my love, you’re the sweetest, I hope you enjoy your cruise, thank you for being patient!

words: 1398

-

The stars were out as I sat by the pool, the sounds of the waves almost lulling me to sleep as I listened to them and nothing else. It was night time where I was, but at home it would only be midday. I was jet lagged or more boat lagged? What was the term for someone who’s body clock was off because of a cruise? Because that was me right now.

I wanted to be home, in the city or more preferably in bed. I didn’t belong in the ocean, just near it, but I had to be here for my brother’s 18th birthday. My parents wanted to make a big deal out of it. Why couldn’t they have just had a party? Why a cruise?

“All alone out here?” A raspy voice reminded me I was sitting out in the open, by the pool on the main deck.

I looked up to see a very attractive man, his brown curls all over the place, but instead of looking like a mess, he looked perfect.

“Um yeah, couldn’t sleep.” I answered shyly, knowing I really wasn’t presentable enough to be meeting a cute guy right now.

He laughed and took a seat next to me, “same, I have mad insomnia, do you have it as well?”

“Of sorts.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“I’m Noah.” He offered his hand for me to shake and I did.

“Y/N.”

“Sorry if I scared you but I wasn’t going to miss a chance of talking to a pretty girl.” He spoke casually but my eyes almost shot out of my head, he thought I was pretty? Is this guy blind and I couldn’t tell?

He laughed when he saw my face and placed a hand on his stomach to hold in his laughs “By the look on your face I’m guessing you don’t hear that often.”

I nodded my head in agreement and he sighed.

“Shame,” I didn’t even realise he had leaned closer to me, until he brushed my hair behind my ear “because you really are beautiful.”

/

“Peter I’m not getting the water, I told you 10 times already.” I glared at the tall, brown haired boy in the pool as he pouted at me and tried to splash me again.

I was on a sun lounge right next to the pool but a safe distance away so I didn’t get wet from his splashes. He huffed and finally admitted defeated, but instead of swimming for a bit longer like I assumed he would, he got out of the pool. I bit my lip as I watched him walk out, his body dripping from the water and I immediately grabbed his towel and held it up to him, looking down at the ground. Embarrassed to be in awe by him.

“You alright?” He chuckled, drying himself off.

“Y-yeah, why did you get out of the pool?”

“So I can spend more time with you.” He smiled and sat next to me, brushing his arm against my back, while I deeply blushed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well since you wouldn’t come to me, I came to you.”

He rested his head on my shoulder and I ran my fingers through his hair. I took a second to admire him, I knew this all seemed too good to be true, to have such an attractive and amazing guy interested in me, but I also knew this fairy tale wouldn’t last long. Eventually this cruise would be over and we would have seas between us.

“Hey you’re doing that thing where you go into deep thought and forget about everything else, even me, what’s up?”

I glanced into deep brown eyes and sighed, not knowing what else to say but, “What’s going to happen when this is all over?”

Noah let out a deep breath and awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, then smiled and wrapped his arm around my neck.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s just enjoy our time together for now, and forget about that.”

/

“I can’t believe this will be all over soon.” I admitted, sniffling while Noah and I wandered through the streets of Sydney, Australia.

The cruise had finally docked back in Sydney, and that meant my family trip was over, and Noah and I only had a couple of days to say goodbye.

“It went by way too fast.” He responded, squeezing my hand in reassurance.

I realised that he had slowed down when I felt his eyes on me, and I glanced at him.

“What?” I asked

“Nothing, I just- I really don’t want to leave yet.”

“We still have a day. You leave tomorrow morning, so we have the whole day ahead of us. We can actually go out, instead of just being on the boat.” I smiled and acted childishly, jumping around excitedly, trying to make Noah feel better.

He laughed, cupped my cheek, and I froze. I thought he was going to kiss me, something we hadn’t done throughout our whole time together, though I could tell we both really wanted to, but at the same time we both afraid of what would happen if we jumped off that cliff.

