#and sera often ends up beating his ass for it

[rubra-wav]

The thought of Adam getting kicked out of a meeting for telling a deez nuts joke to Emily is absolutely sending me 💀

( Context in this post)

[secret-smut-sideblog]

The Halla

Lavellan x Blackwall

18+ (implied) animal violence, grief, (implied) torture, death, miscommunication, guilt, sub/dom, grinding, handjob, breast worship (m!), oral (m!), deepthroat, talks about pregnancy, tokophobia

Reunited with a Dalish clan, Vella hopes to help any way she can. And, returned to the soft of his bed, hopes her love will let her help him as well...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

"Where are we going?" Sera whined, throwing her head back.

"Sera. Hush." Blackwall growled.

"I'm enjoying our walk." Iron Bull offered easily.

"Would it help if I gave you a turn on Ghilana?" Vella smiled.

Sera huffed.

"...Maybe."

Vella nickered to Ghilana. He circled back from ahead, kneeling down to her.

"You know, people usually keep their mounts with them." Iron Bull appraised the great stag.

"Why? Do they need babysitting?" Vella looked at him curiously. Helping Sera up onto the thin saddle.

"Oh, that wasn't a slight. And yeah... you make a good point."

The stag stood again. Sera patted his side uncertainly, but Blackwall could see the wonder in her eyes.

"How's the saddle treating you?" He trailed his fingers along the engravings. It worried him that she might get thrown off in battle riding bareback. He had borrowed many tools from around Skyhold to craft something fit for her. "I'm not a trained leather worker, I can already see improvements that need made."

She gave him a soft glare over her shoulder.

"It's beautiful, don't sell yourself short. And it fits me perfectly."

She slipped her fingers under his gambeson, trailing them up the base of his spine. Whispering close to his ear.

"Almost like someone was taking measurements."

Blackwall's neck flushed red.

"Oh, she keeps you young, huh?" Bull laughed.

"Can ya'll not play grab ass in front of Ghilly?" Sera covered his eyes with her palms. The mount held still, seeming to humor her.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm older." Vella laughed. "Dalish calendars don't line up like that, but I've got him beat by at least a summer."

"Wow. Elven genetics, eh?" Bull whistled and gave her a full look up and down. She gave an indulgent twirl in response.

"She's trouble, that one." He laughed to Blackwall.

"Oh, I'm aware." He pinched her side. Ignoring the vague lust that reared at seeing another man fully undress her with his eyes.

Vella gripped Blackwall's arm suddenly. Her eyes flashed with silver, wide and searching.

"What's up, boss?" Iron Bull reached over his shoulder towards his great axe.

Vella held up a hand. Then blinked, a wide smile splitting her face.

She cupped around her mouth and called out. A haunting imitation of a cry of a fox with a small whoop up at the end.

They waited. Then, a responding cry echoed through the trees.

"No way." Blackwall breathed. He had heard that distinctive cry before. An ill omen that his men heeded. The party always eager to move on when it would rise through the hills. "That was..."

"Elfy shit..." Sera grumbled.

Vella only smiled, moving towards the sound with certainty. Walking in a fast clip.

When they rounded the treeline the red sail of an aravel peeked through the canyon. Vella rushed forward, speaking in Elven to the Dalish scout.

Elvhen. Not Elven. Solas' haughty voice echoed in his mind.

He had been supplementing her Elvhen lessons with him, determined to get some fluency. Solas was a much less patient teacher, often sighing out at his pronunciation. And his lessons in history were dour and jaded by his own bias. But he was good at translation. Miserable little man.

He struggled now to follow the quick of their conversation, only getting a hazy outline of it. A clan ahead, it seemed.

Vella thanked him, and urged them forward.

"One of yours?" Bull offered.

"My clan is from the Free Marches. We're far from our... from their territory. Dalish keep distance, but clans always know each other." She sighed the last part. Telling a weary history.

"Yeah, the Qun are like that too." He sighed with his own strife.

They came down a ridge to a low river, an encampment settled on the opposite bank.

The Dalish stood, eyeing them with weapons drawn. But Vella let out that cry again, and their shoulders softened.

"Let me go first." She hushed. They all nodded, not eager to be riddled with arrows.

She crossed the river, a man who must've been their Keeper met her at the bank. A tense conversation unfolded quiet to them. The Keeper gestured at them, and Vella gestured at herself in turn. Her hands soothing in arcs.

After a moment of quiet, the Keeper nodded and Vella waved them forward again.

"Jumpy." Sera chirped with thinly veiled amusement.

"You know damn well why." Blackwall growled. Sera gave a permissive sigh after he burned his gaze onto her.

"Yeah. I get it."

Vella introduced each of them to the Keeper, a small gathering of curious clan members behind him. She stepped forward to press her hand to Blackwall's chest when she got to him. Adding a prefix to him.

"My Arlathan. Blackwall."

He wracked his mind for that one. A city?

It seemed to warm them to him, regardless.

"Why do you get a title?" Sera huffed.

"I don't want to hear it from you, young lady."

He leaned down to Vella.

"Arlathan?"

"Oh! It's technically our original homeland. But it means 'this is a place of love'. Elvhen language is a loose thing." She laughed.

His heart ached at that. He paused her to press his hand to her chest.

"Arlathlan."

She smiled brightly.

"Your pronunciation is getting good."

They spent most of the day helping with small tasks. Sera refused to participate after the first one, electing to sit with the halla in their cool cave. Vella waved her away easily, no harm in her dismissal.

They had just gotten back from gathering some herbs when a voice rose behind them in a reverent gasp.

"Hanal'ghinan."

A young man came to her side, breathing a greeting. His eyes wide on her. He introduced himself as the halla herder. Telling her there was a golden halla (her lathallan... sister?) in a valley nearby.

Vella nodded, assuring him she would find it. He cupped her hands in his, smiling gratefully.

"We're after a halla?" Blackwall offered.

"Wow, your lessons are really sticking, huh?" She teased, eyeing him knowingly.

"Solas might be helping."

"And how's that treating you?" She pulled her armor over her shoulders as she spoke, handing it off to him.

"Well... he's effective."

"Less kisses?"

"Ugh. I prefer your lessons."

She slung only her bow and quiver over her back. Standing in her stays and tights. Kicking her boots off.

"My lady?"

"I need to do this alone." She assured. Tightening her quiver.

He nodded. Solas had told him of of Dalish trials. These small journeys. Proving yourself to a path.

The clan seemed to see this as well. Gathering in a curious circle. The herder offered her a blanket from one of the halla's backs.

"Ghilana." He smiled. Her mount turned his head at his name.

Vella tied it to her waist. Nodding at him.

"To guide." She agreed. Then she set her eyes on the dip of the mountain. "To guide."

She took off in a silent run. Hair whipping behind her as she bobbed and weaved through trees.

The Keeper laughed, watching her go.

"Sunbeam that runs."

Blackwall approached the halla herder. The others seemed wary of him still, but the young man met him with open curiosity.

"Who are you?" Blackwall tried in Elvhen.

The man immediately perked up, smiling wide.

"Irithen!" He gestured to himself. Calling over another young man excitedly. "Loranil!"

"Blackwall." He held a hand to his chest.

"Wall of black..." He nodded.

"Warrior?" Loranil asked, a glitter of excitement in his eyes. Pointing at the sword on his hip.

"Yes. Inquisition." He gestured to the insignia on his shield.

"Join! He would like." Irithen nodded.

"Oh!" Blackwall searched for the word. "Uh... welcome! You. You're welcome."

The keeper came to their side. Glaring down his nose at Blackwall. Speaking Common coldly.

"He is not. A word?"

Loranil hung his head. Following obediently.

"He's just scared for him." Irithen sighed. Appraising Blackwall again. "The hanal'ghinan is your love?"

"She is. I'm very lucky."

"You are." He agreed easily. Watching the horizon for her return.

"I was actually wondering..." He gestured at his leather boots. "Those are traditional, yes? Is there a blueprint I could study?"

"Blue print?"

"A... uh, a design? A map to build with?"

"Oh! No. We learn from an elder. But I have a spare if you want to see them. Make a blue print."

He nodded.

He sat with the boots, turning them, marking measurements and notes in the small journal that he kept her language in. Admiring the craft of them as he did. The leather tough but giving. Sewn with dark sinew in small methodically looped seams.

He would lift his head to ask Irithen questions who was sitting near, still watching him with eager curiosity. Another of the clan joined, Master Taniel, the merchant and craft master. Answering questions with a far more gruff authority.

"Holy shit." Bull rose to feet.

Blackwall's head whipped around.

Vella strode towards them with the golden halla at her side. The little thing was draped in the blanket, seeming shaken but trotting with her.

Vella's front was completely soaked in blood.

Blackwall rushed forward, but she held her hand flat to him. Eyeing the nervous little halla. It stayed at her side.

She was given a wide reverent berth as she re-entered the camp. The small clan hushing to each other. Particularly pointing their mouths, and the blood dripping from hers.

The little golden halla descended happily into the cave. A small cheer from Sera reverberated from within.

The Keeper met Vella solemnly. He raised a hand and pressed it flat to her blood-soaked chest. Then rose it to an aravel. Pressing the print there.

Vella's eyes welled with ichor and a further murmuring rose. The Keeper spoke again.

"Sun that bites wolf. Welcome."

-

Wildflowers laden in her arms, she held them close to her chest. Cradling the blooms with head bowed.

"I miss you." She whispered to the flowers in Elvhen. To the effigy of each of them. "I miss you so much. I miss home."

The grass waved around her shoulders.

"Can you see me? I can't see you."

Insect song moved through hills.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to bury you. That I didn't get to sing for you then. I tried. They stilled my tongue. They..."

She took a shuddered breath. Rolling the silver piercing into her soft palate. A touchstone of wounds since healed.

"I wish I had known. Known that morning that it was the last time I would be home. Would that have made it harder?"

She smiled as soft tears clouded her vision.

"I would have walked backward. So I could watch it go."

She gave a sorrow swollen laugh.

"Father would've hated that."

A fennec fox chuckled far in the hills.

"My lady?"

She looked up, smiling gently at him. Holding the cradled bundle up.

"I think it's helping. The flowers."

She could see him put context together. His eyes creased in sorrow at the amount she held to her.

"Oh, my love."

He kneeled down with her. Laying a hand on the gathered totem of her loss. The rough wide of his hand surrounded by soft green and purple.

"I don't remember all of their faces anymore. But I know the number. The chantry kept records."

The bitter entered her again. A pain she couldn't move through anymore without the burn of rage.

"I couldn't feel the anger then. I didn't have room for it. It was only numb, then survival. I had to learn to be good. To be civil for them."

"But now I don't know where to put it." She held a palm tight to her chest. "Where do I put my anger? On the chantry? On the mercenaries that killed my family in cold blood? On their Maker?"

"I could put in on them. Men who saw me as gold. As an idol and as coin. But they weren't sorry. What happened to my family was barely noteworthy, a scribble in a margin. And I'm not sorry either. I'm just sorry it had to be me to do it."

Blackwall's gaze burned into her. Feeling her confession building.

"Vella..."

"It wasn't even revenge. I took no satisfaction from it. No joy. I burned them in their chantry, then I found those men. I found all of them. I kept count, like my father taught me. Three nights, it took. Standing in the dark while they slept. One by one. I didn't eat. I barely breathed."

She could still feel the tack of it if she focused. Remember the feeling of sliding it up her arms. Blood as clay.

"It wasn't for justice. Men like that will always have a place. Ready to commit any atrocity if you hand them a heavy enough purse."

Blackwall was very still next to her.

"No, they massacred my family, and it meant nothing to them. It meant nothing. But their blood changed that. I made them feel it. The terror of being the hunted."

Her eyes met his again.

"I was in a cold rapture doing it. Absent from my mind. I wasn't angry. But I am now."

"And now we have to go to a Grand Ball. Full of people who see Halamshiral as nothing more than a name difficult to pronounce. I'm shocked they bother."

"They built their gaudy fucking castle on the ruins of a promise. And I'm supposed to appease them. To play nice. At least they'll openly revile me. There's honestly in that."

She let out an exhausted sigh.

"Gods, I want to stay back. Do you think my inner circle would notice if I ditched?"

He smiled gently, rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

"They might. I'm not going if you don't."

"Shit. We're going to need the muscle. Wait... what if we both-"

He leaned in and kissed her soft.

"I'll be miserable with you, my love. We'll have an awful time."

"Promise?" She whispered, holding his forearm. Looking deep into the steel blue of his eyes.

He spoke in her tongue.

"I swear to you."

-

He lovingly cupped over the curve of her hip, kissing the perfect dimples on her lower back. Careful to not rest his elbow on the golden wave of her hair as he settled on the hay next to her.

Of course she was already here. Sleeping in his meager bed. In his tunic that swallowed the curves of her. Waiting for him.

Maker, he would never get used to her. Sleeping on her side, high in the barn loft. Like that wasnt an impossible dream. Always finding him.

"Mmm..." She hummed, turning on her back to smile sleepily at him. "What a lovely way to wake."

"I didn't mean to rouse you." He kissed her palm as she reached for him. "Its very late. Go back to sleep, love."

"What if you kissed me instead?" She hushed, twisting to hook her leg around his hip.

"Tempting." He sighed, balancing on a forearm next to her head. Her long legs folded over his lower back. His body a shadow over hers.

"Please, could I get one kiss?" She pouted, looking wide eyed up at him.

"That's cheating." He growled. Her lower lip stuck out slightly, knitting her brows together.

"Evil." He chided. Kissing her lips softly. "Evil woman. Wearing my clothes. Laying in my bed."

She giggled into his kiss. Her lips so soft, exploring him languidly. Cupping the back of his head, sliding her fingers through his hair. Tender as she took him completely apart.

Maker, he was twice her size and utterly helpless to her. Putty in her elegant hands.

His body saught against her, the ridge of his erection pressed against her center. The heat of her pulling a throb from him. He huffed breath as she slowly rocked her hips against his. The wave of friction melted his mind into animal haze. His hips meeting her rhythm with their own will.

He was reaching his breaking point. His body needed to be inside her. To bury into her as deep as he could go. He knew the tight slick of her around his fingers. He had touched himself countless to the thought of it around his cock.

"That's so good." She sighed, her head fallen back. He kissed the curve of her throat, pulling up on her nape to suck gently at the soft skin. Her hips stuttered as a sweet whimper left her.

His body begged for more. Weeks of need coiled in him. But he couldn't. He refused. He didn't deserve to fall into her.

"Please fuck me." She whispered.

He groaned. His body raw and screaming obscenities as he pulled back from her.

"Is it something from before...?" She rose up on elbows. Still breathless, but her eyes saught sweetly from him. "You seem to want me in other ways."

Did she... did she think he didn't want her fully?

"Its..." He struggled. Pressing his palm against his eyes.

"Hey, its okay." She rose up, wrapping her legs around his back again. Pressing warm palms to his chest. "I promise. We don't need to."

His body vehemently disagreed.

"I want to. Maker, I want to. I want you so badly."

"'But'..." She whispered.

He only shook his head.

"Could I...?" She snaked her hand between them. Pressing her palm to his aching cock.

He sucked a breath between teeth. His hand fell from his face to brace next to her hip. Just the pressure of her palm pooled precum in his trousers.

"Yeah?" She hushed, searching his eyes.

He nodded, tightly closing his eyes.

She rose onto knees, pulling his hip to lead him onto his back where she had been. The pelt still warm with her.

She pulled open the ties of his gambeson, pressing her palm to his hard in mind numbing waves. Revealing him one tie at a time.

His mind was puddled with lust. With the unbearable promise of release. Watching her through haze. Hands grasped tightly to the thick of her thighs.

His gambeson fell away, and she lifted the tunic beneath to his clavicle. She sighed to herself at his bare torso. Crossed with scars and dense hair. Staring at him through eyes dark with lust. "I crave this, seeing you under me."

His cock jolted at her words. She smiled, pulling the ties on his trousers. "Do you crave that too?"

He nodded, gasping as the strain of his cock against his smalls was finally relieved. Her warm palm wrapped around the pillar. Pulling a moan from deep in his chest.

Helpless. Completely helpless.

She spat a long trail of saliva down to her hand. The obscenity of it made him dizzy. The head of his cock nearly purple with tight pooled blood.

He knew the gentlemanly thing, the right thing, would be to offer her her own pleasure. To refuse to be given to so selfishly. But he was so swollen with need. The ache inside his body nearly risen to nausea. And the relief she offered was nothing less than divine intervention.

"You've been starving for this, haven't you?" She twisted her hand in a tight pull, and he nearly saw stars. His body shuddered with long withheld pleasure. Her grip so terribly perfect.

"Gods, I'm so wet." She breathed. Watching the rhythm of his need pulling along his body. Waves that she commanded with her hand. "I want to watch you fall apart."

"Vella..." He moaned, looking up at her through strained eyes.

She slowed her torture, but her hand only tightened. His hands dug into the pelt.

"What do you need, baby?" She asked so sweetly. Kissing his lower belly, looking up at him under her lids.

"Your mouth!" He gasped, finally snapping. His guilt and shame dwarfed by the tidal wave of his need. Pulled ever higher as he remembered the piercing in her tongue.

She smiled against his belly. Rising up him, licking a trail up the whole way. The bump of the silver sphere sent a salacious tingle up his spine.

Her tongue drug up his nipple. "Here?" She murmured, lapping in waves against the hard bundle.

He twisted under her, panting. The torment of her sucking his nipple and slow stroking his cock a dual pulse set to unravel him. Nearly giving into it when she nibbled into the sensitive nub.

"Please..."

"Please, what?" She teased, kissing the pleasure raw bundle.

"Please suck my cock!" He hissed.

"Good boy." She purred. Giving his nipple one more soft bite as she descended down his belly. Her ass curled up behind her, trailing deceptively sweet kisses down the dark hair.

"Oh, you're dripping for me." She smiled, thumbing over his slit. His breath forced out in a huff. Her mouth hovered above her finger, breathing hot air on him. Watching the tight twitch with delight.

The teasing was building a force that begged to snap in him. His patience only as strong as the drive of his hips.

"Oh, I love toying with you. But you've been so patient." She sighed, then finally drug her tongue flat up up his cock.

His belly clenched as his hips fought hard to push forward. Taking all of his will to keep from thrusting into her. The piercing adding a new sensation that made him feel mad. Gasping out.

"Oh, there we go." She smiled. Sucking the tip as her tongue flicked against his slit.

"Fuck!" He cried. Fisting the pelt.

"I want to see your thighs tremble." She laughed, eyeing the writhe of his hips. Descending back to suck his tip again. Her hand pulling tight strokes beneath her mouth.

It was mind melting. His eyes rolled up into his head. Breathing through a pleasure tight throat. Pulling at the pelt in a white knuckled fist.

Her mouth slowly descended, dripping saliva down to her hand. Taking him easily to the back of her throat.

He rose up on elbows, staring down at her in shock. Then fell back again sharply as she started to bob her head. Sucking hard and wet, moaning into him. Her mouth and hand working earth shattering pleasure from him. Obscene in her sloppy enthusiasm.

She moaned affirmation, staring at his thigh. Gripping the trembling limb around his hip. Using it as leverage to yank him further into her mouth. The tight of her throat gripping the head of his cock.

"Maker!" He cried, his chest risen into a curl. Teetering over the abyss. His orgasm clenching tighter and tighter in his pelvis. Well past the point of no return. Hips fucking up into her beyond his control.

Her hand left his thigh to trail up to his chest. Head bobbing faster and faster. Her fingers pinched and rolled his nipple.

He was shoved over.

He held a pillow to his face as he shouted out his end. Spurting wave after wave down her throat. Pleasure striking him merciless, impaling arrows through his pelvis. One after another after another.

She swallowed happily, cupping his balls. Massaging them in tight circles. His body twisted, his legs tight around her shoulders. Trying to escape his own pleasure.

She laughed around him, only massaging slower. Deliberate in her torment.

He finally fell boneless against the pelt. His limbs thrown wide. Emptied in all ways.

She leaned back, rising slow up his length. Giving a little cheeky pop of her lips as she released him. Blowing cool air with pursed lips on his cock. Giggling at the twitch.

"Feel better?" She teased, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Patting his hip affably, smiling wickedly at the jolt of muscle.

"I..." He tried for words, but was a soup of a man. Still straining his breath to return. Eyes glazed and rolling in sockets.

"Hmm?" She hummed, doing up his trousers. Tucking him so sweetly back into his clothes. "Sorry I didn't catch that."

"You're..." He glared at her. Trying to rise on elbows, but his arms gave. Loose as rubber.

"Mm-hmm?" She encouraged, sliding up his body again. Her chin propped on her hand above him. Trailing fingers ever so light up and down his chest. Straddled with a curved leg over his hip. "I'd love some constructive feedback."

He pulled on her thigh, squeezing the fat between his fingers. "You know how good that was." He growled after a few regaining breaths.

"Oh, I know. Your body told me loud and clear." She smiled. "I'd love to hear it in your own words, though."

"Perfect." He sighed, trailing the back of his fingers over her still tender lips. "Everything. It was everything. You're everything. I love you so terribly. You're all I've ever wanted."

"Oh..." Her eyes started to well with ichor. "Wait. Go back to being grumpy."

"I love you so much. I dream about you. About us. About making you breakfast. About us in a simple kind of joy. Quiet. Sitting doing nothing. Still."

A tear slow rolled down her cheek. Taking a few shaky breaths.

"Where are we, in your dream?"

He smiled loose at her, pulling her chin to kiss her soft.

