anonymous asked: for the five kiss meme, F!Hawke x Sebastian

One:

"Sebastian!"

The door to the Amell estate's garden swung open wide, sunlight bathing the springtime blooms and meticulously-kept ferns in a golden glow. He stepped over the threshold, warmth flooding him as he caught sight of Hawke wearing a radiant smile. The light caught the red of her hair, and there was a shine to her eyes as she turned to greet him.

"Took your time, didn't you?"

She reached out her hand, and he was at her side in the blink of an eye – fast, too fast. And then his arm was around her waist, and her fingers were tracing his jaw, ears. Her cheek was like yearling velvet, soft under his touch as he met the fullness of her lips. And everything in him thrummed at the chuckle he felt in her throat as he lifted her feet off the ground, steadying herself with her arms draped lazily around his neck. There was nothing to her, solid though she was – it was like holding a feather, if even that.

"This is the Fade," he murmured, pulling back to study her face. Every hair, every scratch was there in perfect detail, crafted from his own memory. "A dream."

"But a

good dream," she whispered with a smile as she leaned in to kiss him again.

"Aye. A good dream." Guilt pricked into his skin at every point she touched him. "But even in dreams, I can't..." He released her, and she tilted her head.

"But you wish you could?"

Sebastian woke with a start, the familiar ceiling of his quarters in the Chantry slowly coming into focus. It was still dark, well before dawn and even longer before his duties began.

With a sigh, he moved to sitting upright, pressing the heels of his palms gently into his eyes. It took a deep breath before he could pull back the sheets and stand, gingerly putting weight on his sleep-heavy legs as he made his way to the main hall.

As had become his ritual after these dreams, he lit a candle and knelt to pray. Each time, the same visions of affection, love. Each time, waking alone.

Andraste, give me strength.

Two:

He didn't drink more than a glass of wine in an evening, but Sebastian enjoyed spending time at the Hanged Man all the same.

Wicked Grace nights were rare chances to relax and unwind, trading friendly barbs and reflecting on their most recent exploits following the walking hurricane that was Hawke. The lady in question was almost always present, whether or not she played. Tonight was an instance of the latter; her blades needed sharpening and she was constantly ducking in and out with supplies.

The archer looked at his hand, expertly hiding a smirk. The streak he'd been on had incited cries of foul play from both Isabela and Fenris, who then turned on Varric and accused him of dealing dirty. Not that Sebastian kept his winnings – he simply dropped them in the alms box when he returned to the Chantry for the night – but the experience was what he enjoyed most.

Hawke passed behind him, pausing to rest an arm on his shoulder and lean in to check the game's progress. "You winning, Vael?"

"For now." The fumes from the polishing rag she held stung at his nose, but he wouldn't have shooed her off for anything. "Though it seems Isabela's cards are quite good, from the way she's been tapping her foot."

"Blast it all!" The pirate swore as she petulantly threw her cards into the center. "Hawke, do something, he's robbing me blind!"

Hawke chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to her seat by the fire. "Good man."

He smiled, and something warm blossomed in his chest at the contact.

Three:

He had long since banished any hopes, relegating affairs of the heart to a place in himself that was reserved for doubts and dreams and fantasies too dangerous to indulge. But his heart betrayed him even as it beat, trying desperately to send him a message with every thump against his ribcage as he held Hawke in his arms.

There were days when the brightness left her, when her wit and daggers weren't enough to push through another morning with a broken heart. He knew that particular pain well, as his memory kindly reminded him on too many evenings. He relived every loss and every moment of weakness that had followed, the residual grief often enough to drain the color from his sight for days at a time after.

Hawke had lost both her remaining family and a strong, consuming love in a short span, only one of which would have been enough to cripple the average man. Yet she persevered, despite the constant whispers and lack of privacy that came with notoriety.

When he had been broken, frenzied with grief, Hawke had found him. She had been instrumental in his healing, extending her hand and offering friendship – along with a firm pull into the world he had long needed to be a part of. He was strengthened, and she could have asked anything of him and received it with no hesitation.

She had never asked him for comfort, not directly; he had offered, and she had silently accepted. When she needed peace, when she sought solace, it was the least he could do to return the immeasurable gift she had once given him. Both as a man of the faith - and as a friend.

He kissed her crown and threaded a hand through her hair, the intimate and affectionate nature of that friendship both a luxury and a torture.

Four:

The stone of the hearth in Bann MacDougall's manor was warm under his palm as he threw out one hand to steady himself.

The other arm was tight around Hawke's waist, instinctively pulling her in close enough to rid their bodies of any space between them. He drank in the taste of her mouth, each of his senses clamoring for attention; the heaviness of her arms about his neck, the smell of the smoke on her hair, the sound of her leathers creaking and the warmth of her breath on his jaw.

He deepened the kiss, her eager response almost intoxicating in the way it drew him in. The need for air forced him to draw back briefly, inhaling so quickly his lungs burned, until the pressure of her teeth at his lower lip made even breathing seem inconsequential in comparison. He returned to her, intensity redoubled as he committed both arms to the task of demonstrating the strength of his conviction.

His world spun, the dull throbbing of his head wound a reminder of the danger they were facing. They were planning a coup, a move that, if executed poorly, could subject his people to a war for the crown. He had made himself a target – and for her part in this, the mark extended to Hawke.

She would face an assassin head-on with a smirk and her bare fists, but met his request for true honesty with skittish reservation and unease.

Yet his faith taught that the spark of hope shone brightest in darkness, and he took comfort in that thought as her fingertips grasped for his collar.

Five:

"This is ridiculous. We're already married, so why do I have to do this?"

The prince smirked as he watched Hawke tug her sleeves into place for the hundredth time, a frown etched deep across her face. "It's tradition," he reminded her. "The Grand Cleric will give you her blessing and recite the oath. All you have to do is kneel, say 'I swear it,' wear the crown and greet the people."

She glared, tucking wayward curls back into the pins the maids had spent an hour that morning painstakingly placing in her hair. "You make it sound easy," she muttered. "You've already done it. I mean, there's so much to – What am I even supposed to do with my face?"

With a chuckle, he adjusted the mantle around her shoulders. "Look reverent, I suppose."

"Thanks."

He knew all too well how irritated she could get when he let his amusement at her discomfort show. Still, it was hard to suppress a smile, and he lifted her chin to plant a warm kiss across her lips.

"Many already know what you did for them," he said gently, "and they love you for it. This is a chance to show the rest your commitment to this city and its people."

"By kneeling on an uncomfortable footstool and playing the world's fanciest game of ring toss. Of course."

The doors opened behind him and he held out his hand. She wrung her hands before taking it, rolling back her shoulders and straightening her spine.

"All right," she whispered, leaning in close to his ear. "I signed up for this."

"You did," he agreed, "and got me in the bargain."

She kicked him through her skirts, but couldn't keep the smile from her face.