Trigger warning for self injury and a warning for graphic angry sex!

This is way too long to be a oneshot but I hope you all enjoy! Reviews are always welcome and appreciated!

"I need you
You need me
We make the perfect kind of misery
I help you
You help me
Become the one I swore I'd never be
The one that I don't ever want to be
I like the way you won't apologize
I like the way you just demoralize
I like the way you always roll your eyes
Someone as perfect as you is hard to criticize."

- Criticize by Adelitas Way

Even as he tried to focus on the young boy he was healing, his mind kept wandering to Karl. Anders had agreed to meet him, but the apostate still wasn't certain that the Templars hadn't intercepted their messages, even though they had been written in a code he and Karl had invented while they were at Kinloch Hold…

He mentally shook himself and once again focused on the boy, but his wandering thoughts had cost the mage precious energy. Anders cut off the flow of mana, having finished healing the child, though he felt more drained than usual. He pinched the bridge of his nose and braced himself against the wooden column, receiving a small flash of warning about intruders into his clinic and a boost of adrenaline as he grabbed his staff and turned on his heel to face the newcomers before he fully registered the threat, nearly dropping his staff in surprise at the strange assortment. His grip on the wood tightened instead of slipped as he expected. Justice's doing, he presumed, though he managed to reign in the spell that was gathering at his fingertips.

It was a woman, who looked far from injured, but was unarmed. Something felt different about her, though. 'Fool, she is probably very armed. Don't drop your guard because she looks pleasing,' came an intrusive thought, though he wasn't sure whether it was his own experience with thieves and roguish types, or Justice's input on the subject. He was unsure who he should be more wary of as two more people followed the woman in; a beardless dwarf who seemed to be in possession of a nasty looking crossbow and a woman who could pass for the front woman's sister. He decided on the first woman, locking his amber gaze to the icy blues of hers that regarded him coolly. None of the newcomers made any motion towards their weapons as the woman spoke, "I hear you have maps to the deep roads. I need them."

Anders lowered his staff slowly as the dwarf chuckled and turned toward the woman, "Not even an introduction? Hawke, you're too serious," he admonished.

'Hawke' made a poor show at suppressing an eye-roll. "Yes, I want to introduce myself to everyone in Darktown so the Carta can get to know me really well. Maybe I'll invite everyone to a party at Gamlen's. We can buy out the Hanged Man's store of piss poor ale with all of my nonexistent coin and get everyone drunk too. What fun that would be," she said in mock enthusiasm, crossing her arms.

The dwarf shook his head, a smirk still on his face as he turned to the mage, "So you're the Grey Warden everyone's talking about? The name's Varric. The vision of warm and fuzzy feelings here is Hawke."

He jerked his thumb to the inconspicuous woman behind them, "And that would be Hawke's better half, Bethany. Rumor has it that you have maps of the deep roads. Not too many people have those."

Anders considered for a moment, looking the group over. They all looked capable of defending themselves and possibly even him if it came down to it. The woman in back, Bethany, looked to be a mage herself. Maybe they would be sympathetic to his cause…

He had to take the chance. If he didn't have some sort of backup in the event of an ambush, he might as well kiss his emotions goodbye. If they wanted his maps, maybe he could get some sort of protection in return.

He decided to offer an ultimatum, "Yes, I have maps of the depths in this area, but I need help with something. You would have to act as a bodyguard of sorts, just for a short meeting with a friend of mine. You make sure we aren't ambushed and my maps are yours." Hawke scoffed and placed her hands on her hips, glaring over at the dwarf, "I told you I wasn't going to make a deal with this mage."

Bethany shoved the taller woman out of the way, sending Hawke a look, "We need those maps!" She turned to face the mage and smiled brightly, "We would love to help! Your friend, is he in the circle?"

Hawke looked displeased, "You mages are always dragging me into trouble. Bethany, I swear if you weren't my sister I'd-"

"But I am your sister, and we need to be on this expedition, so you're going to shut up with the mage hating nonsense, Aurora," She yelled, looking suddenly surprised that she had lost her temper.

Anders sighed, "He is in the circle, but we are meeting in the Chantry tonight. I'm going to help him escape."

