#8 "I love you" for fenhawke Gimme all of the feeeeeeells
Before anyone goes looking for a prompt list, this is from an ooooooold one.
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“That’s a clean shirt, you know.”
Fenris, standing in the yard wrapped up in one of Hawke’sflannels, freshly plucked from the line, didn’t dignify the statement byturning around.
“You don’t say,” he stated, dryly. He flung the shirt overthe line for only a moment, just long enough to remove his own shirt, then slidit back on. He enjoyed the feel of the soft fabric as it slid against his marks.It was warm from the sun and, even freshly washed and fragrant from the springair, it still carried traces of Hawke’s scent.
“We can buy you your own shirt,” Hawke said, soundingamused.
Fenris said, “I don’t want my own.” He nuzzled the collar,soaking in the warmth, the sun. He let Hawke turn him, when he felt his largehand on his shoulder, and enjoyed the look of concentration as the magecarefully did up the buttons for him.
“You’re a sap,” Hawke said. “I’m going to tell the world.”He fixed the collar back where it should go, and pushed a hand through Fenris’shair. There was such softness in his eyes, warmth and affection, contentment.Fenris let him kiss his forehead – so softly, so tenderly – before he pushedhimself up on his toes, chasing Hawke’s lips.
“You can try,” Fenris told him, against his mouth. “No onewill ever believe you.”
“Oh, but I do love you,” Hawke answered, matching the elf’swicked smile with a grin, pulling him to him, his arms so tight, so strongaround Fenris’s slighter frame.
“It’s a clean shirt,” Fenris teased him. “Don’t wrinkle it.”
Oh noes! Prompts for stitch... 31 for fenhawke in whatever universe you feel fits. Bonus points if there's silly doodling on boring meeting documents involved.
Should I maybe have been working on something else at work instead of this? Maybe. Was this absolutely a ton of fun and I regret nothing? Fuck yes
I hope you enjoy this cheesy, modern!au fenhawke thing <3
This is the fifth meeting Hawke’s been in about this new synergizing-between-departments concept the administration has come up with. Hawke’s always crossed department lines when he needed to and most of the other managers and assistant managers in this meeting with him today have done the same. It’s just that the administration team has made IT put together a fancy new software package to facilitate this sort of communication so they don’t have to leave their desks and waste valuable time. Or that’s what it feels like to Hawke. Which is why today he’s brought his notebook and posted up near the back of the room so he can amuse himself instead of pretending to pay attention to PowerPoint Presentation From Meeting Three, the Remix.
He’s trying to doodle his dog’s stupid face when he feels eyes on him. Casually looking up reveals the new assistant manager in Cullen’s department watching him out of the corner of his eye. Hawke hasn’t had a lot of time to get to know him yet, different departments and all, but he does make a point to introduce himself to all of the new managers in their first week, just in case they need something from him or he from them. This one hasn’t called on Hawke in the few months he’s been here, so all Hawke knows is that his name is Fenris, he’s got a startlingly deep voice for someone his size, and he’s absolutely too attractive to be part of Cullen’s department.
Hawke raises an eyebrow at him and holds out his notebook so Fenris can see the sketch of his dog. It, uh, well, no one has ever accused Hawke of being a talented artist, so it looks more like a series of looping lines in a vague, perhaps animal-like shape but he’s having fun and that’s what matters. Or at least, that’s what he keeps reminding himself as Fenris simply stares at the doodle. Is Fenris secretly a master artist who wasn’t able to make enough money selling his art and that’s why he’s here, moonlighting for a multinational corporation in a very specialized department …yeah, probably not. It still looks like Fenris is judging him though.
Impulsively, Hawke pulls his notebook back and scribbles, “can u do better,” above the dog before holding it back out to Fenris and offering his pen. He can’t tell exactly what Fenris is thinking, but Fenris takes the notebook and pen, looking somewhat bemused at this turn of events. As Hawke takes in the slide projected at the front of the room, some sort of mashup between slides from presentations three and four it looks like, Fenris bends over the notebook, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
A few minutes later, Fenris pokes the notebook into Hawke’s arm, nodding down to the new drawing in the pages. Hawke presses his lips together to hold back a laugh as he grabs the pen back from Fenris. Leaving the notebook in the space on the table between them, he writes another note underneath Fenris’s drawing.
my dog is not a nug
Fenris slips the pen out of Hawke’s hand and writes back: how was I supposed to know that was a dog?
