#& so are the hundreds of thousands of crumpled up sketchbook pages on my floor

[badwhiskeydrinker]

"what's your problem"

my problem? my problem is I have SO many ideas for wolf 359 fanart, but it's a PODCAST so first I have to figure out HOW THEY LOOK for me & nothing, I repeat NOTHING I sketch LOOKS RIGHT

[noire-pandora]

Stay

My last work for @14daysdalovers. Thank you so much for hosting this, I had so much fun writing for it and reading everyone’s work. Can’t wait for the next one!

Also, a big thank you to the ones that liked/reblogged/left comments on my fics. I am really grateful for your encouragement. It really helped me to write more.

“Ask me to stay” and “ Wearing the Other’s Clothes”. Also on my AO3

Pairing: Solavellan

Words: 2744

Warnings: none.

The soft sound of charcoal scraping on the paper lulled Solas into a deep state of concentration, the monotonous music of the movement relaxing him as his mind diligently absorbed the knowledge hidden in the pages of Lady Gihni's book.

The nimble fingers guiding the charcoal on paper belonged to Elluin, who kept him company tonight. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, hunched above her sketchbook precariously balanced on her knees. She adamantly refused Solas' suggestion to join him in bed, claiming sitting on the floor helped her concentrate. He let her be, grateful they could share a few hours together, alone, with no unwelcome guest or dignitary to require the Inquisitor's attention.

While the hours passed, sleep made his eyes heavy, the Fade buzzing at the back of his mind, but he ignored its call, eager to spend more time with her, even if midnight found them still awake. At night, she could be his, and they could be just two lovers enjoying each other's presence, with no titles to separate them. At day, he had no right to ask for her company, as she belonged to her duty but, as the sun went down, he craved her presence and treasured every moment spent with her.

A sudden, long sigh coming from Elluin startled him, and he rapidly blinked to bring his attention back to the present moment. He closed the book and abandoned it on the bed, his attention shifting to her.

"Is something bothering you, Vhenan?" he inquired, a curious expression crossing his face, and he moved to glance at her.

A frown pulled hard at the corners of her mouth as she squeezed the charcoal between her fingers. She sighed again and rubbed her chin thoughtfully, staining her skin with the black powder. "I'm trying to sketch Dorian, but his face looks weird. I don't know what's wrong."

The bed creaked when he left it to join Elluin on the cold floor, his shoulder brushing against hers, the warmth of her body urging him to close the distance between them. His hand slipped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

A half-finished drawing of Dorian took form on the paper, his features brought to life by the rich lines. He stood at a desk, a frown of concentration knitting his eyebrows as he studied a large tome. Solas took a minute to scrutinise his face, his eyes patiently analysing the lines on her creation.

"I believe his jawline is too prominent," he concluded, one of his fingers hovering above the lines of Dorian's face." The line of his jaw is softer."

"What?" she frowned at him. "Dorian has a strong jawline."

"Yes, but not as sharp as you sketched it. I believe that jawline is more suited for me."

"For you?" she stared at him for a few seconds and trailed a finger down the side of his face, tracing his jaw. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, a shiver of pleasure coursing down his spine at the touch. "You're right. I've been studying the beautiful lines of your face for too long, and my mind blended them with Dorian's. Tomorrow I'll sneak into the library when he's not paying attention and—why are you smirking like that?"

He chuckled at her words, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "It has been a while since anyone praised my beauty."

He could barely contain a self-satisfied smirk from spreading across his lips. His hand left her back, and he turned to face her, tucking his legs under him, his knees touching her outer thigh." You think the lines of my face are beautiful?"

She shot him an incredulous look, cocking an eyebrow. "Of course. Why are you so surprised? I'm sure I'm not the only one who told you that."

She gave him a lopsided grin and changed her position to imitate his. Her sketchbook opened on the floor between them. "Really? When was the last time?"

"When I was young."

Memories of times long gone shuffled unexpectedly through his mind, but he gently pushed them away, back to that corner of his memory where he hid his secrets. He forced himself to stay anchored in the present, to lavish in the comfort and the safety her presence brought to him. To fully enjoy the sensation, he had not felt for hundreds of years.

She leaned forward, her gaze never leaving his as her fingertips drew circles on his left knee. Her fingers were so warm, and the caress was so gentle that his skin prickled at the contact. "When you were 'bold and cocky'?"