"On the road. We're traveling. Deep in the forest next to a river. We spend the night curled together in a small tent, sometimes I fish during the day."

Her head settled on his chest.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know yet, I wake up before we arrive. But we keep to small winding trails. You're singing, always singing."

He hesitates to say the other part of the dream, but offers it up anyway.

"You're with child. Only along a few weeks."

She freezes. Her body stiff against his.

That's what he feared.

"Blackwall..." She rose back onto an elbow.

"No, no. I'm sorry." He offered quickly. Cupping her face tenderly. "Forget I said that."

She cupped over his hand. Closing her eyes.

"It's just..." She sighed. "With my bloodline..."

"I understand." He pulled her down to kiss again. "I'm sorry, my love."

"Thank you. Do you think..." The vulnerable of her voice made his heart ache. "Oh Gods, now I understand." She sniffled.

"Hmm?" He looked deep in her eyes.

"My parents. Why they tried with me. Why they tried to beat the odds."

He smiled gently, pulling her hand up to kiss the tips of her fingers.

"Do you think we could?" She whispered.

"Probably not. Given the shit luck we've got."

She laughed, her voice wet with sorrow. Leaning down to kiss him again.

"But there's no one I'd rather try with more." He whispered against her lips.

-

"The dress is in!" Josie chirped, carrying a black silky cover over her arm.

Vella tried to make the reports on her desk matter. Sitting on the cool wood, staring down accusation at them. The heel of her hand pressed to her mouth, elbow propped on her knee.

"Oh, you're going to rattle them in this." She hung it inside her wardrobe.

"Ugh..." Vella thumped her head against the desk. "I'm Dalish, don't make me go. I'm going to want to kill everyone there."

"Everyone does, my dear. You'll do brilliantly, I know it. Oh, and Harritt finished this." Josie slid a gilded cigarette case on the corner of the desk.

"You're sure about this?" Josie tapped her fingers on the case.

Vella nodded, rising back onto elbows. "We'll need the advantage."

Josie stacked the reports neatly onto a chair, then hopped up on the desk with her. Sliding a plate of food to the fold of her legs and sat two small bottles of mead between them. "You've been brooding all day. Eat."

Vella sighed, the rumble in her belly agreed. Picking up the pasty to take a full bite. Her eyes rolling at the creamy gravy and spiced meat.

"Good girl." Josie patted her knee. "Something troubling you? Well, besides the obvious."

Vella gestured towards the direction of the stables around her mouthful.

"Ah, I thought so." Josie smiled. Picking up a fried green bean to pop in her mouth from the plate. "Go on, then." She urged beyond the cup of her hand.

Vella rolled her eyes emphatically, raising a finger, and Josie nodded. Vella practically bursting when she swallowed.

"He said, well insinuated, that he wants to have a baby."

"Oh!" Josie startled, then gave a thoughtful glance down. "Actually, that makes sense."

"But he won't lay with me!" Vella waved her hands.

"Oh...! Wow, that's much more surprising."

Vella took another bite, pointing at Josie. Nodding vigorously.

"And has he said why...?" She led.

Vella shook her head, rising her palm up in an anxious flick.

"Hmm... that is frustrating. And contradictory."

"He's keeping something from me." Vella took a swig of mead.

"Well, the man is as secretive as he is gruff. But I'm surprised he's keeping it from you. It must be... oh, it might be bad..."

"How bad?" Vella moaned, leaning her head into her hands.

"Hey, come on." Josie rubbed her shoulder. "He's a good man. You wouldn't have fallen for him if he wasn't. Your standards are too high."

Vella laughed.

"I'm still stuck on the baby thing." Josie offered sheepishly.

"Right?" Vella huffed. "How can you insinuate, very earnestly, I might add, that you want that when you refuse to bed me? Well... everything but bedding me."

"Everything...?" Josie arched a brow.

Vella waved her hand in a so-so motion.

"A puzzle, that one." Josie sighed. "Do you...? Y'know, want...?"

"What I want isn't even a factor in it. I can't... not in good faith. Not with this curse."

"But do you?" Josie offered softly.

"I... I honestly don't know. Maybe? I think with him..." She curled her folded legs up to her chest. "Maybe it could be nice." She picked at a seam on her knee. "Or miserable. One of each?"

Josie smiled. "I think you'd look lovely with child. And make a better mother."

Vella shuddered at the word. "Ugh! Don't bring that dark magic in this room. Not in my time of need."

Josie laughed brightly. "Either way, I think you'll both go far. The love between you is so soft and full. It's become a bright point for us all."

"And!..." She gestured toward the wardrobe. "You have a beautiful dress to spin in. Really drop his jaw for a night. That man is made of stone, but I doubt he'll be able to resist after seeing you in that."

"Mmm..." Vella pointed at her. "Subterfuge... I see."

"You'll be scheming all night. What's a little more!" She smiled mischievous as she hopped off the desk with her bottle of mead. Diving back to snatch another green bean. Vella slapped playfully at her hand.

"Let me know if you want to try on the dress, I'd love to see a twirl. And Vella..."

She turned to her, ponting with the hand that held her mead.

"Stop throwing knives in here. Think of the upholstery!"

Vella chucked a cushion at her. Josie laughed as she scampered down the stairs. Dodging another cushion with a delighted squeal as she ran out the door.

Vella laughed breathlessly. Trailing over to her practice knives. Lifting one in her fingers.

"Celene's Grand Ball..." She sighed. Walking downstairs to the drafty balcony, snapping the blade into a beam.

"Well, we'll be crashing, won't we?" She smiled at two ravens that sat preening each other. Appraising her with knowing dark eyes.

~

Next Chapter

[nctrenjunie]

Dance with me~ Jeno (M)

Author: Sera

Pairing: Jeno X Reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

Comment: Happy new year everyone!!!😊🎊 I wish yall a healthy, productive and happy year and take care of yourselves! I finally stopped working so now I've got more time to concentrate on school and to write. It´s been a while since I've posted a smut so feedback is always welcomed🤗 Love you lots💜

You were mesmerized by these hips. 

You were trying to observe every swift move they did as they hit every little beat that blasted out of the music box perfectly, silklike movements making him glide elegantly but overall teasingly through the practice room. The dim lights without daylight shining into the room weren’t really helping you to get your dirty thoughts out of your head as you kept analyzing his every move. 

And just as you thought his deep eyes were focused on his own reflection in the big mirror, trying to perfectionate every little move, he sometimes tried to catch a glance of your reflection that would make him end up with a knowing grin. Just by looking at your face once he knew you were in for a dance, excitingly waiting for the music to end.

Meanwhilst, your unknowingly self tried to pull yourself together as his sharp and tired breathes seemed to dominate your ears more than the music itself. Your eyes were focused on the sweat droplets that made his skin shine under the weak light and you could feel yourself getting hotter. You tried to catch his focused stare that made something tingle inside of you. But the most beautiful sight you've got to see tonight, so far, was probably his big hands moving so softly over his own body making you wish for them to be your hands that were touching him right now. Ughhh you would die for this man.

 Happiness rushed over you as the music came to an abrupt stop. Silence.

The only thing filling the void that seemed to be present in the practice room was his rapid pants. Both of you stayed like this for a while, to your advantage obviously, as you were able to profit from this beautiful sight. Jeno was panting, his black sportfit clenched tightly to his marmor like body and you, you were actually just here to pick him up but to your luck the other members already left and this view wasn't meant to end here. 

Just as you were about to speak up Jeno interrupted you after catching his breath. You admired his gorgeous back as his head turned slightly into your direction. Facing you with a big smile that seemed to appear godly you weren't really prepared for the unholy dance with the devil you were getting into.

“Hey baby, Would you like to dance with me?”

Stretching out one of his hands towards you you took it anticipatingly. Jeno pulled you in front of him, facing the mirror as he pressed your back against his well formed abs. Fuck, you just wanted him to dick you down.

But as always, he wanted to tease you taking your neediness to his advantage. The thought of his sweaty body against your clean clothes fastily vanished away when he started to move your hips slowly. Getting rid of your shirt, the big hand on your waist felt like it was burning its pleasure into your skin. His fiery eyes met yours once in the mirror before he pulled you in a sharp movement closer to him. Both hands were now on your hips, moving them sensually in circular motion which made you feel his big boner under his sweatpants. The small breaths you reacted with satisfied him enough to lick a quick line from your collarbone almost up to your ear before he started to burn hot kisses behind your right ear.

You were about to leave out a small moan before it was rapidly replaced by a hiss as you could feel his teeth biting softly into the crook of your neck. The light pleasure Jeno was giving to you made you anticipate the real course even more meanwhile Jeno was just satisfied with teasing you and rocking your hips slowly against his, for now.

The moment your left hand moved itself down into your pants, jeno stopped your little dance abruptly. You could feel the tension rising up, unsure about his next move. In a swift move Jeno spinned you around, making you face him before he pressed you against the mirror. A wide smirk sneaked itself onto his angelic seeming face, Fuck he was gorgeous. The sucking on your skin made his lips look glossy. You were able to admire how his tongue was slightly flicking against his teeth and then there were his deep brown eyes, making you wanna fall deeper into him. 

Jeno noticed your little observation session and so before a innocent smile got the chance to plaster his face he smashed his lips against yours. The way your head banged slightly against the mirror didn't seem to bother you as one of his hands opened up your pants and made its way into your underwear without wasting time. The room was now totally filled with lewd panting as both of you tried to keep your lips as long as possible connected before you had to grasp for air. The way two of his fingers were painting their way like a paintbrush over your slit made you throw your head even more against the mirror, whining out loud as his thumb worked magic against your clit. Head thrown back, mouth agape, eyes pressed closed… you looked like a goddess to him.

“You look so sexy baby, i love it when you have that expression on your face and it's all just because of me. Do you like it when I play with your pussy? Were you thinking about that when you watched me dance? Yes baby, were you thinking about me sticking my long ass fingers into your tight little hole?”

His words turned you on so much your moans were at this point unstoppable. Just as you wanted to grasp for air, Jeno pumped two of his fingers into your pussy, leaving a content growl as he heard you scream out loud from the extensive pleasure. Jeno was enjoying himself enough just by watching you pant and moan out but he didn't complain as you moved your hand down into his sweatpants to take out his already hard dick. He hissed when he felt your nail slowly gliding over the tip of his dick, precum dripping down your hand onto the dancefloor. Starting to press rough kisses against your skin again you panted out loud when he added a third finger, pumping them slowly into you. The other hand that wasn't busy with moving up and down jenos shaft went straight up into your hair trying to cope with the excessive pleasure Jeno was giving you.

“Will my baby girl cum for me now? Let it go Y/N, cum on my fingers like my little slut.”

His words were the end of you as you felt your release coming over you like a tidal wave. Jeno was pleased with the sight, admiring the effect he had on you before pulling his fingers out of your pussy and liking them clean. A content smile plastered itself onto his lips as he bucked his hips into your tired hand. But following another goal, he carried your tired form onto the floor. Getting rid of his clothes he pulled down your pants before carefully sliding your underwear away from your entrance. Laying tiredly on the floor, jeno seated behind you on his knees, aligned his cock skillfully before your entrance. His hands were gripping around your hips as he inserted the tip of his cock inside you. You whined needy as you could formly feel his smirk whilst he pulled himself out again, gliding his cock over your slit.

Just when you were about to lose hope about getting dicked down because of his endless teasing, Jenos hand moved down to the back of your neck. You could feel his hot breath against your ear and his body pressed against yours.

“Would you like to find out what else these hips can do beside dancing? I’m gonna fuck your so hard Y/N so you can find it out on your own.”

Jenos whispering voice was finally interrupted by both of your loud pants as he rammed his dick inside of you without a break. Jeno pumped himself in and out of your tight pussy as he could already feel your walls clench around his dick. Pulling his hand into your hair you could feel his hips slapping against you and the way his other hand held a tight grip onto your hip to keep you in place. Your fingernails were already trying to find some kind of escape from the neverending pleasure by scratching the floor. Jeno was never stopping, now grasping at your shoulder for a better halt to pound even deeper into your pussy. Knowing that he'll cum soon his hand moved onto your neck with a tight grasp pulling you onto your knees against himself. 

“Fuck Jeno….I I can’t hold it anymo….”

You couldn't really talk with jenos hand choking you slightly and the way his cock was now hitting you even deeper from this new angle. You felt your high rushing over you, clenching your walls around jenos shaft as your eyes rolled back automatically, overwhelmed by this pleasure. Jenos pounds became slower but stronger, feeling him ramm into you with every breath.

“Oh baby I’m about to cum, fuck ”

Pounding into you one last time Jeno came into you as you could feel your pussy become warm by his cum painting your insides. The room was filled by your loud pants as he pulled out of you, admiring his cum slowly dripping out of your pussy. Laying next to your tired body he sneaked himself a small kiss on your cheek.

“We should dance together more often baby.”       

[shutupaboutandraste]

“  you  keep  using  that  word.  i  do  not  think  it  means  what  you  think  it  means.  ” for Adaar x Dorian? Welcome!

Excellent choice let’s goooo! I mention another Adaar Inquisitor in this little drabble and that’s because my Inquisitor is brother to my friends’ Inquisitor so I usually try to include them both ^u^

Words: 1565

Pairing: Dorian/Inquisitor Adaar

For @dadrunkwriting​ 

Tramping around Ferelden was hardly Asaara Adaar’s favorite activity. In fact, he would consider it one of his least favorite. The entire country seemed to be made of mud and mountains with nary a plain or decent stretch of flatland to be found. Weather in the Free Marches was far more predictable, more comfortable, far better than anything Ferelden had to offer. Yet, his distaste didn’t have anything on Dorian’s. ​

“Inconceivable!” Dorian hissed, for probably the fifth time since they had started their trek through the Hinterlands. Asaara rubbed his palm around The Mark, reminding himself that at least Dorian was easy to look at.  

Varric laughed, “Sparkler, believe you me, it’s conceivable.” 

“The King of Ferelden can’t be chosen by single combat,” argued Dorian, “That’s horrible politics. Hilarious, but horrible.” 

“It’s how they do it here, I swear!” promised the rogue, adjusting Bianca over his shoulder with a winning smile, “Hell, I think Hawke would have preferred that too. Not that they ever got the chance to become Viscount.” 

“Didn’t they kind of prove that by beating the Arishok?” asked Asaara, turning his head slightly to ask. It was always a way to check if their last companion was still around. Or, at least, if it was visible. When his teeth grit at noticing the very obvious lack of Cole, the spirit hybrid appeared at the side of his eye. Good. He was getting better at reminding them that he was there. 

Another deep rumble came from Varric, “I guess you’re right!” 

Dorian scoffed, but said nothing. Clearly, the ways of the South were too much for his delicate sensibilities. Asaara didn’t mind it--his mind wandered to his elder brother Arug, who would have reveled in such simplicity. In another life, the two might have been Arvaraad and Sarebaas, but Asaara liked to think their own style of mage and protector worked out just fine. Fine enough that Arug had felt comfortable staying back at Skyhold at any rate. 

Besides, it was hard to actually talk to Dorian when Arug hovered. Magic unsettled Arug on a good day, but Dorian seemed to do so in particular. And, whether Asaara liked to admit it or not there was something undeniably charming about the Tevinter altus. (Not magister, he had to remind himself, just the son of one.) 

To be fair, it could be hard to talk to Dorian in general. The man was proud, charismatic, and bold like a pristine sunset that reflected itself back in a lake. He talked quickly, usually in circles around other people, but not Asaara. He could hang on every word like gospel. It had begun with inquiries into the time magic that Dorian had studied. Devouring the information had been thrilling, but Asaara came out with plenty of notions. Notions such as the obvious understanding within Dorian’s eyes, but that his speech could twist the truth to get even the best to believe in his work. Or, perhaps, more worryingly, that Dorian’s eyes sparkled when he was excited. That his smile made Asaara’s heart twist ever so slightly. Asaara was rarely tongue-tied, but he had to focus on his words more when Dorian was around.

Still, it didn’t mean Asaara had endless patience. Dorian could be a vain, proud braggart who thought that he was the Maker’s gift to magic. Once one knew him better, that shed slightly, but he could still be pretentious. And, Asaara reminded himself constantly, Dorian was still of Tevinter while Asaara was a Vashoth Qunari. 

 The conversation moved, Cole whispering to himself. Asaara was glad of it-- Cole was muttering his thoughts again. His fingers gently tapped Cole’s wrist which got the other to stop, apologizing quietly. There were many people Asaara found easy to be angry at, but Cole wasn’t one of them. Where he could argue with Vivienne until they were both blue in the face or ignore Cassandra until she looked ready to hit him, Cole was just trying to help. Not berate him with opinions or Chantry nonsense. That didn’t always make what Cole had to say easy to hear. 

So, when Dorian exclaimed, “Inconceivable!” again over something very conceivable-- something about Ferelden fashion and shield maidens-- it was Cole who said Asaara’s thoughts out. 

“You keep using that word,” hummed Cole, “I do not think it means what you think it means.” 

“...Pardon me, Cole?” 

“The word,” Cole continued, “Not believable. It blocks the idea of possibility. An unending wall for the dream of something strange. You use it for things that have already happened that you simply don’t understand. But Adaar understands the difference.” 

“...So are these thoughts your’s or his?” asked Dorian, directing the question toward Cole but looking at Asaara. He grimaced. 

“They were his…” admitted Cole, “But I began to wonder, too.” 

Asaara shrugged, trying to offer Dorian a charismatic smirk, “He’s not wrong. You aren’t using that word correctly.” 

“Yes, I am. Varric--” Dorian’s face dropped as Varric gave him a sheepish smile. He huffed, “Alright then, I’ve been made a fool of. Let’s move along through this horrendously massive forest before a bear decides to go after The Inquisitor again.” 

His face twisted into a mockery of a pout. After knowing Dorian for some time now, it was easy to pick out expressions. This one was embarrassed, his eyes darting toward the trees to avoid looking at any of them, but with his chest puffed out like a peacock. Perhaps, Dorian was too easy to look at. Most people couldn’t watch someone as if they were an exotic animal, learn their habits, learn which lines of their face crinkled certain ways to show their feelings.

Two mages and two rogues were also probably not the best equipped to fight Ferelden wildlife, which made Dorian very right in that regard. Asaara admitted that after a long morning-- Cassandra bleating at him, Iron Bull’s hearty laughter starting to grate his ears mixed with Blackwall's preference for traveling with Sera who was her own jar of bees-- he had probably made a mistake in a hasty party. Not that he minded. Each of the three were the most pleasant of his company. Still, he didn’t want to have to fight more bears. 

They pressed on, hoping to reach one of the camps before nightfall while they looked for herbs for the healers. Once that was all collected and the farms checked on, they could be on their way. Still, a gentle silence hung over them. Fennecs raced by them as the headed upward through a mountain. What Asaara hadn’t expected was for Dorian to softly break the silence between them while Varric animatedly began discussing something with Cole. 

“You’re quite intelligent, Inquisitor,” he remarked. 

Asaara’s lips twitched as he forced himself not to scowl, “For a qunari, I know.” Bastard. It was always the pretty ones who ended up being bastards. 

“No, I mean.. Yes, but no!” Dorian realized his fumble as he began to search for words, “Kaffas. I mean in general. Most people aren’t as smart as you are.” 

Asaara rolled his eyes, “I think the members of the Inquisition each have a plethora of intelligence.”

“Do not bullshit me, Inquisitor,” huffed Dorian, “It doesn’t become you.” 

Asaara whipped his head to look at him, surprised, “Doesn’t… Then what does become me?” A curl of suggestiveness pulled at the side of his mouth turning into a bit of smugness. 

For a moment, he watched Dorian’s eyes soften. Edges rounded as a smile ticked up softly. Those two perfect lips pursed before a twisted, pleased smile of his own graced Dorian’s face. If the wind felt knocked out of Asaara by that soft sudden change of face, he did not let it show. He had become quite good at that over the years. It came with pretending not to be bothered that everyone thought you were just another stupid Qunari-- or that you were just another violent Vashoth. 

“That smile for one,” said Dorian, “I should like to see it more often. Perhaps over tea in the library once we get back.” 

Had he heard that right? Koslun’s balls, Maker’s ass, Andraste’s shitty mabari, and Fen’harel fucking take him he had. Perhaps his own eyes brightened. Perhaps, he gave a little too much away as his cheeks darkened up, unused to the kind of attention Dorian had just bestowed upon him. Perhaps, it was just enough to keep Dorian interested since his expression didn’t change. Asaara let out a breathy chuckle, keeping his voice even as he nodded at Dorian. 

“I look forward to it,” he said, “So long as you’re not throwing books around in a huff again.” 

Much to his delight, he saw Dorian’s eyes sparkle.

Earlier today, if someone asked him if he thought Dorian would ever look his way, he might have replied ‘Inconceivable’ without hesitation. Now, that prefix has been dropped entirely. Dorian flirting with him was entirely and completely conceivable and right in front of him. And, maybe, just maybe the Hinterlands looked a little more beautiful, a little less muddy. 

He paused, adding, “And, so long as you call me by my name. Inquisitor is so dreadful on the ears after a while.” 

“Asaara, then,” agreed Dorain, giving him a polite nod, “An almost musical name, really. You will have to tell me what it means.”

Inconceivable, indeed.

[w-h-4-t]

Oh Sweet Maker, there’s two of them

Basically @mfmoonbear​ has an OC (an elf mage named Yelisavita Lavellan) and so do I (an Qunari elf mage named Fen’Harel Adaar). Now they’re here together in a story. A n g e r y co-Inquisitor AU here. Rivalry +100.

