#fenris maybe too stay tuned

[mostwantedpotato404]

Nathaniel Howe

I’m gonna draw also male and female Hawke matching portraits

[gaysebastianvael]

🎶 9 Ship Songs 🎶

Rules: List nine songs for one of your ships

Tagged by @shivunin thank you!! Just nine? HA....anyway I did three songs for three ships (and I can do a million more.)

Taliesin x Sebastian

I Will - Mitski

And we're not out of the tunnel I bet you, though, there's an end Stay with me Hold my hand There's no need To be brave And while you sleep I'll be scared So by the time you wake I'll be brave

Let's Get Married - Bleachers

And I know it’s bad when we look out But bad, bad people don’t live in our house so I’m gonna get right for you honey I'll take all of my medicine, spend you all my money, yeah And I know it’s hard enough to love me But woke up in a safe house singing, "Honey, let’s get married" Don’t wanna walk alone So let’s get married

Read All About It, Pt. III - Emeli Sandé

At night we're waking up the neighbors while we sing away the blues Making sure that we're remembered, yeah, 'cause we all matter too If the truth has been forbidden, then we're breaking all the rules So come on, come on Let's get the TV and the radio to play our tune again It's 'bout time we got some airplay of our version of events There's no need to be afraid, I will sing with you, my friend

Somhairle x Dorian

Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng

I’m not that kind I’m so good at shooting down any notion This tired world could change It’s all been bought Or at least that was my line No use in spending all that emotion When there’s someone else to blame But you had to come along didn’t you Rev up the crowd, rewrite the rule book Where do I go when every ‘no’ turns into ‘maybe’

Never Look Away - Vienna Teng

Let me uncover the silver in your dark hair The weight of your bones I want to witness the beauty of your repair The shape you've grown For you are made of nebulas and novas and night sky You're made of memories you bury or live by So if you're out there in the cold I'll cover you in moonlight If you're a stranger to your soul I'll bring you to your birthright

I Really Like You - Carly Rae Jepsen

It's like everything you say is a sweet revelation All I wanna do is get into your head Yeah, we could stay alone, you and me in this temptation Sipping on your lips, hanging on by thread, baby Who gave you eyes like that? Said you could keep them I don't know how to act Or if I should be leaving I'm running out of time Going out of my mind I need to tell you something

Royce x Fenris

Stay - Mïrändä

'Cause I have a heart Despite what you may think and what I say And I wouldn’t have it any other way Even though it hurts It’s killing me with every passing day You can heal me now, it makes it worth the pain But don’t leave me now, I’m begging you to stay Oh it’s happening again I know this feeling like I’m losing everything is slipping through me and I’m gone I’d leave it all for a moment with you, is that wrong?

Give Me a Try - The Wombats

I know, sometimes I lose the plot and I cause a scene What do you dream of on the west coast When my head is aching in GMT We could be gigantic, everything I need Vicodin on Sunday nights This could be worth the risk, worth the guarantee This could be the drug that doesn't bite Just give me a try Just give me a try Been kind of hoping you might Get up and give me a try

Wonderful Way - TOUCAN

No matter what happens, darling we’re laughing Sweeter than the sap in a maple tree Just being with you is sending my heart Tumbling more than it would be in a washing machine Oh, my, my, this phosphorescent furnace, fueling our desire Oh, my, my, how pleasant to be burning if you’re the fire

[morganofthewildfire]

Drive Thrus and Dates

Here’s a short oneshot I wrote, just needed some fluff as a break from Ivy. It’s not proofread so hopefully it doesn’t suck!

-1200 words

——————

The sun was just starting to shine over the horizon, the streets beginning to fill up as the day started, his fellow cop Fenrys was in the passenger seat next to him, acting way too energetic for the early hour, and Rowan Whitethorn just needed a cup of coffee. Their patrol had just ended ten minutes ago, and he was fully ready to drop off the squad car, drive home, and fall asleep.

Except he couldn’t, because he had paperwork to file for the bar fight they’d stopped the night before, and then he had to bring his own car to the shop because some idiot had rear ended him, and then Fenrys was dragging him around for the rest of the day because he’d determined Rowan acted too much like a “sullen recluse” and needed to get out more. Hence the need for some caffeine.

Despite being partners for the past few months, ever since Rowan had transferred to Orynth from Doranelle, he hadn’t warmed up to Fenrys too much besides basic pleasantries, simply due to the fact that the other man was so … much. He talked all the time, his volume was never anywhere near the level Rowan would like, and he liked to be a meddler and bother Rowan about his life outside of work.

Like now.

“So this bar we’re going to tonight, I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to go yet,” Fenrys prattled on, and Rowan barely listened, staring at the red light at the intersection they were stopped at. “But there’s always the hottest girls there, I’m telling you.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing internally. “I went there last week with Connall, and I showed a group of them my badge, and they were all over me.”

Rowan tuned him out, grumbling as the light turned green and the car in front of them stayed put. He quickly put his blinker on and switched lanes, driving around them. There was a coffee shop on that side of the road anyway, he knew. They could stop there real quick before getting back.

“I’m not interested in finding anyone, Fenrys,” he huffed as the man kept talking. But that was the wrong thing to say apparently, because his brows shot up, a grin lighting his face.

“And why is that? Does Rowan Whitethorn already have a girl?” The words were wrought with laughter, glee evident in his eyes. Rowan just rolled his again.

“No, but I’m still not interested,” he repeated. It was true, he wasn’t. After his failed relationship with Lyria, Rowan hadn’t put himself back out there, and he wasn’t planning on it anytime soon. He didn’t need anyone else to be happy, and it wasn’t worth the effort of trying anyway.

“I think you just need to get laid.” Rowan turned to glare incredulously. “Maybe it’ll help loosen you up, you’re too stubborn.”

“Gods, help me,” he muttered as he put his blinker on again, turning into the parking lot of the coffee shop. It was a quaint place, with a dark green roof and plants lining the front of it, making it look more like a garden than a cafe, but it still had a drive thru, so he pulled into that, rolling down his window as he slowed to a stop at the speaker.

“Hi! What can I get you this fine morning?” A musical voice crackled through it, also sounding way too chipper.

“Just a large black coffee,” Rowan said without even looking at the menu, closing his eyes for a second as he waited for confirmation to pull up to the window.

“And a date!” Fenrys yelled from his seat, and Rowan shot him a dirty look. “Got anyone willing to go out with this fine piece of ass?” He continued, chuckling, and Rowan sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” he grumbled into the speaker, “ignore him”. But the woman on the other side just laughed, sounding too amused by the situation.

“I think I know who needs this coffee,” she said, “Not quite awake yet?” There was a hint of teasing in her voice, and Rowan made to respond but was cut off by Fenrys yet again.

“Rowan’s always like this,” he said, “it’s in his nature.” Rowan gave him a crude gesture, but he just laughed again.

“You can’t catch a girl by yourself, Rowan?” The voice said, “Not even with the whole cop thing going for you?” Fenrys smacked him on the shoulder, mouthing “see?”, but Rowan furrowed his brows. He opened his mouth to ask the question on his mind, but the girl answered it before he spoke. “Security cameras on the wall, I can see you guys sitting in your squad car.” His cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment. “And I think your friend is right, you seem a bit grumpy. Maybe a date would do you good.”

It was the same thing Fenrys said to him on a daily basis, but it annoyed him a lot less coming from this mysterious person. She sounded about their age, maybe a tad bit younger, and the sound of her voice was a soothing balm to his soul, even though he didn’t even know what she looked like, nonetheless who she was.

“We’ve been on shift all night,” he managed to say, trying to act casually, knowing she could see them. “I’m tired.”

“And horny,” Fenrys added, and Rowan flushed even more in anger and mortification.

“Please stop talking,” he said, hoping the girl hadn’t heard him, but his hopes were dashed when she laughed again, the sound warming his chest.

“Well maybe you should be the one to take care of that then, since you seem so interested.” That brought a smile to Rowan’s face as Fenrys spluttered, having no comeback.

“Thanks for that,” he directed to the speaker, chuckling slightly.

“No problem at all, he seemed a little too cocky,” she said, “and you can pull up to the window now, I’ll have your coffee ready.”

Rowan laid off the brake, scooting forward and ignoring Fenrys’ pouty expression. He came to a stop next to the window, reaching into the pocket in the door to pull out his wallet. He shuffled through it, grabbing his card, and then sat back up, his jaw dropping slightly as he made eye contact with the face behind the voice.

She was drop dead gorgeous, with long golden hair pulled back into a loose braid, and clear turquoise eyes with what looked like a ring of gold making them sparkle.

“That’ll be $2.50,” she said with a smile, and he closed his mouth, fumbling with his card as he remembered himself. He passed it to her, shivering slightly as her hand brushed his. Fenrys was smirking at him as he leaned back, waiting for her to be done, and then all too soon she was passing it back, handing him his coffee with her free arm.

“My name’s Aelin by the way,” she added, a teasing grin on her face, and then she was closing the window, shooting him a wink as she left.

Rowan ignored Fenrys’ laugh as he smiled at his cup, spotting the phone number written in black ink on the side, accompanied by the words

Maybe I can help too?

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[rowanwhitethornisbae]

I request...JEALOUS ROWAN make it angsty but fluffy at the end! maybe with a big fight in the middle

Fighting for Love

A/N: Hope this is what you were looking for. Warnings include light sexual content, some drinking, and swearing. Also angst angst angst and some fluff.  

“Rowan!” His girlfriend yelled. “Hurry up we’re going to be late.” Sighing, he laced up his shoes and did up the buttons on his shirt. It was Aelin’s 21st birthday and Fenrys was throwing her a massive party to celebrate.

He stepped out of the room and leaned on the counter. He was just about to say something when Aelin walked through the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a tight red dress that hugged her curves and looked as though it had been painted onto her body. The neckline plunged down her chest and Rowan found it difficult to keep his eyes on her face. Her lips were parted slowly and he tracked the movements of her tongue as she licked her lower lip.

“Hi.” She said softly.

“Hmm.” He murmured and Aelin laughed. The sound was a blessing to his ears, and he stepped forward, suddenly needed to touch her. His hands reached for her hips and she slid her arms around his waist. Leaning down, he captured her lips with his own. The kiss was hard and fast, a clashing of tongues and teeth driven more by lust than love. The only problem was that for Rowan, it was both.

He had realized a few weeks back that he loved her. She’d been away for a girls weekend in Atlantic City and Rowan had been left to his own devices. He’d been absolutely miserable, doing nothing all weekend but lying in his bed and watching cheesy soap operas. On Sunday night, Rowan had gone to the airport to meet her. Aelin’s entire face had lit up upon spotting him and she’d literally leaped across a barrier to run at him. As soon as she had reached him, and he was cradling her in his arms, the ache in Rowan’s chest was soothed. He’d been wanting to tell her for a while now but was absolutely terrified that she wouldn’t feel the same way. Rowan didn’t think that was a rejection he would survive.

Instead, he’d chosen to enjoy every moment he had with her. Aelin practically lived at his apartment. She came there after work and left again in the morning. The only time she really went to her own apartment was to get a few pairs of clothes and bring over some food. It was honestly a wonder they hadn’t moved in together yet.

“What are you thinking about.” She asked, flicking his nose. He stepped away from her and tugged her towards the door.

“Trying to figure out how to get out of making small talk with all your friends for hours.”

Aelin smiled. “Vodka.” She winked. “The answer to all problems.”

The sound of his laugh chased them out the door.

Rowan had been here five minutes and he already wanted to leave. Aelin had gone off with Fenrys the second they’d arrived. She’d promised to come back for him but Rowan didn’t really believe it. Aelin was much more social than he was. Everyone loved her. Rowan on the other hand much preferred to sit in the corner and observe. Currently, he very much disliked what he was seeing.

Aelin was talking animatedly to a tall brown-haired man. Rowan had never met him but he already disliked him. His feelings most likely had something to do with the way his eyes refused to move from Aelin’s breasts. His girlfriend, completely oblivious, was leaning over to reach for a drink, practically giving the brunette a show.

Rowan jumped slightly as a figure slid in the seat beside him. “Hey Rowan.” He said cheerfully.

“Hi Dorian.” Rowan replied kindly. He actually liked Dorian. Aelin’s best friend was funny and sweet and had always been incredibly nice to Rowan.

“Who is that?” Rowan asked, inclining his head in Aelin’s direction.

Dorian looked over and bit out a quick laugh. “Her ex. Chaol.” Rowan stiffened as a roaring noise entered his head.

Rowan had heard all about Chaol. He’d practically ruined Aelin. Destroyed every bit of self-confidence she had. She was barely making it out of what he’d done to her when Rowan had met her. He didn’t understand why she was talking to that dick-head now.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aelin run a hand down his bicep slowly. Before Rowan even knew what he was doing, he was up out of his chair and halfway across the room.

“Excuse me.” He said, stepping between Aelin and Chaol. She shot him an unimpressed glare. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” He asked her, his hand coming to down to grip her wrist gently. She pulled back from his touch but gestured for him to follow her all the same. Aelin led them through the kitchen of Fenrys’ apartment and into an empty bedroom. Shutting the door behind them, Aelin turned to face Rowan.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked calmly.

Rowan took a deep breath in, knowing immediately he was screwed. “I don’t know.”

She sighed and sat down on the bed, gesturing for Rowan to do the same. “What’s been up with you recently.” She asked softly.

Every inch of his body itched to tell her truth. That he loved her so much that seeing her with another man had made his chest hurt. Had made him so blind with jealousy that he’d become exactly the possessive asshole he despised.

But he couldn’t, so he settled on lying. “Nothing. I’m just jealous I guess.”

She snorted. “Jealous. Rowan we’ve barely been dating for four months. I was talking to an old friend. You had no reason to pull me away. You don’t own me for fucks sake.”

“Aelin he’s not just an old friend. That man quiet literally made you need therapy. You were a complete mess after him.” He bit back.

“I can handle myself Rowan.” She told him. There was anger forming in those blue gold eyes that warned him to stay away. Normally he would, but all sense of reason was lost on him tonight.

“Can you? Not to mention you were practically giving him a show.” Wrong thing to say.