"The Chantry?" Hawke asked incredulously. "Why don't you just knock on the templar's doors and say, 'Hello, I'm an apostate. I was looking for my friend who also wants to run from the circle. Care to point me in that direction?' This is an ambush or I'm Andraste."

Bethany put her hands on her hips and widened her stance, staring down her sister. "I am going to help him whether you are there or not. We need those maps, and this is the only way to get them, so if I have to do this alone, I will!"

Hawke clenched and unclenched her fists at her side before sighing heavily, "Fine! I'll go with you, but if anything happens to my sister, mage, you will wish the Templars had killed you." She turned and left the clinic, anger pouring off of her in waves as the dwarf turned to follow, smiling and shaking his head, muttering about the chances of Hawke being Andraste.

Bethany waved a goodbye and smiled sweetly before heading after her sister.

"Thank you," Anders called after her, trying to decide whether this was good fortune or terrible luck…

"Care to explain the glow routine, mage!?" Hawke spat, slamming the door to the darkened clinic as Bethany lit some of the torches. The younger sister knew better than to get in the way when she got like this.

"I have a name, you know," Anders snapped, "And I was getting to that if you would be patient! While I was with the Wardens, I took a spirit of Justice into myself. He had been forced into the body of a dead man and he became my friend. He saw the injustices suffered by mages and… I didn't think we would become one entity. My friend is gone, and now whenever I see Templars-"

"Fantastic! Look closely Bethany! You wanted to help this man just because he was a mage and it turns out he's an abomination," she ranted, gesturing towards the man.

Bethany opened her mouth but was cut off by her raging sister.

"And before you start; no, I don't hate all mages. I liked father just fine, and I know I don't have to worry about you turning to blood magic or demons and turning into an abomination because-"

"Enough!" Anders thundered, digging furiously into the drawers at his wooden writing desk, "I am not an abomination because I still have control over my mind, and am standing here speaking to you! Justice was not and is not a demon, and thus I am not an abomination!" He found the maps in the third drawer and thrust them at her. "Here are your damned maps. I would appreciate it if you didn't go to the Templars, so I will offer you the only thing I have; my healing ability. If you need me to go with you anywhere, I can do it. So long as it doesn't take me away from the clinic for too long."

"We won't turn you in to the Templars. We wouldn't wish that on anyone," Bethany said forcefully, looking purposely at her sister.

Hawke eyed him and her glare softened, "You know, it's almost too bad you're an abomination. It seems like a waste of a perfectly good body."

She whirled around, maps in hand, and left for Lowtown, Bethany hurrying after her, shooting Anders an apologetic smile and a shrug before disappearing into Darktown. 'Infernal woman.' He –or was it Justice? - thought.

She was beautiful, and even through the haze of vengeance he had seen her fight for her sister against the Templars, and she was the epitome of quick and agile. His mind wandered to how her battle prowess might translate into prowess in the bedroom. He had bedded many rogues and it had never been disappointing…

He shook his head violently and walked towards the tiny room he had claimed for himself at the back of the clinic. She hated mages, and therefore she was no friend of his, and certainly not a bedfellow he reasoned before collapsing onto his cot, the frame groaning in protest as he replayed the night's events in his head.

Karl had given in. He had become tranquil and turned Anders over to the Templars after all they had shared, and hatred burned him to the core. At least Hawke was firm in her beliefs. 'Don't try to justify her madness!' He shook his head again and let exhaustion sweep over him.

That night was the first of many that he dreamt of Hawke.

Anders heard her before he saw her. Hawke's footsteps had become familiar to him, and even though it had been months since they had last reached his ears, he remembered the pattern. She must have returned from her expedition! Hopefully she wasn't here for injuries…

He had been sitting in a wooden chair and leaning over a pile of dirty bandages, doing his best to scrub the blood and grime from them with the clean water he had gotten a hold of. He turned in his seat to look and confirm that it was her, not understanding how dangerous the tone of voice she used to call his name truly was. It was calm, but he should have heard the undertones, and he certainly should have seen the glint in her eye or the set of her jaw, but he was overwhelmed with relief that she had survived.