They get along. Sometimes.

LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

***

Due to its Andrastian nature, Skyhold was more than just a battle fortress. It was also a tribute to the Maker; the garden was often peaceful as the Chantry mothers swung censures while muttering the Chant of Light. However, Skyhold was also a refuge for all kind of people, including the polytheists of the Dales. 

“DIRTHAMEN’S SHADOWY NUTSACK WHAT THE FUCK”

One such example rang through the courtyard as four pairs of feet kicked up dust mid-run. There was a race happening, as usual, between two very competitive people, both dubbed Inquisitor. Yelisavita and Fen’Harel got along well enough at first. Though their time together in Haven was drought with cat fighting they grew to mutually respect each other.

That, however, did nothing to stop their competitive nature. 

It all started as a simple ‘race you to the War Room’ which was turning into an all-out mage battle royale. Both Harel and Yel made their way up the steps leading to the Main Hall, shoving each other before Harel caught the small elf in a headlock.

“YOU CHEATING BASTARD!” she screamed, making her face as red as her Valaslin, “LET ME GO!!!”

Harel switched her tactic, looping her arms around Yel before throwing her from the steps, “Make a barrier this time else you’ll get some bad bruises!” 

Giggling like an ass, Harel continued up the stairs, hopping over several steps at a time before she felt something cold take hold of her legs. At once, the Qunari elf listed forward before catching herself, attempting to yank her legs from its new icy prison.

“You little fuckin-” Harel started.

“Fucking what? Cheater? I didn’t cheat first, remember?” Yel interjected with a smile as she jogged back up the steps, taking her time before stopping by Harel, “Aw is the Dread Wolf stuck? Do you need help puppy?”

A menacing stare shot from the half-Qunari as her body began shaking. Soon enough, the ice began hissing as little wisps of flames licked out from Harel’s skin, eating away the ice.

“I’m a mage too, you fuck,” Harel growled

Yel simply smiled, coating her hand in a slick sheet of ice before reaching up to pat the angry co-Inquisitor’s cheek, “Uh-huh, I see that. Have fun with that ice, it’s extra reinforced for shitheads like you.”

Flinching at the cold touch, Harel pulled back before focusing to burn the ice away; Yel jogged up the stairs, only turning around for one second to mouth I win.

Oh that fucking does it.

Summoning every drop of magic in her bones, Harel blasted the ice chunks away, scaring quite a few people and earning a far away cheer from someone in particular.

“BEAT HER ASS!!!!” Sera yelled from the tavern rooftop, “SORRY YEL BUT I’M ROOTIN’ FER THE TALL ONE!!!”

Hearing the aftermath, Yel turned around slowly, green eyes shining with surprise. Harel shook the chips of ice from her feet before giving her signature wide-eyed, wide grin. 

“You heard her,” Harel said as she began clomping up the stairs, “I’m gonna beat YOUR ASSSSSSSS!!!!”

Now,  Yelisavita was a powerful and highly dangerous mage. She survived a great deal of trauma and death. Crawling out of Haven’s ruins, she proved she was indeed walking in the Maker’s Light despite being an Alienage elf. 

In that moment, however, Yel was a fennec in the eyes of a hyena. One would think she’d be careful now that she’d angered the other mage.

“Says the idiot caught in a simple ice spell.” Yel antagonized before leaping away, breaking into a sprint. 

Summoning another bout of magic, Harel brought forth ice, Faade Stepping in a blue blur past the stairs and into the Main Hall. Unfortunately for Harel’s dumbass, Yel had caught on, Fade Stepping in tandem past her. 

Varric had to hold down his many Merchant’ Guild letters as the two flew past, his hands gripping the many pages tightly, “HEY! Can’t a dwarf do some paper mache in peace?”

Back to shoving each other, Harel and Yel scrapped with Yel’s hands around Harel’s horns and Harel’s own trying to push the elf away.

“NO!” they shouted together at Varric, on the same page for once.

The black bones of Harel’s horns began to smoke as Yel funnelled fire into her hands.

‘YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Harel said before finally pushing her off, “Did you just try to burn off my fucking horns??!!!”

Harel in turn pushed the office doors open, noticing the absence at the desk before breaking into a sprint. Kicking in the office exit, Harel opened the door just in time to see Yel cracking the War Room entry open. 

Using the opportunity, Yel took off once more, diving through the Ambassador’s office towards the War Room.

“GET BACK HERE!!!!”

Instead of saying some crude quip, Harel continued running, pulling magic from her body once more to Fade Step, meeting Yel halfway as she flew forward in a blue streak. The Alienage elf turned back at the last second, her green eyes once again wide in surprise as Harel leapt forward, grabbing Yel and sending them both tumbling through the door. They rolled, pulling each other’s hair and scrabbling like wet cats before someone cleared their throat.

“Good day, Inquisitors,” Cullen said, raising his voice to cut off the tail end of their argument, “I see everyone is in high spirits.”

For a moment, the two stayed the way they were with Yel’s hands around Harel’s throat and Harel’s hand pushing Yel’s face back. 

Releasing her grip, Yel pushed Harel’s face back, shoving her into the ground before getting up. She gave a great smile as she dusted herself off, moving to take her place at the War Table. 

“Good day, Commander,” she said with a smile, a light blush painting pink shades around her Valaslin. 

Cullen smiled back, gripping the pommel of his sword before looking away, also blushing just a bit.

“FUCKIN-” Harel shouted as she moved off the ground, interrupting what was supposed to be a lovely moment, “I will put my foot so far up your a-”

Another throat cleared, this time, from the very end of the War Table. 

“Harel,” Josephine assuaged, “I will kindly ask that you show a modicum of decorum. Thank you.”

Scrunching up her face, Harel looked between Yel and Josephine, at first settling on the elf’s smug grin before staring at the lovely Antivan. 

“Lucky little fuck,” Harel muttered as she took her place next to Yel, “Damn fuckin lucky that Josie’s here or else I’d-”

“You’d what? Cry at me, wolf?” Yel replied, her smug grin only growing wider.

And once again, the flames of rivalry grew, fanning into an inferno as static crackled in Harel’s palms and fire spun around Yel’s body. 

“YOU ARE NOT CHILDREN” Leliana shouted, clapping her hands, her eyes glistening like vicious sapphires, “So for Andraste’s sake, stop fighting like infants! Behave yourself!”

Yel and Harel differed in many ways but there was one thing they agreed on. Leliana was scary and when that Orlesian had enough of their shit, it was time to stand straight, shut up and do their job.

“E-emerald Graves,” Harel stuttered, looking at Yel, “Thinking we could go to the Graves to do...do that thing…”

Yel nodded before staring at the map, trying her best not to look up at Leliana, “We should go to the Hissing Waste’s actually but sure….sure….The Graves sounds...important too.” 

At the opposite end of the table, Josephine sidled up to Cullen, finishing the last flourish of her letter before whispering, “ Our paramours continue to be interesting, do they not?” she dips the quill in ink, writing another line, “However, it would be preferable if they did not fight so much. It is indeed troubling for our reputation when they scrap in the public eye.”

Cullen sighs as he looks at Yel, watching her brush back a strand of strawberry blonde hair before pushing a map marker away from Harel’s hand, “ They’re not so bad, Ambassador. My sisters and I fought in a similar way, but because we hated each other. I think they’ll be fine.”

Turning away from her clipboard, Josephine looked at Harel who continued trying to pick up the map marker, only to have it shoved away, “Perhaps you are correct. Maybe they are growing to be friends.”

“IF YOU PUSH THAT MARKER ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR ON ANDRUIL’S SWEATY TIT’S I’LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!!!!”

“Oh, you want to lose again, pup? Don’t go crying to your prissy little bedbuddy -I mean no disrespect Ambassador- ” Yel stops for a moment, looking at Josephine before turning to Harel once more, “when I tan your hide faster than you can say Mythal.”

“Inquisitor-” Cullen starts before Harel shoots a glare at him.

“Don’t even try it, Curly!” 

“DON’T TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!” Yel shouts back, giving the taller half-elf a shove.

And once more, a fight broke out in the War Room as all three Advisors watched the pair roll around on the floor. One would say they were akin to a wolf and a lioness fighting when in fact they were just two aggressive nugs duking it out.

Today was just one of those days where they didn’t get along more than usual. Hopefully, soon they’d be back to some kind of mutual idiocy with Yel on Harel’s shoulders, steering the half-Qunari around by the horns before they’d both fall down some hill.  

Josephine and Cullen, though different in many aspects both thought the same thing as they watched their other halves fight.

Maker help me and my competitive girlfriend. 

[eottoghe]

Little Boxes - Twelve

A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

NOTE: This is long af. My bad

Jeonghan, swathed in plum tinted sheets, sinks deep into his fort of pillows. He makes himself comfortable while waiting for Seungcheol to finish getting ready for bed. His husband takes his time washing his face in the bathroom, making light conversation about his day. Jeonghan starts dosing off every few sentences, startling awake with a distant uh-huh when Seungcheol calls his name.

When the familiar dip in the bed catches his attention, it takes all his strength to pry his heavy eyelids back open. Firm arms enclose around his waist and allow their bodies to curve around each other in a comfortable cradle. Jeonghan breathes in his body wash and nuzzles his face into Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Chan had fallen asleep almost immediately after dinner being absolutely exhausted by the day. Jeonghan made a point not to butt in too much when Chan was explaining the story of his battle wounds to Seungcheol. He wanted to hear his side and didn’t want the story to become about himself. That conversation would come when they’d had time to themselves.

And now was the time.

Jeonghan is the first to move, propping himself back up on his mountain of pillows. Seungcheol gives him some distance by retreating to his side of the bed (yes, they had designated sides although Jeonghan ventured into his territory religiously). Jeonghan breathes in a sharp breath before releasing it in a long, measured sigh. Seungcheol takes that as his cue to prompt him into telling what was on his mind.

“I didn’t want to say it when Chan was in the room, but what happened earlier really bothered me.”

“You know it isn’t your fault—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. That’s not what I’m talking about.” Jeonghan huffs, with a wave of his hand. It was like the scene was playing in front of him all over again and just the thought of it made his anger bubble up, tension building like a migraine growing from the base of his head. Not meaning to have snapped, Jeonghan reaches out to take Seungcheol’s warm hand in his. “I mean… Yes, I’m upset I wasn’t there to prevent it, but I’m also aware that these things happen and that I should give Chan some breathing room. But there was something else…”

“Something else?” His husband raises a skeptical brow.

“I’m not surprised Chan didn’t mention it. He probably didn’t even understand what was really going on.”

“Jeonghan, what are you talking about?” Seungcheol knows his husband is notorious for hyping up his own stories, dragging them on longer than necessary just for the anticipa-

 tion.

  “There was this guy…”

“Can you just tell me what happened?”

“Indulge me a little! It’s no fun if I just tell you.”

“It’s no fun if you don’t.” Laughing, Seungcheol squeezes his husband’s hand to encourage him to go on. “I’m sorry. I’m listening.” His broad smile never leaves.

“I was going to say… there was this guy. The child that pushed Chan? Her parent. Or guardian or whatever the hell he was.”

“What about him?”

“He was unapologetically rude and I wanted to shove him face first into the dirt.”

“Oh?”

“The worst part? I know this person… Sort of.”

“Oh??”

“I’ve met him before and it was not a good encounter. He was an asshole then and is one now and it’s just mind blowing that this type of human can survive in a world like this.” Jeonghan lets the frustration in him grow and grow, remembering every little detail of every single time he felt wronged by the other. Just him breathing irks him.

Seungcheol’s poor hand is being squeezed within an inch of its life, but he tries his best to be the attentive, caring husband Jeonghan needs him to be. Although no words come to him but…

“That’s sucks, babe.” He likes digging his own graves apparently.

“You can sound a little more enthused. It won’t kill you.”

“It just might.” Seungcheol plays dead, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He should have expected the painful jab to his stomach in response. Jeonghan lets go of his hand (thankfully) and lets his arms cross tightly over his chest instead. “You should have sent him flying. If you run into him again, give me a call and we can take him on together.” Seungcheol sits up languidly, latching his arms back around his husband, leaving tender kisses along his nape, jaw and forehead.

“I love you, asshole.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes but leans into the touch further. “If Chan wasn’t watching, he definitely would have gotten his ass kicked.”

“Sure, babe.”

They turn out the lights and drift to sleep.

 __

 “Hey bud! We’re gonna be late for school!” Seungcheol packs his son’s backpack, only slightly annoyed Chan hadn’t done it the night before like he asked.

They are off to a rocky start this morning. Jeonghan, the true driving force of early morning school duty, is gone already. He’s a freelance photographer (had gotten fed up for paying an arm and a leg for shitty Christmas card photos and decided to do it himself) and booked with some hardass, rich couple to get the best sunrise shots for an engagement announcement.

So, Seungcheol is left with the tedious task of getting Chan up and ready for school. He slept through the alarm Jeonghan set for him being so used to ignoring it in the first place. And every other minute obstacle arises just to spite him. Thankfully Jeonghan had both packed lunch and made breakfast before he left so as soon as Chan is clothed, he scoops him up and tosses places him in the car.

All these streets look exactly the same. It’s a wonder Seungcheol doesn’t get lost more often. If it weren’t for muscle memory, he probably would be trapped in the suburban neighborhood for the rest of eternity.

Despite his best efforts, he still shows up ten minutes too late. The music teacher—the one Chan always says smells like bologna—flags him down to tell him he cannot pull into the drop off lane. He has to sign Chan in. Okay, fine.

It wasn’t fine.

There is a line of around 5-10 other students who need to be signed in and Seungcheol really can’t afford to be late to work. Again. He taps his foot impatiently, glancing at the clutter of people in front of him. How long does it take to write down a name and sign a damn sheet of paper?

“Daddy?” Chan, hand curved around his dad’s larger fingers, tugs him closer. “Are you okay?” He has this saccharine look with his eyes all wide and concerned.

Once Seungcheol realizes his frantic energy is rubbing off on him, he takes extra care to relax. His jittery foot stops tapping and he focuses his full attention on Chan, eyes no longer flitting around the room.

“I’m awesome! Just excited for another day.” And terrified I’ll get caught right in the thick of rush hour traffic. Chan nods, unconvinced.

“Okay.” They take a step forward each time a person disappears from the front of the line. As soon as he gets to the counter, he’s filling out Chan’s name, grade, and the time they got here with sonic speed. The pen markings are barely legible.

He swoops down, landing a quick kiss to Chan’s forehead and wishes him a great day. The child takes off, running to class as quickly as he can manage with his two-sizes-too-big backpack while Seungcheol rushes out the front office.

It’s just Seungcheol’s luck that he ends up running into someone on his way out. Like physically running into them. If the solid mass of a human he knocked into was smaller the force may have knocked them off their feet. But instead, he goes stumbling backward. How embarrassing.

He apologizes like crazy, bowing once and when he comes up, he’s staring into the shocked face of an old classmate.

 “Jang Doyoon?” He asks slightly in disbelief.

“Choi Seungcheol!” The other’s face lights up like he’s… well like he’s greeting a really old friend he hasn’t seen in years.

He sees him holding the hand of a little girl, couldn’t have been much older than his own kid. He gives an inviting wave to her, but she remains passive staring at him like the stranger he is.

“Sera, be nice.” Doyoon scolds the child and she concedes. Waves at Seungcheol, pouting still. “Sorry. She’s not much of a people person. It’s so good to see you though!”

“Definitely, you too. It’s been years! But I’m actually running late for work, so...” Seungcheol nearly forgets he’s trying to beat the traffic to get to his job at least within the grace period given. Seungcheol is doing everything he can to keep his feet planted, but he’s so close to his car, it’s pulling him in. Don’t get him wrong, he really would love to stay and chat, but one red light could lead to his ultimate downfall. In his mind, if he can beat it by one minute, he’s saved.

“I understand that.” He chuckles. “Hey, we should catch up sometime.” Doyoon’s reaching for his pocket, pulling out his phone. Sera is tugging on his hand, urging him to take her in the school.

“Yeah. Of course!” Seungcheol gives his number while the other types it in and with an energetic wave, they see each other off. Wow. What a morning.

 Seungcheol does end up late.

 __

 “How do you just make plans without asking me if I want plans? There was barely any time to get ready.” Of course, Jeonghan does have enough time to get ready, but only physically. Mentally he is still trying to build up the energy to face another human today. As soon as Seungcheol messaged, “Hey I know it’s last minute, but I met up with a friend and he invited us to dinner :D ”, Jeonghan felt his stomach lurch in panic. It catches him off guard and leaves him scrambling. Who is this person? What kind of outfits should they wear? First impressions are everything.

“I know, Hannie. I’m sorry, but he just seemed so excited to meet up and I wanted to show you off a little.” Seungcheol says the last part a little deeper, hushed and sultry like. God, he knows Jeonghan’s weaknesses like the back of his hand.

“I guess that makes it a little better.” Seungcheol’s hands travel to the small of Jeonghan’s back, pulling him in for a tender peck on the lips. “Okay, but next time please give us at least a few hours in advance. I don’t even know where we’re going. What if this person is a serial killer?”

“I can assure you he isn’t. We were actually—”

“I can’t find Bumblebee!” Chan shrieks like a crack of lightning, descending the stairs with thunderous footsteps. “I just had him!”

Seungcheol audibly groans, looking at his watch. “Do you really need him? We’re going to dinner, not a play date.”

“I need Bumblebee!”

“I’ll go help him look.” Jeonghan places a quick kiss to Seungcheol’s lips before allowing Chan to lead him to the last place he saw it.

“It’s gotta be quick bud, we’re running late. I’ll be in the car.” Seungcheol yells behind the crew, grabbing the keys. This whole day he felt like he was running behind. Tonight is no different.

 __

 Seungcheol rings the door bell then takes a polite step backwards. His husband and son are flanking him on either side, the picture-perfect family standing in a proper line.

They wait.

Then wait some more.

There’s no movement on the other side. No shuffling or dog bark or tell-tale sign of human life at all. Seungcheol checks his watch making sure the time is right. He steps forward once again. Rings the doorbell, holding down the button a little longer so the diiiing dooong rings out loud and slow. He steps back. He waits again.

“Are you sure this is the right house?” Jeonghan asks, looking around. They aren’t too far from their own neighborhood, yet somehow this one feels a world away.  For one, the houses have different layouts and designs from each other—completely contradicting the uniformness of his own. The streets don’t all form perfect blocks with perfect right angles. And when you ring the doorbell, people apparently don’t immediately answer. Yes, very different.

“Yeah… I mean unless the GPS was wrong.” Seungcheol scratches the back of his head. He reaches forward once more to try the doorbell again and to his surprise the door swings open. Doyoon is standing there catching his breath.

“Sorry. I was in the bathroom and Sera refused to get the door. I told her we were… having… guests…” Doyoon’s smile drops at the same rate his words peter out. He’s now staring agape at this odd turn of events. Jeonghan is startled as well, jaw slack, truly stunned.

“What are you doing here?” Jeonghan asks dumbly. He looks to Doyoon and then to Seungcheol and back to Doyoon. He’s feeling a strong sense of betrayal. He’d never really mentioned that Doyoon was the person he’d met at the park, nor had he mentioned them knowing each other in college. As far as he knew, Doyoon wasn’t on Seungcheol’s radar. But now he’s claiming to be old friends!

“I live here...” Is what Doyoon replies with. They fall into an intolerable silence shortly after. Jeonghan is looking down at the shoddy “Welcome” mat like it offends him. Doyoon is shifting his feet with an expression Seungcheol can’t really place. Awkward is an understatement.

But Seungcheol is determined to have his old best friend and life partner get along. Instead of plummeting face first into the bottom of a pit, Seungcheol tries to save their sinking ship by saying,

“So you two know each other already?” Though not even his sunshine smile can melt away the icy winter forming between the two.

It was going to be a long night.

 __

 Kids have this wonderful way of getting over grudges: apologizing once, hugging it out, bonding over some animated TV program they both adore. It’s precious how simple their problems seem, how easily they are resolved. Jeonghan is envious that his own life lacks that simplicity.

For the kids, it’s as easy as Sera saying sorry with a shy frown on bow shaped lips and hands clasped nervously behind her back. She is kinda cute when she’s not trying to look so mean. Jeonghan is happy that his kid made up with his bully and that she seems to feel remorse for her actions. Did he fully forgive her for hurting his baby? No. But he’s an adult so he has to be the bigger person.

Well… in that situation. But in facing his own bully, he wasn’t too keen on forgiving and forgetting.

Doyoon didn’t go into the specifics of their encounters, only briefly explaining that they had known each other vaguely during the year he left their university. He completely grazed over it in conversation and something about that irked Jeonghan more than he thought it would. Reading the vibe, Jeonghan was courteous enough not to reveal the extremes of their dynamic at the dinner table. Instead, he nodded and shrugged it off. Oh, he’d have a field day as soon as they made it home!

Seungcheol and Doyoon caught up over small things, big things, all things. Things Jeonghan didn’t understand nor really care to. And it became abundantly clear after the third time Jeonghan tried to add to the conversation that he was out of his element.

Each time he tried to interject, it would casually get cut off or the conversation would die shortly after. So, petty as it may be, Jeonghan decided to sit back with his arms crossed, trying his best to not let his dejection show.

Not that it really mattered. They didn’t seem to notice. Not when he slammed down his chopsticks a little too harshly after Seunghcheol incessantly complimented Doyoon on the delicious dinner, bragging on his cooking skills from “back in the day”. Not when Jeonghan huffed under his breath during a recanting of that one crazy professor they mutually hated their first year of uni together. The kids, oblivious as ever excuse themselves to play with some toys in Sera’s play room and now Jeonghan is alone. He feels like the third wheel even though he’s with HIS husband!

