#aran trevelyan

[trisaran-adventures]

Pairing: Tristan/Aran, Tristan/Fey, Aran/Cole

Rating: E

Summary:

Youth is a tangle.

For Aran and Tristan, this is the beginning of their first year at Ostwick University, the first time they’ve both been truly on their own, and the struggle of trying to understand themselves and each other. A decade of fast friendship, first loves, heartbreaks and separations have led them to this place: the precipice of adulthood and an uncertain world ahead.

Aaaand we’re back with a new chapter of Never Let Me Go, a Dragon Age-inspired Modern AU with lots of original elements and characters, written collaboratively by @oftachancer and @johaerys-writes​! Kink, polyamory and character exploration, paired with tons of feels. So. Many. Feels. We hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 24: Reeds in a Storm (Ao3 link)

Aran groaned, lapping the sour dust from Loranil’s upturned arse in the moonlight. Hours, they’d been fucking and fingering and fondling on the forest floor- at least it felt like hours. The mushrooms and herbs muddled time, made Aran feel electric and the taste of skin something akin to ambrosia. The feel of it beneath his lips. He spread Nil’s cheeks and lapped at him, drawing deep groans from the man before him.

Loranil’s tiger mask was askew, his long sunset hair braided back from his face to trail down his spine, the glitter and color on his face and shoulders streaked with sweat and other fluids as he bobbed on another man’s cock, sharing it with the woman he was furiously fucking, while Aran feasted on his arse.

He tasted like sweat and fresh baked bread and mushroom dust. Open and soft and practically begging to be fucked. Everything about Nil begged to be fucked. The bend of his spine. The shiver of his lips. The arc of his elbows.

The trees bent away to allow the moonshine through. The grove was filled with starlit bodies in motion, rambling music wafting over them from speakers set about the trees. Protected torches and sizzling rods of incense cast flickering lights and shimmering smoke.

Aran caught his breath as a firm cock brushed his cheek. A wolf mask above him. A line of musky powder on the darkened head of his dick. Aran lapped at the powder, feeling it soak into his tongue along with the taste of sweat and musk and weeping precome. Gods, he was aching. He sat up, taking the stranger’s cock into his palm and his mouth, rubbing himself at Nil’s prepared entrance.

“Fuck me-“

He wasn’t sure who said it and it didn’t really matter. It was a gathering of the willing and the wanton. Birch-shadowed and moss-mattressed, writhing with abandon in the fairy circle of the grove and the gentle slopes around it. Aran moaned, allowing his head to be dragged forward onto the wolf’s cock as he pumped into Loranil beat by beat, the drums circling them all, the rhythms driving every body in the moon’s light into a slow motion frenzy.

The woman beneath Loranil was wearing a feathered mask, like an owl, her flaxen hair poured out across the blanket on the ground like spilled corn silk. Powerful; undulating like waves, moaning like the earth herself. She rose up in his arms, her hands flexing at Aran’s hips, and they held each other’s gaze as Loranil rocked between them. Filling her, filled by him.

Aran kissed her lips: wine and root, cock and come, salt, brine, slick- She moaned, drawing them both in to the movement of her hips. Drowning them. The wolf had fallen on a woman in a panther mask, rutting splendidly a few feet away. The mongoose poured himself into Loranil’s mouth, come dripping over his lip, and Aran and the owl lapped it from his chin and lip and tongue as they fucked him. As the mongoose knelt beside them, hands sliding over their skin like wind. Like branches in a breeze.

Weren’t they all? Reeds in a storm, whipping each other into frenzies and fading into soft relief. The moans of wind and wonder becoming the music around them as they in turn unraveled and became sound and earth, moss and leaves, touching the sky and each other as they became what life could be...

He woke pillowed on a set of broad, hairy shoulders with a very soft, very warm woman curled against his back. The scent of the bonfire still wafted around the grove. Aran eased up, padding naked but for his boots through the woods, following the sound of wheels on gravel and distant music. Loranil was perched atop the van, headphones on, guitar in his lap, scribbling into a notebook. Aran tied a sarong around his waist and drank juice from a carton, laying out in the back of Loranil’s van. His knees were scuffed. His jaw was sore. His arse-

“How’s the head?”

His head ached, too, Aran squinted over the top of the orange juice carton, though none of it was bad, per se. Only… used. Well used. Thoroughly. It was a good feeling, though he wouldn’t have said no to a toothbrush. Loranil offered him a half-smoked blunt instead; he looked like a peacock on fire. Lean and lithe, thick dark violet hair caught up into a braid like a twisting mohawk, streaks of orange, blue, yellow, and red poured through his mane, his mask resting above his brows. His eyes - one speckled red, one deep blue - gleamed as he climbed down to straddle Aran’s lap. “I feel like I ate a dead raccoon while it’s kin fucked me.”

Loranil laughed, lilting and light. “Deep mushrooms are an acquired taste.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Did you take the willowbark last night?”

“Aye.”

“Good, that’ll sort you out. I promised Cole I’d return you in good order.” He smiled slyly, sitting back. “Am I? Returning you in good order?”

Aran slid his hands up Loranil’s sides. Fennec fur, Cole always said. And he was right. Fuck, he was right. Aran felt stretched and raw and used- and soft and warm as fur on the inside. “Aye. Well enough,” he murmured.

“Good.” Loranil nudged him back, setting the carton to the side. “I’ll check for good measure, shall I, oinun ?”

“Hm,” Aran sighed beneath him, grinning as the elf lifted his sarong and stroked him, heedless of the couples and groups milling about the campsite. “I didn’t- with a woman- did I?”

“I don’t think so.” Loranil kissed his collarbone, the scrape of his unshaven chin juxtaposed with the softness of his lips. “Would it be terrible if you had?”

Would it? he wondered, stretching beneath the Dale’s roaming hands. He’d been in several situations where he’d watched Loranil rolling around with women in various states of undress. Anders, as well.

“If you enjoy it-“ And, Maker’s breath, did he enjoy Loranil’s lips and his tongue and the dexterity of his fingers stroking him in the morning sun- His deep red robe sliding off of his shoulders, revealing the intricacies of his vallaslin down his chest and arms- The flint of the morning sun on his piercings, his pale skin, his nipples hard with morning chill and want- “Does it matter who it’s with? What they’re shaped like? We’re all the same on the inside.”

“Not- Not exactly the same-“ Aran breathed. “Ah, Nil-“

“Did you have an awakening, though?”

“Transcendental,” Aran thrust into his grip, groaning as Loranil lapped at his nipple. “Really, really bloody brilliant.”

“As did I,” the elf sighed. “So many thoughts, so many songs drifting from the trees and the night-“

“Brilliant,” Aran repeated, sighing as Loranil shifted forward and began circling his hips down- down- tight- fuck-

“Ah, oinun , you are,” the man moaned, posting Aran deeper with every roll of his hips. “You are, you are.” His head fell back as his fingers traced up Aran’s chest, his neck, stroking his ears as he rode him.