They had certainly had their differences, but he figured that their constant arguing had made many of his arguments for the freedom of mages better, and so they had a strange relationship. He had actually found himself missing her company while she had been gone.

He stood to greet her as she walked towards him slowly. Her movements so controlled that he didn't even know her fist was coming until it landed squarely on his jaw, causing him to stagger back. He dodged the next swing from her non-dominant hand. "Hawke, what are yo-"

"IT'S YOUR FAULT, MAGE!" She roared, swinging again, but her anger and the tears in her eyes had caused her to miscalculate, and Anders caught her hand, both feeling and hearing the distinctive crack of the bones in her hand breaking from the poorly thrown punch. "Hawke, calm down! What is my fault?"

She glared at him in absolute fury as tears began to stream down her face, "I asked you to come with us! You refused you thrice damned mage! SHE WOULD STILL BE HERE IF YOU HAD GONE! YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HER!" She screamed, attempting to smash her elbow into his nose, but he twisted her arm behind her, using her captured hand as leverage to pin the struggling woman against the wall, grabbing her other wrist in the process. She struggled fiercely, causing blood to run over his hands in small rivulets. He hadn't been that rough with her…

"Stop trying to hit me and tell me what in the maker's name you are talking about!"

Hawke fought against his hold on her for a few moments before she simply gave up, falling to her knees. Her hands unclenched and her body fell limp.

Anders kept a gentle hand on her wrists as she fell, bending then kneeling next to her to minimize the damage but even so, he heard the bones in her hand grating against each other. He tenderly placed both of her wrists into his left hand and his right palm over her broken fingers.

She didn't resist his touch as he sent healing magic through her skin to repair the bones, but he was mildly surprised that the trail of blood dripping onto his hands hadn't been staunched.

She looked at him, her eyes so full of anguish it nearly broke his heart. "Bethany. My sister! She died in those tunnels… Yo-you could have saved her but you weren't there!" Her voice cracked before she began sobbing, jerking her hands from his grasp and furiously wiping away the tears on her cheeks, leaving smears of blood on her pale skin. "Mother blamed me for Carver's death, and now she blames me for Bethany's too! I couldn't do anything about it! About either of them! I-I can't…"

He attempted to soothe her, speaking gently as he began to unbuckle her leather armor. She tried to swat his hands away, but he persisted. "Hawke, you're hurt! I'm sorry I didn't go! I didn't know what would happen, and Maker, if I had I would have gone, but right now you're bleeding and I need to heal you, so stop struggling before you make your wounds worse!"

She stopped resisting and stared past him brokenly. He managed to get her brigandine off and grabbed her wrists, twisting them until her palms were up. She tried to jerk her arms away in a final show of resistance but she was weakened and he kept an iron grip, gasping at the gaping wounds that marred her arms, most of which had broken open and were bleeding freely.

"What happened to you?" He asked, only too aware of how those cuts had gotten there. He had seen such injuries at the circle when his fellow mages came to him, begging him to close them so the Templars wouldn't think they were practicing blood magic.

She cast her gaze to the floor, yanking her arms away and hugging them close to her stomach, "You weren't there. You can't possibly understand," She whispered, her energy spent. The white tunic she wore had begun to turn red from her bleeding forearms.

He slowly reached for her hand, grabbing it gently and pulling her arm out towards him so he could inspect the wounds more closely.

She averted her eyes and offered little resistance, all of her fight replaced by the tears that rolled down her cheeks and made trails in the blood that had been smeared there. Sweeping his eyes over the cuts, he discerned that they were clean despite their depth, so he placed his hands to her tattered skin and began to send warm pulses of healing magic to knit the rends in her flesh back together. His hands were covered in her blood by the time he moved to her other arm, repeating the healing as she continued to weep silently.

"I'm sorry," He repeated softly until the last wound was closed, then hugged her to him as sobs racked her body.

She was thin. Much thinner than when she had left. Why hadn't he noticed when she first came in? Eventually her crying quieted, and he pulled away, seeing that she was completely spent.

He gathered her in his arms and stood, silently worrying at how light she was. She offered no resistance as he carried her to his small room and laid her down on his bed, the cot he used to sleep on having broken weeks ago.

