littlebutterflyskeleton asked: "Hey pretty baby with the high heals on" -michaels Jackson The Way You Make Me Feel
(Sorry, hun, but the high heels accompanied with the ‘you really turn me on’ part of the song made my brain go to smutty places. And just a fair warning, I’m still rusty when it comes to porn. ^^;)
“This is going to be a disaster!”
“You in a dress is the furthest thing from a disaster that I can think of, Hawke!”
“I’m not talking about the dress!”
She was nervous. That much had been made painfully clear during the course of their short conversation, shouted down the length of a hallway and through a closed bedroom door. Varric knew fully well that Cecilia would undoubtedly need reassurances, but raising his voice to give them seemed like a bad idea when he knew he’d be relying on his silver tongue for the better part of the night. It wouldn’t do for him to grow hoarse before he could talk her up to would-be buyers, not that he expected she’d end up needing his help. The quality of her paintings spoke for themselves.
Anonymous asked: "You're killing my love"
(This is probably not what nonny may have been hoping for, but it was the first thing that came to mind with this prompt, so sorry! ^^; )
He couldn’t take much more.
He’d tried for the past few hours to simply focus on his manuscript and ignore the repetitive music filtering through the thin apartment walls, trying to block out the noise with the words in his own mind to absolutely no avail.
At first, the music hadn’t bothered him. In fact, it had been a fairly pleasant sound and he’d tapped his fingers against the top of his desk, idly humming to the beat or mumbling fragmented parts of the lyrics. Hearing Cecilia’s voice through the wall, beyond the door closed between them, had brought a smile to his lips, particularly whenever his much softer tones mingled with the sweetness of her singing in her studio.
The melody had grown a bit tiresome after about fifteen minutes, downright annoying after forty-five, and when however many hours of the same damn song being played continuously had passed, he knew he simply couldn’t withstand it any longer.
Varric pushed away from his desk, the screen of his laptop scarce with words when he’d been so damn distracted, and soon he found himself knocking on the door to Cecilia’s studio before he let himself inside.
Originally the room had been meant to be a second bedroom, but that had been long before the couple had moved in to the apartment. Over time, the blank white walls had become awash with bright colors, a bed swapped for canvases and storage containers full of art supplies. The room smelled like a familiar mix of paint and the sweet pea candles Cecilia loved to burn; a fragrance that was utterly her. Usually, he enjoyed stepping in to her creative space to see what she’d been focusing on, finding that there was something so intriguing to him about watching a painter go about her work. Words had always been his craft, but he’d found a sort of connection in the way they both had entirely different mediums through which they painted the stories in their mind’s eye, his flowing letters against her colorful brushstrokes.
They both carried a great deal of respect for one another’s work, but Cecilia could often times become entirely caught up in her own little world when inspiration hit, sometimes remaining oblivious to everything else beyond her makeshift studio. It was no surprise to him that she hadn’t yet realized that her insistent need to play the same damn song again and again was distracting him from his newest novel.
"You’re killing my love."
"Of anything in particular?" she asked, looking past the canvas before her to spy him beyond it, clearly curious about his tired expression.
"Of this song."
Varric turned the volume down with the twist of a dial on the front of the massive old boombox she seemed keen to keep, shoving his hands in to the pockets of his pants to keep them from wandering to any other objects in the room. He tended to come out covered in some sort of paint or graphite otherwise.
"Look, I love Boston as much as the next person, but even I get tired of only hearing one of their songs. Five more minutes of 'Something About You' and my next manuscript is going to look like it was written by Jack Torrance.”
Cecilia grinned a bit at the thought, brushing strands of blonde hair away from her face, only to smear a bit of red paint across her cheek, as was fairly typical of her. She’d never been able to paint anything without getting covered in vivid smudges. Her tank top and shorts bore the stains of many old projects.
"All Boston and no AC/DC make Varric a dull dwarf?”
"I could go for a little T.N.T. right about now, as a matter of fact."