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why its so easy for Seungcheol to get along with him anyway. He can’t even stand to look at his face, let alone cordially communicate with him. Jeonghan leans back into his chair, a bored expression morphing his usually gentle features into a cold, distant glower. It’s not like he can just scream “Hey! Your friend’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve our time!”

Well…

He flicks the thought away no matter how tempting it is. He’s an adult now, not a haughty college student. He’s not that same impulsive 22-year-old, fishing for drama and seeking out spilled tea. He’s not that same kid that would have caused a huge scene and embarrassed Doyoon by calling him out in front of his daughter and throwing some underhand comment about how he’s a bad influence to his own damn kid.

“-han?”

“Huh?” Jeonghan is reeled back in feeling a bit guilty for his mean slew of thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asks. Jeonghan gives a lopsided shrug and tries to be responsive by bringing a bit of color back into his expression. But even he can tell its perceived as forced. He’s honestly never been that good at hiding his emotions.

“I think I know…” Doyoon begins and this does peak Jeonghan’s attention making him sit a little straighter and loosen the tightened cross of his arms. “I… I’ve been meaning to apologize actually.”

Seungcheol draws his thick brows together in a perplexed frown. He licks his lips trying to assess the situation, squinting slightly between the two to decipher whatever coded language they’ve been conversing in all night.

He can’t really be that dense, can he? Fuck, I married this idiot. Jeonghan thinks offhandedly.

Doyoon continues, “I will admit that we didn’t get off to a good start when we’d first met. We had our differences.” Differences my ass, Jeonghan thinks. You spilled hot coffee on me, stained my favorite shirt, and never said sorry. “I wasn’t in the right state of mind back then and was kind of bitter about the situation I was in. I guess it’s kind of obvious, but I never got my degree. Sera came and I had to put everything on hold to take care of her when her birth mother decided to run away.”

Aww boo hoo, Jeonghan thinks. Of course, he has some tragic sob story. And it’ll definitely work on Seungcheol. He’s always been the weak one. But as Jeonghan thinks more on it, it is a pretty unfortunate story. He couldn’t imagine being left to raise Chan on his own in the middle of thesis work. And although Jeonghan can sympathize, he doesn’t think people should use their shitty circumstances to justify their shitty behavior.

Seungcheol looks so invested, he can practically see the popcorn and Icee in his hands as the movie unfolds in front of him.

“So I guess it’s long overdue, but… I am sorry. For all the shitty things I’ve said or done to you.” Doyoon takes a big breath and lets it go, exhaling all of the pent-up negativity he’s harbored in his chest since what seems like forever.

“And the incident at the park?”

“YOU were the one Jeonghan wanted to slam in the dirt?” Seungcheol eggs on.

Jeonghan nervously chuckles and lands a sharp kick to Seungcheol’s shin.

“Right… It was an off day, but I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. After the fact, I realized it wasn’t the politest reaction, but I talked to her about it right after and explained that what she did wasn’t okay… And I’m sorry for that too.”

Jeonghan thinks it over for a second, expression unwavering for a while before saying, “Apology accepted.” He shrugs, “Our kids seem to be getting along well and I would hate for any grudges we have against each other to ruin what could be a nice friendship. Plus, you aren’t that bad, I guess.” His aloof words are betrayed by the growing smile teasing his lips. He hates now more than ever that he can’t hide his emotions better.

“Wow. I still feel like I’m missing so much.” Seungcheol chimes in cocking his head to the side.

Both Doyoon and Jeonghan simultaneously roll their eyes.

“Maybe we can set up a play date later and try this again?” Doyoon asks, unsure.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

__

“That did not go at all like I expected.” Seungcheol huffed, falling back onto their couch haphazardly. His arm instinctively found its way around his husband’s shoulders. What he didn’t expect was for him to shrug it off and stare cross armed at him. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Yeah. Same.” They’d put Chan to sleep and now were left to their own devices.

“Are you mad? I really didn’t know. I didn’t know he was the one.”

“I’m not mad. Anymore.” But the same indignant expression remained resolute.

“Then why are you scowling at me?”

“Oh please. I’m too handsome to scowl.” Seungcheol reaches out to poke his cheek and Jeonghan mocks biting his finger off.

“Looks like a scowl to me.” He drags Jeonghan into his arms even with the other still stubbornly closed in on himself. “Then what’s wrong? Didn’t you resolve everything?”

“He’s not the one I’m mad at!” Jeonghan whines into Seungcheol’s bicep, the strong hold around him smothering and comfortable.

“Ah! So you are mad?”

“Not necessarily. I just… you two got along really well and then Chan made up with Sera and then it was just me.”

“Babe,” Seungcheol has this big ass smile on his face when he pulls back enough to look at Jeonghan. “Were you… jealous?”

Jeonghan scoffs. What? Him? Choi Jeonghan jealous? Yeah right!

Well…

Yeah… right.

“Everyone was on his side and I was like the only one in the room that couldn’t relate to anything or add anything to the conversation. You have no idea how frustrating that is!”

“Hannie, you know I’m always on your side, right?” He places a soft kiss on his lips and Jeonghan’s solid resolve finally starts to crack. He nods.

“I know.” He snuggles closer, finally releasing his arms from their defensive position to wrap them around his husband. “But you should start complimenting my cooking like that!”

“Alright. Alright.” They laugh until it trickles off into calm sighs and spend the rest of their night giving cheesy compliments for the most mundane things.

A/N: I am so sorry that took so fucking long lmao. It’s DONE. HAppy Birhtday to meeee.

Next Chapter

[xfandomwritingsx]

Reuniting Part 2 - F!Hawke/Varric

Description: A drink with friends never goes wrong, can it?

Warnings/Labels: Friends to lovers trope. Some sexual mentions. Some drinking. Some fun.

Approx. Word Count: 4,000

A/N: This part ended up taking a different turn than I thought, but I think I like it.

Part One

Hawke had followed the Inquisitor, intending to call out to her and maybe find out where Varric was hiding. She hadn’t seen him since he’d introduced the two on the battlements and honestly, Hawke was getting turned around in Skyhold. Navigating new places wasn’t her strong suit unless it was in Kirkwall. Everything was always so similar there.

She never did actually manage to call out to the Inquisitor though, and instead ended up following her a little creepily by accident. The Inquisitor entered a building and was already walking up the stairs when Hawke entered. There was a scuffling sound upstairs, furniture being violently rearranged.

“You knew where Hawke was all along!” She stopped at the sound of her name, puzzled at what in Thedas was happening up there.

“You’re damned right I did!” Varric’s voice called out angrily. He didn’t yell very often. Hawke could actually count the number of times she’d heard him get angry and yell at someone on her fingers. Curiosity got the better of her and she stood by the stairs, head cocked to aim her ear to listen more.

“You conniving little shit!” The woman spat out through gritted teeth. There was the sound of more scuffling above Hawke’s head and she thought about going up the stairs herself to intervene, but decided against it. Varric could handle himself.

“You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?” Ah, so the pissed off woman must have been the Seeker Hawke had heard so much about. She sounded different than Hawke expected.

“Hey! Enough.” The Inquisitor’s voice rose up, stopping the two from going at it again.

“You’re taking his side?” The Seeker said, astonished.

“I said enough!”

The voices lowered for the most part, making it harder for Hawke to hear what they were saying. Still, she waited. She had been looking for Varric after all and she had found him. Hawke started to wonder how bad the interrogation actually was. In his letters, he went between brushing it off flippantly and over exaggerating, saying how he was held down and tortured and forced to kiss an ogre. She knew the truth lay somewhere in between his stories, but where exactly? Had the Seeker harmed him?

The thought enraged her. That woman better not have put a finger on him. If she had, Hawke would personally make sure she got it right back before she left.

“I was protecting my friend!” Varric’s voice rose again and Hawke felt a warmth in her stomach. Affection? Guilt? She had never asked him to hide her away, never expected him to. And yet he did. He was the one friend she could always count on no matter what. (Except that one time in the fade. But that didn’t count. The fade never counted.) He was more than just a friend. “You know what I think?” She could see his feet at the very top of the stairs, hear his voice a little clearer. “If Hawke had been at the temple, she’d be dead too.” He paused for just a beat. “You people have done enough to her.” The amount of severity, pain, fear in his voice made her ache. She was more than just a friend to him too.

She saw him start to descend the stairs and waited for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as he came down, the other hand on the wooden railing. Only when he got to the bottom did he see her there and stop, surprised at her presence.

She thought about saying something, about offering something more than the soft, half smile on her lips, but nothing would come out. Nothing needed to though. They stood there looking at each other, saying a lot in their silence.

It reminded her of their last night in Kirkwall, standing on the dock, waiting for her to leave. They had stood next to each other, arms brushing against each other’s but not saying a thing. They were never really good at the serious stuff and always leaned towards leaving words unsaid. They both knew what the other was thinking, feeling, what they were meaning to say. There was absolutely no need to speak words.

It was no different standing at the bottom of those stairs with the silent thank you’s and I love you’s and you didn’t have to’s filling the space between them. She wanted to reach out to him, maybe to hug him again, maybe to just take his hand. Instead, she stayed where she was and let the moment extend.

“Want to get a drink?” Varric asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she replied, that half smile breaking out into a full one. “A drink sounds good.”

They spent the first part of the evening catching up and reminiscing on old times over drinks and the tavern food. It all felt comfortable and familiar and yet… there was something different neither of them could quite put their finger on.

Varric thought he was being ridiculous, but after the third time Hawke grabbed his arm while they laughed, after the third time her hand lingered and her thumb ran over his muscle before letting go, he knew he wasn’t imagining it. He couldn’t recall a time she ever did that to him. It’s not like they never touched, but he wouldn’t have ever described their relationship as physically affectionate either. It was more along the lines of claps on the back and holding each other up after battle.

Hawke wasn’t oblivious to it either. She caught herself reaching out to him. It was near impossible not to notice the way her stomach fluttered or her skin buzzed when she did it and she saw his eyes sink a shade darker. She would have taken that look as an unsure and unwelcome look, if he didn’t keep pressing his leg against hers while they sat at the bar. She wasn’t sure if he even realized he did it. It was a subtle thing, happened when he turned to her or when he simply readjusted and widened his legs on the stool. Accidental in nature, but purposeful in the linger.

After the sun had dipped behind the mountains, the tavern started filling up. Varric found himself trying to keep Hawke and himself at the corner end of the bar for as long as he could. Eventually though, the members of the team gathering noticed them there and a small feeling of disappointment floated through him when they gathered around, all wanting to meet his friend.

He made the introductions to Dorian, Sera, and Blackwall easy enough, but found himself paying a little more attention when they got to Bull, ready to warn Hawke away again if she suggested any interest again. There was none however. She was more interested in Dorian’s staff (which sounded much dirtier than it was.)

The six gathered around a table and ordered a round of drinks. It didn’t surprise Varric that she fit right in. Hawke was personable and a little wild and this group of people? Crazy didn’t even begin to describe them most of the time. She blended right in with the rest of them.

It was only when Cassandra came through the door did he notice her tense up. They hadn’t been introduced yet so Hawke didn’t recognize her until she spoke.

“Where is Commander Cullen?” Cassandra asked, looking around the room. Hawke drew her shoulders back, sat up a little straighter. Varric watched her eyes harden and her hand tense around her mug.

“Where do you think?” Varric laughed, attempting to diffuse the situation before it started. Cassandra might have been a tight ass with low social skills, but she didn’t necessarily deserve Hawke whipping spells at her in the middle of the tavern.

“Notice the Inquisitor isn’t here either?” Dorian piped up, waggling his eyebrows. Cassandra rolled her eyes and made a disgusting noise, before exiting quickly.

“Prude?” Hawke speculated as the group laughed. “Or jealous?” Bull barked out a laugh at the thought.

“That woman has zero interest in Cullen. She barely talks to him as a friend let alone a lover,” he told her, still chuckling at the idea.

“And she’s one of the few people here who wouldn’t bang the Inquisitor if given the chance.” Sera’s words ended with a strange cackle of a laugh that was somewhere between infectious and annoying. Hawke decided she liked it. Most of them started nodding their heads, agreeing with the elf.

“You’re telling me you’d all sleep with her?” Hawke waved her hand across the table, baffled by this idea. The inquisitor was much more popular than she first thought.

“If she liked lady bits, I’d have no problem getting up in hers!” Sera cackled and once again, the general consensus from the table was positive.

“If I were to ever be with a woman, I do imagine it would be someone quite like her,” Dorian nodded thoughtfully.

“Or if she had a dick,” Bull teased crudely causing Dorian to scrunch his face and the rest of the table to laugh again.  “If she needed worked out, I wouldn’t go turning her away.” He took a drink and smacked his lips. Varric looked at him with a grin.

“Yes, but you’ll chase after anything that moves if they show interest.” Bull simply grinned back and shrugged. Hawke looked around the table and noticed the warden looked down into his mug, oddly quiet.

“And you, Blackwall?” she prodded. A blush rose up onto the man’s face, peeking out from under his beard.

“She’s uhh,” he stumbled. “She’s a fine woman.” The group scoffed at him.

“Fine woman,” Sera mocked. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her arse the last time we went out to the Hinterlands!”

“Warden there’s been holding a candle for our leader for quite some time,” Varric leaned over and whispered to her. Hawke found she had to stop herself from leaning into him and immediately blamed the alcohol for the warm rush she got.

“Ah, unrequited love,” she mused. “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?” She meant is as a jest, but when their eyes met, the smiles between them faltered just slightly and the air seemed to get thick. It lasted only a moment, another bout of laughter from the table pulling them apart. He leaned away quickly.

“What about you, Varric?” Dorian asked, again waggling his eyebrows. “Would you take a spin on our dear Inquisitor?” Hawke watched him closely, feeling her stomach twist a little bit. He only chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“Nope. This is the one time you can put me and the Seeker in the same category.” Dorian raised a single eyebrow at him, not sure if he believed him or not.

“Varric isn’t interested in us humans,” she confirmed. Was that a bite in her tone? She didn’t mean it to sound snappy.

“Why not?” Bull sounded amazed. “Humans can be fun!”  Varric simply sat back and waited for the teasing and prodding. He had no problem being at the end of their jokes for a while.

“You shouldn’t count us out just because we’re tall. That’s just rude.” Dorian scrunched his face again in an exaggerated way, feigning offense.

“Sorry, Sparkles. You still wouldn’t be my type,” Varric teased.

“That’s what they all say.” He threw a wink at Varric and Varric just shook his head, taking another drink.

“All those legs just get in the way,” he told them. “It’s a tangle of flailing limbs that don’t need to be there. And kissing a human? Talk about neck problems!” They all rolled their eyes.

“You’d just have to be creative!” Hawke encouraged, a too-wide smile on her face.

“You’re telling me the idea of a woman’s long legs draped down over your shoulders and back while your face is between them holds no appeal to you?” Dorian questioned.

Varric’s voice got a little caught in his throat so he took another drink to buy him time. He avoided looking at Hawke at all costs. He had never pictured it before, no, but now that Dorian had said it? It was hard not to have the image flash in his mind and for reasons he didn’t want to indulge, the only woman his mind would conjure as a partner was Hawke. Before he realized it, he had chugged his entire mug.

“You’re drawn to powerful people,” Bull interrupted his thoughts and saved him from having to answer Dorian. “You sure you wouldn’t like having a human straddling you? Towering over you? Pulling you up to them?” Varric decided it was a mistake to have finished his ale so quickly.

“Oooh! Oooh!” Sera chimed in. “I bet you he would! Bet he likes being tied down too.” There were snickers from everyone except Bull.

“No,” he drawled. “That’s just a bit too far for a guy like him, but I’m telling you,” he looked pointedly at Varric. “You’d like having a human woman ride you.”

“Hawke!” Sera pointed to the woman who had been oddly quiet the last few minutes. “Climb into his lap!” Both Hawke’s and Varric’s eyes widened while the others at the table clapped, even Blackwall. “Let’s see if he’s telling the truth!”

“Why me?” Hawke held up her hands in confusion.

“You’re the only female human here,” Blackwall pointed out. “And you know him best.”

“I’m telling you,” Varric protested. “I’m not interested in humans.” Something stirred in Hawke. She again blamed the alcohol for the buzzing, the heat, the courage that suddenly coursed through her. She took one more long drink and then slammed the mug down on the table.

“Alright, you know what?” She put her hands down and pushed her chair away before standing up. “I’m tired of you not liking humans. I’m taking offense on behalf of all the women of my race.” There was some hollering from the others as they looked at each other. She smirked at him, a friendly challenge painted on her face.

Varric chewed on the inside of his lip, contemplating his response. His gut told him it was a bad idea. If it had been years ago, if it had been in the comfort of The Hanged Man, if things hadn’t felt so different since she got there, maybe he wouldn’t be hearing warning bells going off in his head. He knew he should make some witty remark and get out of the whole thing, but that playful challenge in her eyes made him not want to back down.

“Alright,” he conceded, pushing aside the concern and giving in to the curiosity of where it would go. He adjusted his chair, moving it away from the table and facing her. “Just don’t get too attached,” he teased. “I don’t need another woman pining for me.”

“Bianca has nothing to worry about,” she assured, walking up to him with a little too much sway in her hips for his liking. The team watched on, their cheering noises dying down so they could watch carefully.

Varric felt his chest tighten as she approached. He kept the smirk on his face and what he hoped to be a cool composure. He tried to relax, to lean back in his chair and challenge her right back. It’s not like he’d never noticed Hawke was attractive, but she’d never looked at him like that or walked up to him like that or straddled him like she was about to. And Maker help him, it was doing things to him.

When she got close enough, she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and slid one of her legs along his hip, through the hole under the armrest. After planting that foot on the ground, she shifted her weight to slide her other leg over him. He kept eye contact with her as she bent her knees and sat on his lap. Why, why, did she do it so slowly? And why, why in Thedas, was she biting her lip when she did it?

She settled down on his legs, not nearly as heavy as he expected, and gave him a coy smile. He tilted his head, watching her intently and trying not to focus on the feeling of her on him. He didn’t want to admit that it was a feeling he could get used to. Before he could stop himself, his hands were on her thighs, palms flat against her muscled legs and sliding up to her hips. He watched her breath hitch and it only encouraged him. He gave a pull on her hips, sliding her ass on his legs and bringing her even closer. That confident look in her eyes faded for just a moment.

“You’re telling me,” Dorian started, threatening to break whatever tension was happening between Hawke and Varric. “A human couldn’t get a fire going in you like that?” Varric refused to break his gaze with the woman sitting on him.

“You have to imagine someone you’d fancy!” Sera clarified quickly, as if it was some kind of loophole he’d use.

“Oh, I am,” he answered honestly and quietly. The team heard him, but the way he said it, Hawke knew the words were just for her. Her eyes flitted down to his lips and he had damn butterflies like a young girl.

“Is it just a stretched-out dwarf?” Sera snickered.

“Now there’s an image,” Blackwall scoffed.

There was a brief exchange between the four still at the table that neither Varric nor Hawke bothered to listen to. There was a heat in her gaze and she had the boldness to roll her hips ever so slightly while the guys were distracted, testing his reaction. He tried not to show it, but he knew she felt it; the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened. He desperately willed his bottom half to stay still. Not wanting to let her keep the upper hand on him, he took the chance and slid his hands around her hips and rested them on her ass. His smirk widened when she squirmed on him.

There was a loud bit of hearty laughter from beside them and Varric thought about removing his hands, but decided against it. Let them see.

“Nothing, Varric?” Hawke asked. “What if she grabbed you like this?” Her slender fingers tangled themselves in the collar of his jacket and pulled. He wasn’t sure if she pulled him to her or her to him, but the end result was the same. Her face dipped down towards his and her breasts pressed against him. “Not enticing at all?”

“What do you think, Hawke?” His voice was low, husky. He punctuated it with a small roll of his own hips, a move he nearly regretted when she pushed back and he could feel himself hardening underneath her. So far everything that happened could easily be laughed off in the morning, two friends messing around, but if she felt that? That would be harder to ignore tomorrow.

She hummed above him before finally looking away and leaning back, creating a small amount of distance between them. It didn’t do anything to quell the heat he was feeling, the way his skin was hot under his clothes or the way he wished they were alone.

“What’s the verdict?” She directed her question to the group. “Think Varric could like a human?”

“I think he’s no fun if he doesn’t,” Sera said.

“If that doesn’t do it for him, nothing will.” Dorian finished his drink and reached behind him for his staff, ready to call it a night.

“Doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?” Blackwall mused. “No one’s going to compete with that crossbow of his.” Hawke laughed at that and instinctively looked around to see where Bianca was. She was tucked away safely under the table, right where he’d left her.

“Well that certainly confirmed it,” Bull joined in. “Varric is not definitely not interested in humans.” Both of them looked at the Qunari, masking curious and confused looks. Bull threw them a wink and a suggestive face neither of them quite understood.

“I think now is a good time for me to retire for the evening.” Dorian stood from seat and stretched his arms into the air.

“Me too,” Blackwall agreed. “Anymore ale and I’m not sure I’ll wake up tomorrow.” Despite his words, he quickly finished the rest of his mug before pushing it away. Sera started talking again, calling them pussies for going to bed so early and blabbering on.

