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blairsanne · 7 days

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Pretend to Be Nice - 5 - Nothing Will Come of That

The Almighty Johnsons - Anders & female Reader 5,098 words

Summary: Anders realizes he's not getting what he wants, and decides to take matters into his own hands. Meanwhile, you've gone home with someone else. When Anders shows up at your door, things escalate until you both cross lines you hadn't expected to.

CW: 18+ Casual sex (discussed/attempted), Bragi powers, unprotected sex.

Series masterlist here

Anders rubbed his eyes aggressively, then leaned against the wall outside the bog.

Horny and confused, he let out a frustrated sigh.

This is ridiculous.

He had taken that blonde chick to the men’s room, but hadn’t been able to follow through. Every touch was a poor imitation of the lust he’d felt when dancing with you. Every kiss and moan had come from the wrong lips. Instead of losing himself in the comfort of getting his end away, he’d grown increasingly irritated by the encounter, until finally he’d Bragi’d the woman into leaving him alone.

He sprayed some breath freshener into his mouth to get rid of the taste of her lip gloss, then shifted uncomfortably, glancing down the dim hallway toward the lights and slightly-muffled music of the dance floor.

Were you still dancing with that stupid mortal, or had you left with him to have a better time elsewhere?

The god inside him was telling him to find you, order whatever guy you were with to piss off, and then claim you as his own.

Would that even work?

He was no longer sure if he had ever interpreted your reactions properly, the whole time he’d known you. He hadn’t known you were in love with him before you’d said so; he’d had to ask you if you were friends; and he’d thought you were hot for him right before you’d walked off to pash some stranger.

He sucked in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he started marching back out to find you.

---

You chewed your lower lip as you stared out the passenger window.

Stacey waited a minute before breaking the silence, glancing over at you from the driver’s seat. “So what happened?”

Your voice was strained and low.

“I don’t think I can do this, Stace.”

She frowned. “Do what?”

“Be friends with him. I thought…”

You groaned, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping to ground yourself after a confusing series of events.

“I thought I’d miss him too much if I cut him out entirely, but watching him take some strange woman aside after having his hands on me all night… I feel like I’m gonna chunder.” “Well, chunder out the window. Olaf doesn’t know I took his car.”

Distracted from your own misery, you raised your brows as you watched the city lights go by. “You stole his car?”

“Borrowed! I would have asked him, but once he’s asleep for the night it’s impossible to wake him, so… What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

You let out a laugh, which made her do the same.

You looked over at her, hoping your expression conveyed the deep gratitude you felt for her friendship. “Thanks for picking me up.”

Stacey reached out to squeeze your forearm. “Anything for you, babe.” “Ta.”

“I dunno if it helps, but- I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be a prick. To you, anyway.”

You frowned, instantly defensive on his behalf despite knowing what he was like. “What d’you mean?”

“Just that- well- It’s Anders. He roots around. It doesn’t mean anything to him. And it’s not like he knows how you feel.”

You hummed, feeling another bout of nausea. But he does know how I feel.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Talks about you? He’s always searching you out at parties, following you around like a puppy… So, I don’t think he’d want to push you away, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I know.” You sighed heavily.

You recalled the way he’d gone after you that one night at Michele’s, to sort things out when he’d thought he’d upset you. Him taking you home when you’d been drugged at Axl’s party shortly after. The way he’d sought you out over and over since, never pushing you away.

“He wants to be friends. But I…”

“You want to be more.”

“I’m not being fair to him… Acting like I’m his friend, when that’s not what I want.”

“Well, there is an alternative…” Stacey teased.

You shook your head. “Anders doesn’t have partners.”

“Neither did Olaf. Maybe he just needs the right woman? Or goddess?”

You grunted non-commitally. Clearly that’s not me, since I already told him how I felt.

“I think you’d be good for him.”

“Yeah right.” You shut your eyes, wincing as you pictured him again, stomach churning. “Let’s just drop it, eh?”

After having no luck finding you anywhere in the crowded club, Anders spotted Axl leaning against the bar.

He nodded as he got Axl’s attention. “Hey.”

Axl grinned. “Hey!”

“How goes the hunt?”

Axl shrugged. “Got a chick’s number, but I don’t reckon she’s the Frigg.”

“And our resident goddess?” “She left.” “With that bloke she was dancing with?” “Nah.” Axl laughed, shaking his head.

Anders tried not to emote the relief he felt. It would be out of character for him to wish you poor luck getting your end away.

“She felt unwell.” Axl’s smile faded. “Probably the shots, now I think of it.”

Anders nodded, brows raised, then looked around. “Well, I’ve had my fun. Think I’ll call it a night then, if it’s all the same.”

“Yeah!” Axl patted Anders’s shoulder. “All good bro. Think I’ll head out in a bit too.”

“Night.” “Night.”

You poured hot water into a large mug, watching as your teabag floated to the top, leeching color into the liquid.

You had already cleaned up, washing off your makeup and changing into soft pajamas to get ready for what you hoped would be a restful sleep; you sorely needed one given the chaos of thoughts and emotions you were still dealing with.

You ran through various hypothetical conversations in your mind, wondering how best to broach the topic of not going on any more of these Frigg hunts with the boys. Anders would understand contextually, even if he didn’t agree with your decision, but Axl was another matter. You didn’t want him thinking you were rejecting him in any way.

As you debated the ethics of lying to Odin, you were startled by a knock at your door. You couldn’t imagine who would be calling so late at night as you tentatively approached.

The urgent knock repeated, louder this time, and you flinched before looking through the peephole.

Anders?

You opened your apartment door to reveal him standing tensely before it. You weren’t sure what to make of his serious expression as he stared you down.

“Uh- Hi?” “You don’t answer my calls?” “Oh, I-” You gestured vaguely behind you. “Left my phone on silent in the bedroom.”

He narrowed his eyes, unsure if he should believe you, given how you’d avoided him before.

Your confusion gave way to genuine concern. “Is something wrong? Is Axl okay?”

“No- Yeah- He’s fine.” He was both touched and slightly put-out that you were worried over Axl at that moment.

He gave you an obvious look-over, then pinched at the loose fabric of your pj top. “Cute look,” he remarked casually. “Can I come in?”

“Oh- Of course. How rude of me.” You felt your shoulders raising in embarrassment as you stepped aside to let him in.

He strode in, pausing in your kitchen to look around.

The place was small, as you’d said, but seemed to suit you. It suddenly felt wrong to him that he’d never seen it; that you’d never invited him over after you’d been to his place so many times.

You locked up and joined him, still confused about his presence.

“Can I get you anything?” you offered.

He shook his head, settling against the island counter, still looking around the space and not at you.

You hugged yourself, wishing he’d explain why he was there or else leave you in peace. “Okay, well, it’s late, so-”

“It’s a nice place,” he sniped, still avoiding your gaze.

You frowned at the biting tone in his words, unsure what his problem was given that he had shown up uninvited in the middle of the night and still been let in.

You’d left the club to get away from him and the way he made your heart ache, but you weren’t even safe in your own home now. Why are you still doing this to me?

“Ta,” you replied, matching his terse tone. “Do you need something, or…?”

He tucked his lower lip under his teeth briefly, his blue eyes piercing as they met yours.

He didn’t feel like beating around the bush, so he simply didn’t.

“You said before you were in love with me?”

“Er-” You felt the heat in your cheeks and a pit in your stomach as he continued to stare you down.

He read as agitated, wringing his thick hands together to keep them busy, and you noted the way his cheek rippled when he clenched his jaw.

“You in love with me now?”

You felt your eyes prickle with the threat of tears, sure he was about to mock or admonish you based on his combative tone. Your guilt about trying to be friends with him while feeling this way fought with the hurt you felt at his insensitivity.

Still, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing you should lie about. The cat was out of the bag, and trying to stuff it back down was even more pathetic than having let it out to start with.

You nodded defeatedly.

You caught the way his nostrils flared, and you backed up against the counter as he stepped toward you.

Your hands moved up instinctively toward his chest as his own found your waist. You tensed up, caught between wanting to push him off and pull him closer, your fingers hovering just over his shirt.

He stared down at you intensely, each of you meeting the other’s gaze with a confused and vulnerable anticipation.

With his hands on you again, it felt like the gods inside of you were magnetically linked, refusing to let you stop what had felt inevitable all night.

Your lips parted slightly, but you weren’t sure what to say or ask.

Instead, Anders spoke first.

“And why is it nothing will come of that?”

You struggled to formulate a response, so after a beat he took his chances, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You shut your eyes to meet him in kind. The soft, slow kiss swiftly deepened, encouraged by the divine lust you’d barely been keeping at bay.

You whined against his lips as he pulled you closer, your fingers gripping where they met his collared shirt. For a moment, you were lost in the bliss of finally having his hands on you, his tongue meeting yours. It was everything you’d needed for ages, head empty of anything else.

When he broke for air, your brain started to work again and your hands pushed against him in weak protest.

“Anders, please,” you whispered, your voice tinted with heartbreak. “Don’t do this to me.”

He didn’t push it, meeting your gaze with a serious expression even as his body coursed with lust.

“Do what?”

“Use me. I’m not like you; I can’t do this and then go back to being friends. It would hurt too much.”

Despite knowing that, you also knew the line had already been crossed. You’d just finished telling Stacey how you couldn’t keep being just a friend to him.

If he kept on, could you really bring yourself to stop him? You’d wanted him for so long, and his touch woke something inside of you that felt undeniable; bigger than you.

He frowned. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

He cupped your cheek and pulled you close again, but pressed his nose to yours, lips hovering achingly close to your own.

He could sense your hesitation and your desire in equal measure, knowing that if he pushed for it, you’d let him take whatever he wanted from you; but that you didn’t actually trust him with your heart.

That’s smart.

He closed his eyes. “How’s this meant to go?” he whispered.

“What?” You didn’t understand what he was asking you.

“If I was someone else. What steps do we take to get here?”

You were flustered, and you squirmed out of his grip. You backed against the other counter as he stared at you with a pleading, lusty look that made your chest ache.

“Well I- usually I would date someone? Get to know them-” “You know me.”

You nodded, feeling your pulse in your throat. “And,” you hedged. “I’d want to know that we- er, wanted the same thing?”

“What do you want?”

You shrugged, looking away. It was awful, being asked to put your heart out to get stepped on like this.

His hands met your shoulders as he stepped forward. “Be honest with me. What. Do you. Want?”

You blinked at the potency of his words, realizing that he’d used his Bragi tones despite you being a goddess.

“I want… you.” “I’m right here.”

You felt your eyes sting with tears, and looked up, frustrated by being put in this position again. You know what I mean.

“I don’t want a root. I want to be your partner. And- like- monogamous, and- for you to love me, and-”

“Done.”

“What?”

He let go to gesture at himself in protest. “I am actually quite loyal to people who matter to me,” he insisted.

“Anders, what are you-”

“If you want to go on some dates first, we can, but why? You know me; I know you. We’ve shared meals, and watched movies, and gotten munted together before. Can’t we skip all that crap and get to the-”

“You love me?”

He paused and took a step back, licking his lips as fear played on his features, eyes shining in the glow of the pot lights above you as he averted his gaze.

“I reckon? I mean, I think that’s what this is? I’ve never really- I don’t know how it’s supposed to go, but I-” He made eye contact again, raising his brows hopefully. “I like being around you, and I want you to be happy. You’re-” He shifted his weight, fighting the urge to look away.

“You’re important to me. And you’re the most gorgeous woman in Auckland, and yeah- okay?” He shrugged defensively. “I wanna fuck you. But I also wanna just shoot the shit, like we always do, and-”

He winced and groaned, rubbing his nose in frustration with himself, then placed his hands on his hips.

You stared back at him in surprise, unable to reply as your mind processed what he was saying, simultaneously reminded of the only other time you’d seen him tear up like that, or heard the same vulnerable nerves in his voice.

It was ages ago, both a bit drunk, alone in a dark corner of Michele’s yard trading a joint back and forth while he’d told you about how crap his parents had been. That conversation had forever changed your perception of him, and you wondered if that wasn’t when you’d started wanting to show him the love he desperately needed.

Your stunned silence was unnerving, and he couldn’t stop himself from trying to fill it.

“And I want you to tell me you love me again. I just- want you to feel the same way I do, so… I reckon that’s being in love. Right?”

His eyes searched yours.

Say something, won’t you?

“Or, some step along the way to it? Maybe?”

He doesn’t know? You wondered then if Anders had ever been in love before.

He was so unsure, and whether or not he was in love with you, he was clearly baring his soul; putting it all out there for your judgment. Hearing him earnestly say that he wanted you to tell him you loved him again, looking at you like a nervous child, it was more than you could take.

You stepped forward and kissed him reassuringly, your hands cupping his cheeks like a delicate treasure.

His kiss in reply was ardent, his hands gripping at you tightly, desperate for purchase despite your tenderness.

This, he could do. Pouring all his need and desire into his actions, he prayed it conveyed what he feared his words hadn’t gotten right.