Shivers beneath his skin. Relaxing and winding him up at once. Beads of sweat glistening down Loranil’s chest. Aran was vaguely aware of the people who’d paused to watch them, but it didn’t matter. Not like they hadn’t seen them like this only hours before. Not like he hadn’t seen them. All one, he thought, losing himself to the rhythm of Loranil’s heart and hips. All of them were one, part of the same whole, part of- “Nil-“

“Aran-“ He squeezed Aran’s earlobes, sinking all the way down onto him. “We’re going to stay here a while longer before we return to the city. Alright?”

“Fuck, yes,” Aran laughed, thrusting up into him to draw a rough shudder from the man.

“Down and to the left,” Loranil murmured, shifting his hips to match his instructions, then sighed log and loud and low. “There. Just- Ah, just there.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #cole dragon age #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #feyren tabris #original fiction #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes

[witchyangels]

Ta-daaaah! Finished another chibi commission! This one is for @johaerys-writes! From left to right, we have Aran Trevelyan, Podrick Kaylen, Tristan Trevelyan, and Wolf in the front! Once again I had fun working on this and appreciate the patience you have shown me!

One more chibi commission to go!

#chibi art #chibi commission #commissions #dog #modern AU #dragon age #dragon age ocs #commission #commission complete

[dacreateathon]

All’s Fur in Love and War

By: @midnightprelude and @oftachancer

Pairing: Dorian Pavus/m!Trevelyan

Rating: M

Tags: Character turned into a dog, puppy love, non-explicit sex, developing relationship

Word count: 5899

Dorian has been waiting for ages for Aran to return from some Blighted Ferelden marshland. He does, blessedly, but the morning after, Dorian finds his lover unexpectedly absent with a blue-eyed shepherd in his place.

#dragon age fanfiction #Dorian pavus #inquisitor trevelyan #pavelyan #da createathon works

[oftachancer]

Lilith Black drew me this amazing journey through my Inquisitor Aran’s timeline from my story Here In This Moment and I’m so, so pleased. :) To read Here In This Moment (or any of my other works), you can find me on AO3 as oftachancer. :)

#lilithblack_comics #aran trevelyan #hitm #age meme #dragon age #inquisitor #trevelyan #art #da art #dorian

[midnightprelude]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @noire-pandora and @dismalzelenka, thank you!

Another bit from a future chapter of @oftachancer's glorious longfic Here in this moment:

“You’re awake,” Dorian whispered, taking his hands. “Still here, just in a… temple of some sort? Are you- Vishante kaffas, you weren’t moving when I found you. I had thought- I feared that I had-“

“Hm,” Aran flexed his fingers, feeling warm palms and familiar callouses. “Got dizzy.” He pressed his lips together. “You found shade.”

“A sight better shelter, yes,” Dorian murmured, rubbing his wrists in steady circles. “There’s a courtyard overgrown with wild grapevines. Do you want me to pick some for you?”

“I can-“ He started to sit up and the room swam.

“No, stay here. It’s alright.” Dorian peered at him clinically, brows furrowed. “You were so- So very still.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt Dorian’s gaze on him like he was some strange thing he’d dug out of an archaeologist’s findings. Not even the first time this Dorian had stared at him that way. But it felt- “I’m not an invalid.” He forced himself up, gritting his teeth as his stomach rebelled and sweat broke out across his brow. “I’ve been through worse than heatstroke. Maker and Mother.” He exhaled carefully. “Nice- Nice work.”

“I know you’re not,” Dorian closed his eyes, shifting so that their shoulders touched. “I know. I know you’ve been through worse. Aran…” His quiet voice still rang through the hall, echoing off the marble and mosaics. “I’m glad you’re alright. That’s all.”

Tagging forward to: @lethendralis-paints, @lesetoilesfous, @pinkfadespirit, @elveny, @kunstpause, @nug-juggler, @lavellanvibes, @decimdraws, @johaeryslavellan, @merrybandofmurderers, @hezjena2023, and @whataboutbugs if you'd like to share something you're working on! :)

#dorian pavus #aran trevelyan #pavelyan #oftachancer writes #midnight writes #hitm #wip wednesday #dorian x aran

[johaerys-writes]

Playground Love, Chapter 5: Fireflies and Angel Wings

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Aran Trevelyan/Tristan Trevelyan

Summary:

Aran and Tristan are childhood friends. Best friends. Brothers, almost. They’ve been inseparable since the moment they met, one rainy autumn day underneath the maple tree in the school playground.

Best friends don’t fall in love with each other. Surely not.

The new chapter of mine and @oftachancer​’s collaborative fic, featuring her OC Aran and my OC Tristan Trevelyan, is up! Where Aran’s first kiss ever isn’t quite what he expected... 

Read more on AO3!

*******

There were floating candles on the surface of the pond, pinpoints of light reflecting the evening sky. Aran sat on the ledge of the gazebo, leaning back against its walls, feet dangling over the mirror-smooth water. Up at the house and through the gardens, music ebbed and flowed. Strings and piano whispering their plaintive melodies as people danced and mingled and chatted, celebrating the day’s achievements at the Grand Tourney and sharing their expectations for the following day. Somewhere in the house, Tristan was being gladhanded by strangers over his showing at the jumping trials that morning. Deservedly. He’d been brilliant, placing first in his bracket and second overall, all strong and prideful. The look in his eyes as he rode…

Aran rubbed the back of his neck as a shiver ran through him despite the warmth of the evening. As though he were capable of anything and so bloody pleased about that fact… It had sent things tightening all through Aran’s core, uncomfortably. Other places, too.

Then again, a breeze could set him off these days, he reminded himself, watching the candles float and bob.

Tristan’s legs, though. The way they flexed as he posted from the saddle. The straight line of his spine. The ferocity of his smile.

“Aran!”

Crap. Shit. Fuck. He tugged his knees up to his chin as Josephine leaned over the low railing from the inside of the gazebo. He flushed at her bright smile, returning it nervously. “Hey, Josie!”

“What a day!” she gasped, settling in on the bench behind him.

“Yeah.” He winced as his voice cracked halfway through the word. He cleared his throat. “Yes. It was.” She wasn’t laughing; she was a good friend. He glanced up to see her offering her cup of punch and smiled gratefully, gulping and passing it back. “Thanks.”

“The candles are pretty,” she said, leaning against the rail to watch them. “Like stars.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he grinned and listened to her giggle in reply.

“We’re alike, I think. Don’t you?”

He thought about her penchant for ruffles and things that glittered. How they could set each other off laughing with absolutely no reason. The time the summer before when he’d found her crying under the eaves. “Yeah, ish.”

“Would you…” she began, sounding suddenly breathless, “would you want to go out?”

“We are out,” he wrinkled his nose, confused.

“Oh, yes, I suppose we are.” She rested her chin on her hands, “I meant… Would you like to go out, sometime, with me?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth; they still felt too strange, too smooth, without his braces. “I don’t know; it’s supposed to rain the next few days. Where did you want to go?”