“Oh shut up Rowan. It’s not my fault that you enjoy sitting alone in the corner. It’s my 21st birthday. I should be allowed to get stupid wasted and not have to babysit my 23 year old boy friend.”

“I’m fun.” He mumbled softly, batting his eyelashes at her.

“Oh please.” She spat, crossing her arms over her chest. Her breasts pushed up higher, and as Rowan ran his gaze over her body, he was struck dumb by her beauty once again. Her cheeks were tinted red from both a light dusting of blush and her lingering anger towards him. 

“I’m going back out to talk to Chaol.” She told him, moving suddenly towards the door. 

A sudden panic filled his chest and his stomach dropped. “Please don't.” He asked, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around. 

“Fuck Rowan.” She was yelling now, “Stop controlling me. I hate it. I fucking hate people telling me what to do.” 

“We’re in a relationship damn it. If I don't want you to talk to your ex than that’s a fair request.” He was being so incredibly irrational but somehow he couldn't stop the words coming from his mouth. 

“Than maybe I don't want to be in a relationship anymore.” She was speaking quietly now, but he still heard her. 

He froze up. His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to tune out the words that he only dared imagine in his worst of nightmares. “What.” He rasped, voice hoarse. 

“I can't be in another relationship where I don't have freedom. Where I can't make my own choices.” She hesitated slightly. “I’ll see you around Rowan.” 

She took one step towards the door and his whole world began to slow. Rowan had no idea what to do, what to say to keep her here with him. He only had one idea, and this time he didn't hesitate. 

“I love you.” He blurted, voice surprisingly level. 

Aelin, who had the door partially ajar, went very still. For a moment Rowan thought she might just leave him alone, and his heart started to sink. But then, ever so slowly, she shut the door and turned back around to face him. 

“You love me.” She repeated. Her eyes were wide and filled with a swirl of emotions he couldn't place. She didn't look angry though, and he took that as a good sign. 

He swallowed. “Yeah. I do. I’m sorry for being such a possessive dick. It won't happen again. I was just scared because I'm in love with you Aelin. The though of losing you is just too much for me and I - ” 

She cut him off with her lips against his. She kissed him like he was air and she was drowning. He was so consumed with her that for a moment he forgot their entire situation. At long last she pulled back, her hand tracing circles on his cheek bone. 

“I love you too.” She smiled at him. Unbridled joy was written on her face and Rowan nearly fell to his knees. Instead, he didn't the only thing he knew how to do. The only thing he ever wanted to do as long as he lived. He kissed her. 

[hoodwinkd1]

the stars that shine - Ch 3

Ch 2 here.

Chapter 3: I was sixteen when suddenly

“Excuse me, esteemed guests,” the herald called out. “A toast, from Queen Mother Georgina.”

The room silenced quickly, people putting down their dessert forks and picking up their flutes.

Hollin watched his mother rise, fixing her skirts and simpering at the crowd. “My dearest friends, thank you all so much for joining us for such a wonderful evening to celebrate Adarlan’s future.”

They couldn’t all be her dearest friends, could they? Considering Hollin didn’t recognize over half the faces, he highly doubted it.

“The fall harvest has produced more bounty than anyone predicted, so tonight is to celebrate the hard work of our farmers and all those who financially support them.” She paused for a moment, allowing light applause to flutter through the room.

He caught Dorian’s eye. Although the King looked engaged and supportive externally, Hollin could read the boredom oozing from him. They shared a look, both thinking that this dinner couldn’t celebrate farmers if none had been invited.

“And of course,” Georgina continued. “Tonight is celebrating my son as well. Happy birthday, Hollin. May this year provide even more success for you and the kingdom.”

She raised her glass against his, then sat down.

“Thank you,” he muttered, taking a large sip of champagne. “The dinner is...lovely.”

His mother preened. “Oh, of course my dear. Anything for your sixteenth.” She sighed and drank half her glass. “I cannot believe how grown up the two of you are. I remember, oh it feels like yesterday, when you first rode a horse--”

Her closest courtiers leaned in to hear the story, right as Hollin tuned her voice out. Only one glass, and he could sneak off while pretending to “work the room.”

Luckily, Dorian jumped in as soon as the story ended with him falling on a stable boy. “Hollin, would you join me? I spotted some people I should greet.”

His brother had been more supportive than usual in the past two year. After Hollin had begun his training, with a mortifying first lesson, Dorian had quietly stepped in to help. Although the two of them lacked the easy conversation between many siblings, they had come to some sort of arrangement. Hollin could find Dorian whenever he felt overwhelmed, without fearing judgment or scorn.

“Do you think she’s ever met a farmer?” Hollin wondered, as they navigated past tables. “Actually spoken to one before?”

Dorian chuckled. “I always forget how sheltered she’s been as Queen. Even during the damn war, Mother was too far away to interact with any soldiers or common people.”

“So was I.” The words flew out of Hollin’s mouth before he could think.

Dorian stopped walking. “What? You were a child.” He turned his head sharply. “Hollin, you can’t possibly feel guilty for-”

“Your Highnesses!” A family approached them. Hollin recognized the parents as Ladies Bernice and Nerissa Finnick, who oversaw much of the sea commerce in Rifthold, leading three of their children towards the princes.

Nerissa reached out a deep bronze hand. “Excuse the interruption. If you have a moment, Your Majesty, I would like to request a meeting for next week.”

Dorian took her hand and smiled warmly. “Of course. Hollin, have you met the Finnicks yet?”

Maybe his brother didn’t have his back all the time.

“Yes, Anya and I have had some classes together.” He nodded at the middle daughter.

Anya stepped forward as the adults began some boring conversation. “These are my brothers, Galen and Sebastian.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hollin responded, shaking both of their hands. He hated the formality these parties required, since most of his peers treated him quite casually in other settings. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

Galen smiled. “The food was excellent, so I can’t complain.” Hollin had to glance up to look at him, the whole family annoying tall, tan, and beautiful.

“Have you heard any news from Terrasen?” Anya asked. “From Evangeline?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, whether she simply meant to further the conversation or if she wanted a certain piece of information. “Nothing...particular, but the royal family seems to be doing well.”

“Ah, well. I’ve written to her a few times, but she hadn’t mentioned any plans to return. We all miss her so much,” Anya sighed.

Oh. Apparently everyone on this damn planet loved Evangeline and expected them to be best friends.

“I’m sure she knows she’s welcome here anytime.” Hollin took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more guests to greet.”

He was lying, of course. Hollin snuck into the kitchens as soon as he maneuvered past prying eyes, content to finish the evening with another round of dessert and absolutely no more niceties.

---

Thick snow layered Orynth, as it always did in late winter, but the dining room inside the palace was downright toasty. Evangeline’s gaze kept catching on the massive window across from her, the white powder falling down in countless patterns and twists.

“Excuse me, Queen speaking!” Aelin called out, tapping a knife against her champagne flute to command everyone’s attention. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Evangeline started at the interruption, turning away from the snowfall, as Lysandra rolled her eyes from the seat next to her. “Just keep it brief, Galanthynius. Today isn’t about you.”

Aelin pouted for a moment, garnering laughs from the table, then shrugged her shoulders. “Fair point.” The two women shared a grin before she turned to face the larger group.

“Today is about two of my favorite people,” she began. “Lysandra and Evangeline, I am incredibly happy that we all came together to celebrate such happy news.”

Aedion leaned across the table and caught Rowan’s eye. “‘Two of my favorite people’ and we aren’t even included? Pure misandry,” he muttered. The silver-haired Fae chuckled lightly.

“Exactly,” Aelin shot back. “Now hush, male. Eva, even with the most chaotic group of parental figures, has managed to grow into one of the kindest, wisest, and most genuine young women I have ever met. I hope this year brings you joy and fancy jewelry, both of which you deserve plenty of. Happy sixteenth birthday, my darling.”

Evangeline blew her aunt a kiss. She couldn’t put into words what this entire evening meant to her, how unbelievable it was that the Queen and King of Terrasen hosted her birthday dinner. She glanced down the table, smiling at all of the family and friends that looked at her with such love in their eyes.

“Lys,” Aelin continued. “My best friend. You took care of me, and so many other people in this room, when we needed it most, giving you more than enough practice for this next chapter in your life. I think I might actually be more excited than Aedion for this baby.”

Aedion leaned back in his chair. “Not possibly, cousin.”

“Didn’t I already hush you?” Aelin scrunched her nose. Evangeline held back a giggle at their dynamic. “Anyway, I can’t wait to force Adara to befriend your child, just so we all have another excuse to spend time together. Cheers to these two beautiful women.”

“Cheers!” The whole table cried out, glasses clinking and liquid sloshing.

Lysandra tapped her glass of sparkling juice against Evangeline’s. “I’m a bit sad that you get to drink alcohol while I can't. I always imagined sneaking you liquor on a ladies’ night.”

Aedion put down his juice as well. The couple had agreed that if Lys couldn’t drink, neither of them could. “I always wanted to take her to one of the taverns in Rifthold. Watch little Eva drink her first ale while taking men for all their worth in cards.”

“I’m not that good,” Evangeline laughed. “And anyway, this is a very classy way to have my first, proper glass of alcohol.”

“Proper?” Rowan interjected, bouncing the crown princess on his leg. “Does that mean you’ve had an improper drink before?”

Aelin gasped. “My devious little angel”

“No!” Evangeline scrunched her nose. “I just meant, first drink beyond accidental sips and tasting it from your glasses. You’re all horrible.”

Aedion shrugged. “My first drink was when I was fourteen. Stepped off the battlefield and took a very large sip of something disgusting.”

Lysandra patted his knee affectionately. “That’s a terrible story. We probably all had bad experiences during our first time.”

“First time? Lys, you make it sound like something dirty,” Aelin teased. “My first time was quite romantic-”

“Really? Bringing him up at a nice dinner?” Rowan drawled. “In front of our child?”

Evangeline finally stopped trying to hold back her laughter and huge smile. She would miss this family, miss the ease and joy that came with every conversation during her next round of travels.

----

Evangeline all but threw herself onto the lavish bed, too exhausted to even consider taking a bath, though she most definitely needed one. Banjali might be the loveliest city she had ever seen, if not remarkably warm in the early springtime.

She had a week left in Eyllwe, with most of that time spent travelling. Aelin had pulled her aside before her visit, and asked her if she would be prepared for a visit to Calaculla to demonstrate Terrasen’s grief for the horrors committed there. Evangeline, of course, agreed to the detour.

As if to make up for the depressing finish to her stay, the Ytgers’ had ensured her time in the capital city was as happy as possible. The younger crown prince in particular put in the most time and effort to show her around the city. Evangeline didn’t mind, not when Deji was nice enough to look at.

She sat up at the sound of a sharp knock. “Time for dinner,” Fenrys announced from the other side.

“I haven’t had any time to change!” Evangeline protested, scrambling towards the vanity, eyes widening in shock at the state of her hair. “I thought we had an hour!”

She didn’t love that this trip was chaperoned, but Lysandra and Aedion had insisted. The ship would travel past Skulls Bay, a place where Aelin had apparently made more enemies than friends.

“We would have had an hour, if you didn’t stop for cake on the walk back.” Fenrys opened the door carefully. “Can I come into the sitting room?”

“Ugh!” Evangeline huffed, pulling her hair out of its braids. She walked over to the entrance of her bedchamber and slammed the door between them shut. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

She could hear him pacing around. “If we get any snide remarks for being late, I’m tattling on you to Aedion.”

Evangeline stuck her tongue out, although he couldn’t see her. She didn’t have time for a proper reply.

Seventeen minutes later, the two of them walked down to one of the smaller dining rooms. The Queen stood at the entrance, looking impeccable as always. Evangeline looked...passable, clothed in a fresh, crimson dress and golden hair somewhat brushed.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she greeted. “I hope we aren’t late.”

The Queen waved her off. “Tonight is a rather small affair, do not fret. Lord Fenrys, I hope you don’t mind that we planned on separating the children from the adults tonight? The boys have a couple friends with them and they do hate it when we eavesdrop.”

Fenrys puffed his chest a bit at the use of his title. “Perfectly fine by me. Assuming you can handle yourself, Lady Evangeline?”

“Of course,” she responded, her polite tone at odds with the elbow she shoved into his side when the Queen turned to lead them in.

Kharis, the elder prince, walked up to them. “Good evening. May I escort you in?” He offered up his arm, which Evangeline took with one last wave to the adults.

He steered her towards another door that he opened to reveal a room with a much smaller table. She was met with four pairs of eyes, only one of which she recognized.

“This is Lady Evangeline, from Terrasen,” Kharis announced.

“Oh please, just Eva,” she insisted. “Pleased to meet you.”

One of the girls stepped forward. “I’m Athaliah, and these are my siblings, Jethro and Phebe.”

They all took their seats then, and luckily, conversation flowed easily. The three of them were not nobility, but their grandmother had served with the Queen’s father. Evangeline didn’t quite understand how he had managed to get his daughter on the throne after an alleged rebellion against the former King, but she didn’t think it polite to ask.

Phebe and Deji seemed to have some special connection, joking on a level that suggested intimacy. Evangeline forced herself to feel any sort of disappointment at their banter. Even if she thought he had flirted with her, nothing actually happened.

“Would you like a drink?” The boy of her thoughts interrupted the conversation Evangeline was currently having with Athaliah. “We nicked some spiced wine.”

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. Deji handed her a glass, seating himself next to her on the couch.

“Where will you go next?” Athaliah asked, continuing on. “Back to Terrasen?”

Evangeline nodded. “My ward, Lord Darrow, is expecting me back in a few weeks. We have some additional time, but quite honestly, I’m excited to sleep in a familiar bed again.”

“Our accommodations aren’t good enough for you?” Deji teased.

Evangeline scrunched her nose at him. “Of course not! But I am unaccustomed to this heat so early in the year.”

Jethro called for his sister, the others beginning to play a card game of sorts. She left them alone on the couches, Evangeline scrambling for something to keep the conversation going.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

Perfect. “How far is this ‘something’?” Evangeline brought the glass to her lips, enjoying the slow buzz of the wine.

Deji stood, holding out his free hand. “Not far. I wouldn’t dare make you walk for too long in this heat.”

