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crowfootwrites · 3 years

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The Boyfriend | Part II [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

Y'all! I did it! I wrote a second part! I actually sort of struggled with the setup of this, but once I started writing the angry, angsty shit I was like, "OH, WE IN BUSINESS." So, please enjoy.

Warnings: language; family drama (arguing); attempted physical violence; pregnancy | Words: 1,734

Part I of The Boyfriend

“What do you mean he wants to come see your motorcycle?” you asked, panic rising in your voice. It had been a few months since the ill-fated family dinner, and aside from a few texts asking about work, you hadn’t heard from your father. So, you assumed his motorcycle chat with Taza had just been polite conversation.

Taza glanced at you across the kitchen table, his full fork of frijoles pausing halfway to his mouth. His eyes softened when he saw the concern in your expression.

“Relájate, mi amor (Relax, my love). He doesn’t have to come here. I can meet him somewhere else,” he said calmly. He watched as your head dropped into one of your palms on the table and the other rested on the top of your very noticeable baby bump. He paused, then put his fork back down on his plate.

“(Y/N), maybe this would be a good opportunity to tell them,” he started, keeping his tone gentle. “I know you don’t want them involved. I understand that, and I will do whatever I can to keep things the way you want them.” He reached across the table to rest his palm against your knuckles. “But the baby will be here in a few months, and hiding it from them is just drawing out the inevitable.”

Emotions rushed over you. You knew that telling them didn’t have to mean anything more than that; Taza would protect his family no matter the cost, and if you didn’t want them involved, they wouldn’t be. But the prospect of having to deal with your mother filled you with a deep-seated dread. You knew she wouldn’t approve. And you didn’t need her approval, but your relationship with her had always been messy and complicated. And some part of you still wanted her to accept and respect you. Angry tears sprang to your eyes, which made you even more frustrated – the pregnancy hormones made you feel like you were losing your mind.

A tear dripped onto the wooden surface of the table and Taza was immediately out of his seat, tugging you out of yours and wrapping you in his arms. He smiled at the feeling of your belly pressed between the two of you.

“Hey, abejita, está bien (little bee, it’s ok). We don’t have to do anything that will make you uncomfortable,” he murmured against your ear, rocking you side to side slowly. He rubbed circles on your back as you regained your composure.

“No, you’re right,” you said with a sniffle. “We need to get this over with.”

Taza’s lips pulled into a wry grin. “That’s a wise choice, I think.”

***

“Ok, I think everything’s pretty much ready,” you told Taza as you flipped the final tortilla on the comal. He came to stand beside you and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“How can I help?” he asked as you pulled the tortilla off with your bare fingers and tossed it into the basket, waving your fingers as the heat sank into your skin. He laughed and gripped your hand, blowing gently on your scorched fingertips.

You couldn’t help the affectionate tears that collected in the corners of your eyes. In an effort to keep you as comfortable as possible, Taza suggested hosting dinner with your parents on the ranch. You would be on your own turf and could call the shots. If anything got ugly, Taza promised that he had no qualms with making your parents leave. To your modest relief, you also felt a little more like yourself today, like you’d happily tell someone where to shove it if they upset you.

“Just being here with me helps,” you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said quietly. The two of you lingered like that for a moment, enjoying the calm embrace before the storm you knew was about to happen.

And sure enough, a moment later, the doorbell sounded. Your eyes jerked immediately to Taza’s. You struggled to discern if the rolling in your stomach was pregnancy-related or anxiety-induced as perspiration collected on your palms.

He ushered you onto the back patio, helping you to sit in the worn wooden rocking chair before heading back inside to welcome your guests. You listened nervously for the creaking of the front door, which was quickly followed by the drifting voices of your mother and father.

You pulled yourself out of the chair, straightening the soft cotton of your dress over your bump, just as Taza stepped through the door. He came immediately to your side, schooling his features into a calm and neutral mask, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Your father was the next through the door and you bit back a grin at the series of emotions that passed over his face in the span of just a few seconds. Confusion, certainly, and shock, but then pride and excitement and finally, unbridled joy.

Time seemed to slow down as your mother stepped towards your father, her confused gaze traveling from your father’s face to you, eyes widening as they landed on your belly. For the first time in your life, your mother was speechless. She stood on the threshold of the patio door with her mouth open as your father rushed towards you.

“Oh, my baby girl!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a loose hug around your bump, kissing your cheeks delightedly. He turned immediately to Taza, pulling your boyfriend into a strong embrace, clapping him heartily on the back.

“Congratulations, you two! This is wonderful news! Oh, goodness, I’m going to be a grandfather!” he announced in wonderment as he pulled back, turning to his wife, whose eyes were still glued to your stomach.

“Dear?” he asked her, cautiously, but with a hint of something firm in his voice. It was something you had never heard from your father before. You wondered fleetingly what that was about.

His voice seemed to snap her out of her trance. Her eyes met yours and she smiled tightly. “Congratulations,” she forced out and you noted acrimoniously the clenching of her jaw.

Your eyes narrowed. Your heart sank with her false smile and immediately, resentment scrambled into place to protect you. You suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to haul off and smack her, but you quickly chalked that up to hormones. Probably.

Intent on making this a pleasant evening for your completely delighted father, you turned away from your mother with a withering look and plastered on a smile, motioning for everyone to take a seat at the table laden with food you had spent most of the day preparing.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Taza sat beside you, his hand never leaving its reassuring place on your thigh, as the two of you answered your father’s abundance of questions.

Baby Romero is due in November.

We’ve decided to wait to find out the sex.

We don’t really have a preference as long as they’re healthy.

Your mother’s eyes bore holes into you, but she remained silent, except for one question, manifested tersely into the space between the four of you. “Are you going to get married?”

“We haven’t really talked about it,” you replied, surprising even yourself with the strength in your voice. Your mother blinked at you, her expression disappointed, but she said nothing, returning her gaze to her plate.

When everyone had finished eating, your father clapped his hands together and asked Taza if they could take a peek at his Harley.

Taza turned to you, searching your eyes. “¿Estarás bien a solas con ella (Will you be ok alone with her)?”

You nodded at him with a wily smile. “Yo sé dónde están todos los cuchillos en esta casa (I know where all the knives are in this house).”

A loud, deep laugh belted from Taza’s chest as you stood and began collecting plates. You could see him shaking his head out of the corner of his eyes, motioning your father towards the garage.

You were standing in front of the sink, rinsing dishes when you heard the clicking of heels behind you, your mother coming to stop across the counter. You waited with bated breath for the inevitable confrontation, your stomach in knots.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked finally, a bitter edge of hurt creeping into her voice.

You looked down into the sink, realizing you were white-knuckling a spoon. “Why would I?” you demanded. “The last time I saw you, you made it very clear that you don’t approve of Che.”

“I just want what’s best for you!” she insisted, her hands clenching by her sides.

“You don’t know what’s best for me! I’m not you!” You slapped the faucet off and grabbed a kitchen towel to violently dry your hands, coming to face your mother completely. You watched as her eyes flickered quickly to your belly and then back to your face, the sight seemingly fueling her fire.

“I do know that you have no business having children out of wedlock with a man who’s twice your age,” she snapped, stepping closer to you, and your body reacted to the perceived threat, your heart thundering against your ribcage, heat radiating from your face.

“You don’t get to make those decisions for me! Che is the best partner I’ve ever had and he’s going to be an incredible father. Which you would know if you even gave him a chance, but you won’t. You refuse to accept that this is my life, and I’ll live it however the fuck I want!” You could hear your volume rising, but you were beyond controlling it. By the end of your rant, you were screaming, inches from your mother’s furious face, her eyes glinting and her lips set into a scowl. Suddenly, Taza was running into the house and coming to a stop behind you, pulling you gently away from your mother while your father tugged your mother away from you.

“I can’t believe I raised such an ungrateful bitch,” your mother spat, and you swung. Luckily for your mother, Taza had pulled you out of reach, and your fist missed her by several inches.

“Get out of my house!” you hissed, struggling against Taza’s arms, angry tears staining your cheeks.

Your father, looking appropriately mortified, dragged your mother out of the front door and into their car.

Part III of The Boyfriend

#mayans fx #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans imagine #mayans fanfic #mayans x reader #taza romero #taza romero x reader #taza romero imagine #che taza romero #mayans oneshot

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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Villainsicle - Part 14

Thanks to everyone for all the comments on the last part, and especially to @the-polari-person for the memes they made. Everyone really wants to punch Medic, and I think this part will reinforce that. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby

@the-polari-person

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

@regalwritten

CW//Whumpee liking whumper, pet whump, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, orders, implied past torture, mentions of death, mentions of execution, arguing, conspiracy

Traitor ran their fingers affectionately through Villain’s hair.

“An Asset can be far greater than any weapon you may have ever yielded in the past. I am sure you have all heard of the incident suffered by our late former Asset Coordinator, but any equipment can malfunction.

I assure you, the risk is worth it. May they rest in peace. But, a well-trained Asset is just as dangerous as a well-maintained gun. With the right care, it will only harm those who must be harmed.”

The somewhat sorrowful expression that had begun to show through disappeared, replaced by a sharp smirk.

“But words can only do so much. Demonstration is much better. Cadet!”

Villain drew back, nodding firmly their acknowledgement. There was a notable strangeness to their gait, a refusal to put weight on their leg.

“Circumspicio.”

Another firm nod, before they closed their eyes. For a few moments, tense and quiet as they were, their hair rose about their head, writhing like an inferno of serpents. When they at last opened their eyes, their hair did not calm.

“Eight soldier on deck, move left. Two plane on deck. Most soldier sleeping, in dorm. Supervillain talk to Department Head. Assets in kennel.”

“Where is Ali Silica?”

“Ali Silica, in kitchen, drink water.”

“Maximilian Kesim.”

“Maximilian Kesim, in dorm. Sleep.”

“Ella Jacklin.”

“Ella Jacklin, on deck. Has weapon. Guard door 24.”

“Good.” Traitor’s gaze returned to stare forth. “My Asset may not be particularly useful in situations of combat, but it is invaluable for recon and scouting. They can see through our cameras, our computers, all of it. And in an enemy base? Every enemy movement can be mapped. I can’t count how many times it has saved my life.

It is the most valuable Asset we have. Usually, we would not be doing something like this. But, my Asset is currently off duty due to an injury. And thus, welcome to the course.”

Again, they laid their hand atop Villain’s head.

They smiled.

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Villain looked at the camera.

That was all Counselor could look at, all they could notice. The other action on screen was immediately rendered irrelevant to them.

No. They could only see those eyes.

The same eyes they’d spent the last weeks gazing back at, in person and picture alike. At the very least, they were the same eyes, on the same person. In every physical sense, Villain was the same.

But...

They were happy. Maybe they weren’t, maybe it was just a trick of the light... But, no, no matter how Counselor squinted, what they told themself, they could not ignore that fact. Villain’s eyes glimmered with contentment, pressing their head into Traitor’s hand, who stroked their hair affectionately.

There was nothing fake, nothing practiced, about that warmth. It was just as real as the sorrowful or fearful expressions that Counselor had seen on Villain’s face so often. The only ones they ever seemed to show.

They were happy. Why were they happy? Ordered about, spoken about like an object... And why were they talking like that? They were generally rather quiet, but they never seemed to struggle with their speech.

It wasn’t until Hero spoke up that Counselor realized their mouth had been hanging ajar.

“I...”

Hero was at just as much of a loss for words as they were.

“I don’t know.” Counselor shook their head, frowning. “P-Pause it. Please. I don’t want to see it.”

They did so.

For a long, tense moment, the two sat there, one in the computer chair, the other with their legs dangling off the bed. It was Counselor, who managed to clear their throat first.

“Where did you get this?”

“The flashdrive?”

“Mhm.”

“Leader. Leader gave it to me.”

“Leader?”

“I didn’t... I don’t know. I guess it makes sense?”

“It does, but...” Counselor gripped a clump of blanket in their fist, knuckles quickly turning white. “I, Hero, what the fuck! I don’t know what I expected. Some sort of backstory, certainly, but... What did Traitor do to them?”

It wasn’t the type of explosive tone that they often took, but they couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but release the furious flame burning in their chest, its smoke scratching their throat.

“I don’t know.” Hero shook their head. “What is the, the Asset program? That wasn’t a thing when we worked for them, was it?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. I certainly never heard of it.”

“Me neither.”

“You think...”

“Do I think that’s why Leader looks like they’re about to faint whenever you so much as mention Villain? Absolutely! You’d think they would have told us.”

“I- I guess. What is there even to say? What was that even about?”

“It certainly wasn’t meant for an uninformed audience. Something about... training? Training assets?”

“That’s what Villain was, weren’t they? An... Asset.”

“I think so. A... A forced soldier. Traitor was treating they like a fucking dog.”

“Yeah.” Hero nodded.

“And...”

“An incident. What were they saying about an incident?”

“Someone died. The way they were talking about it, I think. Someone died. Whoever tried to make videos about this beforehand? An... Asset Coordinator?”

“That’s certainly what it sounded like.”

Counselor tried to release the grip they held on the blanket, but found themself unable. Tension and fury kept their muscles clenched, blood pounding their ears, even as they did little more than sit.

“Were they ever really a villain at all?” They finally whispered. “In the video, it was all orders. They were just following orders. We’ve been treating them like a villain this whole time, but-”

“I think we need to see more.” Hero interrupted. “We need to- We need to know. How long until this flashdrive mysteriously goes missing?”

“I don’t know.” Counselor bit the inside of their cheek. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t. I need to-”

“You really should. We should.”

“I know. I know. But I need to see Villain.”

“Oh.”

“You watch, okay? I’m going to talk to them.”

“About... it?”

“Yeah.” They nodded, before frowning, their gaze becoming downcast. “How long until they mysteriously go missing?”

“Fair enough.”

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“Are you hungry?”

The Asset- no, dammit, Villain looked up as Counselor entered the hospital room. The thoughts, the words of the video refused to stop swirling in their mind, twisting even their inner monologue, now.

The blankets on their bed were turned and tossed about-- either they had tried to get up, or they had not slept well. Neither option was good.

But they were awake now.

“Are you hungry, Villain?” Counselor repeated themself, approaching the bedside. An impulse to straighten the bed linens ran through them, but their hands were full-- they placed the platter down on the table beside the hospital bed.

They took a moment to reply, as if they were unsure whether or not they were expected to speak. They decided upon the former.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I made you some lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Y’know, when you eat at noon.”

“I- I know. Sorry. Don’t usually eat lunch.”

“You don’t?”

“Medic says I only need dinner.”

“Oh.” Another wave of furious warmth ran through them, but they let it burn out. It wasn’t the time. “Well, if you’re hungry, I have food for you.”

“Y-Yes. Sorry. Thank you, uh, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Villain sat up, taking the platter from their bedside table. It was a simple arrangement-- with little to no knowledge of what exactly Medic was up to, Counselor had decided to play it safe, making whatever was least likely to upset Villain’s stomach. A sandwich, some yogurt, and some carrots. Simple and small, but food.

Yet, as the former Asset gazed at the plate, they looked almost confused. Genuinely perplexed, staring at an abstract painting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just... This doesn’t look like what Medic has me eat.”

Counselor frowned.

“What does Medic have you eat?”

“Um... Don’t, um.” They furrowed their brow, looking for all the world to be trying to do mental calculus. “Don’t know word, um, I don’t know what it is called. It’s white, and dry. Tastes like chalk.”

At that point, Counselor would have believed it if Villain had told them that Medic was making them eat actual chalk.

“Well... This is something different, for today.”

“Okay.”

Still, the food before them put a confused expression on their face. Eventually, after considering it for a long moment, Villain began to tear pieces off the sandwich, eating them in that manner.

“Villain?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you know someone named Traitor?”

Villain’s hand stopped, halfway through bringing a piece of food to their mouth. They put it back down.

They nodded.

“They didn’t call them that.”

“What did they call them?”

“Trainer.”

“And they called you Cadet.”

Villain’s teeth snapped together, gritting hard enough that they seemed about to crack.

“Yes. I didn’t... I didn’t think you knew.”

“I...” There was no reason to lie. “I didn’t. Not until just a minute ago.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Villain shook their head. “It’s okay.”

“Is it okay if I... Is it okay if I ask you about it?”

Villain frowned for a moment-- looking as though they were actually considering the question. Even as much as Counselor wanted to hear a yes, even the fact that they were thinking it through made them swell with hope.

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”

“Okay.” They weren’t sure when their voice had grown so quiet, so placating. As though they were whispering in a far larger room. “They called you an Asset. What is that?”

