#his and anders hug as they spun around

[yourforgottenbookshelf]

Caught In The Middle - Valerio Montesinos x Muñoz!Reader

Gif not mine. Credits to the rightful owner.

Fandom: Elite

Pairing and other characters mentioned: Valerio Montesinos x Reader, Ander Munoz x Reader, Guzman Nunier, Lu Montesinos, Samuel Garcia, Carla Roson, Cayetana Grajera, Omar Shanaa

Summary: You are Ander's twin sister and have recently started dating Valerio. However, Ander doesn't approve of your relationship, and when an incident takes place during a party, he warns Valerio to stay away from you. {Requested}

Word count: 1781

Trigger warning: alcohol and substance abuse, attempted sa, violence, cursing

A/N: I'm noticing a lack of Elite fanfiction here on Tumblr, which I'm not very happy about. Please, feel free to send in requests, my loves.

“Out of all the boys in Las Encinas, you really had to sleep with this degenerate,” your brother’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Excuse me?” you questioned in disbelief. Normally, Ander would keep his opinions to himself- it wasn’t like him to intervene with your personal life- but it wasn’t like you to keep things from him either.

Ander took a deep breath. “When were you going to tell me?” he asked. You frowned, unsure of how you should respond. “Tell you what?” you replied, trying to buy yourself more time to think of an excuse.

Your twin rolled his eyes. “About you and Valerio. I had to find out from Omar, for God’s sake!”

You felt the blood on your face painting your cheeks red. It was obvious you couldn’t hide the truth from your brother any longer. “Look, cariño, I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Ander’s expression softened. “Y/N, you’re my twin sister. You know you can always confide in me, right?”

“I know how much you dislike him,” you murmured. Ander picked up on the fact you avoided eye contact, and took a seat next to you on your bed. His wrapped his arm around your shoulder carefully, and pulled you closer to him.

“I don’t dislike Valerio,” he sighed, “I just don’t think he’s good for you.”

Ander had a valid point. Valerio had a reputation for being a troublemaker, and his involvement with drugs and partying was well-known around the school. Despite all that, you couldn’t help the way you felt about him.

“I understand what you’re saying, cariño,” you said, “but I just hope you can accept my choise.”

Ander took a deep breath before responding. “I will always support you, Y/N, no matter what. Just, promise me one thing.”

There was a moment of silence before he continued, during which you felt your heart pounding on your chest. “Promise me you’ll be careful, and that you’ll come to me if you ever need anything.”

You felt a wave of graditute wash over you as you hugged your brother tightly. “Thank you, Ander,” you breathed. “I promise.”

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

As you swallowed the sixth vodka shot, you felt like your soul was elevating heavenwards. The sweet taste of gummy bears mixed with alcohol burned your throat and made you feel euphoric- like the world was still there, but for the moment, it didn't have you by the throat.

“You’re breathtaking tonight, Y/N,” Valerio whispered, his lips brushing over your exposed collarbone. You giggled and tittled your head slightly to the side, placing a soft kiss on his neck. “I could say the same thing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the alcohol continued to flow through your veins, you started to feel lightheaded. The room around you spun in dizzying circles, and you struggled to keep your balance. Valerio noticed your unsteady movements and reached out to steady you, his hand gripping your arm tightly.

“Y/N, you okay?” he questioned. Even though you couldn’t hear his voice clearly enough, you could see the concern etching on his face. You tried to nod, but the room spun even faster, and you felt like you might be sick.

“I don’t feel so good,” you mumbled, your words slurring together. Valerio’s grip on your arm tightened, and he led you to a nearby couch, sitting you down carefully.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured you, kissing you softly on the forehead. “I’ll go get you some water.” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

A few moments went by, and your dizziness only got worse.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your thigh, and you looked up to see a stranger leering at you. You tried to push him away, but your limbs felt heavy and uncooperative.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he slurred, his breath hot and stale against your face. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, and the darkness swallowed you whole.

It didn’t take long for Valerio to return to the crowded living room, clutching a bottle of water in his hand. He searched for you in the sea of faces, and when he realized you were nowhere to be seen, he felt his heart skip a beat. As panic set in, he scanned the room once again. He spotted Samuel and Guzman chatting in a corner, and quickly approached them.

“Guys, have you seen Y/N?” he asked with a slightly shaken voice.

Guzman and Samuel exhanged a puzzled glance. “No, we haven’t seen her. Why?” Samuel replied. Valerio felt his heart sinking to his stomach, and his eyes darted the room for familiar faces one more time. He didn’t bother replying to Samuel before rushing to Lu and Carla.

“Lu, have you seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere.”

Lu shook her head. “No, sorry. We've been dancing together for the past hour.”

Valerio’s concern slowly evolved into fear. His mind conjured up horrifying scenarios, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed to protect you.

“Val, what’s going on?” Lu questioned, visibly concerned.

Valerio took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before explaining the situation. “It’s all my fault,” he murmured, the words weighing heavy on his chest.

“What’s going on?” asked Guzman, arriving at the scene along with Samuel, drawn in by the commotion.

“We can’t find Y/N,” Carla spoke up. The sense of urgency in her voice was palpable.

Guzman’s expression remained stoic as he tried to assess the situation. “Have you tried calling her?” he asked Valerio.

“I did just now. It’s going straight to voicemail,” Lu interjected.

Guzman's mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. "Vale. Where's Ander and Omar?" he questioned, his tone serious and firm. “They went to get some drinks, they should be back any minute now.”

“We have to split up and search for her. She must be somewhere in the house,” Carla said, taking charge of the situation. “I’m texting Ander to check the pool and the back yard. Me and Lu will go see if her car is still in the driveway, and you guys head upstairs.”

The group nodded in agreement, and quickly dispersed to search for any signs of you.

Guilt washed over Valerio in waves, threatening to drown him as he imagined the worst. He mentally cursed himself for ever letting you out of his sight, for not being more careful, for not protecting you like he should have.

“Cayetana, have you seen Y/N?” Samuel asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “Si, I saw her and Gabriel going to the attic. She seemed a bit disoriented,” the blonde replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“What? Why didn't you say something earlier?" Guzman snapped, his anger rising at the thought of you being in danger.

"I didn't think anything of it," Cayetana replied defensively, sensing the tension in the air.

“Puta madre!”

Without another word, the three of them raced up to the attic, their hearts pounding in their chests. As they opened the door, they saw you huddled in the corner, shaking with fear. And there, hovering above you, was Gabriel, a sinister smile on his face.

"Ugh, merda. I was just starting to have some fun with your girlfriend."

Guzman and Samuel stepped forward, flanking Valerio on either side as they faced off against Gabriel. Valerio's eyes flashed with anger as he noticed your bruised arms and bloodied shirt. "What the fuck did you do to her, cabron?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“I didn’t-” Gabriel didn’t get a chance to reply, as Guzman’s chuckles met with his mouth. “You are gonna pay for this, joder!” he screamed. Gabriel’s feet stumbled, as he held his arms up in defense. “I swear, I didn’t do anything. I was just messing around.”

“Just messing around?” Valerio growled, feeling his blood boiling. “Valerio, por favor,” Samuel whispered, grabbing him before he had the chance to hit him as well. “She needs you.”

Meanwhile, you were still curled up in the corner, shaking violently. You tried resisting the urge to throw up, but the mix of alcohol and the metal taste of blood in your mouth weren’t much help. You cried out, in a desperate attemp to capture someone’s attention, but nobody seemed to had heard you.

You were well aware that Valerio and Guzman would never let Gabriel get away with this. The sounds of fists hitting flesh, the screams of your friends, and the shattering of glass all seemed to blend together into one sickening cacophony. Your heart was racing, and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment.

“Guzman, Valerio, eso es suficiente!” Lu screamed, hurriedly entering the attic. Carla, Ander, Omar and Cayetana followed close behind.

Ander and Carla wasted no time rushing next to you. “Y/N, what happened?” Carla asked. Her voice was slow and steady, but you could tell she was struggling to keep her composure.

You took a deep breath. The air, however, didn’t reach the bottom of your lungs. You felt like you were suffocating.

“Call an ambulance, now!” Ander demanded. And, for the second time tonight, darkness swallowed you.

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

“I don’t want you near my sister ever again. You've been nothing but trouble lately, and I don't want her getting caught in the middle of it."

Valerio took a final drag out of his cigarette. "What are you talking about? Tonight wasn’t my fault- I didn’t do anything wrong."

"Maybe not intentionally," Ander replied firmly, "but you've been a bad influence on her."

Valerio sighed. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? At the end of the day, you never liked me.”

Ander watched as Valerio walked down the hospital corridor, feeling hurt and confused. He had never meant to cause any harm to you, and he couldn’t deny that he felt a deep sense of loss now that he couldn't be near you anymore. He knew that Ander was only looking out for his sister, and he respected that. Maybe someday, you could all be friends again, but for now, he would have to stay away.

#elite #elite netflix #elite imagines #elite imagine #elite fanfiction #elite season 6 #elite guzman #elite ander #elite samuel #elite carla #elite lu #elite valerio #elite omar #omar and ander elite #omar and ander #elite cayetana #carla elite #valerio elite #guzman elite #samuel elite #lu elite #omar elite #ander elite #ander x reader #valerio elite x reader #cayetana elite #valerio montesinos x reader #valerio x reader #ander elite x reader #elite valerio x reader

[whumpacabra]

45. Play

Panic, anxiety, confusion, fear for others safety, past trauma, dog mention, implied past dog attack, implied past self sacrifice, implied minor character deaths, implied military activity, blood

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison’s brain caught up with his body after he tackle-hugged Wolf - half relieved and half enraged as he pulled back to grip the taller man’s shoulders. Wolf looked down at him, glassy eyes blinking to brightness as he avoided Harrison’s stare.

“Never do that again.” He didn’t look away until Wolf finally gave a stiff, unsteady nod. Harrison hugged Wolf again, surprised how desperate he was to know Wolf was still there, how terrified he had been.

(Not for himself, not for Thomas, but for Wolf.)

Who was barely breathing, the dull thump of his heartbeat too fast in his chest.

Harrison could tell Wolf was looking at Anders, the dog -

Fuck. Right. There was a fucking dog.

Harrison spun around, back to Wolf’s chest as he stared at the animal. Big - it was bigger than any dog he had seen, but vaguely husky-ish. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was part wolf. It wore a now bloodstained vest, pale white and beige camouflage wrapped over the dog’s tawny coat. (The white of it’s throat was dyed red, jowls dripping with blood and saliva.) It stopped growling over Anders’ bloodied body long enough to look up and meet Harrison’s eyes - it’s own a startling yellow.

Definitely part wolf.

Now Harrison was barely breathing - short gasping breaths - and his heart was racing against his rib cage. Because all he could see was that rabid mutt snarling over Merrick’s still breathing body and all he could hear was the screams echoing against stone and steel -

And a short, sharp whistle that had the dog dutifully and delicately trot away from where Anders lay bleeding to sit next to the person who was helping Thomas stay upright.

It didn’t calm the (rational?) panic blooming in Harrison’s chest to see that it was well trained and loyal to the mysterious soldier. Wolf didn’t seem to find it comforting either, a tentative hand on Harrison’s shoulder, peering over his head. Their eyes met briefly, a question and an answer.

Are you okay?

I don’t like the dog.

(Funny, how fast you learn to read a stranger when you’ve seen each other bloodied and near death.)

“Dog is good. Don’t mind him.” The soldier leaned over to scratch behind the dog’s ear. (They didn’t have to lean far - the massive animal sat higher than their hip.) Harrison squinted at the stranger, short and stocky in their pale camouflage. Between the sun glare glasses covering their eyes and the scarf pulled up to cover their mouth and nose, he could hardly tell more about them beyond the tactical vest filled with knives, glow sticks, grenades, and - apparently - dog treats, which they gave to the beast by their side.

“If they’re touchy about the pup he can ride with me. I don’t mind your coileáinín - he doesn’t shed does he?” His eyes drifted to follow the redhead who had dropped her admittedly impressive Russian accent for a thick Irish brogue. She shot Harrison a smile, emerald eyes chipped with something between curiosity and…sadness? “Regardless we best leave before those fuckers get their heads on straight.”

“Solid copy.”

“W - wait - who - ” Thomas stumbled over his words, weakly trying (and failing) to escape the mystery soldier’s grasp.

“RJ. She’s Liza. Sniper is Walker.” They looked Harrison and Wolf up and down unsubtly before looking at their dog. “This is Dog.” (Was it’s name really just ‘Dog’?) “We’re the ones that want you alive.”

“That’s encouraging.” Harrison could feel his hackles raise, sarcasm thick in his throat. Wolf’s presence at his back was steady, comforting, emboldening. “Why do you - ”

“I already told you. Jaybird asked for you alive.” There was a dull impatience to their tone as they half dragged Thomas along toward the truck. Harrison’s brain finally caught up with their words, suspicion flagging to relief.

“Jennings sent you?” Harrison had only ever heard Jennings' grandmother call them ‘Jaybird’ - it was unnatural hearing them called all these years after her death, let alone to hear it from the mouth of a stranger.

“Yes.” They paused, Thomas groaning as they settled him into the passenger seat. “Liza is here because - ”

“Because you pulled me off a bloody Vegas job to help you ruin some Yankee’s day. Which I’m happy to do, but you owe me.” Liza gave a quick whistle, Dog bounding to her side and jumping into the convertible with practiced precision. Harrison couldn’t help but flinch at the movement, but Wolf’s hand gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, grounding him.

“Put it on Ghost’s tab.” RJ shut the door with surprising softness, quickly making their way back to the circle of corpses in the street. “What are you two waiting for? Get in the truck.”

“We can’t - how do you plan to outrun them? The helicopters - ”

“We have exfil secured at the property with the cattle fields to the south. We’ll be airborne before you know it.” They gave Liza a nod as she stepped back into her convertible, the sports car’s engine purring as it turned over. “Regrouping at Duck Creek with Jaybird and your contingent of refugees. I assume that’s where they’re headed?”

“Y -yeah. Yeah, okay. Alright.” Harrison took a deep breath, looking up at Wolf. “Sound good?”

He gave a nod, eyes sharp as he glanced between the stranger and Harrison. Harrison smiled, nodding to himself as he glanced around -

“Right - the - the files - hang on, let me grab the hard drive.” Harrison broke away from Wolf (already missing the warmth) and stepped over the corpses to reach the duffel bag abandoned by the garage door. The heavy brick of the databank in his hands felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders as he clutched it to his chest.

Looking back, Wolf had taken the initiative to gather the paper files, the folder splayed on the ground and spattered with Anders’ blood -

Anders wasn’t dead yet.

His intact arm twitched, and Harrison felt his heart drop to his feet.

“Don’t - ”

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @whumpy-daydreams @stargeode

#whump #panic #misunderstandings #fear for others safety #past trauma #dog mention #self sacrifice #minor character death #military setting #blood #freelancers au #we’re so close to the finish line TvT I don’t want this story to end #hi. long weekend. gonna be a longer week. ough. #o7 I forgor important paper work and might drive 6 hours there and back later today so I have them for tomorrow.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #29

Dragon Age - #29 - Acceptance 

*

Anders raked his hands through his hair, shaking his head and trying to wake himself up. He was so tired that his eyes burned and the words before him blurred. The dancing candlelight was giving him a headache. 

He desperately wanted to sleep. But he couldn’t. Every second he wasted was another second Hawke suffered. 

“Wake up,” he commanded himself, rubbing his eyes. “Wake up. Hawke needs you.”

He looked at the stacks of books before him. He’d have to sleep at some point to be able to concentrate on what he was reading, but it could hold off until he’d finished the book he was currently working through. 

Hawke needed him. He had to push through his exhaustion.

“You should stop.”

The monotone voice sent shivers down his spine as it always did. Anders went rigid before drawing the book closer to himself.

“I’m not going to stop,” he said.

“It is pointless. I accept my punishment.”

Anders spun around, staring into the dead eyes of his lover. “You would never accept this. They’ve just taken away your will to fight it. But I will get it back, Hawke.”

Hawke just continued to gaze blankly at him. The Tranquil mark on his forehead taunted Anders until he could stand it no longer and turned back to his book.

The Templars claimed it was punishment for Hawke because he was too dangerous and refused to join the Circle. But Anders knew the truth; they’d captured Hawke and made him Tranquil to punish Anders. He was just lucky the others had helped him rescue Hawke and find a hideout to keep him. 

There had to be a way to undo it. There just had to be. Anders had gotten through to Karl, however briefly. There had to be a way to do that again but make it permanent.

The words blurred again and Anders slammed the book down in frustration as he realized it was due to tears instead of exhaustion this time. This was his fault. Hawke didn’t deserve this. It was a fate worse than death, and a price he was only paying because of Anders’ rebellion. 

Anders got up and went over to Hawke, taking his hands. “I’ll find a way to fix this, love.”

“There is no way. And I do not need to be fixed. I was too dangerous. Like you,” Hawke said. 

Anders fought the tears and pulled Hawke into his arms. Hawke stood still and allowed the hug, but he did not reciprocate it. It made a lump form in Anders’ throat.

The coded knock they’d come up with sounded at the door before it was unlocked and opened. Anders wiped his eyes and picked his head up, releasing Hawke as Varric came in.

“Any luck, Blondie?” he asked, trying not to look at Hawke.

“Not yet. But there has to be something,” Anders said.

Varric fidgeted with his hands. “Hey, uh, we’ve been talking.”

Anders didn’t like the sound of that. “I got through to Karl. I can get through to Hawke, too.”

“Anders,” Varric said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “No one’s ever fixed a Tranquil mage. And this is no life for him. He would never want this.”

“No!” Anders snapped, feeling Justice flare up within him. “Do not even suggest it, Varric.”

“Look at him!” Varric cried, and the pain Anders felt reflected in his tone. “This is no way to live! It’s just torturing him!”

“I can’t kill another man I love!” Anders yelled, and the dam within him broke, tears flowing down his cheeks. “Don’t ask it of me. I can’t give up on him. This is my fault.”

“Carver made the final call,” Varric said. “He agreed to give you tonight to say goodbye. But he can’t stand to see his brother like this any longer. None of us can.”

Hawke was silent and impassive through the exchange. He didn’t even seem to register they were there.

Anders knew it was torture to let him live like this. But what if there was a cure? What if he could get Hawke back? 

“Anders,” Varric said, sounding heartbroken. “We have to let him go. He always said he’d rather be dead than Tranquil.”

Anders clutched Hawke’s hand as he cried. He knew Varric was right. He knew he was making Hawke suffer for his own hope of a cure. 

Varric put a hand on Hawke’s arm. “We’ll be back in the morning, pal.”

Hawke didn’t respond and Anders saw Varric’s eyes watering as he turned away. When the door shut, Anders pulled Hawke to him once more, burying his face in Hawke’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clutching the love of his life. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.”

But the apologies did not fix anything, and Hawke would be dead by the morning. It was what he would want, but it was the most painful truth Anders had ever accepted. 

#june of doom #june of doom 2023 #dragon age #Hawke #anders #Garrett Hawke #Varric Tethras #jtdoesjuneofdoom

[rosesvioletshardy]

SJS @ NYI 12.02.2021

#IM SO HAPPY #FINALLY SOMETHING GOOD #his and anders hug as they spun around #new york islanders #isles lb #mathew barzal #mat barzal #noah dobson #anders lee #josh bailey #mine. #*gifs

[laurfilijames]

A Present Without A Bow

Pairing: Anders Johnson x female reader

Words: 4,349

Warnings: Rated E 18+. rough oral sex (M receiving), unprotected intercourse (M/F), slight asphyxiation, some family angst, Anders has feelings

Summary: Anders hates Christmas, but you’re about to change his mind when you deliver a very special gift to his apartment. Still, he continues to do what he does best, using sex to bury his true feelings for you.

A/N: gifs in the moodboard courtesy of my dear friend @enchantzz ! This fic is inspired by two of Kacey Musgraves’ Christmas songs; A Present Without A Bow and Christmas Makes Me Cry. I’ve often wondered what Christmas would have been like for the Johnson brothers after their parents both left them, and I can’t imagine it always being happy times, no doubt resulting in Anders being less than enthusiastic about the holiday.

———

Anders spun around on his chair to face the brick wall rather than the screen of his laptop that had been mocking him with a thousand things he wasn't accomplishing any of and ran his hand over his face. Was it too much to ask for him to just fall asleep tonight and wake up in the New Year?

Dawn was mumbling about something he couldn't quite make out, and with a heaving sigh he decided that she had been at work long enough on the night before Christmas.

"Dawn, go home. You've done more than your fair share of work," he called out loudly to overpower her complaints that were still spewing out of her mouth from her side of the office. "and I'm bloody tired of hearing about it…" he mumbled to himself as she walked with purpose over to his desk, her blonde hair swaying with the movement of her head that she shook at him.

"I am well aware of just how much I've done, Anders! I only wish you could say the same!" Her arms folded across her chest as she gave him a pointed look and he opened his mouth to defend himself but was stopped when she continued. "How on earth are you going to manage to finish all of this yourself before the end of the year?" she accosted, not knowing that he planned to simply Bragi his way out of every last minute situation with these persistent and very needy clients.

"Dawn, listen to me," he began, his voice lowering to that familiar octave that made her eyes glaze over at once and soak in every word that fell off his silver tongue. "Go home to Ty, to your mum. Enjoy your Christmas. There isn't a thing for you to worry your pretty little head over until after the holidays are done." He really didn't love using his powers on her, he thought as soon as his lips stopped dripping with their influence, especially after the amount of times Ty had begged him not to, but this was for a good reason.

"Right, okay," she easily agreed, spinning on her heel with a slight hesitation as to how her mind had been changed so effortlessly.

