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la-luna-es-hermosa · 4 years

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Home Pool (Kai x Reader)

※ Idol!AU || Fan!Reader

※ One-shot || Genre: Smut || Romance

※ Pairing(s): Kim Jongin x Reader

※ Summary: Jongin gave her a black bikini to wear and as she wore it, it was just the beginning of his exploration.- For all the wrong reason

※ Word Count: 3558

※ Warnings: Sexual Content, Pool Sex

※ Main Masterlist || Commissions

(Full Name) walked to Jongin's (her old room) room. Where he's currently staying at. "Jongin, please wake up!" (Name) told him, knocking on the wooden door. "Oh, I remember! We are going to swim there, right?" Jongin opened the door for her to enter. His eyes drifted downstairs. He was shirtless. Her eyes went wild as she saw him just in underwear. His boxer was black and damn! He is so damn sexy!

Jongin closed the door. "Like the view?" He smirked at her. "Yes," She laughed at him. Her face went red when she spoke those words. He turned off the AC and opened the fan. He laughed back. Then, he went to the bathroom and did his business. After going to the bathroom, he walked back to her, who was sitting on her study desk.

"Also, (Name), here." He handed out a bag. "Oh, you don't have to!" She exclaimed as she received the gift. "Wear that for today, (Name). Your parents don't know I’m your boyfriend, right?" He smirked at her. She knows what he wants when he does that smile. He wants her parents to know that they are in a relationship. - They didn't do the do yet either, keeping everything a secret. But (Name) said she was ready to give herself to Jongin last night.

Let's go back to what they talked about last night. - Indeed they are secret lovers. Nobody except them knows they're together. Not even his closest friends and family nor hers as well. None of them want anyone to know. - For everyone's safety.

"(Name), you love me, right?" Jongin asked her while stroking her silky (hair color) hair. "Yes," she answered him. "Then, Are you willing to give yourself? I know you're a virgin" He asked her while stroking her back, wrapping his arms around her. "Yes." She swallowed her saliva thickly. - She felt anxious because she never had sex or anything of that caliber. She wants to experience it but, she thinks she's too young for that. Although she's already 18 turning 19 and he's 29.

Okay, let's now go back where we left the two. (Name) grabbed the paper bag from him, "Prepare yourself." Jongin ordered her. "I'm excited." She smirked as she spoke to Jongin one last time before leaving the room. When she finally closed the door and went to the place where she sleeps right now (her parents' bedroom), she decided to open the bag. She was shocked by what he gave to her. The contents of the bag were a two-piece plain black bikini. She blushed when she saw it. It was quite revealing. How the fuck do I pull this off? She asked herself.

When she puts it on, she saw how it reveals her chest. It was a classic bikini, but she isn't used to wearing these kinds of things. She had always been wearing rash guards every time they swim. But she breathed heavily as she puts the swimsuit on with a robe. I don't know how to fucking explain this to my parents! - She muttered under her breath.

"You want daddy to make you feel good?" Jongin asked the innocent girl underneath him. Touching her buttocks ever so slowly. - Jongin bit his lip lustfully with his lustful thoughts lingering in his mind after she left. He never felt this kind of lust for her. He never thought he'll feel it, but alas, he did.

Damn! She looked too hot on that white shirt I gave her. - He thought to himself yet again. Imagining things again. Isn't he? Then, he wore a simple bear shirt and plain black shorts underneath his trunks as he went downstairs. - Down the grand staircase of (Name)'s family.

She's rich. - Like she has a swimming pool in her house. He also heard that her family owns hectares of land across the region. Plus, she lives in a big ass house and heck! They even have a piece of another land in the same village! Her parents really got it on in life. They really found success. They even own separate businesses to add to all of that.

He was finally down from the stairs. His eyes were in awe as he saw fried rice on the table as well as hotdogs and eggs with onions and tomatoes. - He knows (Name) is really fond of hotdogs and eggs. - But, seriously, everything on (Name)'s mouth is delicious, including and probably, his cock. Her taste buds feel like they always had MSG on. He smelled it and it made him more hungry than he is.

"Sit here." (Name)'s dad said with a smile as he taps a chair beside (Older sister's name), (Name)'s older sister. "Thanks. Mr. (Surname)" Jongin thanked him and sat. The plate is already prepared. "Let's eat!" Her mom told him as (Older sister's name) came in and sat on her chair. The rest of the family, including the maid, was dressed.

Then, the six people in the house started eating with light chatter. Their maid was particularly quieter than before. "Bute na lang nagsasalita ng ingles si Jongin." (Trans: It's good that Jongin knows how to speak English.) (Name) smiled as her mother commented on her lover's skills in the English language. (Name) nodded "How would we be so close if either of us don't know how to speak English?" She replied as she puts fried rice on Jongin's plate. "That's okay." The male guest spoke as she puts enough rice on his plate. She stopped putting rice on his plate. Then, he puts eggs on his plate.

"What is the Tagalog for taste and delicious?" He asked her. "Masarap, Tikman, or lasa. It depends on your context. Masarap means both delicious as well as pleasurable. Tikman means to taste and lasa is just the taste of something." (Trans: Delicious) (Name) answered him with a concise explanation and smiled innocently to him. Jongin started eating again. He thought of something again. '(Name). Masarap tikman.' (Delicious to taste) He smirked to himself again. The family finished their food. They all, including Jongin stood up. "(Name), come on!" Jongin removed his shirt showing his very sexy body in front of her family. With beautifully sculpted abs. Next to him was, (Name) who was wearing a robe on top of the black bikini.

"Mag Swimming lang kayo muna ha? Aalis muna kami ah… (Name), lalaki kasama mo. Remember that." (Just swim okay? We're just gonna go out… (Name) remember that you are with a guy) Her mom walked away as she left alone with Jongin.

'Bat parati nalang iniisipan kami ng nanay o tatay ko ng masama? Pero I mean I’m going to do that... (Why is it always that they have to think about something dirty? But I mean, I'm going to do that…) She thought and sighed.

Her parents disappeared and finally, they can be alone. He was the first one to enter the pool. Then, (Name) proceeded, the cold water sending shivers to her. Turning on the fountain for the two of them. She removed her robe to show Jongin the bathing suit he just gave her. It hugged her figure perfectly. It looks stunning on her. The simplicity of it makes it even more beautiful. The bikini looks so good. The underwear was like almost a thong and really gives a lot of views to admire for Jongin today.

"Just as I thought, it really suits you." He thought as he smirks at her. Observing her figure, her cola-shaped body, her full breasts. It was really perfect, she has a bit of fat but was okay with it. Jongin really likes her when she's soaking wet in the pool. It looked really hot.

For a while, they started playing in the water. The pool isn't big but gave enough space for them to play around. Splashes of water goes everywhere. A couple of laughter here and there. "I'm getting a bit hungry." (Name) got out of the water and frowned a bit. She decided to go to the grill and grill the barbeque already prepared.

While facing the wall, while preparing the grill for the barbeque, he started lightly touching her thighs. He is obviously up into something. "Sit here." Jongin went to the chair near them, said and tapped his lap.

"But I’m doing something." She said to him. "Baby... Come on..." He said gently as he lifted her legs and got a towel on her, with his pillowy bottom lip, he pouted. Of course, she can't resist Kim Jongin's charm. He is too handsome for his own good.

She left the barbecue and went to his lap. "Baby what do you want?" She asked him, touching his shoulders. She felt shivers in her spine as he went under her underwear. Getting his hands on it, touching her clothed clit. "Fuck... please..." She moaned quietly. It was giving her arousal. The pleasure was so good, if she touched herself, it's not as good as this one. Even though it's just a rub to her clit, it's still so good.