She followed him out of the room, down the hall, and towards a large balcony that she hadn’t noticed before. He held open the opaque doors, gesturing for her to step out first.

Evangeline let out a small gasp at the view. From this angle, the ocean seemed endless, and the moon looked close enough to touch. Large, swaying trees framed the water’s edge. The entire scene glittered with starlight, more real than a painting, yet more beautiful than real life.

“This is...unbelievable.”

Deji leaned against the stone railing. “It’s my favorite view, especially at night. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see and hear the ocean most days.”

Evangeline joined him on the railing. “You might have ruined me as well. I’ll miss this dearly back home.”

They glanced over each other at the same time, bringing a heated blush to her face. His skin was too dark to show it, but she prayed she wasn’t alone in this feeling.

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted out, then immediately covered her mouth with her free hand. Oh gods, she might as well fling herself from the balcony now. Evangeline wanted to blame the wine, but truthfully, one drink hadn’t clouded her judgement at all. “I’m so sorry, that was--”

Deji cut her off, grabbing her hand gently and holding it in his own. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you.”

He leaned in then, pressing his lips against hers. Evangeline’s eyes fluttered shut, experimentally deepening the kiss and moving her mouth against his.

It was sweet, if not a bit clumsy and filled with nervous giggling. Everything a first kiss should be.

----

Dorian found him in the training ring, one morning. Hollin wanted to get reacquainted with walking up earlier, now that spring had arrived and the afternoons would soon be too warm for exercise.

"Do you need something?" he huffed, talking a second to chug some water. The endurance circuit was quite honestly kicking his ass.

His brother shrugged. "I feel bad that I didn't warn you last time, so I'm telling you in advance now. Evangeline and Fenrys Moonbeam will be staying in the palace for a few days on their way back from Eyllwe, arriving in one week."

Hollin spun on his heel, pretending to grab a towel to keep his face hidden. "It's a bit last minute for royal guests, isn't it?"

Dorian sighed. "They're dear friends, not courtiers. Perhaps we could do a more casual dinner, allow you the chance to get to know both of them better. I'm sure Fenrys would offer to train you a bit as well."

"Is that the purpose behind their visit? Give me training with a feared Fae warrior?" Hollin didn't cover the sarcasm in his tone.

"No, I believe Eva wanted to see her friends here, something she doesn't regularly get a chance to do. Are you done with the questions?"

"Yes. Fine. Whatever." He pushed himself up, abandoning the towel. A bath would do nicely for his aching muscles. "Add the required events to my schedule."

Dorian mumbled something under his breath, but thankfully turned to leave. Right before he re-entered the main hallway, he called out: "It wouldn't hurt you to have friends!"

"I have two!" Hollin called back. "Who needs more than that?"

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.” And “ you’re gonna hier yourself even more if you do stupid things like that” for Rowaelin

Thank you. This prompt is so hilarious and so Rowaelin, I love it.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶Masterlist

note: so idk if it's just me but I think y'all don't like this fic??? if I'm doing something wrong, let me know cause i can't figure it out!

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"Can we leave now?" Rowan asked.

Vaughan shook his head. His friend dismissed his question with an airy wave before he said, "If you want to leave so bad, why come at all?"

Rowan didn't know the answer to that. High school parties were not his scene, nor were social gatherings with more than five people. He had never attended one before and he had no idea what prompted him to come now. He ignored his friends' words, making his way towards the table where drinks and snacks were kept. The music blasted loud enough to cause a headache, students stumbled around in the cramped space with no semblance of balance or control whatsoever, smelling of sweat and alcohol.

His mood soured when he was elbowed in the ribs for the third time in the cramped drawing room. "If we can't leave, I am going out for some fresh air. Ring me up when we need to leave."

And then he walked out of the lake house towards the woods in the back, the cool wind a welcome relief from the humidity from inside.

Rowan halted when a familiar voice drawled out, "You are boring me, Finn."

Rowan turned to find Aelin Galathynius backed against one of the walls of the house, one hand stuffed inside her pocket while the other clutched a black heel in it and an insolent smirk on her face. Archer Finn stood in front of her with a few of his friends and a smug look on his face. Aelin's eyes darted between the three of them as if she was deciding who to aim the heel at.

"Oh, sweetheart," Archer chuckled, stepping forward. "It's cute how you think you stand a chance."

Rowan expected the girl to step back. She only smiled at the asshole—the kind of smile that promised nothing good. "Maybe but I bet I can hold you back until my friends come."

The grin faltered from Archer's face for a moment. "You are bluffing. No one knows you are here." Then he stepped forward again. Aelin stood her ground.

She yawned in his face, all arrogant and rude. "If I am bluffing, why is Rowan here? I am sure my boyfriend would love to show you how this will go." A jerk of chin turned all the attention towards Rowan. He schooled his face into neutrality as he stepped forward. This was stupid. She was smart, she didn't need his help to get out of trouble. He should have left.

But Rowan walked towards them, towards Aelin. "Take a walk with me?"

Then he turned his most withering glare towards the boys, daring them to stop her. Archer and his friends exchanged nervous looks, shuffling away. Once they left, Aelin released a relieved breath, slumping against the wall but the nervous tension hung in the air around the two of them. Then she lifted herself off the wall, walking towards the woods. When Rowan made no movement to follow, she looked back with a raised eyebrow.

"Aren't you coming? You are the one who asked me to take a walk with you."

Rowan nodded, making his way towards her. They walked in silence, Aelin looking around at the trees and the grass and anything she could find. Rowan had his eyes trained ahead in order to spot any broken branches waiting to attack them. Finally, the girl opened her mouth again, "Sorry I called you my boyfriend. That asshole won't leave me alone."

Rowan nodded in response.

They fell into silence again as they walked but this time instead of watching her surroundings, she was looking at him. "Are you sure you want me here? I can leave."

"I am sure," he said.

Aelin shook her head with a small sigh. "You refuse to talk," she said in quiet voice, halting beside him. It was strange seeing her quiet and calm. Normally, Aelin Galathynius was an overwhelming vortex of energy, shouting and skipping from one place to another—not this quiet, unsure person.

"It's not personal. I prefer to listen," he told her, halting beside her. Then he added, "You can talk about anything at all and I will listen."

She grinned, not her usual unrestrained grin but it was bright enough. "You will regret that. I talk a lot."

He shouldn't be here. Archer had left, she was fine and he had Vaughan to return to. His roommate had a tendency to make terrible decisions when drunk and he had left him alone for long enough. He should have returned but he only moved forward, pace slow enough for Aelin to decide if she wanted to leave or follow him further inside.

"Thank you," Aelin said, falling beside him. They found themselves a large boulder to sit on. "I can talk about anything I want to?"

When Rowan nodded, she started talking and gods, she did talk a lot. She talked about books and her favourite dishes and her friends and her parents. Sometimes, she talked so fast, Rowan had to concentrate extra hard to make sense of her words. When she was talking about something she didn't like, her eyebrows puckered ever so slightly and she picked at her nails unconsciously. Her turquoise eyes came alight with excitement when she talked about something she liked. Sometimes, she was so focused on talking, he had to remind her to breathe.

Rowan yawned, turning her attention towards him. "Bored of me yet?"

He shook his head. "Not bored. I am tired," he answered. He hadn't gotten much sleep after he had returned from the diner, had wondered why she behaved strangely after he had touched the bruise on her wrist, had wondered if there were more like that on her body.

Almost as if Aelin heard his thoughts, she tugged the sleeve of her black shirt down. Still, a small smile remained on her face as she climbed down the boulder. "You really will regret letting me talk all I want one day," she warned, flashing him one last smile though. "Aedion and Lorcan will be worried."

Rowan followed suit, walking her out of the woods in companionable silence. This time, she didn't say anything to fill the silence. With one last wave, Aelin walked away from him.

Gods, Rowan was screwed.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

"You son of a bitch," Someone shouted from the kitchen. "I will skin you alive!"

Rowan groaned. He was about to leave when he heard that voice, the one he had been listening to for a half hour before he returned to the party. Vaughan was waiting for Rowan outside the lake house now that everyone had started leaving and even the music had quieted down. Most people either crashed on the sofa or went home already. The ones who still remained were too drunk to drive or like Rowan, too tired to bother with it.

When Rowan peeked inside the kitchen, he found a drunk Aelin draped over the kitchen table beside the punch bowl.

"Ace, come on babe, we'll find a room and wait for Lor," her friend said.

The golden haired guy looked like he was done with Aelin for the night who refused to move from the couch. She grinned at him, flinging herself off the couch onto him. "Rowan!" He almost fell back on his ass at the collision, catching her just in time.

Her friend looked over at Rowan, eyes widening in surprise for a minute, then said, "Please help me get this diaster of a woman to a bedroom!"

"Who are you callin' disaster, Fenrys?" Aelin pouted, pulling back.

Fenrys rolled his eyes. "Will you please come wait with me in some room, Ace?"

"No! You called me disaster!" And then before Rowan knew what was happening, the punch bowl went flying towards Fenrys. He cursed, diving behind the kitchen counter for cover.

Aelin moved towards him, wobbling, then tripped over the bowl, hitting her head on the counter. The curses that escaped her mouth in return were vulgar enough to curdle all the milk in the world. She lifted herself off, almost crashing face first on the ground again but Rowan was prepared this time, catching her before she could fall.

"What you doin', Ro-Ro?" Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

Fenrys spoke as he rose from behind the counter, slowly backing out of the room. "Hold her still. I am calling Lorcan, he'll take her off our hands soon. Don't let her move." Then he was gone, leaving Rowan alone with a drunk Aelin.

Aelin shouted at her friend's retreating form. "No, leave me! I am not a damsel in distress. I am a damsel doing damage." As if to hammer her point home, she threw another glass in the direction where Fenrys disappeared.

They could hear him shouting into his phone. "No, she isn't listening... Get here fast, Lor... You don't think I tried?! Some help would be nice!"

When Rowan tried to hold her still again, Aelin thrashed wildly in his arms, flinging her limbs in all directions.

"Aelin, you are hurt," he said, rolling his eyes as he scooped her in his arms. "You are only going to hurt yourself more if you keep doing things like that."

She was beyond the point of listening though. Gods, if he believed sober Aelin was wild and stubborn, he didn't know what to call drunk Aelin. Fenrys stepped inside looking tired. "I am never letting her drink again for months. If you can, we should wait for Lorcan in the guest room. I have the keys, come on."

Rowan raised an eyebrow. "Why do I need to help? She is a handful."

Fenrys only waved a hand in the air in dismissal, whistling a bawdy tune as he led them towards the guest bedroom. Aelin had calmed down a little but Fenrys locked the room anyway in case that she went nuts again.

Rowan carried her inside, laying her on the bed, still unsure if she would be up and running in a minute. Aelin was frowning down at her palm red with blood. Indeed, the place where her head had collided with the kitchen counter was wounded, blood trickling out of the small gash. Fenrys cursed again, almost as vulgar a vocabulary as Aelin's. He nodded towards Rowan. "I will find her a first aid kit if you can stay for a few more minutes. Thanks for the help."

Rowan said, "I will stay."

Aelin sunk back into the mattress, glaring at the two of them, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'overprotective bastards' before she shut her eyes. Rowan smiled. Aelin Galathynius was smart and cunning and wild and insane. She was like a ticking bomb poised to explode but when she did, he had no doubt she would be the most gorgeous firework of all.

Rowan pushed the thought away from his head as soon as it came.

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hope you liked this chapter! let me know if you'd like to be tagged. feedback is super appreciated. 💖

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @judexcardanxgreenbriar //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx

[sasskarian]

Fanfic Masterpost ... sort of

In honor of Fanfic Appreciation, I put together a list of my fics for anyone who’d like to look 

Under the cut, because length

Dragon Age:

After the Glitter Fades (Glitterverse):  Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. (Long fic, WIP) Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. (*this is borrowed from @nug-juggler‘s excellent and shorter summary!)

Memorable quote:   Fenris observed candidly was something sacred. For a moment, Hawke fiercely wished she were an artist. The scene in front of her was too… every word she could think of— beautiful, elegant, breathtaking— was trite, a pale description of perfection. 

In the Heart of the Woods: Lavellan x Fairbanks rarepair. (WIP) Inquisitor Lavellan’s heart is broken by a certain Commander, Fairbanks has an appreciation for her, and a love story blooms like elfroot in the Emerald Graves.

Memorable quote:   This kiss, she thinks, two mouths moving in perfect unison, is a spell of its own. Not quite love, not yet, but close enough she can pretend it is. Hope wells up, a solid thrum beating in counterpoint to her heart, and for one perfect moment, the world just bows down and… stands still. All that exists, all that ever has existed or ever will exist is wrapped up right here, right now, in Fairbanks’ lips on hers. Motes of dust turn golden in the sunbeams splashing through the roof, and a touch— his thumb, her cheek— says a million more words than words ever could.

Yesterdays: Surana x Zevran, mild Surana x Alistair pining. Post Origins, complete. A Warden’s sacrifice means something only as long as someone remembers it. A king looks back, balancing regrets with happiness.

Memorable quote:   With a half-sob, he realizes he’s forgotten the sound of her voice. Oh, he remembers how it made him feel, all those years ago, all the glorious, shining moments where happiness dwells still. But what she truly sounded like, what sounds she made as she buried herself in books, the snap of her magic, the low buzz of her and Zevran whispering in their tent, all of that is gone. He knows it happened, but the memory is lit dimly in his mind, a torch burned too low to be flame but not low enough for embers yet.

If You Ever Did Believe (for my sake):  Lavellan x Cullen. (On temporary hiatus) A wary Commander. A lost Dalish mage. Two hearts beating alone and exhausted on a battlefield, their only rest coming from each other.

Memorable quote:   “Does your Maker hate us so much?” Isera asked bitterly, and for a moment, Cullen felt as though years had rippled, bringing his past self— still clanking through the halls of Kinloch Hold in Templar plate— and his current together. He’d asked Ser Greagoir the same question once, after a Harrowing went wrong and the body of a former apprentice lay at their feet. So much potential wasted, so much fear in the mages’ eyes after that. For once, Greagoir had shown a hint of emotion, clapping Cullen’s shoulder briefly before walking away, but hadn’t answered.

