#fenhawke fic

[barbex]

Happy Friday! From the sappy prompts, “I can’t stay away from you.” Maybe FenHawke?

Thank you! This is a continuation from this fic, for @dadrunkwriting:

--

Fenris doesn't remember how he got outside of the Hanged Man. Inside, the traces of the battle and Danarius' death are already scrubbed away, fresh paint covering the burn marks on the walls. He is free now, just like Hawke said, but instead of celebrating with his friends, he is alone.

Alone, because he pushed them away. Because he still can't let go of the horror of being owned by a mage, even though Hawke never acted like that towards him. 

"You're an asshole, you know?"

Fenris whips around, only to face Anders. "Mage. Leave me alone."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna." Anders pushes away from the wall and gestures towards the stairs up to Hightown. "Hawke went home, Amell mansion, in case you've forgotten." 

"I... I cannot..."

Anders sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Listen. You just went through a whole load of trauma, and it made you lash out. That sucks, asshole move and all that, and you made Hawke cry, but it's not the end."

"How can it not be the end —" 

"Because you can apologise. Comes with being free."

The ground seems to shift under his feet. "I don't know how."

Anders watches him for a moment, then gestures at him to follow him. As they climb up the stairs to Hightown, Anders starts speaking. "It's as simple and as hard as saying 'I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day.' And you better mean it. I've never seen Hawke cry and I don't want to see it again."

The door to Hawke's home looms in front of him. Anders doesn't give him a chance to be a coward, knocking on the door for him. Bodhan opens, looks from one to the other, and steps wordlessly aside.

"Thank you," Fenris says to Anders. 

"Don't thank me yet. The hardest part is yet to come." He makes a vague gesture with his hand and walks away. 

Fenris leaves his sword and armor with Bodhan and climbs up the stairs to Hawke's private room. Every step seems to be harder than the one before. At her door, he nearly turns away again, only embarrassment at his own cowardice makes him knock.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Fenris."

The door flies open. Hawke stares at him, holding the door open with one arm. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying. Guilt at causing this pain makes Fenris' knees shake.

"Don't you dare to fall to your knees," Hawke says, her voice rough and hard.

"But I should. I am sorry. I... what I said..."

"Get in here." 

He steps inside, hovering in the middle of the room as Hawke closes the door. He can feel her presence behind his back, her magic like a beacon. Maybe it is easier to speak if he can't see her face. "I came to apologise. I'm sorry to have caused you pain. You have every right to hate me now and I will leave if you ask me to. But I... I have never regretted anything more than what I said to you back there."

A hand touches his back, sliding down his spine. She is closer now, sliding her hands over his waist to wrap her arms around him from behind. "I already know that I can't stay away from you. I waited for you so long." She presses a kiss to his neck. "You hurt me, but I know that your entire world changed in that moment, and I can forgive you for being confused."

Fenris turns in her arms, taking her face in his hands. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"It's not about deserving and earning." She turns her head to kiss the inside of his wrist. "It's about dealing with emotions and speaking about them. Do you think you can do that?"

Relief spreads in his chest like fresh air. "Yes, I can."

"Then we'll figure it out." 

She kisses him, and he finally believes in his new life.

[barbex]

Ohhh! I love this, you must write more of this. I can just imagine how good Fenris sounds over the radio.

Hello writerly friend!

Regrading the WIP fic title things, can you tell me about, and give me a snippet for the fenhawke college radio AU?

🥰

This one is ANCIENT, like 2015 levels of ancient, so it might be bad!

The host’s voice is a handsome baritone, like a stream of melodious velvet as he introduces song after song. The sound of it is more captivating than the music, which already has a hold on him. Having nothing else to do, Hawke’s imagination wanders to what this radio host might look like. Is he a human or an elf? A dwarf, or void, even a qunari?

“Remember,” the enrapturing voice reminds him just after a song so catchy that it has Hawke whistling its tune. “Callers may submit requests using the radio call line.”

The next song is just as fantastic as its predecessors, and so is every song that follows. Whoever is choosing the music, be it the host or otherwise, is doing a damn fine job.

“Welcome back,” the host says in a tone more deep and formal than previous song introductions, “It is now two in the morning. This has been Fenris with Late Night Beat on KWDL, Kirkwall University’s own campus radio station. Thank you and goodnight.”