“I don’t care where we go, just as long as you’re with me until I have get on that boat, I’ll be okay.”

/

I stood in front of Noah, tearing up as I glanced over at the cruise ship that would soon put seas between us. I sniffled and Noah gently wiped away my tears.

“Please don’t cry…you’re going to make me cry.” He chuckled as his eyes watered.

“I don’t want you to go.” I softly admitted, keeping my eyes on his chest, knowing I could cry harder if I met his eyes.

He sighed and kissed the top of my head, “I know, it’s not fair. We live oceans apart, but luckily we found each other. I mean I found the girl of my dreams because she had insomnia, how lucky is that?”

He commented making me smile and finally look up into his eyes.

“We’ll get through this, I promise you. I’ll text you every day, I’ll try and call you as much as I can, and we can plan skype dates whenever you miss me too much…I want to fight for you Y/N.”

“Noah we have to go!” One of his friends yelled pulling the both of us away from each other.

He sighed and brought me into a tight hug, I returned it immediately and took in his scent, not wanting to forget it. Then he leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“I love you.”

As soon as I fully understood what he said, and he had kissed my cheek, I felt him pulling away, and my heart broke. I finally had the man of my dreams, but he had to go. I instantly started to cry and Noah sadly watched me as he walked away.

Once he got to the entrance of the cruise ship, Noah turned to me and gave me once last wave and I returned it with a sad smile on my lips, but once he disappeared out of my sight, the smile on my lips faded and I turned my back on the boat, taking a deep breath and walked away.

/

I was about halfway to the train station when a hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back, then I was faced with a pair of beautiful brown eyes.

“Noah? What are you doing here?” I exclaimed confused.

“I left something behind.” He simply stated.

“At my place? I could have just mailed it to you.”

“No, this.” He quickly cupped my face and pressed his lips against mine.

Instinctively, my arms wrapped around Noah’s neck and my lips moved against his. I got lost in the kiss and I never wanted this to end, but eventually, I got light headed and had to pull away to catch my breath.

Once I did, I immediately started to laugh, “So you ran off the cruise ship to kiss me?”

“Nope, I ran off the cruise ship to stay here with you longer. I’ll catch a plane back when I’m ready, but for now I want to live this fairy tale as long as I can.”

-

Masterlist

Lots of love, and don’t forget to request your little hearts out ♡

Peter K Taglist: @littlebookbengal 

[lovelykfics]

Destination Unknown - Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 -Final-

Pairing: Wonho x reader

Genre: Angst & Fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

Synopsis: You are best friends with Wonho but you don’t have the guts to actually tell him how you really feel. Let’s see how long you can hide it.

a/n: Sorry this part took so long to write, I had serious writers block, but I hope you like it! By the way, this part has a lot of angst, get ready friends.

You dragged your feet and kept walking, tears still rushing down as you kept a blank stare. You zoned out completely, accidentally bumping into a few people. They turned to look at you, ready to scold you, when they noticed your face. They gave you a look of sympathy then simply ignored what you did and kept walking, letting it go. Suddenly, it started raining. Are you fucking kidding me? How stereotypical of the rain to start now of all times. You thought to yourself.

“Y/n!” You hear someone shout, instantly snapping you out of your thoughts. You halt your steps and stop walking. 

“Yes?” You ask, knowing who the voice belonged to, but still not turning around because you didn’t want them to see your face. 

“Y/n, what's wrong?” He asks, stepping closer to you and putting his hand on your shoulder. 

“Nothing, i’m just really tired and I want to go home.” You tell him, still not facing him. He then goes around you, and takes a good look at your face, your eyes are red and swollen, and it was obvious you weren't okay. His mouth dropped open and his heart broke. 

“What happened?” He muttered softly, so only you could hear. At the sound of that question, you wanted to cry even more as you recalled what really happened. But you didn’t, you stopped yourself. But you also didn’t want to lie to him and say you were fine, so you just didn’t say anything. You just stood there, as the ache in your chest grew larger.

