#did i make rutherford too handsome…. or is he just handsome enough

[bigfan-fanfic]

Windows Through the Past (HOF!Reader x Cullen Rutherford)

Requested by @iliumheightnights for  Another fic request! Cullen reuniting with his long time crush the HOF. Now the hero is a super powerful mage capable of fighting entire armies himself and he's been invited to help the inquisition for a mission?

"I believe the Commander is quite well-acquainted with this ally," Leliana smirks, still not revealing her plan, and Cullen has just about had enough of it.

She gives a giggle behind her hand once more before she states that she has invited the Hero of Ferelden himself to join the Inquisition's march on Suledin Keep.

Cullen is absolutely stunned.

And not all in anticipation of seeing the Hero again.

He had been stationed in Kinloch Hold, where the Hero had spent most of their years before the Fifth Blight took hold.

And had a quite awful experience with abominations as the Circle broke and demons ran rampant, capturing and tormenting him, using the image of the Hero himself to toy with his mind and heart.

He hadn't been kind, last he saw the Hero. And couldn't imagine that anything that Warden Amell may have heard would change that.

After all, he had acted with, shall we say, less than graceful manners at the uprising among the mages in the Gallows, and only when presented with the city's destruction did he take a stand against Meredith.

Cullen immediately resolves not to engage with the Hero. After all, he was trying to be more sensitive of the feelings of the mages serving in the Inquisition, and did not want to bring up any traumatic memories.

But then Leliana states (with an infuriatingly offhand tone) that Amell was actually quite looking forward to seeing Cullen, and now the poor man can't think at all.

It causes him no small amount of stress, puzzling over why Amell would wish to see him, and he comes to the conclusion that it's to enact justice for his crimes.

He can't even bring himself to argue this theoretical point, and resolves not to resist. He'll even alter the guard patrols to make sure Amell has a clear escape.

The Hero of Ferelden shall be his judge and executioner, a hand of the Maker given flesh.

Amell was rather stoic, last time he recalled seeing them. A side effect of the Harrowing, a temporary disorientation. But now, ten years later, the mage seemed... well, downright peppy.

Amell has decimated armies in fire, wiped out a darkspawn horde in a whirl of wind and ice, and summoned a rain of holy light, but now he - you - seem so... soft. Happy.

Cullen smiles despite himself. "You look well, Warden Commander."

"There's no need to be formal, Cullen. I've known you since your hair was still curly." you tease, and Cullen actually laughs.

"My apologies. We have not seen each other in so long, and our parting was... under unfortunate circumstances."

"I understand. I was glad to hear you were with the Inquisition."

"May I ask why?"

You tilt your head and sit. "Well... after Kinloch. I heard about you and Kirkwall. It wasn't great, what I heard."

Cullen nods. "It wasn't great living there, either."

"I feared you had lost your way, but seeing you here... working with mages once more - free mages at that! - I knew the man I once saw was still there."

"The man you once-"

"You weren't very subtle, Cullen. I know how you felt about me in Kinloch."

Cullen blushes. "My deepest apologies. I had never meant to-"

You raise a hand. "I liked you too, but... you were my jailer, Cullen, no matter how handsome and kind you were. I hoped, that after the Blight, you might come to see the truth."

He winces. "I fear I am not the man you seek yet. I... the Inquisitor asked me my view of the Circles, and I responded that I see their necessity. For teaching, for ensuring abominations do not occur."

But you are patient. Far more than Cullen deserves. "And yet you saw in the Gallows, in Kinloch, that the Circle as it is does not do that. I agree that the Circles should still exist as places of instruction and learning, but not as prisons. Not to rip children from their parents. Did you know I had a brother, Cullen?"

"N-"

"Neither did I. That I had a mother that wished to see me and a father that never got to. That Irving was tricking young mages into pursuing blood magic. That the templar order, the Chantry, wanted us all turned into Tranquil."

Cullen would've denied it if it were anyone else. But you have lived it, as he had. You say it so concisely that Cullen cannot refute it. Not now that he has seen red lyrium, seen how easily the Templars fell.

"I struggle, sometimes... knowing that the world after this Inquisition will be far different. I am trying... but I have done so much ill towards the mages. I still fear the power of magic even as I know the wrongs the Circles and the Templars have done."

You grin at him. "The Cullen I had known would not even be questioning it. You have far to travel, Cullen, but you are on the road I hoped you would be."

He looks at you and the words tumble out before he can bid them stop. "Would you ever be able to consider me something other than a jailer? I would pledge myself to you in an instant if you desired it of me."

Immediately Cullen winces in horror, ashamed of his outburst, of asking this of you considering your history together, but you simply tilt your head.

"How about we simply see what the new world after the Inquisition holds? Continue on your path, and I shall endeavor to help you see the signposts. And perhaps someday I might see you as a companion."

Cullen nods. "Then let us proceed with the battle plans, Ser. We must hasten the new dawn."

#cullen rutherford x reader #cullen x male reader #dragon age x male reader #dragon age x reader #dragon age headcanons #headcanons

[pencilscratchins]

taking a minute break from my hiatus to let everyone know i love lower decks [ID in alt text] (twitter)

#bradward boimler #beckett mariner #d’vana tendi #sam rutherford #star trek #star trek lower decks #lower decks #art #my art #fan art #my fan art #IM NOT BACK FOR REAL #maybe half way through MAYBE #i just felt like posting this because i thought it was super cute ☺️ #i fucking lover lower decks #THAT FINALE….. #am i too bold to say its the best episode of trek ever? i think not #did i make rutherford too handsome…. or is he just handsome enough #1k #2k

[writtenjewels]

Two Blind Dates

Malika was a good friend-- perhaps one of his only friends-- but Dorian wasn't so sure he should be indulging her. She'd been insisting for the past few days that she knew a “perfect” man for Dorian. Which prompted Dorian to retort that he was the only perfect man in the world.

“You know what I mean,” the dwarf chuckled, slapping his arm playfully. “Just go on one date with him. I really think you'll hit it off.”

“For you, I'll give it a try, my friend.”

The choice in locations was nice, at least: an outdoor cafe with a fountain nearby trickling water for ambiance. Dorian ordered a coffee while he waited for this mysterious “perfect” man. Idly his gaze swept the cafe. There were a few people having lunch together and some alone doing work as they ate. One blonde head was bowed over some papers. Something about the hair style and the clothing struck Dorian as familiar. Curious, Dorian abandoned his table to get a closer look.

“Cullen?” The blonde head lifted and sure enough, it was Cullen Rutherford. Despite being mutual friends with Malika, neither of the men really interacted with each other that much. The one time they did, the man had come off as slightly awkward and uncomfortable in the party Malika had thrown.

“Dorian,” the blonde acknowledged with a nod.

“You're looking sharp.” Of course Cullen always looked good, but the bit of stubble he'd worn the last time they met was shaved off and the brown jacket he wore over his shirt paired nicely with the brown of his eyes. The compliment caused Cullen to sigh and rub the back of his neck.

“I have a date,” he admitted.

“Oh?” Dorian's eyebrows shot up with interest. “And who is your lucky beau?”

“I'm not sure.” Cullen's hand dropped to wrap around his coffee cup instead. Dorian took a sip from his own drink. “Malika set me up with her.”

“A blind date, then.” How strange that Malika would set both of her friends up on dates and have them be in the same cafe at the same time. She must see the place as a very good meet-cute. “Would you mind if I wait with you for her to arrive? I'm curious who Malika thought was the 'perfect' girl for you.”

“Would you?” Cullen looked relieved at the offer. “I've been working out what I should say to her, and you're... better at that sort of thing than I.” Dorian must have looked puzzled, because Cullen went on to explain: “At the party where we met, you were very... flirty. At one point you walked up to me and said, 'Although you really are handsome enough to be wall decoration, you're also depriving these people from swooning over you'.”

“I can't believe you remember that. Wasn't that party months ago?”

“Yes, but...” Cullen's lip pulled up into a little smile, made crooked by the scar cutting his mouth. “I can't be the first person to tell you that you leave a strong impression.”

“Aren't you charming?” Dorian hummed. “Paying the girl compliments would be a good first step. Say something about her hair or clothing.”

“Oh, I see. So I should say: I like that greenish-blue color of your outfit. It reminds me of the ocean, which... is good, because so do your eyes.” Dorian blinked rapidly and glanced down at his shirt, a dark turquoise color. “Or, the way your hair glistens in the light makes me wonder what you used to style it, and how it might feel under my fingers.”

“Ah... yes.” He didn't expect Cullen to try the flirting out on him. “Yes, something like that would work. And she could say something like, 'oh, Cullen, I'm so flattered you shaved for me, but I prefer you a bit more rugged'.” Cullen smiled at that, leaning forward slightly in his chair with hands folded together. “Then,” Dorian continued, “you can move on to talking about interests. Likes, dislikes, getting to know each other.”

“Such as liking the smell and taste of coffee,” Cullen suggested, taking another sip of his drink. “Or the taste of bread fresh from the oven.”

“Ohh, that's my favorite,” Dorian sighed. “How the steam seems to fill your mouth on that first bite, the slight crack of the crust. Mmmm, no, I can't go on, I'll just get hungry. Move on.” He waved the topic with his hand.

“What about flowers?” Cullen mused. “Should I get a flower?”

“Yes, but just be careful with what you're saying.” Cullen looked confused at that. “The language of flowers,” Dorian elaborated. “It's... more of a nobility thing, I suppose. White and yellow are usually safe colors; they mean things like purity and happiness. Pink and red are more for affection and passion, which can come off as a bit strong for the first date.”

“This is starting to get complicated,” Cullen complained. “Maybe I should save the flower for the second date.”

“My, you haven't even met the woman and you're planning a second date,” Dorian teased. “I admire your confidence. How are you so sure it will go well?”

“I...” Cullen hesitated, a blush staining his pale cheeks. It was an endearing look for him. “I suppose I'm... hoping?”

“Ah.” For some reason Dorian felt a little disappointed. “Then I won't keep you any longer. Best of luck.” He rose, taking his cup with him. His drink was nearly gone so he tossed the rest. Dorian had completely forgotten about his own blind date. He found he had no interest in this “perfect” man anymore, and hoped Malika wouldn't be too upset if he flaked.

He glanced over his shoulder but decided he didn't really want to see how Cullen's date went, either. In fact, the idea of it going well almost upset him.

#dorian x cullen #dorian pavus #cullen rutherford #cullrian

[msilwrites]

(A 3AM Update) A True Gentleman, Chapter 21 - A jealous husband?

A/N: Chapter 21 is up! Isaac confronts Diana, like a jealous husband! By the way, Henry, Diana's cousin face claim is 'Henry Cavill', and Sam McLean's face claim is Sam Heughan.

Oh, before I forget, if you don't like the story, please do move on to others, the internet has lots of them. Please don't hurt writers, ya? Good! so without further ado...

TWENTY-ONE

A jealous husband

"Diana!" her cousin, Henry approaches her. "That was a stellar performance!" he compliments.

Every time Henry and she are seen together, people often mistake them for siblings. The blue cold eyes, thick eyebrows, strong jawline, and dark hair were the signature that belonged to their family.

"Thank you, Henry!" was her grateful reply. "But I know why you are here for, go and lead the way!" she says, as he leads her to where her father sat. She knew what Henry approached her for. It was time for her father's interrogation and lengthy sermon.

Francis watched Henry, followed by Diana, approaching him where he sat.

"Relax Uncle..." Henry says, as he taps his uncle's shoulder, telling him to listen instead of scolding Diana. He then walks away to give the two space.

He took a deep breath before turning to his daughter. " Why don't you take a seat..." he offers, patting the empty space beside him, which she took.

"First of all, why are you singing at a wedding?" he tried to sound calm instead of being confrontational.

" I was trying to earn money to buy a 3D Printer," was her direct answer.

" Why?"

"I'm trying to build a small workshop studio, and I need a 3d printer..."

"Oh..." Francis was taken aback, he didn't expect his daughter to have such plans. "But what happened to the money you got from the sale of your old penthouse with Jesse?"

"That, I'm keeping it to the side. I plan to use it to buy real estate and most probably have the place rented for passive income. If not, I'll turn it into the workshop studio. I planned to save money, but I think I'd earn more if I were to rent the place out."

His eyes widened in disbelief, was this still the same Diana whom he met a few weeks ago? No! This Diana has ambition, plans and direction. She was actively taking charge of her life. "Wow! I did not expect that... That is actually a good plan"

Diana smiled and just nodded.

"Do you need help?" he offers, sincerely this time, without a hint of being condescending.

"Maybe? From time to time, Thank you! Da!" Diana says gratefully. "Your advice and input would be helpful from time to time" she adds.

"That was a stellar performance by the way!" Francis complements his daughter. " Those wedding songs reminds me of a time when I was..." he said trying to find the word.

"Hopeful? Yes, I did feel the same..." she admits to her father.

Francis sighs. " You know, I really did love your mother. It may have not gone well for the both of us, but not once did I regret loving her,"

Diana looks at her father, surprised at his sudden confession. Not once did her father open up to her about this issue.

"Why?!"

"Why what?"

"Da! She hurt you!" she exclaims.

"Yes, she did... and I may have done things that I shouldn't have, but what happened to us in the past, is what makes us who we are now. We grow and become wiser,"

"I guess you do have a good point..." she agrees. It made her think about her past abusive relationships, and what it thought her. Though it was terrible, it made her learn and it made her wiser.

"So how did you exactly end up here?"

"That's a really long story..."

" We have a lot of time,"

She began her story (omitting some parts of course) and told him about the music director Aedan looking for an alto-soprano which led her to where she is now.

"I see... I am glad you're able to use your classical training, anyways, when is the date of your performance?" he inquired.

"Why?"

"I want to see it of course!" he declares.

**********

"I see trees of green. Red roses too, I see them bloom. For me and you. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world..." Diana opens the dance floor for everyone, with the song 'What a wonderful world'. The strings followed, in harmony with her voice.

Couples, young and old, approached the dance floor and began dancing to the sweet tune.

The night was about to end, and she was grateful that her performance went well. Hopefully, she would also perform well with the orchestra at the outdoor theatre.

"I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do They're really saying I love you..."

She scanned the area and saw her cousin, Henry, being surrounded by girls. She stopped her from rolling her eyes, knowing that he was a known ladies man, even since they were young. On one side was her father who seemed to be enjoying himself, chatting with others. The atmosphere felt jolly that she swore she'd try to catch up with Henry or talk some more with her father after finishing the song.

"I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself... What a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself... What a wonderful world. Ooh, yes I think to myself... What a wonderful world..." and with the last verse, Diana closes the song and the audience applauded. She smiled and thought, that it was still somehow a wonderful world despite everything she had gone through, there was still things she was thankful for.

With a sigh, she gives a toast to the newly married couple, and then turned to the quintet and thanked them, which gained her another set of 'Thank you's coming from them.

She looks around and found the bar, wanting a cold drink, preferably a beer. It's been weeks since she had anything cold and gassy. It wouldn't hurt from time to time to have an ice-cold beer after a long day of singing.

Wasting no time, she requested a pint of ice-cold craft beer on tap from the bar-tender, and he quickly poured her one large pint, its surface bubbling.

"Good job out there, you earned it, enjoy!" the bartender says, before moving to other requests.

"Thanks!" was her response.

She looked around trying to find Henry or her father in the crowd, whilst drinking her glass. However, before she could even make a move. Her father had already gone up to the podium, about to start his 'godfather' speech and before she could even look for Henry, a handsome guy had already sat beside her and tried to engage her in a conversation.

"Hello..." was his greeting, his voice deep. She looked at the colour of his kilt's Tartan, and immediately knew which family he is from.

"Wait! your name is probably something McLean!" she declares.

"Oh! wait, are you a Scott too?! Well, I am Sam McLean..." he said, stretching his hand for a handshake which she gladly took. She felt a little confident today, and talking to a handsome man isn't so bad thing to do to pass the time. Unless he actually is an asshole otherwise. She already has an escape plan.

"You may call me, tonight..." was a flirty yet witty reply from her, causing Sam to laugh. "Or you may address me as, Diana"

"Well, Diana, that was a stellar performance throughout..." he compliments.

"Thank you! I'm glad you like it,"

"You have a very nice voice! So... may I buy you a drink?!" he offers.

"Of course! Or you could get me food since I haven't had my fill yet..." she said sheepishly, not having eaten anything yet.

"Oh! of course! what do you want to eat? I'll get it for you!" he offers.

" Cake" she implores, placing both her hands together as if praying.

"Of course, I'll be right back!" he said, immediately taking a small slice on a plate for her.

"There you go! Enjoy!" he says, pushing the small plate to her.

"Thank You, Sam!" she chuckles at the mention of his name. It was the same as the pseudonym she used when she wrote those 'love' letters to herself. "Thank you. I'd say 'God Bless you!', but it looks like He already did." was her flirtatious reply followed by a wink.

Sam bit his lips and laughed. He didn't know how to respond to that. "Thanks... I guess..." he holds his laughter, and clears her throat, "So Diana, what do you do? Besides singing? "

"I am independently impecunious..." was her answer.

Sam throws his head back laughing, knowing that he had found a hilarious person and the night will definitely not be boring.

"Enough about me, Sam! Let's talk about how attractive you are!" she adds.

Sam takes a deep breath but ended up laughing once again. " You're too funny for words!" However, before he could even say more...

"Sammy, laddie, hands-off! that is my daughter you're flirting with!" Francis chastises Sam from the podium after he finished his speech, causing everyone to turn their attention to Diana and Sam at the bar, upon finding out that she is Francis' daughter.

