#bloodyfruits;writing

[klrkwall]

— Spare the fool.

— spare him, not because you will be protecting innocent lives but because you need him. you need the long nights filled with his touches, the desperate battles where you have his back, hours of tending to wounds, you need him. you need to see him be sober with recovery instead of drunk on revenge, you need to see him die and be rebirthed. 

— my lovely bf ( @rangertabris)sent me a prompt “why did you spare me?’ and i wrote a fic w two of our dragon age ocs lena mahariel and thanatos, enjoy!!

“WHY did you spare me?!”

Bodies fall, blood runs down the warden’s brown painted with white vallaslin arm. She glances at the blood mage in the form of a tall Qunari, one who was desperate – to end the Qun. She shakes her head and picks up her bloody knife used to slice her skin apart, letting her blood run and manipulate dead bodies to restrain Thanatos.

“Come with me.” She gently demands. A small voice tells him not to listen, to go ahead and slaughter everyone, go through with the suicide mission. But the Warden who relapsed in blood magic to restrain him with the gentle voice overpowers that small voice, he stands and she points her staff to his stomach. He meets her gaze, the sharp arches of her eyebrows bridged over her eyes, her lips curved downward, she was furious.

Slowly, he stands. Her staff doesn’t leave his stomach. She cocks her head towards the path where she had run up desperately just moments ago, throat burning with screams of his name, panic feeding the adrenaline.

“THANATOS! THANATOS!!” She runs as fast as her legs would carry, mud splashes on her boots and legs. A glimpse of Thanatos catches her eye, he holds his staff in hand, four Qunari bodies lay at his feet. Lena stops in her tracks, panting as she quickly grabbed her knife she carried on her side – and began to slice her arm open. The knife cuts into deep brown skin red seeps from the cuts and mists of red travel down her arms, to her hands and she directs the blood to the four bodies.

And once more – they are alive, with Lena’s blood as their life force.

They grab at the desperate Qunari and hold him, he struggles, tries to punch them – bite down on their dead skin, he nearly has the upper hand until an unexpected force of lightning magic shoves at his stomach and he stumbles back, falling to his back.

He groans, opens his eyes and looks to who dares interrupt his plans.

Lena Mahariel – the one he had loved, would have been perfect for – in another life.

Now they were both just tired.

 -

 The two walk in silence, Thanatos still feels the skull decoration at the top of Lena’s staff against his back. He understands that she won’t hesitate to harm him if he doesn’t oblige. His plan to end the qun has failed – the plan he had been crafting for most of his life, the plan that had haunted him in dreams and nightmares, not leaving when he wakes, was ruined. All because of Lena Mahariel.

He decides to break the silence, and stop in his tracks. Lena copies and stops as well, staff still pointing at his back.

“Why.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why what?” He takes a risk and turns his head, eventually his body around to face her. “Why did you spare me? You did not answer my question from earlier.”

“Do you believe you deserve an answer?”

He stays silent for a moment, debates on whether to remain silent and just keep walking. But he decides against it, believing she had suffered enough from his silence. “Why did you spare me?” He repeats, crossing his arms.

She fires back. “Why did you not trust me enough to not confide in me? Why did you think ending lives of innocents was a good idea? What the hell do you hope to accomplish from this?”

“The qun is not a way to live, it is a death sentence. Whether you go willingly or are born into it, you are doomed unless you escape –“

“Are you telling me, that your way of living is any better than the Qun’s?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t make others stop thinking for themselves, I don’t turn mages into weapons, you aren’t apart of the Qun. You never were – you’d never understand.”

               “You’ve stopped thinking for yourself and only of vengeance. You have turned yourself into a weapon. The only difference is they turn armies that way, but you’ve turned one man into that. Thanatos – you are a death sentence.”

 -

 After over an hour of walking, they arrive at the place they once called home. Lena forces Thanatos into the abandoned cabin and places her staff against the wall. “That’s not wise. I could grab the staff easily, Lena.” Thanatos points out while having his back turned to her.

“You won’t try anything.”

“You clearly don’t know me.”

“I know I’m the one thing that knocks the voice out of your head telling you to kill.” She walks around him, stops in front of him and lifts her head to meet his gaze. “And I’m the one thing that makes you go desperate, go to last measures.”

Now – Lena raises her eyebrows at the rebuttle and Thanatos cocks his head to the cuts on her arm. “You’ve been clean from blood magic for a while now, and you abandoned all of that –“

“For you.”

He grew agitated, sighs and rubs his temples. “Why did you stop me? Why couldn’t you let me go?”

“I’m not going to allow you to commit genocide!”

“This was NOT your burden. It was mine and mine alone!”

“You made it my business when you began to love me. You made it my business when you left me that damn suspicious note. Don’t pull that shit here.” She warns sternly. He gasps quietly – recalling the note he wrote late at night while she slept – and he was planning to leave.

 Her back faces him, the light from the moon creeps through and runs on her skin. He spends a short time admiring the naked beauty, but turns his attention away and begins to write on a piece of paper. When he finishes, he leaves the note next to Lena and stands.

As quiet as a mouse, Thanatos dresses himself in his armor and grabs his staff that rested near the bed – and he walks out, with the intention of forever.

-

Dawn came quickly. Sunlight pours in a hole in the wall and slowly, Lena opens her eyes. A small grin creeps upon her tired face when she recalled the long night spent awake, her sweaty body against her lover’s, the words said between them, the feeling of –

“Goodmorning vhen-” Her thoughts and words stop when she turns her body and sees an absence that would haunt her for days. In his absence, was a note.

 Her nimble fingers picked up the letter and began to read the words written with a messy cursive font.

  Lena,

if you’re reading this then I am gone. Not to get food or anything, but. permanently. Before we met, I had a plan, to end the Qun. It must stop and I’m the only one to see it.

But I will spare you the gory details, love. I wish to write this to you only with love. I know you’ll make it far, I know your gods will protect you, I know you will be someone better then I.

redeem your sins that you talked to me about through good actions. I know you can.

I will spare you time from reading this, I left you some food behind. You are welcome to stay in this shack, but please run away as soon as you can because you may be questioned and I won’t be able to protect you. I know you would slice their head and allow them to roll on the grounds,

You’re Lena Mahariel afterall, you let nobody touch you. The woman I fell in love with and was the light in my darkness. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better man, I will make sure my soul does not watch over you, you have enough haunting you. Thank you for teaching me a god, whether it be the Maker or no exists, it took one look at you for me to believe. But it wasn’t enough.

Thank you, for being you. Do not come to find me, I will not be able to bring myself to kill you.

Thanatos.

 “I’m not mad that you left me, I’m mad at why you left me.” Thanatos shakes his head and sits on a wooden chair in the cabin. “I – I’m sorry. That won’t ever be good enough, but it’s what you deserve.”

“We don’t all get what we deserve.” She settles on her knees in front of him, lifts her head up and she sees the exhaustion on his face. He’s exhausted, from years of being alone, nights and days of having traumatic memories haunt him. Years of planning – wasted, and he deep down is grateful, but he is empty. And that fills him with despair. “I know what it’s like to be alone, after Talev and losing my baby, my two best friends and eventually my clan – it’s hell. And it hurts me to know for years, you were in that place. You were awake at nights, asleep during the days, blaming all of this on yourself and wanting to take it out. And you planned and planned, this was your goal – hell, it was your life for years and now its shattered. It’s gone – and you will never be able to complete it. Because I won’t let you.”

With great hesitance, he slowly brings his hand up from his side and slowly brings it to her face. Thanatos doesn’t touch her, because everything he touches dies. Lena gently grabs his hand and holds it in her own, wrapping her fingers around and presses a gentle kiss upon his grey skin.

He’s convinced she’s gentle, fragile – that if he touches her she will crumble under his fingers. – But she’s not, she is a killer, a soldier – she will not break by anything but her own hands.

“I’m selfish.” She confesses. “When I stopped you – I had an intention of wanting you back, it was my body yours was against and my lips that touched your skin. I didn’t want anything else touching you but me, wanted nothing touching me but you.”

Thanatos exhales shakily, leans down. Strands of his long, white hair fall in front of him and Lena. “I’m selfish too.” He confesses too, in a whisper – only for the two of them to hear.

“How so?”

“Because I need – need you to tell me, right now, that you love me.” It’s a small plea, but means so much. He’s desperate, needs her – needs to hear those words even if its for the last time. He wants her, needs her.

They sit in silence, hands still resting in each other’s. Until Lena finally nods, and she whispers.

“Right now – I hate you, but tomorrow I will love you once more. You need this hatred, you need my love, you’ll have it all.” She then pleas ; “Now you, tell me you love me, right now.”

He responds with a sob of relief. “I do… I do – I do love you, I need you.”

“You need to recover from this. You are still drunk on revenge, you must be sober. That is what you need.”

“And you will help me recover, won’t you?” He begs.

“I said right now, I hate you. Tomorrow, I will love you – that means I intend to stay, Thanatos.”

He feels relief and love, she feels in control and able to give love, things they both needed to feel for years. Tomorrow, they will be here. Today, they are arriving.

“Please, answer my question now.”

“Why did I spare you?” He nods, lifting his head and showing her his full attention. She squeezes his hand and answers. “Because I needed to see you die and be reborn. Die from the life of planning revenge and born into a life where those are simple scars that you don’t have to look back on. I wanted to give you a chance….

               …because nobody has ever given you a chance.”

[klrkwall]

Honey tastes like vinegar

— the temptations from demons have flirted with hawke for the many months he had been left in the fade. he flirted back, hoping it’d one day lead to his freedom. he’s finally free, yet is convinced he is imprisoned. the honey of his freedom tastes like bitter vinegar.

set after inquisition, garrett hawke has made it out of the fade and the demon’s temptations. he is still convinced he is imprisoned. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. prompt sent in by my bf “don’t tempt me.” 

— ; garrett hawke is hinted to be trans in this fic with his bare chest, which he is. so if that may make you dysphoric do not read. it’s very, very vague tho.

if you like please consider giving a reblog <3 

under the ‘keep reading’ line. 

“Don’t. Tempt. Me.”

Fenris glances at Garrett with a concerned look, reaching out to grab his arm but watches as the Champion flinches away. His heart broke the first few times Garrett had flinched away, but now was used to it. “You’re one of them.” The elf inhaled slowly, doing his best to keep it quiet. He looks to the silent man who flinches from every being who touches him. “Tempt you of what?”

“I will slay you down myself, demon. You have taken everything away from me, I’ll take away the form you have of the man I love.”

Garrett Hawke. Once a man who used humor in the most inappropriate situations, sarcasm to the town’s greatest leaders who sought to tear him down and drown him in the river of blood that he had created, the one who watched his family die one by one like apples falling from a tree and molding as they were left abandoned on the ground for weeks, much like Bethany’s corpse in the deep road, Carver’s corpse after the ogre had torn him to pieces and much like Leandra’s corpse when it collapsed after the blood mage who reshaped her had been defeated. He was a man with no patience, but was nothing but patient after Fenris had left him after memories stabbing him in the back on their first night together, when Merrill needed assistance with the demon she had been with for years, when Isabela needed assistance with her theft of the Qunari relic, when Anders had blown the chantry up. He was an angel with blood on his clothes. He was sent from above, perhaps not the maker, but somebody else.

Fenris did not flinch at the words. Garrett held an icy glare while Fenris held a soft gaze, the intense staring interrupted by Garrett’s grumbling stomach. “The sounds your stomach make – annoy me. Come, let us find you something to eat.”

“Truly you couldn’t kiss me first? If you are a demon pretending to be Fenris, you could be kind like last time. Feed me a feast, take a warm bath then we make some pretty damn good love all night long.” Garrett complains, looking away from Fenris and towards the door. “Nope. I’m not some demon looking to kiss your feet or coddle you. You’re Hawke. Garrett Hawke, a strong man who is more then capable of fetching himself his desires.”

Garrett scoffs then laughs. “How do I fetch my desire to get you out of my face? You’re a demon who lives for no other purpose then to taunt me. Taunt, taunt, taunt. Fuck off.”

  The bowl is half empty when he is finished with it. Fenris is pleased but doesn’t let it show. “I suppose that is good enough. You actually are eating.” Garrett groans. “Okay mother. Yeah – If I ate anymore of that piss tasting stuff I’d probably be dead for real. No more of this fade crap-“ He pauses for a moment, coming to a sudden realization as he reaches for the bowl. “Actually, hand me that bowl. Maybe the rest of it will finish me off.”

Fenris rolls his eyes and yanks the bowl away, clearly unimpressed and begins to finish off the rest of the bowl. “I believe my food preparing and making skills are quite decent, excuse you.”

“I prefer the ravishing feast that left me full for days and mouth watering for the next meal course.” Fenris arches his eyebrow, not convinced as he finishes off the bowl of food and leaves Hawke to walk over to the door. “Go to bed, no bedtime story tonight.” The elf teased as he walks out the door, shutting it to allow Hawke some privacy.

Garrett sighs, he turns his attention to a mirror in the room and notices his worsened condition. His eyes that carried bags now were over cumbered with them, strands of his raven hair were falling out, his skin was littered with more scars and a lighter pale then before. His body dropped weight – noticeably.

Confusion was a word that summed up thousands of emotions that Garrett had felt. In other confrontations with demons who posed as his family, friends – Fenris. He was healthier, booming with laughter, body surrounded with hot water, stomach full of the best food in all of Thedas. He was healthy – nobody needed his help anymore, he could focus on himself.

Instead, he was no longer the strong champion, only the weak walking corpse of what the bold spirit left behind. In his mind, he was the next apple to fall from the tree of the Hawke family and left to rot on the ground for weeks, months, years to come.

He scoffs. “Psh, looks like the fucking demons are getting more aggressive with their realities.” He runs a hand through his hair, ignoring the worry that zapped his body and overflowed his body.. “Couldn’t even make me look attractive. “ He undoes his casual clothes, sliding them off and slides on comfortable trousers. Garrett climbs into the small bed, covering his body with a blanket as if it was a shield from the demons that looked to haunt him and tear his mind open mentally so it’d mess with him physically.

