#alistair drew fluff

[imdoingaokay]

Warden-Inquisitor Pt 3

Hi guys, this is my little self-indulgent angst/fluff piece I just had to write because I was feeling some kind of way.

Also, I have a bunch of stuff in the works right now~! Promise~!

Alistair's part is a little confusing because I wanted to keep it ambiguous if he was a king or a warden, but I think it's lowkey implied he's a king.

TW: Mentions of death, descriptions of death, mentions of sexual activities, angst (but with fluff at the end)

Gentle Spoiler Warning~!

Alistair: It wasn’t fair. None of this was.

He had sprinted up the stairs of Fort Drakon, praying that a miracle would happen, hoping that they would still be alive.

But as he threw open the door to the roof, all he saw was the lifeless body of the archdemon and the woman he loved.

The Warden’s companions had placed a piece of cloth over their faces as a shroud. But Alistair knew, of course, he knew.

He could feel his legs turn to lead as he stumbled towards his lover, pained as he gingerly dragged the cloth away to gaze at his lover’s face.

He felt his hands travel to their cheek, thumb rubbing the now-cold skin that used to be so warm. So very warm.

Their eyes were closed, thank the Maker. Alistair didn’t think he could handle seeing their eyes still open. 

Some soldiers offered to take the body of the Warden down on a stretcher, but Alistair angrily refused, opting to carry his love down himself. And that was exactly what he did. 

The fort was silent, save for a few people murmuring and those tending to the wounded. But those who saw the Warden- no, the Hero’s body, stopped. Many knelt, many bowed their heads, and some even wept. But it was Alistair who grieved the most. He lost the most that day.

As the funeral drew closer, he found himself toying with the Warden’s belongings, finding the rose he had given them tucked underneath a pillow or within a knapsack. And for a moment, as he held that rose, he felt a little bit better, only to lose that feeling when he saw a petal fall. After that, he asked Wynne to perform a spell to freeze the rose. And he kept it with him, placing it on a nightstand or desk, wherever he could see. But only where he could see.

Years passed, and more news from Ferelden and Kirkwall surfaced. The Arishok losing his mind, a chantry blowing up, even the Divine Conclave happening and… failing, of course. Alistair had a feeling it wouldn’t work out, but he couldn’t bother to focus on that at the moment, the large hole in the sky was taking up more of a priority.

He was writing a letter at his desk when he overheard someone speaking rather hurriedly to their friend.

“-said they just dropped out of the fade.” One person spoke.

“Really? But are the rumors true? That it’s…?” Their friend asked, their voice barely above a whisper.

“The Hero of Ferelden? I’ve got a cousin in Haven right now who saw them, they said it’s got to be them.” The original speaker continues, and Alistair looks up from his letter, gazing at the frozen rose. He places his pen down and leans back in his chair, his breath shallow and quick.

“But? Is it really possible? That they’ve just risen from the dead?” 

“Crazier things have happened, right? My cousin says they’re just like the stories about them, they know all about the Grey Wardens too. The Left Hand of the Divine seems pretty eager to call them the Hero anyways.”

Alistair freezes, grab a new piece of paper and quickly scribbles down a hasty letter before sending it off. His breath quickens, and he can’t tear his gaze away from the rose. If he could, he’d travel to Haven on his own. But he knows he can’t.

It takes time, but a few days later he sees a bird on his window, and with a letter written for him.

His hands shake as he opens it up, and nearly sobs when he reads the words that he can’t tear his gaze from.

Dear Alistair,

It’s her.

Yours truly,

L

A decade after he last saw her last, Alistair breaks out into a grin. Leaning back in his chair, he looks at his rose once more. 

It looks far brighter than it did yesterday.

Leliana: She was there, by their side. She watched them as they plunged the sword deep within the Archdemon’s neck, watched an ethereal light break free from the wound, and saw the last glimpse of her lover, alive. 

Even in their last moments, they were beautiful.

The same could be said for them when they were gone.

They looked asleep, peaceful. No pain, no agony, no tears… no tears coming from the Warden, that was.

She fell to her knees by her lover’s side. Grasping at their shoulders, weakly pulling them up so that she could hold them close to her.

“My love, please.” She whispered, whimpering and begging the lifeless body of her lover to return.

But by then, it was far too late. Her Warden was gone.

Leliana did what she could to cope, she sang a gorgeous ballad for her lover, and she traveled a little. Eventually, she found herself the title of Sister Nightengvale, the “Left Hand of The Divine.”

She became colder as time went on, she sang less and barely laughed unless she was with those she truly trusted.

Her days were filled with work, constant work… but it was better that way, she thought. When she was busy, she didn’t think about the Hero of Ferelden, she never thought of what could’ve been. But sometimes, when all was quiet, she got a chance to think of them again, and she could almost hear their laughter and see them in the corner of her eye. But those moments were few and far between.

In fact, the last time she felt that way was when she was in The Temple of Sacred Ashes. Divine Justinia had asked Leliana to return to Haven before the actual meeting began to ensure the people were settled and no fights broke out before they arrived, and Leliana obeyed. She had passed by a servant who was decorating the hall with Andraste’s grace. Leliana stopped, turning to the flower pot the servant just set down, and she took a moment to smell the flowers.

The moment was interrupted when she reminded herself of Divine Justinia’s orders, but there was a short second where she could’ve sworn she saw someone other than the servants walking down the hallway, someone… familiar. But Leliana knew it was some trick of her mind, so she continued on her way.

Of course, as soon as she got to Haven, that was when she felt the blast.

She returned to her normal coping mechanism, focusing on everything else aside from her own grief. Or at least, she did until she saw the sole survivor of the conclave.

She refused to believe it was them at first, her Warden, her lover. It was just someone who looked eerily like them.

That’s what she told herself until they woke up and saw her.

“Leliana?” They choked out, and Leliana’s heart skipped a beat.

Perhaps it was a trick, but… maybe… maybe it really was them.

“Yes.” She responded, whispering ‘my love’ under her breath.

Morrigan: Morrigan was angry. Of course, she was angry. The love of her life just had to decide to sacrifice their own life… for what? Honor? Glory? She knew the only real answer was because they were a fool. A blundering, idiotic fool.

That’s what she told herself.

She disappeared like a thief in the night, not even bothering to turn back as she escaped from Redcliffe. She told herself she wouldn’t mourn the death of her foolish lover, she wouldn’t mourn that idiot. She was better than that. She didn’t need them. So she ran, ran away from her lover, her problems, and the fear of losing the one person she let herself be vulnerable with. 

Morrigan found herself in a small village within the Frostbacks when she heard the news. She had bumped into a kindly alchemist who had offered her a place to stay for the night, as when she arrived, a terrible blizzard was about to begin. Before she met the Warden, she would’ve angrily refused, but… now with some better social skills, she accepted after some deliberation.

Morrigan merely huffed as she heard the news from the alchemist, holding a cup of tea they had so kindly made for her.

“‘Tis a tragic thing indeed.” She said simply. But that night, she sat in her bed, gazing out of a window that was dusted in snow. She looked down at her lap and tried not to blame herself.

“You… blundering idiot.” She whispered, holding her hands close to her chest. She knew that it was her lover’s choice that he died, but… maybe… she could’ve seen them one last time? Maybe she could’ve been there during the last fight.

She thought of their face, the pained expression they held when they begged her not to go. And Morrigan, for the first time in ages, wept quietly to herself.

A few weeks had passed before the roads were travel-ready again, but by then, the alchemist had advised Morrigan to be extra careful.

“Why would you say that?” She scoffed.

“Because you’re not traveling alone anymore.” They spoke, gesturing to Morrigan’s stomach.

Morrigan gave the Alchemist a quick thanks before leaving to travel on her own, now unsure of what she was to do.

Months passed and Morrigan found herself unable to deny the nature of her own body. She was pregnant, and of course, she knew who the father was.

It was in Orlais that she gave birth, alone, of course, she’d rather die than bring some snobby midwife near her or her baby.

Yet as she held her newborn son, she began to tear up, they looked… normal… not like a demon or a beast. She knew he wouldn’t, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still… perfect.

Morrigan cared for her child, even getting a position in Empress Celene’s court while she raised her son on her own. Finding him inheriting a few traits of her lover.

Morrigan never had time for another man, as she was far too busy taking care of a growing one. And even if she wasn’t, there was a part of her, an immature, hopeless romantic part of her, that still grieved her love. And that part of her wasn’t leaving anytime soon, even ten years after their death.

So one could only imagine her surprise when she was in a salon, listening to a few nobles gossiping about the newly founded Inquisition.

“You must’ve heard, Madame.” One noble grinned, giggling with her friend. Morrigan plastered on a fake smile and responded.

“Whatever are you talking about? The disaster of the Divine Conclave?” Morrigan spoke, in the corner of her eyes, watching Kieran play in the garden.

“Oh, non! Not that! It is the person they have named the Herald!” Another noble chimed in.

“Oh yes! I’ve heard many rumors that Andraste blessed the soul of The Hero of Ferelden! They say he walked out of The Fade!” The noble spoke.

Morrigan’s smile fell, and she felt her hands begin to shake, “Really?” She asked.

“Oh yes! Even the Left Hand of The Divine has claimed it is them! I am so surprised you haven’t heard!”

“But is that even possible?”

“Perhaps it is…” The nobles continued to chatter, and Morrigan found herself shakily standing up, claiming she needed to excuse herself for a moment.

Morrigan walked out to the garden, unable to breathe. She looked around, wondering what sort of god would play such an evil trick on her.

“Mother?” She heard, turning to look down at her son, who tugged gently on her dress, “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Me?” She said breathily, before bending down and wrapping her son in a hug, “Oh, yes… yes, I am… my precious boy.” She cooed, petting his head.

She refused to believe they returned, it was impossible. And even if it was, she had far too much to focus on, her son is far too important for such idiotic daydreams of her lover. This… Herald… was nothing more than a man who looked just like her lover. That was all.

So Morrigan would ignore any letters sent by Leliana, and ignore the colorful gossip that fluttered from the loose lips of nobles.

Of course, she stuck to that idealogy… until The Winter Palace.

She had her entrance all planned out, she would say something clever, something wise. Maybe even throw in an insult toward the Inquisitor over their appearance. And it would all end in her giving the Inquisitor the key she got from the Tevninter agent.

At least, until she locked eyes with him.

It was almost from a dream, how he maneuvered to the base of the stairs she had been making her grand entrance down. He stretched out his hand, and Morrigan found herself taking it, watching him bring his lips to her knuckles.

“I have heard much of you, Madame.” He spoke lowly, “But to finally be in your presence after ten long years… it is more than I could ever hope for.” 

Morrigan was about to refute, be angry, and claim this Inquisitor was nothing more than an imposter, and impersonator.

“I sent so many letters, but I knew you wouldn’t read them. I knew you were far too angry with me.” He said, and Morrigan made her way down the rest of the stairs, “Please,” He nearly begged, “Dance with me.”

Morrigan knew that the pair dancing would lead to rumors, to talking. Perhaps the court would think even less of The Inquisitor.

But Morrigan no longer cared, the look The Inquisitor gave her, the feel of his hands, and his voice.

He was no fade demon, no imposter, he was the man she loved all those years ago. And the man she loved still.

Zevran: When Zevran awoke from the blast that threw everyone back several meters, his first instinct was to sprint toward his lover. Before he even knelt by their side, he knew they were gone. That didn’t stop him from crying out his lover’s name, as if it would rouse them from the endless sleep of death.

He held them in his arms, mourning and lamenting the death of his love. He screamed until his throat was raw, clinging onto them with all the strength he had. It was the other companions of the Warden to convince him to leave his lover’s side, and even then, he still cried. He was there for their funeral, but only for a while. He could only subject himself to such cruel torture for only so long.

The next months passed by in a blur, he worked for the throne before The Crows found him once more. After that, he traveled. Not willingly, of course, but he traveled.

He traveled to Antiva, Nevarra, Kirkwall, and eventually, back to Antiva. He was dutiful in escaping Crow after Crow, and while he was at it, he bedded plenty of willing men and women.

Yet, on some nights, when he was alone, he was sure no Crows were nearby. He would gaze up into the sky and would think of his lover. His thoughts would drift from simple things like their laugh or the little facial expressions they made to other things… like their first meeting… and the last time they kissed. He often wonders what he would be doing if they were still alive. Those moments are the ones he cherishes the most, as they distract him from the eventual sorrow that comes soon after when he thinks of how much he truly misses his warden.

This cycle of pain, killing, sleeping around and repeating went along for almost a decade. But no matter how many times he distanced himself from that agonizing feeling of loss and loneliness, whether by a blade or by a bosom, Zevran still mourned his lover.

He had just finished a job when he heard about the conclave and the mysterious person that dropped from the fade.

Zevran was so busy flirting with some busty woman that he nearly ignored the words from the barmaid.

“Oh, I’ve heard it’s the Hero of Ferelden.” She said, passing down a pint of ale for a group of men.

Zevran, completely forgetting about the woman he was trying to bang, quickly pulled aside the barmaid, his curiosity peaked.

“Oh, yeah.” She shrugged, “Said it was like they came back to life… kind of impossible, though… right?”

“Impossible… yes.” Zevran nodded, before quickly leaving the bar.

Zevran knew the chances were slim, he knew that it was impossible, but he couldn’t help himself from hoping.

Sending letters to Leliana would be too time-consuming, he figured. So he decided to just travel to Haven himself.

However, by the time he got to Ferelden, the Inquisition was already located in Skyhold.

That, of course, didn’t deter him, as he began to march alongside the many pilgrims that traveled to Skyhold themselves.

He was far chipper than he had ever been in the last ten years, happily chatting with just about anyone. And eventually, he made it to Skyhold. He was still there under the guise of being another pilgrim, but it didn’t take long for an agent to report the suspicious man to Leliana. 

Zevran, after a long talk, was told of The Inquisitor’s current whereabouts, and even got confirmation that The Inquisitor was, in fact, his warden.

Zevran decided he couldn’t wait any longer and traveled to the Hitherlands, where he finally caught them. In the middle of a battle, no less.

They had a new group of friends, but as Zevran watched from afar, he drank in the familiar sight of his lover.

The shape of their face, their eyes, and the way they held their weapon. Zevran had already gotten his confirmation, but this was what sealed the deal.

He almost forgot that his lover was in the middle of a fight before he joined in, the group quickly ending the life of whatever creature had attempted to kill The Warden-Inquisitor.

“I must thank you.” They said to Zevran, and Zevran felt a chill run up his spine. Maker, how he missed their voice.

“I don’t know if I caught your name, stranger.” The continued, stepping closer to Zevran before he took off his hood.

“I hoped you wouldn’t, but ten years is a long time to be without you. I understand.” He smiled, feeling a heavy feeling of dread weighing on his shoulders. 

