#because i remembered at least one scene where anders is sitting on his bed. looking absolutely dreamy

[disdaidal]

"Hey, babe." "Where have you been?" "Out." "It's kind of late, you know. "I'm a vampire, Anders. Late is kind of what we do." "Well I was getting... worried." "Oh, you were worried about me? Aw, that's so sweet of you!" "Come to bed. Now." "Oh, don't need to tell me twice..."

[typical-simplelove]

Bragger (M. Barzal)

A/n: This is based of Kelsea Ballerini’s Bragger and a very self-indulgent fic. Enjoy!! 

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 5.3k (including song lyrics)

Italics are flashbacks

“So, Yn, tell us all about Mathew. What’s he like?” Candace, your maid of honor, asks.

You look at her puzzled. “What do you mean ‘what’s he like’?”

You were sitting at your bachelorette party; you didn’t want anything too big, so you decided on brunch with some of your friends, bridal party, and the WAGs.

“I mean, tell us all about him. How happy he makes you, how he drives you crazy but in the good way. Just brag about your fiance. Today is about you so whatever you want to share.

You smile just thinking about Mathew. Yeah, you could talk about him for days. His smile. The way his hair curls over his forehead. His arms. Dear Lord, don’t get started on his arms. You were about to start but remembered Liana, Mathew’s sister, was sitting with you as well. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. You also didn’t really want to brag about your relationship.

“Liana, are you okay with this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you say. You and Liana have grown quite close during your relationship with Mathew and especially close after the proposal.

Liana just smiles. “Go ahead, bride-to-be. It is your bachelorette party. You go talk about the man you love.”

“Well, then. What do you want to know?” You say with a smirk on your face.

He's got the look, he's got the touch He's got the eyes that make me crush And he's not one to make a scene But he deserves the spotlight He ain't from 'round this side of town But he fits in to every crowd And he knows how to do my body and my heart right

Mathew Barzal. Where do you even begin? The start? The first time you kissed? The way he walks around your apartment without a shirt on because (a) he refuses to do so and (b) knows it gets you going? The beautiful eyes that make you want to melt the minute you look into them? Just the fact that he knows exactly what to do to make you weak in your knees? The fact that Mathew knows exactly what to do to make the heat rush to your face and make you flustered? The list goes on and on.

“Tell us about something he does that annoys you but you secretly love,” Tessa, your high school best friend, says. She knows exactly what you’re going to say. You have spilled this to her multiple times. However, the fact that she’s asking makes your heart grow warm, best friends forever, right?

You pretend to ruminate over what to say. You, once again, look at Liana for reassurance. You doubt she wants to hear about her brother walking around half-naked. She nods and signals you to continue. You take a deep breath; you never did like talking about yourself. “Um, well, he walks around our apartment without a shirt on all the time. Not even in the mornings after we wake up. He just refuses to ever wear a shirt.”

Some of the girls sigh. Grace, Anders’ wife, and Sydney, Matt’s wife, look at you with understanding. Hockey players really hate wearing shirts and love showing off their chests. Grace and Sydney know exactly what you’re talking about.

“He claims it’s because he knows he can get a rouse out of me, which he can, but it’s also because I don’t think he likes to wear a shirt.”

“Mathew is very proud of the way he looks,” Liana adds and you smile knowing that she knows what Mathew is like. “When he used to come home before dating you, mom had to remind him to put on a shirt.”

You laugh. “I try to tell him to put on a shirt but he always just,” you pause reminiscing the memory. “He’ll just,” you feel the rush of heat to your cheeks as you try to put the words together.

“Even without Mathew here, he’s got you flustered,” Grace says with a warm smile. She loves seeing two young people hopelessly in love.

You shake your head playfully but put on a large smile. “He’ll do this thing with his face and then kiss me in a way that knocks out my breath, and I just forget about him putting on a shirt.”

“He just gets away with not wearing a shirt? He just kisses you and that’s it?” one of your bridesmaids questions. She smirks. “My husband has to do more than just kiss me for me to forget he’s walking around without a shirt.”

“Well, no wonder you’re pregnant,” you playfully retort. She knows you’re joking, and she smiles back at you.

“You’ve got me there, ynn.” The group erupts into laughter.

“Well, then, if we’re on the topic of kissing. I’m not going to ask what happens behind the doors for your own privacy. But, what’s it like kissing Mathew?” Lila, another bridesmaid, asks.

You melt at the thought of kissing Mathew. A wide smile erupts across your face.

“Clearly he kisses tremendously well,” Liana says, and her response shocks you.

You look at her and glare at her playfully.

“I’m just making an observation. Just the thought of kissing my brother puts a giant smile on your face.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I’m not sure if this is going to make sense but just here me out. When he kisses me, I never doubt he loves me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a small peck, a passionate kiss, or we’re making out. Sorry, Liana. There’s always love, and it’s almost as if it’s overflowing.”

“Oh, to be young and in love,” someone comments and everyone laughs.

“We do this thing where, assuming he’s not on a road trip, we always kiss each other good night, even if we’re angry. Yeah, I know the marriage advice. Don’t go to bed angry. Blah blah. Okay. But still. We’ll be angry and have yet to resolve the fight and just go to bed. We kiss each other goodnight angrily but the love is still there. I don’t doubt it. The way his lips linger on mine, and the gentleness despite being angry is there. I always go to bed knowing that we can sort out whatever problem we are having at the moment.”

“You guys are literally what I strive to have in a relationship,” Candace says. She wiggles her eyebrows as she says the next thing. “Any more kissing stories? Maybe some not so clean?”

You were taking a sip of your mimosa, and you choked on it. The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you know exactly what she wants. Just thinking about Mathew’s lips on anywhere else other than your lips has you turning to putty. You have to put down your glass for fears of dropping it and spilling it. These were nice glasses. You had them made that says ‘I Do Crew’, and you didn’t want to break them. Your reaction has everyone snickering.

“I hate to interject but if you’re going to talk about your sex life, I’m going to have to walk away,” Liana says. She can stomach talking about her brother kissing you but anything more than that was not something she was comfortable with.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m comfortable talking about that, especially this sober.”

“Well, then, we have to think of something else. Come on ladies, we can figure this out.” Candace says. You really didn’t like talking about yourself. You don’t want to brag because you know that not everyone can have what you have with Mathew.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Candace is about to say something but is stopped when you get a phone call. You look at the caller ID and see that it’s Mathew.

“Speaking of the lover,” Candace says, and you glare at her. “Just answer the phone. We’ll use your reactions as a conversation point.”

You pick up the phone and instantly have a giant smile on your face as Mathew says “Hi, baby.” The girls around you hoot and holler at your grin.

“Hey,” you say back to him.

“Wow, it sounds like you’re in a hockey locker room. How’s it going? I just wanted to check on you. I’m about to head out for my event.” Tito is taking Mathew and his friends to go golfing and then a dinner tonight for Mathew’s Bachelor party.

“Yeah, it seems like that sometimes. We’re doing well. We ate already and might get some dessert in a bit.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Funny enough, you.”

You can’t see him but you know that there’s a giant smirk on his face. “Oh yeah? What about me are you talking about?”

“Nothing in particular. Just everything I love about you. The way you walk around the apartment without a shirt. The way you kiss.”

“Well, make sure you tell them about that thing I do with my lips that makes you moan my name in bed.” You instantly feel the heat rush to both your face and core remembering exactly what Mathew is talking about.

“We’ve established that I wasn’t going to talk about things like that and also your sister is here, so.”

“Well, I’ll let you go and also Tito is yelling at me to get going. I love you, future-Mrs.-Barzal.”

“I love you, too, future husband.” You hang up the phone with a giant smile on your face and the girls around you all smile. “What?”

Sydney smiles back at you. “The giant smile on your face. Mathew makes you really happy.”

Your smile, if possible, gets wider. “Yeah, he makes me really happy, and I love him more than anything.”

“It’s obvious,” Candace says. “Also, what did he say to tell us that we established we weren’t going to discuss?”

You feel your cheeks warm up again. You ignore Candace’s statement and turn to the chocolate-chip muffin on your plate.

“Oh come on, Ynn. Tell us.

“Um, Liana, I’m sorry you have to hear this,” you begin hesitantly. She just looks at you. “He told me to tell you guys about that thing he does in bed that um,” Liana nods for you to continue. “Makes me moan and yell his name.”

The girls just stare at you.

“I’m not going to, though. That’s, um, a rather private matter, and I feel the need to express that I am not going to elaborate.”

Liana smiles. “Hey, at least my brother knows how to make you feel good, right?”

You look at her and are surprised that she’s not completely disgusted with what you said.

“Don’t worry. I’m here as your friend not Mathew’s brother.”

“Yn, we want more, please tell us more!” another one of the girls at the table says to you. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. It was strong, loving, healthy, and made you extremely happy. There was something about Mathew, however, that made you want to talk about him and put him on display.

You smile. “What do you want to know?”

I've got his nights, I've got his name There ain't no shame in this girl's game If he was yours, you'd do the same Without apologizing

The girls wanted a story from the first year in your relationship. What story to tell them? There were so many. You first thought instantly goes to the first time you ever wore his jersey and went to one of his games. You begin telling the story.

You and Mathew had been dating for almost seven months before he invited you to a game. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t with him for his money or fame, and you understood that. You never prompted him or forced him to insert yourself into his life. You let Mathew decide when he wanted to introduce to his friends and teammates. You were fully content on watching Mathew from your television on game nights.

However, one night, Mathew decided that he wanted to have you at the game. It was a home game against the Rangers, a rivalry that has a long history in New York. He bought you your tickets and told you that your seats weren’t with the other WAGs per your request. You didn’t want to sit with them quite yet until you were ready, and Mathew respected that. Also, he had yet to tell anyone on the team he was seeing anyone.

When you left for work the morning of the game, Mathew was still there. However, when you got home, he wasn’t but in his place was a jersey. Not just any jersey, however, it was Mathew’s jersey with his number and last name on it. You looked at it and smiled; you couldn’t wait to wear it for him.

About an hour later, you put on the jersey and head to the arena. When you’re seated, you finally realize how close up your seats are. You looked around and were so giddy. You were going to be watching your boyfriend, whom you were sure you were in love with, play the sport he absolutely loves.

You watched the boys come out for warm ups, and your heart swelled. He was in his element, and he looked so happy. You loved how effortlessly he made the sport look, and you loved how he interacted with his teammates. You were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice that Mathew was watching you. It took a few moments, but you did eventually realize, and you both laughed. You remember someone, who you now know was Anders, smacking Mathew over the shoulder.

The Islanders won that night in a overtime, and you were beyond elated. Mathew told you that he’d meet you at your car and that he did.

When you saw him, you jumped into his arms and held him tightly. “You played so well, baby.”

Mathew pulls away for a moment and looks down at you. “Yeah, well I had the woman I love in the stands and my new good luck charm.”

You pull back for a moment. Were you hearing this right? Did Mathew just tell you he loved you?

