#broodywolf writes

[withywindled]

When Lyna wakes up, Zevran is crying.

He makes almost no sound; she might not have noticed if it weren’t for the gentle hitch in his breathing where her cheek rests on his chest.

“Zev?” she says, lifting her head to look at him. His arms tighten around her waist, and he smiles through the tears. He meets her gaze, and she could drown right there in the sheer amount of emotion in his warm amber eyes. She lifts a hand to his face, gently wiping the tears from one cheek. His hand slides from her waist to the back of her neck, pulling her lips down to his. He kisses her with an unbearable tenderness, his fingers slowly weaving into her hair as his lips move against hers. When he’s done with her lips he moves on to covering every inch of her face with kisses, whispering softly between each one. It takes her a moment to recognize the quickly repeated Antivan syllables—te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo.

“So… not sad crying then?”

“No, mi vida,” he says, voice thick with emotion. He leans back against the pillow, studying her face with a focus bordering on reverence. “I just… Ever since I realized just what you meant to me, I have wanted nothing more than to wake up every morning for the rest of my life with you in my arms. And now… now I might just get that chance.”

Lyna has to blink back tears of her own at that declaration, and she hides them by ducking down to kiss him again.

“I love you so much, Zev,” she says, leaning her forehead against his. “So much. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Zevran laughed out loud at that, a warm, bright sound that filled the entire room. “Let us see. You only slayed the Archdemon, thereby stopping the Blight and saving the all of Ferelden and likely the entire world. And that was only the beginning of your many heroic feats, the most recent of which, I would remind you, was finding a cure for the Calling, which will save every Grey Warden in Thedas from a horrific and early death.”

“Okay, okay, so maybe I deserve this.”

“This and more,” Zevran says. “I shall have to work very hard to give you the luxurious retirement you so deeply deserve. Not that I mind at all! No, I am quite content to be a slave to the whims of my deadly sex goddess.”

Lyna giggles, giving Zevran a playful shove. “You are ridiculous.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong. You are the ridiculous one, for thinking you do not deserve every comfort that the world, and I myself, have to offer.”

Lyna gives him a soft smile. “So,” she says. “First day of the rest of our life. What would you like to do?”

“Hmm. Shall I make a list? I think so. First, I will ravish you. Then, I will feed you fresh fruit from the market. Then… a massage, perhaps. All of this business searching for your cure has left you very tense, I am sure. After that, I am certain I will end up ravishing you again. Perhaps tonight we will go dancing. It has been a while since I took you dancing, no? Then, of course, I will ravish you again. Perhaps several times! We have all night after all. Does this sound agreeable?”

Lyna giggles. “Far be it from me to argue with that; sounds like all of my favorite things. What about you, though? Isn’t there anything you want for yourself?”

“You are more than enough,” he says, fixing her with an intense gaze. Words escape her in the wake of the surge of emotion that floods her, so she kisses him instead. She knows that he is fluent in the language of her touch, as she is in his; this has been their shared language long before they learned how to put words to what they felt for each other.

“On with the ravishing then, I see,” Zevran says with a warm laugh.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Lyna says.

Zevran doesn’t need telling twice.   

[withywindled]

Here’s part 2 to the angst prompt I posted earlier. Most of this has been sitting in my fic folder for ages waiting to be finished, so that prompt gave me an excellent excuse!

Lyna found Zevran in a disused sitting room, staring into the fire. His shoulders sagged in a way that was unlike him. Things had been awkward between them ever since he’d given her the earring, doubly so since she had asked him to her tent and he’d confused. Zevran had gone from being cold and distant to being… hesitant, like he wished to reach out to her but stopped himself each time. He joked less, rarely laughed, and there was a sadness in his eyes that she couldn’t bear. She knew that one of them had to bridge this horrible distance between them, and if he wouldn’t then it would have to be her.

“Hey, Zev,” she said softly, stepping forward into the room.

“Warden,” he greeted with a smile that faded too quickly.

“You’ve been different, lately,” Lyna said with a frown.

Zevran sighed, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Hmm, I thought this might be it. Are you certain you with to talk about this?” He glanced around them, but the room and the hallway beyond it were empty. It seemed Arl Eamon’s household retired early. “I… really do not know what to say.”