He meandered over towards her, curious as to what she’d been painting and if she’d even let him see it before it was done, heading around to the front of the canvas to stand beside her.
She’d been painting him the whole time.
Or at least, a different version of him.
A Varric who could have lived in an entirely different world or time, garbed in vivid reds and golds against the backdrop of a dank city, a crossbow in hand, like a tribute to the tattoo he’d had for years in memory of Bianca.
It was like a tribute within a tribute within a fantasy world, with him at the center looking as if his arrows could fly off the canvas at any moment.
"I was listening to 'Something About You' the first time I read one of your books, before we ever actually met. It seemed kinda fitting to just play it over and over again if I was gonna paint you. It’s been helping me get in that mindset.”
"The one I was in when I first fell in love with you."
"Had you at first sight, did I?"
"More like first smut. You know what your words do to me."
"That I do."
She’d humbled him, both with her painting and with the feelings behind it, not that he was usually one for any sort of modesty. In fact, he felt much more inclined to lean towards the narcissist within himself, focusing on how interested he was in seeing the finished piece. After all, she apparently had a knack for doing his good looks proper justice.
"Sorry for distracting you from your book this whole time."
"It’s all right, Hawke. Now that I’ve got you nice and distracted from your work too, I figure I ought to show my appreciation for fine art."
He slipped his thumbs through the belt loops of her shorts and drew her closer, dotting a kiss between her breasts above the material of her shirt.
"You’re gonna get paint all over you," she warned him even while reaching down to unbutton his already half open shirt.
"But I’ve got this feelin’ inside. Gotta have ya."
His reciting of all too familiar song lyrics had her laughing even as he started to drag her down with him to the floor, feeling a renewed appreciation for her and for Boston.
Anonymous asked: I actually want to leave this song as a prompt if that's okay? www[.]youtube[.]com/watch?v=pSH-LjrJ4hI [if not, search for "Yuzo Koshiro, This is my Destiny"] Thank you~♥
”..and he ran through the Hanged Man screaming that his pants were on fire!”
"Maker, you are so full of it, Varric!"
"You may be right, Hawke, but you’re laughing."
"It may not be true, but it’s still damn funny!"
She lifted her glass and he followed suit, clinking their mugs quietly together, the sound hardly noticeable between her chuckles and the lapping of water against the docks.
Varric hated the air near the water, having never been a fan of the fishy scent or even the docks in general. Lowtown might have been a mess of a place, but it was still sort of his place regardless. His suite was there, warm and inviting, and that was where they ought to have been drinking. It was where he would’ve preferred to have been drinking.
But it was the anniversary.
It was the same day so many years ago when Hawke had lost her old home and her brother just as Aveline had lost her first husband.
The memories that this day carried were too painful to bear alone, even if Hawke had stated that she was fine heading down to the docks by herself to have the annual memorial drink which she had been sharing with Aveline and Bethany since their arrival in Kirkwall.
What good would he be as a friend if he’d allowed her to go alone, when Aveline was caught up in a sea of paperwork and Bethany was across the water, locked away inside the Gallows?
"You laugh easier than you used to, Hawke."
Cecilia paused mid-sip to incline her head in his direction, even though her eyes were still settled on the Gallows, as if hoping to spy her sister somehow.
"Was I really that bad when we first met?"
"Oh yeah. You were as uptight as they come. A regular stick in the mud. But still an interesting one."
"Interesting, eh? Is that how you’ve put up with me after all these years?"
"Eh. I knew you’d lighten up eventually. I could tell just by looking at you that you had a sense of humor under all that well-meaning seriousness."
"Honestly, I’m still a stick in the mud. You just have a knack for making me smile."
"I’m a dwarf of many talents."
Cecilia chuckled faintly and set her cup aside, moving to lean back on her hands. For all her smiling in that moment, Varric could tell as he watched her that she was still troubled on the inside, putting on a welcoming face despite whatever hurt she was feeling, as was her way.