“Before you start overthinking everything and scrunch up your nose in that really adorable way, let me just confirm, yes, I do love you. Yn, I love you.”

“I wasn’t going to overthink anything, you’re wrong.”

Matthew laughs. “You know, you’re avoiding the obvious.”

You knew you were. “I thought I was pointing out the obvious.”

“Do you need me to say it again, yn?” Mathew asks.

You pretend to ponder it. “Yeah, I do, Mathew.”

“Yn, I love you.”

You smile. “I love you, too, Mathew.” You remember him leaning down and kissing you. You remember that you both had to eventually separate so that you could drive back to your place. You remember that night that you fell asleep in Mathew’s arms hopeful of what can happen one day.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Grace says. You look at her puzzled. “Anders, Tito, and I think Sydney and Matt were there, too. Anders said that Mathew was staring at a girl, so we all followed Mathew secretly, and we saw you guys.”

“That’s right! That did happen!” Sydney remarks.

“So, you weren’t really shocked when Mathew finally introduced me to all of you?”

“No, we really weren’t. We didn’t quite see your face, but we knew Mathew was seeing someone.” Sydney answers.

“We finally realized what was behind Mathew’s stellar playing. Anders once came home from a roadie saying that Mathew was playing extremely well and wasn’t sure what to correlate it to. Now we know, it was you.” Grace says.

Your smile reaches ear to ear.

“That’s so cute and romantic, you guys. The two of you were made for each other.” Candace dotes.

You smile. You didn’t want to brag but yes, you and Mathew were made for each other. Yes, sometimes it was hard, but you knew that at the end of the day, you and Mathew loved each other to pieces.

“Hmm. Tell us about meeting Mathew for the first time. That has to be a story.” Tessa. You smile at the memory.

You were running late. The uptown 4 train in Brooklyn was having a bunch of delays, and you didn’t have time to walk to the closest 5 train station. The 4 train heading uptown to Brooklyn Bridge finally came and you jumped on. You breathed a sigh of relief as the train rolled away from the station. However, you became aggravated when it stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and an announcement came that the train would be moving shortly. Yeah, you knew what that meant. You could either be moving again in two minutes or two hours.

Twenty minutes passed, and your feet were starting to ache. You really wished that you wore flats on your commute and then changed into your heels at work.

“Did you want to sit?” someone asked. You remember looking up. “Your feet look like they’re killing you, did you want to sit? I don’t mind standing.”

“Oh, um, no it’s okay, I’m good.” You remember saying.

“No, really, I insist,” he insisted.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“So, then, if I stand up, you’re not going to sit down?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, someone else can sit,” you remember saying. You weren’t one to take up offers like this out of respect for the other person, and you were also very stubborn.

He chuckles and sighs. “Can you just sit? I don’t know why you won’t take up the offer of my generosity. I just don’t think you’re really all that comfortable.”

You hesitate.

“What if,” he proposes. “I got up and said I wanted to stretch my legs, and you just took up the opportunity to sit?”

You look at him and are about to say something, but he gets up and mumbles something about needing to stretch his legs. He gives you a knowing look (one that you’ve grown to love). and you know you are going to sit. So, you sit. You breathe a sigh of relief, and he laughs softly.

“See, was that so hard?”

You look at him and grumble. “No.”

He laughs and time passes quickly. It only took thirty more minutes after this for the train to start moving. You exited the Brooklyn Bridge - City Hall station ninety minutes after you would have liked. You were fast walking because you had to catch the Uptown 3 train.

“Hey, wait,” you don’t think this person is talking to you, so you keep walking. He taps your shoulder, and you finally turn around. “I know this is weird, but can I get your number?”

You remember looking at him shocked and he laughed at you.

“I’m Mathew, and there’s something about you that I want to get to know better.”

For some reason, that cheesy line made you smile, and you gave him your number. And, as they say, the rest is history.

“Wait, Mathew took the subway?” Liana asks puzzled.

“Yeah, he said that he was running late for meeting Tito, and he thought taking the subway would be faster. Clearly, it wasn’t.” You explain.

“Oh, Yn, give us more stories about you and Matthew,” one of the girls says.

You smile softly. You really weren’t sure what else more to say. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. The constant theme in your relationship was that you kept private things private. Mathew was private in the sense of the media, and you were just a private person all around. But, something about today and the girls asking made you want to spill literally everything.

“I’d ask about the proposal, but Mathew has shared that a million times,” Candace jokes. “Just give us a random story that makes you laugh or smile.”

“I can give you that,” you say. You ruminate for a moment and begin.

Matthew was spending the weekend with you because he didn’t have any games, and they just came off of a two week road trip. You guys missed each other, and, at the stage your relationship was at, being without each other for even an hour was unbearable. This was not to say, though, that it was easy to be apart now. Only, now, you both have learned to find a way to make that pain ease a bit.

It was 12:34pm on a Saturday, and you were hungry for lunch. Mathew said he was taking you out for his favorite sushi place and told you to eat a light lunch. So, you were going to make some avocado toast. No, nothing fancy. The basic summary was that you had pumpernickel bread and a ripe avocado that might go bad soon.

You retreat from the warmth of Mathew, the pillows, and blankets to make some toast. You didn’t hear Mathew follow you; you actually didn’t think he was going to considering you told him you’d just bring it to him. You put the bread in the toaster and pulled out a knife to cut the avocado. You waited for a few minutes as the bread toasted. You looked out into the living room but didn’t see Mathew. You figured that he went to the washroom.

The toaster dings, and the toast pops out. You put the toast on the plate and begin cutting the avocado to spread onto the toast. Suddenly, you feel two very strong arms snake around your waist. It’s Matthew, who else?

“You cut your avocado weirdly,” he says, and you just look at him.

What? “What?”

“You cut the avocado weirdly.”

You snicker. “What is a not weird way to cut your avocado?”

“I don’t know, I just know you cut it weirdly.”

“Why can’t it be that I cut it normally, and you cut it weirdly?”

“Because, yn, you need a weird thing.”

You giggle. “Why do I need a weird thing?”

“Because all people in a relationship have a weird thing that only the other person in it knows.”

“So, you’re telling me that my weird thing is that I cut avocados weirdly?”

“Mhm, exactly.” Mathew takes a piece of toast with avocado already on it and bites into it.

“Despite that, though, you still make very tasty avocado toast, babe.”

“Well, if my weird thing is about cutting avocado, what’s you weird thing?”

“I don’t know, you have to figure it out on your own.”

You remember smiling and then kissing his cheek. Dinner that night did not disappoint, and Mathew brought you to the right restaurant.

“Did you ever figure out what his weird thing was?” Sydney asks.

“I mean, no? But, like, the way I cut the avocado is not weird, so I’m not sure what he was getting at. I told him that the way he ties his shoes was weird.”

“Not the skates?” Grace asks.

“No, not the skates. I told him that there was a difference between the skates and the shoes.”

The girls laugh. “How did you do that? Isn’t it the same?” Candace asks. “It is, but he wouldn’t tell me why the avocado cutting was weird, so I did this. He took me to the rink the day after I told him and forced me to watch him tie his skates like ten times. I guess it’s what I deserve.”

“That was a cute story. As my future sister-in-law, I want to say, I’m glad Mathew has you in his life.” Liana says.

You smile. “I can drink to that.” You all clink your glasses and take a sip.

You loved these girls and were so glad that you got to celebrate your Bachelorette with them. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

If he were a wine, he'd be the shelf at the top (Top) If he were a house, he'd be the end of the block (Block) Walked up to my heart and went, "Knock, knock, knock" So I've got to show him off

You got home that day at 4:00 pm and before Mathew. You were expecting that; Tito told you that Mathew and the boys would be out later only because their day started later. You went into your bedroom and changed out of your bride-to-be outfit and into your comfortable clothes. You took off your makeup and put your hair in a comfortable style. You were going to use the time to open some of the invitations you’ve received and mark down their attendance and meal choices.

Constantly, though, your mind went straight to Mathew. Every thought you had went back to Mathew but not in a sophomoric, conceited way. In a way that expressed your true love for him and how you felt. You didn’t like talking about your relationship with Mathew often; you enjoyed the privacy, and it allowed you to grow as a person both in the relationship and outside it.

However, this didn’t mean that you didn’t want to talk about Mathew all the time. You knew that if you didn’t control yourself, you’d be one of those girls that brought up her boyfriend at the most random times. You also knew that those types of girls were annoying, so you tried not to be like that.

That didn’t mean you didn’t let your mind wander to those places. Mathew was amazing. Sure, there were some flaws, but the great things about him enormously outweighed the flaws. Mathew had the most beautiful hazel eyes you have ever seen. Even if you had friends who hazel eyes, their eye color didn’t match Mathew’s, nothing could. He could be doing the most mundane task or thing and you’d immediately fall more in love. No question about it.

Physically? Mathew had the body of a Greek god and that drove your crazy. When he constantly walked around with a shirt on? You had to force yourself not to jump up and kiss him or run your hands down his broad, firm chest. When you both sat on the couch and he didn’t have a shirt on, you absolutely adored just running your hand up and down his abs as if it were a pillow. Yeah, you wanted to shout from your balcony that you had a hot boyfriend, no, fiance now, that you loved. You loved running your fingers through his hair. There was softness that was indescribable. His hair was rough but also soft at the same time. You constantly wanted to be touching him. All the time. You just needed to be close to Mathew at all times. You didn’t want to say you were clingy because you weren’t. You were just in love and wanted to be in the presence with him at all times. You loved to tell Mathew that you felt so lucky that you got to even be in the same universe as him. He laughed and said the fact that he got to even get your number was remarkable to him.

You were both crazy about each other and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Mathew got home that night at 9:32.

“Oh, you’re home early,” you said, and he came down and sat next to you.

Mathew smirked. “Hiding me from your boyfriend?”

Your face turns warm. “No, I just thought that you’d want to celebrate the last of your bachelor years with the boys instead of at home with me.”

“I celebrated my bachelor years already; now I’m coming home and celebrating what my future holds.”

You smile. “Look at you, Mathew Barzal; don’t you know the way into a girl’s heart.”

“I only want your heart, babe,” Mathew says and then kisses you. “How was your day with the girls?”

“It was nice. Oh! Did you know that Anders, Matt, Tito, Grace, and Sydney knew we were dating before you began officially hinting at it and introduced me?”

“What?”

“Yeah! I was telling them about the first time I went to one of your games, and Grace said they caught on to you staring at a girl. She was saying that they followed you secretly and saw us.”

“That’s, wow. I’m not sure how to respond.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, now, does it? We are getting married.”

“That indeed we are, babe,” Mathew says as he reaches down and places a kiss on your temple. “So, what else did you talk about?”

“Wedding planning, you, other stuff, normal girl talk.”

“Did you just say ‘you’ as in me?”

You turn your head away bashfully. “Maybe.”

Mathew laughs his deep belly laugh. “What did you guys say? I mean, I know you were talking about me, but I didn’t think it was a lot.”