“Um... We were weapons, I think.”

“There were multiple?”

“Mhm.” They nodded, ever so slightly, like their head was locked in place. “Not many made it... They kept us prisoner, for a long time. Before the collapse. Before your rebellion. Said we were useful only as lab rats. Then... Something changed. They decided we were useful. Started training.”

“Training?”

“We didn’t want to fight for them. So we weren’t given a choice.”

“You were... You were there, all that time?”

“When you rebelled, I guess- You didn’t know about us, did you?”

“No.”

“No one did.”

“And then they wanted your help.”

“They didn’t give a choice. I guess there was a choice. You could obey, or...”

“Or?”

“Or kill your handler.”

“What did they-”

“They shot the ones that acted up like that. Said it wasn’t worth losing soldiers over.”

“But you...”

“I-” Their voice hiccuped, catching in their throat. “I didn’t want to. Not at first.”

“They hurt you?”

“Some. I guess. Trainer had a whip. But that wasn’t their style. They needed us intact. They had other ways.”

“Oh.”

Villain turned the conversation about.

“How did you find out?”

“A video.”

“A video?”

More cautiously, this time, Villain ate another piece of sandwich.

“Some kind of training video. We found it on a computer. We took it, from Organization.”

“Oh.”

“You...”

“The one I was in.”

“Yeah.”

Villain’s lips pursed into a thin line. They picked up their plate, putting it back on the nightstand, before throwing aside their blanket.

Their hospital gown was thin and wispy-- they moved aside the fabric covering their lower leg.

A hole. That was the only word that would be in any way appropriate to describe the wound-- a hole, dug out of flesh. Healed and faded, so much so that the scar tissue had turned white, but it was still there. Still horrid enough to make Counselor’s stomach twist with nausea.

“What is...”

“A gunshot.”

“A gun did that?”

“Yeah. Really close up.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“You were hurt, in the video.”

“Yeah.”

“It was...”

“It was this. I got hurt. Got shot. I couldn’t walk for a long time, couldn’t fight for a lot longer than that. Was stuck in the med bay. But I could walk, so they figured I could do the videos.”

Counselor nodded their understanding, as best as they could manage. Villain recovered the wound.

“Villain?”

“Yeah?”

“You left. Did you leave? On your own?”

“Um... It was more complicated than that.”

“You were rescued?”

They seemed to consider for a moment, before nodding.

“Leader.”

For a split second, Counselor thought they had imagined the word.

“Leader?”

“They saved me. By, um, by shooting me.”

“They...”

“They shot me in the leg.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I don’t know if you can.” Villain diverted their gaze quickly. “Sorry, that was mean. It’s just, I mean, things were different back then. You have a choice. You left because you wanted to. Because you didn’t believe in what you were doing.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I guess I had some idea, but, not really. I just did what Train- Traitor said.” Their head lurched upward. “They’re okay, right?”

“What?”

“Trainer. They’re okay, right?”

“I- I guess I don’t know. We haven’t done anything to harm them.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“You... You liked them?”

“I miss them.” They drew their legs to their chest, hugging them. “A lot.”

“You miss them?”

“Mhm.” There was somehow a terribly sorrowful tone to the humming. “I left them. But I miss them.”

“Did you... Did you escape? On your own?”

“I guess.” They straightened their legs back out. “The longer I was in the med bay, the less security there was. After a while, I think they forgot I was there. They just left me there, in that bed. Leader... Did they ever tell you?”

“About what?”

“About what they told me.”

“No. They didn’t even tell us they shot you.”

“They said it, right before they shot me. It was, um, it was an address. They said if I went there, I could get help. Then they shot me.”

“An address?”

“In Oregon. It was the first anyone had spoken to me in, I guess in years, at that point. They spoke around me, but never in English?”

“They didn’t speak English? They did when I was there.”

“Yeah, before they went all evil. Decided they wanted to speak Latin. I didn’t even know that that’s what it was, at the time. I never understood a word of it, still don’t. Then Leader came along, and spoke to me. In a language I knew. And it made me think, think like I hadn’t in such a long time.”

“In the video, in the video they were speaking English.”

“Mhm.” Villain nodded. “That was the second time I’d heard a language I understood. It’s like I woke up, like I’d been sleeping for forever. Like I remembered I was human. And, when the ship got close enough to the West coast...”

“You jumped ship.”

“I almost drowned doing it, too. But I didn’t. And I made it to the address.”

“And that was six months ago.”

“A year ago. I collapsed on a stranger’s doorstep, and they took me in. And... that’s it.”

“That’s it.”

“Mhm.”

They again took the platter, beginning to again pick at their food. Counselor let them eat in silence.

In the end, it was Villain who spoke up.

“Counselor?”

“Yeah?”

“I know Leader wanted to do good. I know they wanted to help. But... if I had the choice. If i could do it all again, I never would have left.”

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“Of course they wouldn’t have. They’re an Asset.”

Medic spoke the words before the door was even fully open, yet Counselor heard them loud and clear, looking up and spinning around.

“Cadet, sedeo.”

The Asset fell without resistance. Medic could not help but clench their fists as they closed the door behind them, approaching their patient’s bed.

The smell of food permeated the room. Real food. Unregulated and unweighted and breaking the rules, breaking the pattern.

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing?” They spat, turning to Counselor, sitting at Villain’s bedside like some kind of grieving idiot.

“They were hungry.” The response was firm, their adversary’s eyes narrowed. “So I fed them.”

“Did I not tell you that they have very specific feeding requirements?”

“You did.”

“And you don’t care?”

“Not really, no.”

Medic gritted their teeth.

No matter what this idiot excuse for a therapist thought, they weren’t stupid. Allowing them to see Medic’s patient had been a gesture of good will.

They should never have allowed it. They should have known this would happen.

Their plan had been going so goddamn well. Their patient responding to stimuli, to altered variables, as had been expected. As had been planned. As had been rigorously calculated.

And this piece of shit had ruined it. They had thrown off the experiment, the results, all of it!

The symptoms were showing as expected. Every single one of them. They were so damn close to starting the final phase, and now...

“What are you trying to do, Counselor...”

“They were hungry, so I fed them.”

“No, not that. I know you did that. But... all of this. Trying to help them. Trying to fight me. Why?”

“Because you’re hurting them.”

“We already went over this.”

“Well, at the very least, you aren’t helping them.”

“I’m treating them.”

“You’re keeping them alive. That’s it.”

“And what are you trying to do, pray tell?’

“What?”

“Counselor, what the hell is your end goal, here?”

There was no way this excuse for a social worker would see the right side of things, see the same way Medic did. But, at the very least, they could try to make them open their eyes, for once in their goddamn life.

“My end goal is making them better.”

“And then what?”

“What?”

“Say Villain gets better. One hundred percent healed. Then what?”

“Whatever they want.” Counselor drew back their upper lip. “You called them an Asset.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You knew.”

“And I see you do now, as well.”

“You should have told me.”

“You never asked.”

“You still should have told me! How could you have known and not done anything about it?”

Medic clenched their hands into fists.

“Because I was part of Organization. So were you. And Hero, and Leader, and everyone. Remember that were a rebellion. A splinter group.”

“I was part of Organization, and I didn’t know.”

“Well, I did.”

“And you didn’t do anything.”

“Is that what you’re going to bemoan me for, now? Because I didn’t leave as quickly as you? Because I was a department head? Because I didn’t have a chance? Because-”

“Shut up.”

“If this is what you’re going to get on my case about, now?”

“Maybe I am.”

“What about Leader, then? What about-”

“This isn’t about them!”

“They were married to Supervillain!”

“We all got over that a long time ago. If you want a fight, let’s at least do it over something that matters. When Villain is better, and I mean when, I will let them choose what they want to do.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

“You said it yourself, they’re a villain. When they were free, on their own, they were hurting people.”

“We can talk about it. Find out why. Help them.”

“And if they don’t want to stop? Are you really planning on just letting them go back out there? Because, what, it makes you feel better about yourself?”

“N- No. I wouldn’t.”

“Then you’d keep them prisoner.”

“Maybe.”

“And they’d stay sick.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because they’re an Asset. How often do you use your powers?”

“I- I don’t know. Once or twice a week?”

“Exactly. They spent months of their life going on daily missions, using their powers. Now they aren’t using them. Now they’re sick.”

“You’re saying...”

“What we’re doing, it’s like trying to keep a Border Collie as a lap dog. They need to use their powers, because they were an Asset. It’s what their brain has gotten used to. We can’t change that. We can’t change the past.”

“They aren’t going to be an Asset again. We aren’t like that. We aren’t Organization.”

Of course, the soft one would say that.

“That’s not what I’m saying. But it’s the only theory that makes sense to me, at this point. And if they have to use their powers anyways, they may as well be helping us.”

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t-”

“Just shut up, okay? You’re talking about them like they’re not even there.”

“They can’t hear us.”

“Wake them up.”

“I will in a moment.” Medic sighed. “Look. I can’t see the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I do know that their training starts tomorrow.”

Counselor gritted their teeth.

“So.” Medic slumped their shoulders. “From tomorrow onwards, you may feed them as you wish.”

It was a sacrifice. Another gesture of good will, of trying to gain trust. They were giving up one variable in their experiment, turning it from a control to something wild, something they couldn’t control.

But, maybe, that was a good thing.

Handing over the experiment to another scientist-- as much as Counselor could be considered a scientist. Passing on the blame. Turning the causation into correlation.

Counselor nodded.

“Okay.”

#villainsicle #villain whumpee #hero villain whump #whump community #whump

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lavellander · 3 years

Text

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

#i am................incredibly embarrassed that i did this #forgive me. the brain worms would not leave until it was Done #also sorry that its ugly no matter what i did tungle was NOT happy w my formatting. just know its clean and easy to read in my mind :/#and i know none of this is new information but i am riddled with terminal grad student brain disease so i like having my evidence organized #long post #(bc its long as hell if u open the read more)#im going to put this in my #ref #tag. bc i sometimes get tripped up writing his dialogue to be cryptic but true

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barbex · 3 years

Text

@midnightprelude this is all your fault, a dorianders fic. This is for @30daysofdorian

Dorian x Anders, in Skyhold.

Tempted Tevinter

“Have you heard?”

Dorian changes the angle of his head slightly to listen to a former chantry sister and a former circle mage talking behind a column in the garden. They have many “formers” here now, and quite a few unusual friendships have sprouted in this strange hotbed of Skyhold. Dorian has found himself in a disturbingly nice friendship with a dalish mage, a qunari mercenary, and a former knight of the templar order, of all things. A chantry sister and a circle mage sticking their heads together in gentle familiarity is not even that unusual.

“What have I heard?”

“They got him, the rebel.”

“Which one? They’re all apostates now if you listen to the Chantry.” There is a beat of intense silence, for which Dorian can vividly imagine the scrutinizing look the mage gives his friend. “I don’t mean that I listen to the Chantry, you know that.”

The mage clears his throat and holds a dramatic pause before he reveals his knowledge. “It’s Anders, the rebel-mage who blew up the Chantry of Kirkwall.”

“Maker! I thought he was dead. How did they find him?”

“He found us, he came to the Inquisition on his own. Walked up to the gate, said who he is and asked to be let in. They didn’t believe him at first, but they called the Commander over and he recognized him.”

“By Andraste’s heart, he didn’t kill him outright?”

“Welling said the Commander went totally still. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he ordered him to be arrested.”

“When the Commander gets quiet like that —”

“— you know that he’s really angry.”

Dorian closes his book and quietly leaves his secluded corner of the garden. News like these are too interesting to keep working on old tevinter tomes. His steps take him back into the main hall, guided by the cacophony of angry voices yelling over each other. He keeps himself to the shadows, casting a light illusion spell over himself to stay hidden and studies the scene before him.

Inquisitor Lavellan sits on the floor in front of her throne, Varric stands on the step leading up to the throne and Cullen paces around them, stomping up and down the stairs. Josephine leans against the backrest of the throne, frowning at the Commander but keeping quiet. The Commander and Varric are not quite yelling, both of them aware how much Lavellan and Josephine hate yelling, but their tempers are too high to speak reasonably.

Cullen points his finger at Varric, even though he obviously speaks for Lavellan’s benefit. “He doesn’t even deny that he’s guilty, he should be put on trial.”

“And then what?” Varric yells back. “Do you know what kind of figure he is for the mages here? He’s a spirit of guidance by now, they worship him.”

“He still should be punished!” Cullen turns to Lavellan, lowering his voice a little when he catches her frown. “People died, not only in the explosion but also in the aftermath's chaos.” He turns back to Varric. “You should know that.”

Varric pinches the bridge of his nose and then looks up as if he wants to ask for help from the Maker himself. “You know, if you’d asked me maybe six or seven weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. But now, after seeing those templars...”

Tingling under his skin tells Dorian that his illusion spell is running out, and he uses the last bit of stealth to slip past the guard through the door that leads to the dungeon. The air is wet and strangely warm down here from the many hot springs that warm the castle through ingenious plumbing. He steps carefully on the wet stairs; he wouldn’t be the first one to slip here and tumble down.

The guard at the prison cells raises his eyebrow but only nods. Dorian is well known by now as belonging to the so-called inner circle and the days of him being questioned at every step as the evil magister from Tevinter are finally gone. Mostly.

He walks toward the cell with a glowing lock in front. Of course they would use a magic lock for a mage. Looking into the cell through the bars, he sees a slim figure in filthy clothes, leaning back on a stool so that his long, greasy hair sticks to the stones of the cell. Dorian wonders if the man is asleep when he suddenly speaks.

“Well, your’re not a templar.” Dark eyes turn to Dorian, studying him. “Tevinter mage, if I can guess.”

“Guessed correctly, I’m impressed. People usually go for evil magister first.”

Anders grins and Dorian is struck with the impression that all that dirt and greasy hair hides a beautiful man.

Anders touches the metal ring around his throat, a magic suppressing collar. “Can I have another guess? I owe this thing to your expertise.”

Dorian laughs out. “Correct again. I wasn’t convinced that the southern way of lacing food and water with magebane was the best way of going about suppressing magic. Magebane is nasty stuff and poisonous in the long run.”

“And we wouldn’t want to do unhealthy things to mages,” Anders growls bitterly. “I’m sure your fellow mages love you for this.”

Dorian shrugs. “I’m from Tevinter, I’m the first one to tell you of the marvelous and terrible things an angry mage can do. Ask me about time magic sometimes.”

Anders gets up from the stool and walks towards the bars. He is taller than Dorian and despite looking like he hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks, there’s an air of strength and confidence about him that has Dorian take a step back. “Why did you come here? You knew they would arrest you. The Commander seems to know you personally.”

“Curly? Oh, yes.”

Dorian snorts in surprise. “Curly? You call Cullen Curly?”

“Well, Hawke did, and Varric.”

“I must ask Varric why he never told me that.”

“Varric is here too? He just can’t stay out of shit, can he?” Anders wipes the hair from his face, leaving dark streaks on his face. “Cullen, Varric, anybody else here from Kirkwall? Merrill maybe? Dalish elf who knows too much about ancient magic she shouldn’t touch?”

Dorian pulls a handkerchief from his belt and wets it in water that springs from the wall. He hands the cloth to Anders, indicating that he should clean his face. “Never heard of a Merrill, we have Solas for that kind of job.”

Anders cleans his face, revealing a kind face with warm eyes and a cheeky grin in red stubble. “There, pretty enough for you now?”

Dorian lays his head to the side and puts his hand under his chin. “I’m afraid the unwashed hair and coat takes away from the overall effect.”

A smile spreads on Anders’ face and he uses the wet cloth to wipe over his hair, brushing it to the back of his head. The grease keeps it slicked back, and he looks surprisingly serious now, were it not for his smile. The smile makes him look young, daring even, with a livelihood about him that someone in his situation should not even have.

“You are quite beautiful,” Dorian blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Thanks.” Anders turns a bit, draping himself over the bars of his cell as if he’s on display, stretching his arm up and behind him and arching his back.

The whole pose reminds Dorian of body-slaves displaying themselves at one of the many parties he attended. Parties he loved to attend with all their pleasures. Nausea rises in him at the memories. “I would prefer if you didn’t do that,” he presses out between clenched teeth.

Anders looks at him and drops the pose, simply leaning against a bar of the gate. “Can you blame me?”

Dorian steps closer, watching Anders’ brown eyes widen. “Blame you for what?”

“I’ll tell you if you come closer.” Anders looks through the bars, his hands on either side of his face.