He wanted you. He needed you. He hoped desperately that it was enough. That he was enough.

When you broke the kiss, he stared back at you, his cerulean eyes still full of uncertainty, chest heaving as he fought the potent lust he was feeling to make sure that he didn’t do something more than what you wanted.

“I love you, Anders,” you reconfirmed. “I’m completely in love with you.”

You saw a flood of emotion wash over his face and he blinked, trying to fight the wetness in his eyes.

“Then- Can I have you? Can I-” He pursed his lips, trying to stop them from trembling.

You’d never seen him so unsure, the insecurity in his voice breaking your heart. Maybe it wouldn’t last, or he’d change his mind about it, but in that moment you couldn’t reject his earnest pleading.

You nodded. “Yes.”

As though a dam had burst, he claimed your lips once more, pressing against you to pin you against the counter, his hands already moving up your skin beneath your shirt.

You whined and moved to break the kiss, worried he was about to have his way with you in the kitchen. “Bedroom?”

“Sure, whatever,” he agreed hastily, making no move to relocate there as his lips pressed hot kisses up your neck.

A laugh died in your throat as another spike of arousal shot through you at the feel of his warm hand gripping your breast.

“Anders- it’s- this way…”

Slowly you were able to direct him there even as his hands and mouth tried to make purchase wherever they could.

Once you were standing beside your bed, he helped you out of your pajamas with an ease and speed that, in retrospect, you should have predicted.

You worked together to undress him, your fingers carefully opening the buttons of his shirt as he whipped his belt off one-handed.

Soon you were under him on your bed.

He could finally explore your form without barrier, every lewd thought you’d caused in him resurfacing in his mind in a cacophony. His kisses moved down your neck to one of your breasts as he pressed his interest against your inner thigh.

You let out a laugh under your breath at his desperation. “You really get horny again this fast?”

Just what were you getting yourself into with this man?

“What?” He looked up at you, shaking his head to clear his head. “What d’you mean?”

You shrugged slightly. “Just- You took that girl to the bog, so-”

“No, we-” He let out a short huff. “I didn’t root her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, whatever.”

“No, I’m serious.” “I don’t believe you.” “Why would I lie about that?” “So I’ll sleep with you.”

He pulled a face. It hadn’t occurred to him that you would care either way about who had come before you.

Wife type. Right.

“Look at me. You know what I’m like with mortal women. Those roots don’t mean anything.”

You swallowed. “Yeah, I know.”

“So why would I lie to you about whether or not I shagged some chick?”

“Because you… think that’s what I want to hear?”

“Is it?”

“Well I…”

While it was true that you didn’t like thinking of him with other women, it wasn’t like you wanted him to lie to you about it, either.

“I reckon I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I honestly didn’t go there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted you.”

“Oh.” You felt your cheeks heat up, feeling foolish for having challenged him.

“Now may I continue?” he asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes as his smile brought out his dimples.

“Mmhm.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your lips, which you then deepened. You ran your fingers up the base of his skull and up into his short hair, relishing having him to yourself.

He proved his vast experience, playing your body like a fiddle until you were practically begging for him to get on with it, arching your body up against his.

Finally, he pressed his tip to your entrance, then slowly eased inside while watching your face. Hovering over (and fully within) you, he searched your eyes.

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

Encouraged, he started up a steady rhythm, closing his eyes briefly as he enjoyed the relief the sensation brought.

You reached up to grip at his strong back, wanting to be closer even as you felt yourself creeping closer to your release.

“Tell me again,” he panted, his hand moving down to hook under your thigh, pulling your leg up into a position he preferred.

“I love you, Anders.”

He met your swollen lips with his own, replaying your - now several - admissions of love in his mind as he continued to lose himself in you.

He felt your walls tighten around him, your breath hitching as you broke the kiss. “Again.”

“I- love- you,” you managed, letting out a desperate sound as you reached your climax beneath him.

“Aw, fuck…”

It was more than he could take then, finally spilling his hot seed inside you.

He held himself above you as he caught his breath, then after a moment pulled out and opened his eyes.

You met his gaze, feeling suddenly vulnerable again. Your body was heavy and warm, and pleasantly exhausted, but you didn’t want the moment to end just yet.

“Will you stay?”

He grinned, something devious sparkling in his eyes. “Not satisfied?”

You glanced to the side, feeling your shoulders tense. “I’ve just… missed you lately,” you admitted softly.

When you met his gaze again, his grin had been replaced by a contemplative look, his furrowed brow making you feel guilty for having said so.

He struggled with the swirl of feelings your admission had caused in him.

Missed me?

People didn’t say things like that to him. Not gods and goddesses, anyway. Not his own family, or even Dawn.

“Well. Can’t have that,” he said at last, pressing a kiss to your lips before getting off the bed. “Be right back.”

He shut the door to your ensuite and got himself cleaned up, trying to swallow down the sentimentality he was experiencing.

He rubbed roughly at his eyes, taking a steadying breath.

He didn’t know how to do this. You were so earnest, handing him your heart like this when neither of you knew if he could handle it.

Fuck.

When he came back, you had cleaned up as well. Now you were laying under the covers in the din, and when you smiled as he made eye contact, he couldn’t help but do the same.

He slipped into the bed and laid facing you. You searched each other’s eyes briefly until he reached out to hold you loosely. You ran your hand up his warm arm to grip his shoulder.

“How’ve you been, lately?” you asked softly.

He raised his brows, and you watched several expressions battle it out on his face before he shook his head.

“Uh- Horny? Confused?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh.

You averted your gaze. “Because of me?”

“Not every day a goddess says she loves me.”

You met his gaze again, reading the question in his eyes.

“I do, you know?” you reassured him. “I just want the best for you. I never meant to complicate things between us, or… cause you trouble.”

His face quirked dismissively. “Nah.”

Before you could argue, he leaned in to kiss you, sure and slow.

Maybe it had been a bit troublesome to him, but since it had led you to sharing a bed, he could put that behind him.

His blue eyes met yours unguardedly.

“From the moment I met you, I thought you were the most gorgeous thing I’d ever laid eyes on,” he admitted quietly.

You snorted, flattered but somewhat doubtful.

“Really? So why didn’t you try it on?”

“I did, actually,” he argued defensively. “But you were dating that dipshit at the time. And then eventually…” He trailed off, glancing to the side to avoid eye contact. He let out a short sigh, forcing himself to be honest. “You were too close.”

“Too close?”

“We were… Friends. That makes you crew. You don’t screw the crew.”

“Ah. So… What changed, then?”

He knit his brows. “Well you… told me that, and… it made me question some things. Made me realize… it’s different.”

“Meaning?”

His voice raised slightly as he tried to play off his defensiveness.

“Y’know, it’s different. Than say, Dawn. Or… a root.”

You nodded slowly, trying to fight your amused smile. “Different.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Is that good enough?”

“Yes, I’m quite chuffed.” You moved to kiss him and felt him smile against your lips as you did so, relaxing.

You settled again beside him, studying his face in the din.

“It’s different for me, too.”

“Oh? I dimly recall you being rather smitten with your past beau.”

“Mm. But he wasn’t you.”

He smirked. “Bragi.”

“Yes. Bragi.” You smiled. “But more importantly, Anders.”

He winced at your saccharine tone.

“I think I may vomit,” he teased, the amusement in his voice betraying his appreciation of the flattery.

You laughed in surprise, making him do the same. “You’re such a dick.”

You scooched closer to kiss him again, and he let out a happy hum against your lips as he pulled you against himself.

You settled in his hold, relieved and content in a way you hadn’t been since your original confession to him.

“I missed you too,” he admitted quietly.

The next morning you woke to the sound of Anders’s phone ringing.

You blinked blearily as you watched him dig it out of his pants that were heaped on the floor.

“This better be a fucking emergency,” he greeted whoever it was.

You glanced at your clock to see that you’d slept in later than usual - though no surprise after a night of drinking and other activities.

“What? No- Yeah- No, just-” Anders sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be there in an hour, Dawn… No, because I’ll need to get home to shower first- Look, it’s- Right, but I don’t think our clients want me showing up smelling like the club, so- Shower first, and then I’ll be there… Okay. In an hour, then.”

He let out a big sigh as he tossed his phone unceremoniously back on his discarded clothing.

“Crisis at JPR?”

He groaned, but rolled over to hold himself above you. “As usual. Nothing that can’t be handled.”

“Good thing I live so close by, eh?”

“Mm, even if you didn’t. They can wait.” He leaned down to kiss your neck.

You smiled at the affection, then laughed at yourself for being so easily manipulated by him. “Oh my god.”

“That’s me.”

“My Bragi.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, expression growing serious. “Are we ‘dating’ now?”

Your shoulder raised defensively.

“...Yes? If you- still- want to? After-”

He kissed you, interrupting your awkward answer. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

“So you’re my girl?”

Your cheeks burned at the blunt question. He sounded so possessive already; something you hadn’t expected from him given his usual promiscuity.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

He grinned. “Good.”

“And you won’t- er… root around?”

His expression soured. “I would never do that to you.”

“Oh.” You were a bit shocked to hear the offense in his voice. You’d certainly never had examples of him being loyal to other women to give you the impression that it was a given.

“I meant what I said before. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Okay.” You nodded, trying not to seem surprised to hear it. “Good.”

He let out a small huff, breaking eye contact for a moment before meeting your still-confused expression with a suspicious one of his own.

“You still in love with me?”

“Yes.”

His body language softened at the way you affirmed it without hesitation.

“I…” He pursed his lips and looked away, not quite able to say it; not sure if it was true or not.

You reached a hand up to cup his scruffy cheek.

“You don’t have to say it. Don’t. Unless it’s true, and you want to. Most people aren’t already in love when they start dating. It’s enough that we’re together.”

“Is it?”

You nodded again. “It means heaps to me. You mean heaps to me.”

“Same to you.” He forced a brief smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead in reply.

He shut his eyes and rested his head against yours. “If I fuck anything up, tell me, alright? I’ll sort it.”

You wrapped your arms around him reassuringly.

“Just be yourself, Anders.”

“Myself is usually rooting around Auckland.”

You snorted. “I just mean- Be honest. You don’t have to force this, or pretend to want something you don’t.”

He hummed, then kissed you slowly and sweetly.

When he broke the kiss, he stared down at you, his usual confidence somewhat restored. “I wanna be with you.”

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm. “That’s what I want too, so that works out nicely.”

“Do me a favour?”

“Mm?”

“Can we keep this… just between us for now?”

He watched your smile fade in confusion, and he winced.

“Just- Y’know, everyone will- give us a hard time, and-”

“Ah.” You nodded, understanding what he meant.

The Johnsons were always teasing each other, and if Anders was already going out of his comfort zone, then getting harassed about it probably wouldn’t help the situation.

Plus, if you were honest, you weren’t quite ready to defend yourself to Michele and Stacey either, especially after having lied by omission.

“Understood. Just between us.”

You read the relief on his face as he smiled down at you.

“Ta.” He clucked and glanced away. “I should likely get going.”

“I suppose,” you lamented playfully.

He grinned. “Call me later.”

You smiled. “Sure.”

He licked his lips, unconvinced by your casual answer.

If you were mortal, he’d use his powers to make sure you did. He already felt a bit on the back foot with how this was meant to go, and he didn’t want to look clingy.

“Or- Can I call you later?” he suggested.

“You can call me any time.”

---

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Part 6 (finale) is in progress.

#the almighty johnsons fanfiction #the almighty johnsons #anders johnson #anders johnson fanfic #anders johnson x reader #anders johnson x female reader #anders johnson x goddess reader #deanobingo2024 #deano bingo

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inquisimer · 2 months

Text

the wounds never close

for @febuwhump day 17, "hostage situations" - when Anders is captured by the Templars, Hawke offers another in his place.

read it on ao3 here

Female Surana & Anders, Female Hawke/Anders | Rated T | 1599 words | CW: physical abuse, blood & injury, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, Tranquility

Anders wasn’t sure how long he’d been their captive. By some miracle he still had his mind, and as they dragged him up from the darkest depths of the Gallows he cataloged every ache, every abuse, every pain. They would fuel his fight for justice once Hawke negotiated his release.

“I’ll remember, I’ll remember,” he muttered, over and over again. He hoped the promise reached the ears of his fellow captives, somehow.

Kirkwall’s blazing sunlight burned harsh against his skin. He squinted on reflex, blinking rapidly until he properly saw the scene laid out before them.

On one side, the Knight Commander, flanked by her second and a squadron of Templars. A few paces across, Hawke, flanked by Sebastian and a particularly murderous looking Fenris. At her feet lay Neria, half-conscious with hands and wrists bound with rough rope. Her head lolled to the side as Hawke pressed a boot to her prone figure. Anders saw a trail of fresh blood trickling from her temple, and the bright red of a new bruise at the base of her neck.