"Well, nice to meet you Diana!" he says. "Yikes..." and slowly backs away from her. It didn't matter how beautiful she is to him, she was Francis's Rutherford's daughter and there is no way she would want to incur her father's wrath.

"Sam? wait!" she says, perplexed at his sudden change.

**********

"Sam is an international playboy, he isn't the ideal man to date!" Henry says as he fiddled with his phone. Seated beside him inside the car is his cousin Diana, whom he ended up sending back home instead, as his Uncle, Francis, still had to stay at the wedding reception.

"Oho! You're one to talk Henry! " Diana chuckles, knowing her cousin's reputation.

"It can't be helped..." was his response.

"Should I tell the girls who chase after you, the same thing you told me?"

"It won't work... they'll chase after me more!" he declares, and both of them erupted in laughter, including their chauffeur in the front seat of the car, at how true the statement was.

"Well, aren't you afraid I'd chase Sam more?" she asks.

"You won't" was his quick reply.

"Because life has already knocked some sense out of you..." was his confident statement, aware of what Diana had gone through, all those years.

"I guess you're right," she sighs and smiles at herself, turning her attention to the view outside the car, whilst a classical piano rendition of 'Moon River' played inside the vehicle, making it a relaxing atmosphere.

"Lady Rutherford, we're here..." their chauffeur announces, and he gets out of the 'Ghost' to open the car for her.

"Thank you, Higgins!" she says, referring to Henry's chauffeur who opened the car door for her.

Henry followed after, alighting at the other side of the car. "Let me send you to your door..." he offers.

"Yes, walk me there," she says, as Henry walked beside her.

"We should have lunch sometime, eh? It's been a long time since I caught up with you!"

"Yes, we should do that" she agrees.

" If you don't mind, Mum wants to catch up with you too, can she come along?"

"Of course Aunt Minerva is more than welcome! How long has it been?!" she realizes suddenly that she had met her immediately family for years now since she started her relationship with Jesse, that was no longer the case now.

"It's set then" he declares, trying to find a spot inside his phone's calendar. "I'll set the time next weekend..."

"Alright! Well here's my door" she says turning to him to give him a quick hug.

Henry gladly returns her embrace " I'm glad you're in a better place now!" he adds, giving her shoulder a squeeze as an affirmation. "Well, I have to go, I have an early day tomorrow!"

However, before Henry could leave, the door opens to reveal Isaac, glaring at him.

"I'd normally say get a room, but this isn't a hotel" was the first thing Isaac said, the moment he opened the door, and 'caught' Diana, and some man, embracing each other in front of his door.

Henry looked at him puzzled, and when he realized that Isaac got the wrong idea about them, he released Diana from his arms. "Eww..." he grimaced and quickly turns around and gave a two-finger salute before he left "See you, Diana!"

Diana took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to burp before entering the house. She had four large pints of beer and 2 slices of cake which made her feel bloated, which made her feel regretful going on a drinking spree.

"Diana?" Isaac called, which she almost didn't notice because she was busy nursing the bloatedness.

"Mmmmm?"

"Remember you had 10 things you have to do for me?"

Diana just nods and covers her mouth, trying to burp as silent as she can. "Yes..."

"Well, I'm gonna use 1, let's have a talk..." was his stern reply.

"Dr Skovgaard? can we do this tomorrow?" she pleads, as she was bloated and tired.

"No, because I don't know where you will disappear to again..." he reprimands.

She sighs as she follows him to the dining room where a long session of scolding and preaching awaits her.

She sits down, resigned to her situation and prepared herself for Isaac's long preaching.

"Diana, you often disappear and reappear to I do not know where to, it's like I'm living with a Ghost. And when I message you, you do not respond..."

"But I do respond!" she reasons.

"Yes, two days later..."

"Oh... hehehe... I'm busy, sorry, please don't be mad at me" she apologizes, and laughs softly, struggling to also hide her drunkenness.

"Busy with what exactly??!!" he inhales sharply.

"Uhhh.... you know, things? work? earning a living?" she says a little sluggish. "You know, I gotta earn my keep..." the Scottish accent of hers, starting to come out.

"Men!?" he adds.

"Ahahaha yes... men" she giggles. "I'm not really busy with them, they're busy with me, which in turn... takes up a portion of my time, they're handsome, eye candies! So I guess it's worth the time..." she laughs.

"Unbelievable!" he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Dr Skovgaard, what are you really scolding me for?" she says, trying to suppress another burp.

He sighs " First, you disappear to who knows where and then reappear a few days later! You leave my message on 'read' and respond to them a day or two later as if I'm a weird guy you have been avoiding, and then you came home late, drunk! In the arms of another man! Do you know how I felt, do you know worried I was?!" he stressed out.

Diana stares at the tall ceiling and then laughs at the realizations " You make me sound like a stray cat who just comes home to eat!"

"I never said anything like that." he shakes his head in disapproval.

"I know... I'm just visualizing..." she adds, waving it off.

"Diana, you're not taking any of this seriously-"

She didn't know if it was drunkenness, but she felt a little brave, and without warning, got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Isaac. "Alright, my love... I'm sorry, so sorry, I promise not to do it again!" she says, as her arms tighten around his waist.

Isaac, caught off-guard, stood there, frozen, unsure of how to react. "Diana?"

Diana just laughed, as she brought her hands to his cheeks. If anyone were to see them right now, it would look like they were a couple making up, after having a banter. "Oh, Dr Skovgaard... you sound just like a jealous husband!" she exclaims and laughs at his face. "You know I'd normally kiss you, but I'm not your beau..." she adds, tapping his cheek. "So, let's end this argument, and call it a day! I'm sorry, alright?! Good Night!" she says, kissing his cheek.

Isaac jolted in surprise due to her actions. He felt his cheeks, starting to get warm.

She releases Isaac from her embrace and sluggishly walked back upstairs, to her room, whilst singing a funny Scottish folk song and laughing halfway.

He sits down for a moment to collect himself and tried to process what had just happened. Trying to make sense of the feeling he currently has in his chest.

A/N: I have most probably made some grammatical errors, here and there... so I'd do some soft editing. I hope you enjoyed this one! I would also love to hear from you in the comments below.

#A True Gentleman #Mads Mikkelsen #Mads Mikkelsen Fan Fic #Mads Mikkelsen FanFic #Mads Mikkelsen Fan Fiction #Mads Mikkelsen FanFiction #Mads Mikkelsen x OFC #OFC #Original Female Character #Doctor! Mads #MissIronLady #MSILWRITES #MISSIRONLADYIW #Henry Cavill

[jacklyn-flynn]

Ooh, or Cullen and my OC Teddy all embarrassed as Iron Bull gives them advice about tying each other up

I’m just so thrilled that you still trust me with Teddy. I just adore writing him. He’s so sweet for Cullen and it makes my heart happy! 

Kind NSFW under the cut. 

“Are you sure this is really necessary, Ted?” Cullen asked as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Teddy tugged on his hand and stopped them, turning the Commander to face him. 

“No, it isn’t. And we don’t do it if you don’t want to. But-” He reached out and laid a hand on Cullen’s rough cheek “-we’ve been talking about this for weeks. Wrists and ankles are fun, but we want to try something different. There’s nothing wrong with that and I promise Bull won’t make us feel like there is.” 

After a moment, Cullen’s amber eyes met his and he nodded in determination. “You’re right.” With a smile and squeeze of the hand, they continued to Bull’s room. The Qunari’s brows raised in surprise when he opened the door to the couple. 

“Good evening! How can I help you tonight, Mr. & Mr. Rutherford. Trevelyan? Oo, you should switch last names. That would be fun.” He punctuated by waving his finger around slightly. 

“We were actually hoping for some advice,” Teddy said. 

“Bedroom advice.” Cullen amended nervously as if it would help make it easier. Instead, he just felt more embarrassed. “Not that we need advice.” He stuttered out quickly. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Bull waved them in, shoulders shaking with his barrel laugh. “What kind of advice exactly?” 

“Ropes. We want to try more advanced tying techniques.” Teddy said it boldly but Cullen had to wonder if, for all his confidence, he wasn’t a little nervous as well. 

“To restrain or look pretty?” Bull tugged a stool next to another by the bed and waved them over before sitting heavily. The mattress bowed and the frame creaked under his weight but held. 

“Oh, um,” Cullen looked at Teddy who shrugged. “Wouldn’t you be restrained either way?” 

“Nope, you can make someone look pretty bound up while still allowing them to move freely. Restraint, on the other hand, is much more intimate. Once you get past the basic knots, there aren’t many ways to make everything slip apart. You’ll have to really trust your partner for that. One, to trust that the other to stop if requested and the other to trust their partner to honestly and openly communicate their boundaries.” Bull leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“You also have to be able to trust this person with anything that might come up. We’ve all seen some shit and you know triggers can happen. It isn’t anyone’s fault. But, I think you’re both well into that point with each other.” The Iron Bull chuckled and stood up. “Let’s just do a little of both. Some easy things to get your feet wet. Who is volunteering?” 

“For what?” Teddy asked, his nervousness showing. 

“Not bondage, if that’s what you’re asking. I, too, happen to be in a committed relationship.” Bull assured them. “It’s just easier to show some things then explain them.” 

“Oh, are we doing pretty first?” Teddy asked, grinning. 

“If you want to.” Cullen was mortified at how amused Bull was with the situation. 

“Then me first.” Teddy shot his husband a wink and heard him groan in response. 

“Ah, classic beauty over rugged handsomeness. Nice.” Bull approved with another hearty laugh. “Alright, pretty, especially with strapping men with your build, is about angles. For example,” -He turned Teddy toward Cullen securing his hands behind his back. “We can see a little of that proud, Free Marcher chest, but if you join the elbows…” Bull locked his large hands around Teddy’s arms, just under the elbows. 

It forced Teddy to thrust his chest out, the planes of his muscles clear beneath his stretched shirt. “Also great for a partner that likes nipple stuff. Very sensitive and overlooked, the nipple. Knees, please.” Bull said, releasing Teddy’s arms. 

He sank down in front of Cullen, biting his lip with the most hungry look in his warm eyes. Cullen groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You have to stop that.” 

“He’s right, save it for when you get home. You got a long walk back to your rooms and neither of you are in pants that are nearly tight enough to hide a stiff one.” Bull pointed out. 

Cullen actually snorted before he laughed, so taken aback by the offhand nature of the comment. Teddy couldn’t help but laugh as well. Finally, his husband was starting to relax a little. 

Bull knelt and moved Teddy’s wrists level with his ankles. “This one uses the same curve, but through the torso as well. This’ll make your cock look proud.” He assured them.

Cullen nodded distractedly, his eyes moving over his husband’s lean body. All too quickly, Bull released Teddy’s hands and helped him stand. 

“Now, the other one, restraint, is pretty easy to get into with minimal removal time if required. You use a spreader bar.” He indicated a length a little more than the width of his broad shoulders. “It’s a bar about this long with handcuffs, ankle cuffs, or possibly both. The possibilities are endless. You can get a basic one from Sera and her underground sex toy market, or you can get a really fucking fancy one from Viv, right from Orlais. Dorian has this book he found that has all sorts of pictures that show-”

“We’ll take it,” Teddy said quickly. 

“Do we need Dorian knowing too?” Cullen asked. 

“Oh, he knows. Actually, I owe Dorian money now. And Varric. I bet that you would ask Dorian about potions and warming oils or the dwarf about smutty literature before you came to me about bondage.” 

“Andraste, preserve me.” Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Teddy, now completely over his shyness of the subject laughed. 

“Fantastic. Ready to go try, love?” Teddy turned excitedly to Cullen and took his hands. 

Cullen couldn’t resist that man. Not a single thing about him. The excitement simmering just beneath his tantalizing skin, the hungry but adoring look in his hazel eyes and by the Maker, that smile. That smile that always needed a kiss. He never could resist the urge, and this time was no exception. He leaned forward, pressing his scarred lips to Teddy’s soft, full ones. Was there anything about his husband that wasn’t perfect in every way? 

“Yes, I’m quite ready.” He stood and nodded toward Bull. “Thank you, for the advice.” 

Bull crossed his arms over his chest, giving the Commander an amused smile. “Always happy to help. Remember, practice safe sex. Word and gesture.” 

“So, what did you think? Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Teddy asked, threading his fingers through Cullen’s as they walked back across the courtyard. 

“I think next time we get advice, I need to wear far tighter pants. At night. Or very early in the morning.” Cullen adjusted his pants subtly as they walked to Teddy’s laughter. 

“But, there will be a next time?” Teddy raised a brow questioningly. 

Cullen groaned. “Yes. If the advice has done this to me, I can only imagine doing it will be better. I am not too proud of a man to admit that I don’t know everything, and if you want to learn something, you go to the best.” 

“Maybe we should stop by Dorian’s loft and see about those warming oils…” Teddy trailed off suggestively. 

“One kink at a time, Ted.” Cullen had to choke back laughter. “Besides, I’m struggling to make it to our room. I definitely could not survive another lengthy visit thinking about you-” He cleared his throat and stopped. “No, we need to go home.” 

“You’d better regain your patience, husband. You’re going to need it before the night is out.” Teddy promised. 

Cullen’s body shook, already anticipating how his muscles would feel flexing and stretching for Teddy. “You will be the death of me,” he rumbled, walking a little faster. 

“Oh, but what a way to go.” Teddy’s laughter echoed in the emptying courtyard and followed them home. 

[pikapeppa]

Cullen/Lavellan and FenHawke pirate AU: Fine

HAPPY NEW YARRRR MATEYS, @schoute and I are back on our bullshit with Chapter 33 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me!

In which the forest adventures continue and Piper and Rynne are the best and we love them okay. The chapter is a long one, ~9200 words, so only the first section is here; read it all on AO3. 

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

- RYNNE -

The forest was incredible. 

They’d broken camp about half an hour ago, not long after dawn heralded the lilting rise of birdsong through the thickness of the leaves. The soft and heavy scent of damp soil and sun-kissed leaves filled Rynne’s lungs as she and the others followed Merrill’s trail. 

Merrill was still following the ineffable voice that only she, Piper, and Fenris could hear, and Rynne was only too happy to trail along in her wake. Since she didn’t have to pay attention to where they were going, she could enjoy the bursting blooms and the wild sounds of insects and birds as she picked her way through the foliage at Fenris’s side. 

Part of her mind still couldn’t quite believe that their path was being laid out by a strange elven sixth sense. It was like something straight out of the stories that she’d been devouring since she was a child. It was fascinating and marvelous and totally unexpected, and if someone had told her a few months ago that she would be wandering barefoot through a pristine untouched forest with a handful of pirates — herself being a pirate too! — and following a voice that only her elven companions could hear, she would have told them to bugger off and go bother some other gullible noble idiot with fanciful tales.

It was also somewhat unnerving. 

She quickly shunted the worried little thought aside. Of course it was unnerving; it was an unknown situation, and everything strange and unknown was bound to be a little unnerving. But Rynne was determined to approach this odd situation with the same open-armed zeal that she’d employed during every other adventure she’d had thus far. Her headfirst approach had yet to fail her; it was that same headfirst approach that had gotten her out of Kirkwall, after all. And sure, maybe there was that brief hiccup when throwing herself headfirst at Fenris hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped, but that had fixed itself in time. 

There was also that terrifying moment in the infirmary two days ago when she’d been cornered by that pirate and she’d genuinely thought she might die. But she’d launched herself headfirst into that fight with all the defensive and dirty tactics that Fenris had taught her, and that had ended up fine as well. 

Everything ends up fine if you try hard enough and give it enough time, she reminded herself. And she was sure this forest-y quest would be no different. There was no place for worrying or being unnerved here, not when there was an exciting mystery beckoning them forth. 

Besides, Fenris was worried enough for the both of them. In Rynne’s opinion, it was far more productive to bounce wholeheartedly into this adventure so that he might enjoy himself a bit as well. 

She glanced up at him. His face was creased in a frown, and his hand was hovering vigilantly over the handle of his scimitar. 

Rynne reached over and took his hand. He looked down at her, and she beamed at him.

He raised one eyebrow. “What?” he said.

“Nothing,” she chirped. “I’m just having a nice time.” 

A hint of a smile lifted his lips. “Of course you are,” he said sardonically.

She poked him playfully in the arm. “What’s that dig supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You take pleasure in the mundane. That is all I meant.”

Rynne laughed. “My father has this tongue-in-cheek saying: ‘simple pleasures for simple minds’. You sound just like him right now.”

Fenris scoffed. “I’m uncertain if I should be flattered or concerned to be compared to your father.”

“In this case, flattered,” Rynne assured him. “He might not be around much, but he’s full of pithy pearls of wisdom, that’s for certain.”

“So you’re saying I speak in platitudes and clichés?” Fenris said. Despite his sarcastic tone, his lips were curled in the most kissable smirk, and Rynne grinned at him. 

“Well, you’re saying I’m easily amused,” she retorted.

“You are,” Fenris said. “And I mean that nicely. Taking pleasure in small things is… enviable. It’s a good trait. I’m…” He trailed off for a moment, then met her eye once more.  “It is good to see you enjoying yourself,” he finally said.

“Of course I’m enjoying myself,” she said. “I’m walking with you.” She gave him a winning smile.

He snorted softly. “Kaffas, Hawke, you will make me blush.”

“Oh good!” she chirped. “That’s my goal in life, you know. To make those handsome cheeks of yours turn red.”