He sighed and grabbed hold of your hand. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” He says, as he starts walking back to the car with you. 

You snatch your hand back immediately. “No no no, it’s okay, i’m okay, I can take myself home.” You tell him. You didn’t want to walk back in that direction and pass by the guys and see Wonho. You couldn’t face him. 

“I don’t want to see him…” You mumble to Jooheon, and when he heard you, he already knew who you were talking about. 

“I won’t let him even glance at you, okay?” He says gently, as he holds his hand out for you to grab. You hesitate a bit and look at his hand, but you trust Jooheon, so you grab his hand and hold it tightly. 

“Okay”. You say in a small voice.

Jooheon then begins to walk with you, hand in hand, and leads you back towards the car. You both don’t say a word, and you walk in a comfortable silence. You think back to all the times Jooheon has helped you and looked after you. Always so caring and gentle. You were so thankful to have him in your life.

Time seemed to pass rather fast, and you started to see the van clearly in the distance. But to the side, you could see the boys seeking shelter from the rain. They stood inside the karaoke place in the lobby, since that was where the van was parked outside still. 

You noticed Wonho looking outside the window as if he was searching for something desperately. You stopped walking and your hand tightened around Jooheon’s. He noticed your discomfort and looked up to see Wonho as well. He then took his jacket off and placed it on you, and put his arm around you, pulling you closer to him so he could shield you from Wonho’s view. Jooheon quickly walked to the van as he covered you, and opened the passenger seat door for you to get it. 

You got in and right before he closed to door he said, “Lock the doors, I’ll be right back. I have to get the keys.” You smiled and nodded, then he shut the door. You locked the doors like he wanted you to, and you sat there and waited, not daring to look at the guys.

Jooheon walked into the place quickly. “Wonho give me the keys to the van, I’m taking y/n home. I’ll come back for you guys after.” He says as he holds out his hand. 

“Wait let me talk to her real fast.” He says, pulling out the keys and walking past Jooheon to try to go to you. Jooheon quickly stops him and stands in front of him. 

“No you’re not. Look, I don’t know what you did this time, but you hurt her. Again. So just leave her alone for now.” He says harshly, then snatches the keys from his hand and goes outside and walks to the van. 

Wonho reaches out his hand in an attempt to grab the door handle and follow him, but Shownu grabs his arm and pulls him back. “Let her go for now.” He says to Wonho, then sits him down. They then all sit down, and wait in silence.

Jooheon comes around the van, unlocks it, and gets in the driver seat. He starts the car, then looks at you, offering you a sweet smile. He then backs out of where you guys were parked, and he begins driving. He looks over to you and notices a distant look on your face. He takes one of his hands and grabs your hand, holding it securely. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” He tells you. 

You smile at him softly. “Thank you, I hope you’re right.” You chuckle, but he can still hear the way your voice scratches your throat when you laugh, and the small sigh at the end of your sentence. 

He still holds your hand as his other hand holds the steering wheel firmly.

When you guys finally get to your house, he gets out to walk you inside. Thankfully it finally stopped raining sometime during the car ride to your house. “Thank you so much, you always seem to have to take care of me.” You say to him, before you walk inside. 

“Nonsense.” He says as he reaches his arms out and hugs you. “I’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay.” He says softly as he holds you securely. You put your arms around him and hug him back, your eyes begin to water. “You know I will always be here for you, okay? You can tell me anything” He says, still hugging you. 

You can trust him y/n, you know you can. It’s okay to let go, you can trust him. It’s okay. You tell yourself, as tears begin building up more and more. 

He pulls away from the hug and looks at you. “Y/n…” He says trailing off. “What happened back there?” He asks softly. 

You run your hand through your hair and take a deep breath. “Well…” You start, and you tell him everything. You cry, and let out of all of your frustration. 

He doesn’t say anything and just lets you speak, but the more you talk, the more he gets angry. He gets angry at Wonho, the man who was supposed to be there for you, the man who was supposed to hold you when you were upset, and the man who had your heart. It hurt to see you so defeated and broken. 