No, Maker, no—not her—

He had been walking placidly, letting his captors guide his weak body along, but now he dug his heels into the cobblestone grooves. He ground his teeth and strained against the surprise that had the Templars’ metal grip clenching around his arm. A horrid screech echoed off the high walls of this prison as they resorted to simply dragging him forward. The terrible scraping drew the attention of the entire stand off and Anders hated the relief he saw in Hawke’s eyes when they landed on him.

What was she doing? Why was Neria here? Like that?

You know why, his thoughts whispered. Energy rippled, just below his skin, ready and waiting to be tapped. They would never see it coming. They didn’t know his full potential—

No. Anders shook his head sharply at himself. That was not the way, not like Ella, not when there were so many innocent apprentices and mages in the crossfire. Hawke must have a better plan; he had to trust her.

“Here is your mage, Serah Hawke.” His captors shoved him forward and the Knight Commander’s disdainful gaze followed his stumbling. “Intact, as promised.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” With a rogue’s touch, his shackles fell away. Mari ran her hands up the length of his arms, held her fingers against the jumping pulse in his neck, and finally buried them in his hair, thumbs ghosting over his sunken cheeks.

“You’re alive,” she breathed.

“I’ll be fine. Maybe. I think. How are we getting out of here, Mari?” He glanced at Neria, her lips half-parted around a moan as she shifted against her bindings. “What is going on with this?”

“Do you trust me?”

Anders hesitated, even though he knew he shouldn’t; Mari had pulled his ass out of the fire more times than he could count. But nothing short of outright grabbing his hand and running would have soothed his nerves in this moment. And running just wasn’t Mari’s style. Not when there was an angle to be played.

“Of course.” He managed a thin grimace that might have been a smile if it hadn’t hurt so much. With a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth, Mari stepped back. Her hands slid down to Anders’ wrists and used them as leverage to throw him behind her.

“Fenris?” Anders tasted more than felt the grapple Fenris clasped him in as the lyrium brands flared to life and his grip turned to iron. He dragged Anders back a few paces as Mari kicked Neria’s body forward. She flopped across the stone and landed, arms splayed, at the Knight Commander’s feet.

“Another in exchange,” Mari said. “As agreed. I believe she’ll be of particular interest to your Knight Captain.”

Anders had just the briefest moment to scream; when he opened his mouth, a gloved hand took the place of his anguish and what should have been a soul-rending wail muffled harmlessly against the leather.

What was she doing?

Cracks of blue rippled from his fingertips up to the corners of his eyes. Sebastian angled himself between Anders and the Templars, effectively blocking their view, though his own gaze stayed sharply on Hawke. Any hope Anders had of a better plan evaporated; she had planned this. She brought the two of them, on purpose, for this.

“Neria!” he screamed, but nothing escaped the gag of Fenris’ hand.

“Silence,” the elf hissed in his ear. “You are lucky she even dreamt up such a plan. Do not prove your foolishness by squandering it.”

Lucky? His vision went white. Yes, he was lucky, wasn’t he—hadn’t he always been? Kinloch was such a nice Circle; he was lucky no one there raped or brutalized him. Mages in the Wardens were free; he was lucky to have the choice to be Tainted instead of Tranquil or dead. And now, this.

Lucky? He was cursed.

Only one thing kept Justice in check, a half-baked plan already formed in the back of Anders’ mind. The underwater tunnel from the Gallows to Darktown was still active; if Mari went through with this, he could still get Neria out. He could get her out and they could run, together again.

But if they identified her—if they knew how long she’d been free—

She’d be branded before he had the chance.

“Is that so?” Meredith glanced between Neria and her Knight Captain. “Is this true, Cullen? Why would a mage be of interest to you?”

Anders held his breath. He and Neria had shared many a disdainful conversation about what the pretty-boy recruit she’d flirted with had become. But perhaps there was a shred of dignity left…? He had to know what would become of her if he revealed what he knew.

Foolishly, Anders thought that might still matter. How hard it was not to hope, so desperately, that there would be a way out of this. Even when he knew better.

“She was of the Ferelden Circle, Knight Commander.” The Knight Captain removed his helmet and tucked it under one arm, stepping forward for a better angle. “She is not just an apostate, but an escaped apostate.”

“How long ago?”

“Nearly a decade.”

“An unfortunately long time,” said Meredith, drawing her sword. She drove it down, unceremoniously, through one of Neria’s upturned palms. She barely reacted to what should have been searing, burning pain. Just a whimper passed her lips, drowned out by the chorus of hastily hushed gasps from the mages watching. Only her eyes moved with any awareness, darting between the Knight Commander and Knight Captain, to Hawke, and finally locking on Anders, still straining against Fenris’ hold. Within them, panic. Panic, and a horribly, dreadfully clear awareness. She knew what was happening, he realized. She knew what was happening and they’d robbed her of any way to stop it.

What did you do to her? Anders glanced desperately at Mari’s profile. What have you done for me?

“She could still be possessed,” Meredith was saying. “Perhaps by a demon too clever to respond to brute force. A decade, you say? And from Kinloch. Tsk. Well, that’s more than enough exposure to warrant the order. You there—“ she snapped her fingers at one of the faceless Templars. “Take this mage and follow the Knight Captain. Assist with preparations for the Rite.”

“NO!” The last, fraying cable of Anders’ hold snapped. For once, he did not resist as Justice rose to the surface; whatever happened could not be worse than losing his best friend to Tranquility.

Blue light poured from him like a righteous font. His eyes burned with the electricity of it. He felt the scrambling of Fenris attempting to recover the grapple as one might feel an annoying gnat in their ear. Arcane energy gathered about his mind and blasted out, clearing both the elf and Sebastian from the vicinity.

“You will not take her,” Justice roared. He swept Anders’ staff in a wide arc and the lesser Templars fell back under the blaze of his holy fire. He advanced on the solid wall of the Knight Commander & Captain’s locked shields, burning fiery righteousness.

A blade in his shoulder—he staggered.

Quick and light, Mari followed the path of the dagger she’d thrown. Her hand closed around the hilt and she pulled it out, mindless of how his blood spattered across her angry face.

“Go away, Justice,” she snapped. “You’re not wanted here. Or needed.”

“I am needed wherever Injustice reigns. You would give over this mage to a foul and corrupt system, sentence her to certain Tranquility—“

“To save Anders,” Mari hissed. Justice blocked one of her strikes, but her offhand dagger drove up under his guard, digging deep into the fleshy, vulnerable skin of his gut. “Yes, I would. A thousand times over, if I had to.”

As she pulled her dagger out again, a ripple of energy emanated from the Knight Commander and echoed across the Gallows. Justice fell to his knees as the Purge took hold. For a moment, his eyes were brown.

“It’s for you, Anders,” she whispered, lifting her dagger over his head. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Don’t.” Voice scraped raw, breathless. “Mari, don’t—“

She brought the dagger down, hilt first, driving it hard enough against his temple that he crumpled, unconscious. Sheathing her blade on a shaky exhale, Mari gestured to Fenris and Sebastian.

“You’ll understand,” she whispered, for her own sake at this point. “It was the only way.”

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday17 #my writing #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dragon age 2 #da2 #anders #oc: neria surana lavellan #oc: mari hawke #mari x anders #ws: the ties we choose #whump #angst #hurt no comfort #tranquil!neria au

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artificialqueens · 11 months

Text

🏳️‍🌈 Don't Call Me on my Bluff (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

A/N: Summary: in which Sasha needs to take care of business before she can take care of Anetra.

Thank you slutnetra & ria for the brainrot that started this fic, petitmonde for the pep talk that finished it, and athena for the beta-ing that made it post-able. Please note that I tried some new stuff for this fic--big TW for graphic depictions of violence.

Title from Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna

Sasha fucks into Anetra hard, pulling the younger woman's ponytail like a leash to jerk her ass back onto Sasha's dick. Anetra gasps and moans, gripping the surface of Sasha's desk for dear life as the sheer force of each snap of Sasha's hips practically pushes her doubled-over form right into it.

"That's it, good girl…" Sasha murmurs down to Anetra, though her voice is quiet, almost distant. It's not intentional, necessarily. Normally, answering emails while fucking her girlfriend would hardly be a challenge.

Unfortunately, Sasha has had to deal with quite the mess all morning. And for once, she's not talking about the one currently about to come all over her brand-new antique desk.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck , I'm so close--"

Sasha closes her phone and slides it into her blazer pocket, speeding up as she prepares to turn her full attention to Anetra.

At least, she means to--just as Sasha opens her mouth to egg Anetra on, her phone rings.

"Hold on, baby, one second," Sasha frowns as she fishes for her phone, her thrusts shallowing as she answers the call.

"John Anders is here for you, Ms Colby," Sasha's doorman informs her.

Fuck. He's early.

"Send him in," she tells the doorman, sighing as she brings her movements inside Anetra to a stop.

"Wha--"

"Our guest is here, sweetheart," Sasha sighs as she pulls out. "We're gonna have to finish this later."

"But I--"

"Fix your dress, baby," Sasha adjusts herself as she gives the command. "Our guest has wandering eyes, I don't want him getting any ideas."

"Just tell him to wait!" Anetra pouts, her leg twitching as if she’s itching to stamp her foot. It’s a tempting suggestion; Sasha’s cock is straining against her pants, and her belly is burning with desire to see Anetra come undone underneath her.

But deep down, Sasha knows if she’s going to truly enjoy herself, she needs to get this over and done with. So she pushes her desires aside, shaking her head as she extends a hand to tuck her fingers under Anetra’s chin.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” she sighs apologetically. “Daddy needs to get this done as soon as possible, then we can finish where we left off, okay?”

“This is so unfair,” Anetra huffs, rolling her eyes. It absolutely is, Sasha thinks, but what’s done is done--any second now, her doorman will knock and their guest will arrive, so business is unavoidable.

Thankfully, there is one saving grace to the situation, one that always cheers Anetra up.

“You know,” Sasha smiles, grabbing Anetra’s hand to pull the younger woman on top of her lap as she sits down, “If you want to stay for the meeting, there is something you can help me with.”

“That sounds boring,” Anetra says apprehensively, and Sasha has to hold back a laugh.

“I promise, baby, it won’t be--in fact, if you’re willing to stay and be patient while daddy takes care of business, I think you’ll have a lot of fun at the end of the meeting.”

Sasha watches with satisfaction as the realization dawns on Anetra. A twinkle lights in Anetra’s eyes as a smile spreads on her face, and she nods eagerly.

“Good girl,” Sasha laughs, kissing Anetra on the cheek. “Now here, baby, roll this for daddy, will you?” She slides the rolling tray waiting at the corner of her desk over to her girlfriend, “I could use a smoke.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, bringing the discussion to a close.

Alright, Sasha. Game face .

“Come in!”

Anders looks nervous as he enters the room, though it's obvious from his frankly unconvincing scowl that he's trying not to. Sasha doesn’t bother standing up; instead, she waits for him to approach, extending the hand that isn’t around Anetra’s waist for Anders to kiss.

“Pleasure to see you, Mother.”

“Have a seat,” Sasha says coolly. A strange look flashes in Anders’ eyes, but it smooths out as he sits down across from Sasha, clearing his throat as he leans back. There’s a beat, a moment of silence that Sasha knows is awkward for the man in front of her. Good; it’s when things are awkward that jitters spill over and people run their mouths, cracking without Sasha having to lift a finger.

Unfortunately, Anders is better at handling his anxiety than Sasha had hoped.

"Is it necessary for her to be here?" Anders frowns as he looks Anetra up and down, the corners of his mouth twitching. Anetra bristles, relaxing only when Sasha strokes her side soothingly with her thumb.

"Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of her," Sasha shrugs, leaning back in her chair to take a puff of the blunt Anetra had just finished preparing for her. "Isn't that right, kitten?"

"Mhm," Anetra hums, sticking her chin out for Sasha to place the joint between her waiting lips.

“I just think that—“

“You know, funny thing about that,” Sasha watches as Anetra exhales a thin cloud of smoke, her whole body relaxing a bit against Sasha’s own. “I don’t remember asking what you think. Do you remember that, baby?”

“Don’t think so.” Anetra fixes Anders with an almost predatory look, her lips curling into a smile. She’s enjoying this too much, Sasha thinks; if she doesn’t slow Anetra down, their cards might get drawn too early by mistake.

“Patience, baby.” Sasha opts to disguise her warning with a kiss against the shell of Anetra’s ear. “Let daddy work first.”

Anetra makes a discontented noise, but relents nonetheless.

“So let’s cut to the chase,” Sasha turns her attention back to the man sitting across from her. “Do you know why I called you here today?”

“I assume to talk business,” Anders says, his tone brusque. Anetra stirs, and Sasha quiets her with a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t like how he’s talking to you,” Anetra burrows her face into Sasha’s neck, her murmur so quiet Sasha doubts Anders can hear. Honestly, it’s probably better that way. Anders looks nervous because of Anetra’s whispering, as if the fact that he can’t hear what Anetra is saying is destabilizing him.

