#fenris x anders

[barbex]

For DADWC: “I swear, it’s not always like this” for whichever DA2 companion you think has the messiest bedroom. my money's on Anders.

Oh it's so Anders! Thank you for this prompt for tonight's @dadrunkwriting. A little fenders modern AU

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"Hey man! I know you won't li...ke it but you got...ta do me a favor." Hawke's voice sounds distorted over the phone, microshort pauses cutting the words in half. "You got...ta pick up Fenris, he got kicked out."

"Me?" Anders wipes his face, getting his fingers tangled in his hair. The rain is relentless. "Why me? He hates me."

"... doesn't ...ate you. He just doesn't li... y... magic."

"Big difference." Anders thinks of complaining more, but what is the point? He will do this anyway. That's what friends to, even if one friend is a prickly bastard who doesn't trust you at his back. "You're breaking up, where is he?"

"Gaslight Cafe. He's..."

"Hawke?" His phone beeps at him, the connection is lost. "Where the fuck are you this time?" It's rhetorical question. Hawke could be anywhere, and judging by the bad connection he is either in Antarctica or on a german Autobahn. Anything is possible with Hawke. Definitely a more glamorous life than Anders'.

He takes the metro to the other side of the city. The Gaslight Cafe is close to the train station but the rain has gotten even worse and when enters the cafe, he is soaked head to toe. Before he drips all over the floor, he stops on the big doormat, letting himself drip. It's not difficult to find Fenris, his white hair unmistakable. And he is, objectively, the most attractive person at this place. If it weren't for his angry scowl, he probably would have several admirers around him.

Anders raises his hand to catch Fenris' attention. Fenris sees him, his eyes widening, and then he lowers his head again. After finishing his glass of wine, he picks up his bag and pays at the bar, before finally looking at Anders again. "Did Hawke send you?"

"Yeah, he called me a few minutes ago, I haven't even been home yet." 

"Sorry for the inconvenience." The bitterness in Fenris' voice is unmistakable.

Anders can't think of anything to say but something mean and vicious, the usual kind of conversation between them. But he's tired, wet, and just wants to go home and cuddle the cats and really, would should he say? That it's not an inconvenience? That he doesn't mind having Fenris around? As if he would believe that. 

"Come, the metro should be there in three minutes."

Fenris follows silently, steps into the metro, and sits down next to Anders just as silently. It's honestly unnerving. 

"Have you eaten?"

"That is not of your concern, mage."

Anders rolls his eyes. "Chill, it was just a question. I'm going to pick up a some kebab on the way and wondered if you want something too."

Fenris is silent again. He stares at the bag on his lap, a rather small thing for something that is supposed to contain his whole life. The Metro approaches the station and Fenris flinches when Anders gets up. Anders waits for him to stand up, watching his body language. He is too careful, too tense, looking like he's expecting an attack any moment. Something is very wrong.

On the way to Anders' apartment, they stop at the kebab place. Fenris stands back, holding his bag to his chest. Anders debates several things he could say and finally settles on, "I don't know what happened, but you're safe now. You're safe with me, I promise."

Fenris looks up, his shoulders marginally relaxing but his mouth still a hard line. "A promise by a mage."

Rolling his eyes once again, Anders turns away. "I may be a mage but I can't magic food into my fridge, so if you want to eat..."

"I would like kebab too." Fenris stares at his bag again. "I will pay you back."

"Two kebab boxes with everything, Muhamad, and extra fries, thanks," he orders, and fishes a few crumbled bills from his pocket. "Don't worry about it," he says to Fenris. "You can pay next time." 

"Next time?"

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to, I just thought —" he just thought how nice it would be to have some company, to get to know Fenris better, to talk, to — where had that come from? 

He's still chewing on these strange thoughts as he carries the bag with their food to his apartment. Fenris and him have hardly ever spend more than two minutes alone with each other but somehow this doesn't feel too strange now. Fumbling one handed with the keys, he kicks the door open and ushers Fenris inside.

"I don't want the cats to get out." He closes the door, just as a demanding meow announces a hungry cat. "Yes, Pounce, I know."

Pounce meows again, producing an impressive scream for his size. 

"Are you sure that is not a demon cat?" Fenris eyes the cat with suspicion. 

"He's just hungry." Anders opens a can of wet food and fills half of it into a bowl. He puts the other half into a second bowl and carries it to the other side of the living room/kitchen area.

Fenris gestures at the bag with their kebab. "Are we not going to eat?"

"First I have to take care of Mamma cat."

"Another cat?"

Anders carefully opens the door to his bedroom and gestures for Fenris to follow him. "It's only been three days. I found her behind the dumpsters, with one baby. I looked everywhere, but if she had more kittens, they're probably dead." He places the bowl on the floor close to the pile of blankets and cushions on the floor, where mamma cat hides with her kitten. "She's still shy." He looks at Fenris, noting how he looks around the mess on the floor.

Apart from the blanket nest, dirty clothes lie on the floor, next to sticky plates and books. "It's not always this bad, I swear. I had like zero time to clean up for the last week and then with Mamma cat —"

A smile plays on Fenris' lips. "And here I thought you would be excessively clean and orderly."

