Because I'm a little salty we didn't get a morning after scene with the boys. But that's why we fic. Enjoy!
Orym sleeps in. Granted, he’s still awake before anyone else, but he hears Fearne dismiss Ashton from her bed as he comes to consciousness. He huffs a laugh before burrowing deeper into his pillow. But the pillow is warm and firm.
And then he remembers.
Orym fell asleep cradled in Dorian’s arms. That ache of loneliness is dull in his chest, and he is more rested than he has been in months…probably even years.
Even still, Orym’s first instinct is to pull away. He’s been harboring feelings since he first laid eyes on the air genasi, and it’s still hard to believe that Dorian returned them even after everything he said last night.
Orym shifts as he frets, and the arms around him tighten a fraction. He can’t help but melt back against Dorian’s warm body. Orym lets his eyes slip closed. He can rest for a few more minutes.
A few more minutes turns into another hour. Orym drifts between sleeping and waking, vaguely aware of the sounds from the kitchen above. The longer he stays in Dorian’s arms, the harder it is to move.
He’s trying to plan his exit strategy when he hears a quick gasp above him. Orym slowly lifts his head, resting his chin on Dorian’s bare chest. The genasi is braced up on an elbow, regarding Orym with wonder in his bright eyes. He bites his lower lip, clearly trying to think of the perfect thing to say.
Orym saves him from himself. He moves forward and kisses Dorian, softly and sweetly. He pulls away before pressing another to the corner of Dorian’s mouth before nuzzling under the genasi’s chin, his smaller body splayed over Dorian’s chest. He relishes the rise and fall of Dorian’s breathing.
“I don’t know what to say either,” Orym whispers into his neck.
Dorian shivers. “There’s just…so much. I should have—”
Shoving himself up, Orym looks Dorian dead in the eyes. The genasi goes quiet as Orym cups his cheek. The halfling nods. He completely understands. How many nights did he spend watching Dorian sleep, keeping his distance out of some misguided loyalty to Will? They’ve both wasted so much time, but they’re here now. They shouldn’t spend anymore time on self flagellation.
Eyes shining, Dorian cups the back of Orym’s head and kisses him again. It’s short and sweet. Dorian pulls away and rests his forehead against Orym’s. The halfling brushes his nose against the genasi’s before getting off the bed. He moves to start dressing, but Dorian beats him to his clothes and armor.
Dorian has watched Orym don his armor many mornings on the road together, so he manages to dress the halfling with ease. His clever fingers fasten each buckle with care. When he’s finished, Dorian rests his large hand on Orym’s chest. Orym grips Dorian’s wrist.
“Let’s get this done. I’d really like to do this again.”
Dorian laughs, his eyes darting to the ground before taking Orym in again. “Yeah, me too.”
They move closer, but the piercing call of the pretty blue tiefling woman freezes them in space. Breakfast is ready, and then it's time to save the world.
3, 8, or 10 with dorym please? Whichever sparks your creativity more!
8. letting them collapse against your chest the second they make it through the door after a hellish day
i didn't know which ask meme you were referring to so i guessed lol. setting this in a hypothetical post-c3
Zephrah makes Dorian nervous. It's not the people—every person he's met here has been the nicest person he's ever met in his life, and they've all gone out of their way to make him feel at home. It's not the culture, either, which is much quieter and more peaceful than the Silken Squall, just the way Dorian likes it. It's not not the rift to the Elemental Plane, but he's pretty sure that the Ashari have that covered, so he's not too worried.
It's Orym. He's a hero of them realm, a Very Important Person, not just to the Voice of the Tempest, but to all of Exandria. So is Dorian, who is technically—not technically, Orym would say, you're a big damn hero—but here, it's all Orym, all the time. And Dorian is not complaining; it's about time the world gave Orym his flowers, and besides, despite being a performer, Dorian's never reveled in the attention of others.
But all eyes being on Orym means that Dorian's actions reflect on him, and he's terrified of fucking things up for him. Orym has a big position with the Tempest Blades now—Dorian's definitely been told what it is, and he definitely can't remember—and the last thing Dorian wants to do is embarrass him or make the other Blades wonder where he found this blue dork he brought hom.
So mostly he stays home, the little cottage Orym once shared with Will and now shares with Dorian. There are echoes of Will all over the home—his winter clothes in storage, his training sword leaning against the fireplace, his aftershave beneath the bathroom sink—and Dorian is still figuring out how to settle in without erasing his memory. He's learned a lot about Will through the things he left behind, and he's bummed that he's never going to get to meet him. He's pretty sure they would have gotten along.
Like now, when the door to the cottage swings open and a haggard, exhausted Orym limps in, his Sentinel Shield dragging behind him. Dorian leaps off the sofa, where he had been noodling on his lute, a love song he now feels more qualified to sing. "Orym! Is everything okay? You look..." Better to let that though trail off than sound like a dick.
Instead of answering, Orym crashes headfirst into Dorian, who drops to his knees to hug him properly. He can feel every tense muscle in Orym's back loosen as he sighs into Dorian's chest. Dorian cups the back of his head, the other hand splayed across his back to keep him close. "Oh boy, you've had a day, haven't you?"
Orym tips his head to the side just enough to murmur, "I've been through worse, but gods, it doesn't feel like it."