“Ottilie said you know your way through the maze.”

He chewed his lip, “Yeah.”

“Maybe you can take me through it?”

Aran nodded. “Sure.”

She flushed, happy in an instant. “Great.” She touched his shoulder. “Let’s go now.”

“ Now- now?” he asked, very aware of the still uncomfortable level of alert inside his hand-me-down slacks. They were far too long for him, benefit of having been Sam’s before they were his. His mother had pinned the legs up and every movement set the safety pins rubbing against his ankles. The waist was too wide, too, held up by suspenders beneath his jacket. Maybe she wouldn’t notice? No, it was Josie. She noticed everything. “It’s… the candles, though.”

“They’ll still be here.”

He hugged his knees, swallowing nervously. “Uh… no, thank you.”

“Please! It’s an adventure! Don’t you like adventures?”

“Sure.”

“So let’s go!”

“To the maze?”

“Yes. I’ve heard it’s a-maze-ing.”

Aran snorted, grinning, and the pun was almost enough to convince him. But the last time he’d been in there only a few days before, he’d become transfixed with Tristan’s back. With his sweat, like wings, dampening his shirt in the summer heat. He bit his tongue hard as his body tightened further. Stop, stop, stop. No, he was not getting up any time soon. “I’d rather just sit here.”

“May I join you then?”

Aran stared at her. “Uh…” But she was already climbing carefully over the railing to sit beside him on the gazebo’s ledge. They were of a height. Too close. He hugged his knees tighter. “Sure,” he answered belatedly. Not much choice now. “How’s the party?”

“Oh, the music is so wonderful!” she enthused. “And there are those little shrimp cakes again this year. Lady Trevelyan really knows how to throw a ball.”

“Aye.” His voice dropped inexplicably into his toes on the syllable. And he saw her lips twitch. “No laughing. Gazebo rules.”

“It’s sweet. You’re growing up.”

“Piss off.”

She smiled, turning to him. “We’re all growing up. It’s good. It’s normal.”

“Right. You get prettier and my throat develops a mind of its own.” His throat and the rest of him as well. It was like trying to govern a sea of cats, just moving through his day.

“You think I’m pretty?” she asked softly.

He frowned. “What? Of course you are.” It was dark, but he was pretty sure her cheeks were darkening. “Not that that’s all that matters,” he added hastily, remembering Winnie’s angst over their father calling her just that word. Demeaning, she’d snarled, fingers snapping. “You’re smart. Really clever. Sorry.”

She leaned towards him and he could smell the soap on her skin and the perfume waves that she’d walked through in the house that had attached themselves to her. Then her lips were on his and Aran froze, blinking. What? Why? Was all he could think for a long series of ineffable seconds. He’d never felt anyone’s lips on his own, except his mother’s and his sisters’, and this… wasn’t that different. Soft and pleasant.

He squinted when she ducked back. Was he supposed to do something? Say something? “Uh… thank you?”

She beamed at him. “I really like you.”

“Good?” He itched the side of his nose. “I like you, too.” Maybe she wanted to be his sister, too. She could have just asked.

“Maybe, if we go to the maze, you can show me how much.”

Did he not already? “Jo-“

Then her lips were on his again and he sat there, hugging his knees, trying to figure out why this was happening. She made a kind of sighing sound and her fingers touched his hair lightly. That was nice. He liked when she played with his hair. And when Tilly did. And Miranda and Winnie. It was soothing. Not like Tristan’s fingers when they barely brushed his ear and sent heat shuttling down his spine. He frowned, and she drew back.

“You’re right,” she breathed. Was he? he wondered. Right about what? “Let me know when you want to go to the maze? I’ll be in the ballroom, okay?” she whispered and then fled up into the gazebo and across the lawn. He watched her go, her skirt flapping in the evening breeze.

What the actual Void?

Read more on AO3!

#aran trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #aran x tristan #modern au #friends to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #dragon age fanfiction #playground love #oftachancer writes #johaerys writes

[coronerandundersheriff]

New guys in town!!!

(OC'S by @johaeryslavellan and @oftachancer )

#the new guy #modern au #dragon age inquisition #the sims 4 #johaeryslavellan #oftachancer #Tristan Trevelyan #Aran Trevelyan

[le-mooon]

"Dorian is the sexiest death of my life"

Commission for dear @oftachancer ❤️❤️ Thank you so much for order 😭😭

#fan art #artwork #artist #art #artists on tumblr #my art 2020 #lemon #dragon age 3 #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquistor #aran #inquisitor trevelyan #pavellan #dorian pavus x inquisitor #da dorian #doriano #dorian pavus #tarot cards da #tarot cards

[shannaraisles]

Prompt - Saying sorry when you don’t want to - @lyriumyue

Diplomacy

"- little savage should have been drowned at birth -"

"Marquis!"

Josephine frowned sternly at the irate Orlesian nobleman standing in her office. He had a neat little bite mark on his hand, courtesy of Aran Lavellan. Not that it seemed to have been unwarranted, but things were still a little delicate following the transfer of power in Orlais. Thankfully, the Inquisitor understood this, but that didn't mean she was exactly happy about what she now had to do.

Indeed, Enaste was glaring at the human noble as though she'd like to do more than just bite him. And, if she was honest, Josephine would quite like to see the elven woman go to town on the offensive aristocrat. She was very fond of Aran Lavellan, and though she hadn't witnessed the altercation, she was more inclined to believe the boy's version of events than the man he had bitten. Indeed, Lady Trevelyan had backed up Aran's tale with cheerful goodwill. Still, sometimes pride had to take a back seat to enable stability. She was very lucky that Enaste knew this without needing to be told, though she was sure there would be consequences for the noble who had dared to lay hands on the Inquisitor's son. In fact, she was rather determined to make sure they happened herself.

"Marquis Ponmarde," Enaste said, her tone crackling with the effort of keeping her temper. "I ... apologize ... for my son's behavior. It will not happen again, I am sure."

Josephine brushed her quill in front of her lips, hoping to disguise the hint toward a smile she could feel rising. There was more threat than apology in those words, but only someone who was familiar with Enaste would recognize that. Evidently both Cullen and Leliana recognized it, too, given the way the commander had to turn his face away briefly, and the spymaster openly smiled.

"You should cage that little monster," the marquis began.

"My son was reacting to a situation he deemed to be of personal danger to himself," Enaste pointed out. "Need I remind you that you laid hands on him first?"

The marquis's jaw clenched, but by now, tales of the Inquisitor had spread far and wide. He knew not to expect her to be more than fair in such a case, and if he pushed his luck, he could expect less than fair treatment.

"I demand an apology -"

"You have received an apology," Josephine said sharply. "And now, since you clearly will not wish to remain among savages and monsters, you will be leaving us. Commander?"

Cullen nodded, his expression straight once again. "An escort has been readied to see the marquis safely to the Orlesian lowlands," he agreed. "I understand the carts are being loaded as we speak."

The marquis' mouth worked silently, outrage pouring from him.