  “How’s the bastard?” Varric slides over a tankard of some wine for Fenris who accepts it and gulps down a sip immediately. He brings his shoulders up then down quickly, a shrug. “As best as could be, suppose. He has moved on from the mad suicidal phase. We went on a walk a few days ago – to get out of the room, and he nearly jumped off the bridge. He truly thinks I’m a demon who seeks to harm him.”

The dwarf winces, noting the amount of stress Fenris must be under. “So, Broody, you got a plan to break Hawke out of this demonic spell?”

“At the moment, I’m not coddling him like the demons have. The demons that have took my body as a form to fool with Garrett have given him nothing but love, amazing feasts, warm baths, treating him like a king.” Another pause, to sip the wine that tingled his throat. “I’m simply treating him how Kirkwall treated him. No special treatments, just the bare minimum to keep him alive.”

“Ah yeah, that’ll show him you aren’t some demon and you’re actually his husband.”

A flush rises to Fenris’s cheeks, chuckling softly as he sips his wine. “I… am not his husband, we have spoken of exchanging such titles.”

“Is that a title you want some day?” The dwarf asks, he is taking mental notes of Fenris’s demeaner. He can read anyone as if they were one of his novels, he knows Fenris is flustered and a secret hope lingers within him. “Someday, I’d like to be his husband yes. It’s a future I hope he and I have together.”

“Trust me, Broody. Hawke is absolutely whipped for you. You’ll be his husband one day, and your wedding will be held in Hightown, I’ll have the whole town bowing at your guys’s feets and kissing the ground you walk on.” He continues his fantasy and it would be a lie if Fenris was listening with hope. He would like to wed Garrett one day, he and Hawke rarely ever speak about it. Yet it was a fantasy both dreamt of.

  Morning creeps quickly and this time, there is so sunshine pouring through the windows like the other fantasies Garrett has lived through. Outside, it is storming and rain drips off the window. Fed up with being inside for the past month, he slides light armor on, getting used to the multiple buckles and grabbed two of his silver knives that had been used to create puddles of blood over his ten years in Kirkwall and he heads to the training part of Skyhold.

 Fenris sits on the grass with a book in his hand, the words just slipping through his eyes and out his brain. The words are scrambled, he does not pay attention to them. Instead, he pays close attention to Garrett who wears a piece of what Fenris predicts to be curtain over his eyes to shield them from seeing his target.

His target – a stuffed tummy, Garrett is practicing throwing knives. Fenris watches as one strikes through the dummy, stuffing peeking through the new rip.

The former Champion lifts his blindfold, glancing at the knives he threw. One sits near between the eyes, surely to take out an enemy no matter how powerful. The other, just above the crotch. He snickers, then bursts into a fit of giggles. How childish. Fenris thinks but a smile creeps upon his face, letting the song of his love’s laugh play on repeat in record of his mind.

“Hey, Fen.” Fenris’s white eyebrows shoot up, he does not look at the words on paper anymore and instead up at Hawke. A sudden urge to cry reaches his desires, words scramble at his throat and his mind is halting them, won’t let them drip out like they need to. That was the first time in – months, that Garrett had spoken any part of Fenris’s name.

Fenris attempts to act in a casual manner, glancing up from his book. “Can I assist you, Hawke?”

“C’mon, try to be a nice demon and be somewhat affectionate you brood.” He sits next to Fenris, even though they are close there is still a large amount of distance between the two. Yet, Fenris could not help but feel that the road is smaller now. The simple action of saying his name was enough to bring them closer. “I have told you, I am not a demon. I am offended, why should I act affectionate if you believe I, your love, am a demon?”

Garrett groans, clearly frustrated as he rolls his eyes. “I dunno, cause you’re some temptation demon?” He shrugs.  “More like a bitchy demon right now.”

“I do not think that is such a demon.”

“Could you induldge me a little bit, please?” His soft plea is almost enough to tug at Fenris’s heart. He should not give in, yet he does a little bit and presses a soft kiss to the top of Garrett’s greasy hair. “There. Now, go continue your training and leave me to read.” Garrett lays his head over Fenris’s thighs, the rain pouring on the parts of them that are not covered by the sheltering roof that is keeping Fenris’s book from becoming soaked. Fenris goes to move his legs in shock, but Garrett hands onto them as if it is dear life.

“Just… Just let me for a moment, please.” He begs, his voice goes softer.

Fenris lets him.

They sit like that for a few moments. Garrett presses a soft, shaking kiss to Fenris’s clothed thigh and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. And they do. They fall onto his love’s trousers and he whispers.

“How I wish you were real. How I wish this were real. How I wish, but – “ He laughs. “- This universe takes everything from me. I should’ve known Corphyeus and his fucking minions would take you away too.” Garrett is fuming, his hand clenches into a fist and is near ready to punch something but he stays. “Nothing ever stays.”

Fenris does not respond. Garrett’s words are replaced with the sounds of the rain. What Garrett did not know, was the demons were replaced with Fenris.

  “Would you mind telling me how you choose to leave Hawke behind in the fade?” Fenris demands an answer. The Inquisitor – the one who stands in front of him with his back turned to the former slave, has the answer that Fenris wants. He turns around, Fenris recognizes the face. The most memorable thing about it, the scar that traveled over his eyebrow and over his eye.

“Fenris.” Elora greeted. His old friend, stands there with anything but a welcoming look. The one who was responsible for Garrett’s fucked up mindset. “Hawke… It was between him or Alistair. Alistair represented a whole organization –“

“A whole organization gone mad! One who serves this lord that is Corphyeus! They were foolish enough to give in- “ Elora interrupts him. His look is the look of somebody who took a bite of a sour edible. “An organization that needed to be rebuilt. Would you like to be wiped out come the next blight?” Silence.  “Hawke gave himself up, sacrificed himself. He knew the risks, I allowed him to run in. It was a sudden decision left up to me!”

“He is damaged. The demons have taunted and twisted him inside and out.” “Fenris. You and I both know Hawke is not broken, he is bent.”

 Fenris knew that. He understood that Hawke is not damaged, he knew that if Hawke would not return from the fade like he had been blessed with – he would be okay one day, he knew that losing Hawke was definitely a nightmare that could become a reality.

“You – You are right. I apologize, Elora.” The inquisitor chuckles. “A sour reunion. Not the one I was dreaming of.” Fenris shakes his head. “I regret my words, I apologize. Let’s have a drink later, friend.”

  Fenris returns to Garrett over Varric with one of his sharpest knives. Sweat drips down his forehead, a bunch of Varric’s shirt is bunched in Garrett’s tight gripped fist. “YOU! Continue to taunt me! By possessing the form of my best friend! No longer you damn demon.” Garrett laughs in a nervous manner, Varric has his hands up as the fool continues to negotiate his life.

“Hawke, Garrett, it’s me! Your best friend! I’m not some fuckin’ demon!”

Garrett laughs once more. “You believe I’m going to fall for those foolish words once more?”

Within a second, Garrett is restrained and is pushed against a table. Varric takes a few quick breaths and stands back up from leaning against the table, he looks at Fenris who is pinning Garrett down. His knife is still being tightly gripped in his hand.

“Garrett…” Fenris’s tone is a warning shot. He does not need to speak the words for Garrett to understand what he wants. “This is the only thing I have any possible hope of protecting me, you fools!” His words are a roar, he is trying desperately to be the predator but he is the prey. He is the prey of many, he is convinced that Fenris and Varric are now the predators waiting to rip him open once more.

“Drop the knife.” Fenris commands gently. Garrett rolls his eyes and shakes his head the best he could. “Hell with you, demon.” He growls.

Varric goes to rip the knife from Garrett’s closed fist. Fenris shoots him a glare and shakes his head. The dwarf looks at him as if he’s mad, yet backs up anyway and obeys Fenris’s instruction.

“Fine, Garrett. You keep the knife, or you drop it.” Fenris steps away from Garrett and stands there, with a calm posture and emotionless look painted on his face. His arms cross. “You going to stab your best friend? Do it. If you’re convinced the demon will leap out of him and you are sitting in some fade puddle, awaiting for possession, or another demon to screw with you.”

A realization hits Garrett. Yet, so does confusion.

He turns his back to both his best friend and love, he shakes his head in frustration. “You… the other demons – the dreams, the realities, maker… - They all did what I wanted. I had control.”

“Reality does not give you complete control, Hawke.” Varric announces with a gentle tone. Fenris steps forward and gazes at Hawke, holding his hand out. “You have complete control over this, Hawke. Hand me the knife or don’t.” He pauses, letting it sink in. “You have control.”

There is then silence. Garrett glances down at the knife, then to Varric and finally settles a gaze on Fenris. “I have control…” He mutters, tucking his knife in his sleeve. “I’m keeping it.” He announces, Fenris nods.

“I don’t expect a dagger in the throat by the time I wake up.” Varric hopes as he walks off, leaving the two to be alone.

 I have control. Garrett realizes.

 A week later, it is still pouring in Skyhold. Garrett and Fenris decide to sit outside, identical to the one day last week when Garrett was venting at the dumbies with his knife tossing.

Garrett’s trust in Fenris built up slowly each day, separation made them stronger. Each time Garrett realized he had control over whatever he wanted to do and the demons simply would not coddle him, and knew that others would not submit to him slowly convinced him that perhaps, this was a reality. Or a very, very cruel nightmare.

Garrett finishes stabbing the dumbies, practicing knife throwing and slides his protector into his pocket and searches for Fenris with his eyes. He finds he is near the garden where the witch – Morrigan would stand with her son, Kieran. Garrett walks over to him, knows he can turn away anytime.

He knows he has control over himself, and others have control over themselves.

He chooses to walk, eventually walking turned to running and he ran up behind Fenris and hugged him from behind in a tight hug. One of his arm goes across Fenris’s torso, identical to one of his buckles and one slant of an X. The other, forms the other slant of the X.

Tears begin to stream down his face again, overwhelmed with the amount of love he has for Fenris and the amount of fear that this wasn’t his love. That this wasn’t the real Fenris.

Fenris is shock by the sudden impact and lets it show, so Fenris can let Garrett know this is reality and he felt other emotions then simply wanting to make everything perfect for Hawke. To let the ground be clean of the blood he spilt of his enemies. He slowly slides his hand over one of Garrett’s, allowing him to speak first.

“Please –“ He begs. “Show me… Show me you are Fenris, show me you’re the man I love – Maker’s breath, please, Fenris. If you are there, show me you’re you. Show me you’re Fenris.” He begs. The begs tug at Fenris’s heartstrings as if they are the puppet. Yet, Garrett was the puppet for the puppeteer’s – the demons – amusement for months. The elf nods and slowly slides his free hand into his pocket and slides out the red scarf that had been worn on Fenris’s wrist for several years since the first night they had slept together.

Before Garrett could object, Fenris begins to tell the story that only he would know.

Fenris is spooned in Garrett’s arms, his back against the chest of the man he had been in love with for some time. Garrett sits up a few minutes later and gets up from the bed, Fenris watches him with curiosity as he watches Garrett make his way across the room, suddenly uncomfortable from the lack of chest to lay against.

Garrett scrambles through a small box, clearly full of meaningful possessions. Two minutes later as Fenris is about to call out for him, Garrett pulls out two things and quickly walks over to Fenris, sitting on his side of the bed and slides the possessions over to Fenris. He gazes down in curiosity, holding one of them.

One was a crescent. Of the Amell symbol, and the other a red scarf.

“Hawke…?”

Garrett coughed nervously. “Its uh – I know I’m not the gift master but uh,” His words were scrambled. Fenris smiled slightly and softly chuckled. “You for once are at a loss of words, a rare sight indeed.” He softly teased. Garrett shot him a playful glare.

“I just…” He silently asks for permission to take Fenris’s wrist, which is granted and he ties the red scarf around it. “I… don’t have anything other, better – really. So, I guess this is to show that I’m serious about you. About… us.” He confessed.

 Even when Fenris left two hours later, Garrett did not regret giving him the crescent or the scarf that was tied with the promise of Garrett loving Fenris. He sat there, hoping Fenris would realize he was serious and would wait for him. No matter what.

 “Only… Only you would know that. Only Fenris would know that.” Fenris nods, understanding the sudden realization of his love and how confusing it must be. “I am Fenris, last time I checked.” Garrett hugs Fenris tighter, tighter then he had in a very long time. He shudders, tears spill in Fenris’s white locks as Garrett buries his face in it.

“You – You’re Fenris.” He spins his love around and strokes his cheek, rushing to kiss Fenris’s cheek and he does. He then kisses his forehead. His other cheek. His nose. Fenris chuckles, eyes closing as Garrett presses soft kisses upon the thin skin of his eyelids. Then, what he had been waiting for several months for, he feels Garrett’s lips press against his.

They kiss like that for a long while, taking short breaks to catch their fast pacing breaths.

“Maker – Maker, Fenris I am so sorry.” Garrett allows his words to scramble and flow out messily, knowing he could not plan them and let them come out in good form. Fenris brings his hand to Garrett’s cheek and softly strokes it. The touch is painful for both, it is a touch they have both ached to have for several months. A simple touch they fear would not happen again.

“It is understandable, Garrett.”

“I suppose I should go apologize to Varric.” Fenris grins. “You did nearly stab the man to death, convinced he was a demon.”

“Wouldn’t shock me. With the filth he writes.”

    It’s later that evening, they are in their personal quarters and Fenris climbs into the cold bed with Garrett who is waiting with open arms. Fenris lays on his bare chest. Garrett laughs. “You enjoying my manly pillows?” Referring to his open chest.

Fenris rolls his eyes, softly laughing. “Absolutely.”

This was simple. It was a simple evening for any other couple in Thedas, but this was the long awaited reunion Garrett and Fenris had prayed to the Maker and or any other creator out there. Garrett fell asleep soon after and Fenris admired his beloved’s slightly relaxed face. His body wasn’t completely free of the tension, but some was released.