Jongin suddenly puts his fingers away from her warmth, towards the waistband of her underwear, taking it off from her. Showing her ass in front of him. She was lying on the table. With her ass in the open, Jongin's smirk grew larger, the tent on his pants got harder if that was ever possible.

His hands already touched her ass. "Two little cheeks. Cute." He said as his rub sent shivers down her spine. She was immediately dropped on the table. His lips started kissing her ever so gently. His lips were soft. And, he is incredibly experienced with these kinds of things.

His puts his fingers to her mouth, coating it with her saliva. He managed to put it in her wet slit. It was tight, and getting a bit wet. His moves were careful. One finger was moving gently. "Fuck, you really are tight." He smirked as he used his non-dominant hand and cupped her ass as he squeezed it. Then, he added more fingers, thrust faster, and earned more salacious moans from her.

"Fuck I'm gonna come… Please" She moaned. - Good things have to end, as she was entering her climax, holding onto Jongin's shoulders tightly, he withdraws his fingers. His fingers were coated with juices from her slick sex. He tasted it.

He bit his lips and spoke, "(Name), please sit on the table." He smirked at himself as he watched the girl sit on the wooden table at their veranda. Then, using his skillful hands, he removed her bra with just one finger. He kept himself busy as he swirls his tongue around her hardened nipples, interchangeably with his right dominant hand.

At that moment, Jongin was glad that she did not do anything to the barbecue. It was still not cooking. The grill hasn't been prepared yet. 'Cause if it was, it's going to burn and smell like shit. Jongin doesn't want to explain to (Name)'s parents why the barbecue was burned or something.

"I like your breasts," Jongin spoke in the middle of licking and massaging her nipples. She was moaning already. He hasn't even started. This was a world she never explored. "Ahh… ahh… thank you… I guess…" She moaned and nodded. When he was done, his attention drove him to her stretch marks. "I'm sorry I'm not as perfect as you are." She muttered under her breath as he started kissing those unwanted marks. "No, you're perfect as you are." He smiled at her as he continued kissing it. He started touching her beautiful body.

Then he suddenly stopped. She frowned just a bit. - Jongin touching her buttocks and kissing her give her lots of goosebumps. She stood up and faced him again. Out of impatience, he removed his black swimming trunks, springing his cock free. It wasn't exactly huge, but it was quite the size. She gasped as it was standing hard in front of her.

She got off the table and aligned her mouth to his fat cock, kneeling to the painful stones, but it seems like she gave no fucks and just kneeled on it, it was painful, but she didn't mind, giving him a good suck is the priority. "This is my first time doing this. If I bit you, I didn't mean to." She worriedly spoke, with a crooked smile on her face. He plainly smiled at her worries. "You're so concerned. I like that." He patted her thick black wavy hair. His innocent smile turned into something else.

She opened her mouth as big as possible, then she started sucking his cock, entering it to her mouth in and out, hollowing her cheeks, Jongin stroked her face gently as she continued. "Pretty good for a beginner." He smirked as she continued sucking his cock. The choking sounds turn him on a little. Suddenly, she started fondling his balls. Getting him to moan louder than he used to. "Choke on my cock" He spoke as he buried her deeper into his cock. Low groans can be heard from Jongin, laced with profanities.

"Ok, that's enough..." He pulled her mouth out of his cock. "How was it?" He asked her with a smirk on his face. "Good." She spoke innocently as she nodded. "Sit up again." He ordered. She immediately followed his orders and sat on the table. He kneeled just like she did before when she was giving him a blowjob. He sticks out his tongue as he buries his face in her pussy. It had sparse pubic hair on it, and wasn't exactly a problem since it was neatly trimmed.

She moaned loudly as he flicked his tongue and using his thumb, touched her clit in a circular motion with his wet muscle. - She threw her head and gripped on the table. She was experiencing too much pleasure. "Fuck, keep going!" She moaned as his licking got faster, he was sucking on her pussy like he was drinking some kind of sacred juice. He was good at eating out, extremely good.

"I'm going to cum!" She moaned, this time, Jongin did not even try to stop her. She just came. Then, he licked the remaining juice off her pussy. When he lifted his head up, he licked his lips sexily, giving her more arousal. "Is that good?" He smirked at her as he stood up again. "Yes." She nodded as she smiled. - There's still a hint of innocence in her. "Get into a doggy like position. Lay on the table." He ordered her. She was quick to follow as she stood up from the table and laid her upper body at the table and put her two arms together. - Forming some kind of chain.

He drifted away from her, getting two things from nearby. - A condom and a bottle of lube. He opens the condom and puts it in his cock, then he rubs a bit of lube, for assistance and safety. - She's a woman of the future, he doesn't want her to have kids in a part of her life that she's only getting ready for that ugh… adult life.

After that, he proceeded as he aligned his cock on her well-prepared pussy. She moaned as he stroked it slowly on her, it was teasing her as she impatiently waited for it to be on her tight little pussy. "Fuck... Please… Do it already!" She complained as his teasing wouldn't stop. Jongin smirked with her squirms of pleasure. She pouted as he just wouldn't put it in already.

"Ah… Fuck!" She moaned as he entered his hard cock on her with no warning at all. He pressed one of his hands onto her back as he fucked her with no empathy. Her eyes opened far wide in shock. - He just fucking slammed it up in her tight little hole. There were cries of both pain and pleasure from her. It was weird. - indescribable. Then he puts his mouth on her neck and collarbone as he sucked it, giving her hickeys.

With a few ins and outs, (Name) adjusted to his length. It was an almost-doggy style fuck. It was good though. With her moans, comes his profanities. "Fuck, so tight! Ah..." Jongin expressed as her started to fuck her. "빨리! 빨리! Jongin please make it faster!" She moaned. He was quick to follow her instructions, thrusting faster into her. His right hand drifted and went to her clit. While the other one is holding tightly onto (Name)'s arms.

He quickened his pace, his cock pushing in and out. Her moans are like music to his ears. - It was low and seductive. He never really thought he'd like someone like her. She isn't skinny, but she's everything he likes to a woman. "(Name)... Fuck... Your pussy is so tight..." He moaned, it was low and was obviously unheard from the loud moans she elicits.

"Please! Jongin... Fuck I’m going to come!" She moaned as she licked her lips. "Then come, I’m going to last pretty long… I'm not punishing you…" He smirked as she finally let out all her cum. - No holding back. Then, Jongin got his cock out and made her stand again. The condom was coated with her fluids.

"Why did you pull out?" She asked him. "I pulled out because I want to change position." He replied to her. Then, he went away and changed position, the position this time was lifting her legs up, putting it in his shoulders. She sat on the table as Jongin started moving again. "Fuck…" He moaned lowly. The pace has a rhythm as he slowly starts moving faster, building up the pace.

"Fuck… your cock is so deep into me!" She moaned as he continued his pace. He started to aggressively kiss her. His lips were violently attacking hers. His cock entering continues as he slammed it faster, skin slapping skin, it gave such a lewd noise, that it's turning both of them on again. Jongin can't control himself from fucking this girl in the oblivion. He thrust hard, like really hard, "JONGIN!! FUCK!" She screamed as loud as possible. He also massages her boobs, squeezing it, making it jiggle a bit. "Ah! Ah! Ah! Fuck… oh my God… it felt so good!" She moaned more as the lewd noises grew more as he raised her legs and made her hickeys bigger than they are.