"Yes, marquis?" Enaste asked coldly. "Was there anything further you wished to add? No? Then kindly see yourself out."

Without allowing the man an opportunity to express himself any further, Leliana and Cullen fell in behind him, ushering him out of the office and out to the courtyard. In Josephine's office, Enaste was seething.

"I should have set his smallclothes on fire," she growled. "How dare he - how dare he touch my son? Call him a savage and a monster, and -" She let out a frustrated sound. "And having to apologize to that ineffectual streak of pizzle! Was that really necessary?"

Josephine touched her hand gently. "They are just words, Enaste," she reminded her dear friend. "Words that only he heard. The world will see him expelled from Skyhold, and though he should shout his version of events to the sky, no one will believe he did not transgress. A spoken apology in private means nothing, and it got him out of here faster."

Enaste let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the desk. "How do you do it, Josie?" she asked in amazement. "You listen to these idiots and their complaints all day every day, and you never lose your temper. And I know there's a temper in there, I saw what you did to Sera for the bucket trick."

Josephine chuckled gently. "It is diplomacy," she said simply. "I have a talent for it."

Enaste's face relaxed into a warmer smile. "You have much more than that, Josephine."

The lady ambassador's smile turned shy, but shone with pleasure with this praise, allowing herself the daring luxury of holding Enaste's hand a moment longer than she might otherwise have done.

"I am very pleased you see it, Enaste."

#shannara's month of mayhem #enaste lavellan #josephine montilyet #random noble #cullen rutherford #leliana #skyhold #diplomacy #politics #pre-relationship #mild fluff

[peippodraws]

1 and 2 from the Inquisitor as a companion meme for Aran :D

Under cut!

1 - If not for the Conclave, what would drive your character to join the Inquisition?

Aran lost their only remaining friend to the Conclave explosion, and afterwards didn't really have anything else going for them other than the burning desire to find whoever was responsible for her death and kick their teeth in. They'd been extremely reluctant to join the mage delegation in the first place, and once most of the surviving magi opt to indenture themselves to a Tevinter magister instead of trying to figure out what happened at the Conclave, Aran just nopes out and starts searching for another way - quickly coming to the conclusion that the Inquisition is looking for the same answers as they are. When it becomes apparent that the Inquisition might be more than simply an upstart organization that'll shrivel within weeks due to chantry opposition, Aran seeks them out themself. Tbh at first they're mostly just driven by their desire for vengeange, but gradully they begin to see the organization as a possibility of bringing on a more lasting peace to Thedas.

2 - How would they meet the Inquisitor?

Even if the top brass of the chantry has openly discredited the Inquisition it's still an organization stemming from it, making Aran initially slightly wary of them. Chances are that they'd would spend some time scoping out their operations before deciding to intercept the Inquisitor on the road – giving them the possibility of backing out and running in case the Inquisition would rather opt to execute Aran on sight as an apostate instead of hearing them out.

#wow it's been long but yeah still chipping away at these #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #aran trevelyan #otherwolves

[trisaran-adventures]

Pairing: Tristan/Aran, Tristan/Podrick, Aran/Cole

Rating: E

Summary: 

Youth is a tangle. 

For Aran and Tristan, this is the beginning of their first year at Ostwick University, the first time they’ve both been truly on their own, and the struggle of trying to understand themselves and each other. A decade of fast friendship, first loves, heartbreaks, and separations have led them to this place: the precipice of adulthood and an uncertain world ahead.

The new chapter of Never Let Me Go, a Dragon Age inspired Modern AU with lots of original elements and characters, written collaboratively by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan is up! :)

Chapter 23: Hollow

[Aran, Firstfall 15:39]

Aran stared at the blinking cursor on the screen, idly rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d been nursing his beer for the better part of an hour, slowly chipping away at his thesis on runic etymological constructs as they applied to the development of spoken language. Ogham versus Orzammar. Trade languages.

He’d thought a change of location would help him focus. His room at the Alliance dorms was so full of distractions. Sera spinning out ideas for her next podcast. His stacks of borrowed books that he really needed to read and return at some point. The console beckoning him with the newest DLC for Middle Ages: A Time of Conquest. He could have gone to the library, but he knew he’d get dragged into work, even if it was just troubleshooting for the new work-study kids who’d been hired on at the beginning of the term.

No. He needed simple. He needed relative isolation. He needed a drink. Not to drink it, necessarily, just to have it. Like a talisman. He touched the side of the glass, watching the amber liquid ripple. 

Anyway, he liked the Clinic, especially on weekdays in the afternoons when there were only regulars and chess players and muted music on the jukebox. And if he was in the mood, every once in a while, a rough-hewn blond man with magic hands who could make his muscles melt. Not at the moment, though. At the moment, he just wanted to finish the bloody thesis. Nearly there. It was coming together. Slowly but surely. 

He hacked away at it for another hour and finally finished his first pint, ordering a second just to keep his place at the table. He stretched his arms, his back, and settled into the booth, idly tracing the ink rings on his palm. Not even a pang now. He could walk his pinky over each ridge and remember. Snow angels in open fields and diving into waves and sneaking liquor into the maze and- and it was ridiculous: this self-imposed exile. So many years of good couldn’t be wiped away for one event. One event that, in hindsight, shouldn’t have been remotely surprising. He just needed to sack up and seek Tristan out. It wouldn’t be that hard. There were less than ten fencing clubs in the city. Go find him, bring him a coffee, talk it out, and they could get back… get back to how things were supposed to be. Friends. Friends as old and indestructible as ancient trees. Yes, Tristan was with Pod. What else was new? And since he hadn’t had word from Tilly that he’d cracked into pieces again… Well, that was good. That was proof they’d worked something out. Something that was good for both of them or he was sure Tilly would have mentioned. Tristan probably didn’t even think about that week in Wycome anymore. Ages past. Just find him, clear the air, and move on. Make it clear to Pod that he wasn’t going to make any false moves. Easy as lamb pie. 

Later. After the thesis was finished. Before the new DLC. Just in case it didn’t work out and he needed to beat a bandit in the head with a two-handed sword. 

Another hour. A plate of chips and curry sauce. He was still chipping away on the right way to phrase his thesis’ conclusion when he heard the voice. Arched and low. Precise like needlework. Aran didn’t need to look, but he did- just to be sure. 

Tristan. 

Oh, Maker, Tristan- Hair pulled back from his high, glorious cheekbones. That milk-white neck he’d once licked and kissed with abandon. 

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#dragon age #modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #podrick kaylen #feyren tabris #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes

[trisaran-adventures]

Fandom: Dragon Age 

Pairing: Tristan/Aran, Tristan/Podrick, Aran/Cole

Rating: E

Summary: 

Youth is a tangle. 

For Aran and Tristan, this is the beginning of their first year at Ostwick University, the first time they’ve both been truly on their own, and the struggle of trying to understand themselves and each other. A decade of fast friendship, first loves, heartbreaks, and separations have led them to this place: the precipice of adulthood and an uncertain world ahead.

