#dalish writes

[bi-otic]

Valentine’s Day Gift #2

Here’s a little Mystic Messenger drabble I wrote for v-day. AO3 is being a pain and won’t let me upload, so I’ll post the link there eventually.

Title: Perfectly Imperfect

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Ship: Yoosung Kim x Main Character

Details: Fluff, First Kiss

She absent-mindedly tugged her dress down where it had begun to ride up her thighs. Her palms were sweating, and she was seriously regretting the off-the-shoulder gown that she thought would be so elegant.

Yoosung’s hurt.

The phrase echoed through her mind as Seven tried not to sob into her bare shoulder. She tightened her grip in his shockingly bright hair and her eyes went unfocused… he’s hurt.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to look. Zen, a voice supplied through the ringing in her head. Sweet, flirtatious, Zen.

“Hey, we’re going to go to the hospital to see Yoosung, do you want to come?” He asked. Reaching towards him, she returned the steadying grip that he had placed on her bicep, grounding herself. After a beat, he pulled her (and Seven) to his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she settled her forehead against him. No sobs came–just gasping breaths that left her lungs aching and her head light. She could hear Jumin and Jaehee making plans with him faintly, but she was so lost inside her own head. How hadn’t she noticed? They spoke on the phone; she knew he sounded different than usual. God, she was such an idiot.

She almost didn’t hear Zen when he noticed V, but he turned her around and pointed the blue-haired man out for her. She watched with them in confusion as V directed the whole party at their group.  

“I wanted to take this opportunity to show the love….for all the precious members of RFA.” V said from the stage. Jumin pushed past Seven and Zen, ending up next to her.

           “What is he trying to do?” He asked, seemingly more rhetorically than actually directed to anyone.

           “I introduce to you, the youngest member of RFA, Yoosung Kim.”

Every muscle around her heart clenched, and suddenly she thought she might pass out. V’s arm rested on the back of a skinny blonde boy with an eyepatch. Despite it, he was….smiling. Ridiculously, at that. The outrageous dork that she loved had been half-blinded, and he was smiling at her like she was the sun.

There it was– the absolutely enchanting shade of violet that she had been dreaming about for the past week. God, was it ridiculous of her to think she was in love with a boy she’d only known for a week? Of course it was, she knew that, but something about seeing him on the stage, pulling at the cuffs of his dress shirt brought it all back.

           “I later had to acknowledge that her kindness and care…completely took my heart. I liked her so much that I wasn’t afraid to get hurt if it was for her. So…don’t look so worried about my eye, I was glad to be able to sacrifice myself for you. I will cherish you more. I’ll always become better for you. So you never regret being with me….I’ll give you my heart.”

She didn’t even realize that she was crying until she felt a tear hit her arm where it was wrapped around her middle. The crowd parted, and before she knew it, he was standing not three feet in front of her. “H-hi…” he said, heart-achingly sweetly.

“Yoosung…” she replied shakily, not quite believing herself.

           “I’m glad you’re safe,” he intoned with a step in her direction. That woke her up.

           “Me?! You’re the one who got seriously injured on some half-cocked suicide mission and the lied to us about being hurt–“

           “Uh…Yoosung? Aren’t you getting too close?” Zen asked from somewhere beside her, making her stop short, realizing just how close the blonde actually was. He had grabbed her hands from where she had been gesticulating wildly and was now mere inches away from her face.

           “I wanted to see you so much,” he whispered, resting a hand on her cheek.

           “You….” she mumbled, on the tails of her rant. Before she could say any more, he slipped his hand around to the back of her neck, bracing the other on her hip, and pulled her flush against him. He caught any sounds of surprise she might have made by firmly planting his mouth against hers. She overcame her shock and allowed herself to relax into it. He wasn’t as timid as she had imagined him being, kissing her with a perfect balance of melt-worthy sweetness and bruising desperation. Wow, had she waited for this moment. It was perfect–the way his fingers fisted in her hair, the warmth of his other hand on her hip, the soft sigh he let out as he pulled away, and the way the smell of him, sweet, and soft, and fresh, lingered around her like a cloud and left her dazed. He was smiling at her again as she looked at him owlishly, and she knew that smile was dangerous, because a smile like that could light up her whole world, as it certainly already had.