He chuckled and shook his head, and Rynne waited happily for his witty retort. But before he could speak, Cullen joined them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said with a nod of greeting. “But I was hoping for your counsel, Fenris.”

“You don’t want to speak to me?” Rynne said. She widened her eyes dramatically and held one hand to her bosom. “I’m awfully offended.”

Cullen gave her a smile and a tiny half-bow. “My apologies, Hawke. I will come up with something to ask your advice on later, if you like.”

Rynne playfully fanned herself. “How very kind of you, Ser Rutherford. I’ll look forward to advising you as best I can.” She did a mockingly formal curtsy, despite her lack of skirts, then fondly pinched Fenris’s chin before skipping forward to join Piper, who was walking a few steps behind Merrill and Dorian.

She elbowed Piper. “You and Cullen didn’t come back to the camp before I fell asleep. What were you up to out in the forest for that long?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Piper grinned at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know, you filthy-minded wench?”

“I would, I would!” Rynne said eagerly. “Tell me every sordid detail. Quickly, before Cullen comes back and his face goes up in flames.” 

Piper laughed, but to Rynne’s surprise, her cheeks were turning slightly pink. It wasn’t like Piper to blush over a little lewd back-and-forth. What could she possibly be blushing about…? 

Rynne’s eyes went wide. “Oh Maker,” she breathed. “You’re not–” She broke off and lowered her voice. “Are you pregnant?”

“What?” Piper exclaimed. “No! Why would you ask that?”

“Because you’re blushing,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “Noble ladies always do the whole blushing pretend-to-be-coy thing when they tell everyone that they’re ‘in the family way’.” She rolled her eyes. “As though we’re all supposed to be titillated because a baby makes it clear that she and her husband have had sex. It’s all very boring if you ask me.”

Piper snorted. “Well, I’m no noble lady. And I’m definitely not pregnant.”

“Well then?” Rynne said curiously. “What’s the blushing about?”

Piper scoffed and shoved her playfully. “You’re a fucking nosy one, you know that?”

To Rynne’s amusement, Piper’s cheeks were turning even pinker. Rynne laughed and linked her arm with Piper’s. “I am, it’s true,” she said cheerfully. “But only because you’re actually interesting. I never had interesting friends before. Please, Piper,” she batted her eyelashes, “tell me your gossip so I can ooh and ahh and pretend I’m going to tell everyone whilst actually telling no one at all.” 

Piper rolled her eyes, but she was grinning still. “Fine, fine,” she said. She rubbed her nose, then gave Rynne a secretive little smile. “I asked Cullen to marry me last night, and he said yes.”

“What?” Rynne shrieked.

Piper burst out laughing, and Rynne clapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late; Fenris was instantly at her side, and everyone else had come to a dead stop at the sound of Rynne’s shriek. 

“What’s wrong?” Cullen demanded. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, what’s happened?” Dorian said. “I do hope I’m not being left out of anything fun.”

Rynne turned to Piper with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I just – oh, Piper, I’m so–!” She broke off and did an excited little hop. “I’m so happy for you! Oh, but you didn’t want to…” She covered her mouth again to stop her chatty tongue from spilling Piper’s news, but Piper was still laughing. 

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s not like it’s a secret. We’ll tell the whole crew anyway once we get back to the ship.”

“Oh,” Cullen said in a softer tone. “You’re talking about our news?” He smiled goofily at Piper, who was grinning back at him very proudly indeed, and Rynne couldn’t help herself: she flung herself at Cullen and hugged him.

“Congratulations!” she squealed, and she hugged Piper as well. “I’m so happy for you both! I’ve never seen a pirate wedding before! This is going to be so exciting!”

“A wedding?” Merrill gasped. “You’re going to be married? Oh my, how sweet! I’ll make traditional saotabradh for you, Piper, but we might have to go back to Rialto so I can get some fine chocolate! And I’ll need pistachios too, the good kind from Rivain, oh–”

Dorian chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at Cullen. “Are you sure you know quite what you’re doing, marrying Captain Mad Piper? It’s rather like tying oneself to a wild Fereldan horse: thrilling and entertaining, with a high chance of personal injury.” 

Piper laughed and flicked his ear. “Says the man who basically invited himself to join my ship one day.”

Dorian delicately dusted off his sleeve. “Precisely. That’s how I know what I’m talking about.”

Cullen chuckled. “I appreciate the concern, but there’s no need. I’m… truly, I am thrilled.” He smiled at Piper again. “I… yes, thrilled really is the word.”

Piper beamed at him, and Rynne clasped her hands together with delight. “Oh Cullen, that is just so fucking sweet. You should write your own vows!”

His smile fell into a look of surprise. “Ah. Vows. Yes, I had wondered – Piper, who will be actually, er, marrying us?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m the captain,” she announced. “I can declare us married.”

“That’s not how that works,” Fenris said dryly.

Piper smirked at him. “Are you volunteering to marry us, then?”

He folded his arms. “I believe it will be Varric who has that dubious honour, given that he’s the other first mate.”

Piper snorted with laughter and punched him in the arm. “‘Dubious honour’, my ass. Come on, you gossip-hounds, let’s get back to this trail of ours.” She pinched Merrill’s cheek playfully. “Lead the way, you wily wayfinder.”

“Of course, Captain!” Merrill chirped. “Oh, but I’ll have to start thinking about what other dishes to serve for your wedding. We’re running low on salt fish, but we can pick up more of that in Rialto too, and I wonder if I can get my hands on some deep mushroom? If you prepare it carefully, it makes the most wonderful stew.”

Dorian chuckled. “You might as well get some of those Orlesian cakes with deep mushroom and anise while you’re at it. You know the ones called la misère exquise?” 

Merrill gave him an affronted look. “‘The exquisite misery’? Why would we want those at Piper and Cullen’s wedding?”

“Because that’s how we’ll all be feeling when our dear Cullen makes the Captain caterwaul on their wedding night,” Dorian drawled. “I for one shall be eating cakes in my cabin while covering my ears, I assure you.”

Rynne guffawed while Cullen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and Piper pinched Dorian’s gold-studded ear. “No one asked you to listen in, you pervert.”

“I assure you I’ll have very little choice in the matter,” Dorian said loftily. “You can be incredibly vocal for such a small elf. Good work, by the way,” he added to Cullen.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I, er, am not sure how to respond to this.”

“Say thank you,” Rynne said gleefully. “It sounds like quite a compliment to me.” She elbowed Piper, who smiled very smugly indeed.

“No, don’t thank him,” Fenris put in. “You will only encourage him to taunt you further.”

“Oh please,” Dorian scoffed. “I hardly need encouraging. You, for example, also seem to be doing a decent job with our fair lady Hawke, based on the sounds that come from your quarters.”

Rynne gasped in offense. “‘Decent’?” she exclaimed. “I’ll have you know that Fenris–”

“Look at that,” Fenris said loudly. “Dorian just stepped into another pile of shit.”

Dorian flinched, bumping into Merrill in the process. “Where?” he squawked. 

“Ah, my mistake,” Fenris said casually. “It was just some regular dirt.”

Rynne and Piper cackled, and Dorian scowled. “Very funny, Fenris. Kaffas.”

“Not this time, no,” he said. “Best watch your step, though.”

Dorian wrinkled his nose in disdain, and Piper playfully bumped him with her hip. “Oh Dorian, just take off your fucking boots already.” 

“And step barefoot into a pile of unidentifiable animal feces?” Dorian retorted. “No thank you.”

“Would it help if we identify the droppings first?” Merrill asked. “Because I can help with that.”

They all looked at her, and she smiled innocently in return. Dorian’s jaw dropped. “Merrill, are you making fun of me?” he asked incredulously.

Merrill giggled, and Piper laughed harder still while Cullen began to laugh as well. They continued to joke and tease each other as they wandered through the forest, and Rynne twined her fingers with Fenris’s.

“Aren’t you happy for Piper and Cullen?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a surprised look. “I am. Why do you ask that?”

She opened her mouth to reply, then paused. It was on the tip of her tongue to remark that his reaction to Piper and Cullen’s engagement was rather subdued, but it occurred to her now that his stoic response wasn’t unusual. Even when Fenris was amused, his smiles and laughter were quite muted. The only times he was really expressive was when he was angry or upset.

This was different with Rynne, of course. When she and Fenris were alone, he was far more demonstrative in his affections. He smiled more widely, and his hugs were tight and warm, and his laugh… Maker, the rare and treasured sound of his laugh was enough to make her melt every damned time. But even then, it was more common for him to reciprocate Rynne’s affectionate gestures than to initiate them. 

But Fenris and Piper were close in their own way, too. Rynne still remembered how she’d briefly envied their teasing camaraderie the first time she’d met them in the Lowtown market. Despite their obvious friendship, however, Fenris hadn’t even congratulated Piper on her engagement. And despite Rynne’s attempts to dismiss them, Anders’s words on the Lady Luck ran through her mind: Fenris doesn’t talk. Even Piper doesn’t know his story. You're the only one he really talks to. 

She hated to admit that Anders had a point, given how snarky he was about Fenris. And yet…

Fenris was gazing quizzically at her. Finally she shrugged. “No reason. Just checking,” she said.

“Hmm,” Fenris murmured. “I’m surprised you’re so pleased for them, in fact.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Because I thought…” He paused for a moment, then gave her a serious look. “I had assumed you were opposed to marriage, given what almost happened to you.”

“Oh! Well, I think it’s awful to be forced to marry someone,” she said. “Especially if that someone is thirty-odd years older than you with a reputation for mistreating his female servants. But two people who want to get married? And who can actually do it and not get shunned by their families for marrying below their station or marrying the wrong type of person or any of that shit?” She gazed at him with wide eyes. “Fenris, this is something I’ve only ever read about in stories. It’s the stuff of fantasies, literally. And a pirate wedding to boot? It’s going to be such fun!”

“You don’t even know what a pirate wedding will be like,” Fenris pointed out.

“I know it’s going to be nothing like the terrible stuffy weddings I’ve been to in Kirkwall,” she retorted. “That alone means it’s going to be fantastic. Besides, it’s Cullen and Piper! Whatever sort of wedding they have is going to be marvelous because they’re absolutely marvelous together.” 

Fenris shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Rynne said in satisfaction. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pester the bride-to-be for details about what a pirate wedding looks like.” She grimaced. “Maker, I hope there are no heels or corsets involved.”

He huffed in amusement. “I would be shocked if there were.”

She grinned at him, then skipped back over to Piper, who was strolling hand-in-hand with Cullen. 

“So,” she said keenly. “How did you propose? Did Cullen burst into tears when you asked him? Tell me everything.”

Cullen gave her a chiding smile, and Piper grinned and ruffled her silvery cloud of hair. “Oh, you know, I was just looking at him with his shirt all half-opened and I thought to myself, ‘you know what would be nice? Having that fine body in my bed for the rest of my dastardly pirate life. Best make him marry me so he’ll get naked with me until the day I die.’” 

Cullen cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I, um. Why don’t I let you have this conversation on your own? I wasn’t finished, er, speaking to Fenris…” 

Piper and Rynne laughed as he fell back to join Fenris, and Rynne linked her arm companionably with Piper’s. “Really though, I’m so happy for you,” she said warmly. “You and Cullen have been like a fairytale since the moment we met.”

Piper grinned. “The lecherous pirate captain and the prim navy commander? I haven’t heard that fairytale before.”

Rynne chuckled. “Not that bit, maybe, but the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you!” She sighed dramatically and fanned herself. “I could tell how much you loved each other from that very first day.”

Piper scoffed. “What are you on about?”

“Remember when Cullen came to drag me back to Hightown?” Rynne said. “You saw him coming and you lit up like a lantern. And he took one look at you and his face went white because he was so worried you were going to be caught. It was so sweet, I thought my teeth would fall out.”

Piper scoffed again and poked her in the arm. “You’re such a romantic sap, you know that?”

Rynne laughed, but she noted fondly that the tips of Piper’s ears were turning pink again. Then Piper bumped her with her hip. “What about you and Fen, then? You were making eyes at him from the moment we met.”

“Oh, I know,” Rynne said with relish. “It wasn’t love at first sight because that’s nugshit, but it was definitely ‘he made my heart speed up from the second I looked at him and I want to know everything about him’ at first sight.”

Piper snorted a laugh. “That kind of sounds like love at first sight.”

Rynne suddenly perked up. “Actually, speaking of first sight – did you know that Fenris and I actually had seen each other before that day in the market?”

Piper’s eyes widened. “What? When?”

“A few weeks before,” she said. “I was standing at the mouth of the market trying to find the balls to go in even though my handmaids and my guard were with me, and I saw Fenris. He looked at me, completely by chance I think, and… he was frowning,” she said thoughtfully. “But for a split second, his face just… relaxed.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I swear, Piper, I stopped breathing for a moment.” 

Piper smiled broadly at her, and Rynne rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating way. “I’m making an idiot of myself, aren’t I? I sound like a girl from a romance novel.”

“Yes, you do,” Piper said.

They both burst into laughter, and Piper elbowed her. “Ah, I’m just picking on you. I’m happy for you, really. And for Fen. Fuck knows he deserves to be happy.”

Rynne squeezed her arm. “He’s happy for you and Cullen, too.”

“Oh, I know,” Piper said. “That’s why he’s not saying anything. If he wasn’t happy, I’d hear all about it.” She snickered.

Rynne smiled, but with a little pang in her chest. Piper’s words were an odd echo of her earlier thoughts. 

A moment later, Piper shot her a little sideways look. “Do you ever find it strange?” she asked.

“Do I find what strange?” Rynne said.

Piper shrugged. “Being, you know.” She jerked her head to indicate Fenris and Cullen, who were talking quietly behind them, then lowered her voice. “Being, um, in love.”

“Oh, it’s extremely strange,” Rynne said earnestly. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way about anyone. Maker’s balls, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance. I thought I’d end up as some old asshole’s breeding cow.”

Piper stared at her. “Fenedhis. Well, that’s fucking grim.”

“I know,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “And look where I am instead! I’ve ended up with Fenris. And he’s just…” 

He’s everything, she thought. His intelligence, his snark, his anger and his tenderness… Maker’s balls, he was absolutely everything. His deep and thoughtful voice was the first thing she wanted to hear every morning, and the warm skin of his scarred and tattooed back was the last thing she wanted to feel before she fell asleep every night. 

Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you, he’d told her. And Rynne felt exactly the same way about him. 

She smiled at Piper. “I never imagined this. I have an active imagination, believe me, but I didn’t imagine this.”

Piper cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said gruffly. “I know what you mean.”

I know you do, Rynne thought fondly. Piper’s face was half-hidden by her gorgeous wavy hair, but Rynne could still see her smile. It was the same sort of smile that Cullen had when he and Piper had announced their engagement. It was the same sort of smile Fenris wore when he looked at her every night as they lay curled together in his spartan bed. 

Rynne leaned in a little closer. “Did you ever feel this way about anyone before Cullen?”

“No,” Piper said immediately and very firmly. “Not even a little bit. That’s why I want to marry him.”

“That’s a great fucking reason to marry someone,” Rynne said softly.

Piper shot her a tiny smile. “I like to think so.”

Rynne beamed at her. Just as she was about to start asking about pirate weddings, however, Piper looked up suddenly.

Up ahead, Merrill came to a stop and also looked up. Rynne looked at them both with wide eyes. “What’s–?”

Piper held up a hand, and Rynne closed her mouth. She glanced back at Fenris, and her heart did a little flip of alarm: he had also stopped, and his face turned in the same direction as Piper’s and Merrill’s.

“Something’s happening,” Piper murmured vaguely. “It’s…”

“Look out!” Dorian barked. A second later, a group of strange pirates burst from the waist-high ferns and attacked them. 

Rynne squealed in alarm and whipped out her dagger. She dodged swiftly away from the grasping hands of a swarthy female pirate, who cried out in agony when Piper’s épée sank through her gut.

An instant later, Fenris was by her side. “I will guard your back,” he snarled.

“All right,” she panted. A skinny but furious-looking man was advancing on her with a large sword in hand, and Rynne swiftly slid around to his sword-bearing side, forcing him to circle sideways to face her. He swung at her a few times, but his aim was haphazard and careless, and Rynne evaded him quite easily. 

He lashed out and grabbed her wrist, but Rynne quickly twisted her arm, forcing her attacker’s shoulder down into an awkward position. Once he was distracted, she jammed her blade into his eye. He released her with a howl of pain, and she stabbed him in the neck.

Then someone slammed into her side, ploughing her to the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. She struggled to breathe, but her attacker was on top of her and his meaty hand was shoving her head down and into the ground…  

Her heart was a panicked tattoo in her ears. Dirt and leaves were all she could see. Unable to see her attacker properly, she stabbed wildly backwards with her dagger, and a little bit of satisfaction diluted her panic when the blade grazed solid flesh. 

All at once, she was free. She gasped in a breath and scrambled onto her hands and knees. Fenris was crouched in front of her with his scimitar drawn, and her attacker was dead at his feet.

She quickly took stock of the others as she shakily shoved herself upright. Cullen and Piper were fighting back-to-back and taking on three pirates at once, and Dorian was driving his opponent back with a gilded dagger in each hand. As Rynne watched, Merrill darted toward her attacker and beneath his beefy arm before slashing a vicious gash across his belly with her shortsword. Blood poured from the wound, setting Rynne’s stomach to roiling, but there was no time to ruminate; there were two attackers left, and both of them were focused on Fenris, who was holding them off with his customary silent snarl. 