“They just wanted me to brag about you and everything. I told them about the story of when we first met, the avocado thing, how you don’t walk around with a shirt, the first time I went to one of your games.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Mathew takes off his shirt, and you laugh. Of course.

“They just wanted me to brag about my love and relationship with you.”

“You should, as bride-to-be.”

“How was your day?” you ask.

“Pretty good; it was fun, but I missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.”

“It’s funny, we can go a long time without seeing one another when I’m on the road. Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite unbearable but this honestly felt worse.”

“My take is that because we both know that we’re in the same city and can be with each other in probably under an hour. However, when you’re on the road, it’s less hard because you know that you have to be there.”

“Look at you, my intellectual fiance. Our children better get all your traits.”

“I think they should get your looks.”

“I don’t think so; no no.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this. How about a good mix?”

“Perfect, babe.” Mathew kisses you. “Do you want to go to bed? Maybe I can do that thing to you I was referencing earlier?”

The heat instantly rushes to your face, and Mathew instantly knows he’s got you in the palm of his hands. The way your eyes bulged out and swallowed deeply, Mathew just knew.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he picks you up and carries you to bed.

Yeah, you didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew, but he was too amazing not to.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

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[probably-writing-x]

Knocked off guard.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by @isthatmaryanna : the other one is with aron where he is like super stressed on the filming of season 4 and he ends up bumping the female reader on the set, she apologizes and he got very mad and stuff like that just because he is stressed, and then he finds out she’s new to the cast and is chris new love interest and he starts to get a crush of her and gets jealous when she’s filming scenes with christian till one day he kisses her when they are recording (Wrote this with Samuel instead of Christian so that it matches season 4🤍)

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

You’d never known nerves like this until today, they’d been basically eating away at you since you’d first woken up and they hadn’t ceased yet. You were terrified of the impression you’d make on your first proper day of filming for Élite and even more terrified of all of the things that could go wrong. You’d made sure to wake up early enough and try to get onto set within enough time but already found yourself rushing to catch up with the hectic schedule.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as you try to find your way back to where they’d told you to meet for your first call to makeup and hair.

You’re so busy trying to make sense of the timetable they’d given you that you don’t notice anybody else around you. Only stopping when you knock into one of them abruptly.

“Fuck!” They exclaim as the drink in their hand spills all down their outfit.

You recognised the clothes instantly as the Las Encinas uniform and realise painfully that you’d just made a first impression on one of your cast mates by knocking into them.

“I’m so so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going-“

“Clearly!” The boy scoffs, trying to pat down the wet patch now covering the front of his crisp white shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I’m-“ You stop as you glance up and recognise him as Arón, who played Ander in the show.

“I’m going to be late,” He rolls his eyes, “Just please try and keep your eyes ahead of you next time.”

With that, he takes off in the opposite direction as you try to regain composure and continue in the direction you’d been previously heading towards.

You reach hair and makeup and it relaxes you when the team are genuinely nice to you for the whole time. They ask you about your new role as Samuels love interest and you chat to them about everything they felt you should know about working on the show.

“No I don’t think we need to-“ A new voice speaks as the door opens and two guys walk in to have their hair and makeup done, “Hey! I don’t think we’ve met before.”

You stand up and recognise the boy as Omar, who played his same name character on the show, “Yeah, no, I don’t think we have. I’m (Y/n), I’m playing Savannah.”

“Yes! I completely forgot you were starting today!” Omar exclaims, “Well, I’m Omar, and this is Arón.”

You glance to the boy that had entered with him and notice him instantly as the boy you’d knocked into earlier. His eyes fall to his feet to avoid eye contact as he instead turns to sit down in one of the chairs to get his hair done.

“Dont worry about him,” Omar rolls his eyes, squeezing the boy’s shoulder, “Someone’s being a little grumpy today. Anyway, tell me about yourself. Have you done much acting before?”

Just like that, the impression you’d made on the cast so far seems to clearly improve. You chat to Omar and get up to the stage where it feels as though you’ve known each other for a lot longer than a matter of minutes.

“When are your first scenes?” Omar asks you, “I’ll walk you down to set if you like.”

“I think I have to be there in ten minutes, that would be great thank you!”

He agrees and the two of you head out to start walking towards where you’d first be filming for the day.

- - - - - -

You’re introduced to Itzan who was going to be your main love interest in the show. It’s a relief when he’s genuinely lovely to you and makes it easy to feel natural around him.

“I wouldn’t worry, this place is full of second chances,” Itzan shakes his head as he speaks Samuels line, “All of us here, we’re on at least our fifth chance.”

“Maybe I won’t do so bad then,” You smile, “Thank you, by the way.”

He readjusts his grip on his bag strap and nods bashfully to you, “It was nice to meet you, (Y/n).”

The director yells cut and somehow you find yourself finishing your first full scene of the day. It had gone a lot more smoothly than you’d expected. Especially having started the day by spilling hot coffee over one of your cast mates.

“Omar and Miguel to set for next scene,” One of the crew calls, you think they introduced themselves earlier but it was already becoming overwhelming to remember all of these new people.

You take your seat on one of the black canvas chairs and prepare to watch the scene unfold in which Guzmán and Omar share a heart to heart about Nadia, where Guzmán confesses everything he regrets about what happened between them and what he would’ve done if he’d have had another chance with her before she left. You’re soon joined by someone beside you in the next seat and glance over to recognise Arón on your right hand side.

“So, you’re the new cast member,” He comments, twisting open his water bottle, “You didn’t introduce yourself earlier.”

“I didn’t really have the chance,” You return, shifting a little in the chair beneath you.

He scoffs, “I was too busy being late and covered in coffee.”

“I did apologise,” You defend, still slightly nervous despite your hope of appearing somewhat confident.

“And I was stressed.”

The conversation falls flat and you let the silence remain as you watch the scene unfold.

- - - - - -

Over the next couple of days, you’re starting to get settled into the motions of things. You’re starting to remember everyone’s names and the crew have been complimenting you on some of your scenes. Itzan was a good screen partner to have, always making you laugh and giving you tips whenever he felt like you were uncertain.

You’re walking through the different sets when you stumble upon Arón in one of the rooms. Nobody was filming at the moment so you found yourself slightly bemused as you watch him flop face down onto the bed beneath him that was normally used as a bedroom in the show.

“You know the cameras aren’t rolling?” You comment, unsure as to why you bother speaking anyway, “Or did you just need to practise that scene?”

He turns his head and looks in your direction. The two of you had spoken very minimally over the past days as he’d clearly continued that stressed attitude ever since you first met. You’d gotten to the point where you simply treated it as him being completely rude. Even if you didn’t want to accept that.

“I just needed some peace,” He mumbles, shuffling on the duvet of the bed as his arms fall at either of his sides.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you,” You comment bashfully, going to walk away.

“How have you been finding it so far?”

It surprises you. Of course it does. Up until now you’d assumed that he simply just didn’t like you. Perhaps not.

“It’s been good, everyone’s been really friendly,” You smile, “And I think my scenes have been going well.”

“Yeah, they won’t stop telling us how great you are,” He scoffs, “Seems like you’ve made a good first impression.”

“Well, on most people.”

He’s silent this time.

“I should go,” You say, not wanting to say anything more that might ruin the nicest moment you’ve shared with him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you. I’ve just been a little stressed,” Arón admits, “I’m not really sure how to approach my storylines this season and I guess I’m just letting it get to me too much.”

“What do you mean?” You walk into the room and take a seat on the bed beside him as he shifts to sit up.

“I’ve always had such intense storylines, theres always something bad going on. But, this time, Anders actually happy - him and Omar are doing well for the first time in forever. I’m not really used to it,” He shakes his head, “Sorry, you don’t need to hear my acting problems.”

“Well, I guess I’m not the best person to give advice,” You start cautiously yet again, “But I would say that you should use exactly that. Anders not going to be used to it either, he’s never had that time where he’s simply been happy so he’d probably feel exactly the way that you do about having to act that story. Use that.”

He stays silent and you’re certain you’ve said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s probably useless bu-“

“No, no, that makes sense,” He interjects, “Thank you.”

“Well, I should go, I asked Itzan if he’d run lines with me,” You explain, “See you later.”

“Yeah, bye (Y/n).”

- - - - - -

The next day, you’re filming your first kiss with Samuel. It sounded silly but you’d never been so nervous to film a scene - it would be the first time where you had to show that sort of affection on camera and it felt intimidating to say the least.

You’d been nervous all morning, for something so annoyingly simple.

You’re hurrying down towards your trailer when you knock into someone on the way.

“Fuck!” You exclaim as your water pours down you.

As irony would have it, it’s Arón stood in front of you.

“Looks like karma circled back round,” He smirks at the sight.

“Not now Arón,” You mutter, dashing off before he can say anything more.

It was harsh, you knew it was deep down. But you were so caught up in your own stress that you couldn’t really think of anything beyond that. You carried on towards your trailer and prayed they’d left you a spare uniform to change into if need be.

It’s ten minutes later when there’s a knock at your door and Arón is stood on the other side.

“Hey! Sorry about that, I should’ve been looking where I was going,” He comments, you’re too pressured to notice how he seemed slightly nervous.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” You rush to say as you search for the right script amongst your stuff.

“Are you okay?” He frowns, “You seem a little-“

“Stressed?” You finish for him as you turn around, his appearance relaxing you a little, “I’m sorry, I’ve just got my first kiss scene with Itzan today and I’m really nervous about it.”

He laughs gently, “Why? Do you like him or something?”

“What?” You scoff, “Of course I don’t. I just don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Okay...” Arón starts, “Well, wouldnt your character be nervous too? Maybe you should take your own advice and use that.”

You smirk at his attempts at helping, “Well, this is a real role reversal!”

He steps inside from where he’d been waiting in the doorway and smirks, “Or... you could just practise.”

“Practise?” You cock a brow, “What? Ask Itzan to kiss me before the cameras roll?”

Without any further introduction, Arón takes a stride forward until he’s close enough for you to understand his real intention. He leans in only ninety percent of the way, waiting for your approval to seal the last ten percent. When you do, his eyes flutter shut and his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Was that your plan all along?” You mumble against his lips as he pulls away.

“We all need ways of coping with stress,” He smirks a little, “Is that so bad?”

You laugh and try to fight against the bold blush on your cheeks.

“And you have nothing to worry about. You’re a much better kisser than Omar.”

“Well, I was coming to get (Y/n) to set but looks like I’ve seen and heard much more than I needed to,” Omar raises his brows from where he stood at your door, “I’ll tell them you’ll be a little late. Close your fucking door next time!” He laughs and walks off.

“Any less stressed?” Arón cocks a brow at you.

“Maybe let’s try that again.”

[miyamorana]

First Lines

Stolen from @katvonbirb

Rules are: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

—

Tinsel and Mistletoe (VLD)

The sun is peeking through the curtains, the single ray of pale morning light landing right on his eyelid. Lance grabs the edge of his bedsheet and drags it over his face, smothering the light and silently cursing his past self for not properly drawing the curtains shut.