Dorian presses a kiss to the top of Orym's head. "I'm sorry." Then he says something so wholly out of character that he catches himself by surprise. "Need me to crack some skulls?"
Orym stiffens, and Dorian could kick himself. Crack some skulls? Dorian has never said such a thing in his life, and now he's freaked Orym out, because he's a moron who doesn't know what he's doing—
Orym snorts out a laugh, straightening up to smile wryly at Dorian. "Y'know, Will used to say the exact same thing to me, whenever I was cranky."
Oh. "I...didn't know that."
"It's nice to hear it again." Orym kisses his cheek. "I think I'll take a rain check on the skull-cracking. Want to join me for a bath?"
Dorian's face instantly goes hot at the suggestion and warmth in Orym's voice. "Um, yeah, of course. You go run the water, I'll grab us some wine."
"Sounds good." And Orym kisses him again, on the lips this time, tired but smiling. As he trudges off toward the bathroom, Dorian stands and walks shell-shocked to the kitchen. Pulling wine glasses down from their cabinet, he finds himself thinking of Will—or maybe to Will, as if he were praying. Thanks for showing me what to say.
"You comin'?" comes the call from the bathroom.
"On my way!" Dorian pops the cork on a bottle of red, breathes in the fragrant bouquet. I just want to take care of him. I think we both know how much he deserves it. He heads toward the sound of running water, and he swears for a moment he feels a strong, broad hand rest on his shoulder. Dorian smiles, and he thinks that maybe he'll be able to do right by Orym after all.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Would you want a ring?” he asks Dorian.
“Yes,” Dorian says. His voice is clear, strong, decisive. Orym’s heart swells with pride. He leans forward and kisses him.
“Wait here,” he says after he pulls back. He rests his forehead against Dorian’s. “I will be right back.”
prompt 2 out of 4 done! @madison-winchester here you go! last day of decemember, right under the wire. thanks for the prompt! i hope you like it.
this is the one that officially put me over 50k on ao3 this year. what an absolutely buckwild sentence for me to type out. can't wait to see what 2025 has in store!
i know i still have 2 more prompts on that post. i promise i will get to them in january!
I have never done this before, but I'm now doing fic writing so I think that means I'm allowed to do such a thing and am taking @caterpills's open tag to do it. It's also definitely Ten Several Sentences Sunday, because I can't be contained~
Anyway, in my note for just look at him, I hinted that I've had a Modern AU Dorym fic in my head for a while and this is an excerpt from one of the chapters I've been noodling on. Someday I'll get around to polishing things further, but for the meantime, please have this offering. This chapter was feelsy to write, but I like what I have so far.
He let the phone continue to the next saved message.
"I'm watching you do yoga right now. I'm making coffee and you're outside in the backyard, not even wearing a shirt and it's—hang on. It's not even 50 degrees out, I swear. Oh, the weather app says it's 64, but still. I'm not complaining, though, because holy shit, you look—oh fuck, you saw me, okay love you bye—"
"I know you're doing important work right now, but I miss you. Call me when you get back to your hotel room. I love you, Orym."
"I just texted you, but I thought I'd try calling and before you say I told you so, please know that I know you were right and I know I should have taken my car in to get the tires replaced weeks ago so you don't need to remind me when I tell you that my tire went and I need you to come and get me, because I can stomach a lecture from you better than the one Dad will give me so please call me back as—oh that's you—"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Orym/Dorian Storm
The tension between Orym and Dorian comes to a head the night before the biggest battle of their lives. Dorian refuses to let them go on with everything unspoken.
Largely canon divergent from 3x111, but the last few lines has spoilers for the end of the episode.
Guys I have a dilemma. I have the first half of a Dorym smut written. Part of this involves everyone discussing biological and physical differences between genitalia between the different races while they're all in a big tub. (If you're a fan of my headcanons about how D&D races have different reproductive organs boy are you in for a treat because this doc is called 'Dorian's fancy dick')
I started this prior to FCG dying and hadn't included him in the conversation, but I'm wondering if I should rewrite it to include Braius instead because he'd actually be able to participate in the stupid banter and I think it'd be funny.
Should I finish it as is or rewrite that bit to include Braius as well?
Keyleth stands under the tree, feeling the last light of a dying day on her face.
A raven caws above her; she lifts her chin to see a large raven soar overhead. The breeze picks up then; black feathers and cherry blossoms sweep by her in the gust of wind.
Keyleth thinks of Nell, suddenly a bereaved mother and a widow all at once. She thinks of Nell and Will, and Orym and his own mother, and her heart aches.
She thinks of Vax’s father, and then of her own. She thinks of Orym’s father and Derrig. The painful feeling in her chest grows.
Another harsh, mournful sound from above. Keyleth remembers I thought we’d have more time and thinks of love cut too short.
-
Across the world, Orym gasps for breath. Everything hurts, and-
It will all be over soon.
And-
He thinks of Derrig. He thinks of his only true father, and his heart aches.
He thinks of Will. He thinks of his love, how he’s failed his husband one more time.
A sword runs him through.
Orym thinks of Dorian, reaching for the stone hidden within his pockets. His fingers touch something smooth and cool, and he thinks of Dorian, and then nothing else.
-
Elsewhere, on a plane unknown to them both, stands a guardian, alone, holding a tangle of golden threads in his hand. They pulse gently, shimmer brightly, and Vax watches them all.