"Oh, and Dawn?" Anders called back to her, standing from his chair and holding a card out for her to take. "For you. Merry Christmas. Hopefully you don't think I'm as big of an asshole as everyone else does."

With a weak smile she accepted the envelope, turning it over in her hands. "I don't think you're an asshole. All the time," she added with a smile which made him laugh. "Thank you, Anders."

She walked over to her desk, the hefty bonus she now had in her hand making her walk with a spring in her step, and bent to retrieve her purse from the floor beside it. "Won't I be seeing you at Christmas dinner tomorrow?" she asked just as he convinced himself in his mind that he wasn't as bad as Scrooge for making his employee work on Christmas Eve.

Anders moved to sit on his desk, tucking his bottom lip in his teeth as he chuckled slightly out of his amusement of the situation.

"No." He looked up at her and when he saw her expression that encouraged him to continue, he did. "As you could imagine I'm not really big on the whole 'hugs and merriment' bullshit," he gestured with his hands before bracing one on his thigh. She began to give him a disappointed look and he knew she would try to argue that he was always welcome with his family, but she would never understand half of the issues that hindered the Johnson family. "I've got better plans, anyway," he lied in an attempt to prevent more of an inquiry. She didn't need to know he would be spending it alone.

"If you say so," she sing-songed, her desire not to know of what he could possibly get up to clear as she turned and walked to the door. "Merry Christmas, Anders," she wished, holding the handle and smiling at him warmly before making her exit.

The door closed shut and he hung his head down, his disappointment given a voice when he sucked his cheek in through his teeth and released it with a clicking sound as he thought of what he would do to pass the time. He dreaded the loneliness that would come from not going to dinner, but he was far too stubborn to actually make an appearance and have Mike look down at him from his high horse all day because of it.

He thought of the girls he could call, but then remembered it was of course Christmas and everyone would be with their families, and probably husbands and boyfriends anyway. Even if they were available to keep him entertained, that wasn't at all what he wanted. He wanted you.

You had been equally as busy with work so no plans were made to see each other over the holiday, and the thought gave him a sinking feeling in his gut. He missed you.

He reached for his phone to check if you had sent him a text in the time since he had last checked, a frown drawing over his lips when his screen came up blank. Tucking his phone in his pocket, he grabbed his keys and flicked off the lamp on his desk, deciding to ignore everything that still needed doing and to just go home instead. He needed a drink.

Approximately ten minutes had passed since you let yourself into Anders' apartment using the key Ty had so generously lent you when he dropped a parcel off at your office, giving you enough time to flick on a few lights and take in the rooms you were beginning to become familiar with. Not a single thing in the entire place gave evidence of it being Christmas at all, everything exactly how it was for the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. It didn't surprise you, but still the absence of a tree or lights or anything festive made you even happier that you decided to do this for him.

Now you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom that was joined to his bedroom and tightened a sash of red silk ribbon around your waist, a smile forming on your face as you admired your otherwise naked self, praying this would be the kind of surprise he needed after a hellish week. He'd been so stressed lately, your last hookup together cut short due to his work, and between both of your schedules you hadn't had a chance to see each other again let alone talk, the most contact you had being a few brief texts between meetings. So what better way to treat him than having him come home to you naked and waiting? You knew him well enough by now to know the way to his heart was through his cock and you intended to let him use you as his playtoy until he fell into a well-earned sleep and you could slip out before morning.

Your only hope now was that Anders chose to come home at a reasonable hour and didn't stop anywhere on his way.

Within no time at all you heard the door unlock and creak open, the heavy sound of his confident steps walking from the entrance into the kitchen.

Positioning yourself on your side on his bed, you eagerly waited for him to make his way in to find you, trying so hard to contain your excitement at the thrill of hearing his hesitation as he came to realize that someone was in his apartment and had turned on some lights he was sure he hadn't left on.

It was difficult to imagine someone looking more handsome than him, you thought, watching him stride casually through the bathroom to stop at the bed before you, his strut and searing gaze making you press your thighs together. His eyes sparkled with mischief and his grin hinted at a playful promise; this was the exact reaction you had hoped for.

"Ho, ho, ho," he said, his voice dripping with lust and approval, drinking the sight of you in. "Christmas came early."

"Let's hope not too early," you replied, grinning when he hummed out a loud chuckle that made his belly expand and chest puff out, his reaction true and genuine.

"Oh, you'll be waiting for your turn to come, don't worry."

Anders tugged to loosen his tie at the same time he kicked off his shoes, a malicious smirk playing on his inviting lips.

"I don't think I deserve to be punished for giving you your gift early," you chided with mock offense, shifting slightly to present yourself to him more.

"Punishment is exactly the thing you deserve for breaking and entering, baby."

"Hmm, and here I was about to let you do whatever you wanted with me…"

He cocked his head to the side and squinted with that infamous smug look that made more wetness pool between your legs, "Do I not do what I want with you already?"

What a bastard, you thought, but giggled with pure delight as he joined you on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crawling over your body, his mouth covering yours with an eagerness you wished all day for him to have.

You pulled at his tie to bring his still-clothed body closer to yours, desperate to feel his heated skin against you, all while knowing he wasn't going to make it that easy for you to get what you wanted. Your hips lifted to make contact with the very hard and prominent bulge in his pants, eliciting a sharp groan out of him, causing your own breath to hitch.

"Let me feel you," you requested in a whine as Anders attacked your neck with his lips, his stubble scratching your skin with how rough he was rubbing against you.

"As you wish," he grinned, moving to look at you with darkened eyes and dimples caving in on his cheeks.

But of course he didn't do what you had in mind. Instead of undressing completely, Anders kneeled back on the bed and pulled his belt from his pants, giving it a threatening snap before throwing it onto the floor and unfastened his trousers to free his enlarged cock. "You're welcome to feel this all you want, but only with your mouth," he purred, looking down at you with malice that made your mouth water and more arousal to collect in your folds.

Giving himself a few strokes while you brought yourself to your hands and knees, Anders thought how he couldn't imagine anything better than you being with him right now, surprising him like this, the gesture making his heart sing and cock throb.

Looking up at him with innocent eyes, you brought your mouth to the tip of his cock and closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue to capture the drop of cum that leaked out before slowly moving your head toward his torso to take all of him into your mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he hissed, his hips thrusting forward slightly to meet your movement, making you gag and peel back a little. Your tongue licked the smooth length of him from head to the base where your nose tickled in his dark blond hairs, the smell of him intoxicating you and encouraging you to take him into the very back of your throat again.

You looked up to see him watching you with the most pleased look on his face, his eyes meeting yours for only a moment before traveling down your body to your ass that was stuck up in the air, one of his hands moving to smooth down your back and give your bum a smack as you dragged your teeth carefully along his shaft before hollowing out your cheeks to suck with perfect pressure.

A drawn-out moan crooned out of you, the act of giving him this pleasure drowning you in your own, your slick beginning to drip from you as you bobbed back and forth on his cock.

Anders of course took notice of your state and bucked into your wet warmth, seeing how far he could push your limit, a satisfied noise leaving him when you sputtered around him, tears springing from your eyes, your nipples hardening into stiff peaks.

Letting your jaw go slack as you focused on your breathing, you allowed Anders to fuck your mouth, his bulbous head slamming into the back of your throat with every thrust. You reached one of your hands up to cup his sack, applying gentle squeezes that you knew he loved, massaging him gently to help send him over the edge.

But that wasn't how he wanted this to end.

Anders raked his fingers through your hair and pulled back, tilting your head up and off of his cock, an excited laugh echoing above you.

"Christ, you nearly sucked the life out of me," he snickered, releasing your hair and holding your chin in his hand as he wiped the saliva from your panting lips. He bent down to kiss you, ghosting his lips over yours when he broke contact and whispered lowly, "That's not how I want to fill you up though."

The pulsing intensified between your legs and you rubbed them together when you sat up in an attempt to get some friction where you needed it most. It was easy to see how satisfied he was in watching you struggle, a small grin pulling at his lips as he unbuttoned his shirt and discarded his tie, standing from the bed to remove his pants that hung under his ass.

He placed his hands on his bare hips and tilted his head to the side, "What to do with my gift now…" he wondered aloud, your mind racing and heart beating furiously at the possibilities he could be drumming up. Nothing was ever out of the question with Anders, all of which added to the allure of being with him. He excited you, challenged you, and gave you the most extreme moments of ecstasy you would never be able to erase.

The truth was that Anders didn't know what he wanted from you next. His thrumming heart was urging him to lock his lips against yours and not let go, to take his time in savouring you while his mind and cock were working as a team and telling him to fuck you senseless and ignore the plea of his silenced emotions.

So he did what he knew best; taking a step toward the bed he pressed his lips against yours furiously, his hand gently wrapping around your neck to stroke it slowly.

You whimpered, your head falling back as he followed the path of where his hand had just applied pressure on your throat with his searing lips, his hands traveling lower across every curve on your body, stopping to yank on the bow to ensure it was still secured around your waist.

His tongue licked a wet stripe over the crest of your breast and flicked at your nipple, making you spread your legs further apart in hopes he would touch your impatient core next, leaving you disappointed when he abandoned you completely and rested his hands on either side of your legs on the mattress. You opened your eyes to see his turned to a flaming, wicked blue, his face hovering inches from yours, the way his arms were braced around you making the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex and distract you.

"I'm not going to go easy on you," he warned, his voice so calm and quiet it could be mistaken that he said something lovely and kind if you didn't hear the words.

All you could do was lick your lips, everything suddenly feeling dry, giving Anders the tiniest nod of your head in confirmation that you would be happy to have him treat you with as much ruthlessness as he had many times before.

"Good girl," he softly assured, standing up tall to look down at you. "Now turn around." He barked this time, sending a shiver down your spine at the sharpness of his order. Spinning on your knees, you planted your hands firmly on the bed, fisting the sheets to try to steady yourself for what was to come.

"Look how ready you are for me," he praised, a gasp of breath blowing out of your lungs that you'd been holding when he cupped your heated mound from behind, his hand dragging over your folds teasingly. "So desperate for it," he murmured to himself while he pushed two thick fingers through your slick, giving you only a small sense of relief as he moved them in and out of you a few times.

"Anders," you cried out weakly, moving your body back toward him so he entered you deeper still which only made him retreat from you to circle your aching clit with his thumb and press onto it as you writhed to his touch.

He wanted to make you cum, to send you into oblivion and hear you scream through the pleasure only he could give you as you collapsed around him. To watch every blurred emotion cross your features while having you spread out below and facing him like the perfect gift you were, but he couldn't tease his heart like that. He was already teetering on the edge of falling for you in a way he couldn't come back from, and he wasn't at all willing to give you those shattered pieces of himself. Anders knelt behind you on the bed, lined up to your soaking heat and drove his thick member deep inside you until he reached the hilt, his loud groan mixing with your cries which helped to drown out the pestering in his chest. The pace he set right away was so hard that the bed shook against the wall, his hips slapping on your rear with each blow, and if he didn't slow down he wouldn't last much longer.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him, causing Anders to close his eyes to feign away his temptation to stare into yours that were so brilliant and no doubt the portal to your heart that beckoned him to show you his own. You deserved better, he thought, trying to focus on how good you felt making his cock wet and squeezing it in time with his pumps. He was broken, and you were, well, you were flawless. His pace slowed for a moment, your soft moans bringing him back to you, the heat of your smooth skin sending warmth through to the coldest depths of his soul.

No, it couldn't happen, he convinced himself yet again, tightening his grip around you and clenching his teeth together as he pounded you harder this time, sweat dripping down his body, your own skin glistening with moisture from both pleasure and pain.

As time went on his tempo kept changing, rushed and then unhurried, his heart and mind battling each other with alternating indecision, the neglected organ in his chest beginning to take the lead.

You begged beneath him, your body slowly making its way to lay on the sheets, his blind fury taking everything out of you as you waited for your release. Unable to deny you any longer, Anders reached between your body and the bed and found your pulsing clit, a few brushes of his fingers in addition to his cock slamming against your g-spot finally letting you come undone in a sightless epiphany. Your walls strangled him, a fresh wave of arousal soaking him that tossed him through to his own end, blurry visions of your shuddering body still tied with the red ribbon distinguishable through white spots of pure rapture.

Curses flew from him as he collapsed over your body, both of you panting and gasping for a normal breath as you tried to recover from the intense highs you provided each other. He covered your upper back in kisses, trailing all the way up to your neck, brushing your hair to the side to get it out of your face where it stuck to your sweat. Rolling his hips against you one more time, he pulled out of you and fell beside you, resting one arm up over his head and looking over at your smiling face still hazed from pleasure.

Your eyes fluttered closed and he took a moment to appreciate just how stunning you were, especially when you were like this; exposed and on-display in every sense, your hair a mess and your makeup no longer as neat as it usually is, yet purely glowing from the effects he had on you.

Not able to keep from you any longer, he reached for you and pulled you into his side, kissing your temple, your hums of approval sparking a happiness inside him that he hadn't experienced on a Christmas Eve since before he could remember.

He would always hate Christmas, he thought as he caressed your arms and waist, but already you were starting to change his mind. The image of you laid out for him wearing the red bow his fingers kept catching on now was going to outweigh every bad one that resonated in his mind. All the years of fighting with Mike and Ty on Christmas morning, Axl sobbing loudly beside a tree with a scarce few gifts under it and the pain of having their parents abandon them would no longer be in the forefront of his memories.

How had he become so lucky? Only hours ago he thought he would be spending Christmas Eve alone for yet another year, and here you were; the most precious gift he could ask for wrapped up for him in the most appealing packaging, giving pieces of yourselves to each other that meant more to him than any stupid gift money could buy.

"Thank you," Anders said with a crack in his voice, shifting to make you roll onto your back, him on his side leaning partially on top of you.

"For what?" you asked faintly, surprised at how much his expression had changed from the untamed version that took dominance mere moments ago.

"For this, being here. Being the best present ever."

His lips melted against yours, the tenderness of his kiss sending a sense of awe through you, revealing a more vulnerable side of him you were only ever able to catch glimpses of before. Unsure of what to say in response when he pulled away from you, you licked the taste of him from your lips and admired the way his eyes held a gentler tone of blue to them, and your heart ached at the sadness that lingered so close on the other side.

As if sensing your silent evaluation, he blinked twice and looked down at your waist, his fingers fiddling with the ribbon.

"I guess you never properly unwrapped your gift, did you?"

"Hm," he laughed gingerly, "No, I guess not."

Pulling at the ends of the ribbon, the bow slowly unraveled, his fingers separating the material from your skin to finish revealing what little parts were only barely covered by it, a sated smile decorating his face as he officially opened his gift.

He was like a present without a bow, he thought, the idea sobering and filling him with shame. Nothing but a shell of a shallow man, a vessel of a god who's broken heart still has broken parts, just wrapped in pretty paper.

To disguise his unsettling thoughts, Anders leaned into you again, his eyes closing shut to hide his turmoil from your knowing glance, demanding entrance to your mouth with his tongue again in an intense kiss.

Anders had always felt like one of the misfits from that god-awful claymation movie that he would watch over and over again with Axl, holding him close to his side so his littlest brother would fall asleep to that instead of crying himself to sleep.

Him and his family carried so much baggage, most of it you would never be able to know. There was so much of himself he had to hide away, and what he could share was tattered and torn.

Would you accept what little he did have to offer?

This loaded question wouldn't be an easy one for you to answer, let alone for him to ask, so he went with what seemed easier and ground his revived erection against you and muttered in a raspy voice against your lips; "Will you stay and have Christmas with me tomorrow?"

It was shocking, no doubt, and while it was rare that he would ask for you to stay the night, you had a feeling this invitation went far beyond the opportunity to make up for lost time and have lots of mind-numbing sex.

"Won't you be seeing your family?" The question came bursting past your lips as the one out of many you were willing to ask out loud.

His head shook back and forth and his dimples deepened once more as he smiled at you. "You're much more fun than they are."

His laugh sounded true as he covered your neck with a pattern of kisses, feeling your pulse beating to a tune that would let Anders take the time he needed to be able to one day show you the scars that plagued his heart.

His stiff cock pressed against your tender but greedy core, causing you to arch up into him in an invitation to fill you again.

Once more you found yourself intoxicated by his hands all over your body, allowing your hearts and minds to drift away as you melted into cloudy, physical desire, both of you happy to be creating your own special Christmas tradition.

———

Taglist:

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @shalinizhara @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover

#anders johnson #the almighty johnsons #anders johnson x female reader #anders johnson smut #anders Christmas fic #anders has feelings

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

Handmade Hearts

A sweet, fluffy commission for @tea42, featuring their genderfluid Jurian Hawke (he/they) and Anders! Also, bonus Merrill and Anders friendship!

Handmade Hearts (read on AO3)

Characters/Relationships: Genderfluid!Hawke/Anders, Merrill & Anders

Rating: T

Words: 2,632

Tags: Knitting, fluff, romantic fluff

Anders learns to knit and finds it extremely rewarding.

The fire burns cheerfully in the main room of Merrill’s home, keeping warm against the rainy day outside. Dried herbs and flowers scattered upon the cinders perfume the air with a delicate sweetness, the perfect accompaniment to the long-cold tea set and a small plate of cookies that sit on the table between Anders and the hearth. The snaps and crackles of the hearth break up the quietness of the room; Merrill hums from her bedroom, the open door letting it float to his ears where he sits on the sofa.

Anders readjusts the deep red working yarn over his hand. He can’t help the way his hands want to cramp, or that his tongue sticks out from between his teeth. A length of lumpy knitting drapes from between the four needles, something that might become a sock but is still yet far from it. Frowning, he calls out, “Are you sure I’m doing this right?”

“Hm?” Merrill pops her head out through the doorway. “Oh, I’m sure you are,” she says airily, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “You are an excellent student, Anders.”

“‘Excellent student’ my arse,” Anders mutters. He’s half-tempted to rip it all apart and start over. Again. The motley yarn is relatively soft but inconsistently spun, a fact he’s been wrestling with for hours. “You didn’t see me in the Circle.”

“You’re so smart, you couldn’t have done too badly.” She returns with a project of her own, a half-woven… something stretched out on some sort of loom and an armload of small yarn balls. Merrill sits on the floor beside him and sets her contraption up against the table. It’s built of scraps, small bits of wood tacked and nailed together into a frame and the various other bits of it. Thin strings run the length of it and hold up a section of the variegated blue weave.

He watches her from over his misshapen sock. You couldn’t have done too badly. If only that were the half of it, he thinks, but he keeps that locked tight behind his teeth. No need to drag her down with him, or any of them, for that matter. Anders has tried to let go of the fierce jealousy, the rage that simmers in his gut when he thinks about it too hard, but it just sits there and curdles. He had overheard once, from the whispers of templars too loose with their tongues, that the Dalish mages were wild, almost feral; that they were simply too dangerous to try to bring into the Circle. Apparently, a friend of a friend of a colleague of someone they’d trained with had been killed by a Dalish clan when they tried to capture one of their young mages, and to hear it told in the frigid corridors of the Kinloch Circle, the clan had sent that knight back to the Circle in a crate.

Merrill smiles to herself absently as she threads the shuttle through the warps, building up the next row of soft blue. It’s so serene, too much so compared to the way he’d watched her suffocate a man to death with thick, thorny vines just the week before. He’s very glad for the tenuous olive branch of peace between them, more for Jurian’s sake than anything, but he’s still glad.

“Oh, you’re holding it too tightly,” she murmurs.

Anders jolts back into himself to find her frowning softly at his knitting. Dismayed, he sees exactly where he’d gone wrong; the thin yarn draws the already bumpy fabric into a bunched-up wrinkle, and he’s let the stitches slip and go wonky. Anders tosses the mess onto the sofa behind him and buries his face in his hands, fighting down the urge to scream. “I am a Maker-damned surgeon,” he bites out. “Why can’t I get this?”

The sofa shifts and creaks when she perches upon it. “I think we can fix it,” she says, like it’s easy, and Anders peeks out from behind his hands. Merrill picks up the discarded sock, or what this third attempt tries to pass as being a sock, and eyes it, prodding here and poking there. Her deft fingers wrangle it back to being mostly flat, not a small victory. She realigns the knitting needles for him before handing it all back.

“Here,” she says, and Merrill takes his hands in hers. The shallow scars that mar her palms press into the backs of his hands. It’s an immense effort not to shudder at the way they brush his skin as she repositions his fingers over the needles and shifts the working yarn. “There, that should help.”

He looks dubiously at his project but works the next stitch, then the next, and then the next, until he’s got another row down. “Oh,” he says, relieved, “that actually does help. Thank you.” When Anders looks up, Merrill wears a soft expression, a tiny little smile so different than the one she usually wears for him. “You’re really good at this,” Anders mutters. He looks away, unable to take in the surprised gratitude in her expression, knowing that he’s rarely as kind as he could be, should be toward her and too cowardly to admit it.

Anders puts the haggard sock down long enough to trace small glyphs upon his palms with his fingertips and grabs the cold ceramic teapot from the table. He focuses intently on his hands and a moment later warmth builds; in the span of a few breaths the tea is hot again. Merrill watches him from the corner of her eye as she works on her own weaving, and when he pours her a fresh cup, she smiles brightly at him.

It’s a new, fragile peace, but it’s theirs, for as long as he can manage it. They sit and chat and work into the late afternoon and Merrill eventually teaches him how to finish it, to wrangle the messy bits into a semblance of proper, useful purpose. It isn’t until night truly approaches and the rain pours down in sharp, heavy sheets that he packs away his project. He leaves with a bag heavy with his gifted supplies and a heart all the lighter for it.