Had they forgotten him?

Did they no longer love him?

Wait, were they getting closer to him?

Zevran’s thoughts were interrupted by the lips of his lover on his own. He felt a little sorry for their companions, who were probably confused out of their minds, but Zevran decided to pay them no attention. 

As the pair broke away, Zevran’s gaze softened and he held the face of his lover gently.

“I have traveled so far just to see you… I… You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you.” He spoke, pressing his forehead against his lover’s.

Ten years was a long time, especially without them.

[cecesunshine]

Oiiii vim pelo confissões

Você poderia fazer a prompt 1 e 10 (acho que elas combinam bem uma com a outra) com o Alistair? Não sei se tem que especificar pronomes, mas poderia ser ela/dela se não incomodar?

It’s done, sorry for taking so long! Espero que você não se importe que eu tenha escrito em inglês. Beijinhos anjo <3

Masterlist

The Only Thing | Alistair Drew

Summary → The only thing that makes early morning practice tolerable for Alistair is when Scholar watches it. It’s time for him to have courage and confess his love for her.

Pairing → Alistair Drew x Scholar

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1830

Prompts used → 1. Can I kiss you? + 10. That was unexpected.

A/N → As requested, Scholar uses she/her pronouns! Also, English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are errors or if something doesn't make sense.

As soon as autumn arrived, with it came the cold wind and the endless rain. Alistair rolled his eyes as he saw the cloudy sky that waited for him outside through his window. His bed was warm and it was Saturday, which intensified his desire to stay in bed.

Alistair forced himself to get up, feeling the cold of the floor as soon as his feet touched the floor. He took a quick glance at Tadashi, who was still sleeping. Poor guy, he needed a break after everything that happened between him and his father in the last few days. Alistair walked silently to the wardrobe that he shared with his roommate, taking out the red Athletics Department shirt and black sweatpants and leaving them on the top of his bed. Alistair grabbed his shower products and left the room, heading to the bathroom.

The dorm was relatively quiet, as it was 5:40 in the morning. Alistair loved his department, and he loved everything he did but god, he envied the fact they could sleep into late hours of the morning. As he entered the bathroom, he saw that he wasn’t alone. There was Scholar, fixing her hair with a concentrated look on her face.

“Good morning, Scholar.” Alistair greeted her, going in her direction and leaning into the wall.

“Alistair! Hi, I didn’t even see you coming in!” Scholar greeted him back, quite startled at the sudden salutation given to her. “Why are you up so early?”

“I have practice, the real question is, why are YOU up so early? It’s Saturday, you need to rest.” Alistair asked, studying her features. If there was something that he liked about Scholar, it was definitely her eyes, always wandering around the room or simply focused on something. He had noticed how she would avoid eye contact and look around at random stuff when she was nervous.

“I want to do the homework that Ms. Rodriguez gave us early so I don’t have to worry about it during the rest of the weekend.” Scholar replied, staring at herself in the mirror again. “Also, I didn’t know Coach worked on the weekends.”

“He doesn’t, the Athletic Department students do it voluntarily, it’s part of the job. Although sometimes the only thing you want to do is sleep until late afternoon.”

“Well, shouldn’t other students from your department be up already?”

“We talked about it in our group chat, the other girls from the soccer team had a game yesterday and they are super tired, so they’re not coming. Raquel sprained her ankle so she’s not coming either and some of the boys said that they will be ditching practice today.” Alistair told her, then started counting on his fingers. “So taking me, Rick and some other guys, there will be probably 6 or 7 people at the gym today.”

“Got it. Well, good luck for you and the guys today.” Scholar said as she was making her way to the door.

“Scholar, wait!” The words left Alistair’s mouth almost immediately. “Do you want to...I don’t know...have breakfast with me?” Very slick, Al, he thought.

“I would love to. Meet me in my room when you're ready, ok?” She said and finally left, leaving a red Alistair alone in the bathroom, still processing what happened.

Alistair showered quickly, feeling his hands trembling as he ran his finger through his blonde hair. He needed to be nice and clean for her.

He made his way back to his room, dressing up in his usual practice outfit, trying to style it so it would look better.

"Wow man, never seen you so worried about how you look for practice." Said Tadashi, who had just woken up.

"I'm not only going to practice, I'm going to have breakfast with Scholar." Alistair announced, fixing his shirt. "Tucked in or tucked out?"

"In, obviously. You don't want her to think that you don't care." Tadashi joked. “I mean, she probably knows that you like her. Is not like you are very discreet about it, you’re always walking around her, complimenting her, flexing your muscles to her. It's cute to see, you’re like her personal golden retriever.”

Alistair didn’t reply, he just shot a serious look to his friend, so he would stop. Not because it wasn’t true, but because Alistair wasn’t aware of how other people looked at him every time he would orbit around Scholar. After finishing dressing himself, Alistair grabbed his varsity jacket and quickly said his goodbyes to Tadashi, who was planning on getting more sleep.

In the dorm hallway, the blonde boy knocked into Scholar’s room door, who came out seconds later. She was wearing black jeans, a white knitted sweater and her famous red scarf and was carrying her purse.

“Hi Al.” She greeted him once again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

They both made their way quickly into the cafeteria, which was surprisingly empty. As Scholar sat down, Alistair went to the counter, where he got a coffee and a strawberry cake for Scholar and an energetic and a protein bar for him.

“Thank you.” Scholar thanked Alistair, as he put the table on the plate. “You know, I was very surprised you’d ask me to get breakfast with you. I thought you were mad at me or something.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, after I congratulated you for the Athletics Department’s presentation at the competition you looked…” She stopped talking, as she was looking for the right words. "uncomfortable. I thought that maybe I said something wrong and I didn’t want to bother you so I decided that I wouldn’t ask you what I did wrong because I didn’t want to upset you even more, so when you asked me for breakfast I was shocked.”

“Scholar, it’s impossible for me to be mad at you. You are the sweetest person I know.” Alistair said, reaching to her hand, grabbing it gently as Scholar looked away blushing, clearly embarrassed at this caring gesture.

They both ate the rest of the meal quietly, sometimes exchanging little smiles and stealing glances that ended up with both blushing or laughing quietly. If anyone else saw them, they would say they were a couple, but they couldn’t see it as they were both oblivious.

The time to leave finally arrived, where Scholar offered to walk Alistair to the gym, which he happily accepted.

As Alistair presumed, the gym was almost empty besides some boys who were doing push-ups and seeing who would be the first to give up.

“I guess this is your stop. I need to go do my homework so I’ll probably go back to the cafeteria.” Scholar pointed to her purse, where all of her supplies were, and then looked to Alistair, who seemed sad about the fact that she was leaving. “Or...I could do my homework while you practice, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Alistair agreed almost immediately, giving her a smile. For him, this was an opportunity to impress Scholar. She would see him doing the thing that he does the best.

As Scholar sat down at the bleachers and started taking her stuff out of the bag, Alistair started stretching, warming up his muscles and took off running around the gym. He was really excited to work out in front of Scholar, as this was probably the sneakiest way to show off to her without exactly showing off.

Scholar was supposed to focus on her homework, but at that moment, she could only focus on Alistair, who had stopped running and was now participating in a push-up contest with the other boys of his department.

As the boys gave up and left, Alistair started laughing. Alistair wiped his sweaty face with his face, showing off his abs and his muscular form. God, had he always been that handsome?, Scholar wondered and quickly brushed up that thought as Alistair was walking towards her.

“Everything alright?” The blonde boy asked, taking a sip of his water bottle. “I’m sorry if seeing me training is boring to you.”

“Nothing is ever boring with you Al, and I love being around you.”She said, making Alistair blush. ”Are you finished yet?”

“Finished? I barely even started. I still need to take the boxing supplies out of the storage room and set them up and then I’ll start the boxing practice. Do you want to help?”

Scholar agreed, setting her things down. Already in the storage room, they both started to take out the things and setting it up in the gym, sometimes touching hands and blushing madly.

With everything set up, Alistair began punching the punching bag, always keeping an eye on Scholar, who gave up on doing her homework and was now just watching him. Alistair smiled, his plan was working.

“How do you not have a girlfriend or boyfriend?” She abruptly asked, taking Alistair by surprise.

“W-What?” Alistair spoke, his voice trembling and betraying him at that moment.

“How are you not dating someone?” Scholar questioned again. “Tell me, how is Alistair Drew, one of Arlington’s most attractive boys, single?”

“Well, it’s complicated.” Alistair took off his gloves and his headgear, sitting next to her. “I’m only single because I’m a coward.”

“What do you mean coward?”

Alistair looked at her, staring deeply into her eyes. He needed to tell her, it was time to finally be brave. He held her hand caressing it with his thumb. Scholar reciprocated, also looking into his eyes, giving him a confused look.

“Scholar, I like you.” He finally confessed, still looking at her. “I’ve been trying to tell you this for a while but I was always looking for the right moment. But the truth is, I was just afraid of telling you how I feel because I didn’t know how you would react. You are the most incredible person I know, you’re simply the best.” Alistair got silent for a few seconds and then spoke again. “I really like you...and I hope you like me too.”

After his confession, none of them knew what to say. The silence between them was uncomfortable, in a way that neither of them could put into words.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Scholar said, trying to help the situation. “Look Alistair, that day during the competition, I was going to say the same thing.”

“What?” He questioned.

“I was going to confess to you. I feel the same, Al.” Scholar announced, smiling shyly. “I like you.”

Now, the silence between them was comfortable. So comfortable that they were now closer than ever, as Alistair placed his hand on Scholar's chin, looking at her like she was the only person in the whole world.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked for permission, waiting anxiously for an answer.

“Yes Alistair, you can.”

And their lips touched, as both were involved in a loving but innocent kiss.

[otomes-and-tears]

Hey Bee ❤️ Welcome to the Sweet Elite imagines community! I’m super glad that we have one more of you! I can’t wait to read more of you. Would you mind writing some headcanons on Alistair falling for a fem!scholar who’s a model in the fashion department, and hard to get too ( She’s like a Karolina) Thank you if you accept my request and Thank you for writing. ❤️❤️

♦ Alistair falling for a fem!scholar who’s a model in the fashion department ♦ 

► tags/warnings: -

► words: 453

► A/N: Thank you so much for the request <3 I adore your writing!!

► Masterlist

 I can imagine him being wary of her at first;

Don’t get me wrong! He’s still very nice to Scholar;

Al is a ray of sunshine and he understands very well how hard it is to get used to Arlington. I don’t think we would be purposefully mean to anyone unless they did something terrible to him or someone he cares about;

But… His previous experience with Karolina and a couple of other models in the fashion department taught him to be cautious;

So… He was nice but wasn’t as open as he normally is, therefore it takes a little longer for them to get close;

I think he would start lowering his defences when the others befriend her;

And he starts really empathising with her once he realises how competitive the fashion industry is, and that she needs to be tough to have a chance to prosper;

He’s also in a highly competitive industry. He knows how hard and lonely it can get;

After that he starts really admiring her!;

Scholar seems so… Unbothered. She keeps her head held high and doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit;

She can be assertive, but still nice and kind to those around her;

After they become friends, he basically takes any and all opportunities he has to encourage her lol;

He’s a very supportive friend! Al makes sure that she’s doing okay and always seems super invested in her career!

Even though Scholar doesn’t always show it, he can tell that she appreciates having someone looking out for her;

I think falling for Scholar would be a very gradual process;

Enough that he doesn’t even realise he’s in love at first;

It just seemed natural to take care of her, even if lately he seemed to be getting shy around the model more often than not. After they got to a certain level of closeness the lines seemed to blur a little and he was in a loss of what to do;

He didn’t want to force her into anything, and he also didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship with his newfound feelings but… He really liked her, and he wanted to try and pursue a relationship;

Al noticed that, as much as she tried to deny it, she had a soft spot for him;

She lost a bit of her edge with him and acted a lot softer than she did with other ppl lol;

I think he’d associate that a lot more with friendship tbh. It might take a while for him to ask her out;

She’d probably have to do it first. Or external forces i.e. their friends would have to come up with a way to make them confess to each other lol

[littlemisspascal]

Young Love

Part of The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard

Pairing: Din x Female Reader 

Word Count: 1100+

Summary: Alistair brushes a hand over his face, sweeping away the dark hair falling in front of his eyes with an air of irritation. Next week you bet he’ll come in with a haircut. “Have you ever been in love?” 

An invisible fist rams against your ribcage, air punched out of your lungs.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Warnings: Magic AU with mages and familiars, Reader has a backstory + age but no name, worldbuilding, fluff, crushes, kissing, introspection, made up last name for Lorraine from Narcos

Author Note: Takes place within same year as A Calm & Quiet Place but before Javi’s arrival. Thank you everybody for the kind words of support 💜💜💜

Young Love – Anecdote Candles

Blackberry & Rose - Sweet bliss gives way to depth, discovery and quiet uncertainty. Top notes of balsamic blackberries, bergamot incense, and burgundy rose flutter over a base of amber and musk. Smells like devotion and delusion.

~~

“Miss M?” Alistair Lord asked ten minutes after his arrival at The Cupboard, trailing his fingertips over the glass candle jars, a nervous lilt to his voice.

The nickname never failed to bring a smile to your lips. Originally it was Miss Mage, though the formality of it never settled right with your ears, but the development of a close friendship over the years led to the shorter moniker you’d grown quite fond of.

Ever since you inherited The Cupboard of Remedies from your grandmother, the ten-year-old had been a regular visitor, usually coming by himself after school though occasionally his father came along too. Every visit he brought with him a list of questions to ask you, short enough not to give you a headache thinking of answers, long enough his visits usually lasted an hour. He was thoughtful and sweet, inquisitive about all things magic which led you to believe he’d seek out a mage to teach him how to wield it when he’s older. And if that was indeed the case, Maxwell Lord will spend every single penny of his wealth tracking down the most prestigious teacher in all the territories. Only the best for his dear son.

The nervousness you heard had your head immediately lifting up from the spellbook you’d been perusing all afternoon to give him your full attention. You couldn't remember the last time he’d been nervous to talk to you—must have been in the early weeks of his first visits, you thought, when in his youthful mind you were an intimidating mage to be respected and not a young woman with little business experience trying her best not to accidentally blow up the shop.

“What’s on your mind, Alistair?” you asked gently. He was a sensitive kid, empathetic with a heart five times bigger than any other child’s in Eldergrove. He’d bring you flowers from his father’s greenhouse sometimes, rare blossoms foreign to Eldergrove’s soil, perfect ingredients for your candles and soaps.

Alistair brushed a hand over his face, sweeping away the dark hair falling in front of his eyes with an air of irritation. Next week you bet he would come in with a haircut. “Have you ever been in love?”

