museyboxy | Soulmate AUs

Soulmate AUs

1: your soulmate’s name is on one wrist and your enemy’s name is on the other and you have no clue which is which.

2: your heart (and chest) glow when you first meet (or touch, if you prefer) your soulmate. Hopefully it's someone you like.

3: you're colorblind until you first see (or touch) your soulmate.

4: you're born with the first word your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your skin.

5: it's impossible to lie to your soulmate.

6: only your soulmate can kill you.

7: after you meet your soulmate, the two of you hear the same background music during important moments/events for the rest of your lives. not always romantic, lmao.

8: wild card!

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Varric was pretty pleased with his own set of clothing- as wet as he'd been when first pulling it on, it was already dry and had dried him with it, wicking away the water. And he had to admit, Fenris wore it well.

He stepped away. "You get the rest of it on, elf. I'll be right back."

Off he went to grab some stuff for those silver tresses.

He worked as best he could, still moving with a slowness borne of pain, but it was starting to ease. The warmth of the bath, the relaxation, the healing balms and - he wouldn't lie to himself - the attention. All of it had helped.

And now, these clothes. He pulled them on, the pants sitting low on his hips, the legs wide and comfortable - the only pair he owned, he thought, that weren't his usual closely-fit leggings - and the shirt a wraparound that tied closed as tight or as loose as he wanted. Tonight, he chose loose, letting the whole thing hang around him like the lightest caftan, and it did. It floated around him, touching his skin like feathers, sheer enough that he could nearly swear he wore nothing, but thick enough that he felt comfortable in it - at least here, in the privacy of the rooms that had become home.

With a small smile, he seated himself again, letting his eyes close just for the sake of resting his eyes. He was enjoying the idea of sleep, though the idea of sleeping alone had an appeal that was shrinking by the moment. He wanted to curl onto his side and drape his arm around Varric's waist as he drifted off. He'd have to take hold of a pillow and let his mind supply the rest.

The instant Fenris ass touched seat, Varric flicked his ear very gently.

"Up you get, now." With an arm ready if Fenris needed it. He let the elf lean on him as they walked back into the main room. One chaise was effectively ruined, or near to it- but to the other he guided the elf, sitting him on the chaise. There was room behind Fenris for Varric to slide in and seat himself, but it was snug. His chest nearly touched Fenris's back- and that was when he wasn't leaning in.

This had seemed like a wonderful idea a minute ago. Varric busied himself with the hairbrush to distract from how very close they were.

To his credit, he only gave the faintest of grumbles before following, and slightly leaning, his way into the sitting room. The chaise was admittedly more comfortable than the stool where he'd been before, and to have Varric behind him made the seating arrangement a battle of wills.

If he stayed sitting up, he reminded himself, he would likely get more attention to his hair, more gentle touches, and more enjoyment. If he leaned back and took hold of Varric and fell asleep on him, he'd get the satisfaction of curling up around him, the content of sleeping there, but... But no, it wouldn't be fairly gotten. So he held on to the chaise at either side, using his palms as guides so he could stay upright. "I do appreciate this," he said once he had enough mind to.

"Don't mention it," he murmured into the back of his neck. Shit, when did they get so close?

Varric started brushing his hair, trying hard not to yank- but there was only so much he could do in the face of that many tangles. The bath helped the worst of the mats, but it still needed serious tending to.

"Mmmh." There were a few little tugs, but Fenris put up with them easily enough, only a few winces that Varric couldn't see. Enough, though, that he asked, "Should we take a dagger to it and get it done?"

It wasn't as if he hadn't done it in the past. That was, after all, the origin of Fenris' haircut when he first arrived in Kirkwall. A slaver had taken hold of the length he'd allowed to grow. Fenris had let him keep it.

"Oh, you're giving up now?" he asked incredulously. "And here I thought warriors of your caliber were supposed to be tough."

It's an obvious bait- perhaps lessened by the soft touch of hand to the back of his neck, or how close they were.