Voiceverse:  Lavellan x Solas/Dread Wolf. (WIP) Building off of the great works of @khirsahle and @athreehundredthirtythree. All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The lucky ones find their soulmates and forge a bond strong enough to threaten the very foundations of the Chantry. At least, that's what they claim. So what happens when a Dalish mage hears the voice of their most reviled and feared god shaping her dreams? 

Memorable quote:   Accompanying the thundering voice, great fissures ruptured around her hiding spot, green light streaking upward as they gathered into a roiling cloud. A wave of raw sound— howls, cries, pleas— rolled over her, forcing her to her knees. Iveani clapped her hands over her ears, losing her own scream among the agony thundering through the Fade. All caution, all her hard-won lessons about walking the Fade, vanished into the back of her mind under the need to simply ride out the explosion and survive.

Mass Effect:

Home is Where You Are: Ryder x Jaal (WIP). Ryder didn’t cross two galaxies and 600 years in search of love. But damn if she didn’t find it anyway.

Memorable quote:   “I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?” Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over and over one other.

A Song of Sea and Stars: Garrus x Shepard x Thane (WIP). Our favorite turian badboy sees right through the mask the galaxy’s most famous Commander projects. Neither of them expected to fall in love on a host of impossible missions. And both are taken by surprise by a pious Drell who steals both their hearts.

Memorable quote:   (He opens his eyes, shocked how it feels to look into her face, intimate and hungry. He hazily notices that up close, her eyes are thulium-gray. There's a hot, tight knot in his chest and she's pressed so close, he thinks he could count each faint freckle on her face.) (They look like tiny stars.) (…there are twenty-eight on her right cheek. Thirty on her left. And fourteen, right across the bridge of her nose.) (Those are his favorite. They remind him of his own markings.)

the sound of shattering glass: Generic Shepard, post-Tuchanka, pre-Citadel II. The Shroud explodes, taking a beloved friend with it. Shepard only has herself to blame.

Memorable quote:   “Damn Reapers,” he said, striving for nonchalance. “Always throwing us around.” “Banged us up pretty good,” she agreed, and he knew she wasn’t talking about their bumps and bruises. “So what do we do about them?” “Get back on our feet. Keep fighting.” Garrus hummed as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his neck. “Maybe find a way to use some really big canons I spend half my time adjusting.”

Star Wars:

He Might Like That: Mandalorian x Cara Dune pining. So they argue. So they took down Gideon, and have a magic green frog baby older than both of them. That doesn’t make them a thing. Does it?

Memorable quote:   He tunes back into the not-so-friendly argument in time to hear Greef splutter. “You trash talked while holding hands! If that’s not flirting, I’m a kowakian monkey lizard.” “It was arm wrestling, not holding hands,” Din points out mildly. 

Star by Star:  Post TRoS. Ben x Rey pining, Finn x Rey x Poe. Can three hopeless idiots in love fill a wound as deep as the death of a dyad? Maybe not, but they’re out to try anyway.

Memorable quote:   “You know,” Poe whispers, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “if we ever did tell him we loved him, he’d probably sleep right through it.” Rey touches her fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his questioning smile. It’s an invitation to play, that smile. A careful offer of love, of comfort. And though she’s not sure if he can really understand when even she doesn’t, she’s finally ready to try a little. 

Counting The Days (Since Exegol): Finn x Rey x Poe, Ben x Rey. Its been 42 days since Palpatine’s death. 42 long days since she felt the surge of light in Ben Solo. And in her dreams, something whispers on the edge of the Force. But she’s shut it down too tightly to hear it. 

Memorable quote:   True to form, Poe can’t resist the urge to kiss away Finn’s troubles whenever possible, and Rey looks away to give them a moment. Some love stories work out, yes, and she loves Finn and Poe more than almost anything else. But that doesn’t stop the way bitterness floods her mouth as the memory of Ben surfaces, and it isn’t until Poe gently squeezes her knee (and she throttles back the near-instinctive urge to break his fingers from a lifetime of fending off handsy scavengers on Jakku) that she comes back to the moment. His brow furrows and she reaches for him, smoothing out the lines of his frown with her thumb. “I’m okay,” she says, answering his unspoken question. It’s mostly a lie, but she has to say it. Most days, she’s okay enough.

A Language Made for Lovers: SWTOR (NSFW). Torian Cadera x Bounty Hunter, gender neutral. Reflections on love and marriage under the glow of hyperspace.

Memorable quote:   He murmurs in your ear, words that should sound harsh in that still-new tongue scalding your mouth, molding you from aruetii to mandalorian. But the love in his voice softens them, steeps them in warmth and adoration. Still the language of a hunter, of those brave souls willing to be reforged, but with a gentle side, a language reserved for lovers. Words like cyare and riduur, words that mean I love you and forever and home.

Malicious Compliance: SWTOR (NSFW). Malavai Quinn x Sith Warrior, gender neutral. Far away, in an apartment no one knows about, a Sith Lord plays dire games of control... and trust.

Memorable quote:   It takes a man with the courage of an entire fleet of Mandalorians to love a Sith, and oh, how he loves you. Like you hung the moons and the stars and all the spaces between. Like you are his other half, like loving you is his sole purpose in life, does Malavai Quinn love you. Your old masters spoke nothing of this, of this enraging hunger gnawing at your bones and curling into the hollows of your rib cage. ... Is it really even love if you don’t want to devour him just a little?

Misc:

Tumblr Prompts: Grab bag of every fandom and series listed above. Prompts filled originally here on tumblr.

Visual Files: Collections of art and commissions from talented friends and artists here on tumblr.

Every Beautiful Thing: Crimson Peak. Thomas x Edith, Edith x Alan. Edith learned, in the dark halls of Allerdale, not to take ghosts lightly. But still she waits, every year, for a chance to see Thomas again. Until the night their son tells her he can see him too.

Memorable quote:   Snow heralds nothing but pain in Edith’s world: first her mother’s funeral, smothered in fat white flakes wet on her lashes like tears, then her father’s. Smaller ones, then, rain slowly freezing and scattering on the ground; the ones that night at Allerdale were the smallest yet, more ice pellet than snow. Jagged, hateful things scraping at her with a cold that burned through skin and encased bone.…God, how she has come to hate the snow.

Where I Can’t Follow: Co-authored by @suspendnodisbelief. show!Witcher, mild Geralt x Jaskier. (Temporary hiatus) Drawing from a variety of inspiration, including greek mythos. Geralt takes a blow meant for Jaskier, finally granted the death by battle he expects Witchers to end by. And Jaskier is not having it, at all. It’s his turn to save Geralt, even if he has to walk the entire bloody underworld to do it.

Memorable quote: “Geralt, get up. Come on, open your eyes. You’re going to upset Roach if you keep this up, and she’ll bite me. You know you aren’t allowed to be dead, because Yennefer didn’t give you permission, and neither did the Princess, and I’m pretty sure they both outrank you.”  

[tearsofwinter]

NSFW. Lactation

LOL I wrote this for an Anon. Then deleted it when I purged my fics. Found it again and thought it was hilarious. So reposting. 

Fenris was a breast man. There was just something about a woman’s soft chest that drew and kept his gaze. Big or small- from Isabela’s ample cleavage to Merrill’s perky mounds- he admired them all.

“Pervert,” Anders called him. “Lecher.” The more the mage insulted him, the more Fenris bit and suckled the mage’s chest, earning himself pretty little moans from the cheeky blond.

Breasts. It wasn’t an obsession Fenris knew he had until he saw Anders’ upper torso riddled with love bites and bruised kisses; his deliciously pink nipples, swollen and red from the relentless attention Fenris lavished on them.

“I’m a man,” Anders once laughed, eyes fondly gazing down at Fenris, his fingers carding through silver hair. “Play with them all you like, but they’re never going to produce milk. You’ll have to find a woman for that. Maybe try Bela? The way she talks, sounds like she’s eager to warm your bed.”

“Perhaps, but you’re the only one warming it now.” Looking up, meeting Anders’ eyes, Fenris laved his tongue over the already well-loved teat. “I much prefer you.”

When Anders next smiled, it finally reached his eyes. He bent his head and tilted Fenris’ chin up, their lips meeting in a tender, chaste kiss. Mouth pleasantly occupied, Fenris rolled his thumbs over the mage’s chest instead.

“You know I mean it when I said I’m not a cow,” Anders said against Fenris’ lips, his laughter akin to an exasperated huff of breath. “You can’t milk me.”

“Maybe if I try hard enough, eventually I can.” Fenris playfully pinched a nipple, a crooked smug smile on his face when Anders’ moaned for him.

“Pervert,” Anders called him again. He half-heartedly shoved at the elf’s shoulder. “Degenerate.”

“Keep calling me names, and I’ll be forced to punish you.”

“Deviant.” Anders laid back in bed, drawing Fenris down on top of him. “Dirty old elf with white hair and obsession with a hairy male’s chest.” Whatever Anders wanted to say next, was devoured by Fenris as he claimed his mouth with a searing kiss.

That was weeks ago. Since then, Anders spent countless more nights in his bed, giving Fenris more chances to play with his favorite perky, pink nipples. They often joked about his profuse attention to Anders’ chest, flat and firm as they were. The most well told jokes, however, were often ingrained with a pinch of truth.

The door to the bedroom slammed opened. The ceiling shook from the force, showering Fenris in a layer of dust. His hand flew to the pommel of his sword but it was too late. The whirlwind of feathers and blond hair stood in front of him; golden eyes glared at him with molten fury.

“YOU! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Anders jabbed his finger- hard- into Fenris’ chest. “You and your stupid perversion!”

“Tsk.” Fenris swatted Anders’ hand away. “What is my fault, mage? Explain yourself or leave me be.”

“THIS!” Anders ripped open his robe and bared his chest. “Look at this!”

Fenris raised a brow. He saw nothing wrong or out of the ordinary. It was Anders’ torso, milky white with a dusting of gold hair, his rosy nipples as tempting as ever. “What am I looking for?” he drawled, obviously unimpressed.

A frustrated growl curled in Anders’ throat. He grabbed Fenris by the wrist, crushing the palm of his hand against his chest. There was no noticeable difference. None that Fenris could tell…until he tightened his grip.

Snatching his hand back as if burned, Fenris stared at Anders with an open mouth and wide eyes. Half numb, half in shock, he spoke, surprised to find his voice steady, “You’re…lactating…”

“Nooo, am I?!” Anders mockingly replied. “And here I thought it was so hot, I was sweating out of my teats, OF COURSE I’M LACTATING!” Shouting, he threw his arms up and flailed his hands. “You did this! You made me this way! You with all your suckling and pinching!”

Fenris tried to concentrate on Anders’ wailing- he really did- but it was difficult when the mage kept moving his hands as he talked. There was a certain…bounce to his chest now.

“I thought the tenderness I felt was because of all the love bites, but no. It’s because of over stimulation! Are you even listening to me?”

Fenris had to wrench his eyes from Anders’ chest back to his face, but he finally looked up. “Yes, I’m listening. Over stimulation. I… didn’t know that was possible. My apologies…”

It was the mage’s turn to click his tongue. “Tsk, I don’t even know why I bothered coming here. I should just heal this and be done with it.”

A faint blue light emitted from Anders’ hand, but before he could place it on his chest, Fenris’ iron grip stopped him.

“Wait,” the elf said, almost desperately. “Before you heal yourself…Can I…touch them?”

“I think you’ve done enough touching to last a lifetime!”

“Yes, and I apologized. In the future, I’ll curb my desires so this won’t happen again but for now, aren’t you curious?”

“About what?” Annoyed, Anders crossed his arms, unaware he was plumping his delicate mounds for Fenris’ viewing pleasure.

Mouth suddenly dry, Fenris licked his lips. “Well,” he said, reaching out delicately, “how does it feel to have breasts?”

Anders’ rolled his eyes. “How do you think it feels? Odd, weird, unnatural.”

“I just thought,” Fenris said slowly, “that it might feel good. You were always sensitive there. For example…” He lifted his hand, realizing with a certain remote part of his mind that his fingers were trembling from restraint, and cupped the sweet heaviness of Anders’ breast. “What does that feel like?”

Anders blinked. More than truly angry, he was initially annoyed, but at Fenris’ touch, even that melted away into sensation. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged, only intelligible sounds.

Grinning, Fenris reached out with just one fingertip and ran it over the curve of Anders’ breast. “Beautiful,” he murmured. The finger trailed over pale pink, touched his nipple, and Anders jumped. “I’ve heard that nursing mothers’ find this quite pleasant.”

“I’m not a nursing mother.” Anders’ voice was husky and a little irritated. Fenris adored it.

The elf hummed in response, neither denying or agreeing with Anders’ statement. He was too focused on the prize in front of him to answer. He curved both his hands around the mage’s breasts, loving the sweet, firm, softness he found there.

Anders bit his lip to keep from moaning, but his body was brutally honest. His tender chest was heavy; it ached from the building pressure of undrunk milk. The entire day, he avoided touching himself, too awkward and ashamed to truly examine his new set of breasts. But Fenris’ hands offered blessed relief from the pressure. Large callused hands, rough from swordplay, brushed against his chest and Anders whimpered even as he leaned into the touch.

“Does that feel good?” Fenris asked. His voice changed. Not mocking or tense, the way it sounded when they first met. Rather than chase him away as he used to, his voice urged him to stay. It was deeper, full of desire and need for him.

Anders nodded. Fenris’ palm came hard across his nipples and Anders shivered from anticipation, for more. Fenris did something else with his thumb and the blond flinched back.

“Too much?”

“Too sensitive,” Anders said, blush forming on his cheeks when he realized beads of milk were leaking out from his peaks. He made to cover himself, but Fenris shook his head and gently placed a hand on his arm.

“Allow me,” Fenris said, talking around the tightness in his throat, the groan that wanted to come out. “Please.” He pulled Anders to straddle him in the chair, arms wrapped securely around the mage’s slim waist.

Warm breath brushed against Anders’ skin, caressing his nerve endings awake as it pulsed against the naked flesh of his torso.