When he stopped planting hickeys on her, she moaned again, her hands drifted to her neglected clit. Jongin stopped (Name), replacing it with his own dominant hand, he started playing with her clit as he thrusts, "Ah… Jongin… please… make me come all over your cock!" She moaned, begging him. "Fuck… (Name)..." He muttered under his breath. Her moans were perfect, the way she says Jongin is just music to his ears

Then, he started hitting her g-spot. Her moans were louder as she threw her head in the opposite direction, obviously, she's in the throes of pleasure. "There… oh my God, there!" She moaned as she held onto his strong arms. He was just penetrating it harder into her. The position they did was nice as his cock goes deeper in her for sure. He continued his rhythm as he furrowed his eyebrows.

Then lost control to his pace… "Baby, I'm gonna come again…" (Name) moaned yet again, her eyebrows innocently raised near each other in both pleasure and worry. "Do it, I'm gonna come too." He spoke in between thrusts. It was erratic, getting slower. Suddenly he came already, "Fuck… That was so good." He moaned as he pulled out the condom and threw it to the trash.

"That's just the beginning, let's come inside. Let’s continue" Jongin spoke as he carried her bridal style to the bedroom. - She was extremely breathless, her arms are wrapped around his neck, trying to catch her breath. Jongin's fucking was so good, it was unexplainable, the way he hits her g-spot, his overall performance was just amazing. Jongin's cock was still hard, but he's willing to wait for tonight. "I love you." She said as they were going to his room, and he kissed her lips shortly.

They were lucky enough that (Name)'s family arrived just a few minutes after they went upstairs. Or else something would happen. She still is horny but for now, she has to wait until tonight for Jongin to touch her again and give her another good, gold medal fuck or something.

Opening the wooden door, the couple came in. "Let's change into something else." (Name) spoke as she wore new clothes, she saw her parents come into the house again. Jongin as well. It was an easy job as she wore a simple white shirt and shorts combination. "Let's just continue that somewhere else," Jongin smirked as he kissed her lips briefly. It's still obvious that his cock is standing really hard.

"Sinasabi ko na nga eh... May nangyari..." (Just as I thought, there is something that happened.) (Name)'s mom muttered as she saw a wet bikini and trunks. There was also a bit of quite watery fluid. It smelled like pussy. - Not in a bad way per se, but they have to do some explanation to her mom.

Note: I personally blocked some blogs at this rate, since tumblr only blocks that side blog/main blog, some people can still view my works. If one of your blogs are not blocked yet, DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME. Got it? Good. Remember that. Cause I just unfriended someone recently, due to my fanfic "squirt". Please I hate blocking people. Also, due to COVID-19, I miss swimming now, heck I even miss people I don’t wanna be with.Please support my Wattpad stories.

#kai smut #exo imagines #exo #kpop #superm #kpop imagines #kpop smut #exo smut #kim jongin #kim jongin smut #kai #kai exo #exo kai #jongin smut #kpop fanfic #pooltime #swimming pool

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5lazarus · 3 years

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End-of-Year Writers' Ask! 6 and 7

thanks for the ask! :) these require a lot of those T.T 6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year? “Quark,” Odo growled. Quark splashed innocently. “What?” “The splashing.” “I have a right to splash,” Quark said. “If you’re humming, I can splash. There’s no law against that.” “There should be,” Odo said. “Being a public nuisance.” 7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration? fanfic from a game you’ve never played--basically the guy who breaks into heaven tries to rip the key to what is basically Jerusalem that got locked away in a different dimension off the player character’s hand, though the character is only just starting to piece together how fucked they are. they start an avalanche and try to rejoin everyone on the other side of the mountains. it’s a long slough that they make the player drive their character through, which is very effective storybuilding on the first playthrough, a bit much on your second and third.

She touched her feet: still there, no toes broken, and her ankles and knees survived the fall too. Her ribs hurt, every breath choked, but she could move her fingers, her arms, and her eyes still saw through the dark. Falon’din had not come to claim her yet. Imladris used her staff to level herself up, and began to drag herself through. She did not let herself look back. When Antoine of Jader came to marry the Duchess of Wycombe, he brought an Orlesian guard and their prejudices. The Dalish towns that flourished within the Wycome Delta--Imladris, the Golden Wood, Ithilien--revolted them. Wycombe and its rivers belonged to the Duke, they said, and all must pay their tithe to the Chantry. It did not matter that these settlements predated the Blight, that the Dalish moved seamlessly from the city-elves and smaller towns for centuries. It did not matter that the Free Marcher inhabitants of the city-state were not fond of even more taxes levied, paid to the Orlesian Chantry and to the Duke and even to the Empress of Orlais. Wycombe remembered it had been Dalish wardens who saved the city from the Blight. Its new duke did not care. And when she was a child, he struck: to clear the Dalish out. Mamae, mamae you and Keeper burned the city to keep the shem from taking it and I would not have done that to Haven, I didn’t particularly care for an empty hut, a bathtub with no one to share it with, the only other elves wary servants, flinching every time Cassandra glanced at them, I didn’t want to die for some Chantry religion, not where Shartan was buried, not like this. They docked his ears but at least they gave him the Dales. What will they do to me, if I die? Mamae, mamae, you burned . Let me carry that anger, that heat, my magic like your magic keeping me warm. Into the snowblind whiteness Imladris stumbled out of the cave, and distantly a wolf howled. “Fen’Harel ma ghilana,” she choked. She fell to her knees, cold seeping into the blood-soaked lambswool of her leggings, why had she not let Harrit talk her into proper chainmail? Or leather? “Fenhedis lasa.” She did not want to die, ripped apart by wolves, bones cast about by the storm. Something would come back if she died like that. She clenched her hands into fists and, huffing, heaved herself back up. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe like the molten core under the sea. She coughed sparks into her hands and walked. Keep moving, Lavellan. You have survived worse than this. Dead in a ditch off the Ithilien River, if that farmer hadn’t found you. Starved out in the Barghello in Wycombe proper, if Sister Lucie hadn’t intervened. Dead in her own namesake, Imladris, a burnt out shell, when the guards came. Dead, dead, dead, dead and publicly executed if Briala hadn’t gotten you and Mahanon out of Val Royeaux when you robbed the University: stupid fucking idea but how dare they. How dare. Outrage was good, outrage helped bank the fire, Halla’den had fallen to a Despair demon, but Imladris was stronger than that, older, more experienced, better trained. Nothing but the cold would nip at her mind. “Keep fucking walking,” she told herself. Breathing was difficult, like a lodestone in her chest. No pendant, nothing for them to loot, the boy had it, Cole, Varric wouldn’t let him steal it, she gave it in full of everyone, someone, who knows, it would get to her daughters and they would know they could wear her legacy, something of both of them, gone but the stone remained, in the Frostbacks only the dwarves and the Avvar eked an unlikely living, the closest Dalish clan was Boranehn, and she had met the arl that commanded them, hadn’t she? Vivienne said she had done bad. Well she was punished, if only it would be only her punished, if she died with this fucking Anchor dragging her down would that mean that creature could not take it? If she died they would all die too. She passed a hastily-built campfire, still smoldering, and stopped a second to flare the embers. Her Keeper had taught her a trick, to siphon off the heat from another’s fire, to conserve one’s own energy. She had taught it to Mathalin, but Mirwen was too young when she left. Deshanna would take over the training, she must have already begun, and Imladris shuddered as the wind kicked snow into her face, if she stopped she would freeze to death, be eaten by wolves, taken by despair. So cold it felt like her feet were burning as they were losing sensation, she lugged herself through the snow, kicked into her face like glass after the explosion, when a different Carta clan had blown up her printing press, was it the wind or the wolves or some hungry ghosts howling. Regardless the Frostbacks soared higher than her eyes could track, granite mountains older than her gods and she asked Dirthamen, you guard the knowledge lost to your children, but if you have mercy, any mercy at all, if you want this knowledge to carry on, reveal one of those lost caches the ancestors left. These mountains were old when Elgar’nan was still new, blinking into the blinding sun: show me where we carved the mountain path. Everywhere I walk I go in the steps of those who lived before. Ensure that there will be those after me. Spring down the mountain but no spring here: Imladris could not feel her feet anymore, and when she fell she wailed as she clambered on her hands and her knees, she did not want to die like this, the Dalish did not bend the knee. Thought faded as consciousness became only the snow on the mountain, the unthinking rock, the ice that cut, inch by inch, piece by piece, nothing special. Dirthamen ghilana ma : an old cry, never answered. The god of secrets kept his counsel close. A pile of snow, raised higher than the others: she tripped over it, a pot, Ferelden-style, the smell of stew still frozen to it. Imladris gasped, cutting through the pain, and wrenched herself back: there was still a chance. She coughed, sparks flying, and sent that pulse of mana back down to her feet. The pain was not a mistake: it was a reminder she was still alive. She screamed anyway. In Duke Antoine’s prison, there had been a Tal-Vashoth that had murmured to herself the Soul Canto during the worst of it, when they were left alone listening to what was being done on the other side of the world. She would say, “If you love purpose, fall into the tide. Let it carry you. Do not fear the dark. The sun and the stars will return to guide you. The sea and the sky themselves: Nothing special. Only pieces.” “Nothing special,” Imladris repeated to herself, lumbering on. “Only pieces. Nothing special. Only pieces.” Elves saw better than shem and qunari in the dark. Hallucinatory the sun creeped into the mountains, shifting steel to gold, her blood moving, Elgar’nan’s father returned by Mythal’s mercy, no secret, only pieces. Fire in the body, blood in the limbs, dawn coming she reached the top of a slope and exhausted, gazed down at a herd of druffalo snuffling amongst tents: Avvar? A bear came running and Imladris fell to her knees. Dirthamen had answered: nothing special, just pieces. “Lavellan! Lavellan! Maker, she’s alive. Cassandra, get a medic!” Not Dirthamen. Fucking Inquisition. With that realization, she let the sun take her, and melted into its warmth.