She stared at a spot on a wall numbly and he lay down beside her. Pulling her against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her, "If I had known what would happen, I would have gone. I would drown us in blood to keep you safe…" He murmured into her wild black hair.

She shook her head, "I would never let you. You can't use blood magic, swear to me," she said weakly, her eyes drifting closed…

Anders grasped his quill like it was a lifeline. After Hawke had gotten back from the deep roads, the moment they had shared was fleeting. She almost immediately reverted to her mage-hating ways, but he was dying to convince her that not all mages were easily corrupted. If he could change her mind, he reasoned, he could change anyone's.

He scrawled more lines onto the parchment in front of him before he heard her enter the clinic.

"You should really get out more, Anders. It's not good to be cooped up in this place for too long," She called, sauntering into his room wearing a simple linen tunic and cloth trousers.

He grabbed up the papers on his desk and stood to face her. "I've been busy coming up with arguments to convince people like you that magic is a gift from the Maker, not-"

"This again? Don't you have anything better to?"

"Don't you have anything better to do than harass me while I'm trying to make the world a better place?"

"At least I do other things like going to the Hanged Man to play cards and speak with Isabella and Varric. Mostly Isabella," She said suggestively, a smirk firmly in place upon her lips.

This was going in a direction that he hadn't expected, and Maker help him if he was right about where she was headed with this.

Maker help them both.

"What I'm doing is more important than that, so no, I don't have time to do anything else. Especially not with the Templars getting so close."

She took a few steps closer to him, "You don't have time for anything else? You should really take care of yourself. It really is no wonder you're so…" She trailed off and put her lips to his ear, lowering her voice to a husky whisper, "Tense."

He fought to suppress a groan and took a step back, putting his hands up in front of him. "Don't. This teasing has to stop. You're everything I hate, but I can't stop thinking about you. I lay awake at night aching for you, and all you do is tease me! I've told you, there's nothing for you if you are with me." His hands lowered as she closed the distance between them once more, smiling and shaking her head.

"I'm not looking for commitment, but it's relieving that you've thought of me that way. I was beginning to worry I had lost my charm. Do you dream of wicked things like I do, Anders? Of tearing off my clothes and making me scream your name to the Maker?" She purred, gently brushing her fingers past the collar of his coat to caress the sensitive skin beneath his ear.

And that was all it took for his willpower to crumble.

He grabbed the back of her head and claimed her lips with a burning ferocity that she returned eagerly, curling her fingers around the back of his neck and nipping at his bottom lip.

His patience, even with Justice's added willpower, had officially been worn down to nothing. She had teased him at every opportunity, and had frustrated and infuriated him every moment since they met.

He had only meant to kiss her, but her reaction brought the desire he had kept suppressed for so long to life.

She had wanted to see him react carnally, to wear him down until his response was animalistic. And she was about to get her wish.

He opened his mouth at her insistence, slipping his tongue past her lips; claiming her sweet mouth with a searing kiss, hoping to burn the ignorance from her.

She was undeniably attractive, and Maker, her eyes had no right to be so blue, but what spurred him on in that moment was a comment that she often hurled at him in the midst of battle. 'Watch where you cast that spell, mage!'

He growled at the memory, hooking a finger into the neckline of her tunic before burning the fabric, searing it as he guided his finger down to her stomach, leaving a rend down the front with charred edges, not stopping until the tunic lay completely open.

He decided that he would show her how pleasurable a mage's talents could be. Distracting her with teasing strokes of his tongue, he gathered frost in the palm of his hand and cupped her breast, drawing a moan from her, which he swallowed eagerly.

She took a half-step back and looked at her ruined tunic, glaring at Anders before shrugging it off and tangling her hands in his hair, tugging his lips back to hers.

He lost himself in the dizzying kiss, not realizing that his pauldrons were on the floor and his coat was open until she broke for air.

Anders pushed her onto his writing desk and slammed the wooden doors, freezing them shut before tossing his coat into the dust.

He let the fire creep back into his fingers; searing away a section of her breast band to cast it aside, leaving her top half bared to his hungry gaze.