The warrior presses a gentle kiss to Garrett’s shoulder, allowing his lips to linger on the skin of the man he loved dearly before pressing another one out of pure indulgence. He lays his head over Garrett’s chest once more, listening to the heart beating.

“One day soon, perhaps I will ask you to be my husband. I do not think we will get a better time then this.” He begins to ramble softly, aware that there is the small possibility the sleeping Champion could hear him. “But for now – you are my love, bounded to me.” He looks up, pressing a kiss to Garrett’s chest.

“Thank you for trusting in me, Garrett.” He could feel tears poke at his eyes. “Welcome home, welcome back, we missed you.”

Soft whimpers leave Fenris as he tries not to shudder, not allow his sobs of happiness and relief to wake Hawke out of his well-deserved slumber. “I – I have missed you.”

Garrett hears every word.

[klrkwall]

— pick your poison

— he always returned, he was the antibiotic to the poison samson's been surviving off of for the longest time in his life.

nikola has always returned to samson, the former templar never had to worry if he would be back or not. nikola is responsible for rehabilitating him, under commander cullen and the inquisitor's orders. they have personal history.

nikola and samson return!! i wrote a fic for my beef( @rangertabris ) bc he deserves it and he bought me dream daddy love u !

“Nikola.”

Natural. That’s what it made him feel. No longer did being called Nikola overjoy him each time somebody called him it, it was his name. He is merely only being talked too; a man being talked too. He waves as he approaches the former Templar who sat on the concrete grounds, pulling weeds that grew in between the cracks in boredom.  "I apologize for being late, were you waiting long?” Samson shrugs as he opens his palms and allows his collection of weeds to fall and rest against the ground once more. “

’Dunno. I lost track of time after the first two hours.” Samson jokes, the prince grins and sits next to Samson.  The bags under Samson’s eyes were heavy, Nikola always wondered -

"Do you...-

-...ever sleep?”

Nikola glances up from his overload of paperwork. On the other side of his desk is Samson, his eyes shoot towards the closed door then back at Samson. “Occasionally.” Nikola chuckles, focusing his attention back onto his paperwork. The former templar rolls his eyes and without Nikola noticing, walks around the desk and snatches the writing utensil, holding it up high.

“Excuse me!” He reaches up for his writing utensil, while still being seated in his chair. Samson chuckles, shaking his head. “Aight’ Nikola, you can be excused. From working.” Nikola’s hand shot down and a soft ‘tsk leaves him. “I really, need to do this. And last time I checked you were under my command to rehabilitate yourself –“ Samson’s left eyebrow rose, chuckling once more. “You really… have plans to rehabilitate me? You didn’t just bring up that whole damn speech in fronta’ the Inquisitor and Cullen to bring me back to your sweet little self.” His face was close to Nikola’s now, a smug grin lifting his lips. Nikola waved him away.

“Your breaths stinks, now give that back to me and allow me to finish these documents. I must have them done by the end of the day.”

“Yeah, sometimes I sleep. I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t, sweet thing.” The nickname delivers a soft blush to the Prince’s cheeks, not noticeable by Samson since it was deep in the evening and no lights were on. “You just have heavy bags.”

“How in the hell can you see these when it’s dark as hell out?” Nikola shrugs. “I guess I just know your face that well. We aren’t exactly strangers.”

"Thank the Maker, I don’t know if I would know how to approach you right now anyways.”

“You almost sound sweet.” Nikola points out, grinning as he felt Samson’s hand slide over to cover the top of his. “I’m sweet for some random prince.” He jokes, and Nikola laughs.

“What are you even working on?” Samson’s curious, and Nikola knows the former Templar would stop at nothing until he sated his curiosity. Without looking up from his work, he delivers a flat reply. “None of your concern.” Samson leans his head back, stares up at the ceiling. A chandelier hangs off of the ceiling, it’s golden with many crystals made onto it. “Could you at least take a damn break and we eat somethin’? I’m dying here.” Nikola continues to write, delicately. “I’m sure the prison could be feeding you right now, if you wish to go there.” He glances up over to Samson, an eyebrow rose as he waits patiently for his response. Samson raises his hands up in defeat. “You already got me out, princey. You couldn’t just send me back, you’d miss me too much.”

‘Hm.’ He resumes his paperwork, and Samson groans loudly, making it crystal clear that he was indeed bored in just sitting in Nikola’s personal quarters for the day.

“Do you remember that one time, when we for some fuckin’ reason were throwin’ rocks up at Meredith’s office and your brother had to come get you out of trouble and you bailed me out too.” A soft snicker is heard, which Samson could have missed if he wasn’t focused on Nikola. The prince finally lays his writing utensil down and glances up, a small smile lifting the left side of his lips up. “Yeah, we were lucky not to be arrested, hm?”

“Ain’t you ever been told by your mother or something to get your frustrations out by doing something good?” Nikola watches Samson pick up a small rock from the pile on the ground with an uneasy look. He crosses his arms and leans against the bricked wall which blocked off the entrance to the circle. “By Kotthis, yes - but I’m sure the woman meant something relatively normal!”

Samson, still bent over turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder and towards the distressed younger man. “What is relatively normal? You literally worship gods that aren’t considered normal here.”

“Ignoring that! And I don’t know, writing in a book or something. Writing down what makes you feel angry then crumple it up and throw it at a wall.” Samson tosses a rock up and catches it with his hand, a large grin on his aging face. “Yeah, you could be borin’ or…” Samson pauses and his attention immediately turns to the tall building, there is a window with small light coming from it. Nikola predicts it’s a candle. Samson brings his hand back as far as it can go, and whips the rock up high into the air where it disappears for a second, hitting one part of the tower then coming back down to the ground.

“Shit! So close!”

“You’re like a small boy, pulling some dumb trick that’s going to get your arse kicked.” Ignoring him, Samson picks up another rock and tosses it to Nikola whose reflexes act fast and he catches it with both hands. “You throw it, if you can hid Meredith’s window you’ll get a prize.” The prince’s eyebrow raises as he continues to lean against the wall in protest. “I’m not getting arrested for some foolish grudge you have against some woman who looks as if she is a jester.”

He snorts. “This isn’t some foolish grudge, Nikola. She’s a terrible woman and she looks worse then a jester, aaaand you would get arrested anyway since you’re out here with me.”  Samson nods towards the road coated with darkness from the night, quietness from the winds. “You could walk away, if you wanted too.”

"For the sweet love of Sylveta, I am not going to leave you here on your own.” Nikola doesn’t move, he leans up from his back against the stone wall and tightens his arms he has crossed around the other. Samson whips another rock up - missing the window yet again. “Why not?”

Tension that had been building from the whole night one by one finally was noticeable, Nikola gazes at Samson with eyebrows arched into bridges.

“Why don’t…

...You just walk away?”

A pang of sadness stabs Nikola, in a non fatal spot. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, rehabilitating you so you aren’t rotting in some dungeon, forgotten about while they all drink to celebrate you being behind six bars in a room that will just bring you harsh shivers and loneliness will creep up on you.”

Samson challenges him, he continues to taunt. He wants Nikola to snap. The ache for Nikola to jump out of his chair, with one hand, slide all of his papers right off the desk despite their importance and yank him over the desk to kiss him like hell. Let Samson know he has done wrong, yet Nikola still craves him, wants him and this to work. The former Templar did too - but he showed it through taunts. “Why don’t you want that for me? I fucked everything up did I not?”

“You screwed up your reputation, Samson. The Champion gave you a chance by speaking to Cullen about bringing you back, I don’t condone Cullen simply wanting to throw you in prison and leave you there until your skin melts and your bones are the only memory of you. That’s why I spoke to the Inquisitor and Cullen, they agreed to release you into my custody because they see you can be rehabilitated.”

“And so they choose you.” He sounds disappointed, but he is not one bit. The only possible thing he felt was anger, it burst through his bones as he thinks of Nikola having to see him in this state. He is a broken man, once a respected Templar now a crippling addict with the memory of his addiction piercing through his pale, nearly rotting skin. More strands of black fell off his head each day. Samson is a corpse, a walking dead man. “Yes, they chose me. Because I care for you and I care for your rehabilitation. You aren’t a bad person, Samson.”

His voice cracks when he argues. “I follow the Elder One to do his biddings, he seeks to destroy this world so he can become the next huge God. Tell me,” His hands rest on Nikola’s desk and he bends down. Desperation. He’s desperate with his risen eyebrows, sunken eyes and head close with curiosity. “...Tell me, how am I not a bad person?”  The prince shoots straight out of his chair, his hand reaches over his desk and bunches a fist of Samson’s rarely cleaned shirt. He yanks the former addict towards him with meaning, half of him on his desk and presses his lips to his .

Over a year, it had been since he felt the lips that hardly ever lingered when kisses were left behind.

After what seemed like forever, the two separate and Nikola nervously chuckles. His cheeks are a blush, Samson finds him to be close to perfect. A hand crawls up his back and gently rests against his dark curls. A whisper travels from his mouth and into Nikola’s ear as he presses soft, ghosting kisses along the warrior’s jawline and up to the side of his ear.

“I see forever with you.” Forever was a concept once, a story parents would tell you before they were torn apart by death, infidelity or any other falling out. Samson never believed it, never believes it. Yet even when faced with hitting rock bottom, the younger man who he knows as Nikola stays. He stays.

Stay. stay. Stay. He never has to beg, never has to hug him when he leaves, scared of if he will ever return or not.

He always returns. Even when he left Samson behind, he still returned..

“Why-” Nikola continues to press hard kisses against Samson’s thin, cut pale lips. “...do you-” Another kiss. Samson finally pushes Nikola away gently, he still remains close but Nikola keeps his head where it is. Soft pants leave the both of them, Samson finishes speaking. “...Why do you do this? Why do you think I’m some good person?”

“Why do you still think I’m a good person after I left you?”

Samson’s hands hold a harsh grip on the rusting metal bars. “Because I know you are doing good elsewhere, and one day you would return. You always return.”

“Because you joined the Elder One since he was the only one who could take you, you convince people you’re a terrible person so they’re afraid of you and that is just because you are a stubborn fool who is drunk on poison that you’re some terrible person and the truth is you’re afraid of yourself. But the Elder One fears nothing, he took the poison you fed yourself and fed you a different kind. You were relieved by the different taste,” Spit from the prince splashes on Samson’s face, he pauses as he reaches out to wipe off his own saliva. “...you were so relieved for a different reality you didn’t know it was poison.”

“Let’s say I believe your bullshit for a minute. How do I not know you’re some different poison?” A finger strokes Samson’s cheek, softly brushing against sharp red shards. “Because I was here before any of this, I’m here to stay.”

Samson is the one to softly kiss him now, it’s gentle and not at all like the first one they shared in over a year. Despite the uncomfortable angle, Nikola fully rests his hand against Samson’s sunken in cheek, slightly cocking his head as he fishes for the taste of him.

“You always return…”

[klrkwall]

Ribbon red

— his organs are ripped to ribbons, he has flirted and danced with death.

garrett hawke accepts the arishok's duel.

fenhawke, hurt/comfort. 

trigger warnings: mentions of gore, 

i finished this at the ass crack of dawn so theres probably errors enjoy im crying

Fenris watches in horror as the lyrium blue magic surrounds Hawke and his wounds, Anders exhausting himself to heal Garrett to the best of his ability. The mage was exhausted, falling once again to his hands and knees.

Still – the new Champion lays there, bones crushed and fingers lost, wounds to leave nasty scars for the rest of his life, he was barely hanging onto his life and all Fenris would do was watch. Merrill pipes in. “Is.. Is there anything I can do?” Fenris immediately answers. “No. Do not attempt to help Hawke with your blood magic. It will kill him and perhaps everybody else in this place.” Anger was clear in his voice, but so was desperation.

He was desperate, desperate for Hawke to make a fast recovery like he normally did with any injuries. Yet, faith was leaving him – stubbornly, as he watches his amatus lay on the ground of the place where he fought the Arishok. Hawke’s face was bashed in, from when the Arishok bashed his weapon in his face when Hawke had attacked him from the front – surprising him after a smoke bomb. Red almost looked to be his new skin color as blood bled from his nose and mouth, his eye was basically glued shut with skin and oozing blood, his eyeball was pushed so far back in his head, it may never recover, Anders quickly predicted.

Bones. Hawke’s ribs were crushed, most – if not all, broken. His right arm was twisted the wrong way, clearly broken as well. Although in rough shape, his legs were fine. The worst areas were probably the Champion’s torso, hand and eye. Fenris shudders, goes back to biting whatever nails he had left when flashes of Hawke and the Arishok’s battle intruded his head.

The Arishok and Hawke were doing a dance, Hawke immediately is swept off the ground by the Arishok’s weapon piercing him through the stomach, ribboning his organs. Garrett coughs, splatters blood staining the weapon and his chin from his wheezing. In the air, the Arishok is squinting and Garrett very quickly glances at the ash shade eyes before ehe Arishok whips his body around, yanking his weapon out of Hawke who fell to the hard ground, howling loudly from the impact and the increasing pain in his stomach.

The dance was not over, The Arishok simply had one of his few dips with Hawke.

Isabela – the original reason for this whole catastrophe, brings the exhausted healer back up with her arms and supports him with her side. “Don’t you fall asleep now!” With the motivation, electrifying healing auras leave his hands and he focuses on Garrett’s torso. The magic made the pain decrease in small amounts, running blood became dry stains to his armor and wounds held as best together they could be.

Hawke is on the ground, quickly recovering from the blow he took, he is swift to get up but not swift enough as the Arishok’s weapon comes swinging down, catching Hawke’s hand in its grasp and burns through the skin, the muscle and through the bone. Three of Hawke’s fingers and half of his thumb flies off, scattered along the floor of the Viscount’s office.

He shouts in pain, but is not slowed as he just fights with more menace. His bite was worse then his bark.