A low chuckle and Fenris answered, "I was only trying to make the work easier on you, amicus; you're the one who sees the state it's in. All I know is how it got there."

And that was a tale he'd ...No, had he told it? He thought he may have, at least in part. Not a pleasant memory, or an experience he wanted to repeat - but it had paid well in the end.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about me, I'm making out just fine back here."

Things were going fine: the brush was working its magic, and soon enough the back was entirely untangled and brushed smooth. Varric turned Fenris's head to brush the sides- but found it necessary to rest his hand on the elf's ears, lightly, to protect them from the brush's bristles.

He closed his eyes, then, and let Varric work. He was still, moving as his head was tipped, letting Varric do what he would. As it went, his breathing began to go low and deep, almost as if he were falling asleep.

Or so it was until he felt a hand on his ear.

The why of it was obvious as the brush began its work, but the fact was that, whether it was detangling or not, there was a touch along the sensitive edge of his ear that was lightly, and unintentionally, moving enough to turn the touch into a stroke.

Fenris caught his lower lip in his teeth, breathing going from slow and even to the smallest hitch as he tried his best to talk himself out of that natural reaction.

Unfortunately for Fenris, Varric had to move his hand just enough to definitely turn that touch into a stroke. Then he saw Fenris's reaction, and- didn't stop. It was surprising, the look of pleasure he saw, but it was too damn captivating to want it to end.

It was enough to make him slowly, gently turn the elf's head and repeat the motion on the other ear- and the rest of his hair. Another pass of the brush, another slightly unnecessary touch to that delicate ear, to protect it.

Already, Varric had gotten a moan, a sigh - now, with Fenris so very malleable, so easy to move wherever Varric wanted him, it was practically inevitable that this time, he drew out the softest whimper.

It had been years since anyone had touched his ears. He hadn't even let Isabela during their fling, and before that, it was--

Someone both of them preferred not to think about.

But here hands were on his ears again, one at a time, light and caressing and putting warmth into his blood. Fasta vass, this was not what he'd expected when he'd awakened this morning.

God almighty, that reaction made it impossible to stay away. The literal second that Fenris's hair was done, Varric gently set the brush aside and leaned in, resting his head against the elf's for a long, heady moment. He breathed in the smell of Fenris's hair, clean and enticing, and that underlying, light something that all elves smelled like.

It took him a second to remember what he was doing, but his body didn't forget. His hand came up to gently pull Fenris's hair back, exposing the long line of his neck.

Varric's heart was pounding. Was he really about to do this? Was he really going to cross a spectacularly uncrossable line, with someone who believed Varric to be his soulmate? For a moment he thought about pulling away. Coughing, or dropping his hands, apologizing for getting too close, and letting them get back to their easy little dynamic.

He thought about pulling away from the soft skin so close to his mouth. He thought about it, and it seemed impossible. No, he could do nothing but move in closer, to breath huskily against Fenris's neck, and press a gentle, hungry kiss just under his jaw.

He exhaled with the touch of lips, his eyes staying closed, his lips quirking upward in a smile. He even leaned back against Varric and he... he just smiled. Something settled in him. Not so much a question answered, but an anxiety eased. A longing fulfilled.

The last thing on his mind was pushing for more. This, here, now - that was enough, and he let it be. All he did was lift a hand, caress Varric's cheek, and murmur a soft, "Thank you."

So this was what it was like. This was... He couldn't stop smiling. It was no grand declaration; he knew better than to believe that. It wasn't even a promise. All it really was was a kiss. But it felt nice on his skin, and somewhere deeper inside.

Varric frowned a little at that reaction. It was- strange, to say the least- to kiss someone on the neck and be thanked for it, when all he wanted was to keep kissing, to keep touching, to feel the man in front of him as much as he could.

So he huffed a little sound and kissed again: a slow, ungentle thing that sucked and rasped teeth until he was sure he made a mark, then soothed the spot with soft presses of lips and tongue. A slow, hard, claiming kiss that said quite clearly: we're not done.