[echoes-sounds]

Fenhawke one shot during the events of Veilguard

Art by @/ lunehowls

[onblondes]

translation

Fenris/Hawke ~1.1k words teen

“I want to tell you something Fenris said to me in Elvish but I don't want you to translate it.” Merrill sucks in a quick breath, her eyes wide with interest. “Of course.” Siv runs a finger along one of the many scars marking the Hanged Man's worn table. “It was something like - vhenan.”

[minidoodles97]

Posting this WIP because I don't know when I'll actually have time to finish it...

[shivunin]

"I know that wicked shape to your smile." - Where Is Your Rider // for Maria :3

Thank you, Mary! <3

Here is some post-Arishok recovery and some very messy feelings:

(Fenris/Hawke | 1,257 Words | CW: Injury/recovery)

To Languish in Repose

“See, your face wasn’t quite as I remembered, but I know that wicked shape to your smile.” —The Oh Hellos, “Where is your Rider”

When Hawke woke near dawn, Fenris was not overly concerned.

The first few times Hawke had woken from her magically-assisted slumber, there’d mostly been the basic necessities to contend with: discerning if she could stand, helping her get clean, fetching her clothing or water or food. 

Every other time, Fenris had stood silently on the periphery, pouring a glass of water and handing it off to Merrill to administer or opening the cabinet for Varric to retrieve a nightgown for their friend. He’d found little to say, even if most of the others had joked or told stories until Maria—until Hawke fell asleep again. The woman herself had said only a handful of words since her near-death at the Arishok’s hands. It was to be expected; Fenris was certain that she had, for a moment, actually been dead. 

And just before she had, she’d said—

Nevermind. It mattered little what she’d said. 

Fenris was not concerned when she woke that morning, nearly three full days since she’d taken her wound. He need not worry what to say to her when she was unlikely to speak, after all. It wouldn’t be a concern that the only other person in the room was Aveline, still half in her guardsman armor and snoring loudly on the settee they’d dragged over to the fireplace. 

When she stirred, he did not move from the wall, but watched and waited. Perhaps Hawke would ask for water or another pillow and then fall asleep again. She’d done as much a dozen times since he’d carried her here through the burning city. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve—any idea of the time,” she said instead, words disjointed where she stopped to catch her breath. 

Fenris, hand already half-reaching for the pitcher on her desk, looked at her. 

“It is nearly morning,” he said, and cast a glance in Aveline’s direction. The other woman did not stir. 

“Oh,” Hawke said. She shifted on the bed, buoyed by a small fortune of pillows, and grimaced. 

“Need something?” he asked. 

“Meredith is awfully—” she began at the same time and sighed. 

“No,” she took a slow breath, grimacing again. 

Fenris had half a thought to retrieve Anders from wherever he’d tucked himself away downstairs. If she was in pain—but she went on again before he could make the decision.

“She’s awfully late,” Hawke finished. 

Fenris frowned at her for a moment, trying to puzzle the words into something that made sense.

“What do you mean?” he said finally, at a loss. His hand had found the handle of the pitcher and he grasped it now, more for something to hold onto than for any actual assistance it might provide. 

“I thought she’d—” Hawke drew in a slow breath, “have me locked in the Circle by now. If I didn’t—die, that is. I thought I…thought I would be...”

For a moment, he could see the outcome of such a thing so clearly that the idea of it filled his bones with ice. He had not even considered—if Meredith had come for Hawke after she’d been wounded, they would have been hard-pressed to fight off the Templars. All of them had been forced to battle their way through the city in the wake of the attack. They had not been at their best. The Templars, comparatively untouched, would have easily cut their way through the lot of them and Hawke—

“No,” Fenris said. “No. She did not come.”

“Well, I did suppose—not,” she said. 

Someone—Merrill, he thought—had braided her hair into a crown. It had more or less stayed in place for the last few days, but a few curls had crept loose overnight. They clung to her forehead with sweat now—it occurred to him that this conversation must be a strain after days of recovery. She should not be speaking like this; not now.

“I would be elsewhere—if she had,” she closed her eyes for a moment. 

The room filled with the sound of her breathing, labored as it was, and Fenris turned away to pour the cup of water she hadn’t asked for. 

“Wouldn’t want you fools,” she sighed, “to get hurt on—my account.”