-------

“That’s almost right,” Anders mutters to himself, relaxing further into the plush cushions of the sofa. His hair is still damp from the frantic walk back to the estate, but he’s long forgotten the dwindling flames of the hearth. He slips the last few stitches off his needles and reworks them, only to sigh and pull them apart again. Anders frowns at the pinched area in question. “How did she do that, again…?”

A voice breaks through the quiet solitude of the den. “What are you working on, love?”

Anders scrambles and drops the half-finished sock altogether in his fumbling. Jurian leans over the back of the sofa to hug him from behind, their chin resting on his shoulder. “Knickerweasels, Jurian, you surprised me!” Anders tilts his head to rub their cheeks together, the stretch a bit awkward for a kiss but still wanting the contact. “Didn’t expect you back yet.”

“Got home early. Mind if I join you?” Jurian murmurs. They lay a kiss on his temple and round the couch when he nods, reclining against the arm to watch him.

“Well, it seems the cat’s already out of the bag.” He retrieves the wayward sock from the floor and shows it off. “Your birthday’s coming up, and I thought…” He trails off at the way Jurian stares, blank-faced, at the sock. “I thought it’d be nice to make you something,” Anders finishes weakly, unsure. “A—a surprise.”

Jurian lets out a shaky sigh. “Come here?”

Anders goes immediately, and Jurian’s arms are strong and secure where they wrap around his ribs and hold him to their chest. “What’s that face for?” he asks against their collarbone. “Do you not like it?”

They nuzzle his hair, and they’re so quiet that Anders can hear their heartbeat. “It’s been a while since anyone made me something, let alone for a birthday,” Jurian eventually says. They hum. “I think… I think maybe it was Bethy; she knit a scarf for me, the winter before the blight.”

“That was years ago…”

“Yeah,” they mutter. “Mother… Mother would make us things through the year—scarves, socks, mittens, things like that. But after Father died… She got so busy, selling her skills to the others in town. Mother’s a rather brilliant embroiderer, you know, and she took to other fiber crafts like a fish to water. But she got so busy that she was tired, all the time. It was all she could do to keep up with the work, it was hard enough to take care of us.” They pause. “I don’t mean she wasn’t a good mother, but… She just wasn’t the same after Father died.”

“So Bethany took on that job.”

“Pretty much. Carver enlisted in the militia as soon as he was old enough; it was good money and good training, and no one could blame him. I had to run the house when Mother couldn’t and so I took a job closer to home, to keep an eye on things.”

To keep an eye on Bethany, Jurian doesn’t say, but Anders hears it all the same.

Anders presses a row of kisses along the column of their throat. “You deserve all the softest things, Jurian,” he murmurs into their skin. “You deserve everything.” Anders pulls back, not quite lifting from where he lay draped across their chest, just enough to shyly look them in the face. “Do you want to see them? I’ve finished the first one. You could—could try it on, if you wanted. Actually, if you could make sure it fits, that would be great.”

Jurian kisses the tip of Anders’ nose. “I’d love that.”

Anders gets up from his comfy perch and reaches over the couch to snag his project bag. He yelps; Jurian’s hand rubs against his rear, soothing the playful smack they’d just left as he bent over. “You’re a menace, my love,” Anders laughs, and he leans back into the plush cushions. He fishes the finished sock from the bag; the main red coloring is deep, almost more black than anything else, but it’s offset by streaks of gold-ish yellow that Merrill had helped him with. “It’s a little… rough,” he allows. “The yarn is mostly scraps and discards. And I’m not very good yet—”

“It’s perfect,” Jurian whispers, taking it in hand. Their fingers rub against the wool; it’s still a little scratchy, at least to Anders’ sensitive skin. The sock crushes in their hand and comes out just fine, and Anders smiles.

“Try it on?” he coaxes.

Jurian snorts but dutifully takes off their slipper and rolls up the leg of their trousers. Anders isn’t sure who’s more nervous as they slide it on, himself or Jurian, but it’s worth the nerves to see the way Jurian’s face lights up at the way it sits halfway up their calf. “It’s beautiful,” they say. “Perfect. Just like you, Anders.”

A warmth builds in Anders’ chest at that, and he blushes, looking away to dodge the weight of their quiet declaration. “I—well. Not perfect, certainly, but—”

“No.” Jurian shifts to face him. Their brow pinches and a soft frown pulls at their mouth. “My love, I cannot help the way you feel about yourself,” they start, and they crawl forward, slowly pressing Anders onto his back. “But please don’t try to qualify my feelings for you.” One hand holds a position just above Anders’ head and the other clutches the arm of the couch behind him. They lean down. “I say you are perfect because to me you are perfect.”

Anders sighs into the kiss. Jurian’s weight above him makes the fluttery thing in his gut settle. His hands wind into Jurian’s hair, anchoring them together, and the pressure of teeth nipping at his bottom lip draws a moan from him. It’s not rushed, it’s not frantic, but it is thorough—teeth and lips and tongue, hot, scorching breath and soft gasps that hitch between them. He wraps his legs around Jurian’s own, hooking his knees over the back of their thighs, but Jurian doesn’t stop the slow, methodical work of taking him apart.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s lightning in his veins, velvet on his skin. He makes a noise, a punched-out little whine, at the blissful sensory overload. They part enough for Anders to nudge his forehead against Jurian’s own, and the face they make is so sweet it makes him ache. Anders has to fight to gather his thoughts again, cheeks flushing at the way Jurian lay between his thighs. “You drive me crazy,” he groans. Jurian grins and bends to dust light kisses just at the edges of his mouth.

“Good,” they say, “means I’m doing something right.” The breath of their gentle chuckle is warm against Anders’ reddened cheeks. “Thank you.”

It takes Anders a full ten seconds to place what for. He follows Jurian’s wandering mouth and kisses them sweetly, his hands coming up to cup their face. His thumb drags along the rise of their cheekbone. “You deserve it,” Anders murmurs. “I mean it. You deserve it, and more, more than some socks—and I promise to make you everything I can, to take care of you the best I can. But you’re welcome, for the socks.”

“You do, too, love.” They smile and lean down to press kisses along his hairline, over his brow, along the ridge of his nose. Their lips brush over every inch of his face before returning to his mouth and Anders can’t feel anything over the sheer vastness of everything blooming in his chest, security and desire and yearning and things he can’t even begin to name feeding the growing warmth in his belly when Jurian next speaks. “And I’m going to show you, care for you, in every way I know how.”

His breath escapes him with a shuddering sigh at the low promise. “Ah, you keep talking like that and I won’t be able to get anything done on the other sock…”

Jurian hums against his cheek. “I think maybe we can be done with knitting for the night?” they suggest, nosing along his jaw. Jurian presses a kiss just below the hinge of Anders’ jaw. “Haven’t seen you in three days. I missed you.”

“A dreadfully long time, that,” Anders wheezes. His hands clench in Jurian’s hair and it’s a hard decision, staying like this or following the possibility in their words. The anticipation wins out, helped by the desire that simmers in Jurian’s gaze. His heart thumps painfully in his chest. “I think I’m a bit knitted out, actually. Think I can be persuaded into something else.”

Jurian laughs at that. They help Anders off the couch and wrap him in their arms again. “You’re going to be mismatched until I finish the other one, you know,” he says helpfully, and Jurian grins.

“I’m not worried.” They brush their noses together in a butterfly kiss. “You can take your time. I can wait.”

“I can’t,” Anders murmurs, catching Jurian’s gaze meaningfully. He looks off in the direction of the stairs and back in open invitation, and it takes exactly two seconds for Jurian to walk him backward toward the door. Together they manage to stumble from the den, draped along each other, arms wrapped around ribcages, unwilling to part even for a moment as they make their way upstairs. Anders leads them into the bedroom and closes the door behind him with a satisfied sigh.

“Now,” he says, cupping Jurian’s jaw, “let me show you how much I missed you.”

#Handers #Hawke #Anders #Genderfluid!Hawke #Dragon Age 2 #DA2 #fanfic #fanfiction #commissions #writing commissions #ocean writes #soulrebel writes #reblogs comments and likes welcome and highly appreciated! thank you!

[blarrghe]

“My robes suit you.” FOR DORIANDERS I AM WEAK!!!

OH HELLO Thank you for bringing us to the next instalment of Giant Messy Idiot Mysteries Here it is on AO3

Pairing: Dorian x Anders Summary: Anders is a resident at a hospital in Minrathous, struggling with his medical school debts, the grueling hours of his job, a haunting whisper in his soul that never rests, and a debilitating crush on his new friend, Dorian.

Dorian is a newly appointed Magister in the Tevinter Magisterium, struggling with the expectations of his station, the recent death of his father, the weight of guilt and grief which came with it, and an absolute need of a hug. Chapter notes: cw for some alcohol and drug use (mostly mentions). 

This is an ongoing series I’m writing with the help of writing prompts people have sent me, feel free to send me one! You can read the prompt fill under the cut or the whole thing in order on AO3

Dorian was staying in the city. He'd rented one of those week-to-week, ready-furnished condos in some highrise downtown, the kind usually booked by vacationing tourists or affluent college students in need of a place to throw a party. He'd rented the place out the day after his father's funeral, and as far as Anders could tell, he hadn't been home to his family's sprawling estate in the country since. He said it made his commute easier; since his father's death, Dorian's political status had changed. A complicated combination of votes coupled with birthright determined a mage's place in the Magisterium, and Dorian's new position could only fall properly into place after several rounds of committee votes and the completion of an apparently endless amount of paperwork, which he'd been dutifully submitting and then complaining about ad nauseam. With all these meetings and events, it just made sense for him to have a place in town, or so he said. Anders suspected that he had another reason as well, and that she tended to shout at innocent nurses and “not like situations she couldn’t control”. Both his keeping of a sparsely furnished and impeccably clean temporary apartment, and the parade of (never-repeated) men Anders knew he had a habit of bringing back to it indicated as much. Anders, however, he had never had over. Anders had seen the inside of Dorian’s weekly rental (now going on its ninth week) only twice, and both times only from the doorway.

So even though he really wanted to be stubbornly irritated at Dorian for crashing into his valuable sleep time by almost dying on him again, when he finally arrived at the end of the long, carpeted hall and lifted his hand to knock sharply against the smooth and glossy paint of the condo’s door, it shook a little with his nerves.

Dorian, of course, came to the door in a robe.

It was a long, black, silken robe. Tied with a gold rope of more satiny fabric, and dipping in a deep V to reveal far, far too much golden skin. Anders painstakingly kept his eyes fixed right about his eyebrows, and tried to keep his own in a position that would denote stern. He was stern.

“You had better have an explanation,” Anders huffed as he deposited his bag in a heap of muddy-coloured canvas and broken zippers on the slippery tile floor of the entryway.

The ceiling above him stretched up for eons, decorated at the top with hanging lights glittering through wire fixtures that looked like they belonged in a museum of modern art. Ahead, the slick tile stepped down into a wide, white carpeted living room decorated in black and white and silver and nothing that looked like it had ever been touched by human hands, except for the bar at one end, which was cluttered with half-drunk bottles. Tall windows with long, white blinds walled off the far edge of the room, blinds drawn up to offer a view of city lights that gave way, between the shadows of other tall, glass-sided buildings competing for the view, to the sea. The view made him feel prickly; too high up, and annoyed that it likely cost more than the one he had of brick walls and smog from his own windows by the day, and that these vacuous places were what crowded the coastlines without end, while below the streets were crowded. But mostly, he didn't like the height. Dorian strode on into the apartment, and deposited himself comfortably onto the stiff white couch in the centre of the room, next to a glass coffee table that had on it a stout, gold-rimmed glass of something amber-coloured that Anders really hoped wasn’t alcoholic.

“A bachelor party gone wrong, I believe there’s a whole television series devoted to the concept, now.” he said, nonchalant. As though he hadn’t promised Anders a good reason for what had happened, twice. Something in Anders stirred unhappily. Did he think this was a game?

“Dorian, you could have died,” he still didn’t know what that had been, in Dorian’s body, blocking up his magic and turning him defenceless and silly. Or how much of it he’d done on purpose.

Dorian waived him off with a flutter of his hand, and Anders crossed his arms. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said. When Anders still didn’t uncross his arms, he sighed. “I simply had one too many drinks,” he continued, and Anders continued not to budge.

“Try eight too many,” he said. “And that doesn’t explain the visions or loss of magic or —”

“Visions?” Dorian frowned, “well, that does sound fun.”

“How can you not be taking this seriously? Do you even remember what you took? Who gave it to you?” was he a complete imbecile, after all?

Dorian sighed again. “Does it matter? I got drunk, I let down my guard, and someone got the better of me. It was bound to happen, now that I’ve got a position to keep.”

“What?” Anders stopped, suddenly struck by the uncomfortable realisation that Dorian did, in fact, think that this was a game. More than that, he’d more or less expected to play it. “You think this was political?”

“I think I was bloody stupid, and lucky to know you.” Dorian replied, shrugging away Anders’ new irritation, “and that I’ll have to be much more careful with where I place my drinks in the future.”

Anders shook his head, miffed out of speech. Dorian frowned again, apparently disappointed that his reveal of having been poisoned for political gain didn’t alleviate Anders’ concerns.

“Anyway, I have a thank you gift for you, I know it hardly serves to make amends for your having to put up with such hassles, but —” an inconvenience? That was Dorian’s takeaway from last night? He was faltering through his apology, now — “well, that’s twice you’ve kept me from a gutter when I really ought to have fallen in one,” he smiled, a heartbreakingly sad smile; even the aggravated parts of him wanted to offer comfort to that smile. They wanted something else too though, for the person responsible. “So, you can wear it to the wedding, if you’ll still go with me, that is.” He was still talking. Talking about a gift? A gift he was now taking down from a shelf mounted next to the vast stretch of television screen that spanned one towering white wall of the living room, and presenting to Anders.

The box was square and deep, twilight blue. It slid open, lined on the inside with soft black fabric, to reveal a shining silver watch. Anders could see his reflection in the glass cover, under which four consecutively smaller little gears and wheels of clock hands spun out at him. He blinked at it.

“You’re still going to that? After someone tried to poison you?” Anders very carefully closed the lid of the box over the watch, and put it slowly down on the glass coffee table next to Dorian’s glass of...brandy. He was drinking blighted brandy.

Dorian said something frustratingly nondescript and wishy, and picked up his glass. “No one tried to poison me,” he took a sip, “more likely they were just hoping to have me caught in a compromising position, or entice me out of some political secret. Visions, you said? Sounds like probitasexus; like a truth serum, but more fun. It’s par for the course, really.”

Anders stuttered after him, “par for the —”

“Of course, done with anything lyrium-laced, it interacts badly. But that bit’s my own fault. Reckless, as I said.”

So he’d taken magic-enhancing party drugs and twelve shots of vodka and then been secretly dosed with something to make him sexually honest? Anders swallowed. He’d liked not knowing where one symptom ended and another began better. Also, how was he managing to stand upright after all that?

“Do you have any ideas who did it, at least?” Anders asked, the spirit in him growing unhappier by the second.

Dorian, once again, simply shrugged. “It could have been any number of people,” he said, “plenty are none too happy about my new appointments.”

Then, with a voice that was quite forcefully more Not Anders than Anders, Anders heard himself say “but you have a plan to find out?” while the world went slightly blue.

Dorian squinted. “So,” he said slowly, “that part was real, then. You’re not alone in there.”

Anders squeezed his own hands together and blinked himself back. “It’s...Justice. And it’s complicated. But we both want to know,” he said. Of course; that, he remembered.

“Justice,” Dorian hummed, “how fitting.” He finished the brandy in his glass and walked around the crystal clear coffee table to the bar that stood by one of those tall, ocean-facing windows, “I don’t expect to find out who it was — the contract’s certainly been swept away by now — only to not let it happen again.” Then he opened a bottle and splashed four fingers of deep brown liquid too quickly into his glass, getting some on the bartop. Not only was he drinking brandy, he’d been drinking brandy for a while, it seemed.

Anders rushed to the counter, snagged the glass out from under him, and pushed it far down the bar. “Andraste’s mercy,” he scolded, “do I have to stage a one-man intervention? Do you have a death wish?”

“Funny,” Dorian leaned back, arms crossed, unfairly offended, “I could ask you the same thing.” A scrutinizing eye ran Anders over from top to bottom, “we all have our demons, don’t we?”

Evidently, he found this bit of wordplay to be clever enough to merit his snatching the drink back, and Anders was too busy keeping a lid on a sudden urge to punch him that came from the back corners of his thought (and maybe the front ones, too), to stop him.

“Justice is a spirit, and you could at least take a day off.”

“So could you.” Dorian took an indignant sip of brandy, “or do you spend every waking moment you have trying to help people out of an uncontrollable inclination towards justice?”

“You're going to criticize me for overwork?”

Dorian took one more, less indignant sip of the stuff, and sighed. “How about neither one of us criticizes the other for a moment? I need to… steady my nerves, that's all.”

“This isn't ok, Dorian.” Anders said, no less blunt than he meant to be. “You can’t just carry on with a target on your back.”

Dorian looked at him for a long, silent moment, the drink still in his hand, eyes searching.

“And what do you suggest I do about it? Run away? I have responsibilities.” he muttered finally. He couldn't have known the words would sting, but they did. “You're right though, no more foolish partying.” he said, putting the glass down again without drinking more. “Not for a while, anyway,” he smirked. “Satisfied?”

“No.”

Anders glared down at the glass between them until Dorian sighed, picked it up, and walked away through an open passage in the white walls. Anders followed him into a kitchen that was easily as big as Anders’ whole apartment, and watched him pour the drink into the sink, rinse it, go to the fridge, and fill the same glass again with water. He raised it in a salute and drank it.

“Then where does this leave us?” he said, just as bold as Anders, if not more.

“Maker, I don't know.” He wanted to be mad at him, because that would be simple, but he wasn’t; no part of him was. Heart beating too fast in his chest, frustration and concern pulling in opposing directions; afraid, but of him or for him he didn’t know — probably both. “I really can't stop you going to that wedding, can I?”

Dorian smiled, and shook his head.

“Then I'll go with you, if only to keep you out of more trouble.”

“Excellent. In that case, I have some things I want you to try on.”

And just like that, he was done with it all. Life-threatening drama shoved aside so that he could beckon Anders excitedly into his bedroom (his bedroom) to show off the offerings of a vast wardrobe.

He piled clothes onto the bed, hovered over them, pulling fabrics around and holding items over one another with scholarly concentration, and then finally gathered up a small mountain of things and piled them into Anders’ arms. He shoved Anders into an ensuite that held a bath three times bigger than his own blighted bed, and told him to try the green one first.

“It will suit your eyes,” he was calling through the door as he pushed Anders inside faster than Anders could protest, “if you really want justice, you’ll help me look good.” he went on, from the other side of the door.

“I could help you look for a new job,” Anders shot back through the door, grateful that Dorian couldn’t see him blushing.

“You said you liked politics.” Anders could practically hear the smirk across his reply.

Anders huffed and dropped the clothes Dorian had burdened him with in a pile on the floor, and looked for ‘The Green One’.

It was a long coat of deep, forest green with gold stitching and clasps, embroidered in an old-fashioned tradition with complicated paisley ornamentation in gold thread and shining beads. The patterns ran delicately along the collar, and into a wide neckline that ran down to the centre of his chest, where they clasped up the front with hooks of more gold. It came wrapped with matching leggings, which were loose and silky to the touch. Everything slipped on comfortably, the shoulders a little broad, maybe, but the length was perfect; a rare fit, for him. He stood for a minute turning in the mirror — a fact he would be sure never, ever to admit — just admiring it as it shone. Then Dorian knocked on the door expectantly, and Anders jumped, shaking his head at himself in the mirror until his expression settled back down.

He opened the door, and stepped out, making a point to do so quickly and to only turn for Dorian after he requested it, and with the most irritated roll of his eyes that he could muster.

“See, I was right.” Dorian mused, leaning back to admire his selections with a hand thoughtfully stroking at the hair on his chin, “my robes suit you.”

That time, Dorian could definitely see him blushing. Anders felt his blood rush hot to his cheeks, and narrowed his eyes as Dorian’s smirk intensified and his eyebrows waggled over it all. Anders’ mind was flooded with the echoes of “I see how you look at me”, and other things his massively irresponsible and only friend had said to him, while on drugs. Anders crossed his arms and grit his teeth, willing his cheeks to cool — definitely making it worse.

Dorian frowned. “Anders, I…” Dorian, then, dropped the mask of constant charm, and glanced down at his feet. “I didn’t do anything, last night, that was… untoward, did I? Because if I did I —”

On drugs, Anders reminded himself. (Honesty drugs — shush, honesty drugs with unpredictable drug interactions and lyrium-laced uppers, and alcohol — he continued to remind himself), whatever he’d done, he’d done it because he’d been a drooling puddle of poorly mixed chemicals. “— you mostly just muttered a lot of gibberish.” Anders stopped him, and a very large part of him was disappointed in him for his dishonesty, but Dorian breathed out with relief.

“I really can’t thank you enough.” Dorian snapped himself back into something with far more poise than should have been humanly possible, “you’re a good friend.”

#what if we were #my fic #my writing #dorianders #dorian x anders #dragon age fanfic #modern au

[bunnygirl330]

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝;

pairing: ander muñoz x omar shana, background guzman nunier osuna x nadia shana

genre: angst, fluff, future au

word count: 6.3k

warnings: internalized homophobia  

summary:  Ander's grandparents are coming to visit for the first time in 7 years, there's just one problem. They're Catholic and unaware of Ander's relationship with Omar. Ander is hoping that he can get through the week without them finding out and without him losing his temper.

a/n:  The title of this comes from Take me to Church which I know is an old song now but I've always loved it and I felt like it really applied here. This fic is only edited by me so all mistakes are my own, please let me know if you find any so that I can fix them.I have seen a lot of fics about Omar coming out to his family because that's what they focus on in the show but I thought it would be interesting to see Ander's perspective of coming out to someone who wouldn't be as accepting as his mother.It was also really important to me to show someone accepting Ander (which in this case was Mateo) because I think a lot of the time Catholics (or any other badly portrayed religion) get a bad reputation and it's important to remember that not all strictly religious people will be unaccepting. AO3

═════════

Ander had never dreaded anything more in his life than he was dreading this next week. He’d graduated high school, he’d got a degree, he’d even helped Omar come out to his parents but nothing was as bad as this. Ander hadn’t spoken to his grandparents in almost 7 years, except of course for the occasional phone call on is birthday and Christmas, but this was different. They were coming to stay for a week and there was absolutely no way he could avoid them for that long.

