Warning: brief mentions of rape and prostitution. Also, I wrote this in like an hour. Be warned.

Isabela

He wasn't in love, but he wanted her and that was enough for the moment.

Isabela had been easy to say yes to, as she wrapped her powerful, smooth thighs around his waist, laughing lowly in a voice that sounded like caramel low in his ear.

And she was soft where he'd only ever experienced harsh edges. There was give where he'd only ever experienced take. There was no trade but the mutual desire and pleasure, and the air that intermingled between their open, gasping mouths.

She was the first person he had ever wanted like this. She was the first person who hadn't come in with expectations and demands, she was just there. It was easy, natural and, above all, enjoyable.

And her breathless moans and the sweat glistening on her chest as she arched into his touch, tipping over the edge, felt like freedom.

He may have never loved her, but she was just what he needed at just the right time.

Anders

Fenris definitely did not love the abomination. Probably quite the opposite, actually. The man was not only a mage, but a hypocrite, and frankly, got on his nerves.

However, he admired, or perhaps coveted, his strong sense of self. He had a set of, albeit wrong, values that he adhered to, and he never hid what he was, almost to the point of stupidity.

Him and Hawke, always flaunting their magic, as though Kirkwall wasn't steeped in Templars. Using it in every fight, carrying about their staffs, using some flimsy excuse as a walking stick.

And he was so open about his attraction to multiple genders. They all were. Hawke was constantly flirting with anything that moved, Isabela and Anders sharing their many, sometimes shared, exploits, with no regard for who may be listening.

Fenris had not often considered sex as a matter of preference but rather as one of convenience. It had gotten him out of many situations that violence would not have. Gender had never seemed to matter then. They all were swayed by pouting lips, drooping lashes and a willing body eventually.

And before, he had never even had a choice. He desired who he was told to.

But the others, they talked like they wanted.

Even Isabela and Anders, who he knew had experience selling themselves, talked about sex as something they would actively seek out, not just as a tool.

The mage even spoke of love sometimes, to which Isabela snorted, and Hawke flicked his ear, smirking playfully. He shrugged them off, laughing with them, as though there hadn't been a very real rawness to his voice moments before.

"Mage," Fenris acknowledged as he sat down beside him.

Anders' eyebrow shot up. "Is this a talk? Are we bonding?"

Fenris huffed out a snort. "No. I just have a question."

"This sounds suspiciously like bonding," Anders insisted.

Fenris glared at him. "You and Hawke and Isabela," he began awkwardly.

"Ah yes," Anders said sardonically when Fenris didn't continue. "You've heard of our torrid love affair?"

Fenris was not amused. "You all enjoy the company of men and women."

"Merrill does too," Anders commented, then his eyebrow rose again, processing fully what Fenris had just said. "So that is what this is about," he sounded delighted. He leaned in close, smelling strongly of the hanged man's questionable brew. "You want to experiment?"

"You're not my type," Fenris assured him, disdainfully. Despite the fact he wasn't even sure if he had a type let alone what it would be.

"Because I'm a man? Human? A mage? Blond?" He finished with a quirk at the corner of his infuriating mouth. "I know for a fact that Hawke is half of those things, and you have no problem there."

"Because you're a pretentious asshole," Fenris corrected, pointedly ignoring the comment on Hawke. He was nowhere near ready for that.

"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," Anders admitted with a half shrug. "The point remains: you are curious?"

"I have slept with men before," Fenris told him coolly. "Anything you have to show me is nothing new."

Anders' face was suddenly unbearably soft, his doe eyes wide and understanding in the dim lighting. "But any that you have actually wanted to sleep with?"

Fenris' mouth went dry. "Don't pity me, mage," he hissed, hunching in on himself. "I survived."

"If you don't want my pity," Anders slung an arm around his shoulder, and Fenris tensed, but it seemed like a companionable gesture. "Take my empathy, it's worth much more. And this too." He placed a small kiss, one that could almost be taken as platonic, against the corner of Fenris' mouth.

The small hitch in his breathing when Fenris turned his head to kiss him back in earnest made Fenris think that perhaps he was capable of expressing preference, just as the others were.

Sebastian

He'd never gotten the chance to find out how they would be.

He had been going to see the priest more and more, with questions. Sometimes genuinely curious about the faith, sometimes broader spiritual questions, just looking for guidance.

Most of the group avoided the Chantry at all costs. Hawke and Anders felt uncomfortable there, like targets, Isabela made jokes about bursting into flames if she so much as set foot in it, and Merrill and Varric weren't of the faith.

However, he found some peace there, in the quiet reverent place.

Perhaps that meant something about his faith. He wasn't sure.

There was nothing he was sure about as it was. He had no memory to go on, he felt sometimes he had no real personality to speak of, only able to offer his sword, knowing he could at least fight. So far that was about the only solid thing he knew about his own identity.

These were the thoughts he often mentioned to Sebastian.

Sebastian listened, sometimes gave advice. But most importantly he was willing to sit in silence, recognizing that while it could be good to talk, Fenris didn't do it a whole lot.

"I am discovering bit by bit who I am," Fenris said. "Just the other day I learned that I dislike the taste of fish. And that I find the color red aesthetically pleasing, especially on," especially on Hawke. He shook his head. Sebastian was smiling at him like these tiny discoveries were tantamount to finding Andraste's ashes. "But it seems worthless without memories. It's like bits of dialogue from a tale with no context. I'll never know everything about myself."