There Be Dragons (HP)

Harry and his godfathers move to London just after his 11th birthday. Sirius’ estranged mother passed away, and he inherited his childhood house.

Finally Free (JatP)

They’re arguing about the harmonies of their newest song when Flynn pushes open the door and announces that Julie and her need to talk about outfits.

“We don’t even have our next gig yet,” Luke replies. “We should finish working out this bridge before talking about costumes.”

Something Cosmic (RNM)

Guerin is… No, not Guerin, Alex admonishes himself. Michael. Michael is waiting for him by the car, leaning against it in a very cowboy posture, thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. He seems relaxed, but the way he quickly licks his bottom lip as he looks at Alex betrays his nerves. Alex smiles softly, pushing down his own nerves knotting his throat.

In the Morning (RNM)

Michael wakes up to a thundering headache, which isn’t fair. He didn’t even have anything to drink – he’s not stupid, he knows his metabolism doesn’t handle alcohol well. He does remember the taste of punch on his lips though. No. Not on his lips.

Rush (TW)

The snow creeks under Stiles’ feet, a soft, muffled sound in the stillness of the night. Everything is soft in the park. Muted, somehow, even though he can see in details he wouldn’t have been able to make out in daylight before.

Recommencement (Merlin)

Arthur déplaça la bougie afin de pouvoir lire le nom de la petite ville à l’orée de la forêt, faisant attention de ne pas faire couler de cire sur la carte. Il n’était pas sûr de quand la nuit était tombée exactement, mais les lampes avaient été allumées et une assiette de nourriture, toujours pleine et désormais froide, avait été posée à côté de lui. 

Of Magic and Duty (LoL)

Sometimes, Darius wonders how long Zaun is going to last before some experiment accidentally turns its already heavily polluted atmosphere completely toxic, or maybe simply makes the whole place explode. He just hopes it doesn’t happen while he’s there. That would be a very disappointing way to die.

In Earth’s Cradle (DA2)

Fenris moves through the battle, Fade-stepping to get faster, to dodge attacks and projectiles. One second he’s not-quite-there, and the enemy sword is ripping through air, the next he’s material again, his fist becoming solid inside the soldier’s chest, flesh and bone ripping to make space for him.

He’ll Bite (CA)

Sam’s the one who finds Bucky, or maybe Bucky finds Sam, neither mentioned much about how it happened but now Bucky’s sitting in Sam’s kitchen, hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee, and Steve doesn’t know what to say.

Sugar and Spice (Angel)

Wolfram & Hart is no more, and Angel Investigations moved back into the Hyperion hotel. Spike tagged along, because really he has no other place to go to, and he did help save the world after all. (“Twice!” he would insist on pointing out.)

It Must Be (BtVS)

“You cannot tell anyone,” Anya hears as she walks past the door to Dawn’s room.

She stops, carefully tiptoes towards said door and presses her ear against the wooden panel. What is Dawn up to this time? With the First after them, they really don’t have time for more of Dawn’s teenage crisis. She thought they were past this.

Derrière la Porte (TW)

Pourquoi est-ce que personne ne lui avait dit que les études universitaires, c’est dur? Stiles se masse le front dans l’ascenseur, essayant de faire disparaître le début de mal de tête qu’il sent déjà poindre. Il est tard, plus tard que l’heure à laquelle il rentre d’habitude, et son portable n’a plus de batterie, aussi espère-t-il que Derek ne se soit pas trop inquiété.

Sleepless (DA2)

Fenris first notices it after they kill the dragon at the Bone Pit. Well, the new one. Hawke has a claw stuck through her arm, and though she says it’s fine he insists on dragging her to the clinic, even if he has to break the door and shake Anders awake. There is no door-breaking or shaking required, because even though it’s so late some might call it early Anders is up, working, organising the potions on his shelves and listing the things he’ll need to procure soon.

Dearest Laura (TW)

Dearest Laura,

I've been staring at these two words for the last ten minutes, wondering how to start this, but I'm not even sure why I sat down with paper and pen in the first place. Maybe I'm feeling lonely, now that Derek and uncle Peter are gone. Maybe I'm feeling guilty... guilty of so many things, none the least what happened all those years ago.

Cyberwolf (TW)

There are many ways to cheat death if you have the knowledge and the resources, Peter had once said in one of his weird speeches in which he gives you disturbing information you didn’t want, and none of the information you actually need. They were probably discussing the subject of Lydia’s nature, and wondering how Peter had been able to use that to come back from the dead, which still made absolutely zero sense to Stiles. But the words had stuck in his mind, burrowed deep, and started growing into questions and ideas.

Respite (TW)

Derek’s eyes open as he gasps for breath, panicking. For a second, he doesn’t remember where he is. For a second, he can still feel the arms of his nightmare holding him up, can still feel his claws sinking into Boyd’s chest, Boyd’s energy seep out of him and into Derek.

In Wolf Skin (TW)

“No,” Stiles says, pointing a finger at the teenager in front of him. “No no no! You give it back right now!”

New Spark (TW)

Isaac is sitting on Scott’s bed, shuffling through the songs on Scott’s ipod, trying to find one he can actually focus on. There’s no use, he can’t help himself, his ears stay tuned to the sound of Scott and his mom’s conversation downstairs.

Burning Embers (TW)

Peter looks down at Cora’s face, trying to match the features of the teenager in front of him with his memories of the eleven-year-old kid he last saw half-an-hour before the fire. Her presence here makes no sense. She must have been in her bedroom, doing homework, when the house burst into flames.

—

Firstly, it is sad that I had to go back all the way to 2013 for my last 20 fics. I really need to write more. T_T

As for a pattern, idk, I don’t really see one? Sometimes I drop the reader in the middle of things, sometimes I set up a scene with descriptions, sometimes I go into a character’s head... Do you see a pattern in my fic openings?

My favorite of these is a toss up between In Wolf Skin and Tinsel and Mistletoe, I think, even though they are very very different.

I’m “tagging” anyone who feels like doing this?

[ramblinganthropologist]

Inkjournal Day 13 - Happy Place

Summary: Sometimes, Hawke likes to sit and think. The Herald’s Rest brings back another bar she used to love - a dirty little place in Kirkwall where so much of her life happened. Though she can’t go back there, she can think back on happier days that are now long gone. Sometimes, a happy place is made by the people there.  Word count: 3449 (GOD THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME)

---

It didn't take Hawke long to find the Herald's Rest. After all, it was the noisiest place in all of Skyhold.

Nobody noticed the cloaked figure as she slipped in behind a throng of guards just getting off duty. She wasn't in the mood for a drink anyway, just content to take a place by the fire and people watch. It was certainly lively, no doubt about that.

Somewhere off to the side, friends were yelling about a card game and if cheating had gone on. There was always cheating going on in those, but that was what made it fun. A small smile crossed her face as she watched. It never changed, no matter the deck or who was playing. A game was a game.

Just... sometimes it was fun to look back on a different game, one that was long over. She forgot who had really won or lost, but that hadn't really mattered. Back then, it never really did.

---

“Isabela, I saw you pull that card out of your boot!”

“Prove it or fork over the pot.”

Wicked Grace night was heating up once again in the Hanged Man. A table in the corner was gathering all of the attention as a rather noisy group argued over the last round. The small pot was being argued over, like it always was.

Isabela had won once again, probably through dirty means. She was positively cackling as she watched a red faced Aveline trying to argue with her playing. Both of them had probably had a little too much to drink, but that was what made it fun.

Avery had bowed out long ago. When it came to it ,she was almost as bad as Anders when it came to Wicked Grace. Still, it was fun to sit back with a mug full of... something... and watch as her friends bickered.

“They're going to fight all night at this rate.” Varric was chuckling as he stood. “Going for the next round. Who's in?”

Moses wasn't from the looks of things – he and Anders, in fact, looked to be heading out, hand in hand from the looks of things. Her eyebrow traveled towards her hair, but she said nothing as they watched them go.

Since when had they been so serious?

“Count me in.” Fenris next to her had finished off his drink. Merrill was just finished as she snoozed peacefully in the corner. Later, Isabela would probably take her home and make sure she was ok. Those two were getting serious too, for that matter.

It was a disease, it had to be.

“You go on, I'm still working on mine.” She chuckled, watching her two friends still argue. “Oi, Isabela, you might wanna hide that card coming out of your sleeve or even Aveline's going to see it this time.”

That started another round of arguing, and Avery laughed as she sat back to watch it. With Varric gone and Merrill cat-napping, it was almost peaceful if you discounted it was the Hanged Man on a fairly busy night.

“They're going to go at it all night at this rate.” Fenris was closer to her than he had been a minute ago, voice low. “I swear you enjoy it, Hawke.”

His soft voice made her shiver, but she kept the grin on her face. “There's a lot I enjoy, Fenris. Aveline getting all red in the face is one of them.”

He chuckled too, but she doubted it was over the guard matching her hair. His eyes glowed, and not in the elf way or the murder way, as he looked over at her. When nobody was looking, his hand slipped under the table towards hers.

Maybe it was the lyrium that made her palm tingle, but she didn't fight off his hand when it found her. Their fingers intertwined, warm and maybe a little sweaty under the beat up wooden table. It wasn't ideal but it was... nice.

“Oh, I know indeed.” Fenris flashed her a rare smile, just barely there, for the hint of a second. Varric ruined it all by returning with their drinks, so he had to pull his hand away. However, it had definitely been there. “Good to see you made it back alive.”

“And leave those two alone? Wouldn't miss it.” Varric flashed them both a knowing smile that screamed he was going to put that in the book later. What that was, however, even Avery didn't know as she gathered up the more legitimate of their cards to start a new round. Maybe Isabela and Aveline would join them once they finished their fun.

After all, that seemed to be the theme of their night: finding fun in the last places you expected it.

---

“Next time remember to duck or there won't be enough to sew you back together, Chief.”

“Don't worry, Krem puff. I'll always be around to make sure you don't have all the fun.”

It was the Iron Bull's loud, deep laughter that pulled Hawke out of her fireplace induced reverie. The Chargers had their nook by the stairs and were making good use of it. Half of the noise was coming from them at the moment, though with their size it was understandable.

The big guy had an even bigger hole in his shoulder, held together with enough bandages to put the Arishok's head back on. Still, he was laughing with the rest of them, no doubt using the booze to numb the pain.

Or maybe he was just a masochist. With all his scars, that was a direct possibility.

Not that she could talk. A wry grin split Hawke's face as she reached up to finger where the scarring on her shoulder began. After all, she was one of the biggest masochists around if people were keeping score.

Something about reavers and their utter inability to block; it was a trend. She could still hear Anders yelling at her to, like he was right next to her. Only he wouldn't be... that would be dumb.

---

“Honestly, Avery, you keep this up and I won't have enough to put you back together.”

