I made this painting back in 2023, and I remember being really fond of it at the time. But! I had a few asks on whether it would ever be printed, and I decided that I could do better now 😌💕💕
Also, hello!!!! It's been a while!!
January was A Time for me lol. I've been busy with a project (that I'm super excited to share with you all later this year!!) while fighting my iPad as it slowly died and also I've been sick 😫 I do have a new tablet now, which is an XP pen that I *love* so I'm back in the game 😤
- I... may not get the chance to say this again. Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke. Promise me you won’t die. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.
just a little doodle today since I'm leaving for the weekend!! I think that Fenris would be insecure at first about being able to make Hawke happy compared to other companions haha
It's faint but familiar, hardly remarkable; the sound of feet padding against cold hardwood. He flicks his eyes upwards momentarily as Hawke enters, her robe wrapped loosely around her. She runs a hand through crudely chopped hair as she takes a seat beside him. Pulling those feet up and away from the floor, hiding toes in the spaces between the couch cushions. She curls against him, and he lets his arm rest over her shoulders. His thumb moves briefly over the stitch of her sleeve as Fenris pulls in her closer. She settles her head in the crook of his neck. He rests his head against hers.
“What are you reading?” Light fingertips at the edges of the pages, flipping over once, toying with the idea of creating a dog ear.
“The same as last night,” he says, threading his fingers with hers after he closes the book, puts it to the side. Her fingertips play lightly against his knuckles as their hands come to rest over their stacked knees.
“I thought you didn’t like it though?” He can feel the inquisitive lift of her brows, the tilt of her head upwards. He leans back to see her better, and even in the dim single light, he can see the red that still rims her eyes.
“I did not want to leave the story unfinished.” A pause, a concession, “I hoped it might help put me to sleep.” A small chuckle as her hand leaves his to wrap around him, her fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, just over his hip. Her head falls back into place once again.
“And you?”
“Hmm?”
“You couldn’t sleep?”
“I could,” she says. There’s a pull at the corner of his shirt, the feel of fabric clenched in a fist before it’s released. “Bad dream.”
“A nightmare?”
“No, just… just a bad dream.”
“Do you wish to discuss it?”
“Not really,” a beat, “maybe - I don’t know, it’s silly.” The seat cushion is pushed away as she re-adjusts some, comes back to rest against him. “It made me remember something I thought I’d forgotten.” Her voice is low as she speaks, gaze fixed on the floor while her vision drifts somewhere farther.
“How rude of it.” She snorts, at that, before quickly falling silent. “Is there some way I can help?” He asks in a softer voice. He feels the press of her cheek against him, and knows the smile that caused it.
“You already are.” One hand drifts warmly up and down her arm, while the other finds hers once again. She has a habit of tracing the lines across his palm, a tap to each of his fingertips. Roving her fingers over his, before finally lacing them together. It knocks gently, occasionally, as a reminder. How comfortable he is. With her warm weight against him, the sound of her breathing, and her hand in his. He feels the soft press of her cheek once again, and knows the thought has struck her as well. How comfortable she is.
Listen, I wanted this to be a Snippet Sunday but then I realized that my brain only thinks it’s Sunday because it’s Victoria Day and a long weekend. If you haven’t posted lately consider yourself tagged, if you like!
Anyway, I am writing today! And Love All chapter 20 is coming along:
As if reading her mind, Varric sends a steadying look her way and reaches to squeeze her bicep. “Come on, Hawke. Don’t get in your head.”
From there, it’s a few of his regular pointers – more for Hawke, fewer for Fenris, as always, but she doesn’t mind, because the more Varric talks the more she needs to listen, and listening is keeping her eyes off their opponents, who have already started warming up.
“They’re going to try to trap you on your defense, and that’s where you’ll catch the momentum. Nice and easy, no overcompensating, just like we practiced. Alright?”
