Hawke’s hands are so much
larger than his own. He presses fingertip against fingertip, softly moving to
his palm. Tracing the lines which web, all the little cracks in skin, circling
every bump and bone. A smile quirks on his lips when he sees Hawke’s fingers
twitch with the feeling, even as he sleeps. His breathing even and calm, eyes
closed and peaceful in dreaming. Fenris lies beside him, hand drifting over
hand, as the fire begins to ebb down low.
Soft warm light, flickering
over the both of them. Fenris traces the line of Hawke’s nose, the worrisome
line of his mouth. A thumb drifting over lips, a feel he knows too well and not
well enough. He moves through his beard, follows his jaw to the shell of his
ears. Through coal colored hair, and back down again. Over shoulder to
collarbone, to the well in the middle, broad chest and sturdy ribs, the heart
that beats underneath.
He feels it underneath his
palm, that steady rhythm, a peaceful song. He closes his eyes, feels the heat
that radiates from Hawke. His eyes open again when a hand slips over his own. “What
are you doing?” He asks, voice hoarse from sleep, his eyes barely able to
remain open. Fenris shakes his head, pulls at the hair on Hawke’s chest. Hawke
swats his hand away with a yelp. Fenris falls back into the bed, long white
hair splaying out over the pillow.
“You are like a big, hairy
bear,” Fenris says.
“And you are a small, handsome
elf,” Hawke tells him with a smile. Fenris lets out a huff, crossing his arms,
turning his face away from Hawke. It hides the slight shade of red that
blossoms on his cheeks. Hawke tells him often - how handsome, how kind, how
sweet… He never knows how to respond.
“I am of average size for an
elf.” Hawke laughs, rolling over to drape an arm over Fenris’s chest, burying
his head into the crook of his neck.
“Tell what you were doing,”
Hawke murmurs, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“I was,” Fenris pauses, mulling
it over, “memorizing.” Hawke shifts, raising himself up, hands pressing into
the mattress. He leans over Fenris, until he finds the eyes that will not meet
his own. Even without seeing it properly in the low light, he knows the blush
that troubles Fenris’s cheeks.
“Does that mean I get to do the
same?” Hawke leans back, moving to kneel at the end of the bed. Fenris doesn’t
protest as Hawke pulls down the blanket, simply moving to lean against the
headboard, watching as Hawke moves. The first touch is light against his ankle.
Fingertips that come to rest against skin, feeling the heat of Hawke’s palm.
His thumb moves in slow, affectionate, circles. Hawke smiles up at Fenris as he
begins to move.
He keeps his thumb on the line
of bone, drifting upwards. He takes care not to trace markings, lyrium chains,
and shows his appreciation for all that Fenris is. Hawke glances up from his
work often, to see the yes in Fenris’s expression, the way he bites at his bottom
lip. He circles around Fenris’s knee, and ever upwards. A hand kneads against
his thigh, teasing touches that never quite go where Fenris wants him to. Hawke
smiles at Fenris’s intake of breath when his touch get near, then shifts to his
He trails a finger over
hipbones, and splays a hand over Fenris’s belly. He appreciates the hard muscle
he feels, satisfaction in knowing that it’s not just muscle now – Hawke’s
cooking has seen to that. Strong hands over ribs, a squeezing that isn’t tight,
until Hawke cups his face in his hands.
Hawke leans forward, brushes
lips over Fenris’s. A light kiss but deepening still, Fenris is lost when Hawke
pulls away. Eyes half-lidded, a hand on Hawke’s arm. More than his human heat,
more than the fire, there’s a burning of warmth in Hawke’s eyes - a fondness that
Fenris melts underneath. “I know all of you,” Hawke says as he tucks a lock of
hair behind pointed ears, “I love every inch.”
What if the Larry O'Brien trophy was custom made every year for the new NBA Champion? Well, a graphic designer brought that idea to life, in this incredible fusion of team logo’s with the leagues biggest prize.
k4t3yk4t requested a Fenris/purple fHawke fic and I got all fluffy! I hope that Fenris reads all right, I’ve not written from his perspective before. Silly broody elf :)
Hawke laughs at everything.
At first it grates on Fenris’ nerves. Must everything be a joke or a snide remark with her? They could be standing ankle deep in the blood of cutthroats and mercenaries and she would laugh about needing to go shopping for a new pair of shoes. He does not understand how she can be so flippant about everything when the world is so gray and stark.
But despite her ready grin and her quick wit, her actions say a different thing about her. She helps children find their parents, gives money to people starving in the street, helps Fenris hunt down slavers and put them to death. And though through it all her smile is never far from her lips, he begins to see something deeper behind her eyes.
One night she makes a comment about his looks, just a small string of words about him being handsome. His face burns and he stammers something gruff back to her, but it startles him to realize how pleased he is to hear it. He tries to ignore the thought, though. Surely it was only another of her jokes.
Yet sometimes when they fight together it seems she fights at his side more and more, keeping enemies off his back, sometimes taking down his opponents before he can even get to them. He notices she asks him to help patrol more and more often, that she comes to visit him on quiet nights just to talk. He does not allow himself to think more of it, though; that way is dangerous.
One day he’s knocked flat on his back by a Tal-Vashoth, and his vision flickers in and out, his head spinning. He can’t get up and though his hand still reaches vaguely for his sword he’s only half-conscious, his breaths quick and shallow. Of course it had to happen when the wretched healer isn’t with them. He groans.
He hears Hawke’s yell, a challenge to the Qunari, and he hears a strangled groan from his opponent, the sound of the impact when the body hits the ground. Then Hawke’s at his side, her hand touching his face. Her skin is so soft. He hadn’t realized it would feel so soft.
Hawke knows that Isabela won’t stay with her forever and she asks her to leave a note before she goes. Takes place before the Arishok fight. 2027 words.
It was hot in Kirkwall.
The sun beat down on the cobblestones of Hightown, making the ladies fan themselves in their constricting dresses and gentlemen dab at their forehead with their handkerchiefs. Most of the vendors had given up for the day and were closing down their stands to retreat indoors.
“It’s too hot to be out!” one of the noblewomen nearby was saying as she fanned herself furiously. “I’m going to faint if that servant doesn’t hurry up with the water!”
Hawke narrowed her eyes as she stood in front of one of the vendors. She recognized her as Fifi de Launcet, the daughter of one her mother’s friend. Leandra Hawke had tried to get them to befriend each other at one point, holding tea at the estate and forcing Hawke into a frilly dress. It had ended badly, as Hawke could have predicted, when Hawke had dropped one of her scones and said, “Maker’s saggy balls!” rather loudly. The “lady” had almost fainted dead away at that as well.
“What are we going to do about this heat?” Fifi said to one of her friends who had an equally stupid simper on her face. “I don’t want to go inside. It’s such a bore, and I really will faint if that dratted servant doesn’t hurry up. Honestly, you’d think we don’t pay them.”
“Why don’t you get your own water?” Hawke snapped before she could stop herself. “And maybe if you didn’t wear those ridiculous corsets you wouldn’t be having this problem.” Truthfully, Hawke’s own clothing - fur-lined Ferelden armor - was hot as well and making sweat drip down her back, but she didn’t see any need to mention that. What she wouldn’t give to be wearing one of Isabela’s tunics right now.
FINALLY I CAN GO APE S#!T ! [*that’s the first thing Batman thought*] You know that feeling when you go through the drive through and get someone else’s order … that is BETTER than yours! Well … then you can understand how good Batman felt when he got Superman’s powers and proceeded to beat up all his friends … put a 10" hole through BANE … AND take out the whole JLA on the damn MOON! on … the … Moon. SUPERBAT !!!