Fenris snorted. 

“I like you too much,” she went on, “to see you knocked about for me—when I can’t even hit back.”

When you were dying, you said—Fenris thought, and watched the water swirl wildly in the cup before slowly coming to a dizzy halt.

“Drink this,” he said when the water had drawn away from the mouth of the cup, and crossed to her bed to hold it out to her. Hawke didn’t take it. She stared at it instead, as if she didn’t recognize what it was. Her hand half-lifted from the sheets but fell again almost at once. 

“Would that I could,” she said, and the pained half-laugh she managed was cut off by another grimace. 

The next few moments were taken up by Fenris attempting to help her drink without looking too long at her—sallow and exhausted and still breathing too hard. When she drew away, her mouth brushed against the second knuckle of his forefinger and his chest gave a sick lurch. He could not do this, could not be here, but what choice had he? It was nothing; it was nothing.

I did love you, she’d said three days ago, thoughtful—as if she was remembering something she’d forgotten from an earlier conversation. Said it and then stopped breathing, half-smiling at the ceiling as if trying to remember the name of an acquaintance she’d forgotten. I did love you, she’d said, and Fenris was certain she’d died for a moment with the words still clinging to her lips. 

He doubted she would ever remember saying so, but he—how could he forget it? He could more easily wrench his own heart through his chest. It felt as if he already had. 

Fenris waited until she was done and he’d drawn away again to speak again.

“She will not take you now,” he said, and cleared the gravel from his throat. “You’ve been named Champion of Kirkwall. Or—you will be.”

“I—what?” 

Hawke didn’t go on. Fenris turned to look at her, somewhat alarmed, and found that her mouth had fallen open in shock. 

“Yes,” he said. “The letter arrived while you slept.”

“Oh!” she said, and went on. “Ohoho—oh, that must really gall her. That must—”

She paused for a moment, closing her eyes tightly, and went on when her breathing had steadied again. 

“Champion,” she said. “Of Kirkwall.”

“So the letter said,” Fenris told her. 

“Oh,” she said, and the laugh she was repressing curled the corners of her mouth. “Just wait until—Carver hears. Oh, he’s—going to be so annoyed.” 

Fenris might have said something then, but Maria smiled and he entirely forgot whatever he’d been thinking. She smiled like she had before her mother had been taken, before the months of blankness had taken her in turn, smiled like he hadn’t seen since before they’d—

“I think,” she said after a moment, that same pained laugh hiding between her words, “I am going to sleep more. But oh—what a relief!” 

Fenris had little to say to that. He nodded instead and tucked himself against the wall again in his silent vigil. She fell asleep almost at once, wrinkles of pain smoothing out again, but the curve of her smile stayed with him long after the sun rose.

[inquisimer]

dragon age oneshot fic recs

@dreadfutures said that we should do more fic recs and she's absolutely right, so I'm starting what will hopefully be a series of fic rec lists, leading off with some oneshot recs! These are just standalone stories that don't require a big time commitment and definitely stuck with me after I read them.

Check them out! and leave a comment or kudos to let the author know you did 💜

Feel free to reblog this post and add your own oneshot fic recs! Or make your own fic rec post and tag me in it so I can read and promote your awesome recs :3

-

My Lover's Phylactery by FrodaB

Cullen Rutherford/Female Inquisitor | G | 1472 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: She doesn't destory it Mer's Rec: this is an excellent piece that fills the gap DAI left (imho) about Trevelyan's phylactery! There's some excellent introspection from the Inquisitor and a bittersweet but somft and heartfelt ending between Cullen and his love.

Bent, Not Broken by spirrum (@spirrum)

Fenris/Female Hawke | G | 1595 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: In which Hawke doesn't run off to Weisshaupt, and an angry elf turns up at the Inquisition's door. Mer's Rec: this is a little slice of interpersonal relationships that beautifully captures Hawke's spirit! It starts with some platonic Hawke & Varric, perfectly encapsulating the exhaustion both of them feel after HLTA, and transitions smoothly into the heart-tugging reunion between Hawke and a frustrated Fenris who's very much in love.

last man standing (perhaps) by havvke (Wintertree)