Aurora pulled a knife from the belt of her trousers and pointed it at him, "Watch where you're burning," She hissed, reversing her grip on the knife to stab it into the wood of the desk. She glanced at the tented fabric of his trousers and smirked, "Unless it's your intention to hurt me," She crooned, her eyes glittering.

At the words, he glanced at her forearms, white scars still crossing the tender flesh there, and he felt a slight pang of pity, causing him to pause.

She rubbed his erection through the thin cloth of his trousers, purring at his size. "I saw that look, and I don't want your pity. Got it?" She punctuated her question with a squeeze and he groaned in response.

Satisfied, she smirked and pushed him back gently, sliding from the desk onto her knees before him. She hooked her fingers under the band of his trousers and smallclothes, tugging them both down.

He sighed in relief, thankful to be free of the confines of his clothing, and she licked her lips before taking the tip of him into her mouth pressing her tongue hard against the spot where the head and shaft connected, tearing a moan from the mage, who pulled his tunic over his head while she took more of him, moving back and forth at a torturous pace, hitting all of the spots that she knew drove men wild.

He tangled his hands in her dark locks and she hummed at the feeling of her scalp prickling with his firm grip.

That sent him over the edge, and he moaned her name as he spilled himself into her throat. She drank every burst of his seed greedily, continuing to work at his sensitive spots, draining him dry. When he had finished, his breathing heavy and his legs shaking from the force of his orgasm, she let him slide out of her mouth, a grin on her lips.

She stood and sat herself down onto his desk and cupped her breast in her hand, pinching her nipple lightly and sighing in pleasure.

Anders regained his focus and batted her hand away, frosting her rosy peaks before capturing one in his mouth, sucking and nipping roughly while his thumb brushed her other nipple, alternating between heat and cold every few sweeps.

She bit down on her hand to quiet herself, and keep her moans muffled.

Hooking a leg behind his hips, she pulled him closer and placed her hands on his hips, grinding her still-clothed hips against his bare ones, surprised to feel him hard again.

He smirked and ground his hips harder into hers. "Grey Warden stamina," he explained before tugging off her trousers and cupping a hand to the junction of her thighs, smirking at the dampness he felt through her linen smallclothes. He rubbed her there, letting a small spark escape his fingertips.

She arched off of the table and whimpered.

He hooked his fingers into the band of her smallclothes, burning both sides, accidentally catching the tender flesh of her hips. He was about to apologize, but she instead rubbed her thighs together, attempting to find friction and moaning loudly before she caught herself and pressed a hand to her mouth to smother the sound.

Anders grinned wickedly, nudging her legs apart and tugging the ruined fabric from her body. He ran a finger slowly down her slit before sliding a long finger into her core, causing her to arch against him and groan.

He continued to work his fingers steadily in and out of her, pressing his other hand to the inside of her thigh and heating it. Not enough to burn but enough to hurt.

He then leaned down to bite at the sensitive skin beneath Hawke's ear, chuckling as her nails dug into the wood of his desk. "You're positively dripping, Hawke, and a mage made you feel this way. Tell me you want a lowly mage to ravish you. Say you want me to make you scream my name to the maker, or I'll leave, I swear it."

She glared at him, but he drug his fingers down her thigh and used the thumb of his other hand to rub at her sensitive pearl causing her to whimper and her glare to dissolve.

"Or I could keep you on the edge of release for hours. Which would be worse, Hawke?" He taunted, ignoring his own desire to revel in watching her fight her pride, drunk on pleasure beneath him. He felt her begin to tighten around his fingers and removed them from her wetness, denying her release until he heard what he wanted.

She whimpered and pulled his lips to hers in a searing kiss, hoping to convey her desire and urgency.

He pulled back and chuckled lowly, "Nice try but it won't work. Say it."

Her eyes took on a wicked gleam and she sat up, pressing her breasts against the warm skin of his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Please, Anders," She whispered huskily into his ear, "I want you to hold me down and show me that some mages aren't hopeless at pleasuring a woman. I need you to make me scream my pleasure so that even the spirits of the fade know your name."

He groaned and pressed her down onto his desk roughly before entering her to the hilt in a single push. She was tight and warm and wet, all for him.