"How did I ever make that impression?" Anders shakes his head.

"At the clinic, when you work. You are..." For the first time, Fenris looks into his eyes. "You are careful, attentive, and precise. I feared I would have to follow many rules at your place."

"Pfff." Anders laughs out. "The only rule is not to feed weird shit to the cats and maybe help with the dishes, sometimes." He picks up some of the books to put them on the desk at the window. "I'm just gonna clean this up, don't want you to break your ankle if you have to get up at night."

Fenris looks from him to the bed and back. "You plan for me to sleep here? In your bed?"

"I don't have another." Anders looks up at him. "The couch is not big enough for sleeping." A sharp frown forms on Fenris' forehead. "You don't like it, I understand. I'm... I'm gonna think of something. Let's eat now."

They eat in silence, again. Always so silent. Anders is almost getting used to it. Shoving the last bite in his mouth, he gulps it down with water and stretches his arms over his head. "I'm beat, I'm gonna go to sleep. I should have a yoga mat somewhere, if I —"

"No," Fenris says, startling him. "I will not kick you from your bed, mage. I can take the floor."

"Not gonna happen, you're not sleeping on the floor."

"Why not? It would not be the first —" His eyes widen as he snaps his mouth shut. 

Anders blinks, his brain spinning with guesses as to what has happened to Fenris. "No one sleeps on the floor, that's why."

"Only the cats," Fenris says quietly.

"That's right." A grin spreads on his face. "Only the cats sleep on the floor. Do you have a toothbrush?"

When Anders comes out of the bathroom, Fenris already lies on the bed, under the cover. He is stiff like a plank, all the way on the side, nearly falling off when Anders lets himself fall on the mattress. "There's enough room, you don't have to make yourself small." Anders curls up on the side, exhaustion taking over. He is nearly asleep when Fenris moves, scooting closer to him. Just as he dips into the darkness of sleep, he feels Fenris sliding his fingers under Anders hand. He hesitates for a moment, and then closes his finger around Fenris' hand.

"Good night, Fenris."

"Good night." There is a breath. "Good night, Anders."

[shouldaspunastory]

For @sulky-valkyrie and @dadrunkwriting

Fenris x Anders, (SFW, DA2, End of Act III, established relationship) 373 words

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"Fen-" Anders whispers shakily, breaths coming in short, stuttered bursts as his tearful amber eyes finally reach the elf's large green ones for the first time since they reached the Chantry courtyard. His heart aches, Maker, it would have been infinitely more merciful had Hawke chosen to kill him. There's some justice in leaving him alive to contend with the consequences of his actions, to defend the mages he's put in jeopardy. But knowing facing his lover is the hardest and worst of it all. "I-" Anders chokes.

Fenris shakes his head, peeling his gauntlets from his hands and tossing them aside at his feet as he closes the gap between them. His bare hands, then, Anders thinks solemnly. Perhaps around his throat. Hands that once touched him with such reverence, with love, will be the same that choke the last breath from him.

"Do you regret it? Blowing up the Chantry," Fenris scowls, not bothering to wait for Anders to find his ability to speak again. "Then, do not try to tell me you are sorry, mage. The only apology I will accept is for not telling me what you had planned."

Anders freezes, unable to do anything but stare wide-eyed as the elf reaches down, taking his hands in his own.

"You- You wouldn't have stopped me," Anders manages finally, his voice and hands trembling.

"I know these hands," Fenris replies, thumb gently caressing the back of them. "I've seen the good they can do, and I've known how gentle they can be. I've seen you trying. I won't pretend there isn't blood on your hands," he continues, squeezing and continuing to hold his hands fast when Anders moves to pull them away. "But mine are far from clean. If you felt this was the only way, I suppose I will have to trust you. You've yet to make me regret doing so before," Fenris concludes, slowly allowing his forehead to rest against his lover's. "Here I am, about to defend these mages in hopeless battle. You lead me to strange places, Amatus," Fenris whispers softly, causing Anders to huff out a breathless and disbelieving laugh," but I remain at your side," the elf promises, still clasping Anders' hands in his.

[ripflemeth]

fenris and anders fic where anders manages to stay in darktown all those years without getting thrown into the gallows bc it’s fenris killing anyone who tries to come for the mage

[thiefbird]

Accidentally published this way too early, whoops!

@midnightprelude thank you for the prompt!

Wow so this one got long and kinda convoluted! We've got Fenris watching Nathaniel and Anders, we've got Nathaniel watching Fenris watch him and Anders, we've got two broody men brooding a lot!

For @dadrunkwriting

Anders laughed, big and bold in a way almost completely unfamiliar to Fenris, at something the Warden-Archer had said. As was tradition at this point, they'd all ended up at the Hanged Man once they'd arrived safely back in Kirkwall. And to Fenris's great, if unexpressed, displeasure, 'all' today seemed to include the Howe.

It wasn't that he had any specific complaints about the man himself; it wasn't his fault Hawke had been hired by his sister for a rescue mission. Nathaniel Howe was an good fighter, and an excellent strategist; for all that he was the reason they'd entered the Deep Roads this time, he was also the reason any of them made it back out again. He was a prickly, standoffish man until he had a few pints in him, but Fenris shared those traits with him.