Ander’s grandparents know absolutely nothing about his life, they think they do, but none of it’s true. They didn’t go to his wedding, well they had never been invited, they thought he was single, much to his grandmother’s dismay, and Ander couldn’t stand the thought of having to keep up that charade for a whole week.

“Hey,” Ander snapped out of his trance as Omar’s arms snaked around his waist and he relaxed into his touch. “still thinking about next week?” Omar asked cautiously, knowing the impending visit was becoming an increasingly touchy subject for Ander.

“I can’t help it,” Ander whined “every time I think about it it makes me want to be sick!” Omar spun Ander round to face him,

“Listen, I know that this is difficult, but if we got through three years of a relationship without my parents knowing, then we can go through one more week of pretending.” Omar was trying his best to soothe his husband but he knew at this point that it was basically useless.

“But I thought we agreed we wouldn’t pretend again, not after all the shit we went through with your dad.” Omar gave Ander a look of sympathy as he pulled him into a hug, “Ugh,” Ander sighed “why do my grandparents have to be fucking Catholics?” Omar chuckled as Ander continued to grumble into his shoulder.

———

The next week came around far too quickly for Ander’s liking and before he knew it he was lying in bed with Omar dreading the next morning when his grandparents would arrive. Ander was spinning his wedding ring round on his finger so Omar could tell he was nervous.

“I don’t wanna make you feel any worse but you do know you’re gonna have to take that off when your grandparents are here right?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think about that!” Ander said as he dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

“It’s not like it’s just you. I can’t wear mine either, do you really think I’d be your roommate if I was married?” Ander looked up at Omar with a dejected look on his face.

“You must realise that that doesn’t make me feel better. All it does is make me feel as if we’re going backwards.” Ander looked as if he was about to cry and Omar felt a pang in his heart as he looked at his face, “To your parents I was your roommate for three years and I don’t know if I can do that again…” Ander trailed off as the tears began to fall from his eyes and his head fell onto Omar’s chest.

“I know…… I know,” Omar whispered as he started stroking his fingers over Ander’s soft curls, “but you heard what Azucena said, her parents are almost eighty and if you told them now they might end up dying from the shock.” Omar’s attempt to lighten the mood earned a small giggle from Ander but it sounded more like a hiccup because of his crying. “Plus you’ll still have me there, I won’t be gone. And you’ll have Guzman and Nadia. We’re here for you Ander. I promise.” Omar leaned down and kissed his hair. Ander looked up and kissed Omar, gently at first but then Omar opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. Everything would be alright, Ander knew that, because he had Omar, and nobody could ever take that away from him.

———

The next morning was a flurry of activity. Nadia and Guzman arrived at 9 to help them set up and Ander’s grandparents were due to arrive with his mother at around noon. All pictures resembling any sort of romantic relationship between Ander and Omar were taken down and hidden in the airing cupboard, all of Ander’s belongings were moved into the spare bedroom and Nadia had cleaned the entire apartment from head to toe by 11:50, Guzman had tried to help her but gave up after half an hour as Nadia saw him as more of a nuisance than a source of aid.

The four of them stood surveying the apartment, Ander had a look of complete helplessness on his face.

“It just looks….. empty.” Ander said. Of course, he didn’t mean empty in a sense of a lack of furniture and objects, they were all still exactly where they had been. What Ander meant was that it seemed empty of happiness and love, as if by taking pictures off the wall they had stripped his and Omar’s house of the very thing that made it their home. For Ander that wasn’t even the worst part though, he kept touching his ring finger expecting the cool metal to be there but each time was instead filled with a sense of dread. Omar and Ander had put their wedding rings back in their boxes earlier that morning and he felt as if a small piece of his soul had been put in the box too. Ander felt like he was about to break down but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Nadia and Guzman went to sit on the couch as Omar spun Ander to face him, gripping his shoulders tightly.

“Hey, listen to me, it’s gonna be okay. It’s not like they’re staying here so you don’t have to pretend all the time, it’s just a few hours. Besides, I’ll be right here the whole time.” Ander quickly pecked Omar on the lips and then tried to muster up the best smile he could as Omar joined the others on the couch.

“Grandma! Grandad! It’s so lovely to finally see you again.” Ander hugged his mother, shook hands with his grandfather and then finally came face to face with his grandmother, the source of all his nightmares over the past two months.

“Ander, honey, it’s been too long!” His grandmother exclaimed pinching his cheeks with excitement. Ander plastered a smile on his face and replied,

“I know it has Grandma, I’m happy you’re finally here.” his grandmother gave his cheeks one last squeeze and then released him.

The four of them made their way over to the living area where Nadia, Guzman and Omar had been awkwardly waiting, not entirely sure what to do amidst the family reunion. The three of them stood up to greet the guests, all giving Azucena a warm hug and shaking the hand of Ander’s grandfather. As his grandma approached Guzman her face lit up,

“Oh, Guzman, it’s so lovely to see you! I can’t believe you and Ander are still friends after all this time!”

“Mrs López, it’s lovely to see you too.” Guzman said politely as she pulled him into a hug.

“Oh don’t be silly, call me Camilla. I’ve known you for too long for you to still be calling me that.” Camilla looked over at Nadia - who was stood closely by Guzman’s side - with a slightly odd look on her face. “And who’s this?” She directed the question towards Guzman rather than Nadia herself much to Nadia’s annoyance, but she kept it hidden well.

“This is Nadia, my beautiful wife.” Guzman stated with a fond look down at her as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Nadia smiled towards Camilla and extended her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ander’s told us so much about you.” This, of course, was a lie as Ander preferred not to speak of his grandparents, but she didn’t need to know that. Ander’s grandmother simply pursed her lips and nodded towards Nadia leaving her to awkwardly drop her hand back down to her side as Camilla’s hands stayed clutched to her small handbag. Ander, of course, had anticipated this as it was difficult enough for Camilla to accept that him and his mother were atheists and even without her hijab Nadia was clearly not of Spanish or Catholic descent. Still, it hurt Ander to see that his grandmother hadn’t learned to put aside her prejudices yet.

Now it was the moment of truth as Camilla approached Omar, Azucena and her father having already greeted him and sat down on the other end of the L-shaped couch. Camilla’s lips became a fine line as she slowly looked Omar up and down,

“And you are…?” she said slowly as Omar shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

“I’m Omar, Nadia’s brother.” Omar said, refraining from sticking out his hand after her reaction to Nadia and deciding to stare down at his feet instead.

“Why does that qualify you to be here now? This is a family reunion for Ander, not Nadia, not even Guzman.” Camilla’s tone was becoming harsher with every word that came out of her mouth and Omar realised that he’d clearly used the wrong relationship to introduce himself. Ander could feel the tension building in the room and quickly moved to stand beside Omar clasping his shoulder in his hand as he did so.

“Grandma, Omar is also my best friend and my roommate. Remember? I told you about him on the phone when you called to say you were coming.”

“Hmm.” Was Camilla’s only reply as she stalked past the two of them to sit between her daughter and husband. As Ander moved to take a seat next to Omar his grandmother carefully cleared her throat and Ander moved to sit between her and his mother instead.

Camilla made small talk with Ander and Azucena for the next 15 minutes occasionally stopping to ask Guzman a question but blatantly ignoring the other two people in the room. At one point Nadia got up to start making lunch as she had offered to do the day before considering Ander couldn’t cook to save his life, Azucena offered to help but Omar stepped in instead clearly feeling uncomfortable in his current situation.

Lunch was ready 45 minutes later and the seven of them sat down to eat. Nadia had cooked Tortilla Española and patatas bravas in order to keep things traditionally Spanish for Ander’s grandparents.

“Guzman, your wife can cook very nicely.” Camilla said, ignoring the sour look on Nadia’s face that the compliment had been directed towards her husband rather than herself. As if somehow being married to Guzman made her just another part of him, but Nadia said nothing knowing they were here to support Ander.

“Why don’t you have a wife by now Ander?” Camilla turned to look at him with a slightly smug look on her face at her own ability to turn a conversation into something she was interested in. Ander had been dreading this all night, he knew it was bound to come up and yet he prayed that the further they got into the conversation the less likely she was to bring it up, oh how wrong he had been.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right person darling.” Ander’s grandfather piped up for basically the first time since they arrived, clearly happy to let his wife do most of the talking.

“Mateo hush, Ander can speak for himself.” Camilla snapped back at her husband.

“I’ve just been focusing on my career right now Grandma.” Ander spouted the pre-prepared lie out of his mouth before the other part of his brain could make him say something stupid. Something like, ‘I am married and I just never told you. Oh and also I’m married to a man.’ because as much as he wanted to say it he knew deep down that it wasn’t the right time, that it was never going to be the right time.

“And I’m sure that’s very good for you darling but my friend happens to have a granddaughter moving down here and it would be lovely if you could meet up with her. She’s very pretty, and I know that you’re not Catholic but it might be nice to see why it’s not such a bad thing to believe in God, despite what your mother may have told you.” She directed the last part of her sentence towards her daughter, the smug smile having returned to her face. Ander gritted his teeth to prevent himself from hurling his plate across the room towards his grandmother, he thought that he and Omar had gotten past all of the arranged marriages with Yusef and Iman but apparently his grandma also thought she had the right to decide who he married. He sighed, he couldn’t let his anger get the best of him, there was no way he’d be able to stop if he started so it was better just not to start.

“It’s very nice of you to offer Grandma but I think it’s better if I find someone on my own.” Ander said with a quick glance towards Omar who had a small smirk on his face, clearly he found this more amusing than Ander.

“But-” Camilla started to retaliate but was quickly cut off by Azucena.

“He said no, okay mum? If Ander wanted your help with his love life then he would ask.” Camilla turned back towards her food with a deep scowl and the four 20-year-olds had to suppress their happiness at Camilla being told to back off, especially Nadia who was beginning to get a sense of deja vu from her own parents before they knew Omar was gay.

Lunch continued in silence and not long after Azucena stated that she would take her parents home considering they’d had a long drive and that they would be back again tomorrow, Azucena and Ander having taken the week off work in order to spend time with Mateo and Camilla. Everyone stood to wave off the three of them and then Ander slammed the door shut after them with a sigh of relief.

“Well that was the longest three hours of my life.” Guzman stated, making the other three burst into laughter considering they all felt exactly the same way. They went to sit back on the couch, Nadia and Guzman intertwined on one side and Ander resting his head on Omar’s chest on the other. With this Ander turned towards Nadia with the intent of apologising for his grandmother’s behaviour but Nadia was too quick and knew Ander too well.

“Ander please don’t start apologising. It’s not your fault that your grandma is a little….. old-fashioned.” She said, trying to find the right word.

“I know but she was just so rude to you. To both of you.” Ander said turning his head back to look at Omar, “I feel like I should’ve said something….” he trailed off staring between the three of them.

“Ander don’t worry about it honestly.” Nadia said gently and then proceeded to move the subject onto something else.

Nadia and Guzman stayed for the rest of the day, the four of them chatting and watching films until they left at around 9.

As Ander gently closed the door behind them Omar came up behind him, spun him round and pushed him into the door Omar’s lips quickly coming into contact with his own as they kissed deeply.

“I’ve been dying to do that all day.” Omar said staring at Ander, his pupils blown with lust.

“Oh yeah?” Ander said with a smirk on his face as he wrapped his hands tightly around the back of Omar’s neck.

“Yeah.” Omar whispered into his ear as he bit down on his earlobe and started kissing down Ander’s neck eliciting small moans from Ander.

“Omar?” Ander moaned out.

“Yeah?”

“Take me to bed.” And so that’s exactly what Omar did.

———

The next few days went by in a whirlwind. Azucena and Ander were taking his grandparents to all the local landmarks, meeting up with several of their upper class friends, including Guzman, much to the delight of Camilla, especially since Nadia wasn’t able to attend that particular meet up. They ate in fancy restaurants while Ander filled his grandparents in on everything that was happening in his life, but of course leaving out the bits that included his marriage to another man. Every night Ander would return to Omar and their small apartment counting down the days until his grandparents went home.

It was three days before Camilla and Mateo were due to return home and Azucena had an emergency to deal with at Las Encinas so it was just Ander and his grandparents. Ander felt less uncomfortable than he thought he would as they sat down in a beautiful restaurant that his grandmother had been very insistent on coming to. He was actually beginning to believe that he might get through this week without everything going to shit and that was something he would count as a miracle.

They ordered their drinks and Camilla whispered something to the waiter before starting up a conversation with her grandson about his job. Camilla knew that Ander was focusing on his career, and she was incredibly proud of him, but at the same time she couldn’t help the sense of dread she felt whenever she thought about his lack of a wife. She wasn’t quite sure where the dread came from but she knew that she needed to make it go away and the easiest way to do that was to get Ander a wife, or at the very least a girlfriend. At that moment Camilla noticed Liliana approaching the table and a huge smile spread across her face.

“Liliana you look beautiful! I’m so glad we got to see you while we were here.” Camilla had stood up and pulled the girl into a warm embrace at the same time that Ander looked up to see who his grandma was talking to. Ander started to feel as if there was an alarm ringing in his ears and a voice in the back of his head telling him to run, but he couldn’t. He just sat there stock still and unable to move, looking intently at the woman in his grandmother’s arms.

“Ander, this is Liliana, the girl I told you about at lunch on Sunday. Liliana, this is Ander, my grandson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Liliana said looking nervously between Ander and his grandmother. Ander looked over at Mateo who appeared to be as shocked as he was at this woman’s magical appearance at their family lunch.

“Umm, you too.” Ander said reaching out his hand. As angry as he was right now he didn’t want to seem rude, after all it wasn’t this poor girl’s fault that his grandmother appeared to know nothing about boundaries.

“Sit, sit.” Camilla said, ushering Liliana into the empty seat at the table, which happened to be beside Ander, before sitting back in her own.

For the next 90 minutes conversation flowed between Liliana and Camilla, the two of them occasionally looking at Ander but he remained silent, consumed with rage. He didn’t understand what made his grandma think that she had the right to do something like this, how she could possibly believe that it was ok. Not only was she wasting his time but this woman’s time as well. More than anything he just felt anger, towards his grandmother, towards this woman (even if she didn’t necessarily deserve it), towards this whole fucking restaurant.

“Ander darling, you’re being rather rude. You haven’t said more that two words to Liliana since she sat down. She manages this restaurant you know? She’s taken time out of her day to come and have dinner with us.” Rage surged through Ander at Camilla’s words, at the insinuation that out of everyone here, he was the rude one.

“Grandma, I’m sorry but you must be joking right? I told you on Sunday that this wasn’t something I was interested in.” A deep frown took it’s place on Camilla’s face as Liliana sank back slightly in her seat, feeling more than uncomfortable. “I told you but you didn’t listen.” Ander hissed, his voice rising with every word. “I cannot believe you!” He shouted, standing up from his chair, “I’m sorry,” he said towards Liliana, “but I’m not looking for a relationship right now let alone a wife.” and with that Ander stormed out of the restaurant and started walking quickly back towards his apartment, back towards Omar.

———

Ander stormed into the apartment slamming the door angrily behind him as Omar looked up from the pan he was hovered over, clearly planning to make dinner and assuming that Ander wouldn’t be back yet. Ander was cursing under his breath as he began to pace around in the space between the living room and the kitchen.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Omar asked as he tried to get Ander’s attention.

“My fucking grandmother tried to get me a wife that’s what’s fucking wrong!” Ander knew that his anger was being misdirected towards Omar but he couldn’t help it, he just wanted to hit something. Omar felt rage boil up inside him. How could she do something like this? Omar hated when people made Ander angry, or sad, or just any sort of negative emotion really. It wasn’t fair that just because his grandparents had certain religious beliefs that they felt entitled to make him get married. Omar could feel old feelings coming back from almost four years ago, before he’d come out to his parents, only now he felt them on Ander’s behalf. But that wasn’t what Omar needed to focus on right now, he could see Ander’s rage slowly turning into tears and he knew that he needed comfort. Omar pulled Ander into his arms and they stood there like that for 20 minutes while Ander cried into Omar’s shoulder and until both of their legs began to ache.

“Hey, come here. Give me one second.” Omar deposited a still sniffling Ander onto the couch and ran quickly into their bedroom and ran out a few seconds later with their wedding rings in his hand. On Sunday, being unsure of when Ander’s grandparents specific daily visits would be, Ander and Omar had decided to leave their wedding rings off until Camilla and Mateo had returned home, which had, for obvious reasons, made Ander even more depressed.

“Here.” Omar took Ander’s left hand in his as he sat down on the couch next to him. Omar placed Ander’s wedding ring back onto his finger and then brought his hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. “You don’t need to worry about your grandma finding you a wife, ‘cause you already have a husband, and I have no intention of letting you go.” Ander now had fresh tears in his eyes as Omar caressed his cheek gently. Ander silently took Omar’s wedding ring out of his hand and slipped it onto his finger, kissing Omar’s hand in the same way Omar had kissed his. Omar then cupped Ander’s cheek and pulled his face towards his own, their lips crashing together in a mixture of love, passion and tears. Ander felt his heart swell, he knew everything would always be okay, as long as he had Omar right there by his side.

———

The next day came far too quickly and before he knew it Ander was being ripped out of his blissful sleep by a loud knocking on the door.

The night before, after the two of them had calmed down, they’d had a quiet night in, eating the meal Omar had cooked and watching movies together until Omar had fallen asleep with his head on Ander’s chest.

Ander shook Omar awake as the knocking persisted and the two of them stared at each other. Confused and still half asleep Ander stumbled around grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt and then ran towards the door, opening it with a pissed off look on his face. He came face to face with Guzman and Nadia who were looking at him sympathetically, as if he was a turtle who had landed on his back and couldn’t get back up.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ander continued to stare at them as Guzman just laughed and pushed past him into the apartment.

“Relax man, we heard about your shitty day yesterday and brought you breakfast.” Guzman said, as if that was a good enough explanation for why they had interrupted Ander’s sleep, and on a Saturday of all the days, he didn’t even need to be awake for another 45 minutes.

“How did you even know about that?”

“Omar texted me last night and told me.” Nadia explained as she busied herself making breakfast and slapping Guzman’s hand away every time he tried to grab food. Ander spun around to look at Omar who had now appeared from their bedroom still rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. Omar just shrugged and smiled sheepishly as he made his way to the kitchen to take over from Nadia as everyone knew Omar could make better waffles than Nadia ever could.

Once breakfast was ready the four of them stood around the kitchen island eating and listening as Ander once again recounted the horrors of his previous afternoon. Nadia was enraged at the idea of Camilla trying to find Ander a wife but that wasn’t particularly surprising considering she wasn’t Camilla’s biggest fan. Guzman however, found the entire situation absolutely hilarious saying he could just picture Ander’s face, which only made him laugh more. Omar tried very hard to keep a straight face but couldn’t help joining in and eventually Nadia did too, because if you really thought about it, it was quite funny. Ander was obviously and (mostly) openly gay so the idea of him being faced with a woman that wanted to marry him was far too funny for Guzman to comprehend.

On the other hand Ander failed to see the hilarity of the situation and stood there staring at his friends and his husband with a look of disdain on his face. He was about to start yelling at them to shut up when there was a rapid knocking at the door for the second time that morning.

“Who the fuck is here now? It’s only 9 o’clock in the morning can people not leave us in peace?” Ander grumbled as he made his way to the door and swiftly opened it to reveal his stony faced grandmother on the other side, Mateo and Azucena in tow.

Camilla walked past Ander and straight into the apartment stopping to stand in the living room and stare disapprovingly at the three adults clustered around the island in the kitchen. Mateo quickly followed and Azucena stopped to greet her son.

“I’m sorry.” She said “I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen.”

Omar, Guzman and Nadia had all stopped laughing and were now staring awkwardly anywhere other than Camilla, unable to look her in the eyes without bursting into a second round of hysterics. Eventually Ander made his way over to his grandparents with his mother trailing after him, he gave the other three a look telling them to stay where they were and to stay quiet.

Ander came to a stop in front of Camilla as Azucena joined her father on the couch. Ander’s hands were clasped nervously behind his back and he was staring intently at a particular spot on the floor. However Camilla just stood there staring straight at Ander with her lips pursed and her hands clasping her tiny handbag in front of her.

“Listen, Grandma-” Ander started.

“No you listen.” Clearly the patience had been a front to try and start the conversation. “All I was trying to do was find you a respectable wife without you having to do any of the hard work. I wasn’t even expecting you to marry her but you could have at least gone on a date, or tried to get to know her. But no! Instead you storm out of the restaurant like a little child, I mean, you’re 25 years old Ander, you could have at least had the courtesy to tell us all why exactly you refuse to date anyone.” Ander took a deep breath trying to process the whole of his grandmother’s rant without hitting something.

“Grandma, I know this is hard for you to understand but people don’t get married as young as they used to anymore and I’m trying really hard to build up my career before I take on the responsibility of another person in my life.” He hadn’t come this far to give up now, he was going to stick to his lie and if she didn’t like it then she was going to have to live with it. At least it was possible for her to live with this, which was more than could be said for the truth. Camilla took Ander’s hands in her own and looked up at him. “I know honey, and I know you’ll have a fantastic career but-” The smile and softness that had appeared on her face after Ander had said his explanation suddenly vanished as she gripped Ander’s left hand and looked down at it with an unreadable expression on her face.