“Kiss me,” Anders demanded. He caught Fenris by the hair on and pulled. The elf looked at him, his emerald eyes darkening to pitch black desire. “Now,” he begged.

“Like this?” Fenris asked, a glimmer of laughter in those wicked eyes of his. He dropped a polite little kiss on Anders nipple, coming away with his lips glistening with milk. He licked it clean and hummed with approval.

Anders shook his head.

“Like this?” he inquired, giving Anders just a tiny lick.

Anders’ hips bucked, but it wasn’t enough. “Fenris!”

Laughing, enjoying the scowls thrown his way, Fenris bent his head and put his mouth to Anders’ breast. His lips closed around a nipple and shaped Anders’ other breast with a rough hand. The blond’s arms fell from Fenris’ shoulders to his side, boneless. Fenris started suckling him, and Anders’ head fell back. Harder, and a muffled little sound hung in the air.

Like a knowing lover, he teased Anders’ chest, making his nipples harden and ache. The mage moaned and arched restlessly against him. His arms wrapped around Fenris’ head, clinging. More tongue, more lips- whatever it was that was drawing pleasure after pleasure from his chest. Fenris mouth was on him, insistent and hot. He gave himself over, letting Fenris tease and nip his nipple while his hand busied itself with his other breast. He moaned, burying his face into Fenris’ hair, needing the touch and taste of him.

Fenris’ body was rigid, throbbing, answering to Anders’ wild exhibition. Sweetness filled his mouth, full and thick when he gently bit the mage’s swollen teat. He drew more into his mouth, sucking hard, switching between laving the nipple with his tongue to nibbling it between his teeth. His tongue swiped over the hardened tip, and Anders’ ground his ass against Fenris’ cock, making them both groan from the friction.

Fenris drank greedily, like a man dying from thirst. Anders’ milk was sweeter than any nectar, more filling than any honey. Addicted, he couldn’t get enough. He embraced the abandon of the erotic moment, letting his hands search Anders’ body, finding the hard heat of him that lengthened under his touch.

“Fenris,” Anders sobbed, undulating his hips in tune to the elf’s strokes.

Fenris took the mage’s desperate cry as a sign. He drew one last mouthful and cupped Anders’ face. When they kissed, traces of milk dripped down from between their mouths. It was too much for Anders, tasting himself in their kiss. The coiling heat in his abdomen ruptured. He tensed, arching his back, crying out as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his body. His came in Fenris’ hand, cum splattered between their stomachs.

“I suppose that answers my question.” Fenris chuckled, and he never chuckled. “That good?” he asked, planting soothing kisses along Anders’ sweaty brows, his freckled cheeks, and his stubbled jaw. Anders murmured something that not even his elven ears could decipher. “What?”

“I said we’re not done.” Anders grabbed Fenris’ hand and pressed it against his breast, the one Fenris neglected and left full. “This one still hurts.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” As Anders used Fenris’ hand to massage his breast, Fenris smiled. He rubbed his thumb over the enlarged nipple, reveling in the way Anders’ sighed his name.

“This is your fault,” Anders said, ripping his shirt off of his body and throwing it to the side.

“We’ve established that already.”

“So take responsibility and make me feel good.”

Fenris laughed at Anders’ petulant pout. “Let’s move somewhere else where I can do just that.” With ease born from training, Fenris carried Anders to bed.

 I hope this is okay anon. There’s not much playing involved sadly… (Because originally, I wanted to write Fenris boob fucking Anders, so this is super tame in comparison). I admit, this fic was a challenge to write. I…actually avoid writing breast play or nipple play because the lack of synonyms LOL. There’s really only so many times you can use nipples before it starts becoming funny looking haha. I had fun writing this nonetheless.

There were several ideas I played around with, but I finally settled on over stimulation causing Anders to lactate because the ideas is just HILARIOUS to me. Haha poor Anders, in love with a boob fanatic HAHAHA. Cracks me up.

[human-trash-fire]

Shot Through The Heart Ch7 (part 2)

FUCK IT Y’ALL. Here is part2 (part 1 here) aka THE START OF THE SMUT.

****Below is EXTREMELY EXPLICIT Lysaedion. Be Warned.******

This is my first time writing full on smut, so be kind to me lolol. I’m super sorry if it’s too much for some people, but I’m a hoe so I write like one. 

sorry for typos.

Here goes nothing.

*posts this then goes and hides* 

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT (part 2)

Lysandra:

When the ball ended, the group piled into a limo and headed for The Palace. Their friends planned to meet them there, and changes of clothes had already been delivered thank gods. Lysandra was buzzed and ready for a night of mischief. She knew Aedion would be joining as part of the surprise welcome committee. She couldn’t wait, with Gavriel, handsome and companionable, she knew she had just the bargaining chip. She was tired of games, of flirtation and innuendo. She wanted Aedion, and tonight was the night. 

The group made their way to the elevators, the Cadre clearly anxious and excited. “Your bags were delivered earlier, so you’ll be able to change when we get up to the rooms,” she said loud enough for them to hear. As the elevator pinged and she made her way through the doors with Aelin and Elide, leading the way to the set of french doors in the center of the hall she felt her nerves spike.

“Welcome to the party boys,” Aelin crooned and swung the doors wide. Manon and Asterin, better known as the DJ duo Thirteen were spinning a remix of some 20’s inspired mix. Dorian was yelling at Chaol over what appeared to be an intense game of champagne pong, her breath caught when she landed on Aedion. She smiled, never one to let her nerves show. He was with Ren and the two were cheering on the pong game while others milled through the room. She spotted Ansel and Rolf, Ilias and some more members of the bane pouring shots and dancing.

“NO WAY!” Fenrys half shouted, and that seemed to bring the room to a minute standstill.

“Let’s have a little fun boys,” Lysandra purred, and the gathered party hoisted glasses in a cheer.

Some time later, after making the rounds in her gorgeous dress and ensuring she had Aedion’s eye, Lysandra changed into her bathing suit and cover up and made her way towards Gavriel. They’d been talking all night, about random things, and she used every opportunity to touch him and smile knowing full well the burning she felt between her shoulder blades were the result of the eyes she wanted on her. She wasn’t callous though, she told Gavriel she needed this favor, and he was more than happy to oblige. Apparently he found games like this moderately amusing, and had a girl he was talking too anyways, so there was no harm.

At one point, Gavriel had hoisted Lysandra atop his glorious shoulders so she could face off with Aelin and Fenrys in a game of chicken in the pool. Aedion’s eyes were swallowing her whole, and his jaw was locked, she knew he was just where she needed him. Following her last round she fell from Gavriel’s shoulders and made her way to the edge of the pool, cresting the water in dramatic fashion at Aedion’s feet. She smiled, coy, and purred “something the matter?”

“Mmm,” he grunted. 

“I’m thirsty, let’s get a drink.” She held up a hand so he could pull her from up and against his chest. For a moment they just breathed, lips too close, eyes locked. Lysandra shook her head, and made to head towards the bar when she felt a tug on her wrist. Looking back Aedion was clearly gearing up to say something when he finally spoke. 

“Follow me..” and he lead the way from the pool towards his suite. Finally, she thought

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

This brunch fucking sucked, if she was being quite honest. Dorian was going out of his way to make sure everyone was feeling the awkward repercussions of what they did last night.. Or maybe it was just her? I’m too godsdamned hungover for this shit, she thought. She growled under her breath and reached for a bagel. Carbs solved everything.

Aedion was across from her, she was grateful that her sunglasses currently hid her eyes, she didn’t want him to have confirmation she was staring. She felt so damn guilty…

It wasn’t his fault…

She felt like such an idiot….

I need to get Aelin alone, ASAP. FUCK.

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

The moment the door closed Aedion shoved Lysandra against it, his lips crushing hers, one hand in her hair while the other gripped her waist in bruising fashion. She opened her mouth to him and as their tongues met, she moaned. The kiss was lightning, it was a blizzard, a battle. It was 2 years of foreplay, of almosts and what ifs. The kiss was a culmination of late night calls, tears shed in secret, and inside jokes. The kiss was world ending.

Lysandra tugged the hem of his shirt, and he released her hip to reach over his shoulder to pull it off, one handed. Only breaking contact to toss it to the floor. Heat pooled in her core, Gods he was glorious. Aedion moved to her neck, biting and sucking little bruises from the shell of her ear down her shoulder, his hands pulling at the ties on the sides of her bikini bottoms.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he growled against her skin. Her bottoms fell to the floor with a wet plop, and his hands moved to the ties on her top making quick work of the tiny green garment. 

“I know,” she breathed, tossing her head to the side to give him more access.

She palmed the tented front of his swim trunks, and he practically keened, breaking free from her neck to suck a pert nipple into his mouth. His right hand sliding down her stomach, a possessive, full handed graze that lead him straight between her thighs.

Without preamble his middle finger slipped between her folds, “Aedion.” she moaned and continued to work his cock over his pants. More, she thought. And as if he could read her mind he shoved a second digit inside her, curling both to reach the spot that would make her scream “GODS” and throw a leg over his hip. 

He played her like a guitar, thumb circling her clit and fingers slick, bringing her closer and closer towards release. She started to shake, and he brought his other arm around her lower back to steady her before simply saying:

“Come.”

Lysandra saw stars..

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

“Lys!” Asterin snapped.

“Mmm?” She tuned back into the conversation at the table, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. A slight wetness there, even amidst all her friends. Fuck.

“I asked if you needed a refill, you’re looking a little flushed and thirsty over there.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Lysandra growled. She didn’t miss the chorus of snickers along the table, or the fist bump the Thirteen did while tossing back their drinks.

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

Aedion lifted Lysandra, back still against the door, her shaking legs wrapped his hips. And pulled back just to look at her.

“You’re so beautiful when you come for me baby.”

All she could do was pant, and fumble haphazardly at the waistband of his trunks. Ever obliging, he held her aloft with one arm and pushed his shorts past his straining cock where they fell unceremoniously around his ankles. He looked back up to her, eyes suddenly wide with shock.

“Fuck, condom.” He barked, clearly disappointed he hadn’t thought this through.

“Birth control,” Lysandra responded grabbing him with her right hand and lining him up with her entrance. “Pull out, I trust you.” One of her more stupid moves but she couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Fuck” they chorused as he sheathed himself in one swift movement. Filling her entirely. He waited, eyes locked to hers for her to adjust. She nodded just once, and said “Give me everything” before slamming her lips to his. 

His rhythm was relentless, muscles in his arms standing furiously at attention. Lips bitten, tongues dancing, his thick cock slamming into her over and over again. A litany of “gods baby” and “Lys” and “fuck” and “so tight”

She rode him, thrusting down with every bit she could give while still pinned to the wall, and as her orgasm came she screamed “Aedion” into his shoulder.

Three more stuttering thrusts and he was pulling out, hand pumping his shaft between them. His orgasm was explosive, white ropes of cum coating her stomach and breasts. Her name on his lips. His head thrown back, sweat matted curls falling about his face. He looked like a God.

They were panting, as she slowly slid from his arms, feet once again on solid ground, albeit on shakier legs. Slowly he reached to her, holding her jaw in his large hand and bending forward to place a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

“That was…” he said, his forehead against hers.

“Yeah.”

“Let me get you a towel.” he stepped back and turned towards the bathroom before spinning back and asking “Will you stay?”

Lysandra nodded. Aedion smiled.

That night, curled into his chest as he stroked her back she found herself on the knife’s edge of sleep. Her breathing steady, when she felt him kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Lys.”

FUCK.

Her blood ran cold. She stayed still, this had clearly been a confession meant to be said to a sleeping Lysandra, so she feigned just that. 

She waited, for his breathing to level out and his grip to loosen and as small snores escaped she slithered from his bed. Lysandra wasn’t ready for love. She wasn’t ready for whatever the fuck he thought this was. 

She grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it on, then scooped her bathing suit from the floor and opened the door slowly. 

With one last look back at his sleeping face, the slight smile playing there, she felt her heart break. A tear made its way down her cheek.

And then she was gone.

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

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[highqueenofelfhame]

ok if you did the mob au, i would die yes please!!! “You and me, we were destined to fall apart.” oooooffff yesh

okay i have two for this bc i asked hannah to submit one for this but hannah added something else SO there will be another part. 

It had been three months.

Three months since Aedion had been at what Aelin now referred to as the Compound, unaffectionately. Over three months since she’d been anywhere but the Compound. Three months of her only company being the Cadre, one of whom seemed to hate her with a special kind of ferocity. Likely because somehow, she now outranked him, and it wasn’t sitting well with his dumb male ego. 

She was going absolutely stir crazy. She was losing her mind. 

Rowan didn’t seem to really understand the extent of it. Aelin chalked it up to him leaving relatively frequently for business that he refused to take her on. Even though they all knew that she could handle and take care of herself, thank you very much. Never in her life had she been stuck inside for such a long period of time and she was losing her mind. 

Sure, she had the grounds to walk on. This place had apparently been one of her father’s. A place he had built with her in mind, it seemed, because every skill she’d ever learned as a child had a home somewhere on the land. Archery? Check. Gun range? Check. Pianoforte? There were two of them, one of which was recently brought in by Rowan when Aelin had mentioned the other one was out of tune. Apparently it was easier to just buy a brand new baby grand piano instead of kidnapping someone to tune the keys for her. It had been met with an eye roll, and then she’d promptly sat and began to play.  

All of it was nice, it gave her something to do, but she was still tired of being there, tired of the same faces rotating on her watch. 

It was sometime in the sixth week when she’d started to pull away from Rowan, and sometime at the end of the seventh when she’d decided that this wasn’t the life she was supposed to live. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for. To be fair, she wasn’t sure what she’d signed up for when she’d agreed to stay with him at all other than his time and love, and lately she wasn’t getting much of either. But maybe that also had to do with how she was freezing him out. 

It was like he hadn’t noticed though. Or if he did, he didn’t care enough to do anything about it. 

“Let me go with you,” she’d begged a few days before, when he’d been stuffing a duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries that he would need for whatever trip he was going on that he wouldn’t give her details of. 