No, the problem was the way Anders had completely lost his mind the moment the archer's sister had begged Hawke's assistance. The man, who had spent their month or so in the Deep Roads miserable and vomiting from claustrophobia, had all but demanded they leave that very moment, without even stopping for supplies.

And the way he'd nearly thrown himself into the arms of his fellow Warden the moment they'd spotted him, darkspawn ambush be damned. He'd only been stopped by Fenris grabbing him by the collar, and had clung to him for long minutes once the fighting was over, murmuring to each other too low for anyone to hear.

All while Fenris watched, miserable and steadily more irritable. He'd thought himself above petty jealousies when he'd accepted that Hawke would always have a piece of Anders' heart, but watching his mage fawn over someone not part of their little group of misfits stung like his brands in the sun.

And yet...

He'd not seen Anders smile so much, so widely, in years. Maybe not ever. Had so rarely heard of his life in the Wardens or before Justice, just that he'd killed a Templar who joined the Wardens to hunt him, and his spirit had possessed him to save his life. But between Nathaniel's reminiscing, and Anders egging him on, Fenris felt he'd learned more about Anders' life before Kirkwall in the last day than he had in the past five years.

He hadn't even known Anders had a lover in the Wardens, but it was clear to everyone who watched them interact how deep their history ran. It was clear in the shock and heartbreak on the Howe's face when the battle ended and he realized Anders was the mage he'd been fighting alongside, in the way he mumbled, stunned, that he'd thought Anders dead. In the way they clung to each other for the day's hike back to Kirkwall, and in the soft way Nathaniel watched Anders on the rare moments they separated.

And Anders, as usual, seemed oblivious to the tensions building. Varric was using the three of them for inspiration, ink smudges staining his fingertips as he scribbled frantic notes. Isabela looked ready to pick up her friend-fiction once more. Even Hawke and Merrill, usually the last to pick up on social cues, were watching them cautiously, as if they were a keg of gaatlok. But Anders was too busy being happy, truly happy, for the first time in a blue moon.