Sasha will have to thank Anetra for that trick later.

“You know, I like you, Anders,” Sasha sighs, running a hand through Anetra’s hair. “You’re good at what you do. Professional. You get your job done quickly without asking too many questions.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Anders clears his throat. The look in his eyes has lost its hard edge now, and it’s plain to see that he’s losing his footing.

“We need to talk about the Rembrandt.”

“I don’t see why,” the man bluffs, and Sasha resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Baby, why don’t you show Mr Anders what I’m talking about, hm?” She sends Anetra off her lap with a tap to the younger woman’s ass, watching bemusedly as Anetra flounces over to the filing cabinet beside Sasha’s desk. Anetra stares at Anders wickedly as she fishes the key out of her bra, pulling out the requested file almost instantly without breaking eye contact.

“He sweats a lot,” Anetra giggles as she takes her place back on Sasha’s lap, licking her lips.

“Hush, baby,” Sasha pinches Anetra’s thigh in warning. Anetra hasn’t been able to attend one of these meetings in weeks, and it’s clear the resulting boredom has been getting to her--if Sasha doesn’t reign her in fast, Anetra will wind up jumping the gun, and Sasha won’t be able to get what she needs.

She decides to hold Anetra extra close as a safeguard even as she pushes the dossier over the surface of her desk.

“I paid you two and a half million to make sure the sale was untraceable. Tell me, does this look untraceable to you?”

“I… I don’t--I don’t know what you…”

“ God , I want him,” Anetra whines, her feet kicking just a little in displeasure when Sasha ignores her.

“Take a look if you don’t know what I mean,” she spits. “But I think you’ll see quite clearly where you so carelessly left footprints. It cost me almost three million more to cover those up, you know.”

“Well, mistakes happen, Mother--”

“Oh, I know they do,” Sasha sighs. “And like I said, Anders, I like you, so I was prepared to just chalk it up to that. But you see this little kitten here?”

Anetra practically purrs as Sasha strokes a hand through her hair, laughing softly.

“Why don’t you tell our guest what you found while you were looking through those papers, baby?”

“He did it on purpose,” Anetra points out with a smile, reaching over the desk to point right at the centre of one of the splayed-out documents. “You can see it at the bottom of this page here, there’s a transaction of an additional half-million to an off-shore account that we don’t own. And then you can see in these transcripts of your Swiss account that someone from Russia was looking into it. And then look at this, daddy--the Rembrandt never made it to the buyer, it got intercepted in Chechnya. And remember how you called Smith after, and asked him all those questions? And then Smith called Ngo, and Ngo called Babanin? She said someone paid Mr Anders a lot of money to take the Rembrandt away from you. And you were gonna find it, but then the police knocked and we had to make the problem go away?”

“I do remember,” Sasha laughs hollowly. “Tell me baby, what did the whole ordeal wind up costing me?”

“Five and a half million, daddy.”

“That’s right,” Sasha echoes. “Five and a half million fucking dollars, and I didn’t see a cent of the original eight million sale.”

“Well, I can hardly be blamed--”

“Except you can,” Sasha cuts Anders off the pass. “And you will be. Tell me, Anders, how much did the thief pay you?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Babanin already did,” Anetra sniffs. “She said you got a whole ten million this time.”

Anders says nothing, but his face pales, mouth opening and closing like a cartoon fish before he sets his jaw desperately.

Bingo.

“And you have the audacity to come in here and call me Mother,” Sasha laughs harshly.

“So here’s what’s going to happen, Anders,” Sasha takes another puff of her joint as Anetra starts practically vibrating next to her. “You’re going to reimburse me every cent I spent on the deal, then give me what’s mine. Fifteen and a half million by tomorrow evening, you understand?”

Anders hesitates, and Anetra tenses.

“I can see you’re apprehensive,” Sasha smiles. “So let me sweeten the deal for you a little, alright? Starting with my girl here.”

She grabs Anetra by the chin, pulls her in for a deep kiss.

“You see, my baby’s a very playful person--she just loves all sorts of games. Problem is, she tends to get a little… excited when she’s playing. Poor thing breaks her toys so fast, Mother just can’t keep up! It’s a real shame--her tantrums aren’t very pretty, you know. Scares lots of new friends away.”

Anders swallows hard. “And this concerns me because?”

“Because she loves playing with boys especially, and I’ve heard you have five of them back home who she’d love to play with,” Sasha smiles. “Your youngest even just turned the same age as her--a perfect new friend to introduce her to! Wouldn’t you like that, sweetheart?”

“I love playdates,” Anetra muses, licking her lips. “Am I getting one, daddy?”

“Well, that depends,” Sasha purrs. “If I get my money, then sorry, baby, you’ll have to wait. But if I don’t, then I’m sure young Matthew will really love playing with you. What’s that game you like, baby? This little piggie, I think?”

“You’ll get your money,” Anders croaks. “You have my word.”

“I had your word last time, too,” Sasha says dryly. “Call your bank now, while we’re watching. Then I’ll believe you. Ah, ah, ah--I don’t want you calling a decoy on me. Give me your phone.”

The call takes less than ten minutes, but it'll take about 72 hours for the money to hit Sasha's various accounts. Not what she was hoping, but it doesn’t really matter; good things come to those who wait, after all.

And that goes doubly for the woman on Sasha's lap, who looks like she might burst any second.

"So are we done here?" Anders huffs after Sasha passes his phone back to him.

"You and I are done, yes," Sasha chooses her words carefully as she nods to Anetra, who smiles.

"Hold on," Sasha interrupts Anders, stopping him in the middle of standing up from his chair.

"Yes?" His voice is apprehensive, and the fear in his eyes makes Anetra squirm with delight on Sasha's lap.

"I said you and I are done, John." Sasha lets her hand drop from Anetra's waist, taps her back to signal that it's her turn. "That doesn't mean you're free to go."

"Mother, please--"

"Have fun, baby!"

Sasha leans back in her chair, closing her eyes to listen to Anders' screams as Anetra pounces, pulling her knife from her dress pocket in one smooth motion.

"This little piggie goes to market, this little piggie stays home!"

Anders makes a choking noise as Sasha snuffs out the rest of her blunt. She doesn't dare look to see which finger Anetra chose to shove down his throat.

"This little piggie had roast beef—“

Sasha just hopes Anetra has the decency not to go too wild this time--last time she played with someone this way, Sasha was picking shreds of skin out of the carpet for days afterwards.

“—And this little piggie had none!"

Jesus, Sasha's dry-cleaning bill is going to be astronomical this month.

"And this little piggie went…”

" Please, please, please!"

"... Aaaall the way… Home!"

Sasha opens her eyes right as the blade of Anetra's knife lands between Anders' own.

"He ruined my new dress," Anetra sighs glumly as she turns back to Sasha with a dejected frown on her face as she points to the deep red stains wetting her shirt.

"I can see that," Sasha nods. "It's alright, baby--we can get you a new one.”

The offer seems to placate Anetra, who brightens up instantly.

“Say, think we’re gonna wind up meeting his sons after all?” Anetra brings her knife to her mouth, smiling as she licks it clean.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Sasha shrugs. “You know how families like ours can get--unless they’re much smarter than their dad, it’s only a matter of time before they visit.”

"True," Anetra folds her knife closed, slides it back in her pocket before reaching for Sasha’s hand instead. "Think I can come up with a new game for them before then?"

"Anything's possible. Now come on, sweetheart. Let's go upstairs so you can thank daddy for the playdate, yeah?"

The pep in Anetra's step as they go is almost adorable enough for Sasha to forget what they've just left behind.

Sasha’s breath comes out ragged as she thrusts in and out of Anetra, the younger woman’s hands tight around Sasha’s neck. Even filed down into ovals, Anetra’s nails dig into Sasha’s skin so hard that Sasha knows it’ll bruise, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Mother can do what she wants, after all.

“Daddy, daddy, fuck , I’m so close, shit--”

“I know, baby, I know,” Sasha gasps, snapping her hips harder. “Just a little bit more, yeah? Hold it a little longer for daddy, there’s a good kitten.”

Anetra’s eyes roll back, her grip slackening and mouth dropping open as Sasha changes her angle slightly, picks up the pace.

“That’s right, baby, that’s good,” Sasha praises. “Fuck, you look so good like this, taking my cock so well.”

Anetra beams, the praise spurring her on to tighten her grip on Sasha's throat again, grind down to meet each of her thrusts a little harder.

"Don't stop," she pleads, "Even if-- shit --even if I come…"

"Oh, don't you worry," Sasha laughs, "Believe me, baby, I'm not stopping until you're not walking."

As if on cue, Anetra tips over the edge, her whole body shuddering and arms falling to her sides as Sasha fucks her through her orgasm. It’s a sight that’s mesmerizing; Anetra looks so delicate like this, so vulnerable. Like Sasha could destroy her utterly and completely, and she wouldn’t care at all. In fact, Sasha knows Anetra doesn’t, because the very next second, she dissolves into a puddle of gratitude, thanking Sasha over and over again for reducing her to such a state.

“Not yet, baby.” Sasha hushes Anetra with a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “I told you, daddy’s not done yet. You had your chance to play, now I’m going to have mine.”

“You don’t need to make any more calls?” Anetra frowns as Sasha starts to move inside her again, letting her hand slide from Anetra’s mouth to close around her throat.

“Not tonight, baby,” Sasha laughs, picking up her pace as she feels her own orgasm approach. “Tonight, business can wait.”

Pride Challenge Points: 1435

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha colby #anetra #anetra x sasha #t4t #smut #lesbian au #trans character #(s)#fic challenge #writworm42 #tw violence #tw daddy kink

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sulky-valkyrie · 2 years

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happy dadwc! how about Anders (and other characters of your choice) + “So… Are you going to leave me before I wake up, or after?”

have some bittersweet spicy Kanders for @dadrunkwriting with slightly tweaked dialogue 💜 ~~~

“So, are you going to leave before I wake up or after?” Karl asked.

Anders frowned in confusion as he looked up from where he was plastered across the other man’s chest. “What the void is that supposed to mean?”

“The patrol rotations.” He ran his hand through Anders’ hair. He never left it down, except on nights like these. “I know you’ve figured out the pattern to them.”

Anders twisted around to check the candlemarks. “You know why I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Karl tugged him back to his lips. “I just want to know how long I can keep you here. If we have time for another round, if I can wake up with you in my bed.” If, if, if. A mage’s lot in life was never about when, only if. He pushed that bitter feeling away and focused on the feelings. If didn’t matter when there was now. And now was Anders’ tongue in his mouth, sweat-darkened hair tangling in his fingers, skin sliding on skin, muffled gasps as hands clutched and stroked everywhere.

“We’ve got time” was murmured against his skin, then Anders was sinking down on top of him with a wince, then a sigh; they always ended up rushing preparation as soon as they realized if could be now. He rode him slowly, but with one eye on the candlemarks. They must be cutting it close. Karl hated that candle more than anything in the world right now, as it burned down, counting the minutes until he left again. In moments like these, he hated that candle more than he hated the Templars: it pulled Anders away from him as often as they did. Probably more.

Karl sat up enough to reach the back of his neck and pull him down to him for another kiss, then another, as he thrust up into him, speeding up as Anders’ breath evened out, then slowing down again when it became ragged and desperate. He bit and pinched and left bruises and scratch marks, making him whimper and moan and go limp. Anything to keep him from thinking about that damn candle. He just wanted a night, a whole night, and it was selfish and reckless and he didn’t care and could never say it, but he loved him, he loved him like plants loved the sun, and any moment without him was dreary and dull and lifeless but now, right now, he was alive and they both were and he was spilling himself with an agonized groan because that meant now was over.

Anders followed him over the edge with a few extra tugs, then kissed his forehead before sliding off him and glancing back at the blasted candle again. “Five minutes. One day, it won’t be like this.” He pulled his robes on and was out the door, taking the light with him.

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #definite lemons #anders #karl thekla #kanders #I hurt my feelings #prompt fills

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 2 years

Note

Hello! For DADWC Prompt: "Hiding/hoping not to be caught kiss" for Fenders. (I can never get enough of them truthfully XD) <3

Yay Fenders! I also just adore this ship to pieces. Here's some first kisses for you and @dadrunkwriting !

Rated G, 1.3k words

-:- -:- -:-

The market was as busy as ever, packed with people from both High- and Lowtown. Anders walked beside Fenris with his staff in hand, disguised as a 'walking stick' that fooled a remarkable amount of people. Fenris snorted as they walked; no one was paying any mind whatsoever.

No one, except the Templars that patrolled the promenade.

"Shit," Anders said eloquently.

Fenris shouldered him into a nearby alley. There weren't many shadows to hide in, but he found one and shoved Anders into it. "You have to stop taking that damned stick with you."

"And leave myself defenseless?" Anders sputtered. "You try not taking that ridiculous sword with you and we'll talk."

"Ridiculous--"

Fenris was cut off by the clanking of steel and silverite. "Hurry, further in."