“No.” It had been a simple answer. A question he’d not bothered to contemplate, didn’t care to give thought about. It was always no when she asked. No to going, no to being given any information about where he was even going to be. There were so many secrets around him still, secrets that she had expected to come out by now. Secrets she had expected him to share with her but she knew as much about him and the enigma surrounding him as she had the first day she’d fallen onto his lap. 

But she couldn’t do it anymore.

She couldn’t handle the lying, the vague answers, the dismissive tone he sometimes took with her. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, because she did. It was that loving him seemed to come at such high a cost, the sacrifice so large on her part where he didn’t bend or sway at all. And Aelin wasn’t that kind of woman, never had been. It was why she and Chaol had never worked out. Aelin Galathynius was not a woman that you worked into submission. She did not yield, not to anybody. Not even to Rowan. 

So when Rowan got back at the end of the eleventh week, the look in her eyes was already dim and vague. Parts of her were broken for what she was about to do, parts of her were just broken for thinking he’d relent anything and share any of it with her at all. But mostly, she was just tired, and she wanted to go back to her home. She wanted to go back to the freedom of leaving her house anytime she wanted to, to dinners and lunches with Aedion. Some small part of her even wanted to go back to bickering with Chaol if only because poking and prodding at him would prove she had any bite left to her at all. 

“What are you doing, love?” His voice had startled her, but she kept moving, kept shoving all of her belongings into different bags that were laid out all over the bed. Aelin couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t see the look in his eyes when she dealt the killing blow that she was leaving him, so she kept her work up at an even pace.

“I need out of here Rowan. Away from the Compound,” she said, deciding maybe she owed him so much to meet his eyes. “Away from you.” Rowan, however, merely sighed. 

“What’s this about?” 

“It’s about you not letting me do anything. It’s about you leaving me locked up here like I’m an animal bound to a cage -”

“That is not true and you know it,” he cut her off with unforgiving ice in his words. Fine. She wasn’t locked up here. He let her do whatever she wanted on the forty acre property. She was hardly an animal in a cage. But she still wanted more.

“You don’t let me leave, you don’t let my friends come and go as they please it’s only when it works for you, which by the way, is bullshit.” She was a cobra spitting venom. “You give me no freedom. You keep so many godsdamned secrets that I don’t know how you manage not to drown in them. You tell me nothing. When I agreed to stay here it was as your equal and instead you have been treating me like I am below you. Like I am weak and do not tell me it’s for my safety because I can handle myself.” Aelin wasn’t sure when she’d started crying, but here she was wiping at cheeks with frustrated fists.

“Don’t you think I know that?” His voice was too calm for the conversation as he approached her, brushed her hair behind her ears. “It isn’t that you can’t take care of yourself, love. I know you can. But if something happened to you -”

“You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You’ve said. But I can’t… I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t this. And maybe you and me were just destined to fall apart. I don’t know but I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I need some sense of normalcy and you can’t give it to me so I’m leaving..”

Rowan leaned against the bedpost, watching her carefully. The determined set of her jaw, the way she folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin slightly to prove her mind was made up.. She didn’t move from where she stood, merely shifted her eyes to the fire in the corner of the room. 

“Are you done?”

“Am I done?” She hissed, throwing the phone she had just picked up to pack into the dresser before reaching out to shove him back from her. But he caught her wrists in his hands, passed them off to one, and wiped the tears that stained her cheeks.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he said, finally. 

“Did you not just hear anything I said to you? Or are you that fucking insane? I don’t want you to make Fenrys pretend to be the waiter and make Lorcan play shoddy piano while we eat. Gods, Rowan.”

“Aelin, love, I’m trying to compromise. So please shut that beautiful, sinful mouth of yours and go put on a dress for dinner. We’ll leave in an hour.” Before she could object, he’d leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. Before she could pull away or melt into it, he pulled back and moved toward their closet, already unbuttoning the white shirt he wore. 

Well. That certainly hadn’t gone as she had planned.

@tangledraysofsunshine @shyvioletcat @starseternalnighttriumphant @tonystarksbish @vi0let-femmes @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior

[fandomn00blr]

What does Marian’s household look like physically and what is the vibe? How are Fenris and Anders getting along, being married to the same woman? Do the kiddos look obviously like/take after one of them or the other? How do the 3 of them divide parental duties? -Your secret Palentine!

Thank you, Secret Palentine! 

Ah, domestic fenhanders

Under a cut, because it ended up being super long…

“We have enough elfroot to heal an entire army, Anders. Why do you keep planting more?”

Hawke hated harvesting the stuff and unlike Anders, she preferred not to think about all the situations they could possibly find themselves in which might require such a quantity of the healing herb. 

Fenris, on the other hand, had come to appreciate the work of tending to their family herb and vegetable gardens…it was like meditation to him, so long as Hawke was far enough away that her cursing could be tuned out, or the children, working and playing alongside him, weren’t intent on asking too many questions. Or Anders wasn’t chattering incessantly at him about Maker-knows-what. Luckily, Anders often managed to get out of the majority of the harvesting by keeping the children occupied. So there was usually just the matter of Hawke to worry about.

Anders laughed. “I like to plant it so that Fenris has something to do. Plus, elf…root. Geddit? Huh?”

“No.” Fenris deadpanned as he squatted back down to begin harvesting another row. “Please…explain.”

Anders stuck his tongue out at him before turning back to Hawke. “But seriously, though, there’s no such thing as too much elfroot.”

“I could probably harvest it alone much more efficiently…” Fenris drawled.

“I’m helping…aren’t I?” Hawke held up a plant she’d ripped out of the ground and waved it at them before hissing and dropping it. “Maker’s balls! Why does a healing herb have such evil little pickers on it?!”

Before either of them could answer her, Leandera came running toward them from the other side of the cottage, out of breath.

“Papa! Malcolm was just practicing his magic without adult supervision!” she gasped.

“Is anything on fire or frozen or stuck in the Fade?” Fenris asked, wearily.

“Umm…no. He was just shooting sparkly things into the air. It was really pretty actually, but, but…he was using MAGIC!”

Even though she was normally very obviously Anders’ daughter, with her unruly strawberry-blonde hair and her freckles and his nose, she actually looked a lot like Fenris in this moment.

“And then when I asked him to keep doing it, he stopped.”

Ah, yes. There it was. So this was merely a revenge tattle.

Fenris sighed with a little bit of relief, eyeing Anders. This was his area of expertise, after all.

Anders leaned down, beaming close to Leandera’s face. “What kind of magic was it?” 

He didn’t even try to hide his excitement, even though he was the one who had suggested the rule for their son in the first place as an attempt to demonstrate to Hawke and Fenris that he could be responsible. He was, unsurprisingly, also the least likely to enforce any consequences when the curious young mage broke it.

“I dunno. It was…bluish? Greenish? A little pink at the end? Really sparkly, though!”

“So long as there was no blood involved or reanimated corpses, it’s probably fine…right?” Hawke shrugged.

Fenris grumbled something to himself and then resumed his work with the elfroot.

“But Daddy,” Leandera whined. “You told Malcolm he wasn’t allowed to do any magic without you or another adult…”

“You’re right, of course, Lele…” Anders nodded, trying to look very serious. “I’ll go speak with him at once. And then…” he whispered, just to her, “Maybe we can make more sparkly things together for you?”

“Okay!” Leandera went skipping ahead.

Anders turned back and shrugged at Hawke and Fenris.

“Why did we ever decide to let him get involved in raising our children?” Fenris muttered.

Hawke laughed. “It was your idea! You pulled him out of the Fade! I just wanted to stay mad at him forever…”

“Oh…right. Perhaps it’s not too late to send him back.”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW?!” Anders called out from the other side of the cottage.

“WE MEAN WE LOVE YOU AND HAVE NO REGRETS WHATSOEVER ABOUT THE COURSE OF EVENTS THAT HAS LED US TO THIS LIFE WITH YOU!”

“I THOUGHT THAT’S WHAT I HEARD YOU SAY…”

Hawke smiled and shook her head fondly. “You just had to go and be in love with him, too, huh?”

“I truly do not regret a thing.” Fenris stood up determinedly and kissed her.

Hawke pulled slowly away, a satisfied grin across her lips as she let the familiar taste of him – citrus and metal and faint floral notes – linger. “Mmm…it hasn’t been easy, though, has it?”

“Nothing worth doing ever is.”

“Did you read that cliche bullshit in one of Varric’s books?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I believe it’s something you once said…”

“Oh shit, yeah.” She winced. “I was drunk, though, so it doesn’t really count, does it?”

“Well, I still appreciate the sentiment.”

“Ok, but like, be honest, now that Anders is out of earshot…this is excessive, right? The elfroot I mean?” She gestured out across the expansive herb garden.

There were a few stalks of embrium, and a small patch of deathroot, but their overflowing herb garden was almost entirely planted with elfroot. Their pantry and cellars were already full of it in its various dried and preserved forms, and they had enough potions to supply the entire Denerim City Guard for a month.

Fenris took a deep breath. “He worries. About you, about the children, about me. About the unsettled state of the world. And if hoarding elfroot gives him some relief or comfort in that, then I will gladly indulge him. It’s harmless, at least. Helpful, even, to have an overzealous healer for a husband…and I really don’t mind harvesting it.”

“Why are you such a better person than me?” Hawke groaned.

“I’ve lost both of you before. I won’t take either of you for granted again.”

“I don’t take you…or him…for granted!”

“I know. But you two, this family…” Fenris’ voice had gone hoarse. He tried to clear his throat, but the words wouldn’t come, only the glistening of tears in his eyes.

“I know.” Hawke pulled him into her arms before they could escape. “I love you. You make me want to be a better person. Even if I fall short of the ridiculous standards you and Anders set by example for our children.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

Anders had come back around after his ‘intervention’ with Malcolm had ended in a combined fireworks display that had Leandera shrieking with glee and Malcolm smiling mischievously at him…a parenting win, he was certain.

He watched Fenris and Hawke, a warm smile on his face, not wanting to interrupt whatever tender moment they’d been having just between the two of them. He loved the quiet, steadfast way they loved each other, and he even enjoyed admiring it from a distance sometimes, as something unique and different from the ways they each loved him.

“Come here,” Hawke waved him over.

“I didn’t know if this was meant to be a group hug or if you two were having a ‘moment.’”

“We were,” Fenris huffed. “But when has that ever stopped you before?”

Anders grinned and wrapped his long lanky arms around them both. Fenris was nearly smothered between the two of them, and he feigned an obligatory amount of protest but nuzzled in against Anders’ chest far too quickly to convince anyone that he actually minded. 

“Did you convince her not to kill me again?” Anders asked.

Hawke kissed Anders’ cheek as he drew in closer, a wordless ‘thank you for dealing with the children’ before her smile became more menacing. “No, but he managed to make me feel just shitty enough about myself to hold off a bit longer.”

“Ah, good.” 

The three of them stood in their huddle for awhile, savoring the brief moment of peace and comfort that had settled over their often-chaotic, messy lives.

Anders finally pulled away with a sheepish grin. “I told Malcolm he could do magic tricks to entertain his sister, but that he was not allowed to aim anything directly at her and he wasn’t allowed to make any fireballs or ice blasts or Fade fists or…well, he seemed to get the idea, anyway, that he wasn’t to use any kind of combat magic or anything without one of us present.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like an easy policy to enforce with a four-year-old,” Fenris muttered, trying not to laugh.

“He’s a very precocious four-year-old!” Anders exclaimed.

“Exactly…”

“Well, at least Leandera will be sure to let us know if he violates any of these new rules,” Hawke offered as reassurance.

…

[talesfromthefade]

Anders x Fenris (Wings!AU, Legacy DLC) , for @dadrunkwriting​ & @contreparry​

Fenris listens as Hawke and Anders idly banter about the possibility of the mage setting up some kind of a new clinic or home for himself in the underground fortress they’ve stumbled upon in the mountains. It’s all in good fun, making light of a bad situation, but Fenris can’t seem to help the way his stomach twists at the mention of Anders living somewhere so remote. So far from himself. It’s a foolish thought, the mage’s “home” in Darktown, is the best that Anders can make it, but it’s still in the city’s sewers, among the refugee slums, surrounded by Carta and occasionally patrolled by Templars. It isn’t pretty, or even all that safe. It’s little wonder Anders has never felt safe with taking the risk of unbinding and stretching out his wings.

Anders has come back again a few nights since the first time Fenris invited him back to the mansion. Usually, as with the first time, after a few drinks and the sunsets while they’re playing cards at the Hanged Man with Varric. Fenris hasn’t managed to come up with a way of asking Anders to visit or stay more often. It was something of a surprise when the desire had first struck him that he might want to in the first place, but he’s long since come to see the healer isn’t just any mage or anything like the ones who’ve wronged him. It’s only now, hearing Anders talk about how he might make this place his home, even in teasing, that Fenris realizes he’d much rather he make a home with him. Not that Anders could possibly wish for that.

He’s friendly. Even their arguments, although they generally agree to disagree, are nowhere near as hostile as they once were. And he’s a good listener. A good friend, Fenris thinks. But sharing the occasional meal or evening together, even allowing the elf to groom his wings now and then doesn’t necessarily mean anything else, and Fenris isn’t about to risk this peace and friendship between the two of them by asking for something more than he can give.

Fenris does his best not to think about them being another level lower underground, pushes away the memories of being locked in and left behind by Varric’s brother in the Deep Roads, tuning once more into the conversation of his companions, and immediately regrets it. The elf tastes bile in the back of his throat as Anders explains the commitment one makes when they join the Wardens, the price that must eventually be paid.

He’s not in any hurry to die, but Fenris isn’t afraid of it either. Death comes for them all eventually. And they are all of them dying, really, from the moment they’re born, some just get on with it a little faster than others. Under the right circumstances, death can even be a mercy.

This… creature in front of them that leads them onward. Larius. Not Darkspawn, but neither the Warden whose armor he wore any longer either. Surely, death would have been kinder. He’d sought it hadn’t he? How had it been denied him? How had he not earned as much? And Anders. This was the fate that awaited him? His reward for all his efforts? All his sacrifices?