“I was told chicks dig scars.”

It was another late night in the Hanged Man, so dark even the candles didn't help. Yet, the bar was open, and they were there among the late night patrons who had been kicked out of other places and had nowhere else to go. It might have been dingy and gross, but it was better than spending the night outside.

The four of them – Anders, Merrill, Varric, and herself – had taken up a table near the back. Most of their wounds had been tended to in the alleyway or heading towards the Hanged Man, so the worst of it was finished. All that remained was patching up Avery's shoulder and disinfecting it. Luckily, they were in the right spot for that.

“You keep this up and you're going to lose an arm one day.” Anders' tone was sharp, but his touch was soft as he carefully worked on knitting flesh and muscle together. “And then where will you be?”

Avery couldn't resist the pun. “Disarmed.”

He groaned, and so did Varric. At least she got a laugh from Merrill. That made her mood all the better as the healer continued to put her shoulder back together for what had to be the fourth time. How he found skin to work with among the scars was beyond her.

But he did, so she didn't really have to worry.

Varric stood as he watched. “I'll get something to numb it. You three stay here and try not to cause trouble again.”

He winked as he left. The night had begun because of their knack of causing trouble. It had started so quietly, too. But, round the corner and smack first into a gang causing trouble in the alienage. They had started it on Merrill's home turf, so of course the group had to finish it.

Really, it wasn't much.

“You sent that one flying earlier, Mer. Wish you could teach me how to do that.” Avery used her good arm to hold out her fist to the elf. She had done it enough times that her friend knew how to respond, and their dirty fists met above the table. “Excellent. Should be quiet around the alienage now for a bit.”

Until the next gang moved in. And then there would be more fun.

With the time she had to wait until the healing was over, Avery glanced around. “Isabela still in bed with that flu? She would've had some fun tonight.”

“She's resting. I may have put something in her tea to help her sleep.” Anders and Merrill shared a knowing look, mage to mage, that went right over her head. “You should be more worried about yourself, though. This was nasty.”

He sounded like her brother. Maybe he was picking up lines during pillow talk. Moses that night was away on a separate thing with Fenris, and what those two were up to only the Maker knew. No doubt they'd swap altered stories in the morning, perhaps a little sanitized. After all, neither wanted to be too loud about their kinks.

They tended to wind up in print if certain ears were around.

Speaking of, Varric returned with drinks. “Nearly got killed for these, so you better appreciate it.”

“Nearly got killed saving your ass, I think we're even.” Avery laughed as she reached for hers, Anders finally letting up on her shoulder. She rested it against him as the last effects of his healing aura made her body feel all warm and tingly. Well, magically anyway. He was pretty good at making her feel that way on his own.

It was nice, sitting there in the dark little tavern in the middle of the night. Nobody was too loud or causing a scene, so they could just sit there and enjoy the watered down booze and lovely atmosphere of the dregs of Lowtown. Really, she had no idea why they didn't do this more often.

“Next time please just dodge.” Anders' chin was close to the top of her head as he yawned. He had wrapped his free arm around her, maybe to balance himself so he didn't go nose-first into the table. It was warm, so she didn't mind.

Getting him home was going to be a nightmare if he was this tired, though. Maybe she would just wait until the morning.

Varric, of course, was framing it for his next story. Merrill, well, she was half asleep herself. Blood magic took a lot out of her, plus dark circles hinted to where her free time had been. Most likely, this had been the first time she had left Isabela's side.

So, Avery smiled as she nudged her. “Go find your pirate, Mer. You're dead on your feet.”

“I suppose you're right.” another yawn as she stood. “Good night Varric, Hawke. See you in the morning.”

And then she was gone, and it was down to three. Well, four if you counted Justice, and three if you subtracted Anders being pretty much asleep as it was. Still, it was nice to hear him just breathe as she sat there with her drink.

Her shoulder was going to be sore as hell in the morning, but it be worth it.

“None of this goes in your book, Varric. You got that?”

“Loud and clear, Hawke.” And yet, there was a strange smile on his face as he leaned back. “Though seriously; stop worrying Blondie so much and learn to block with that shield of yours.”

She snorted, careful not to wake up the mage. “You know that's only there for aesthetic.”

They shared a laugh, like they often did as night would slowly turn to day. In the morning, they'd all be exhausted and wanting to head back to bed. But for right then, all was right in the shitty little town of Kirkwall. And that was alright by her.

---

A nudge to her side brought Hawke out of her dream. It was quieter now as the night wore on and people headed off to bed. There were still something of a crowd left, so it wasn't quite closing time, but it was much smaller than it had been before.

“Still hanging out in taverns, are we?”

Varric sat down next to her, looking dead on his feet. “Moses was looking for you earlier. I figured you'd be here.”

He was getting a little gray at the temples, and she was starting to feel it in the limbs she had left. Neither said anything though, as they sat there watching the small crowd slowly work their way through their last drinks. In the morning, they'd be back on duty. Some of them would return, and some wouldn't. A few wouldn't make it back at all. That was the risk they took, doing what they did.

It made Hawke's shoulder ache as she rubbed what little arm she had left on her right side.

“Chasing ghosts, Avery?” Varric looked as though he had been running after a few of his own. Maybe they looked like her, a younger version who still had both arms and hadn't found out what vitaar did to a human's blood. It had been ages since they had sat there together in a tavern, though not one as clean as this.

She allowed a crooked smile, but it pulled at her face. “Just... remembering the last time we were all together, I guess. It was like this.”

Honestly, she wasn't sure why she remembered it. The events that followed weeks after were so catastrophic it should have wiped any mundane event from her mind. Yet, there it was, burned in her memory. She'd never forget it, even as the years rolled on.

---

“Oi, either get a drink or get out.”

That was the standard call that late at night at the Hanged Man. Those who had planned to stay the night rummaged through their pockets for one last round to keep them from the streets, while others tottered unsteadily towards their rooms. With most of the lights out, it was easy to see that dawn was starting to tint the ink black sky a pale gray. Night was ending, and with it the quiet that came over Lowtown.

All of them were together for once. Wicked Grace had run over late until most of them were too tired to even see straight. So, they sat there with their half finished drinks, talking quietly or dozing in their seats while they waited for the dawn.

Merrill's head was in Isabela's lap as she dreamed on. They had been like that, closer and more open, since the pirate had returned months earlier. It had been a while since she had seen either so happy, even as Kirkwall came down around their ears. They deserved each other in her mind.

Even Aveline was there, though Donnic would surely be missing her in their bed. She had no doubt come to give Anders some warning, but the cards had drawn her in. Now, she dozed at the table, a wreck for morning duties in a few hours.

“Quite a sight we make, huh?” Avery let out a low chuckle as she turned to her left. Moses was there, Anders fast asleep on his shoulder. He hadn't moved for the last hour, much like she was careful not to disturb Fenris to her right. They were making some fine pillows, the two of them. Maybe if it had been earlier, she could've made a joke about feathers and what was stuffed with them, but it was just too late for that.

Her brother nodded, just enough so the mage didn't wake up. “Nobody wanted to go home.”

It was getting harder to assemble the entire group, after all. Everyone seemed to be heading off in their own directions, some of them far from the little shit hole they called home. It was only natural; they had spent almost a decade there.

“Can't blame them. Who would want to leave the Hanged Man?” Varric was alone at the head of the table, using the light of a candle to scribble away at some paper. His editor was on him to get a new chapter out, so he hadn't been the most attentive during the game. “Shit, I don't think any of this makes sense.”

Both Hawkes had long since learned not to ask to read it before it was ready. So, they both nodded and consigned themselves to the pain of an artist chiseling away at his craft. The scratching of the quill was a nice rhythm anyway, so neither of them minded.

Somehow, it was peaceful as dawn slowly crept across the sky, burning through the fog that lay on Kirkwall like a thick blanket. Soon, merchants would be out for the morning rush, and day laborers would head off to work or to grab a drink before their shift. The city would come alive again, and with it all its problems.

“Orana's going to worry we died or something.” Avery could picture it as easily as she saw Fenris at her side. “Maybe we should pick her up a sweet bun for breakfast on our way back.”

It was a bribe, and she fully admitted it.

“Aye.” Moses let out a yawn, eyes blinking. “Good night.”

They were few and far between lately. Nobody died, nobody became an abomination, and everyone kept most of their blood in them. For most people, that should have been the norm. Of course, most people weren't Kirkwall's largest walking disasters.

It was a title they wore with pride.

“Yeah, gotta say it was.” Carefully, Avery reached her scarred fist across the table. Moses responded without her even needing to say it – their fists met in the middle, his nearly dwarfing hers in size. They always did fit together well.

Eventually, they would have to get up and go. Their backs would ache, and joints would creak, and someone would be worried about them. There were things to do, and the entire group would need to split up and start their day. Until that spell broke, however, they were in a time all to themselves, watching as the sun rose in Lowtown through a broken window in the Hanged Man.

In a weird way, it was beautiful.

---

“Found you.”

A lone figure cast a massive shadow across the floor of the Herald's Rest. Hawke – the big one, as people had been calling him for obvious reasons – looked a little on the tired side as he gestured for his sister to follow him.

Hawke – the little one because people weren't creative – nodded and stood. Together, the two of them left Varric and the tavern behind, heading back out into the darkness of Skyhold's night. If the Inquisitor told it right, they'd be needing their rest.

“How'd you know I was there, Moses?” She put her remaining arm behind her head as she walked, like she had done so many times before. “I didn't tell you where I was going.”

Up above, her brother remained stone faced. “You like dark places with people.”

Without saying another word, he picked her up and deposited her on his massive shoulders. She had been walking too slow for him. Hawke didn't mind as she leaned against his head, sharp eyes picking out the darkness.

At least this way she didn't risk being left behind and found by a guard in the morning.

“Were you thinking of Kirkwall?”

“In there?” She snorted, shaking her head. “Nah, too clean. I just enjoyed watching new techniques in cheating at cards.”

It was a lie, and both of them knew it. However, they had known each other far too long to call it. They let it go, like they had done so many other things, as they traveled farther into the keep to find where they would sleep for the night.

For a brief moment, Hawke could have sworn she was home. But, like she said, it had been far too clean. The Hanged Man was long gone, but it still brought a smile to her face when she thought about it.

For a shitty dive bar in the worst part of Lowtown, it had been alright.

[ponticle]

7pm [12 Hours to Solve This Anderstair Challenge]

Alistair x Anders, Modern AU, Coffee Shop Universe

[challenge masterpost]

[Read it on Ao3]

Chapter Summary:  Alistair officially misses his flight home. He tries to get the conversation back on track, but they again get diverted into memories. Rated M: implied sex, language, and this memory is a bittersweet one.

7pm

“Oh my god…” I breathe. “I've never felt so fucking good in my life…”

He laughs and rolls off of me to face the ceiling. Because of where we are in the bed, his head lolls off the edge when he tries to relax it. I reach across to pull him back toward the middle.