Oh, that wasn't fair. He hurt all over and Varric chose now? He groaned, fingers tightening in Varric's hair as he debated, for a few now-quicker heartbeats if he should pull him back, but it felt too good to lose now. "After all that hard work you did," he murmured, "soothing all that bruising away, you had to put a new one there, mm?"

But he shifted, slow and cautious of all of the aches and pains through his body, turning and hoping Varric would get at least some of the idea and hold him to be sure he didn't falter in some direction or the other, as he leaned in to brush his lips against Varric's with a sort of querying intent. There was still such a chance that Varric would regret this tomorrow. In fact, Fenris was almost sure he would. But maybe he could take the offer tonight.

Varric did one better: he scooped up Fenris's legs and turned him around, so he sat sideways across Varric's lap, then met that kiss gently. Oh, he wanted to dive in with a hunger, but this felt too important to rush.

So a soft kiss it was: soft, delicate, loving, but in no way hesitant.

This...

This changed everything.

When he could move without too much pain, he had work to do. He had a very nice Vashoth to apologise to. He had a few jobs to rethink.

But in the moment, he had a pair of shoulders to wrap his arms around, a hair tie to toss aside so his fingers could slide into hair he had eyed more than once, hands itching to touch, to feel. And he had a kiss to sink into and answer with lips and tongue and heart.

They sat like that for a few minutes: hands touching, exploring, tongues stroking and breath gasping and a kiss deep and scorching and intense.

Only a few minutes, though, because it did change everything. It changed everything, and Varric was exhausted, and Fenris was hurt. So he broke the kiss gently, a hand on the elf's cheek.

"You need your beauty rest."

"Probably," he agreed with a smile and faint laugh. His fingers trailed over Varric's cheek, though, forehead finding his to rest against. "Could I sleep beside you tonight? No more than sleep, of course, but I'm still feeling... physically unsure."

'Rattled' was probably a good word for it. Why it had unsettled him so much, he didn't know, but he felt more able, now, to rely on Varric for a little reassurance. To sleep with him within arm's reach, if not in his arms, would help, he was sure.

"That sounds fine," he smiled, in a tone that implied it was much more than just fine. "Anyway, our passionate consummation might be a while. You know me, I'm saving myself for the Maker."

His eyes twinkled at the old callback to Sebastian, and the ways Varric used to jibe at him. Saving himself for Andraste, Varric used to say, a blushing born-again virgin waiting for some Chantry mother to lay him trembling on a bed of roses. For now, it served as a good enough cover for his various emotional issues he needed to resolve.

Fenris' answer to that was a quiet snort, but then he started to stir. They could-- Well, no, they could sleep on the chaise, but Fenris didn't want to. It was too narrow, too easy to roll off of. An actual bed was a better idea. The only question was whose. But... Well, he'd asked to sleep beside Varric.

So after he managed to climb to his feet, labour that it was, he started to walk in that direction, knowing well where Varric's bed was. As if he could miss such a thing in their little suite. (He was coming to love this place. And while he knew that they would most likely return to Kirkwall at some point, he would always have good memories here.)

Varric followed him, blowing out candles and turning off lanterns as he went, until a single lantern clutched in his hand was all that lit their way. Once in the room, Varric hung the lantern on its hook and climbed into bed, leaving the covers open enough for the elf. The lantern's yellow-orange glass cast a delicious warm glow over them both. It made him wish, for the first time, that Fenris was well enough to... not sleep.

Fenris slid into the bed, a sigh of relief coming as the mattress took his weight - and then he edged over until he was at Varric's side, forehead leaned to Varric's hair, an arm draped over him. It wasn't possessive as much as it was... hopeful. It had been a very, very long time since he'd slept this way, with someone's weight beside him. He liked the feeling, especially with the present company. His eyes closed as he laid there and...

And he couldn't help the slightest wandering of his fingers on Varric's side, the slip of the fabric over his skin bringing a little depth to his smile.

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Soulmate AUs

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