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Q's Drabbles

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Dictatious wasn’t usually one to spend time alone in the Trollmarket Pub. He generally found it too noisy, annoying to be around the crowd if he could help it.

But, from time to time, he found the background noise helpful when training his senses.

Being approached by drunk randos had never been a problem for him before. Being a former Gumm-Gumm, one of Gunmar’s most trusted henchmen no less, most residents of Trollmarket would either just give him the occasional dirty look (which he couldn’t see anyways), or just flat-out ignore him completely.

He was quite fine with that.

Just like any other time he’d spend here, Dictatious would shuffle down to one of the more private tables in the back. Just like any other time, occupants of the bar left him be.

For a while.

“What’ya got there, babe?”

Dictatious went still for a second, his focus broken from the puzzle box he’d been working with. He looked up, squinting at the large, lavender blur that had approached his table. He wouldn’t have believed it was him being addressed, but as he’s the only one occupying this table, who else would this oaf be talking to?

“… Excuse me?” Dictatious said, tone cold and feeling bewildered.

When the tipsy hulking mass of spikes and massive horns helped himself to a seat next to him, Dictatious very slowly shifted in his seat, leaning away from the other troll and pulling the puzzle box closer to himself. It was one Angor Rot had made for him to help improve his dexterity, and he wasn’t keen on the thought of some wasted idiot breaking it.

Luckily, his company didn’t try to reach for the box. Just looked it over.

“Pretty good with that thing, huh?” A swinish grin crossed the troll’s face, one that Dictatious didn’t need to be able to see in order to know it was there. Especially after the next comment.

“What else can you do with those hands?”

It put a look of disgust on Dictatious’s face, though that was also partially been from the overwhelming and repugnant smell of glug this troll emitted. “Nothing you want them to do, I assure you.” He shifted further away, trying to reach for his walking stick which he’d leaned against the table’s edge. The thought of sharing a bench with this buffoon any longer was unbearable. “If you’ll excuse me-“

He felt his shoulder being grabbed, and immediately redirected his hands to the offending limb, pushing the larger troll’s arm off of himself. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Dictatious snapped at him.

When the troll grabbed him again, forcibly pulling him closer, fear spiked within him, far overwhelming the anger and annoyance he had been feeling.

“What’s the rush?” He growled lowly, arm wrapped around Dictatious’s shoulders firmly to hold him in place. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

Dictatious did everything he could not to shudder. “Let me go.” He said rigidly, matching the other’s low volume. “I’ll-I’ll make a scene if you don’t leave me alone-”

His harasser laughed a cold, uncaring laugh. Leaning in closer, he said, “This is Trollmarket. Do you really think anyone here’s going to help a Gumm-Gumm?

Hearing that vicious truth, Dictatious’s heart dropped like a stone.

Gods. If anything, they’d think he’d deserve this, wouldn’t they.

Even through his intoxicated haze, the larger troll could see Dictatious’s grim realization clear as day. His sickening smirk grew wider.

Upon feeling this debauchee’s other hand reach beneath the table and touch his leg, Dictatious reflexively jolted back, trying again to get away, but the hand on Dic’s shoulder tightened its grip, thick sharp claws piercing his stone hide. The pain barely registered, terror of what this troll was going to do replacing every other semblance of feeling in that moment. “P-Please-“ Panicking, he started to beg. “Please stop, please…!”

His desperation was met with another cold laugh. “You changed tunes quick…” The larger troll hummed, amused. “Now, I have an idea…” his husky voice purred maliciously in his victim’s ear, the offending hand beneath the table slowly slithering its way up. Dictatious was almost to the point of sobs by now. “You come with me somewhere… private, and don’t cause me any trouble, then maybe I’ll be gentle with y-“

His gross proposition was interrupted when something tore his arm back, forcing a separation between Dictatious and his aggressor. This newcomer yanked his limb behind his back and slammed him into the table so hard, it was a miracle nothing broke.

“I have a better idea.” Angor Rot’s deadly voice snarled, pure murder glowing in his eye when he glared down at the troll he had pinned, “You keep your repulsive hands off of my matelest I detach them myself.”

His mark yelped and whined like a kicked dog under Angor’s rage-induced iron grip. The assassin would have killed him then and there if he had even just a fraction less self-control within him.

But things right now were already stressful enough for his mate. He won’t add more chaos onto that.

The look he was giving alone was more than enough to scare off this scumbag. Angor Rot threw him aside and watched him scurry away, metaphorical tail between his legs, with an angry snort. When he turned to Dictatious, his expression and voice switched from rage immediately to soft concern. He sat beside the small troll, mindful not to crowd him too much.

“Dictatious?” He murmured, lightly placing his hand overtop one of his mate’s shaking ones.

Dictatious wished he could do a better job of not looking like a complete mess after the ordeal, he really did. But when he spoke, his voice was even shakier than he was. “Thank you…” He uttered as he clutched Angor’s hand, overwhelmed with relief that replaced his earlier fear. “Thank you…”

A look of pain for his lover crossed Angor’s face. Careful still not to cross any lines after what just transpired, the assassin tried moving a little closer. He held his arm out around the other, gently patting Dictatious’s arm to let him know he was offering a hug.

While Angor wasn’t fully expecting him to accept, he also couldn’t say he was surprised when his mate pressed against him instantly.

Sighing softly, he ran one hand through Dictatious’s hair while the other held him close to comfort him. “You’re safe now…” His calming voice murmured, “I’ve got you…”

Hushed sobs that he’d been trying to restrain pushed their way out of the nervous wreck that he was, Dictatious hiding his face against his mate and shaking from the stress.

Angor Rot shielded the small troll from confused and judging eyes, though any unwelcome stares from nearby patrons were met with a blatant “fuck-off” glare from the assassin. The bulk of his focuses remained on consoling his partner.

“I’ll keep you safe…”