“I just don’t understand him anymore…” You say, finishing your rant, and rubbing your eyes. 

He hugs you again. “You deserve so much better than this y/n.” He says. You say nothing, and just hug him back. 

You both eventually pull away and you turn around to enter your pass-code to open your door. You walk inside and give him a small smile.”Thanks for being here.” You tell him.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, okay? We’ll have a movie night, just the two of us, and we are going to have a great time, okay?” He says, as he reaches out and touches your cheek softly. 

You smile at him. “Okay, that sounds good to me.” You say. 

He then hugs you one last time, then kisses your forehead gently. He smiles at you, waving goodbye, and heads back to the car. He gets in, looks at you one more time smiling, then starts the car and drives off. You turn around and close the door behind you. 

You take a deep breath and walk to your room. You pull off your wet clothes and jump in the shower, deciding that it was time for you to calm down and relax. You needed it.

While you were taking a shower, Jooheon was rushing back to the karaoke place. He was pissed off to the max. Wonho continued to hurt you, and he needed to know he crossed the line this time.

When he finally got there, he quickly parked and got out of the car, slamming the car door behind him. He was livid, and his mind was completely taken over with thoughts like, “She doesn’t deserve this shit. She deserves so much more. He’s such an asshole.” He stormed in the lobby fast. Wonho noticed Jooheon rushing inside and so he stood up, ready for some news about you. Jooheon didn’t know what he was doing, his body was acting before his mind. 

“Hey is everything-” Wonho starts, but is cut off as Jooheon’s fist comes in contact with his face. 

“Why are you like this?! Why do you keep hurting her?! You don’t deserve her!” Jooheon screams loudly. It takes a second for Wonho and the rest of the guys to realize what was happening. Wonho collects himself and is about to punch him back, when Shownu and Changkyun grab him and hold him back. Kihyun, Hyungwon, and Minhyuk stand in the middle and keep them both apart.

“Are you crazy?! What’s gotten into you?!” Wonho screams, trying to break free from the guys.

“Me?! What's gotten into you?! What were you thinking?! Huh?! What told you that kissing some random stranger would be a good idea?! Do you enjoy watching y/n in pain?!” Jooheon yells out. 

Hearing this makes Wonho stop everything he’s doing. “She saw us?” He asks, as he looks up and meets Jooheon’s eyes. 

“Yes, she saw you both. Congratulations. You messed everything up.” Jooheon says scoffing. He then walks to Shownu, hands him the keys, then walks back to the van, hopping in the passenger seat. 

The boys quietly walk back to the van and get in. Wonho wipes his mouth, noticing blood forming from the punch. He then looks up at Shownu slowly. “What do I do?” He asks, tears pricking his eyes. Shownu sighs and puts his hand on Wonho’s shoulder. 

“Fix it.” He says, then turns around, walks out, and gets in the car. 

Wonho follows him to the van, but right before he gets in, he says, “I’ll meet you guys back at the dorm!” Then he turns around and starts running off. 

“Where are you going?!” Jooheon yells out the window. 

“I'm going to fix it!” He yells back, as he calls a taxi over. Jooheon unbuckles his seat belt and is about to go after him, when Shownu grabs his arm and stops him. 

“Let him go.” He says, and Jooheon sighs, sitting back down. Shownu then starts the car and drives off, heading towards the dorm.

Meanwhile, you were sitting on your couch in your living room, engulfed completely in a giant blanket as you had a tub of ice cream and watched some sappy drama on your television. You sat in silence as you ate your ice cream and watched your screen. Everything seemed so stupid to you. Honestly, you weren't usually like this. You thought you were decently strong. You had a nice job, good friends, and an overall decent life. You never really cried this easily, but recently you’ve been flooding your face with your tears. It was just that you really loved him. You’ve loved him for about two years now, and you always put up with him.