Hawke presses a hand to his chest in mock outrage, and Fenris raises an amused eyebrow at him.
draw an actual dog now, Hawke writes.
Fenris rolls his eyes but takes the pen and sketches out a pretty decent dog, actually. The nug had been well done too, and though Hawke feels a little bad about his own skills, at least Fenris seems willing to indulge him and isn’t actively shitting on his drawing ability, or lack thereof. Fenris adds a little smiley face next to the dog, and Hawke takes it all back: Fenris is an absolute sarcastic menace…and Hawke’s into it.
Hawke makes grabby hands for the pen and takes his revenge.
can u only draw nugs?
Fenris snatches the pen and draws a gorgeous rose.
nug plant, Hawke writes.
Fenris draws an elephant.
real big nug
Fenris draws a snake.
long nug
Fenris draws a quick portrait of Hawke.
scruffy looking nug herder
By this point, both of them are struggling to hold back laughter, and Hawke’s had to wipe away a few tears threatening to fall. He closes his notebook just before the meeting ends and they’re all dismissed to get back to the actual work that’s been piling up while they were in here.
“So, Fenris,” he says as he stands, tucking the notebook under one arm and extending his other hand to shake. Fenris takes the hand, his lips curling up in a pleased little smile.
“Hawke,” Fenris says, and Hawke grins, glad to see he isn’t the only one who remembered the other’s name.
“Feel free to drop by my office anytime to…synergize.” He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but thankfully Fenris chuckles even as he shakes his head.
“Just for that, perhaps I won’t.” But Hawke could swear Fenris winks before he walks away, and Hawke heads back to his office smiling and wondering if this new synergizing software includes the ability to send really shitty drawings to people.
I hope it's okay to throw a prompt your way. Idk who your usual DA2 pairings are. I love fenhawke, of course, but please feel free to pick another pairing if you don't want that. 😀 8 You aren't alone. You've never been alone.
Not a problem at all! My usual pairings are Carver/Merrill and M!Hawke/Anders, but I’m glad to take a break from them and write a little Fenhawke ficlet right now. Thank you so much, and I hope this is OK!
Pairing: M!Hawke/Fenris Rating: T For @dadrunkwriting
‘You aren’t alone, Fenris.’ Garrett Hawke’s voice was soft, tender. ‘You’ve never been alone.’
‘Hawke.’ Fenris could hear how harsh he sounded, but he didn’t care; how could Hawke say this after what he had just witnessed? ‘I killed Varania. I killed my only family. I have no-one. I no longer even have Danarius to look for over my shoulder.’
But Hawke merely leaned forward, the same expression of concern and kindness on his face, and even in the glowing firelight, it was too much for Fenris to look at. ‘You have… us.’
He was going to say you have me.
‘I have–’ Fenris broke off; he had never stopped regretting that fateful day when he had walked out of Hawke’s life, and maybe it was wishful, desperate thinking that Hawke might feel the same way he did three years ago. Merrill had pointed out the ‘sad puppy eyes’ Fenris made when Hawke’s back had turned often enough (well, only once, but even once was too many times as far as Fenris was concerned), and Hawke always seemed to stare wistfully back but–
Hawke was looking at him now, expression full of longing, and Fenris felt the word nothing die in his throat.
They had never talked about that day Fenris left. Never talked more than in sorrowed and regretful gazes when each thought the other wasn’t looking, never talked more than body language which conveyed their yearning for what they could not have. The longer it went on, the harder it got; and if Fenris could undo what he had done three years ago, he would do it in an instant – but even with Hawke continuing to care for him, work with him, accept him as he did, how could he do this now? Where should he start? Should he start?
‘You have more than you know,’ Hawke said, quietly, amber gaze focused on him, and Fenris almost hurt at the unspoken implication in Hawke’s words, the words that Hawke could not bring himself to say, possibly for fear that Fenris would leave again, and Fenris understood.
He had caused enough hurt, and yet Hawke was still here. Hawke was here when Fenris was most alone, and for that–
‘Thank you, Hawke.’
It was all he could say. There was more he wanted to say.
‘I should not trespass on your hospitality any longer,’ Fenris said; he had to leave, he must leave, he must not take advantage of the man’s kindness any more than he had. ‘You have been – better to me than I could ever have hoped. I cannot thank you enough.’
But Hawke got up, and moved towards him, and Fenris knew in that moment he was lost all over again.
‘Stay, Fenris. If you must be alone, then… please don’t be alone tonight.’