The new chapter of Never Let Me Go, written collaboratively by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan is up! Click the link below for full list of tags :)

Chapter 22: Whiskey and Cigarettes

[Aran]

[Solace 15:39]

Aran woke to the sound of Sera talking. Not unusual. For most of the summer, she’d been recording at odd hours, fitting the sessions in between whatever part-time hours she could muster from the city’s various cafes and bars. 

He yawned, fumbling for his glasses on the stack of books beside his bed and shoved them on as she sighed.

“You don't have to do that.”

Aran padded to the loo, listening to the news on his phone as he brushed his teeth and shaved. By the time he was out, Sera was hanging up. 

“Well, Irving and Cecil split.”

He quirked a brow. “Alright.”

“You remember them.”

“No.” Aran poured a heaping spoonful of instant coffee into a mug and boiled it to death, dropping to his bed with a sigh as he breathed the bitter steam. 

“You do, too.”

He yawned into his mug. “Cecil with the pastel pants and the paisley shirts.”

“Yes.”

He shuddered. “Why am I thinking about him?”

“Because they broke up.”

“Why do we care?” Aran asked, befuddled. “Weren’t they kind of… massively judgemental pricks? Since when are we close with them?”

“We aren’t. Ursula is.”

Oh, Maker. “No. No , Sera. No more emotional errands for Ursula.”

“She’ll be back in a week. She just wants us to look after him.”

“You do it then. She hates me. And I hate those pants.” He squinted, “Maybe Irving did too.”

Sera snorted. “It sounds to me like Irving saw nothing wrong with the pants. And someone else developed a fondness for them, much to his surprise. Which is why we’re going to keep him company.”

Aran glanced up from his mug, “For fuck’s sake, Sera.”

She winked. “It’ll be fun.”

It was not fun. 

Aran sat in the theater grinding his teeth while Irving sniffled through a car chase and all out wept when the hero’s friend turned out to be part of the Qun. Then he stared daggers at Sera as they sat in the pub watching Irving moisten the chips with his tears and talk about how much he missed the-

“-cheating dirtbag and you should just forget about him already,” she was telling him. It was Sera being kind, but it wasn’t helping. 

In all truth, he felt bad for the man. Forgetting was easier said than done, he well knew, as did Sera, but they’d both decided it was better to move forward than look backwards. Watching Irving gazing longingly into his past was uncomfortable for them both. Void, it was probably just as uncomfortable for Irving.

Aran scooted out of the booth, “I’ll pick up the next round.”

By the third round and the second smoke break, Aran decided that Irving wasn’t a bad sort at all. He was actually kind of sweet, with his brown eyes all puffed from crying, dark complected and exhausted. Especially when he swayed with the drink, loose, his thin lips curving in a weary smile.

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#dragon age #modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #cole dragon age #podrick kaylen #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes #never let me go #everything will be fine

[trisaran-adventures]

Fandom: Dragon Age 

Pairing: Dorian/Aran/Tristan 

Rating: E 

Summary:

Having recently moved from Minrathous to Ostwick to advance his academic career, Dorian finds himself with too much work and, sadly, very little play. Life in a new city can be terribly lonely, and it's not long before he starts feeling... restless.

Tristan and Aran, on the other hand, are university juniors on an exciting journey of self-discovery, and a newly-found interest in vlogging and live-streams. The paths of the three men cross in a way that none of them expects- and everything changes. 

A Kinktober prompt that took on a life of its own, this fic is collaboratively written by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan ! Check the Ao3 link below for full list of tags :)

Chapter 11: Masks

“When did you even have time to make this?”

Aran rested his cheek on Tristan’s shoulder, enjoying the soft puff of the sweater he’d been knitting during the classes he TA’d. Blue and red, with little bursts of yellow and orange throughout. “Keeps my hands busy when there’s pointless chatter. It looks good on you.” Everything did. The smell of their cocoa was rich and dark and made him want to curl up in front of a fireplace, but they were walking through campus instead, hauling the AV cart back from his last class before the holiday. At least Tristan had been able to come and meet him. Precious moments after weeks of barely seeing him outside of their scrambled video sessions and study dates. “I missed you. You’re so big and strong and you smell good. Tell me you love me.” 

Tristan paused midstep. He wrapped his arms around Aran's waist and lifted him off of the ground, pressing a smacking kiss to his lips. "I love you, damn it," he growled softly, in his ridiculous film noir accent. "More than anything in this world, and I've seen all of it."

Aran laughed outright, grinning down at him. “My hero . All the world? And still you love little old me?” He twined his arms around Tristan’s shoulders. “How am I meant to repay such a grand kindness, eh?”

"Easy." Tristan chuckled, setting Aran on his feet and bending forward in a dramatic swoop, holding Aran by the waist. "Kiss me, gorgeous. Kiss me until I can't breathe."

“Music to my feckin’ ears.” Aran kissed him hard, tugging his cap low over his ears in the effort, until they were panting and laughing in the middle of the walk. “Let me get this much back to the AV Lab and we can fetch the shite curry before your sister comes in and you make us eat all your fancy nonsense.”

"You love my fancy nonsense. There's no shame in admitting it," Tristan grinned, straightening. He gave him a last, deep kiss, then went back to pushing the cart leisurely forward. "So, are you officially on holiday now? Any more last minute classes I need to know of?"

“No!” Aran held up his phone and turned it off. “And if they try to call me back for anything, I’m saying this fell in a lake. I’m all yours for fifteen glorious days. So. Catch me up on everything that I’ve missed.”

"I missed you. It was terrible. I don't know how I managed." Tristan blinked at him with puppy eyes and a pitiful, adorable pout. "I demand all of your attention for the next fifteen days, and that's non negotiable."

“What about your Tuesday date nights? Those on hiatus?” He was too bloody cute; that was ecstasy. Every moment of every day; when the breeze blew his hair in his face or he burned his tongue on tea when it was too hot or he was cursing and digging through their drawers looking for just the right blue shirt as though everything didn’t look amazing on him. 

"I asked Dorian to reschedule our date for Thursday, when you're meeting with Miranda. And next week... we'll see. I might ask him to reschedule again. Unless..." He sneaked a glance at Aran out of the corner of his eye as he sipped on his hot chocolate. 

"Unless?"

Tristan swallowed, licked his lips and shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking perhaps you might want to meet him. Now that you have time."

“Ooh. Meet him.” Aran waggled his brows. “Serious business?”

Tristan smiled, a spot of colour blossoming on his cheeks. "I like him," he said softly. "I like him a lot. And now that Vivienne's coming back and he won't be my advisor anymore, we could start dating more openly. I think... he'd like that, too." He reached for Aran's hand as they walked, squeezing his fingers lightly. "He's been asking about you. He hasn't asked to meet you yet - he's too shy to do that- but I believe he's curious about you. He's watched all our videos. He won't tell me his username, though," he grinned. "Perhaps, with you there, we'll be able to pry it out of him one way or another."