#ask #writing #fanfic #end of year reflection #personal #saathiray

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love-in-nature · 7 years

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My Neighbor, Lavellan Chapter 03: Decided

This Solas POV touches briefly on the events in chapter 7 but is mostly focused on those in chapter 8 of My Neighbor, Fen’harel.

You can read this work on my AO3 also.

Solas should not have taken it that far. He knew this. He should not have even come to the archives in the first place, not so late in the day. It would be easy to lie to himself, easy to say it was simply coincidence that she had been there, but it was not, and he was so tired of playing this game.

Fridays were always when the archives received donations. After they had been sorted, they would need to be put away. Thus it was a guarantee she would come to the area he was. Even if he wished to claim that he planned on leaving before she arrived, that too would have been a lie. He had gone there and waited. Meandered. Found excuses to stay until he saw her.

Then when it had come to that, when he had realized what he was doing, he had tried to tell himself that he would just see her and then leave. He would not antagonize her. He would not flirt or try to get her attention in any way he could. He would not try to keep her nearer by any means necessary, try to hear her voice for just a moment longer.

Yet here he was. A foolish old man hoping beyond hope that she would… would what? Come running to him before the elevators closed? Shout from the stairs asking him to please not go? Then what?

As the elevator doors closed on the rows of archives, and the only woman he had ever truly loved, his body felt immeasurably heavy. This was not how this was meant to go. It was a joke, a bad story told over and over again. The immortal god falling for the mortal woman and dooming them both in the process.

“Tell me, is it habitual to run from all your problems or just from me?”

His hand came out and hit the stop button on the elevator. Then he leaned back against the wall before crumbling to the floor. Once more he could feel wetness that streamed hot down his cheeks.

This should not be happening. He should have ended it properly two years ago. He should not have responded to her as Fen’harel, should not have engaged. Then again, even if he had not, they would still be in this mess now. Of that, he had no doubts. She had fallen into darkness for a while, but even if he had not helped her as Fen’harel, not coaxed and prodded till she slowly woke again, she would have done so on her own in time. She was strong, so very strong, and she would have pushed through.

Still, if she ever found out the truth about that day…

He shook his head. She never would. He would do everything he could to prevent that. Though it should never become an issue to begin with; as far as she and the Inquisition were concerned, the case had been solved, the perpetrator taken care of, and all danger passed. There was no need to investigate further.

The issue was even if she never knew, he did.

He had not left soon enough. He had started something he should not have in the first place, gotten in too deep. Now he had shown that he would protect her at any cost. She made him reckless, but made him want to be more, made him better. She had opened his eyes to so much he would otherwise have remained blind to. She had brought color and life into a world he had thought devoid of such things. With her he had truly seen around him; even when it was painful to do so.

She was the most precious thing to him, and that very fact was what put her most at risk. He needed to figure out what to do. He surely could not carry on like this. It was not fair to him, but more importantly, it was hugely unfair to her. Cruel even.

He took a deep, shaky breath and stood, wiping the lingering moisture from his cheeks and eyes. With his thoughts still twisting every which way he started the elevator again.

Somehow, he managed to make it back to the apartment. A trip he barely registered in his current state.

When he passed her door, he paused letting his fingertips brush against the knob. He was immortal. She was mortal. He was dangerous, and she had been through enough. It would surely be best to let her go for good. To just avoid her except when absolutely necessary, even ceasing all communication with her as Fen’harel.

A clean cut. He had apologized. She hopefully understood it was nothing she had done. It was best to let her live her life, best to let her find a man who could give her a safe and happy bonding. A man she could grow old with. He could, no he would, do that for her. Let her move on.

He pulled his fingers from her door and curled them as he went to his residence. Once there he forced his mind to go to other matters, though it was a constant battle not to wander back to her.

When light finally started to give way to dusk, he decided to stop working for the day. All in all, he had gotten precious little done. He was doubtful that would improve at all tonight. So instead of continuing fruitlessly, he decided to relax. He went to his room, turned on Chopin, and then prepared his bath.

He had barely settled in when he heard a sound coming from the door that opened to his bedroom. His ears twitched before he shook his head and forced his attention back to the words in front him. Then sounds again, this time louder, more insistent.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The banging undertoned by the unmistakable sounds that accompanied sex. Was she really---

No.

He shook his head hard, brows furrowing as he tried to focus on the words. Even if she was, it was none of his---

Bang. Bang.

He grit his teeth as his fingers tightened on the book. This was not his---

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

“Fenedhis lasa.”

With much more force than was necessary, he threw the book across the bathroom. Then with a growl, he stood, not bothering to open the drain as he stepped out of the water. He barely ran the towel over his skin before he pulled on a pair of pants. Though water still clung to him, chilling when hit by the air, he barely registered it.

The banging from her side of the wall sounding in his head as though he was physically being hit. He stormed into his room and over to the music player in just a few quick strides. He then flipped off the music and immediately headed towards the door of his apartment. This had nothing to do with her having a lover. He would keep to his earlier decision, but surely he did not have to put up with them putting a hole in his bedroom wall.

He swung his door open storming out to hers without closing it behind him. This would only take a moment after all. He just needed to make it clear they should keep it down. Very clear.