He grinned at her, hoping she didn't notice how much that simple touch tantalised him. "Yes."

She hummed and studied his face for a long moment, a curious gleam in her eyes. "That must have been quite a sight."

To his surprise, silence fell between them as she turned her attention back to the sketchbook. He swallowed hard, wishing she continued caressing him.

He watched her as she ripped the page with the failed drawing from her sketchbook and crumpled it into a ball to set it ablaze with her magic. A trail of smoke rose from it, and he followed its sinuous journey through the air, his thoughts pulling him away from the present, the same ideas that came into his mind when he laid on his bed, half asleep and wondering.

Wondering how it would have been if they met thousands of years ago when Elvhenan still stood proud? Would she love him? Would she join his rebellion? He knew it was a foolish thought, but he wished they could have met back then and not now, not in this world he could not understand. Here, he could only show a faint shadow of his passion, of his love. In Arlathan, he would have done anything to make her happy; he would have given himself entirely to her. If only his plan succeeded. He closed his eyes to hide the emotions residing there, afraid she might read them and question him.

"Do you think we'd get along if we met when we were young?" she finally spoke, forcing him to ignore his thoughts once again, surprised she has been thinking about the same matter.

He opened his eyes again and stared ahead at the wall behind her, contemplating the idea. "Yes. But I do believe our strong personalities would clash a few times. As it happened when we first met."

She nodded in agreement, a solemn expression on her face. "Yes, two young, stubborn elves butting heads. I guess we'd end up bickering about everything," her charcoal danced again on the paper, her fingers leading it to draw a few bold, seemingly random lines. "It took us a bit to get along after we met, didn't it?"

"Indeed"

He looked at her work, and a faint smile grew again on his lips as he realised she was drawing him. This time his face looked younger, with no wrinkles or laugh lines to mark the passage of time.

She stopped suddenly, her gaze shifting from her drawing to his face and stopping at the ceiling. She studied it, her fingers twirling the charcoal piece, and he understood she had another question for him. One that might surprise or annoy him.

"What is it? You may ask."

She still eyed a point above his head, intentionally avoiding his gaze, spiking his curiosity. "I would've loved to draw you back then. Do you think the younger you would've let me?

"Yes."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and this time she allowed him to look into her eyes. "Even nude?"

"I," he began, ready to give a negative answer. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss of words but sighed, defeated. As much as he wanted to deny that, he knew his younger self too well. "Yes."

She laughed, slapping her thigh. "Really? You were that different?"

He nodded." I was. It would have been impossible to refuse a request from a beautiful woman like yourself. My younger self would not resist you."

"Resist me? Now I'm curious about how it would go," she purred, her eyes falling to his lips.

"You would get your drawing," he paused and slowly licked his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "Eventually."

Undistilled desire poured through him at the thought of spending a night together in Arlathan, and he swallowed hard, his throat drying at the mental image. A strong wish to erase all the distance between them nagged him, his fingers twitching in anticipation, but he denied himself that joy. No matter how much he wanted her, he had no right to ask for more than a few heated kisses from her. Not when parts of him were still hidden from her.

He searched her face for any hidden signs of desire, but he couldn't see any. Instead, she wore a pensive expression, her unfocused gaze locked on the piece of charcoal resting on her opened palm. He knew that expression as she wore it every time uncertainty hung over her.

He shuffled closer, her warm breath tickling his skin. He tucked a wayward strand of her chin-length hair behind her ear and chuckled when the curl stubbornly escaped. Slowly, his hand slid down the side of her face in a warm caress, his fingers finally cupping her chin and lifting it until their eyes met.

"Even then," he whispered with a gentleness that surprised him. "I would have loved you. As I do now," slowly, he leant forward, his lips touching hers in a soft caress. She answered, lightly tasting him.

She broke the kiss, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking down at the floor. "I... thank you, Solas."

He attentively watched her, curious if today will be the day when she will utter those three words, but the hesitance in her gestures made him realise it won't happen. He had no desire to pressure her into confessing her love for him, her gestures enough for him to understand how much she cared, but curiosity nagged him. Curiosity and confusion at why, a woman as powerful as she was, found it hard to say it. She jumped in front of the danger with no second thoughts and challenged anyone who dared to badmouth her, but she became uncharacteristically quiet when he confessed his love for her. He knew she had other lovers before him, and yet love left her speechless. Or it was just his love? Another mystery her soul held, one he was eager to understand.