Varric didn’t quite hear her. His mind was too focused on the way that Hawke’s hands had loosened on his collar, one of them gently flattening high on his shoulder, her fingers grazing along his neck and one sliding down onto his chest. He worried about her being able to feel his heart pounding hard against his breastbone, but when the tips of her fingers ran through his chest hair, he was more much worried about her feeling that twitch in his cock.

“What do you think, Varric?” Hawke’s voice rang in his ears and he looked up to her. “Ready to go back to your room?” There was an innuendo in there and he wasn’t sure if she meant to add it or not. There was a sparkle in her eyes though and he realized it was the first time he’d seen it since she arrived. Where had it been all day? Everything in him went heavy and deflated.

That sparkle, that spark, the damn light in her eyes used to be there all the time, even when things got bad. It had glimmered behind the tears when her family died. He had seen it underneath the fear during the battle with the Arishok. It pained him to think it’d gone away over the last few years and he made himself another silent promise that he’d do whatever he could to make sure it came back.

“Whatever you want,” he muttered, still a little lost in his own thoughts. She shifted back, in turn pressing her ass into his hands and on a pure reaction, he squeezed. She smiled, chuckled a little bit, and patted his shoulder.

“I’m going to use the bathroom, finish that drink, and then you’re going to lead me back to your chambers because I will never find my way back there myself.” Varric threw his head back and had to laugh.

“And to think you’re the one who used to lead us around Kirkwall?” She gave him a playful shove at his teasing. All the tension dissolved as they fell back into their easy best friends relationship.

“Kirkwall was easier than here!” She defended. “It’s all open with so many twists and turns and rooms! You leave me to my own devices and I’ll probably end up in that creepy kid’s room.”

“I’m not sure who would be more confused, you or Cole.”

The flashed smiles at each other before Hawke began to remove herself from Varric’s lap. She stood up and instantly he tried not to miss the pressure of her on his legs. He shifted his hands back to her hips to help steady her as she disentangled her legs from the chair. She had to lean forward to move one leg back to the ground in front of him and when she did, her breasts were inches from his face and he involuntarily held his breath until she pulled away, steady on her own feet.

“I’ll be back,” she announced before turning to walk towards the back of the tavern. Varric had a hard time keeping his eyes off her ass.

“You may not be interested in humans in general,” Bull said lowly, pulling Varric’s eyes away from her. He practically forgot anyone else was there. “But maybe one in particular would do the trick.”

“What are you going on about?” Varric threw Bull his signature “full of shit” smile and gave a small roll of his eyes. Bull simply nodded towards Hawke.

“Bianca isn’t the only woman in your life.” He didn’t phrase is as a question that could be argued with and when Varric opened his mouth to refute, Bull leaned over and winked. “Ben-Hassrath, remember?”

Varric closed his mouth, not feeling like debating his own feelings with the Qunari. And to be honest, he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling himself. All he knew is that when Hawke reappeared, all he could picture was having her back in his lap.

“Well, shit.”

[salexectrian-heir]

Loki: Chapter 8* (NSFW)

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E* (not every chapter is E, most are rated T. Chapters containing explicit content will be marked with an asterisk* Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly. [Previous Chapter]      [Read on AO3]

Unfortunately, her focus evaded her at the hospital. She filed four charts in incorrect places (thankfully Dorian caught them in time), spilled soup down the front of her scrub shirt at lunch, and slipped in a puddle of some sort of fluid that had been left unattended to in the hallway. It didn’t smell of urine from what she could tell, but she wasn’t about to go sniffing it. She groaned as she sat up, careful not to touch whatever the wet substance was that brought her down. Her pants though were a lost cause.

“Having a rough day, my dear?”

Her stomach dropped. As if her day couldn’t get any worse. She had been avoiding the Chief of Surgery all morning because of the file mix up, and of course this would be the moment the Chief found her.

“What gave it away,” she asked weakly, looking up to meet the impenetrable stare of Dr. De Fer. To her surprise, the Chief looked slightly amused.

“In my own experience, nothing is more detrimental to a young doctor’s career than a lack of focus.”

The tips of Anise’s ears began to burn. “I apologize Chief, I’m just...off today.”

“I know, darling. This isn’t like you. Take an hour for lunch to collect yourself and your thoughts,” Vivienne drew herself to her full height, eye her speculatively, “and perhaps a fresh set of clothes. When you return please come see me in my office, there is a matter of paramount importance we need to discuss.”

The Chief sauntered out, causing a few of the other staff members down the hall jump back to get out of her way. No one messed with the Iron Lady. The second Vivienne was out of sight, and earshot, Anise groaned and pulled herself off the floor, taking part of the mysterious liquid with her. She peeled the wet clothing from the back of her thighs and did her best not to cry. How in the world was she supposed to make it to the end of her shift in one piece and prepare herself to have The Conversation about the future of her relationship with Solas if the world repeatedly reminding her it was against her?

The sound of wheels creaking drew her attention from her wet pants to the nurse that was scurrying down the hall pushing a mop bucket towards her.

“Awh, shite. Don’t tell me you slipped innit?”

Anise cringed and nodded. “Do I even want to know what it is?”

The nurse shoved her short sandy hair back off her forehead with a rough gesture, “Jus lemonade, I dropped it coming in.” Despite her crass attitude, the woman did appear upset, “Hope you didn’t get hurt.”

“Lemonade is walk in the park.” Anise let out an amused sigh. It was just lemonade, “I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“Wait, did you think it was piss or something?” The woman snorted, “I can’t believe your not tweakin’ out!” The nurse cackled. “Damn if I knew you weren’t one of them serious docs with a stick up their arse I woulda said something worse.” Her mouth split into a grin. It was infectious. “Maybe I should start a rumor. “The Herald of the OR slipped in ji--”

“Don’t you even dare,” Anise threatened half-heartedly, passing the nurse as she started to mop the mess.

The woman’s continued cackles echoed down the hall as Anise turned the corner. Perhaps she would make it through after all.

She did survive, to her great relief. The rest of her day after her interaction with Sera, she had learned the nurse’s name from Cole--another nurse, who knew everyone and everything about everyone and somehow still didn’t have people to sit with in the cafeteria for lunch--went smoothly. Anise made a mental note to take lunch more often to keep lone nurse company. It appeared they could both use it.

Her meeting with Vivienne was better than she could have imagined. It was not about her filing error--though it was discussed and reprimanded briefly--but about a personal matter of the Chief. Vivienne Vivienne confided in Anise that White Spire Hospital in Orlais was going to have an opening in their Chief of Surgery position, and had invited her to apply--and that she was considering it. It wouldn’t be for another year or two, depending when the current Chief decided to retire, but the application and interviewing process apparently was long and grueling. They wanted Vivienne to apply as early as possible. This news was to be kept between the two of them until Vivienne found out more information about the position and her chances of being selected. Vivienne also mentioned just before she released Anise that if she was selected, and did accept the position, she did not intend to make the transition alone. She would still be keeping her eye on Anise as the White Spire had many fellowship opportunities, including specialized trauma. Anise nearly fainted.

She had a lot to think about regarding her future. This news was something she immediately wanted to share with Solas, but stopped herself from stealing a moment in an on-call room to text him. After last night, she still couldn’t shake the feeling his “considerations” was going to translate as “I can’t date you anymore because I don’t see a future with you”,  and that thought alone was enough to shut her down from sharing this exciting development in her life.

And later at the end of her shift, when she was changing out of her scrubs and into her street clothes, another idea manifested.

Maybe when he says old-fashioned, he truly means that in regards to physical intimacy.

She lightly beat her forehead against her locker. She had been truly an ass last night in the laundry room if that was case. She had just assumed he would be okay with sex and hadn’t even thought about asking him. If that was the conversation they were going to have, she would make sure to start off apologizing for misinterpreting his boundaries. But something in the way he kissed her had her doubting that line of thought. The way he claimed her was raw, passionate, and physical… the insinuations of his tongue left her mind reeling with fantasies. But then again, someone can still believe in not being sexually intimate and still be physically intimate to a certain extent. Neither of them had even brought up the idea of being exclusive, so she again had just assumed he was okay with the loose labels.

He was throwing her for a loop.

By the time she got home, she a mess all over again, mind consumed by what Solas’ considerations were going to be. Her stomach was tying itself into knots. She didn’t want to lose him, and the weight of that realization scared her too. She had several past relationships that she over invested herself in, some which hadn’t been “official” or “labeled” in, some that were healthy, others that were… less so. And one engagement that ended because of a miscarriage.

Her head dropped into her hands.

If he learned this about her, would he leave her? End it?A little voice at the back of her head chided her that he was too good to be true. She was getting ahead of herself. They had to actually decide what they even were first. She ignored the negative thoughts as best she could as she went through motions of getting ready.

Loki lurked around her ankles as she flitted around her apartment, between her bedroom and the bathroom. He held a one sided conversation, meowing and chirping at her sensing her distress. When she finally sat down on her freshly made bed, in her underwear, he jumped up into her lap and headbutted her bicep, purring loudly.

“Hi baby boy,” she cooed, earning her a few scratchy licks to her bare upper arm, “I am at a loss. I don’t know what to wear.”

An undecipherable yowl met her ears.

“I want to look nice, but not like I’m trying too hard,” she answered him, idly stroking the spot between his shoulder blades he liked so much, “I don’t even know what I’m getting into. Gods I suck at dating.”

Loki placed his paws on her chest and pushed himself up, sniffing her chin. His cold little nose bumped the underside of her jaw.

“A dress might be over doing it,” she said, eyeing the teal dress she wore on their first date from the open doors of her closet, “but jeans seem too informal. A skirt maybe…”

She scooped Loki off her lap and dumped him on her pillows. He made an adorable grunt like sound as he hit their soft surfaces. Anise pulled the only two skirts she owned from the closet and laid them out on the bed, one loosely pleated white one that came to about mid thigh and one black empire waisted pencil skirt. . She perused through her limited selection of tops that matched the styles, and finally settled on a very pale pink cropped tank that was stitched with vertical grooves to pair with the white skirt. To finish it off she grabbed the floral printed kimono shawl she had received from her sister-in-law for Wintersend and a pair of nude flats.

“Loki?”

The mewl he gave she took as meow of approval.  

Anise knocked on his door promptly at six. Her nerves fluttered around her ribcage like butterflies trapped in net. Whatever he was cooking was wafting from his apartment, filling the hall with an intoxicating was intoxicating scent, making her mouth water. He answered almost immediately, eyes widening as he took in the sight of her standing before him.

“Hi,” she said meekly, reaching up to smooth a piece of hair behind her ear. She had worn it down tonight.

“Hello Anise,” he greeted, voice leveled and low, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He took a step back and made a sweeping gesture to let her in. He had corner apartment, and was lucky to get more windows than most tennants. Curtains were half drawn to let him some of the dying light from the sunset illuminate the room. His apartment was much different than hers, much more minimalistic in its decor. A black leather couch lined one of the walls that had a coffee table in front of it, with notepads, pens, and other important looking documents spread out over its surface. A brief case laid against one of its legs. A door off to her left was slightly a jar with dim light slipping through the crevice. She could only assume it was his bedroom as there weren’t any other doors to be found. His kitchen opened up into the living room, the two places bleeding into one. A small table was neatly set for two with glasses of wine poured for each, and a fresh cut of crystal grace had been placed in a vase in the center. Tiny candles in little glass jars also adorned the table top, casting flickering shadows that danced across the table cloth and reflected off their glasses. And from the corner of his place, a record was playing. Something with an acoustic guitar and a soft, masculine voice.  It was hopelessly romantic. And she hopelessly loved it. How was she supposed to bring up topics she dreaded when she was surrounded by such magic?

He pulled out her chair with a warm smile, an offer for her sit while he served. Her stomach was doing flips. No one she dated previously had treated her this way. Pulling out chairs? Cooking dinners? Usually that was her job.  It was overwhelming different and yet comfortable simultaneously. She didn’t know what to make of it. To think this might be the first and last chance she ever had with him made her heart ache.

“How was your day?”

His question was so innocent, so domestic, so genuine in the way he voiced it that the fragile wall, the one she had spent all day amassing to keep him out until she had uncovered his considerations, came crumbling down. Caving against her will, she let out all her frustrations, including the embarrassing fall and the confrontation with her Chief.

“What did Dr. De Fer want to speak with you about?”

He placed a delectable plate of salmon and roasted vegetables over a fresh bed of salad before her, and her mouth stopped working as she stared down at it. After a beat she realized she was gaping and not speaking.

“Oh,” she said, quickly meeting his eyes. He was smirking. “She shared with me some great news, actually.”

“Which was?”

“The White Spire has invited her to apply as their Chief of Surgery.”

His eyes went wide. “That is quite an honor.”

“That’s an understatement,” she said with a laugh, waiting for him to take a seat with his own plate before picking up her knife and fork, “she was ecstatic of course. She wanted to know what my thoughts on the position were, and if given the opportunity, if I would follow her there essentially..”

“That is amazing, Anise.”

As she glanced over the table at him, she noticed the gleam in his eyes. He was proud of her. The butterflies steadily grew more restless in her breast as the tension between them heightened.

“It would be the chance of life time honestly,” she said, averting her eyes as she blushed, and took bite of the fish. It took all her self-control not to moan as it melted in her mouth.

“Gods, Solas this is incredible,” she praised, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke with a mouthful as not to be rude.

His mouth pulled into a crooked smile. “Most Arlathan recipes are.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed. How was your day by the way?”

He filled her in on the paperwork he had been attending to for Evacorp as they ate. He spent his time editing new clinical trial confidentiality and consent forms as a favor to a coworker. It sounded tedious and boring and too much like he was being being taken advantage of. Someone else’s paperwork was not something he should have had to do on his day off. His demeanor even shifted while he was talking about his work, even in his body language as he excused himself to flip the record.  It aged him in some regard, the light in his eyes diminishing and his mouth perpetually pulled into a frown as he spoke of the board of directors and how important it was to get this project done before its deadline. She wanted to bring back some life into him, wanted to chase away that gloom that seemed to perpetually cling to him, one he brought back after every flight.

“Solas,” she said interrupting him, reaching a hand across the table to lay upon his, “you don’t seem very happy in this position. Why don’t you change jobs?”

He contemplated her words, selecting his own carefully. “It’s….complicated.”

“Complicated like us?”

The words left her before she could censor them, and the tension that had been simmering between them spiked. She had meant it as a lighthearted joke, an easy way to segue into what needed to be brought up… but his reaction told her he did not take it that way.

He withdrew his hand from hers and stood abruptly, collecting the things at his place and hers. “It’s difficult to explain,” he said quietly, before walking back into the kitchen to scrape their plates.

She followed, taking the napkin off her lap and tossing it into the trash on her way.

“Solas,” said apologetically, tugging gently on his elbow to get his attention, “please, tell me. Let me in.”

This was it. The moment she had been worrying about all fucking day.

“Anise, getting to know you and spend time with you has been wonderful.” He set the dishes in the sink. “The way I feel about you, I have not felt in years,” his his lips twitched into a sad smile, “You are more than I deserve.” He raised his hand as if to touch her cheek, but then thought better of it and retracted at the last second.

His words flooded her heart, filling it with such pressure she feared she might burst. Her fingers curled tighter around his arm as her heart rate sped up. “But?”

“But,” he echoed, peeling away her grip. He stared down where he held her hand, lips pursed and brows knotted. The silence cut her like scalpel, incision digging too deep. And then a new thought came to her. One that morphed all her earlier fears into one.

“But you don’t want to have to choose between your job and a relationship.” Her voice sounded very small as it left her. “Getting physical in our relationship more seriously would only make it that much more difficult to end.”

He held her gaze. “My job would be an obstacle in the relationship, as much as yours would. We’ve managed to live around them but eventually… we’d want something more stable, consistent. It would be something we could face together if…. I digress.” He shook his head and released her hand, tucking his own behind his back. “That is not my reason for my hesitancy. You deserve someone closer to your own age. To share in the experiences that come with being young, not someone jaded by time... ” he trailed off.

Her mind raced. His age? Sure, he was older...but what difference did that make when she was approaching thirty herself?

“I don’t understand..?”

“Anise,” he shifted his weight, “I am twelve years older than you. I have little to offer you that hasn’t been spoiled already. I am afraid it will bother you. I don’t want to start something and progress further if you’ll regret being with--”

She pressed a finger to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise.

He thinks he’s damaged...

“Solas, ask me how I feel about your age.”

“Anise, I--”

“Ask me how I feel.”

He closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned into her touch. “How do you feel… about my age?”

“It does not bother me in the slightest,” she said reassuringly, taking a small step closer to him, “In fact, I… I find it charming.” She felt the blood rush to her face at her confession. Now reflecting on the gap...she realized she liked it… found it attractive even. She dropped her hand and her gaze. “For once, I actually feel comfortable enough to let someone take care of me, I’m so used to being the responsible one. And maybe it is because you’ve had more time to figure out what you want in a relationship that makes you better at it, or at least to me…”

Two fingers pressed against her chin, making her tilt her head up at him. What she saw in his searching eyes made her heart burst, sending a cascade of fire through her veins.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” she matched his low whisper, “I’ve already made my decision. I’m in this, fully.” She leaned into him, running a hand up his chest. “I’m here, I’m ready. I’m willing. If you are…”

He cupped her face. “I am.”

They stood transfixed in that moment, their decision made and hanging in the silence between them.

“Then prove it.” Anise swallowed. “Kiss me.”

All the pent up frustration and tension she had rattling inside her melted away once his lips touched her own. It was gentle, questioning. He lingered, unwilling to break it but not pressing forward. She could tell by the way he held his body he was holding back.  

“Like you mean it,” she breathed against his skin.

At that, he pulled away slightly. His grip on her chin forced her to look up into his smoldering, heavy lidded gaze. His brow arched as he stepped forward, making her step back. A whole new sensation overwhelmed her senses, a liquid kind of heat that spilled down her spine, and pooling lower still in her belly. She suddenly felt too hot, as is she were on fire but not quite ablaze. The tips of her ears burned as he continued to look at her that way. A dull ache began to throb between her thighs as his other hand glided up her hip, guiding her back further still. Her back hit the counter and she breathed in sharply. He chose that moment to advance, surging down and claiming her like he did on the night of Wintersend. His hand slipped around her thigh, hitching it around his hip to lift her up onto the edge of the counter’s surface. She took in all of him, breathed him in as she parted her lips to run her tongue along the seam of his mouth, diving in when he let her pass. Her fingers curling into the sweater she knit as he deepened their kiss.

A whimper escaped when his mouth broke their rhythm and left hers to explore, as did his hands. His breath spilled over the exposed expanse of her throat, hot and heavy leaving searing wet kisses on every inch he could find as he dragged his hands up her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her skirt. Fingertips danced over the soft skin of her legs spreading them slowly before they shifted downwards to caress her inner thigh She didn’t even try to stifle the shudder it coaxed.

Her stomach clenched, as did the rest of her body, as his fingers reached the barrier of damp lace that was her underwear.

“If this,” he traced the edge of her thong before hooking his index finger through it, “is something you want, I will give it willingly.”

“Yes. ” The word tumbled from her lips in a rush as she gripped his shoulder.

He chuckled so softly that she felt it vibrate against her more than she actually heard it.

“I do believe you owe me a pair for how many your kitten has taken from me.”

She gasped as he pulled,sliding the pair she was wearing down her legs, off her knees and let them fall past her ankles.

“I’ll collect my prize later,” he murmured against her cheek, pressing insistent kisses along her jaw, “come with me.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and slid her arms around his neck as he picked her up. She felt the thong fall of her foot onto the kitchen floor, but she immediately let it slip from her mind as she had more, pressing, things to focus on. Such as the size of the welcomed hardness she felt against her as she clung to him.

Creators, she was going to ache tomorrow.

He led her to the bedroom, eyes locked on her. She couldn’t break his hold, it completely entranced her. How he managed to seize her so wholly with a simple stare was beyond her. And honestly she couldn’t care how easy she fell prey to him at this point. This confidence of his, this intimate side of him, was incredibly sexy and it had been oh so worth the wait.

She shed him of the wintersend gift once they reached his bed, tossing the sweater somewhere out of reach, followed by the undershirt he had donned beneath it so she could finally drink in the sight of him, bare chested before her. His gaze lost a fraction of its intensity the longer she stared, hands ghosting across the surface of his body without actually touching him. He was in good shape, no doubt about that, but he had softer lines whereas a younger man might have been more defined. She found it so much more overwhelming attractive. She wanted to trace every dip, indentation, and crease with the tip of her tongue..

It dawned her there was no reason for her not to.

Tuckin her legs beneath her to kneel, she reached for him and splayed her fingers across his torso. She leaned in, kissing each freckle she saw dotted on his skin, tongue gliding across the surface of his abdomen, tracing grooves she found that had been softened with age. His breath hitched as she reached his navel and her fingers found the button, and zipper of his slacks.

If he was allowed to tease her...

His pants hit the floor.

“Your underwear looks so much better with you filling them out,” she murmured, lips pressed  lightly over the swell in his briefs and laid a chaste kiss there. His fingers twisted in her hair reflexively.

“Ani--”

Her name turned into moan as she tugged the fabric down, exposing him fully. She wasted no time dragging her tongue along the length of his cock from base to tip before taking him entirely into her mouth. It wasn’t long after she her mouth and hand had settled into a steady rhythm that his hips began to buck in tandem, and a small curse of praise fell down to her ears.  

