#nb lavellan

[binabees]

I used shine bright gold… but now I’m all indigo.

[mickeysalamander]

Sparks!

Super sparkly queer Solavellan to heal my soul. Aerwynn uses they/them.

[rhoxxia]

“don’t leave yet.” not because you’re going somewhere. but because being with you is the safest they’ve felt all day.

🥹💚

Cacophonous croaking of toads, a soft yet discordant hymn pulsing in time with the crackle of spitting fire on wooden logs- a break in the nights pitch silence.

Sitting close, but not too close- because there could be no such thing with the fullness of emotion in him that beckoned for more, more, more, endlessly more since their impassioned kiss in the Fade - outer thighs touching poignant to one another. A fugitive glance to capture their stunning architecture- the profile of the Herald.

His fascination- more than that? Forbidden.

Mordant waves of silken hair tinged by reflections of golden fire, pinned loose behind elegant ears- pointed like his own- that begged to be taken between his teeth.

A jaw perfect for the cup of his palms.

An opulent mouth beckoning to be devoured once more.

Eyes of tourmaline glittered brighter than the stars as they flicked to him, widening in surprise to find what was surely a hungry gaze.

Solas stood- too abruptly- and bowed his head, penitence for the lustful longing of a man much, much too old to be so foolish. One step taken forward- a prompt escape for one so forlorn in companionship- in love- hindered by a sudden hand around his wrist. A glance back reveals-

“Don’t leave yet.” Voice low and pensive, eyes cast up to capture his own, the Inquisitor speaks.

He pauses, not to the words but to the trepidation he sees in those depths.

“I will only be in my tent.” Solas lifts his chin in indication of his tent pitched not so very far away. “It is late, after all.”

The flicker of something crosses like shadows over their eyes just before he is released, the hold on his flesh gone but replaced with one upon his heart as he recognizes the emotion as old as his spirit self.

Fear.

Solas sits once more, back straight but lounging long legs so his knee rests against theirs. Through peripheral vision he sees the slackening of shoulders as tension recedes.

“May I ask why you wish me to stay?” He requests quietly into the sable night, eyes drawn to their wrapped feet where they rest ankles crossed beside his own. So much like his People but with bones of birds and spirits forgotten with mayfly lives that cannot comprehend how fleeting their existence is. He wants to look at them, at their mouth, into their eyes, and so he does.

“I..” The anchor fluoresces quietly when their palm is turned upwards, the never healing wound inspected again, an untold number of times. They stare into it, expression unreadable with eyes hidden beneath lowered lashes. “I feel..” a fist closed, an anchor hidden. “I feel safe with you.”

Solas finds his breath caught.

“Surrounded by all these people-“ They shrug, eyes lowered still. “Being alone with you is the only time I truly feel safe.”

An ache appears in his chest, so fierce it hurts in his marrow and causes his fingertips to tingle. He does not deserve such high praise given so simply, so freely, from one so magnificent.

“I will stay then.” He finds himself announcing and he meets the eyes that lift to his. “Until you are ready.”

Until he is ready, Solas thinks, selfishly. Ready to let go? Ready to stay? Ready to be the man they believe him to be? He feels both weak and powerful when gratitude fills those brilliant eyes. How contrary, he considers, to want so badly for that you have never had before.

Madness must overtake him for he offers his hand in silence. The Anchor slips over his palm like a rustling static before smaller fingers link between his. He is still studying joined hands when their head settles on his shoulder; warm, soft, and smelling faintly of embrium.

He cannot do this.

He cannot do anything else.

"Ma serannas, Solas." Whisper quiet with contentment- with peace. His language from the Inquisitor-

The Herald-

Solas does not speak, biting the words inside his mouth so he does not confess aloud that which his mind already knows. He laments even as he rejoices, grasps for nothing even when falling. For all his time as Fen'Harel, never could he deceive himself. Millennia of uthenera had only softened him further and now his heart whispered words lost to him; in words forbidden to him even now.

Not Herald, not Inquisitor. So much more than any title, so much more to him. His whole being- lyrium body and spirit self- hums in agreement as to what Solas must name them; as to what he can no longer deny, and he knows he is lost. Eyes closing, he mouths the word to nothing at all. It means everything.

Vhenan

Thanks for the ask! Loved writing this one- the yearning(TM). Left Lavellan's sex/gender nonspecific because we LOVE our queer and NB Inky's. Hope you like it and sorry it’s so damn long.