Clenching his hands into fists, he brought one up to pound on the door. Then he waited with his heart beating in his chest and his muscles tense. The moment the door handle move he squared his shoulders and before it was completely open said, “What are---”

Then he saw Dorian standing there, and several things happened. First thing was a wave of relief. Dorian was very much not interested in females in that manner which meant that she was not having sex. This brought into stark light that he had not been bothered by the noise so much as by the knowledge that someone else was filling her, pleasing her, joining with her, and him having to listen was just salt in an already deep wound.

Next, there was confusion. If she was not having sex then what was---

His eyes went into the room and found her in an instant. She was barefoot in jeans and a bra. The curves that he remembered so well practically on full display. The desire to touch her washed over him with such force his fingers twitched. It was difficult to keep his head straight, difficult to even remember how to breathe like normal.

Dorian spoke pulling Solas from his thoughts, “Good you’re finally here, we were---”

Then Emmy shouted across the room bringing his attention back to her. Her shout was so slurred from drink it took him a moment to decipher what she had said.

“Having sex.”

He raised a brow and frowned. Then he realized just how distracting she was to him when he only then, saw the huge man that was walking towards him. A Qunari and one he recognized from press images of Emmy when she was Inquisitor. The man had been her bodyguard. Solas wondered why exactly he was in Emmy’s apartment when she no longer employed him.

Before he could even begin to try and puzzle out what exactly he had gotten himself into, Dorian was pushing past him saying, “We have another one in the car. Take care of her tonight, yes? You can do that much at least.”

Solas’ mouth opened with the intent to ask what exactly Dorian meant by his last sentence, but no words would form. Surely she had not told Dorian about what had happened between them.

Then the Qunari was passing him while glaring daggers, “I’m going to be calling her in the morning.”

A threat. A Qunari was threatening him. Of all the…

Solas’ eyes wandered back to Emmy, and his anger fizzled out before it even took full form. The Qunari clearly cared for her. He should be grateful for it, not angry. She needed good friends around her, people that would watch out for her.

Though he still did not understand exactly what had happened with the banging unless...

Had she wanted him to think she was having sex? Why?

He watched as she gave a small heave before spinning on her heels and running into her bedroom. There was a moment’s hesitation on what he should do. Then it vanished almost as fast as it had come. He would take care of her; there was never any other option. Although he was unsure she would welcome his care once she broke out of her drunken state.

Quietly he made his way into her place trying to keep his eyes from prying. She had not invited him in after all. Even so, he could not help the brief glances. The glimpse of her painting space, the coffee table stacked haphazard with papers, books, and a quarter full coffee mug.

Then he was in her bedroom, which was painted white and the bed made with vibrant greens to match the curtains. Here too she had books everywhere, one side of her bed containing at least three that he could see.

She had not changed so much. Compared to his, everything has a place, policy she was the opposite. Things tended to go wherever and yet, what he would find tiresome with others, was somehow endearing with her. Little bits of her thoughts scattered around like small treasures to stumble upon.

He heard the toilet flush and was brought back to the task at hand. By the time he entered the bathroom, she had curled herself into a ball on the tiles. He released a soft sigh as he bent down to brush a strand of hair that had stuck to her forehead. She gave a small murmur of contentment as she shut her eyes.

There was at least a full minute where he simply stayed crouched down there watching her and trying to make sense of this whole day. When something nudged against his thigh, he almost fell over at the unexpected touch. It turned out to be a cat that purred as it looked from him to Emmy.

He raised a brow before reaching out to scratch the animal behind the ear, “I think I will take her back to my place. Would you be alright with that?”

“No would not.” A mumble and then she shot up with a wince, “No, I’m fine. Aren’t I Da--”

He was barely able to decipher her words, though he managed after a while with all but the cat’s name.

“You are drunk. Someone should make sure you did not give yourself alcohol poisoning or that nothing else happens during the---”

She stood abruptly, and he followed, managing to get up just in time to catch her about the waist when she swayed and almost fell over. She moaned and let her forehead fall against his chest. Then she let out a muffled whine, “Head hurts.”

“I would imagine so.”

Then she pushed herself away from him, but he held her still, his hands against the bare skin of her back to keep her from falling over. She eyed him narrowing her eyes and then hit him in the chest.

“I hate you.”

He took a deep breath, “I am aware.”

“Cuz I love you, and you’re stupid, so that means I’m stupid and I---”

His blood pulsed so loudly in his ears he was surprised he could hear anything else. Even as he held her, he felt his hands shake, as did his voice when he said just above a whisper, “You,” he swallowed, “you what?”

She hit him weakly in the chest with her fist, “You confuse me.”

More he was barely able to decipher, but the part before he had heard without a doubt. The words had hit him with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.

She had said she loved him. She loved him. He had not ever known she had felt that strongly for him. The fact that she still felt it now, after everything he had done…

Oh, he had been such an idiot. He had lost this fight long ago. Even if he left her now, she would still be at risk. There was no denying she was his weakness, the one thing that could be his final undoing. Yet, she was also his strength in so many ways. She had challenged him, supported him, and made him feel a happiness he had long ago given up on.

He could not leave her. Not ever again. He would stay with her. Protect her from those who would use her to get to him by staying close and vigilant. After all, he had sacrificed so much for the People. He had willingly given himself, willingly gone through centuries of fighting and utter loneliness for them. Why should he not have something for him when this was over? Just this one thing. The one thing that he found he wanted for himself more than anything.

There was the issue of her mortality but, perhaps when he had completed what he intended, immortality would be restored to the elves along with everything else. If it were not, there must be a way for him to rid himself of his own. He was tired. He did not want to go through yet more centuries alone, not now that he knew her, knew what he could have.

Immortality was the least of the sacrifices he would be willing to make for her. Not even a sacrifice, it had become more of a curse than anything else.

Now he would just need to win her back. A task he knew would not be easy even if she did love him. He had hurt her badly. He had done wrong. He did not expect for that to be made right overnight. Not to mention there was the complication of him being Fen’harel. He would tell her just... not yet.

She brought him back from his thoughts when she tried to push from him completely while she mumbled about food for the cat. He moved in one smooth motion to lift her into his arms. She furrowed her brows and ranted at him, but it was so slurred he could not decipher any of it this time.

He walked her to her bed and set her on the covers letting his fingers brush her cheek, “Wait here. Do not move; you are not fit to walk.”

She didn’t say anything, but she did plop back onto the bed with a sigh. He would take that as assurance that she was settled for the moment. At least for long enough for him to find the cat food and take care of the furry creature that was winding itself around his legs.

He spoke down to it, “I do not suppose you would tell me where your food was?”

The cat meowed and then trotted over to the door. When he did not follow it paused, looked back at him, swooshed its tail, and meowed again. Unexpected. It was probably just his imagination. Cats did not lead people after all.

However, when he went to the door, the cat did lead him. It plopped down in front of one of the cabinets putting a little paw to the wood before looking back at him. Solas came over and kneeled down to scratch the cat’s ear again, “She would have such a strange creature.”

As though it had understood and took that as an insult the cat pulled from him, turned sticking its butt in the air, then walked over to the food dish all without looking at him. Solas eyed the creature for a moment before shaking his head and opening the cabinet. Sure enough, there was the cat food.

He fed the cat and then put the food away. Then he went back into the bedroom. When he got there, she had wiggled out of her pants somehow and threw them, who knew where. He started to look for them, but then she began heaving again. He lifted her taking her to her toilet again where she regained just enough consciousness to release her stomach more.

This would not work at all; he could not stand to see her like this. The truth of it was that he had probably been one of the key reasons she had been drinking in the first place. At least this he could make right tonight.