Fenris looks away from his stomach, the gory scene slowly got to him – perhaps it was because it was Hawke who was laying in the pool of blood, near death with ribbon organs. Instead, he focuses his attention on Garrett’s hands. The hand Fenris could see better was the one in worst shape. Three fingers were absent, in their leave were ripped open wounds into Garrett’s hand, half of his thumb was missing. His fingers were somewhere in this very room.

It was the same hand that lightly grabbed the night he left.

“Fenris…” His name was a plea. Fenris didn’t turn his head around, just stood up from the bed and fastened the belts on his complicated armor. “Please, Hawke.”

His arm is grabbed at, Fenris jumps slightly – on alert and looks down to see it’s Hawke’s hand who is grabbed around his wrist. “Please, just look at me for a moment. A moment is all I ask.” Fenris owed him that, he’s convinced. He turns his head and looks at the vulnerable Fereldan.

The words do not come out easy like they always did. “I…. Will I see-“

Fenris nods. “I will follow you everywhere, Hawke.” The promise is well kept, he followed Hawke everywhere when he asked – and not asked.

Garrett’s hand twitches, blood that glued his hand down to the floor stubbornly coming up. From the simple few twitches, it is clear Hawke is fighting. He is fighting to stay alive.

Anders exhales deeply, withdrawing his hands away from Hawke’s stomach. “There is permanent damage, but I have done all I can with his torso. Fool is lucky I’m as good of a healer as I am.” Anders is doing the best he can, Fenris knows that – yet he can only feel bitterness as he takes his news with a spoonful of salt, a moment to brag about himself.

“And his eye?” Anders sighs – that is all Fenris needs to know in order to not get his hopes up, not that he does anyway. The Warrior walks over and crouches down next to Garrett. His good eye is slit open, the familiar moss green eye is comforting to Fenris who softly smiles down at Garrett who he hopes sees it as it disappears seconds after. “What is the plan now?” Fenris asks with a stern tone, eager to move past this process.

Anders wasted no time in answering, he had this down to a system. It was alarming to some but to Fenris, it was comforting. He may have personal disliking towards the mage, but he was glad Garrett was being healed by somebody who knew what he was doing. The chances of a good recovery were higher, thanks to the mage. Fenris would be thankful for that, at another time.

“I will need help to carry Hawke to his house, I would prefer not to continue healing here.”

Merrill chirps in. “I can help!” Anders takes note, of Merrill’s much smaller body but smiles. “I will probably need you to carry him halfway, my body is exhausted and I need all the energy I can get to continue healing him.” He turns his attention to Fenris.

Without being asked or told to, Fenris volunteers. “I will help carry him, let us be off.”

“AH - ! FUCK! Maker’s balls!” Garrett howls, blood curdling to his friends in his home (and the neighbors, Hawke predicts.) Merrill had slipped, Hawke’s freshly broken arm banged against his wall. Merrill winced in remorse and sympathetic pain. “I apologize, Hawke!” He understands, Garrett truly does he just can’t bring himself to nod or say anything else now, everything hurt too much. His body was on fire.

Fenris finished carrying him up the stairs, Anders lending himself as support for the warrior and gently laid Garrett down on his bed. “A king…” Garrett groans. His friends look puzzled, exchanging silent questioning gazes with each other. It’s Varric and Fenris who know what hes trying to say and both smile, Fenris rolling his eyes.

“If this is your idea of being treated like a king, I would hate to see how you look if you were treated like a peasant, Hawke.” Varric laughs, yet it is shortlived when Anders interrupts. “Alright, I need everybody to please give me space to finish the healing process.”

They all step back – and watch as Anders exhausts himself for long hours, collapsing multiple times as he did before.

It is late into the night when Anders is finally finished. He steps back and wipes his forehead, turning to face Fenris. “He.. is damaged for good.” Alright – the bad news was out on the table. Fenris would help Garrett cope with the permanent damage. He would be there for him when nobody was there for himself when his body – and mind – had permanently changed.

“Alright. So, what exactly did you heal?”

“The organs… that the Arishok chopped up as if it was his fine end of the week dinner-“ Fenris rolls his eyes as the joke, clearly unamused as he awaits for Anders to finish. “No sense of humor. Tsk, Hawke will need that when he wakes up,” A thought comes to him. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter anyway, it isn’t like you’ll be sticking around. You’ll be running right home, yes?”

Fenris drops the glass of water he is holding, stepping towards Anders and slits his eyes into a squint to intimidate him. “Mage.” He warns. “It is of no concern of what I will be doing, I will be assisting Hawke with what he needs for the next little while. Now please, for the love of the maker. Tell me, what. Did. You. Fix?” He was on his last nerve, the constant pressure and questions from Anders about his and Hawke’s relationship pushed him further to the edge. Some days Fenris wouldn’t entertain Anders with an answer, just ignore him and continue walking. Other days, he’d snap and say it was none of his business and that he regrets his actions, but it was for the good. But today, he simply had no patience. The man he loved had flirted and even danced with death today, and now lay perhaps barely alive in his bed upstairs and Anders just kept. Pushing. Buttons.

“Alright, alright! His organs are delicately back together, but any wrong movement that stress them could rip them open again. Think of it like an unwelcoming present from your mother you don’t want to open. His arm’s bone is also delicately healed, he must be careful to not strain it. His ribs, healed, may have trouble breathing a little bit.” Anders finishes, turning his back to walk out the door. The eyebrow over Fenris’s left eye raises, he calls after Anders.

“What about his eye?” Anders sighs quietly, regret hits him along with the exhaustion. He only turns his head, avoiding eye contact with Fenris. “The… eyeball was too far back, the Arishok did too much damage to it and long story short, it isn’t there anymore.” He cringes internally at the words of the gore he had watched for the past few hours as he finally verbalizes it.

Fenris comes to the realization. “He… He is blind?” He asks quietly, gently. Anders nods. “I.. am afraid so, his other eye is fine. The other one is lost, I’d be careful not going in there if you have a queezy stomach. His right eye is all bloody, it’s gross.”

“Thank you, Anders.”

And with that, Anders left to head back to Darktown in the dead of night.

Hawke sleeps through the last few hours of the night, Fenris sits at the end of the bed and listens to the soft whimpers as Garrett accidentally hits a sensitive spot – or his eye hurts.

Fenris sneaks a glance at the injured Champion, he feels two things. Regret and disgust. He regrets not stepping in, slaying down the Arishok himself. He understands the formality of a duel and the Arishok was a very formal – and by the book, man. Yet, Garrett laid here with permanent damage to him and Fenris regrets not coming in, perhaps he could’ve minimized the damage. Perhaps, but he will never know. He feels utter disgust, these towns citizens have all just been saved by the Champion and they do not give a damn that he lays here, barely clinging to life these past agonizing, hell filled hours. They just care that they are all saved.

Fenris lays a hand on Hawke’s torn leg that still wore torn, damaged armor.

“I am proud of you. Thank you.” He slowly dozes off near the end of the bed, beside Hawke, resting just against his back.

Morning comes quick, sunshine pools into the windows and it wakes Fenris before Hawke. Fenris slowly gets up, holding his yawn in and rubs his eyes. Getting up, he walks straight to the windows and pulls the velvet curtains over, shielding the sun away. He then heads downstairs, to make some sort of meal for Garrett.

He makes the meal with ease, Bodahn and Sandal helping him prepare the small breakfast. Garrett is awake, the memory of the day before intrudes his head as he looks around his room – the view only being taken in one way. “Maker…” He groans. Everything hurts, pain is shooting through his body and his head throbs like hell. Like every morning, he brings his good hand up to his face and rubs one eye – then the other and howls.

“Maker’s balls!” He shouts, pulling his hand away and sees dried blood flutter against his skin. Horrified, he glances around the room again and notices his hand on the just healed arm was missing three fingers and half his thumb. His throat goes dry, sweat rapidly grows from his forehead and runs down, words croak out. “Wh… What the f..fuck?!” He attempts to shoot his body up, howling once more in pain as he realizes he isn’t a god, he’s a man who had just got his ass beaten by the Arishok and was needed to have a few days rest.

Fenris walks in, followed by a concerned Bodahn who was holding the meal they had prepared for over an hour. Seeing Hawke was awake and in clear pain, looking horrified, Fenris rushes over and crouches down next to him. Fenris comes to a quick realization that tears are coming down from the clouds of Garrett’s eyes.

“Maker… I probably look like some abomination, heh.” Fenris sighs, wiping the tears that fell down Hawke’s face away gently, mindful of his eye. “A handsome abomination.” Fenris adds as Bodahn settles the meal beside Garrett and exits the room silently. “Eat, you need the nutrition.”

He eats, most of the nutritious meal Fenris had prepared and is glad to feel full. Glad to feel anything but this pain and misery. “Thank you, Fen.” Fenris nods, eating the rest of the food so it doesn’t go to waste and sets it on the floor. He knows not to waste food, to ration it if you must.

“So… Am I that fucked?” Fenris looks at him with a worried look as he sits next to Hawke. His shoulders lift up then down quickly, a shrug. “It depends what you classify as fucked.” Garrett looks unamused as he points to his eye and lifts his nearly fingerless hand. “That, is what I classify as fucked.”

It was time to break the bad news. “Well, the mage says you are permanently blind in the eye as your… source of vision was so deep, and I guess he removed it, I’m not too sure. And your hand – the fingers will grow back, give it time.” Garrett winces. “So… I gotta walk around town, saving the people looking like a horror.

Finally, Fenris could wear a smile on his face.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he pulls out a red piece of fabric from a pocket in his tunic. “This… you could wear over your eye.” It was red, the same shade of red as the scarf that Fenris wore around his wrist after the night he and Hawke had, where he left afterwards. They matched. Garrett nodded, silently giving Fenris the ‘go’ to put on the matching fabric on.

The warrior gets up, goes behind Hawke and skillfully – not terribly gently, ties the red piece of fabric over his eye, hiding the horror from everyone and instead replaced it with something with much more meaning. “It is not an Orlesian eye mask but,” Fenris shrugs. “It is nice.” Garrett chuckles.

“Thanks, Fen. I appreciate it.”

Fenris nor Garrett stop him from Fenris placing his hand connected to the wrist that had the red scarf tied around his wrist over Hawke’s chest, and pressing a very soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I’m proud, Hawke.” The words Garrett had been aching to here for the long years he had been in Kirkwall, he finally hears them from the man he longs to have and desperately loves, and tears are once again brought to his eyes.

[klrkwall]

— Jesse and chill

— hanzo returns from a month + a week long mission, jesse doesn’t intend just the two to return to base and work even harder. he rents a hotel for two days, just for him and hanzo.

just a rly fluffy mchanzo fic, click keep reading if you wanna read 

Smoke travels out of Jesse’s lips and disappears into the air, ashes fall off the end of his cigarette next. The cowboys allow the cigarette to be held in his mouth with a soft bite, listening attentively as Genji began to ask questions. “When Hanzo returns, what do you two plan to do?”

Jesse chuckles. “You never skip out on the hard questions, do ya?” The cyborg shakes his head. “I am curious. He has been gone for how long now? A long month? Must feel like centuries for you, Jesse.” Genji gently teases, Jesse could hear the smug grin under Genji’s silver, green laced metal mask. The cowboy flicks the ashes off his cigarette once more before entertaining his long time friend with an answer.

“I’m gun’ take him to a hotel –“ Already, Genji was cringing and he raises his hands up, flailing them in an exaggerated manner. “Do not finish that sentence, Mccree!”

Jesse blinks, a snort entertains him. “Darlin’, I ain’t doing that to your brother, nothin’ ta’ worry your little metal head over. Simply goin’ to have a relaxin’ evenin’ that ain’t in this shit stump.” Referring to the poor quality rooms given to Overwatch agents. Genji nods, understanding. The cyborg lifts his hand and caresses his mask, lightly pressing the sides and small trails of steam came from both sides of his mask as he removed it, lowering it down over his mouth. “So – Jesse, you plan on taking my brother to a hotel and what? Playing Go fish?”

The teasing got Jesse to roll his eyes and laugh once more. “Nah, jus’ have a drink ‘n stuff. Watch some Netflix. And, Genji, my friend,” He pauses to chuckle, creating anticipation. “I play a mean game of go fish, if yer’ willin’ to test that, be my guest. I have a pack o’ cards under my bed somewhere.”

“You and my brother plan to what? Netflix and chill? Jesse and chill? And, do not allow your tears to soak your nice shirt when you lose.” Genji warns before kneeling on Jesse’s floor, bending over to search for the pack of cards he mentioned with cockiness. Jesse steals a quick glance at the shirt he’s wearing, a simple black button up shirt that Genji spent a near hour and a half straightening out on the man to rid of all the wrinkles that gathered from being bunched up on Jesse’s bed.

  Jesse slams the last two cards resting behind his thumb and resting against his fingers, a loud cheer comes from him as he wins the third game between him and Genji. Genji – who still had three cards in his hand laughs, setting down the cards and claps. “Good game, Jesse.” He congratulates. “Thanks partner – “ Jesse is interrupted by his phone beeping. The former Blackwatch agent immediately jumps up and slides over to the phone that rested beside his pillow.

Genji eagerly shifts over – right beside Jesse to read the message that interrupted Jesse’s victory before. Jesse doesn’t push him away, is too focused on the message from Hanzo to do anything truly.

Huckleberry ♡        

we will be arriving within a few minutes. 10 I predict. Will I see you there, jesse?

 He couldn’t type back soon enough, the younger Shimada noticed the fast typing and grinned. “Somebody is very eager.”

“Heh, am I that obvious?” Jesse shoots back, admitting easy defeat – something he did not do often. Back in the Blackwatch days, when he’d do personal and open training sessions with Reyes, even if he was on the ground, groaning in pain and had a bloody nose or lip (sometimes both,) he’d just grin and cockily say “That all you got, old man?”

Ill be right there baby, don’t worry ur pretty lil head sugar. ♡♡♡♡♡♡

Hitting send, he jumps up from his bed and rushes to the mirror that hangs on his beige stained wall. Running his hands through his hair for a few minutes, he determines that his hair is more then acceptable for when Hanzo sees him. It trickled down to his shoulders a few months ago, annoyed with long hair he took scissors to his own dark brown hair and cut it so it was short once more, like it was when he joined Blackwatch, a tad longer maybe.