"I think the new memories, while they cannot replace what you have lost, are more important to who you are now. You are Fenris, and the beauty is that you get to decide who that is. Just because you cannot remember who you were before doesn't make you half a person. You are whole."

He sounded so earnest, and he had his hand on Fenris' knee. He was leaning in ever so slightly.

Fenris took his chance and leaned upwards, kissing him gently.

Sebastian gasped, but didn't move an inch.

Fenris pulled back immediately, taking in the surprised face and flinched, prepared for retaliation. "Forgive me. I just thought…"

The expected blow never came. Instead he felt Sebastian take his hand in both of his own. They were pleasantly worn from years of use with a bow, with all the unique calluses that came with it. Comforting hands, but they knew how to wield a weapon.

"You are trying to discover who you are," his voice was painfully understanding. "And no small part of that is finding out what you want. I have been in your shoes, then I found Andraste, and I now know what I want. Someday you will too, and I hope to be there to see it, as your friend."

He placed a chaste kiss against Fenris' forehead and was gone.

And so he learned how rejection felt.

Carver

Fenris was no stranger to being watched.

He had been as much an ornament for Danarius as a bodyguard. Some bauble, rare and, quite literally shiny, to show off at parties, to hand off to those with whom he wished to curry favor, and to parade in front of those with whom he did not, as if to say 'you can look but not touch'.

After that, his markings drew unwanted attention, making him all too easy to spot for a slave on the run. He had it on good authority that his looks didn't help matters.

He'd never thought of himself as desirable beyond how one might want to possess some pretty trinket, and he was loathe to belong to anyone ever again. But he was beginning to understand that being with someone didn't mean giving himself away, and someone wanting him did not necessarily mean they wanted to own him.

Even amongst their own group, he was used to Isabela's blatantly lascivious stares and winks, and neither Hawke nor Anders were any better, with their ill-timed appreciative gazes when they thought he wasn't looking. However he could feel their eyes on him like the gaze of a predator.

This gaze was new, however. Far more hesitant than the others, though no more subtle. It was trained on him nearly all the time, trailing behind the rest of them as Hawke and the others exchanged banter playfully up front, even watching as he fought.

Every once in a while, Fenris would purposefully catch his eye as he was staring. He couldn't quite explain the pleasant feeling he got from watching the flush spread across Carver's entire face, turning him the exact shade of a pomegranate.

Fenris liked pomegranates.

He began doing more and more to elicit the blush. Flicking his thumb suggestively over the pommel when cleaning his sword, or excessively tonguing the neck of the bottle when a drop of wine trailed down it.

Isabela called him cruel, but she sounded proud when she said it.

Anders asked him pointedly if he realized that Carver wasn't the only one he was torturing with his little displays.

Fenris had been wanted before, but it had never felt like he had any control over the other person. It felt heady, all this power.

They were heading home after a rather successful round of killing slavers camping along Wounded Coast. Hawke was ahead of them. She was giggling madly as Isabela clutched her sides, tickling her mercilessly.

She was so achingly beautiful in the early evening light, the setting sun casting shadows that only highlighted her cheekbones and elegant nose.

She tore away from Isabela, running off, disappearing over a hill. Isabela chased after her, taking the challenge. He wondered briefly if they would find one of the many coves and fuck each other senseless. It wasn't as though he could begrudge them that, as though he wouldn't do the same. He just hoped that whichever cove they selected would be uninhabited. For their sake.

Carver snorted beside him. "Marian never seemed like one to settle down, and Isabela is not helping matters."

Fenris shrugged. "If she makes her happy, I suppose that's for the best. They deserve it."

"So do you."

With one eyebrow arched, Fenris turned to face Carver.

Carver flushed brilliantly red, seeming to realize what he'd just said. "I mean that obviously everyone does," he spluttered weakly, trying to retreat into himself, resembling a turtle.

Fenris smirked, turning his head so Carver couldn't see it.

Carver practically fled, rushing past Fenris. "We'd better find them, right? It's getting dark, don't want then to run across some spiders."

Fenris smiled faintly, looking out to the sun setting over the ocean, bathing the world in soft reds and gold.

So this was what potential felt like. What having a future, to be filled with his own choices, felt like.

Hawke

Fenris felt that he probably loved her.

She had done everything and more for him, and there was no way he could turn that down.

She was a larger than life character, fully living up to Varric's characterization of her. He'd seen her take down dragons and darkspawn and demons all with a witty quip prepared, even as she bled out. He'd seen her leap to the defense of those she loved and complete strangers alike, despite her claims of being tired of the entire city coming to her for help.

She was tall too. Taller than him by a hair.

Despite all this, she seemed so small, curled up against his side, shockingly vulnerable in sleep.

His heart swooped and fluttered as she muttered incoherently and tucked herself deeper under his arm.

This was probably what love felt like, and his heart sank at the thought.

Author's Note: holy shit this just spewed forth demanding to be written when I already have like five others in the works. And guess what, it inspired another. Anyway, I hope you liked it! I'm really good and making sure my works have absolutely no plot and a lot of feelings.