Rynne darted out from behind Fenris and kicked one of his opponents in the back of the knee, causing the woman’s leg to buckle and bringing her crashing to her knees. Before the woman could do more than gasp in surprise, Rynne stabbed her in the neck, then once more for good measure. By the time Rynne spun around to look at Fenris again, his remaining foe was dead. 

Rynne whipped around to the others to see if they needed help, but their enemies were dead as well: eleven dead pirates in total against their six. Maker’s balls, they’d been outnumbered. This could have been bad, and they hadn’t even seen it coming… 

Her stomach lurched, and she forced herself to breathe deeply through her lips so she wouldn’t vomit. It’s fine, she told herself firmly. We survived, we’re fine, everyone’s still standing, there’s no reason to be scared–

Fenris squeezed her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he demanded. His eyes were darting over her face and body for injuries. He was bloodied too, but with no major injuries that she could see. 

She took another deep breath, then smiled. “I’m fine,” she said. She pointed at the woman she’d just killed. “This dame here, not so much.”

Fenris let out a breath. “Venhedis,” he muttered. He gently stroked her neck before ushering her over to the others, who were searching the now-dead bodies.

Piper shoved her hair back and looked up at them as they approached. “They’re the same crew as that bunch from last night,” she said. She pointed to one of the dead men’s forearms, which bore a tattoo of a jackal’s head. “That’s Ianto’s sigil.”

“Shit,” Rynne breathed. 

“We should be prepared for more violence,” Cullen said. “Ianto’s people take prisoners, and I do not mean that in a positive way.”

Rynne shot him a guarded glance. His face was more stonelike and stern than she’d ever seen. “Have you had run-ins with him before?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cullen said curtly. “But now is not the time to elaborate. From now on, we should be more careful. More cautious of our surroundings.” 

His tone was slightly censorious, and Rynne’s belly twisted. Was she to blame for this attack? Had she and Piper been talking too loudly?

Fuck, she thought in dismay. But there was no time to apologize; Merrill was talking now in a worried tone. “We must be quick,” she said urgently. She looked at Piper and Fenris in turn. “You felt it before the attack, didn’t you? Something is wrong.”

“Wrong with what?” Dorian said.

“With the forest,” Merrill said tensely. “It was trying to send us a message. We have to help.”

“Help who?” Dorian said irritably. “Try and remember that you have three lumbering humans along for the journey.”

“The forest!” Merrill said impatiently. “The spirit that’s calling to us, the spirit of–”

“Fen’Harel doesn’t exist,” Fenris snapped. 

Rynne stepped close to him and soothingly stroked his arm, but Merrill glared at him. “Say whatever you like, Fenris, but you can’t ignore this. You felt it too.” She turned to Piper. “Please, Captain. We have to hurry.”

Piper nodded, and Merrill relaxed slightly. “This way,” she said to them all, and she set off at a brisk jog. 

They all fell into step behind her. No one spoke for a time, which didn’t help the ominous wriggling feeling in Rynne’s belly; she would have much preferred if everyone was joking around like they had done before, but if Cullen thought they needed to be quiet… 

She chewed her lip to stop herself from speaking. When Fenris broke the silence and spoke to her, she was pathetically grateful.

“You handled yourself well,” he said quietly. 

She shot him a smile. “You smooth talker. That’ll get you everywhere with me.”

He continued to frown at her. “When we run into the rest of these slavers, stay by my side,” he said. “I will keep you safe.”

“Maybe I’ll be the one keeping you safe,” Rynne replied. “I handle myself quite well, you know. Someone extremely smart and handsome once told me that.”

To Rynne’s pleasure, the corner of his mouth quirked in a tiny smile. “You are truly irrepressible,” he murmured.

“I try,” she said cheerfully. After all, what other choice was there but to keep trying and hoping for the best? 

She took Fenris’s hand as they continued to lope along in Merrill’s wake. It’s going to be fine, she thought. She and the others would keep fighting and staying safe, and they were going to discover the source of this mystery voice and find some lovely treasure like Piper said, and everything was going to be fine. 

Everything was going to be absolutely fine, just like it always was.

Pick up from Cullen’s POV on AO3!

#where the winds of fortune take me #pirate au #cullen rutherford #fenris #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #piperford #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #schoute draws #pikascout

[spicywarl0ck]

Here we are with day two of the AU-gust prompts. The prompt was college for today, so I just had to go with some fluffy romance. This will feature my fiancés Aisling Trevelyan and Cullen, since they are adorable fluff balls. (Also put a hinted male HawkexFenris in there for my own heart :D Oh, and not to mention a hinted WardenxAlistair)

Prompts are coming from @augustwritingchallenge​

There was a light breeze that brushed trough her golden hair. The wooden bench that she sat upon creaked from time to time. It was a nice day with a blue sky, scattered with only a few clouds and the sun shone onto the football field that laid in front of her. Not that she was overly interested in sport, or wanted to watch the ongoing training. No, that she was sitting here in the sun was only because the library had been too crowded for her to find a seat, and the lawn in front of Arlathan college was filled with lovey-dovey couples. She had felt rather uncomfortable in their midst, especially with those kinds of guys that tended to flirt with her, making it obvious that they were more interested in her father than herself. But even if they were honest, she often just shied away, easily embarrassed by brash flirtations.

She had thought about simply returning to the Dorm room that she shared with another girl but the sign that her roommate left on the door had spoken a clear message. In the end she hadn’t even dared to knock and had fled the scene with a flushed face, not even wanting to imagine what the sounds she had heard behind her dorm room meant.

Not that she wasn’t curious as well. She’d glimpsed in the books that her older brother bought and loved to read to a certain point. The things that were described in the ‘Sword and shields’ the series she was currently following, sounded just so adventurous and exciting. It wasn't that she didn't want to do stuff like that as well, to flirt back when someone nice tried, but every time she was just rendered to a stumbling and stuttering mess.

So her last option to find a more or less peaceful place to read had been the benches around the football field. Of course there was the shouting of the training cheerleaders and the yelling of the football players that filled the air. But she actually didn’t mind it that much. It was still better than the other options. If it wouldn't be for the noises in the background it would have almost felt like home and sometimes she missed sitting in her corner of the garden, reading in silence in midst of the plants she cared for.

Not that she couldn’t have lived easily at home and get driven to the college by a driver. She would’ve been able to have every amount of the luxury at home, but she decided to stay in the dorms like everyone else. Especially after her brother had teased her that she wouldn’t make it without her bathtub.

But instead she now sat here, dressed in her favorite fluttery summer dress and a book on her lap, probably out of place because most of the other people here came to watch the ongoing training.

Her eyes shifted to the players on the field on occasion. Especially when she heard loud thuds that indicated that two bodies had crushed against each other. Aisling sat in the last row of the stadium benches, which was why the sound always took her by surprise.

“ALISTAIR! YOU NEED TO WATCH OUT FOR THE BALL FOR MAKER’S SAKE!” someone yelled over the field, causing her to flinch in her seat.

The voice seemed to belong to a blonde haired and sturdy man. He wasn’t the tallest of them all, but he seemed to be the one in the lead. Probably the captain of the football team considering the fact that he stood on the side and observed his players. Not that she knew a lot about the game, but at least she knew there had to be a captain.

The player that had seemingly made the mistake, a guy that actually looked very similar to their captain seemed to apologize in earnest before they retook their formation to begin from start once more. At least he looked quite guilty, as did the redheaded girl in the front rows, who had probably distracted him as he strolled back onto the field.

“HEY, HAWKE! TAKE THIS SERIOUS! THE NEXT SEASON IS STARTING WITHIN A MONTH! IF YOU KEEP THIS UP YOU WILL BE CRUSHED BY OUR ENEMIES!” The captain shouted once more, this time towards a broad and dark haired man that just waved towards a dark skinned elf that leaned against the wooden stands and who seemed to effectively ignore the man.

She tried to concentrate back onto the book she read, but her eyes always flew towards the sturdy men that moved in such a barbaric way, ramming each other with full force. But she’d to admit that it looked fascinating and at least it seemed to be fun for them, even though they were drilled by the captain and her attention got drawn to him on more than one occasion.

The man surely was handsome, with the college jacket he wore, the styled hair and that rough bellowing voice. Of course, she’d only heard him shout so far and that probably didn't say much about him. Aisling found herself to move a few rows closer, and she sat down behind the elf.

But her eyes didn't linger on the slender man for long and fixed on the captain once more. He was only a few seats away, and she was able to study his profile, her eyes travelling over the carefully styled hair, the furrowed brows while he was shouting. He was rough, but that didn't make him less handsome, and she found herself watching more than concentrating on her book. "HAWKE! CAREFULL YOU..." Her head had spun around, at the sudden shout, but she couldn't even see what happened, just heard a loud thud and a pain shooting through her head before everything went black around her.

A low groan escaped her lips when she tried to open her eyes, making her head thrum in pain. Everything around her seemed to be blurry for a moment, the sunlight hurting in her eyes. She felt herself get moved pulled against something warm. “I’m so sorry. ” A deep and gentle voice rumbled right above her and when her eyes focused, she could make out the face of the Football captain. He held her in his warm and broad arms, amber eyes looking at her in concern. “That ball shouldn’t have been thrown into your direction. I’ll let him run 100 Leaps around the field for that.” he continued, his hand brushing through her blonde locks, and he looked at her, his brows furrowing again. "You have been out for a moment, but at least you are not bleeding. But we really should get something for that bruise. Hold on." Her head was spinning with those new informations, and she was barely able to process it with the thrumming in her head. Only when she got easily lifted from the bench she realized that the warmth had been his chest, that she had been laying against his body while he had examined her head. Her heart started to beat faster, and she wanted to say something, thank you at least, but her voice just didn't cooperate. As if she had lost it, like every time she tried to talk to someone she found interesting. That she got pressed against his body, felt his hands carefully holding her against him just made it worse. She wasn't very touchy usually, kept her distance with an exception to her brother but this, this was something completely different.

There was a first aid room right next to the training field, even though no one was there right now, but he seemed to know the place good enough to find the things that he needed, opening the cabinets to get out a few things she couldn't make out.

He returned, stood right in front of her, and when she looked up he smiled, making the scar that cut through his lip twitch. Aisling felt heat raise up in her cheeks, quickly looked down again and flinched when a wet cloth brushed against the bump on her forehead, taking her completely by surprise. It hurt, ached and throbbed, but she didn’t dare to move even one muscle. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest, and he was so close to her that she could smell the aftershave that mixed with the sweat from the training.

“I.. uh.. uhm..” she began to stutter, at a loss for words obviously. This all was just too much for her. From what she had understood she had been hit by a ball and it certainly felt like it, but it couldn't have hit her so hard that her brain just couldn’t function properly, right? She felt just dumb, not being able to talk to him, to not even be able to say thank you to the man that looked after her so gently.

“Sorry… I… didn’t want to hurt you. I’ll be careful.” the smile that followed his words rendered her speechless again, and the way he adjusted the cloth, now softly dabbed on the bruise, it just was so sweet and careful that her heart raced even more. There he was, such a broad guy that could’ve probably beat everyone else to a pulp. Yet, he was so gentle and caring that it made her heart flutter.

“I...uh.. it’s okay. I didn’t pay any attention either so… I guess it’s my fault too.” Aisling managed to get over her lips with a shy smile. “Th… Thank you for taking care of me.” she added, her cheeks completely flushed.

“Uh… no you’re welcome. It was my fault too, in a way. Uh… my name is Cullen Rutherford if you want to report someone. I’m the one in charge of the team.” he replied to her, the smile on his face twitching again, leaving her stare at him in fascination. She couldn’t help but to think of it as adorable.

“Aisling.” she introduced herself, not feeling the aching pain in her head anymore, thanks to the fluttery feeling in her stomach. "I...You don't need to worry, I won't report anybody." her eyes found his and for a second his soft dabbing stopped. The moment broke with the creaking of the door as the nurse entered, but glimpsing at the flushed face of the man in front of her she wondered if that ball was probably what they needed to find together, and she couldn’t help but to feel thankful for the guy who’d thrown it.

[shannaraisles]

Comfort & Ploy - Chapter 3

Carver Hawke needs a girlfriend for the festive season. Filipa Trevelyan needs an excuse not to spend Satinalia with her parents. Best friends pretending to be lovers … what could possibly go wrong?

[Read on AO3]

*****

Waking from a good night's sleep after a long day was always a good feeling. Especially this morning, Filipa lazily reflected as she slowly surfaced to consciousness. Usually her apartment was frozen, so she was huddled tight beneath layers of blankets, but this morning, she was toasty warm.

Almost too warm, actually. She yawned, tilting her head as the precursor to rolling onto her back, only to realize that she couldn't actually move. That the firm pillow beneath her head was not only warm, but radiating heat, rising and falling in a slow, comforting rhythm. That the wrap of the blanket around her shoulders was not actually a blanket at all, but a firm, well muscled arm, holding her close to an equally firm, well muscled chest.

Sweet Maker, she'd cuddled up to Carver in the night. And he'd let her! He was cuddling her back and ... Andraste's knickerweasels ... her leg was thrown right over his hips, her body pressed so close to his she might as well have been inside his pajamas with him.

She should have been absolutely mortified. She should have rolled away as quickly and gently as possible. A friend wouldn't let their friend wake up in this kind of compromising position, especially when she knew he would blush as red as the fire engines he drove on a daily basis back home. But ... there was a but. There had never been a but before. Not only that; she was deliberately not thinking about what that but might be.

She hazarded a wary tilt of her head to look up at his sleeping face. He was such a handsome man, she reflected. She'd always known it. You couldn't be friends with Carver Hawke without being very aware that women had a tendency to make fools of themselves trying to get his attention. He'd never given them more than the time of day, though. Filipa had initially assumed he wasn't interested in women, but had learned later in their friendship that he was actually terrible at talking to women he fancied. If he could get laid without having to speak at all, it would be so much better for all concerned.

Filipa stopped that thought abruptly, aware that there was a sudden sharp pang in her chest at even the possibility of Carver finding anyone attractive enough to overcome his inability to talk like a human being to a pretty girl. She frowned, absently focusing on the beat of his heart beneath the palm of her hand, marveling at how steady both it and his breathing were, even when she was wrapped around him so completely. She'd be lying if she said she had never found him attractive - Maker knew she had wasted plenty of daydreams on him during the first months they had known one another - but it had never come to anything. That was why she had felt safe in agreeing to help him fool his brother this Satinalia.

She sighed softly, rolling her eyes at herself. Great, just great. You promised it wasn't going to get weird, and now it's weird. Good going, Pip.

Well, she could at least do the decent thing and untangle herself before he woke up. With careful, gentle movements, she drew her leg back from its rest over his body, delicately loosening the grip of his arm about her shoulders. But as she moved to roll away, he rolled with her, big strong arms wrapping close about her body once again to pull her back close to his chest, fitting the long line of his body to hers with a sleepy mumble.

Filipa swallowed hard, trying not to shiver at the sensation of his breath against the back of her neck, or the warm, liquid warmth that was gathering, unbidden, deep in her belly. Shit. There was no getting out of this particular embrace, not without waking him up. She was just going to have to forge through the awkwardness for his sake. It wasn't his fault she had suddenly realized for the second time that he was pretty much everything she could ever wish for in a man.

He nestled closer into her neck, sleeping lips brushing her skin, and she felt the blush begin to paint her body, starting from somewhere around her naval and rushing upward to cast her face in shades of delighted, ashamed rose. Worse, the arm he had wrapped from beneath her neck bent further around her, one large hand closing with unconscious possession about her t-shirt-clad breast.  

"Mmm ..."

Abruptly, she silenced that unconscious moan with a sharp intake of breath, shocked at herself and, if she was honest, more than a little turned on by Carver's sleeping affection. She never would have guessed he was a hugger in his sleep, but then, they had never shared a bed before. This was new territory for both of them.

She was not going to take advantage of him, though. Steeling herself, Filipa gently slid her hand between his palm and her breast, carefully unfolding his arm until it lay flatter against the bed. The other, she just as gently eased from about her waist, slowly inching forward until she could clamber out of the bed without waking him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she looked back at her sleeping companion, and watched as he groped for her for a moment before gathering her pillow into his arms and burying his face into it. It was such an endearing sight that, for a moment, she forgot to breathe normally, eventually forced to inhale or pass out.

"Get yourself together, Pip," she muttered harshly, turning away so that she was not tempted to watch him sleeping any longer. "You're his beard, that's all. Best friends is better than no friends at all."

Catching up her clothes, she headed for the bathroom, determined to sort her head out for the day to come so that Carver need never know just how much she had enjoyed waking up next to him.

By the time they arrived at her sister's house a few hours later, Filipa was fairly sure she had herself under control. Carver didn't seem to be any the wiser about her gloriously unexpected sexual awakening as far as he was concerned, which was just as well. She knew she was acting a little out of character, a little shyer than usual, but he hadn't commented on it. In fact, he seemed far more relaxed today than he had yesterday, an attitude that resulted in them stamping up onto the Rutherfords' porch with his arm slung about her shoulders. It was so easy to pretend with him ... too easy, she realized. Because it wasn't a pretense, for her. This is so bad. I am a bad person.

Thankfully, Mila had plans for them, roping them both into helping set up the festive tree with Alys directing things from the middle of the living room, except when she wanted to get hands on, in which case Carver was enlisted to hold the little girl up as high as she wanted to go to "fix" the decorations they had been putting up.

"So," Mila said, after pulling her little sister into the kitchen for a moment, "how long have you been seeing each other? You were kind of evasive yesterday, you know."

Filipa rolled her eyes.