           The other members teased them as they danced and reveled for the rest of the night, giddy and floating on kisses and champagne that neither of them could afford. They left the party hand-in-hand, and stayed up, cross-legged, talking on the couch until the first rays of dawn crept through the window. It was practically day time when she fell asleep against his chest, his arms wrapped gently around her waist, and his face snuggled into the crook of her neck.

It was wildly uncomfortable. But it was theirs, and it was perfect.

[bi-otic]

Made an impromptu decision while writing today…before Cat and Cullen get together…. Cat and Bull hook up. I have no regrets.

[bi-otic]

Decided to finally write Asha’s story! SUper pumped, officially. Mildly nervous, unofficially

[bi-otic]

For DWC, Asha & Krem - Holiday or Winter Traditions

Sorry this is so late, but thank you so much for the ask! I love writing about these beebs <3 <3 <3 

(look at me, I’ve finally completed one of the bajillion prompts for @dadrunkwriting that has built up in my ask box omg)

I definitely took some liberties with Antivan and Satinalia traditions……oops?

Read it on AO3

Though it was almost three in the morning, and Skyhold nights were always cold, the kitchen in the bottom of the Keep was almost sweltering between the candles lighting the room, the fireplace blazing, and the overheated oven. Asha lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead, inadvertently leaving a streak of flour across her face. Her eyebrows were drawn tightly together in concentration as she struggled to knead what was supposed to be bread dough, but actually looked more like lumpy oatmeal. With an exasperated sound, she shoved the dough away from her, flexing her aching hands.

“Porca miseria!” She cried, slamming her hands down onto the table. As her head dropped, someone cleared their throat at the door that lead out towards the barn.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Asha whipped her head towards the sound, unused to being snuck up on. Krem was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest as he smiled at Asha.

“Shouldn’t you be on a mission until tomorrow?” She said after she recovered from her suspicion and subsequent surprise. 

“We got back about an hour ago,” Krem replied, as Asha noticed that he had changed out of his favoured armor for just a form-fitting shirt and breeches.  “I was going to make you some breakfast to surprise you, but I can’t say I’m disappointed to see you here, instead.” Asha flushed softly as he slowly strode towards her, leaning over her shoulder towards the table to see what she was working on. “What are you making, anyways?”

“Ugh,” was her only response as she buried her face in her flour-covered hands, dark hair falling around her in disarray. Krem exhaled through his nose beside her, pulling her arms away from where they hid her expression from him. She looked up to meet his ever-warm, hazel eyes. He gazed at her not with exasperation, but understanding, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by the smirk that quirked the corners of his full lips up towards his cheekbones. One hand still gently holding her wrist, he settled the other on her waist, where she could feel, through the fine linen of her tunic, the heat permeating her skin from his calloused hand. Asha sighed heavily before inhaling a cut-off breath, wrenching her forearm from Krem’s grip. His look of almost-hurt surprise vanished as she quickly brought her palms to his jaw, screwing her eyes shut and pressing the bridge of her nose against his. “I missed you,” she breathed, her words fluttering against his cheeks, and he nearly melted at the thought of it. Asha–also known as the ice princess of Skyhold–was so worried about him that she couldn’t sleep. He tightened his fingers in the fabric of her shirt as he pulled her flush against him and captured her lips in a ravenous kiss. Both of their chests were heaving with laboured breath and emotion when they finally pulled away.

“I missed you too,” Krem whispered against her dark hair as she nestled her face into the crook of his neck. They stayed in their embrace for several moments before leaning back to look at each other once more. “Alright,” Krem said, reaching to brush a thumb across Asha’s high cheekbone, “now let’s try to fix whatever it is you were trying to make.” Asha giggled self-deprecatingly at the reminder, groaning slightly as Krem took a look at the ball of taupe-coloured mush on the table. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said, gesturing towards her earlier handiwork. Krem prodded the mixture suspiciously.

“What…exactly…was this supposed to be?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“It was supposed to be this sweet, Antivan holiday bread that I fell in love with while I lived there. It’s a tradition that a woman makes it for the person she fancies and gives it to them for Satinalia…. I wanted to give it to you when you got back…” Asha’s voice trailed off into a mumble as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, running her hand up and into her short, black locks, before mussing them in a way that she knew would hide her red ears and nervous eyes. Krem chuckled quietly as he pushed her hair back from her face.