Shy . Shy wasn’t something he paired with the other parts of Tristan’s stories about his dark, handsome temporary advisor. “If he’s b1gc0ck, I can’t blame him. Some people are so boring on the internet.” Aran handed his ticket into the AV desk and waited for them to stamp it as a girl with bright blue hair emerged to retrieve the cart. “What did he ask about me?”

"Just a couple things. Where we grew up, what we used to do as kids, how we got together... When I told him you work at the university too, he asked me about your field of study. He seemed quite fascinated with your dissertation topic. Though I'm not sure I explained it very well," he said, his eyes narrowing in a perplexed little frown. "It does have to do with those Neromenian tablets that were discovered a couple years ago, right?"

“Aw, you do love me.” Aran leaned up on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Look at you, listening when I drone. Warms the cockles of my heart.”

"What, you thought I was sleeping during that half hour impromptu lecture on Neromenian runes while we were in bed last night? You wound me." Tristan laughed as he wrapped one arm around Aran's shoulders and leaned down to kiss his head.

“I ought to wound you more for staying awake.” Aran tucked himself against Tristan’s side, squinting up at the high gabled roofs of the university buildings. “What’s he doing for Satinalia?”

"I'm not sure. I... don't think he's doing anything, actually. He hasn't got any family in the Marches, and his friends... Well, from what I've gathered, it's the kind you go out for drinks with after work, not those you'd spend holidays with. He'd never admit it, but I think he's a little lonely. Still hasn't really built a life here. You know?" Tristan let out a soft sigh, tightening his hold on Aran ever so slightly. "I just want him to be happy here. With me."

“With you,” Aran echoed thoughtfully. “Alright. Let’s have him over then. Home-cooked meal and the like.” Aran turned them towards the Political Sciences building. “Aye? No time like the present.”

Tristan slowed down just a little. "Are-are you sure? You really want to invite him over for Satinalia dinner?"

“You like him. He’s lonely. It’s a holiday. Why not?” Aran tilted his head back to peer up at him. “Unless you don’t want me to meet him yet?”

"Of course, I do. I suggested it, didn't I? I just thought... it might be too big of a step for you. Satinalia dinner is usually just us two, or Tilly and the lads. We've never really had any of our... you know," he lifted his brows, "coming over for such an occasion."

“Well, no, but our ‘you know’ don’t usually last longer than a week, if that. This has been… nearly three months now?” 

"Is three months the preferred time frame after which one gets to meet the parents? Or the boyfriend, in this case?" Tristan grinned. He fished his phone out of his pocket and typed a quick text. The answer came back almost immediately. "He's almost done with work, he says. We could go grab some coffee, warm him up a bit before the grand invitation," he smirked. 

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#dragon age #dorian pavus #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes

[trisaran-adventures]

Fandom: Dragon Age 

Pairing: Tristan/Aran, Tristan/Podrick, Aran/Cole

Rating: E

Summary:

Youth is a tangle. 

For Aran and Tristan, this is the beginning of their first year at Ostwick University, the first time they’ve both been truly on their own, and the struggle of trying to understand themselves and each other. A decade of fast friendship, first loves, heartbreaks, and separations have led them to this place: the precipice of adulthood and an uncertain world ahead. 

The next chapter of Never Let Me Go, written collaboratively by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan is up! :)

Chapter 19: Raindrops on the Sea

Tristan

[Drakonis, 15:39]

 

"The applications for the championship open next week."

Tristan sipped on his coffee, shooting a sideways glance at Cassandra who was walking beside him, her own paper cup of coffee in hand. "Right," he said. He let his gaze sweep over the park, studiously avoiding hers.

"Are you going to apply?"

"Don't think so."

Cassandra let out an exasperated huff. "Why not? If anyone should apply to compete, it is you."

"Why is that?" 

"You have the most experience in competing than anyone else there! Who would you expect to go? Jim?"

"Jim's good." Cassandra rolled her eyes and Tristan laughed. "What? He is! Besides, Rainier said he was thinking about it."

"Rainier? He can’t compete. He's too old."

"He's only a few years older than you, Cass. I think he would do really well. Why aren't you competing, by the way?"

"Me? You must be joking." Tristan gave her a curious look and she huffed. "I'm too old for that sort of thing. Competitions are for kids like you."

"I am not a kid," Tristan grumbled.

"I disagree. Anyway, I think you should consider it. The club hasn't sent anyone worthwhile in ages."

Tristan chuckled under his breath. "I'm glad you consider me worthwhile."

"Oh, you're more than that." Cassandra tapped him lightly on the back. "But don't let it go to your head. You do have that tendency. Being over confident is just as bad as not being confident at all."

"I'll… keep that in mind," Tristan said, frowning at her. His phone buzzed in his pocket. A smile blossomed on his face when he pulled it out and glanced at it. "My sister's on her way. She should be here any minute-"

"Tris!"

Tristan turned around, just as Tilly flung herself into his arms. He pulled her in a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. "There you are," he said softly, leaning back to look at her grinning face.

"Here I am!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her feet. She stepped back, peering at Cassandra. "Hello! You must be Cassandra."

"I am. And you are-"

"Ottilie. But you can call me Tilly." She held out her hand, and Cassandra shook it firmly. 

"I've heard a lot about you from your brother."

Tilly arched a brow at him. "Good things, I hope?"

"Only the best," Cassandra said. "He is very fond of you."

"Oh, he'd better." She glanced at Tristan's cup, leaning forward to sniff it. "And that'd better be your first coffee of the day. The second, at most."

Tristan bit his lip. "Of course," he mumbled, looking away. He wasn't about to tell her that he was well into his third cup. "So. Where are we all going? Shall we grab some lunch?"

"Oh, I'm stuffed," Tilly said. "I just had two pieces of an excellent chocolate gateau. But we could have a walk? It's a brilliant day."

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here," Cassandra replied. "My lunch break is almost over, and duty calls."

Tilly's brows shot up with interest. "Do you work nearby?"

"My office is at the police headquarters nearby." She clapped Tristan jovially on the shoulder. "It was good to see you today, Tristan. Think about the applications."

"I will," Tristan said halfheartedly.

Cassandra straightened up, giving Tilly a small bow with her head. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Tilly."

"Likewise!"

Tilly and Tristan watched Cassandra's back as she walked away in wide, purposeful strides. Tilly linked her arm with Tristan's after Cassandra had disappeared around a corner, pulling him forward along the path. "Your friend is lovely," she said, giving him a warm smile.

"She is," Tristan agreed. "I've been looking forward to introducing her to you."

"What applications was she talking about?"

Tristan let out a small sigh, taking a sip of coffee. "She wants me to take part in the Free Marches Amateur Fencing Championship."

Tilly's eyes widened, and she gave his arm a little squeeze. "You should! Oh, Tris, you should. You always did so well in those things."

"I don't know, Till. Preparation for championships takes time. And I'll have to go to Kirkwall for it."

"So? I'm sure you'll find time if you plan ahead. And it will be a good excuse to have some fun in Kirkwall while you're there, too."