Charade Amell & Carver Hawke & Female Hawke | T | 6749 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Hawke’s teeth glinted when she grinned, except for the gap of her missing left dogtooth. Funny how they did that, even in such poor lighting. Glinting. Hawke barely seemed real. They’ve gone on a mission or two together since that initial, embarrassingly disastrous meeting, and it was still shocking that the woman lived up—if not surpassed—her nearly legendary status. Compared to the other missions Charade led with the Jennies, this was somewhat easier than her normal fare. But while Hawke was a known figure, and by technicality kin, Charade still didn’t know her. Mer's Rec: Okay, I'm admittedly biased toward this piece, because it was a gift for me as part of the 2023 Platonic Ideal Exchange. That being said, it is an INCREDIBLE work of sibling dynamics and I think of it whenever I think about Charade Amell. Havvke explores the relationship between Charade as a Red Jenny, Carver as a Grey Warden, and Hawke as...Hawke, in a beautiful web of complicated choices and found family. Over a year later, it still holds up as one of the best exchange gifts I've ever received.

Doggone by leggywillow (@leggywillow)

Alistair/Female Warden, Alistair & Anora Mac Tir, Alistair & Warden's Mabari | T | 3042 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Alistair and the Warden are no longer together, but they still exchange letters - through Dog. Alistair struggles to find happiness in his life as king, but he isn't entirely alone. Mer's Rec: I read this one just recently and oh my GOODNESS it both made me laugh and also pulled at my heartstrings. Leggy alters the canon breakup between a King Alistair & the Warden to be somehow even more heartbreaking and the way that he talks to Dog is just so essentially Alistair, I could hear every line in his voice. Add to that several well done bits between Alistair & Anora and this piece absolutely delivers on the "sad" and "heartache" in the additional tags.

That Word You Call Me by thewitchofthewilds (gossamerstarsxx) (@saiyanshewolf)

Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford | T | 1768 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: The first time she tells him she loves him is the time he needs to hear it the most Mer's Rec: I love this piece for the intermingling of angst and fluff between Lavellan and Cullen. It leads in with one of the better descriptions of nightmare panic that I've seen and the way that Lavellan grounds Cullen from it is smooth and heartfelt, as is his reaction to her comfort. It caps off with some sweet fluff and a taste of human/elf relationships dynamics, for which I am a sucker, and which end the fic on soft, heartfelt note.

[teine-mallaichte]

This... this started with a prompt, but it moved so far away from the vaguely angsty, survival situation SO FAST that I don't think it fits the prompt anymore 😂 but it was fun to write regardless. And seeing as I seem to have made Adrian be the most irritating man in all of Thedas it only feels fitting that Fenris gets to tease him for once. So a bit more post DA2 FenHawke for @dadrunkwriting

"Well, this is just perfect," Adrian muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his brown hair in frustration. "Lost in some cave full of rocks, dust, and probably a few nasty surprises lurking around. Just what I needed."

The air was damp and thick, the smell of earth and decay pressing in from all sides. His torch barely held off the surrounding darkness, casting flickering shadows that seemed to move with a mind of their own. It was unnervingly quiet, and for a moment, Adrian thought he could hear his own heartbeat echoing in the stillness.

"Is this what dying feels like? Because I swear, the suspense is getting old," he grumbled, his voice bouncing off the stone walls, swallowed up almost immediately by the hollow space. Turning to look behind him, the narrow tunnel he'd come from had vanished entirely, swallowed by the blackness. The caves had a way of distorting things - nothing seemed to stay in place for long. He hadn't meant to get lost.

With a resigned sigh, he continued forward, his steps echoing around him, "Alright. Let's make a game of it: Find the exit, try not to get eaten by anything, and then get back to the ship for some rum. At least I can do that."

A soft voice interrupted his rant, "Ate you planning on narrating this entire experience?"

Adrian’s lips twitched into a half-smile he knew Fenris couldn't stay quiet forever. He'd just need to irritate him enough to get him to speak, "Of course I am," he answered, his tone breezy despite the discomfort creeping under his skin. "How else would you keep track of me in the dark?"

Fenris' voice came again, flat and matter-of-fact, like he was stating a simple fact. "Elves can see in the dark."

Adrian stopped dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat as he whipped around, eyes widening. "What?" he stammered, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the dim light. "That’s cheating! And… how did I not already know that?"