“Was this worth missing your flight?” I ask.

He laughs, “If I get to do that every time I miss a flight, I'll never fly again.”

I catch my breath and look at him seriously, “Can I blow you?”

He shakes his head. “I'm good.”

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief, “Can I at least touch you?”

He rolls toward me. “No… I want to talk to you.”

“Let's do both,” I suggest. I reach down and grab him. I don't know why he'd reject my advances. He's obviously super aroused and I just fucked him in every position we know—he must be aching to come.

“Anders,” he rolls his eyes and backs away from me. “Come on… we need to figure this out.”

I'm trying not to read too much into it, but we've had sex dozens of times this weekend. Why is he drawing the line now, of all times—when we've said we love each other; when we’ve made overtures; when we should be the most ready to fuck?

“Do you regret this?” I ask.

He squints at me skeptically.

“Do you wish you'd walked away from me on the sidewalk?” I bite my lip.

He grabs the side of my neck and thumbs the corner of my mouth.

“Andy…” he clears his throat. “I love you. I'm ready to talk… and I don't want to waste another minute.”

We blink and breathe in unison.

“Okay,” I sit up suddenly. “I need you to put pants on.”

He laughs. “If it will help.” He crosses the room and opens his suitcase, which was neatly packed, to find a pair of sweats.

“Better?”

“I mean, no…” I tease, “...but yes.”

He sits back down on the bed with me. “How can we guarantee that we don’t break up again?”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” I answer.

He scowls.

I grab his hands, “I mean, I don’t want to break up—” I pause. I’m talking like it’s already happened—like we’ve already solved this. “...if we got back together, I wouldn’t want to… but there aren’t any guarantees…”

He looks crestfallen.

“That being said,” I lean in and kiss him as punctuation, “I was really different when we were together before…”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t very confident,” I say. “I was unhappy with my life in general and that made it easier to think that you would value me as little as I valued myself.”

He squints at me. “I wished I could shake you until you saw how great you were…”

“Right? I’m super hot and smart!” I laugh.

He hits me with a pillow.

“I had to come to it on my own, I guess.” I shrug and smile.

“So you’re new—do you think that’s really enough to fix us?” he asks.

“I hope so.”

“When did you start to feel different?” he asks.

“Hmm…” I squint, trying to remember. “I think when I went back to school and didn’t fall behind.”

He nods and smiles.

“I actually rose to the top of my class really quickly,” I continue. “Before I knew it, people were coming to me for help.”

“I’m not surprised,” says Alistair. He pulls me down into his chest and hugs me.

It feels so good, I don’t even try to get my mouth free of his skin. My next few sentences are nearly unintelligible, but he gets the idea: I was old Anders and then suddenly, I was new Anders. And new Anders loves him—more than old Anders was ever capable.

“How’s everyone at home doing?” he asks.

“In what way?” I ask.

“Like… is everyone well? Doing cool stuff?” he laughs.

“Yeah, definitely…” I sit up, “Bethany got into law school,” I offer.

“That’s great,” he says. “It seems like everyone is growing up.”

We sigh together.

“I remember the first time I saw you after our separation… at the white coat ceremony,” he says. “I could tell you were different already.”

Alistair looks forward to going back to BU. Medical school was a stressful, but wonderful, time in his life. It’s not only when he started to feel like an adult, but also when he met the two best friends he’s ever had. …and now they’re together, which is strange, but good. He’s starting to be happy for them. So tonight, when they all go to the white coat ceremony together, it will feel like he’s going home.

The school still smells the same, even though this building didn’t used to exist. It’s a newer addition based on some grant from the National Institutes of Health. It’s supposed to be for research, but Alistair thinks they’re using the money to court more donors at events like this one. As evidence of that fact, there’s an elaborately stocked open bar at this black tie event.

Black ties and white coats—the clothes that define his life. He’s having a black tie wedding too.

Icis didn’t go here, of course. She went to Tufts, which makes them rivals, in a way. She harasses him frequently. It’s all good natured and gentle. She’s wonderful.

“Hey,” says Dorian. “I’m glad you made it… I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“Why would you say that?” Alistair asks.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure… I just didn’t know if you’d want to come back to Boston…”

It’s an innocuous sounding sentence, but Dorian and Alistair both know what he means—that Anders lives here.

“Well, you know I love visiting the old alma mater,” Alistair jokes.

Icis smiles at them both and departs to find the bar. She’s great in groups. She’ll probably have a whole flock of new friends before the night is over. Alistair is slightly less good. He’s nervous in crowds and he feels strange being back in his old stomping ground.

“How does the new class look?” Alistair asks Dorian. They stand side by side and fold their arms, sizing up the group.

“Like idiots,” says Dorian. “There’s never been a class like 2011…”

They both laugh.

“Some of them aren’t hard on the eyes, though,” says Dorian. He points to a clump of young men on the opposite side of the room.

Alistair laughs. He hasn’t really looked, but it isn’t because of Icis, exactly. He can’t remember how to be interested in people who don’t fall explicitly into his lap. He knows it has to do with Anders, but he doesn’t admit that—even internally. It hurts too much—still.

Dorian is looking, though—deeply. It doesn’t matter that Cullen is just a few feet away at the bar. Their relationship seems solid, so it’s safe, in Alistair’s estimation.

“Where is Cullen anyway?” Alistair asks.

Dorian gestures vaguely toward the bar behind them. “I think he saw Renee.”

“Renee’s here?” asks Alistair. He likes Renee Trevelyan. He used to be a student of Cullen’s and he’s sort of a friend of theirs now. He looks up to Dorian, especially. “What’s Renee doing at a white coat ceremony?”

Dorian shrugs. “Go ask him.”

Alistair turns and takes in the scene. Cullen’s head pokes up a bit above everyone else’s, so he finds them easily: Cullen and Renee and—holy fucking shit.

“Dorian,” he whispers, curling his fingers into the fabric of Dorian’s cuff.

“What?” Dorian looks at him incredulously. “You’re wrinkling me.”

“Dorian… tell me I’m losing my mind,” Alistair stammers.

“You’re losing your mind. Happy?”

Alistair rolls his eyes and gets even closer to Dorian’s face. “Anders is over there…”

“What?” Dorian’s eyes widen. “Where?”

“Talking to Cullen…” Alistair lets the words escape through a clenched jaw in case anyone can lip-read in their immediate vicinity. Not that saying Anders’ name is an egregious error… but it feels intimate—that name on his lips, in his mouth. “Dorian, am I losing my mind or is that him?”

“It’s him,” confirms Dorian.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Alistair breathes.

“Go ask him.”

Alistair’s mouth drops open. “Are you nuts?”

“Fine. I’ll ask him,” offers Dorian.

Alistair wants to argue, but Dorian is already walking away. He sidles up to Cullen and wraps an arm around his back. It’s a gesture Alistair knows well—possessive and statement-making. He’s allowed; he’s certainly fought hard enough for this kind of freedom.

And then it happens, Anders turns so that Alistair can see his face. He looks perfect—full of life and zeal and something new that Alistair hasn’t seen before: a confidence he doesn’t expect.

Icis is suddenly at his side. “I got you some champagne,” she offers.

He smiles and takes the glass. At the time same, several other women from his class recognize him and start the usual questions: where do you practice? What’s your specialty now? Etc. etc.

He smiles and answers, and Icis shows off her ring—it is quite beautiful. He keeps looking over his shoulder, though. He can see Anders doing this thing with his hair… he pushes his fingers in at the crown and pulls the top section to the extreme right side of his face. A few bangs always fall back into his eyes. It’s a gesture Alistair thinks of often.

Then something happens—Anders rushes toward the exit. Everyone looks a bit bewildered. Alistair is about to chase him when Dorian appears at his left ear.

“He’s in this class,” whispers Dorian. “And he’s here with Renee…”

“With Renee?” Alistair gapes. “He’s like 12 years old…”

Dorian shrugs and smiles. “Anders seems kind of happy… well-adjusted, even, if you can believe such a thing.”

Alistair is torn. He wants Anders to be happy, of course, but happy without him hurts.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Icis. He kisses the top of her head absently, like she’s his sister, not his fiancé.

Outside, Anders is leaning against a railing. He looks like he’s going to vomit—so much for well-adjusted.

“Anders?” Alistair puts a hand on his shoulder—it’s a habit. “Are you okay?”

The look of pain on his face as he turns stops Alistair in his tracks. He had a speech planned—almost—but none of it works now. They run through the act of being cordial—every piece of it burns.

“I’m so proud of you,” Alistair finally blurts. It’s true—he is. Even though Anders looks like he’s falling apart right this second, he seems different—braver, taller, more intellectually substantial.

Anders kisses him. His mouth feels like home and Alistair makes fists at his sides to keep from ruining everything. He manages to push him away—he doesn’t know how.

The rest of the words pass like daggers between them. Alistair is getting married and there’s nothing to be done—they’re separate. They have new lives that they lead in different cities.

 And suddenly it’s all done. Alistair gives a speech. It goes as well as it can under the circumstances. They leave. Anders goes on with his life—hopefully happily.

Presently

“I had no idea that affected you as much as it affected me,” I say sadly.

Alistair sighs, “I was fucked up for months. I wrote you a whole notebook of letters, actually.”

“You did?” I ask.

He nods. “They were really sad, mostly. All about the mistakes we made…”

I lean in and kiss him. He looks like he needs it.

“...but there were happy ones too. Some of them were about how great you seemed—how strong and fierce and brave.”

I blush. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand up and down my side gently. “And it was all true…”

“I love you,” I whisper. I’ve said that so much today, it’s starting to feel like punctuation.

“But the point is,” Alistair smiles, “That I knew you were different right then… and this week you proved it even more. You’re magic.”

[probably-writing-x]

Just you and your quirks.

Ander x Reader

Request by anon: Hi, so I Ioved noticed absence and it gave me an idea.I want to request an Ander imagine where he and the reader are in the same friend group, hanging out everyday etc and he likes her for a long time but she has no clue.Then something happens that makes him confess his feelings to her (how he remembers everything she's told him and notices every little thing she does etc).I don't know if it makes any sense but if you could do that it would be greatly appreciated. Ps I really love your writing ❤

Gif is not my own

Requests are open 🤍

“Hello hello hello!” Ander grins as he carry the pizza boxes through to the lounge, “What did we miss?”

Guzmán follows behind with the other boxes in his arms, stepping over the pillows on the floor to follow cautiously.

“Just (Y/n) complaining about being hungry,” Lu rolls her eyes, “Or complaining about everything in general.”

“Well, I got your favourite so stop moaning now,” Ander eyes you as he sets down the box in front of your crossed legs, “And I even asked for it without the onions because you always end up picking them off anyway.”

“Thanks,” You laugh to yourself, “Did you ask for ex-“

“Extra peppers too, yep I got it all right,” He scoffs, sitting down beside you with his own pizza box, “What film are we watching?”