"I'll think about it."

Tilly grinned at him. "You do that."

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#tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #dragon age #modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes #never let me go #everything will be fine

[trisaran-adventures]

Fandom: Dragon Age 

Pairing: Tristan/Aran, Tristan/Podrick 

Rating: E 

Summary:

Youth is a tangle. 

For Aran and Tristan, this is the beginning of their first year at Ostwick University, the first time they’ve both been truly on their own, and the struggle of trying to understand themselves and each other. A decade of fast friendship, first loves, heartbreaks, and separations have led them to this place: the precipice of adulthood and an uncertain world ahead. 

The new chapter of Never Let Me Go, written collaboratively by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan is up! Click the link below to read :)

Chapter 16: Paper Cuts

[Aran]

[Haring 15:38]

“You should come, though.”

Cole shook his head. He’d cut his hair, but it was still longer than Aran’s. Silk and limp, tangling with his lashes. Invisible lashes, except when they touched his cheeks. Like snow falling on a birch bough, melting. “I have work to do.”

“Classes aren’t for another week. Come out with us. Loranil’s band is playing. We’ll go out after. Just a few people somewhere quiet.” 

The way he smiled when he was going to say no. The way his fingers curled around a pencil. It wasn’t a burn. It wasn’t even an ember. But it was warm. Cole’s own particular strange, otherworldly, non-fire warmth. It was like being surrounded by a blanket, just being in the same room. He could shake off the feeling if he concentrated, he’d learned, but why would he? 

“What are you working on?”

“Predicting raindrops.”

Aran bit his lip, setting his phone aside. “That’s really important?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

Cole glanced at him. “Yes.”

“You like Loranil. You’re the one who said we should go see him last weekend.”

“I like him for you.”

Aran flushed. “No. What?” He frowned, “What do you mean, you like him for me?”

“You know what I mean.”

And he did know. With a sudden, irritating surety. Like a thorn in his thumb. “I want to hear you say it.”

Cole eyed him for a long moment then went back to his paper.

“So that thing where we went out last week- that was you… what? Matchmaking for me?”

“He’s kind.” Cole added another line to his proof. “The last one I saw you with- the man with the earring. I didn’t like him. Loranil is better.”

The words were paper cuts in his already thin skin. Frustration was a lemon on top of that. Stinging. “Just so I am certain I understand you: you don’t want to touch me, but you get to tell me not to stone Glenn? That’s what you’re saying? You’d prefer a shuffle in the lineup? Who made you the manager of who I fuck?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth because you’re trying to fight with me. I don’t want to.”

Maybe he was. Maybe weeks of Cole’s steady unflappable comfort were starting to wear on him. Maybe he wanted him to care, to push, to- “Well, that’s too-“

Cole sighed, “You can do whatever you want, Aran.”

“Can I?” He placed a hand over Cole’s notebook. “Can I, really?” 

The way his gaze shifted and slid. Thin ice over a deep pool. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know what you told me.” Aran crossed his legs on the couch, scooting closer. “I don’t know why you let me hang around with you.”

“You get into trouble on your own.”

“I like trouble. So do you.”

Cole‘s laugh was like a summer mist. “The wrong kind of trouble.”

“Are you trying to protect me? Or mind me like a child?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t pretend to read minds.”

That sigh again. A breeze through leaves. “I like you.”

Words like bells. True and quiet and pure. “I like you, too.”

“Yes. But.” He bent his head, bangs falling to cover his eyes like a mask. A sheer, corn silk mask. “You are who you are. And I am who I am.”

“What the Void does that even mean?”

“...It means that you should go see Loranil.”

“I should go fuck Loranil, you mean.”

“If that’s what you need.” He could feel the pressure of Cole’s blanket calm, squeezing tight around his back. Cooling the heat that flamed at his neck. “If that’s what you want.” He paused, “And it is.”

Maker, sometimes he was infuriating. “I want you , you massive numpty.”

“I know you do.” He tapped the back of Aran’s hand. “You’re very easy to read.”

Aran turned his hand to watch Cole’s fingers tap in his palm instead. The tree rings tattooed there looked like ripples beneath his touch. Echoes. He didn’t feel like an echo. Not here, not now. He felt… too much, yes. Still. Too much of everything. Too present. Too hot. Too tight. “Am I?” 

“You’re looking for a balm for your burn. You ache. You wish. You want.”

“I know you’re ace,” he whispered. “I don’t expect- I don’t expect you to change.” He shut his eyes as Cole traced the outer ring thoughtfully. It felt good. His fingers felt good. His arms felt good when they folded around him. That was enough. That could be enough. “I don’t need sex.” The sting returned when Cole laughed. “What? You think I can’t live without sex?”

“I absolutely believe that you can.” 

“It’s been largely unsuccessful for me, to be honest. I could stand to do without.”

“The sort you’ve been doing- yes. Less. But all of it? I don’t think that you want to. Or that you should. Or that you should want to. It’s not who you are. I like who you are.”

“I like who you are.”

“Good.” Cole gently picked up his hand and placed it on the back of the sofa. “So go watch the band with your friends.”

He stared at his own lonely hand. “You’re my friend, too.”

“Aran.” 

“Cole,” he intoned in reply. “I don’t want to sleep with Loranil.”

The look he gave him. As though he’d just said something so ridiculously, patently untrue- not angry. Almost pitying. “Yes, you do.”

Aran gritted his teeth. “Sometimes you're a smug sonofabitch, you know that? I don’t want to sleep with him more than I want to be with you. Is that appropriately accurate, Professor?”

His lips twitched gently. “No one said it had to be either-or. I’ll be here.”

“Oh, aye. Predicting raindrops.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s just fine by you, is it.”

“You’re complicating this.” He shrugged. “You want him. He wants you.”

Aran pushed from the sofa, scrubbing his hands through his hair, “So the fuck what? I’m not an animal. I can want someone without leaping on them heedlessly.” He thought he’d gotten past this. These sudden flashes of Tristan’s face in the cool evening light. ‘I’ve been wanting to fuck you,’ he’d growled against his ear, pounding into him. The feel of being pummeled by his wanting, torn. The elfroot tingling inside of him as it healed him moment by moment, taking the sting and resolving it into pleasure. Then Tristan had taken that want directly to Podrick. Directly. Not me. Never me. A placeholder for what he’d really wanted. “I can control my impulses.”

“I know you can.”

“No, you don’t. You think I’m going to cheat on you if we make this into- into what it bloody is.”

“What is it?”

“ This .” Aran spread his hands, “Us.” 

Cole carefully closed his notebook and set it aside. “If?”

“What?”

“You can’t make a stone a stone.”

“Oh, Andraste preserve me, the riddles are back.”

“Rivers run. Snow melts.”

“Speak Common, you monster.”

“I’m trying to.” Cole pressed his lips together, thinking. “We are what we are.”

Aran dropped, cross-legged, to the floor and stared at him. “You’re giving me a migraine.”

Cole had the audacity to chuckle. A storm as seen through a wind chime. “I don’t see why. It’s simple.”