... Happy in a way Fenris didn't make him. In a way he'd never made him. He simply couldn't justify taking that happiness away. He knew when to accept defeat, and how to bow out gracefully.

~~~

Being found in the blasted Deep Roads had been a wild stroke of luck, Nathaniel mused as he sipped his ale. Being found by a rescue operation Delilah had staged by hiring his former lover's best friend was something else entirely. Especially considering he'd spent five years believing said former love was less 'former' and more 'late'.

Maker and Maferath, he was alive. Leave it to Stroud, the great lout, to miss an entire Grey Wardens in the same part of the Deep Roads at the exact same time as him. Five years of thinking Anders had died to a templar's blade, of beating himself up over becoming complacent to the threat Roland had posed, and Anders had been just across the Waking Sea, barely a few days easy travel.

... Leave it to him to not have noticed there was a Warden in Kirkwall at all, but in his defense, there was something flaming wrong with this city. Near every fourth citizen he met felt Blighted, and nearly every Templar.

But that was a matter for the morning. The only important thing now was that Anders was alive. Alive, and apparently possessed by Justice, which was a surprise only because Anders had barely been able to stand being in the same room as the spirit, back at the Vigil. Possessing a willing friend had been Nathaniel's own idle suggestion, all those years ago, and he was glad to have made it, having learned how it saved Anders' life. They were joined, here and whole and hale, and not twisted up upon themselves like every other abomination Nathaniel had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Anders smelled the same as Nathaniel remembered, as if he'd just stepped out of a memory or the Fade: herbs and healing potions, elfroot smoke and the minty, numbing sweetness of too many lyrium potions. A good, familiar smell that spoke of safety and affection.

He looked good, too. A little older, a little sadder; too thin, too tired. But still so beautiful. And Nathaniel was no longer mired in the leftovers of Rendon Howe’s shame, so he could admit it now, how beautiful Anders was.

He could admit it, now that it was too late to say. Anders hadn't said anything outright, he never would with how the Circle had twisted him, but every third word from his lips was about the Tevinter elf with the nightmarish tattoos, of what couldn't be but definitely was lyrium. And if that wasn't enough, the miserable glares Nathaniel kept catching from the elf were their own evidence.

It had been five years. Of course Anders had moved on, and more fool Nathaniel for not having done the same. But Anders had been dead, and Nathaniel had never managed to say anything of import to him, and maybe those words, those feelings, had died along with him. Burnt to ashes beside Kristoff's suddenly empty corpse and what few of Anders' possessions they'd managed to keep hidden from the Orlesian bastard.

The only issue with that being that Anders was not dead, and all those secret, painful feelings were rising from his ashes like the metaphorical phoenix, and Anders had moved on.

He deserved it. He deserved happiness and love, in whatever form they took. Even if that form was a broody, spiky elf determined to stay as far from Nathaniel as possible while remaining in earshot, and who was currently glaring daggers at him.

... thank Andraste that Sigrun was not here, or Brosca, to quip about Anders having a type. (Thank the Paragons? The Stone? Thank someone, anyhow.)

He tried to bow out after a few drinks and a shared meal, claiming exhaustion from his long stay underground and the hike back, but Anders had grabbed his arm and begged him to stay a while longer, and Maker damn him, he'd never learned how to deny the man anything even before he died.

"What's Warden stamina good for it we can't use it to stay up too late and drink too much?" Anders joked once Nathaniel sat back down beside him.

"I can think of a few things," the Rivaini pirate said, waggling her eyebrows at Nathaniel in case her tone hadn't been clear enough. "Mmm, I had your Commander, once, during the Blight. Definitely worth the cursed blood."

Anders had burst out laughing at that and the elf's -- Fenris's -- ever-present glare had changed to something more sad and contemplative.

"What do you say, Sparky?" the pirate continued once Anders had caught his breath. "Why not let me compare before and after? Determine once and for all if the rumors are true? I still get shivers thinking about your little electricity trick..."

So did Nathaniel. It was a good trick.

"'Bela, you couldn't afford my new fees," Anders had shot back, and Isabela had feigned scandal.

"You'd charge a friend?!"

"I'd charge you, at least."

The conversation moved on, eased by the heady combination of cheap, bad booze, and the raw relief of finally being above ground, but Fenris made no attempt to join it, even as his glares ended and were replaced with resigned, thoughtful staring when Anders leaned against Nathaniel.

Apparently, Justice was less than fond of alcohol, even if he didn't seem to mind Anders' elfroot habit, and Anders had become a bit of a lightweight, even with a Warden's metabolism.

And he was still an overly affectionate drunk, curled into Nathaniel's side with his head on his shoulder in between glances at Fenris as he began to process the elf's reticence. "'Bela, he's sulking again," he complained, his words just starting to slur together.

Isabela chuckled, patting his knee. "Don't think he's too fond of your choice of pillow, sweet thing. Not that I can blame you; I do love an archer. You can pluck my string any day," she added, turning her gaze to Nathaniel with a wink.

"I prefer 'string my bow'," Anders mumbled into Nathaniel's neck as he tried to push himself upright. Nathaniel shivered at the hot, wet sensation on sensitive skin, and then flinched near hard enough to knock over their bench when Anders' flailing hand brushed against his crotch in its search for leverage. He grabbed Anders' wrist and directed him to the safe territory of his knee, and prayed his cock wouldn't start taking more of an interest in the proceedings than it already had.

Anders managed to get to his feet with only a slight struggle, but almost immediately tripped over Nathaniel's foot. Nathaniel instinctively caught him with an arm around his hips, nearly pulling him into his lap in an attempt to stop them both from toppling off the bench and into the rushes.