"Because I don't see how the length of a relationship should reflect on its strength," she countered, determined to continue being as vague as she possibly could be. "You were technically only seeing Cullen for a couple of months before you moved in with him and Alys."

"We'd been writing to each other for a year," Mila argued. "And my relationship has nothing to do with yours. You are my darling little sister, and in order to be sure you are being treated like the goddess you deserve, I need to know all the details."

"Translation - you are desperate for gossip you can lord over Ksenia and Mama," was Filipa's sardonic reply.

"That, too." Mila was nothing, if not honest, flashing her sister a grin to soften the reality. "You seem pretty comfortable with each other, I have to admit," she went on. "Last night must have been quite the night, though. I don't think I've seen you stare this much at a boy since you were fifteen."

"And I'm going to stop you right there," Filipa said quickly, though she couldn't stop the blush from rising again. That was hardly going to convince Mila she was wrong. "What does or does not happen in bed does not need to be shared with the world."

"I feel like this was a bad time to come into the kitchen," Carver said from the doorway, hovering with a faintly embarrassed look on his face.

"No, your timing is perfect," Filipa assured him, moving away from her sister to join Carver in the doorway.

That turned out to be a very bad move.

"Mistletoe!" Alys exclaimed with absolute delight.

Filipa turned her head to find the little girl bouncing up and down on her toes, waving her hand excitedly at the mantle above them. With a sinking feeling, she followed the line of that happy hand, and sighed. Yes, of course, there had to be a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the kitchen doorframe. She should have known there would be some in this house - it was one of Alys' favorite stories about Mila and Cullen getting together, the day she had all but forced them to kiss under the mistletoe. Mila snorted with laughter, but did nothing to call her daughter off as the little girl skipped forward.

"You have to kiss, it's a law," Alys insisted. "It's not like you don't kiss normally, 'cos you're all smoochy like Mum and Dad."

Filipa lifted her eyes to Carver's, seeing the panic hidden mostly deep in his gaze. Oh,bugger. They'd discussed this possibility, they'd agreed they could do it if they absolutely had to. But that had been before she had woken up in his arms and realized that she was quite probably in love with her best friend.

To her surprise, however, he seemed to swallow down that brief moment of panic, a small smile quirking at his lips as he glanced down at Alys.

"One small peck do you?" he asked.

The little redhead frowned, hands on her hips.

"That's not a kiss you give someone you love," she insisted firmly.

"It's the kind of kiss you give your Dad," Filipa pointed out, jumping on this as a last desperate hope.

"But Carver's not your Dad, he's your squeeze," Alys countered in her adorably stubborn way.

"She's got you there," Mila said from the kitchen. "And you're spending too much time with Isabela, Nuglet."

"You have to kiss under the mistletoe," Alys went on, ignoring her mother's commentary from the other side of the couple she wanted to see some real affection from. "It's a rule. Something bad happens if you don't."

"Well, we can't have anything bad happening to your Auntie Pip," Carver agreed.

Filipa stared at him, genuinely shocked that he seemed so calm in the face of this blatant bullying from a child. He caught her stare, his own smile more reassuring than she could have expected, reaching out to tug her a little closer by the belt loops on her jeans.

"Maker, anyone would think you'd never kissed before!"

Mila's laugh made Filipa blush, but it did remind her that she owed Carver the benefit of keeping up appearances. She could handle this. Right?

Forcing herself to relax, she rolled her eyes, rising up onto her toes to meet him as he bent down to her. For just a moment, she almost hesitated, but Carver didn't. His lips touched hers softly, just the barest brush, before claiming her mouth with a firm, gentle kiss that sent butterflies spiraling through her body. She responded without thinking, curling her hands to his wide biceps as his hands found somewhere to rest on her back, forcing herself not to give into the glorious sensation of being kissed by Carver Hawke. Just a mistletoe kiss, nothing to get worked up over, she told herself, deliberately drawing back before she could get lost in that sensation.

Alys cheered, clapping her hands together happily, and threw her arms around both of their waists in a slightly self-congratulatory hug. Filipa snorted with laughter, automatically wrapping one arm about the little girl as Carver's hands dropped from her own back.

"That was ... weird," he murmured.

Weird. The bubble burst instantly. She had promised him this would not get weird, and here they were. It was weird, and she was pretty sure it was her fault. She shouldn't have let herself respond so eagerly to that kiss; she should have let him lead it and end it on his own terms.

"It's always weird when an eleven-year-old forces you to kiss in public," Mila assured Carver cheerfully. "Come and have a cup of coffee, you'll get over it. And no more bullying people, little miss, or I'm going to have to forget where I put the cocoa again."

"Awww ..."

Alys' complaint brought a smile back to Carver's face, at least, both of them stepping back to let the little girl muscle between them to join her mother at the kitchen island. Filipa let out a long breath, rubbing a hand through her hair. She was going to have to try harder to keep this from getting weirder.

"Wasn't a bad kind of weird," Carver added, throwing her an almost teasing grin before stepping away to join her sister for the promised coffee.

And despite herself, Filipa felt a faint flare of hope at that comment, her own smile returning as she shuffled after him, catching Alys by the waist to lift her up onto the counter and tickle the little mischief-maker for her part in that awkward exchange. So weird didn't necessarily mean bad. That was good to know.

#comfort & ploy #dragon age #modern au #dear friend universe #carver hawke #filipa trevelyan #mila rutherford #alys rutherford #waking up together #realizing feelings #friends to lovers #fake relationship #mistletoe kiss

[ragewerthers]

Amatus

Summary:  As the Inquisition continues to ready itself for the battles that lie ahead, two recruits find a moment to have fun and be the young and in love idiots they are supposed to be.

A/n: This one was an interesting one! It's for Day 6 of KuroDai week and the prompt choices were '90's anime au/Fantasy RPG' and I went with the later! I love dragon age: inquisition and I thought it might be fun to just settle them in this world for a little bit! A bit fluffier than my last fic! :D

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798292

Happy reading! :D

Word Count: 1741

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

“I don’t see why you don’t just create a magic barrier around yourself to keep enemies at bay, Sa’amura?” Kuroo crooned from his perch on the steps of the Herald’s tavern, a mug of ale in his hand as he watched the former soldier practicing his swordsmanship against a few straw dummies set up only a few feet away.

Whoever had thought setting up a training arena near a tavern was a genius in Kuroo’s book.

Watching handsome men working on their fighting form while he was able to enjoy a drink?  What wasn’t to like about that?

The man in question rolled his eyes as he squared his shoulders once more, trying to ignore the mage attempting to rattle him.

“Not all of us are Tevine with magic running through our blood, Kuroo.  Some of us actually have to put in hard work if we want to survive out there,” he said in the tone of someone trying to explain something simple to a child.

Kuroo smiled into his drink, setting it down beside himself a moment later as he watched Daichi land a few good combo strikes to the straw dummy, nearly decapitating its sad little bucket head.

“You make a fair point, Sa’amura.  Not many can be as lucky, clever, talented, gorgeous or modest as myself,” he said, getting a snort out of the soldier and chuckling himself when Daichi turned around with a smile on his features.

“You’re an idiot,” he said with a barely contained giggle, something Daichi would claim till his dying day that he didn’t do, but Kuroo knew better.

“Yes, but you love me.  So what does that say about you, hmm?” Kuroo asked, getting with an exaggerated groan that left him sounding more like an ninety-seven year old instead of his twenty-six years of age.

Daichi shook his head at the sad display and smiled more.

“Says that I’m in love with an idiot… and everyone should take pity on me,” he teased, making his way to the edge of the arena where a small fence had been erected lest one of the taverns drunk patrons inadvertently maimed.  He set his sword against one of the rickity boards as Kuroo drew closer, a little scowl on his face from the comment.

“You realize that I could turn your trousers to ice in a snap, correct?  Or set your eyebrows on fire?” he shot back, standing before Daichi and resting his arms on the fence between them.

Daichi could only smile more at that, gleeful in the knowledge that he’d been the one to annoy Kuroo first, regardless of the mages attempts earlier upon himself.

“But you won’t… because you love me and my handsome eyebrows,” he said, giving them a little waggle for emphasis and making Kuroo hide a smile behind his hand, not ready to make up just yet.

“No I don’t.  They’re dumb.  Like you… who’s dumb,” he tried to shoot back, only succeeding in getting Daichi to laugh more.

“How much did Cabot let you drink?” Daichi asked lightly, reaching forward to ruffle his partners unruly hair, getting a little grumble for his efforts and a hand batting his away.

“Not nearly enough,” the mage complained, though he’d finally allowed a smile to appear over his features.

Daichi smiled lightly at that and brought his hand away from Kuroo’s hair to lightly rest against the mans cheek, his thumb soothing over the pale skin.

“When you reach eyebrow insulting status, you’ve had too much, dear,” he murmured lightly and Kuroo felt his ears flush at the endearment.

“You… are playing unfair now, Amatus,” Kuroo purred back softly, watching as Daichi’s neck began to flush in return before finding a gentle kiss pressed to his lips.

Daichi leaned back a moment later, resting his forehead against the other mans and letting his hand fall to gently cradle the back of his neck.  “You know I’m weak against that nickname, Kuroo,” he murmured fondly, getting the mage to chuckle a bit.

“I do.  That’s why I said it…. Amatus,” he murmured once more, letting his voice dip lower still and feeling the way Daichi shivered before him.

“Maker’s breath, you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered back softly, nudging their noses together and feeling the way Kuroo’s crinkled slightly against his own.

“Never,” Kuroo whispered, pressing one more kiss to his lips before leaning back with a smirk.  “In fact… why don’t you let me train with you a little?  Make sure that you’re up to snuff for whatever else we’re gonna face out there.”

Daichi had to fight the urge to lean forward and chase after Kuroo’s kiss, but he was definitely pulled from his thoughts when he heard the offer, a challenging smile appearing over his own features.

“Oh?  The mage wants to get his hands dirty?” he teased as Kuroo clambered over the fence to land on the other side beside his smug looking partner.

“Pfft.  Not in the least.  I can take you down without laying a finger on you, Dai,” Kuroo warned with a smirk already taking over his features.  To prove his point he brought a hand up and with a little waggle of his fingers, sent a force of air against his partners chest, unbalancing him and making him stagger back a few steps.

Daichi, to be fair, had been caught off guard a bit by the mini attack and so he did windmill his arms a bit to try and steady himself, only to find Kuroo cackling at the sight.  Daichi narrowed his eyes before glancing at his sword.  He refused to go so far as to use an actual blade against him and so he squared his shoulder and planted his feet a bit more firmly as he watched Kuroo starting to prowl around the arena.

“What’s this?  Not going to pick up your weapon against me?” Kuroo asked as he brought his hands back up, pausing just a moment before sending a blast of ice racing toward him.

The fractals zigzagged across the ground toward Daichi who only just rolled out of the way of another hit.

“I’m sorry.  You know I can’t do that, but I think I can still take you down without a weapon,” Daichi explained as he stood back up quickly, moving in time to avoid another blast of ice.

Kuroo quirked an eyebrow at that, watching as Daichi ducked and dived away from each spell he cast.  “I’m afraid I don’t see how when you can’t even get close to me, Amatus,” he teased, knowing he was only riling the man up more.  “And if this what you do on the battlefield?  Roll around like a tumbleweed?  Commander Cullen definitely needs to start thinking about different training regimes for you all.”

Daichi snorted at that, knowing that Kuroo’s words weren’t anything to be taken seriously.  Much like how Kuroo knew that Daichi’s earlier jab at his magic wasn’t an honest to gods insult.  Both men respected each others tactics;.  Really, this banter was just another part of their lives.

After having rolled away from another blast, Daichi got up, dusting off his left arm.

“As if you’d actually say something like that to… oh!  Good evening, Commander Rutherford!” Daichi said instantly, his back going straight as he offered a salute, eyes locked over Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo’s eyes widened at that and he instantly turned around.  “Good even-...,” he began before finding no one behind him save for a bucket headed dummy.

Uh oh.

Before he could fully turn around he felt something colliding with his body and before long he was tackled to the ground a smug Daichi straddling his hips and looking far too smug.

“Is that what you mages do?  Get distracted by tactics used on children?” he teased back, watching as Kuroo huffed under him and pushed at his chest.

“That was unfair and you know it!  Now get off me!  You smell terrible!  Rolling around in the dirt like you were!” Kuroo chided, wriggling underneath Daichi to get his freedom.

“What?!  Oh you little…,” Daichi glanced to the side of his partners head, reaching over and grabbing a chunk of ice the size of his palm from one of the earlier attacks and promptly shoving it up his partners shirt.

The squeal that echoed around the courtyard was hilarious and it wasn’t long before Daichi was laughing so hard he actually fell off his partner who promptly jumped up and began shimmying around the arena to free himself of the chill.

“You are a horrible, horrible man!” Kuroo shouted, holding his shirt out from his body and shaking it viciously before hearing the resounding thunk of the ice chunk hitting the ground.

Daichi was now at least sitting up on the ground, but he was laughing so hard the only sounds he could make were squeaks and snorts as he tried to convey how absolutely not sorry he was.

To be fair the sight was far too precious for Kuroo to stay angry and he gave a dramatic little sigh as Daichi finally started to calm.

“Oh… oh my g-gahad,” Daichi wheezed, wiping at his eyes to clear the tears of mirth.  “We should…  use that in the field.  That noise alone would shock them all so much they’d freeze and we’d have our chance!”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at that and turned his back on the man, folding his arms over his chest.

“If you think I’m ever letting you get close enough to do that to me again you’re wrong!” he warned before two strong arms easily circled his waist, hugging him close against a broad chest.

“You were saying, Amatus?” he murmured softly against his partners shoulder, saying the endearment as best he could and causing Kuroo’s face to turn a brilliant shade of red.  Daichi’s smile only grew and he nuzzled against his shoulder.  “I see that doesn’t just work on me.”

“Andraste preserve me, you’re going to be the death of me,” Kuroo muttered, but the absolutely smitten smile on his face spoke volumes more.

“Never,” Daichi chuckled, hugging the man just a little bit closer.

The world may be falling apart around them, but as long as they could continue to find these little moments with one another, find a way to stay connected and stay strong… they could make it through anything.

#kurodai week 2019 #KuroDai #kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #fluff #magic #my fics #Haikyuu!! #fantasy rpg #dragon age: inquisition #this was fun to write

[bythexdreadwolf]

30 DAY PROMPT CHALLENGE.

day 03. quill. 

CULLEN RUTHERFORD//KATYA TREVELYAN. WORD COUNT: 1,538. BY KAZ. AO3 LINK.

The small box felt heavy in her hands.  She didn’t know why the thought of giving him something so simple felt so momentous.  It was a token of her gratitude for all that he had done for the Inquisition, a token of their friendship.  Nothing more.  So why did it feel as though something much more hung in the balance?  They were just friends.  He was the commander of her forces.  A trusted advisor.  She was his leader, his healer.  There was nothing else, could never be anything else.  He was a former templar and she a former Circle mage.  The chasm between their worlds was as wide as the Amaranthine Sea.  That they had bridged it in any capacity, despite their differences of opinion on so many things, was miraculous indeed.

They had both suffered at the hands of the institution that had failed them both, though neither of them truly knew to what extent their mutual disillusionment and abuse went.  Perhaps that — along with the camaraderie that came with fighting side by side against a common foe — was their only common ground.  So why, on her last excursion to Val Royeaux, had she been so utterly compelled to bring him back something?  To buy him a gift simply for the sake of making him smile?

You do the same thing for your other friends, the little voice in her head whispered.

True, but none of them make me feel like some stupid, blushing maid out of one of Varric’s serials.

And she did not, for example, fantasize about Dorian ravishing her senseless on top of the war table during advisory meetings.  A distraction that had proven, more than once, to be completely and utterly disastrous.  Sharing a room with four of the Inquisition’s most astute individuals meant her wandering mind rarely went unnoticed.  She highly doubted whether their spymaster believed her when she chalked it up to simply being tired from the road, if her raised eyebrows and knowing smirks were anything to go by.

She ran a hand through her hair, continuing to waffle about outside of the commander’s quarters, debating internally about whether or not she should seriously go through with this.  It was just a gift, right?

It’s not like he would want you like that anyway, another little voice sneered.  She had to concede that it had a point; he would never deign to court her in any fashion, so surely there would be no harm in giving him a small gift.  Steeling her nerves, she raised a hand and knocked.

“Enter,” he called out, and she felt a pang in her chest at how utterly exhausted he sounded.  This was a mistake; she should have left him in peace.  She knew how rare moments of much-needed solitude could be.  But she had already disturbed him, and she hesitated but a moment before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The office was warm from the glow of the fire and the mid-afternoon sun streaming in through the windows.  He did not look up from where he was perusing some missive or other, his brow furrowed in concentration.  The ever-present dark circles in under his eyes seemed worse than usual, his cheeks more gaunt, and she wondered if his headaches had gotten worse.  He had never told her their cause, though she highly suspected it was stress.  The man was, after all, married to his job.  It struck her, then, that he had not sent for her healing services in nearly a fortnight.  Since before she left for Val Royeaux.  It shouldn’t have stung as much as it did.  The Inquisition was not wanting for talented healers; she wasn’t the only person in their ranks with the skills to help ease his pain.

“I swear to the Maker if you are here yet again about the incident in the barracks, I will not hesitate to assign you latrine duty until the end of days,” he growled, and she couldn’t help but chuckle a little as she slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

“Should I be concerned about the fact that you threatened to assign me latrine duty, Commander?” she asked with a grin.