An invisible fist rammed against your ribcage, air punched out of your lungs.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

The boy didn't seem to mind your silence. He drew closer to the counter you were sitting behind, a bashful smile on his face as he peered up at you with big brown eyes. “There’s a girl in my class. Molly. She’s really pretty.”

The only Molly you knew around Alistair’s age was Molly York, daughter of Dave, a private security company consultant who was only home on the weekends, and Carol, one of Eldergrove’s school teachers with an excellent peach pie recipe.

Swallowing against your dry mouth, you somehow managed to keep your tone light. “And let me guess…You’ve got a crush on her?”

He bit his lip, nodding in a shy, earnest way that had you resisting the urge to coo like your Aunt Bunny used to do whenever she thought you had done something particularly adorable. The soft reminder of your grandmother’s familiar almost took up enough room in your mind to distract you from the heavy weight of nostalgia pressing on your heart. Almost.

Closing your book, you leaned forward on your forearms. “Tell you what,” you said in a low, surreptitious tone, the one you reserve for exchanging secrets. “How about we make a trade?”

Alistair perked up. “What kind of trade?”

“I’ll let you pick out anything you want on one of these shelves to give Molly at the Dandelion Wishfest, so long as you bring me one or two of those burgundy roses from your dad’s greenhouse next time you visit.” You held out your hand. “We got a deal?”

He didn't hesitate to accept, shaking your hand with a bright smile. “Deal!”

And then he was off, searching your wares for the perfect gift to give Molly. You watched him for a beat, smiling to yourself though you had to admit it was a little strange, witnessing this important milestone in Alistair’s life from an outsider’s perspective while also remembering each of your own adolescent crushes.

If Alistar’s question had been, ‘Have you ever had a crush on someone before?’, then the answer would have been a simple and emphatic of course I have. There had been a crush on Ben Miller in fourth grade and you packed extra sweets in your lunchbox to share with him (he still calls you sweetheart in reference to those schoolyard days though your relationship with him has never evolved beyond friendship). There had been a crush on Javier Peña during your preteen years, only for it to end in harsh disappointment after watching him choose to slow dance with Lorraine Adams at the Black and White Dance. There had also been a crush or two or seventeen on celebrities over the years, each one more unattainable than the last but that never mattered to your easily smitten heart.

Crushes were a common occurrence throughout your life, as predictable and exciting as the four seasons and the annual meteor shower.

But love? Love remained a distant stranger you’d only had the pleasure of meeting once, and even then you hadn’t known that was its name. No, you wouldn’t realize the sensation’s identity until a year after the encounter, until you’d felt the heat of Pero’s skin against your palms when you leaned in to kiss him and found yourself wishing you’d felt cold beskar instead.

That revelation was not what tilted your world off-center whenever the subject of love was brought up. It was the memories of your grandmother’s and Aunt Bunny’s funerals and what had followed afterwards.

They played out in your mind’s eye like old film footage, unsteady and grainy with abrupt transitions from one detail to the next. Your mother crying. Two freshly dug graves side by side in Ivers Forest near your grandfather’s. Beskar reflecting moonlight. Blood dripping from your nose and Din’s voice telling you to stop before you kill yourself, no amount of magic will bring them back. Falling asleep beneath the stars and waking up to find your best friend never strayed from your side, silently guarding your slumber. The lifting of his helmet over a stubbled chin and jawline right before your lips pressed against his in a hard, bruising kiss. And then—

“Miss M?” Alistair said, and you returned to the present, blinking your eyes to find the young boy holding up a dark purple pouch full of smooth, colorful rocks you’d collected from Blue Creek. “Do you think she’ll like these?” he asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth again.

You pushed the memories to the back of your mind where they’ll lie in wait in the shadows, ready to pounce again the next time love is mentioned, and offered Alistair a kind smile. “Yeah, honey. I think she will.”

[inquisimer]

❛ don’t look at me like that. ❜ for perhaps your Cousland? for dadwc

honestly thank you SO MUCH for this prompt bc I haven't written Cousland in a hot second and I almost forgot how much I love her

anyway, have some cousland x alistair fluff, in my queen!Ember verse

for @dadrunkwriting

“You’re not supposed to be here,” hissed Ember, swatting in Alistair’s direction. She was hindered by the long train of her dress, which put off her usual sense of balance. The lace was beautiful, far more than anything she’d every imagined, especially since she joined the Wardens. At this point she supposed she was lucky to be married at all, much less married to a prince, awaiting the king’s crown.

Her mother would be proud.

She faltered in her assault at the thought, and Alistair seemed to follow her exact train of thought, just as he always had. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, so she was enveloped in the smell of his freshly pressed tuxedo and the hair product Zevran had no doubt forced upon him. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his shoulder, makeup be damned. Wynne could fix it with magic, probably, otherwise Leliana could redo it to be passable.

Maker, but she wished it could have stayed this simple. She wished that Cailan had survived Ostagar, that Maric had borne more than two children, that Anora had been less of a self-serving shrew. She’d never dreamed of the crown for herself, though perhaps her mother had had such aspirations. Regardless, she’d never expected to find herself here, as she suspected Alistair hadn’t, and the nerves were certainly getting the better of her now.

He seemed to understand, her mood if not the underlying cause, and he wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked along her shoulder blades. He pressed his lips to the crown of braid that Leliana and the handmaidens had worked on painstakingly and didn’t ask her to explain her melancholy in the face of what should have been the happiest day of their lives.

She finally pulled back and drew her hands up to cup his face, which was soft and regretful and full of both love and remorse.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured, brushing her thumb underneath his eyes. “Like any of this is your fault.”

“Maybe not fault,” he conceded, “but if I were anyone else…”

“I don’t love anyone else.”

“Well I certainly can’t be held responsible for your lapse in judgment,” he said, pressing his own grin against her lips. They were both lost in the touch, in the taste of each other, in the casual freedom with which they embraced. To join without fear of the future, without the impending threat of the archdemon—it was a state they’d hardly let themselves dream to be real.

“Get out!” Leliana’s screech comingled with the slamming of the door, and Alistair released his love as if she burned the way her name implied, stumbling back toward the window. Ember barely retained enough of her senses to turn and place herself between her fiancée and the bard, protecting him from her wrath so they would both live to see the altar.

“Don’t you know it’s horrible luck to see the bride on the wedding day?”

“I think we’re past the influence of bad luck, no?” Ember drew her dear friend toward the vanity—conveniently placed against the wall furthest from the window. Leliana’s gaze scoured her from head to toe, evaluating the condition of her hair and her dress and her makeup. She tutted, one finger coming up to flick at a stray eyelash that was clinging to Ember’s skin.

“I’ll have to redo your eyes,” she fretted. Ember brushed a hand across her shoulders, soothing

“There’s plenty of time,” she reassured her friend, glancing toward the window to ensure Alistair had made his escape. He’d face his own recompence, but she had a feeling his would be more pleasurable and involve far more liquor than her own.

“Sit,” declared Leliana, confirming Ember’s suspicions. “We’ll be lucky if I can get this eyeshadow back to what it should be in time.”

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Mystery of Dreams and Reality - Part 3

AN: This fic contains smut, so if you're a minor, do not engage! This fic contains: a hint of praise kink, tiny mention of cockwarming, fluff, and a Wizarding World swear word.

Even though Sirius’ side of the bed was empty, you didn’t feel like getting up.  Instead, you chose to pull the covers up and snuggle back into the blankets.  Your eyes closed again and before you knew it, you were in a house.  You looked out of the window to see that this house was on a street like Grimmauld Place.  While this house felt spacious there was no hint of magic in it and there was tension in the house.  It was almost like this house was built on it and producing it.

“You came.”  A voice breathed and you looked up to see a man with white hair and a stern face.  It didn’t seem like he smiled or laughed often.

“Alistair.” You murmured.

Before you could blink, you were in his embrace.  Alistair trembled as he held you and after a few minutes, he stepped back to look at you.

“In spite of how long it’s been and everything that’s happened, you chose to come to see me.”

You frowned at his self-depreciating tone, “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen.  You’re putting too much blame on yourself.”

Alistair brushed a hand across your cheek, “I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for this long, but I love you for it.”

Your hand came up to rest itself on top of Alistair’s to keep it where it was.  For a few minutes, you both stayed like that.  The warmth from Alistair’s hand was intoxicating and it had your pulse speeding up.  Alistair’s hand moved from your cheek to rest on your neck and you knew the second he registered the change in your pulse.

His breathing became shallower and his pupils dilated so much that they obscured the grey of his irises.  Alistair dipped his head so that his mouth was just above yours.

“Tell me that you want this,” he uttered.

“I want this.” You stated and connected your lips.

In that second, you understood what people meant when they said that they felt fireworks when they kissed a person.  Short bursts of energy seemed to race down your spine and across all of your nerve endings.

Alistair cupped the back of your head in his hand and drew you in closer to him while your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him where he was.  When you both broke apart, Alistair rested his forehead against yours and his hand dropped so that he could link his fingers with yours.  He began to walk up the stairs with you following closely behind him.

Upon arriving in Alistair’s bedroom, he gazed at you as if he feared you would vanish when he blinked.  His hands and fingers ghosted over your arms and then down your torso until he lifted the shirt you were removing before hurriedly removing it and discarding it on the floor.  He fixed his gaze on your pants and you knew that they’d be the next to go.

Alistair guided you to sit down on his bed and he deftly unbuttoned your pants before sliding them off of your legs.   His hands glided up your legs and they were closely followed by his lips which seemed intent on kissing every inch of skin that he could.  The feather-light kisses showed you just how much he adored you but you detected a vulnerability to him that made your heart ache.

Alistair’s kisses stopped unexpectedly after a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.  You watched as he stripped off each item of clothing until he stood naked in front of you.  Alistair moved forward, lacing your fingers together again before sitting down on his bed and guiding you to sit on his lap.

Your lips met again and you had no way of knowing how much time passed when you were kissing Alistair.  Alistair seemed to be enjoying your kisses as well because his free hand dropped to your waist and he used his grip on you to rock you backwards and forwards on his stiffening cock.

Alistair let out a gasp at your movements and his lips parted from yours as his breathing became ragged.  He left open-mouthed kisses down your neck as you continued moving and he guided your interlocked fingers up to rest on his chest above his heart.  Alistair released your fingers only to use the weight of his hand to press your hand down over the organ.

“It’s yours,” he swore, “everything that I am belongs to you always.”

Tears pricked at your eyes at his words and you could feel his cock leaking against your inner thigh.  Without breaking eye contact, you reached down and guided him into you.  You gasped in unison as you sunk down further onto him until the entirety of his cock was inside you.

You stayed put for a few moments as you adjusted to the feeling of Alistair inside you.  Your lips met Alistair’s and then you started moving.  Despite never doing this with Alistair, it didn’t take the two of you to find a rhythm that somehow felt incredibly familiar.  Alistair’s lips were busy kissing their way across your body and when he wasn’t kissing you, he was murmuring praises of how wonderful you looked and felt.

In no time at all, you felt yourself clenching around Alistair but you needed something more to tip you over the edge.  Luckily for you, Alistair seemed to know what you needed and after quickly licking the pad of his thumb, he dropped it down to circle your clit while his hips continued pushing into you as you continually raised and lowered yourself onto him.

The touch of his thumb caused you to shudder and Alistair had only circled your clit twice before you clamped down around him.

“So beautiful,” Alistair hissed as his hips surged upwards and he emptied himself inside of you while you were still coming down from your orgasm.  Despite the clear intensity of his release, you only felt a slight pain as he gripped your hips tightly.

This time when you woke up, Sirius had re-joined you and he was cupping your head gently in his hand. 

“Feel like having a lazy day, love?” He questioned as you scooted closer to his body because you missed his warmth.

You nodded and rested your head on his chest.

“I spoke to the Weasley twins today,” Sirius whispered and your eyes shot open as he continued. 

“They were working to create a new line of potions and they were experimenting with some ingredients.  Can’t say I blame them considering they don’t have a lot of time to be creative in Snape’s lessons.  They mixed Occamy eggs with daisyroot and accidentally left the vial in the sun when they were frantically trying to hide everything from Molly.  They grabbed the vial before coming here but ended up leaving the vial here which is how we encountered it.  Anyway, the upshot of the conversation is that your dreams will continue for another two nights and I’ll be affected too because some potion drops landed on me as well.”

“By Circe,” you gasped, “Sirius…I’m…”

“You have nothing to apologise for, love.”  Sirius said firmly as his hand stopped cradling your head and his fingers moved to gently grasp your chin.

[pixie88]

Tease

Chapter 9 - Together - Adam & Ellie.

A/N: Thank you again for proof reading and scene ideas lovely @aussieez​ you are a star! This chapter I wrote the NSFW scene after I had a few drinks Friday night, so I hope I got all the mistakes out. It also includes something that happened to me in RL I’ll leave it up to you to guess what it is haha. Hopefully you find it funny as I have we need to laugh atm. I hope you like it!

If you like it let me know or if you don’t still tell me why I won’t be offended!

I am only tagging those who have asked to be tagged in this new series from now on as I don’t want to annoying people with tags. So Let me know if you would like to be tagged and if I missed anyone sorry just let me know!  

Find previous chapters HERE under Together - Adam & Ellie.

Song: Sia - Helium

Word count: 2123

WARNINGS: ⚠️ Fluffy fluff, NSFW, Mild Angst & adult language.

Pairings: Adam x Ellie.

Enjoy!

After Nina and I had our nails done we did a bit of baby clothes shopping followed by lunch, which after Nina had a few drinks, so it turned into dinner too "Nina, can I tell you something?"

"Of course sweetie!"

"You can't tell Al! Adam and I were thinking Charlie could have Alistair as a middle name. Do you think he'll like it?"

"Oh, Ellie he will love that. That's so sweet!" she gets up and hugs me.

"Did you hear that Charlie bear you are going to be named after the two greatest men you could wish for"

I tear up a little "Nina, that's a lovely thing to say!"

She hugs me again "Aww Ellie, I didn't mean to make you cry, but let me elaborate on that"

I laugh wiping my tears "Ellie, I can tell your dad must have been a great man because you are a sweet girl and you adore my Adam. This is why I know you two will be great parents" This makes me even more emotional.

We finally get back about half 10 Adam and Al are already in bed, I open our bedroom door expecting him to be asleep, but I'm greeted by him in bed in just his boxers on his phone, he gives me that gorgeous smile "Did you have a good day beautiful?"

I start getting undressed "Hey, yeah, it was such a laugh your mum, and she's super sweet"

"She has a soft spot for you," he laughs while his eyes roam my body as I strip down to my underwear.

I climb into bed next to him, "What did you and your Dad get up to?" he pulls me towards him.

"Dad took me golfing, which reminds me. Mum has her book club tomorrow night and Dad has a darts night, so we have the house to ourselves" Charlie starts kicking, he hates it when I lay on my side.