Forgetting about her state of dress completely, he scooped her into his arms and hurried out of her apartment. He set her down only long enough to get her door open then managed to shut it again with his elbow. Now he was glad he had left his door open as he took her into his apartment and closed his door with his foot.

He took her to the bedroom and placed her carefully on his bed. That done he went searching for some headache medication he had bought once, tried, detested, and never used again. Still, it would hopefully help ease her discomfort some.

Once he had two of the pills, he went to the kitchen for some water and brought it all back to her. He set on the edge of the bed next to her, gently lifted her head, and eased the pills into her mouth.

She woke and struggled against him, “Stop squirming. I have no intention of poisoning you, these will help.” When she stilled, he placed the glass of water to her lips and said, “Drink.” She obeyed, and when she’d taken a few gulps, he lowered her back to the bed. His hand going up to make sure her body temperature wasn’t dropping at all.

“I’m not sick you know, just stupid.” She gave a mournful sigh, “You’ll never let me live this down.”

Foolish woman, he would probably let her get away with much more than this; though he did not like that she had hurt herself thus. “Emmy, hush.” He let his fingers brush against her cheek and move a strand of hair behind her ear before he adjusted her pillow.

“Ok. Will you please stay for a minute? I mean, sorry that’s stupid, you don’t have--”

The pleading, almost panicked tone to her voice made his heart clench painfully in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Emmy.” Then he paused knowing if he said this out loud it would seal it but then, he knew there had never truly been any going back for him at this point, even if he had wished to. So he spoke the words, barely a whisper, “Never again.”

Then he bent towards her, paused inches above her, and when she did not move from him, he placed a kiss on her forehead before he said, “Now sleep.”

He stayed sitting next to her, and she did sleep for about a half hour before she started heaving again. He moved quickly, grabbing a waste basket and holding her hair back while she threw up what little was left in her stomach. When he was sure she was done, he went to get two wet washcloths, one to clean her face and one to rest on her forehead.

Then, as she dozed again, he practically jogged into his office. His fingers pressed to a panel on the far wall, it pushed in and then slid open revealing a safe. He placed his thumb on a pad in the center where a small needle came out and took his blood. Then the safe clicked open revealing a perfectly preserved wolf jaw attached to thick chord.

When he took it into his hands, he felt static on his fingertips. The magic he was able to pull from it was minimal, but it was better than nothing. Only Mythal and himself had managed to keep items that allowed them even this small amount of magic now when the world was devoid of it. It was a risk to use and meant only for emergencies, but to him, this constituted one. He did not want Emmy losing any more fluids through vomiting; she needed rest.

He went back into the bedroom and set on the bed once again. With a deep breath, he slipped the jaw bone over his neck feeling the flow of magic that returned to him. It was nothing to what he had before, but it would do. He then let his fingertips go to press lightly to her temples as he let his magic pulse through him and into her.

He flowed it through her dispelling the lingering alcohol in her blood and healing any remnants of a headache. As he finished she let out a little sigh of pleasure. He smiled as he removed his fingers from her.

That should do it. If he had not completely lost his touch, she should wake in the morning as though she had never consumed alcohol at all.

Only then did he remember the state of her undress. He knew that it would be best if she was wearing her clothes but he was loath to leave her should she wake up for some reason and still be ill. So he compromised and dug in his closet for a large shirt. When he found a suitable one, he eased her to a sitting position and slid it onto her. That done he shifted her one more time so he could tuck her into the covers.

Once he was sure she was settled, and sleeping peacefully did he go to secure the wolf jaw again. No doubt he would hear from Mythal about this, but he would deal with it when it happened. Right now he had more important things to deal with, one of which was how to get the woman he loved to be his again.

#solavellan #solas #lavellan #fen'harel #modern au #my writing #my neighbor lavellan #my neighbor fen'harel #solas x lavellan #solas x emmy #solas angst #angst #fluff #drunk lavellan #drunk

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docsharifa · 4 years

Text

It’s not really what I dreamed of.

I dream of a fresh bouquet of flowers.

I dream of art dates and amusement dates.

I dream of innocent and spontaneous acts that makes my heart giggle.

I dream of staring into a sunset and sunrise with someone.

I guess these dreams will still exist as one. I remember I always tell my friends, “Bang aku makatunang, kabaan ku isurprise niya aku ha ospital byaan bang aku duty. Surprise niya aku sin unu2 na. Bakun niya aku bang ako graveyard shift, in siya ubus daing ha unu2 na hinang niya, ubus niya mamaid kanda inah and amah. Humapit kami drivethru atawa bibinihan niya na aku asal kakaun kasi kaingatan niya mahapus in babe niya. Dahun niya aku manaw amun biglaan na lang na, ‘pagsakap kaw, dahun ta kaw manaw mari pa place ini, kumaun kita, namiss ta kaw,’ misan yari da kami nagsusuuk kasi busy aku ha work ku monday to friday. Amun usug sibuh in playlist nyu, amun natutug na kaw ha passenger seat, ibutang nya in jacket nya kaymu. Dahun kaw magroadtrip every weekend, misan hawnu na abutun sin kami duwa.” I remember every details, spoke of it as if they were real. Imagine it too as real.

Sadly, they were too good to be real. Felt it only exist in those perfect movies.

It makes me sad na I couldn’t live these scenarios. It makes me sad that what I’m totally experiencing with him is different and the opposite. Guess I have to understand and clearly have more patience. He is living his dream and I knew, we both knew our priorities and aspirations in life while here I am still waiting for my turn. I love him, of course, but sometimes you get to drown in these kind of thoughts and all you need is a little assurance that everything will be okay sooner or later.

Maybe I’m just in a raft boat on slow waters, itching to speed the way to these kind of moments. Gosh I blame this influence from the romcom/rom movies I religiously watched and cried to sleep of how wonderful and sweet the endings always are. With hopes that it could happen to me (because of the shits I experienced in love before).

Maybe I’m just in a rush to feel the overwhelming love. Maybe I just have to grow up. I have to grow up that everything does not go the way you wanted to and you planned to be. I have to grow up that being in a relationship is not rainbows and butterflies--It is cold waters, stormy weather, cloudy skies and warmth of sun. A mixed of those similes.

But I don’t have any regrets in choosing him. We are a day away from our 3rd month of being together but miles apart and I am happy despite of those dreams, hashtag #relationshipGoals, are being washed out slowly. And at the same time sad cause it’s another month of spending it alone.

I guess this will be worth it. I hope so. I will just hold on and keep my Inah’s words, “Ayaw sadja lasaha tuuran kasi di niyu pa kaingatan in suratan. Magtrust kaw? Go. Dihilan in 100% trust mu. Bang siya magdupang dupang, fault niya, way malawa kaymu. Ayaw sdja kaw magdihil sin lasa mu bang bukun mu pa siya bana. Kasi bang dihil mu in lasa mu katan, way makapin pa baran mu. Ikaw in lugi. Bihadtu sdja indah, asal in usug bihayan, subay yari always katu in control. Bang dih magchat, bahala na maun. Bang isab magcommunicate, go. Balance lang indah.”

Yes, mom.

#drama #words #wew #love 101 #my thoughts #about being in a relationshio #in a relationship #love

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serpentfoot · 7 years

Text

solas.

i’m pasting the bio here so i can reuse it for future sites, panfandom or otherwise.

You were young and capricious, and you never allowed your peers to doubt it. Better for them to think you were only a boisterous rascal, rather than a slow arrow in the dark. The other mage-warriors had allowed you a seat at the table because you had power, not because they thought that you had any makings of a king.

(They were right, weren't they? Kingslayer they called you in a forgotten tongue. Dread Wolf, their descendants call you in a remembered one.)