“Aight Genji, I’m headin’ out to meet up with Hanzo. We’ll be back probably around Wednesday evenin’.” Waving to his friend, he grabs his jacket and walks out of his room, leaving Genji by himself.

  Thousands of snowflakes fall from the sky. Cold would be an underestimate of how Jesse’s current body heat was. Small shivers zapped his body, snowflakes gently land on his face. The former Deadlock member still had one bare hand out, holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger, flicking the crumbling ashes down.

Twenty minutes pass that he stands there – waiting for Hanzo and the others to return from a mission. As soon as Jesse drops his finished cigarette to the snow concrete, squishing it with his foot – the train arrives, and Hanzo is one of the first people to come out.

“Darlin!” Jesse calls out at the top of his lungs, Hanzo turns his head to search for his Jesse, hearing his accent burst through the harsh cold. Jesse shouts again, moving closer. “I’m here, over here baby!” The affectionate nicknames make Hanzo blush, happiness blooming in his stomach. The much louder call brings Hanzo to Jesse and walks over to him with his hands shoved in his coat pockets and face shoved in his coat to shelter him from the cold.

Hanzo gets over as fast as he can, and when he does he is immediately wrapped in Jesse’s arms, a warming hug. A smile pulls at Hanzo’s lips as a soft chuckle leaves him, allowing himself to be wrapped up in Jesse’s arms. “I have missed you, Jesse.” He admits as he plants a soft kiss just under his boyfriend’s jaw. Jesse kissed the part of Hanzo’s head where it was full of hair, he brings his hand up to one of the two shaved sides and leans down a little to press his lips against Hanzo’s, who kisses him back with happiness and a month of missed moments fill in it.

Hanzo is the first to pull his head back and look his boyfriend in the eyes. “Come, let us get out of the snow. I am positive I need warmth.” Jesse smiles, wrapping an arm around Hanzo’s waist – which Hanzo copies, - and they walked to the car that Jesse borrowed.

 When they don’t go the normal route back to Overwatch, Hanzo turns his head over to Jesse and cock his head slightly. Jesse notices and looks at him with a grin. “Somethin’ wrong, baby? Hungry? We can –“

Hanzo interruptes. “Jesse, this is not the way back to base. Where on earth are you taking us?”

“You’re gun’ spoil the surprise, honey.” Jesse pouts, Hanzo gently smacks his hand. “Eyes on the road. And what surprise? You know I do not like surprises.” The reminder was not one Jesse was surprised about. Hanzo really didn’t like surprises, Jesse loved them. “Fine, Han. You win,”

He began to explain the two day getaway he had scrambled to get together. “I’m takin’ you to a nice lil’ hotel jus’ up the road here. The two of us, in a room together for two days. I missed ya, baby. You been away for what? A month.” Hanzo corrects him. “A month and a week.”

“See! Ain’t gonna let us go back to base without a little Han ‘n Jesse time, need some time for my pumpkin.” A blush creeps to Hanzo’s cheeks. Jesse went out of his way to book this, to have time just for the two of them. They could hit the pause button for the world, and hit the resume button for both.

 The hotel was just five minutes away from where Jesse told Hanzo of his plans. They check in, Jesse saying Hanzo was his husband and a smiling for several minutes Hanzo. The staff wish them a good stay and they head off to their room.

When you walk in, there were two possible focal points; the king sized bed with a cream duvet and two large white pillows neatly placed beside each other, or the nearly window wall where they had a clear view of the starry snowy night. The archer was in awe, he stepped in and walked straight over to the window and gazed at the falling snowflakes fondly.

Jesse stole a glance at his archer boyfriend, who looked quite relaxed as he gazes out the window and admiring the simple view. It warmed his heart to see that after a long mission where he probably barely had a moments rest, he could now be here and rest.

“Han, do ya want anything to drink?” Offers Jesse with a pout, holding up a beer and champagne bottle in the other hand. The Overwatch agent slowly turns his head to direct attention to the former outlaw, a small smile tugging at his lips as he crosses his arms. “Please Jesse, a glass of champagne.”

“Comin’ up for the lovely archer.” Hanzo scoffed with a smile on his face, watching Jesse pour a glass of champagne for he and himself. Champagne slipped from the bottle, filled up to half the glass for two and was brought over to Hanzo. Jesse hands Hanzo one of the glasses of the sparkling alcoholic beverage and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer – making the champagne rustle.

“Careful, Jesse. I do not want to get alcohol on this carpet.” Jesse chuckles, not caring as he laid a long – and loud – smooch on Hanzo’s cheek. “Missed ya’ darlin’.”

“I missed you too, cowboy.”

Jesse suggests something. “There’s a huge flat screen in here,” Jesse pauses to cock his head towards the television that sat on a dark brown nightstand. “Why don’t you say we.. Jesse and chill?”

Hanzo’s eyebrows knit together, the one over his left eye rising. Clearly confused. “Jesse and… what?”

[klrkwall]

— Lonely safehouses, lonely diners.

— “Asshole.” Mariano shrugs. “You’re right, but this asshole will take you on a real date if that’s what you want. Not in a dumpy diner.” Ivan continues to eat, intrigued he responds. “I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified, but ready I suppose. If you’re sure.” Mariano winks and sips his water. “I’m sure.” 

— an original work i wrote with two characters from mine and my boyfriend’s mafia universe, enjoy! 

plop. plop.

Droplets of water rain down from the pink rag as its stretched and twisted to make it damp. Mariano bunches the cloth together and brings it to Ivan’s bruised face. Water soaks in his skin and runs down the bruise, it blankets the cuts. He lets out a whispering hiss, one easily missed if Mariano wasn’t already a sharp listener.

“I’m jus’ gonna try and damp the wounds first, then clean them.” Mariano announces as he continues to gently dab at Ivan’s wounds.

“Okay.” After Ivan’s acknowledgment, they sit in silence for a few minutes, Mariano places the pink rag on the dirty floorboard of the abandoned safehouse. Mariano twists open the cap of disinfect and slowly pours some in the cap and sets them both on the ground. Next, he grabs a q-tip and gently dips it in the disinfect, and slowly grazes it against Ivan’s wounds.

He hisses, fights the overwhelming urge to turn his head away and yell. One of the strongest men when it came to being beaten black and blue, but it was the aftermath that he hated the most. “You could be gentle.”

“I’m literally being as gentle as I can, Ivan.” He sounds annoyed, but Ivan understands its only annoyance that he won’t allow Mariano to help him. “If I go any more gentler, I’ll be just like a damn ghost or something.”

He shudders. Ivan already had enough ghosts haunting him, didn’t want another. He understood it was a joke, but he never wanted Mariano to turn into a ghost, haunting him with the mistakes he made.

“Just make it quick.”

 -

 “Good as new, now you can stop complaining about me not being gentle.” Mariano jokes as he dumps the rest of the disinfecting liquid on the creaking floorboards and twists the cap back on the brown bottle. Ivan’s face looked better than just an hour before, a bandage hid the harsh bruises and cuts from the outside eye.

“Thanks. But... why do you have first aid shit with you?” He questions with a curious tone. Mariano reattaches the small bottle of wound disinfect to his belt and the small bag of q-tips into his back pocket, and he shrugs while raising an eyebrow at the question. “I have pockets for a reason, already have a holster for my gun. I also used to ride solo a lot before we started going on missions together.”

“So you’d carry around your own cleaning shit.” Mariano nods. “Usually I’m careful, so I don’t bring much. You, on the other hand, are not careful at all.”

Ivan ignores him, instead lays down on the couch that was slowly coming apart and laid his hands on top of his chest. “I’m tired,” Mariano yawns. “Alright, you take one side, I’ll get the other.” Ivan nods and brings his legs up.

“I apologize in any advance for any discomfort.”

 -

 “Mariano, your leg is where the sun doesn’t shine and I swear –“ Ivan growls, a warning shot and Mariano groans, bringing his legs up. “Look, dude I need to stretch too.”

“Why did your mom have to fuck big foot?” Ivan whines, sitting up and leaning against the arm rest, bringing his legs up to his chest. “Well, you have colorful language. But I think you’re asking the wrong question.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow at the cryptic response, he goes along with it. “And what should I be asking instead, Mariano?”

“Why the hell did they not put a bed in a damn safehouse? Just one century old ass couch.”

 -

 Into the early morning hours, the sun barely rising, the two boys get up and leave the safehouse. “You bring medical supplies but not food?” Ivan teases which has Mariano rolling his eyes. “If I’m dying because of some wound, I think I’d be wanting medical supplies not a goddamn apple.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been wrong.”

 -

 “I have to admit, this is a bit odd.” Mariano confesses with his mouth full of French toast. Ivan shakes his head and lets out a ‘tsk.’ “Have you no manners you can’t wait until your mouth isn’t full.”

Mariano grins. “Your mouth is full of shit. Stop talking.” He jokes and tries to hold back a snort, but fails and Ivan rolls his eyes and continues to eat his pancakes. “And if I want to talk with my mouth full, I will-“

“You’ve already confirmed that much.” Ivan interrupts with a laugh and a small smile as evidence. A small pang of affection punched Mariano in the gut, his laugh was brief and could have been easily missed if Mariano hadn’t already had his eyes looking at the man and his ears always listening to him. “Hey, shut it. I’m the one who brought you here because your damn stomach wouldn’t stop growling.”

“I guess I shouldn’t count this as a first date then.” Water shot across the table and down Mariano’s chest, he coughed and held up a finger. “A… what?”

“It was just a joke! Jeez, I didn’t think I was that terrible.”

Mariano coughs once more and sits up, inhaling before waving at all the concerned eyes that laid on him. Two kids were laughing, bastards. “I’m fine.” He announces with a stern tone, the concerned eyes turn away, the two children stop laughing.

“Anyways,” Mariano shifts. “You… aren’t that bad, Ivan-“

“Wow, I’m not that bad.” He teases.”

Mariano groans. “No! Jesus, you were hungry as hell and we weren’t getting back for a little while. I’m insulted if you think I’d take you here on a date in,” He lowers his voice and leans his head in to whisper. “… this dump of a diner. Five bucks that this diner gets shut down within the next six months because of a breakout of food poisoning and everybody sues.”

Ivan hesitates and glances over to the piece of pancake on his fork, he shuts it mouth and puts the piece of pancake back on the plate and coughs nervously. “Uh.. Yeah, okay you’ve officially killed my appetite.”

“I’m known for killing things, and I’m good at it.” Ivan whips his head around and shoves Mariano with one hand so he sits back down. “Can you not talk like that in here?!”

Mariano grins. “Scaredy cat.”

“Asshole.” Mariano shrugs. “You’re right, but this asshole will take you on a real date if that’s what you want. Not in a dumpy diner.”

Ivan continues to eat, intrigued he responds. “I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified, but ready I suppose. If you’re sure.”

Mariano winks and sips his water. “I’m sure.”

[klrkwall]

— pizza notes

— DJ lives the lifestyle most people crave, a simple evening with him playing guitar, leaning against his friend that he’s harvested a crush for several months, eating pizza and having Ari play with his hair.

i havent published smthn in a few weeks yIkes but i wrote a gay lil fluffy thing for my friend rose @rose-thefangirl w her oc dj and one of her friend’s ocs ari, enjoy ! :)

theres one or two spanish sentences in here that i may have screwed up when translating, i used word reference. 

His fingers danced with the guitar strings, moving up and down, sliding his hand left and right. The melody falls travels from the moving guitar strings through Dj’s fingers and to Ari’s ears. “I just learnt Kiwi on the guitar, do you wanna hear it?” Dj asks with an excited grin, he pauses playing the guitar and Ari looks up from his book.

               This was the first time DJ offered to play any song without Ari asking with a shy smile. DJ was a musical genius, hand him an instrument and the chance that he knows how to play it already was high. Ari smiled and lays his book down, page still open so he could return to it later. “Yes!” DJ grins and begins to strum the guitar, fingers dancing to let the strings sing the melody.

 -

 Three minutes pass and DJ’s fingers stop playing, he hugs the guitar casually and shoots his eyes up to his crush. “How was that?!” Ari nods his head in approval. “It was good.” His simple reply makes the edges of DJ’s lips curl into a large smile. Right as DJ was about to thank his friend, a large rumble interrupts him.

 “Somebody’s hungry.” DJ teases. “Wanna order a pizza?” Ari nods and DJ pulls his phone from his back pocket. “Hey, how do you even say pizza in Spanish?” Ari’s eyebrow rose. “Pizza…. Is pizza..” He nervously laughs.

 “Well, I feel like an idiot. Okay, is cheese pizza just cheese pizza?” Ari shakes his head, leaning back against the black leather cushion. “No, that’d be pizza de queso.”

 “Would you like pizza de queso?”

 “Add some pepperoni!”

                 “Living on the dangerous side, good job, Ari.” DJ snickers as he dials the name of the pizza place, listening to the rings.

 -

It was past delivery time, which meant DJ had to ride his scooter he received for his 16th birthday - that was slowly breaking down - in the heavy rain towards the pizza place across down. With a groan, he slid out the door and threw his hood on and Ari waited patiently, getting out paper plates while he waited for his crush.

The table – which actually was DJ’s small coffee table in his cramped livingroom of his even more so cramped apartment. He kept putting off buying a kitchen table, insisting it was too much work and dining tables were a capitalist ploy. Ari offered no argument and chuckled, he wasn’t wrong.

-

               He arrives about thirty minutes later. Ari was passed out on the floor with a carpet he always insisted was comfy, earning an odd look from DJ who kept quiet about the odd realization and would go back to playing whatever instrument his hand would pick up, or simply drumming his hands on a table for several minutes.