She moaned and eagerly pressed her hips up against his, trying to set the pace. In response, he grabbed one of her long legs and hooked it around his shoulder, taking up a leisurely pace with long smooth strokes that had her begging for more.

He began moving his hands over her body, lightly burning her flesh at odd intervals.

Her moans became louder and higher pitched as he picked up the pace slightly. He wanted this to last, but he needed to hear her orgasm for him, because of him. Not that he would be done with her after that, but he would let that be a surprise.

She closed her eyes and words began forming on her lips, barely in range of hearing but Anders could hear her, "Oh, Maker," she breathed, "Mmmm…. Fenris."

He growled and thrust into her deeply, digging his fingers into her hips and letting lightning spark into her skin. She whimpered and he grinned, leaning closer to her, "Sweetheart, I'm not Fenris. He could never please you half as well as I could, and I'll prove it," Anders taunted, thrusting into her roughly at a pace and angle he knew would bring her to the edge and keep her there.

"I bet Fenris refused hurt you like you wanted. Is that why you're here? Who better to turn your pain into pleasure than the man who hates you most?"

She gritted her teeth, but desire glazed her eyes, and she was losing the ability to suppress her moans.

He flicked a finger over her nipple and released a jolt of electricity that tossed her over the edge. Her inner walls clenched him tightly as she screamed her pleasure and arched her back, looking every bit like a desire demon in the throes of death-or ecstasy.

He kept his pace, however, holding off his own release until he got what he wanted.

She had barely begun to come down from her first orgasm when he began to push her to a second, rubbing his thumb against her swollen pearl just so, and using his other hand to burn her skin lightly where it felt best. The assault on her body was almost too much for her to bear.

He smirked at how she writhed beneath him, completely lost to the pleasure he was giving her. "My name, Hawke. I want to hear it. Scream it," he commanded, his thrusting slowly losing rhythm as he had to fight harder and harder to keep himself from finishing before she gave in.

Her breathing was ragged and she was so close, whimpering with every thrust that hit her most sensitive spots.

He leaned farther down, pressing her leg farther back and she dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades, causing him to groan and trail his burning fingers down the inside of her thigh.

She keened his name as she came, and her tight sheath pulsing around him tore his own release from him. He buried himself as deeply into her as he could manage and nearly shouted his pleasure as he filled her with his warm seed.

They both lay still and panting while the aftershocks died down. She was completely spent and for all his stamina, he was worn down as well. He pulled himself out of her and moved her leg from his shoulder, letting it hang from the edge of his desk.

He began healing the wounds that he had inflicted. They weren't bad, even the worst of the burns wouldn't blister for another hour or so, but he wasn't going to let them stay now that their fun was over. He had indulged her passions, but he wasn't cruel.

Once he had finished his inspection of her body and healed her wounds, he kissed her. It was a deep kiss, but slow, with lazy sweeps of his tongue.

She pushed him away weakly and groaned, "I enjoyed the Grey Warden stamina, don't get me wrong, but let me rest you wicked mage!"

He chuckled and lifted her from his desk, carrying her to his bed before he retrieved his coat from the ground and shook it out before covering her with it. "Now this is familiar… I heal your wounds and you fall asleep in my bed."

She sighed and inhaled his scent drowsily, struggling to keep her eyes open. "You know something, Anders?"

He found his trousers and pulled them on, tying them before walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed.

She continued, "I support the circle because it keeps mages safe… Everyone I've known to be a mage outside the circle has ended up dead or worse. Bethany, my father… I can never get close to a mage without losing them," She confided, her eyes slowly closing. "I thought with Fenris, someone who wasn't a mage, it would be different, but he wasn't taken from me, he left…"

Anders lay down beside her and she grabbed his hand, pulling his arm over her waist. He tugged her against his chest and kissed the top of her head, "I'm sorry he hurt you, but if it drove you to me, I can't be too upset."

She shook her head, "Don't be sorry. But promise you won't leave too, Anders. Please. I think I might love you…" She drifted off, and he realized that she had fallen to sleep.

He nuzzled into her hair, still damp from sweat and whispered, "Through all of your problems, I won't leave, I swear. I love you, and I thought I hated you for so long, but someone as perfect as you is hard to criticize."