Dorian hesitates only a little. He’s one of the best trained mages here and the collar suppresses Anders’ magic, he isn’t a threat. Dorian takes another step closer until he stands right in front of the bars, his nose almost touching Anders’. He studies Anders’ face, the harsh lines carved into it from an equally harsh life, the warm eyes glittering with mischief.

“Closer,” Anders whispers, and when Dorian leans forward, he catches his mouth with his lips, brushing a kiss over it. He suckles on Dorian’s lower lip and then leans back. “Well.” He takes a long breath. “Can you blame me for trying to influence my jailor in my favor?”

Dorian jerks back. “I’m not your jailor.”

Anders laughs out and grabs the collar with both hands. “Certainly looks like it.”

Dorian opens his mouth for a retort when Anders’ hands begin to glow in blue, light traveling up his arms like lightning, and with high pitched noise, the collar snaps in two. Anders throws the pieces through the bars at Dorian’s feet and sits back down on the stool.

“I came here by my own will, I won’t be using magic to fight.” He leans his head back against the wet stone wall and closes his eyes. “I’ve accepted my fate and I’ll accept the judgement.”

“Fasta vass. How did you do that? It should have been impossible.” Dorian steps closer again, regardless of the danger of the unshackled mage in the cell. “Is it that spirit you merged with?”

“Justice is gone.” For the blink of an eye he looks like he is about to cry but he schools his face again. “But he left me with some kind of residue. And I was never...” He trails off, looking into the distance far beyond of his cell’s walls.

Dorian steps right up to the bars. “That’s remarkable. I need to study this, your magic.”

Turning his head, Anders grins at him. “Maybe you should talk to your inquisitor that you need me as a test subject to experiment on.”

“No!” Dorian shouts, his own reaction surprising him, the visceral recoil at this suggestion. “That’s not what I want.” In his imagination, Anders stands by his side as they study the text of an ancient book, flinging spells at each other, laughing, kissing, holding each other. The intense longing in his chest for this idea to become reality has him holding his breath in shock.

Something must have shown on his face because Anders looks at him confused. He shakes his head and leans back again. “Well, pretty jailor, please let me know soon how they’re going to kill me.”

Dorian turns around and storms out of the dungeon. Nobody will kill this man, he'll make sure of that.

#Dorian x Anders #Dorian Pavus #Anders #dragon age fanfiction #dorianders #my writing #30daysofdorian #dorianders fic

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iawv · 3 years

Text

She Called Him Fen’Harel - Chapter 12 "Reunited“

"She Called Him Fen'Harel" on AO3 "Fear isn't so difficult to understand. After all, weren't we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It's just a different wolf. This fright complex is rooted in every individual." – Alfred Hitchcock

Drawing of Fal & Fen by Ithelana_Lavellan

She was at Fen's side in an instant.

"Falon, you found me," Falherna murmured, approaching the wolf. The animal lowered his head and whimpered.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

No, no.

She knelt beside him. "What happened, Fen?" she whispered, knowing he would not answer. His fur was covered in blood.

She was holding her breath; her heart was pounding in her chest. A lump in her throat was impossible to swallow.

Breathe, she reminded herself. You can help him.

"No, please, no." Fal pleaded, eyes glued to the wolf. She whispered prayers to a god that never answered, to a creature who possibly did not care. How could she believe he is listening?

"Mana, Fen." She took a long breath as her hands investigated Fen. She checked his head, neck with trembling fingers. As she touched his leg, the wolf whimpered in pain. She took a closer look at it and found a cut, some dried blood. Shemlens' arrows caused this. She wanted to roar, claw, and sink her teeth into the flesh of those who did this.

She concentrated on breathing, on what was important.

She returned to examination, checking for other wounds. There were none. A relief washed her over; she let out a huge breath. Her body slumped, lost its stiff posture, and she sat on the ground next to Fen.

She bowed her head, perhaps Fen'Harel was listening after all.

She let out a sigh of relief, stroking his fur, calming him, calming herself.

"Solas," she whispered. Suddenly he was at her side as if he was waiting near to be called.

"I am here," she could hear the concern in his voice.

"Leg wound," she said quietly. Solas dropped to his knees by her side, ready to heal the wound, but she grabbed his arm.

"Slowly. He usually doesn't like strangers." Solas nodded, focusing on the animal.

Breath in, she heard her father's voice again. Breath out, Celia. Focus on helping him.

Focus. The keyword. The crucial lesson of her life.

Still, there was this nagging feeling of fear at the back of her mind. Fear of seeing Fen in pain, seeing him dead.

"I will hold him down so you can heal him, Solas."

The wolf put his head on her lap, allowing her to stroke his fur. She scratched him delicately, knowing how he liked it. She leaned in and whispered into the animal's ear, "This is Solas, ma falon. He will help you."

No dying. Not today.

Solas placed his hands on Fen's leg.

"Mana, falon," she whispered, stroking his fur in a slow, calming manner with her shaking fingers. She could hear her heart, the sound of flowing blood in her ears, her own hitched breath.

Breathe, she reminded herself again and again, in and out.

To find a distraction, she started to study Fen - his eyes, thick fur, teeth, ears. She loved him. He was wild, free, owned by no one, like her.

He was a companion, a partner, a friend, her only connection to reality. Her anchor. He was one of the reasons she was living.

Fal startled at the first tingling warmth of Solas' magic. She could feel it on her skin, his aura reaching her own. The mark on her palm brightened a little, just for a second.

Solas’ hands stopped glowing. "He will be fine, and I stopped the bleeding. Still, I need to immobilize his leg," he stated, reaching for his backpack.

"He is not afraid of you." The statement escaped her lips, and she couldn't hide her surprise. She looked at the elf in the darkness.

He stared at the wolf. "He is not."

She patted Fen's head, staring into his eyes. The wolf poked her with his nose and licked her hand. Falherna laughed softly.

"He loves you," Solas said.

"Obviously," she chuckled, her fingers stroking the soft fur.

She watched Solas as he lowered his gaze, his face drawn tight with concern.

"I love him too," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Solas paused, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest of moments before quickly returning to his task.

"Done," he said after a while, bandaging Fen's paw.

"Ma serannas," Falherna thanked him.

He smiled tightly, but when he met her gaze, something in his eyes softened. "It is no trouble."

Falherna helped Fen stand up. The animal tested his leg, sniffing it, raising and lowering it. He made a few steps towards Fal, who laughed again and patted his head. "You'll be fine."

Solas moved back to the distance.

***

The feeling of Fen’s head and nose beside her cheek was a warm, calm sensation she missed. She looked at the fire, her fingers tucked deeply in his fur, sliding slowly along his jaw and ear. It was comforting to feel his muscles again, his strength, the certainty she is no longer alone.

She hugged him and whispered to his ear, "Soon it will be over. We are getting out of here, ma Fen."

She sighed and laid down on her bedroll. For the first time since the hole in the sky opened, it took her only a brief moment to fall asleep.

***

Solas sat quietly. The fire almost died out; he sent a small fireball at it.

Rubbing the base of his palm against his eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts. He would rest as best he could, but he suspected that his dreams would offer no release.

It happened again; the mark gave him access to Herald's state of mind. The world went blank as his fingers made contact with hers. This time he could see things, but all were fragmented. Images. Emotions. Sensations.

His eyes settled on Herald for a moment, observing her marked hand.

The anchor shouldn't cause this - the strange connection between the barer's mind and him. He never experienced anything like this before.

It was no mind-reading, no telepathy, nothing similar to it.

He sighed; there was no way to test it without engaging Herald in it, and the thought was both exciting and disturbing.

Whatever this incredible power was, Herald did not know about it and consequently did not have any control over it.

He looked away from Herald with a sense of relief. He didn't want to fail at his assumptions - it irritated him. And he didn't want to develop an interest in her hidden thoughts or feelings.

Not worth the effort to uncover them.

***

The sky was beginning to blush into the evening, turning violet and gold.

Falherna followed the winding road, refreshed by the cold air whipping across her face, raising gooseflesh along her arms. The closer they got to Haven, the calmer she was. There was no way this could work, but she had prepared an alternative solution.

She tucked her hair into a ponytail and scratched Fen behind his ear. He strolled by her side, looking at her from time to time.

Solas and Varric stayed a few steps behind, their attempts at interacting with her unsuccessful.

The conversation with anyone did not interest her at the moment.

She had things to consider to make it work. She was not going to separate herself from Fen.

The world already took her freedom, locking her in one place with unwanted magic in her palm.

She pinched the bridge of her nose as her head started to pound. She was tired, so were Solas and Varric, probably. They found a small clearing less than halfway back to Haven.

"We can camp here," she suggested slowing her steps.

"Good idea, Brighteyes, also I need to talk to you," she was expecting it. Varric would not let this go. She just nodded.

While Varric and Solas lighted the fire and prepared their bedrolls, she placed both hands on either side of the Fen's head and lifted it to look into his eyes. He met her gaze solemnly and let out a soft whine.

“We're going to figure this out. Ara dir'vhen'an,” she said with a reassuring smile, pressing a kiss to his nose's bridge.

The wolf buried its head in her chest. She smiled, closing her eyes and absorbing the noises of the approaching night.

Her neck began to stiffen and tense, a tingling sensation spread on her skin, a feeling of someone else’s gaze. She didn't know how, but she was sure it was Solas, observing her.

The rising sun had burned most of the mist away. The wind whispered across the long grass and rustled the leaves of the trees lining the dirt road, the gentle sounds of the countryside drowning out the noise of the bustling village. She studied the wildflowers and rocks as they continued climbing up the bridge.

"You know they won't let Fen cross gates of Haven," he heard Varric's words as he got back from relieving himself.

The Herald was humming thoughtfully, her hand never leaving Fen's head. She turned her head to meet his eyes. For an instant, Solas felt caught. Underprepared.

"Not immediately," she muttered, taking a sip of water; a single line appeared between her eyebrows for a second, then her features smoothed out, and emotion fled her gaze.

Solas laid on the bedroll behind the Herald's back and listened to the exchanged. Varric was not wrong humans would not let the woman - even Herald of Andraste - walk among them with the wolf at her side.

"So, you've got a plan, Fal?" Varric leaned in, grinning conspiratorially.

"Always," her answer simple as usual. She quickly changed the subject, talking about someone who they both knew.

Through half-closed eyelids, Solas observed the jewelry in her hair. There were still those odd metallic beads braided in, a claw at the end of one.

She moved her head, and he frowned. Was that a wolf head on one of her braids?

It matters not, if that's a wolf head or something else, he thought.

He closed his eyes, steading his breath. The Herald laughed, and his eyes opened.

Fen turned his head, meeting Solas' gaze.

The wolf watched him as close as Solas, himself, was watching the Herald.

***

Cassandra stood with her arms crossed staring at Fen, face tense, unease in her eyes.

Falherna clasped her hands behind her back, waiting patiently. At the corner of her eye, she could see gawkers - some curious, some visibly scared of the wolf by her side.

"What's the meaning of this?" snapped Cassandra.

"Seeker...," Varric murmured.

"Let's wait for advisors," Falherna cut in, "I saw you sent for them."

The Seeker looked at her surprised before she shook her head.

"Fine."

Tension settled over them as they waited. Falherna could sense Seeker's anger seething just below the surface.

"What in the Maker's name happened?" they heard Cullen's voice shortly before joining them. Behind him walked Leliana with Josephine, who trying to keep up while pulling her second hand into a coat sleeve.

"Herald?" Cullen's eyes widened when his gaze rested on the wolf. He looked at Falherna, waiting for the explanation.

She did not plan to answer yet. She preferred to remain silent until everyone saw the situation they were in.

Solas stepped closer and now stood beside Fen.

"Oh my!" Josephine covered her mouth, eyeing the wolf.

Leliana kept herself quiet; however, she couldn't hide the smirk on her face.

Cassandra sent Falherna a frustrated glance.

"I will ask again - what's the meaning of this?" her tone icy.

"This is Fen, the wolf I told you about," she explained and held her silence for a beat. "Before you start accusing me of dragging here a dangerous beast, I would like to propose a compromise."

Falherna sighted discreetly, waiting for the flow of words to end.

Humans. They would never disappoint. Were their mind so broken they couldn't recognize what compromise meant?

Her hand automatically found Fen's head, while her fingers stroke the fur.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see how Solas' gaze kept darting over to her face.

"Herald, I've heard something about a compromise?" the corner of her mouth twitched at Leliana's voice.

She looked at Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine, who stood in front of her with their confused expressions, and she felt so tired. Tired of the words she did not say yet, of the fights she did not experience yet, of explanations they did not ask of her yet, of the role she did not want, of the fate waiting for her.

"Yes. For the sake of everyone, Fen and I will stay in the Taigen's shack north of Haven," she paused, her blue eyes suddenly sharp, "If you want me to stay, of course."

Her face was so set as to be carved from stone. They regarded each other, both her and Seeker, motionless.

Cullen was the first to interrupt the silence. He took a step towards Fal, and Fen did the same, snarling quietly.

"He doesn't seem to like you, Curly," Varric laughed.

Commander Cullen sent him a brief look, focusing on the Herald.

"We want you to stay, Herald. Without you, we are doomed," he assured her.

Falherna dug her hand into Fen's fur, calming the animal.

"Thank you," she answered, merely looking at the Commander.

"Herald, forgive me for asking but do you ever lose control?" he asked, and immediately his hand gripped the back of his neck.

"In certain specific situations, yes," her tone reserved, eyes studying his body language. He seemed embarrassed. He regretted opening his mouth, obviously.

Luckily Leliana decided to intervene once again.

"If we are done here, I would like to talk to you, Herald. There is a message delivered today," she quickly got straight to the point, bowing her head slightly as if she was trying to hide a little smirk on her face.

"I will gladly talk to you, but I would like to clean up first if you allow."

"You are the Herald, my Lady," her arms tensed when she heard Cullen.

"I am no one's Lady, Commander," she answered with weariness. She was exhausted; her mind and body screamed for rest.

"I will meet you in the war room in an hour." Leliana smiled at her, and the four of them left towards the gate.

She stood there with her hand on Fen's head, feeling eyes on her. Too many eyes - of soldiers, people of Haven, kids, her companions.

"Do you have murderous thoughts, Brighteyes?" Varric joined her.

She said nothing.

With a corner of her eye, she saw Varric's gaze. He was worried about her.

"Do not trouble yourself, Storyteller. Go and rest." she sent him a faint smile, "I will see you later.".

She had never felt so alone as she did standing in the midst of this small village. There was no one to talk to. No one who could understand, comfort her.

She heard the sound of voices and turned to look behind her. The gawkers were slowly scattering. Some were still there, pointing at Fen and whispering to each other.

She moved towards the shack with Fen by her side.

***

Varric sighed loudly, "Fuck."

Solas looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and the dwarf shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of some persistent thought.

"Fate is a weird thing, Chuckles," he murmured.

"Is it?"

"She is forced to stay amongst humans which she disklike, to put it mildly. She is trapped here. I worry," dwarf seemed to be speaking to himself, but Solas listened carefully.

"You worry because you think the Herald does not have enough strength to endure?" he asked not only out of curiosity. The fact was he wanted to know if she was a flight risk.

Varric snorted "Nah, Chuckles, I do not worry about lack of strength. She has it more than enough.".

Solas frowned trying to make some sense of it while Varric continued. He caught a glimpse of red hair before Herald and her wolf disappeared behind the trees. He wondered how long humans will allow her to stay outside of Haven.

"You know what a cage can do to free man? Imagine having no space to call your own, no choice over who to be with, what to eat, or where to go. Day after day threat and suspicion everywhere," Varric sighed while they passed the main gate.

"I can imagine, Master Thetras," Solas murmured, "I would assume Herald can adapt."

"She is confined to this kind of environment so has no option but to change and adapt," the dwarf face took a grim expression.

"What worries you then?"

"The change. The chronic loss of free choice, lack of privacy, daily stigma. To be honest this constant mask of invulnerability and emotional flatness is the most disturbing factor. I struggle with it since I know her," a small laugh escaped his mouth, "Asked her about it many times but she always dismissed me with silence or stoicism bullshit theory."

They stopped by the fire to warm their fingers. Varric invited him to sit as he handed him a bowl of water. Solas considered it for a moment but refused, waiting impatiently to get back to his cottage. The conversion, while very interesting, took too long already.

"She is not alone. We are all here to support her." he declared however without conviction.