                 DJ immediately notices his sleeping friend and slides off his wet shoes as quietly as he can. The musical genius shivers and sets the box that held hot pizza down on the coffee table. He snatches a notepad that conveniently rested on the glass table and grabbed the pen that laid on top of it, he tore off the two week old grocery list and wrote a small note.

                 went to shower, i’m cold!! sorry if singing wakes you up :)

the boogy man

-

A yawn crawls out of Ari’s mouth, stretching out and muffled by his hand. The smell of warm pizza alerts Ari and he turns his head to the closed box that sat on the coffee table. A note sat beside it, he read the vague scribble and opened the pizza box.

The smell of freshly made pizza with melted cheese makes Ari’s mouth water and stomach rumble, he grabs a paper plate and grabs a slice of pizza with pineapples and pepperoni decorated the top of it. He took a large bite and a hot sensation intrudes his mouth. Ari pulls the pizza back and a string of cheese strung from the pizza and fell against his chin.

A loud whistle intrudes the short hallway as DJ walks out of his bedroom with Christmas pajamas. Ari turns his head to direct his attention to his friend, he sees his hair is messy - predicting he ruffled it with the towel too hard. “I see somebody’s awake.” DJ says with a laugh, sitting down next to Ari and grabbing a slice of pineapple pizza for himself. He leans his back against the couch and glances at Ari. “Oh wait, dude you have somethin’ on your face.”

“Wh-” DJ interrupts his crush by quickly licking his finger and grazes the corner of Ari’s mouth for a second, wiping off the sauce and wiped it off on his reindeer pajamas. “Got it, now you’re no longer sauce boy.” DJ teases, a grin showing on his face. A heat rises to Ari’s cheeks as he nervously chuckles in return, - he’s blushing.

He changes the subject. “Your hair is messy.” He points out, gazing at DJ’s dark curls that stuck out at odd angles, stood up, it was a mess. DJ hands him a brush be carried out of his bedroom and spoke with a mouth full of pizza. “Okay, since you’re a barber now, you can brush my damn hair!”

-

               “You’re… actually really good at this.” DJ compliments. He relaxes at the feel of Ari gentle combing, occasionally running his fingers through his curls. “I happen to brush my hair.” Ari says with a laugh, gently combing through the dark curls.

                 “Are you implying I don’t?”

               Ari hums as a response.

-

                 “Done.”

                 After ten minutes of combing and twirling with curls, Ari finally sets the comb down beside them and takes another bite of his pizza. DJ grins and leans some of his weight against Ari. “Now I don’t look like a street rat. I think I owe you a little tune after that.”

                 “I would love that!”

-

               DJ’s fingers strum the guitar strings lazily, a soft tune plays from the guitar and travels into both of their ears. Ari clumsily twists and twirls DJ’s curls as he reads his book. The two sit like that for over an hour, listening to the soft tunes DJ’s fingers and guitar strings created and enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

[klrkwall]

Sandcastles

part i. 

she was sand, and he was the ocean who preyed upon her and one day destroyed her down. now, she has built herself to become a sandcastle

trigger warnings: r*pe, miscarriage. 

lena mahariel reflects back on a difficult time on her life. // click ‘keep reading’ to keep reading

“Lena, da’hlen? It is time for your lesson.”

Lena turned her head slightly, moving her curly black locks out of her eye so she could see who was speaking to her in the kind voice. It was basically the keeper’s second hand, she dressed in a grey laced with green thin robe, her stomach exposed. Her long, white hair was placed in a clumsy bun, probably done by one of the younger ones.

Behind her, was somebody quite taller then her. Somebody who wasn’t as kind, somebody who had a grin that fooled all of the people in the clan into thinking they were kind, somebody dressed in armor that had his legs and most of his arms revealed, Lena always wondered how he hadn’t severed his knee or arm yet.

Lena placed her book down and turned her head over to her younger sibling who was asleep on the cot further in the large tent they housed in. Silently, the young mage stepped aside and pulled out her books so the tutor could sit down. The keeper’s second hand, Varethi, nodded and a small smile appeared on her face, leaving the two alone along with a sleeping young one.

“So,” The tutor wasted no time getting to business as he seated on a pillow next to Lena who was gazing at her sleeping younger sibling, hoping they wouldn’t gain consciousness just yet. “What adventure would you like to hear about this week? Do you remember what one we talked about last week?” The mage didn’t respond, she didn’t want to face the tutor. He waited patiently for a few moments before tapping her shoulder, making her jump and spin her head around quickly.

“What do you want?”

“You should watch your attitude, little one. You may anger the wrong person.” Lena cocked her head slightly in curiosity as she glanced down at her book full of notes she had handwritten herself and back up at him. “And are you the wrong person to anger, Talev?” Her voice was dimmed, low so her sleeping sibling wouldn’t be able to hear and they wouldn’t awaken. Talev, the tutor, copied her action and cocked his head as well. “Why are you asking? Are you wanting to tempt me into anger? To become the danger you seek?”

Lena remained quiet, sealing her lips tightly. A nervous gulp escaped down her throat and she gripped the pillow she sat on. “Not until my sibling is out.” Talev nodded his head towards the sleeping elf. “Get them out, now.”

She nodded and crawled over to the cot, shaking the sleeping elf lightly, gentle whispers to encourage for them to wake up. “Hey, hey, it’s time to wake up little one. You should see Varethi.” The little elf woke up with ease, but glanced at Lena with an annoyed look and rubbed their eyes, yawning loudly. Lena scooped the sleepy young one into her arms and sent her to out of the tent, encouraging her to go see Varethi and then shut the tent completely.

Seconds later, a hand touched her shoulder and she gasped quietly. She didn’t know why she was shocked, she knew this hand. She knew this hand when it was handing her food, knew this hand when it was resting on her shoulder, knew how rough the fingers felt when they were shoved inside of her despite the pleas of no, knew the rough palm when he’d encourage her to orgasm all over his hand despite her saying no, no, no.

 For the remaining time of their ‘tutoring’ session, Lena was spent on the floor, legs wrapped around Talev who penetrated her at his wishes and her denials. When he was finished, he finished on her stomach and helped her to get dressed, as if they were romantically involved.

“I will see you next time, da’hlen.” Lena nodded and gave a small smile. If she resisted – he may put an arrow through her throat like he did the the shemlen in his stories. She didn’t want to be another story he would tell to his next student with a smile on his face, sweat dripping down his forehead, he would brutally violate them while whispering sweet nothings.

 The next six months were proof that the creators were not real – and if they were, they only created misery.

The first night – she had finally slept, accepting the fact she would be a mother within the next few months, she had placed her hands over her stomach and took shaky breaths. ‘hi, little one.’ She greeted, there were no kicking that she could feel. ‘must be asleep.’ She assumed.

How she was wrong.

Dawn painted over the earth and Lena awoke slowly as she heard her younger sibling weeping loudly. Rubbing her eyes, she turned her attention to the sobbing child and arched an eyebrow. “What is wrong?” Concern laced her tone. They did not respond, simply pointing to Lena’s legs.

The mage indulged in her sibling’s fear and sat up slowly, to steal a quick glance down at their legs.

As if the gaze was the key into the lock, Lena felt sharp pains in between her legs and lower stomach. A yelp leaves her as she sees the pool of blood that rests under her and splattered on her brown skin. “Go… Go get the keeper.” Lena urgently requested, pressing her hand to her stomach.

Her sibling dashed out of the tent, wiping their eyes, and screamed for the keeper.

The young elf simply cradled her stomach in a protective manner, tears slowly swelling in their eyes. “Are you there… Are you there?” The words come out in broken little shards, the blood is merely a confirmation of here suspicions that her baby is dead. All she needs is somebody’s word to confirm it – so the false hope can die, and her soul in the process will as well.

  “I have seen this before, Da’hlen…” The keeper’s tone was anything but hopeful – her words, even more traumatizing to both Lena and the keeper. Lena sat there, letting the disappointing news smash into her left ear and fall in crumbles out the next. The world got quieter, everything became too slow or too fast. “Are you okay, dear?”

Lena shrugged. She was angry at herself for not protecting the being she had promised the night before she would protect it, but was glad that Talev would not see the child he forced into her.

“I don’t know.”

 And her hand slides down from her stomach, and is placed back at her side.

There is nothing there for her to protect anymore.

And if there was something there, it was just the ghost haunting the only place it had rested – only place that was ever home for them.

  Five years pass.  

The little one was on Lena’s mind less, yet appeared with accidental brushes with her stomach, seeing parents playing with their children. She allowed her mind to wander occasionally some evenings, what would she name the child whether she birthed a little girl or little boy?

She decide on a name one night, Solan Ashelle Mahariel.

She daydreamed about being a mother, she had experience of being a motherly figure to her younger sibling and other kids in the camp – would she be able to do the same for her own child?

Two new scars join Lena’s canvas of scars on her wrist, blood drips from them as she sacrifices her own blood. Her unwilling participant falls to his knees, then back to the forest floor. She nods, satisfied with her results and leaves.

Unwilling participants. They make the blood magic game fun for some, horror for others. It was a grey area for Lena Mahariel. She was once an unwilling participant, in another life. In this life – she was a Warden who happened to perform blood magic to achieve successful results.

 Once a rabbit, now dinner rested on a stick held in Lena’s hand, the other hand she used to burn the rabbit to cook it. After half an hour of cooking it, she rose the meat to her mouth and took a gentle bite out of it. Disgust, she felt. Rabbit was never her favorite, but tonight she was unlucky. After eating a few more bites of the dead rabbit, Lena stood up and went into town.

In her pocket, was gold from doing various jobs and looting old bodies. Tonight, was a treat for herself, go into town for a drink or two. Maybe stay in a room for the night, a warm bed sounded delightful.

 The tavern is dimmed low lightly, there were a few customers there. People drinking alone, two couples sitting at tables. Shameless flirting happened with one young couple. Lena stepped up, ordering a drink, and sat down on a bar stool. Her drink was slid over five minutes later, she gulped a large amount down before turning her head to glance at the other customers.

One caught her attention and her gaze shifted to him, studying him. He was alone, clearly lonely often as he looked to be comfortable. Not nervous, not uncomfortable waiting for anybody. When he turns his head, that’s when she felt fear strike her in the same place where her unborn child was growing and bloom to her heart and yank it out.

Sitting there – was Talev. The bastard who gave her the child with force, sugar coating his forced sex with stories of his travels and tactics. Flashes hit her. The feeling of her nails digging into the thin ground, mind desperately trying it’s hardest to travel somewhere else, trying to imagine it was a tender love instead. It never worked, nothing ever worked.

Anger bloomed within the new bloodmage and she got off her stool, armor clanking as she got up – everybody stayed looking to their drinks, fearing she may snap their heads if they gave her the wrong look. Talev doesn’t notice her, even when she stands over him he groans and assumes she is just a bar maid. “I’ll get the coin to you by end of the week, promise.”

Lena stays quiet, quietly pursing her lips and mind racing to think of what to say next. Does she scream at him and create a scene? Let everybody know that this is the elf that had raped her for years and bared her with a child that she couldn’t even carry? That her younger sibling had to discover? Does she fetch him another drink but slither poison into it, watching him cough his lungs up, gasping for oxygen to save his pathetic life as Lena walked through the front door with no care? Should she summon a demon from the very depths of the fade and have it possess him?

 The Warden stands there for a moment, throat dry and fingertips going numb.

“Make sure the coin is at the front by the end of the week, before dusk.” The instruction is a threat, gentle but not empty. Talev nods and shoos her away. Lena sighs and walks out the front door of the bar, leaving coin by her unfinished drink.

The sun melts into the unknown slowly, and soft yet vibrant colors of peach, yellow and orange all come together to form a heart warming sunset. The Warden steps away from the bar and closer to the sunset, where the ocean threatens the sand.

She arrives as close as she can, another day she will catch the sun. I can do it, she tells herself.

For now, with her boots removed and discarded back on the grass, she scrunches her toes in the sand and allows the quiet winds to blow the few black strands of hair that sway by her ears and forehead. She knows the ocean and sunset will always be here – watching over her and she watches over it.

This is the creator giving back a moment of peace she should’ve had back in her younger years. A peace long awaited.

[klrkwall]

Bite

— kiss her on the mouth. feel her nails on your skin, scratching and begging for your release. move into her, make her feel like she’s on top of the world. she’s here, she’s real. she is yours and yours alone.

lena has been away for two weeks on warden business, she comes to thanatos’s temporary quarters where he is working for esmerelda silva - a former slave working in a rebellion to end slavery. they come together, and have to keep quiet as a prince walks in, searching for thanatos.

NSFW. click ‘keep reading’ to read !

“Oh creators!” Lena gasps as she continues to grind down on Thanatos’s thick fingers. “Thana…Thanatos…” The moan was low, dirty and wanting. The Qunari presses his larger body closer to hers and bites the inside of his cheek, tasting the bitter inner part of him and he is desperately trying not to moan at the delightful sounds of his warden lover. She slips her hand near his and begins to rub at her clit, slowly to tease both her and Thanatos.

Thanatos growls, low and full of arousal, he’s now going much faster. Just what Lena had been begging him to do for the past twenty minutes.

“Kiss me – creators, please… pleas-“ The warden is interrupted when her lover finally presses his plump lips to hers, giving into her desires as he kisses her, yet only lightly. His lips tiptoe over hers, increasing her frustration. Lena grabs onto his shirt roughly and bunches the dark red fabric in her free hand. “Vhenan…” A warning shot.

Thanatos does not reply, just kisses the corner of her mouth, and lets the feeling of want bloom from the soil of the kiss. She continues to rub herself, moving back on her lover’s fingers and bac against her own to give herself pleasure. Lena grabs his face with her hand, looking straight at him. They both are panting, breaths mixing together.

“You. Inside – me… Creators – now, please.” Her command was a fire blazing forest. It was heat against your skin, it was authority. Lena Mahariel was authority and Thanatos was there to take her commands. “If you want me inside you, my dear.” He unbuckles himself, sliding his trousers down. “Inside you is what you will receive,” Lena nods, frantically. Her desperation is finally put to the test as she withdraws her hand occupied with sharing her getting off with Thanatos and assists him sliding his cock out.