"All right, all right, don't get your knickers in a twist."

"Please understand, mage, that I'm doing this for your benefit, not mine. Unlike you, I can go unmolested."

Anders gave an unimpressed look at Fenris. "That's not true. You're an elf."

"That--" Fenris cut off. "That's a decent point, actually," he conceded.

"See? I have those occasionally." Anders let himself be harried further into the alley.

The clanking drew closer.

"Anders," Fenris said tightly, "we must be--fenedhis."

Anders heard it at the same time. "Fuck, knickerweasels--"

"May I kiss you?"

"May you what--"

Fenris fisted his hands in Anders' coat; he pressed him firmly against the wall, hiding him from view in the shadows. "Just--shut up."

And then, rising on his tip-toes, he pulled Anders down and kissed him.

It was a moronic idea, for sure. That's exactly what it was. Anders gasped against Fenris' mouth in surprise but he didn't pull away. Instead he only grasped at the hard planes of Fenris' shoulders, his staff clattering to the ground. And oh, he kissed back once the shock wore off.

(Maker, did he ever.)

Anders' mouth was soft under Fenris' own, opening easily to him. He moaned deep in his chest and Fenris could feel it beneath his hands. His tongue was sweet with juice from berries he'd sampled three stalls back, Fenris was surprised to find, and it shouldn't have been alluring--shouldn't have been, but was.

The morning had been one of many surprises, Fenris found.

It's like Anders couldn't decide where his hands should rest; they traveled from Fenris' shoulders to his back, roaming over him in a way that Fenris couldn't feel through his armor but wanted to. Anders' long, graceful fingers rose to Fenris' nape and threaded through his hair. Thumbs under his chin had him tilting his head further for Anders to angle them together better. Anders took more control, exploring his mouth with expert ease that spoke of more experience than Fenris had. He was gentle in his ministrations, a healer through and through, though Fenris hadn't doubted that in almost five years. A soft whine crept between them. Fenris should have been horrified to hear it coming from himself.

(But he wasn't. Not really.)

Despite the sounds he made Anders didn't shift forward to pin Fenris against a wall, didn't grab for him, didn't make demands of him. Instead they only traded kisses back and forth, the fire of urgency that had started this mess simmering down to a more moderate flame. They pulled apart with some reluctance on Fenris' part, but only enough that Anders could nudge their foreheads together.

"And what, exactly, was that for?" Anders asked, taking in a breath that shuddered around the edges.

What had that been for? "Ah... Templars. In the market. They were going to see you and your 'walking stick'."

Anders snorted. "They haven't been in the market for five whole minutes and we've been kissing for probably ten. Don't get me wrong, I really, really enjoyed that. I'm just saying."

Heat burned the tips of Fenris' ears. He hurriedly stepped a few feet away, his back to the market. Crossing his arms, he had to consider Anders in a new and perhaps frightening way in light of this. Anders stared back, a saucy smile growing over his face the longer Fenris tried to put his thoughts in order.

"You liked it! I knew it. You have to like me at least a little."

"I didn't, I just--Hawke would kill us both if you were caught."

"So you put your tongue down my throat?"

Fenris bristled. "It shut your fool mouth, didn't it? Knowing you, you'd get twisted and end up in the Gallows. You're a danger to yourself."

Anders' smile fell. If it had been a physical thing Fenris could have heard it shatter on the stone ground. "Wow. Okay. Back to that already? And after we'd shared a moment and everything. Just...wow, Fenris."

Chewing his lip, Fenris drummed his fingers along his arm. "I said to yourself."

"And others, I know, you've said it so many--"

"Just yourself," Fenris said quickly, ears burning again. He looked away. "I think... After five years, I can hope that you have your demon under control--"

"Not a demon--"

Fenris sighed. "Anyway," he continued, hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose, "after all we've had to do together with and for Hawke, after five years, I've seen the worst you can do." He chuckled weakly. "You would make a horrible Magister. You'd die in mere weeks. Sooner, perhaps. You're too...nice."

"See? I told you you liked me." Anders gave a strained laugh. "Maker, Fenris, you have a funny way of showing it."

Fenris huffed and eyed Anders warily. "And how's that?"

"Well"--Anders began ticking off his fingers--"first, there's the fact that we spent the first two years of our 'friendship' as enemies, or at the very least we definitely didn't like each other. Then we spent the next two years in a sort of detente where we began to acknowledge that for all our differences, we share a few commonalities. To our credit, we started to actually talk about things, not just talk past each other. It was tense, but we worked on it. And now, going on almost five years of knowing each other, we're friends one minute and you kiss me out of the blue and steal the breath from my lungs the next. That's how."

"That's...certainly the way of it, I suppose." Fenris unwound his arms. "Stole the breath from your lungs?"

"And more. You know," Anders said coyly, coming away from his wall to walk the short distance until he stood in front of Fenris, "you don't have to wait until I'm maybe in danger to kiss me again."

"What makes you so sure I want to kiss you again?"

"You haven't been able to look away from my mouth for more than three seconds before you look again. Newsflash: my eyes are up here." Anders giggled, actually giggled, his mouth pulled into a sweet smile that Fenris had only ever witnessed as an outsider. It was intoxicating, sound and smile both.

"And," he continued, quieter, "if I'm honest, I want to kiss you, too. Have for a while now."

The admission had Fenris' stomach flipping loops in his middle. "I think...I think I'd like that," Fenris said, hoping he sounded more brave than he actually felt.

Anders' smile grew wider, his warm brown eyes crinkling happily in the corners. His hands rose to frame Fenris' face, pale against his darker skin. "May I?" he asked, voice hushed.

Fenris nodded.

"Verbal consent, Fenris."

"Fasta vass, mage, fine, yes--"

And then suddenly Anders' mouth was on his once more, gentle but firm. He coaxed Fenris open with little kitten licks of his tongue, and with a happy hum he eased his way inside. One of Anders' hands moved to cup Fenris' nape while the other cradled his head. They shared sweet, unhurried kisses until Fenris' head spun.

When they parted, Fenris had his arms around Anders' neck, holding him close. Anders nudged their foreheads together once more. It was...comforting.

"What was that for?" Fenris asked in a shaky voice.

Anders smiled. "Because I wanted to."

"Oh."

"I told you you wanted to kiss me again."

"Shut up and put that mouth to better use."

Laughing, Anders did just that.

#da drunk writing circle #fenris #anders #fenders #da2 #dragon age 2 #ocean writes #reblogs comments and likes very gladly appreciated!#only took me a million hours to write this #lol

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just-horrible-things · 1 year

Text

‘Verse: Resistance Story: Chewtoy AU, co-author @whump-sprite Timeline: The Resistance have rescued Connor from the feds

Necessary Care [Prev | Next]

Connor Thompson begs like Anders did, after Anders was saved from that woman’s nightmare basement. It’s a frantic rote repetition with no real thought behind it. His voice barely works, but it’s hard not to recognise “please, please, please.”

Once he’s still and in a bed, there are stretches when he’s quiet. Taryn has to listen – while she preps gauze and healing-infused ointment and more antibiotics – for the irregular gasp of his breathing to know he’s still alive.

He has at least stopped trying to scream, and stopped making those long cracking moans he was making before the morphine.

Cora would say something if he stopped breathing. Cora – grim and a little shell-shocked – sits with Connor’s head in her lap, one hand in his blood-clumped hair, and murmurs continuous soft reassurances.

The slightest thing sets him off begging again. He sees Taryn move towards him, and she has no idea whether or not he recognises her but his fogged gaze lights on her and his mouth moves to beg “please, sir, please, please” again.

“Can’t you give him more morphine?” Cora asks. Taryn grimaces. “I think the stress response is the only thing keeping him alive.”

He’s only barely breathing enough as it is. Too much morphine and he’ll just… stop.

She doesn’t want to have to tell Ariadne that they lost him. Not after giving her hope.

“-- m-mercy –” Connor moans “-- ple - e- ease –” “Shhh,” Cora tells him, laying a hand along his cheek. “-- - e- eas–?” He’s looking at Taryn again – more or less. “No need,” she tells him softly. “It’s over.”

It’s not entirely true. The next steps are going to hurt him. And his fever’s so high Taryn doubts he’s seeing reality – there’s no hope of him understanding an explanation.

“Are you going to call your brother?” Cora asks.

Not when but are you going to. They both know what the alternative is. He won’t survive without a healer.

He might not survive with one.

It breaks Alex a little inside every time he can’t save someone. When he does everything he can and still has to watch them die in front of him.

The cold, bitter math of pragmatism says that Taryn shouldn’t let him spend his magic like that – shouldn’t let anyone spend that much magic, although she doesn’t know what healer besides Alex she could ask to help an ex-fed – unless Connor has a chance of pulling through.

“Maybe…” Cora starts, and wavers. For a second she’s uncertain, and looks as young as she is. Then the fierce spark reasserts itself in her eyes. “Maybe we should give him too much morphine.” It’s almost a challenge to Taryn. “Maybe it would be kinder.”

Taryn can’t deny that she’s had the same thought.

“He can recover,” she declares, with more conviction than she feels. “I’ve seen it before.”

Not often. This is bad, even for 17. Whoever was responsible for this must have really had a grudge against the deserter.

But Anders recovered, and Connor can too.

“I’ll call Alex,” she decides, “but his magic will go further if we can get Connor stable first.”

And she’ll have to tell Milonas. She deserves to see him. And he needs to see a friendly face.

But… not yet. Milonas shouldn’t have to watch him scream.

“I’ll give him more morphine and make sure he keeps breathing,” Taryn continues. “But if I’m doing that I’ll need you to clean out his wounds and set as many bones as we can. Can you do that, if I walk you through it?”

Taryn didn’t miss Cora’s freeze back in 17. Not everyone’s cut out for the messy, brutal realities of doctoring. Cora’s a good fighter and she keeps her head under fire – that’s more than enough to be someone Taryn wants by her side. Taryn won’t judge her if she can’t handle this. She can get someone else to help her. Ross would do it – although she’d rather have Cora. Ross can be careless sometimes.

Cora swallows, taking her eyes off their patient’s face to look over his wounds. She does look a little green around the gills. But she nods and says, “I can do it.”

So Taryn measures out more morphine, and puts it into the IV until Connor’s eyes close and his face goes fully slack, and then a little more on top of that. It won’t fully protect him from the pain of what they’re about to do, but she doesn’t have the drugs for that. It’s the best she can do.

She watches the shuddering rise and fall of his chest get shallower, and when it slows too far, she uses magic to keep air moving in and out of his lungs.

It’s a delicate spell. Lungs are so fragile. It’s very easy to damage them with just a little too much pressure. She wouldn’t ask Cora to do this.

Taryn’s wrists ache. There’s a cold, insistent tugging just below her diaphragm telling her that she’s almost out of magic. It takes focus to keep the spell steady.

But she can spare enough attention to give directions. And Cora might be inexperienced but she can follow those instructions, and between them they can get Connor cleaned up.

They decide not to touch his hands and feet. There’s just too much damage. Cora knows the spells to immobilize them with magic.

They reseat his shoulders into the right shape. They set most of the other broken bones, Taryn instructing Cora carefully on which way to pull and how to know she has it right. They splint what they can, and Cora holds the rest with magic.

Most of the work – by time – is in cleaning the infection out of the hundreds of cuts left by the whip.

“Healing can’t do very much about infection,” Taryn explains, to distract from Connor’s twitching and moaning on the bed. “But the dead and dying tissues will soak up a lot of magic anyway. Once the wounds are clean, it’s much easier for Alex to spend his magic where it can do the most good.”

Cora doesn’t talk. She gets on with what needs to be done.

It takes a long time – debriding and washing, soaking dressings with ointment and laying them carefully across wounds, then wrapping every part of him over with bandages. Only when she’s finished, when she’s washed her hands for the last time, only then does Cora pause to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Pass my phone,” Taryn says. “I’ll call Alex. He can heal this, you’ll see. And… I’ll fetch the other one – she can come be with him, just as soon as he’s breathing on his own.”

[Next]

#my writing #verse: resistance #au: chewtoy #connor thompson #cora #taryn morgen

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syrupwit · 2 years

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Hello and happy DADWC! Ran across your (beautifully painful) fenders thing and would like to prompt a "seriously?? him?!" kind of realization-of-feelings moment for one or both of them? Ty for blessing us with your writing 🙏🙏

Hi, thank you for this also, and the compliment! For the record, just sending me whatever as a prompt, or requesting continuations of previous fills for DADWC, is totally fine with me.

Under the cut, please find ~607 words of Anders/Fenris for @dadrunkwriting. This is set in the same continuity as the most recent three fills I've written for this pairing (Part 1 - NSFW, Part 2 - NSFW, Part 3 - SFW). CW: explicit sexual content.

Anders became aware of his feelings for Fenris following the first time they slept together. He repressed and acknowledged them again at periodic intervals, though not to Fenris, as he knew Fenris couldn’t reciprocate. It hurt, but the hurt made sense, and it fueled his determination to prove himself and his cause. By the time Fenris lost any willingness to entertain him, Anders was too occupied with Justice to care.