Varric sat silently for a while and Solas was ready to leave when the dwarf looked at him and smiled.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe the presence of Fen will help or perhaps Faron would be a better solution for her troubles." the dwarf scratched his chin.

Don't ask. It is none of your business.

The question burnt in his mind but eventually never left his mouth. He bowed lightly leaving Varric alone.

#DAI ff #DAI fanfic #iawv's writes #Dragon Age Inquisition fanfic #ff #fanfic #solavellan fic #solavellan #Solas #dai #She called him fen'harel

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whumpzone · 4 years

Text

Tomas and Rowe Interval: Fight or Flight

this is a combination of this little post and another idea I had banging around my skull. just finished an essay so wrote this as a little cooldown, and I’m so glad I did. enjoy!

CW for dehumanisation and a mild non-con reference (imagined, not actual)

He didn’t- what the fuck do you think you’re doing?- he didn’t even know what had taken over him. The fear was blinding, like it always was, but for the first time in Rowe’s life it had an edge to it. He didn’t want to get hurt, and everything was screaming inside him that he was about to be. He had- god, he could barely even remember, he had reacted so instantly. He had been bad. He must have, since Master had said the word nails.

Memories had flashed before Rowe’s eyes with such intensity that he almost cried out. He had only had the punishment once, the circular scars that ran down his thighs never letting him forget. His inner thighs, and in that moment Rowe could remember the way he had squirmed and pleaded, his old master so furious with him that he wouldn’t even speak to him, wouldn’t tell him what was to come, so when his legs were forced apart and locked in place the fear had overwhelmed him before the pain had even begun.

Even though he was in Master Tomas’s kitchen, and he knew deep down that he was, he could still feel himself straining against the shackles, sobbing for his owner to please, please don’t, please not that anything but that-

He had learnt since then. Not to ever refuse a punishment like that. Rowe could beg for mercy, and promise to be good, and sob that he didn’t mean to, but he was never to beg for a punishment to stop. As if he had the right to argue against his Master.

At least, he thought he had learned.

Back in the present, it didn’t matter if he was in Master’s kitchen, he was about to be punished, have his soft flesh pierced and twisted and he just- he didn’t want it. Fight or flight was only something humans experienced, he always thought, but he had grabbed the rolling pin anyway before he had a chance to think. And now it was too late to back down.

. . .

Usually Tomas could get some idea of what had scared Rowe, but this time he was utterly lost. And even worse, Rowe hadn’t switched to his usual panicking and crying at Tomas’s feet. This time he was holding a rolling pin and staring at him with wild, frightened eyes, like even he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing.

"Rowe, I-" he started, but Rowe interrupted.

"I d-d-d-don’t want it, M-M-Master," he stammered, his eyes not leaving Tomas’s for an instant. His whole body was tight and stiff, his shoulders locked high beside his chin.

"That’s okay, you don’t have to… have it. I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise."

Tomas took a slow step towards him but Rowe bristled and clutched the weapon even tighter, hoisting it up threateningly.

"St-stop it!" he cried, his voice cracking. Tomas could see the light bouncing off the tears in Rowe’s waterline. But he couldn’t let his poor boy swing that thing around like that. It wasn’t safe for either of them. He took another small step.

"It’s okay," he soothed, raising his palms submissively. He half-noted his fingertips; he had just been talking about remembering to trim his nails soon. "I won’t do anything."

Rowe looked like he wanted to take a step back, but was rooted to the spot in fear and desperation. "Stop," he begged, his voice becoming shakier every time he spoke. "Please."

It broke Tomas’s heart, hearing him speak as if he were speaking to someone else- his old master, or the version of Tomas in Rowe’s head that was always one wrong move away from inflicting harm. Where are you right now, Rowe?

"It’s okay," he tried again. "I’m not angry."

He was close, now, not quite arm’s length but close enough to lunge forward and force Rowe to the ground, and it was painfully clear that both of them knew that.

"Please," Rowe sobbed, tears slowly rolling down his face. "You’re gonna hurt me."

Rowe didn’t often say it out loud, even though it was clear when he was thinking it. But to hear it made so clear- something in Tomas felt like it was welling up as well. His hands, still raised, trembled ever so slightly with the emotion.

"I’m not, I’m not. It’s okay. I would never. I wouldn’t do that to you, Rowe."

"Y-y-you will."

Tomas stepped closer, now in reaching-distance, and lowered his hands ever so slightly. Rowe held onto the rolling pin, staring at him.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "I won’t tackle you. I won’t grab you. If holding that makes you feel safe you can keep it, and I’m right here now. You can hit me if you want. Please don’t, but I won’t stop you. I won’t stop you."

Tomas closed his eyes and hoped this was gonna pay off.

. . .

Rowe was threatening his Master. He was threatening him, and Master should be angry, he should be furious with him, with his Pet’s sheer audacity, but he didn’t look angry. He was right there, he could grab Rowe if he wanted, but he hadn’t. In fact, he was stood there with his eyes screwed up, waiting for Rowe to decide whether to hit him or not.

He thought about it (he was actually thinking about hurting Master!) and the thought made him feel awful. Awful in a way he couldn’t pinpoint. There was the nausea about the punishment he would receive, and how bad he would be, but there was also something else. Like Master didn’t deserve it.

(Like Master had only ever been kind to him?)

His fear and desperation over the nails was fading. This wasn’t his old master, and Rowe couldn’t think of anything he’d done to deserve that punishment. As the adrenaline wore off the tremors in his hands returned.

The rolling pin clattered to the floor and Master opened his eyes.

. . .

Rowe’s arms lowered and then he was sobbing, full on sobbing, and Tomas still didn’t know what had set Rowe off. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as he looked at the way Rowe was crying; his whole body heaving and trembling with every breath.

"I don’t know why I did that," whimpered Rowe, and something about his voice, the rawness of his statement, or the fact he hadn’t called him Master, sent a few tears running down Tomas’s cheeks as well.

"You were scared," he breathed, ever so gently taking Rowe’s hand. "You were scared, it’s okay. I’m not angry."

Rowe let him step closer, and then- Tomas’s breath caught- rested his head on Tomas’s chest. He didn’t lean in for a hug, or reach for him with quivering hands. He just nestled his cheek into him, his free arm hanging lose, and the other held up by Tomas’s hand.

"I thought you were going to-" he began, but the words didn’t seem to come to him after that. Instead, he just wept some more, while Tomas rubbed little circles over Rowe’s knuckles.

"It’s okay, pal. You’re safe. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I promise."

Rowe let out a shuddering breath, and cried until he had no energy left at all, and all the while Tomas just let him.

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lave-e @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta

#i never know how to end these little intervals lol #hope you like it!!#i really enjoyed writing this i am so sick of assignments djfskjfksdjf #tomas and rowe #whump #whump fic #pet whump #recovery whump

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bbykpoper · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 3 // Masterlist

GENRE: mafia au, fluff, a bit of smut, a smudge of angst if you squint your eyes hard enough, possible fantasy????

WARRNING: description of murder and blood at the end, viewer discretion is advised!!!

SYNOPSIS: A centuries old feud which kept itself silent suddenly ignites once again as two warring gangs face each other for the first time. A family of established immortals who came together after the war, a band of humans who began remembering their past lives and officials breathing down their neck threaten the world once again as fantasy and reality clash in the form of a young man hell bent on being in the lead and a young woman hell bent on ending this meaningless feud. A story will unfold before you now, questioning your morals as well as grinding your nerves to the edge.

“A princess turned assassin?”

“A coward turned prince?”

Who will survive the last wave of this war?

°˖✧

“I don’t trust them. Why are they here?” Mark spoke as two of Bangtan’s finest sat outside their meeting room with them. “She even killed Jaemin!”

“Shush Mark. She can hear you.” Haechan spoke up, trying to calm his friend down.

The girl in question only observed the two, blinking occasionally to show she was alive. Her back was glued to the wall as she sat on the small bench, Solas by her side observing the commotion inside the NCT dining room. Forcas and Beelzebub were facing two very annoyed individuals, one of them being Johnny who had lost the race to Yeonjun earlier this night.

“She killed our youngest and you want us to work with her?!” Brain was screeching at the two Bangtan men. Both of them sighed thanking every possible Gods out there that Yoongi was not here, or Jongkook. Those two would have lost their temper a long time ago and killed at least half of the house before y/n could stop them. “The fuck do you think we are?! We can take care of our problems by ourselves!”

“Oh? Is that so?” Forcas smirked in amusement. “Then why don’t you do it by not stepping into our territory of business?”

“We do what we have to, and we have similar interests with the Chinese regarding you.” Brain seethed through his teeth.

“Then I guess this conversation is over.” Beelzebub sighed, standing up along with Forcas. “Such a waste of time.”

Solas and Fae noticed the two walking up to them and both stood up catching the two babysitters off guard at the quickness of their movements. Forcas softly smiled at her and placed his hand on her head, a coping method to soothe his anger, and gently patted the younger girl.

“Wait, wait.” The leader of NCT, Lee Taeyong also known as Boss, was quick to stop the group from leaving. “Please excuse my subordinate, his anger keeps talking for him.” The four individuals didn’t seem amused. “I apologize in his stead. May we start over?”

“We are very busy individuals Mr. Taeyong.” Beelzebub narrowed his eyes, the air around them taking on a certain buzz. “We don’t have time to play childish games with men who can’t do orderly business in a disciplined fashion.”

“Then do business with only me and Boss.” Johnny spoke up from next to Fae, the girl only observing him from the corner of her eye. She noticed his intention of coming closer to her even before he thought of it. His body language was too obvious for her. “We will close the doors and come to an agreement, without anybody interrupting us.”

“Seems quite fair.” Forcas spoke, motioning for Solas to step in between Johnny and Fae. “But, I have a condition.”

“We’re listening.”

“Keep Brain away from Fae.” Was the simple condition.

“Why? Scared I’m going to kill her?” He mocked, glaring at the girl. He was met with the most emotionless pair of eyes, which slightly glazed over with something which Brain could only identify as blood thirst.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure she will kill you first.” Forcas smiled, coming close to him. “We wouldn’t want NCT’s top mastermind to lose his head now would we.”

“We’ll be by the car.” Fae announced and turned to leave with Solas, nodding slightly to the two men.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t you two. And be cautious!” Beelzebub yelled after them as Solas burned with embarrassment. “Now then, shall we?”

°˖✧

Kim Hanbin, Chief Inspector in charge of taking care of the whole Bangtan/Nct problem, now sat with crossed arms as four young women sat across from him. His expression was sharp as they stared down at him, with his lips trained in a tight line.

“Inspector Kim, it has come to our attention that you’ve been quite lacking with your work concerning the Bangtan gang.” Agent Manoban spoke to him, her eyes peering through the glasses she wore as she looked over a file she held in her long fingers. “No arrests were made, you are not even a step closer to finding out who their Angels of Death are-”

“Fallen Angels.” Kim Hanbin spoke up for the first time.

“- yes, the Fallen Angels.” Agent Manoban rolled her eyes.

“Let’s cut to the chase Inspector Kim.” Agent Kim Jennie spoke up, having enough of this spectacle her colleague and this Inspector put up. “Our superiors are not satisfied with the progress of this case and they’ve sent us to finish this, make the appropriate arrests and close it.”

Inspector Kim didn’t speak up about this, knowing very well that he had no say in this and that if he even tries to he’ll be taken off the case.

He’s been working on this case for the past two years and finally, a few months ago he managed to place one of his detectives as an undercover agent almost at the top to work with one of the Fallen Angels and extremely close to Fae, making contact with her on more than one occasion. He couldn’t compromise his man, and he couldn’t exactly tell these four FBI agents because they would no doubt, reveal him and endanger his life.

And he was extremely glad that he briefed his own men on this silent code.

“All right, what do you need?” He asked, sighing and bringing his his hands on the table.

“We will need all of the information you have gathered on the group, as well as the full support of your team.” Agent Kim Jisoo smiled softly at him. To Hanbin she seemed to be the kindest one among the four, but he knew better than to blindly go along with it.

“We need the names and badge numbers of your team.” Agent Park handed him a piece of paper and a pen.

Chief Inspector Kim Hanbin complied and wrote down five names. Five detectives who were part of his team and regulars at the station.

“Aren’t you missing one?” Agent Manoban raised an eyebrow.

“One of the men was taken off the case a few months back. He is now in another division.” He spoke calmly, his eyes not giving away the secret he held.

The women nodded and took the paper from him, releasing him to go his own way.

He went back to his division and took a seat at his cubicle as the rest of the men glanced at him, too scared to ask him anything.

“Well friends, we’re screwed.” He announced. “The FBI is going to become part of this team and investigation. They asked for all of your info and names, while they will most likely look into Jiwon to see if he really is in another division or not. I believe we will co-operate with them and not get ourselves in trouble or in sticky situations.”

“Yes sir!” They all answered, noticing how Agent Manoban observed the interaction closely.

The men went back to their tasks at hand as Hanbin looked over to his desk where a picture of him with his whole team stood. They really didn’t need the FBI breathing down their necks right now, but if this is what it meant for them to keep themselves on the case, then he’ll be damned if he couldn’t take it.

°˖✧

Fae sat on the hood of the car observing the two designated babysitters as they paced left and right. They were annoyed and on edge to have to keep an eye on them but at the same time there was something more. They were anxious, as if they were expecting something to happen.

“Hey Tae, do you feel the shift in energy in the air?” She turned to look at her friend who also seemed restless to a point.

“Yes. But it’s coming from the east. Outside of the house and their border of territory.” He spoke up, his eyes trained on the spot where he felt this sudden shift of energy.

“I’ll go check up on it and you go tell Joon and Jin.” He nodded at her as she swiftly disappeared in the shadows.

Her footsteps were light on the ground as she neared the place of question. Her dark eyes trained on the group of people before her became lighter when she noticed it was someone who they could have expected. Approximately seven men, in dark clothing stood with guns at the ready, mask pulled up so their faces were revealed. Faint talking revealed to her that they were not Korean, but rather Chinese and that their target was to take out the four of them from Bangtan with the help of NCT.

“Rubbish.” She seethed out through her teeth as her eyes steeled themselves like the blade of her katana which she carried with her.

“I know right? Some of our kids are not exactly well behaved and they called them over.” Johnny’s voice came as a whisper, but (y/n) didn’t care much of it. She saw red and wanted them dead, as much as she wanted every single NCT member to lay their last breaths under her blade. “Please don’t look at me like that. I fear I cannot allow you to kill our kids.”

Wait a minute, he can read my thoughts?

“A little bit. Weird isn’t it?” He smiled widely at her. “It’s quite easy with you, even though I thought it would be harder.”

The movement from the seven men caught her attention and averted her gaze from the man crouching next to her in the high tree branch. Without a second glance, she jumped onto the one directly above one of the men in the back and she landed on him, her blade running through the middle of his head. She pulled it out quickly and with a swift turn cut two more heads off, before she slid into the shadows of the nearby tree line. The other four took to a stop when one turned to see the decapitated bodies of their companions and this gave (y/n) leverage to slide out round them and cut two of the mens feet off in one swift swish. The scream they let out alerted the rest of her existence but she was too fast, and in three flowing moves, their bodies were cut in half.

The minute she exhaled a breath and sheathed her sword, her eyes narrowed in on the overly excited man still stuck in the tree branch where she originally was.

“Who are you, Johnny Seo?”

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theheraldsrest · 4 years

Note

I know what you did last summer...Hey alex, i got something for you. How would those in the inquisitor's circle react to being called handsome/beautiful out of the blue? Before and or after relationship? Thanks

Inquisitor’s circle being complimented, before/after relationship? Thank you for the ask and I don’t know what you mean by that. Don’t talk to me or my Cabot ever again. (Kidding)

-LordLex

Cullen (Before)

-“Oh, uh, thank you.”

-Doesn’t really know how to take this

-Just thanks you and continues on with his duties

-Not sure why he’s being complimented but is thankful that it’s more sophisticated than most of the ‘compliments’ he receives from Sera

(After)

-“Please, if anyone should be receiving compliments, it’s you.”

-Not the most poetic, but he tells you exactly what he thinks.

-Still not used to it but tries his best to return the compliments.

-The soldiers can tell when you’ve given him a compliment because his face is slightly flushed after talking to you

Josephine (Before)

-“Thank you, Inquisitor! And might I return the kind words and say that you are looking well.”

-Something she’s been through, she’s basically on autopilot

-She accepts it with respect and returns it all the same

-Makes her day to get a compliment from the Inquisitor

(After)

-“You always seem to find the most poetic way to say what you’re thinking.”