A soft chuckle reverberated from the shadows, echoing off the stone walls, just a bit too close for comfort. "You’ve never asked, Hawke," enris replied, a smug edge to his voice. "And if you’d been paying attention over the last decade, you might have noticed."

Adrian scowled, though Fenris couldn’t see it—or could he? The unfairness of it all stung. He glanced around again, but the torchlight barely pierced the suffocating blackness, leaving him blind to whatever surrounded him. "Can you stop talking to me from the abyss?" Adrian spat, frustration rising in his chest.

There was a pause. Then Fenris spoke again, but this time, his voice was so close that Adrian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "You’re unnerved by the dark?”

Adrian groaned, as his pulse quickened, a chill running through him. "Oh, Maker… you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me stumble around with my pathetic human eyes?"

Fenris’ voice didn’t waver, but Adrian could almost hear the smile in it. "You’ve faced demons, blood mages, dragons… but a bit of darkness and you’re practically useless. It is… amusing."

Adrian threw his hands up in mock despair, though he doubted Fenris could see it—or maybe he could. The unfairness still rankled. "Yes, yes. Mock my tragic human limitations."

A shift in the air—light as a whisper—brushed against his arm. Adrian’s heart stuttered in his chest as he jumped, a string of curses escaping him before he could stop them. "Maker’s breath! Don’t do that!"

"You really are jumpy in the dark, aren’t you?" Fenris’ voice was soft and teasing, but Adrian could hear the amusement clearly.

rubbed his arm, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of Fenris’ touch. His grip tightened on the torch, but it didn’t help. His pulse was still too fast. Every slight sound seemed amplified, every brush of air making him jump. What was it about this place? Why did it feel like he was losing control?

As he turned in a circle, scanning the shadows again, something glinted—just for a fraction of a second—in the dim torchlight. Adrian froze, narrowing his eyes. He thought he saw… eyes? A pair of glowing orbs reflecting the light, hidden just beyond the reach of the torch. But when he turned sharply, they were gone. The darkness had swallowed them, as if they had never been there at all.

His skin crawled, and he swallowed hard. What the hell was that?

Another shift in the air, and this time Fenris’ voice was much too close, his breath just a whisper away. "What’s wrong, Adrian? No witty retort? No flirtatious quip?"

Adrian stiffened, heart hammering as he spun around, torch raised like a weapon. The light swung through empty air. He froze, breath held. The oppressive silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself, but his pulse was still too fast. It wasn’t just the dark—something was wrong here.

A soft laugh echoed in the darkness—Fenris’ laugh. It was too close, almost directly behind him, and before Adrian could even react, Fenris was there. One hand brushed lightly against his arm, sending a jolt of warmth through his body. His heart skipped again. He jerked his arm away, spinning around, but Fenris was too fast, his presence too fluid.

"You are enjoying this too much," Adrian grumbled, his voice shaky as he tried to keep his composure. He could feel Fenris shifting behind him again, just out of his sight, but the sound of his breathing was impossibly close.

"And why shouldn’t I?" Fenris’ low chuckle echoed in the cave again, "You’ve made it your personal mission to irritate me at every turn."

Adrian swallowed hard. He could feel Fenris standing just behind him, too close, but he couldn’t see him. The darkness seemed to swallow everything but Fenris’ voice—low, steady, unnerving.

He hadn’t realised how much he relied on sight until it was taken from him. His chest tightened as he scanned the shadows for any hint of Fenris' presence. The elf was too quiet, too quick, and it was driving him insane.

Fenris’ laughter was soft, almost mocking, from directly behind him this time, "You know, Hawke, you’ve been remarkably quiet," Fenris teased, his voice low, near a purr, "I almost miss the incessant chatter."

"Stop—" Adrian’s words died in his throat when he felt a soft breath against the back of his neck. He stiffened, his eyes wide and unseeing in the dark.

Before he could gather his thoughts, he felt a light pressure on his waist, pulling him back against a solid, familiar chest. Adrian froze, his breath caught in his throat. The warmth of Fenris' body radiated against his back, and his arms slid around his waist, locking him in place.

Fenris’s grip tightened for a moment, pulling him just a little closer, "it seems I’ve found a new way to keep you quiet."

[perlen-gold]

A Fenris x m!Hawke story

On the fifth day, a voice coiled up to him.