At her voice, his gaze snapped up from his work and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“I bet your pardon, Inquisitor.  I mistook you for someone else,” he greeted, rising from his desk.

She waved away his apology.  “Don’t worry about it. I feel like I should apologize for disturbing you; you’re clearly up to your ears in shit — apparently physically as well as metaphorically — but I was hoping — do you have a moment?”

His eyes flicked down at the disorganized array of papers sprawled across his desk for the briefest of moments before alighting on her face again.  She steeled herself for the rejection.  Can’t you see he’s busy?  You should have just left it outside of his door and buggered off.

“Of course.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.

Her words seemed to get caught on her tongue as he regarded her with that amber gaze, heat spreading up her neck and across her cheeks.  She cleared her throat and tried again.

“I ah…on my last trip to Val Royeaux, I got you something,” she finished lamely, looking up at him from in under her lashes.  Andraste’s tits, was he even aware of the effect he had on women?  She highly doubted it.  He was handsome, but he seemed to be completely ignorant of the fact that he was absolutely devastatingly good-looking.  She plowed on.  It’s just a small token of friendship.  Between friends.  That’s all it is.  Friends being pals.  Pals being friends.  “To say thank you, and to hopefully brighten up your day.  You work so hard and do so much…It’s not much, I admit —”

“Katya,” he began, and the use of her first name instead of her title was enough to stop what was promising to be a good ramble on her part in its tracks.  He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh, a small blush creeping across his cheeks and his ears.  Was he embarrassed? Oh, Maker no, she really should not have done this.  This was a huge mistake, this was crossing a line.  She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off.  “That you thought enough of me to do such a thing means more than you know.”

It felt like her entire body was going up in a towering inferno from both his words and those fucking eyes.  Maker, help her, but those whiskey-colored eyes of his were going to do her in well before Corypheus would.  She couldn’t think of anything to say in response, so she simply held the small parcel out to him, and watched as he carefully opened the lidded box.

Nestled inside was a quill.  Nothing exquisite; he was too practical of a man for frivolous stationary.  But its nibs were made of metal, and were far more durable than the ones that were standard Inquisition issue.  It was a quill made to last.  It had cost her a few more sovereigns than she would like to admit.   She watched as his fingers gently ghosted over the pen, hovering over the small inkwell and the spare nibs.  He swallowed.

“I cannot accept this,” he breathed, his voice barely audible.

“Of course you can,” she countered, taking a step into his personal space.  Her heart felt as though it were going to hammer its way out of her chest.  Stop that, she told it, though she was sure he could hear it in the silence of his office.  It was practically so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  Friends do things like this for each other.  He’s a friend, you absolute tit.  He looked up from where he’d been marveling at it, his brow furrowed.  “You spend almost as much time writing as Josephine and Leliana; you deserve something that’s going to stand up to the task.  It’s a gift, Comm—Cullen.  Plus, I’m your boss and I say you have to.  So.”

“I—thank you.  Truly.”

He was looking at her with such warmth and bewilderment that she was seized with the desire to reach out and cup his cheek, but she managed to reign the impulse in.  Barely.

She swallowed and took a step back in an attempt to ground herself; her legs felt as weak as a newborn colt’s, and it was suddenly incredibly hard to draw a steady breath.

“Well, Commander,” she tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.  “I’m glad you like it.  I shall take my leave.”  Before I faint or piss myself, in all honesty.  Both are a very likely outcome at present.

As she made her way to the door, he called after her.

“Inqui—Katya?  Would you care to join me for a game of chess tomorrow?”

She paused, turning to regard him over her shoulder.  His expression was unreadable but the same warm surprise -- as though he'd never seen anything like her -- was still in his eyes.  The swooping sensation in her stomach seemed to double tenfold.  “I—yes, of course.  I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose spectacularly, but I would love to.”

#cullen x trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen rutherford #cullvelyan #dragon age fanfic #dai fanfic #cully wully #char: cullen #char: katya #g: inquisition #:story time with k

[dovabunny]

Nobody Would Want to Dance with a Magic Ox

Click link above to read on Ao3 or read below under the cut.

Relationship: Adaar/Krem

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition

Rating: Teen

Characters: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi; Female Adaar; Female Inquisitor; The Iron Bull; Josephine Montilyet; Leliana; Dorian Pavus; Cullen Rutherford            

Tags: fictober18; cremquisitor;

Chapter: 1/1

Series: FicTober Ficlets

Summary: Adaar had always thought nobody would ever look at her and see beauty and strength in equal measure, that nobody could ever love her as she is. She always thought nobody would ever want to dance with her, especially not more than once. Maker, she has never been more happy to be right.

FicTober prompt ( from @barbex ): “I thought you would forget

Dragon Age Inktober prompt (from Dankou): Halamshiral

The result: this hot garbage.

Adaar shifted uncomfortably in the constricting fruity outfit they made her wear. For someone used to wearing Arishok armour while twirling a staff around at lightning speed, feeling like a stuffed nug in a frilly sock was...demeaning and embarrassing.

But they meant well, her advisors. Josie had practically bounced on her toes when first she saw Adaar in the Inquisition formal attire, calling her both ‘striking’ and ‘resplendent’. Whatever the fade that means. Leliana has smirked in that creepy I-can-murder-you-in-your-sleep-but-chose-not-to-you’re-welcome way of hers, speculating that the Inquisitor would be flooded with hopeful suitors. Cullen was the only one who grumbled along with her as they tugged and frowned at their outfits.

But standing here, on the balcony of the queen of Orlais’ home or whatever (Maker, Josie will kill her if she heard those thoughts), there was no sweeping compliments, no swooning suitors, and no friendly faces. There were masks and gossip, thinly-veiled insults and condescending giggles. No one cared that she had saved Briala’s ex-girlfriend and thereby saving the whole damn country from a bloody civil war. Oh no, they’d rather keep their distance from the 7ft grey giant with swooping black horns adorned in gold, long white hair braided to her butt, and the tell-tale scars around her red lips of where she had once been silenced.

Too big, too opposing, too ugly, too grey, too non-human, too...horny.

She allowed herself a stupid little giggle at that last bit.

Truth be told, very few things made her smile these days. Before Haven fell she had been a simple woman that found happiness in simple things - good food, a good fight, good ale, and good company was enough to have her grinning ear to ear with a flush on her cheeks. Being with Bull’s Chargers gave her that long lost sense of belonging. Around that lot of misfits she felt safe to be herself and let her guard down, they never judged only teased, and never talked in circles.

And then...there was Krem.

The first time she had seen the lieutenant, swinging a gigantic warhammer like it was a turkey leg, looking like the hero from one of Varric’s fantastic romance stories - she’d felt something strange twist in her stomach. It had taken her a long time to realise that twist was her having a ginormous crush on the man. But instead of being a decent adult about it, instead she blushed like a virgin maid about to get her V card stamped by Zevran Arainai, and running to hide whenever she saw him in fear that instead of words only garbled sounds would escape her. That actually did happen, three times, where she would drink that strong shit Iron Bull said could make you damn-near breath fire and grow a tail, until she felt brave enough to approach the handsome, strapping warrior standing on his chair like he was the king of the tavern….

...not knowing he was the king of her heart.

...holy fuck, did she really just think that? That’s good shit! She needs to give Varric some tips on writing romance, seems she’s a natural. But only in theory.

Each time she opened her mouth to say something smart or witty, to compliment that way he sweeps his warhammer low to knock enemies off their feet before spinning it up to slam back down crushing the skull of a Venatori. Or maybe she would compliment his choice of haircut? How he could burp words in Qunlat? It made no difference what she ‘planned’ on saying, because all that came out was “so-Ima-fyo-imean-notwha-hnggk…” right before she turned and all but fled the Tavern to go hide under the hay in the stables. If Blackwall saw her he never said a word. Good man that, seems honest and reliable.

Because of such profoundly mature and sophisticated behaviour one might come to expect of a person of her status and office - she had started to avoid Krem, the Tavern, and the Chargers. Heck, she even avoided being in Skyhold if she could. There would barely be a ‘welcome back, Inquisitor’ before there was a ‘let’s go get something to drink’ and then of course a ‘Boss! The chargers and I haven’t seen you in a while, ain’t that right, Kerem de-la Creme?’ and she’d be ‘I NEED TO GO TO THE HISSING WASTES’ -ing out of Skyhold before anyone could say ‘Dorian your mustache is looking marvelous for someone who had just arrived back at civilisation not ten minutes ago from the Fallow Mire’.

It was the last night before the Inquisition left Skyhold for Halamshiral that she decided to cave and go wallow in self-pity at Herald’s Rest, her forehead planted on the table she claimed for herself in the corner. She typically gave off quite a ‘keep your distance I am big and scary’ aura, even without the glowing arm, but tonight she was giving off plain old ‘fuck off’ vibes. Of course ‘vibes’ never meant shit if you’re the Iron Bull.

“Bummed about the upcoming party?” he cheerfully said in that warm gravelly voice of his. “It’s not that bad, boss. We’ll go, save the empress, scare some humans, have them kiss our asses, and then get our bellies full of fancy food and wine.” At her barely scoffed response, his voice went a little softer. “What’s this really about? You got a weak stomach for Orlesian Ham? Dorian claims it tastes of despair. Scared of masks? Can’t dance in red velvet?”

“Bull, if you don’t shut up and let me drink I’ll send that redhead in the kitchens to Redcliffe and there’ll be no more ‘strawberry shortcake’ for you. And yes I meant it like that.” Adaar snorted mirthlessly. “Besides, I’m a giant grey ox mage with fade power gifted by Andraste herself and more scars than they have hair. Nobody would want to dance with me…” She had said the words softly, whispering it to the wood on the table, not intending it to fall on any ears.

Especially not the beautiful ears of a handsome Tevinter warrior who looked at her with slight confusion and concern when she finally lifted her head.  

The inquisitor tugged at the tight collar, ripping a few seams so she could breathe. With not much else to do, she amused herself by watching the gardens below. The balcony was secluded enough to not draw the attention of other guests looking to step into the cool air but still wanting to bask in the festivities. And those seeking seclusion for ‘other’ reasons, well, she could see them behind various shrubbery and hedges from where she stood. She’ll commend them for their commitment, that’s for sure, for soldiering through removing so many layers of cloth and frill and belts and skirts before they get to smoosh the parts together they want to smoosh together. Maybe she should go call Cassandra...

As it were, she was so distracted that she completely missed the doors behind her open and close, as well as the steps towards her, till a not-so-subtle throat clearing had her whirl around, her long white braid whipping her in the face as she started with “I wasn’t looking at anything!” only to freeze.

“Inquisitor,” Krem greeted with a polite nod of the head. His hair neatly styled to the side (she suspected Dorian had a hand in that, literally), his uniform showing off his broad shoulders, strong arms, and soldier’s posture.

But that wasn’t what caused her breath to catch.

Stuck to his chest was a little scrap of paper with the word ‘Nobody’ written on it.

Krem smirked when he saw her stare at it. “I may have overhead you say ‘nobody’ would want to dance with you.”

Her eyes went wide as he took a step closer, his arms behind his back, all cool confidence and determination. “I… I thought you’d forgotten,” she said dumbly. But HEY at least it was words!

Krem’s smirk turned into a smile as he stopped in front of her and offered her his hand. “It would be very hard for me to forget you, my Inquisitor.” He extended one sinfully strong leg and gave a bow. “Now, would you be willing to dance with a nobody? Because nobody very much wants to dance with you.”

They couldn’t dance, neither of them, but heck if those kids didn’t care. Even as she towered over him, Adaar seemed to look up at Krem with stars in her eyes as he leads her in a swaying twirl around the balcony. They laughed and teased and danced, and her heart felt full.

Adaar had always thought nobody would ever look at her and see beauty and strength in equal measure, that nobody could ever love her as she is. She always thought nobody would ever want to dance with her, especially not more than once.  

Maker, she has never been more happy to be right.

#fictober18 #dragon age inquisition #cremisius aclassi #cremquisitor #inquisitor adaar #ficlet #my writing #halamshiral #iron bull #krem

[mayaalliot]

London | Self Para

i. Never in a million years had Maya Alliot thought that Oliver and Laurent wouldn’t share the same zip code as her. In fact, she hadn’t imagined a life without the ability to waltz right into their homes. So when Oliver stayed in Porto with Aurèlie and Laurent went back to Paris. Maya was asked to return Launceston to be Frans right-hand man. It had been a position she had never in a million years thought she’d find herself in but it had been one that she excelled. Granted she had stumbled a little bit along the way but slowly but surely she showed Fran and all of the others that she was more than capable of being a leader.

To say that Maya Alliot missed getting her hands dirty was an, to say the least, but when Fran asked her to work beside him he had also told her that she needed to put on more of a business front and less of a brute front. Maya alliot had known brute all her life but the last few years she had attempted to assert herself more in the business world.

Both The Vault and Mistrals were flourishing in Launceston and the St. Clairs were benefiting greatly. An attack on The Vault had devastated Maya - not only because the whole building had been unrepairable but because she had lost a good friend due to the attack. Maya and Regan had been sitting at the bar together when they place exploded. Maya had woke up to a raging headache, ringing in her ears and sounded by smoke and flames but the sound of screaming had been the only thing that she could focus on. Reagan had been pinned down when Maya crawled over to her it had been clear by the large puddle of blood that she didn't have long.

Maya had attempted to free the blonde from the large piece of ceiling that was crushing her body. Her screams had turned to low cries and then to a struggling gurgle as she began to drown in her own blood

"It's okay...It's going to be okay." Who was she trying to reassure? Herself or Reagan? Maya hadn't known but what she had known was that she was running out of time. Maya bent down beside Reagan and brushed the hair back from her face. "It's okay baby girl. I'm right here. It's going to be okay now. It's going to be okay."

As she had said the final words Maya Alliot's hand had come up and covered Reagan's mouth.

ii.

Maya had always been able to tell when something just wasn’t right. So when her cell phone rang at midnight two nights ago she knew right away that she couldn’t let it go to voicemail.

“Who is it?”

It wasn’t a question of who was on the phone - that had been clear by Laurent’s name and face taking over her screen. It was a dreadful who are we burying this time.

“Relax your tits, Alliot. Nobody’s gone and died - yet.” There was a long heavy sigh on his end. Maya had heard him take a swig of what she only assumed was the most expensive stuff on his shelf. “I need a favor...I ne-“

“I’ll be on the next plane.” Maya hadn’t needed to know what he needed. Decades of working side by side meant she knew him well enough to know that he needed her there with him. “Give me time to talk to Fran and then I’ll be there.”

iii.

When she had said it had not mattered what Laurent needed she had not been lying. When it came to the French bros Maya Alliot would drag herself over nails if it meant protecting them. If meant making their lives a little bit easier because that was what friends did. It was what she did.  

Maya Alliot stood in the middle of an empty two-story building in Westminister. Black high heels clicking softly against the tile floor as she slowly turned in a circle. The building was exactly what she had been looking for. It was recently closed when a restaurant went under and didn't need too much work. Truly all it really was the few updates that she had already figured out inside her head. Maya Alliot had not been in London more than four hours but she had already found and purchased the property.

The sound of footsteps coming in behind her caused her to turn quickly on her heels. Her hand already against the small of her back where her gun laid against her skin. Though she instantly relaxed when she saw a familiar face standing before her.

"Hey, there handsome! Did you miss me?" Maya didn't give Laurent time to answer the question as she closed the space between them and pulled him into a warm hug. Her eyes closed as her head rest against his shoulder. Laurent only had a could inches on her but it was enough for her to be able to relax into the hug.  After what felt like minutes Maya took a step backward to take him in. He appeared to be in one piece but he had called her to London for a reason - one of which they would get to at another point. For now, they had business to discuss.

"What do you think?" She questioned as she waved her hand towards the interior of the building. "Two stories, huge seating section, banquet hall, two bars on each floor. I can go on. This place is actually perfect."

"Perfect for what Alliot? Stop talking in riddles. You have me standing into the middle of Westminster at an empty building that used to serve shitty as-" "Food." She cut him off. The smile on her face grew wider. "And we're not just standing in Westminster. We're standing right in Rutherford terrority and as of twenty-eight minutes ago the London very own Mistrals."

#selfpara: london #para: london

[chronicallyhaughty]

The Weather Outside is Frightful

[CullenDorian, AO3, Ko-fi]

Cullen bursts through the door to the café, surely making a right spectacle of himself and bringing a burst of hail laden cold wind in with him, but he hardly pays it any mind. Despite his best efforts, the bundle in his arms is too cold, too quiet. Fighting down panic, he murmurs to it with a tinge of desperation, as he fumbles his phone out with shaking fingers.

“Come on, come on,” he hisses at it when it remains stubbornly dead from the chill.

“Can I assist you in any way?” The handsome man seated by the window has half risen from his seat with a concerned look and a Tevene accent. Cullen is in a bad enough way that he latches on to whatever scrap of hope he can find.

“Oh, ah, yes, if I could trouble you to find the nearest available veterinarian? I would, but my phone…” He shifts his arm a little, revealing the small face of the mabari pup to the man. So damn cold, and much too still. The man’s face pales, and he gapes for a beat before rushing into motion.

“Vishante kaffas, did you find that poor thing outside?! Hold on, let me,” he sits back down, tapping away at his laptop quickly. Cullen goes back to rubbing the creature down best he can, but she’s so very little. Maker knows how long she’s been out there, alone, huddling in the trash beside a dumpster. It lights a fiery rage inside Cullen, and this one is unrelated to his recent mood swings, he’s sure. What kind of person would just leave a dog outside in this Maker forsaken storm?