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Lyna said. “It’s just… I miss you, Zev. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“You’re right. I’ve been acting like a child. I apologize. Let me try to explain.” He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something. “I have not been honest with you, amor.”

“Zev? What do you mean?”

“When I gave you this,” he said, reaching up to touch the earring, caressing the delicate taper of her ear.

Lyna frowned, unsure what he meant.

“Do you know what ‘mi amor’ means in Antivan?”

“I figured it was a pet name,” she said, hiding her confusion behind a smile as she brought her hand to his cheek. “Why?”

She felt his soft huff of breath against her wrist as he turned into her hand, looking away from her.

“This is… difficult for me, you must understand. I do not know how to…”

“Zev,” she said softly, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone. “What does ‘mi amor’ mean?” She said it gently, not ceasing the soothing motion of her thumb along his cheek, his temple.

When he looked back up to meet her gaze, there was such a maelstrom of emotion there it took a moment for her to register that his eyes were also wide with fear.

“Zev?”

She couldn’t help but be a little concerned now; what could possibly be so difficult for him to say? She felt the muscles clench in his jaw as he swallowed thickly. He laid his hand over hers on his cheek as though afraid she’d withdraw it otherwise.

“It means ‘my love.’”

It took her a minute to even process what he was trying to tell her. Mi amor. If she had found out the meaning of the phrase before, she’d have thought it was just something he was saying. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but the way he was acting now… My love. He meant it, she realized, and felt she might fall apart if not for his hand holding hers to his face, tethering her to him. Love.

She kissed him. There was nothing else she could do because her brain still hadn’t caught up with this revelation enough to form words and the fear and hope on Zevran’s face was quickly turning to regret and heartbreak, so she hooked her fingers behind his jaw to pull him to her, pressing her lips to his desperately. Creators, she had missed this. He wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her like a lifeline, his fingers tangling in her short hair.

“Lyna,” he said when he finally pulled back, panting.

“Zev,” she answered, a hint of a smirk playing about her lips, and he smiled brilliantly at her. She took his face in both of her hands, kissed him again, softly. “Ma vhenan,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. His fingers dug into her back, pulling her closer, and she knew he understood.

He kissed her again, gently, lovingly. His lips ghosted across her cheek, trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

“Come to my room?” she said breathlessly. “Please, Zev.”

“Yes,” he said simply, gazing into her eyes. The word sounded like a promise, a declaration. He dropped his hands from her face, intertwining his fingers with hers instead. “Lead the way, mi amor.”

[withywindled]

zevran/warden. "we drunk-kissed but you forgot about it and i don’t know how to act around you anymore wtf"

 I wrote a drunk kiss for them here, so for this prompt I just wrote sort of a continuation of that!

A low groan is the only thing that announces Lyna’s presence before she collapses onto the bench next to him, cradling her head in her hands.

“Good morning, my Warden,” he says.

Without lifting her head, Lyna mumbles something rather garbled in response. He’s pretty sure he catches the word ‘bad’, but that’s about it.

“I didn’t catch that, I’m afraid.”

“Shem ale. Bad.” Lyna says, lifting her head up and blinking groggily at him through the curtain of her hair.

Zevran can’t help but smile at her endearingly rumpled appearance. “You seemed rather fond of the ‘shem ale’ last night.”

“Changed my mind. Head hurts. My mouth tastes like halla dung!”

“Do I wish to ask how you became familiar with the flavor of halla dung?”

“No. I—Shut up! Wait. How did I get back to my room last night? The last thing I remember… Something about cheese? But I was definitely still down here!”

“You do not remember?” Zevran asks, his brow furrowing.

“No. Shit, tell me I didn’t do anything completely embarrassing. The last time I got that drunk Merrill and I put flower crowns on all the statues of the Creators. We even did Fen’harel! We were in so much trouble for that. I even sound like her now. Babbling. Um, yes. Just tell me I didn’t do anything stupid. Please.”

She didn’t remember. That delicious kiss, his less-than-subtle promise afterward. Hm. He’s… disappointed. Why is he disappointed? The kiss, objectively, had not even been that good, but… mierda, he could not stop replaying the moment in his mind, the feel of her lips against his, the warmth of her body—

Lyna was staring at him, eyes growing wider by the second. “Oh shit, what did I do?”

