Okay, but thinking about how loud Anders is when he’s kissing, and Fenris pinning him to a wall, covering Anders’ mouth with one hand while the other rucks up his robes, slips inside his breeches, wraps around his cock. Fenris pressing him against the wall, knee between Anders’ thighs, the warmth of Anders seeping into his bones as Anders moans against his palm, pushes into his hand, breathes hot and heavy and desperate as Fenris hisses at him to be quiet, hisses that they’ll be caught. Rolls his eyes and removes his hand to replace it with his mouth because why not, why not, in for a copper, he thinks, this is more fun anyway.

[fenders future snippet, tipping point]

They travel after Kirkwall, leaving the dirt and the chains and the stench behind. It’s two weeks before Fenris finally feels like he can breathe deep. For Anders, he’s sure it will be longer.

Each morning they rise before the sun, pack their camp. Head out. They’re heading over a ridge, Anders ahead, when Fenris runs into him. Starts to ask, “What,” but then catches the view over Anders’ shoulder. The dark sky turning light, pink and orange on the horizon, gilding the clouds as the sun begins to rise over the peaks and valleys spread before them. He stands there, awed, chilled. Heat comes off Anders in waves, and he steps closer. Breathes deep. Thinks he’s finally starting to understand freedom.

The air cool and fresh in his lungs, smelling of pine needles and dirt. They’d slept curled together the night before, bedrolls tucked close, bodies curved liked spoons. When the fire has burned low, Anders had bolstered it. Had kept them warm. Had distracted Fenris with his big hands and hot mouth.

Fenris had come to the sound of his breathing, the crackle of the fire. The silent night around them.

He’d come with Anders’ hands on his hips, Anders’ mouth on his cock. His fingers tangled in Anders’ hair. He’d felt light, like he could float away without Anders’ grounding presence, and only grumbled a little at his weight, secretly happy he’d gained some since…

He’d pressed fingers into fragile skin, kisses onto stubbled plains. Urged Anders until he’s followed him over, their descent into madness mutual, their climb to freedom ongoing.

Fenris watches the sunrise from the ridge. Watches it with Anders at his side. Follows him into the new day.

[More Fenders lighthouse AU snippets. Because I can.]

It’s the middle of the night when Fenris awakens. He knows because he can’t see anything. Slowly, his eyes adjust to the light of the moon coming through the cracks in the shudders. When he looks around, he notices Anders is not in his bed. Instead, the sheets are pushed back, the top blanket gone. It was the door that woke him, he realizes, the sound of the latch. He wonders what’s going on, if it’s possible Anders has taken to somnambulistic wanderings. If he’ll have to start tying him down. His skin heats at that thought, and he brusquely pushes it down.

Slipping on his slippers and forgoing his blanket to grab his more sensible coat hanging on a peg by the door, Fenris heads outside. Anders can’t have gone far, it’s only been—

Standing just outside the front gate, Anders has his blanket pulled sloppily around his shoulders and his head tipped back, face angled to the ocean and the too full moon. Fenris’ breath catches in his throat, and he tells himself he’s just startled, but he knows it’s a lie.

In the moonlight, barefoot on the damp earth, Anders looks unearthly. Unreal. His hair is haloed about his head, the pale red-gold of it lost in the silvered light. At first, Fenris thinks his eyes are closed, but as he steps closer he sees they’re open, wide and dark, taking in the world. He’s afraid to say anything, afraid to break the spell, or startle Anders if he’s asleep. His hand touches the gate.

Anders turns his head to look at him. His lips are parted and damp and when he sees Fenris, the corners lift.

"I didn’t mean to wake you." His voice is hushed, and Fenris shivers. He thinks of all the things that can come from the sea, mermaids and sirens and selkies, stories he remembers vaguely from his childhood. Wonders if maybe, somehow—

"The moon was so bright," Anders continues. "I wanted to see it. I was…compelled." His mouth twists slightly, and he looks sheepish, and Fenris doesn’t know how he gets from one side of the fence to the other, but that embarrassed half-smile is sweet against his lips.

Anders’ mouth drops open beneath his, a sound of surprise escaping. He doesn’t move, though, doesn’t step back and away. He lets Fenris kiss him, kisses Fenris back. The sea roars in Fenris’ ears, and his heart feels like it’s breaking.

When he steps back, Anders’ eyebrows are still raised in surprise. His lips are damp, the softest pink. His eyes are dark as the earth beneath their feet. His hands are clutching is blanket.

"I was…compelled," Fenris says, and Anders smiles at him, a smile that travels the entirety of his face.

:3 some of the most decent. More lighthouse AU…


They wake in the morning tangled together, their bodies warm beneath the layers of sheet and blankets. Fenris wakes first to find Anders arms around him, his chin digging into his shoulder. He has a moment of panic and then, like the fog that creeps up from the beach only to dissipate in the sun, it’s gone. What’s left is light and heat and a weight Fenris doesn’t recognize in his chest.

