First of all anon, fuck off weddingfic is totally my secret weakness. Secondly – okay, you know how i keep answering these 3 paragraph meme prompts and belittling myself for like, writing nine or even ~oh no~ twelve paragraphs instead of three? I have spectacularly outdone myself by writing a full fic for this goddamn fucking prompt in like, one day, and I can only blame the sewer alligators.
For better or for worse (or: 5 times Hawke asked Anders to marry him I KNOW fucking fight me i couldn’t think of a better title) [m!handers, 6,000 words, sfw, just disgusting romance all over the place in here]
(i. the first act)
“Marry me,” Hawke says, and Anders can smell the alcohol on his breath. He wrinkles his nose, just a little, and leans over to push Hawke’s tankard away. It’s been a whole five days since their return from the Deep Roads, bearing backpacks bulging with treasure, and Hawke’s not been sober for any of them so far as he can tell.
“Sorry to fetch you out so late, Blondie,” Varric says apologetically from across the table, and tosses a silver to the boy who had brought Anders all the way up from Darktown. “I thought you might have better luck with this than me. Crying humans get me every time.”
Queer Fortress 