"I should go," she suddenly said, slipping the charcoal into the pocket of her trousers and closing her sketchbook. "I'm sure your spirit friends miss you."

He got up at the same time she did, but instead of letting her go, as he always did, he reached for her hand, barely touching her fingers.

"Stay with me tonight."

She blinked a few times at him, her hand squeezing his fingers. "Are you sure? Last time I did that, you left in a hurry."

The first night they spent together sleeping in the same bed almost brought his nighttime fantasies to reality, and, with a heart-shattering effort, he had to abruptly put an end to the moment, leaving her confused and unsatisfied. Since then, they haven't shared a bed anymore

"I am."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "We're going to sleep in the same bed, right?"

"Yes."

"Really?" she asked in surprise, eyeing the bed.

"Yes, Vhenan. But if you mind it, you can refuse me," he let go of her, allowing her to leave if she wished it.

She waved the sketchbook in the air, rolling her eyes at him. "I don't mind it at all, Solas. But I know you enjoy your loneliness.

He reached for her hand and planted a soft kiss on the centre of her palm before speaking again. "I do. But I enjoy your presence much more."

"All right, I'll stay," she confirmed, giggling at the light touch of his lips. "I need to get my nightwear from my room."

"No need, I can lend you one of my sleeping tunics."

He made his way towards the small closet sitting in the opposite corner of his room and opened it, searching for one of the sleeping tunics Josephine ordered for him. He found a cotton one he never wore and handed it to her. She accepted it, grinning at him.

"Aren't you always so kind?"

She set down her sketchbook on a chair and reached for her blouse to take it off. Instantly he turned his back on her. She snorted at his reaction, but he felt no shame in it. Offering her intimacy was the least he could do.

"How do I look?" she asked after a minute, her shirt and pants neatly folded resting on the chair, above her sketchbook.

He turned around to face her, and his heart thumped as his eyes followed the lines of her body. Her shoulders were bare, the sleeves of the tunic slipping on her tiny arms, revealing her freckled kissed skin and the scars adorning her right shoulder. The tunic reached her knees, exposing her short and thin legs with knobby knees. He forced himself to take his eyes off her and answer the question. "Comfortable."

She spun on one heel, and he found himself dumbstruck by her beauty. Even in simple clothing, she still charmed him. What a fool he was, thinking nothing in this world could capture his attention.

"I actually feel really comfortable. No wonder you're wearing this all the time."

"I do not wear my sleeping tunics at day time, Vhenan."

She giggled, beaming at him. "Are you sure about that? They look the same."

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing how much she loved to tease his clothing choices. "Yes, I am sure."

She stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder as she made her way towards the bed. He shook his head at her, amused by her behaviour, but his eyes lingered on her hips, delighted by their shape. He gritted his teeth in annoyance at his nagging need to touch her body.

The worn-out bed-springs creaked under Elluin's weight as she lay in it, a sight of comfort slipping her lips.

"Are you coming?" she asked him, eyes closed, pulling the blanket close to her chin.

"In a second," he answered, taking off his shirt, neatly folding it to place it above her clothes. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, his joins popping loudly. Elluin lazily opened her eyes at the noise, only to snap them wide open at the sight of Solas' bare torso. Pride washed over him, noticing the shy blush tingeing her cheeks pink, content he could still impress a woman with his physique . "Is it bothering you? If it does, I can--"

"No, no, it's fine," she stammered, shaking her head. "I forgot you like to sleep shirtless. Make yourself comfortable. I don't mind it."

The bed protested again as Solas joined her under the blanket. He pulled her close, her back resting against his chest, his arms wrapping around her tummy. She giggled when he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Good night, Solas."

"Good night. I will search for you in the Fade."

She hummed in agreement, reaching for his hands and intertwining her fingers with his. He watched her as she slowly drifted into sleep, her chest rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled, the soft sound of her breath lulling him to sleep, to embrace the calling of the Fade.

"Solas?" she whispered in the darkness a few minutes later, startling him.

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

With eyes widened in surprise, he opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. When he spoke again, his voice quivered. "I love you too, Elluin."

He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent, the perfume of the lily of the valley salve she used to tame the curls of her hair, overwhelming his senses. It was the scent of love and acceptance. It gave him hope that maybe, maybe, this world he used to hate could be his new home. Their home.