The next ten seconds seemed like ten years as Ander pulled his hand from his grandmother’s grasp and swore profusely as he saw his wedding ring still on his finger from the night before. He’d gotten so used to wearing it that he didn’t even notice it anymore. Omar, who realised immediately what had happened, quickly shoved his left hand behind his back having also forgotten to remove his ring. That being said Omar wasn’t sure what use that would do now considering at this point the truth was inevitable. Guzman and Nadia stood staring at each other utterly confused. Azucena also swore as she put her head in her hands and Mateo just sat there with an oddly smug look on his face.

But Camilla…….. she just stood stock still, stunned into silence and unable to speak.

“You’re wearing… you’re wearing a w-wedding ring.” That was all she could manage to say as she stumbled backwards and landed on the couch next to her husband.

Guzman froze and Nadia looked quickly at her brother as it dawned on them both exactly what had just happened.

Ander felt defeated. He’d been lying to his grandparents for almost a week and for what? The truth came out anyway, he might as well have not bothered. But the one thing he knew right now was that he had to sort this out, he had to be honest. So with a new plan in mind he walked slowly and kneeled on the floor in front of his grandparents, looking up at them with eyes a mixture of happiness that he no longer had to lie but also anger at what he was going to have to do and at the inevitable reaction. Ander was about to open his mouth but Camilla beat him to it.

“So……. you’re married.” She stated, a blank expression her face. “Well at least now I have a proper reason as to why you didn’t like Liliana. But what I don’t quite understand is why you felt the need to lie to me. Is she not Catholic? Because that doesn’t bother me. And when can I meet her? Is she away? Will she be back in time for me to see her? Is she-”

Ander cut off his grandmother with a large sigh as he tried to get himself together. “That’s not it Grandma, okay? She’s none of those things, in fact, she’s not a she at all. I’m gay.” Ander said those last two words whilst staring his grandma right in the eye and then looking to his grandad. It felt so good to finally say it and for them to know. Mateo had a look on his face that Ander hadn’t expected. It was pride, happiness, almost. Camilla however looked white like a ghost. She was staring at Ander unable to speak, or move, or even breathe.

Ander quickly stood up, jogging to the kitchen, grabbing Omar’s hand and pulling Omar back towards his grandparents with him.

“Omar is my husband. We’ve been together for almost nine years and we got married two years ago and if you can’t accept that then I don’t want you in my home. In our home.” Ander stood defiantly staring at Camilla and Mateo with a huge smile on his face. He no longer cared what they though or how they reacted as Omar squeezed his hand and looked at him with pure love and admiration.

“Well, in that case I think it’s best if we leave.” Camilla said standing and avoiding Ander’s gaze before making her way to the door. “I’ll be waiting in the car and we’ll be leaving once we’ve collected our things. I can’t believe you knew about this Azucena.” She hissed out her last sentence and with that, she was gone. It wasn’t as if Ander hadn’t expected that exact reaction but it still hurt and he felt a shot of pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry Mama.” Ander said as he turned towards Azucena who pulled him into a tight hug.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’ll all be fine.” She whispered as she stroked her sons hair and squeezed him tightly. “I should probably go and talk to her.” Azucena made her way towards the front door, grabbing her coat, and making her way out of the apartment. It was now silent. Omar wanted to hug and reassure Ander, as did Guzman and Nadia but the three of them were all put off by the presence of Mateo who was yet to leave, however the reason for his remaining presence was unknown and it was something that was making Ander increasingly nervous with every moment that passed.

Mateo stood slowly and made his way over to Ander. He then wrapped his arms around Ander’s form and hugged him. Ander was in shock as his grandfather was never one to hug him, or anyone else for that matter.

“I’m proud of you.” Said Mateo “I know how hard that must have been for you especially considering our religion portrays us as not particularly accepting people but I’ve had time to come to terms with it and to understand it.”

“But……. how?” Was all Ander could manage now that his grandad had released him.

“Well I tried to ignore it at first, all those years ago, but it gets to a point where some things are hard to ignore. The way that you two were looking at each other on Sunday, that was a look of love, not friendship. I expect it was easier for your grandma to ignore it, people tend to ignore the things that they don’t want to see. But don’t worry, she’ll come around eventually, it just might take her a while, that’s all.” Mateo reached his hand out towards Omar and Omar shook his hand gently, still shocked at Mateo’s speech, “It was lovely to meet you Omar, I’m glad that you make my grandson as happy as he is.” and with that he was gone.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” Was the only thing that Ander could come up with at that moment. The other three just shook their heads, not sure what to say about the old, Catholic, white man having just accepted his gay grandson.

Of course, Guzman was the one to break the silence saying, “Well, it could have gone worse.” which, for some reason, made them all burst into laughter.

“Hey,” Omar said having regained his composure and turned towards Ander, “you did it. You came out to them, now it’s up to them. They have to decide what they want to do, and if your grandma can’t accept it then that is not your fault.”

Ander couldn’t find any words so instead he just grabbed the back of Omar’s neck and crashed their lips together. The kiss was getting deeper and deeper and Guzman and Nadia felt extremely awkward.

“Okayyyyy, I think that’s our cue to leave.” Nadia said with a hint of a smile on her face as she grabbed Guzman by the hand and dragged him out of the apartment.

Meanwhile Ander had grabbed Omar’s waist and started walking backwards towards the bedroom, their lips still interlocked. They entered the bedroom and Ander felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed just before he fell back on it, Omar quickly climbing on top of him. Omar was about to start kissing him again when Ander put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I love you.” Was all Ander said as he stared into the beautiful hazel of Omar’s eyes.

“I love you too.” Omar replied before he began to kiss Ander all over again. This, this was all Ander needed. He didn’t need his grandparents, he didn’t need a wife, he didn’t even need a job because the only thing that truly mattered to him was Omar and as long as Omar was here, with him, then everything would be perfect, always.

Thanks for reading! Like, comment and reblog! <3

#omander #omar x ander #ander x omar #elite #elite fanfiction #omander fanfiction #elite netflix #elite fanfic #ander munoz #omar shana #guzman nunier #guzman x nadia #nadia shana #nuzman

[thethirdamell]

Accursed Ones - Ch. 136 - World Gone Crazy

This is an edited version of Chapter 136 of Accursed Ones that does not include the scene with sexual assault if you wanted to read more than the summary but did not want that content included. 

9:35 Dragon 19 Eluviesta Early Evening Ferelden: Vigil’s Keep Crypts

“See how the rain has washed away The tears that you were crying? Though the darkness calls me down You know we all are dying…”

Anders inhaled shakily at the end of the verse, too choked to sing the next. He closed his eyes and thumped his head against Sigrun's sarcophagus, wishing she was here with him. She'd always been able to make him smile. At least he finally had a song for her.

“A little early for your Calling, isn’t it?” A familiar voice asked.

Nate. The Warden Constable stood at the base of the stairwell into the crypts. His hair had gotten longer, a mane of black he’d braided like one. He’d traded his goatee for stubble, as if he needed more shadow. He had enough of it under his eyes, in his voice, in the ghost of a smile he wore on his lips. He looked good. A little fat.

“Men are always premature,” Velanna chimed in from beside him. She looked better, wild blonde bangs obscuring the vallaslin on her face but not the resting bitch. Someone must have forced her into real clothes, an elegant dress that looked like folded leaves corseted about her waist and pinned in place by a gryphon pendant at her collarbone. “A Shred of Blue? This is the best you could do?”

“At least she’d understand it,” Anders countered. It wasn’t in elvish, which seemed like it should give him a point over Velanna’s old song.

“She would understand you’ve a terrible singing voice,” Velanna said, joining him on the floor. She smelled like the forest, and age-old memories. “What are you singing of your Calling for, you fool?”

Because it feels like I went to it.

“Death and dying was her thing,” Anders shrugged, scrubbing the tears from his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Nathaniel toyed with one of the flowers on Sigrun’s tomb. “Can you feel her?”

“Normal question," Anders said.

“In the Stone,” Nathaniel elaborated. “Oghren says she makes the Vigil stronger.”

“Oghren also says dwarves are born from the Stone as rocks,” Velanna rolled her eyes.

“Velanna believed him,” Nathaniel grinned.

“Oghren?” Anders repeated, something almost like a smile creeping at the corners of his lips. “You believed something Oghren said?”

“I did not say I believed him,” Velanna kicked a foot out at Nathaniel, who dodge nimbly to the other side of Anders. “I said I almost believed him.”

“Pink rocks for girls, gray rocks for boys,” Nathaniel elaborated, sliding down on the opposite side of Anders. “Dipped in lava until they hatch.”

Anders exhaled hard through his nose. Velanna elbowed him for it, a sharp stab beneath his ribs that came with a surge of relief for the excuse it gave his tears. Anders choked on a sob, and Velanna crushed him into a sudden hug Nathaniel quickly joined. Limbs and hands tangled together with the scent of leather and leaves, and Anders felt better than he had in weeks. He was still crying, but there was something safe in it, in the shadow of Sigrun’s tomb, where no one would question his tears.

“You idiot,” Velanna muttered into his chest.

“She means-” Nathaniel started.

“I know,” It was so hard to know anything recently, Anders couldn’t have been more grateful when he did. He couldn’t not know, crushed between two of the best friends he’d ever had in his life. He grabbed an ankle and a wrist, his face in Velanna’s hair. "I'm an idiot."

Velanna thumped a fist against his chest. “You and your spirit both.”

“An inescapable one," Nathaniel said.

“I’m special that way,” Anders said.

“That’s one way to put it," Nathaniel said.

“Ironic is another," Velanna countered. "How is it you escape your templars and we cannot escape you?"

"You're the one who came to see me," Anders pointed out.

"I came to see Sigrun," Velanna said, untangling herself from him to settle more comfortably against his side.

"Liars," Nathaniel kept an arm around Anders' shoulders. "Both of you."

"Us?" Anders joked, leaning back against the tomb and Nathaniel’s arm. "Lie about feelings?"

"I have never," Velanna huffed.

"You'd have to have some first," Anders pointed out.

"I have feelings."

"Bitchy isn't a feeling."

"Neither is stupidity."

"It's been working out for me so far."

"I would imagine, considering you have the emotional depth of a puddle."

"I'm an ocean."

"You're an idiot."

"I'm glad the two of you are still so close," Nathaniel said.

"Do not be jealous," Velanna waved a hand at him.

"Who's he jealous of though?" Anders wondered.

"You, obviously," Velanna said.

"You sure about that?" Anders raised an eyebrow at her.

"Velanna," Nathaniel said.

"I knew it," Anders grinned.

"I'm breaking up with you," Velanna said over him.

"Again?" Nathaniel sighed.

"We can share, I have two hands," Anders joked, waving both.

"Touch me with them and I will break them," Velanna threatened.

"I'm a healer," Anders shrugged, throwing an arm around her shoulder that Velanna did not in fact break.

A companionable silence stretched, and Anders breathed easier for it. His broken heart felt better, splinted between old friends, and for a time he could pretend the past four years had been a fever dream and he wasn’t living some waking nightmare without them.

"I have to admit, I didn't think it would be this easy," Nathaniel broke the silence.

"What?" Anders asked.

"Going back in time," Nathaniel clarified.

Anders thought of Amell, and the smile he'd had for him, and how nothing Anders had done had managed to take it away. "...I did."

The three of them stayed in the crypts, talking about what Amell had planned for the month. There was the feast, of course, paired with so many minstrels and bards it would have made an Orlesian blush. A theater troupe on reserve for evening plays. A veritable tourney's worth of games for the days.

"What if I hadn't shown?" Anders couldn’t help wondering.

“Then you’d have been even more of a fool than usual,” Velanna said.

“I think we all know there was no chance of that,” Nathaniel grinned, a secretive sort of grin that made Anders’ sick to his stomach wondering if they knew about his letters to Amell. “We’re keeping you. I’m sure dinner is about to start. Shall we?”

We shan’t. We shan’t because if we shalled then we’d have to go back inside wearing the wrong ring for the wrong man but there was nowhere else to go. Anders followed them out of the crypts and back into the Vigil, where servants were hurrying back and forth arranging the main hall for a banquet. Tables were being pushed together, benches were being carried out, a stage was being set up.

For Anders. All of it was for Anders.

Amell couldn’t tell him it was for all mages or his morals or any of the other excuses he’d used years ago whenever Amell had done something kind for him. It was just about Anders. It was always just about Anders. It was there in his letters, and the way that he signed them every month, with a quiet Always, Amell like it meant something different if he didn’t put Yours in front of it.

Hawke probably knew that, and that was probably why he manifested out of the Fade like some reincarnation of his mother to confront the three of them the second they set foot in the hall.

“There you are,” Hawke signed, a hand on his arm dragging Anders away from Nathaniel and Velanna and out of the flow of traffic. “Where have you been?”

“With my friends,” Anders signed.

“Everything alright?” Nathaniel asked.

“I-” Anders started, but Hawke was still signing, and he couldn’t pay attention to two conversations at once.

“You can’t just leave without telling me,” Hawke signed.

“I didn’t leave,” Anders argued.

“How would I know?” Hawke countered. “I can’t talk to anyone here but you and Varric. I shouldn’t have to remind you. You know why I’m deaf.”

Hawke was right. He shouldn’t have had to remind him, but for some reason he did. Hawke was deaf and it was Anders' fault. Anders had abandoned him, and Hawke had gotten hurt, and Anders hadn’t been there to heal him. The man responsible for his mother’s death had healed him instead, and Anders was still lying to him about it.

“I’m sorry,” Anders signed, because he should be sorry, but he was too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“Just tell me next time,” Hawke signed.

“Oi, Sparkles!” A familiar voice bellowed. Anders tore his eyes off Hawke to the sight of Oghren stomping across the hall like a bronto and rolling up his sleeves as he went. “I warned ya! I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!”

“I missed you too-” Anders started.

Oghren slammed a fist into his stomach. It wasn’t enough to knock him on his ass, but it was enough to bend him over it. Anders wheezed, while Velanna laughed and Nathaniel looked like he was struggling not to. “That’s for sending us the old broad,” Oghren spat. “Now we’re even-”

Oghren didn’t get further than that before Hawke grabbed his shoulder and spun him into his fist. Oghren reeled back a pace from the suckerpunch, rubbing his jaw while a vicious grin crept onto his face. “Boy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for some son of a bitch to do that.”

It felt like there was a moment where Anders could have said something. Done something.

It passed.

“Here comes Oghren!” Oghren bellowed, charging forward to ram his shoulder into Hawke’s stomach and slam him bodily into the wall. Hawke collided with a pained grunt, and brought an ineffectual elbow down on the crook of Oghren’s neck. He couldn’t have been at more of a disadvantage, facing off against a berserker in melee combat with a height difference that made every knee and elbow hit just shy of where they should.

Anders wondered why he didn’t care more.

“Would you like this to stop…?” Nathaniel asked.

“It seems it will soon,” Velanna noted. “Five silver for the dwarf.”

“You can’t always bet on Oghren when this happens,” Nathaniel sighed.

“You are just tired of losing.”

“And your point, my lady?”

“My point is you should bet sooner.”

Hawke finally broke free of the exchange, rolling clear of Oghren’s flailing fists and slinging a flask at his feet that exploded in a cloud of dust. Oghren sneezed. “Knockout powder? I’ll use that shit for seasonin’ when I serve you up your ass! Let’s go-!”

“Oghren,” Nathaniel interjected. “That’s enough.”

“He soddin’ started it-”

“I said that’s enough.”

“Elf bet first, didn’t she?” Oghren guessed.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Nathaniel sniffed.

“I did,” Velanna said cheerily.

“Pha,” Oghren spat. “Whatever.”

“Are you alright?” Anders signed while his friends argued.

“Am I alright?” Hawke signed back with one hand, and held his injured side with the other. Anders belatedly remembered to send a surge of creationism through him, washing away the bruises Oghren had left on him. “He attacked me.”

“You punched him,” Anders signed.

“For punching you!” Hawke signed.

“He’s my friend,” Anders argued. “He didn’t hurt me-”

“He punched you,” Hawke corrected him. “And they laughed! They’re not your friends. They’re assholes.”

“They are my friends-” Anders argued.

“You haven’t been friends with them for years,” Hawke countered. “If you were still their friend they wouldn’t treat you this way.”

They weren’t treating him like anything. It wasn’t like it was the first time Oghren had punched him. It was Oghren. Oghren punched everyone. Oghren had even warned him he was going to kick his ass when he showed up, and if he really wanted to hurt him he could have done a lot worse than a gut punch. And sure, maybe Velanna had elbowed him, but…

“It’s not like that,” Anders signed.

“Yes it is,” Hawke signed. “You think Varric would ever do that to you? You think I would? They’re not your friends - they never were.”

That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. The Wardens were his friends. Nathaniel and Velanna and Oghren and Amell. They were some of his best friends, but Anders could still feel the pain of Velanna’s elbow and Oghren’s fist, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do.

He was so tired.

“Everything alright, Anders?” Nathaniel asked again.

“Aye, he’s fine,” Oghren slapped Anders’ shoulder. It hurt a little, but it wasn’t-... It just wasn’t like that. “He’s a tough son of a bitch. Good fight.” Oghren held out a meaty hand for Hawke, who eyed it with a scowl.

“Good fight,” Anders translated.

“Whatcha waving for?” Oghren frowned.

“Hawke’s deaf,” Anders reminded him.

“Looks fine to me,” Oghren said.

“Deaf, you toadstool, not dead,” Velanna rolled her eyes.

“Ah. Shame,” Oghren shrugged, giving up on the handshake when Hawke didn’t take it. “So we gonna eat or we gonna stand around and starve till our trousers drop?”

“Drop your trousers around me again, dwarf, and I will make sure you have no need of them,” Velanna threatened him, but they headed off towards the main hall, trading the same shoves they gave Anders. Because they shoved everyone. Because they were soldiers. Because they were Wardens. Because they were friends.

They were his friends.

Hawke wrapped an arm around his waist and kept him from following. Anders didn’t want an arm around his waist but he didn’t know how to get it off. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow for it. He looked like he was doing a dozen different equations in his head, but they could only lead to one shameful conclusion. Anders suddenly understood why Hawke hated eye-contact. The confused look Nathaniel gave him made him want to curl up and die.

“I take it this is Hawke?” Nathaniel guessed.

“That’s him,” Anders agreed.

“I see,” Nathaniel said slowly, with a nod to Hawke. “... A pleasure to meet you, Champion.”

Anders translated. Hawke waved.

“Anders, could I have a word with you?” Nathaniel asked.

“Knickerweasels?” Anders supplied.

“A private word,” Nathaniel clarified.

“Dick?” Anders tried again.

“Very well, be glib,” Nathaniel sighed.

“What’s he saying?” Hawke signed.

“He wants to talk,” Anders translated.

“Don’t want you talking with him.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Anders argued.

“Still laughed.”

“He’s still my friend-”

“Merrill’s your friend, and you haven’t even seen her yet,” Hawke countered. “You don’t think she wants to see you?”

“... Maybe later?” Anders said aloud.

“... Later it is,” Nathaniel agreed. “Our table is at the head of the hall, closest to the stage. See you shortly?”

“See you,” Anders agreed.

Hawke led him back to the guest rooms with his arm still firmly locked around his waist. It was just an arm. Hawke had had his arm around him before, and it hadn’t bothered him before, so it didn’t make sense that it should bother him now, but it did. They reached the guest rooms, up on the second floor, where Varric and Fenris were talking to Merrill out in the hall.

She didn’t look anything like the broken woman Anders had dragged out of a burning building ten months ago. Her clothes weren’t threadbare linens worn for want of anything else. She wasn’t drained of blood and joy. A knee length emerald dress swirled with patterns reminiscent of her vallaslin, belted with a teal sash that looked like it had been knotted one too many times by forgetful hands. Her raven hair was free of soot and finely braided, one pointed ear lined in silver piercings. She looked good. She looked great. She looked like the hero of her own story while Anders prayed for one in his.

“Lethallen!” Merrill shrieked at the sight of him, sprinting down the hall to fling herself into his arms. Her arms locked around his neck and her knees around his waist, and Anders would have fallen over if Hawke wasn’t supporting him. “It’s so good to see you! Did you miss me? You did, didn’t you? I missed you! I missed you so much!”

Anders hugged her. She smelled like spring, and dirt after rain, and rebirth. “Hey Merrill.”

Merrill hopped down from his arms, and snatched up his hands, practically beaming, “I’m so glad you came! I have so much to tell you. You must have so much to tell me! Did you know you’re a hero? I mean, of course you know, but did you know? There are so many songs, lethallen, you have to tell me which ones are true!”

“I’m telling you, Daisy, stories are never true,” Varric said when he joined them, Fenris trailing silently behind him. “They’re only true for whoever tells them.”

“I want to hear Anders' story, then,” Merrill insisted, undeterred. She glanced at Hawke, like she finally realized he was there, and her eyes widened. “...Hawke?”

“Merrill,” Hawke said in greeting.

“... You came to see me?” Merrill asked, and Varric translated the question for her.

“‘Course I came to see you,” Hawke said. Hawke lied. Hawke hadn’t come for her. He’d come for Anders. He’d come to be with Anders because he was always going to be with Anders whether or not Anders wanted to be with him.

“But I-... I never wrote… and you still came?” Merrill asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Hawke said after Varric translated.

Not for her. It wasn’t for her, but Merrill didn’t know that, and Merrill wouldn’t believe that, and Merrill wasn’t even looking at him anymore, she was looking at Hawke, and then she was hugging Hawke, and then Hawke was hugging her, and Anders felt sick to his stomach.