-She takes the compliments to heart

-Can always find a new thing to compliment you about, the way your eyes shine or how fluid your motions are

-Of course, that doesn’t stop her from beaming all day

Solas (Before)

-“Thank you. It is much appreciated, Inquisitor.”

-Don't fill the Egg’s head. It’ll just make him more powerful

-Besides that, is happy that someone appreciates him

-Let’s be honest, you get most of his approval by complimenting him on what a big nerd expert he is

(After)

-“You grace me with your words too often, Vhenan. Though, more words could be said about you, truly describing in detail your perfection.”

-This man’s main goal is to make you a flustered mess, and that’s only with complimenting you.

-He will not let you out-compliment him, for every comment you give, he gives you 3 of them.

-You’d think he’d run out of things to say about you. So did Dorian but he gave up listening to your conversation a LONG time ago.

Cassandra (Before)

-“I...Thank you, friend. But what is the purpose of this conversation?”

-Very suspicious as to why you’re complimenting her. Thinks Varric put you up to it.

-Takes a while, but once she knows your true intentions, she does appreciate it

-Might take her a bit to compliment you back, usually about how well of a fighter or leader you are

(After)

-“You shouldn’t say such things out loud for anyone to hear! I’d rather not have Varric quoting you!”

-Very flustered, tries to put her hands over your mouth if you continue

-But when you two are alone, she listens so intently to the words you weave together, speaking of her

-She can only tell you how amazing and wonderful you are, and she means it with all her heart

The Iron Bull (Before)

-“Thanks, boss. You’re not so bad yourself.”

-Man will take anything, even compliments. Gets them constantly by certain admirers

-Will give an equally meaningful compliment back to you

-Sometimes, it’s followed up by a more in-depth detail or how to make it better

-(“Cassasndra, about your fighting-”

“Not again.”)

(After)

-“You know, a compliment like that from anyone else I would’ve just taken it and continued. But from you, kadan? Makes a man ten times stronger.”

-Honestly seems like with every compliment you give him, the worst his enemies have it against him.

-Does not hold back on the compliments, either, so just be ready for when you tell him he looks nice that he returns it with how nice you look being tied up.

-Though it does become a problem when your complimenting him in front of his children the Chargers

-(“Oy, boss! Have I told ya how nice your eyes are, too?”

“Keep it up, Krem, and you’ll see how nice my swinging arm is.”)

Dorian (Before)

-“Usually nice words are followed up with a favor or a spiteful comment. Which is it this time?”

-After the initial thought that you might be sassing him, he is all ABOUT the compliments

-Agrees full heartedly with each one, with some minor details that he expects you to remember

-Want to make him really appreciate them? Compliment him about his knowledge. Boy has got some big brains

(After)

-“Oh my, whatever will people say about such words you use for me? Amatus, please, I can only take so much kindness.”

-He’s a sarcastic little- but he really does melt whenever you talk about him, complimenting him

-Especially if you start to talk about the little details you see: how his mustache is brushed so perfectly that not one hair can be found out of place, or how enraptured he become when speaking of a subject he finds fascinating

-Not gonna stop him from doing the same but most of the time leads to Solas calling up to you two to ‘get a room’

Sera (Before)

-“Right, ok. What the hell is this?”

-Takes a few times to explain because this is not something Sera is used to

-Thinks your pulling her leg for the most part, doesn’t know how to respond

-When she does, it’s something along the lines of ‘You stabbed that person pretty good’

(After)

-“Heheh! You think that’s nice, Inky? Well, let’s talk about that one time in bed when we-”

-Somebody stop her, please

-Doesn’t matter where you are, who you’re with or what you’re doing. If you compliment this woman, she’s going to ‘attempt’ by talking about everything

-And I mean EVERYTHING. She’s not leaving any details out

Blackwall (Before)

-“What’s all this? I really don’t deserve this praise. But...thank you.”

-Take the nice words, Blackwall, please

-Tries to downplay it, pushes it off or away. This man believes himself to not be good enough for these words

-Stop, you’ll overwhelm him with your appreciation

(After)

-“Thank you, love. The only thing I can say to that is you are stunning as ever.”

-Still not used to it, but coming from you? Worth it

-Truly knowing him and still complimenting him? He’s even more in love than he was from the start

-This is something he can get used to

Sorry for long post! Hope you enjoy!

#da: inquisitor #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #cullen rutherford #solas #josephine #cassandra pentaghast #iron bull #dorian pavus #sera #blackwall #Inquisitor

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haunted-by-catholic-guilt · 4 years

Text

Bleed Her Out Before I Wake

Hey! This is pretty heavy on drug use and a very temporary character death in form of flatling.

TW FOR SEMI GRAPHIC VOMITING, DRUG USE, LACED DRUGS, IMPLIED SELF HARM, DISORDERED EATING DUE TO STRESS, VOMITING BLOOD

Ft- Jet and Rita QPR, Vespa being soft, and Peter with EDS, its not important to the fic but it is important to me.

title from Heroin by Badflower

“Mista Steel?”

She stood at a cracked doorway in the Carte Blanche, the light was on in the bathroom but other than that it was complete darkness around her.

In the eerily lit bathroom, was her ex-boss and long-time friend, retching into the toilet for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Go ‘way Rita- Don- Don’t wanna see this”

She sighed, it had been a bad day for all of them, involving Sola at a party he was undercover at a party with Peter, the subsequent drug-taking that occurred there so they wouldn't seem suspicious.

As soon as Rita got word on what happened, which unfortunately happened after the heist, all hell broke loose.

Buddy immediately pulled them out of the heist, despite Juno’s protests, saying he felt fine despite the fear in his voice and his shaking body.

Peter absolutely did not agree with his girlfriend, his facade almost cracking as he dragged them out of their, Jet waited in the Ruby 7 outside, his hands were holding the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

By the time they got to the car alone, Juno mumbled something about feeling dizzy, and his breathing was off, hitching at each inhale.

As soon as they got to the ship, Juno pushed away from the others, into his room.

No matter who told him to, he refused to come out of his room.

Rita knew Mista Steel needed his privacy, she remembers the first withdrawal he went through with her, she doesn’t know if it was sola, alcohol, or something else though, he was too out of it to tell her.

In their time together, the lady had spent days in her apartment, vomiting and crying and shaking, at one point even being sent into a seizure because of the withdrawal.

This felt different.

It had been years since he’d taken anything, and he didn’t look like he used to after taking something, what was once something that brought him… joy almost, now made him look scared and tired.

“Mista Steel I’ve seen you worse, but I gotta come in, you’ve been alone for hours and I’m gettin worried.”

He groaned before mumbling a quiet ‘come in’.

The sight she saw was not a pretty one.

He was slumped against the wall, his skin was shining with sweat, and he had taken his top off at some point, revealing many scars, some newer, and his makeup was running off.

“Told you it wasn’t pretty.”

Rita shrugged before sitting next to him on the floor, they would need to talk, about what happened, but Mista Still just looked so… tired.

“Drink some water, boss”

She handed him the cup, or tried to, his hands were shaking too much to grab it, so, she helped steady his hands, holding the glass gently to his lips.

“Sorry about this, know I fucked up.”

He wasn’t wrong but also wasn’t right, she simply sighed and set the glass down.

“Alright, come here”

He looked tired, she was too, but he almost immediately slumped against her, seeking out comfort from the past.

It didn’t take him long to start crying.

She ran her hand through his sweat-soaked curls.

“I didn’t wanna- I didn’t- Rita I-“

He was shaking so hard in her arms, someone else was standing outside the bathroom, Ransom, she suspects.

“I know Mista Steel, I know”

His breathing was rough, he swallowed and a wet click came from his throat, he whimpered, curling into Rita.

“Are you gonna be sick again?”

He shook his head, but Rita gently maneuvered him anyway, leaning over the toilet.

He gagged, harsh and painful, nothing coming up except bile, he had been puking all day, nothing to eat or drink.

“Hurts- it- it hurts so much Rita”

She felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces, holding him up and rubbing his back, he was too weak to hold himself up.

“It’s gonna be okay, boss”

She wasn’t sure anymore.

And she really wasn’t when Juno started to cry out in more pain and the dry heaving stopped.

Because now, she was pretty sure he was puking up blood.

She tried to hide the panic in her voice as she called out.

“Uhhh Mista Ransom I know you’re outside the door and I really need you to grab Miss Vespa ‘cause Mista Steel is puking up blood and I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.

You could hear his heart drop.

Within minutes, Peter was back with the medic, even scarier, she wasn’t complaining and Rita was also distantly aware of Jet standing behind her.

Vespa burst through the door, and knelt down in the open area around Mista Steel.

“Damnit Steel”

She motioned for Jet to grab him, but Juno started to squirm and try to escape the people surrounding him.

“Nno fine- ‘m fine”

Vespa growled, but Jet managed to move her out of the way and kneel in front of Juno himself.

“Juno, I know you do not wish to let us help you, but you are very ill, for reasons that are not your fault, and it would help us all if you would please come with us.”

Jets voice and words calmed him down, and he let himself be picked up by Jet.

Jet walked swiftly to the medbay, careful not to jostle him while they walked, Rita considered distantly the protectiveness Jet had of the boss, wondering where it came from, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

“J-Jet lemme down- gon’ be sick”

Vespa cursed and dove for a trash can they were walking past, and Jet carefully set Mista Steel down, the lady’s body crumbling, unable to hold himself up.

Jet realized this, and propped him up, looking slightly uncomfortable at the factor of comforting the lady, but it didn’t take long for Juno to slump over the trash can and start puking.

“Shit”

Vespa cursed, her low voice full of concern, somewhere next to her Mista Ransom made a concerned noise.

“What’s going on?”

Buddy was behind Vespa, towering protectively over all of them.

“Not sure, pretty sure he managed to tear his stomach lining.”

The worry settled over the crew like a heavy blanket, Rita felt tears in her eyes.

“How did it happen so fast, Vespa? Does it not usually take a few days?”

Peter kept his normal composure, worry seeping through.

“Usually, but he’s been sick with nothing in his stomach, and he’s also probably shot most of his organs with his behavior at a young age, wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t the first time.”

“Fuck”

Juno was still heaving over the can, clearly in pain, too weak to even hold onto the can.

Peter settled on the floor next to his love, the self-control of respecting the privacy the lady clearly wanted was gone and if everyone was honest, Juno didn’t seem to mind.

The thief opened his arms, and Jet helped maneuver Juno into them, where the ex-detective immediately latched onto Peter.

“Hurts- please it-“

Peter shushed him and ran his hands through sweaty hair, rocking him gently.

At some point, though, Vespa noticed something that caused even her to feel worry.

“We gotta get him to the medbay now”

Peter looked down in fear to where Vespa’s eyes were laying, and was horrified to see a large, ugly, black bruise coloring his lady’s stomach, red splotches inside of it.

His lady was bleeding internally.

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

Peter could hardly believe the mess they had gotten into.

He really didn’t want to.

At the party, he… he didn’t know, he wasn’t with Juno, he had to use the bathroom, and when he got back His lady may have offhandedly mentioned it but he didn’t even realize until Rita began to scream over the coms.

The look Rita gave him back on the ship made him want to cry.

Juno pulled away from him, wouldn’t let anyone near him as he locked himself in the bathroom.

Peter was scared.

Rita yelled for him to get Vespa and everything moved so fast for the next ten minutes.

And now, Juno was in surgery, hooked into machines galore as Vespa worked over him, filtering a tube down his throat.

Mallory-Weiss Syndrome was one set of words Peter was able to pick out of Vespas growling, a tear in the stomach lining, usually caused by excess vomiting and coughing.

Juno had been ill since the night before, and probably didn’t eat the day of the heist, meaning it was just acid.

Peter felt sick himself.

His lady was hurt because of his lack of focus on a heist.

But what was making him so sick?

It could have been laced, of course, it would’ve caused some nausea likely, but not this, especially with the low dosage, but it could have been his body reacting to the drug entering his system for the first time in so many years or-

“Peter, darling, are you alright?”

Buddy had her hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled shakily.

“I’m.. I’m fine, Captian, worried about Juno is all.”

She pulled him into a hug, and he started to cry despite himself.

“Peter, it’s not your fault, Juno knew what he was doing, Rita and Jet suspect that he didn’t even feel the need to take it because of the temptation, only the safety of the heist.”

Peter pulled away from Buddy, he didn’t deserve the comfort.

“I just- what’s making him so sick?”

Buddy sat in a chair that was pulled up by the medbay door, looking extravagant as ever.

“We’re not sure, Jet mentioned that the fear of becoming addicted again may have sent him into a panic, but my Vespa will run some tests to make sure it wasn’t laced.”

He nodded, looking out the window.

“Ransom, darling, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

He looked down, pursing his lips together.

“It- Captain I left him, it was.”

She sighed, and Peter felt shame prickle in his back.

“Mista Ransom is wasn’t, Mista Steel knew what he was doin”

He didn’t even know when Rita got there, but soon she was hugging him, hardly reaching his chest.

He let himself feel the comfort for a second, before they all went back to waiting quietly outside the medbay, a worried film over the crew of the Carte Blanche.

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

Hours must’ve passed before the door to the medbay opened, and the disgruntled medic stood in the door.

“Vespa? Is Juno alright?”

Vespa looked tired, she had blood on her shirt and Peter didn’t think it should be there.

“He’s gonna be okay”

Relief wiped over the crew but the bitter taste of fear stuck in the air.

“It… was bad. The drug was laced. Another chemical. He flatlined. Five minutes”

Peter felt his heart stop.

His Juno died.

“Ransom, you in there?”

Vespa was looking at him, everyone was.

“Juno he- he died?”

Rita was crying, sitting next to Jet, and Vespa had made her way over to Buddy.

“No, well, yes, kind of but he’s not dead anymore.”

He was still worried shitless, but his love was… going to be okay.

“He had a tear in his stomach, the puking caused it, but I’m gonna guess either the drug managed to weaken his stomach lining or his past drug abuse and it’s side effects weakened it, which caused it to bleed internally more. His heart gave out while I was cauterizing the tear. It was messy, but he will make a full recovery.”

Peter was sobbing and felt rather embarrassed by this.

“Ransom, he’s okay, you can even go see him.”

Vespa was being… oddly tender towards him, which made him more uneasy, but he collected himself.

“I- I think I will, Rita, would you like to join me?”

She nodded vigorously and let go of Jet, who she was holding too tightly.

They walked quietly into the room together and the sight scared them both greatly, Juno laying on the small bed, hooked up to more machines than Peter could count, tubes up his nose and one down his throat, pale and sweaty.

“Juno”

Peter was so scared for his love, he was asleep, tired out from the day.

“He uh- he’s gonna be out for a while, I’ll bring the extra cot in here ina bit so you can stay in here and actually get some sleep, I had to intubate him, he’s hooked up to a lot of antibiotics and uh, feeding tube, he’s not gonna be able to eat but he needs nutrients.”

He pulled a chair next to Juno’s sickbed, holding his hand and running hands through his hair.

“Juno I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry my love”

He was crying and he wanted nothing more than for Juno to wipe his tears and tell him it was gonna be okay.

Hours passed with him and Rita sitting by his side, hardly speaking, Jet brought tea, Vespa brought them food, tried to make Peter eat best she could, it didn’t work.

“Ransom, you gotta eat”

He didn’t.

Rita left at some point, Buddy sat with him for awhile too, trying to convince him to sleep and eat, but he wouldn’t, only sitting with Juno, not letting him go.

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

Juno pried open his eye, feeling like glue was holding it together, and was greeted by bright lights and a steady beeping sound.

The memories of the past however long it had been came back to him.

The sola, the sickness that followed it, concerned voices surrounding him, Vespa looking down at him, worried as hell.

He tried to turn his head, but the tube down his throat stopped that.

That wasn’t good.

He tried not to freak out, but that failed.

“Calm down or I’m gonna have to sedate you again Steel”

Vespa was above him again, and her face was stern.

Other voices were around him, Rita and Jet were talking at the end of the bed, and Buddy was on the other side of him trying to keep him calm

He couldn’t hear Nureyev.

“Shit- Steel if you don’t stop moving you’re gonna fuck up your throat and I don’t wanna deal with the complaining.”

He tried to stop moving but everything hurt and he needed to run he needed to make sure Nureyev was safe he needed to-

The world went dark.

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

Buddy was happy she finally got Peter to sleep in his bed for a few hours.

Juno looked… terrified, hurting, and scared beyond any way she could describe.

Everyone looked tired.