How long? Anders mutters now to drown out voices only he, and presumably, Larius can hear, and Fenris’s stomach twists again. How long before those voices are too loud before Anders leaves to seek an end? Varric offers some platitude about Anders being strong enough to overcome this, and Fenris finds himself hoping, praying against anything that’s true. Years ago he’d thought the abomination would be the end of him, the end of them all. Would that be better? Swifter? More merciful?

Suddenly all these weeks of dragging his feet, of struggling to figure out the best way to ask Anders to stay more often, perhaps even move in, of biting his tongue, biding his time, holding back mock him. How much time has he wasted? How much does he have left? He could lose the mage now, to this Corypheus, to these voices he cannot hear, much less fight, without Anders ever knowing... without Fenris ever finding out if he’d ever had a chance.

“Stop,” Anders growls through gritted teeth as they round another corner. “Just make him stop talking. Make him stop!” He’s all but pleading now, and Maker, Fenris isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. How much longer he can be expected to just stand idly by while Anders suffers like this. But what can he do? Anders doubles over with a groan, clutching his temples and Fenris’s brands flash as he rushes to his side. He forgets to pretend he can barely stand him. Forgets to care what any of their companions might think or say about this later, or even what Anders will think as a hand reaches out to touch, to offer a comforting squeeze to scapular concealed beneath his glamour spell. “I can’t,” Anders whines, “the voices… Wardens… the Joining… I have too much taint in my blood. I can’t shut him out. Help me,” he pleads, honey eyes, pupils blown wide with fear, desperately seeking out his own green ones. 

“How?” It’s a whisper. Barely audible. Entirely desperate. A plea as plaintive as the mage’s own that escapes his lips before Fenris can even think about it. Tell me how Mage, and it is done, Fenris thinks, watching on hopelessly as the healer continues to struggle.

“I will not… BE CONTROLLED.”

Suddenly Anders straightens, shoving Fenris back as he comes to full height and braces himself for a fight,  Lyrium crackling to life beneath the skin, body radiating power, and eyes becoming consumed by blue glow as Justice takes hold.

Hawke makes some kind of witty quip about the whole thing, ever trying to diffuse the tension of the impossible situations she finds herself in, but Fenris doesn’t even hear it. The elf can’t see or hear anything except the man in front of him, brandishing his staff.

“Don’t make us fight you, Anders.” Justice draws his staff and the elf can feel his will drawing mana from the air around him in the slight tug on his markings. “Please don’t make me hurt you, Amatus,” the elf begs softly, even as he knows how futile this is, pulling his sword as his prayers fall on deaf ears.

He lets Hawke subdue him, trusting her magic will be kinder, easier to undo than any damage he might inflict in his efforts to bring the healer back to himself, quickly dispatching the demons Justice summoned to defend himself instead, and rushes immediately back to his side before the dust has even settled. Amber eyes meet his, and Fenris lets out a breath he’d not even realized he was holding, thrusting the strongest healing potion he has- probably one the mage made himself- into Anders’s chest as he slowly sits up.

“Thank you,” Anders nods, downing it gratefully and after a moment’s pause, accepting the elf’s hand to get back on his feet. “I guess they’re right,” the healer offers with a rueful shake of his head. “You never can leave the Wardens. I hope I can hold against him. Against them both...”

“You will,” Fenris nods, reluctantly letting go and taking a step back to put a more respectable distance between the two of them. “You cannot fall to something so common.” To the rest of their group, the words no doubt sound disdainful, scolding, but Fenris can tell from the smile that twitches at the corner of Anders’s mouth, the way his eyes shine- if only for a moment- he understands and hears the care hidden beneath it. “Not when you’re so extraordinary,” the elf whispers for only the healer to hear. Not when I love you so much.

Later, Fenris thinks. He’ll tell him. And maybe, if he’s incredibly lucky… He’ll tell him later. But not much later. After they put down this Corypheus together. He’s got a few good blows saved up for what this bastard has been putting his mage through.

[orsino-the-enchanter]

An excerpt from a fanfic I hereby declare CANON for my Inquisition verses.

((The fanfic is this one, if you want to read it in full, all credit goes to the AMAZING writer whose concepts i adore. ))

(....) As for finding the mages something to occupy their time, First Enchanter stand to his promise.

“What do you know of demons?” asked he in a clear voice of professional lector.

The lecture, that promised to enlighten the young mages, took place outside the castle, in the yard: part of it was enclosed, forming a perfect circle on the ground with its outlines buzzing and glowing lyrium blue. The mages, mostly young or barely of age, gathered in a small crowd in front of Orsino, who was standing near the enclosed area. Other interested people (namely the whole lot of Skyhold) watched from a distance.

Even lady Vivien stepped out at her balcony and Solas appeared at the side doors. Well, they were all promised something interesting, and Orsino was known as the best lecturer on demonology.

“They are oft-malicious spirits from the Fade,” said one girl, pulling a brave face.

Orsino nodded to her in encouragement, and other pupils grew braver too.

“They are but the first children of the Maker, who became envious of the living. They could not experience what the living had, and this blackest envy gave rise to the demons,” said a boy, who was clutching his fire staff like a demon could emerge any minute and take it away from him.

“They are the most dangerous and deadly dwellers of the Fade, who want to invade the real world,” said his neighbor.

“And to possess a mage,” added a very young boy, shivering.

“Demons are our enemies,” proclaimed a mage who was a bit older.

Orsino listened to everyone’s answers in silence, only nodding sometimes, as if in a deep thought. “I see, everyone knows the Chant of Light very well,” stated he afterwards. “You are all right, of course. You cite from very reputable sources, and point out exactly how the Chantry sees the demons – so many respectable people can’t be wrong, right? But we – we are not the clergymen. We are mages. So, I’d like to show you something. Please, don’t step inside the circle no matter what you see. Commander Cullen knows what to do if something goes wrong, and I trust him completely; I ask again, do not intervene, please. Well, let’s get started.”

Orsino took off his boots and stepped on the cold ground, barefoot. Today was a cool, windy day, but the enchanter’s clothes looked like he was preparing to spend his day in a hot desert: his plain tunic was too light even for a hardened warrior like Fenris, and he was a frail mage! The Grumpy Elf, who was watching the lecture from the castle wall, knit his brows gloomily: he should really talk to the enchanter about common sense and the importance of caring about one’s health.

Orsino stepped inside the enclosed area. The lyrium buzz became louder, and the outlining turned into a full veil, clear but strong, effectively cutting the mage from the others. The elf took off the ribbon that was holding his hair in a ponytail, and tied it in a blindfold; his mane, copper red with rare flaming red strands and a lot of silver, spilled over his shoulders (Fenris – and, as he guessed, a few others – caught his breath).

First Enchanter took a place exactly in the center of the enclosure and stood here. At first it looked like nothing was going on, but then the strange sounds appeared – they were like disjointed chords, as if someone was trying to make the right music out of them, but couldn’t. It was Orsino’s doing, no doubt: he was turning his head blindly to where the sounds were coming from and was waving his hands and gesturing to make the sounds louder or quieter, changing their tune.

At one moment the demons started to appear.

People startled and shrank back from the enclosure.

The Despair demon appeared first with a feeble, disgusting whistle. A huge Rage gathered itself from the ground and impended over the enchanter menacingly – but Orsino didn’t even bat an eyelid (partly because of the blindfold). Fenris threw a worried glance at Cullen – Commander looked tense, but he wasn’t in a hurry to interfere in whatever was going on.

The Rage opened his mouth wide, showing molten lava teeth, and closed it back. It stepped away from the enchanter, who was still busy with… whatever he was doing, and started to circle around him. Other demons joined. They were exactly like their pictures in old books – Desire, Sloth, Envy… And more: some demons looked strange and unfamiliar. One, who appeared along with the first ones, looked like a burlesque knight, weary and sorrowful: he watched the Despair with stern disapproval and tried to stay away from it. The demons circled in the enclosure like predators, but they still hadn’t touched the mage who was right there.

Suddenly Orsino raised his head, and they all could see his wide, mischievous smile.

He made a strange gesture, and the disjointed chords finally clicked together, and there was music – it sprang to life, unfolding and deepening, and the whole place started to vibrate with unfamiliar energy. Demons, as if the music was guiding them, changed the rhyme of their circling – as if they were trying to… dance?

Orsino too started to move.

He danced. It was a fascinating, but strange dance – it could be an Orlaisian waltz or Avvar tribal fling. It was all this and at the same time completely different, new and also familiar, like something you forgot you always knew. It was touching your soul in a way you couldn’t describe apart from… beautiful.

The demons started to change. Somehow, without appearing to do so, they changed their shapes and became more like transparent, blurry humans; they were really dancing now, with abandon and in unison, being led by Orsino. It was a beautiful, magnificent picture. Everyone’s eyes were upon it – no one could look away, when here, inside the enclosure, was something so glorious. It was like a harmony itself was dancing here.

Harmony, Yes, that’s what it was.

The dance didn’t last though: the final chords came, the dancers performed their last steps and vanished in the firework of sparks – all but Orsino, who just stopped, breathing heavily.

He peeled off his blindfold and gathered his hair back in a ponytail; afterwards he calmly walked away from the enclosure (the lyrium barrier buzzed loudly and lowered back on the ground).

“So… Remind me, what do you know about demons?” asked Orsino again.

A dumbstruck silence was his answer.

The enchanter smiled warmly and looked over the yard, at the stunned people. It was very clear that whatever they thought to see or hear at the lecture, it certainly wasn’t that.

“You’ve just witnessed a ritual called A Demon Round Dance. It was invented by the hermits of Alamar island: they studied the Fade and its dwellers, performed a lot of experiments and wrote many interesting books, most of which, unfortunately, were burned when the hermits were declared heretics and wiped from Thedas completely. Some bits and pieces of their knowledge, however, were preserved – this ritual, for example, that contradicts all we know about demons so far. It is, as most mages might understand it, completely pointless for both parties: there is nothing to gain neither for mages nor for demons. But for some reason demons always come to dance with the mage who he calls them.”

The enchanter leaned forward, and people followed his movement with their eyes with acute fascination. “You see,” continued he. “Demons and we don’t understand each other. At all. But we do have some common ground. For now dancing is the only safe way of communication with the Fade dwellers, flawed – because we ourselves don’t understand properly the language of the dance – crude and nearly useless. Maybe you’ll become the great scholars one day and discover a proper way to communicate with demons – and maybe even find what they really need from us. But enough for now. Those who are interested in demonology please come to Elana to sign up. The lessons will take place every day at nine a.m. in the library, at the southern wing.”

Young mages followed the enchanter with their eyes full of pure admiration; the intent of becoming the best demonologists was clearly written on their faces. As Orsino began to dismantle the lyrium enclosure, his future pupils were discussing the most fascinating theme: namely, how long would it take them to learn to dance like that? (...)

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 5: Varric

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

          Varric never minded much just sitting and watching the world pass by, as long as the world was interesting. At the present he was sitting on a bench with his back against a wall while tuning up Bianca. He watched as the activity in Haven ebbed and flowed around him. Thedas’s second weirdest company got back from the Hinterland this morning after spending a week running all around those hills. Mother Giselle had been nice enough, didn’t want to execute the Herald on the spot. Small improvements. Even didn’t think she should be jailed for the rest of her life just for being a mage. Honestly the woman was a bit of a radical.

           The killing bad guys who hurt innocent people, hunting down supplies for refugees, and even closing rifts became a little routine while they had been in the Hinterlands. It got a bit monotonous. The fun part was watching everyone try to get along. No one knew each other really, not even the original group from Haven. Varric hadn’t met Chuckles until they both got caught up in a fight together in the aftermath of the Breach. Varric knew Cassandra of course, but they weren’t exactly the best of friends. Throw in some very weird Dalish elves and a woman accused of being the worlds last and best hope, and you’ve got yourself a party. The two new elves in their party kept muttering back and forth to each other in elvhen, which put the Seeker on edge. The Herald tried to keep the peace by insisting that the twins speak in common, but Solas almost ruined the whole thing when he agreed because, “Your pronunciation needs work.”

           The big elf reminded Varric a little of Fenris when he almost ripped the mages head off. It made him a little homesick.

           Just then Varric saw the Blessed Lady herself walking back to her cabin. She was smiling and greeting people along the way. She exuded a calm energy that was desperately needed around Haven. Having a potentially world ending catastrophe kill all of your religious leaders only two weeks ago could have that sort of effect on morale. She reminded Varric a little of Elthina. Or maybe what Elthina should have been. When she came close to him, Varric noticed the small crease between her eyes that she was trying to hide. When she got to the door of her cabin he saw her shoulders sag just a little before going inside.

           Varric set Bianca aside and stood. He supposed even holy saviors needed pep talks occasionally, and if Varric had one talent it was convincing people to do things. Sometimes it was convincing them to give him money or information, but with his friends it was usually just convincing them they weren’t in as bad a spot as they thought they were.

           Varric knocked on the door to her cabin and only had to wait a moment before the Herald was opening the door. She looked a little tired, but when she saw who it was she smiled and stepped aside so Varric could walk in. She’d managed to make the place pretty cozy. Small candles were clustered on almost every surface with a large cluster on either end of the mantle opposite the door. On the mantle were eight small wooden figurines. They had simple designs on them, but they were still beautiful. The largest one looked kind of like a dragon and had a single red candle lit in front of it. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace and Varric thought he might actually have to take off his coat to keep from passing out from the heat.

           The Herald noticed him sweating and said, “I’m not used to the cold. I don’t think I’m built for it. May I?”

           The elf held out her hand and Varric gave her his coat. She wasn’t wearing her armor so he saw her hands for the first time. The vallaslin were broken up on her fingers by several dainty gold rings, some were all woven together.

           “I didn’t think Dalish got vallaslin past their faces.” Varric commented while he sat down at the small table she had one side of the little room.

           “Most don’t.” She hung his coat on a knob next to the door and walked over to get some water and cups from her bedside table, “Only priests get more extensive ones. The more extensive the tattoos, the higher rank the priest.”

           She set the water and cups on the table and sat across from the dwarf, “Tea?”

           “Yes please.”