Fenris, in contrast, remained oblivious until several years after leaving Kirkwall. There was no special drama to this insight; he just woke up one morning and understood that he had loved the pitiful, dangerous mage he had also hated. Little turmoil was involved. At this point he saw nothing to be done about it, as Anders had fled long ago and was most likely mad, consumed by his demon, or dead.

If Anders had expected to see Fenris again, it would have been for Fenris to kill him. This was also how Fenris had expected to see Anders again, if ever. But then Merrill found Anders; Isabela and a letter from Varric found Fenris; and Hawke’s scattered companions found themselves assembled for her benefit once more, for a last impossible scheme at the edge of the abyss.

There were a great many ancient ruins in the Western Approach, some of which had not yet been taken by the Inquisition. One such ruin hosted their small party.

Outside, a sandstorm raged. The sky was dark. Among the cool innards of the ruin, in a stale-smelling room whose walls bent the dim light oddly, on a pile of dusty blankets—

Anders was thinner than he had been, with graying hair, a bad leg, and a quieter passenger. He made use of a cane now. He was less easy to arouse. But he was as eager to touch Fenris as ever, and restless under him. He grabbed at Fenris’s hips and ass, pawed over his sides and back, pulled his face down to groan into and kiss.

“You feel,” Anders gasped against Fenris’s chin, then lost his train of thought. “You feel so. Fenris, I thought I’d never—”

What he thought was again cut off as he bucked upwards, trying to get his tongue and his cock as deep into Fenris as possible. Fenris met him in it, shoved a hand in his hair and cradled the back of his head, angling his face up so he could swallow his moans.

When his mouth was free, Anders was chanting something incomprehensible under his breath, interrupted whenever Fenris ground down or kissed him. He seemed unable to decide between keeping his eyes open or squeezing them shut.

When he opened his eyes and saw that Fenris was jacking himself, he made a frantic noise and dug his fingers into Fenris’s hips to slow them. “Please, at least once, I want you to come.”

“Make me come, then,” said Fenris, stroking leisurely, and felt him shudder hard.

After it was over he slumped on top of Anders and tucked his cheek next to his. Arms came around him, and a sigh rustled his hair.

The preparations for locating Hawke would commence at nightfall. It was possible that this was the last time they’d have together, these few hours before.

Fenris was sweaty and uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to move. Anders seemed to be of similar mind.

“If you did it right now,” said Anders dazedly, “I wouldn’t even feel it. That’s how good I feel.”

“I’m not going to take your heart out,” said Fenris.

“Mm. You already—”

Fenris kissed him so that he didn’t have to hear it. He knew.

#gaychocolatehomicide #dadwc #dadwc fill

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realace · 2 years

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hello happy friday and WELCOME to dadwc!! From the taylor swift lyric prompts, 'i knew you'd haunt all my what-ifs', for character/pairing of your choice!

Oops it became a monster. It’s Hawke & Anders & Fenris and I made it pre-fenders because I always write these two pre-fenders but really it’s pre-pre-pre fenders. Maybe I’ll come back and make the ending romantic like I wanted to Also on AO3 @dadrunkwriting

Anders sauntered into Hawke’s apartment room, unlocked as always. Hawke's apartment was extremely pleasant and always a good time to hang out but Anders wasn't having it this evening. He was hungry and Hawke was MIA.

“Hawke! You said we were going to get dinner and I got tired of waiting at the clinic! You know I’m always tired after a whole day of volunteering. I had to walk here.”

Hopefully his moaning would make Hawke feel guilty enough to pick him up with his car next time. He'd promised! And Anders was not above playing dirty when people didn't commit to their promises.

Or maybe Hawke would drive them somewhere nice to make up for Anders, bar food at the Hanged Man was perfectly fine but sometimes Anders wanted something that had gone through a few more health and safety checks. Anders immediately perked up at the prospect of decent food in his near future moving closer to Hawke's door, lifting his hand to start banging on it.

To his surprise the door disappeared from under him, Fenris’ stumbling out of Hawke’s room. Were those two... together? Anders had some hope that Fenris - the incredibly charming, handsome, broody, did he already say hot?, tattooed elf - would eventually throw a look his way one of these days but if he was in competition with Hawke....

Anders' thoughts were redirected by the fact that Fenris' wet hair added to the elf's smouldering look and that he was dressed quite differently. It was like a puzzle that Anders was so close to figuring out, he just needed a moment longer. Fenris paid the mage no mind as he walked past, pausing once he'd reached the coat hanger to look back, as if suddenly realizing Anders had been in the living room.

Anders swiveled following Fenris, the realization of what was so different, when his eyes landed on the punk-rock cat on Fenris' shirt. Or rather, Anders' shirt. Karl had given it to him before his first college day, and the cat one eye stained bloody from where Anders' had spilled wine on it, not even an hour after wearing it for the first time. It hadn't even been his own wine, dammit.

But there Fenris was, wearing his t-shirt. Anders' t-shirt.

Anders' jaw would have made it to the floor if he wasn't so befuddled on how his shirt had ended up on Fenris. Fenris who was now shrugging his leather jacket on top of the forsaken cat, and making his way out of Hawke's door. Fenris who hadn't given Anders the light of day even though they were always in the same friend group and Anders wasn't above machinations to trying to get them alone to talk.

"Mage." Fenris raised a hand in greeting, turned around and walked out, eloquent as he always was with Anders.

Anders' mouth was still gaped open when the door shutting brought him back to reality. All of a sudden puzzle pieces of why Fenris had his shirt on started whirwilding through his mind.

Anders had left it over last time he slept over at Hawke’s and - now Fenris was wearing it. How was we going to get it back? Hawke had somehow given it to Fenris and Anders couldn't very much say: "Hey the shirt your boyfriend gave you to wear? Funny thing, actually my ex-boyfriend gave it to me, and he's dead now so can I have it back?" Or could he?

What if Fenris didn't want to give it back? If he considered the shirt a gift from his boyfriend - was Hawke his boyfriend? It would make things more difficult. Anders had a limited idea of why Fenris disliked him, but if it was because he thought Anders was jealous, Anders was in some tough shit.

He wasn't given much time to debate whether or not Fenris disliked him enough to refuse it out of spite - Anders may not have the understanding to know why Fenris disliked him with less than twenty five total words exchanged but he was an expert at knowing avoidance born from dislike, he was an expert if you would - when Hawke, the person Anders had decided was to blame for all of this walked in.

"Oh hey Anders! Listen, I'm really sorry that you had to walk here, okay? It's just Fenris had an emergency so I was handling that and then I was going to text you. But Bela- well, she sent a picture and then Fenris needed a shirt but you're here now? And I promise we can get whatever you want, my treat." With that Hawke enveloped Anders is his arms, lifting the mage from the ground before putting him back down, a little worse for wear, but feeling a lot more loved, anger dissipating the slightest bit.

Anders' whirlwind of thoughts had not been helped by the air being squeezed out of his lungs by Hawke, but he had figured out that there was a bunch of information he had to parse from the hurricane Hawke had just thrown at him. Hawke and Fenris weren't together? But Hawke and Bela were getting together? And Hawke was buying him food?

Wait, no, the shirt, he had to tackle the shirt problem first. Or, wait, maybe the Fenris emergency problem? Definitely the emergency problem, he would be a terrible healer if he let that slide, which he almost did but that wasn't the point.

"What was Fenris emergency?" Hawke let out a chuckle, herding them over to the couch where he flung himself backwards tapping the seat next to him so Anders would sit down.

“Oh you know, Bela saw on one of those videos where one person says “catch me” and then jump into someones arms?" Hawke's hands were expressive, two fingers displaying a person jumping into his other palm.

“Yeah?” Anders had no idea where this was going, his internet excursions were all cat videos, thank you very much.

“Well we’d gone out of out way to get to Isabela’s smoothie place and I LOVE the red passion smoothie, you know the bright red one?" Anders did not know the one, Isabela's place was unfortunately a car ride away and he'd only had the pleasure of enjoying one once, when she'd been kind enough to bring him one after work, stopping by the clinic. That didn't stop him from nodding along to the story, however.

"Well you know Bela, she loves that kind of stuff. So she jumped and said "catch me!" and I caught her. Of course I did! There is a slight chance that my red smoothie went flying into Fenris shirt when I did but who's to say? The important part is that I caught her." Anders quite thinks the important part is how Fenris came into possession of Anders' shirt when so far it seems like Hawke's singlehandedly been at fault.

"So I couldn't let the poor man walk around like a crime scene, blood red stains. So I let him pick out a shirt and I was like pick whichever. Boom emergency over." Hawke looked quite proud, leaning back into the chair, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Hawke, did you by chance look at the shirt you gave Fenris?" Anders was relieved the emergency had just been a clothing one, but it still remained that Fenris had his shirt.

"I didn't give it to him as much as I let him take it, why? I told him to grab a band tee and maybe I wasn't looking when he said 'this one?' cause I was looking at my phone because Bela - is there a reason you're asking? Do you want one of my shirts too?" With that Hawke waggled his eyebrows.

"Hawke you let him have my shirt! That you were going to bring to dinner with you tonight?" Anders' articulated every word while boring his eyes into Hawke whose previously satisfied smirk started reshaping into something like a frown.

"Is that what he was wearing? I kinda thought it was Carvers, it looked kinda big on him from the back.” With that Hawke shrugged his shoulders, accompanied by a sheepish smile.

“But you’re not, like, attached to that shirt are you?” Hawke looked apologetic at least, but Anders was already planning multiple layers of apology-induced favors he was going to wring out of Hawke in the future. The thought almost made him giddy if it hadn't been for the situation at hand.

Anders made a face that Hawke could not interpret any other way than that the Anders was, as a matter of fact, attached to that shirt.

“Oh, well, Fenris’ house is a few blocks over. I’ll drive you there and then he can take you home after!” Anders couldn't even start to articulate what a monumentally bad idea it was to deliver him to a guy who somehow disliked him when they hadn't even properly interacted before Hawke had hustled him into the car, drove the three minutes it had taken to get to Fenris' place and then practically shoved Anders out of the car.

"I'll go pick Bela but Fenris will give you a ride back! Text me what food you want me to order! We'll have dinner at my place!" Hawke sped away leaving behind an Anders who was regretting life and seriously considering skipping dinner and finding a bus to take him home. The other option was walking back to the clinic and biking back home but the cloud had started looking overcast and Anders hated biking on an empty stomach.

There was of course, a third option. Anders was currently standing in front of Fenris' apartment, the building just as nice - if not nicer - as Hawke's and Anders had to ring the doorbell that Hawke had told him to, if he wanted to get his shirt back.

He could always just ask him the next time they saw each other. The reality that there was no way he'd get Fenris alone any other way led to him pressing the code for Fenris' apartment, the intercom ringing and waiting for Fenris to reply

"Hi it's me, Anders? Uh, Hawke dropped me off, can I come up?"

"Mage?"

"Not my name, but yes, it's looking like it's about to rain so if you wouldn't mind?" Anders leaned as much of his frame under the small overhang as possible, feeling the start of droplets soaking through his shirt where he wasn't covered.

He heard the buzzing sound of the entry door and gratefully made his way in, away from the rain, trekking towards where the signs had said Fenris' apartment would be. After a single knock Fenris opened the door, looking directly at Anders who started babbling before his brain could communicate any regrets to the rest of his body.

"So I know Hawke gave you that shirt, and I know I shouldn't appear at your place unannounced, and I know we've exchanged like 20 words max and no, I haven't been counting." Anders rambled while Fenris stood there, unfazed. Was that an 'I hate you, why are you here look?', has he always been this inexpressive or was it only now that Anders desperately needed to read him to ask this favor?

"But actually, that's my shirt, I left it at his place and he gave it to you, but it wasn't his to give, so do you think I could get it back?" Anders tried his best pleading look, but the idea of rejection stung. But Fenris was a reasonable person? No? What reason would he have to say no? Anders' pessimism warred with his realism when suddenly where he'd been looking at Fenris' eyes was covered by cloth.

Fenris... was stripping off his shirt, right in front of Anders, and he had abs? Anders' brain had to do a force reboot, as a shirtless Fenris was handing over his shirt, neatly folded, back to him.

Anders was dumbstruck, this elf that seemingly hated him gave back his shirt without any fuss? Anders had more difficulty having people who liked him - yes, Hawke - cooperating this well with him.

"Ah, thank you. It means a lot to me, my ex- anyways, thank you."

"You're welcome, Anders." How many words did that make that they had exchanged now? Anders started counting backwards, five, ten, fifteen when he noticed Fenris was holding the door, ready to close it as Anders was standing in the doorway.

He quickly stepped back, cheeks flushing, looking at Fenris - who was still shirtless, which made him flush even harder - who had started to push the door closed. The door was an two inches from closing when Anders remembered that Fenris was his ride back, the sound of thunder bring him back to reality and putting his foot in the door holding it open.