He made certain Anders was stable on his feet and without obstacles, and gave him a gentle push in Fenris's direction before turning back to his ale, and to Isabela, who gave him a calculating look before pulling a face.

"Oh, that's no fun," she complained cryptically.

Nathaniel huffed out something at least related to a laugh. "'Fun' is not something I've often been accused of, my lady. You will have to elaborate."

"My, my, you are something. I don't hear 'my lady' very often. More usually 'whore' or 'slattern'. 'Wench' if someone is looking to have a few teeth knocked out." She paused, looking over at Anders and Fenris staring awkwardly at each other. "You're in love with him, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, and Nathaniel felt no need to deny it, certain Anders was paying them no mind. "What of it? I thought him dead these last five years. I love a memory, a ghost of what used to be. He's happy. I'm glad he's happy."

Isabela mimed throwing up into her bet before tossing it back. She stood up and vaulted the table, landing on the bench where Anders had been moments before. "Well, you know what they say, Archy: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and I'm someone else!"

Nathaniel chuckled. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I will just head to bed. I... don't think I want to be 'over' him, just yet, now that I know he lives." He threw back the rest of his ale 26th a grimace, and stood to leave.

[flamsparks]

Mermaid AU. Because.

[Instagram - DeviantArt]

[justcallmecappy]

Help me write a Fenders fic (pt. 4)

[Read part 1 here | Read part 2 here | Read part 3 here]

Fenris and Anders exchange a panicked glance.

Thinking quickly, Anders grabs of Fenris' hand and they duck into the first room on the left.

He shuts the door behind them and quickly bolts the door, just as heavy footsteps stomp through the hall behind it.

"We might need to search every room," comes a muffled voice from the hallway, grumbling in annoyance. "Can't believe we have to work when we're supposed to be off duty."

There is a stern tapping at the door. "Serah? We need to search the room for a suspected apostate."

Anders frantically signals to Fenris, who already seems to know what to do.

Fenris reaches for a nearby heavy armchair and begins dragging it rhythmically across the floor, making loud squeaking noises against the polished wooden planks.

Anders -- in his most obnoxious, affected Orlesian accent -- says in a high-pitched voice, "Oh meserre! You are so beeg! Oh please, more, more, deeper, geev it to me --"

There is the awkward sound of throat-clearing from behind the door, and Anders can almost hear the redness of a blush rising to the Templar's face as he stutters, "We -- we'll come back later," followed by the sound of fading footsteps.

Anders waits with bated breath as the footsteps grow more and more distant. Then, as silence descends upon the hallway once more, he leans his forehead tiredly against the door and slides down to his knees.

He glances back at Fenris, who gives him a wide-eyed look of utter disbelief which Anders knows must be mirrored on his own face.

Then, as if on cue -- as the fog of panic dissolves into bone-aching relief, and the sheer ridiculousness of their situation descends upon them in the fading adrenaline rush -- both of them dissolve into fits of uncontrollable, silent laughter.

Fenris stifles his laughter by pressing his face into a velvet cushion, shoulders shaking; Anders bites into his lip and shudders against the wall, hugging his arms, trying his best to keep his mad giggling from rising above a whisper. The more he tries to warn with an urgent, "Shh -- shh!" the more they are driven into another bout of laughter, seemingly unable to stop.

It seems like an eternity later that they calm down enough for Anders to examine their surroundings.

They are in one of the Blooming Rose's more extravagant private rooms. The centerpiece is a four-poster bed with thick red velvet drapes, strewn generously with down-filled cushions. The room is clean and looks yet unused for the night, and unfortunately, the only exit seems to be the door they came in through -- the only window in the room is a skylight high above their heads, and there doesn't seem to be any ladders or pieces of furniture tall enough to reach it.

Anders takes a deep breath, wondering if the coast is already clear and they could try to make their escape through the hallway again. He reaches for the bolts, but then draws his hand sharply away when the sound of tromping footsteps comes from just behind it, heading down the hallway. The Templars seems to be still searching for him.

He exchanges another wordless glance with Fenris, who is now sitting on the armchair he had just dragged across the floor, looking somewhat lost and out of place.

Anders rises to his feet and sits at the edge of the bed, and they both sit in awkward silence for a while, the only sound coming from the subdued crackling of the fireplace, its light throwing the room in a rosy golden flow.

Thank you to everyone who voted, reblogged, and commented! 🥰

[bardsexlovers]

Fenris: So you like cats?

Anders: Yeah

Fenris: *tries to impress him by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

[mw567152]

I don’t even ship Fenris and Anders, but if they kissed a bit a lot of problems would be solved

[lets-get-brave]

Kinktober Day 6: Morning Sex Full Uncensored image on my Twitter!

Using the prompt list from @the-purity-pen this year! Fenders things for the Fenders discord server!

[pappykins]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age) Characters: Anders (Dragon Age), Fenris (Dragon Age), Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Sebastian Vael, Aveline Vallen, Merrill (Dragon Age), Original Templar Character(s) (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: First Kiss, Wicked Grace night shenanigans, Humor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Awkward Situation, templars are dicks, Anders can't catch a break, Fenris to the rescue, Flirting, Kissing, idiot boys are idiots, Enemies to Lovers Series: Part 1 of Year of the OTP Prompt fics Summary:

It's never a good night when they decide to play Wicked Grace for something other than coin.

Or rather, it's never a good night for Anders; his resoundingly bad luck at cards and even worse poker face doom him to be the one most often humiliated by whatever prize is agreed upon instead.

His friends, on the other hand, find these nights delightful, and Anders can't even bring himself to be angry with them for it - it's his consistent lack of coin driving them to come up with these hare brained ideas as an alternative. He knows they mean well, and it's ultimately harmless in the long run.