“Nothing, my Warden. My mind wandered, I apologize. You may have spilled a little ale on our friend Alistair, but I am sure he can forgive you for that. After that I walked you to your room, and you went to bed. That is all,” he says, hoping she wouldn’t notice how shaky his smile was.

“Oh. You… you did?” she asks in a breathy voice, giving him a small smile.

“Yes,” he says, chest fluttering strangely at the gratitude and… and fondness in her voice. “And now, you should eat some breakfast. Can’t have our heroic Grey Warden fighting the darkspawn on an empty stomach, no?” He flashes her a grin and pushes a plate her way. “The porridge tastes like parchment but the bacon is passable.”

---

That night at camp, Lyna plops down next to him around the fire.

“All right, out with it. What really happened last night?”

“What—”

“You haven’t flirted with me all day,” she says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “So I have to assume something… happened between us last night. Am I wrong?”

“No. We… that is, after I walked you upstairs you… you kissed me. You were drunk and I did not wish to… Well, we parted ways--you into your room and me into mine. Nothing sordid, I’m afraid.”

Babbling like a fresh-faced recruit. What is wrong with you, Zevran?

“I… oh.” Lyna’s cheeks flush scarlet and her gaze drops to her bare feet. “Zev, you told me I didn’t embarrass myself!” she hisses, still refusing to look at him.

“And you did not. Would I lie to you, my Warden?” he says, turning her face with a light touch under the chin. Finally her eyes snap up to meet his.

“But—”

“Ah-ah,” he tuts. “I happen to enjoy kissing beautiful women. Since when is doing something we both enjoy an embarrassment?”

“But you didn’t want to do… more than that.”

Zevran laughs, head tilting back. “Whatever gave you that idea? Please tell me so I can correct it immediately.”

“Sorry, I just assumed, since we didn’t…”

“No, my Warden. I will tell you now what I told you last night: when we do choose to take our pleasure in each other—for I feel it is safe to assume it is only a matter of time at this point—I want you to be fully aware. Present in that moment. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she says in a hoarse whisper.

“Good. I am glad we have come to an understanding,” he says with a grin, very pleased to see the spark of desire reflected in her eyes. Good to know, he thinks. His Warden still holds ever so much tension, after all. And now that he knew his advances would not be unwelcome, perhaps he could do something about that. This would be fun indeed.  

[withywindled]

zev/lyna drabble pprompt: fireworks

I know I got this prompt for Zevran/Warden Week, but I never actually finished it so here it is in time for Zevran Week!

She’s heard shems say that the first time you kiss someone should be like fireworks.

Shems, as usual, are a bit stupid.

She’s seen fireworks a few times, when their clan happened to pass near a city. Big pops and bangs of color and light, celebrations only the nobles could afford.

They’re beautiful, and exciting, so she can see perhaps why the shems would compare a kiss to fireworks —but then a second later they’re gone, leaving only a hazy smoke in their wake. That is nothing like a kiss. Not the good kind, anyway.

A proper first kiss should be like an ember. Tentative at first, but if you fan it just a little it catches. The blaze consumes, it wants more, you can never get enough.

Creators, but it had been like that with Zevran. She’d been almost taken aback, at first, by how gentle he was —but within seconds he was driving her mad, soft touches that ignited something deep inside her. A spark. Back then it seemed like everything was going to the Void anyway, so what did it matter if she let the fire eat her up.

Perhaps those first kisses were a bit like fireworks. After all, a blazing bonfire can inspire the same sort of awe fireworks do. The flames licking towards the sky, the violent pops as moisture escapes the wood, the heady and alluring sense of danger. The similarity ends there, though —for a fire, when fed, endures. It might burn low —a gentle, simmering heat like warm sun on your skin —but feed the flames and the fire flares back to life, an overpowering blaze that roars inside of you, that want that seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat.

Lyna can never decide which she likes more. The soft warmth she feels when she wakes up ensconced in Zevran’s arms, all crooked smiles and sleepy kisses? It makes everything she’s been through, every hardship, every friend lost and every darkspawn slain worth it, just so she can be here now.