Fenris did not know how she had found out he was back. Perhaps rumors grew rampant about him still, and faster still than he would have favored. Perhaps, she had simply talked with Aveline or met Donnic.

One morning, a small crown of flowers, daisies, snow-dabbed, had been placed outside the estate’s outer gate. He had stepped on it, then, after a startled glance, picked them slowly from his feet’s skin, blossom for blossom. When he came back at midday there was another coronal of daisies the next day, the flowers twinkling slightly misshapen, blooming exactly where the first had been. Fenris ignored this one, too. Upon his return in the evening on the third day he had found no daisies but the end of a woolen, dandelion yellow yarn. Meanderingly, it sidled away into the dark.

I'm currently stuck on all my Dragon Age / Fenhawke WIPs, just can't get in the right mood for them, so bear me sharing once again one of the few things I'm actually (slightly) proud of of <3 😌

...

Alright, let me read the damn thing so you can't bother me anymore

No thanks I'm not in the right mood for a SUPER-angsty fic

Please, leave me alone!!!

I said "NO"!!!!!!

LISTEN I HATE SUPER-ANGSTY FICS JUST GO AND NEVER COME BACK!

<3

[fuckyeahmhawkefenris]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke, Fenris/Hawke Characters: Fenris (Dragon Age), Male Hawke Additional Tags: Fenris jerking off while thinking about Hawke, After they've slept together, But before they've talked, So there's a healthy dose of angst in there too, Slavery mention Summary:

Fenris can't stop thinking about Hawke's touch.

-----------------------------------------

okay, before trying actual porn, lets start with something less obvious...

Let us all take a moment to remember this lovely rendition of the fenhawke first night by adelaiderowan. One of my personal favourites I keep coming back to again and again.

If I were a little better with words I’d leave a whole lot of comments on ao3, but I really don’t want to embarrass myself. It’s just really really good.

[barbex]

I'm here to give you some prompts for DADWC! First prompt is “I love you, please don’t go.” for Fenris/Hawke.

Thank you for your prompt! For @dadrunkwriting, this is part one, I have a second part coming.

--

It is wrong. Everything is wrong. Variana runs out, not even looking at him. Danarius' blood still drips from his gauntlets. He should feel happy, elated, relieved. He killed his tormentor, the mage who stole his memories, and made him suffer. But there is nothing.

"Fenris, you're free." Hawke steps closer, her voice so careful that he nearly doesn't hear her over the noise in his head. "It's over."

"How can it be over?" He glares at her, anger bubbling up like an old friend. Her magic resonates in his markings, another mage stepping closer, like she owns him. "It's never over. There's another mage just waiting to take his place. My own sister wanted to become a magister."

Hawke's hand burns on his arm and he rips his arm away, stepping back from her outstretched hand. "Leave me."

The hurt in her eyes is unbearable. Her fingers clench around nothing before she draws her hand back to her chest. "Please, Fenris, I love you. Don't go, not now." She takes a step towards him but stops when she looks him in the eyes.

"I don't take orders from you," he presses out, knowing by the pain in his chest that he will regret this. This is the end of his path. "I'm leaving. Alone."

Outside, people walk towards the market as if nothing happened. For them, it's a normal day. For him, it's the end of the life he knew. 

By the time he reaches the mansion, regret has already taken root in his heart. He hurt Hawke, his first friend. The woman who trusted him, who dared to love him, waited for him for years, and he just threw it all into her face. Like a rabid wolf, he bit the one person who never turned away from him. 

Is he just a wild wolf, like Danarius said?

He turns, running back to the Hanged Man. He pushes the door open, but he only finds a crew of dwarves and elves cleaning up. One fixes a burned floorboard, where Hawke turned a demon into ash. Another scrubs at the stain of blood where Danarius found his end. Fenris climbs up the stairs, knocking on Varric's door, but there is no answer and the door is locked.

He stares dumbly at the closed door. His friends are gone. He is alone, just like he wanted.

--

no worries, second part coming up

[meggannn]

A Crow Flies Down Fenris/Hawke | 5k | teen | thanks to @kesla and @meredithalden for betaing!!

The decision to leave had actually been fairly simple: Neither Fenris nor Bethany was stepping anywhere near the Inquisition and their conscripted mages and Cassandra Thousand-Name Pentaghast and that altus from bloody Tevinter if she had anything to say about it. So Hawke came to Skyhold alone.