I found you "looking like an angel" for male Hawke and Fenris. ♡
His eyes open slowly, he blinks painfully. Light seems almost too bright, and the figure above him is almost glowing. Soft touch moves through his hair, against his head, and he’s only vaguely aware of the hand on his chest. Blinking, again, and again, the world slowly coming into focus. He realizes that his head is laying in Fenris’s lap. “Hello,” he says. At the sound of his voice, Fenris looks down, stray white hair moving across his forehead. Hawke doesn’t miss the slightest relieved smile that quirks at the very edges of his lips.
“Hello,” Fenris says in return. His hand is still moving in Hawke’s hair. Slow, circular touches, careful pressure, gently applied. His hand on his chest, palm over his heart, as though he’s counting every beat.
“So what got me? I thought we finished off all the bandits,” he says.
“You slipped on a rock, and fell,” Fenris tells him dryly. That gets an even wider smile from him, knowing now that Hawke is fine.
“Don’t laugh, that’s cruel.”
“Your arms wind milled, and all your trinkets flew out of your pockets.” Alright, he has to admit that is pretty funny. Hawke chuckles, followed by a wince.
“Are you alright?” Fenris asks, amusement having turned to grave concern in an instant.
“I’m fine. Just a headache,” he says, closing his eyes again. He feels gentle touch brush away hair from his forehead, the slip of his hand against his cheek. Distantly, he can hear the others talking to each other, having set up camp already. Hawke knows he could probably get up, but he’s content to simply lay here, for another moment. Perhaps maybe more.
Fenris leans over, his forehead almost touching Hawke’s. “You should be more careful,” he says.
“Why, when I have you to cradle me when I’m hurt?” There’s no response, and Hawke doesn’t dare open his eyes. Retribution comes when Fenris pinches his nose, and Hawke grins, reaching up, a hand around his wrist, gently tugging him away from his face. “I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be careful,” he says.
“Mhm.” Fenris doesn’t free himself from Hawke’s grasp. Rather, he lets his hand slip, move to hold his.
So, @xiz0r‘s incredible art of goth Fenris and punk Hawke inspired me so much, I wrote something for it.
Modern AU, magic is real
No Archive Warnings Apply
M/M
Dragon Age II
Fenris/Male Hawke
AO3
The music tonight is different. The singer is definitely punk but the rest of the band looks way more goth than what usually rocks this stage. The audience also leans way more towards goth tonight, which isn't a bad thing per se. There's lots of new faces in the club tonight.
Garrett waves at the barkeep for a beer, he towers over the crowd tonight and his mohawk almost scratches the ceiling. Most of the goth are elves, lithe and slender and about a head smaller than him. He lets his gaze pass over the crowd like a lighthouse, which amuses him to no end. The barkeep holds up his beer and he pushes his way towards the bar until he can grab the bottle over the head of some very cute goth elves.
"Serahs, my apologies," he says, winking at the black lined eyes that turn to him. He gets his bottle and holds it above his head as he walks along the edge of the mosh pit. On the far side of the hall, punks and goth have come together for a magic light show, sending electrical sparks between them. He watches them, cooling his beer down with an ice spell as he sways to the music.
Later, he cannot explain what exactly happened but something, some prickle at his neck, makes him turn his head. Leaning at the wall, an elf watches him. Slim legs in tight leather, one foot against the wall, a steel belt buckle that looks way too big for his slender hips, black shirt stretched tight over his chest with cut-outs and a black choker across his neck. And all over, wherever his skin is visible, white swirling lines drawn over his skin that gleam in the strobe light. Hawke takes all that in and then forgets it because their eyes meet and time stops.
Garrett watches himself with silent fascination as he moves through the crowd, an errant lighting bolt hitting him as he walks through the combined goth/punk magic light show but he doesn't even twitch. He comes back to his mind when he stands in front of the elf, his mouth open to speak and nothing comes out.
"Yes?" the elf asks, looking at him critically.
"Hi," Garrett says, immediately wishing for someone to smite him with a templar spell. He's usually so good at this. "Hi, I'm Garrett."
The elf looks up to him, guarded but not disgusted, if Garrett interprets his body language correctly. "Fenris," he says.
Garrett tears his eyes away from the most amazing green eyes he has ever seen and takes in the rest of his face. The white lines stop at his chin but three white dots glow on his forehead, half hidden by his hair. His head is half shaven, the rest pulled into a ponytail. There is a ring in his eyebrow and his lower lip and several in his long, pointy ears.
"I like your mohawk," Fenris says somewhere in some other plane of existence.