“Yes,” says Fenris, meeting her eye like no one else is in the hall, and the sounds of the competition and the crowd around them fade away, like they’re about to walk onto the court in an empty gym on a crisp autumn morning and run drills until they’re good and warm and drenched in sweat. He looks at her the way he always does when she’s told a bad joke and he’s laughed in spite of himself – like she’s caught his gaze from across a crowded Hanged Man, Isabela at her elbow and Aveline rushing off, as always. Her breath catches in her throat, not the first time that it has as his green eyes mingle with her brown.
And then, he breaks into a smile, that same sun-soaked smile that she loves – loves? – so well, and where his lips go hers must follow, so she smiles too.
The crowd fades back into her ears, the squeak of their opponents’ shoes as they bat the birdie back and forth, the faint thrum of excitement somewhere behind her eyes making itself known, the adrenaline pumping thickly through her veins.
“Right,” she says, grips her racquet, and walks onto the court.
F!FenHawke, “a tender caress” for @14daysdalovers Piece contains smut and oral sex, NSFW
Stroking his white hair, his cheek pressed between her breasts, she says, “we’re lovers now.”
He doesn’t look up at her, too enamored by the sound of her beating hear underneath his ear. “Weren’t we not lovers before this?”
She laughs and he grins at the rumble against her skin, conceding that everyone else certainly called them as such, though they didn’t indulge in the more physical parts till tonight. Three years since their first time, a week since the events at the Hanged Man and he believed her when she told him he had her and wasn’t truly alone. This is the future he says he’ll walk with her toward, it starting with clothes next to the fire place and their naked, sated bodies together after a joining that has made up for three years of celibacy. All on his decrepit couch in his decrepit mansion she once tried to clean.
(It didn’t end well. After the tenth cobweb dusting she called it a day.)
Sooner or later they’re going to have to get off his couch and redress--already the velvet is chaffing her rear. Next time they do this she’s going to be the one on top, or she’ll take him to either his bed or her bed. “Where do you even sleep?” she finds herself wondering, as she can’t imagine her back will feel too good in the morning if they choose to sleep here till morning. Yet “here,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You sleep on this couch?”
It serves him well enough he says, and she wiggles her hips underneath him. “Served us well I should think. But.” She nudges him upward, Fenris peering at her below him. “I think next time we may need a bed. This material is sticking to my--”
“Before we do...”
Maker, she can feel her cheeks bloom “Oh, uh....are you?”
Such a thing to say, she thinks, because his head dipping down certainly only means one thing. He splays his hands against her thighs, the caress a tender prelude with his green eyes against her form to accompany it. He waits. She nods, unsure if she should sink her head against the sofa or watch him. Would that make it awkward? She’s never had this done before. And...
It shouldn’t be a surprise, yet still, she cries out when a cautious tongue gently darts against her.
“Don’t stop,” she says, Fenris mistaking her cry. “I liked it,” she tells him, and he smirks and does it again, alternating circling her bud with both the tip and front part of his tongue. He goes by the sounds she makes, learning what she likes. He grabs her hand. Their fingers interlock as he slowly slips a long finger inside her, another caress, this time inside. His finger is careful at first until it’s not, turning into a reckless abandon and giving, just as it was earlier when their armor hit the floor and the sofa was the scene of their reunion. He crooks his finger and she curses, his chuckle a small vibration against her. She shrieks with panting breaths “how did you know to do that?” as the build of his hands and tongue increases Perhaps he’s picked up an anatomy book maybe since she’s been able to teach him...something or other, but she doesn’t care....she doesn’t care...
All her cares are here on this decrepit sofa where they became lovers now and not merely lovers again, because he welcomes her coming with soft caresses to her face that carry her along the tide. He gives a sweet kiss when he rises again to meet her, her thighs still open. The kiss converses a silent sort of adoration, and one she perhaps would have welcomed with a deepening fervor. Yet she’s soft. She wants to be soft. After all these years, it’s what they need.
“Fenris?”
A moment later, their gazes find each other, their two bodies pressed against each other, his back against the sofa. They’re taking the sofa to her estate, she says.