He would ask you for advice on girls from time to time, and you would always help him. He would ask what girls liked, so he could give some girl he was going on a date with, a cute gift. He would say things about you that would hurt you accidentally, but you always put up with it because you never had hope in a relationship with him. But earlier, for a split second, you did have hope. You let yourself believe that he returned your feelings, and you let yourself believe you could have a happy relationship with him. You let yourself hope. Hope is such a dangerous thing.

You sat there for what seemed like an eternity, watching episode after episode, just trying to get your mind off of the real world, when you heard your doorbell ring. You groaned and slowly got up. You paused your show and walked to your kitchen to put your ice cream down, then you went to your door. 

You opened it, and you internally cursed at yourself for not looking through the peephole first. “What do you want?” You say angrily, at the sight of Wonho fidgeting with his hands at your doorstep. He looks at you, not sure where to start. He didn’t think this far. 

You groan again, annoyed. “If you don’t have anything to say, then leave.” You tell him, then you turn to close your door. 

“Wait!” He says and stops the door from closing. You open it again, waiting for him to speak, as you stood there with your arms crossed.

“I need to apologize to you…” He starts, but trails off as he tries to figure out the right things to say. 

“What are you apologizing for this time?” You scoff, irritated. He’s taken aback a bit by your attitude. 

“I should’ve never kissed that girl. It was wrong. But why do you even care?” He asked. 

If this is his way of saying sorry, he’s doing a shit job. You think to yourself. 

“You’re asking me why I care about you kissing a stranger?” You ask, making sure you understood what he was saying. He nods. 

“Yeah, didn’t you say we were just friends? So what’s the big deal?’’ He continues. It’s like his words have a mind of their own, and he can’t stop them from rushing out.

You stand there, shocked at what he was saying. He was right after all. You had no actual reason to get mad at him, right? Nope. Wrong. I have every reason to get mad at him, and I’m going to tell it to him straight and cut the bullshit. You told yourself. 

“I love you.” You say, and you look at him in his eyes as a wave shock washes over him. 

“What did you just say?” He asks, taking a step towards you. You take a step back into your house when you see him do this. 

“I said I love you. I love you, you asshole. I have always loved you, and for about two years now I’ve loved you. I’m sick of giving you everything and getting nothing but hurt in return, so if you’ll excuse me, I want to try to stop loving you now.” You say with your head held high, not letting a single tear come out.

“No, wait, I feel-” He starts as he reaches out for you, wanting to hold you. But you step away from him and cut him off. “Goodbye Wonho.” You say, they slam your door, not letting him get an inch closer to you. You look at the door, then turn around, slowly sliding down it, as a sob you tried to choke down, ripped out from your throat.

On the other side, Wonho stood there staring at the door, processing everything you told him. He felt so stupid. The only reason he kissed that girl, was because he was trying to forget you. He had a few drinks, and the only thing he thought about then was how you said you guys were just friends and nothing more. Then when you left to get water, the girl started dancing with him. He knew she wasn’t you, but she looked enough like you for him to make himself believe she was for a bit. He was so stupid. How could he not see all the pain he was causing you over the years when he would introduce you to his girlfriends? When he would ask for advice? When he would have you pick out gifts for him to give the girl he was seeing?

He began walking back to the dorm, head hung low, as tears started forming in his eyes at the thought of you. She was always there for me. But I was never there for her. How could I be so blind? He thought to himself, as tears fell from his eyes.

So that’s how the night ended. He went home, crying and wondering why he was such a coward. He should’ve told you how felt when he had the chance, he shouldn't have made you wait, all alone.

You on the other hand, sat on your floor still against your door, crying as well. Wondering where you went wrong, and why you were so stupid. I should have never fell for someone like him in the first place. This is no one’s fault but my own. You thought.

You both continued on, he remained walking home and you remained sitting on your living room floor, as the imaginary wall got bigger and stronger between you guys.

Forcing you both farther, and farther apart.

To Be Continued...

Next Part