Those are unhappy thoughts from an unhappier time. For now, you enjoy setting fire to the hair of fools.

Every war is about choosing your own people over someone else's. As long as you understand this, then every atrocity is justifiable. That was the principle that ensured the prosperity of your vassals. You were young and certain. Like the other Evanuris, you were a soldier before you were a general, a general before you were a sage. You kill men and women whom you would have considered your own, under vastly different circumstances. Lasa ghilan, there is nothing to be done for barbarians.

Would things have been different if the order was reversed? You banish these thoughts. A man has only one life to live, and it is too long to squander on regrets. It is only years later that you understand that they are precious luxuries. You are willing to spend your years like running water. What man is willing to predict his own demise?

Words can sway an individual, but it is steel and fire that sways a nation. And then there is a point when not even imminent death will instill wisdom in a ruler. Elvhen were dying to a war that none of them had consented to, and their blood was worth less than nothing. The Evanuris were self destructive fools, and only their servants could see it.

Perhaps they should decide Ar'lath'an's course instead. It was a thought that was liable to get you laughed out of court. What did you care? You take your bow to the forests and shoot a wolf straight through the maw. You skin and clean her pelt. You enchant it with your own brand of magic. By the end, you borrow her form to move soundlessly through the night.

It is easy for you to convince some people that freedom is preferable to perpetual servitude. Others, you have to drag them away by their shirt collars. In time, they will understand that what you did was necessary. Some do immediately. Some offer to repaint their faces with the heraldry of your house. You refuse them, and they take names to honor you instead. Felassan, Dahl'aria, Din'athim, among others. Names are good. Names can be taken and cast off at will.

Fen'harel had been a name that you had taken on as a joke. How you loved to outmaneuver Falon'din's knights. How exciting it was to shake off Andruill's hunting dogs. When you stole Ghilan'nain's halla for the slaves, you provided amulets that would hide them from elvhen eyes.

These were only pranks, brief respites from the daily horrors that were enacted upon the people. Ar'lath'an was still dying, and the war was no closer to an end.

It was not the suffering of the elvhen slaves that had moved your heart into ending the civil war amongst the Evanuris. It was--

Mythal, Mythal, MythalMythalmythal--

How dare they. You want to make them pay for her blood, but that's how they had descended into war, isn't it? You won't stoop so low enough to add to the chaos. You were better than the Evanuris, you were--

Their friend. Sumeil'allin dirthavaren. You remember, and you hold this true even when all the others had forgotten. No, that is not true. Mythal had not forgotten, and that is why they had sought to eliminate her.

You had never wanted the burden of the Elvhen. In the beginning, you had only wished to avoid slaughtering the Evanuris with your own hands. You should have waited and amassed more power. You had not sufficiently killed your heart, and your people will continue to pay the price for your weakness.

You couldn't have known. A half measure is worse than no measure at all.

(Even this cannot be true. What if the Evanuris were never meant to destroy the world? What if the elvhen had been strong enough to survive? You robbed them of that choice, and you cannot even blame Mythal's killers for what you had done.)

You go to your summer home, only to find that it is now an shemlen farm. You travel as far as Tevinter to find that crystal spires are replaced by deep, dark skylines. Perhaps the forests that you used to play in as a boy remain untouched. You are crushed to discover an Orlesian village. They drive you out upon first sight of your staff.

(It doesn't take you long to find the Dalish. They turn on you when you offer to remove their vallaslin.)

You retreat to the Fade, but not for a childlike curiosity. After all, you are not curious about the Qun or the Grey Wardens. You retreat to the Fade because it is the only place where you can go home. Whatever's left in this world, none of it is yours any longer.

Ar'lath'an feels like yesterday evening.

Not many people know how traumatizing it is to remember. None, save perhaps the magister that your loyalists had learned of during your sleep. Corypheus is a way out, and you have not had enough time to reflect on the dangers of taking shortcuts. You wanted your world, not this ... sham. Not this failure. Not this mistake.

(When you meet Corypheus at the final battle, you are neither shocked nor appalled at how similar he sounds to you.)

Building the Revesan is only slightly more complicated than nudging the Inquisition in the right direction. Believing that the Herald of Andraste can save Thedas from a magister darkspawn requires a lot of faith. Believing that the world has been fundamentally unjust to elves requires cold facts, easily obtained.

These elves are placing their hopes for the future in you, and you are going to feed them into the fire like kindling. It is a tragedy, but you have seen enough sadness to endure. A general knows that not everyone gets to come back home. It is kinder that they do not know that their children will not be free. It is kinder that they do not know that their children will not be born at all.

As if you would have shown kindness to anyone but your own people.

The Inquisition spymaster has a soft spot for elves, and most of the servants go unchecked. You exploit this weakness ruthlessly to your advantage. If you knew about the Inquisition's overall direction, it is because your agents have been lighting the evening candles and delivering Inquisition missives for months. His agents were skilled at forging letter seals, and Josephine was always the second person to read diplomatic correspondence.

The real challenge was always to avoid revealing too much to the Inquisitor. Sometimes, you even enjoy yourself. Here is a sleight of hand: how many cards do you see, Inquisitor? Can they still say that they have won? Ah, you apologize. It would be unfair to bet against an opponent who did not know the rules of the game.

You set them on this path, and you will teach them how to win. A villain is always a hero's greatest teacher. Like and dislike have nothing to do with the conditions for your victory.

It is harder to gamble against the inner circle. One by one, they wear down your defenses. Cassandra renounces power and remains true to herself. The Iron Bull would choose his mercenaries over the only life that he's ever known. Varric values his friends more than anyone you have ever met. Cole keeps your secrets. Vivienne knows her own limits. Sera is not fettered by power. Dorian remains optimistic about history. Blackwall does not run from himself.

Far too late, you realize that you will have only won if you are still willing to murder these courageous heroes when the dawn arrives. Nine heroes, nine Evanuris. You didn't need to be a prophet to predict how this was going to end. You want history to be wrong. Things didn't have to be this way.

Ah, but this was exactly what Fen'Harel had thought last time, wasn't it? You spared the Evanuris and damned the elvhen to millennia of degradation and weakness. You have one chance. You owe it to yourself: you should not squander it.

Banal nadas.

Nothing is inevitable.

No. There is too much at stake. You have lost the right to take that chance. If nothing is inevitable, then you shall shape inevitability with your own hands.

History has a strange sense of humor. You had created the Veil in order to punish the power-hungry lords who betrayed Mythal. Now you are taking her powers in order to sunder it. The Evanuris do not die the way that mortals do, but you still violated her. She does not swear vengeance upon you, and you wish that she had. It might have been the easy way out.

Now you have the soul of an Old God, and there is not enough power in all of Thedas to punish you.

If you care about justice, then you have to be your own judge and executioner. None can be as punishing as

Din'Anshiral

. All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

At last, you submit yourself to the Inquisition's justice. Forgiveness or condemnation, it was the ending that they had all deserved. Did you deserve the Inquisitor's judgment?

That's hardly for the villain to decide.

#c: solas

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5lazarus · 3 years

Note

OCs Ask Game: Your choice of OC - #3 What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames? | #14 What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it? | #29 How would they describe their own personality? | #68 How did their environment growing up affect their personality? | #93 What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said? OR what's your favorite passage from your fic about them?