The group kick off into a chorus of debate once again as they try to decide on the movie, now joined by Guzmán who made the whole situation worse by suggesting films that you hadn’t even considered.

“What film are they choosing?” Ander leans over to ask you.

“I’m not even sure that they know,” You roll your eyes, “At this rate we won’t end up watching anything, just like last time.”

“Oh, I was meant to ask you, do you mind if I come round tomorrow evening? Mums at a board meeting all evening and I’d rather avoid my Dad.”

You smile at his offer, “Yeah of course, I think my parents are out anyway. We can play some Warzone.”

“Hey! You two need to make a decision,” Polo calls over, “It’s either Die Hard or Love Actually.”

You laugh at the choices, evidently dissimilar in all ways.

“Don’t you hate both of those films?” Ander frowns at you.

“Yeah but that’s fine, Guzmán always picks the shit choices,” You joke to your friend, “I say Die Hard.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll watch that one,” Ander agrees, reaching over and grabbing a blanket from the middle of the floor where you’d all set up for the evening.

As the film starts, both of you snuggle under the covering as you turn to watch the screen - unbeknownst to the fact that Anders eyes struggled to leave you, despite the ongoings of the movie.

It’s as the film almost ends and a loud fight scene almost breaks out that you jump up from your sleep and realise that you’d been sleeping on Ander the entire time. Luckily, he was asleep too as he’d had his head resting on your shoulder and yours resting against the cushion of his curly hair.

“Don’t worry, we took plenty of photos,” Lu comments from across the room where her and Guzmán sat with his arm uncomfortably around her, “Just for when you two actually do get together.”

You glance at your friend and try to not move in the fear of waking him up. Why did everyone always think that you two were anything more than friends?!

- - - - - -

The next day, you meet Ander from tennis practice as you walk over to the court that he was playing on.

“Hi Sir,” You smile to his Dad, “How are you?”

“Better if my son didn’t seem so distracted,” He rolls his eyes, “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

You glance over at Ander who looks furious with irritation, “We have a lot of tests coming up at school, and Ander’s been working hard to get his grades up. He’s actually been helping me.”

“Well, maybe he needs to focus more on the thing that’s going to help his future,” His Dad glares daggers at Ander who looks bashfully down at his feet.

“Ready to go, Ander?” You turn to him hopefully.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His Dad questions, “He’ll stay here until I say he’s good enough to leave.”

“Sir, don’t you think you’ll make matters a lot worse by forcing him to continue when he’s clearly not focused? I don’t know about you, but it’s only going to get worse if you keep him here for any longer in my opinion,” You’re always defensive of Ander but it’s normally after you’ve left that you’d start to rant about how his Dad treats him in practice.

“(Y/n), it’s fine, I’ll talk to you later...” Ander attempts, not wanting matters to escalate further.

“No, I’m serious! I don’t see how you can think it’s acceptable to push your son into some sort of elite status when all it’s doing is making him hate the sport more and more.”

His Dad glares at you but words fail him before he swallows his pride, “Fine, we’ll start again tomorrow.”

You turn your attention back to Ander who looks shocked between you and his father, “Ready to go, Ander?”

He grabs his bag from the side of the court and follows out after you in pure surprise. Nobody ever spoke up to his Dad like that. He never had the guts to, so how had you just done it so easily?

“You really didn’t have to do that...” He comments as he trails beside you on the way out of the school grounds.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make things worse, but fuck! He makes me so angry,” You sigh, running a hand across your hair.

“No, no,” Ander stops you by holding onto your arm, “Thank you, nobody’s ever stood up to him like that.”

Your lips curl into a smile full of surprise.

“I’d do it everyday if I could. You don’t deserve to be treated like that,” You encourage, “He needs to understand when enough is enough.”

Ander swallows the lump in his throat, “Thank you.”

“Now, lets go and play warzone and at least try to get some wins today.”

- - - - - -

You’re just about to fall asleep when Ander speaks up the words he’d been waiting to ask all night. Something had seemed off about him since you’d first arrived home but you’d brushed it off as a consequence of what had happened with his Dad.

“There’s an event thing with the board tomorrow and obviously I have to go with my mum, would you maybe want to come? She said I could bring someone,” Ander explains, tucking an arm under his head as he lays on the adjacent side of the bed to you.

“Yeah, okay, I’d be happy to. Do we need to dress up all fancy?”

He laughs, “It’s a black tie event.”

“Then I will find my finest attire, what time?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” He nods, “Thank you.”

This was the way things always were with you and Ander. You spent so much time alone together, separate from the rest of the group, that people constantly assumed that you were dating. Whether it was always spending the night at each other’s houses, meaning you’d always turn up late on the same days, or the fact that you were always each other’s plus ones - everyone always just expected that you were more than friends. It had never occurred to you that he felt that way too. It was just the way it had always been. He’d always just remembered every word you said, every date that was of note, every piece of your life that he’d fixed with his own. Every piece of your heart.

“Good night Ander,” You mumble through a stifled yawn as you turn in the bed and tuck an arm under the pillow to sleep.

He turns to face you too but doesn’t close his eyes like you do. He keeps focused on you, wondering when you’d learn that he’d never see you as a friend.

- - - - - -

As promised, Ander comes to pick you up with his Mum at 7pm and the two of you head to the venue of the board meeting. It was always intimidating to attend these things but you’d grown used to them after how many Ander had brought you along to. Normally, the two of you would keep to each other’s company and avoid speaking to as many people as you could.

“Okay, so who’s that guy?” You point out to a certain man amongst the crowd as Ander hands a drink to you.

“He pays for some of the Oxford scholarships,” Ander explains, “Pretty important for the school.”

You roll your eyes, “Or just a guy with deep pockets.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Ander laughs, “The school upholds a good reputation so that people like that keep feeding us money.”

“Technicalities,” You brush him off, taking a sip of your drink.

“You know, we can get out of here if you want,” He encourages, following behind you as you walk through the crowd.

“What are you talking about?” You laugh, “We only just got here!”

“I know, but it’s hardly our scene.”

“None of this is ever our scene,” You chuckle, “But it’s getting pretty busy, we can at least stay for an hour.”

“And then warzone?” Ander raises his brows.

“Deal.”

You spend the next half an hour mingling around people before your phone starts going off in your pocket and you quickly dismiss yourself to head outside. It’s your Mother on the other end of the line as you respond to her asking about when you’d be home, if at all.

“I can check with Ander, see if it would be easier for me to stay there tonight,” You nod, turning around as you notice someone, Ander, walking out of the door.

He nods at you like he’s giving approval to your obvious suggestion.

“And he said that’s fine,” You laugh gently, “I’ll talk to you later Mum, yeah I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

With that, you hang up and turn back to Ander.

“Sorry, are the speeches starting?” You ask, stuffing your phone back into your pocket.

“No, but I um... I just wanted to speak to you about something.”

Your brows settle into an instant frown, “Everything okay man?”

Ander looks down at the floor and kicks at a stone amongst the crowd on the ground, “See, I’ve thought about saying this a thousand times. I don’t know why now, here, but I guess it just feels like the right time.”

“Ander what are you talking about?”

“You can say whatever you want, or nothing at all, just after I’m done. I don’t think I’ll be able to start up again if I stop.”

“You’re scaring me, what are you about to say?”

“I like you (Y/n). And the only reason I’m not saying love is because I want that to come after I know that you feel the same. It’s not just that liking to anybody and everybody. It’s in every piece of you,” Ander admits like the words have been waiting to be spoken for years now, “You’re the most incredible person in my life, and I never want to find anybody that will change that.”

“Ander...” You begin, unsure as to where your sentence would go after that.

“I started thinking it was just a confused thing. But then I realised you’re the only person I actually fucking listen to, and I remember everything you say. And that’s not just a friend thing. I didn’t even try to fight it because I already knew it would be useless. It’s you (Y/n)! How could I not like you?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “How long... how long have you felt like that?”

He smiles gently, “I think I always did. I just didn’t realise until early this year, when you came to mine on Valentines Day.”

“February? That was eight fucking months ago Ander. You’ve had feelings for me since then and you’ve just not told me?”

He winces a little at the harsh tone of your words, “I tried to, so many times. But I didn’t want to ruin anything, change anything...”

“Change anything?” You exhale, “This changes everything Ander.”

“You don’t feel the same,” It’s like he needs to speak the words to properly realise it.

You can’t say no. But can’t say yes either.

Instead, you watch as he takes a step forward until the gap between you is closed.

“Just... tell me to stop and I will,” He begins, lifting up a hand to cup your cheek.

He takes in a deep breath and dips his head to your level, lips an inch from yours as he looks to your eyes for approval. You’re the one that leans forward, offering him all the approval he needed. Your lips lock and for a moment all of your history slips away. He’s just a boy with a very certain kiss.

“Does that change anything?”

[5lazarus]

Anders in Autumn, Ch. 14

the last of @cozy-autumn-prompts. :) Ch. 14, “you take my breath away”: Anders and Fenris come home. Read on AO3 here. The song I had running through my head for this chapter is Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come, and George Winston’s piano cover. Give it a listen, if you feel like it. :)

Leaves litter the streets of Kirkwall when they return. Fenris takes the horses to Hightown with him. They dawdle at first, at the gate down to Lowtown. Anders is afraid for him to leave. Over nearly a decade their relationship has shifted from mutual antipathy to grudging respect and now comradeship and this tender thing, and it is all so fragile he fears a chill wind will ruin it.

He asks, anxious, “When will I see you next?” Anything could happen while he is gone. The guards could come from him. The templars might invade the clinic. The Carta could firebomb it. Merrill could sacrifice him to Xebenkeck. She had wanted to talk to it, when Hawke accidentally summoned it.

Fenris says, “Tomorrow?” Anders’ face falls. He wanted him to say “tonight.” He nods and begins to descend the stairs, but Fenris stops him. They kiss quickly, conscious that they are a sight: a Ferelden human and a Tevene elf, with two very fine horses. They break apart before someone can try to pick their pockets. Fenris says, firmly this time, “Tomorrow.”

Anders trudges down to Lowtown, winding his way through the Foundry District and down into Darktown. The city goes from gold, trees resplendent in the crown of autumn, to dying and dirty too quickly. The old quarry walls block too much of the sun. He keeps his head down and eyes quick. No one seems to be watching him. The new clothes help.

Messere-Pounce-the-Second runs out to greet him, meowing excitedly. He’s visibly thinner--Merrill has actually kept him to his diet. Anders scoops him up and the cat rubs against his face. He’s purring.

“I should leave more often,” Anders tells him, hugging him close as Messere Pounce tucks his head under his chin and presses his cold nose to his neck. Cat in his arms, he walks into the clinic and is shocked. Merrill has whitewashed the place. She has little pots of elfroot and embrium arranged artistically through the front room. He hears a crash and a scream from the back room and sighs. He puts down Messere Pounce and goes to investigate.