It had always been her way.
And it had always been his way to notice every little thing about her since the moment he’d orchestrated their first meeting.
He moved to mirror the way she was sitting, leaning back on his hands, and they both tensed when his fingers accidentally brushed hers. The glance they shared was fleeting, but the warmth that blossomed had lingered there for years. A familiar, unspoken feeling that neither had dared to act.
Varric knew how she felt for him. He knew that she knew that he knew, awkward as that all sounded in his head. Yet he wondered if she knew how he felt in return, how he’d felt for the longest time.
Would she ever know that he wanted to be near her as much as she wanted to be near him? Or perhaps the question was, would he ever let her know?
Varric had been searching for the answers for years, long before the silence that had fallen so heavily between them when their fingers had touched, and he doubted he’d come upon those answers that night. For now, he was content as he had been with the knowledge that he was where he wanted to be since he’d laid eyes on her.
He was at her side.
He let his fingers settle atop hers and stay there.
There was a gap they wouldn’t cross that night, but even if he couldn’t become more, he could still be her best friend, and he knew without a doubt that she needed him.
Her fingers, slowly and with her usual shyness, threaded through his.
(I’m so sorry, anon. This one just got away from me and took on a mind of its own!)
Anonymous asked: "... I missed you."
He hated sea travel.
Truth be told he hated all forms of travel period, but sea travel was likely his least favorite. Sure, traveling in the snow was fucking awful, but at least it didn’t make him vomit. Though he wasn’t a fan of walking around in squishy boots. Which also tended to happen when he traveled in the rain.
Dammit, traveling was such a miserable mess.
At the very least, there was comfort in being around old friends, in seeing familiar faces that he’d not looked upon in what felt like far too long.
"Been staying out of trouble, Rivaini?"
"Of course not. Trouble is fun and you know I like my fun."
"That you do."
Isabela held out her elbow for him to take, prepared to escort her best dwarf across the deck of her ship, and the gesture got a laugh out of the both of them. Her crew was hard at work preparing to leave the port, fiddling with ropes and doing what Varric could only think of as ‘sailor-type shit’, content to keep his attention as firmly on Isabela as possible, especially once her ship headed out to sea. He’d need the distraction.
"So, is our broody old friend still hanging around?"
"Oh yes," Isabela replied, a little smile playing across her lips all the while. "The pirate lifestyle seems to suit him. I’m sure he’ll be coming to greet you soon."
"Where’s the Elf hiding then?"
"Probably where I left him; naked in my cabin with Bethany."
Varric stopped walking, shock registering on his face at the mention of Sunshine’s name and not due to the relationships Isabela had alluded to. After all, he’d noticed something there between Isabela, the elf, and the mage long ago in the old Kirkwall days, so it was no surprise to hear that the three were together. What was surprising was knowing that Bethany was there, on the ship, when last he’d known she’d been with Hawke and Anders.
"Come on. There’s someone I’d like for you to see."
Isabela led him along, her words having cut off the inquiries resting on the tip of his tongue. He let them stay there, choking them back when his answers appeared before him when he saw the figure standing at the bow of the ship, the dark blue of the cloak somehow unmistakable.
“Blue was always her color.”
He felt Isabela take a step back, heading off to bark orders at her crew and give the two of them a bit of privacy, which Varric greatly appreciated when she turned to face him and his mouth suddenly felt dry.
She looked entirely the same and yet completely different, as people sometimes did when it had been a long time. She still wore blue shadow around her eyes, still had the Arishok’s scar on her lips, and her hair was still the same golden color when she pushed her hood back.
And ancestors help him did it feel so good to see her smile, like the damnable sea air had suddenly grown less salty.
"Your hair is longer."
It wasn’t even remotely close to being what he wanted to say, but it was the first thing that seemed to want to come out.
"I haven’t had the time to think about cutting it. It became a secondary concern after Anders disappeared."