“There. Forgive me, serah, but you seem to have made your way here by foot.” The man starts efficiently packing away his things as he speaks. “If it’s agreeable to you, I’d very much like to drive you two to the veterinarian.”

Cullen is startled by how much kindness there still is in the world.

“Yes. Thank you.”

They jog a short distance to where a sleek sports car is parked, and Cullen finds himself apologising even as he gets in.

“I’m sorry, I hope this won’t ruin your car–,” he starts, but he’s cut off.

“Nonsense! This is a life or death situation!” The man waves his concern off with a hand. “I’m Dorian, by the way, Dorian Pavus. Best to get that out before it gets too awkward.”

As Dorian puts the car into drive and starts making his way into the very sparse traffic, Cullen realises that he’s right. Any longer and it would have been awkward indeed, not knowing one another’s name. He clears his throat.

“Cullen Rutherford. Thank you, for doing this.” Dorian flashes him a quick but dazzling smile, even as the hail keeps clattering down on the car’s roof.

“Think nothing of it. Here.” He reaches out and turns the heat up.

Cullen is about to reply when he feels the last thing he wants to happen, happen.

The little pup stops breathing.

The noise he makes is inhuman, and Dorian jumps in shock next to him.

“No, no, no, Maker, no,” Cullen chants desperately, barely noticing as Dorian pulls the car into a sloppy double park.

“Cullen? I realise we only just met, but, may I try something?”

“She’s gone, sweet Andraste, she’s,” he’s rambling, but. He had become so invested in this little life so swiftly. Couldn’t even save a dog, now could he? Pathetic. Nonsensically, as is the way of such things, the insidious thought creeps in that if he only had still been on lyrium, then maybe…

“Cullen,” Dorian’s exasperated voice cuts through the fog. Oh. They’ve stopped. Dorian is leaning over, handsome face full of gentle sympathy. His hand is hovering over the still puppy. “Time is of the essence, here. Can I try?”

Cullen just nods numbly. Not like things can get any worse than they already are. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed over the tears that threaten to spill over at any moment, now. He wanted so badly to do something good for once. Post-traumatic stress, a voice says in the back of his head. He should damn well think so. He’s so tired of lives being snuffed out in his hands.

Dorian’s hand brushes his when he goes to rest it on the pup’s lifeless back. Inexplicably, the touch settles Cullen a little. Then the hand starts to glow a dark purple, and Cullen rears back in shock before he even processes what he’s seeing.

“Ah. Perhaps I–,” Dorian starts, looking chastised, but Cullen feels a sudden flare of hope. He settles back in his seat and nods for Dorian to go on. The man scrutinises him for a moment before giving a decisive nod of his own.

This time Cullen is prepared for the flare of magic. He can’t sense it, as such, not anymore. But the air around Dorian grows ever so slightly warmer as he concentrates. Cullen watches carefully as Dorian works, eyes flickering between his face and the sigil being woven around his hand, though Dorian’s attention is firmly on the little body in Cullen’s arms.

To think, only a few months ago Cullen would rather be dead than sit still while someone cast a spell on top of him. His therapist will no doubt be proud of his progress.

Cullen has seen magic do things magnificent and dreadful alike, in his life. Right now, he can only hope and pray that Dorian is doing the former.

A moment passes. Another.

The only sounds in the car is the rattling of hail and the deep hum of powerful magic.

Another moment.

The puppy abruptly shudders, coughs, and starts to complain, loudly.

Cullen is so relieved he could kiss the other man.

The tears do fall, now, before he can stop them. Dorian wastes no time. With a delighted laugh he puts the car back in drive and resumes their journey. They make it to their destination in the next ten minutes, and Dorian parks the car in a spot Cullen isn’t sure is entirely legal, but they’re both too anxious to care.

Their entry is a bit dramatic, slamming doors and whatnot, but the man behind the front desk drops what he’s holding and rushes over when he spots the bundle in Cullen’s arms, and from there things move quickly as the doctor reassures them that he will take a look at the puppy immediately. He takes the puppy, gently soothing, and once the blond manbun hurriedly disappears around a corner Cullen feels the adrenalin drain out of him all at once.

He sags onto a nearby chair and just breathes. He doesn’t even realise that Dorian is still there until he feels a tentative touch to his shoulder. He startles, and Dorian withdraws, holding his hands up with a somewhat shaky grin. Cullen is sure that the bashful one he offers in return is even shakier.

“Not exactly how I was expecting today to go, but I’m damn glad I was where I was when I was needed,” Dorian offers with a laugh that’s more a relieved rush of breath. Cullen can’t help but agree.

“I cannot thank you enough, Dorian. I’m sorry for my, well, reaction, before,” he winces, his smile surely turning self-deprecating.

“Oh no, the fault is entirely mine. I should have explained what I was about to do better. This isn’t my homeland, after all.” Cullen grimaces at the thought. He’s fairly certain he would have noticed if what had been used was blood magic, lack of lyrium notwithstanding.

“Ah, I. If I may inquire. The magic, I didn’t quite recognise it, was it…?” Maker, he can’t even say the word out loud for fear of hearing it confirmed.

“A simple touch of necromancy, do not fret. Or, not simple, as actually calling souls back to the recently departed can’t be called simple by any stretch of the imagination, but I digress. I’ve no inclination towards my countrymen’s favoured approach, I assure you.” Cullen is relieved, and disturbed at how little he had cared in the heat of the moment. Hunting down practitioners of illegal magic was his job up until very recently. And yet he had been willing to look the other way to save one small puppy, in spite of his past experiences with the damned school of magic. It’s enough to send a shiver down his spine, as he feels himself closer than ever to understanding the drive of those desperate people.

Dorian is looking at him with a calculated look. Probably wondering how a man such as himself, mundane as can be with not a drop of magic in him, could possibly tell the difference between magic schools to begin with.

“I see,” Cullen forces out, belatedly. “Necromancy isn’t widely practiced in Ferelden, and while use of it is regulated, it isn’t illegal, unlike, well.”

“Oh dear. I do hope you’re not planning to report me, serah.” Dorian’s mouth twitches into a smile, but there is a wariness there that Cullen finds himself wanting to ease. The man has been nothing but kind to him, and Cullen knows there is good magic. There is.

“That isn’t my job anymore,” he says, and Dorian’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Oh, an ex-Templar. How intriguing. And here I thought that was an occupation you kept for life, in these parts.”

“Not by choice, mostly,” Cullen hears himself say. Dorian’s smile turns… sympathetic.

“So I have heard.” The quiet is abruptly broken by an obnoxious pop song bursting forth from Dorian’s jacket pocket.

“Venhedis! Pardon me.” He withdraws his phone with an apologetic grimace thrown Cullen’s way, and answers in what sounds to Cullen’s untrained ears like flawless Orlesian. As he talks, Cullen tries to get warmth back into his hands, with little success. He’s sure he looks very awkward. Luckily they’re the only ones in the waiting room, but an elven woman in scrubs passes by, throwing the two of them a passing glance, and Cullen feels a bit silly.

It’s not even his dog, he lies to himself. He’s not going to keep it. Never mind that his therapist had suggested he get a pet to care for and this seems like the Maker’s divine providence. He glares at his stiff, cold fingers in dismay.

…He’ll have to buy a crate and toys for the beast, and food, as well as whatever the doctor says she’ll need.

He’s planning out where to place food bowls when the Orlesian tapers of into goodbyes, and Dorian hangs up. He glances up and finds the mage glaring at his phone, before meeting Cullen’s eyes.

“I would have stayed, but alas, there is a bit of an emergency at the workplace, and naturally they cannot possibly survive another minute without me. Do you have a way of getting home?” At Cullen’s confirmation Dorian shifts on his feet, suddenly looking awkward. “I hope it isn’t presumptuous, but. If you are not opposed, I wouldn’t mind hearing how things have gone.”

He waves his phone at Cullen, who blinks at it for a second before realising what is being asked.

“Oh! Certainly.” He takes the phone and creates a new contact, steadfastly ignoring the blush rising from his neck, surely turning his ears as red as a stoplight.

“Marvellous! I’ll text you, but now I really must go. Best of luck to you.” He moves towards the door, another one of those impossibly dazzling grins on his handsome face. Maker’s balls.

“And to you,” he answers inanely. Dorian laughs, and with a jaunty wave, he is gone.

Cullen blinks at the spot where Dorian last was for a moment, before jumping at the buzz against his thigh. Seems like his phone has deigned to awaken at last. He pulls it out and immediately goes an even deeper red.

> Pardon my forwardness, but once the little one recovers I’d be delighted to make her acquaintance proper. Perhaps over dinner? ;)

He hides his helpless grin behind a hand. Maker’s breath, Cullen is in so much trouble.

[AO3, Ko-fi]

#cullrian #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #dragon age #haughty fanfics

[jacklyn-flynn]

For Cullen/Dejah! 3, 6, 16 :)

3. When they are having a fight, what is it about and how do they deal with it? 

Cullen and Dejah don't fight much. They may argue, but Dejah is too calm to fight. Cullen may have a temper and run a little hot on something he's passionate about but he can't stay angry at her. I feel like if they were to fight about anything it would be about something dangerous she wanted to do that he didn't agree was worth the risk. 

6. Who is the big spoon?

Usually Cullen. He likes the physically protective aspect of it. However, when he isn't sleeping well or going through withdrawals she's absolutely the big spoon. She's usually awake for long periods of time when that happens so she also smooths back his hair or rubs his cheek with her thumb. Any kind of soothing motion for him to focus on.

16. Jealous at all?

Dejah is under very certain circumstances. It's only when someone suggests she isn't good enough for Cullen for one reason or another. Elf, Inquisitor, mage. She doesn't like women hitting on Cullen by pointing out how they think they're better than she is. Cullen really doesn't want to be but he is. He trusts her, but he always swallows back this fear that she'll find someone better or more deserving. He hasn't acted on it yet because he always comes to his senses. 

As you can imagine, the whole affair at the Winter Palace was hard for them. They both got a lot of proposals that night. All of their suitors doing their best to sell themselves and put down their partner.

But...it was so much fun to think about what might make him act on his jealousy that I wrote this for you!

Cullen always tried to stay out of it when Dejah met the new recruits. It was an unorthodox practice, wanting to meet everyone but he couldn't tell her no. He usually had other things to do but today he could watch. He was curious what kind of interaction she had that always left such a lasting impression on his men.

Dejah knew he was in the back of the Herald's Rest but she was the only one. She invited them to drinks, on her, early in the afternoon when the place was mostly empty. Luckily, that also meant he could overhear most of the conversation.

They talked mostly of things he already suspected they would cover. Who she was, how she came to be the Inquisitor. But then, he heard something that made his blood run cold and hot at the same time.

"So, what's it like for..ya know...canoodling around here?" One burlier young man asked. At least he had the sense to be blushing a little.

"Oh, I get that question a lot." Dejah assured him. She did?! "As long as it's consensual and doesn't result in a child or transmission of unsavory diseases, have fun."

"Well that's a relief! I didn't sign up for celibacy!" Another lad spoke up.

"What about you, Inquisitor? Do you canoodle?" A handsome young man asked conspiratorially. The others at the table nodded and leaned in closer. They reminded him of a group of children at Chantry story time. 

"Dejah, please." She insisted, laughing. Why was she laughing?! "You're bound to find out one way or another, so yes, I "canoodle". I just hope that actually means what I think it means."

The whole table laughed. "Do you have a Dalish word for it?" The burly one asked curiously. "Could come in handy with the pretty barmaid." 

"Oh, I'd stay away from Stella if I were you." She warned. "And it's "pala" though it isn't quite as colorful as "canoodling" is’"

“Why stay away from Stella? She a hag?” Stella’s admirer asked. 

“No!” Dejah said quickly. “She’s a very lovely girl. She has an admirer already though and I promise, he will beat you bloody if you so much as look at her crooked. Tread lightly and be polite. As far as you’re concerned, she’s your baby sister.” 

“Good to know! So, who are you palaing?” He asked casually. Far too casually to be addressing the Inquisitor in Cullen’s opinion.

"You can't ask the Herald that! You insane? What if it's that Qunari with one eye? He'll probably murder you! Slowly!" The thinnest one hissed.  

"I'm just curious!" The young man defended. "I'm not offering anything! Leastways, not yet." The last part was muttered considerably quieter than the rest.

Dejah laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "I am currently quite content in a relationship with-" 

"Me." The rough voice said behind her. Most of the recruits around the table instantly stood and saluted. Beer sloshed onto the table and chairs screeched back in their haste.

The poor lad who had asked the fated question fell back in his chair and landed with a crash, his tankard spilling over his breast plate so that it ran like a waterfall over his neck and face.

Even Dejah was startled. She turned to look up at him reproachfully. She would never scold him or negate his authority in front of his troops but they couldn’t see the look she gave him for scaring her witless.

"Commander, I was just talking about you." He looked down at her and met her eyes. She didn't like the barest hint of insecurity she saw there. She could fix that. "Before you interjected I was going to tell them that you and I are quite committed, both to the Inquisition and each other.” 

She stood and then laid a hand on his elbow. His own hands were perched on the pommel of his sword. His gloved middle finger was tapping it gently. “And I can say-” Her blue eyes drew him in and her smile trapped him. “That I am exceedingly satisfied with all of your services.”

She heard one of the recruits snort behind her. Cullen’s amber eyes shot to the young man, leaving her. It was a dangerous look he threw, one that made her insides melt. Oh, that dear sweet man. 

She turned back to the group. The last recruit hadn’t gotten up though she wasn’t sure he could the way he was wedged under his fallen chair. “In fact, I will have to leave you. As much fun as this has been. There is an urgent matter that I must attend to with Commander Rutherford.” 

Cullen let out a huff of breath, clear disappointment in his troops. He offered Dejah his arm. “At your service, Inquisitor.” 

Hooking her arm through his, she gave the young men a cheerful little wave and wished them luck. 

“I don’t think I much care for your tradition of meeting the new recruits.” He grumbled as they left the tavern.

“Cullen.” She said softly, stopping and tugging his arm so that he turned to face her. “Do you really think any of them have a chance at stealing my heart?” 

He glanced around and found the courtyard mostly empty. He cupped her face gently, lowering his head slightly. “Not them, certainly. But someday, someone perhaps.” 

“I see. You’re worried that someone suave and charming will sweep me off my feet? That he’ll say all the right words and know all the right moves. Well, I can assure you, that won’t happen. In fact, that isn’t even my choice any more.” She pointed out.

“How do you figure that?” 

“Because, I like the one who is too scared to say the wrong thing. The one who says what’s on his mind, even when he doesn’t mean to. Who blushes and rubs the back of his neck to draw attention away from himself.” She assured him. 

He cleared his throat and focused on not doing exactly as she’d just said. 

“I like the one who watches me doing something silly like trip over my own feet trying to get my pants off and laughs with me. The one who just randomly tells me that I’m beautiful with such awe in his voice it takes my breath away.” 

His thumb stroked her cheek gently. “Dejah…” He said it softly. 

“Besides, my heart is no longer mine to give.” She informed him. She enjoyed the confused look for a moment. “See, I’ve already given it to you, silly human. If anyone wants my heart and love, they’ll have to get it from you.”

She stood on tiptoes to meet his lips. The kiss was gentle and chaste, in case anyone was paying too much attention. “Besides, none of them, and I mean none of them, are going to make any of their partners scream their name loud enough for it to echo through the battlements.”

Pink instantly blossomed across his cheeks. “Maker’s breath, woman.” 

“What?” She asked innocently. “All I’m saying is that they only ask that question if they haven’t spent a night in Skyhold yet.”

He shook his head and hooked her arm through his, continuing their walk back to the main hall. 

“Do you know what else they don’t need to ask after their first night?” She asked conversationally. 

“Dare I ask?” Cullen didn’t chance a look down at her. He could already picture the sly smile on her face. A product of too much time with the Varric, Dorian and Bull.

“If the Lion of Ferelden truly roars.” She laughed. 

His free hand slid down his face. “Maker’s breath….”

#cullenxdejah #fluffy headcanons #jealous cullen

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Attachments

Chapter 2 of Damned Spot, the modern bartender AU, is up! Read here on AO3.

Chapter 1 is here, for those who’d like to catch up! 

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

Piper curled her feet up on the couch and lifted her mug. “All I’m saying is that maybe you should try a different strategy. Your usual ‘I’m hot, you’re hot, let’s bang’ routine doesn’t seem to be working with our resident broody bouncer.”

Rynne groaned as she poured a dash of milk into her tea. “But that’s the only routine I have,” she complained. “And it usually works so well.”

Piper snorted into her coffee. “You could always try having, you know, a normal conversation with him.”

Rynne sighed heavily as she joined Piper on the couch. “Well, maybe I just enjoy torturing myself with my futile attempts. He frowns at me so often that it’s like getting a hit of lyrium when he actually smiles.”

Piper elbowed her gently. “As if you would know what a hit of lyrium felt like.”

Rynne gave her a rueful little half-smile. “True enough.”

Piper patted her knee sympathetically, then gulped back the rest of her coffee and hopped up from the couch. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for lunch.”

Rynne stretched her legs out on the coffee table and idly picked up a nearby fashion magazine. “All right. Tell the handsome Mr. Rutherford I said hello.”

Piper smirked as she pulled on her boots. “Sure you don’t want to join us? You’re not going over to help your mum this afternoon, are you?”

