Fic: Unfortunate (F!Hawke/Isabela, Dragon Age II)
Title: Unfortunate
Author: YukiVampyra
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Pairing: F!Hawke/Isabela
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Summary: Isabela bemoans how unfortunate Hawke’s armour is.
A/N: General spoilers for the end of Act II.
“It’s really unfortunate, you know.”
Hawke inwardly sighed as the pirate piped up after a very long lapse of silence. After all, they were chasing apostates for Meredith (something Merrill was apprehensive about where Aveline was uncertainly honour-bound) and too much talking would tip them off and have them surrounded by skeletons. Again. The warrior debated not answering Isabela, knowing she wouldn’t like whatever it was, not to mention that it was most likely entirely inappropriate for the current setting.
“What’s unfortunate?” Merrill spoke up before Hawke could make up her mind and Aveline’s glance was just shy of peevish at the small elf humouring whatever it was that was turning about in the pirate’s sordid brain.
“Hawke’s armour. I won’t lie and say it isn’t dashing, but all of those straps and buckles…” Isabela trailed off and the taller warrior gave her lover a sharp glance, interrupting with a hissed “Isabela.”
“What’s wrong with buckles? The armour won’t come off if they’re there and…oh, I’m missing something dirty, aren’t I? Tell me, tell me!” Her big green eyes shone with innocent curiosity and the pirate’s laughter nearly echoed around in the cave.
“If you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of something important that may or may not involve one of us getting seriously injured.” This time, the redheaded Ferelden’s gaze surpassed peevish and teetered on the edge of anger.
Instead of replying, Isabela merely sidled closer to her lover, dexterous fingers searching underneath a pauldron in a quest to find one of the aforementioned buckles. Hawke immediately swat gently at her hand, watching the Rivaini out of the corner of her eye as the pirate’s concentration wavered between keeping an eye out and attempting to undress her warrior in the middle of a cave in the Wounded Coast.
Aveline, to her credit, merely gave an aggrieved huff and decided to be the lookout in her stead, not trusting Hawke to keep her head, especially when Isabela began whispering into her ear. She knew her fellow Ferelden was lost when a blush darkened pale cheekbones and her shoulders lost the rigidity of alertness. Merrill, on the other hand, was watching Hawke and Isabela instead of their surroundings.
Isabela’s lips brushed the shell of Hawke’s ear, fingertips playing with the metal of the buckle she’d finally found. “It’s unfortunate that your armour makes me be…patient.”
Hawke smirked and turned her head slightly towards the other woman, mindful of Aveline’s reproachful stare before the guard captain began scanning the rest of the cave. “A lesson in patience is good for you, Isabela.”
“Quickies are so much fun, though.”
“I know they are.” A rich laugh escaped the pirate’s throat at that, knowing exactly what the warrior was referring to. Hawke had pinned her to the wall just outside her room at the Hanged Man and ravished her, then walked away for her meeting with Meredith.
“If it weren’t for your damned armour, we could have fun now.”
“If it weren’t for my ‘damned’ armour, I’d be dead.”
That sobered Isabela immediately, the pout slipping from her lips to leave them in a grave line. Hawke had been seriously injured after her duel with the Arishok, something she still blamed herself for, and the only thing that had saved her from having the Keep decorated with her innards was the armour. The metal was almost unsalvageable after that, but, unbeknownst to Hawke, Isabela had a bit of it twisted into a pair of rings. A sentimental thing that she regretted almost immediately, but they were snug in her pocket and she planned to keep them there as a reminder, if nothing else.
“Hawke…”
She caught the pained tone and ushered her pirate queen into a niche, mindful of the few precious seconds they had before Aveline noticed they’d disappeared, and traced gauntleted fingertips over the curve of the woman’s cheek, leaning in for a soft, almost sweet as saccharine kiss. “It’s not your fault. Stop thinking about it and move forward. Wasn’t it you who told me that? Always move forward.”
The Rivaini rested her forehead to the Ferelden’s for scant seconds, amber searching ice, until she surged forward, fingers clutching at Hawke’s hips as she fused their lips together. The warrior’s hands wandered despite herself, sliding down a corseted abdomen to possessively grip her ass.
When Isabela began scrabbling at the buckles of her armour, however, Hawke pulled away with a mumbled reminder that there wasn’t time and Aveline would notice soon. She cursed as her lover pulled away, metal -clad body swaying slightly as if to tease and the pirate slumped back against the rock to catch her breath before following after in a sulk.