Suddenly he was pulling her off him and being shifted up the bed, shedding the rest of her clothes as they went. His mouth collided with hers as soon as she had settled back against his pillows. They felt like clouds wrapped in silk against the bare skin of her back, drowning her in the illusion that she was floating despite the pressure of his body pressed to her. She was all too aware of the weight of his cock as it laid on her inner thigh, hard and thick. A jolt of pleasure coursed through her like live current as his fingers dove between her thighs and found her clit, working her so easily up to the point the throbbing in her core was inescapable and all consuming. And when his slender fingers slipped inside her, she let him know just how pleasurable it was, unable to refrain from being silent--or still-- any longer. When her whimpers turned into pleas, he finally withdrew from her and reached to the nightstand drawer to their left and dug through it. He found what he was looking for, and heard the crinkle of a wrapper being ripped a few seconds later. She didn’t think her heart rate could have scaled any higher, but it did. After the condom was rolled on, he coaxed her open and settled between her legs, pausing to catch her gaze, the question was written all over his face. Are you sure?

Before he could even ask, she nodded and said, “Take me.”

With an effortless movement, he thrust up and in. She made a lewd sound at the sensation of being filled so fully, the ache of being stretched in ways she hadn’t in so long. He was gentle at first, the rock of his hips slow and measured as he pulled out watching her reaction. Each thrust forward carefully pressed. It was a tender thing, really, what was transpiring between them. One of his hands slid into hers and she clasped their fingers together just above her head in the sheets. The other found a home cupping her cheek. His face was so expressive, no longer held back by a rigid composure she was sure he kept up for appearances. She wanted to trace the emotion she found there with a finger tip, but that would mean relinquishing her grip on his shoulder and she wasn’t about to let go of him, not now, not ever.

The gradual, intimate pace changed when she started canting her hips into his rhythm. She still ached but it had grown into a satisfying one. An ache she realized she wanted--no, needed--more of. His thumb caressed her lower lip as he grinded into her. She met each vigorous thrust with a subtle roll of her hips, angling him deeper to hit that one spot…

She gasped when he did, ragged and high pitched as she arched into him. With one simple movement he had managed to make the muscles in her core pull taut. The sensation causing her nails to dig into the blades of his shoulders. His thrusts faltered at her exclamation.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she said in a breathless moan, freeing their entwined hands to grip his hip, to coax him further. Harder.

The pace they set after could only be described as desperate, her body writhed under his relentless devotion, coiling tighter and tighter. Each of his thrusts fell faster, rougher, deeper until it became all too much. What had started as a groan at the back of his throat erupted into a harsh cry as he came, crashing into her. The last few erratic rolls of his hips coupled with the sound of his climax and the deft fingers that suddenly caressed her clit finished her off, setting her free to ride several tidal waves of ecstasy.

They collapsed in a blissful heap, limbs entangled and chests heaving, neither making an effort to move for several minutes. She curled her fingers around the base of his neck and nuzzled her nose long his jawline, savoring the way the rapid beat of his heart pulsed in time with hers. He hummed something against her forehead, elven she thought, too dazed and thoroughly fucked to actually comprehend anything at this point. Chaste kisses were being placed along the crown her head, her temples, and eventually down the bridge of her nose.

She gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes and smiled up lazily at him. “You know,” she said quietly, “for a brief time I was a little nervous that when you mentioned being old-fashioned…” she trailed off heat crept down the back of her neck, suddenly embarrassed at her assumption.

“That I would be opposed to sex?” The question was laced with mirth that reflected in his eyes as he pulled himself up to gaze down at her. The soft laugh that escaped him turned into snort, and something in her twisted pleasantly at the sound. “I’m not that old fashioned.”

The flat look she was trying to give him was ruined by the smile that broke across her mouth. “Solas, you haven’t let me pay for any of the dates we’ve gone on, you open car doors for me, you--”

Her words were swallowed up by another kiss, and the subsequent giggle too. She could feel him smiling through the motion and it tugged at her heart in all the right ways. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sat up, taking her with him.

“You are going to have to let me  indulge you everyone once in a while,” he murmured against her mouth, “please.”

“I’ll take it into... consideration,” she teased, nipping at his lower lip.

At that, he chuckled exasperatedly and shook his head. “You would.”

[kenzieam]

The Return of the Viking Daughter - Chapter 3 (Ivar X OC)

Rating: M - Mature (angst, swearing, violence, eventual domestic violence, eventual attempted assault, eventual smut)

Genre: Drama, angst

@fuckyeahalexhoghandersen @my-emotional-self @bloodyivar @lupy22 @alex-ivar-minx @heathensisterwives @kduran04 @charliexowrite @angryschnauzer @rachiieee @ivarinleatherpants @ivars-heathen-army @neonxwitch @theheathenqueendickubus @dangerousvikings @zpandaqueen @irishhiggins @romanchronicles @didiintheblog @poopercoot @mercy1997 @kawennote09 @angelswannawearmyredshooz @iammarylastar @sparklemichele @son-of-anubis @fullpeanutkoala

*If you want to added or delete to the above list, let me know*

Holy shit everybody! Thank you so much for the support!!

Thank you @iammarylastar for your translations en francais!

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

My breath caught in my throat at the intensity of Ivar’s gaze, he’d always been a determined person, but in my absence he’d become an irresistible force, all too used to getting his own way, and if that failed, making his own way. He was bound and determined to make my time here as difficult as possible, and, if it wasn’t for the efforts of his father and older brothers, would be succeeding. After a long, baleful glare he turned back around and left, his broad back retreating from my vision.

“Ignore him little Red,” Bjorn said quietly, turning his head over his shoulder to speak to me. Our faces were mere inches apart and I could see the gentle expression in his eyes, framed by faint laugh lines. I mustered a smile and reached down, slapping at his side.

“Go on, donkey!”

Bjorn laughed, snapping his head sideways to bop me in the forehead, and, with a yell, whirled back into the fray, Ubbe and Hvitserk resuming their quest to unseat me.

After a few minutes I took pity on my blonde donkey and called a truce, submitting to a noogie and thorough tickling from Ubbe and Hvitserk for my weakness. A wave of nostalgia hit me hard as I heard Ragnar yell at us to ‘quiet down, you savages!’ and fell back on the couch with a sigh, breathing hard from my non-stop laughing. Ubbe plopped on one side of me and Hvitserk the other, Hvitserk flopping sideways, dropping his braided head in my lap and Ubbe reached over to flick his nose, laughing at his brother’s enraged squawk.

All too soon, Ragnar was calling everyone to the formal dining room for supper and I stood reluctantly. Ubbe and Hvitserk fell in step on either side of me and I felt Bjorn’s comforting strength behind me, and it gave me the courage to walk straight-backed to the table.

Ivar eyed me nastily, chewing sullenly on a breadstick. Torvi favoured me with a welcoming smile as she herded her children to their chairs and I was introduced to Ubbe’s wife, a quiet blonde woman named Margrethe then turned my head reluctantly towards Sigurd, who was clearing his throat importantly.

“Sera, this is my fiancé Veronique.” Sigurd gestured to the brunette woman at his side. She gave me the same appraising look Sigurd had before extended her hand limply towards me.

“Enchante,” she trilled.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied neutrally and sat down in the chair Hvitserk was holding out for me. Ragnar smiled at me from the end of the table, I’d been placed at the other end, a spot previously held by Aslaug but now for guests. I smiled back, grateful for his knowing wink as his relaxed gaze took in the tableau in front of him.

The first course was served and light conversation followed. Ivar remained stubbornly silent, and no one seemed overly eager to try and draw him out. I wasn’t sure if my presence was the reason, but Sigurd saw fit to grace us all with a list of his and Veronique’s accomplishments, I noticed she leaned frequently over, murmuring snide little comments to Sigurd in French and I rapidly grew tired of her cattiness.

As the second course wound down I found attention turning to me.

“Sera,” came Ragnar’s quiet voice, “tell us more of what you have been doing these past years.” He question was innocent, merely curious, but I felt a pang of guilt nonetheless.

I took a deep breath and began. “After we…. left, my mother took me to her family in California where we stayed until she enrolled me in an exclusive Swiss boarding school until I graduated. After that I transferred directly to Oxford. I completed my Masters in History this year, majoring in Early European, specifically ‘Viking History’. Next year I’ll begin my professorship at Columbia, at least….. that was the plan before my father died. I basically haven’t set foot on American soil since I was sixteen.”

Silence met my response. Some, like Ragnar, were smiling proudly, seemingly pleased with my accomplishments. Others looked thoughtful, while Ivar continued to scowl. In truth, I’d channeled my grief and anger into working my ass off academically, burying my sadness and loss in textbooks and papers. Only near the end of my thesis had I given serious thought to my future, and whether or not I would return to my childhood home.

Veronique was again leaning towards Sigurd, murmuring in French and I was no longer able to let her comments slide.

‘She’s lying, inflating her accomplishments, I bet she hasn’t done any of that.’

I saw red and before I could stop myself, my mouth was opening. “Je ne ments pas. J’ai compris tout ce que tu viens de dire. T’as pas entendu quand j’ai dit avoir passé 2 ans dans un internat en Suisse? Tout ce que j’ai raconte sur mon education est vrai. Tu devrais plus t’inquieter de ton mec qui me mate que de mes qualitfiactions.”

Again, silence greeted me. Everyone looked equal parts confused and wary, except for Sigurd, who’d obviously understood at least part of what I’d just said and looked furious; and Veronique, with spots of high colour on her sharp cheekbones. Without a word she stood and walked stiffly away, and with a snarl, Sigurd followed.

I turned immediately to Ragnar, mortified. “I’m sorry Ragnar, I lost my-”

“Do not apologize.” Ragnar said sharply, his vibrant eyes blazing. I fell silent, not knowing what to expect. Then his face softened into a wide, genuine smile and he laughed. “I’ve been waiting for someone to put that bitch in her place for months! What did you say?”

I exhaled in relief, heart pounding as the my adopted brothers started laughing and throwing me thumbs-up. “She told Sigurd I was lying, I told her I wasn’t, reminded her I’d studied for two years in Switzerland and was fluent in French and told her to worry more about Sigurd’s wandering eye than my qualifications.”

Bjorn pounded the table as he roared and Hvitserk saluted me with a loaded fork and a grin around a full mouth. Torvi bit her lips, fighting not to laugh and even Ivar looked to be struggling not to smile. I felt a rush of relief, but also shame. Again, my mouth opened before my brain could catch up.

“I apologize for being gone so long. I threw myself into my education so I wouldn’t hurt so bad, to distract me. I had offers from Stanford and Berkley as well but I chose Columbia hoping I’d be close enough to start seeing father and all of you again on weekends… but I was selfish and too wrapped up in my own pain to worry about anyone else’s for a long time.”

Immediately the four eldest Lothbroks stood and surrounded me, pulling me from my chair, and for a long moment I was passed back and forth like toy, from one hard embrace to the next, all four deep voices reassuring me that it was okay, not to worry, all was forgiven and welcome home. Tears fell freely from my eyes and Ragnar squeezed me tightly.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered in my ear. “We are all here now, the family is complete again. Welcome home, little one.” He held me a beat longer, then released me. I glanced at the table and saw that Ivar was gone.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, trying not to notice the smirk on my adopted brother’s faces.

I stepped quickly past one of the bedrooms as I walked towards where I expected Ivar to have gone. Sigurd and Veronique were arguing and I felt a brief moment of embarrassment for having caused it, they were talking about leaving early, and Sigurd was trying to convince her to stay. I snuck past without them noticing me and ducked out the side door. As I’d hoped, Ivar was seated on an old bench, leaning against the side of the house. This area was shaded and protected by large trees, safe from prying eyes. I’d often sit here with Ivar while he’d talked and dreamed of the future, trying to distract himself from the constant pain in his legs.

He glanced up as I approached, a half-dozen emotions rapidly crossing his face before he looked away again, dragging heavily on his cigarette with a mirthless chuckle. I sat hesitantly beside him, I’d not been immune to his moods and rages as a child, no matter how used to them I’d gotten, and he was a man now, no longer an awkward teenager.

“Boarding school,” he grunted. “Oxford. You went off and got educated, left us all here.”

“Ivar, I-”

Ivar whirled his head towards me, his supernatural eyes alight. “No,” he barked. “I get to talk right now, you listen to me, I’m not the same lovesick little puppy following you around anymore.”

I faltered, stunned silent. Lovesick little puppy? Is that how Ivar felt? Had my home life been that bad, that I’d missed this? When had Ivar started feeling this way?

Ivar continued to glare at me, brows furrowed, watching these thoughts flash in my eyes. He raised his eyebrows at me and took another drag, scoffed.

“So you didn’t know? You couldn’t look away from my asshole brother long enough to see that I would have died for you back then? That I loved you?!” His voice was rising with anger and my heart started to pound.

“Ivar-”

“And goddammit! I still would…. I still do.” His voice trailed off, his anger flaring hot but burning out almost instantly. He looked away and stubbed the cigarette out on the bench, tossed it to the side. He resumed looking forwards, ignoring me, glaring smoking holes in the tree trunk a few feet away.

I opened my mouth, closed it again. There was nothing I could think to say right now. Ivar was used to pain, used to excruciating aches in his legs, but I had been the cause of his worst agony.

“Just go.” He growled.

“Ivar-”

“Just go!” He thundered, slamming his fist down on the bench beside me, eyes burning with banked rage. He was beyond listening to me right now, it would be best to leave him be.

I dropped my head and, after a moment, nodded assent. He was silent as I stood and walked away.

[cwnannwn]

For the headcanon ask game: carmilla, laura, leliana, and sera

So, I took forever to answer this, and it ended up being way too big. It was very good to write tho, I love thinking about headcanons for my fave characters!

For this Headcanons post.

Carmilla

Headcanon A: what I think realistically: As much as canon likes to ignore its own lore, Carmilla is a very powerful vampire. It’s not an easy thing, living for more than 3 centuries, especially with a creator like Lilita around. I headcanon each of the dean’s children developed a particular ability more than others, and for Carmilla, that is shape-shifting. Her panther form is her favorite, but turning into mist has proven advantageous more than once. That last one is an exercise in self-control, becoming another state of matter entirely is glaring proof of how well Carmilla has mastered her abilities.

Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious: Talking about that panther form, it’s terrifying. Far larger than a normal leopard, with teeth and claws that are sharper than scalpels. And she acts like the laziest house cat around Laura. Sleeping away the day on Laura’s bed, leaving a veritable heap of cat hair, purring louder than a truck when Laura scratches between her ears, and of course, sitting in front of Laura’s computer when she wants attention (and to be a little shit). Laura’s favorite is when she can cuddle with the giant black cat, who’s far warmer than an undead creature of the night should be.

Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends: Against the dean’s advice/orders, and under a bit of well-intentioned mockery from Mattie, Carmilla kept an eye on her mortal family through the ages. Most of them perished the same night Carmilla died, but one of her younger brothers had been sent for fosterage with some relatives. The servants under her power reported he grew up to be a kind man, very different from their father. To the Carmilla of those early years, reveling in bloodlust and excess, it shouldn’t have mattered at all. But somehow, it did. So the years passed, and she kept tabs his descendants. His daughter was smart, his son excellent with a blade, and so on. The coffin put an end to it, as it did to many things. After she got back in contact with Mattie, she learned the last of her kin, a boy no older than 17, disappeared in the Carpathians during one of the many disastrous offensives of Austria in the first world war. It shouldn’t matter, but that severing of the last real connection she had to mortal life hurt more than she could have expected.

Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway: This is actually a bunch of headcanons rolled into one, but Carmilla was well aware of the various confronts Mattie and the Dean had. In fact, Mattie asked Carmilla to join her in at least a few of them (both because she truly trusts Carmilla, and because, as said on headcanon A, Carmilla is no weakling). She never accepted the offer, first because she was too taken with the lavish life style Lilita offered, and later because she did not want to be interred again. The important thing is, tho both her and Mattie would desperately like to believe the Dean was dead, they would both know she is very very hard to kill, and would realize she was still around about, oh, five minutes into Mattie’s appearance in s2. Laura would have noticed the many glaring signs pointing to that too, and this all leads to many headcanons where s2 went completely different and so did s3.

For a shorter headcanon, Carmilla continues to be a vampire, and she and Mattie actually get to have revenge against Lilita over her literal millennia of abuse.

Laura

Headcanon A: what I think realistically: Whether Laura becomes a journalist or a professor, she never loses her knack for getting into supernatural trouble. One year she unveils a trafficking scheme focused on bringing fresh blood to vampires in Paris, in another a group of werecats shows up on her and Carmilla’s doorstep, asking Laura to investigate a rival colony and their recruitment methods, and so on. By this point, Carmilla just sees Laura off with a kiss and a promise to call if she needs any help.

Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious: More cute than hilarious, but Laura is really ticklish around her ribs. Carmilla takes every opportunity to use this to her advantage, including to get Laura’s attention. It doesn’t annoy Laura, because the smile on Carmilla’s face whenever she hears Laura laugh is a beautiful thing indeed.

Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends: Laura has suffered enough, so I don’t like thinking about more bad stuff happening to her. That said, among the few headcanons I have about who Laura’s other parent would have been, I have one that fits here. Laura’s mother left her and her father when Laura was around 12 years old. No real explanation given. One day she was there, and the next her wardrobe was empty, her car gone, and only a note saying she was done left behind. Neither Laura nor her dad recuperated from that entirely. She never told anyone about her mother leaving. So when Carmilla left in s2, that brought back a lot of bad memories that were never really put to rest, only buried. In the library, in the dark and with Laura’s conscience eating away at her for all the mistakes she’d made, she told Carmilla about it. Carmilla listened to her, quiet and attentive, offering silent support. It didn't make everything better, but it was a start.

Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway: Laura is wolfblooded. Either a werewolf or something close to it. She’s the kind that is born a lycanthrope, but her father isn’t one. Thus, one more reason for him being so overprotective of her. Laura doesn’t know much, or anything at all really, about her heritage. She only knows that once every week, she has to run around as a wolf, and it’s best she doesn’t let anyone see her. When she arrives at Silas, the woods around the campus prove perfect for that purpose. Strangely, she keeps catching glimpses of some kind of big cat walking around the forest too.

Leliana

Headcanon A: what I think realistically: Leliana will be remembered as a pivotal historical figure, whether she’s Divine or not. She will be know as a skilled bard, a formidable warrior, and one of the main fighters for the better treatment of elves and mages. She’ll have an amazing legacy even by herself, but when the tales tell of her adventures with her lady Warden, both during the Blight and after, it’s the kind of stuff that legends are made of.

Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious: Whenever she and Zevran were on guard duty together, they’d pass the time by telling every dirty joke in their native languages they could think of. Even tho Leliana took a little while to trust him, these nights made a strong friendship begin between them.

Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends: Nope, canon has fucked Leliana over more than enough, as far as I’m concerned, she’s living happily with her lovely warden and their army of nug children.

Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway: It would totally work with canon, but Bioware would never do it. One of Leliana’s parents, probably her mother, was an elf. Both she and Alistair can see ridiculously well in the dark, for a human, and this gives Zevran and an elf Warden pause. My Tabris brings it up during one of their shared nights on guard, and Leliana confirms it to her. After they get together, and after the Blight is dealt with, Tabris takes Leliana to the Alienage often, and there Leliana learns more about a side of her family she would never have really know otherwise.

Sera

Headcanon A: what I think realistically: Sera and Leliana have an informal archery contest going on. Whenever Leliana has some free time, and is in the mood to train her archery skills, Sera finds her and they get to shooting some targets together. They both give pointers and advice to the other, and that’s how their friendship starts. I really like the idea of Leliana and Sera becoming friends.

Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious: I can’t beat Sera and her bees here, but I like the headcanon she sometimes joins forces with Leliana to prank everyone in Skyhold. They are an unbeatable team together, as Cullen learns after he asks his creepy questions about a mage warden to Leliana. Sera doesn’t feel sorry for him at all.

Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends: I feel bad even thinking about it, cause Sera deserves nothing more than good things in her life. If a romanced Inquisitor dies because of the Anchor, Sera goes into a spiral that’s very hard to come back from. It’s only her desire for vengeance on Solas that keeps her going after it.

Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway: Again, this should be canon. Sera and the Inquisitor have the best fucking wedding ever. None of that crappy, half-assed cutscene we got. It’s a big party, where many of the companions helped make the food and preparations, Blackwall was the best man for Sera, Cassandra and Iron Bull cried, Vivienne has an amused, is also somewhat bittersweet, smile through it all, Dorian was ridiculously proud and happy for both of them, Varric though it was the best kind of wedding he’d ever seen, Cole couldn’t stop smiling because he was overwhelmed with all the love he could feel from Sera and the Inquisitor, and even Solas had to agree it was a very nice party. Leliana and Josephine helped with the planning, and honestly both cried a lot during it too. There was food laid out in big dining tables, everyone could take as much as they wanted, and no one was made to serve anyone else. There were so many red jennys there, and the family of the Inquisitor, whatever their background, came in full force. It was one of the best days in both of their lives.

[clowncroccharms]

For the oc asks 1-10

1. What do they smell like? Before he was with Dorian he either lived in the woods with the Dalish or in Haven so typically he smelled something like pine and a really natural earthy scent (but not a bad scent, he is adamant about bathing). After he met Dorian, they started sharing sleeping quarters and between Soren’s constant need for cuddling and touching (he’s very touch starved) and him stealing Dorians fancy Tevinter soap, he’s started to smell a lot like Dorian which is more of a Chai/Vanilla smell. Occasionally Dorian will hide his soap because he loves Sorens natural piney smell and Soren will pout for days.

2. What is their voice like? Soren has an english accent! He doesn’t have a deep or high voice, its more in the middle and its lovely! Sometimes Dorian will pretend he doesn’t hear something Soren has said so he will repeat it.