At least, it usually is - until the night Fenris loses right alongside him, only to escape out Hawke's second floor window mere moments after flirting with Anders, as their friends cheer them on from the other room.

Maybe Anders has a right to be mad at his friends, after all.

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

100 Ways (#18)

A/N: Dipped my toe into some pre-Fenders content for this one. Hope you like it ♥

“Here, drink this.  You’ll feel better.”

Anders could tell as soon as he’d seen Fenris the other man was sick. The fevered look in his eyes, the way he used every building, wall, post, they came across as a crutch. It was the clinician in him he supposed.

Always observing. 

He watched Fenris suddenly jerk, and shift on his feet. 

A shiver, Anders surmarised. 

He was not looking good. 

“What do you say, Anders?” 

“Pardon?” Anders looked over at Hawke and blinked. 

“We call it a night, get some drinks at the Hanged Man?” Hawke answered. 

“Oh, I think I’ll pass this evening,” Anders replied. “I thought I might have the clinic open this evening. With the weather…” He trailed off and briefly glanced at Fenris before looking back at Hawke. 

“Do you need a hand?” Hawke offered. 

“I think I’ll be okay,” Anders chuckled. “Go, drink, I’ll be fine.” 

“What about you Fenris?” Hawke asked. “Drinks?” 

“I think I might call it an early night myself,” Fenris crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Alright, suit yourselves,” Hawke shrugged. “I will have a drink in both of your honors. Don’t work yourself too hard Anders alright?” 

Anders waited until he was sure Hawke was out of view, and earshot. He wondered if Fenris was doing the same, but judging from the way he was swaying on his feet it was for an entirely different reason. 

“Come on then,” Anders walked over and wrapped an arm around Fenris shouldering some of his weight. 

“I’m fine,” Fenris protested and started to pull away. 

He stumbled and Anders quickly uprighted him before he face planted the ground. 

“Oh yes, so very very fine,” Anders made sure he had a secure hold on him. 

“Where are we going?” Fenris asked. 

Anders could practically feel the heat radiating from his body. He had to give Fenris credit, he was very good at letting on that he was fine. 

“My clinic,” Anders answered. “Watch your step.” 

“The mansion is the other way,” Fenris frowned. 

“True, but I highly doubt I’ll find anything of substance there,” Anders told him. “You look like you’re barely holding on. And as a doctor I can’t let that stand.” 

Fenris only grunted in response. Or coughed. 

Or both. 

Maker, he really was burning up. Walking was not going to cut it.

“Fenris, I’m going to do something, and I know you’re not going to like it, but, it’s going to happen,” Anders said in warning. 

He waited for a response and when none came took that as a sign to continue and picked Fenris up. He was lighter than he looked, armor and all and he grabbed onto Anders. 

“What are you doing?” Fenris glared at him. 

Not as intensive given his feverish appearance. Anders adjusted his hold and began walking again, being mindful of the stairs. 

“I’m carrying you,” Anders answered. “At the rate we were going, it’d be close to morning by the time we reached my clinic. Don’t worry I’ll put you down soon enough.” 

“S’warm,” Fenris coughed and shivered. 

“You’re burning up, everything feels warm,” Anders replied. 

The walk to darktown took longer than Anders would have liked, but they made it in one piece. He was careful not to jostle Fenris too much as he laid him down on one of the empty makeshift beds and covered him with a blanket. 

He boiled some water, and then cooled it down before dipping a cloth in to get it wet and laid it on Fenris’s forehead. Next he set about mixing up some medicine. He checked on Fenris every so often, rewetting the towel when it began to dry up, cooling him off. 

He was startled out of the comfortable silence as Fenris suddenly jerked away, the tattoo’s of is body glowing brightly, hands clenched tightly into fists. 

“Woah, easy,” Anders held his hands up as he moved towards Fenris slowly. 

“Anders…” Fenris broke out into a coughing fit. 

Curling in on himself as he shivered under the blanket. Anders brought him over some water and rubbed his back. 

“Why are you doing this?” Fenris asked hoarsely. 

That was a good question. Anders supposed he could play the doctor card. As big as their differences were, he couldn’t let Fenris suffer. But he knew, and maybe Fenris knew. It was more than that. 

“Here,” Anders went back to the table and brought over the medicine he’d made “Drink this. You’ll feel better.” 

Fenris eyed it, briefly, before taking the cup and downing the liquid in one go. He coughed again, partially from the illness, partially from the taste, and handed the cup back. 

“Just rest alright?” Anders tucked the covers around Fenris again.

“What about your clinic?” Fenris looked at him bleary eyed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Anders answered. “Just rest.” 

He reached down and smoothed his fingers through Fenris’s hair. Rewet the towel and settled in for the night to work on his manifesto. 

[barbex]

happy friday! gotta go with fenders hehe, maybe the prompt of “Will you look at me?”

Thank you for this @dadrunkwriting prompt! Here comes the fenders fic.

---

"Are you here to gloat?" Anders kneels between the meager piles of his belongings, deciding what he can take with him and what he should just leave behind.

"I am not," Fenris says.

"Why not?" Anders' fingers clench into his mother's pillow. "You saw what happened, I lost control, just like you said I would. You were right, I am an abomination and a monster." He wonders how he can talk like this, with his voice so strangely detached, even though he's falling apart inside.

Fenris opens and closes his mouth several times before he speaks. "You are not a monster."

What little reserves of control kept holding him together, they're gone now. Anders buries his face in his hands and cries. Big, ugly sobs that make his stomach hurt. "Don't do this, don't be nice to me out of pity. I don't even know why you're here, why do you care?"

"Will you look at me, Anders?"

"Why?" But still, he raises his head, not caring for the snot and tears on his face. He looks at Fenris, startled by his expression. He expected anger, or disgust, but not... this. The way Fenris looks at him is gentle, full of worry.