Excerpt:

In Varric’s warm suite above the kitchens, Hawke’s fingers trailed the bookshelves over his mahogany desk. She found a copy of Tale, a first printing, and yanked it open. This chapter was about Feynriel, whom she’d sent off to Tevinter, a decision she suspected Fenris had never really forgiven. She flipped further. The beheading of the Viscount. Flip. The escape of three blood mages from the Circle, which she had delayed addressing for a week, rejecting it as a templar scare tactic to avoid falling into Meredith’s political trappings; a week long enough for two of the escapees to rack up a two-digit body count in the alienage.

Hawke told herself now that she didn’t have to sit here and think about how much better everyone in her life, everyone in Kirkwall, would be doing without her. She had better things to do. She couldn’t think of what those things might possibly be, but she told herself they existed.

Practice her longbow technique, which Sera had told her last night was passable at best. Help that Warden in the yard take care of the horses. Eat a full meal. Fucking write to Fenris to apologize, if she was going to. Stop waffling around already.

She closed the book and left the room.

[kelvintimeline]

The fact that I’ve exhausted the entire Wangxian tag and nothing I’ve subscribed to is updating so… I really have no excuse to not be reading my books…….

[littleglowingwolf]

a taste of the sun Chapters 4&5: Drakonis, 9:33 Dragon

Hawke blazes like a sun: blinding and warm. Fenris, all scars and silence, is a moth.

She is his light, he her steady shadow.

E-Rated

Canon-based FenHawke || Read on AO3 || Read from the beginning

[As of these chapters this work finally has actual smut in it]

Excerpt:

Fenris, What the fuck? I’m still trying to make sense of what happened. The best way I know how to is by writing it down so I am going to write it down for you, perhaps as some vindictive attempt to disallow you to forget. Last night I stopped at the mansion to see you. I didn’t have an excuse to be there, but you know I am fantastic under pressure. It seemed you weren’t home. I knocked a few times – perhaps you’d fallen asleep or had too many. I gave up and walked home. Rounding the corner to my house, I saw a figure backlit by the torches at the door. One hand went to my boot to grab my dagger. But then I saw you properly, sitting on the long stone bench, your head in your hands.

[densewentz]

god someone help me find this da2 fic please it was f!hawke (a warrior i think) and it was fenhawke the relationship between leandra and hawke has been really shitty and hawke maybe isnt living at the estate anymore? (she might be living with fenris?) but fenris and the gang decide to stage a like intervention? in the Rose, I think, where they try to force hawke to 'reconcile' with her mom. Only Leandra just keeps saying shit to blame hawke for Carver dying and Bethany being in the gallows. and feeling extra guilty about it all, fenris ends up like, sneaking into the gallows to make Bethany respond to hawke's letters Ring any bells to anyone? I'm having major issues finding it again 😩

[bardspeak]

And if you lost it all, and you lost it | ao3 link

(Some of) Hawke's letters to Fenris during dragon age inquisition. Hawke was left in the fade here.

-

Fenris -

I’m sorry for leaving, and I’m sorrier for getting angry that you didn’t want me to. I know you want to be with me, to protect me from what’s to come. I also know that what you could most protect me from is also what could most hurt you. I can’t have that. We protect each other, right?

I’d have you with me if it wouldn’t kill me to see you hurt.

The Inquisition has been looking for me, and Varric has held them off long enough. I guess I’ll find out why it was so important for them soon, but I know for me it’s Corypheus. We were both there – and I’ll never feel safer than when you have my back – but this is a burden of my own. It was my father’s blood that locked him away and mine that set him free. I feel I should be able to know him, understand at least the little my father must have, but I’m just as clueless as anybody else. I just know I can’t sit by and watch him happen to someone else. I hope you can forgive me.

You haven’t said, but I know I’ve been hurting you. I’m not sure why I don’t know how to live without something like this to turn to, to throw myself at. But I won’t drag you into it with me. It doesn’t mean I love you any less, and it doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t ache to be away from you. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it some of the time. When you’re just gone for the day I’ll turn to tell you when you’re not there. I love your humor, even when you’re laughing at me. I love your anger, even if you’re angry with me now. I love your happiness, and I can’t be sorry enough that it’s not what I’m leaving you with.