He knew he needed to ask about Blondie, find out how long it had been since the mage had left her side, but all he could think about was the last night they’d been together. He could hear their good byes and remember the way she tasted, wondering if that was one of the parts of her that had remained the same.
Why wasn’t he trying to find out? When the blasted hell had he become so inarticulate and awkward?
“When you both stopped dicking around the subject and finally said that you love each other,” his brain reminded him, the irritatingly logical thing that it was.
Varric could see her unease, the way she fidgeted her hands making it all too clear that she wanted to move closer. Yet they’d had so many uncrossed boundaries between them for so many years, boundaries that had remained until the night before they’d parted ways.
It had been so damn long.
They’d wasted so much time.
And that was the realization that Varric needed to make him snap out of the discomfiture plaguing him.
"I missed you…"
He watched her tense, as if waiting for the familiar ‘Hawke’ to spill from his lips; safe and distant as things used to be.
He closed the space between them, hearing the shaking breath she finally released as he wrapped his arms around her. She bent her head down, kissing the top of his head as she drew him as near as he could be, and it was the best thing he’d felt in a long damn time.
"You’re going to need me to hold back your hair when you throw up later, aren’t you?" she asked him, her voice tight with the threat of tears, but still carrying the faintest glimmer of laughter.
"You know me too well. Before that, I say we kick Sunshine and the Elf out of Rivaini’s cabin. It’s been a long damn time and I wanna kiss you before I start to get sea sick."
countessnoir asked: Actually I had another one for Ceci for the prompt how about Scarves?
Ceci likes the winter to an extent, because she loves the sight of ice and snow. But she’s not keen on cold and snowy weather makes her a little depressed, because she loves how colorful everything is during spring, summer, and fall.
So she has scarves, several of them, but their colors are always really vivid; bright sky blues weaved with leafy-green threads and reds with sunset orange and even her black scarves have little hints of color mingled in. If she can’t have spring all the time then she’ll wear it around her neck. (Or maybe paint it on a canvas.)
countessnoir asked: Chocolate for Ceci
If Ceci has chocolate handy, she’ll gladly share it with people.
If it’s a type of chocolate with caramel, she won’t share a single freaking bite. It’s all hers. You can’t have any.
Okay, maybe she might share a little, but inside she’ll be pouting.
lissomesimplicity asked: 17, 20, 51, 78
(I had way too much fun with this, sorry. XD)
17: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]
"Well…yes. Not directly or anything. I mean…I’m flexible, but not that flexible…Or maybe I am. I’ve never tried to test it like that. Maker, I’m getting sidetracked.
Varric and I are big on kissing. Half the time it seems like we’re doing less breathing and more snogging when we’re in bed. After he’s…er…sampled certain places…”
"She’s referring to my cunning linguistic skills, folks."
"(Sigh) Yes. That. Anyway, we always kiss afterwards, so yes, I have gotten a taste and while I’m not overly fond of it the way it tastes, it doesn’t bother me at all.”
20: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience:
"None really. Isabela’s told me about the things she’s done with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, but it’s just never appealed to me personally to combine food with sex. I’ll eat a bowl of ice cream in bed while Varric reads me a section or two from one of his newer manuscripts, but that’s the closest food has ever gotten in the bedroom. There are just certain types of sticky I don’t want on my sheets and my personal bits."
51: What is one thing that NEVER makes you horny?
"Well, there was this one time that the word ‘daddy’ came up. Definitely not a word that gets me itching to shuck my clothes off."
78: If you had a penis/vagina for a day, what are five things you would do?
"Marvel at the ability to pee standing up. Probably also try to do that ‘tucking it under’ thing I’ve seen before. Honestly, I’d probably wander about the house and jump around to see how it’d move too. And, yeah, I’d be interested to see just how it’d play out in the bedroom."
"You mean after you spent twenty minutes coming up with a billion different names for it?"
"…sometimes it’s scary how well you know me."