“It’s good to see you too,” Merrill said.

“You better?” Hawke asked.

“I’m better,” Merrill agreed. “Are you better?”

“Better,” Hawke agreed.

“... Do you think we can still be friends?” Merrill asked.

“Think so,” Hawke said.

“I think so too,” Merrill smiled, watching Varric translate. “I’ll have to… um… learn how to do all that with my hands. I think I can learn how to do that. I already move them so much when I talk I may as well be saying something with them, don’t you think?”

“I think you’ll be great at it, Daisy,” Varric said.

They were friends again. Hawke and Merrill were friends again. They couldn’t be friends again. Anders didn’t have any friends who weren’t friends with Hawke outside the Wardens, and Hawke had said the Wardens weren’t his friends. It wasn’t true, but everything Hawke said was true, so it had to be true. Anders had to have a friend who wasn’t friends with Hawke, and if that friend wasn’t Merrill, then who was it? Who did he even have left?

… Fenris was his friend. The lyrium-branded elf leaned against the wall, off to the side, squinting while Hawke and Merrill and Varric spoke in an awkward combination of signs and sounds. Anders found a spot beside him, and breathed a little easier when Fenris spared him… not a smile, but a raise of his eyebrows that acknowledged his presence.

“She forgot Isabela,” Fenris signed.

“She loved Isabela,” Anders signed back.

“And you?” Fenris signed.

Anders looked at Hawke. He was talking to Merrill, but he could look over at any moment and see whatever he was signing. Even if Anders said something, Varric would hear it and tell him. It didn’t matter either way, because Anders didn’t know what he wanted to sign or what he wanted to say.

What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t want to be with Hawke? Even if Anders couldn’t remember agreeing to marry him, Hawke probably hadn’t forced the ring onto his finger. Anders could take it off. Nothing was stopping him, but everytime he thought of taking it off he felt paralyzed. He felt guilty. He felt trapped. He felt crazy. He couldn’t tell Fenris that. He couldn’t tell anyone that. It didn’t make any sense.

Anders never answered him. The five of them went down to the main hall for the feast, to a chorus of cheers from all gathered when he entered. Anders waved sheepishly, and Nathaniel waved him over to join him at a table with Velanna, Oghren, Amell, and a few people Anders didn’t recognize. He took a seat at the corner, diagonal from Amell. Hawke sat next to him, and everyone else found their seats as food was brought out.

The minstrels started playing one ballad in his honor after the next. Children and mabari ran wild, getting underfoot and under tables, the din of laughter and conversation flooding the hall. It was the most elaborate party Anders had ever seen, and it was his party, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Hawke was sitting too close to him, their legs pressed together, his hand occasionally running along Anders’ thigh.

Anders couldn’t stay focused on any of the conversation. It wasn’t important. Old friends and new exchanging pleasantries and making acquaintances. The only thing Anders managed to focus on was Amell, but Amell hardly spoke, and when he did, it was usually in a secretive aside to the dark-haired woman at his side. Anders missed her name, along with the names of everyone else at the table, and eventually lost interest in it. He watched the children careen through the hall, and wondered which of them was Kieran.

It was easy to find Amell. Oghren’s Amell. He looked like Oghren’s beard with legs, covered in grease and crumbs, and brandishing a turkey leg like a club. His fiery red hair had frayed free of its braids as the little berserker ran shrieking and barefoot after a few of the other children. There were so many of them - and more than a few had black hair.

The little group circled their table more than a few times, and eventually one of them went scrambling up into the dark-haired woman’s lap. He had to be Amell’s son. He looked just like him. He had the same wheatish skin, the same raven hair, the same blood red eyes. He stayed in his mother’s lap, eating apple slices off her plate and humming along to the latest song the minstrels were playing.

“Enough, you silly boy,” Morrigan - that was it, her name was Morrigan - said eventually, hefting Kieran off her lap and passing him off to Amell. “Eat your father’s dessert, if your own was not sufficient.”

“Your father wants his dessert,” Amell protested.

“Then your father should have eaten it first,” Morrigan countered.

Amell leaned over and whispered something to her that made her laugh, and bounced Kieran idly on his knee while the boy stole all the apple slices from his plate. They looked happy. They looked like a family. They looked like everything he and Justice were fighting for, and everything he’d never have. They looked like what he needed to see, and what he needed to remember, and what he needed to focus on, and what mattered more than he did.

**Deleted Scene: Anders feels sick after spending the night with Hawke, leaves the room to find somewhere to throw up, and blacks out.**

Anders was outside. Anders didn’t remember going outside, but he was there, standing under the Vigil’s eaves in the southern courtyard. It was raining, droplets splashing up and under the eaves to muddy the legs of his trousers. Amell was standing next to him, still dressed for the day despite the fact that they’d moved into the night, a roll of something smoking between his fingers.

How did Anders get here? What was he doing here?

“What did you want to talk about?” Amell asked.

Did he want to talk? Why didn’t he remember asking Amell to talk? Anders rubbed warmth into his arms, struggling to find a topic. Everything. Nothing. He didn’t want to marry Hawke. Couldn’t Amell see he didn’t want to marry Hawke? Maker, please, couldn’t someone see he didn’t want to marry Hawke? Why couldn’t Anders tell someone he didn’t want to marry Hawke? Why didn’t he want to marry Hawke? Hadn’t he at some point? Why was he losing so much time? Why couldn’t he have lost the time he’d just spent with Hawke instead?

“... Lot of rain,” Anders said.

“Hm,” Amell agreed, taking a long pull of whatever he was smoking before offering it over to him.

Since when did Amell smoke? Since when did Anders? Anders took it, along with an experimental pull, and coughed through the burn before handing it back.

“We were going to host games tomorrow,” Amell told him.

“... Maybe Velanna and I could dry the grounds,” Anders offered.

“Maybe,” Amell said.

“... Amell…” Everything Anders wanted to say stuck in his throat. Help me. Please help me. The words wouldn’t come. “... I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“Why can’t you?” Amell took another pull of whatever they were smoking. “I meant my last letter, Anders.”

Anders hadn’t read his last letter. He couldn’t tell Amell that.

“... You look good,” Anders said instead. It won him a smirk. It felt like a nice thing to win. “... I look good too, by the way.”

“I know,” Amell said.

“You don’t though,” Anders said. “I could look like a ghoul right now for all you know.” He felt enough like one. Unable to say anything. Unable to think anything. Losing more time and more sanity with every passing day.

“I'm sure you’d make a handsome one,” Amell assured him.

“All three teeth and no nose,” Anders joked.

Amell took another long pull, and flicked the rest of the roll out into the rain. He reached out and touched Anders’ chest, starting at his heart and sliding up to his trembling throat, lingering briefly over his lips before he found his cheek. He ran his thumb along the bridge of Anders’ nose, and smiled. “Still here,” He noted.

“Teeth might not be,” Anders mumbled, wetting his lips.

Amell’s hand slipped lower on his cheek, his thumb running along his bottom lip and pulling it slightly back from his teeth. Anders sucked in a shaky breath, fighting for words, for action, for anything. “... Did you want me to check?” Amell whispered, taking a painful step closer.

Yes. Fucking Maker yes. “Can you-...” Anders took another breath. “... Can you just hold me?”

Amell pulled him into his arms, his whisper softer than the rain. “... Always.”

#accursed ones #Someone asked me for this so I thought I would post it #I'll post the other one in a second

[morfinwen]

10 Facts: Lauren, Ian, Aidan, Ash, Avery, Nate, and Elarin, please!

Here’s your 70 (!) facts:

10 Facts about Lauren

1. She gets along best with her oldest and youngest brothers. She doesn't not get along with her sisters (sometimes), but their relationship can best be described as tolerance, and her closest brother Justin enjoys provoking her.

2. At one point she wanted to learn the flute, as it promised to be easier to carry around than the guitar, or the piano. Her parents couldn't afford to buy one.

3. She tried running away from home once at age eight, and considered making another attempt at age ten. Ian talked her out of it.

4. Her entire family, including aunts, uncles, cousins, and her older siblings' spouses and children, came to her college graduation. Almost all of them made it to the party her parents threw afterward. She nearly cried.

5. Lauren is always uncomfortable around her nieces and nephews -- she has four or five of them -- but if anyone made them cry, she'd punch that person in the face.

6. Knows more about comic book characters than her comic-loving brother Justin, thanks to hearing Ian talk about them in grade school, all the time. All. The. Time. 

7. Got a few part-time jobs in retail in high school. She hated it, but it meant she had enough money to buy clothes that weren't hand-me-downs or from a thrift store, so she grit her teeth and kept at it.

8. She still got fired twice for losing her temper with a customer.

9. She got started smoking because her dad is an occasional smoker. He got diagnosed with lung cancer a few years ago. It's in remission, but despite multiple attempts, he hasn't managed to quit yet.

10. Her mother's had three miscarriages, Lauren was old enough to know about two of them. It's a strange concept, having a sibling that didn't even live to be born.

10 Facts about Ian

1. He has a decided type: tall, confident blonde women of principle. He's fallen in love more than once, though he tends to get over it fairly quickly.

2. Thanks to his dad's need to travel for work, he has funky little souvenirs from 48 states. Lauren has none, though she actually traveled out of state in childhood more than once, and Ian only did once he was an adult.

3. Ian theorizes his terrible sense of navigation comes from his mother, after a fashion. She's perfectly fine with directions, she just has an abysmal grasp of time. She's forever arriving half an hour to two hours late or early to appointments, and she will either take half or twice as long doing something as she says she will.

4. He has fond memories of almost two weeks with just his dad at home, when his mom was helping her parents out after her dad had surgery. They ate out almost every night, thanks to his dad being a nightmare in the kitchen, and he never went to bed on time.

5. Her terrible sense of time aside, bedtime is sacred to his mother, and she's fanatical about her son eating his vegetables. She doesn't know about those two weeks.

6. He once tried to start a dog-walking business when he was twelve. It was a terrible idea. No dogs were lost, but it was a near thing.

7. He's the only child of his maternal grandparents' only child, so they -- particularly his grandma -- tend to dote on him. They also know nothing about any children other than their daughter, so it’s not as great a thing as it might sound.

8. He has several aunts, uncles, and cousins on his dad's side, but Ian's only met one of his uncles once. He doesn't know why, exactly, but he's picked up that his dad had a rough childhood.

9. He talked Lauren out of her second attempt at running away completely by accident: he thought it sounded really cool, but all his suggestions just made it clear to Lauren how unfun it would actually be.

10. Regularly listens to the top 40 in the car, more to keep abreast of what's popular than because he likes it, though it has introduced him to some songs/artists he enjoys. He always has to turn off the radio if Lauren's riding with him.

10 Facts about Aidan

1. A big factor in his identity crisis was that, growing up, he didn't fully recognize he wasn't human. It's obvious now, of course.

2. Tried to enlist in 1941, after Pearl Harbor. He ... doesn't know if he actually served.

3. For as long as he can remember, he's always had this sense of where his sister is. It makes him wonder if his mother is dead, or something like it, since he's never been able to sense her.

4. Aidan generally gets along with Nate pretty well. This is surprising -- or, maybe not? -- given that Aidan has a really hard time understanding the concept of death.

5. Aidan has a lot of trouble with certain concepts in general, like that other people need more than 4-5 hours sleep, he should really let people know before he disappears for a few weeks, and that rules about not touching personal property don't just apply to the things he wouldn't touch anyway.

6. Given the things he's willing to do, or has done, some people might think he has no sense of dignity. He does, he just doesn't care that much.

7. The second-least accepting of having Q in the house, mostly out of a sense of loyalty to Nate, the least accepting. It had nothing to do with Q personally.

8. Until he met Ash, he'd never met anyone who had any idea what species he was. It seems incredibly obvious in hindsight.

9. Considers himself a lapsed Episcopalian.

10. When he finally went back to his hometown, nearly fifty years after he'd left, there was almost nothing left of it. It left him with a greater sense of loss than anything had before. Which wasn't a lot -- very little makes Aidan sad for very long -- but it was notable.

10 Facts about Ash

1. Ash's mother did not know her father, grew up with three sisters, and her own mother had two sisters and no brothers. She fully intended on having a daughter. Having a son was a surprise, but one she adapted to quite well.

2. Until he helped his great-aunt with managing her finances, Ash didn't really know how money worked. As it is, he knows how to make the numbers come out right, but that's pretty much it.

3. His grandmother laid down the law in his house, and even her adult daughters were careful to follow every mandate. She was fair, but stern.

4. Appearance-wise, he takes after his father more than his mother's side of the family, though judging by his aunt Iris that's where his height comes from.

5. He's not as close to his aunt Lily as he is to his mother or aunt Daisy, but whenever he was having a bad day he'd sit in her parlor and listen to her play the piano.

6. He knows he has a few cousins on his father's side, but he's never met them. His dad never figured out how to explain to his family that he had a son with the woman that did "work" on his truck once a year, so they don't even know he exists.

7. Since he knows how to manage Lanzo, most people assume he knows him well. He doesn't. He really doesn't. Lanzo just listens to Ash more than others for some reason.

8. Ash gives the best hugs. Everyone agrees on this point.

9. It sometimes baffles him that someone as intelligent as Connie can forget to eat or sleep.

10. His aunt Iris taught him to read poetry and monologues/soliloquies from Shakespeare aloud. He doesn't do it often, but if he needs to distract himself or someone else, or in certain other rare circumstances, it's quite effective.

10 Facts about Avery

1. Despite all the negatives associated with Anders being a former Grey Warden, Avery is honestly relieved that it makes it unlikely they will ever have children.

2. Avery thinks of Merrill as a younger sister, Aveline as an older one, can't imagine a better drinking buddy than Isabela, and has a great deal of admiration for Fenris after everything he's been through. That said, every single one of them gets on her nerves sometimes, and there have been moments where she wished she had never met them.

3. There's a moment in the game where Fenris implies that Avery might feel negatively about mages, after one murdered her mother. I actually spun around in the game to see if i could yell talk to him after that -- no such luck. Fenris was sent home immediately afterward, and didn't hear from Avery for two weeks. He came very close to never hearing from her again.

4. She relives memories in her dreams, sometimes pleasant ones, sometimes not. It makes mornings difficult, either way.

5. She's not much of a reader, but even if she was she'd never touch Varric's novels about her. She knows they're dramatized, but the idea still makes her uneasy.

6. Isabela never came back after stealing the Qunari relic. Avery never would have handed her over to the arishok -- she respects them as intelligent beings, but no further -- but given everything that happened after that theft, she's not sure she could have forgiven Isabela for it.

7. Her Chantry attendance is not very good, and gets worse over time. She believes in the Maker and Andraste and all that, but not with any passion.

8. She knows nothing about healing, her bedside manner is lacking (unless all you want is witty comments), and she's nowhere near methodical enough to handle medicines and supplies, but she helps out Anders' clinic in whatever way she can.

9. Cats are obnoxious, aloof, oversized rats that make her nose run and her eyes water, but if things in Kirkwall had been slightly more settled at any point, she would have let Anders have as many as he wanted. That's how much she loves him.

10. Growing up, her younger brother Carver got on her nerves, constantly. Apart from the guilt she feels over his death, her biggest regret is that they were never able to forge a better relationship as adults.

10 Facts about Nate

1. His dad died when he was seven. He has no particular memories of the man.

2. Has contemplated probably more than a dozen careers, mostly as a kid -- action movie star, paleontologist, professional skateboarder, astronaut, etc. Didn't settle on audio engineering until his sophomore year of college.

3. Loves both of his younger siblings, but he always got along better with his sister (María) than his brother (Víctor). She's very much the sweet, friendly type, whereas his brother is much more competitive and rebellious.

4. Low-key resents both his father and stepfather for never really being there for him, his stepfather moreso, since he at least had a choice about the distance he kept.

5. His stepfather is a mage, which is why Nate's a ghost now. It takes extensive contact with the occult for a human to remain as a ghost after death.

6. He loves his mama, but she was always anxious, particularly about raising her children in a big city, and a bit smothering. That's part of the reason he moved away for college.

7. He's never been religious, and during college all his friends were calling themselves atheists so he did too. While he's angry with any god that would let him die so young, if an all-powerful deity spontaneously generated that bus specifically to run him down, that would be preferable to learning there's nothing after death, and that his afterlife means as little as his actual life.

8. Knows a bunch of random trivia from watching Jeopardy with his siblings -- there were always reruns when it was too early to go to bed but too late to be outside.

9. He's always made friends easily, made more evident by his ability to build relationships with everyone in the house even in the midst of post-death depression.

10. He and his friends were extras in a movie once, as it was filming at their school. If it's ever on TV, he makes sure to watch the scene where they're skateboarding in the background.

10 Facts about Elarin

1. Like her parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and likely even earlier ancestors, she was born in space, on the freighter her parents worked on: her father was a mechanic, her mother worked in security.

2. She had a lot of siblings, older and younger, but she was the only one to be taken by the Jedi.

3. While she never liked being lied to, it wasn't until she learned how much the Jedi had lied to her about who she was that she developed such a hatred for it.

4. People closer than acquaintances can call her Arin. Her childhood nickname was Ella, but only Bastila, Meaghan, and Carth can call her that.

5. She's always viewed orders by authority as "suggestions". It's caused a few problems.

6. Elarin has a very charismatic presence, drawing a lot of attention and winning people over very quickly. She uses it occasionally, but she's never understood why she has it.

7. She's made the attempt more than once, but she's never managed to fully understand why her previous self fell to the dark side. She isn't sure if that's a good or bad thing.

8. While she's brilliant at war strategy, tactics is one of the few things she's neither excellent or terrible at, and during the wars she had to rely on her advisors to help her with them.

9. She can't remember anything about Malak from before, so all she really knows of him is his Darth Malak self. She still feels guilty about her part in that.

10. Because canon is dumb (and not even canon anymore), Elarin did leave after the events of KotOR 1 to investigate things from her past, but she returned not long after the events of KotOR 2. As far as official records are concerned, however, the former Darth Revan never returned from beyond the Outer Rim, fate unknown.

Thanks for asking!

#ask #answer #OCs #lauren winston #ian grayson #aidan michaels #ash jackson #nate vasquez #avery hawke (dragon age 2) #elarin (knights of the old republic) #valiantarcher

[zedb1939]

Aura’s Dawning Recital: A Destiny 2 Dawning Fanfiction:

——————

Aura Winters sighed as she looked down at her sheet music and notes in her hands as she felt nervous as she scratched through her purple hair and then slammed her head against her desk. She just groaned before she turned her head and looked at the group photo she had of her fireteam before the Red War. She stood in the middle of the 6 with a smile and a peace hand-sign held up next to Cole Marks on her right who had his arm around her waist while Zed-2 leaned against her left shoulder with his hood pulled up and him giving an Exo grin. On the ground sat a female Titan, Callie, and 2 Hunters, Amaya and Anders Flores, a couple. The 2 were gone in the assault on the City, leaving only Zed, Aura, Cole, and Callie, who sadly lost her Ghost and was left paralyzed, and demoralized at the Therapy Center and stayed.

She stroked her hand against the framed photograph as she then groaned and wished she could go back to those times before everyone got all serious and verklempt. “You know you can sleep...” Said a digital feminine voice as her Ghost, Cassiopeia or Cass for short, floated next to her with her trippy colored Neon Helix Shell. “How’s the song coming along?” She asked in a happy French tone as she twirled to be in front of Aura, who’s face gave her an answer. “Oh...I see...what’s wrong Aura?” She asked her Guardian who just leaned back into her chair.

“Not to well my little friend...I just don’t think I can do it...” She said with a frown as she brushed her hair around and then her golden eyes met her Ghost’s bright blue one. “It’s just...after everything...Deputy-Commander Sloane, Brother Vance...Uncle Asher...” She said with a sniffle as Aura began to have tears drip from her eyes. The Awoken Warlock was crying as she held her arms close to her chest before Cass flew close and snuggled against her cheek.

“Hey hey hey...Aura you don’t have to carry this burden all by yourself...I know you miss them...especially Asher...but I know they would want you to celebrate the togetherness. You still have me, Cole, Hestia and Zed...” Cass said with a positive tone as she comforted her Guardian who sniffled and then turned her head and then hugged her and smiled. “Oh Cass...what would I do without you?” She asked her Ghost with a chuckle.

“Most likely you’d die from boredom and be forced to help New Lights...” Cassiopeia said with a happy tone as she pulled away and helped her Guardian as the two finished practicing for Aura’s recital in a couple of hours.

——————

Aura then breathed in and out as she adjusted her Frostreach robes and outfit as she closed her eyes and breathed once more. After doing so she looked out at the amphitheater in a park of The Last City. Sitting in the rows were dozens of citizens and Guardians alike, from Exo to Awoken to lots of Humans, with a few stray Ghosts here and there. Sitting in the front row were her best friends, Zed-2 the Exo Hunter and his Ghost Zephyr, then the Human Titan with an Awoken/Human baby in his lap, Cole Marks, their daughter Hestia, and his Ghost Howitzer.

Aura smiled happily and waved at Cole who waved back at her. She had flushed cheeks as she then rubbed her hair back and put a flower into her hair and breathed out once a Ghost flew out to introduce her.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and Guardians alike!!! We at the Guardians Entertainment Guild are proud to wish you all a Happy Dawning!!! I am Didi the Ghost, here to present one of our newest members in her debut with a Pre-Golden Age song for you all!! So please give a warm welcome to Aura Winters and her Ghost Cassiopeia!!!” Didi, The Ghost of Marcus Wren, announced aloud to the crowd as the curtains opened to show Aura standing in the middle of the stage.

Aura breathed out as she looked out at the people, her staring at Cass and then began to sing out.