“I love you, you know,” he said, earnestly. Asha’s eyes snapped up from the floor, grey finding hazel, and she near-desperately searched his face for any sign of malice or regret. Finding nothing but Krem’s same endearing smile and brutal sincerity, she leapt onto him, seeing his eyes widen in surprise as she sent them both barreling to the floor. She lay a barrage of kisses upon him, starting on his cheeks, before moving to his nose, his forehead, his neck, and then finally his lips, where she lingered, swiping her tongue into his mouth as she pinned him to the floor with her bodyweight. She lifted herself off of his chest, though still straddling his hips, as he blinked up at her, slightly dazed. “I–um.” He opened and closed his mouth once more, seemingly not knowing what to say. Asha gave him a hard swat on the shoulder.

“I love you too, you insufferable idiot.” Krem relaxed noticeably at Asha’s words, lifting his hands to intertwine with hers as she pulled him back up to a seated position. He hugged her close to him with is arms around her lower back, grinning up at her.

“Okay, I know it’s an Antivan tradition for you to make the bread for me–the handsome, dashing man you love” (he received a half-hearted swipe at his side for that) “–but maybe we should make our own tradition.” Asha raised a curious eyebrow at him. “What if we make it together? You know the recipe, and we both know that I’m better at baking than you are–don’t hit me; you know it’s true. I love you, but you’re a useless chef–so maybe we make it together and share the bread before Satinalia. What do you think?” 

“A tradition of our own, huh?” Asha smirked.

“And I’ll bake for you as long as you’ll have me,” Krem replied.

“Thank the Maker that my knight in shining armor arrived in time to fix my baking mistakes before the holidays,” Asha cooed wryly, wrapping herself around her lover like a snake. “I think this is a tradition that is best started tomorrow, however. I have other plans for you tonight, Lieutenant…”

[bi-otic]

YES I am technically participating in @dadrunkwriting tonight....but I have like 7 prompts built up in my inbox because im garbage and never answer them lololol. So feel free to prompt whatever, but I may not get to it until later :)

[bi-otic]

Cullavellan Christmas Gift: Mistletoe

Happy @cullavellanchristmas to my Secret Santa, @jarino AKA @jarinodragonage! Rima was so fun to get to know, and I had a blast writing about her and noodle boy Cullen <3 I hope you enjoy this ridiculously fluffy, indulgent, holiday-themed madness!

(special thanks to @roguelioness and @ma-sulevin who took a pre-release look at this for me. y’all are the real MVPs)