3. What is their biggest motivator? Soren has always been pretty selfish. He was raised in a Dalish Elf clan where they had very little so he did what he needed to to survive. He didn’t really understand the prospect of putting others before himself until he was a part of the Inquisition so he was never really motivated by other people before, more so by his desperation to survive. Once he became a part of the Inquisition his motivator became the people he had grown close to, though he was very standoffish at first and his motivator was still to survive. Once he started to care about the others he truly saw them as the priority that had to be protected. I would say his main motivation is Dorian first and foremost. Soren didn’t really believe love was worth his time until he accidentally found himself in love with his mage boyfriend. He would give his own life to protect Dorian, and has done so before. His second motivator is Sera, his best friend. When he was in a bad place she taught him to laugh again.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? Hm, I would have to say when he was a child. When he was very little he loved birds, he would go out in the woods and play with them and train them. One day he brought them back to his clan to show them what they could do and the other little kids spooked the birds on purpose and they went crazy, clawing and pooping and pecking at Soren until he finally escaped when his clans leader shooed them away. Soren was covered in scratches and bird poop and started sobbing when all the other kids laughed at him and he lost his birds. 

Another embarrassing memory he has is when he was about 8 years old and learning alchemy and his most recent experiment blew up in his face and turned his Vallaslin turned bright green and his hair stood on end for two weeks. Needless to say, he made this into little exploding pacs and threw them at his friends. It didn’t hurt them but it did have the same consequences as his first experiment did. 

Another was a bit more serious. (Trigger Warning for Violence and Mentioned Non-Con) His clan had gone to Tevinter to negotiate a treaty. He was around 10 and had begged to go along. He was allowed and was the youngest to go. The meeting was run by Tevinter Magisters and when his clan got there Soren was instantly enthralled by another boy his age (he never gave much thought to love or sexuality before so this was a bit confusing for him) names Sallix. He absolutely adored Sallix, the son of a magister, and tried to get his attention and start a conversation with him. Soren tried to talk about his Dalish culture but the other boy was disgusted (Anyone who’s played the Dragon Age Game knows that Tevinter enslaves Dalish Elves and are basically super awful people in general, Dorian was born in Tevinter and the Magisterium (but Dorian is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING LIKE THE OTHER TEVINTERS AND THE GAME MAKES A POINT OF THIS A MILLION TIMES) but he ABSOLUTELY hates slavery and returns to Tevinter to try and end it and free the Dalish). Soren, still extremely confused about his sexuality, continues to try to impress Sallix and brings him a plate of a Dalish food delicacy his clan had brought as a peace offering. He ended up spilling it all over the boy and Sallix angrily stormed off to get cleaned up. Soren went to help him but when he entered the main hall he was attacked by to Tevinter slave traders hired by the Sallix’s father (the boy was meant to be a distraction) and hidden in the cellar until his clan returned home, believing he was among them. He was given to Sallix by his father as a gift and was enslaved until he was 18. Sallix was awful to Soren and beat him and had him constantly chained. Because Soren doesn’t take anyones shit, he fought back a lot and this only worsened his torture. Eventually, when Sallix and Soren had “matured” around 16, Sallix was interested in other activities. He thought Soren was attractive and had his way with him, despite Soren’s protests and absolute refusal of such. Soren escaped, humiliated, tortured, and absolutely scarred when he was 18 using his shadow magic. He found his clan again, they had been looking for him for 8 years and were devastated at what had happened. Soren spent 10 weeks with the healer and was left with a permanent limp in his left leg. Soren isolated himself from physical contact for years afterward and it took 3 years before he could hunt and fight again without breaking down. This was really the point where he stopped caring about other people and relied only on himself, though he had been like that a bit before. Thankfully, he was able to heal mentally and physically quite a bit and his personality went back to much of what it had been before, though he often had panic attacks and nightmares, he was able to return to his trickster, laughing self, but of course like any survivor he wasn’t quite the same. He got angrier faster and had a temper when he was upset.  

5. How do they deal with/react to pain? Soren is a drama elf. He is an absolute drama elf. He could have a broken arm and shrug it off, but if he stubs his toe he sobs and has Dorian carry him to bed. Emotional pain is totally different. He is very serious about emotions. Emotional pain takes him harder than any physical pain and could have him in bed for days. He often has depression spells where he only wants to lay in bed for days. Some of the others try and get him up and about, but Dorian shoo’s them off and snuggles up to his boyfriend and holds him and whispers how much he loves him and how amazing he is until Soren feels ready to face the world again.

6. What do they like to wear? Soren, when first coming to the inquisition, gave his people quite a few scares when he burst out of his room completely naked. Dalish have no shame in their bodies and don’t see them as only sexual. Like many ancient greeks, the body is seen not only as something used for sex, but also as a piece of art meant to be admired and not shied away from. That being said, they didn’t walk around naked, but it wasn’t odd to occasionally see a naked elf or two. It took him a bit to get used to the idea that he should probably put on some clothes. So now the clothes he wears are a red cloak with a black shirt underneath, black leggings, and typical dalish foot wrapping.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively? Dorian, no doubt about it. Dorian taught him that love is worth it and that you can find a piece of yourself in the people you love. Soren believed love was worthless and it was better to be self serving, but with Dorian he gave all of himself and they have an amazing love.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? One time they killed some deep stalkers in a cave and Sera bet he wouldn’t pull its eye out and eat it and he literally did it and Dorian held his hair back and glared at Sera for an hour while Soren threw up in the bushes.

9. Describe the way that they sleep. He literally sleeps on Dorian in some way or another. Sometimes he lays on top of Dorian with his head on his chest, other times he lays on his side with his legs wrapped around Dorian, but he can’t sleep unless he’s touching Dorian.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food? Fish. He loves fresh fish. When they first went to the storm coast, Soren leapt into the water screeching in excitement and Dorian freaked out because he thought he was drowning but Soren popped up a second later with a big ass fish in his hands, grinning with his tongue sticking out between his lips. Then he asked Dorian to cook it with his fire magic and literally bit into it like an apple while Dorian watched in horror.

Send me a number and I’ll answer it about my Inquisitor, Soren!

[pr0gf0x-archiveseeya]

im finally watching dsod and just lemme pause to scream about the parts that hurt me the most and maybe some other things but mostly Pain (i id heavily as yugi and its hard for me to separate myself from him so fair warning that im using “i” for yugi in here??? ok to reblog as long as u dont try to invalidate me, i guess, but why would u wanna reblog this emotional mess)

ok so i have screenshots for some of these but not all bc this is rushed and im emotional

kaiba having the millennium puzzle in the opening scene

for the movie to start off on a note like that hurts me to my core. no one should have the puzzle. it makes me sad enough that even i, yugi, couldn't keep the puzzle, but if i did keep it, atem would never truly be at rest. and he was. he was at rest, finally. after 3000 years, his spirit finally was allowed to rest, but kaiba couldnt just let him rest??? kaiba please... let him rest

everyone has grown up so much but also stayed the same

i dont know, stuff like that always kills me and i dont really think its quite fair to compare the gang in the movie to the gang at the end of the series. because... yeah there was a period of time missing between those two but i feel like its better to compare the gang from the beginning of the series to the gang in the movie. like, uhh??? theyve all grown so much but it wasnt completely evident at the end of the series because it ended so?? kind of abruptly imho??? and just.... in thos movie you can FINALLY see how much everyone has grown after being affected by all of the stuff that happened in the ygo series- how much it changed them and how much they learned and i’m just so proud of everyone and their dreams. anzu is finally going to be a dancer and that makes me so happy. she’s wanted that ever since she was a little girl and she’s really going to do it. also, jhust????? i (yugi) am so tall??? but still the same. like i’m still the shortest but the animation style makes me look vaguely more like atem as i grow up and thats... oh my god

the walk home after getting my deck back

i’m much more familiar with the manga than the anime so i apologise if this next part is incorrect in terms of the anime but this line is really important. in the millennium world manga i often start to try and correct myself when i say “other me”. i say, “other me- i mean, the pharaoh-” when we learn atems real name, i do the same thing but with his real name (iirc) but when we’re on the boat to egypt i say that i understand that he’s a pharaoh, but until it’s all over- until he has to leave- i’m going to keep calling him the other me because that’s what he is to me. i think i make it pretty clear that in that last duel??? that that’s going to be the last time i ever call him by that nickname i have for him, but here i am, much later, and i still can’t shake the habit because even though he’s gone, i still consider himself a huge part of me because he helped me so much. he taught me so much. he helped me grow so much

kaiba’s “””duel””” with atem

first off, the obvious- he probably could have used any memory to test those systems but he specifically chose atem. he reprimands atem, saying “you left yugi behind and you vanished”. which is... wow. he probably is using anger towards atem “abandoning” me as an excuse to be mad so he feels like he has a reason other than revenge and being salty about missing him and never satisfyingly beating him but it... still means a lot to me. either way, he doesnt start his monologue off with "im gonna kick your ass" he starts with. "whyd you leave yugi behind and disappear".

jou in the dog suit

he became the furry he never wanted to be...... no but its... really nice that hes still working hard to make money, especially with his dream of wanting to be a pro duelist. like ok hes still kind of a goof and maybe a bit of a slacker but hell if he isn’t working hard for what he wants. also i like that ryuji/duke is in this scene!!!!! in the manga he stays a part of the main cast throughout the rest of the series after showing up (at least more than he does in the anime iirc) and i’m so glad that they show us all hanging out with him in the movie.

kaiba working so hard to get the millennium puzzle

he cant let atem go and its honestly heartbreaking. all of this time he’s been so crazy focused on bringing atem back and its so sad... especially because it doesnt seem as if hes been hanging around me (yugi) and my gang of friends since atem has been gone? and i feel like we could have helped him cope so much. me and kaiba could have grown so much closer by mourning atem together... also that exchange when kaiba says he’ll solve the puzzle and mokubas like “but it took yugi 8 years” kills me because kaiba just retorts with “thats because yugi has the brain of a child” and im autistic irl and i feel like yugi is autistic too and it was like jeez dont make fun of me for being autistic kaiba. and ngl i was really hoping that when kaiba found the puzzle hed just call me up like "yugi come solve this i found your treasure" but NOOOOOO 

kaiba’s duel with aigami

i believe its in this duel (and not his one with the memory of atem but i apologise if i’m wrong) where he says atems name. only once, but this stands out to me because throughout the whole course of the series, kaiba seemed to have such a difficult time differentiating between atem and yugi (meeee). at some points, it seemed like he thought of atem as yugi more than he thought of me as yugi (which hurt tbh) so for him to finally state that he sees the both of us as individuals is really powerful.

the fact that he can summon obilisk is obviously powerful too because it just,... continues to show how kaiba can’t let go and it breaks my heart

hanging out with friends!

it makes me eternally happy that throughout the whole movie, my gang of friends includes ryou. i always felt so bad in the main series because even though he was our friend, we were all kind of distant with him because of yami bakura. and a lot of the time it seemed like me and the others kind of did the same thing kaiba used to do with me and atem where sometimes it was hard to tell ryou and yami bakura apart, especially because yami bakura was so sneaky and kind of pretended to be ryou sometimes??? so it warms my heart to know that we can all be super close to him now with no worries. he’s no longer an outsider. he’s a part of our crew, we duel together, we die together. ryou deserves the world

sera approaching me (yugi)

when she tells me about everything and gives me the puzzle piece, its kind of the first time that it really sets in that this isnt over. its been about??? lets say a year and a half in dsod since the end of the original yugioh series. atem has been gone for that long. life has been “normal” again for that long. we’re all about to graduate. we’re all about to start our new lives. as mentioned earlier with me still calling atem “other me” i still haven’t been able to fully move on and be independent, no matter how much i want to and want to be. graduation is a chance for that. it’s new beginnings, so for all of this stuff to start up again right as we’re graduating... it’s so hard. i thought i was finally going to be given the chance to move on but it all comes crashing down on me that it’s not over, and then all of my friends get dragged into this mess again too and it’s like. i lowkey feel like it’s my fault. they shouldn’t have to go through this

jou seeing atem

i mean first of all just wow??? but also just... when we all split up to go look for bakura and its just me and jou left and jou stops me to tell me what he saw but then changes his mind... it breaks my heart. because he knows how hard this has been for me. he knows how close i was with atem and how much i missed him. he realises that crazy shit is happening again and he’s so hesitant. he knows how hard i’m trying to move on so he decides to keep it from me to protect me

my duel with aigami

kaiba goes to duel him first but i literally just yell kaiba’s name and tell him “this is my fight”. and i dont back down when kaiba says he wants to duel him first. i fight for it. i fight for my right to fight aigami first because i’m so determined to save bakura and finally prove myself. finally prove that i’m more than just atem, that i’m more than just his vessel and

i say im talking about bakura but at the same time especially with the determined spark in my eyes that vaguely resembles atem i feel like im kind of talking about him, too. i havent decided whether im going to finish the puzzle again or not, but in a way, i’m fighting for him in this duel too. i’m fighting to save him from the others- i’m fighing to prove myself to him, wherever he is, and to be given the choice of what to do with the puzzle because he?? was the other me. no one else should have to be involved with deciding his fate

and thats where ive stopped watching for now because i’m too emotional to watch any more and im probably gonna go to bed stay tuned for part two i guess

[tavis-of-bannorn]

dragon age: inquisition relationship scale

the scaling goes from one to five, with a heart indicating potential romantic interest (or sexual partner) repost // don’t reblog!

blackwall ★☆☆☆☆

//He is indifferent towards blackwall really but they don’t really dislike one another. Blackwall finds Tavis to be ungentlemanly, slimy and doesn’t really trust him. The mysterious and misleading aspects of Tavis make Blackwall wary. Tavis knows Blackwall is lying about/hiding something but he doesn’t really touch on it... and he may poke fun at Blackwall far too often. He may think every opportunity to mess with him is fucking hilarious.XD

cassandra ★★★☆☆

// At first their relationship is full of a lot of scowls and smirks. Tavis likes to make really bad jokes just to get a reaction... or flirt just to get a reaction. Cassandra is really too easy to get reactions from for Tavis to resist teasing and being a total dork around. She doesn’t like this of course... she finds him to be skeezy, impulsive and untrustworthy, at first. Over time though... he starts showing his more serious sides and she realizes that Tavis isn’t all jokes and flirtation. He likes her well enough too. He actually comes to like Cassandra a lot the more they interact and god he finds her groans and scowls to be adorable. I think I can go as far to say they have a weird adversarial relationship similar to her and Varric? Eventually it becomes a bit cute and he gets to see what people like her are like... her faith and he grows from it.

cole ★★★★☆

//Tavis is one of the few people that really likes when Cole goes off on one of his mind reading things (unless it’s about his blood magic stuff which he promptly informs Cole to be careful with because he doesn’t want to be... y’know... murdered on the spot). He really really likes Cole and moreover Tavis is extremely curious about him. He has never really had the chance to just... chat with a spirit before so he seeks Cole out a lot. Cole tries to heal his hurts and he is like “NO NO NO like... just tell me about bunnies and kittens... it’s fine”. He spends most of his time asking Cole how he can help while picking Cole’s brain. He just wants to know EVERYTHING about this kid.

cullen ★☆☆☆☆ 

//Cullen is an ex-templar who still somewhat adheres to the order... Tavis doesn’t even try to get to know him... he avoids Cullen as much as he can. He likes his personality, he thinks Cullen is nice but he doesn’t risk his safety in getting to know him better. It is too dangerous... considering Tavis is y’know... a secret blood mage and also does super illegal stuff that the Templars would kill him for and destroy all his work if found out. So... nope... he isn’t going to try. Cullen can stay over there with his pretty face and Tavis will politely ignore him and flirt with him when they happen to play wicked grace.

dorian ★★★★☆ ♥

//Potential romance. In our main verse canon they have done it and gotten pretty close to... romance-ish? But... it isn’t really a romance like Dorian would have with the inquisitor. It is odd tbh... I wouldn’t call them fuck buddies they actually become pretty close emotionally and then it trails off. Tavis cares greatly for Dorian and Dorian him but it doesn’t end up going with the route that Dorian probably wants. Tavis can’t be that... Tavis is a blood mage and has a life of his own where he pretty much needs to hand his life over to to it and involve no romance (especially of a potential Tevinter magister). And... once he finds out about Dorians father and Dorians problem with blood magic... Tavis distances himself for Dorian’s sake alone. It is... actually really sad... it makes me sad because they get on so well. But Tavis doesn’t want to hurt him after that and Tavis just... does his whole... ‘they will forget about me’ thing. It makes me so sad GAHHHH He cares about Dorian a lot but it just... doesn’t work out in the successful romance spectrum. It is full of pain. Maybe with a muse it would work but... in our headcanon it is sad and doesn’t work. They go their separate ways and only converse on occasion as good friends. But there is always that... what came from the troubles of life and social constraints thing.

iron bull ★★★☆☆

//I don’t put him down as an LI because idk!!! Tbh... they have this kind of casual relationship. Tavis might eventually get kinky with Bull but it wouldn’t really go anywhere... it would just be fun because... that is how they are as friends. They don’t get that close emotionally. That being said!... They are really good friends! They get along so well! Tavis loves picking Bull’s brain for info about Qunari and getting his perspective because it’s so incredibly different from his own. He just wants to learn all of the things but Bull hits on him all of the time because he is well... because he is Tavis lets be honest... XD The change in perspective actually excites him and he wants to learn pretty much everything there is about Bull’s people and the Chargers and about Bull himself.On the field he just asks Bull loads of questions concerning Qunari and also flirting with him shamelessly. These two won’t ever stop flirting with each other... it is just how they interact. That doesn’t mean they’re fucking... this is just their banter rofl. Tavis + Bull banter ... Other companions = are you guys doing it... Tavis and Bull... no... but we should. Raise your horns!!! *high fives*

josephine ★★★☆☆

//Poor... poor Josie...Tavis kind of has her wrapped around his lil finger. At the same time he really likes her but haha he is so good at getting her to talk and so good at getting her to consider his requests. He really does take advantage of his charms with her sometimes and it is god damn shameless. Leli see’s this and threatens to beat the ever living shit out of him. (I don’t blame Leli.) But Josie isn’t an idiot... she see’s the genuine aspects within him. She is good at that and they work together a lot actually. They... actually become pretty close.

leliana ★★☆☆☆  

//Legit the ONLY person in the world that scares Tavis. Tbh... he would probably be one of her secret agents just from that aspect. He RESPECTS Leli... so much omg. He thinks her work is underestimated and constantly... (quietly) tells her how he respects her efforts. She still scares the shit out of him though. They could never be friends but business partners. Leli is the only one who knows about his work in the Inquisition btw. He has considered asking her to be one of her confidants as she is the only one (depending on verse) that really knows what his work entails. She still supports him. That was enough to gain his support in turn. But srsly.... She has said multiple times if Tavis leads Josie on she will literally chop his parts off and send them to his best friends. He applauded her for gusto and smirked of course. ... He still flirts with Josie because he can’t help himself. XD But he tries to tone it down because Leli scares the shit out of him.

sera ★★★★ ☆

// Hahahaha it’s hilarious later on. Sera ignites the childlike wonder in him and he gets to just be... an absolute dork with her at all times. It is refreshing and he can just be silly. She really thought some dumb elfy elf would be more elfy. But... Tavis is the least elfy of all the elves in the Inquisition. He doesn’t even shout random nonsense at her like Solas does. When Solas does spout random elven at her ... Tavis knows what it means and quips back giving her a high five. Then promptly plans pranks on Solas with her like lizard bedrolls and putting whipped cream on his head when he falls asleep at his desk.

solas ★★★★☆ 

//Alright so they have some differences at first. Tavis thinks Solas is a pompous asshole even though he himself eschews the traditional Dalish way of thinking it really irritates him how Solas speaks against the Dalish and most elves in general(from his perspective). Of course... this makes it really interesting. Because Solas assumes Tavis is Dalish and Tavis doesn’t deny it because he finds the assumption amusing. That is literally his reasoning. He simply doesn’t deny it and then later is like... no I’m not actually Dalish. Eventually... Tavis is like... yeah I don’t really follow Dalish practices and have do things to actually help my people not just the tattoo’d ones. Then it gets really awkward and Tavis is like jfc Solas... I also can understand pretty much all of the elven you speak... Tavis: "I lied... I can actually understand nearly every elvhen thing you say" Solas: "Truly? I doubt that." Tavis: "You are very sassy." Solas: <sighs> Tavis: <smirks> Like that time you told Sera to stick her lizards up her ass. Solas: <silent> Tavis: <is pleased with himself> Tbh their relationship is one of my favorites because Solas’ biases really get to him but at the same time they can have really interesting conversations. They both have inquisitive and philosophical minds.They love going on about philosophy, history and stories once they get past the personality difference.

varric ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

//Hahaha omg they have so much fun! THEY HAVE SO MUCH FUN! They play cards a lot actually. They hang out a lot. Tavis pretty much drools over his stories and Varric... (lets be honest) loves the attention. They quip, make silly jokes and really fuck with people whenever they can... especially Cassandra. Because how could Tavis pass up that opportunity. He is such an ass. Really these two just mess around and enjoy life together. Tavis and Varric are the nightlife in Skyhold. They gather people together and form the stories.

vivienne ★★★☆☆

//Hehehehe ahhhhhhhhh. They went shopping together once. Just for the winter palace. Vivienne really doesn’t like Tavis at first (no shit).... Is it that surprising rofl... he is wary of her but is willing to experience her weird world, learn and have fun fucking with her.  He loves their shared salt though... he cherishes it. She knows this ... So it is kind of a back and forth mean girls salt fest between them both.