I run my hand over my bump "Come on Charlie, Mumma just wants to cuddle up to your Daddy" I roll onto my back.

Adam's hand runs over my bump, his lips follow "Hey, You go easy on mummy" he whispers before laying back next to me "So this morning it wasn't very nice to tease" his hand circles my bump as he is laid on his side.

I smirk "It wasn't very nice to trick me at the pub either"

He kisses my nose "Well, you have started something now I'll finish it" He runs his fingers under and along the waistband of my underwear his touch is electrifying, I try to control my breathing.

His lips brush along my pulse line (Fuck! Do not let him win!) His hand slips into my underwear "I'm not going to make love to you Ellie" He parts my folds (God!) I bite my lip trying not to act bothered, he nips my collarbone.

His fingers enter me, I take another deep breath "So, who won at golf?" I try to change the subject.

I feel him smirk against my neck "We drew but right now I want to focus on making you come"

I laugh, "Adam!"

He speeds up his pace, I roll onto my side now Charlie has calmed down and I slip my hand into his boxers. I grasp him, work my hand along his hard shaft as my lips crash against his.

"My plan hasn't worked, I...oh god fuck..I was supposed to tease you and leave you wanting more...but..." his tongue tangles with mine.

I smile against his lips "But what?"

I speed up my pace "God...Ellie,"

I'm getting to him, "Come on Adam! I thought you were going to tease me?" I grasp his lip between my teeth.

He groans, "We've got to be quiet, baby, I don't want your parent to hear us" I pull his lips to mine again.

Both our paces speed up, we can't get enough of each other "Ellie come for me, so I can make love to you!"

"Not until you do!" I whisper against his lip.

He kisses me harder, firmer "I love you Ellie"

"Guess what?"

"God..what?"

I smile, "I love you too more than anything!" I can't hold back any longer "Yes, Adam Yes!!" I fall over the edge, and he hits his climax right after"Fuck baby!"

He pulls off his boxers and I help him remove my underwear as his body cover mine, he pushes pass my entrance.

"OH!! God..that's it! Yes!! Adam Fuck me!" my back arches of the bed I grip him tighter.

He grasps the head board, thrusting harder into me "Ellie, this is all I've been thinking about all day!"

"I have a secret for you...oh"

His lips move against my neck "Secret?"

"Uh huh, this is....all I've.....been thinking about all day too" his lips crash to mine.

He grasps my hips, moves faster against them "Oh god...I'm gonna..Ohhhhh" I hit my climax again.

"Yes, that it Ellie. God...Yes! Ellie!" We're both catching our breath he collapses onto the bed next to me.

"So, how did teasing me work out for you Adam?" I wink.

"Don't worry beautiful I'll get you back!"

I laugh, "We better clean up!"

I get off the bed and hold out my hand "Wanna join me in the shower handsome?"

"Depends on what you're asking?" he give me that grin.

"I'm asking you if you want to add extra steam to the shower?" I bite my lip knowing what this does to him. Adam jumps off the bed picks me up in a bridal carry and leads us to the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

The next evening his parent are out Adam has ushered me upstairs to get dressed up, he's cooking.

"Are you ready beautiful?" He calls up to me.

"I'm just finishing up now" I spray myself with perfume and make my way downstairs. It's smells amazing and beautiful every counter in the dining room is covered with tealight, lighting up the room.

"Wow this is gorgeous, Adam!"

He smiles "Glad you think so! I'll grab you a drink. Take a seat" I sit at the dining table and wait for him to come back.

"Apple juice for my gorgeous wife," he hands me the glass and pecks my lips "Right, have fun. I am shattered. I'll see you in the morning" he turns and walks out the room.

"Wait? What? Adam?" I heard his footsteps head up the stairs. (He's joking right?) I sit there confused for a couple of minutes, I pull out my phone and look for the nearest restaurant.

I grab my keys and bag, just as I'm making my way to the door I hear, him coming down the stairs "Ellie, where are you going?"

"I'm going out for dinner as I thought we were having dinner here together, but I guess not," I try not to act bothered but the tone of my voice gives me away.

He gives me that smile and chuckles as he wraps his arms around me "I was messing with you, I was getting you back for yesterday, did you really think I went to all this effort to let it go to waste?"

"WHAT!? You thought that was funny?" I spit back at him before I pull away from him and walk out of the house and towards the car.

"Ellie, wait I'm sorry it was just a joke!"

He gently grabs my arm and spins me round to see the massive smile on my face "Gotcha!" I stick my tongue out at him.

"Now that was evil! I thought I had really upset you!"

I laugh, "No, but now you have to come up with something better than what you had planned"

He grins, "I just dug my own grave didn't I?"

"Well, that will teach you for playing a prank on me won't it! So, get thinking Mister!"

He kisses my nose "I think I have just the perfect idea grab a coat and blanket. I'm going to grab the food and a few other bits"

"Where are we going?" I call after him.

"It's a surprise" he throws me a smirk.

A few minutes later we are in the car, Adam is driving "You know your Mum made her own playlist yesterday. There was a song that kinda reminds me of us and everything we've been through lately"

"Oh, what song is that?"

I laugh, "She actually heard it in one of the Fifty shades films she watched with your Nan!"

His face turns to disgust "Thanks for that! I didn't really want to know they had seen those films"

"Come on, Adam every woman has seen it or read the books"

He looks over to me for a second "What about you? Have you watched or read them?"

I laugh, "Yeah, I read book one but skipped two and three. But I have seen all three films, I can't remember if it were the second or third film me and my friend Gemma got kicked out of the cinema for laughing and talking the whole way through!"

"You got kicked out of the cinema?"

"Yeah, there was this moody woman in front of us we were talking she kept shushing us. I think the finale straw was when he'd put Anna legs in this spreader bar on this bed then he flipped her from her back onto her front or the other way round. Gemma snorted and said if her husband John did that to her, she'd end up peeing herself especially after having her two kids. We were both howling. After that we were asked to leave"

He laughs, "I can say I've never been kicked out of a cinema! What was this song anyway?"

"I'll play it, hang on a second" I scroll through my recent playlist Sia - Helium press play.

His face lights up at the chorus "So, I'm your helium?"

I smile, "Yes, I think it would be prefect for our first dance song. What do you think?"

"I love it! It's perfect. My sassenach! We're here"

I look out of the window "Where are we?"

"Blackford Hill, we need to walk just 2 minutes that way. The view is stunning"

We finally got to the top "Wow, Adam this is beautiful!"

"I know, it's stunning isn't it?" He places a picnic blanket on the grass with a couple of cushions "Dinner with a view. Am I forgiven now?" we both take a seat.

I roll my eyes, "I suppose. but it depends on what you've made for dinner?"

"Well, you will definitely forgive me if it depends on dinner," he reaches over to thermal bag and pulls out a little tub as soon as he pulls off the lid I know what it is "I've never seen someone face light up so much over a beef hotpot!"

"Oh my god! Wait, so our romantic meal you got your mum to cook?"

He chuckles "Actually I make this, and she taught me how. I have the recipe so if it tastes exactly the same I can make it at home for you. So, try it"

I try a forkful (It tastes exactly like Ninas maybe even better) "Oh, wow... this is awful!"

His smile drops "Is it?" he takes the fork out of my hand and tries it "Ellie, you're mean"

I smirk "OK I lied. It tastes exactly like it if not better but you can't tell your mum I said that" we laugh.

After dinner we are laid back on the grass looking up at the stars, "You do know I will get you back for earlier!"

I hear a soft laugh escape from his lips as pulls me tighter against him "But for tonight we can call it a truce?"

"I suppose so! But watch your back!"

"Hey, have you see anyone walk pass since we got here?"

"No, why?"

"Good!" Before I can ask him what he means, he pulls the blanket completely over us, his body covers mine as he captures my lips.

"Adam! We can't! Not here! Someone might see us" I giggle.

"We better be quick then!" I can't deny him.

Later we get back to his parents "Looks like they aren't back yet!" He picks me up and walks us into the kitchen and places me down on the counter.

"Down boy! I draw the line at doing that in your parents' kitchen! What's the time?"

He pulls out his phone "I have a voicemail" puts it to his ear, his face drops.

"Adam, what's wrong?"

It's changed from shock to anger the phone is still against his ear "Adam, you're scaring me what's wrong?"

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 10.

@lem-20​ @aussieez​ @khoicesbyk​ @txemrn​ @shewillreadyou​ @irisofpurple​

[wardenrainwall]

Something Like Home - CH 13

Inquisitor Trevelyan/Alistair Theirin Post Trespasser - non canon compliant - all the angst - hints of fluff Sequel to Mercy

--

 Evelyn woke up, warm and sandwiched between Liddy at her front, her stuffed bear shoved up against her face, and behind her, the solid press of Alistair’s back. In those moments before full wakefulness, she thought that she had never laid like this with Alexander. Isaak had never crawled into bed with them.

 And Thom, they’d never had this chance. The What-if flitted at the back of her mind, ready to take form, but she opened her eyes, cutting off the thought. No more what-ifs, she chided herself. Alistair didn’t deserve that.

 To lay in bed and imagine another man holding her? A dead man at that. No, she wouldn’t do that to him. So instead, she focused on the soft sound of their breathing and smiled. Alistair’s arm was around her waist, his face against the back of her neck. Reaching up she nudged the bear out of her face and realized how much of the bed spread out before her and she wondered how much space Alistair truly had.

 “You awake?” Alistair’s voice was a quiet murmur and Evelyn twisted her head around as much as she could as Alistair rose up to rest his weight on his elbow.

 “Are you even actually still on the bed?” Evelyn asked, biting back a smile.

 “Mostly,” Alistair said, reaching out to trace a finger over Liddy’s cheek, and behind her ear then down back. “Sort of. Maybe, barely.”

 Evelyn’s laugh was silent, but it shook her frame and he offered her a smile and a shrug. “Your daughter is a bed hog,” she told him. And her heart skipped a beat just seeing the way his eyes lit up when she called Liddy his daughter. And if she did it more often than not just to see that light, well, he deserved it.

 “Best night’s sleep I ever had,” he told her, and Evelyn scoffed.

 “Liar.” She grinned, but there was such an earnest look in his eyes that she thought he might have meant it.

 They stayed like that for a little while, Alistair’s arm stretched across her as he rubbed Liddy’s back. “Hungry?” he asked. “I could make some breakfast.”

 Liddy’s head jerked up at that, her eyes snapping open at the mention of food. “Su’ar toas’,” she demanded.

 Another quiet laugh escaped Evelyn’s lips and she turned her face, pressing it against the pillow because she thought she might tear up. They could have this, mornings like this, every morning if only she could let herself.

 “You only get sugar toast if you have eggs too,” Alistair told her and her face screwed up into a disgusted frown.

 “Eggs icky. Wan’ su’ar toas’.” Liddy sat up, then scrambled up to lean across Evelyn’s chest so she could put her face very close to Alistair’s. “P’ease,” she drew out the word, long and pleading and Evelyn bit her lip so she didn’t laugh out loud and encourage her.

 “Cheesy eggs,” Alistair bargained and Liddy clapped her tiny chubby hands.

 “Cheesy eggs. Cheesy eggs,” she chanted. “Ali papa bear make cheesy egg and su’ar toas’!”

 Leaning forward, Alistair pressed a kiss to the tip of Liddy’s nose, and she fell back, sprawling out on the bed and giggling. “I’ll take the same,” Evelyn said, turning her head to look up at Alistair again. “And would you boil water for my tea?”

 Alistair’s brows drew together and he frowned, his fingers reaching out to skim over her left bicep. “Bad still?” he asked.

 It hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been the night before. “I’ll go see the healer this morning, make sure everything is alright and see if he has any ideas.” Worry settled over his features and Evelyn reached up to stroke her fingers over his jaw. “It’s okay, Alistair. I’m okay.”

 Later, after eggs and toast slathered in butter and doused with cinnamon and sugar, Evelyn left Alistair and Liddy to their own devices and headed into Skyhold proper to see the healer. On her way back, she found Talon, pacing her hands pressed to her back as she arched. “Everything alright?” Evelyn asked her and Talon offered a smile, that broke into a wince.

 “Baby,” she said, shifting her hands to rest on her belly. “I think this little one is finally getting ready to come out. Here’s hoping for a quick labor,” she said with a laugh.

 “That would be a change,” Evelyn offered with a smile. “Anything I can do?”

 Talon waved a hand dismissively. “No, but thank you. At this point, the only thing anyone can do is pray that this one isn’t as stubborn as my other children.”

 They spoke for a few minutes longer until Talon grew restless and waved goodbye before she resumed her pacing. Evelyn had just stepped onto the road that led through the ever-expanding village when she caught a familiar flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She stilled, slowly canted her head as she turned her face toward it.

 There he stood, not looking much different than he had the last time she’d seen him years earlier. “Hello, Cole.”

 Alistair carried Liddy perched on his shoulders as he walked down the street. He and Liddy had run a few errands and gone on a little exploration where she’d found a whole crop of dandelions some still bright yellow flowers and many turned to fluffs that she happily ran through and blew until the air was filled with those little bits.

 They had checked the house to see if Evelyn was back and worry was a weight in his belly. It hadn’t been that long, he told himself. Evelyn was fine. She’d probably stopped at the bakery to see Taashath, so that was where they headed.

 “Mama!” Liddy shrieked and Alistair finally spotted her, walking up the road, a smile on her face.

 “Hello my baby,” she said, blowing her a kiss.

 “Down!” Liddy tugged at his hair, and with practiced ease, Alistair brought her down off his shoulders, flipping her upside down so she would laugh before he set her on her feet. Liddy hugged Evelyn’s legs and held out a bright yellow dandelion that was a little worse for wear.

 “Oh, thank you,” Evelyn crooned and dramatically sniffed it before tucking it behind her ear. “It’s beautiful.” Then she looked up at Alistair, still smiling.

 “Everything alright?” he asked cautiously. Not that her happiness was cause for worry, but he was afraid that she was using it to cover up terrible news. “What did the healer say?”

 Giving a little shrug of her shoulders she sighed. “Everything is healing well, he’s going to mix up some stronger pain tonics for when it’s like it was last night.” She didn’t sound pleased, but Alistair was grateful to hear that she was healing. “Talon’s in labor,” she said, changing the topic with a sudden brightness to her voice and held her hand out to Liddy. “Come on Lid, let’s go,” she said when the girl started to toddle off. But she ran back and grabbed hold of Evelyn’s hand.

 Alistair stood stunned for a beat as the two began walking back toward the cabin, then he rushed to catch up, coming to Liddy’s other side, he had to lean down to take the hand she held up for him to hold. “Is there anything we need to do?”