Garrett's gaze falls to Fenris' lips and his breath gets stuck in his throat. "Thanks," he croaks. "I... you... can I kiss you?"
Those green eyes look up to him, burning with untamed fire. "Yes."
He leans forward, waiting, offering rather than taking, and after an eternity, Fenris moves. Their lips meet, softly at first but then with a hunger that overwhelms them. They press against each other, Garrett wrapping his arms around the slender elf, cradling his neck as he explores his mouth with his tongue.
Fenris moans into his mouth, his hips pressing against him and Garrett's eyes fly open. He stares motionless at the elf. The white lines on Fenris' body shine in blinding white. Not just reflecting the strobe light but glowing on their own.
Fenris' eyes fly open. "You're a mage." He pushes Garrett away with a snarl. "A fucking mage."
Hawke stumbles back. "Shit, fuck, I'm sorry." He scratches his nails over the shaved part of his head, trying to gather some remnant of self control. "Is that a problem? I'm sorry, I should have said something, I..." He stares at Fenris, something drawing into a tight ball of pain in his gut. "I won't..."
The white lines stop glowing and Fenris frowns at him. With powerful grace, he takes a step towards Hawke and pulls him back to him, his hand grabbing the long hair at Garrett's neck, pulling him down. He kisses him again, sucking in his lower lips, his piercing pressing into Garrett's lip, and again, the white lines on his body begin to glow. Fenris stops, drawing his lips away but keeps his forehead against Garrett's, breathing slowly against his lips.
"Why do you have to be a fucking mage?" Fenris growls.
"I'm sorry," Garrett says, not daring to move. If this is all he can get, if he can just stay here, towering over Fenris, breathing him in, then that's all he needs. "I can't help it, I'm a mage, was born like that. But I swear I'm not some elf collecting asshole mage, I'm really not, you can ask anybody," he babbles, still not moving. "Ask around, Garrett Hawke, not an elf collecting asshole mage, they'll tell you. I hope so at least, I mean..." He opens his eyes and sees with relief a hint of a grin on Fenris' face.
Fenris is quiet for a while, the grin making room for a thoughtful expression. "I have to think about this. Can you be here again tomorrow, same time, same place?"
"Yes, I will," Garrett answers way too quickly to be cool. He notices how he crowds Fenris and takes a slow step back. "I really would love to see you again, I'll buy you a beer. Just to talk, nothing more."
Fenris snorts, pointedly staring at the bulge in Garrett's leather pants. "Yeah, right."
"Hey, that's hardly fair," Garrett says, turning to the side to hide his obvious arousal.
Fenris steps up to him pulling his head down to speak into his ear. "Tomorrow, right here at eleven. I won't wait."
"I'll be here," Garrett says and watches the elf walk away. With a rush, the noise of the club, the music, the singing, the yelling, all of it returns to his senses at once and he braces himself against the wall to stop himself from stumbling.
"What the hell just happened?" he says to himself. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Done in collaboration with @xiz0r. See the full-size art here!
Danarius was dead and gone, and Fenris was coming to terms with himself. He was accepting his freedom, though really, he’d won that for himself long ago. He was accepting his place here in Kirkwall, a city that he now thought of as home. Fenris was also accepting his own feelings for Hawke. Though, like his freedom, he had lived with those feelings for years.
Hawke.
The two of them had made up earlier that day. Hawke had forgiven him, and for the first time in a long time, Fenris had felt a weight lift off of him. There, in the dusty silence of Fenris’s mansion, they had talked. Then, they had kissed.
Afterward, they had relocated to Hawke’s estate. It was better suited for the plans they had for one another, after all. They’d cleaned up and had a nice, quiet dinner together. And now, they were alone in Hawke’s room. There was a fire burning in the hearth, casting the room in warm hues and flickering shadows.
It was familiar to Fenris. There were echoes of that long-ago night - the colors, the warmth, the very smell of the room.
But it was different now too. Gone was the desperation, the frantic fumbling as they’d torn at one another’s clothes. This time, they’d laughed together as they’d removed their shirts. Hawke had flexed for him, and Fenris had playfully shoved at him.
Now they stood chest to chest, arms wrapped around one another. Hawke leaned down into the kiss. His beard tickled pleasantly at Fenris’s skin, and his lips tasted of the rich wine they’d had with dinner. Fenris was drunk on it. Not the wine, no. The kissing.