Her Vespa was clearly worried even, which scared her more saying her outward hate of the detective.

Vespa motioned for everyone to leave, keeping her head down.

Buddy walked over to her once Rita and Jet had left the small medbay, holding her face in one hand and wrapping the other around her, gently tilting up the medics head so she could see her loves eyes.

“Shit, Bud I-“

There were tears in her medics eyes, and Buddy knew that she wasn’t telling them the whole story or situation.

“He’s strong, Vespa, he will be okay”

He needs to be.

Vespa rested her head for a moment on the other woman’s chest, keeping her close, and for just a moment they stayed like that.

“He’s- he’s really bad off, Bud”

She knew, of course, that her lover didn’t hate Juno, or Peter, for that matter, but the whole situation had taken Vespa’s guard down completely it seemed.

Many nights they talked about it, getting Vespa to try and trust them, and Buddy also spent time pointing out the ways he showed his affection towards people, to point out how the lady would make sure to get Rita’s snacks whenever he was planetside, and how he would help Jet whenever he needed it.

Vespa thought about the times he would sit with her, when her eyes darted back and forth and everything was too much and the screaming wouldn’t stop, how he would engage her in conversation as much as he could, or play music, trying to remind her that she wasn’t alone and that she was real.

After a moment, Vespa pulled back, and walking back over to Juno.

“I uh- gotta take this out. He should be able to breathe now”

Buddy nodded and rested a hand on Juno’s knee, careful not to get in the way and to not look, she wasn’t squeamish by any means, but seeing Juno like this…

“You should sleep, Bud, I’m gonna stay with Steel for a bit.”

She looked at her lover, who was now washing her hands in the sink, she looked tired and scared.

“I think you need it more than I do, my love, why don’t you rest on the cot for a while, and that way I’ll still be here with you?”

Vespa nodded, walking over to Buddy and pushing her face into the captain’s neck, almost purring like a content cat, before laying on the cot, her love close enough to protect.

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

Jet did not want to think about this.

He had dealt with his own struggles of addiction, he even wished to partake in those habits now, Buddy had saved him.

Now, he had more people to help him, and he cared about them each.

Juno Steel, one lady who Jet was very protective of due to the vulnerability he’s seen Juno show, was in danger.

And Rita, his friend whom he held closer than most, was very upset about this.

The short lady had spent the larger part of the past forty-eight hours pacing around the room they had begun to share, mostly for convince and comfort, crying, eventually wearing herself from said crying and sleeping, or trying to keep herself calm enough to calm Jet down after he was hit by a nightmare in the few hours of sleep he got.

This was bringing up less than pleasant memories for him as well.

Seeing Juno in that bed, so small and sick, after one pill, shook Jet to his core.

Seeing Juno so sick from what others gave him made him angry.

The nightmare was about M’Tendere, as many were since their death.

Rita laid on top of him like a blanket, something she had discovered worked to ground him after a few weeks together on the ship.

He wrapped his arms around her, they were both in distress, and the least they could do was be there for each other.

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

Juno did not wake up for four days.

Peter refused to leave his side for all but 8 hours.

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

Juno woke to a weight on his side.

He tried to move his head to look, but unlike last time, there was no tube down his throat, only a plastic oxygen mask on his face.

Trying to move wasn’t working either, one hand was thoroughly trapped under whatever, more so whoever, was using his hip as a pillow, and the other was connected to wires with needles in it.

Ah.

He was in the medbay.

“Steel, you finally up? Not gonna flip out and hurt yourself again?”

Vespa was talking quietly, probably not to wake whoever was sleeping on his side.

He nodded, the mask moving uncomfortably on his face and it was then he realized he had a tube in his nose as well.

Vespa moved quickly, gentle more so than he thought, pulling the mask off his face, checking that he could still breathe, and slowly removing the tube that was in his nose, a very, very, uncomfortable sensation.

Breathing was still hard, so Vespa put some more tubes up his nose, despite his complaints.

“Steel, you’ll be fine, less uncomfortable the other, it’s just gonna sit in your nostrils, calm down, I gotta keep you breathing or your boyfriends gonna be mad, and so will the captain.”

He let her do it.

When she finally was done poking and prodding him, he looked at whoever was laying on him.

Nureyev.

He looked like shit, his black hair was greasy and he was wearing one of Juno’s shirts, and a pair of leggings Rita had bought him.

It made Juno’s heartbreak.

“He’s sat vigil in here for days, so figured we’d let him sleep.”

He looked back at Vespa, hell she looked exhausted too, her eyes were deep and sad, wearing a sweater Juno had knit for her, and jeans that she’d always had.

“Call if you need anything, I’ll let you rest but uh, sure everyone will wanna come see you soon.”

She stalked towards the door, and he felt an odd pang of affection for her.

“Thanks, Vespa”

She smiled and he swore for a second that she looked almost relieved.

“No problem Steel, just… don’t do this again.”

Some time passed, and he was able to wiggle his arm out from under Peter, running his hand through the thief’s hair.

“Mmph-“

Peter was making noises in his sleep, and it took a lot of what Juno had not to laugh, god, he loved this man.

“-uno?”

Peter was looking up, with bleary eyes, and part of Juno felt guilty, his eyes were puffy and red, clearly crying before he fell asleep.

“Hey, sleepyhead”

It took Peter a moment to process, he was clearly overtired, but when he finally processed who was talking to him, his eyes filled with a bright color, with a hint of worry left in them.

“Juno, oh, my love, you’re awake.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry, and he shot up from where he was sitting, likely uncomfortably, and he kissed Juno’s face in any place he could reach, and before long, Juno felt tears that weren’t his own on his face.

“Baby, babe, stop”

Peter looked vaguely like a wounded animal at being told to stop loving his lady, the lady whom he thought would die in his arms.

“Nureyev, baby, I’m okay, I’m okay baby, I’m here”

Juno held his face so gently, wiping the tears that were staining his perfect skin.

“I’m sorry I scared you baby”

Peter pulled away from him, sitting on the bed next to him, slipping on the mask of Ransom.

“My dear I am sorry you were so poorly and I couldn’t do anything I just-“

Juno sat up carefully, and leaned forward, grabbing Nureyevs face.

“Baby, it’s ok to be scared and sad, it’s alright”

Peter fell against Juno’s chest, careful not to jostle him too much and not to hurt him.

Juno wrapped his arms around Peter’s back, holding him close.

“I was- I was so scared, you- you were-“

Juno shushed him, the sound of Peter crying hurt his heart, and he was sure Vespa would explain when she got back.

A knock on the door, probably the others, Peter sat up, quickly donning his mask again, just before the door swung open to reveal the rest of the crew, Rita running towards Juno’s bed.

“Oh Mista steel I was so worried and I-“

Juno opened his arms, and Rita carefully climbed onto the bed, where Ransom had evacuated for just this purpose.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Rita.”

She escaped his hug, carefully wiping her tears and nose on her sweater.

“Oh Mista Steel it’s alright I just.. it felt too much like ol times for a bit, but Mista Jet helped a bit but I was still real worried cause Miss Doctor Vespa said-“

Just then, Buddy and Vespa came into view, gently cutting Rita off.

“Why don’t we let my Vespa explain that, dear?”

Rita nodded and slid off the bed, pushing Peter back onto it, while Buddy sat on the opposite side.

“The sola was laced.”

Juno cringed, trying to look away from them, ashamed and embarrassed, but Buddy (and the tubes in his nose) kept him looking at the crew, at his family.

“We- we can talk about that later, though, uh, the point is is that you had a tear in your stomach and you- you flatlined at one point”

Peter looked away from him, and Juno reached and grabbed his hand, it was scary, yeah, but he was asleep, and Peter had to see it.

“I had to intubate and you woke up at one point and I had to sedate you, it was bad, really bad.. heh”

Buddy held her hand, and he looked up to see Jet had a hand on Rita’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to”

Vespa sighed and sat next to Buddy on the bed, closer than he had been to her while conscious.

“I know, but you’re gonna need to be more careful for a while, you’re stomach is healing, you’ll make a full recovery.”

He smiled and thanked her again, and after a short time, it was decided that he could probably go back to his quarters, mostly so that Peter would actually sleep but no one said that, with the proper equipment and supervision.

After everyone else had left, it was just Juno and his love again, and it was even more obvious how tired he was now.

“Nureyev, baby, when’s the last time you slept in an actual bed? I was out for four days, please tell me you actually slept during that time?”

Peter avoided his gaze, fiddling with his fingers, almost moving them as a fidget, something they’d tried to get him to stop doing.

“Babe?”

Juno was worried about Peter, he looked pale and thin, more so than usual, and the way he held himself was one that usually was reserved for when the thief was in pain, hunched over, his perfect posture gone.

“Juno I-“

The lady could tell his love felt guilty, though he couldn’t understand why.

“Baby, I know you were worried but… I’m okay now, and you know that not sleeping, and sitting in that chair for so long makes your pain worse, why didn’t you let someone else sit with me?”

The thief looked exhausted, leaning his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t simply leave you, Juno, I needed to be there-” Juno sighed, truthfully the lady himself was exhausted, the nose tubes had been removed, as were most of the IVs, save the antibiotics Vespa didn’t trust him to take on his own.

“C’mere”

Juno opened his arms, and after a moment of hesitation, his thief shuffled into the open arms, still stiff in his form.

“I’m sorry”

The thief was uncharacteristically quiet, his voice shaky, and you can tell he had wrecked it from crying.

“Baby you didn’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, just, please take care of yourself too, I know I was sick but I don’t like seeing you hurt”

Peter rested his head on the lady’s chest, his chest was still bare, years of scars exposed from many things to Peter, they only made Juno more beautiful, but his heart still ached at his perfect love’s suffering.

He reached his arm across Juno, running slim fingers against the scars, both self-inflicted and those from many syringes that had entered it.

The ones from his years partying were the ones Peter hated the most right now.

Juno sighed, gently moving his love’s hand from the arm, and cradling his face and meeting red-rimmed eyes, glistening with guilt and relief.

He pulled him closer, feeling warm breath on his skin was grounding, he was exhausted and the shame was setting in.

“Let’s just get some sleep, baby, we can talk more tomorrow”

After a few moments of silence and Juno had assumed the thief was asleep, a few more moments and he was almost asleep.

“Juno I- I thought I was going to lose you when I just got you back, you died and I was scared”

Peter was crying, holding him tightly as he could without hurting him.

“I love you, Juno.”

No matter how many nights they spent together or how many times he said it, making love in their room, or simply staring into the eyes of the other it would never stop making the lady’s heart flutter.

“I love you too, Nureyev.”

It didn’t take long for the thief’s breathing to even out, followed shortly by Juno’s own.

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Buddy checked on them the next morning, knowing they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and thought of her own love suffering when she found out how ill Buddy was, how hurt Peter was.

She put it away for another time.

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #juno steel #sick juno steel #tpp sickfic #peter nureyev #buddy aurinko #vespa ilkay #jet siquliak #rita penumbra #vomiting tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #implied self harm #whump #sickfic

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

Text

For my beloved bean @solas-disapproves , and @dadrunkwriting! Please enjoy my poor attempts at writing bawdy tavern songs, making things rhyme is HARD but at least I made myself laugh.

Pairing: Dorian Pavus/Tristan Trevelyan

Read here or on AO3!

******

“I don’t like this place.”

Trevelyan’s voice came muffled from within his mug, his eyes scanning the room as he took a long draught of ale. The inn they had stopped at on their way to Val Royeaux was humble, to say the least; rustic, even. A shithole, if Dorian was being honest about it. The scent of cheap ale wafted from every corner, crass jokes followed by raucous laughter and fists banging on tables mingled with the minstrel’s tune, that was barely audible now. Which was probably fortunate, since the man’s lute was out of tune, his voice even more so. Really, a goose squawking and flapping its wings would be far preferable to this. At least the animal might come close to something resembling a rhythm.

“Come on, Boss, it’s not so bad,” Iron Bull said, sipping on his ale. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Dorian replied with a roll of his eyes. He still couldn’t understand why they were there to begin with. Sister Leliana had received an anonymous tip from someone claiming they had inside information about Duke Gaspard and the movements of his army in the Dales. They had specified the time and place they were to meet, and it just so happened to be this disaster of a tavern they were now sitting in. Leliana had assured them that her agents had found no suspicious movements, that it was unlikely to be a trap. “Even if it is,” she’d said with a small smile, “you’re more than capable of taking care of it.”

Dorian set his cup down, clearing his throat that had been half burnt by the acidic brew they called wine around those parts. At that point, he almost wished it was a trap. Anything that would save him from staying in that Maker forsaken place for one more minute.

“Right,” Trevelyan said, slapping his palms on the table and pushing himself up, “I’m going out for some fresh air.”

“What’s wrong with the air here? Not enough feckin’ roses for his Inquisitorial-ness?” Sera cackled, downing her drink.

“A couple roses never hurt anybody,” Trevelyan muttered petulantly before turning around and pushing his way to the door. It wasn’t long before Dorian went after him, dusting his robes.

“If you’re in need of roses, I think I might be able to procure a few,” he said teasingly, sauntering towards him. “But it might cost you.”

Full, rosy coloured lips widened in a smirk. Trevelyan’s hands wound around his waist, pulling Dorian close. “Is that so?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“And what will it cost me, exactly?”

“Let’s see,” Dorian hummed, tilting his head up as Trevelyan placed a kiss under his jaw, one tender enough to make Dorian’s hair stand on end. “A decent room, for a start. With a decent bed that’s not infested with lice. Oh, and I believe a tub instead of a barrel isn’t too much to ask for. And how about some wine that doesn’t taste like last year’s vinegar?”

Trevelyan scoffed, a little puff of air that warmed Dorian’s neck. “In this place we’re in, you might as well be asking for a miracle.”

“You’re the Herald of Andraste. I’m sure you could whip something up,” he grinned.

The rough sound of boots on gravel and a pained yelp made them both jolt. Dorian blinked in surprise when he saw Bull dragging a scrawny man by the collar, his lip already bleeding from where the Qunari had hit him, Sera in tow.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Trevelyan demanded, pushing himself upright.

“Saw this one creeping after you,” he said, tossing the sorry wretch on the ground before their feet.

Dorian tilted his head to the side, studying the man. “Could it be the informant?”

“An informant with a drawn dagger, skulking in the shadows like a thief? Don’t think so, Boss.”

“What are these- these ludicrous accusations? I was only trying to defend myself!” the man protested in a thick Orlesian accent. “I’m no informant, nor was I about to attack anyone! Not before your beast attacked me,” he spat.

Trevelyan narrowed his eyes, folding his arms before his chest. “You’re not making your position any better.”

The man cowered, glancing away and back. “I didn’t mean to scare you, messer, I swear it. On my honour! On my life!” he mumbled. “I-I just came out for some air, and-”

“Who are you?” Trevelyan asked, cutting him short. “Why are you here?”

“Bardeaux,” he said quickly. “Vincent Bardeaux. I’m a minstrel. Just a minstrel. Looking for work. Heard this place might need someone to play a song or two and came to check. I was just about to leave before-”

“If you’re a minstrel,” Sera said, perching herself atop a barrel, “where’s your lute?”

“I-” The supposed minstrel paled. “It broke. In a brawl, last night.”

“How convenient,” Dorian said with a sweet smile.

“I swear it! Find me a lute and I’ll play any tune you like.”

Bull lifted a brow, glancing at Sera. Grinning, she kicked off the barrel, sneaking inside the tavern. A few minutes later, she re-appeared with a small lute and a mug of ale she had managed to swipe off a table in passing.

“There you go, fancy pants,” she told the man, handing him the lute. “Now play us a song.”

Bardeaux cleared his throat, wincing when he plucked the strings and a jarring, discordant sound escaped. He tuned the lute and straightened, clearing his throat again, more loudly this time. “ O lovely rose, my sweet soul-”

“Does this look like a Chantry gathering?” Bull smirked leaned against the wall. “You must know something better than that.”

“I know… some songs,” the man said, squinting. “But I would hardly call them appropriate. If you catch my drift.”

“That’s the kind we like,” Sera said with a wicked grin. “What are you waiting for? Get on with it, mate, ain’t got all day!”

“I… suppose I shall.” Bardeaux prepared to start again, when Bull stopped him once more.

“Wait! You must know some about him too, right?” he nodded to Trevelyan, his eye glittering with mischief. “About the Herald of Andraste?”

“The Herald of Andraste?” The minstrel’s cheeks were bright red as he looked from Trevelyan to Bull and back. “I suppose… I do know some songs. Just a few, mind you.”