Rima Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford

1445 words

Satinalia/Christmas Themed

AO3

     Josephine had truly outdone herself this time. Rima stepped into the great hall, which was normally bustling with activity, and found herself in a sea of festively-dressed party-goers. Boughs of evergreen branches and holly adorned the balconies, with wreaths dangling from the chandeliers, and golden tinsel draped across banisters. An enormous tree stood in the corner, where Gatsi usually resided, and as Rima took a tentative step further into the party, she couldn’t help but smile in awe. Her eyes glinted with joy as she spun slowly, trying to take in every tiny detail. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of evergreen trees that she so recognized from her days in the forests of Thedas, and the intoxicating and sweet aroma of the scented candles that Josephine had ordered to be placed on every table. Rima lifted a hand to cover her mouth, but a tide of giggles tumbled out nonetheless. It was just so magical! She spotted her friends crowded around a table by the fire, and a grin spread across her face when Varric waved her over.      “Starlight! Nice of you to join us,” he said, patting the bench next to him. She settled in between him and Blackwall, who gave her an affectionate clap on the shoulder.      “Enjoying the Satinalia festivities, Inquisitor?” the bearded man asked, taking a hearty gulp from his tankard.      “They’re absolutely wonderful. We never did anything this…extravagant back with the Dalish. Josephine has done a lovely job decorating–it’s simply beautiful!” Rima leaned forward as she spoke, reigniting a candle that had gone out with just a swish of her fingers, sighing gently at the scent of vanilla and cinnamon that immediately washed over her.      “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. Maker knows you could use the break,” Varric smirked, handing her a steaming mug that smelled delightful. She took a sip, savouring the fruity, spiced taste.      “What is this?” Rima asked, licking her lips. “Spiced wine,” offered Dorian, who was reclining in his chair, legs propped up against the table. “It’s the only way this Fereldan swill is even remotely tolerable.” Sera snorted to his right before kicking out the leg of his chair and sending him sprawling to the floor with a yelp. Rima only barely stifled a giggle, sending Dorian an apologetic look as he grumbled from the floor.      “So, what sort of things did you do to celebrate, out there in the woods?” He asked, while clambering back up into a righted position.      “Well, there is this one tradition…” Rima felt her cheeks reddening as she thought about it, trailing off as she reconsidered.      “Ooh, Lady Herald’s blushing! I wanna know!” Sera cried as she leaned across the table and propped her head up in her hands.      “Who’s blushing?” Rima started at the voice that rang out from behind her. She turned to meet familiar, amber eyes full of mirth. Cullen gestured for her to move over and settled himself down on the bench next to her. “What are we blushing about?” He asked, a smirk pulling at lips, causing his scar to quirk invitingly. Rima only flushed harder.      “It’s…we–well, not me specifically…” she started, eyes glued to her mug.      “Come on, Starlight, we haven’t got all day!” Varric laughed from beside her, nudging her good-spiritedly in the ribs. Rima rolled her eyes and took a big gulp from her mug before clearing her throat and sighing,      “We used to hang this little plant from the Aravels– it was called mistletoe. If two people found themselves under it, they had to kiss. I always thought it was sweet…”      “Oh, mistletoe.” Dorian said,      “Yeah, we definitely have that,” Varric echoed.      “Really? I thought maybe it was a Dalish thing! I suppose it makes sense that shem–er, humans have it too. I kind of hoped that they would, because I never actually…” she trailed off, realizing how surprised and hopeful she sounded, before trying to wrestle her emotions back under control. She looked around to see her Inner Circle wearing all sorts of mischievous smirks and smiles. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” She asked, voice thick with suspicion.      “Look up, darling,” Vivienne said as she swished past, barely shooting Rima a second look. Swallowing slightly, Rima chanced a glance upwards, only to see that a small sprig of mistletoe was hovering above her head. She looked to her left, where Cullen was looking at the floating plant in confusion, and blushed even more furiously. She shot an aggravated glare across the table at Dorian, who only beamed at her, entirely unapologetic as he continued to levitate the mistletoe above them.      “Maker’s breath,” she heard from beside her, where realization had certainly struck Cullen, whose blush could now rival her own.      “Come on, Boss, it is tradition!” Bull’s low voice came from across the table, where he seemed to be waving a similar sprig of mistletoe at Dorian. Rima reminded herself to get them all back later as she turned to Cullen, giving him what she hoped was a contrite look. Taking a breath, she put a hand on his shoulder before stretching up to kiss him on the cheek, in what she had originally intended to be a sweet, chaste, kiss, but she was probably just a hair too close to his mouth, and lingered there just a moment longer than necessary for that to be the case. Cheeks flaming, she turned back towards the table where everyone else had seemingly already moved on.      Almost two hours later, when the party had worn on, Rima excused herself from a conversation with several nobles by the doors to the Great Hall, fully intending on getting another mug of the spiced wine before calling it a night. Before she could make it to the cask, however, she spotted Cullen, leaning against the doorframe to Josephine’s office. He smiled and inclined his head, beckoning her over. Unable to help the grin that blossomed across her face, she strolled over, letting him take her hand into his.      “Having fun?” he asked, his thumb tracing small circles over the back of her palm.      “It’s nice to relax like this,” Rima said with a happy sigh, “I just wish we could do it more often.” “Things are more special when they’re rare,” Cullen said, and Rima was inclined to agree, but when she turned to look at him, his eyes weren’t sweeping the festivities like hers had been, but rather, they were locked on to her face, all full of golden fire. Rima internally chided herself for blushing so much tonight.      “Cullen, about earlier, I’m sorry about the mistletoe…”      “Me too,” Cullen replied, causing her to lift her eyes in confusion from where they had been glued to the floor, “only I’m sorry that I didn’t get to give you a proper mistletoe kiss.” He lifted a single finger upwards, and Rima followed the path he was indicating, only to find another sprig of mistletoe-this time hung instead of levitated. A grin alit on Rima’s face, green eyes glimmering with hope and happiness. Cullen tugged on the hand that he was holding, drawing her body flush with his, and slid his other arm around her waist. Their faces were so close that Rima could feel Cullen’s warm breath against her cheek, smelling of wine and peppermint, and her lips parted slightly at the thought of tasting that on his mouth. He smirked at the sight of her, eyes going dark, and leaned forward to press his lips to hers. Her eyes fell shut, reveling in the feel of him against her–the perfect mixture of rough stubble against her cheeks and his soft mouth sliding against hers. As his tongue pushed into her mouth, he dropped her hand, wrapping his other arm around her, lifting her into the air, and twirling her around, all without breaking the kiss. Rima couldn’t help the surprised sound that escaped her, and soon enough, she was laughing to the point where she had to pull away. With their foreheads pressed together and expressions of pure bliss etched upon their faces, Cullen and Rima spun around in the doorway, and when he finally put her down, they both flushed at the whooping cheers and applause that came from the sea of people in the Great Hall–especially from a particular group by the fire.      “Come on, Cullen,” Rima laughed, “l could use a break from all this socializing.” He made to follow her towards her quarters but she stopped him with a raised hand. She looked over her shoulder and tossed him a wink, “Oh, and bring the mistletoe.”