The look Fenris shot him was incredulous and Anders couldn't contain the wince in response. He retracted his foot, hoping Fenris would just continue closing the door, resolving to walk back to Hawke's place, thunderstorm and all.

Lifting his head he found himself being stared at by a Fenris with one eyebrow quirked, unluckily for Anders not content to going back to ignoring him. Anders felt a brief moment of longing for when their exchanged words had been closer to zero than to a hundred, but managed to make formulate his thoughts about needing a ride in his head.

"Uh, sorry, Hawke said you'd give me a ride back?" Anders watched a war of emotions flutter through Fenris' face before his face settled on something that could only be shark-like. Anders watched him grab a white t-shirt from behind the door, slipping it over before grabbing his keys and stepping out, locking the door behind him.

"Come along then, it seems Hawke and I have something to discuss." Anders' couldn't quite stifle the smile that Hawke was going to be in trouble with Fenris as well, wondering if this was the start of a friendship.

#dadwc #fanfic post #my writing #long post #fenders #but only if u squint w both eyes #anders #hawke #fenris #da2 #i feel like i'm forgetting tags #but it's late #also y'all are gonna see this so i'm gonna take the chance to say it's my birthday tomorrow :))#im not above fishing for birthday wishes #Alice writes words

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theboysfromaustin · 2 years

Text

April 14, 2006

Ian stirred, in that hazy state between sleep and wake. He thought he heard crying, "Kazuo? Anders?" The noise stopped, and he shut his eyes once more, only for it to start up again. He sat up halfway, "Kaz? Baby?" There was a sniffle and a shuddering sigh. "Are you okay? Do you want a pain pill?" "No…" Ian sat up completely, and turned to his partner. Kazuo was sitting up, arm stump clutched in his hand, eye shut tightly, tears streaming down his face.

"Kazuo!" "Fire…it's on fire…" Kazuo gasped as he broke down and began to sob. Ian touched his back gently, and could feel Kazuo was shivering. He could barely see him, little moonlight filtering in through the windows. "I…I…can't do this…I can't do this…" "Yes you can, you listen to me, Kaz…" "I'm sorry, babe, it's too much…" "Kazuo, listen. Focus on me, not on the pain." He opened his eye, turning his head. In the darkness, he could make out Ian's face. "Good. Good. Focus. I love you." "I love…love…love…" Kazuo bit his lip, eyes welling with tears once more as he slumped forward, forehead pressing against Ian's chest.

Ian gently wrapped one arm around Kazuo, humming softly. "W-what song is…is that?" "The Divine Comedy's Songs of Love." Kazuo whimpered softly as Ian started singing quietly to him. Kazuo shut his eye, letting his boyfriend sing. Ian finished, burying his nose in Kazuo's hair, "You're strong. So strong. My strong, brave man. My good, gentle Kazuo." Ian exhaled softly as he flopped backwards, pulling Kazuo chest to chest with him.

"Do you hurt?"

"Yeah…"

"You want meds?"

"No…" "Alright then. Lay back." Kazuo rolled off him, eye shut as Ian straddled him carefully, leaning down, gently planting kisses on his bandaged areas. "Ah…that's nice…." "Gotta kiss 'em better." "You sweet, sweet man." Ian smiled, gently kissing Kazuo's chin, "Do you feel better, my gorgeous, handsome love?" "A lot, actually. Ian…if I didn't have you, I'd…I don't think I'd be alive…" "I'd never leave. I don't just love you. I adore you." "Man," Kazuo sniffled, "How'd a stupid kid from Chicago wind up with the sweetest attorney in the world?" "How'd the sweetest attorney in the world get the kindest, sexiest, cleverest man in the universe?"

"You flatter me." "I'm going to kiss you. Hard." "Do it." Ian leaned in, lips to his, light stubble brushing Kazuo's chin. Kazuo shut his eye, leaning into it, loving every second. The kiss was sweet, filled with love. Ian caressed Kazuo's chest, feeling his heartbeat - feeling how strong it was. He knew it beat with the purest love. Kazuo reached up, hand stroking Ian's shoulder, tracing the gnarled scar that ran down his arm from when his shoulder had been broken as a young man. Ian gently slipped his tongue into Kazuo's mouth, the younger man moaning quietly, arching his back, reciprocating. After a moment, Ian pulled back, a grin on his face.

Kazuo gazed up at him, "Thank you for making me feel better." "I'd do anything for you." "Even kill?" "Only because I could get away with it." "Confidence is so fucking sexy." Ian sat back on his knees, a grin still on his face, regarding Kazuo. "What are you thinking about?" "Just wait…" Ian leaned forward, gently kissing an unbandaged patch on Kazuo's belly. "Mmm, are you doing what I think you're going to?" "Not at all…." "What's that…" Before he could finish the sentence, Ian began to blow raspberries into his stomach, Kazuo immediately laughing so hard tears came to his eye, "You bastard, I have over 200 stitches! Ian! Ian!"

Kazuo groped for his pillow, and began hitting Ian in the head with it. Ian came up laughing, arms raised to deflect the blows. Kazuo threw the pillow at him, and it bounced off his chest, "You turd!" "Got your mind off the pain." "Fuck, you did." Ian flopped down next to him, "Say I'm the love of your life." "You're the love of my life." "Mmm, now say -" "IT'S THREE A.M., CAN YOU TWO GAY IT UP AFTER I GO TO SCHOOL?" "Being charming must skip a generation…" "Turkey baster baby…" "That's gross." "We should sleep…" "This is more fun."

Kazuo turned his head, smirking, "You're gonna make this whole process a lot less painful." "Good," Ian booped him on the nose, "You just cuddle up to me, and in the morning….

We'll keep on loving each other."

#oc #original character

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flashyfucker · 2 years

Note

matt martin having a younger gf... calling him daddy... other isles guys chirping him/hitting on her for fun... posessive marty...

- 💌 anon

(also i adored ur grubi blurb!! you are amazing,thank you!!)

i'm obsessed with this. a liiiittle mean dom marty under the cut <3

the daddy thing definitely starts as a joke, a nickname because neither of you are naïve to the age gap, (you’re still a grown adult and it’s a maturely discussed dynamic), but you know how it looks, especially when he acts like that, a little like a sugar daddy. maybe like, one time you’re getting ready to go out, you make a dumb comment, meaningless: “you look like my daddy.” when he’s all suit and tie and you’re in something silken and flashy, and he’s behind you in the mirror, a hand teasing, crawling up your throat with his mouth to your temple like “i am your daddy.” and you laugh, then, need to get out to the car and make some important event. but daddy falls from your mouth when he’s got a hand pushed up under the slit in the leg of your dress in the elevator after the event, and he definitely doesn’t stop the name. maybe he shoves two fingers knuckles-deep in you at it in this stupid hotel elevator, idk!

and daddy definitely weasels its way out of the bedroom, too. makes his friends choke on their meals when you chime “daddy, pass the dressing?” at dinner, because it’s still a bit of a joke to you, in this context, and it’s kinda just a nickname, now, but the younger guys, especially? definitely taking that thought home with them.

speaking of his boys: feel like marty lets them talk. likes to watch them run their mouths and drool over you, buy you drinks and make snide comments: “when marty gets too old to keep up with you, y’know where to find me.” because marty’s an asshole, showy and confident above all else, and, as long as you’re comfortable, he likes having what others want. more than anything, he likes having an excuse to turn around and sip on that drink one of his boys bought you, himself, in front of whoever’s tab it was on. and he really likes having an excuse to feel you up, a little, catch the younger men gawking. let his hands skate just a little too high up your leg in plain sight, grab at your ass, maybe. take your jaw in his strong hands and tongue kiss you like you don’t know there are mouths gaping, people gasping over it, how obviously lewd it is.

so that harsh possessiveness only really comes out once matt gets you alone, three fingers deep in you and you’re even not allowed to properly moan, much less come until you’ve coherently told him, no stutters or stammers: you’re his sweetheart. barzy could never make you feel like this, you’d never beg like a slut for beau. you’re daddy’s girl, daddy’s little fucktoy. and, if you can’t choke out the words just how he wants you too? well, marty can be a little mean. maybe he’ll call up barzy or beau. maybe anders, if he’s feeling real cruel. put them on facetime, point the camera at you, your wrecked face, mascara everywhere, fucked out and you haven’t even started yet. he’ll make you tell it to their faces.

#yall got a little mean marty on main as a treat LMAO #matt martin #ff.hc #cw: smut #tag: daddy #ff.asks #💌 anon!#matt martin x reader #matt martin smut #matt martin imagine

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laurfilijames · 2 years

Text

Thirsty

Pairing: Anders Johnson x female reader

Words: 2,492

Warnings: rated E, 18+. Smut. Alcohol consumption, slightly drunk sex. Unprotected M/F intercourse.

Summary: You and Anders attend a birthday party for Mike at Michele's house and can't keep your hands off each other, resulting in a passionate quickie in the powder room.

A/N: Anders drinking beer is a whole kink in itself which is why this little fic was created. I was overdue for writing some smut, so here it is. He makes me thirsty. I also didn’t make Mike a total villain in this for once!

All gifs used courtesy of @jprgirl thank you again!

———

You sat on Michele's couch, not at all paying attention to the conversation happening around you, distracted and solely focused on Anders standing across the room who was looking so sexy without even trying to be.

Naturally, Stacey and Michele were bickering, Ingrid trying her best to play peacekeeper to them, but it all fell away as you watched him, your Bragi, leaning against the kitchen island like he owned it, taking sips from his beer as he joked with Ty.

Subconsciously, you pulled your bottom lip in your teeth each time you watched him swig from the green bottle and lick his lips, feeling more keen than ever to have his mouth on yours, imagining the cool wetness from the beer transferring onto your tongue.

You recrossed your legs and sat up straighter, doing everything in your mortal being not to cross the room and kiss him in front of everybody, but when he glanced over at you and gave you a crooked grin, a very audible moan escaped you as you exhaled with a fresh wave of longing.

Michele looked over at you with a cocked eyebrow, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to play it off as something else, shrugging your shoulders in an answer to her unasked question as you placed your own bottle of beer to your lips.

You looked around the open-concept living space, perfectly decorated to Michele's modern taste, taking in the Johnson family and their extended members, all appearing to be having a great time celebrating Mike's birthday. Anders' laugh resounded through the room at something Olaf said, and you smiled at how much he seemed to enjoy himself despite his many complaints in the car on the way here. Even Mike was smiling and laughing, sharing a moment with Axl before his eyes met yours and he walked over to see you.

"Happy Birthday, Mike," you wished him, smiling up at the oldest of the brothers who always was kind to you despite how poorly he usually treated Anders.

"Ta," he smiled, taking a drink of his beer, pointing at your nearly empty bottle as he swallowed. "Looks like you could use a refill."

You turned the bottle in your hand to confirm you definitely were in need of another one, especially if a conversation with him was going to continue.

"Umm, yeah I suppose I do.'

"I'll get you one," Mike offered, going to turn away toward the kitchen but stopping when you spoke.

"No, no, it's alright, I'll grab it. Thank you though, Looks like Anders could use a fresh one too," you explained, giving him a simple smile as you stood from the couch and walked over to the god you were desperate to get your hands on.

"Mm, hello, gorgeous." He greeted you with a mischievous grin after draining his beer, his arm automatically wrapping around your waist to pull you against him.

"Hi," you replied, feeling a warmth spread over you that was hard to determine if it was born out of lust or the slight buzz you had going, reaching across to place your empty on the counter, your face coming inches from his in the process.

His eyes flickered back and forth from your lips to your eyes, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he inhaled deeply, his hands moving to grip your hips in a possessive hold.

"Are you thirsty?" you asked, your voice dripping with insinuation, your arousal spiking when you saw your question raise a subtle reaction in him; his eyes gleaming and dimples deepening as the corners of his mouth turned upward.

"Yes, very," he nodded, chuckling out and pulling his lip into his teeth to bite it in restraint.

Somehow you managed to peel yourself away from him and sauntered to the fridge to pull out two beers, his searing gaze burning into your backside.

"Anders, I'll remind you that this is a family birthday party," you heard Olaf comment in his relaxed tone, turning around to see him and Ty exchanging exhausted looks that went ignored by Anders who looked at you with worshipful eyes. You couldn't care less, holding his stare as you uncapped both beers and walked back over to him, placing one of the bottles that dripped with condensation in his hand, your fingers brushing against each other which only ignited more desire in you. He took a sip and licked the drop from his lip that didn't make it into his mouth, continuing to stare at you like he was scheming something. It always felt as though you were the only two people in the room when he looked at you that way, and a familiar sense of euphoria overcame you as everything else washed away.

"Thank you," he said, leaning forward to capture your lips in a long, but gentle kiss, his free hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. When he broke your kiss his hand stayed where it was, holding you close to his face, and he moved his head to whisper in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I'll be sure to properly thank you soon, though," he promised, making your grip on your beer tighten.