Rynne shook her head. “No. She hasn’t texted or called, so I’m going to assume she’s fine on her own for once. But I won’t crash your date with Cullen. I’m good here - I might make some cookies for Isabela. She’ll probably be starving when she gets home. You know how she fucking hates craft service food.”

Piper smiled. “Aw, that’s a good idea. She gets back from her film shoot tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“Yeah,” Rynne said. “And Merrill will be back from that, um… what is that thing called again?”

Piper shook her head in fond amusement. “The Arlathvhen. The clan meeting -”

“Right, right,” Rynne said hastily. “The Arlathvhen. She’ll be back from that in another week. I bet Bels will want to throw a party when we’re all home together again.”

Piper grinned wickedly. “Ooh, I certainly hope so. I need a good excuse to make Cullen grind with me. He never wants to dance in public at the Hanged Man.”

Rynne smirked. “Of course he doesn’t want to dance with you in public. You’re a filthy bitch when you’ve had a few drinks.”

Piper cackled. “You know me too well.” She grabbed her bike helmet from the hall closet and opened the door. “All right, lethallan, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Rynne said absently. She flicked through the magazine for a few minutes, then pulled out her phone and tapped through to her contacts.

She scrolled through the contacts until she found Fenris’s number. She stared at it for a few seconds until she began to feel like a stalker, then tossed the phone onto the coffee table. She’d managed to get his number ostensibly on the grounds of work-related emergencies, but she hadn’t yet found a plausible excuse to text him.  

She hoped Piper was right, and that Isabela would want to throw a party when Merrill came home. Rynne, Piper, Merrill and Isabela lived in a huge luxury condo that Isabela owned, and it was a great setting for parties. A party would be the perfect excuse to get Fenris into a more relaxed atmosphere. He always seemed so tense at work, which she supposed made sense what with the risk of getting swung at by drunken idiots at any moment. But Fenris’s brand of serious readiness seemed more… well, serious than a bouncer job required.

Mysteries on top of mysteries, she thought. Fenris had been working at the Hanged Man for almost a month now, and most of the information she’d managed to learn about him was just confirmation of hints she’d gathered the first time they’d met: that he was from Tevinter, that red wine was his drink of choice, that he didn’t like karaoke or any other activity that put him in the spotlight, and that he did not like being touched.

But there were a couple other things she’d noticed that both intrigued her and made her feel worried for him. It seemed that Fenris trying to hide from someone. He used a flip phone, and when Rynne had teased him about it, he’d frowned and changed the subject. She’d also observed that he paid for everything in cash, which made her think he didn’t have a credit card and thus was trying to avoid being tracked down that way.

Either way, Fenris and his whole situation piqued her interest more than anyone Rynne had met in recent years, but it also made her feel oddly protective of him. It was easy for Piper to suggest that she simply have a normal conversation with him, but she didn’t want to prod for details of his life if he was purposely trying to keep it hidden from someone. So she was stuck with her usual brand of raunchy flirtation, which Fenris didn’t seem to hate, but also didn’t seem to particularly enjoy either.

She picked up her phone and idly scrolled through her social media accounts, but her mind was still on Fenris. Finally she stood up and went to go bake some cookies.

It was just a matter of finding some common ground with Fenris, that was all. And Rynne didn’t mind taking the time to figure out what that common ground might be.

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

Fenris knocked on the door to Varric’s office. “Varric?”

Varric glanced over the top of his reading glasses, then slung his legs off the desk. “Come on in, elf. Got your pay right here.” He placed his papers back on the desk, then bent over to unlock a drawer.

Fenris sidled cautiously into the crowded office. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books and files, and there was a heaping pile of unopened mail on the corner of Varric’s desk.  To Fenris’s eye, the office was cluttered almost to the point of being claustrophobic, but he got the sense that Varric could pull any given receipt out of the mess in less than a minute.

He approached the desk, and Varric held out an envelope of cash to him. “Don’t get mugged on your way home.”

Fenris smirked. “That won’t be a problem. I will see you tonight.” He turned to leave.

“Hey, elf. Hang on a minute.”

Fenris turned back, and Varric gestured for him to approach. “Have a seat. You want some coffee?”

Fenris shook his head. “No, thank you.” He took a tentative step closer to the desk, then sat in one of the two chairs when Varric waved again for him to sit.

“Is something wrong with my work?” Fenris asked.

Varric frowned. “What? Oh, no. You’re doing great.” He shot Fenris a lopsided smile. “I think you’re pulling in more customers, actually.”

Fenris frowned. “How so?”

Varric’s smile widened. “With your whole brooding, good-looking bad-boy thing. I’ve been hearing a lot of whispers from the patrons.”

Fenris shot the dwarf a chiding look. “Is there some other reason you asked me to stay, other than to taunt me?”

“Heh. All right, all right, no need to be touchy.” Varric studied Fenris for a moment over the top of his glasses, and Fenris gazed back at him with a growing feeling of awkwardness.

Finally Varric leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk again. “How are you settling into Kirkwall?”

Fenris shrugged and stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. “Just fine, thank you.”

“Have you seen much of the city yet?”

Fenris shook his head. “I have been busy.”

Varric tilted his head. “Doing what?”

Fenris raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Working at this fine establishment of yours, obviously.”

“What else?”

Fenris frowned slightly. In truth, he hadn’t done much of anything since moving to Kirkwall. He’d been spending most of his spare time simply milling around in his spartan studio apartment in Lowtown. He didn’t know anyone in this city except for the people who worked at the Hanged Man, so it wasn’t like he had anyone to spend time with outside of his working hours. But he also wasn’t particularly inclined to make any friends. The more people knew him, the more likely it was that his whereabouts would get back to Danarius and his thugs.

Danarius would come for him eventually. Fenris knew this. But he wasn’t prepared for the confrontation with his former boss just yet. Fenris had no weapons in Kirkwall except for a handful of knives and a handgun, and he would need a lot more than that to deal with the number of men Danarius was sure to throw at him.

Fenris’s only concern was making enough money to get some adequate weaponry on the black market, and he had to keep his head down until that time. When he was ready, he would go to Darktown and carefully put out the word to the right people that he was in Kirkwall. And when Danarius came, Fenris would use his finely honed skills one last time and take the Tevinter crime lord out, along with any of his cronies that he brought along.

To this end, it wasn’t Varric’s business what Fenris did (or didn’t do) when he wasn’t working. In fact, it was for Varric’s own good if he didn’t know.

“Is there a point to this line of questioning?” Fenris asked.

Varric shrugged affably. “Kirkwall’s an interesting city, that’s all. You should get out more. See some of it. I bet Hawke and Piper would be happy to show you around.”

Hawke. Fenris’s belly did a funny little swoop at the mention of the dark-haired bartender. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. She was constantly flirting with him, in a very obvious and very sexual way. But she seemed to flirt with everyone in this manner, including Varric, and Varric certainly didn’t take her seriously, so Fenris didn’t think he should be taking it seriously either.

But he’d noticed something about her flirting that he rather appreciated. Hawke was a very… touchy-feely person, it seemed. She greeted her friends with hugs and kisses, and she touched the hands and faces and arms of every stranger she flirted with. But after the one time she had touched his hand, on the very first night they’d met, she had never tried to touch him again.

It was rather perceptive of her to notice his discomfort with being touched. The tattoos that spanned his body didn’t hurt anymore, not like they had during the first few weeks after he’d gotten them, but the memories of Danarius’s private physician rubbing lyrium salve into the raw and reddened marks still lingered. The resentment Fenris held about the tattoos on his skin was more of a scar than the tattoos themselves.

He pushed the bitter thoughts away and turned his mind back to Hawke. Yes, it had been perceptive of her to notice that he didn’t like being touched. And considerate, too, to adjust her style of flirtation to make him comfortable. It was… endearing, almost.

He shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter. Hawke certainly didn’t mean anything with her indiscriminate flirting. And it wasn’t like Fenris was in any position to reciprocate, anyway.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind - just a flash of an image, really, barely more than a passing fantasy: his lyrium-lined fingers stroking her bare and golden shoulder.

An uncomfortable flush of heat lit the tips of his ears, and he forced his attention back to Varric. “Have they lived here for long? Piper and Hawke?” he asked.

“Just a couple of years,” Varric said. “Rynne came here… oh, about three years ago now, with her family. Piper came on her own about a year later. She’s from a Dalish clan based out in Ferelden somewhere, but you’ll have to ask her more about that.”

Fenris nodded, then surreptitiously cleared his throat. “And… and Hawke… She lives with her family, you said?”

Varric shot him a knowing look: a very brief look, but enough of a look to make Fenris’s ears feel hotter still. Then he began to organize the papers on his desk. “Nah. She and Piper live with two other friends in a fancy place in Hightown. But Hawke sees her mom a lot. Spends a lot of time doing errands for her, chores around the house, stuff like that.”

Fenris frowned. “Her mother is ill?”

“Nope,” Varric said. He tidied his papers into a stack and didn’t elaborate.

Fenris curiously narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t press. He knew only too well the value of privacy.

He shifted slightly restlessly in his chair. “Well, if you haven’t anything else you wished to discuss…”

Varric looked up at him and smiled. “All right, I get it. Go on. I’ll see you tonight. But think about what I said,” he added as Fenris rose from his seat. “This is a good city. It’s got its gritty parts, sure, but it’s an interesting place. Lots of interesting people. You should get to know it if you’re going to be living here for a while.”

Fenris nodded once. “I will… consider it. Thank you.” He turned away and left the office.

The springtime sun was bright and warm when he stepped out of the Hanged Man, but he pulled up his sweatshirt hood and shoved his hands into his pockets nonetheless. As he made his way back to his apartment, he mulled over what Varric had said.

He knew Varric was just trying to be helpful. The clever dwarf seemed to have an avuncular outlook towards all of his employees, and his fatherly feelings seemed to extend to Fenris as well. And Fenris was grateful; Varric had hired him despite knowing next to nothing of Fenris’s employment history or his past, and had also unquestioningly agreed to pay him under the table, despite the undeniably shady implications of such a request.

But Varric’s intentions and goodwill didn’t matter, not really. Fenris had good reasons for keeping to himself. He couldn’t build any attachments, not when he knew he would eventually leave this city with a pile of bodies in his wake.

His unruly mind conjured another memory: Hawke’s laughing face as she handed him a glass of red wine across the bar, wine that matched the crimson of her lips.

He pushed the thought away. Stop, he sternly told himself. There was absolutely no point. He was here to hide and to make some cash, that was all.

There was no place in his cursed life for anything - or anyone - else.

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

“Hello, handsome! The usual?”

Fenris nodded at Hawke. “Yes, thank you,” he said. He took a seat at the bar as he usually did during his break and waited silently as Hawke filled two steins of beer while simultaneously making change for a twenty-dollar bill.

She filled another pint glass with water and added a slice of lime, then slid the glass to him. “Any interesting stories tonight yet?”

Fenris smirked faintly. She always asked him this during his breaks. At first he had simply said no; being a bouncer was a tiresome job, and Fenris didn’t find anything particularly compelling about turning drunken frat boys and businessmen away or throwing them out of the bar altogether when things got rowdy.

But one night, Fenris had given into her lighthearted persistence and told her about the gold-handled kitchen knife that some idiot from Val Royeaux had pulled on him at the door. Hawke had laughed so hard that Fenris didn’t have it in him to deny her the stupid little stories.

He lifted the glass of water to his lips. “I turned away some fool who had left his ID at work. He said his sister was inside and that she could vouch for his age.” He took a small sip of water. “Do you suppose I should have given him the benefit of the doubt?”

Hawke’s face lit up. “I don’t suppose he had short brown hair and a face like a baby’s smacked bottom?”

Fenris choked in surprise at this extremely colourful description. “What?” he spluttered.

Hawke grinned at him. “He almost sounds like my brother Carver. Now that would be hilarious if you’d turned him away.”

Fenris wiped his mouth and stared at her. “Your…? Should I let him in next time so you can confirm?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Hawke chuckled. “If he forgets his ID at the police station, it’s his own fault. I don’t know how Aveline copes with him, he’s such an absent-minded berk.” She grinned impishly, then slipped away to help a few more patrons.

A jolt of apprehension dampened Fenris’s amusement. He waited until she’d mixed a few cocktails and poured a couple of shots, then drifted back over to him with a smile.  

“Your brother is a police officer?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. She leaned her elbows on the bar and smirked ruefully. “Ironic, really, given… ah, never mind.”

Fenris frowned. That was a cryptic comment to make. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to elaborate, but he also didn’t want to pry; he wouldn’t like it if she pried into his past, after all. But it was good to know Hawke had a family member in the police force. All the more reason to avoid getting close to her.

He sipped his water in silence as Hawke scooped some tips off the bar, then briskly wiped it down. “What about you?” she asked. “Do you have any ridiculous siblings?”

Fenris glanced at her. Her face was friendly and casual, and it was a completely innocuous question to ask. Or it would be, at least, for any normal person.

He sipped his water as he stalled for time. Then, for some reason, he decided to answer her question. “A sister,” he said tersely. “She’s dead.”

Hawke stopped wiping the bar and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh. Shit. I’m… I’m sorry, Fenris.”

He shrugged and glanced idly around the bar. “It’s all right,” he said. It wasn’t, really, and it never would be. But there was no other socially acceptable response when people expressed their sympathy.

“No it’s not,” Hawke said.

Fenris looked up at her in surprise. Her usually cheerful face was serious.

“It sucks, having a family member die,” she said. “My dad is dead, and it sucks. So… yeah.” She gave nervous little laugh and continued wiping the bar. “It’s not the same as your sister dying, I’m not trying to say that, but I just… I feel you, I guess. That’s all I mean to say.”

Fenris didn’t reply. He stared at her in silence until she shot him an uncertain little smile, then she drifted away along the bar and kept on working.

He watched as her smile appeared again, and he watched as she flirted with the customers and laughed with Piper and filled people’s orders. He thought about the seriousness of her expression, and the hint of melancholy he’d seen there - the first hint of it that he’d yet seen on her pretty face.

He finished his water and checked his watch; his break was over, and he had to return to the door to take over from Keran. He stood from the bar stool and walked along the length of the bar until he was standing in front of Hawke again.

She smiled as he handed her his empty water glass. “Finished? I’ll have your wine ready at the end of the -”

“Hawke,” he interrupted. “Thank you.”

She stopped mid-sentence and looked him in the eye without speaking, and Fenris’s breath caught in his throat.

Then her smile softened, and she shrugged casually. “Hey, no problem. Now go bring me some more funny stories, all right? Make yourself useful for once.” She winked, then wafted away to unpack the dishwasher.

Fenris watched the swaying of her hips as she walked away, then stepped away from the bar and returned to the door. He nodded brusquely at Keran, then waved imperiously for the next wave of patrons to come forward and show their IDs.

Don’t, he told himself. You cannot do this. You cannot come to like her. He had fled to Kirkwall to keep his head down and hide until the time for his revenge was ripe. There was no place in his life for any kind of attachments. Not to this place, and not to any of these people.

Especially not to the shameless, flirtatious, beautiful human woman who was working behind the bar.

#fenris #fenris fic #damned spot #fenris modern AU #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

[espressocomfort]

Valentine’s Day WIP

“Oh. There’s only one bed.”

Biting her lip, Silvhen Lavellan set down her suitcase on the polished mahogany floor and looked back at Solas, who stepped through the door carrying his overnight backpack in his lap as a shield.

“Whatever will our colleagues think?” she said, holding back a smile, looking around the room. Silvhen wasn’t one for interior decoration, but she’d seen enough of Solas’s moodboards to tell he would be happy; no TV, furniture in dark wood, brass, and walls in deep petroleum blue — and that Solas liked it, was all that mattered. It was a handsome room, and it would have set them back a handsome amount was it not for the travel grant she’d been able to secure for the conference. 

And, as already stated, there was only one bed. Above the headboard, a wide gilded mirror, she noted, and swallowed.

Beyond the windows, an uninterrupted view of the Storm Coast, with its hexagonal basalt columns, and the wide open Waking Sea. For a mid-Guardian Sunday in Ferelden, the weather was arguably good, but Silvhen still walked right up to the invitingly crackling fire in the hearth.

“What do you mean, only… You and your childish antics,” Solas huffed in exasperation, as he noticed the grin that had spread onto his wife’s face.

“At least it’s a good view,” she said, eyes not leaving him. “I suppose a bearskin rug would have been too stereotypically Ferelden to ask for.”

“I’m sure Rutherford brought an extra, for emergencies such as yours,” Solas mirthed, peeking into the bathroom. “Who did you say is paying for this?”

“Some… Dalish diversity fund.”

“And that gold came with no strings attached?”

“None.” She paused. “But out of pure gratitude I might have promised my firstborn son will worship the moon, get a facial tattoo, and run around Sundermount naked.”

Solas hummed, coming to a stand by the fire, hugging Lavellan from behind.

“How unfortunate you have only given me daughters, vhenan,” he mumbled, shifted her hair to the side and pressed his lips to her shoulder, stroking down her side with his other hand.

“Well. The night is still young,” she whispered.

Solas paused his hands.

“But I think we have enough kids at home,” she added after holding the silence just long enough to make the tension a little uncomfortable. “Thank you for coming along.” 

“You asked,” he said, simply, and took her face into his hands, kissing her soundly, and the world melted away as her hands sought out his neck, pulling him closer.

#happy valentine's day #Dragon Age: Inquisition #fanfiction #solas x lavellan #Solas/Lavellan #solavellan fluff #solavellan #work in progress