He shifts slightly—the chin is painful—and watches as Anders’ eyes blink open, squinting in the light coming through the curtains. His eyes are golden in the light, amber. Liquid and bright and Fenris leans in, moves and readjusts and kisses the corner of Anders’ mouth. He pauses, just there, and listens to Anders’ breath hitch, listens to the heavy thud of his heart and the sound of the ocean out the window. He listens and waits because the sun is harsher than the moon and deeds done in the dark are not always worth repeating.

A moment, though, is all it takes. Anders shifts and turns his head, fits their mouths together in Fenris’ bed. Presses his wide hands to Fenris’ shoulders and arms and flanks, his hips and back. He groans, a sound that makes Fenris’ heart quicken, and pulls Fenris to him.

cautionzombies asked:

Fenders but in In the Flesh.

Anders knocks frantically on Fenris’ door, hands shaking. He’d seen what they’d done to Karl, what sheer ignorance and hate had done, seen what they did to—what they were going to do Bethany. It makes him sick, makes his body ache in ways it shouldn’t be able to anymore, not really. He can’t go on like this, with Fenris right here, offering…whatever he’s offering. Can’t go on with his life—his re-gifted life—spiraling out of control. He’s got to do something, got to—

The door opens. “Anders?” Fenris asks, brow furrowing. “Are you oka—”

Fenris’ mouth is dry against Anders, the corners of his mouth raised in question. If Anders’ heart could beat, it would be racing. If he could feel sick, he’d be nauseated. He’s never done this before, and he knows he and Fenris didn’t get off on the right foot, but damn it, there’s something there, something—If he’s wrong, he’ll go home embarrassed. Mortified that his first kiss was a disaster.

Except a second later Fenris’ lips are parting and he’s kissing back. He’s kissing Anders, hands coming up to touch his face, hold him steady. Beneath his feet, Anders’ whole world shifts.

snubbingapollo asked:

prompt: Fenders, warmth.

Anders has always struggled with fire, it’s part of the reason—well. He’s struggled. He’s spent his years honing ice and frost, perfecting lightning. He is a healer down to his bones. But fire? He stays away from fire if he can help it, does not care for the feel at his fingers, its uncontrollable force.

It’s a cold night somewhere on the Wounded Coast, and Anders shivers, huddles deeper into his coat, pressing his back against the cliff they’ve camped under. There’s nothing to light a fire with, and Anders regrets not thinking ahead as he rocks slightly. In the dim light of the near full moon, Fenris watches him. His face is unreadable, which isn’t new, but the intensity is.

"If you’re cold," he says, voice cutting through the darkness, "isn’t there some magic you can do? Start a fire? Save us both?"

Anders shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I mean. I could, yes, if it was dire, but I don’t like—Fire isn’t exactly my forte, and I’d prefer not to have to—”

"You’d rather let us freeze to death?"

"We’re not going to freeze to death, Fenris. It’s not that cold."

He can practically hear Fenris roll his eyes. “I can hear you shivering from here.”

Anders shudders, and he frowns at his own body betraying him. “I’m fine.”

Fenris sighs, and Anders hears rustling, sees Fenris rise in his knees and shuffle close, closer, until he’s right next to Anders. He sits, back against the cliff, side pressed to Anders. He sits and huffs and presses himself close, and Anders, deep in his chest, feels something rise like warmth.

Writing Update

- Posted the third part of Fenders fic last night:  Interference.

- Just finished typing up the fourth part (6000+ words, Fenris POV, explicit).

- I don’t know how many parts it’s going to be overall, but I do have it plotted out—thanks to several multi-hour long car conversations with cautionzombies—through the end of DA2 and beyond.

- Next part…the shit hits the fan.

- Have made a tag for the series here.

I needed to pass some time at work, so I asked cautionzombies to give me movie titles for Fenders snippets.

Pacific Rim

He catches Fenris watching him spar, his enigmatic green eyes following each sweep of Anders’ feet, each lunge of his fists. The look on his face makes Anders’ blood boil—dismissive, bored, calculating; how dare he think he can judge Anders, who has worked so hard to get to the Shatterdome, how dare he—

"You fight well," Fenris says, making Anders’ jump right after he upsets his opponent. "Even distracted. Care to try with a real partner?”

Anders faces him, planting his feet. “Bring it on.”


The Mummy

Fenris teeters in his knees on the other side of the fire, a bottle in one hand and a smile on his face, before making his way around the flames to where Anders is seated in the sand.

"I may—I may not be much anymore, Anders," he says, slurring the s at the end of his name. He pokes at Anders’ chest, and it’s weirdly endearing, seeing Fenris intoxicated, his face younger and softer than usual. “But I know what I am and that—and that—is a warrior." He tilts dangerously on the last word, and Anders reaches out to catch him, to help break his small fall into the sand.

"My hero," he says, dryly, and Fenris snorts beside him, for once not batting his hands away.