 He remembered Evelyn’s labor. She’d been uncomfortable all day, denying it was time for as long as she possibly could. Then she’d screamed and wailed and Alistair had held her hand when she wanted it, fed her snow when her throat grew parched, and finally, finally, held Liddy as Evelyn lay exhausted and teary-eyed.

 Evelyn gave her head a little shake. “No, I told her to send for us if she needed anything, but I think she’s got it quite in hand,” another quiet laugh escaped. “She’s had enough, she should by this point. Taashath is going to take Liddy later this evening, a playdate with Liora and Brisa, and Talon’s brood.”

 It surprised him. He knew how overprotective Evelyn was, she fussed and worried about Liddy if she couldn’t see her. It had taken a time before she had even let Alistair take her out alone. “Oh?” he asked, raising his brows.

 He caught the flush on her cheeks as she ducked her head. “Taashath is the only other person in this world, besides you, that I trust irrevocably with Liddy. We’ve been through too much for me not to.”

 “You wouldn’t trust Talon?” he asked curiously.

 “No, no it isn’t that I don’t trust her, it’s just that… I can’t explain it, but the connection I have with Taashath - it’s silly. Absurd really, because I know Talon, Zevran, Cullen even, none of them would stand by and let something happen to any child, even mine.”

 Alistair wasn’t sure what to say to that, but finally, as they turned down the path to their cabin, he reassured her, “it isn’t silly.” Evelyn shrugged and smiled as they walked inside. “Liddy got you a present,” he told her.

 “Other than my beautiful flower?” she asked, sinking down onto the floor where Liddy promptly crawled into her lap.

 “She wrapped it and everything,” Alistair continued. “Liddy, go get mama’s present.”

 Liddy let out an excited chirp and jumped up, running into Alistair’s room, and then she came barreling back out, a small fabric wrapped parcel in her hands. “Oof,” Evelyn let out a breath as Liddy flung herself back into her lap. “Mama! Liddy pick,” she said pressing the bundle into her hand.

 Evelyn cocked her head, then looked over at Alistair who had sunk down on the edge of the couch, and looked awfully nervous.      What did you do?     She wondered and smiled, kissing Liddy’s head. “You wrapped it so wonderfully, will you help me open it?” Because there was a loose bit of ribbon tied into a bow.

 “Oh, I-” Alistair flushed and he leaned forward slightly as if to take it and do it for her.

 “We’ve got it,” she reassured him, and with Evelyn’s one hand, and Liddy’s two they managed to tug free the ribbon and pull away the fabric. Inside, was a little box. It was plain but made out of a pretty stained wood. “Ohh, I like this,” she told her.

 “Open! Open!” Liddy said, the box balanced on her palms. Evelyn lifted the lid, the small hinge gliding easily to reveal a delicately engraved pendant inside. At first glance, it looked black, but as Evelyn carefully lifted it from the box, she caught the blue striations that ran through it. As if it were blue smoke caught in a black stone. A knot of vines coiled in a frame around a mabari.

 She looked up at Alistair, brows lifting and he shook his head, raising his hands. “I didn’t say anything,” he told her. “Just told her to pick one. Blame Cullen and that new hound he stole from the Winter Palace.” Evelyn laughed.

 “Puppy, mama, see,” Liddy got up on her knees, the pretty box tossed aside to wrap her little fingers around the pendant.

 “I see,” Evelyn smiled, letting Liddy take it so she could draw her into a tight hug. “I love it, thank you.” Looking back to Alistair she held out the necklace. “Help me put it on?” she asked.

 Alistair was on his knees in front of her in the next instant, taking the necklace from her fingers. “That’s the thing, we picked out a chain long enough,” he told her, as he held it up, “so that you wouldn’t need help with it.” He looped it over her head.

 “Oh,” she breathed out, her hand coming up to curl around the pendant. “Oh, thank you, Alistair.” Liddy reached up to trace her fingers over it and Evelyn let go in favor of catching Alistair’s hand before he could move away again. Ducking her head, she pressed a kiss against his knuckles and for a long moment just sat there, holding his hand against her lips, then she looked up and saw the deep blush on his cheeks.      You’re so good to me,     she thought.

 He did these things so effortlessly. Showed such kindness and took care of her in so many little ways. Evelyn knew she didn’t come close in that regard. But she would try to do better because she never wanted Alistair to question how very important he was to her. “Thank you,” she said again and squeezed his fingers, then felt him do the same in return as he smiled at her

[astralarias-old]

7 for whoever you want!

In which Jioxa and Loddy get stuck in a blizzard and shelter in a cave purely because I want some sweet fluff. 

“I’ll keep you warm.”  Jioxa/Lódtaidhg (Loddy belongs to @commanders-sole-braincell)

Jioxa struck the two stones together with growing desperation, squatting beside her pile of kindling. After another failed attempt to make a spark, she cast a tearful glance at Lódtaidhg. 

“It won’t work! We’re going to freeze,” she cried, biting her lip to stop the tears flowing.   

Outside of the cave, the blizzard raged on. Bjora marches wasn't a hospital place at the best of times, and this was possibly the worst of times. The little asura wrapped her arms around her body, her ears drooping. 

Lódtaidhg, who had been sitting a little distance away, got to his feet and wandered over. He knelt down beside Jioxa and reached out to touch her. Halfway there, his hand stopped, shaking with hesitance. His glow faltered and he drew back.

“It’s okay,” he said, and Jioxa sniffled, glancing up at him. He sounded unsure, awkward, but kind too. A smile lit up her face for the briefest of moments, only to go out like a smothered fire. 

“It’s okay,” he repeated, “Alistair will come back soon with help. Are you cold?” Jioxa raised her brow. What kind of question was that? She was shivering. Lódtaidhg seemed to realize this. He blushed and quickly shrugged off his houndskin mantle to drape it over her own shoulders.

But it proved to be too heavy for her. She collapsed to the ground with an indignant yelp, buried under the thick fur. Lódtaidhg cursed under his breath and lifted it off of her, an apologetic look in his eyes. Jioxa sat back up and scowled. 

“Okay,” he said, “next plan...um...”

Jioxa lowered her gaze, staring at her feet. They were numb from cold. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Lódtaidhg shook his head. “No, no, Jioxa - I - look, I’ll keep you warm. Can I...pick you up?”  

Jioxa hesitated for a second, her cheeks suddenly feeling hot despite the chill of the air. 

“Alright,” she conceded.

Lódtaidhg moved forwards and wrapped his arms around her. She tensed up for a moment, heart pounding in her chest like a frightened animal. But there was nothing to fear here, save for losing her dignity. Which if she was honest she had never had much of, to begin with.

His grip tightened and she left the ground, lifted up into his arms - one soft and leafy, the other living brand crystal. He leaned back against the wall of the cave and lay Jioxa carefully against his chest. After a few moments of holding her breath, she relaxed against him. His heart did not beat like hers, but there was a familiar aliveness to him that brought her just as much comfort. He held her closer, and she curled up into his embrace. After a few short minutes, warmth began to spread through her limbs, and she found a small smile on her face, though she hid it from sight. 

Before long, her eyes grew heavy and her heart calm. She drifted off to the sound of the storm outside and the gentle rise and fall of Lódtaidhg’s chest. She would not feel the soft kiss he pressed to the top of her sleeping head, but she nuzzled closer to him, letting out a quiet noise of contentment. And for now, that was enough for him.

[herald-divine-hell]

Scars

Summary: Leliana touches Amayian’s scars.

Tag: Dragon Age Origins; Fluff; Slight hints of angst.

-

The air was pummeled with horrid, thrashing winds, banging against the wooden walls with the weight of a high dragon. The pattering crash of the rain was accompanied every so often with a crackling spark of lightning, splitting the darkness into two with a searing push. But then it faded and dwindled and darkness conquered.

It always seemed to conquer.

Caden was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and brows furrowed. His breath came heavy and hard. His armor shone with a faint silver that shivered with the flicker of the light burning dimly in the air. It was a cold light, blue and white, but soft. Wynne has been the one to raise it, Morrigan had been too exhausted to do so, anyway.

Amayian did not have the strength in him to do so. His strength had fled when the dragon’s claw punctured through chain mail and cloth and across skin. He could still feeling the deep hum and burning from it, spreading in thick waves that made his head dizzy and cloady. It would be healed, Leliana had whispered. It had been Sten who told him that it would leave a scar.

His fingers brushed over his collarbone, dipping a little into his shirt. Amayian could not fight the shiver that crawled up his back as they softly press against the burning wound. Ralia had tried to brighten his mood with soft humor alongside Alistair, but he could not find it in himself to note anything beside the pain. Zevran had offered to massage if, once it was healed and softer enough. He did know if the Crow was jesting or not.

Leliana was sitting be his side, head resting against the wall. Bruises ringed and crawled up her arms, some most likely underneath her chainmail and the leathers as well. They looked like purple-green stars across a milky white sky. She had taken a worse beating than him—the temple had offer little of vantage point for the archer.

“Try to get some rest, Amayian,” she said, after another crack of thunder shook the broken house. “You’ll be needing all of your strength to make it to camp. Then, it’s back to Redcliffe.”

Amayian frowned, fighting to urge to wince as pain shot up arm, across his shoulder. It dulled soon after. “I’ll be fine,” he replied, ignoring the throbbing and sparks of pain that came from his legs and chest and arms. It hurt to even move his arm to push him up, and he gasped, sharply.

A chuckle danced in his ears. “Forgive me if I doubt you.” Her skin seemed to be glowing, brightened and shining by the translucent blue-white light burning high into the ceiling. Her face was graced with a soft smile. Her copper locks, faintly glistening with the same blue-white, had been grown out a bit, kissing nearly her shoulders and softly waving a little near the tips. Shadows played upon it, but they still framed her face, dotted with a thousand constellations that spread from her cheeks, across her nose, rolling up to her forehead and down to her chin. They were light in most occasions, like soft dust that one could barely see, but they seemed brought out by the magical light overhead. Her ripe, full lips were pulled into a soft smile at its corner, a flash of amusement. A fire kindled, blue flames seared with hazely brown in those eyes. He ignored the way her smile shifted something warm in his heart. Then, her eyes narrowed, brows furrowed in concentration. “You shouldn’t had thrown yourself in my way.”

It was not a voice of discontent, but instead of concern—for his well-being. The thought did not settle well in his stomach, and it heaved and tumbled and twisted. Amayian could bare the concern of the Warden, but that had been foreign, unaccustomed and strange. “You would had been slain from behind.”

Leliana had been near the back, arrows notching and firing over head like silver-gleaming stars. Even Amayian was amazed by the calm that had settled upon her shoulder’s, the ease when arrows slipped from quiver to sear through the air. It was some dance of precision and concentration she had danced, cool and collected.

That hadn’t stop the dragonlings from swarming and encircling them like rabid dogs. For every one she took down, ten more came, hungrier and angrier. When Amayian has saw a dragon shrieking passed, swirling about and rushing toward Leliana, all sense of reason and preservation fled him. He hurled himself in front of the woman, his magic thinned and weaken by its overused. The shearing of the claw across his chest sent a shiver up his spine, rising the hairs at the back of his neck. Amayian could still hear its horrid cry. Or maybe it had been him.

There was guilt in Leliana’s eyes—unnecessary guilt and compassion that caused Amayian’s stomach to twist and tumble as if it was tripping over its own metaphorical legs. “You could have died, Amayian.” Her voice was soft, filled with sadness.

“But I didn’t.”

Her smile did not reach her eyes, and she titled her head to the side. “Yes, you didn’t.” Her eyes flickered down, staring at the slightest hint of the scar that Amayian’s shirt could not cover. “May I?”

Amayian nodded. He shivered when her cool hands pressed gently against his skin, a mere graze that had sent his heart wild with heavy beats. There was something soft in here eyes, a care and gentleness that Amayian did not dislike. It was still undeniable strange, and his instincts called from him to withdraw, to pull away. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he leaned forward, shifting a little closer to the red-haired bard, their thighs almost touching. Her index finger drew soft circles around the scar, shifting down with the lightest of touches, edging it. She seemed to have memorized each place his skin was marked, remembering each curve and twist. She did not push further into his shirt, but remained a little below his collarbone. “Is this your first one?”

Amayian shook his head. “No, but it is the first real noticeable one.” The other scars that marred his body were small, hidden beneath his leathers and cloths. This one largest one he’d ever had. 

Leliana hummed and smiled. “You will bare many more when this is over,” she said, sadly. 

She was still touching him, her finger lingering at where his heart was, still drawing circles. Amayian merely nodded, not uttering a word. 

And it seemed better that way.

[chenria]

Remember the outlines which I drew back in 2012? No? Don’t worry... I admit until yesterday I had no memory of this lineart either... it was a commission I did for @merilsell back then... and she so happened to commission me to color it now. 

So... since I am too unconcentrated for linearts of the other commissions I should be working on, I squeezed in coloring for some existing lines... also because coloring is relaxing and I needed that after today.  I only made tiny tweaks with some of the lines, otherwise it’s the same lines I drew 7 years ago... 

So, Lenya Mahariel and Alistair fluff... I haven’t drawn much Dragon Age lately... 

[ladylilithprime]

Sastiel Creations Challenge | @ladylilithprime

↳ Theme: One More | Prompt: Day

Fluff Bingo Square: Movie Night

=I Did Not Live Until Today=

Read on AO3

MOVIE NIGHT IN the Bunker had been originally instituted by Dean, and the insistence of Sam that everyone in the Bunker, especially a stressed out and overworked teenaged Prophet of the Lord, needed to take regular breaks to relax and unwind before the constant "go, go, go" made them all go crazy. Hunts would occasionally interrupt the ritual, postpone it for a couple of days, but none of them were allowed more than ten days without a mandatory Movie Night. Dean had insisted that Castiel join these movie nights whenever he was around, intent on "educating" the Angel in what he termed the "classics" of cinema. Castiel had confided privately to Sam that, upon viewing these so-called classics, he was gaining more of an understanding of Dean than he was of why the movies were classical, which Sam had assured him was normal.

Movie Night had been weird after the Trials, because Sam would start out watching the movie with Dean and whoever else was there, but suddenly it would be hours later and he wouldn't remember actually watching any of it despite not having moved. In the wake of Crowley showing up in Sam's head with the brothers' code word tripping off his tongue to warn him that he had an angelic passenger who had taken over the driver's seat, Sam figured he knew what had happened and maybe he felt a little tiny flicker of gratitude for Gadreel sparing him having to watch the monkey movies again, but that was drowned out by the overall feelings of shock and betrayal and rage because how could Dean do this to him?!