It’s a simple move, to gently guide himself into her to become one. He growls as she gasps, grasping onto his shirt and moaning. He moans shortly after, hiding his face in her neck to hide his aroused blush. Thanatos was a menace in the battlefield, remorselessly tearing any enemy down that dared to physically question his abilities. Anybody who dared who end his quest in ending the Qun would be stricken down. Yet when he was here – vulnerable, inside of the one he loves the most and surrounded by the songs of her moans and words, he was a shy and quiet lover.

Lena gently pulls his hair, whispering so only the two of them could hear. “Move… Let me see your face, vhenan.” It was a question, but the form of a command. She wanted to see his face, wanted to see the aroused blushing, wanted to see how he bit his tongue so he wouldn’t moan aloud. How the words, of both praise and filth would be caught in his throat as if a dagger had been thrusted through his dark skin from one end and to the other. He lifts his head up, gazes at her sweat covered, mouth hanging open face. He murmurs, almost quiet enough for Lena to not hear. “Beautiful.” His mutter is translated to kissing her cheek once more, her hands up his shirt and grabbing at his back roughly.

“Thanatos?” A third unwanted voice calls out. Both Lena and Thanatos’s eyes shoot open in shock. The voice – belonged to the prince, Nikola. “Es has been requesting for your presence, won’t get off my ass about it. Would you please go visit her?” He groans.

Lena growls in his ear. “Do not… leave me unattended now.” It’s a command buried over a beg, she’s begging him to stay. She hasn’t seen him in a long while, she cannot afford to have this rare moment between them turn into dust and linger away into the Maker’s hands. “Please.” Her talking is increasing the risk they will be caught by the prince. The thrill is a guilty pleasure in Thanatos, while it is something Lena would never hope to happen. Thanatos bites down on her earlobe, a soft gasp coming out of the Warden’s lips.

“Quiet…” He grumbles as he adjusts his position and thrusts up gently into her. He isn’t in complete control, she could stop him if she so wished but she nods, enjoying the small commands from her quiet lover. She remained quiet, but her ache to release was screaming. Her short nails digging into his dark skin were making her mind scream.

She just wanted to scream.

Thanatos’s thrusts continue, they are slow – leaving the Warden wanting more. He leaves his position of biting her earlobe and presses his lips to hers, which she gladly accepts – then bites down on her lower lip gently. As if it was on que – they both lowly open their eyes, about halfway and gaze lovingly and knowingly at each other.

“Bloody Maker balls…” Nikola groans before eventually giving up and turning to leave the room. “Man is probably out killing some bunny.”

  They finish a few minutes later, Lena begs for him to finish in her. Thanatos hesitated – “Are you sure?” He asks. The most he had spoken the entire time, and it was out of concern for her. “That… is a dangerously intimate – “

“Finish in me, please vhenan.”

He does. He spills inside her and he growls quietly, a soft whimper follows in its trail and he digs his nails into her hips. Lena’s back arches, feeling herself being filled with both her lover’s length and release was what she had ached for over 2 weeks for. Calming down from his release, Thanatos then slowly slides out and there is a noticeable blush upon his cheeks. Lena leans against his larger body and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You should go see Esmerelda, she probably has some assignment for you.” Thanatos nods, returning a kiss on the forehead. “How long are you here for before one of the Warden commanders will require you for?” Lena shrugs.

“Perhaps a day or two, then I will have to check in with either Raine or Aleksandar. Good commanders, mean well, terrible at communication.”

“I think that’s you, my love.” Thanatos jokes, chuckling softly. Lena challenges him. “I believe I said more during sex then you did, vhenan.”

[klrkwall]

Competition

— “Don’t you dare throw that snowba- AH!”

The two of them had an ongoing competition, who was better at what. This time, it's with snowballs.

a cute little prompt i wrote of my shepard and garrus if they were on earth and in snow???? really gay stuff

under ‘keep reading’ !!

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba- AH!”

July wore a cheshire grin. Watching their Turian boyfriend wipe the snow that dripped down his plate like skin, groaning as he shot a glare at Shepard who waved. The former C-sec officer then squatted and began to roll a snowball. The first attempt was a fail as he watched the snow crumple together, looking more like a plate then a ball. “Can’t even make a snowball.”

“At least I’m the better shot, Shepard!” Garrus shot back, recalling the time both he and July Shepard stood on top of the Citadel – against the rules, and shot bottles to determine who the better shot was. July had missed half of the bottles, their hands shaking with the gun. Garrus had shot them point on, being a sniper for a long time, you tend to get better aim he had told Shepard. “July, Shepard, sweetie, love of my life, would you mind turning around for a second?”

The commander crossed their arms, shaking their head. “I’m not dumb, Vakarian! I’m not gonna let you have a free shot. That’s not fair.” The Turian rolled his eyes, not surprised at Shepard’s stubbornness. He attempted to persuade. “Wouldn’t do this one favor for your boyfriend? Archangel the bada-“

“Garrus, archangel, sweetie, love of my life…” July mocked, earning a laugh from Garrus. “You are a terrible actor.” Garrus argued. “Never said I was a good actor, but I’m not very good at being persuasive and you need to get good.”

“At?” July acted like they were pondering for a moment, even putting one of their gloved fingers on their chin.

“Shooting bottles, making sure the glass bursts in the air! …and probably rains on some Citadel official or something.” He mumbled the last part as he concentrated on making the snowball in his hands. “I’m sure if the glass shards hurt some poor fool we wouldn’t get in shit, once Grunt and his friends set some officer’s car on fire, was hanging off of some statue and I got him off scot free, thanks to being Commander Shepard.” They were bragging, obviously proud of the status they had achieved over the years.

As July continued to boast of their success, Garrus had formed a perfect snowball that had stuck together. He stood up and effortlessly snuck up to them. He always found July in their weak moment, never alarmed them when he’d sneak up.

Before Shepard could get another word in, a sudden freeze bashed against their head and they gasped loudly, out of surprise. The cold snow dripped down their fairly short hair and down their mostly bare neck. After a moment of shock, they turned around and had a flash of anger on their face. Garrus was alarmed, thinking he had genuinely pissed them off. “Shepard, July – shit, sorry-“ He was interrupted by a gentle shove to the chest, enough to have him stumble back and be pushed once more into the cold snow.

Above him was Shepard, smiling and giving a mocking wave. They straddled the Turian and bent over so their face was right in front of Garrus’s, their grin clearly cocky. “I think I win, no?” The Turian sniper looked unimpressed as he grabbed the Commander by their waist and pressed them against his body, then rolled over so they would be in the snow.

“Vakarian!” They gasped, thrusting up because of the sudden sensitivity. Garrus chuckled again, feeling victorious. “Nope, I win.”

[klrkwall]

Haunting

As far as Esmerelda Silva is considered, Kendall Hawke, the former Champion of Kirkwall and love of her life, is dead or a zombie aimlessly wandering the fade. And if she were alive, she would expect Kendall to have an entrance designed by the gods, not showing up in one of her hideouts.

She wouldn’t mind being haunted by Kendall, as long as she was here. Alive. 

I wrote a fic about Kendall Hawke and Esmerelda Silva (my boyfriend’s oc) reuniting after she receives the news that Kendall sacrificed herself in the fade. 

“Esmerelda, ma’am.” The calling of her name made the former slave turn her head around and direct her attention to the agent instead of her report from another fellow agent currently scouting out for an independent slave trader. “What’s going on, Fletch?” The agent – Fletch – immediately responded with a positive announcement. “We’ve tracked down Lujak, he’s in the slums of Tevinter. Where all the petty criminals are.”

The revolution leader nodded, a grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Great job, go meet up with Skinner, I’m sending her and three other agents out to get whatever slaves the bastard’s attempting to sell out.” Fletch nodded, understanding the important task just handed to them. “Dismissed.”

The agent ran off in a hurry and Esmerelda turned her full attention back to the report, which described how another target of theirs had ran off, and the agent had found evidence the target fled to Nevarra. Setting the report down on her desk and sighing, she heard another voice. It was familiar, a song to her ears.

“I hope my girl has been resting, it’d be a huge sin in the maker’s hands if he let you do all shit revolution shit without resting.” The voice threatened in a teasing manner. The revolution leader turned her head around and immediately was shocked, and it was clear as day that she was shocked by the look on her face. The Champion of Kirkwall stood in front of her, with her regular complicated armor with dozens of black buckles over the red fabric and grey sharp shoulder plates. Her snow-white hair was tied up into a tight bun with only three thin strands falling against her left ear. Esmerelda could see the heavy bags that were painted under Kendall’s eyes, it was obvious the former Champion had gotten thinner. And that infamous grin, except it was different. It was a tired grin.

Esmerelda shook her head, nervous laughter coming from her as she shook her head. “I... I got a letter saying you were dead.” Kendall chuckled quietly then the tired grin disappeared from her face. “I’m- I’m sorry for that.” Varric had made it no secret his best friend had done a hero’s sacrifice in the fade to ensure the death of a demon so the Inquisitor, Elora Nelyata and a hero of the blight, Alistair Theirin could escape and finish the mission to strike another blow against Corypheus.

Corypheus was Kendall’s, it was her duty to slain him.

Kendall stepped forward, holding her hand out. “I am here, alive and well, not some sort of demon, I promise.” Esmerelda stepped forward and yanked Kendall by her hand and smashed her body against hers and immediately pressed a passionate kiss upon her lips, one of desperation, relief and a little anger. “I -.”  Kiss. “..truly thought –“ Kiss. “You were-“ Yet another kiss. “..were dead, Kendall Hawke.” They both then parted and instead rested their foreheads together, panting lightly. Kendall pulled out a small smile. “Takes a shit load to kill me, darling, and I haven’t found that limit yet.”

Esmerelda snaked her hand up Kendall’s back, up to her neck and finally to her hair, expertly pulling the hair tie out and watching her white locks fell against her and she gripped it lightly, ensuring herself this was not some torturous dream that her lover was indeed back by her side and not dead or wandering around with some demon in the fade. “Never try to find those limits, it would be a huge loss to this world if their Qunari slaying champion were not here.”

Kendall grinned and gave a joking response. “Am I only known for my Qunari slaying?”

“You’re known for many things, amatus, but you slaying the Arishok did give you the title of the Champion of Kirkwall, did it not?” Esmerelda reminded with a questioning tone, Kendall rasied an eyebrow and smirked towards the elf. “If I don’t have the title of being Champion of your heart, then I don’t want any damn Champion title.”

The rogue with mage abilities’s pickup lines usually just made Esmerelda laugh and roll her eyes – occasionally blush on some occasions, - but this time, it made her heart swell and she hugged Kendall tightly, burying her face into the human’s neck. Kendall pressed a kiss into onto the middle of Esmerelda’s head. “I missed you, love.”

Esmerelda chuckled and sniffled, about to start crying of relief. “I’m so – damn glad we didn’t have to hold a funeral for you, I’m glad you’re here.”

“The Maker smiled on us for once, eh?”

“Let us hope his smile stays wide and clear, because I cannot lose you again.” Esmerelda confessed, although it was certainly obvious. “I would continue on with the revolution if you truly were gone. But, your death would haunt me.”

“Trust me, I’ll make sure to haunt you when I’m here.” Kendall teased, Esmerelda smiled and laughed softly once more. “I would be glad to be haunted by you – as long as you are here.”

“Perfect.” 

And that was how Kendall Hawke came to believe in the Maker once more.

[klrkwall]

No space

16. things you said with no space between us.

a prompt for my bf @knightlnred w his oc Nikola and Samson!

The smell of blood and body odour came from both Nikola and Samson. When Nikola got closer to Samson his nose scrunched up, laughing a bit which earnt a confused look from Samson. “What’re you laughing at, brat?” He teased as he set his weapon down on the forest ground and begun to remove his gauntlets.

“You smell like a dirty arse.”

Samson rolled his eyes. “Like you’re any better, princey.” He responded witfully, dropping the rest of his armor to the ground. It was as if he didn’t care about the black steel with red colored lyrium sticking out that protected him. Nikola was more confused as to why he was getting undressed. “Uh.. Love? You’re getting undressed? In the middle of a damn forest?” Nikola affirmed with a squeaky, concerned tone.

The former addict made a sound confirming Nikola’s affirmation. “I smell like Fereldan dog shit and blood, I’m gonna try and wash that shit off in the lake. You coming or gonna continue smelling like shit?”

“Bathing….in a river…”

“Yes.”

The young prince shrugged. He had done crazier things, had seen crazier things, bathing in a river was at the very bottom of the list. He undid his armor and placed the pieces and his large, sharp sword on the forest floor near Samson and looked around, making sure there were no… peeping toms. As if Samson heard his non verbal worries. “Nobody’s watchin’, except me.” Samson teased then laughed loudly afterwards, earning a glare from Nikola who hurried into the water, splashing some of the cold river water at Samson, who shrieked way louder then Nikola had ever heard.

Nikola held back a laugh. “I’m sensitive to the cold you twat.”

“Is that the new name for me now?” Nikola teased as he swam over to Samson grabbing his hand so he couldn’t escape. “Not the best choice but you’re getting closer.” Samson didn’t entertain with a verbal response, just a shake of his head and wrapping his arm around him, pulling him closer so their chests were right against each other. The prince grinned, then decided to lay his head against Samson’s chest. An action he had done probably dozens and dozens of times, and it soothed him every time.

Samson rested his head on top of Nikola’s, placing a small quick kiss on his forehead and allowed his lips to linger in the prince’s thick dark hair. “We aren’t exactly getting much bathing done.” Nikola joked, earning a ‘mhm’ from Samson.

“This is nicer.” He admitted quietly. It was nice, definitely. The cold water no longer was cold to them as their bodies had grown used to the temperature. The sound of the careful whisps of wind running through the trees were soothing, their calm, slow breaths soothing the other one. “Would this… be a bad time to be mushy?”

“It’s never a terrible time to be mushy.”

The former templar chuckled, running his hand up and down Nikola’s back in a gentle, soothing motion. “I’m not.. good with words, you know that.”