           She reached across the table to grab a small wooden box in the center, opened it, and grabbed two blocks of tea out of it. She put a block in each cup, poured water in after, and then took hold of the cups. After a moment Varric could see the water begin to bubble and steam rise out of it. She handed Varric his still warm cup and said, “I apologize, I don’t have any milk or sugar.”

           Varric waved her off, “That’s alright. It’s not stream water or cheap ale, so it’s an improvement to what I’ve been drinking the past few days.”

           Varric took a sip and was happy to discover he had not been falsely optimistic. It was good, tasted a little like berries. The Herald took a sip of her tea before setting it back down and looking up at Varric, “So what can I help you with Mr. Tethras?”

           Varric chuckled, “Nothing.”

           Varric wouldn’t say the Herald looked shocked; maybe mild confusion would be more accurate. He continued, “You looked stressed and I decided to swing by to see if you needed to chat. Do you?”

           The Herald leaned back in her chair and took another sip of tea. Finally she sighed and nodded.

           “Okay then, lets start with names. Mr. Tethras is my father, everyone just calls me Varric.” Varric took a sip of his tea, “And, if you can believe it, in all the hubbub I didn’t catch your name. Cassandra and Solas call you Herald, the twins call you Rajha-whatever, but I don’t think I’ve heard someone use your actual name once.”

           The Herald looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, “I think you’re right.” She extended a hand across the table, “Ellana of Clan Lavellan.”

           Varric took her hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you Ellana of Clan Lavellan, been nice fighting with you for the past week.”

           “Likewise.”

           “So, you said that the twins are part of a different priesthood from you, right?”

           “Yes.”

           “So how did you meet them? You seem to know them pretty well. Do you all serve in one place or…”

           Varric wasn’t trying to pry- no that was lie. Varric was always trying to pry. He wasn’t trying to be invasive. However, he was really curious about these Dalish that seemed very different from the ones he had met. Daisy would get a kick out of them.

           Ellana smiled and said, “No. We all live at different temples. I met them when they were much younger. I was sixteen when I first joined the priesthood, and the twins arrived a few weeks after I took my vows. They had been orphaned, and they were only nine years old. I had been having a hard time settling into temple life so the Raj’ha’haren at the time assigned me to look after them while they got settled. She thought it would be good for all of us. She was right, as usual. Helping them get settled helped me to understand my own place in the temple a little better. I wound up practically raising those two. When they were seventeen they decided that the priesthood of Mythal wasn’t for them, and they went off to join different temples. I was invited to both of their initiations. I was so proud.”

           Ellana smiled to herself and took another sip of her tea. The smile only lasted a moment before the small crinkle appeared on her forehead again.

           Varric put his now empty cup down, “They’re your kids.”

           “As a priestess of Mythal I have had a hand in raising many children who came to our temple… but yes. Those two were special.”

           “And now they’re here.”

           “And now they’re here.”

           “Well shit, that can’t be easy.”

           Throughout the conversation Varric could see Ellana relax bit by bit, but now she almost slumped forward.

           “It’s not. I was the one who volunteered to take this risk. To come to the Conclave. After everything happened, I understood that I needed to stay and help; I had accepted the dangers because I needed to. But they don’t have to be here. They can go home. Be safe.”

           “You could tell them to leave.”

           “They wouldn’t listen, and I’d probably offend them. As much as I worry, they are both extremely capable. I just wish Sahren would stop picking at Cassandra. She’s uncomfortable enough as is. And Mythal give me strength if Rasa tries to pickpocket Leliana one more time. The Nightingale might actually have them killed.”

           “Or recruit them.”

           That got a chuckle out of her. While Ellana made Varric some more tea he asked, “So, what’s the scariest thing right now? Other than the obvious possibility of death and dismemberment.”

           “Well other than that.” Ellana handed him his tea, “I suppose it’s all the walking on egg shells. I’m not ashamed to talk about my people or my beliefs, as I suppose you’ve guessed by now.”

           Varric nodded an affirmative as Ellana continued, “But I’m still so nervous constantly that if I don’t mix in the right amount of deferment, agree just enough that ‘sure, maybe your goddess sent me’ that they’d get a little too frustrated and…”

           “They’re not going to kill you.”

           Ellana sighed and her shoulders slumped, “I know, but you didn’t say it had to be a reasonable fear. I’ve seen what humans will do when elves get a little to elvhen for their tastes. It rarely ends well. I was talking to Josephine the other day and bless her she was trying to talk to me about my people and ask questions, but she had so many misconceptions drilled into her brain. Scary ones. Is it terrible that I don’t always want to have to be the perfect elf? Back home I am a leader among my people, but I’m a leader on my own terms. They know me, and I can be myself. I was the youngest priest in a very long time to be chosen as Raj’ha’haren, and that didn’t come without a lot of hard work. But does Cassandra care? Does Cullen? No. They’d rather I stayed quiet about the whole elf thing and focus only on the Breach. Afterwards they can look back on their elf friend and clap themselves on the back about how tolerantthey were with her.”

           As she had been talking her voice had gotten louder and angrier. When she finished she realizer her volume and took a deep breath to compose herself. Varric could see her walls going back up as she said, “I apologize I shouldn’t have-”

           “Bull shit you shouldn’t have. It’s okay to vent. It’s okay to be pissed about this whole situation. And I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and say that you shouldn’t worry and that you can be completely yourself, because you’re right, you can’t. But I will say I think you may be giving our compatriots too little credit. She may not seem like it, but I think Cassandra wouldn’t mind having an honest debate with you in your down time about religion. Maybe invite Mother Giselle and Josephine; it might be good for both of them. And don’t back down when they get frustrated, push through. You should also really introduce Sahren to Cullen because once they get past the obvious differences I really think those two would get along. And let me handle Rasa, they’re a decent thief, but they could be better.”

           Ellana smiled at him. A real smile. Not one of the smiles she shot at refugees who thanked her that exuded benevolence. Not a small one while speaking to Cassandra that worked hard to present her as non-threatening. No, this smile was a little crooked and made her eyes crinkle just slightly. She finished her second cup of tea and said, “It makes sense that Rasa isn’t a decent thief, it’s not what they trained to be.”

           “And what exactly did they train to be?”

           “A master assassin, they were visiting me from Antiva when I left.”

           “Wait what?”

Chapter 6: https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/187109071729/chapter-6-solas

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Slow Hands

Chapter 3 of the Fenhawke bartender AU Damned Spot is up! It’s a longer one, WITH BACKSTORY, so this is just the first bit. Read the rest on AO3. Previous chapters are here on Tumblr: [1] [2] 

In which Hawke catches Fenris singing to himself. ❤️

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

Five weeks after Fenris started working at the Hanged Man, Rynne learned something about Fenris that truly surprised her: he had a great singing voice.

The discovery was a completely serendipitous one. It was a Friday, and she’d come to the Hanged Man a few hours early to unpack the biweekly shipment of wines from Orlais, as was her and Piper’s usual routine. But Pipes was out of town on a weekend trip with Cullen - a very rare treat, as Cullen’s litigator career kept him extremely busy. On the rare nights that Cullen made it to their condo for the night, he was usually fast asleep before he and Piper got halfway through whatever movie they had chosen to watch that night.

In any case, Rynne was flying solo today with the usual unpacking of the wines. Or so she’d thought, until she approached the stockroom and heard someone moving around inside and singing in a very quiet voice.

A deep, growly baritone voice that instantly set butterflies alight in Rynne’s belly.

Oh sweet fucking Andraste, she thought. She tiptoed closer to the stockroom, then peeked around the corner.

Sure enough, Fenris was in the stockroom moving the heavy crates of wine around - and making it look easy, Rynne might add. And he was singing to himself, a charming combination of half-humming and half-singing that clearly indicated that he thought he was entirely alone.

His quiet voice was perfectly in tune, and Rynne easily recognized the song he was singing: it was one that had been playing toward the end of their shift last night, when the last few patrons were trickling out of the pub.

She listened with shameless appreciation as Fenris opened a crate and began unpacking the bottles of wine while singing the chorus to himself.

Slow hands, like sweat drippin’ down our dirty laundry No chance that I'm leaving here without you on me I know, yeah I already know that there ain't no stoppin' Your plans and those slow hands

Rynne swallowed hard and absent-mindedly rubbed the scarlet kerchief at her throat. Be still, my beating vagina, she thought. As if she wasn’t already ridiculously attracted to him, now she was stuck with a new fantasy of her hands sliding slowly across Fenris’s sweat-laced body while he sang to her in that dreamy fucking voice…

But it was more than just his voice and the words they held. And the buzzing in her chest was more than just lust. Hearing him contentedly singing like this, and seeing how relaxed he looked - he wasn’t even frowning! - it was confirmation that her suspicions were correct: there was far more to this mysterious broody elf than met the eye. Under that taciturn exterior of his, there was a man who was happy to sing to himself while unpacking crates in the stockroom of a pub.

Her heart was pounding. This was stupid. She was being stupid. She barely knew him. The only additional fact she now knew was that he had a singing voice that would make Andraste weep with jealousy. This was not a good reason to be feeling so soppy.

She took a deep breath, then folded her arms and leaned casually against the doorjamb. “You liar,” she accused. “You said you didn’t sing.”

He jumped, then spun around and glared at her. “Hawke! What - why are you here?” he demanded.

Maker’s balls, his pointed ears were absolutely flaming red. If that wasn’t the cutest fucking thing Rynne had ever seen, she didn’t know what was. She grinned at him. “I’m here to unpack the shipment from Orlais,” she said. “But it seems that you’re doing my job for me already.”

Fenris shoved one hand in his pocket and ran his other hand through his hair. “I… Varric asked me to come in and help since Piper is away. He failed to mention that you would be here early.”

“I didn’t tell him I was coming in early,” she replied. “I’m a renegade like that.”

He raised one eyebrow. “A renegade with a work ethic?”

She shrugged cheerfully. “It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. Now why don’t you step aside and let me show you how it’s done?”

Fenris eyed her for a moment, then stepped away from the half-empty crate of wine bottles and waved graciously towards it. “Please. Be my guest.”

She smirked at how polite he always was, then began swiftly unpacking the bottles and sliding them into their slots in the wine rack against the wall. “Me and Pipes organize the wines by region and then by popularity, so it’s not very intuitive. You’re lucky I’m here,” she said cheekily. “Otherwise you might have made mistakes. And then I’d have to punish you for being a bad boy and messing up our system.” She slid a lingering look along the length of his body.

Fenris tilted her a chiding look, then folded his arms and leaned against the nearest shelf. “Don’t let me be a hindrance to your so-called system, then. Is there something else I can do to assist?”

“Nope,” she chirped. “I can unpack the crates on my own. You can watch.” She bent over the crate in a slow and purposeful manner, then tossed him a provocative look over her shoulder.

He shook his head and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “You are truly unbelievable. There’s not a single reserved bone in your body, is there?”

She grinned broadly at his unintentional double-entendre, and he groaned and rubbed his face. “Hawke,” he scolded.

She laughed loudly. “You said it, not me!” Ah, that admonishing tone and that frowning face of his… She truly couldn’t decide if she preferred his scowl or his smile.

“You know that is not what I meant,” he said. “If I meant it, I would say so in a more purposeful way.”

Rynne gaped at him, and a shiver of excitement rippled down her spine. Was he… was he flirting with her?

His expression was completely inscrutable. Maybe she was just imagining the rising tension in this crowded room. Feeling giddy nevertheless, she grinned at him. “Is that so?” she teased. “And how would you put it if you did mean it?”

He stared at her in silence, and Rynne definitely was not imagining it when his gaze flicked momentarily to her lips. Then he abruptly unfolded his arms and moved toward the door. “If you are fine on your own, then I should -”

“No,” she said hastily. “Stay! Keep me company. I’ll behave, I promise.”

He stopped at the door and shot her a wry glance. “Keep you company? To what end? You said you don’t need my help.”

“I don’t,” she insisted. She turned toward the stack of bottle-filled crates near the back entrance of the stockroom and began to lift a crate down to the floor.

Maker, it was fucking heavy. She usually had Piper to help her with this. No problem, no problem, she told herself as she placed the crate on the floor with as much cool as she could muster.

She released her breath and turned back to the stack of crates, then hesitated. She would have to shift about five more crates in the course of this unpacking.

“Need a hand?” Fenris drawled.

Rynne glanced at him, then shot him a sickly smile. “Umm… maybe.”

He rubbed his mouth - hiding a smile, maybe? She hoped he was hiding a smile - then sidled slowly back into the room. “And I suppose you have too much pride to actually ask for my assistance.”

“Hah!” she laughed. “Me, pride? You don’t know me very well. I have no pride whatsoever.” She batted her eyelashes at him as he approached. “Please, O Strong and Handsome Bouncer, help me move these crates.”

He raised one eyebrow at her. “I shall ignore your tone and take your request in the nature it was intended,” he said, then began shifting the crates of wine with so little effort that it was nearly offensive.

Rynne bit her lip to hide the besotted grin that was threatening to break across her face. She turned back to the crate she’d moved to the floor, then opened it and began unpacking the wine.

She and Fenris worked in silence for a few minutes. Then, unable to resist, she shot him a cheeky look over her shoulder. “You can keep singing if you like. Don’t let my presence stop you.”

He scowled, and the tips of his ears began to pinken. “Hawke,” he said warningly.

Maker’s fucking balls, she could get used to hearing him say her name in that tone of voice. Maybe while doing a little striptease for him on that pole Isabela had set up in the upstairs living room…

She laughed at the fanciful thought and at Fenris’s tone of voice, and at this entire situation: the two of them together in this crowded stockroom and the little pout on Fenris’s lips, and how she wanted him so badly that it was almost making her dizzy. She laughed and laughed, and when a tiny smirk lifted the corner of his lips, it only made her laugh harder still.  

He shook his head and began opening a crate. “You’re an idiot.”

She wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eyes. “Only for you, Fenris,” she said fondly. “Only for you.”

He scoffed as he started unpacking the crate, and Rynne grinned to herself. Her words were an  exaggeration of the truth, but not by much. She certainly acted like an idiot sometimes, and she didn’t need anyone’s help to do so.

But to make Fenris smile? Rynne would do any number of idiotic things for that.

Read the rest of the chapter on AO3.