Trevelyan rolled his eyes and huffed. “Bull, no.”

“Come on, Boss, it’ll be fun! You never get to hear any of the good stuff in the Herald’s Rest. Might as well hear it now, right?”

Dorian placed his hand on Trevelyan’s back, leaning close to his ear. “Bull is right. I think it’ll be interesting. We could see what the people say about you in this part of the world, too, hm?”

Trevelyan shot him a sideways look before his scowl broke, his lips pursing only slightly. “...fine.”

“Right!” Sera leaned back against the wall, sipping on her beer. “Crack on, then, what are you waiting for?”

“Ah… alright.” The minstrel slanted a nervous glance at Trevelyan before his fingers started running deftly down the strings.

“The Herald fancied a dark-haired lad,

With sharp eyes and a sharper tongue,

A magician he was, of great renown,

People gathered when he came to town,

He played with fire, tamed the storms,

He juggled balls and swallowed swords-”

“I’m not that kind of magician,” Dorian grumbled, already regretting having urged Trevelyan to listen to the dratted song. “That makes it sound like I go around performing petty parlour tricks!”

“I think he’s talking about a different kind of tricks, Vint,” Bull chuckled, before Sera shushed them both sharply.

“'Such skill,” cried the Herald, “such finesse!

My love to him I must confess.”

He knelt before the mage’s feet,

And took his mighty hand in his,

“There are no eyes, no lips like thine,

Your silken hair, your form divine,

I want thee with a throbbing need,

‘Tis a matter of urgency indeed,

You hold the key to my heart’s lock,

I shall not rest until I’ve had your-'"

“For the Maker’s sake,” Dorian rolled his eyes as Bull howled with laughter. “Do we really have to listen to this?” He yelped when Sera punched him on the arm.

“Oi!” She glared at both of them, waving her mug in the air and spilling beer in every direction. “He was just getting to the good part, ye daft tits!”

Trevelyan chuckled, the blade of his dagger catching the light as he twirled it around his fingers. “You seem a decent fellow,” he told the minstrel. “I hate to kill you.”

The man’s face, who had lit up momentarily with hope, twisted in a grimace of despair. “R-rock! I was going to say rock!” He bit his lip, wringing his hands. “I implore you, messer. I meant no harm! I’m just a minstrel-” He paused, gaping when Trevelyan’s blade pressed against his neck.

“You tell me who sent you now,” he hissed, his expression turning stony, “or you won’t sing another song about ‘rocks’ again. Yes?”

The minstrel, pale as a sheet, nodded with a whimper.

“So he was an assassin after all,” Dorian said, lying on the soft bed of their new room; the largest one the tavern possessed. It was warm and comfortable, all things considered, yet he still had to make due with an old wine barrel full of tepid water instead of a tub for his bath that night. Dratted South, he reflected acidly. “Who would have thought.”

“I did.” Trevelyan kicked off his boots and flopped on the mattress beside him. “And you. And Bull. I believe Sera knew before any of us did. Plain as day, really.”

“Hmm. I believe Leliana is getting rusty.”

“So am I.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “That was more than enough excitement for a day, thank you very much.”

“Are you quite sure about that? You do, after all, have a certain reputation to keep.” Dorian wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, propping himself on his elbow.

Trevelyan cracked his eyes open to peek at him, his lips widening in a smirk. “I do?”

“Oh, yes. Remind me where the minstrel left off…? Something about rocks and locks, was it? Or perhaps-” Dorian chuckled when a suddenly very energetic Trevelyan rolled on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head.

“How odd. I can’t remember. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me.” He flashed him a wry grin. “Or show me.”

Dorian hummed in amusement, a shiver running down his spine when Trevelyan's plush lips closed softly over his own. “Gladly,” he whispered.

#dadrunkwriting #dorian pavus #dorian pavus x trevelyan #dorian pavus/trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #dorian x tristan trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/inquisitor #pavelyan #johaerys writes

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spookysprincesa · 5 years

Text

Bookworm (Oscar Diaz x reader)

Request: Oscar diaz dating a geek? Like movie, tv, anime book geek, if that makes sense...?

Word Count: 1271

A/N: Gosh, it took me forever to write something new, I’M SORRY, LO SIENTO, okay? Please forgive me. Anyway, to the person who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectation! Lemme know what you think! ♥

Masterlist

You weren’t up for dating in the first place. It wasn’t your preferred choice of activity. Instead, you would rather be sitting on your front porch with a good book or comic, completely lost in your phantasies, imagining yourself in a world full of wonder or magic, depending on the story. Books and movies were your passion. You could read for hours on end, completely blurring out the rest of the world. With movies it was similar, if they were well made, you could spend days re-watching the same film, noticing particular new things every time.

But as the universe seemed to be planning for you, Oscar Diaz had to drive or walk past your house every day, whenever he came home from running an errand or handling gang related business.

He would always look over to you, seeing you cuddled up in your favourite chair, enjoying the sun shining on your face and the words in your book. Being so lost in thoughts, you hardly noticed him passing by, how he usually slowed down his driving speed to get a better look at you. Oscar found you fairly interesting, you just didn’t know it yet.

But one day at the end of the week in early September, he stopped and casually leant over the fence to call your name. You lifted your gaze from the particularly thrilling chapter to frown at the Santo, a little irritated to be forced to take a break from reading. How could he know your name anyway?

“What’re you readin’?” Oscar inquired with curiosity prominent in his eyes. Most people found weird that you spent so much time reading, so naturally he had you surprised.

“Why are you interested in what I’m reading?” You replied grumpily, maybe a little too grumpy for your own liking, expecting him to make fun of you anyway.

“Why don’t you just answer the question, guapa?”

Did he just call you beautiful?

You finally gave in to his attempt and told him which book you’re reading, your cheeks turning slightly red in embarrassment. But why? In any other situation you wouldn’t blush talking about your fandom. Why now?

“I’m not a book guy to be honest,” Oscar said back without commenting on your choice of reading matter, “is there a movie to the book?”

Your eyes instantly lit up with joy. Talking about your books was one thing, but discussing the fitting movie was even better.

And of course there was a film to your book. You had read the book and seen the movie a million times, you knew every line, every scene, in and out.

After telling Oscar about said movie, he wordlessly took out his phone. While you contemplated whether he was texting someone or just looking something up, you cocked your head to the side and observed him. He was tall, well built and had a very symmetrical facial structure. His beard was neatly trimmed and his clothes were clean. You caught yourself off guard, actually having imagined a gang leader to look all rough and dirty, but Oscar was something else. Another thing that surprised you.

“That movie’s on screen tonight at some movie festival. Wanna go and watch it?” His question overcame you with some force, you had to admit that. You were lucky you were sitting, otherwise your knees would’ve given in. Oscar Diaz was asking you out, was he?

“W-with you?” You stuttered, completely overwhelmed by the situation and his direct proposal.

Oscar chuckled and playfully looked around, “I don’t see nobody else here, unless you prefer going sola.”

Usually, you did.

“No, no, it’s fine. Let’s do it.” The words left your mouth in a hurry, leaving you no time to give this a proper think. Was your brain playing tricks on you, spilling what your unconsciousness was suggesting?

“Cool. I’ll pick you up.” And with that, he was gone, after showing you a cheeky smile. You loved how his dimple showed when he smiled.

As soon as he was out of sight, panic was kicking in. You were going to go on a date!

Oscar turned out to be one of the nicest, friendliest and most charming men you’d ever met in your entire life. Much to your astonishment, he didn’t act like the tough gang leader at all. Sure, he could be a bit rough in his choice of words and sometimes he said something inappropriate, but apologized straight afterwards. There wasn’t one single second of the date where you felt uncomfortable.

Days went on and you started having the time of your life, which was mainly due to Oscar and his ability to include you in everything he did or liked. You saw him everyday, whether it was him visiting you to check which new book you had started, or when he invited you to come over to his place. To be honest you were fairly respectful of invading his very personal space, but Oscar made it so easy for you to settle in. His brother was a sweetheart, and all the other gang members, who had always made you feel a tiny bit terrified, treated you with care and caution. Some of them even showed genuine interest in your passion, admitting to having left school way too early, but nonetheless they struck you as very intelligent and curious for widening their horizon. They were listening closely when you rambled on about a movie or a really good book, a lot to Oscar’s amusement. He would watch how your eyes were lighting up and your smile infected everyone around you.

Sometimes, someone would make a naughty remark towards or about you, calling you “boring” or “weird”. Of course it made you feel upset and sad, they weren’t the first people to rag you, you’ve seen and heard it all before. Oscar would easily and instantly sense the change in your behaviour and mental state, and wouldn’t waste a single second to tell them off rather harshly, giving them a final warning not to mess with his ruca.

One afternoon, Oscar and you were sitting in the backyard to enjoy the sunset, he tightly wrapped his arm around you and lifted your chin to make you look at him. There was a frown prominent between his brows and it worried you.

“You alright?” You questioned carefully, shifting in your seat to face him properly.

Oscar placed a soft kiss on your forehead before humming in approval.

“Lend me one of your books, yeah?”

You blinked once, twice, not sure if he was messing with you.

“I’m serious,” he added, the frown on his face still visible, “I want to see what it’s like, y’know, getting lost in a different world, improving my own imagination. Sometimes I feel my brain goes to sleep before me.”

You smiled broadly, surprised but happy that he opened up to you like this. In order to immediately fulfil his wish, you tried getting out of his embrace, ready to hop inside.

“Not now, silly,” Oscar muttered, tightening his grasp around you to keep you steadily by his side. He chuckled whilst shaking his head in amusement, “you are very special to me, you know that?”

You had not known that, but thanked him right away before pressing your lips to his in an innocent kiss.

“I can’t wait to show you my collection,” you whispered as you rested your head on his strong shoulder, eyes closed, enjoying how his fingertips played with some loose strands of hair in your neck.

Oscar hummed once more, also closing his eyes and taking your hand in his.

#oscar diaz x reader #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagine #on my block

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noire-pandora · 4 years

Text

Continuing with the prompts from this list. Also on ao3.

Edit: I decided to also submit this to genuary 2021 event.

Picnic.

Words: 1804

Warnings: Elluin will go hunting in this piece. While there aren’t graphic descriptions, keep in mind to avoid reading if the idea bothers you. Thanks!

The sun shone above the Hinterlands, no cloud on the bright blue sky. The birds trilled their song, and Elluin found herself smiling at their joy.

She travelled at a slow, steady pace, her horse strolling proudly, as she and three companions made their way back to Haven. Master Dennet offered to the Inquisition the best horses, and now they could travel faster and safer. She enjoyed riding, feeling the muscles of the horse move under her, and appreciated the bond between a rider and a horse.

Slowly, Elluin got lost in her thoughts, mesmerized by the beauty of the nature, rocked by the calm movement of the horse. She found herself at peace, after weeks of worry and running around.

“Can we stop already? I’m hungry!”

Sera’s voice woke Elluin from her reverie, and she sighed. She almost forgot about them.

“We cannot,” Cassandra quickly retorted. “We need to get back to Haven as fast as possible and tell the others we will get the horses, we don’t have time to waste.”

“But we already sent a raven to Leliana, she already knows! We’ve been riding for four hours, my butt hurts and I’m hungry!”

Cassandra scoffed and opened her mouth to reply, but Varric chimed in. “She is right, Seeker. I doubt we can ride faster than a raven can fly. We’re hurrying for no reason. And my butt is starting to get sore too.”

“No!”

“But--!”

“ We should ask the Herald” Solas calmly intervened, pointing towards Elluin as she rode a few meters ahead of them. “You do listen to her judgment, Seeker.”

Cassandra glared at Solas for a second but she cued her horse to move closer to Elluin’s.

“You do believe I am right, no?”

Elluin smiled and tugged on the reins to stop the horse. She jumped on the ground and looked around, scratching her head.

“I think Sera and Varric are right. It’s midday and we have five hours until we reach Haven. If we take a break now, we will reach it in time for dinner.”

“But, Herald, the task--“

“We finished our task, Cassandra. We got the horses and the stable master. The raven already reached Leliana. All we have to do is to get back and I see no rush with that. Plus, the horses need a break. Master Dennet will kill us if we overwork them."

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded, defeated. “As you wish.”

“Finally,” Sera exclaimed. “I need to pee so bad.”

Elluin giggled and shook her head. She turned towards her horse to tend it. The horse’s mane felt soft to the touch, and she ran her fingers through it.

“What are we going to eat, Sparks?” Varric asked as he looked around the meadow, the sun forcing him to squint his eyes.

“I’ve seen a few rabbits in those bushes up ahead. I think there are a few rabbit nests there. I’m quick enough to try to catch a few of them.”

“Rabbit stew sounds good to me”, Varric smiled, patting his belly as it grumbled.

“Then you could set up a small camp while we are away. Is that ok with you?”

“Sure, Sparks, on it.”

Elluin looked around for Solas. He tended to his horse, removing its saddle, and spoke with it in Elvhen.

“Since you’re already doing it, Solas, could you take care of the other horses, please? Make sure they are fed?”

“Of course, Herald,” he confirmed and bowed his head.

“Ah, wait! When Sera comes back, can you tell her to gather some wood?”

He nodded again, too concentrated with feeding the horse.

“You and me, Cassandra, we’re going hunting!"

Cassandra just nodded, and Elluin noticed the irritation written on her face. In this short time span she spent with the Seeker, she learned the warrior didn’t like to be contradicted.

They walked in silence, Cassandra’s scabbard clinking against her hip as she stepped. Elluin hummed, loving the stroll in the grass, eyes focused at the rabbit's nest ahead, waiting for any signs of rabbits running around. They hid in the bushes next to the nest and waited.

“Are you all right there, Cass?” she asked in a low voice, careful not to alert the will-be lunch.

“Yes.”

“You know, you’re a tough person, Cassandra and I admire that.You learned how to control yourself and pushed your body to withstand any pain. You are a mighty warrior, you have fought dragons and saved the Divine. You have travelled all around Thedas and I’m sure your butt won’t get sore anymore, travelling for hours and hours on a horse."

She squinted as a rabbit left the burrow, sniffing the air, looking around for any predators. Elluin’s body tensed, ready to jump at the first opportunity. The rabbit suddenly retreated to the safety of its den.

“The thing is,” Elluin continued, her body relaxing once again but her eyes never leaving the burrow. “Varric and Sera aren’t warriors. They can’t do the things you do. They can’t ride for hours and hours without stopping and eating.”

“You’re not a warrior and I didn’t hear you complain,” Cassandra whispered back, annoyance in her voice.

“That’s because I’ve been travelling since I was nineteen years old. The dirty road has been my home for so many years, I got used with being uncomfortable. But Varric and Sera are the usual people, used with taking it easy. They aren’t ready to push themselves right now. In a few months, they won’t have any problems with sore butts. We need to be patient with them. Being on the road so often isn’t easy for someone who rarely left their cities. You know Varric loves Kirkwall, he told us how much he hated leaving it.”

Cassandra sighed but said nothing. They stayed in silence, hidden in the bushes, still looking ahead for any movement. After ten more minutes, Elluin tsked and shook her head. “Right, time to do this the hard way!”

She rolled up her sleeves above her elbows and left the bush. She strolled towards the rabbit's nest and crammed her arm inside, her chin touching the ground. After a few grunts and grimaces of pain, she withdrew her arm, a small rabbit struggling to escape her grip.

“Aha! Here, hold this one, Cassandra! Hold it by its ears so it won’t bite you! Gotta find another one.”

Cassandra watched with wide eyes as Elluin went in for another one. A few minutes more and her hand emerged once again, another rabbit yelling and struggling to run away.

“Right, I think this will do. Let’s get back to camp and ready our meal,” Elluin said, her hands and clothes soiled with mud and leaves.

“How did you do that? I have never seen anyone do it!” Cassandra asked, amazement colouring her voice.

They strolled back to the camp, Elluin proudly smirking. “Every Dalish knows how to do this. We’re taught how to hunt since childhood, in case we end up lost from the Clan. The priority of the Hahren is to make sure any child can fend from themselves as they grow up. I’m not that good at it, but at least I won’t die of hunger.”

“I see. Impressive.”

They walked in silence again, Elluin not daring to bother Cassandra, visibly deep in thought. When Cassandra frowned, it was safer to let her be.

“Thank you, Herald. Sometimes I forget how hard it was for me at the beginning.”

“No harm done,” Elluin replied, relief washing over her. Cassandra wasn’t mad anymore. She could breathe in peace.