Again, Fenris seems to fight for the right words, starting and stopping several times. "I saw you lose control of your demon, your spirit, but you got it back."

"I almost killed that girl!" His vision swims as more tears fall.

"But you didn't. You stopped."

Anders grabs his hair and pulls. "Only because you and Hawke — if I had been alone..."

Fenris takes his hands and untangles them from his hair. "In Tevinter, I have seen mages do terrible things, deliberately. They were cruel and vicious, not because they were possessed, but because they could." He keeps holding Anders' hand. "You, I have only seen you use your magic deliberately for good and righteous causes."  

Anders doesn't know what to say. He wipes his face clean with his sleeve, acutely aware that Fenris still holds his other hand in his. 

"I see that difference now."

A snort does terrible things to his snot problem. "After today? After I almost...?"

"Almost means you did not do it," Fenris says. "Look at me, mage."

As if Anders could look away.

"I trust you. You are not an abomination."

"But, what if, one day, it becomes too much? What is Justice changes, and I lose control of him? What if I change him so much, he turns into a demon?" His chest feels too tight.

Fenris takes a long breath. "If you ask me to, I will strike you down if your spirit turns into a demon."

Anders pulls Fenris' hand to his chest, letting the warmth of his hand calm him. "Do you promise?"

With wide eyes, Fenris nods. "I promise." 

This close, Anders sees golden spots glitter in the green of Fenris' eyes. He blinks, moving a little closer. "Thank you."

"Anders," Fenris whispers. 

Anders kisses him, just barely, just a gentle brush of their lips and then quickly leans back. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me."

Fenris doesn't move, his eyes flicking between Anders' eyes and lips. "Again."

"Another kiss?"

Instead of an answer, Fenris closes the distance and kisses him. This time it's a real kiss, hot, hungry, dizzying. 

Catching his breath, Anders brushes the hair from Fenris' face. "Fen, have you never been kissed?"

Fenris' hand slides behind Anders' neck. "Not like this, no." And he kisses him again.

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @theluckywizard and @tobythewise, for @dadrunkwriting

Fenris x Anders (NSFW, College AU, Frenemies to Lovers, Pre-relationship) 1705 words.

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Anders shakes his head, slamming his locker shut with a bit more force than is necessary. This is stupid. He was stupid to have ever thought that maybe this could be anything more. He’s smarter than this. At least, he used to be. He and Fenris, they’re like fire and ice, oil and fucking water, and Garrett Hawke is almost exclusively the beginning and end of what the two of them have in common with one another. Opposites may attract, but it doesn’t necessarily follow that they are good for one another or sustainable. Not to mention, unlike himself, Fenris has managed to retain a modicum of self-preservation. He hasn’t been foolish enough to let any feelings get involved. Anders doesn’t know when exactly he lost his senses.

Somewhere between that drunken kiss outside the student activities building after both of them had too much of the spiked punch at the dance last month, and the impromptu blowjob yesterday beneath the bleachers where Anders had stained the knees of his good jeans, hellbent on sucking Fenris’ brains out through his dick like the world is about to end, just in case he never has another opportunity, Anders has gotten in way over his head. Fenris was the one who got off, but it was Anders that teetered into their next class, hair mussed from where the elf had fisted it as he neared his end, Anders' legs that legs that felt like jelly, pupils blown wide, and brain fuzzy, Fenris’ breathless swears in Trade and Tevene and his hoarse growl of ‘good boy’ still ringing in his ears, squirming in his seat waiting for the blasted lecture to end. Or maybe it began long before that. Anders doesn’t know anymore.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. The look of fury on Fenris’ face when some of their classmates had begun engaging in locker room talk and jokingly insinuated there might be something illicit going on between the two of them said it all. It’s not the first time Anders has wanted or gone after someone he shouldn’t and couldn’t have; he’d just hoped he would have learned better by now.

“Anders.”

The blonde startles, too lost in his thoughts to have noticed the very subject of them has managed to find where he’s done his best to hide himself away in the grandstands. In a flash Fenris somehow manages to catch Anders’ bag which he’s unceremoniously flung from his lap in his full body flinch and catch his knee before Anders clocks himself in the eye. Anders world, however, has suddenly narrowed to a pinpoint, shrunk to the warm pressure of the elf’s hand on his leg, and his heart which seems to be beating dangerously fast despite his best efforts to remind himself that this isn’t whatever he hopes it is. That it never was. And it never will be.

“You made yourself scarce rather quickly,” Fenris observes, taking a seat beside him.

“Yes, well, I didn’t figure you’d want me to linger around and give those Templar jocks anything more to talk about.”

“I didn’t think you were so bad at math.”

“I swear I didn’t say anything to anyone. They’re probably just trying to give you shit, right? I mean, I’ll just keep my distance and they’ll find someone new to talk about by Friday,” Anders laughs nervously, before the elf’s words seem to catch up to him. “Hang on, what? What about my math?”

“You, figuring,” Fenris replies with a raised eyebrow, the twitch of a smirk at the corners of his mouth as he watches him.

“I- I don’t-“ Anders stammers confused. “But they were- you were angry.”

“At them,” Fenris nods, offering Anders leg a gentle squeeze, nearly causing the blonde to jump again with the reminder that Fenris is still touching him. “Not you,” the elf continues, his voice uncharacteristically patient, gentle in a way that Anders has never heard before, certainly not directed at him.

“I figured,” the elf continues, his thumb gently stroking his thigh where his hand remains just above Anders’ knee. “You were so good for me yesterday, but we ran out of time before History of Thedas,” Anders bites back a whimper at the praise, his skin beneath the fabric of his jeans on fire where Fenris touches him, though if the way the elf’s eyes flash is any indication, Fenris knows damned well the effect his words and touch are having on him, “that perhaps today I could return the favor?”