The Neverending Story (my real response this time)

Fenris hangs back, unsure now about meeting the man who had helped him through his journey, who had been there every step of the way, through loss and triumph. He hangs back, watching the man kneel before the Empress, his golden hair falling forward as he bent his neck. Sweeping back as the Empress tilted his head back up.

They look good together, the two of them, and Fenris could see them rule side-by-side, could see himself as their loyal servant, perhaps. He’s about to leave, to turn and step out of this part of the story, when the Empress gestures at him and the man turns, his eyes and smile widening when they land on Fenris.

Beneath his armor, Fenris’ heart quickens.

anonymous asked:

Taking out the last book at the library for the same class - any pairing.

Anders wanders the library, looking for anyone who looks even slightly familiar. He’d tried to check out a book for class from reserves, but when he’d asked at circulation, they’d frowned at him and said someone had just checked it out.

"I can’t tell you who, but it’s probably someone in your class, and the book can’t leave the library, so you might be able to find them?" The student behind the desk shrugged. "Sorry, dude."

Which is why Anders is wandering the library, hoping for some—

He catches sight of a shock of white hair and his heart sinks.

"Fenris," he greets, stopping in front of the table Fenris occupies, books and bag spread out across the top. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot the first day of class when discussion between the two of them had gotten a little too heated, a little too vocal.

"Anders." He doesn’t even look up. How does he do tha— "I have a sixth sense."

Anders blinks. “What? How did—”

Fenris looks up then, one eyebrow raised. “You said that out loud.”

Anders blushes, curses himself for it. “Is that the book for 250?” he asks, clearing his throat.

"It is." Fenris looks back down at the book, flips a page. Continues reading.

"Ah. Well. I’ll…wait until you’re finished then." He turns to walk away, planning to loiter near circulation, when Fenris’ voice stops him.

"I, uh, could use a study partner."

Anders turns around. Fenris’ face is screwed up, the tips of his ears red.

"Just. Don’t bring up politics or religion, okay?" Fenris continues, his face relaxing. "You’re smart, and I think we’d make a good team if we just…don’t…do that."

Anders nods, aware that he’s staring. “Agreed,” he says. “If you promise the same.”

Fenris nods, shifting his things to make room for Anders at the table. “Excellent. Let’s get to work.”

Anders/Fenris Snippet

“I can feel you when you do that, you know,” Anders says.  He’s bent over his pack, digging for a biscuit that’s somehow gotten loose.  Fenris is by the fire, occasionally stirring a pot—rabbit, he’d said, holding the animal up earlier.

“Do what?”

Anders looks over his shoulder.  Sure enough, Fenris is watching him.  He’s unreadable at the best of times, but the dancing shadows from the flames, the overhang of his hair, make it full impossible to tell what he’s thinking.  Probably something uncharitable.

“Watching me,” he says.  He finds the biscuit, turning to join Fenris across the fire.  “You’ve been doing it since.  Well.”  He feels himself blush, hopes that Fenris attributes it to the heat, and clears his throat.  “You know.”

Fenris nods and stirs the pot.  “I know.”

Anders wants to sigh or scream or knock the damned rabbit stew into the damned fire.  He’s been on tenterhooks waiting for retribution, and Fenris is…he’s…Anders doesn’t know what Fenris is anymore, to be honest.  He’d stopped hating him long ago, and maybe that had  been for Hawke, at first, but the more he’d found out about Fenris—gleaning pieces here and there—the more he’d understood.

He couldn’t not fight back, though.  Not when he’d been so specifically and viciously attacked.

Anders blows out a breath, takes a bite of his biscuit.  Watches the way Fenris’ unfathomable eyes follow the movement.  He wonders if he’ll die tonight, if he’ll have to fight for his life in this cave, or if maybe, maybe…

“You confound me.”

Anders snorts, almost choking.  “I confound you?  That’s rich.”

Fenris frowns and picks up a bowl.  Filling it with stew, he passes it across the fire.  His fingers when they brush Anders, are hot; Anders feels them like a brand.

“Eat,” he says, and serves himself.

Anders sighs, cursing under his breath.  “Fenris,” he says, “I—”

Fenris raises a hand.  “Perhaps it is better if we do not speak.”

I just want to write epic “I’m so angry at you for putting yourself in that situation but so relieved you survived” Anders/Fenris kisses.

The kind with desperate hands and mouths.  The kind that leave bruises.  That need reassurance that the other is flesh and blood, living and breathing against them.  Fast and hard.  Sweep you off your feet, pin you to the wall kisses.

This is what I want.

In Writing News...

- I have edits for the next Fenris/Anders fic in my inbox. (That is, the third part of Tipping Point.)

- I am mid-sexual encounter on the *next* Fenris/Anders, which means that fic is almost done in the hand-written phase. (Fourth part of Tipping Point.)

- I have part five already planned.

- I am excited and terrified about that part being in Anders’ POV. (He is so much fun to write, but the territory is a minefield.)

- Let’s be honest, I have through the end of Dragon Age 2 planned in this Fenders ‘verse. I feel very good about it.