More ask prompts, please! 🙏 🥺

[lampost-in-winter]

DA Day Solavellan mini fics #1

The prompt was “Artist Solas with his muse”. Thanks @crimsonphantasmagoria! Also inspired by this painting

He will never forget Lavellan's teasing smile and soft eyes when they revealed that they had found his sketchbook in the Lighthouse, with all ninety drawings of themselves. Some, Solas had done during the time of the Inquisition, with the model present; but most had been done from memory. He then had been forced to reveal that that sketchbook was only volume one out of fifty. He had drawn his heart every single day of their separation, out of fear of ever forgetting a single detail of their face. He'd realised his folly the second he'd seen them again after a decade—not so long ago, all broken and bloody and on the verge of the irreparable—: the person he'd been painting didn't exist anymore. Fortunately, Lavellan had revealed themself more than willing to pose for him once more, and so, he will never have to rely on fragile memory again for his art. Now that he has his favourite model returned to him, his production has dramatically increased, and he finds himself wanting to explore new mediums. Today, he is trying the contemporary oil-on-canvas technique for the first time. It allows for change and improvisation in a way that his usual frescos do not, and he finds it both a source of anxiety and delight. They both decided on a tasteful partial nude for the subject, and so Lavellan is now lying on their couch with a nicely patterned silk sheet covering some key points of their anatomy, and nothing else. At some point during the session, they pout and complain: “Vhenaaan, I’m starving.” “Apologies, I will get you an appetizer.” He goes to the kitchen and comes back with a generous cheese board, only to find Lavellan—their long hair covering their back, everything else laid bare—standing in front of the painting-in-progress, brush in hand, rushing a sketch on the corner of the canvas. They turn around upon hearing him arrive, and they giggle as they raise their hands in surrender. “Caught me red-handed. Ir abelas!” Solas walks up to the painting and observes the addition with a calculatedly serious and meditative expression: it is a crude rendition of, well, him. The face is an oval decorated with two parallel dots, a tiny oblique line in lieu of the scar on his forehead, and a small “u” for a smile; the body is a triangle with a very generous upper edge to represent his shoulders. He looks upon Lavellan like a scolding teacher, and declares: “The proportions are fine, but we must work on your volumes.” Lavellan stares at him for a second as though he’s grown a second head, and then bursts out laughing; he can’t keep up the performance and laughs along until his lungs hurt.

If anyone wants to leave me more fluffy solavellan prompts, feel free to do so!

[transhades]

Who is up for some short, completely out of context* Solavellan smut WIP on this fine morning? I've got JUST THE THING

* The context is: a non-Inquisitor Ta'revas (my Lavellan) and Solas hate fucking after the end of DAI/before Trespasser, when they have become his agent. Both of them have Fen'inan (my partner's Lavellan, who is Inquisitor and Solas' love interest in this AU, and who was Ta'revas' lover back in the clan) on their mind 👀

It is too easy, losing himself in the rut, to succumb to the animalistic need to feel the body beneath him yield in surrender, to bury his nose in the tender juncture where shoulder meets throat. He breathes in hard, the familiar smell of crackling bonfire and wet moss filling his nostrils and clouding his mind.

"Vhenan" he moans, the word leaving his mouth like a desperate prayer before he can catch it, seize it in his fist and choke on it.

Ta'revas laughs. It is a small, unkind thing, their chest rising and falling with the motion. He can feel it reverberate through his own ribs where they press against theirs, bodies tangled, slick with sweat. It drives him ever so slightly deeper, an involuntary whimper morphing the sound for but a moment.

Clarity settles on his mind like a smothering pillow, sudden and unrelenting. Abruptly he is made aware of where he is, hips flush in between thighs too muscular, his hands grasping at skin too taut, hair too fine. He can feel the heat, the smoldering, unmanageable heat, Ta'revas' very bones alight with ungovernable flame. The palm that cradles the nape of his neck is broad, square fingered, rough. The differences are so stark he wonders, with pure, unfiltered shame, how he could have ever thought otherwise.

"Is that what you called her when you fucked her?" Their tone is brutal, mocking, but there is something else underneath, a curiosity not so easily concealed, a longing impossible to feign. "Vhe—"

Perhaps it is instinct that drives his teeth to sink into their neck, their sharpest points digging mercilessly in the soft skin of their jugular, silencing them with a wracking gasp before their lips can finish shaping the word. Perhaps it is a primal, ancient hurt that makes him let go, tongue laying flat to lick the bruising and bloody bloom in an unspoken apology. Ta'revas pants beneath him, silenced, shivering as his tongue drags over their thundering pulse point.

"Do not" Solas growls against the shell of their ear, breath shaking with grief too immense to quantify. A plea sits rotten on his tongue, weaving its way out of his unwilling throat. "Please, do not"

[lesbian-sadie-adler]

I've never posted my art but I've been drawing a lot again and just wanted to share some solavellan cause I'm in my feels. It's my Lavellan (Fen, they/them) and Solas in some happier times ☺️

[beast-of-mosss]

Two fools in love

[fiadhaisteach]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 28/28 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Nonbinary Lavellan/Solas, Nonbinary Inquisitor/Solas Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Inquisitor, Lavellan (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Nonbinary Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Nonbinary Lavellan (Dragon Age), Drabbles, Drabble Collection, Fluffuary, FLUFF-uary 2022, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I mean it's Fluffuary... of course it's a Happy Ending ☺, i think i'm punny, Cooking, Mutual Pining, Bear - Freeform, Friendship, Love is a Choice Summary:

A collection of related drabbles, inspired by Iron_Angel's Fluffuary 2022 prompt list.

Written with a Nonbinary Inquisitor Lavellan x Solas friends to lovers in mind, but attempted to write it so that the characters are open to reader interpretation.

I'm going to be rearranging the chapters, in March, as They ended up creating a bit of a narrative, all together, so I rearranged them, but added the posted date to each chapter summary.