It was Sam's decision to continue Movie Night even though it was just him and Castiel in the Bunker now. The original purpose of enforcing a break on overworked humans was still valid, even though now the overworked human was only Sam, and the secondary purpose of introducing Castiel to human entertainment was also still in effect, perhaps even more so after Metatron had downloaded a huge selection of American pop culture into Castiel's head without much in the way of context. Without Dean to steer the selection towards action films and neither of them particularly interested in watching mindless violence and gore, plus Sam's increased aversion to psychological horror films, the movies they watched tended to veer more towards musicals. If Castiel suspected that this, too, might be a bit of Sam's rebellion against Dean's stubborn adherence to mullet rock as the only valid music to listen to, well, he didn't call Sam on it and Sam didn't choose to admit anything.

Tonight was another designated Movie Night, not because it had been too long since the last, but because Sam knew that after the failure of the tracking spell with Gadreel's extracted Grace he, at least, needed something where the fate of the world was less dependant on the outcome. In hindsight, queueing up Les Miserábles was probably not the best idea given the overall setting of the movie and the themes of melancholy and grief that pervaded it, but he suspected Castiel would appreciate the other themes of faith and sacrifice and second chances.

He probably should have expected Castiel's analysis of the story's themes to extend to their lives, but somehow it didn't even occur to him until Castiel blindsided him with an abrupt declaration that Jean Valjean reminded him of Sam.

"I'm sorry?" Sam blurted, not sure he had heard the Angel correctly.

"He is a good man who committed criminal acts for a good cause and was harshly punished for it even after his incarceration ended," Castiel explained, gesturing to the screen where Valjean's pay was docked in front of the other workers, who were openly hostile. "It does not matter to these people that his intentions were noble - to feed his family - or that the crime was relatively minor, all they see is the criminal record and discount the good heart of the man who committed it and is stained by that record in the eyes of the society he serves."

"Cas, that's not... I started the Apocalypse!" Sam said, shaking his head. "That's a good bit worse than stealing a loaf of bread and running."

"You killed a demon," Castiel disagreed. "A demon you had been told by everyone around you was responsible for breaking Seals and that killing her would stop things. You were deliberately not told that she was the final Seal and that killing her would release Lucifer because enough angels, myself included, believed that if you knew the truth then you would not have killed her. Yet you do not blame me for lying to you, or for changing my mind and breaking through my conditioning too late to send Dean in time to stop you. Nor do you blame Dean for breaking under Alistair and being the one to break the first Seal which set things in motion. Instead, you continue to allow people, including Dean who should really know better, to cast the blame for things beyond your control onto your shoulders and even take on blame and responsibility where there should be none, forgetting that any penance required for playing a part long ago set out for you has been more than served."

Sam looked away from Castiel's placid, deeply knowing expression, but found he couldn't focus on the screen until a flash of silver catching light drew his attention. "Look, I don't... whatever redemption I might have earned with jumping has to be cancelled out by the things I did after getting out again, especially all the crap I pulled without my soul--"

"Do you think yourself responsible for your soulless self's actions, even though your soul was still in the Cage being subjected to Michael and Lucifer's torments?" Sam frowned a little at the low notes of guilt and sorrow in the Angel's voice and looked over, but Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes, staring instead at the screen as the old priest backed up Valjean's lie of gifted silver and gave over the candlesticks as well. "Hm. Heaven has not treated you nearly so kindly as this priest does..."

"Castiel," Sam started to reach out, but found his courage falter and lowered his hand with a sigh. "I know you didn't leave my soul behind on purpose. I knew it then, too, even with you keeping secrets and never having mentioned it before that moment... sorry, too, about the holy fire."

"There is no apology necessary," Castiel refuted, though Sam thought he looked moderately grateful for it anyway. "You were right to be suspicious of my actions and motives at the time, if not for that specific reason."

"Still..."

"Sam, I assure you, I hold no ill will over your suspicion of me, nor for your actions to try and stop me. If anything, I am deeply grateful for your continued faith in me even after I had gone off the reservation and done you considerable harm." Castiel shook his head. "We are getting away from the main subject, which is that you are not responsible for the actions your body committed without your soul present."

"It was still my body," Sam argued. "My... impulses or whatever, stripped of my inhibitions--"

"Not true," Castiel interrupted. "Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act. While that behavior likely seemed heartless or 'dickish' at times, this was in part because of the contrast to your usual compassion and kindness, but you weren't actively malicious or uncontrolled. Everything, including the decision to go to Dean with the suspicion that something was wrong and to ask him to be your moral compass, was meticulously and logically thought out and reasoned for the most optimal outcome. Recall that your soulless self felt that it was for the best that your soul be retrieved and rejoined with your body, and only rejected the plan when the possibility that doing so would kill you was presented."

"Whereupon I promptly tried to kill Bobby! Cas--"

"Sam," Castiel turned fully to face him and glared at him in a way that reminded Sam forcefully of the fact that this was an Angel of the Lord. "You. Are. Not. To. Blame. Your soulless self attempted to kill a man who showed every sign of being ready to kill you by forcefully reuniting your damaged soul with your body. A soul, I must add, which did not deserve the torment inflicted upon it and to which we owed the continued existence of the human race."

"I was just--"

"Cleaning up your mess, so you've said." Castiel was beginning to look frustrated. "But the Apocalypse was not just your mess. It was Dean's, and mine, and Lucifer's, and Michael's, and every angel and demon and human servant of either side who worked towards setting it off earlier than my Father planned. I would even venture to say that it was my Father's fault for refusing to step in when, despite Raphael's delusions, we had very clear evidence from Joshua that He is still alive and close enough to be aware of the situation." The Angel reached forward then and covered the shell-shocked human's nearest hand with his own. "Your soulless self recognized that, and recognized the unfair imbalance, and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices. Since regaining your soul, Dean's insistence on leaving past transgressions in the past except when it suits him to drag them out as evidence of culpability and questionable judgement has driven your self-confidence down to the point where you have even allowed Dean to make you believe yourself at fault for not looking for a brother and non-human friend whom you had every reason to believe were dead and at peace.

"No more," Castiel said with a fire in his vessel's blue eyes that had nothing to do with his borrowed Grace. "Sam Winchester, you will listen to me and believe this if nothing else: You. Deserve. Respect. And for my part in allowing others to be negligent in giving you that respect, you have my apologies."

For a long moment, Sam could do nothing more than stare at Castiel, stunned speechless and feeling more than a few echoes of the old awe and wonder with which he had first viewed this Angel of the Lord who had saved his big brother from Hell. It seemed impossible to believe, even with Castiel staring into him and all but demanding that he do so. For all he knew, he had fallen asleep on the couch next to Castiel and all of this was somehow some sort of incredibly vivid dream like the ones he tried to pretend he didn't have about the Angel, because if anything stood a chance at making their current arrangement far more awkward than it ever needed to be....

Castiel must have seen something of his thoughts in his expression, because the intensity faded into sadness and then, before Sam could gather his wits enough to try and reassure him, turned to resolve. "I will remind you of this conversation later, so as to establish better credibility."

"Um..." Sam blinked. That was unexpected. "Okay? Thanks? I'll... work on believing you, Cas, I will, I just...."

"Have several years of conditioning for expecting the worst to work around, as well as the more recent problems with maintained perception of reality," Castiel nodded. "I will remind you as often as is necessary of your worth and worthiness."

Sam nodded, more for the lack of any other way to acknowledge Castiel's words than out of agreement or understanding, jumping a little when the music from the television screen picked up in volume. He turned back to the movie, flushing darkly when he realized that they'd completely missed Fantine's entire arc and Valjean's crisis of conscience, and reached for the remote. "Oh, hey, let me--"

"No, it's--" Castiel's grip on Sam's hand tightened, then released with enough abruptness that Sam found himself stopping anyway, turning questioning eyes on Castiel. "I confess that I have been, ah, 'cheating' with this film, as it is one of the stories that Metatron saw fit to share, though not this particular version."

"Should we put on something else?"

"If that is what you prefer. I am enjoying watching it with you regardless."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if that was because of Castiel's bizarre comparisons between Sam and Valjean, but he swallowed it back and instead forced himself to settle back into the couch beside Castiel to watch the introduction to the Thénardier family and Cosette. The silence stretched between them as the music played, until--

"Sam? Why is Thénardier's wife making that gesture when she sings that there is 'not much there'?"

Sam swallowed down the urge to choke or laugh, because of course Castiel would ask about that. He cut a sharp glance in the Angel's direction to check if he was being trolled, but Castiel's expression showed only genuine puzzlement. "Uh... Well, I mean, uh... some guys get kinda hung up on penis size, uh, taking the whole 'bigger is better' idea way too seriously and, uh, thinking that bigger size makes them better able to please their partners, which, uh, really isn't true across the board. And, uh, there are a lot of guys who think that having those, um, extra inches is all they need for it to be good for their partner, which also isn't true." He found himself looking at the screen in a gambit to not have to meet Castiel's eyes, and moments later he pointed. "See, she's saying the line again without the gesture. So, uh, the implication is Thénardier falls doubly short of the mark."

"I see," Castiel said, his tone meditative. With his eyes averted, Sam couldn't see the speculative look the Angel sent in his direction, though he definitely heard the pointedly dry tone when Castiel added, "Mrs Thénardier would do better to find a more skilled pizza man."

Sam jerked his head around to stare at Castiel again, but this time the Angel's expression was the same sort of bland that he used when trolling Dean, and so Sam managed to force out a chuckle for the joke before settling in to watch the dynamics between the Thénardiers and Cosette with its very Cinderella vibe. Castiel muttered something about "punching John Winchester again" that made no sense and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know about anyway, and then made a brief comment about Cosette's dream being similar to many human interpretations of Heaven, but otherwise said nothing until Valjean told Cosette that he was now her father.

"Another parallel," he said. Sam, who had hoped Castiel had forgotten about his weird fixation by this point, blinked in confusion.

"Uh, Cas, I'm pretty sure I haven't gone and adopted any random kids," he pointed out. Really, that seemed more like something Dean would do than him, Dean actually really liked kids and liked the idea of being a dad while Sam... not so much.

"Random, no," Castiel agreed. "You are, however, extraordinarily compassionate. I suspect that, if presented with an orphaned child whose situation required more specialized guardianship than a more normal human fosterage system could provide, you would be an excellent parental figure." He was silent for a moment, pensive and troubled, and then said, softly, "I had never had Nephilim of my own, nor am I likely to do so in the future, but if I did and was unable to care for the child myself, I would ask you."

"Me?" Sam gaped at him. "I mean, why me? Why not Dean?"

"Dean has an unfortunate history of being less than tolerant of supernatural occurrences, of children with powers beyond most human capabilities," Castiel said, shooting an apologetic glance at Sam even before Sam was aware of wincing. "A Nephil would inevitably have powers, and I am a Seraph. Only an Archangel could overpower and suppress the Grace of a Nephil sired by me, and there are no more Archangels available to do so. You have powers of your own and training in using them, albeit with an enhancement method that I would not recommend using with a Nephil, and would be well suited to teaching."

"Cas, my powers--"

"Are yours and yours alone. Azazel may have forcefully activated them on his own schedule and attempted to corrupt them and, through them, you, but he - and Ruby - failed. Your soul is far too pure and good for their hooks to find permanent anchor."

"But... I mean, you... angels... you always warned me against using them...."

"Only because the method with which you were amplifying them - that is, drinking demon blood - was so dangerous to you and the people around you, and training them to full strength properly after first tearing down Azazel's blocks would have taken considerably more time and effort... and, I suspect, those of my superiors actively assisting in bringing about the Apocalypse did not want you learning to use your powers without the addictive crutch of demon blood that could be used to prime your rage and point you at Lilith when the time came."

"So why are you just now telling me this?"

"Well," Castiel glanced away, looking somewhat sheepish. "To be honest, I did not realize that you were unaware that your powers were innate and not actually demonic in origin until I overheard you speaking of them in past tense as if they no longer existed because you were no longer drinking demon blood rather than you simply not using them. Given my clumsy understanding of social nuances and the complex mix of negative emotions you associate with your powers, I erred on the side of caution and did not mention it until our current conversation provided an opening."

Well. That was fair. Even so, Sam couldn't help but stare at Castiel as he attempted to process everything he had learned in such a short amount of time. The fact that the majority of Angels hated him was not new, but the fact that Heaven had actively sabotaged his efforts to be better than the demon blood that tainted him was... also not new, exactly, but Sam had never expected to hear it put so bluntly in conjunction with reassurance that his powers - and, by extension, Sam himself - did not come from a source of evil.

Even more bewildering was the hypothetical child Castiel spoke of and his assertion that Sam, not Dean who had always longed to be a parent, but Sam who had barely ever had anything to do with children even when he had been one, was to be given custody of the hypothetical Nephil if Castiel was incapacitated. The way Castiel had talked about the subject made it clear that he had never had Nephilim himself, and Sam knew that the creation of Nephilim was outlawed, and yet the Angel was sitting there, calm as you please, declaring that if he did ever have a child with a human and needed another parent besides himself and, presumably, the mother, that he would pick Sam. Sam, who was uncomfortable around kids at the best of times, even if he could fake passable competence in an emergency. Sam, who wouldn't trust himself to look after a completely human baby, never mind one that had "phenomenal cosmic powers" at its disposal. Sam who, until earlier when Castiel had declared that "nothing is worth losing you", had thought that Castiel might possibly consider him a friend at best and tolerated him as a reasonably useful asset at worst. Mind-boggling just didn't cover it.

And that wasn't even touching the whole thing with Castiel sounding like he was defending the actions of his soulless self. The subject of Sam's time topside without his soul was something Dean had never hesitated shut down hard, but Castiel had sounded almost... complimentary. Which made no sense, Sam knew, because without his soul he had been a tactless jerk, not--

"Your soulless self recognized that... and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices."

Sam swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, and again when it refused to be dislodged. Everything he did to help people, to try and make up for the damage he had caused, it never felt like enough. All the centuries spent in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer systematically taking out their rage on him amounted to only a year and a half on Earth, and the tortures blurred together to the point where Sam had long since lost count of how many centuries it had really been, shoving it down and shoving it down, his shaky forays into meditation and reshuffling his mind only managing to build the flimsiest of fences between his conscious mind and that echoing chasm of memory and pain, bits and pieces escaping here and there to scratch along his dreams. Little reminders that he may be out, maybe, but he would never be truly free. It was a truth, cold and logical and inexorable, that Dean refused to acknowledge in either of them, touched by Hell as they both were in different ways, and neither of them coping nearly as well as they wanted the other to believe.

"Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act."

The irony of an Angel of the Lord comparing his soulless self to other Angels was not lost on Sam, nor was the way that comparison gave him mixed feelings. All the years of praying, of believing in God and His Angels, having faith that some higher power was watching out for Dean and his Dad when he couldn't, that there was real good in the world to counterbalance all the evil being shoved at him from all sides...

"Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

...no....

"Nothing is worth losing you."

...but why....

"Sam? Sam, did you hear me?"

"Hm?" Jolted from his contemplating, Sam shot a guilty look first at the screen - how had he missed that much of the movie?! - and then gave Castiel a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Cas. What were you saying?"