Cassandra and Elluin took care of the lunch, the stew steaming and spreading a delicious smell. Even Solas, who rarely cared about food, seemed eager to taste it.

They sat on the ground, around the fire, eating and slurping the food, none of them talking.

“Hey, Chuckles, do you wanna hear a joke?” Varric asked, breaking the silence.

“Do I have a choice, Master Tethras?”

“Nope, not really. How about this one: how do you get a squirrel to like you?”

“I do not have the faintest idea,” Solas said, sarcasm in his voice.

“Act like a nut.”

Silence. Only a small snort escaped Elluin’s lips.

“Oh, c’mon, that was funny!” Varric said, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, here’s another one: What do you call a row of rabbits hopping away? A receding hare line!”

“Ugh, Varric, this is even worse than the first one. You have bad jokes,” Cassandra chimed in, rolling her eyes. “No one likes your jokes.”

“I liked this one. It was funny because we’re eating rabbits. Get it? Rabbits,” Sera replied, laughing with her mouth full, a few droplets flying in the air.

“Please don’t encourage him, Sera!”

Elluin watched their exchange, a small smile tugging at her lips. It has been a while since she could just sit and enjoy the company of others. She slowly learned to appreciate her companions even if at first she didn’t trust them. They were loud, had bad jokes, but they were there to help her. She wasn’t alone anymore.

“Jolly crowd, eh?,” Sera asked, conspicuously leaning towards her. “It’s almost like a picnic. We’re missing the fancy blanket and the expensive glasses, but this is nice.”

“Yes, it is. Never had a better picnic than this one.”

“You did well back then, you know. When you told Cassandra what you told,” Sera continued, as she bit from the meat, the juice dripping down on her chin and spoke again, mouth full with meat. “She forgot not everyone is like her.”

“Where you spying on us??”

“Nah," she stopped for a second to swallow "I was close and I have good hearing. I thought you aren’t made to be a leader, but now I’m doubting that.”

“I’m not cut to be a leader, Sera, I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Your no idea is working well. Look at them, how happy they look. Even that sour face Solas is smiling. You did well.”

Sera slapped Elluin on her back, but she retreated fast, her voice going up a notch. “Why are you looking at me like that, eh? Please don’t tell me you’re going to start crying!”

Elluin laughed, wiping the corner of her eye. “That means a lot to me, Sera. Especially coming from you. You’re leading a secret organisation. It’s almost like my mother praised me.”

“I’m not your mother, you’re older than me, you weirdo!” she yelled as she smacked her shoulder. “ Don’t you try to hug me or I’ll cut your fingers!”

“ But I want a hug now!”

Sera yelled and got up, running around them to dodge Elluin as she chased her for a hug. The others laughed and shook their heads, not bothering to yell at them to stop. And all this time, Elluin’s smile grew bigger and bigger.

#noire writes #Elluin Lavellan #storiesofthedas #prompt list #picnic #characters appearing: cassandra varric sera solas and lavellan #genuary 2021 #genuary

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whumpzone · 4 years

Text

Tomas and Rowe - Part 4

From now on I’m going to try to stick to Friday as upload day... let’s see how that goes lmao

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld (if you would like to be added or removed just ask, thank you all!)

CW: pet whumpee, aftermath of abuse, injury detail

Tomas waved as Kasia headed off down the street. Seeing his friend had given him a new boost of energy. It felt so good to discuss Rowe with someone who handled Pets every day. If anyone was going to understand, it was Kasia.

He looked down at the cupholder in his hand, within it two hot drinks. A latte for himself, and a hot chocolate for Rowe, since he was probably wired enough without an extra dose of caffeine.

‘’Rowe?’’ he called, making sure Rowe wouldn’t jump when he pushed open the bedroom door. ‘’I’ve brought you a- oh my goodness, what happened to you?’’

Rowe was huddled in a corner, a bloody hand over his face, his t-shirt splattered red. He didn’t move or speak, just looked up at Tomas with frightened, tearful eyes. His chest was rising and falling erratically as he sobbed.

Tomas rushed over, setting the drinks on the floor and kneeling down.

‘’Oh Rowe, Rowe love, what’s happened here?’’

Rowe blinked and several tears ran down his cheeks, but he stayed silent. Tomas gently reached out to the hand that was covering the bottom half of Rowe’s face. Rowe didn’t resist as he gently took it and lowered it out the way. He gasped, and Rowe shrank.

‘’That… that looks painful. Can you tell me what happened? Please?’’

Rowe took a shaky breath, more tears streaming down his face. ‘’I-I tripped, Master. And I’ve ruined your shirt, and I-‘’ his breath hitched, ‘’-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I mustn’t cry, I’m sorry-‘’

‘’It’s okay, it’s okay, you can cry,’’ Tomas soothed, still holding Rowe’s bloodstained hand. ‘’You tripped, oh Rowe, that is so unlucky. Hold on and I’ll fetch you some painkillers and we can sort your nose out.’’

‘’P-please, I don’t deserve it, please Master, don’t w-waste them on me.’’

‘’You’re in pain, Rowe. Your poor nose. Just wait two seconds and I’ll be back.’’

Tomas hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a pack of frozen peas and a teatowel. Upstairs, he rummaged around in the bathroom until he found a packet of painkillers. He made Rowe sit cross-legged as he cleaned the worst of the blood off his face and pressed two pills into his non-bloody hand.

‘’Here, wash them down with a sip of this, yeah?’’ Tomas said, offering him the hot chocolate. ‘’I nipped out while Kasia was here to get us both a drink.’’

‘’Th-thank you, Master, I’m sor-sorry for b-b-being so useless.’’

Rowe swallowed them shakily, his eyes widening as he tasted the sugary drink.

‘’Hahah, it’s tasty right?’’

Rowe didn’t reply, just drank a few more sips, choking slightly as his sobbing made it hard to swallow. Tomas wrapped the frozen peas in the teatowel and waited until Rowe had put the drink down.

‘’Okay, you need to hold this on your nose for the time being. It’ll feel funny, but it’s for your own good, I promise. It’s not a punishment.’’

Rowe nodded, and Tomas held the ice pack to his nose.

‘’You’re not useless, Rowe,’’ Tomas said, ‘’Everyone has accidents like this. If you want, I’ll give you some chores to do in a bit?’’

Rowe’s sobbing calmed down somewhat at this. ‘’Y-yes, please Master, a-anything you want, I’ll be good.’’

‘’I bet you will be. You’re taking this ice pack like a pro. Well done.’’

‘’I, I,’’ Rowe mumbled nervously, ‘’I’m sorry for ruining your shirt, Master. I wa-was so careless.’’

‘’What? We can sort that, no problem. Oh Rowe, I do feel bad now for confining you to your bedroom and then leaving the house. Kasia would have happily helped sort your nose out if you’d gone and got him.’’

Rowe went quiet, and still, and Tomas wondered what he’d said wrong. Perhaps it was a bit early to be forcing Rowe to mix with strangers, he conceded. He sipped his coffee quietly and watched as Rowe’s breathing slowly returned to normal.

. . .

‘’Rowe?’’ Master Tomas called as the door opened, and Rowe knew there was nowhere to run, nothing he could do. He would sit here obediently and take whatever his Master dealt out. ‘’I’ve brought you a- oh my goodness, what happened to you?’’

He stayed silent. His Master had asked him a question, but he had just been reminded of where speaking got Pets. Maybe it was a test. Surely Master preferred Rowe without his whining.

‘’Oh Rowe, Rowe love, what’s happened here?’’

Master Tomas sank down on his haunches, looking at Rowe head on. He had some disposable cups with him, which he placed safely out of Rowe’s reach. If his nose weren’t filled with blood, he probably would have enjoyed the smell. Slowly, deliberately, Master reached out and took Rowe’s hand, forcing him to show the damage on his face. He gasped, and Rowe just wanted to hide. Master’s one wish, his one desire for Rowe so far was for him to be pretty, and he had already fucked that up.

He had brought this beating on himself. But it seemed that his Master was totally oblivious to his friend’s actions. And now he was being asked to lie to his Master? But if he could just be good, please his Master, it would be a one-off. Rowe suddenly realised Master Tomas was speaking.

‘’That looks painful. Can you tell me what happened? Please?’’

This time it was an order. Rowe had to obey. His voice was so soothing and it only confused Rowe more because he had to be angry, he had to be, surely he was furious with the state of his Pet? All Rowe had done since his arrival was cause problems and force his Master to waste precious time on his worthless self. He had deserved that beating. Even if he did tell the truth, why would Master believe him? Rowe knew then which answer would better please Master Tomas.

‘’I-I tripped, Master,’’ his voice sounded stupid and nasal and he hated the way his breath caught as he wept. ‘’And now I’ve ruined your shirt, and I- I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I mustn’t cry, I’m sorry-‘’

‘’It’s okay, it’s okay,’’ Master Tomas said, mercifully stopping Rowe before he babbled too much. ‘’You can cry. You tripped, oh Rowe, that is so unlucky. Hold on and I’ll fetch you some painkillers and we can sort your nose out.’’

Rowe did his best to not whine in desperation. ‘’P-please, I don’t deserve it, please Master, don’t w-waste them on me.’’ This kindness, it had to be a game. It was too much, no one would ever treat a Pet with such warmth, what point was there to it? Rowe would do whatever was asked of him whether or not he was fed or patched up. Master Tomas must enjoy knowing that Rowe owed him for this, for the food and clothes and bathwater. He would make him pay for it later, Rowe was sure. But Master Tomas was being so generous, and the thought of what he’d have to do to make up for it terrified him. Once his old master had let Rowe sleep through the night, and he’d paid for it with three days of no food. What was this building up to?

He faintly heard Master Tomas telling him to stay still, and Rowe watched helplessly as he left the room, returning shortly with a packet of medicine and what looked like a bag of ice.

‘’Here, wash them down with a sip of this, yeah?’’ Master ordered, giving Rowe two pills and passing him one of the cups. ‘’I nipped out while Kasia was here to get us both a drink.’’

‘’Th-thank you, Master, I’m sor-sorry for b-b-being so useless,’’ he choked out. More kindness. Rowe did as he was told. The drink tasted amazing, he’d never had anything like it, and his surprise made Master Tomas smile.

‘’Hahah, it’s tasty right? Okay, you need to hold this on your nose for the time being. It’ll feel funny, but it’s for your own good, I promise. It’s not a punishment.’’

Not a punishment. That would be coming later. Maybe Master Tomas had been planning a long torture session, and wanted Rowe to be at his best for it. That would explain why he was so keen on Rowe looking pretty, and why his only ‘punishment’ so far had been incredibly mild. The only thing that confused Rowe was why Master Tomas had bought a second-hand Pet if he wanted him in such good condition? But Rowe knew that it was not his place to try to understand his owner. He held the bag, which he could now see was filled with peas, to his face. It felt odd, but not unpleasant.

‘’You’re not useless, Rowe. Everyone has accidents like this.’’ Even though Rowe was sure this was just a game, a way to trick him, Rowe couldn’t help but feel calmed by Master’s soft voice. ‘’If you want, I’ll give you some chores to do in a bit?’’

Finally, something Rowe understood. He felt himself relax, just a bit. ‘’Y-yes, please Master, a-anything you want, I’ll be good.’’

‘’I bet you will be. You’re taking this ice pack like a pro. Well done.’’

Master seemed…. he seemed happy with him, and Rowe wanted to keep being good. ‘’I, I- I’m sorry for ruining your shirt, Master. I wa-was so careless.’’

He froze up at the mention of Master’s friend. The memory of his nose slamming against the wooden frame played out in his mind, over and over, and through his red-raw eyes Rowe could see Master’s face fall. He had reacted poorly again. He braced himself for Master to kick him, or throw his hot drink over him, or grab the bag of ice and grind it into Rowe’s nose and make him scream. But, agonisingly, nothing came, and Rowe was left to overthink. Master seemed content to sip from his disposable cup in silence. Rowe was happy with that too. He never wanted to talk again.

It must have been at least twenty minutes before Master broke the silence abruptly- ‘’My arse is numb from sitting on the floor. Shall we go and give you some chores?’’

‘’Yes, please, Master.’’

Downstairs, before Rowe could kneel, Master held out a slender hand, stopping him. ‘’Let’s have a look at your nose.’’

Rowe placed the bag into Master’s hand, watching his face for any indication of how bad it was. Master frowned, pressing his lips together, but his eyes weren’t angry. ‘’It’s not crooked, which means it’s not badly damaged. It should heal up on its own soon. Does it hurt?’’

‘’No, Master,’’ Rowe replied, and it didn’t. Not really, anyway.

‘’We’ll give your face a rest before we do more ice, hey?’’

Master Tomas put the bag back in the freezer and sat down in the same spot on the sofa as earlier. Rowe kneeled below him and tried to look pretty despite everything. Master gave him a strange half smile.

‘’Do you want to sit on the sofa with me?’’

‘’My place is at my Master’s feet.’’

‘’Then at least kneel on a cushion, here.’’

Rowe was handed a soft cushion and obediently slid it under his knees. It felt…nice? What was the point of this?

‘’Did your old master come and get you every morning?’’ asked Master Tomas.

‘’No, Master. I had my daily duties to carry out, and I completed them without prompting.’’

‘’Right. Well, for a start, I want you to eat breakfast every morning. And you are free to get that yourself, without waiting for me. In fact, that also goes for lunch.’’

‘’Yes, Master. Thank you.’’

Rowe’s stomach had twitched with nerves as his Master announced another indulgence, but then Rowe remembered what Master had told him that morning- he preferred his Pet well-fed. In a way, it was another order to follow, another way to please his Master, and this made him feel better.

‘’During the week, I’ll be mostly in my office working. I need you to collect any letters I get and stack them neatly on the kitchen table for me. I’ll tell you if I’m expecting someone, so if the doorbell rings unexpectedly, I’ll come down and handle it. If in doubt, come and ask me. Got that?’’

Rowe blinked, then nodded. Keep on top of the post and don’t answer the door unless told to. He could do that.

‘’Do you know how to make a cup of tea?’’

‘’Yes, Master, and I can cook. I just don’t know the layout of your kitchen, yet.’’

‘’I’ll show you, no problem. As long as you can make tea though, that’s great. I’ll need you on hand to make a pot while I’m working.’’

‘’Of course, Master.’’

‘’Oh, and keep an eye out for spiders. Ideally, don’t let them get in at all. And, uh- make your bed every morning.’’

‘’Would you like me to make yours too, Master?’’

‘’No, no thanks. I do mine myself, it makes me feel ready to face the day,’’ Master Tomas mumbled, his eyes drifting idly. ‘’Good habit to get into, so I’m told.’’

. . .

…Right, Tomas thought. What are some other bullshit ‘chores’ I can give him?

He almost cracked a smile at his own silliness. He was so bad at this! Surely Rowe could smell a rat? It was hard to tell- Rowe seemed to have two modes, terrified or blank, and right now he was the latter.

Tomas wracked his brains. He was already regretting telling Rowe to make cups of tea- what if he got boiling water on himself? But he had looked so eager at the prospect of being given tasks to do, and it was the closest he’d come to a positive emotion, and also Tomas was keen for Rowe to not go mad with boredom.

He considered asking Rowe to do the laundry, but that would mean clueing him in to just how often Tomas spilt toothpaste down himself, and he was not ready for that. And, he reminded himself quickly, Rowe is not my bloody maid. I want to help him. Jesus Christ, Tomas.

Rowe seemed to take Tomas’s prolonged silence as an indication that he had finished giving out chores, and pressed his forehead to the ground, his thick hair almost touching Tomas’s foot.

‘’Thank you, Master. I will be a good Pet, I promise. B-but please, may I know the punishments if I fail to meet your standards?’’

‘’Punishments, right…’’ Tomas hummed as he thought up some more nonsense on the fly. ‘’Well, if I notice a spider has gotten in, you’ll have to get rid of it yourself. I don’t see how anyone can make tea wrong, but if you do, you’ll have to remake it until I say it’s good enough.’’ Bed making was so juvenile he couldn’t even be bothered to make up a punishment. There was only one rule that he was actually keen to ensure Rowe stuck to. ‘’If I find that you haven’t eaten all day, I’ll have stop working to sit with you and force you to eat something. And I really, really don’t want to do that.’’

That night, Tomas lay awake, listening to the sound of Rowe’s screams. He deserves a full night’s sleep, even if it is filled with nightmares, he decided, and rolled over.

#whump #pet whump #tomas and rowe #pet whumpee #master/pet #mine #hope you guys enjoy!

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