“I want to be with you .”

“You are .”

Aran looked at him. Really looked. 

Calm. Alert. Amused. Mildly concerned. 

“I’m with you?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated, “I don’t mean physically in this space at this moment. I mean- I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” Cole leaned forward slightly, “This is that. This is what there is. This is us being us.”

And, merciful gods, Aran felt his heart flutter awake even as his stomach sank. “Since bloody when? Since when ?” he asked again, feeling panic rise- and just as quickly subside as he knelt in the warm pool of Cole’s gaze. “Cole- I didn’t know. I mean- I felt like- I felt something shift, but we didn’t talk about it- I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have- I swear, I wouldn’t have gone with- if-“ He exhaled, shaking. “How are you not upset about this?”

“About what?”

“About Glenn ! About- Maker , how long- how many-“ Oh, he was going to be sick.

Cole held out a hand, “Come here, please?”

Aran crawled across the floor and dropped his head into Cole’s palm. Smooth fingers traced the back of his neck. Cole folded over top of him, lanky and light, pillowing his cheek on Aran’s spine. 

“I like who you are,” he said quietly. “Your joy is my joy.”

“That’s not true, though. You literally just said you didn’t like Glenn-“

“I don't dislike him. I don’t care about him. I care about you.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“When you’re with the bookseller, or the Orlesian language major- Afterwards, you carry that time with you like feathers in your palm. This one is a stone in your pocket. He weighs. That is what I don’t like.”

“So you think Loranil would be better,” Aran whispered, trying to keep up.

“He’s kind. He doesn’t want anything from you. He’s safe. He leaves people feeling like fennec fur. I’d like that for you.”

Aran turned his head to press his ear to Cole’s chest. Listened to his steady heartbeat. “That isn’t something that people do.”

“Make each other happy?” Cole asked quietly. “Not enough. I agree.”

“You can’t be with someone and then be out- out- fucking around.”

“Who made that rule? We decide for ourselves what we want. It’s only to do with us. It’s of no concern to anyone else.”

Decide for themselves? “You’re bloody strange.”

“You’re not the first to think so. But you are among the first to like me for it.” Cole sat up, combing his fingers through Aran’s hair. “You like research. I’ll give you some books and links. You can talk to your therapist about it. And about us.”

Like he was reading his mind. Calming him. Soothing him. Giving him resources for the problem. Not problem. Confoundment. And yet. And yet. Cole felt true. Untroubled. I care about you. “...I want to live with the ‘us’ thing for a while.” 

“Okay.”

“You… this… How does it work?”

“I don’t know exactly how.” Cole sighed. “This is new to me. I didn’t think I could feel the way I feel about you. I didn’t want to. It’s… specific. Unique.” The words warmed him, sloshing sun-touched water. “But here we are.”

Here we are . “A stone is a stone?” he asked quietly.

“And a river runs.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“No,” he said softly. “I really didn’t. I tried not to. I’m glad that I do.”

Aran rested his hand over Cole’s on his neck. “Can you come back down here so I can listen to your heart again?” 

Cole folded back over him like a swan’s wing. “Like this?”

“Yes.” He let his eyes fall closed to listen. To feel. “Like this. Cole?”

“Hm?”

“The thing you feel, that you didn’t want to, that you’re glad you do- can you tell me about it?”

 

Read the rest on AO3!

#dragon age #modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes

[trisaran-adventures]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Tristan/Aran, Tristan/Podrick, Aran/Cole

Rating: E

Summary: 

Youth is a tangle. 

For Aran and Tristan, this is the beginning of their first year at Ostwick University, the first time they’ve both been truly on their own, and the struggle of trying to understand themselves and each other. A decade of fast friendship, first loves, heartbreaks, and separations have led them to this place: the precipice of adulthood and an uncertain world ahead.

The new chapter of Never Let Me Go, written collaboratively by @oftachancer and @johaeryslavellan is up! :)

Chapter 21: Sun and Sea

Tristan

The car engine hummed softly when Tristan turned it on. He settled in his seat, glancing at Cassandra in the passenger seat. “Ready?”

She nodded absently, eyes scanning the map in her hands. “How far away is that place?”

“Not too far. We’ll pick up Fey from his flat first, and then Tilly from the station. And put that thing away,” he said, shooting a sideways glance at the map in her hands as he drove forward. “I know the way. Who even uses paper maps anymore, anyway?”

Cassandra frowned at him for a quick moment, then rolled her eyes and folded the map. “Very well, then. Wherever you lead us.”

The street outside Fey’s apartment was quiet when Tristan pulled over. Fey was standing by the sidewalk, his floral beach dress fluttering in the cool breeze. A bright smile crossed his face when he saw them, hopping before Tristan’s window. “Hello, hello, hello!” He took his large sunglasses off and shoved his head through the window to pull Tristan in for a kiss. “Hey you,” he purred softly.

Tristan hummed against his lips, tasting his strawberry chapstick. “Hello to you, too. Hop in.”

“You don’t have to say that twice,” Fey said brightly, opening the back door. He jumped in tossing his oversized beach bag on the seat next to him. “Hey, Cassie! Long time no see!”

“It’s good to see you, Feyren,” Cassandra said, turning back to smile at him.

“Just call me Fey.” He leaned forward, perching his chin on Tristan’s shoulder. “How’s my favourite person in the world?”

“He’s well. Probably about to hear a handful from his sister who’s already waiting at the station.” He gave Fey a light peck on the cheek. “Fasten your seatbelt.”

Fey nodded excitedly, settling back on his seat. The seatbelt latch clicked in place, and he clapped his hands once. “Alright! Ready to go! Oh, this is so fun,” he said, lowering his window as Tristan took off once more. 

“We’re lucky the weather is still warm,” Cassandra said, squinting at the bright sunlight through her sunglasses. “Let’s hope it remains that way. The weather forecast said something about clouds later on.”

“So what? We’ll swim in the rain!”

“That’s dangerous,” Cassandra said flatly. 

“Yes, but it’s fun. All fun things should be a little dangerous, no?” Fey winked at Tristan through the driver mirror. Tristan huffed a laugh, taking a left towards the station. 

“I don’t think you’ll ever convince Cass of that, Fey,” he said with a smirk. “She has very firm ideas when it comes to safety.”

“I can be very persuasive,” the elf said, wiggling his eyebrows at Tristan.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Cassandra said, smiling at him over her shoulder. “Still, I think we should be fine until late afternoon at least. After that we could go for some lunch.”

“Why plan ahead? Why not go where destiny takes us?” Fey stuck his head out of the car window, waving at Tilly that was waiting outside the station. “Hey! Over here!”

“Doesn’t he know it’s dangerous to stick his head out of a moving vehicle?” Cassandra whispered to Tristan.

“I’m sure he does, Cass.”

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#tristan trevelyan #aran trevelyan #dragon age #modern au #college au #dragon age fanfiction #johaerys writes #oftachancer writes #never let me go #everything will be fine