"I was asking about Marius's assertion that he is in love with Cosette, when he has only just met her and barely interacted with her at all," Castiel repeated himself after a moment of scrutiny for his friend. "It seems disingenuous, more like the 'love' of the pizza man and the babysitter."

"It's supposed to be love at first sight, Cas," Sam explained, scrubbing a hand down his face. "It's like... when two people who've never interacted before meet, and there's this... connection that forms between them, like they click on a level that is deeper than physical or emotional. A look, a touch of hands... you just know, looking at that person, that this is it. This is the one." He shrugged. "It's talked about in books and movies and stories and songs all the time as this big romantic ideal, a lot like soulmates... uh, cupid-type soulmates, not me and Dean type soulmates."

"Do you not believe in love at first sight?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side with that puzzled curiosity that Sam found endearingly familiar.

"I don't disbelieve in it," Sam said, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, being a hunter has taught me that every story has some root in a truth. I just don't necessarily think that it always happens the way the stories make it sound. Like maybe sometimes it's one-sided, or something gets in the way like they live too far apart or one is already married or..." Sam bit his lip before he could continue the thought with mention of angels and humans, because he knew from Castiel that most instances of humans and angels coupling were less about romance and love and more about lust and awkward power imbalances, and the last thing he wanted to bring up right now was the hypothetical Nephil again. "Besides, just because love usually happens more slowly than a couple of seconds doesn't make it any less deep or meaningful or special."

"I see," Castiel hummed, and then, "Sam? How do you know when you're in love?"

...Shit.

"Uh," Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck, only to force his hand back down again when he realised what he was doing. "It's different for everyone, Cas...."

"I am aware," and there was a definite note of impatience in the gravelled voice. "I am asking how you know when you are in love."

"Oh," Sam mumbled. He could feel his face heating up and very nearly prayed that the heat wasn't a visibly obvious blush before he stopped himself; Castiel would probably hear it if he did. "Uh, well... not to sound like a broken record, but it was different for everyone I was... I mean, I felt differently about different people, even though it's all still love."

Castiel made an encouraging noise, and when Sam chanced a look in his direction, the Angel was turned more towards him than the screen, clearly interested and wanting to hear more. Well, okay then. Sam leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, reaching back into the depths of his memory for the times he was in love or thought he was, shying away from some of the memories like Madison or Sarah or Amelia, and focusing on the deeper ones, the ones that got under his skin and stayed there across the years, even just as scars. There was a pattern there, a set of feelings that overlapped each instance.

"Happiness," he began, because that was the obvious place to start. "When you see the person, you feel happy. Being around them, sitting next to them, holding hands, hugging... full of happiness and joy and peace. You feel happy when they're happy, sad when they're sad, hurt when they're in pain... You want to protect them, even when you know they can protect themselves. You would fight, kill, even die for them, not because they would ever ask it of you, but because losing them is... unthinkable. It's agony. And all the pain is worth it, because seeing them smile is... it's better than Heaven."

"Oh," Castiel breathed. "Yes, that... that makes so much sense now."

There was a shuffling sound, and the couch cushions dipped beneath shifting weight, and then Sam felt one of his hands being enfolded in Castiel's, the skitter of that unfamiliar Grace held tightly leashed beneath his skin tingling just at the edge of Sam's awareness. He opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, who was beaming at him now from much closer than he had been. "Cas...?"

"Sam," Castiel was still smiling, but it was warmer, softer than the brilliant joy of before, more comfortable and... "Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I was never able to explain myself adequately to my brothers, and so they frequently drew incorrect conclusions that I lacked the necessary frame of reference to refute or correct. Perhaps now I can make them understand."

"Understand?"

"That I am in love with you, Sam Winchester," Castiel squeezed Sam's hand gently. "My world started the day I took your hand. And I would not have it any other way."

"Cas... I...." He couldn't say it. He wanted to, God, did he ever want to say it back, but the words caught in his throat, too used to being choked back after so many years. "Cas...."

"I know. Sam? Will you hold me again? I enjoyed that quite a lot."

"Sure, Cas," Sam shifted, shoving the whirling of his thoughts back and away, and opened his arms. Castiel released his hand and moved closer, pressing the length of his body against Sam's. He let out a soft sigh as Sam brought his arms up to curl around Castiel, settling in a loose embrace that still managed to fully encompass the Angel's smaller physical frame. Together, they turned to watch the movie, wrapped up in each other and the mutual assurance that their feelings, spoken or not, were returned.

"Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store...."

=End=

[gingerbreton]

“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—” for le ask meme?

Thank you so much for the prompt!  It has taken me far longer than I meant it to!  Here is some pre-relationship Alistair and Izzy fluff stuff.  

—————————————————

He was out cold, blood slowly running down his forehead from where the pommel had connected with his skull.  His face strangely serene, lips slightly parted, Izzy could feel the gentle rush of breath against her cheek as she bent over him, desperately looking for signs of life.

“He’s breathing!”

The ambush had taken them all by surprise.  They’d never expected to find darkspawn this far north, let alone travelling with an ogre in broad daylight.  If she’d had any idea, they wouldn’t have ventured out with such a small party.  It was never meant to be anything other than a supply run.  

She could see Wynne visibly relax at her shout, her form bent over Leliana as she helped her into a more comfortable possible.  A particularly brutal compound fracture jutting from her arm where a hurled boulder had struck her.  She was sheet white and keeping her gaze averted from the grizzly sight as Wynne set to work on her.  

The multi-hued woodlands of the Hinterlands were cold and crisp that autumn day.  As the party had set up camp for the evening, Wynne had set out to resupply on herbs as potion supplies were dwindling, Izzy offering to accompany her into the woods to be on the safe side, with Leliana taking the opportunity to join them in the name of hunting something for supper.  

The final member of their party was Alistair, who had trotted after them, proclaiming that he needed the fresh air, a statement that met with a few quizzical looks, as it had been a good week since any one of them had had a solid roof over their heads.  More likely it was to keep an eye on her.  Ever since she was reunited with them, she couldn’t think of a time when one of her fellow wardens hadn’t been by her side, though she was sure both would deny it vehemently.

The occasional soft whimper from Leliana drifted across the clearing as Wynne began to clean the wound, but the young woman gritted her teeth and let the mage go about her work without complaint.  In the short time they had travelled with Wynne, they had learnt that, unlike Morrigan, she was extremely diligent when it came to proper healing practices, and unless they were in the heat of battle, she always insisted on wound cleaning to prevent infection before even thinking about beginning her spells.  

Alistair was still the picture of serenity, sprawled upon the ground.  The bleeding had slowed, but he was probably going to have at least one lump on his head and a black eye to boot.  Her heart rate was finally starting to settle from the panic that had overtaken her.  Daft boy. He shouldn’t have done it.  Izzy’s finger traced his hairline where another cut slowly oozed.  His eyelids flickered.

Between Alistair’s idle chatter and the swish of Wynne’s robes through the fallen leaves, they seemed to be alerting any local wildlife to their approach, much to the frustration of Leliana, who decided to forge on ahead.  

She had been gone long enough that the sun was beginning to lower when a familiar sickening creeping sensation ran its way down Ysabelle’s spine.  Her eyes instantly found Alistair’s.  From his suddenly knotted brow he had sensed them too.  They had taken off running north before they’d even heard the first cry.  

Leliana’s sharp intake of breath drew Izzy’s attention away from her own patient.  Wynne was obviously starting the slow process of healing the brutal wound.  

“How is he?” the older woman called across the clearing, not taking her eyes off her work.

“He’ll look a mess tomorrow, but he’ll live.”

A groan came from the floor by her leg, causing Izzy to sit back in surprise, “‘s a little harsh… don’t you think?”  Alistair’s voice was barely audible, like the mutter of one rousing from a deep sleep, or possibly deep in drink.  “You wound me, dear lady.”

“I think you’ll find that was the boulder.”  She could feel the tension melt from her shoulders at the sound of his voice, but it took a moment for the intended humour in her retort to find her face, the unintended ring of truth in his words unsettling her.  

A look of consternation knotted his brow, bringing with it a wave of pain from the deep laceration that had made its home across his forehead, burying itself in his eyebrow.  From the look on his face and the watering of his eyes, grimacing only made the pain worse.  He was a bloody mess.  It was strange how she felt more guilty now he was awake than when he was knocked out, her heart contracting a little with every grimace that crossed his face.  

“Wynne’ll look at you soon, pet.  Just as soon as she’s fixed Leliana’s arm.”  Instead of offering the reassurance she had hoped for, her words had alerted him to their friend’s condition.

“‘s she ok?” Alistair pushed her aside, attempting to sit up quickly to get a look at his injured comrade.  

The sudden movement did him no favours.  He swayed, all of the colour draining from his face, and Izzy only just managed to catch him before he fell back.  With him still fully armoured, it took every ounce of strength she could muster to lay him back down without dropping him.  Wynne would not thank her for inducing another head injury.  

“Lel will be fine.  Never even passed out!  Now, will you stay still?”  She wrestled her arm free from under him, her face close enough to his to have picked up a smear of blood down her own cheek.  She was certainly too close for his semi-conscious eyes to focus on the exasperated stare she was giving him.  “Look, I’m going to get a cloth to clean you up a bit.  Stay put.”

Her irritation was unfair, but it was easier to be annoyed at him for the little things than admit how scared she’d been when she saw him land like a ragdoll, unmoving.  She didn’t realise how much her legs were shaking until she got back up to see Wynne.  

It had been her fault. Not the boulder exactly, but him being knocked out by it.  She had been distracted keeping the darkspawn attention away from the fallen Leliana. She hadn’t seen the ogre lift another boulder, she definitely hadn’t seen it aim for her, but Alistair had.  The first thing she’d known about it was the sight of his shield coming across her, looking back and seeing he wasn’t covering himself and in that instant they were hit by a wall of rock.

He was sat up now, arms wrapped around his knees.  Tucked in next to him, Ysabelle sat diligently cleaning his wounds to Wynne’s strict specifications.  She could feel his half-focused gaze following her as she tilted his head this way and that, to get to the various abrasions that scattered his face.  Each time she moved his head, it would inevitably swing back to where he could get a better look at what she was doing.  

She caught him by the chin, a rare uninjured spot, and turned him to face her for the briefest moment, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Behave.”

“I just wanted to see what you were doing.”  He made his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes, no mean feat when it hurt to move most of the muscles in his face.  His eyes still trained on her as she tipped his head down to better see his bloodied hairline.  

“You can’t see because I’m doing it to your face, you wazzock!”  This time she couldn’t keep the smile from her face, shaking her head at his look of pride for finally winning a smile.  

It had been a close run thing with only her and Wynne left standing in the end.  If it hadn’t have been for Wynne’s shaking the ground beneath the feet of the final ogre, causing it to drop like a stone, Izzy would never have managed launch the poisoned blade which ended the beast, leaving nothing but silence and carnage around them.  

The wind was picking up, sending leaving skittering across the clearing, and whipping Izzy’s hair in the breeze.  She absentmindedly blew loose locks from her face, as she continued her task.  Out of the corner of her eye she could make out his warm amber eyes still watching her, though he’d finally resigned himself to doing as he was told, a distracted smile settled on his lips.  

“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that?”  His voice still held the drowsy, sing-song edge of concussion.  “Here, lemme just…”  

She didn’t realise it was happening until she felt his knuckles brush her cheek as he tucked the loose hair behind her ear.  She never meant to allow her eyes to drift shut at the warmth of his touch.  A reaction she’d not expected of herself.  How long had her eyes been closed?  Too long.  

Izzy’s eyes snapped open, jerking back a little way, suddenly embarrassed at how close they were.  Alistair seemed happily unaware of the butterflies he’d loosed in her stomach, or her sudden desire to distance herself from him.  He just continued to smile pleasantly, watching her face in a way that made her mouth go dry.  This wasn’t like him, she’d never seen him look at her like this.  This must be the head injury.  

“Look how red your cheeks are.  Are you warm?”  He leant forward, as if trying get a better look at her, causing her to rock back further, her cheeks burning.  “I think you have all the blood I lost!”

He chuckled to himself, fixing her frozen look with a lopsided grin and a quirked eyebrow.  Still she couldn’t move.  Because obviously his vision is movement based, Izzy,  mocked the voice in her head that so often liked to remind her when she was being a fool, if you stay still long enough maybe he’ll give up and go away.

It was a casual boop to her nose from an Alistair, who’d clearly got bored of waiting for her to snap back to reality, that pulled her out of her introspection.  The relief at the release of tension sending her flopping back on to the ground with an unnecessarily loud bark of laughter.  

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Madam, I pride myself on it!”  Judging by the look on his face, he truly did.  

“Well, you seem better already.”  Wynne stood a few feet away, arms loosely folded across her chest as she watched them, leaving Ysabelle wondering how long she’d been stood there viewing their embarrassing exchange.  “We’ll have you patched up in no time, Alistair.”

With a nod to Wynne, Izzy got up to go and help carry Leliana’s things.

“Watch him, he wriggles!” She shot back over her shoulder with a swift grin.  “And Ali, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

[laurelsofhighever]

I’m here to add more prompts! ;D “a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss”

I was going to write angst today, but this idea popped into my head and I decided fluff was better. Rosslyn and Alistair - as if anyone expected otherwise xD It’s a little bit not SFW, but not by much.

Rain lashed against the windows. Clouds darkened the room,and draughts whispered in from secret cracks in the walls. Huddled against thechill, the young King and Queen of Ferelden lay wrapped up in mussed sheets andin each other, their limbs twined lazily together in the centre of theimpossibly large royal bed. Only Alistair was awake, his head propped in thecrook of his elbow, a smile soft on his lips as he took in the sight beforehim. Rosslyn’s dark hair gathered like a mantle across her shoulders, framingslightly parted lips and the serene expression she only ever wore in sleep. Herside rose and fell in a steady rhythm beneath his hand.

How many times had this scene played out? She always hatedmornings, whether on the road or in the comfort of a tavern, and had to be priedfrom sleep like a bur from winter wool. On their travels he had coaxed her fromslumber with kisses, or sometimes laid with her and dozed in their sharedwarmth, or on the nights when it was his turn to watch the camp it had beenCuno sneaking in with a cold, wet nose to pull her from dreams. But this –today – his breath caught in his chest, because there would never be a day likethis again.

She stirred. Mumbled and stretched, creased her expression intoa smile as she reached out and found him at the blind tips of her fingers. Whenshe sighed and shifted closer, still without opening her eyes, he chuckled andslid his arm lower, across the expanse of her lower back to keep her againsthim.

“Good morning.”

“Mmhnn.” She twisted in the embrace, blinking at the way theweather battered the glass. “S’only good if you don’t make me go out in it.”