“Children...sleeping...”

“Snow, is softly falling...”

“Dreams are calling...”

“Likes bells in the distance...”

~~~~

As she sang the people and children listened and fell in love with her beautiful voice as she said each word and matched up with the tone of the music. She had salvaged the song from an old Pre-Golden Age music system. She had reforged it into a more fitting City song the Guardians and others could use better.

~~~~

“We were, dreamers...”

“Not so long ago...”

“But one by one...”

“We all had to grow up”

~~~~

She continued as the music started small and would remain so calm and easy that it made it easy for everyone to follow it and sing along once they heard enough of the music.

~~~~

“When it seems the magic slipped away...”

“We find it all again day by day...”

~~~~

She kept going while Cass played the music through the speakers and she spun around with her little accenting lights from her shell spreading out a bunch of projections. As the Dawning snowflake projections moved around the children of the City giggled and laughed as they listened.

~~~~

“Believe in what your heart is saying...”

“Hear the melody that's playing...”

“There's no time to waste...”

“There's so much to celebrate...”

~~~~

She continued to let her voice carry and move throughout the amphitheater. Slowly snow began to fall as the civilians bunched together in blankets and heaters while Guardians seemed unphased as they sat and admired Aura with awe and admiration. Zed-2 leaned back and smiled with his glowing red eyes showing his admiration. Cole held his daughter who stared in amazement at her mother and knew it was her voice in the air.

~~~~

“Trains move quickly...”

“To their journey's end...”

“Destinations...”

Are where we begin again...”

~~~~

“Ships go flying...”

Far across the sky...”

“Trusting starlight...”

“To get where they need to be...”

~~~~

“When it seems that we have lost our way...”

“We find ourselves again on day by day...”

~~~~

“Believe in what your heart is saying...”

“Hear the melody that's playing...”

“There's no time to waste...”

“There's so much to celebrate...”

~~~~

“Believe in what you feel inside...”

“And give your dreams the wings to fly...”

“You have everything you need...”

“If you just believe...”

~~~~

“If you just believe...”

“If you just believe...”

“If you just believe...”

~~~~

“Just believe...”