But then there’s the intoxicating blaze of desire that overtakes her when Zevran makes love to her —for he knows her every weakness, knows how to drive her to the brink, until she’s certain she’ll combust because how can she possibly hold herself together when he’s reduced her to a quivering mess of want. It goes both ways, of course—other times she’ll turn the flame back on him, his hands tied to the headboard as she gives and takes as she pleases. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get past how beautiful he is, especially like this —the warm flush of desire looks so gorgeous against his sun-kissed brown skin, his head canted back as the liquid, molten syllables of his native tongue spill from his mouth.

At the end of the day, though? Their love is a fire that will not go out. She doesn’t need exciting pops of color and light, showy displays of extravagance that are gone as quickly as they came. What she has is something infinitely more valuable. A steady fire in the hearth, warm arms around her, a smile as bright as the noonday sun. Her Zevran.  

[withywindled]

Since it’s still the only thing I can really manage to write at the moment, have more of this AU. This time, Alyx and Anders undertake the Joining together.

“Well all right, but if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on my forehead, I’m blaming you.”

Anders lifted the goblet to his lips and drank; Alyx registered the minute shudder that ran through his body. He started to pull a face, but then his eyes rolled back in his head, his features going slack as he collapsed to the floor.

“Anders!” Alyx cried, before whirling on Varel with fire in her eyes. “Maker help me, if he dies—”

“He lives, and will awaken in time,” Varel interrupted. Alyx stopped in her tracks, dropping to her knees at Anders’ side. Sure enough, his chest rose and fell with shaky breaths. She reached out to brush a few loose strands of golden hair from his face, then took a deep calming breath.

“You must drink also.”

Varel lifted the goblet once more, this time passing it to her. She accepted it with trembling fingers. A litany of curses ran through her mind as she stared into its contents, more black than red. Fuck, what have we gotten ourselves into. She took one more glance at Anders, consoling herself with the slow rise and fall of his chest. Whatever happened, at least they would be together. And they would be free.

She raised the goblet to her lips and drank deeply. It tasted like the ass end of the blackest pit of the Void, and felt even worse as it raged through her body, burning and aching in its wake. There was a screaming, dissonant song in her ears, her vision went black, and then—

“Alyx? Alyx, can you hear me?”

She groaned, unwilling to open her eyes just yet.

“Anders?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, taking her hand. She cracked her eyes open; he was sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling at her. “How do you feel?”

“Like a bronto took a shit in my mouth and then trampled my skull for good measure. And—Maker, when was the last time I ate?”

“Right?” Anders said over the unmistakable sound of chewing. “I haven’t stopped eating since I woke up.”

“When was that?” she asked, sitting up and gesturing for some of the bread he was eating. He tore it in half and passed her the untouched portion.

“About an hour ago.”

Alyx nodded, tearing into the bread. “So,” she said around a huge mouthful. “Grey fucking Wardens, huh?”

Anders laughed. “Bet they weren’t expecting the likes of us.”

“Can’t say I was expecting it, either. But hey, beats the Circle.”

“It’s better than that,” Anders said, his eyes lighting up. “Don’t you see? Wardens are untouchable. The Templars have no authority over us anymore—they aren’t allowed to take us back. Not ever.”

“Not ever,” Alyx echoed. “Fuck, Anders. We did it. We’re free.”

“To freedom,” he said, raising what was left of his bread in a mock toast.

“To freedom.”

“Well, aside from the fact that we’ve sworn ourselves to Thedas’s most secret, super serious order,” he said with a wry grin.

“It has to be better than the Circle, though. I mean, we’re allowed to fight. To actually do something worthwhile. Be an example of the good mages could do without the Templars’ leash around our necks.”

“Okay, but first let’s get some more food. Maker’s balls, I have never been this hungry.”

[withywindled]

A Single Black Feather

Zevran Arainai/Lyna Mahariel

Part 3

Lyna has pulled off what seemed like an impossible rescue, but they aren’t safe yet. Infection can kill just as surely as knives, and they are a long way from a healer they can trust.

[withywindled]

I need more WIPs like I need a hole in the head, but I think there’s going to be a Zevran-centric fic happening in the Figure It Out verse soon. His modern AU backstory just popped into my head today and I’m giving myself too many feels! So, expect that to happen.

In other news, I am almost done with this chapter of Figure It Out so that should hopefully get updated soon! Sorry for the delay guys!

Also, a reminder that my ask is always open and if you particularly want to see a certain fic updated, a quick message letting me know will very likely make me more motivated to work on it! I love to hear what you guys are enjoying :)