[newtxgarvey-blog]

▼ (not sexually) ✖ ✣

▼ kissing them

It wasn’t uncommon to find Newt walking Sera home, it wasn’t because he felt she couldn’t take care of herself, but rather it helped him sleep at night to know she was safe at home with her parents. After all between their shady jobs, they always ended up in the same part of town towards the end of the night anyway, so why not brace the walk together. Walking the last few steps to her front door, Newt paused to wait for her to safely have the door open.

“Oh hey kid” he interjected quickly, almost forgetting something. As he reached into the pocket of his jacket pulling out a neat pile of money, he tossed it the younger girls way. “Lifted it from those rich morons earlier. Thought you could use it.” he said with a light shrug, as if this gesture of kindness was no big deal, despite the fact he rarely played nice with others anymore. He wanted to see her make it, get out of that part of town, be happy in a good life, she deserved too. But he didn’t expect the soft kiss of gratitude that came upon his cheek, innocent in every way, but it had a warmth Newt wasn’t use too. “Take care of yourself Sera” he said finally as she pulled back into her home, a last fleeting smile sent her way before taking his leave down the front path.

✖ punching them

Damn she punched harder than she did when they were young, a lot harder. You’d think he’d be use to getting a fist to the face by now, but Newt never quite got use to it from those closest to him. Though it was no secret that Newt had a tenancy to do stupid and reckless things and that often scared and irritated those closest to him. Really he should have seen it coming, these things he was doing, these reckless, pointless acts and for what? For the hurt of it all. Newt swallowed hard, soft eyes coming up to meet hers. “Please don’t be mad Sera.”

It was rare that Newt would ever take a stance on such a situation that wasn’t that he was entirely and impossibly right. But he also knew Sera well, and would never disregard her opinions or emotions, even if he didn’t share them. “I’m sorry, it’s fine. Please........Sera”

✣ bringing them food

Newt always spent endless hours in HQ gym, it was free training for his job outside of The Strix. Why pay a gym membership to practice for the club when he could just train at the headquarters, the equipment was elite, and sometimes he even got a chance to beat the ass of a fellow member on the mat. Really it was no secret that if you were ever looking for Newt Garvey when the sun was up, go to the gym and you were guaranteed to find him.

Striking the bag in quick smooth motions, he heard the loud closing of the door, attention drawn behind him to whoever may have entered. And as he caught sight of Sera walking through the door, he offered a cheeky grin her way. “Come to let me kick your ass?” he asked, doing another few sets on the bag before stepping away and giving her his full attention. Only then noticing the bag of food she carried with her, and the amazing smell that filled the room. “Or i’ll totally let you kick my ass if you give me some of that” he offered, practically collapsing on the mat as the food was brought out, Newt not even waiting to dig in, “Holy shit that’s good. You’re my favorite person ever.”

[this-basic-mage]

4+5 for all 3 of your girls :')

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?

Ashanna: Growing up Ash was quite the daddy’s girl. He would take her walks around the alienage to satisfy her need to explore when she was really little and be there to clean her wounds and deliver sage advice after fights with kids that were mean to her and her cousins. Of course he could never condone such behaviour, in fact it was him who taught her ‘the greatest victory is the battle not fought’, a motto she tries to live by whenever she meets a new opponent (though how easily completely depends on the opponent), but he always low key agreed the kids had it coming. However, this started to change as Ash got older and her attention turned to outside the alienage. As a teen, she and some friends became Red Jennys, which worried Cyrion no end and even led to a few arguments about whether all the pranks on rich humans were really worth the risk. She came eventually agree with him when a couple of her friends were caught and brutally punished for their crimes and hung it up, if only for his sake. The resentment this caused expanded when announced her arranged marriage, which she protested but begrudgingly accepted once again for his and the family’s sake. Since the events of Origins they’ve patched things up, be it a bit awkwardly (he still worries too damn much), and he’s always the first person she visits whenever she’s back in Dernerim.

As for her mother, she died when she was about 5 so her memories of her are really hazy but what she does remember is a compassionate and fierce woman who’s probably the one installed the compulsion to do whatever you think is right no matter what. So she must’ve made a deep impression on her young mind.

Alindra: Lin got her dorky sense of humour and all her best jokes from Malcolm. So he’s to thank/blame for her not taking life too seriously. Their childish banter around the dinner table amused/annoyed Leandra to no end. Although this bond remained strong up until his death she did find it hard to accept most of his free time would be spent with Bethany after her magic showed and often felt resentful whenever her and Carver were waved outside to play while he taught Bethany how to do a new spell inside. So much of her relationship with her father is a paradox of closeness and distance and she’s never been able to fully articulate how she feels about that.

Meanwhile, much of Lin’s insecurities can be traced back to Leandra. As the eldest, she expected her to be the responsible one, especially after Malcolm died, which did not gel well with her originally more laid back attitude. Which meant she often got the blame when things went wrong, which she was actually happy to take cause it spared her siblings and she thought she deserved it anyway.  Although really Lin owes a lot to Leandra, she taught her to be cautious, to think before she acted, and the importance of family. If Lin had a problem she couldn’t solve it was her mother she turned to, as much as she hates to admit it. Malcolm taught her to be funny, Leandra taught her how to turn that humour into charm. The best times they had together was at the fancy high town parties where they could finally relax and laugh, even if Lin was secretly laughing more at the high-class guests than with them. 

Ariel: Ari doesn’t remember her real parents very well as she was adopted by Clan Lavellan when her magic manifested at age 6. But she does remember them quietly indulging her interest in humans by giving her a few trinkets they found during raids on Shem camps, even if in most other memories they come off as quite harsh to others.

When she came to Clan Lavellan the Keeper took her under her wing and became like her adoptive mother, making her see her magic as a gift rather than a danger and encouraged her inquisitive mind and kind heart. They would debate about many things, particularly Ariel perhaps straying too far alone on her explorations and her curiosity of humans sometimes winning over her caution. But Ariel respected her wisdom and would come around in her own time unless it was something that really mattered to her then she would just agree to disagree or negotiate hard. Sometimes she wondered if the Keeper just played devil’s advocate to test her wits. So it was quite a surprise when the Keeper agreed to her going alone to the conclave without much explanation, although she didn’t let her leave without assuring her ‘you still have much to learn da’len’.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

Ashanna: She doesn’t have any but Soris and Shiannai are pretty much her siblings in all but name as both look up to her as like a big sister. They were always playing together as kids, with Ash and Shiannai even dragging the more cautious Soris off on what they thought to be real adventures with the Red Jennys when they hit their teens. As adults, they’ve all matured and gone their own ways in life, so they don’t get to see each other that much, especially Ash. But when they do get back together it’s like their kids again.

Alindra: As mentioned Lin was expected to be the responsible role model to her younger siblings, though in practice this proved to be the more mature Bethany. She’s often Lin’s voice of reason when her need to joke about everything becomes too much and knows her better than anyone, which is why she’s her perfect sidekick that can stay positive when she can’t. But it wasn’t always like that, as a child, Lin was jealous of how much time she got to spend with her father, and how protecting her was always the family’s top priority. This has subconsciously followed her into adulthood, manifesting as resentment and frustration at the constant pressure of protecting her. But she’d never ever let Bethany say she was a burden. She really missed her after she was sent to the circle, but she was happy Bethany was is happy and they wrote regularly, something they’ve kept in practice every time Lin has to go off and do Hawke stuff.

Carver was the annoying little brother she was always having to pull away from fights. So of course when he enlisted in the army she had to follow him. After all, she was responsible for him and the two had the kind of begrudging but unbreakable bond only two siblings in the shadow of another can have. She really misses their bickering and beating his ass every time he annoyed her into sparing with him.

Ariel: She doesn’t have any though Sera has become like her little sister. They debate/bicker about elf things all the time but Ari appreciates her unique perspective on things and how she’s taught her not to take some things too seriously, and there is no one in the world Sera trusts more.

[trickster-tricks]

Inquisitor Somniar

Abstractly

Somniar Lavellan was different; Cullen knew this abstractly. It wasn’t that she was elvhen, or a rogue, or that she seemed to always find something to laugh at - it was in her eyes, her gait, and curious expressions. The mark in her hand seemed nothing in comparison to the look she got in her eyes some times. It was a wild, untamed look - it curled her lip and narrowed her gaze - seemed to change the very air around her.

But it did not happen often - at least not within his sight - but when it did - oh, when it did - it became so very obvious that she was different. She wasn’t like Solas - or Sera - or Fenris - or any other elf he had ever met before or even heard about - Maker, she wasn’t like anybody he had ever met before. It was something dark - something feral - something he should fear - and yet - he didn’t.

It made him feel safe and warm and like he meant something.

Abuse

“Blood magic? He used blood magic on you?” Somniar hissed, and if Dorian hadn’t already been so high strung and emotionally vulnerable he might have realized that the elvhen woman was more than not happy. He simply nodded, words failing him as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest - he was only thankful it was only her in there with him and not Solas and Blackwall too.

The rogue turned her burning gaze from Dorian to his - his - sperm donor and her lip curled back around her teeth showing her rather sharp fangs, “That’s fucking abuse, you damned bastard. Not just physically, but of your child’s trust.”

Dorian realised a little half-heartedly that Somniar was well and truly enraged. Her face had twisted into a furious snarl and the gold in her eyes was more prominent and the ferality in the air around her had surged forward and seemed to cloak her entire being. It has happened before, but not often - and it usually precluded the woman loosing control in some way.

Somniar prowled forward towards the Magister, death walking in her every step, and she purred lowly, “Blood magic is the sign of a weak mind, hmm?”

Halward flinched back, his earlier dismissal of the elvhen woman taking rapid steps to correct itself in the face of the suddenly extremely dangerous rogue. He tried to respond, but words failed him and the snarl on her face curled into a truly terrifying smile.

“The only reason I won’t rip you apart where you stand is because Dorian still loves you, despite the despicable things you’ve done,” she hissed venomously and her eyes bore into his coldly as she finished, “You hurt him again, in any way, and I will do just that, no matter what.”

She turned away from him, facing Dorian once more, and leaving her back to him, and rested a hand on the man’s cheek. She pushed her forehead against his and said lowly, “I will be right out that door. Something even starts to happen and I will be here in an instant, yes?” Dorian closed his eyes, reaching up and holding her hand cradling his cheek tightly and took a deep breath.

Ache

“The ache never leaves. Burns and twists and threatens to break under the weight. Waiting, waiting, waiting, why isn’t she here? Empty space beside and inside - so tired. Old, old, old, death and dying, birth and living - where is she? It’s there, I can feel it, but I can’t help.”

The group froze, looking at each other unsurely, and then at Cole, who was peering at the Inquisitor with distress. Somniar was looking at the spirit boy pensively, and the others tried to puzzle out what Cole’s words meant.

“Old pain, old wounds, old hurt - torn open, can’t breathe - assassin? yes, like her - keep her close even just a little. Blank space in head - alone? lonely, not there, so empty, can’t feel Yūrei - mine, my kittens, family, children, gone, gone, gone - no, I am your kitten - I -?”

The spirit boy paused in his slew of words when Somniar rested her hand on his cheek, cupping his face and leaning down slightly so she could look him in the eye, “You help, Cole.”

He peered at her intensely, searching, and then said, “I do - kitten, family, mine. Must protect - not fragile, but breakable. My kitten - means home, happiness, and warmth - soothes the pain and stitches wounds. I can help.”

He gave a proud little smile and repeated, “I can help!”

Alcohol

“How are you not drunk?” Dorian asked with an incredulous look. Somniar blinked at him, glanced over at the growing pile of bottles next to her, and shrugged. He gave her a look, and she grinned. “Even Iron Bull is drunk,” he pointed out.

“Tipsy,” the qunari corrected, speech only the slightest slurred.

“You’ve had an inordinate amount of alcohol - how are you not drunk or even tipsy?” Dorian continued as if the warrior hadn’t spoken.

Somniar gave him a devilish smile and didn’t answer.

Anatomy

“Always go for the softest part - the jugular, the spine, or the head,” Somniar told the recruit, adjusting the young man’s hands on his daggers, and shifting his foot back a little with her own. “There is more to battle than swinging a blade and hoping it lands - know the anatomy of your opponent and you will be more likely to win.”

Cullen watched the elvhen woman silently, keeping one eye on her and the other on the rest of the recruits. Somniar had wandered over with a faintly amused smile on her face, and had promptly inserted herself into the spars. Some of the recruits were more rogue than warrior, and it was them she inserted herself with.

It wasn’t long before she started teaching them as much as she sparred with them and there was an ease in her manner that told Cullen she had taught before. He didn’t think it came from being the Hunter of her clan, either. The way she spoke and taught was more in line with teaching for battle and war.

It was - disconcerting.

Anticlimactic

“Well, that was rather anticlimactic,” Dorian panted, leaning slightly against his staff and eying Somniar a bit warily. The elvhen woman was casually flicking the blood off her daggers, face twisted in some kind of half snarl that set his teeth on edge.

Her golden gaze glanced over at him briefly, before she practically tore the key from the dead Avaar’s body and stalked over towards the room where the missing Inquisition soldiers were being held.

Dorian felt slightly better when he saw that Cassandra was following after the other woman with her own wary look, rather than the intrigued one Solas was wearing. “Are any of you hurt?” Somniar was asking when he finally caught up with the rest of the group, a growl like undertone to her voice that had the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“No, ser,” one of the soldiers answered a little gingerly. “Mostly just a few scrapes from the skirmish.”

There was low snarl from the newly minted Inquisitor - and her expression told Dorian that the Avaar were lucky to already be dead.

Apology

“I feel I owe you an apology,” Dorian said cautiously, still feeling vulnerable from the meeting with his father, and unsure how to act around this woman who had threatened to rip his father apart if he hurt him.

Somniar cocked her head to the side, and asked, “Whatever for?”

He waved a hand carelessly, for once words failing him, and her gaze softened. She uncurled from her position in one of the chairs, gliding over to him and cupping his face. She brought his face down until their foreheads rested against each other, and soothed, “There are no apologies. You are mine - my kitten - my family. I will be there, whether you need me or not, and for whatever reason there be.”

Axis

Whatever he had expected, what happened was not in any realm of his imagination. He had never expected this elvhen woman to live with the mark pulsing on her hand as if to shove his mistake in his face, and yet - she did.

She had burst into the battle like some kind of wild animal, and then had laughed and smiled as if she hadn’t just easily slaughtered powerful demons. She was Dalish - but she was beautiful. She had a fire in her that reminded him of his people before the fall and it made his heart ache.

She completely threw him off his axis - but still he wouldn’t (couldn’t - didn’t) change his plans and he left, his heart wrapped in ice.

Badmouth

“Don’t you dare badmouth my inner circle,” Somniar snarled lowly, her gold eyes pinning the Chantry sister in place. “Rumors or not, Dorian is apart of my circle for a damned reason, and it’s of no fucking business of your’s of his place there.” The redhead prowled forward, making Mother Giselle take a somewhat fearful step back, and she finished, “So you can take your fucking rumors and racism and shove it up your fucking ass. Leave Dorian alone.”

The Mother looked at the elf with wide, scandalized eyes, and flinched when the golden eyes narrowed. “Watch your step, Mother Giselle,” Somniar growled warningly. “I don’t like something you do, you won’t like what I will do to you.”

Beads

“Come here,” Somniar gestured over at Cole, who had been hovering in the shadows of the stairs. At her motion, however, he creeped over to where she sat at the table surrounded by the Chargers and the Iron Bull. She smiled at him and tugged him down so he sat between her legs on the floor, and carefully took his hat off and placed it on her chair.

The Chargers couldn’t help but stare as the Inquisitor began to comb her fingers through Cole’s hair, before she began to actually braid the short locks. Cole just sat there, a pleased little smile on his face and eyes a little wider, indicating he was listening. Dalish eyed the other elf contemplatively, and then she pulled out a couple beads from the pouch on her hip and handed them over.

Somniar paused in her braiding, eyeing the beads and then Dalish, before she smiled in thanks and began to thread the beads in. “Warmth, family - used to braid his and her hair - source of comfort and relaxation - stress relief, calm - fond remembrance helps stitch wounds. I help,” Cole murmured, pleased smile growing a little wider.

Dalish cocked her head to the side, and then asked, “You have family, Lavellan?”

Somniar hummed, face gaining a rather melancholy look. “Parents are gone, but I have two younger siblings, Ellana and Mahanon. They’re still young, so I was sent to the Conclave instead - I am very thankful for that,” she offered, a wane smile on her face as she finished tying off the braid she’d finished. She noted that Iron Bull narrowed his eyes, but didn’t expand on it.

She knew what he was thinking.

Bear

Somniar stabbed the bear violently, hair threatening to come out of its braid in a wild mane and face set in a wild look, and furious yell fading. “Do I have some kind of bear nip on me? Why won’t they leave me alone?” she snarled, flicking the blood off her blades harshly.

Cassandra grunted with disgust, while Solas looked overly amused at the other elf’s anger. “It must be the brightness of your hair,” Dorian quipped, brushing some dust off of his robes. Somniar shot him a narrowed eyed look.

Beast

“Yūrei isn’t there - where are they? Missing, gone, gone, gone - where did they go?” Cole piped suddenly, eyes wide and peering over at Somniar, who was staring into the camp fire listlessly. Solas frowned, while Blackwall simply raised an eyebrow.

It was not the first time Cole had mentioned this Yūrei and it being gone in relation to the Inquisitor, but it was usually in combination with something else. Cole shuffled closer to the elvhen woman, his hair still in messy braids and notably longer in length, and continued, “But that’s wrong! The beast is still there - waiting, watching, knowing - simply another form, style, being - the instinct, the bloodlust, the aura.”

Somniar had turned to stare at Cole with a sudden intensity that took Solas and Blackwall aback. Cole met her gaze earnestly, and repeated, “Yūrei is there - just different.”

Believe

“People can believe whatever they wish,” Somniar answered idly, lounging over the chair across from Josephine’s desk. “I will only care if it becomes detrimental to me and mine.” Her gold eyes pierced across into Josephine’s own brown eyes, and the Ambassador found she couldn’t quite look away from the intense gaze.

Below

Varric probably should’ve expected it, but still he hadn’t really thought about it - so he could only sigh when Somniar settled on the wall of the battlements in a precarious position that would eventually drive Cassandra into insanity, he was sure. The red haired elf blinked at the two males slowly, and then prompted, “Well?”

Hawke coughed, shooting a look at Varric, that was thinly veiled panic (because what the fuck did you do with a woman who sat on the edge of something with a sheer drop below on the other side?), and the dwarf took pity. “Spitfire, this is Hawke,” Varric introduced. “Hawke, this is the Inquisitor, Somniar Lavellan.”

She smiled.

Beyond

“You are not what I expected,” Cassandra confessed  and Somniar shot her an amused look. The other woman gave her a disgruntled look, and the elf laughed.

“Don’t worry so much, I am often not what people expect, even beyond a first meeting. My siblings have lived with me their whole lives and I still manage to surprise them.”

Cassandra gave her a pensive look, before she said, “You do not talk about them much.” It was an open ended statement, meant to either open a conversation or close it.

The redhead blinked, and then smiled, settling more comfortably on her perch on the table. “I didn’t think anyone would want to know really,” she started, letting out a low laugh. Cassandra blinked, startled, but settled in herself, knowing that Somniar was going to actually talk. “Our parents died when Ellana and Mahanon were very young, they don’t remember them much - I basically raised them after that.”

“How young were you?” Cassandra asked, looking slightly worried. Taking care of another person was difficult, nevermind if you weren’t much older than that very person.

Somniar laughed, “I was sixteen at the time - the twins were a surprise. Our parents weren’t expecting to ever have more children - so, while a surprise, it was a happy one.”

Blindly

“I will not go into this blindly,” Somniar frowned, glowering at her advisors a little. “It is bad enough I am expected to go to a place that endorsed the slaughter of my people, and play nice. So tell me what to expect.”

Cullen gave Josephine and Leliana a look that clearly told them ‘I told you so.’

Blow

“Who do I have to blow to escape this place?” Somniar muttered, leaning over to Dorian so she could in his ear. He let out a startled laugh, looking partly scandalized and partly amused. The elvhen woman draped herself over him, shooting some whispering nobles a withering glare.

“Stop that,” Dorian said amusedly, sliding an arm around her waist (earning himself a pleased hum). “You do need court approval.”

She pouted at him, “But you’re much more entertaining, lovely.”

Cathedral

It wasn’t a cathedral, but it was tucked away enough into a corner Cullen felt comfortable going there to pray. He knew others knew it was there, so he wasn’t overly surprised when Somniar entered while he was praying.

She waited until he was finished before she spoke to him, and that meant a lot more than even he had realized.

Chop

“Let me show you how to bake cookies,” Somniar laughed. “Just because she lied, doesn’t mean you can’t learn now from someone else.”

Sera sputtered, but she looked cautiously pleased at the offer under the bluster. Somniar smiled fondly, “Come on - we can chop some fruit or something and put them in.”

Cinnamon

“Cinnamon is great for putting in cookies, especially ones with chocolate in them,” Somniar explained cheerily, putting some of the spice into the dough and mixing it in. Sera eyed her suspiciously, but copied the move, making the redhead grin at her wildly.

“Just roll about a spoonful into a ball on the sheet and stick ‘em over the fire for about ten minutes,” the older woman explained, doing the actions as she said them.