“Balls. So bloody unfair.”
Author: YukiVampyra
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Pairing: F!Hawke/Isabela
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Summary: Isabela bemoans how unfortunate Hawke’s armour is.
A/N: General spoilers for the end of Act II.
“It’s really unfortunate, you know.”
Hawke inwardly sighed as the pirate piped up after a very long lapse of silence. After all, they were chasing apostates for Meredith (something Merrill was apprehensive about where Aveline was uncertainly honour-bound) and too much talking would tip them off and have them surrounded by skeletons. Again. The warrior debated not answering Isabela, knowing she wouldn’t like whatever it was, not to mention that it was most likely entirely inappropriate for the current setting.
“What’s unfortunate?” Merrill spoke up before Hawke could make up her mind and Aveline’s glance was just shy of peevish at the small elf humouring whatever it was that was turning about in the pirate’s sordid brain.
“Hawke’s armour. I won’t lie and say it isn’t dashing, but all of those straps and buckles…” Isabela trailed off and the taller warrior gave her lover a sharp glance, interrupting with a hissed “Isabela.”
“What’s wrong with buckles? The armour won’t come off if they’re there and…oh, I’m missing something dirty, aren’t I? Tell me, tell me!” Her big green eyes shone with innocent curiosity and the pirate’s laughter nearly echoed around in the cave.
“If you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of something important that may or may not involve one of us getting seriously injured.” This time, the redheaded Ferelden’s gaze surpassed peevish and teetered on the edge of anger.
Instead of replying, Isabela merely sidled closer to her lover, dexterous fingers searching underneath a pauldron in a quest to find one of the aforementioned buckles. Hawke immediately swat gently at her hand, watching the Rivaini out of the corner of her eye as the pirate’s concentration wavered between keeping an eye out and attempting to undress her warrior in the middle of a cave in the Wounded Coast.
Aveline, to her credit, merely gave an aggrieved huff and decided to be the lookout in her stead, not trusting Hawke to keep her head, especially when Isabela began whispering into her ear. She knew her fellow Ferelden was lost when a blush darkened pale cheekbones and her shoulders lost the rigidity of alertness. Merrill, on the other hand, was watching Hawke and Isabela instead of their surroundings.
Isabela’s lips brushed the shell of Hawke’s ear, fingertips playing with the metal of the buckle she’d finally found. “It’s unfortunate that your armour makes me be…patient.”
Hawke smirked and turned her head slightly towards the other woman, mindful of Aveline’s reproachful stare before the guard captain began scanning the rest of the cave. “A lesson in patience is good for you, Isabela.”
“Quickies are so much fun, though.”
“I know they are.” A rich laugh escaped the pirate’s throat at that, knowing exactly what the warrior was referring to. Hawke had pinned her to the wall just outside her room at the Hanged Man and ravished her, then walked away for her meeting with Meredith.
“If it weren’t for your damned armour, we could have fun now.”
“If it weren’t for my ‘damned’ armour, I’d be dead.”
That sobered Isabela immediately, the pout slipping from her lips to leave them in a grave line. Hawke had been seriously injured after her duel with the Arishok, something she still blamed herself for, and the only thing that had saved her from having the Keep decorated with her innards was the armour. The metal was almost unsalvageable after that, but, unbeknownst to Hawke, Isabela had a bit of it twisted into a pair of rings. A sentimental thing that she regretted almost immediately, but they were snug in her pocket and she planned to keep them there as a reminder, if nothing else.
“Hawke…”
She caught the pained tone and ushered her pirate queen into a niche, mindful of the few precious seconds they had before Aveline noticed they’d disappeared, and traced gauntleted fingertips over the curve of the woman’s cheek, leaning in for a soft, almost sweet as saccharine kiss. “It’s not your fault. Stop thinking about it and move forward. Wasn’t it you who told me that? Always move forward.”
The Rivaini rested her forehead to the Ferelden’s for scant seconds, amber searching ice, until she surged forward, fingers clutching at Hawke’s hips as she fused their lips together. The warrior’s hands wandered despite herself, sliding down a corseted abdomen to possessively grip her ass.
When Isabela began scrabbling at the buckles of her armour, however, Hawke pulled away with a mumbled reminder that there wasn’t time and Aveline would notice soon. She cursed as her lover pulled away, metal -clad body swaying slightly as if to tease and the pirate slumped back against the rock to catch her breath before following after in a sulk.
“Balls. So bloody unfair.”