[bi-otic]

@ friends: hawke needed

Hey friends.

 Does anybody have a Hawke who romanced Fenris? I saw this video and was struck with the need to recreate this masterpiece in writing. My canon Hawke romanced Isabela, and while I do have another Hawke who romanced Fenris, she isn’t super fleshed out, so I had a thought.

There are all sorts of clever people in this fandom with fully developed Hawkes, and I love other people’s OCs, so....

I thought this could be a fun little holiday gift! If anyone wants to send me some info on their Hawke, I will write them a lil drabble inspired by the linked vid!(which I highly recommend watching- it is SO STINKIN CUTE)

tl;dr- send me your Hawke, get a holiday-inspired fic in return!

[bi-otic]

"That's it, I can't do this anymore." Pairing of your choice :)

A little Trevelyan x Josephine for you :)

     The door to the War Room swung shut with a thud, and at the sound, Rose turned swiftly towards the only other person in the room with her. Josephine stood at the opposite end of the War Table, clipboard and quill in hand, scribbling away, and before Rose even knew what she was doing, she had slammed her hands down onto the wooden table before her and exclaimed,     “That’s it, I can’t do this anymore.” Josephine looked up from her work at the Inquisitor’s sharp comment, her perplexity already visible across her face.     “Inquisitor?” She asked, innocent voice matching her one lifted eyebrow.      “I’m…sorry, Josephine, but I just can’t take it anymore,” said Rose, hands lifting to grab onto her dirty blonde locks as she avoided eye contact with her favored advisor. “I thought I was being so obvious, but I’m starting to think that you’ve had no clue how I feel,” she said, blue eyes refusing to leave the floor. She heard a soft gasp from across the room, and dared to dart her eyes up towards the woman before her, seeing Josephine with wide eyes, pink cheeks and parted lips. The mere sight sent a chill through her, urging her to force her eyes back down, hoping not to scare the perfect being that stood, utterly in awe, across the table.      “Lady Trevelyan…” Josephine started, “Rose…” at the sound of her name, Rose lifted her head to tentatively meet her friend’s eyes. “I–“ Josephine stopped herself, seeming to reconsider her choice of words before swallowing and then striding around the War Table. When she stood a mere few centimeters away, she spoke once more, murmuring, “I didn’t dare hope that you meant more than mere flirtation.” Rose’s eyes softened, seeing the sincerity in Josephine’s eyes.     “Josie…” she started, one hand going to her advisor’s waist as the other hovered near her cheek. The Antivan leaned into her Inquisitor’s outstretched palm, pressing into the cool skin, relishing the feeling against her overheated flesh. Hazel eyes met icy blue ones, and before either completely realized what they were doing, Rose felt her mouth slanting over Josephine’s soft lips, letting out a breathless gasp at the first taste of her tongue. “You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.”