:) thank you for the asks! from these oc asks

#3 What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames? Imladris from LotR, the word for Rivendell--she's named after the city her father's parents lived in, before it was destroyed, as a promise to refound it and remember it. Her nickname is Immo', easier to say, and it also means the equivalent "but actually" in Latin, which is a joke to myself about how contrarian she is. #14 What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it? brioche con gelato--a warm brioche with cold ice cream for breakfast, and rarely since her student days. #29 How would they describe their own personality? Tired. #68 How did their environment growing up affect their personality? I based her pretty heavily off of Dolours Price, who was from an old IRA family where it was just expected that of course she would give her life to the cause, of course she would do time in prison, of course she would die. So she has that same intensity, desperation, and sense of her own destiny that made her uniquely capable of surviving the Inquisition. #93 what's your favorite passage from your fic about them?

I'll slip this under a cut:

Everything hurt but she was hot, hot, hot on cold stone, her mother had died burning herself in her rage and half an army too, protecting the People, that is what a Dalish mage does, da’len, if you must lose yourself be grand about it, and make sure someone will sing of your name, oh mamae, your little favorite is dead, Halla’den didn’t do anything grand but I was killed by a would-be god, maybe human, Tevinter definitely, legend killed me and legend can resurrect me too, my children will not be ashamed of me, now all will know Clan Lavellan can only be killed by the gods, not mortal might. She opened her eyes and saw light trickling down a stone shaft. Not dead yet: fuck. Selfish, selfish: get the fuck up. She touched her feet: still there, no toes broken, and her ankles and knees survived the fall too. Her ribs hurt, every breath choked, but she could move her fingers, her arms, and her eyes still saw through the dark. Falon’din had not come to claim her yet. Imladris used her staff to level herself up, and began to drag herself through. She did not let herself look back.

When Antoine of Jader came to marry the Duchess of Wycombe, he brought an Orlesian guard and their prejudices. The Dalish towns that flourished within the Wycome Delta--Imladris, the Golden Wood, Ithilien--revolted them. Wycombe and its rivers belonged to the Duke, they said, and all must pay their tithe to the Chantry. It did not matter that these settlements predated the Blight, that the Dalish moved seamlessly from the city-elves and smaller towns for centuries. It did not matter that the Free Marcher inhabitants of the city-state were not fond of even more taxes levied, paid to the Orlesian Chantry and to the Duke and even to the Empress of Orlais. Wycombe remembered it had been Dalish wardens who saved the city from the Blight. Its new duke did not care. And when she was a child, he struck: to clear the Dalish out.

Mamae, mamae you and Keeper burned the city to keep the shem from taking it and I would not have done that to Haven, I didn’t particularly care for an empty hut, a bathtub with no one to share it with, the only other elves wary servants, flinching every time Cassandra glanced at them, I didn’t want to die for some Chantry religion, not where Shartan was buried, not like this. They docked his ears but at least they gave him the Dales. What will they do to me, if I die? Mamae, mamae, you burned. Let me carry that anger, that heat, my magic like your magic keeping me warm. Into the snowblind whiteness Imladris stumbled out of the cave, and distantly a wolf howled.

“Fen’Harel ma ghilana,” she choked. She fell to her knees, cold seeping into the blood-soaked lambswool of her leggings, why had she not let Harrit talk her into proper chainmail? Or leather? “Fenhedis lasa.” She did not want to die, ripped apart by wolves, bones cast about by the storm. Something would come back if she died like that. She clenched her hands into fists and, huffing, heaved herself back up. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe like the molten core under the sea. She coughed sparks into her hands and walked. Keep moving, Lavellan. You have survived worse than this.

Dead in a ditch off the Ithilien River, if that farmer hadn’t found you. Starved out in the Barghello in Wycombe proper, if Sister Lucie hadn’t intervened. Dead in her own namesake, Imladris, a burnt out shell, when the guards came. Dead, dead, dead, dead and publicly executed if Briala hadn’t gotten you and Mahanon out of Val Royeaux when you robbed the University: stupid fucking idea but how dare they. How dare. Outrage was good, outrage helped bank the fire, Halla’den had fallen to a Despair demon, but Imladris was stronger than that, older, more experienced, better trained. Nothing but the cold would nip at her mind.

“Keep fucking walking,” she told herself. Breathing was difficult, like a lodestone in her chest. No pendant, nothing for them to loot, the boy had it, Cole, Varric wouldn’t let him steal it, she gave it in full of everyone, someone, who knows, it would get to her daughters and they would know they could wear her legacy, something of both of them, gone but the stone remained, in the Frostbacks only the dwarves and the Avvar eked an unlikely living, the closest Dalish clan was Boranehn, and she had met the arl that commanded them, hadn’t she? Vivienne said she had done bad. Well she was punished, if only it would be only her punished, if she died with this fucking Anchor dragging her down would that mean that creature could not take it?

If she died they would all die too. She passed a hastily-built campfire, still smoldering, and stopped a second to flare the embers. Her Keeper had taught her a trick, to siphon off the heat from another’s fire, to conserve one’s own energy. She had taught it to Mathalin, but Mirwen was too young when she left. Deshanna would take over the training, she must have already begun, and Imladris shuddered as the wind kicked snow into her face, if she stopped she would freeze to death, be eaten by wolves, taken by despair.

So cold it felt like her feet were burning as they were losing sensation, she lugged herself through the snow, kicked into her face like glass after the explosion, when a different Carta clan had blown up her printing press, was it the wind or the wolves or some hungry ghosts howling. Regardless the Frostbacks soared higher than her eyes could track, granite mountains older than her gods and she asked Dirthamen, you guard the knowledge lost to your children, but if you have mercy, any mercy at all, if you want this knowledge to carry on, reveal one of those lost caches the ancestors left. These mountains were old when Elgar’nan was still new, blinking into the blinding sun: show me where we carved the mountain path. Everywhere I walk I go in the steps of those who lived before. Ensure that there will be those after me.

Spring down the mountain but no spring here: Imladris could not feel her feet anymore, and when she fell she wailed as she clambered on her hands and her knees, she did not want to die like this, the Dalish did not bend the knee. Thought faded as consciousness became only the snow on the mountain, the unthinking rock, the ice that cut, inch by inch, piece by piece, nothing special. Dirthamen ghilana ma: an old cry, never answered. The god of secrets kept his counsel close. A pile of snow, raised higher than the others: she tripped over it, a pot, Ferelden-style, the smell of stew still frozen to it. Imladris gasped, cutting through the pain, and wrenched herself back: there was still a chance. She coughed, sparks flying, and sent that pulse of mana back down to her feet. The pain was not a mistake: it was a reminder she was still alive. She screamed anyway.

In Duke Antoine’s prison, there had been a Tal-Vashoth that had murmured to herself the Soul Canto during the worst of it, when they were left alone listening to what was being done on the other side of the world. She would say, “If you love purpose, fall into the tide. Let it carry you. Do not fear the dark. The sun and the stars will return to guide you. The sea and the sky themselves: Nothing special. Only pieces.”

“Nothing special,” Imladris repeated to herself, lumbering on. “Only pieces. Nothing special. Only pieces.” Elves saw better than shem and qunari in the dark. Hallucinatory the sun creeped into the mountains, shifting steel to gold, her blood moving, Elgar’nan’s father returned by Mythal’s mercy, no secret, only pieces. Fire in the body, blood in the limbs, dawn coming she reached the top of a slope and exhausted, gazed down at a herd of druffalo snuffling amongst tents: Avvar? A bear came running and Imladris fell to her knees. Dirthamen had answered: nothing special, just pieces.

“Lavellan! Lavellan! Maker, she’s alive. Cassandra, get a medic!”

Not Dirthamen. Fucking Inquisition. With that realization, she let the sun take her, and melted into its warmth.

#ask #imladris ashallin lavellan

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