“Just believe...”

~~~~

She finished her song as she slowly opened her eyes and was met with a roar of applause as the crowd erupted in approval and compassion for Aura’s beautiful rendition of an old song from before the Golden-Age.

She smiled and giggled happily as she rubbed her hair around as she grew some tears before taking a bow with her Ghost and then stood up straight and then she sighed out as she was handed bouquets of flowers for herself as she walked off the stage and was greeted and complimented. She then made it over to her fireteam and daughter. “Aww there’s my favorite people in the universe!!!” Aura said with a smile as she walked over to her and hugged them all.

“Damn Aura! I knew you were a good singer but that was amazing!!” Zed said as he hugged her tightly and he pulled away, his cloak bellowing slightly as he looked at her with his Exo smile. “Aww you flatter me Mr. Exo...” Aura said with a smile as she waved a hand at him. Zed just chuckled in response before he saw Cole come over it’s his and Aura’s infant daughter, Hestia.

“And there is my adorable little hearth nugget!!!” Aura said with a wide smile as she walked slightly fast to her husband holding her daughter in his arms as she giggled and then got in a group cuddle hug as she reached out for her mother’s face. “Well did you think Cole?” Aura asked Cole as he looked at her with his blue and blind white eye. “Hmm...well it was a little pitchy...” He said before smiling widely.

“Ah I’m just yanking your Ghost!! You were beautiful!! Me and Hestia both thought so! Isn’t that right Hesty?” He asked her as she giggled and nodded. “Mama goodie!” The little Awoken/Human hybrid baby said as she cuddled her mother from her little flannel onesie. Aura giggled happily as she hugged her daughter and husband. Truly she was blessed in every sense.

“Hey how about we go get some Ramen? My treat!!” Zed suggested with a smile as he looked at them and they laughed and nodded. “That sounds wonderful Zed. What do you think Hesty?” She asked her daughter with a smile as Hestia nodded and she then booped her nose. “Ramen for our Dawning Feast!!!” Aura said with a smile as they all cheered and proceeded down the streets of The Last City, truly it was a Happy Dawning indeed for Fireteam Blitzkrieg.

——————

The End

——————

Song: Edited version of Believe by Josh Groban

All OC’s created and Fireteam Blitzkrieg goes to myself.

Didi The Ghost belongs to Bungie and Destiny and SPL Hunter Marcus Ren ^^

#destiny 2 #destiny the game #warlock #awoken #aura winters #zed 2 #cole marks #fireteam blitzkrieg #the dawning #destiny fanfiction #microfiction #asher mir #sloane #awoken/human baby #Hestia #recital #believe #josh groban

[puckngrind]

Skating Lessons part 8

Summary: Dinner with Josh’s parents

Warning: swearing and smut 

Word count: 2706

Series Masterlist

Morning sex with Josh may in fact be your favorite.  It was sweet and sensual and while all of your senses might not have been awake the ones that were were overstimulated with passion.  You could get use to it that was for sure.  You made Josh coffee and handed him your teal monogrammed tumbler. You laughed as he spun it in his hand taking in the monogram.

“The rest of them say mom.  Do you really want those?”  He kisses you lightly and you turn to make your cup and he taps you on your ass.

“Maybe I’ll need to replace this one...”  You inhale sharply taking in what he was insinuating as his thumb traces your last name initial, “and do you really think the guys aren’t going to make fun of me for this too?”  Josh smirks as he walks to the door.  

“I mean you don’t have to take it...” You go to grab the coffee back but he pulls it into him.

“Hell no.  Your coffee is better than any of the shops on the way to the rink!  I’ll see you in a few hours. Okay?”  He takes a sip and leans down to kiss you before he heads out.

You had a rare Friday off from work and Mason didn’t have preschool.  You decided to take advantage of the nice morning and head to the park.  Mason played, you pushed him on the swing, took pictures of him hanging upside down to send your mom (she flips out every time) and Josh.  You soaked up the sunshine and chill of fall air when you feel your phone vibrating.   

Josh: Still at the park?

You: How do you know I’m at the park?

Josh: It’s gorgeous out and you aren’t home

You look at the time and realize Josh was done with morning skate already.

You: Just the one down the street

“I know.” You jump at Josh’s voice.  He wraps his arms around you and whispers in your ear, “so can I kiss you in front of Mason or no?”  His lips ghosted over neck.  You shivered at feeling of his breath on you.

“I mean yes but keep it simple Ander...”  Josh plants his lips on yours mid-word.  

“Like that?”  Josh smiles at you with one of those smiles that reaches his eyes.  You shake your head and eyes dart to Mason.  He’s spotted Josh and comes running.  You also notice that the other mom has spotted Josh too.  Josh scoops Mason up and you eye the other mom who now has her phone out. 

“Josh...” You whisper.  Josh’s eyes the mom while he places Mason down again.   “Yup, you okay?”  Josh’s hand swipes across your jaw as he surveys if he needs to say anything.  

“Um...sure...I think...I guess...” You spiral into trying to be confident like Amy suggested and freaking out at the same time.  You take a breath as Josh places his hand in yours.

“Yeah?” Josh squeezes your hand.  

“Yeah...I’m good.”  You look at Josh, “First one to Mace picks the movie toni...”  you take off running towards Mason and Josh comes running after you laughing.  Mason sees you running and goes running towards Josh.  “Hey!  That’s cheating!”  You laugh out.

“That’s my dude!” Josh scoops Mason up again giving him a high-five and laughing.  He takes your hand to walk back to your place.  “So Mace, what you would say about meeting my parents today?  They are super excited to meet you.”  Mason looks at you and back at Josh.

“Yes, but will...will..will I understand them?”  Mason asks and your eyebrows furrow because you never know what or why he says some things.  You go to interject but Josh beats you to it.

“Yes, why would you not...Mace, is it because they are Canadian?”  Josh chuckles a little and Mason shook his head yes and Josh about fell over laughing.  “Mace, I’m Canadian.  Do you understand me?”  You smile at Mason and Josh taking in this conversation and how cute it was.

“But sometimes you say funny things.  Like you call my hat a togue.”  Mason tugs at his Blue Jackets beanie on his head. “That’s weird.  I didn’t know if it was because you were from Canada.”  Mason says so seriously that you melt from his adorableness.   

“Well, you are right, I do say some things differently than you do and so do my parents but I think you will understand them just fine, eh?”  Josh adds to get a laugh out of Mason.  You reach your house and get ready for your dinner out.

Josh is scrolling through his phone as you come back into the family room and clear your throat to get his attention.  He looks up and his mouth drops open.

“Too much?  I wasn’t sure what to wear.”  You look down at your outfit and back at Josh who was getting up off the couch crowding into you.

“Oh no, you are just going to torture me all night with how gorgeous you are and how I cannot touch you because we are out with my parents.”  Josh leans down to kiss your forehead.  “But I cannot wait to take these off you tonight.” he whispers in your ear and runs his fingertip over your exposed collarbone.

“Mason, you ready bud?”  You raise your voice to distract yourself from how Josh is making you feel.  You hear Mason shuffling around in his room.  “So, anything good on there?”  You point to Josh’s phone.

“The mom did post the picture to her stories and tagged me but it’s actually really cute and Mason isn’t facing her.  She commented out how in love I look and that she was happy because it seems to make my game better.”  Josh looks at you placing his hand on your cheek.  “I mean she’s not wrong.  You should see the stats from before we started dating and now.  My game has improved.  You make me better in so many ways (y/n).”  You blush at the words and break away to go get Mason so you aren’t late to dinner.

The restaurant Josh’s parents picked was NOT kid friendly and didn’t even have a kid’s meal.  When Josh asked for a lid or straw for Mason’s water the waitress actually rolled her eyes at him.  You beat Josh’s parents to the restaurant and got to settle in before they arrived.  Josh mumbling under his breath that he never should have let his dad pick the place to eat.

“J, it’s fine.  Really.  Mason is big enough for a regular seat and he loves soup.”  You put your hand on Josh’s to calm him down.  Things you knew about Josh’s parents were that they owned a restaurant that they use to run, have four kids, and his dad likes fancy food which why we were here.  Josh looks at you and then up to the couple making their way to the table.  He mouthes thank you as he goes to stand up.

“Mom, Dad, this is (y/n) and Mason.”  He leans in to give his mom a hug as he introduces you.  You go to stand up and shake their hands and his mom brings you in for a hug.  You exchanged pleasantries and sit back down.  Michelle directed most of her questions to Mason as she grabbed a small paint with water activity book out of her purse for him.  His eyes grew wide as she showed him how the water changed the white pages into pictures.  You looked at Josh as he stared at his mom with the most adorable face.  Gary just studying the menu like there was a test after dinner.  

“So Josh tells us you met while Mason was skating at Ice Haus?  And Amy hasn’t stopped texting me since yesterday about how amazing you are.”  Michelle finally turns her attention to you.

“Oh, that’s embarrassing.”  You let slip out and everyone laughs.  You realize that the way Josh’s eyes get lost when he laughs is the perfect combination of his parents.  “Yes, Josh stalked us while Mason was skating during a public skate and used his open ice time to spend more time with us.”  You flash a smirk at Josh who is now nose deep in his menu.

“What? Huh?”  Josh looks up with his tongue slipped between his teeth.  He processed what you said and answers, “Oh yeah, she keeps me on my toes that’s for sure and I had to use every advantage I could to get to know her.”  Josh looks at Mason who is fully invested in the magic painting book that his parents got him.  “I mean the boy won’t even wear my jersey to a game.”  He chuckles and Mason looks up.

“I”ll wear it tomorrow.  You played really well Tuesday when I did.”  Mason states then returns his full attention to what he was doing.

“I think we are sitting behind you.  Right Joshua?”  Gary chimes in after placing his menu down finally.  

“And are we getting pedis on Sunday, (y/n)?  With Amy?”  Michelle adds.

“Yes to both, Mason and I are going to hang out with Seth.”  Josh beats you to answering.  “Dad, you are more than welcome to join but I bet you are going golfing.”

“If you want to golf with your dad, I can get my parents to...”  You start at Josh and he puts his hand on yours. 

“Nope, Mason and I have a dudes date with Seth.  Plus, I’m all golfed out from summer.” The way Josh looks at you makes you shift in your seat with the sensation that wasn’t appropriate for dinner with his parents and your son.  

Dinner went better than you expected.  You thanked the Anderson’s for dinner.  Josh grabbed Mason in his arms and you all walked to your cars.  Mason hugged Michelle before sliding into Josh’s car where Gary’s eye flashed to the car seat in the back and the sound of kids bop on the radio from the ride over.  You saw it but Josh did not.  Josh opened your car door and you slid in.  Mason’s head already bobbing as you buckled up.  Josh slid in and quickly drove off.

“So your mom is going to be a great grandma someday but I’m not sure your dad was ready for all this.”  You motion to the back of the car, yourself, and then the radio which was still kids bop but turned down so you could hardly here it.”

“I think she was made for grandma mode.  She asked me a million questions about Mason and you and if I was ready for all this.” Josh moved his hands in the directions you had then placed his hand in yours squeezing.  “Which I so am ready, incase I haven’t proven that yet, and why do you say that about my dad?  His running commentary of dinner is typical for new places.”  Josh looked over at you as he rolled to stop.

“I mean his eyes just bugged out of his head when he saw the carseat and heard the music.  I’m not sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t that.”  Josh slides his hand down your thigh and you squeeze his fingers between your legs.  

“Babe, he’s fine.  He’s just...my dad...” Josh slipped his hand further up your thigh and you squirmed again in your seat.  “I loved seeing you with them by the way.  I love seeing the people I love most at one table.  I cannot wait to take you to Toronto to show you where I grew up.”  His hand starts tracing shapes up and down your thigh.  The fact that Josh had a way of turning you on while talking about normal things was something you still weren’t use to.  Your breath hitched and Josh’s hand stopped.  “Should I stop?”  Josh’s eyes flash to the rearview mirror and then to you.  

“No, I just don’t know how you do it.  You are having the most normal conversation about your parents and yet I’m...”  You look at him then whisper. “wet.”  You look back at Mason who is snoring with his head buried in door.  Josh continues his absentminded finger tracing and chuckles a little.

“I kinda love that though.  You make all of this so easy.  We have this rhythm that I cannot explain to anyone.  I was talking to Fliggy and Dubi about it the other day and they just nodded their heads in agreement.  Each of them says that’s exactly how it is with their wives.  That until you have it with someone you don’t even know it’s a thing.”  Josh doesn’t even look over and just keeps his eyes on the road.  You easily fell into the silence of the rest drive home.  Josh carried Mason in and placed him in bed.  You put his bag in your room and flopped on the couch in between Josh’s legs as he flips through the selections of movies.  

“Um, how do I have these?”  You look at movie titles you knew were not yours.

“I logged into my account.”  Josh pulls you into his chest.  “Less Disney...”  he chuckles.

“Oh, and WHY do I have the NHL network?  When did you do that?”  You look up at Josh as he gave you a look.

“Um...I figured if I was hanging out here more that Mason and I needed the NHL network for bonding.”  You laugh but think it’s adorable.  Josh was making himself comfortable in your world and you loved it.

You didn’t get far into the movie before Josh’s hand creeped up to your collarbone and down to to your breasts.  His lips ghost your lips as he breathes you in.  “Wanna head to bed?”  He goes to stand up and pick you up.  

“Anderson, I have legs!”  You pound on his chest.   “Yeah, I just have longer ones...I’ll get there faster.”  Josh closes your door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed.  “You are so damn sexy.”  Josh’s lips are immediately on you and the weight of his body is pressed against you.  He moves down your neck and to your collarbones.  “Like so fucking sexy.”  Josh moves to remove your shirt and bra with ease.  You start to unbuttoning his shirt and Josh makes his way to your breasts bringing his hand down to your pants to remove them.  “I’m going to miss doing this next week.”  Josh continues further down your body taking time to praise you with each movement.  Your clothes thrown in the corner.  

“Josh...” You inhale as he makes his way to your core.  Moving a leg onto his shoulder.  Josh takes his time not giving you exactly what you wanted but getting super close.  You squirm again.  

“You’ve been squirming all night babe.”  Josh laughs while planting his lips on your folds.  

“You’ve been turning me on all night J.”  You reach down and run your hands through his hair as Josh jumps into action.  

He slowly curls his fingers into you and sucks at your clit.  “My girl is so ready for me.”  Josh lifts up to look at you while you moan out his name and pull at him.  “Where do you want me babe?”  Josh stops again to survey your needs and moves up to your lips.  Pressing into you and your let out a moan louder than you expected.  Josh stops and you realize he’s listening for Mason.  You pull him to you.  

“He’s not waking up hun.  I need you to in me please.”  With that Josh slides into you pulling your leg up to wrap around him.  You pull your feet into the small of his back to push Josh fully into you and he let’s out a slew of curse words laced with moans.  His rhythm speeds up and you feel your orgasm rising up in you.  “I love you so much.”  You whisper in his ear as he hits his high with you.  Riding you through he rolls over and pulls you into his chest.  

“You make me the happiest man alive, (y/n)” Josh kisses you sweetly as you tangle your bodies together.  

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #my andy man 77 #skating lessons fic

[diez-minutos]

Trust (Guzmán Nunier Oneshot)

Request: Can I get a jealous Guzmán x reader? Maybe he notices how readers always hanging out with Ander (he doesn't know about Ander's secret yet) and gets all annoyed or something? I feel like some angst and fluff tonight 😹 - @jesuiscielle

Summary: Guzmán gets jealous when you help Ander instead of going on a date with him.

Characters: reader, Guzmán, Ander, Polo, Omar (mentioned)

Pairing: Guzmán (Elite) x reader

Warning: language

Word Count: 700 words

Note: I tried to write it so the reader could be anyone (not just female) and I’d appreciate any improvements/advice/criticism anyone has for me. 

Puedo escribir una versión en español si alguien quiere!

“(Y/N), dinner tonight?” your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you as you went grabbed your book from your locker.

“I can’t tonight,” you said.

“Why not?” he asked as he spun you around. “You don’t want to hang out with me?” he whispered.

“You know I want to,” you replied as you grabbed his face gently. “But I can’t. I’m sorry.” You turned around to close your locker. “I'll see you in class.” You kissed his cheek.

“See you,” he mumbled.

You walked to your next class when Ander stopped you. “Hey, I saw you talking to Guzmán. You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“No, of course not,” you smiled. “I wouldn’t do that to you. What time should I come over?”

“Just...as soon as you can,” he said nervously. “I just...really need you to come.”

“Hey,” you said as you put your hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be there and no one will find out about it, okay?”

“Thanks,” he smiled.

As you walked into your next classroom, Polo grabbed your arm and pulled you into the hallway. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as he pulled you down the hall, away from everyone.

“What exactly are you going to be doing at Ander’s house that no one will find out about?”

“I’m not cheating on Guzmán, Polo.”

“What are you and Ander doing then?”

“Ask Ander and maybe he’ll tell you,” you said as you pulled your arm away.

“(Y/N),” he said as you turned to leave.

“What, Polo?”

“Promise you’re not cheating on him?” he asked quietly.

“I swear, Polo,” you answered softly. 

“I’m sorry. I just-”

“I’m his girlfriend. Ander’s his best friend. We wouldn’t do that. I promise.”

“Okay,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

You nodded “I know you’re just worried about him. He’s luck to have you to care about him.”

He smiled back at you.

You arrived at Ander’s house after school and he quickly let you into his room. “Thanks for coming,” he said nervously.

“What do you have so far?”

“Nothing. That’s why you’re here.”

“Ander, I’m sure you have some ideas. And, I don’t know Omar as well as you do.”

“I just want this dinner to be perfect, (Y/N). I’ve never had a boyfriend before...I’ve never had an anyone before. I don’t know how to plan an anniversary dinner.” You noticed him blushing slightly.

“Ander, don’t panic,” you grabbed his shoulders. “We can do this. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” You hugged him close.

“Do what?” you turned around and saw Guzmán. “Let go of my girlfriend, you asshole.”

“Asshole? What are you talking about?” Ander asked confused.

“I can’t believe you two would do this to me! You’re my-”

“Guzmán, we’re not doing anything,” you glared at him.

“What were you doing?”

You stepped closer to him. “I think you should leave.”

“How do I know you’re not going to do anything?”

“Trust! I trust you when your ex girlfriend touches you all the time!”

“You know Lu doesn’t means shit to me!”

“And Ander is your friend! My friend! Our friend!”

Ander grabbed your arm slightly. “Look, we don’t have to do this now.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled before walking past Guzmán out the door.

You sat in your car in Ander’s driveway. You couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were so pissed you couldn’t stand it. You heard a knock on the passenger window. You glanced at your boyfriend and looked down at your hands. Guzmán slowly opened the door and sat in the seat.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Ander told me everything. I do trust you. When Polo told me what he heard and I just got-”

“Jealous?” you mumbled back.

“Yeah...I’m a real jealous asshole. Who really hopes you forgive him. And who really wants to take you out on a date to make it up to you.”

“I’m mad at you. Stop being cute,” you grumbled.

“You still think I’m cute?” he said as he grabbed your hand.

“You’re still an asshole, too,” you said finally looking him in the eye.

“A cute asshole?” he smiled.

“A cute asshole,” you finally gave in. 

#diez-minutos writing #guzman nunier #guzman nunier fanfiction #elite #elite netflix #elite fanfiction #ander #polo #omar #requested

[moustashleighdabbles]

Just what the Doctor ordered

Part 3 (Part 4 // Part 2 / Part 1)

Fenris/Anders, SFW, Fluff, 900 words. To be continued. Doctor Anders and Mortician Fenris.

Next part for the wonderful @ithinkitsdashing :3

“Why is it so cold down here? Oh, right, dead people.” Anders slowly made his way down the harshly lit halls that lead under the hospital. 

Still, clinical air hung tranquil as he moved toward the steal door. Only the warmth of the cup in his hands kept him moving into the eerie depths, the chill in the air wasn’t the only thing that used to keep Anders away from the mortuary. There was no smell of death, but there was a sickening feeling that hung, watching and uncaring to all those who entered. 

“Fenris? I brought you some coffee, I didn’t see you at lunch, so I just thought-” The shiver that ran down his spine felt unnatural, like he was being watched. 

Why do the dead have to be so creepy? Couldn’t Fenris work with small cute fluffy bunnies, rather than scary, still, rotting dead people? Anders though frantically to himself as he walked around an illuminated metal table in the centre of the room, everything was just as clinical down here with the white walls and harsh lighting, but it was oh so cold. The corridors were darker, he wasn’t going to venture too far, who knew how large the collection of dead was down here? 

“Anders?” He spun around so fast the coffee and hot chocolate he was holding almost became a mocca all over his coat. 

In one hand Fenris held a headphone, and in the other a bloody heart, thank the maker he was wearing gloves. This would have been the time for Anders to make a terrible joke about where his heart lay for Fenris, but instead he recoiled in horror, it was the last thing he expected the mortician to be holding. Bumping into the large trays that held bodies hidden away behind steal, Anders took a moment to steady himself before thrusting the coffee out in front of him with a weak smile. 

That damn man just chuckled, a deep warm sound that made Anders heart flutter. Damn him. He disappeared into a darkened corridor without a word, for more minutes than Anders would have appreciated. he clutched the warm drinks to keep him from calling out for the white-haired man. 

“Thank you, Anders,” Cold hands wrapped around the now luke warm paper cup. 

“Bloody hell man! You are going to give me a heart attack sneaking up on me like this!” Anders almost made the fatal mistake of jumping back when Fenris appeared next to him out of yet another corridor. 

“My apologies,” he murmured before he took a sip of the pitch-black liquid. 

Anders wished he could savour this moment, the deep reverberation of Fenris’s voice, the closeness and fleeting touch. He could see the dark long eyelashes flutter as the liquid caressed his lips, small dimples appearing by the sides of his bow lips. With his heart beating a hundred miles an hour and his brain suddenly being unable to function, he didn’t get the chance to experience the closeness, he just could help himself blurting out a terrible joke. 

“Did the last patient have a change of heart?” Anders was holding in an almost hysterical laugh, if it slips out he is going to have to pretend that was funny and not just because he was terrified after feeling like he was in a haunted house. 

“How long did it take you to come up with that one?” There was that damn smirk again. Anders could think of many ways to get rid of it, all were inappropriate for the work place. 

“Thank you, Anders, for bringing me my coffee, I was missing it after we had an emergency autopsy that needed doing for the police. It was kind of you to think of me.” Fenris now lent on the table in the middle of the room, looking nonchalant about what had just happened. 

Anders still felt like a rabbit in the headlights, but now he was less distracted, picking out every detail of Fenris’s face.

“I missed you at lunch, well, not missed, um no not like that. I just, I, um, I didn’t see you, and you always come and get your coffee, and, um-” Anders, shut up you are embarrassing yourself! “-yes. How did you, how did you learn all this stuff then, I never got the chance to ask when you arrived?” That’s better, normal people ask questions, and don’t blabber about missing handsome doctors.

“I, was trained for many years, but I don’t like to think about it, it was…unorthodox.” Fenris’s bold frame slumped inward slightly, he no longer held his gaze with emerald eyes. 

You have really gone and put your foot in it haven’t you. 

“Oh, well, we all learn things here and there, don’t we?” If he leaves now maybe he can stop digging his own grave. “I hope you like it, I grabbed it from the café down the road, it is better than the swill they serve here. I will see you tomorrow?” 

Anders smiled before nodding at Fenris’s blank face, before making his way toward the exit that would bring him back to pounce, he needed to hug that scruffy cat to make him feel slightly less of an idiot. 

“Anders, would you like to get lunch tomorrow at this café you speak so highly of?” Damn that man, if he wasn’t blushing so much he would have turned around there and then to see the smirk he knew was on those lips. 

“Yep, sounds great!” He said in a much higher voice than he intended, scuttling towards the door not looking back in fear of what he might say.

#My writing #fenders #Just what the doctor ordered #part 3 #fluff #sfw #fenris #anders #cuteness #dead people

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

17. A kiss to distract

Thank you, dear! Been a while since I’ve done DWC, so here you go! @dadrunkwriting

Ilya Surana x Zevran x AlistairRated: TWords: 1051

==

A hissed “Shh, someone’s coming!” came through the door, and Ilya stopped short, her hand hovering where it reached for the doorknob. Suspicion immediately curdled in her belly. Who would be brave enough - or stupid enough - to attack the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden-Commander of the Grey, in her own suite at the Denerim Palace? 

She dropped her traveling bag and quietly divested herself of her thick cloak. Lightning crackled at her fingertips, where the Fade grew that much closer to the waking world. She could feel the warmth of approval in the mixed self she shared with Justice and heard their voice in her own words.

“Whoever’s in there,” Ilya called through the heavy door, “you have three seconds to come out before I walk in - and if I open this door, you won’t like it.” 

One. Two. Thr–

Zevran burst through the door and pulled it closed behind him with a jarring thud. A harried smile crawled across his face. “Mi amor! You are early!” he said loudly, his voice carrying through the deserted corridor. “We - I - hadn’t expected you for another hour.” He threw himself into Ilya’s arms and pulled her away from the door, peppering her face with quick, playful kisses. 

Ilya craned her neck to look at the door, frowning. “Zev - love, what–” 

“Mm, I’ve missed you.” Zevran crowded her against the wall in the empty hallway. His fingers threaded easily into the loose waves of her hair. He bent his head to whisper against her lips, “You should come home early more often.” 

Zevran finally kissed her. Fully. Properly, he would say, possessive and wanting and loving. Ilya felt herself melting with the way his mouth fit hers, with every sweep of his tongue. Her arms twined about his shoulders and pulled them flush as he kissed her breathless. 

“I love you,” she murmured when they broke for air. She tipped her head to rest her brow against Zevran’s own. “But we didn’t survive the Blight by being unobservant.” 

He chuckled. “Cannot hide anything from the famed Warden-Commander, hm?” Zevran smiled and rubbed his nose against Ilya’s own before stepping away. He extended his hand. “May I, cariña?” 

Ilya laced her fingers with his own. The suspicion tried to grow once more, but Zev’s smile left it withering somewhere around her navel. She squeezed his hand. “What’s going on?” 

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all.” He pulled her back to the door. “I was just supposed to distract you for a moment.” 

With a flourish, Zevran pushed open the door to the suite he and Ilya shared. A cacophony of noise erupted, and people burst from every possible hiding place. Motes of multicolored light danced and flickered from the ceiling, bobbing playfully toward their heads only to pull up short and zoom through the room. 

“Happy birthday!” came some twenty voices, singing the words in various tones and pitches. At the fore, Alistair waved shyly, glad in muted blue and silver. 

“Head’s up, Surana!” A soft green light was lobbed toward her head, and, barely thinking, Ilya caught it between her fingers with a smile. 

A bubble of laughter erupted from Ilya’s throat. “Anders!” She flung the light back to him and stepped into the growing crowd that gathered around her, letting the Warden crew crowd her into a group hug. It was hot and cloying, and a touch claustrophobic, and it was perfect. 

“Okay, okay, Warden In Charge Number Two coming through.” Alistair laughed as he shouldered his way into the clinging mass to come up next to her. “Now avert your eyes, children,” he said, smiling down at Ilya, “I have something to tell your erstwhile mother.”

The Wardens whooped when Alistair scooped her into his arms and kissed her soundly, their raucous catcalling only worsening when they broke apart, took a breath, and laughed their way into another kiss. 

Zev was waiting for her the moment Alistair let her go. He swept her into another kiss, far more chaste than those in the hallway outside. Together they crushed her between them. Ilya was warm and secure, and it was more home than anywhere else had ever been. 

“We have a surprise guest, my loves,” Zev chastised with mock severity. “Think of those innocent souls.” 

Ilya turned and found a nervous reflection of her own face. “Oh, Anara.” She pulled herself from the grip of her lovers and smoothed down her rumpled tunic, gaze darting to their King. “That was – Alistair is only –” 

“It’s nothing,” her twin hurried to say. “It’s – well – we had heard, in the alienage, and… I don’t wish to intrude, but your – but Zevran had visited, and told us of your return, and…” 

Anara twisted her hands errantly as she trailed off. It was something halfway familiar, something that struck some hidden inner chord in Ilya’s core. Ilya found herself crossing through the crowd to her. Anara stilled. 

“I can go if you’d like,” Anara offered, her nerves plain on her face when Ilya reached her. “I know we’re not… we’re…” Anara huffed and wiped at her eyes. “These people are your family.” 

Ilya frowned and gingerly pulled her twin into a hug. Anara stiffened for only a split second before returning it, her face burrowing into the crook of Ilya’s shoulder. 

“You’re family, too, Anara,” Ilya murmured. “I’m… I’m sorry I don’t know you as well as I know these ruffians –” 

“Hey!” came Anders’ indignant cry from behind her. 

“– but you are my family. I am honored that you are here.” Ilya tipped her head to butt her forehead lightly against Anara’s own. “Stay. Meet my people, if you’d like. You are welcome here.” 

Anara smiled and pulled Ilya into a tight hug. She spun around, dragging Ilya’s feet from the ground for a moment, and laughed. “I will, I will,” Anara said. Tears shone in her warm eyes. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Ilya wheezed when Anara put her down. “You – you sure are strong. Here,” she said, taking Anara’s hand. “I’ll introduce you.”

Across the room, Alistair and Zevran watched them, and Ilya smiled her thanks. Alistair’s own smile grew goofy, and he high-fived Zevran, who blew her a kiss.

Ilya squeezed Anara’s hand where their fingers were laced, and began the introductions to her ragtag misfit family.

======

Like my writing? Consider checking out my links and supporting me through Ko-Fi or Patreon! 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and welcome!

[AO3] [Patreon] [Ko-Fi] [Commissions] [Writing tag] [Twitter]

#da drunk writing circle #surana #zevran arainai #alistair theirin #surana x zevran x alistair #series: escaping the cage #survranistair #soulrebel writes #dragon age: origins #dao #dragon age #fanfiction #fanfic #warden surana #dickeybbqpit #reblogs welcome and appreciated! thank you!!

[thatapostateboy]

For the fic prompt meme: “I’d die for you.” Handers please!

So here are all of my feelings, feel free to read them on Ao3 instead here

Summary: In the distance, the Chantry is burning, but all Marie Hawke can look at is Anders.

Marie couldn’t take her eyes off the Chantry burning in thedistance. The smoke and ash from the fires had filled the skies, blocking outthe stars. Everything had finally come to a head, the Templars, the mages, thesecrets that Anders had been keeping… It all made sense now.

She could hear the Knight Commander invoking the Right ofAnnulment; hear the cries of protests from the mages and the First Enchanter,their pleas of innocence.

It was Garrett’s hand on her shoulder that pulled her out ofher trance. She whipped her head around and saw that everyone’s eyes were onher.

“I’m defending the mages, sister,” he told her, his voicelow, watching her face carefully, “I am not going to stand by and let herslaughter my people.”

“Consider your choice carefully, Champion,” Meredith warnedher, “You may not be a mage, but if you stand with them, you will share theirfate.”

She looked between the mages and Templars. The mages werenot her people, not like they were Garrett’s. He could lead them in a way shenever could. She had no obligation to them. No magic ran through her veins. Butit was as deep rooted in her life as the people she loved. Her father, herbrother and sister, Merrill, Anders… Thosewere her people. Her family. And she would protect them, no matter what,because that was her role. She had kept the innocents of Kirkwall safe foryears, she had defended the mages at every turn. She was not going to abandonthem now.

“I will not help you, Meredith,” Marie told the KnightCommander, then looked to Garrett, “I am with you, brother. Always.”

They moved to stand in front of the mages, beside the FirstEnchanter; the Champions of Kirkwall, side by side, never standing alone. Shekept her eyes fixed on the Templars. If she looked around, she would seeAnders, and she couldn’t face him, not now, not with Meredith here.

Meredith took her Templars and left to rouse the rest of theorder whilst Orsino told his mages to get to the Gallows. He glanced once atAnders and told the Champions that he would leave him for them to deal with.

When they were alone with their friends, Marie finally letherself look around at him. He had sat himself on a crate so that no one couldsee his face, staring at the floor. She felt as though all the air had beenknocked out of her when she realised that all of this, all of the destructionaround them, had been caused by him. It may have been the spirit’s idea, but itwould have been his hands that made the explosives that killed the people inthe Chantry, those healer’s hands that she loved so much.

But this was what the conflict needed. It was never going tobe resolved. It needed a catalyst. It would lead to many deaths, but it gavethe mages a chance; something they didn’t have before. A chance for freedom.

“Go to him,” Garrett said quietly to her, “Whatever youdecide, I will stand by it.”

She walked slowly, feeling the impact of every footfall onthe ground as she approached Anders. She looked at the back of his head,thinking of every single part of him that she loved, his smile, his eyes, hislaugh. She wanted nothing more than to reach out, hug him, touch his shoulder,anything, just to let him know that she was here.

But then she would remember the Chantry burning behind herand she would stay her hand.

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t,” Anders said quietlywhen he felt her presence behind him, “There’s nothing you can say that Ihaven’t already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myselfforever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice dry, “I mighthave understood.” That was a lie. There was no ‘might’ about it. She wouldhave understood. She always understood. She would have been there for him,helped him look for a better way, but she knew, deep down, that if it had cometo it, if he had asked, she would have helped him.

“I wanted to tell you,” he admitted, “But what if youstopped me?… Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn’t let you dothat… Because I know you, Marie, I know that you would have wanted to. The lessyou knew, the safer you were,” his head raised a little, but he didn’t lookaround at her, “The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretendingthat the Circle is a solution… And if I pay for that with my life, then so beit.”

She let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t be suggesting thatshe should kill him. Was this what he wanted? He had done his work and now hewould be made a martyr for it. Or would it be a punishment?

Garrett’s words echoed in her head.

Whatever you decide…

Garrett knew. He understood the end that Anders wouldexpect, knew what he would sacrifice for the cause, what everyone had warnedher about all these years. And yet here she was, hoping for the best as always.

“Whatever you do, please just do it,” he said quietly toher, “And just… Just know that I’m glad it’s you, not some Templar… It was niceto be happy, for a while. You know I never belonged anywhere, not in theCircle, not in the Wardens, but I finally had a chance to have a home, afamily… And I owe that to you.”    

She stood completely still, hand poised over her dagger. Shethought about it. She knew she could make it quick and painless for him,because even after everything he had done, she owed him that much. It would bekinder to kill him now; she didn’t know what life he could lead after today.

“Anders,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he begged, “Please… Just do it.”

“Anders,” her voice hardened, “Look at me.”

Slowly, he turned his head and he looked at her. He watchedher as she unsheathed her daggers, swallowing nervously at the sight of them.Her eyes met his and she threw the blades aside, sending them clattering acrossthe street.

“No.”

He got to his feet, looking around for her daggers, “Marie…What are you doing… You-”

“No,” she said again, that fierce, protective fire that Anders lovedso much was burning more powerfully in her eyes than he’d ever seen before,“Don’t you dare ask me to do that.Not to you. Not ever.” She was shaking, but she didn’t reach for him like shenormally would. She couldn’t. Not yet. “Come with us. Help us fight theTemplars.”

He watched her, almost disbelieving. She still wanted tokeep him safe, after all this time, after everything he had done. He nodded, “Iwill. Damned right I will.”

They spun around, however, when they heard Sebastian’svoice, “No!” the prince snarled, pulling his bow from his back and knocking anarrow into it, aiming it at Anders, “He cannot be allowed to walk free.”

She knew the threat was real, so she quickly placed herselfin front of Anders so that the arrow was pointed at her instead, “If you wantAnders, you’ll have to go through me.”

“Stand aside,” Sebastian ordered, “If you cannot kill him, Iwill. He dies, or I am returning to Starkhaven. And I will bring such an armyon my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarumto rule.” She didn’t move an inch. She stood there, unarmed, staring him down.He gave a hard laugh, “You truly are a fool. You defend him after everything hehas done?” he narrowed his eyes at her.

“I defend him because he is right,” she told him, “I defend him because I cannot win this fightwithout him.”

“You defend him for love, and that love has blinded you fromthe truth. He must die.”

Shestood fast, “You kill him, you have to kill me first.”

“Youare unarmed.”

“Tryit,” she challenged, “I dare you.” She stared him down, not moving an inch. Shewas ready to kill him if she had to. He would die before she let him hurtAnders.

“Iexpected more from you,” he said, “You claim to be a protector of innocents,and yet you will let this murderer go free.”

Garrettfinally moved, coming to stand beside his sister, in front of his best friend.He was true to his word. Whatever she decided, he would stand by it.

Sebastianwatched him for a moment, hoping for a flicker of his dearest friend, the manwho sat with him for hours in the Chantry and talked with him about belief andduty, who dragged him to the Hanged Man so he wouldn’t miss out on all of thefun, who had only ever called him ‘Seb’, telling him that he didn’t care if hewas a prince; he was his friend first, fancy names and titles second. ButGarrett’s eyes narrowed on him.

“Donot interfere, Sebastian,” Garrett warned him.

So be it, the prince thought as helowered his bow, trying not to flinch at how easily Garrett seemed to have madehis decision, “I will not fight you both. My death here would serve no purpose.I will return to Starkhaven, but… I swear to you, I will come back, and findyour precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is!”

He left, and Marie let out a breath she didn’t know she’dbeen holding in. She wondered whether he could have done it; killed her just totake revenge on Anders.

The war was starting tonight, and none of them could stopit.

 ****

Fighting to the Gallows wasn’t easy. They split into twogroups, Garrett leading one, Marie leading the other, agreeing to meet at thedocks. Anders fought at her side, but didn’t say a word the entire time. Once they had finallyarrived, having fought through the already war torn streets, he separatedhimself from the group as everyone patched up from the previous fights,readying themselves for the battle ahead.

He watched Marie as she made her way around the hall,speaking to each of her friends in turn, giving them instructions for thecoming battle, pulling them all into a hug to thank them for sticking by herside even when the odds were against them and no doubt saying goodbye in casethings didn’t go their way. Everyone had stood by them, with the exception ofSebastian. Fenris had taken some convincing, but in the end he knew where hisloyalties lay.

Marie and Garrett stood together for a few moments,exchanging goodbyes of their own. But when they were done, she didn’t go tospeak to the First Enchanter, instead she headed towards him. He stood, holdinghis breath, waiting for her to speak, to yell at him, tell him it was over,that her sparing him meant nothing and that she wanted nothing more to do withhim.

But she said nothing. She stood in front of him, looking upat him, unable to fathom what to say.

“Say something,” he begged after a few moments.

She continued to watch him, anger burning in the normallywarm brown of her eyes.

“Marie, please-” He barely got the word out before her handshot out and she slapped him hard across the cheek. He winced from the pain.

She stared at him, tears in her eyes, “I accepted that youwould have secrets, that you wouldn’t be able to tell me everything so that youcould keep people safe, I understood what you were willing to sacrifice. But this?” she glanced around the Gallows,at the mages who were already tending to battle wounds and weeping for thosethat had been lost, “You assumed that I would kill you. I don’t care whatyou’ve done, you know that I would neverbe able to do that. I would rather have helped you destroy the Chantry thaneven think about shoving my knife in your back.”

“I didn’t think you would have a choice,” he told her quietly,aching to reach for her, to wipe away her tears and comfort her, but he couldn’t.This was his fault.

“There is always a choice. Haven’t you understood it by now,you stupid bastard? I made my choice a long time ago, you know that.”

He hung his head, letting out a hard breath, “I should have trustedyou.”

“Yes, you should have.”

They were both quiet for a moment, before the burningquestion pushed past his lips, “So what happens now?”

“Never again, do you hear me?”

He glanced up at her when he realised that the hard edge toher voice had eased, “What?”

“No more secrets, no more self-sacrifice, no more ‘I’d diefor you’s. If we live through this, that is exactly what we are going to do; weare going to live. I told you once aboutthe future I want for us; the cottage in Fereldan, with the garden, and a cat,and a kitchen so I can bake. We may never get it, but I’m willing to fight forit; are you?”

Her eyes met his and he felt his heart leap. She wasn’tgoing to leave him.

“I am,” he told her, “There is nothing I want more.”

She took hold of his hands, interlocking their fingers, squeezingthem tight. He restedhis forehead against hers, both savouring in the quiet intimacy of the moment.He knew she was angry, that it would take time for her to forgive the lies anddeceptions and everything else. He had warned her of this, that it would alwayshave come to this. That she would have to make a choice between staying inKirkwall among the riches and the nobility, or being with him. But he shouldhave realised sooner. She would always choose him.

“We’llfight for a world where our children can be born mages and free,” he said,running his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Our children?” she looked at him.

“Noone knows what the future will hold… One day, ten years, a hundred years fromnow, someone like me will love someone like you and there will be no Templarsto tear them apart.”

Shereached up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was gentle, and hebarely had time to kiss her back before the sound of the Templars breaking downthe door grew louder and she pulled away, but it was enough.

“Thebattle is beginning,” she said quietly, unsheathing her daggers, then looked upat him, “Stay with me?”

Hereadied his staff,  “There is nothingthat could take me from your side.”

#teenytabris #I am in Handers PAIN #and I blame you #handers #anders #dragon age 2 #marie hawke #hawke/anders #f!handers #writing