There wasn’t any hurry to their kissing. The bed was behind them, waiting, but there was no immediate need to throw themselves down onto it. Perhaps that’s what had gone wrong before, Fenris thought to himself. They had rushed everything.
Now, they could just…
Hawke made a soft noise into their kiss as Fenris nipped at his lip. Fenris felt a surge of need as blood began to rush south. Fenris dug his fingers into Hawke’s shoulder and pressed himself as close as he could.
No, the problem before had been...what? There was a spike of fear in Fenris then. He thought that he hadn’t been ready before, and that’s what had caused his reaction. But what if it hadn’t been that? What if it had just been Fenris? Could it be that he would never be ready? Maybe the ghosts of that night were still lingering here. Maybe they would always haunt this room.
Hawke made another noise, something closer to a moan.
But Fenris wanted. He wanted... Oh, he wanted.
Fenris broke the kiss then, breath coming in short gasps. He looked down, away from Hawke’s face, and took a little step back. Hawke’s arms immediately loosened their hold and pulled away from him. Fenris regretted it, his shoulders suddenly feeling cold.
“What is it?” Hawke asked. Fenris could hear the concern in the other man’s voice, the worry. The tips of Fenris’s ears burned, and he still wasn’t able to look up at him.
What was he doing? Why was he reacting like this? He wanted Hawke. He wanted Hawke more than anything. Yet, he was still scared. What if I hurt him again?
“Fen? Did I…”
“No,” Fenris replied, eyes still downcast. He was staring at a patch of Hawke’s chest hair, though he was not focused on it at all. Not really. “No, you did nothing wrong,” he murmured.
“Oh.” Hawke let out a relieved sigh. “Then, what’s… I mean. Fenris??” His voice was soft. Warm.
Fenris closed his eyes and bit his lip. He tensed when he felt Hawke’s fingers gently touch just under his chin. Hawke’s hand stilled, and he waited for Fenris’s further reaction. When Fenris didn’t turn his head away, Hawke gently began to guide it upward.
“Please, look at me, Fen,” Hawke said. Fenris allowed it, tipping his head back. He opened his eyes and found himself looking right at Hawke’s face. The mage’s eyes were liquid amber, as warm as his voice, and filled with just as much concern. Fenris couldn’t look away as Hawke’s eyes searched him.
“I…” Fenris began. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hawke’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Hurt me?” His fingers slid from under Fenris’s chin, moving around to instead caress his cheek. Fenris couldn’t help leaning into the touch.
He shook that pleasure away after a moment and looked back at Hawke. “Yes. I hurt you when I left you that night.”
“Oh,” Hawke said, realization dawning. “You...you did,” Hawke agreed. They’d discussed as much earlier, back at Fenris’s mansion. “But you were hurting too, Fen. Besides, you apologized, and I said that I forgive you. Didn’t I?”
Hawke was looking at him, as if things could just be that simple. As if Fenris could make up for the loneliness and awkwardness that had peppered their years apart with a mere apology.
“It cannot be that easy,” Fenris said, his eyes flicking off to the side.
“Well, I never said it was easy,” Hawke said. He brought his other hand up so he was cupping Fenris’s cheeks on either side. “All we can do now is try to move forward. We’ll just be open and honest...and talk about things. Feelings and all that stuff.” He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to Fenris’s forehead.
Fenris huffed a soft laugh and looked back at him. “Feelings and stuff,” he muttered to himself. Hawke was smiling at him, his big hands still gently framing Fenris’s face. Fenris reached up and smoothed some of Hawke’s hair back. His hand trailed down along Hawke’s cheek, his fingers running through the man’s beard.
Fenris didn’t know how things would turn out. He didn’t know what feelings they might uncover in the future, or what sort of traps might still be lurking inside of him. He couldn’t tell himself that he would never hurt Hawke again, or that Hawke would never hurt him. But maybe...that was just how things were. Maybe it was just a part of learning how to be together. Learning how to love each other.
Maybe he just needed to trust Hawke. Or maybe more importantly, he just needed to trust himself.
Fenris pushed forward, breaking out of Hawke’s grasp. Hawke’s eyes widened in surprise and he let out a muffled mmmph as Fenris trapped him in another kiss. Hawke let himself be pushed back toward the bed as Fenris continued to surge against him.
Going forward, they could talk about what had happened between them the night Fenris had left. They could both acknowledge their feelings. It was important that it wasn’t something they just buried. But there would be no ghosts left lingering in this room.
Fenris pushed Hawke back onto the bed and smiled to himself when the mage let out another surprised grunt.