You’re with me, even if I didn’t let you be. I’ll be thinking about you all the time. I’ll be dumb enough to forget I left you behind. But I’m leaving my heart there with you.

Make sure nothing happens to it, if it’s not too much trouble.

- Hawke

Fenris -

Varric hasn’t gotten anything from you, but I hope you’re reading this anyhow. I know you hate letters going through him (the nosy rat), so maybe you’re waiting to say whatever it is when I get home. I hope I’m not too long to hear it.

Everything here reminds me of you, even the Inquisitor! She’s not much like you, but I suppose I see an elf glow and I get misty in the eyes. In all seriousness, she’s kind of lovely once you get past the weight of the world on her shoulders. She even got me talking – I told her a couple stories from when it was all of us, and even about that hawk I brought home once. I still have the scar from where he bit me and you didn’t even appreciate the likeness. Still sore about it!

She got me to talk about you, too. But that’s not particularly difficult. What’s the opposite of a sore subject?

Varric’s the same as always, but he seems to feel the weight of Corypheus too. I know I shouldn’t tell him to back off, but come on. That’s my burden! The blood of my father trumps being the guy who came along, in my most expert of books. He’s also in trouble with a seeker here for hiding me for so long. Well. I suppose I’ll take a punch for him, if it comes down to it. Even though he didn’t tell me that CULLEN is a COMMANDER in the INQUISITION!

I couldn’t believe it either! They let him within an egg’s throw of command again? But alas. It’s just like old times, only instead of staring in judgment across the gallows it’s across fields of burly men, or a particularly robust table.

There hasn’t been much action yet, though we’ve gone to see our warden friend. I suppose there’s more than corruption in the ranks, if Corypheus has anything to say about it. I can only be glad Carver’s still in Highever.

Blood magic’s abound, there’s a Tevinter altus (as he so insists) trouncing about the library, and I can’t step three times in any direction without knocking into a templar. But as much as I’m glad you aren’t having to deal with this, I do wish you were here. I miss you more than I can say. Maybe that’s selfish of me. Sorry. You can be cross with me about it when I get back.

I love you! I hope you’re doing well. I always hope you’re doing well.

Don’t forget to walk the dog! I wouldn’t mind if you killed a couple of snakes in my honor, if you’re already at it.

All my love

-Hawke

Fenris,

I’d have given anything to not have to send you this letter. I’d have given anything to send him back home to you. But there was no fighting this. Fighting him.

Hawke is gone.

We were fighting something impossible. The fight had dragged us into the Fade, and that’s where we left him. We couldn’t go back. You know I would have if I could. I’d have been lost right along with him if the rift hadn’t closed behind us.

He slipped from my grasp, gone before I could do anything. The Inquisitor says he stayed behind to save her, shoved her through so she couldn’t even look back, and stayed to fight on his own. He liked her well enough. They got on like a house on fire. Maybe he thought it was something we would have been proud of him for. I’d just have wanted him alive. I know you do too.

He was staying in one of the rooms and I found a note on top of the mess he’d made of his desk. It doesn’t say it, but I know it’s for you. He was wearing his token, though, so I can’t send it with you.

I’m sorry.

Varric.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to throw this away, or it might be some sort of something I bring with me when I come back home. A reminder, maybe, of how much I wish I was there with you. Something to knock me over the head with if I ever decide to leave again. I still hope you never have to read it.

I’ll do anything I can to make it back, I’m not giving up. It just seems like this gets bigger and bigger in my head every day I’m here. You know I’ll throw my lot in with anything I believe in even if it gets me nowhere good. It got me you, though, so it can’t all turn out bad.

This might be the most important thing I’ve ever done, but right now all I can think of is you. I’m still sorry for leaving you, for hurting you and not letting you be with me. I’m also sorry for being glad you’re not here. That feels like the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I know I wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye to you to your face. And you deserve that, if you can’t have a promise kept.

I’m not sure I’ve ever told you how proud I am of you. You’ve been the strongest person I've known since I met you, and you knew my mother. It’s a pretty high bar. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. You can hate me, never want to think of me again, and I’ll still love you. My heart is still there with you whether you choose to bury it or not. I’m not sure I’ll ever live up to how I wish I could love you, but I love you all the same. I still turn to tell you when you’re not here.

-Hawke