You smiled when he pulled away from you, "I only got you a beer, Anders."

"Hmm, and I shall repay your generosity any way I see fit."

Giving him a knowing look, you stood trying to decide if remaining beside him was a wise choice or not, the proximity of your bodies coaxing you into wanting to take his lead in misbehaving.

Then he smirked at you, which only increased your craving. "You want it," he teased, squinting as he took another sip of his lager.

You inhaled deeply, somehow making your legs move, and walked back over to the living room, needing to put some distance between you despite not wanting to, so desperately wanting everything he was silently suggesting instead.

Over an hour and many more consumed drinks later, your plan to keep away from Anders was failing miserably. He found every excuse to be near you; rubbing up against you, placing discreet kisses on you any place he could, his hands roaming your body in ways that had your eyes closing, dreaming of being alone where he could have you any way he wanted, but the party was still going strong. Pretty much everyone had gravitated outside now to enjoy the nice weather, and you hated the thought of leaving Michele with such a mess to clean up at the end of the night.

You sighed out in slight frustration, choosing to distract yourself from your salacious thoughts by collecting some empties and used glasses off of the coffee table to take them into the kitchen. The buzz you had wasn't helping your case, and even as you started plunking the empty bottles into the cardboard box on the counter, your mind continued to seduce you. While you found yourself wanting Anders all the time, the simple fact that you couldn't have him now was driving you insane. You squirmed where you stood, feeling that wonderful ache deep in your core, and you shut your eyes and focused on your breathing.

Footsteps coming into the kitchen made them fly open again, and you turned to see Anders leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a playfulness in his eyes as he placed the bottle he held to his lips.

Could he possibly look any more seductive, you thought, watching him smile as he took a few steps to close the space between you, swinging the bottle in his hand before placing it in the box and bracing his arms to form a bridge between the counter and the island, blocking your path.

No words were needed as you crashed against each other, colliding in an urgent kiss, the taste of him everything you needed to quench your thirst.

The sound of glass clinking together mixed in with both of your heavy, wanting breaths, the box being pushed to the side and nearly off the edge as Anders pressed you against the counter, making you lean back into the hard surface, but not as much as your body moved into his.

You moaned into him, rubbing yourself against the hardness in his pants, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trailed down to kiss your neck. You were so lost in the moment, ready to succumb to him right there, but not enough to miss the sound of someone walking into the room.

His mouth parted from your tingling skin and Anders whipped his head around to see Axl standing awkwardly in the doorway, his hands held up in the air in defence before turning on his heel to walk out.

"I saw nothing!" you heard him call, making both you and Anders laugh against each other.

"Fuck, I want you!" he hissed, nipping at the skin under your jaw that made you press your hands against his chest to push him off of you.

"I know, but this isn't exactly the time or place, is it?"

Anders growled and put his hands on his waist, glaring at you with dark eyes.

"Says who?"

"It's your brother's birthday! I don't think Mike, or Michele, would be too pleased to find us at it in the middle of his party." You smoothed your hands over his chest and tipped your head to the side as you looked at his pouting face. "Plus, he seems to be happy and you two are getting along for once."

"Ah, he could do with a reason to scowl," he said, once again leaning close to you.

"Anders…" you warned, even though you didn't really mean it.

"Mike always gets what he wants. Let me get what I want."

His eyes bore into you and you officially lost all hope of not giving in, your lust for him out-bidding any reasoning you had left, equally as drunk on him as you were the beer. His lips connected with yours again, his tongue demanding entrance and you happily obliged, knowing there was no use in trying to hold back any longer.

Anders gripped under your thighs to pull your legs up around his waist, moving to carry you to the bathroom beside the kitchen. After bumping into a few walls, you finally made it inside and he shut and locked the door behind you, turning around with a ferocious look that excited you and made your core throb with arousal.

Both of you made quick work to remove your pants, and once they were forgotten on the floor, Anders grabbed your waist and lifted you up onto the vanity, standing between your legs and meeting you in a sloppy kiss once more. You hurriedly unfasted as many buttons on his shirt as you could while he pulled off his boxers, feeling his cock spring free to nudge against your dampened panties. Your shirt was swiftly removed up over your head, and when Anders' hands were freed again he hooked his fingers in the waist of your thong and peeled it down your legs. That sensation was enough to draw out a long moan from you, spreading your legs apart for him to gain access to the place you needed him most.

"You didn't need much convincing, did you?" he said in a cheeky tone, rubbing the leaky head of his engorged cock through your slick folds, grunting as you gasped out, pushing inside to stretch you out perfectly.

"Fuck, Anders," you whined, clawing into his shoulder as you scooted forward to the edge of the vanity, taking all of him in until he filled you completely. He didn't waste any time in finding a relentless pace in his thrusts, his eagerness to coax out your pent-up pleasure that matched his being his only goal.

Footsteps were heard just outside the door, someone having come into the kitchen to get more drinks from the sound of it, and Anders grinned at you with an ardent expression; spurred on by the fact that your secret remained unknown to anyone but the two of you. Doing your best to contain your mewling, your head tipped back against the mirror and you bit your lip, continuing to roll your hips as Anders refused to let up.

Your clit rubbed and hit his belly with each movement, the coarse hairs aiding in the ascent to your peak, and you marveled once again at his ability to make you come so quickly.

"Don't come yet, baby," he panted beside your ear, his breath hot on your neck. "Wait for me."

His request only brought you closer to your end, your orgasm bubbling to the surface in an imminent threat as you glided back and forth on his length.

Your hands grabbed at anything they could make purchase on to try to slow your climax down; your fingers weaved through his hair, raked down his back as his muscles flexed with his rough movements - you even tore at the wall beside you - but none of it did anything to keep you grounded. Anders gave a few more deep and powerful thrusts, your hips meeting his rhythm each time, and as you began to clench tightly around him he reached a hand up to hold your face to his, kissing you hard to drown out your oncoming cries of ecstasy. He swallowed every scream, muffling your song to prevent anyone from hearing as you shuddered through your high and milked out his own. He groaned into your mouth with an unhinged, guttural sound, barely able to contain his pleasure as he pulsed into you, his hot, white ropes coating your spasming walls.

He stayed inside you, relishing in the bliss of what your bodies created together, still kissing you. It was slower this time, his tongue carefully wrapping around yours, no longer pressing his mouth onto yours forcefully, instead tender and gentle in the aftermath of your passion. His hand still held your cheek and the other found its way to the other side of your face, this act of affection making your head spin more than it already was from the drinks and quick, but intense sex.

You hummed into his mouth, happy to be lost in your own moment where no one else existed outside the small powder room.

Anders slowly broke the seal of your lips, peeling away from you to look at you with an adoration in his eyes that made your stomach flip, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over your flushed cheeks that pulled up as you smiled weakly at him.

His words were low and scratchy when he spoke, the effects of his fervent need for you and the beer you could still taste on him lingering on his voice, and you knew he wasn’t nearly done with you yet.

"I think we should go home now."

———

Anders Taglist:

@guardianofrivendell @linasofia @legolaslovely @enchantzz @the-poldarkian @midearthwritings @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @sketch-and-write-lover @lathalea @faeriefics

#anders johnson #the almighty johnsons #anders johnson smut #anders johnson x female reader #anders #anders smut #the almighty johnsons fanfic #dean o’gorman

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pinkfadespirit · 2 years

Note

Distracting Kiss from your kissing list for fenhanders, or whoever you like. ps you're a soft lil peach.

🍑🍑🍑💖💖💖

I had too many ideas for different directions for this to go in and couldn't seem to make any of them co operate, so I ended up cutting it off early.

Rated Mature for some mild spicy content.

for @dadrunkwriting

Upon reflection, choosing to work at the desk in the bedroom, rather than one in the library was probably where Anders went wrong. He was usually good at fending off distractions. Too good, in fact. Cups of tea left beside him on the desk turned cold. Kisses, the scratch of Hawke's beard on the side of his face, an arm wrapped lovingly around his waist, were met with smiles and vague promises that he'd be finished soon. Just a few more minutes, love. Which would turn to a few more hours until Hawke inevitably fell asleep waiting for him. It probably wasn't fair, but Anders was making a lot of progress. Progress he hoped would all be worth it someday.

Things had changed in recent months, since Fenris had come back into the picture. He and Hawke had sorted things out between them, which had led to Anders and Fenris setting aside their differences. For Hawke's sake to begin with, but then it hadn't taken long for Anders to admit that he'd always found Fenris unfairly attractive. And now that he seemed happier and had dropped that infuriating habit of mentioning how much he hated mages every opportunity, he was actually tolerable. Alright, more than tolerable. Downright distracting was what he was.

The 'Anders, come to bed's and 'your work will still be there tomorrow's were easy enough to brush off. Anders was nothing if not focused. Because he was also Justice, and Justice was good at that sort of thing. Or, well, he had been, since the lyrium was another factor now, and that was something they were still figuring out. The song it gave off was a constant melody at the back of Anders’ head, and it wasn't unpleasant. Anders had found he could work with it, but it made it difficult not to always be aware when Fenris was present. Even when he and Hawke fell quiet. Because if they weren't using their mouths for talking, it stood to reason they were using them for something else.

Anders wasn't thinking about it. He was thinking about his manifesto, and feeling glad that Hawke didn't have to be alone anymore on those nights Anders needed to work.

But it was the moaning that did it. The “Oh… Fen…" in that low voice that Anders knew well, because he'd heard it often enough saying his name in that precise tone. Anders couldn't help but turn his head.

The sight that greeted him almost stopped his breath. Fenris and Hawke were on the bed at the centre of the far wall and neither of them were wearing a thing. Hawke was mostly obscured, lying back on the bed with Fenris kneeling over him, straddling his waist. Anders still wasn't used to the sight of him like that; the bare toned skin, compact muscles and the lyrium lines that swirled around each of them, trailing down over the contours of his back to curl around that perfect arse. Anders couldn't take his eyes off him. But it was the next part that really did it, when Hawke propped himself up on one elbow and reached out a hand to curl around the back of Fenris' head, pulling him into a kiss. Fenris went without hesitation, and it was the point where their lips met that all thought of work promptly flew out of Anders' mind.

Maker, they were beautiful together. Fenris was strong and well muscled but appeared small and slim next to Hawke's enormous bulk. The contrast between them was an oddly captivating thing; how Fenris was hard in the places Hawke was soft, smooth where Hawke was hairy, but that wasn't why they looked so good together. It was the tenderness between them. How Hawke, for all his strength, held Fenris with such gentle reverence. And Fenris, for all his prickliness, melted into each soft caress and slow glide of lips. It was still strange, seeing something so familiar from an outside perspective. Strange, and endlessly fascinating.

Anders barely registered getting to his feet. Not until he was across the room, already tugging at the laces of his clothing, and taking in the scene in front of him from a much improved angle at the side of the bed. If Hawke and Fenris noticed Anders’ approach, they gave no sign of it – unless their reason for deepening the kiss was to give him a show. Which it could well have been.

Anders tugged off his shirt and finished loosening his trousers and saw how Hawke’s lips curled into a smile against Fenris’.

“Don’t look now,” he murmured, “but I think your plan worked.”

Fenris looked anyway, green eyes heavy lidded, pupils blown wide as he watched Anders slip out of his trousers. There was open desire in that look, sending a thrill through Anders that just a few short months ago he would have thought impossible. And yet, here they were, with Anders stripping himself bare before him, with so little hesitation. He was already hard, had been from the moment he’d turned and found his lovers looking so bloody irresistible, entangled on their bed.

No sooner were his clothes in a pile on the floor at his feet than he had crawled onto the bed and into position behind Fenris, delighting in the heat of his skin against Anders’ own. The way he arched back, as though enjoying the hard length of Anders’ cock pressed against him. “Your plan, was it?” Anders asked, reaching around to cup the side of Fenris’ face, and coax him into turning back into a kiss. Fenris went willingly, turning the top half of his body to better reach Anders’ lips. Anders let his free hand slide up along Fenris’ side, making sure to be careful of his markings as he enjoyed the feel of smooth skin and taut muscle beneath his fingers.

“It was a good plan,” said Fenris, slightly breathless, as they eventually pulled apart.

“I’ll agree with that assessment.” Hawke’s input made Anders smirk.

“Why am I not surprised about that?”

“Because you know what the two of you do to me. And you were so cruelly denying me until this point. What choice did we have but to take matters into our own hands?”

Anders chuckled into Fenris’ shoulder, where he was dragging his lips along the bare skin, kissing along his neck and nuzzling into his hair. “Well, you’ve succeeded,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose up along the length of Fenris’ ear, while his fingers splayed across his stomach, pressing him back towards him, until he groaned at the hard press of Anders’ cock against his arse. His eyes found Hawke’s and Anders loved the way he watched them both, with such rapt attention. “I am thoroughly distracted. Now what are you going to do about it?”

#dadrunkwriting #dragon age fanfic #fenhanders

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