“I- you don’t have to do that,” Anders says breathlessly, shaking his head.

“I’d like to,” Fenris replies.

“You- you’d like to,” the blonde repeats, flabbergasted. “Really?”

“Was my math bad,” Fenris asks cautiously revisiting his earlier metaphor, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Anders. “I thought- nevermind, clearly, I was wrong,” the elf mutters frowning, making to stand. Anders mind is swimming. They’re not even friends. Hardly even speak to one another except when Hawke happens to invite them both to the same place. Anders is no slouch as a lover, but he doesn’t kid himself that he or his mouth is that good.

“No, wait,” Anders exclaims, slightly panicked as he grabs the elf’s wrist pulling him back down to sit beside him once more. “Please,” he adds softly, slowly releasing Fenris’ hand from what he’s aware is his too tight grip. “What did you think,” Anders prompts, his heart once more in his throat as he swallows hard, waiting.

Fenris shakes his head, still frowning. He remains where he’s sitting, however, before slowly lifting his large green eyes to meet Anders’ own. “I had this crazy idea that perhaps this could be- that it was more than just… scratching some sort of itch? That maybe you- that you might have felt something more- for me,” the elf admits, shaking his head and avoiding Anders gaze once more. “Forgive my presumption, that was foolish of me.”

“Is that what you wanted,” Anders asks softly, still struggling to catch up. That Fenris would even try to maintain something more between them than the lewd and impulsive tryst… that the elf wouldn’t simply want to forget and pretend the whole thing never happened… it goes against everything he’d thought he knew about Fenris and his feelings about him. Did Fenris hope that he might feel something more because he did too?

“It wasn’t,” Anders blurts out, probably too eagerly, but unable to hold himself back. “It wasn’t foolish, I- I didn’t think you’d want anything more,” the blonde admits. “I… I was a little taken aback you wanted anything to do with me at all, to be honest,” Anders continues with a shrug.

“You are not the man you were when Hawke first introduced us,” Fenris acknowledges when Anders suggests that he is a little surprised the elf would want anything to do with him. “Nor,” he adds thoughtfully, after a pause, “am I.” Another moment as the smallest hint of a frown comes over the elf’s face before he breaks the uneasy silence between them once more, “Do you give a lot of earth-shattering blowjobs to men you think don’t want you?”

“No,” Anders replies indignantly. “Earth-shattering,” the blonde repeats, raising an eyebrow, trying not to let the comment go too much to his head. Fenris ignores him.

“Why me, then?”

“Maker, Fenris, because you’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. Not that that’s- I mean that isn’t the only reason,” the blonde adds quickly. “You’re also funny, and smart, frankly, ridiculously strong… You’ve got a good heart, even if you do your best to pretend that you don’t have one at all. I know you’ve taken to helping some of the transfer students whose Trade tongue is still a little rusty, but you never brag about it. I’m pretty sure I’ve been at least half in love with you since Sophomore year.”

There’s a pause, a moment of silence that passes between them as Fenris stares with wide green eyes, digesting all that he’s said that probably only lasts a moment, but to Anders, heart hammering and lungs holding a breath, it feels like it might be an eternity.

“Mmm,” Fenris hums thoughtfully, his thumb resuming stroking Anders’ leg where his hand rests once more, before offering it a soft squeeze. “Shall we see what we can do about the other half,” the elf offers, the corner of his mouth twitching upward slightly with an amused smile, and something soft, like fondness shining back at Anders as the blonde meets his gaze again.

“You- you know those idiots from gym class are going to talk, right? Probably plenty of others too,” Anders says cautiously.

“They will try,” Fenris growls softly, and Maker, if the thought of the elf defending him, defending the two of them and what they might share with one another doesn’t make Anders weak, his knee trembling a little beneath his hand. Fenris’ hand offers another squeeze that lets Anders know the elf felt it.

“Come here, mage.” The words are low, soft, but unmistakably not a question, and Anders doesn’t bother to follow up with any, the blonde sliding quickly from his seat and throwing his long legs over Fenris’ to straddle his lap. Fenris’ arms quickly wrap around him, steadying and holding him in place as strong, calloused, long fingers deftly dip beneath the hem of Anders’ well-worn sweater, igniting every inch where skin meets skin, the other hand reaching up to clasp the back of his neck, guiding him down as he arches up fusing Anders mouth with his. “Good boy,” Fenris whispers, fingers tangled in the mage’s hair once more when they breathlessly break apart. Bastard, Anders thinks even as he shivers against him. Of course, the magnificent elf will have noticed the effect the words have on him.

“You will be the death of me,” Anders whispers shaking his head, though he makes no moves to pull away, honey brown eyes shining as he smiles.

“Only the little ones,” Fenris whispers with a smirk, leaning in to nip at the skin just above his collar.

“I think I can live with that,” Anders nods, crushing his mouth to the elf’s once more.

[pinkfadespirit]

I’ve just posted a double update for this! The final two chapters should be hopefully be up at some point next week. 

Anders/Fenris, rated E

Hawke has been playing mediator between Anders and Fenris for practically as long as they’ve known each other. Her attempts to convince the two to sort out their differences have never been met with anything besides scorn. Even after nearly three years, that hasn’t exactly changed. Yet, there has been something between them lately. Neither of them might want to admit to it but whatever it is, it’s there and it’s getting harder to ignore.  

Read from the beginning

[chaosride]

Our Fenders discord is doing two different events this month! For September 1-October 31, we are doing a prompt fill! People have submitted their prompts in our server to choose from. And we also have our Halloween Horror event which will have specific prompts posted later this month. Feel free to join our server and take part in the fun!

[flamsparks]

Inquisition agents at Halamshiral. Because I love the picture they make.

[Instagram - DeviantArt]