“Oh don’t worry, I was thinking I’d keep you right here,” heanswered. His thumb traced idle patterns against her spine. “All day. And maybetomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Does the king not have important matters to which he mustattend?” she asked, the lofty words betrayed by the gentle touch played alongthe line of his jaw.

He shrugged, as best he could while lying on his side. “Nothingthat Teagan can’t handle. Besides, you’re more important than matters.”

Her lip pulled between her teeth as he leaned forward. Hishand linked with hers and pressed into the mattress by her hip. When he dippedhis smile to lavish her neck with attention, the sleep-scratched sigh that fellfrom her lips settled heat low in his belly.

A laugh shivered in her breath. “You’ve attended me already,if I recall.”

“Not enough,” he replied, with a nip to the corner of herjaw. “Not now I can call you my wife.”

Fingers slipped into his hair, gripped and pulled back. Theprecipice held in her eyes swallowed him, cracked ice on a winter sea, and whenher smile broke through, radiant as sunlight, he swore his heart stopped. “We’remarried.”

“We’re married,” he agreed, and pressed his forehead againsthers.

She drew him down, wrapping arms around his shoulders andlegs around his legs, hair falling like the rain outside as she rolled themboth, laughing, across the impossibly large mattress. Her knees braced oneither side of his hips when he landed on his back, her palms soft over hisheart. The blankets tangled around her so she pushed them away, archingslightly as their warmth was replaced by his, the hands splayed across theflare of her waist. Their gazes locked. Their breath heaved together.

“I never thought I’d have a husband.” Leaning forward, shemet him in a chaste, tender kiss, then retreated just far enough to let himfeel the whisper of the words against his lips. “I love you.”

For an instant he was left frozen, breathless. His fingersstrayed, his heart galloped in his chest, and she was right there, poised abovehim, so close, all it took was the slightest tilt of his head and she waskissing him again, languid and eager as she moved against him, grinning, andeverything he had ever wanted.

Kiss prompts!

[inquisimer]

Stories of Thedas - Day 16: Shield

Alistair uses his shield in a way the manufacturer did not intend

pairing: Sari Mahariel x Alistair

((warning, fluff ahead))

~~~

Sari had never seen snow before.

“What do you mean, never seen snow?” spluttered Alistair. “Aren’t you from Ferelden?”

“Only part time! My clan moves with the seasons, specifically to avoid harsh weather like this.” She tucked her nose against her armor, but the hardened leather did little to ward off the chill. It felt as though she’d been encased in one of Merrill’s winter grasps–which she’d only agreed to do once, because it left her chilled and irate for days. Alistair glanced back over his shoulder and snorted, then unwound Wynne’s scarf from his neck and looped it around Sari’s, all the way up over her nose. 

“Here,” he said softly. “Can’t have you catching your cold before your first real experience with snow.” 

Sari didn’t answer, because she was burrowing her face into the knitted fabric. It was warm from his body heat and it smelled like cinnamon and weeks on the road and something distinctly Alistair. 

They continued up the hill toward the reported location of Haven. A ways to the rear, Wynne and Leliana were bantering good naturedly about something according to the Chantry, which Sari had long since learned to tune out. The higher they climbed, the more the chill seeped through her armor and the harder it was to catch her breath. 

Eventually they reached some sort of wooden structure, like the framing for a gate. Alistair turned on his heel and surveyed the incline. Apparently it was to his liking, because he dropped his pack and his sword, then flipped his shield upside down on the hard-packed snow. When Sari finally reached his chosen position, he gestured to the inverted shield with a wide grin.

“Hop on!”

The muscles in the top half of Sari’s face were a little too numb for her to be sure she’d raised an eyebrow, but she managed to convey her skepticism somehow, because Alistair pouted and gave her a pleading look. 

“Please?” He drew out the word like a child begging for extra sweets. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” 

Sari grumbled, but acquiesced. Her weapons and pack joined his in the snow and she settled cross-legged on the shield. It wobbled precariously and she couldn’t stop a dubious squeak, even though Alistair quickly stabilized her. He chuckled, low and warm and right in her ear, since he’d clambered on behind her and dug his heels into the snow to hold them in place. 

Suddenly, Sari didn’t feel cold at all. 

The shield barely accommodated them both–because it was a shield, and not, say, a cart–so Alistair was pressed close, every inch of her back and neck aligned with his chest. He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist; silently, Sari thanked the absent gods for the layers of leather and metal between them, so he couldn’t feel how her heart was thundering. 

“Ready?” he murmured. 

“No–”

The wind swept away her response as he lifted his heels and their weight carried the makeshift sled forward. Sari, scrambling for purchase, clamped her hands on his arms where they were now tight around her. Her initial terror gave way to swooping exhilaration as they flew down the hill, welling up in bursts of laughter the further they went. They sped past Leliana and Wynne, showering both in a spray of snow. 

The hill seemed much shorter on the way down than the climb up; as they neared the bottom, a wall of snow rose up to meet them. Alistair started muttering curses under his breath, barely audible over the whoosh of the air in her ear, and concern mingled with the joy in her chest. 

“Alistair–”

“Hold on!” he cried. His grip on her waist tightened and his legs tensed; just before they plowed into the snowbank he twisted to the side and pulled her with him, head over feet, so they ended in a snow-dusted tangle a few yards away. His shield didn’t fare half as well–it disappeared into the snowbank in a puff of powder.

They laid still for a few beats, chests heaving and adrenaline pumping. Then they both burst out laughing.

Sari managed to get control first and she extricated herself from his limbs. Her legs were somewhat shaky still, but she helped pull Alistair to his feet and brushed the snow as best she could from both their armor. His hair was adorably mussed and his face was cherry red, as she imagined hers must be as well. 

“You’re insane–that’s what shems do for fun when it snows?”

“C’mon, admit you enjoyed it, even a little?” 

She had enjoyed it, just not for any reasons she was going to tell him. Instead she gave him an indulgent smile, to which he whooped and pumped his hand in the air; she followed it with a groan, when she looked back at the way they came.

“Now we have to climb all the way back up,” she moaned. 

“I’ll carry you,” Alistair offered, but he was looking rather morosely at the place where his shield had vanished. “Do you think Wynne would melt that snow for me?”

“After you blasted her with cold, wet powder?” Sari snorted, rewrapping his scarf around her face. “Not a chance.”

[allisondraste]

"Going Somewhere?" for the angst/fluff prompt list? :)

Thank you Veri!!! This took me a really long time, and it’s actually longer than I hoped, but you know… the characters just had so much to say…

The revelries drew to a close, as soldiers returned home to their loved ones and Chantry priests began laying to rest the many who lost their lives in the great battle of Denerim.  It was a sudden and somber switch after the days of cheering and parading. The archdemon was dead, the Blight ended before it really even started. More surprisingly Lucia was still alive… and so was Alistair. The last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden both living to see the charred corpse of the dragon that had lain atop Fort Drakon. She should have been happy, overjoyed, elated!…Right?

She was none of those things. In fact, the staggering wave of nausea and aching chest brought tears of guilt and shame to her eyes. What had they done? What did she agree to? If she and Alistair both survived, it meant that Morrigan was — Lucia shook her head in a vain attempt to will that thought away. She wanted nothing to do with those thoughts.

Still, the thoughts came, knocking the wind from her chest and filling the empty bedroom completely.  It had been empty since they returned from their victory. Alistair could hardly look her in the eyes when he spoke to her, let alone sleep in the same room. Her poor love’s face had been so ashen and anguished that night. He steeled himself in the days to follow, becoming nothing more than sharp edges and empty smiles.

Lucia was flooded with dread and despair she had not experienced since her darkest days at the Circle.  What if they couldn’t overcome this? What if she was never able to forget?  She had been through so many things, but this seemed bigger than any of it.  She stood from her seat at the edge of the bed, staggered by dizziness and tingling limbs, watching as the room closed in around her. Demons whispered at the corners of her consciousness, and she needed to get out. She had to leave.

She hastily collected her things, haphazardly tossing everything into her leather bag, and grabbing her sword and staff as she exited the room. She walked as quickly as she could down the hallway without causing too much of a stir. It was late in the evening and most of the castle’s guests had retired to their rooms, still she did not wish to disturb.

The door to the courtyard could not have been further away, but she finally reached it. The world continued to spiral around her and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breath. She stopped in an attempt to gather herself before she walked outside, pressing her forehead against the cool, rough wood of the door.

“Going somewhere?” A familiar voice rang out from behind, causing Lucia to jump slightly and her sword and staff fell from her arms with a clatter. She hadn’t seen anyone in the hall, not that she had been paying attention. It was hard to be aware of her surroundings when she was suffocating.

She didn’t answer, simply turning around slowly to face him. Their eyes met for the first time in days, and he wore a pained expression that caused her heart to fall into her stomach.

Alistair stood several feet from Lucia. He finally built up the nerve to face her, to talk about what had happened. He had no idea if they could salvage their relationship, but she was too damn important to him to not at least try.  He had gone to her room only to find it completely empty, and she hadn’t even left a note. He was relieved that he caught her, but he was furious. How dare she walk out like that after all they had sacrificed? After all that he had sacrificed?

“You could at least say goodbye, you know.” He spoke softly, attempting to remain calm, his voice quivering against his own will. “Or is this the part where I have to wonder if you hate me for the rest of my life?”

“I don’t hate you,” she answered breathlessly, her expression the same one she would have worn if she actually did hate him.  It was difficult to tell if she was hurt, offended, or both.

“Could have fooled me.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and she recoiled physically.  He might as well have written them on rocks and thrown them at her.  Still, he was too angry to feel sorry just yet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Her words were pointed and cold.  It should have been impossible to feel so far away from her standing in the same room. “You’re the one who has been distant.”

“Right, blame me for being distant.  Maybe it’s because I can’t even look at you without wanting to die” He knew shouting at her wouldn’t help, but it felt so good to release the tension he had been holding in since… well, then. “I bet you never considered the possibility that I am having a hard time dealing with things. I never wanted to be with anyone else but you, not ever. Lucia, I had sex with Morrigan. Morrigan.”

“I remember.”  She crossed her arms, but he could see the glimmer of tears at the corners of her eyes. “Vividly.”

“Funny, I don’t seem to recall you being in that room doing something that made you physically sick.” He threw his hands up in frustration. “I haven’t slept in days because everytime I close my eyes, I can see it happening all over again.  It’s like I can still feel her on my skin, and no matter what I do I can’t seem to get the smell of her off of me.”

Lucia’s face paled and she remained silent.  These were things she should not have to hear, and yet he wanted her to know.  He needed her to know just how disgusted he was with himself, and he didn’t care how much it hurt her.  At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Oh, and let’s not forget that she’s pregnant with my child, and has run off to Maker knows where, doing Maker knows what. That’s something I’ll only have to live with for forever,” he continued, “You know, the only thing that allowed me to go through with this was the hope that we could both survive, and that we’d be able to get through this together, just like with everything else. Then you decided to just… leave.”

“I thought we could too, Alistair.” Lucia finally spoke again, her voice calm, but distant.  She looked down toward the ground, seeming unable to meet his gaze again.  Had he been too mean?  She didn’t really deserve his anger after all.  None of this was her fault alone.  They made this choice together. Then, it struck him that she had spoken in the past tense,

“Thought?” He knew he wouldn’t like the answer, but he had to ask.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now.  You have every right to be angry and hurt, and nobody in the world should be able to blame you for that. I wish that simply being alive and together were enough to take the hurt away. It kills me that I can’t comfort you.”  She paused, looking up at him, her eyes carrying the weight of what she was about to say next.  He knew there was a “but” coming, and he knew he was going to hate it.

“But I am hurting, too.” She blinked as if waiting for him to protest.

“I know,” he admitted, feeling ashamed that he hadn’t acknowledged it before.

“I know that you and Morrigan did this, in part to protect me, but now I have lost her and I’m afraid that,” she stopped, taking a deep, shaky breath, “I’m  afraid that I am losing you too.”

“You can’t lose me,” Alistair insisted rushing toward her, and taking her small, cold hands in his. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” She pulled away and his heart shattered. She was right. She was always right.  There was an impenetrable wall between them now, one that neither had expected. “It seems like everything I say to you only makes you more upset, and I’m, well…” She looked away, frowning.

“Go ahead. There’s nothing you can say that will make this worse.” He knew that probably wasn’t true, but it didn’t matter.

“The things you have been saying to me are the same things I hear every night by the demons in my dreams that like you,” she still wasn’t looking at him, “It’s going to be hard to tell the difference, now.” A bitter smile, and she looked at him.

“Maker, Luce.” That was the last thing he expected her to say. He’d bee prepared for her to tell him she would never be able to look at him the same way again, that she couldn’t move past it, that she thought he was disgusting. Or was that what he thought about himself? Still, he was surprised. “You’ve been seeing demons?”

“Every night since the battle,” she nodded, “Sometimes they look like Morrigan, but most of the time they look like you. It’s hard resist them when I can’t even tell myself it’s not you.”

There was nothing he could say to that, no magic words that would somehow make everything right. It infuriated him that demons used him to torment her and that he could do nothing about it except make it more difficult. He couldn’t stand the thought of her becoming an abomination due to a demon using his face.

“Well,” he said, the word heavy in his mouth, “What now?  What do you need?” He fought the urge to comfort her, knowing that she would pull away. The wound was already deep enough, no need to twist the knife.

Lucia watched as Alistair deflated from his anger the way he always did.  Although, there was no relief in his expression, nothing to tell her that it would all be okay.  Even if there had been, she wouldn’t have believed it, not after everything he said to her.  Whether or not he would regret telling her, it was how he felt.

“I need you to let me go.” The words lingered in the air and left a bitter taste in her mouth.  She clenched her fists at her sides, bracing herself,  her breath steady in spite of her own heartache.  She needed to be strong.

“Lucia,” he rasped, his eyes searching her for an answer that she knew he wouldn’t find.  She didn’t even know if there was an answer. “Are you sure?”

She nodded in response, looking down at the stone floor beneath her feet.

“Where will you go?”

“Amaranthine,” she answered definitively, having already rehearsed this moment in her head multiple times. “Anora has granted Howe’s land to the Wardens to be the foundation of the Order in Ferelden.  They’ve asked for my help getting it started.”

“Okay.”  Alistair crossed his arms and shifted, clearly uncomfortable with her decision.

“What will you do?” She asked, hoping he had plans, something to keep him busy.

“I think I’m going to stay here, help clean up the mess.”  He looked around as he spoke. “Maybe I’ll visit Highever, you know, for Duncan.”

“Right.”

The silence between them stretched on for minutes, the tension so thick it could have been cut with a knife.  Alistair knelt to pick up the things Lucia had dropped, and handed them to her with a slight, sad smile.  She accepted his help, then nodded before turning to exit the castle doors without saying a word.