Merrill is holding aloft a bottle of something green, lying prone on a heap of sacks. Anders sniffs the air: elfroot, and a lot of it. Truly a ridiculous amount, really. Even Merrill couldn’t smoke all that. He heaves his bag down. Merrill opens her eyes and grins sheepishly.

“Absinthe?” she inquires.

“Now?”

“Later!” she clarifies. “I made it myself. Isabela showed me how. I took a sack of sugar from one of Varric’s friends,” doubtless without permission, “and, well, in Rivain they drink it with rain water, but I didn’t think the water in Kirkwall would be ah, non-toxic enough. So I drew a bottle of water from the Viscount’s well.” Anders looks at her in disbelief. He resents how Hightown has the cleanest water while polluting the rest of the city. He resents that, because of the way the city itself is built, Hightown’s rainwater pours through the dirty gutters of Lowtown and floods Darktown. Every time it rains, he has to prepare for a cholera outbreak from the overflowing sewers. Every summer he prepares for malaria. Even he would not dare steal from the Viscount’s well, at least not just to make a drink. He would rather occupy it. He shakes his head and offers her a hand. She takes it, and he heaves her up.

“Thanks for whitewashing the place,” he says. “What did I miss?”

Athenril brought the elfroot for saving Mahanon’s life, apparently Imladris was a cousin, Hawke had left a bag of flaming dogshit on Varric’s doorstep, Isabela had received a very flirtatious letter from Fenris’ estranged sister, and Meredith had made three mages with connections to the underground Tranquil. Orsino had sent a letter to the Seekers. The spirits were getting restless--the very oldest ones, the ones who remembered the fall of Arlathan. The Veil was fraying. Six children in the alienage were showing signs of mana sensitivity, but Clan Sabrae was refusing to take anyone in until they had a new Keeper, First, and Second.

“But,” Merrill says, “the halla came back. As soon as they buried Marethari. So I’ve heard. So Athenril told Hawke.”

Anders pauses. Merrill fucked up, and he has no sympathy for what she did to her clan. She should have known better to make a deal with a spirit named Audacity, and one that was so obviously a Pride demon. He does pity her, perhaps, watching the convoluted ways her clan goes about ostracizing her but still makes sure she knows that they are thriving as much as they can without her. He decides not to touch it.

“Makes sense,” he says. “They have no one to train them.” Merrill flinches, and he feels a twinge of guilt. It’s like kicking a puppy, but how else will she learn?

“I suppose another clan will take them,” Merrill says, blinking rapidly. “Oh dear. I was never much of a teacher anyway. I should have asked Imladris Ashallin--but she can get so nasty.”

“She was nice enough to me,” Anders shrugs. “Mostly ignored me, to be honest. Spent a lot of time in the woods. Her husband was a lot of fun, though.”

“Ah, Mahanon, he’s the heart and soul,” Merrill smiles. “Good singer, too. Both of them are so intense though, no wonder you all got along. How was it with Fenris? When Hawke found out you were both gone, they were furious. They wanted to go with you. Varric had to talk them down out of tracking you down. Said they’d do more good telling Bran to leave the investigation off than going on the run.”

He smiles. Messere-Pounce-the-Second bats at his face with a paw and purrs insistently. He wants to be fed. Anders thinks about Fenris, the hungry kiss in the kitchen, the cool night in the orchard, and waking up to him throwing the covers off the bed--their bed, for two nights. “It was fine,” he says to the floor, putting the cat down. “Where did you put the food? What have you been feeding him?” He would sing his love to the Golden City and back, but he has to find the words and the rhythm first.

Merrill looks at him oddly. “You’re happy.”

Kirkwall in autumn is a riot of color and gloom, sea salt and rot coming off the docks, and its people taste of the tomb. Still the sun burns them clean. Anders considers the street scene outside the window before answering. There is still daylight, that perfect gold that illuminates even Darktown for an hour before twilight.

“Yes,” he says. His heart feels full, he can’t even snap at her to leave him alone. Merrill leaves anyway, eying him as she goes, and Anders stands in the middle of the bustle of the clinic and enjoys being home. Lirene is ladling out the evening meal. There are less people gathered than last month, since the dockworkers had gotten a raise. Their faces look less pinched. Perhaps it is the sun pooling in the pit of his stomach, keeping him buoyant, but Anders sees hope there too. He gets to work, chatting with his neighbors, hearing about the little ailments, the fears about the leftover Qunari (who still needed a meal, he’d have to ask Fenris to come with him and invite them over), someone was setting up a school in the alienage but the Ferelden children were invited too. 

Night falls and most people clear out, and Anders checks on his chronic patients. Samson always has a bed with him, after everything he has done for Kirkwall’s Circle and the Tranquil in particular, and he is struggling with withdrawal. Anders suspects he steals his lyrium, but he would rather him dose safely than risk an impure strain in the sewers. Reduce harm, he thinks: you can’t take it away entirely, but you can wear away at it. He keeps an eye on him while he makes his rounds.

He is taking inventory of what Athenril left--there is a story in this gift, he suspects, that he’ll never know--when Lirene comes in.

“That elf’s at the door again,” she says. “The grumpy one. You want me to turn him away? I’m going to head out for the night.”

His heart stops, and he can’t help a broad grin from spreading across his face. He wasn’t expecting him to come by, Fenris had told him tomorrow, has he missed him that much? Lirene smiles at the sight of him. She’s glad he’s glad, and Anders is elated. “Fenris?” he says. “Oh no, he’s alright. I’ll get him, you have a great night.”

“More than alright, I’d say,” Lirene murmurs, and she grabs her cloak and dagger and leaves quickly. Anders heads back out to the main room. Samson has fallen asleep in the chair in front of the fire, Maddox standing next to him patiently like Andraste’s mabari himself. Oh, Maker: fuck Meredith for ripping him away from himself, his friend, his lover.

“Maddox, you can sit if you want,” Anders says. Tranquil don’t have wants. It is worth a try anyway. Karl managed to break free briefly, that one time. Maybe this would help.

“I am fine,” Maddox says tonelessly. “The fire is acceptable and I do not tire.” He deserves more than that, more than dry bread and a warm fire. He deserves a bed of roses and his lover back, he deserves Samson whole and they both should have gotten a full life, a reliable home, not just a dry spot by the fire in a renegade mage’s clinic where at any moment this could all be shut down. They deserve more. They deserve the world.

He hears a cough, and looks to the door. Fenris is standing awkwardly at the threshold. He has changed back to his usual light armor. He’s cut his hair, too, shaved at the sides and short on top. He looks sharper and older and clearer. Anders loves it. He wants to run his fingers through it.

Fenris says, “I had some unexpected free time and thought you may want some company.” He looks bashful. Anders draws closer, caresses the edge of his jaw. Fenris closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“I like the hair,” Anders murmurs. He thinks wildly, suddenly: but I haven’t shaved since we left Kirkwall. Before he has time to fret Fenris kisses him, and he sighs as Fenris rakes his nails up his back. Maddox and Samson are behind him, he does not want to think about them. Would Fenris take care of him like Samson takes care of Maddox, or would he leave him like a dog in the streets, like so many have left their broken mage partners? The abandoned mabari take care of them, though, and Samson and some of the others do too. He wouldn’t be left entirely bereft.

“What’s the matter?” Fenris says sharply. “You’re not--you’re thinking about something else.”

Anders holds him closer. “Tranquility,” he says. “Common punishment for mages who have lovers outside the Circle. Inside the Circle they just transfer you, if you’re lucky. I’m just…” He exhales, then burrows his nose in Fenris’ hair. “Brooding. Angry. Afraid. Like I always am. Just--let’s stay like this a moment.” A moment may be all he has. Eventually he can make himself let go. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight.” He tries to remember what he had been doing--taking stock, planning out poultices for the next week, he needs to draw up a kitchen rotation and see what cash Lirene has left, if he has enough to go to the market or if he’ll need to take Hawke with him.

“Are you busy?”

There is always work that needs doing, because if he does not do it, no one will. That is one thing Justice has taught him. If you see something that needs doing, do it, there’s no excuses. Feeling tired already, Anders smiles and says, “I can make time for you.”

They go for a walk, hand in hand, out to the wharves. The lanterns are lit and swinging in the careless breeze. Anders drinks it in. The trees are losing their leaves, but still they shine in the fairy-light. It is cool but not yet cold. Kirkwall is more temperate than Ferelden, and so much less harsh than the Anderfels. Half the city is out and about, everyone has their doors thrown open and there is a card game, a party, a fight at every corner. He waves at his neighbors--Lirene has Thrask of all people on her arm, as they sit outside her house with a few tankards. She toasts them as they walk by. Sketch, an apostate friend from the Mages’ Collective, rushes into them, slipping a piece of paper into his pocket as he goes. No one is chasing him. Sketch is always like that. Fenris looks at him curiously, but Anders shakes his head. He is not sure how much he wants him to know.

They make it to the wharves and it is a shock how clean it all is. He remembers the blood staining the cobbles, Kirkwall’s eternal rain. Fenris’ fingers tighten their grasp. Anders looks down and notices the grotting between the stones is clean. Someone spent time scrubbing the battle away. Two people dead, a few maimed, most recovering from their injuries, to fight another day, because there would be another battle, another day. But they won this one, and they will win the next. Kirkwall had wrested itself from its chains. One day the mages will do the same, and he will live to do it.

Justice walks the streets of Kirkwall, hand-in-hand. Fenris stops at the edge of the docks and they sit down, staring out at the bay. Behind them are those awful Tevinter statues, howling in despair. Before them the usual moon glimmers on the water, the second Satinalia moon starting to glimmer. Anders can feel the Veil trembling on his skin. He leans against Fenris. Fenris puts his arm around his waist.

“I am thinking,” Fenris murmurs, “of all my ancestors who must have died here.” Cheery: but Anders is just as morbid. “How many of them looked on this, and prayed to gods who would not answer to save them. To let them leave. And now I am here. And I am choosing to stay.”

The wind ruffles the feathers sewn into Ander’s shawl. He shivers, and Fenris draws him closer. Justice presses behind his eyes, drawn to the surface as they see the procession of those that made them. A ship creaks, moored for the winter, and they know it groans with the memory of so many families, lost. Anders thinks of the mages locked in the Gallows, restless as the Satinalia moon stirs the spirits up, and sighs.

“You take my breath away,” Fenris says suddenly. “I am not good with my words. This is new to me. This is all so new to me. But--you are breath-taking. Your commitment. How much you care. How much it hurts you, and how you persevere. And I like the beard.”

Anders wonders if it would be too much to just push him onto his back and take him there, or let him take him, whatever Fenris preferred, but Fenris made it clear he needed to pace himself, and besides, knowing his luck, Isabela would amble by, or fucking Cullen, one of those blond templar oafs. He kisses him instead, fiercely, intent on making him breathless. He gets a bit carried away, dragging him on top of him, worn planks digging into  his back, but Fenris is laughing, and he draws back, sheepish, saying, “Too much?”

But Fenris says, “Just enough, mage. You’re enough.”