“You did say you smelt like Fereldan dog shit, so no, I wouldn’t say your vocabulary is at an expert peak.” Samson snorted. Not something he could deny, obviously.

“I just… wanna know I appreciate ya, a lot. You’ve saved my ass many times since Kirkwall and I don’t know why you’re with me-“ Nikola brought his head up and brought his hand to Samson’s mouth, covering it so it prevented him from speaking. “I’m with you because you have made mistakes, and you’ve done whatever you can to try and make things better. You have a heart kinder then the gods who placed us together.”

“Now you have the way with words.”

“Only for you, Samson.” The warm tone and words made Samson burst with affection, something that had rarely happened and was for Nikola and for him only. He tightened his grip on Nikola, making sure he wouldn’t leave. They wouldn’t be separated again, I wouldn’t allow it.

“Thank you… for being you, and loving me..” He mumbled, voice barely over a whisper, for only the two of them to hear. The words and their love would remain pure, untouched from the cruel world. And they would thank the gods everyday for that.

[klrkwall]

Honey

honey. an ingredient so sweet it makes some cringe and others full of delight. honey always poured from his lips, honey always coated her body. 

so!!!! i wrote a fic with kendall hawke and my bfs vjosa ( @knightlnred ) and it was intended to be smuttier but it’s fluffy instead, oh well. 

slight nsfw under the line

“That all your mouth good for, sweet thing?”

Kendall glanced up and rested her cheek against Vjosa’s chest, taking a break from marking him over and over. “I thought my performance right there was pretty good.” She was playing oblivious, tracing the largest tattoo on his muscular arm. Vjosa’s eyes widened and the smirk wiped off his face, thinking he had offended Kendall. “It was! I was-”

“Clearly, you have higher expectations for me, I get it…” Before Vjosa could protest against her teasing remark, Hawke began to kiss slowly down his scarred torso. The old Trevelyan sighed out of relief and even arched his back a little. Just a little bit closer she’d be at his aching-

“Didn’t you have paperwork to do today?” The simple question made Vjosa burn as he glanced down at Kendall, who had paused her actions and instead just had her hand on his stomach that had lost the layer of fat over the months. He nodded his head and a kind smile came on his face as he ran his fingers through the champion’s white locks. “I don’t have to do that crap till later-”

“Nonsense, work first!”

‘Since when was work a priority for you?’ Vjosa wanted to ask, but instead he groaned as he watched the half naked champion sit up, grabbing her top and slid it over her scar littered skin.  

  It had been an hour since he had sat down to do the paperwork that the elder Trevelyan had been delaying for the past two weeks, the advisors were on his back about it. He turned his head and saw a sight that he was confident was more then capable of taking his breath away.

There was a large window in his bedroom so he could see above the trees outside, he sometimes stared at the stars hopelessly and it helped his mind travel back in time to his younger days. The champion sat on the white painted window sill and was still stripped out of her armor, but held her sharp knife in her one hand, twirling it around in slow circles. It sparked in his mind that she was always looking to protect herself, here she was stripped out of her armor and yet held one of her sharp twin knives. Her snow white hair that was always tossed up in a pun was down, and fell against her shoulders. It was greasy, she had meant to bathe hours earlier but due to their… activities, she never got around to it.

“Hawke,” Vjosa called out, snapping himself out of his trance. Kendall turned around, a cheerful smile tugging at her lips as she caught his eyes. “I’m not sucking you off until you finish that bullshit.” She teased. The ‘bullshit’ being the paperwork.

“Why are you so insistent on me finishing this work? Did you even do any sort of paperwork while you were the champion?” He asked in a teasing tone, but he was indeed curious. He was always curious, about her life before him and when she was away from him. Kendall paused to think, she took a few seconds before responding with a simple ‘nope.’

“If there was any paperwork to be done, I had Lyov do it. He’s more of the paper-worky type, you know?” Vjosa laughed loudly at that. She wasn’t entirely wrong. “He does seem to be a bit of a… prune.”

“A prune?” She repeated with a giggle.

“A prune.” He confirmed with a nod and smile. Instead of a verbal response, Kendall walked over and away from the window. She was in front of Vjosa in seconds, earning a chuckle from him. “You’re very fast, darlin’.”

“Running away from Lyov, responsibilities and demons will do that to you.” He laughed once more and she straddled him, and suddenly the paperwork was forgotten about. He noticed that she still had the knife in her hand and he glanced over. “Plan on putting me out of my misery?”

“You have Thedas’s finest woman straddling you, waking up next to you every morning and you’re in misery?” She rolled her eyes playfully and shrugged. “Can’t relate.”

“I’m joking! I would not have this any other way.”

“You sap.”

“I try my best.” He leaned his head forward and pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone that had visible purple marks from him. “So, do you plan on doing anything with that knife?” “Yeah, I plan on shoving it up your arse.” His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened at the same time, completely shocked and nervously chuckled. “Haha… Be generous with the lube please.” Kendall snickered and gently placed the knife on the table and brought both arms around Vjosa’s neck.

“I’d always be generous to you.” “How lucky am I?”

“I’d say pretty lucky.”

Vjosa chuckled. “I love you, Kendall.” A word foreign to both, one that they both had starved for. Butterflies were erupting in Kendall’s stomach, as well as Vjosa as he anxiously waited for her reply. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t said it to each other before, but it was said usually through breathy moans, said so quietly as he would slip into her and it was inaudible to her.

She placed a hand on his cheek gently. “I love you too, old man.”

[klrkwall]

solve

Thane Krios disclosed he had an incurable disease, Suki knew that and accepted it when she had begun to love him through the whole thing. When it came time for him to pass, fate had other plans. 

This cure wasn’t supposed to exist, Suki should be mourning him, not holding him and begging him that this wasn’t a dream.

His illness was solved.

hello!! so after a short hiatus from writing I emerge with a Shiros fic with my boyfriend’s Shepard, Suki and Thane. This is a belated birthday present for him and I hope he + you guys like it!! happy belated birthday love.

♡  @knightlnred  ♡

"I thought there was no cure." The ruthless soldier grunted flatly as she walked out of the hospital room where Thane was being held, expected to be his last resting place. July Shepard shrugged. "I dunno, I asked a few doctors and well, they said they had a possible cure and uh, they're testing it on him."

Suki squinted out of suspicion. "And these doctors were just so polite they just handed you this, I assume would be classified, information over?" There was a pregnant pause before the younger Shepard would answer. "Mierda... No, but.."  Suki rose her eyebrow out of amusement, almost chuckling. "Hey, it benefited you did it not?"  

The older soldier shrugged. "Point taken-" Before she could continue, a familiar Turian voice had called out. "Shepard-" Both July and Suki turned their attentions to Garrus who awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Ah- Yeah, right. Okay, the Shepard that nearly bit two nurses heads off." July nervously chuckled and turned their attention back to Suki. "You heard the alien, I guess I should be going."

And with that, July had left with Garrus, leaving the tough woman by herself. She glanced into the transparent wall hospital room and saw the sick former assassin laying there, coughing into his arm and laying back to look at the ceiling, awaiting for his goddess to greet him.

'A cure.' She would've been lying if she said that those words hadn't sparked some sort of happiness in her, but she knew better then to get her hopes up.

It had been two months since Thane was brought into the hospital on the Citadel, since he was bedridden of his illness. Two months since July had broken the news that there was a supposed cure.

Suki made an effort to see Thane on the days that she could, whenever she could afford to slip away from the reality of this war to the separate reality that was just her and Thane, a reality where any moment he could slip away from her. Every time she went, it was the same. Thane would ask how everything was and Suki as usual would say with a blunt, but simple tone that "..things could be worse, and they will get worse."

He would look out the window and tell her that she should be with her crew, with Anderson planning their next moves to end the reapers for once and for all. Hearing his nonchalant tone, the way his words just evaporated into the air, it made Suki almost... at peace.

"I can afford to be away for a few hours, Thane." Suki protested, crossing her arms as she looked down at the sick Drell.

Thane coughed, then weakly replied to his Siha's tired protest. "Can you really, siha?" His voice was weak, it was getting weaker everyday. Eventually, it'd be gone, similar to the flame in Suki's soul.

Years ago she had a flame that nobody thought could be put out. She was the forest fire that nobody dared to mess with. The only thing that dared to touch her was this war, and ultimately, it was winning. She was merely a small flame now, and was determined to keep burning until the end was here.

"I made up my mind."And Thane knew better then to step over the imaginary line that Suki had just drawn. When her mind was made up, she would make sure her tone was saying just that. Thane gave a slow nod in response. He weakly brought out his hand, which was visibly shaking. His fingers uncurled from the position of a ball and silently invited for Suki to grab it, which she did, but not letting the shaking go unnoticed.

Just before the worried human could say anything, Thane spoke. "My body is afraid, Siha. I want to be out there, fighting-" A  nasty cough emerged from his throat. "-...with you, I feel hopeless in here." His confession felt like a bullet had just stricken her arm, painful but not a complete shock.

After a few moments of silence from the two of them, Suki responded with the softest tone that she had ever spoken, and only Thane would hear the gentle words from her lips.

"You are anything but hopeless."

The water was scolding hot to some, but felt nice to Suki. It ran down her skin to just go down the silver drain. Showering used to be something that was almost therapeutic to Shepard, it was a way to wash off all the blood, death and screams off of her. Now, she only showers when she has a second to spare and just does it so she doesn't smell.

She wears the deaths she caused like they were the tattoos that hugged her body.

Her hand went to the silver knob that controlled the temperature of the water and to turn it on and off. She turned it all the way to the right, the rush of the water immediately stopping. She stepped out, wrapping the towel around her body and walked into the main part of her personal cabin.

It was a plain room, she didn't like to crowd it with, in her opinion, pointless decorations. Suki didn't want this place to feel like home, didn't want to get attached.

As soon as she dropped the towel to her bed and reached for her matching set of black sweatpants and t-shirt, a call was buzzed to her cabin.

"Commander?" Joker greeted. Suki looked over at the announcement buzzer in her cabin and glared daggers at it. "What Joker?" Her teeth were clenched as she answered exasperatedly.

"No need to get so hot headed, commander! But anyway- a doctor called, they want you to go to the Citadel hospital."

There it was.

They were calling her to come, to look at the dead body of the Drell she had shared the most intimate of moments and words with, the one who could calm the sea before the storm. When she would arrive, they would give her their fake condolences then follow them by saying

"....Thane Krios is dead."  

The nonchalant words kept replaying in her mind like a film. She would like to think she would cry for hours over this, but she lost so many people over this 'journey.' Realistically, she'd probably just hold his hand for a few moments and stare at him, perhaps give him a kiss on the forehead and be dismissed where she'd be walking away from the love of her life.

"Then let's head to the Citadel, Joker."

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

The journey to what Suki thought was Thane's final resting place seemed to take forever. It was because she was stalling, taking agonizingly painfully small, slow steps. She would never admit it but she didn't want to see his body, didn't want to accept the fact he was dead.

A nurse called her name, had to call it another two times to finally get her attention. When it did, Suki whipped her head around with full alert and looked at the nurse dashing after her.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, you are here to see Mr. Krios, yes?"

Suki gave a silent response, a small nod. The nurse smiled. "This way." The nurse's positive attitude confused Suki, even enraged her a little. How could she be so happy when there was a dead man, one who sacrificed so much, laying in one of their hospital beds?

The nurse then opened the door to Thane's room, and in the room where Suki expected to see Thane's lifeless body and the room smelling like death. Instead, Thane's back was towards her and he was standing up, looking out the window.

"Mr. Krios, the Commander is here." A moment later, Thane turned around and his dark eyes glanced to the Commander. She had a look of confusion, shock, any sort of combination of those two things. Suki had a feeling of mild astonishment or shock caused by something unexpected.

"Siha, I expect you are feeling astonished right now." It was like he could read her mind. Bloody hell, July was right...

Thane opened his mouth to explain what cure had helped, what it was, how did it come to be, but for once, Suki didn't want an explanation. As soon as the nurse left quietly, Suki wrapped her arms around Thane and pulled him towards her and buried her face in his chest. The Drell placed his hands on her back gently after a few seconds later, and just held Suki.

They both just stood there, silently. The commander was trying to accept that this wasn't one of her dreams, the ones that haunted her and were responsible for the beads of sweat that appeared on her forehead and the panic that made her heart race, the blood rush to her head.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream..." The soft, vulnerable plea had tears threatening to spill from both Thane and Suki's eyes.

Thane held her tighter, closer to him then they had ever been before. "It isn't, Siha." The simple yet complex response earned a loud sob of relief from Suki who for the first time in years, allowed the threatening tears to spill from her eyes and down her cheeks.

[klrkwall]

Temporary

for self indulgence, i’ve published a sequel to Closer, my modern au fenhawke fic! here’s a little sneak peak, if you’d like to read the complete thing please head over to my AO3.

enjoy!!

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“I may indeed start bawling, if I am to be honest.” Confessed Fenris as he gazed lovingly at the hand he held in his. “I did not mean to cause you suffering, I left out of panic. I did not want to be – “ He lowered his voice. “ – Prosecuted for this, he was a bad man.”

“Trust me when I say I have that under control, love.” Garrett spoke so affectionately, attempting to soothe Fenris’s anxiety over the matter. Danarius was a horrible man, a horrible person towards Fenris and others and Garrett would never forgive that. If anything, he wish he could’ve been the one who pulled the trigger. “I thought by me staying here, it would do more harm then good-“

“Utter bullshit.” Hawke interrupted, earning a glare from Fenris. “I did not know that, I was clouded with guilt. Unlike Danarius, I felt remorse. Guilt.”

“That means you’re hellova better person in that moment then that shithead has ever been, in this life, his previous and the next.”

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[klrkwall]

sorry for the mixup yall, my dumbass made ‘bloodyfruit’ into boodyfruit.,,,, so new fic tag is ‘ bloodyfruits;writing ‘ all fics have been relocated there ok adios