An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Extra hot large decaf latte with skinny oat milk and two sweeteners: an Hightown heiressâ order, basically. Not even caffeinated. Does the man have no dignity? Is his fiery devotion to Andraste the only fuel he needs?
Rumour has it Sebastian was the baddest boy in the Marches, back in the day. Hawke doesnât believe them. He orders this monstrosity. He spends his time telling kids to leave six inches for the Makerâs love. He wears a sun-emblazoned lanyard with the words Ask Me About Andraste! printed next to a picture of his face. This guy did not fuck.
Yet he still tries to flirt with her, as if he does fuck. âFlirt to convertâ, Isabela calls it. Some kind of covert Chantry operation to bring lost souls back to the flock, luring you in using reformed rich boys with flowing, chestnut brown, beautiful hair.
Maker, he has great hair.
Sometimes, she wonders if she should let slip that sheâs an undocumented mage, just to see if itâll get him to back down. Other times, she wonders if she should just sleep with him and get it over withâif he even sleeps with people, that is.
Hawkeâs not sure which optionâs worse.
I finally finished the extremely trashy coffee-shop/bookshop/meet-cute modern AU of my heart and set it free into the world.
4444 words of bad puns, even worse innuendos, Hawke being Kirkwallâs grumpiest barista, and very cute/demonic cat.
I wrote this to work through four years of coffee-shop related trauma.
Enjoy.
