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skelebellie · 12 days ago

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desiderium

emmrich volkarin x gender neutral mournwatch!rook

a/n: my last poll solrook vs emmrich ended, and emmrich won. so here’s a treat since im not as busy right now (for 24 hrs). i see a lot of fics making emmrich as some sort of master sex man, but i think there are some real insecurities that would arise out of an age difference relationship. also- i wanted to write carnally down bad rook. also exploring mournwatch rook.

rook does not have any physical descriptors

Warning: Mature. No explicitly sexually themes, suggestive content. slight angst w/ comfort. fluff?

i.e. rook gets FREAKY

Rook settled into Emmrich’s chair comfortably. Their feet pulled underneath them as they poured over one of his tomes. Before his joining, Rook was left throwing stones off the edge of the Lighthouse to see how far they could keep an eye on it before it blipped out into the endless sea of the fade. Emmrich settled at the end of his desk, flipping through a series of scrolls and papers detailing a recent surge of events through the fade. Even if he wasn’t in the Grand Necropolis, he tended to keep busy. It wasn’t the most exciting thing, reading in the presence of their partner, but it was a welcomed contrast to the insanity that followed with fighting ancient elven gods. While Varric described them as a straight thinker and often getting themselves into more trouble than good, it was nice to take off the mask.

However, anxieties were bubbling under the surface regarding their relationship with Emmrich. Nothing remarkably concerning, but they sensed some form of… hesitation. Emmrich had made it very clear how much they loved them, and their neck wasn’t safe from a surprise kiss or the gentle whisper of words. However, outside of that, their romance had been relatively tame. Not that it had upset them, they both had agreed to take it slow. Rook hadn’t been in a previous relationship, as they were far too busy under the Mourn Watch to consider the notion in the past.

For all purposes, Emmrich was exceptionally transparent with their relationship. Even so, Emmrich seemed- how did Harding describe it- mopey? Languid kisses ended earlier, his hands hesitated, and some nights they were even denied the comforting embrace of their lover arms.

Which lead to the moment before them, Rook’s eyes locked onto Emmrich as he continued to read. Only stopping to make eye contact with Rook, the flames of the fireplace dancing across his skin.

“You’re starring, dear.” Emmrich commented, raising his head lightly, the glint of his glasses catching against the golden ember of the room.

“It’s hard not too when you’re so distracting.” Rook responded, closing their book and giving Emmrich a cheeky grin.

“Your compliments find me at the most unique moments.”

Emmrich's words were always well constructed. Even at their most focused Rook could barely knock him off his feet with their flirting. However, Rook also became keenly aware that Emmrich wouldn’t accept said compliment.

Truthfully, it frustrated them to no end. Since they hadn’t escalleted their relationship, Rook made a point to constantly praise Emmrich. It was impairitive that he understand how much they loved him. Especially with the continued teasing from the rest of the group.

A silence fell between the two. However, unlike the prior calm, an air of unpleasantness settled. Emmrich’s eyes stared at Rook as the cogs in their brain ticked and spun.

“Do you not desire me sexually, Emmrich?” Rook responded, voice rather blunt for such a crude comment. Instead of being filled with frustration, their face fell to curiosity- understanding. Rook wasn’t unaware of the different forms of love that were followed across Thedas. Sex didnt equal love, and not all love had to involve sex. So while their initial comment was one meant to open the doors to a productive conversation, it may have come off as accusatory.

“Excuse me?” Emmrich responded, shock evident across his creased eyebrows.

“Do you feel sexual attraction to me? Arousal? Excitement at the idea of my naked”, They rambled, before being swiftly cut off.

“Im well aware of what you mean. What Im wondering is why you would ask such a thing?” His voice turned serious, slightly intimidated at the conversation at hand.

Emmrich had his own demons. He was an accomplished necromancer, reasercher, and professor. But in the ways of long-term love, he had his own failings. Prior to meeting Rook, he had accepted that he would be entombed alone. And while he did love Rook, there were lingering doubts about their relationship.

Could he keep up with Rook? They were much younger, and lacked experience- would it have been better for them to get with someone like Davrin or Taash? Live out the fleeting moments of sexual exileration and lust from a partner their age? Was he fulfilling their needs, or was in inadvertently tying them down? Emmrich had no discourse concerning the age difference, other than the time they would spend apart. Was it selfish of him to love such a young beauty, only to leave them behind? Did Rook even desire him in that way- or was he far from what they wanted physically?

These questions riddled his brain until the night fell silent. And while Emmrich considered himself calm and collected, these worries had inadvertently began to affect the way the treated Rook. Hesitation and doubt imbued with his touch like a sickening virus.

Rook returned a less serious look to Emmrich. “You’ve been hesitant. I dont find your hand on my waist as often, and the physical contact between us has been few and far between. I even walked in earlier this week with some of my buttons undone and you had the gall to button it back up.”

“Im not mad- I understand relationships all take different shapes and forms. But I felt it was a point we needed to address.” They replied, their gaze softening at Emmrich. While they had enough confidence to rival that of Solas’, there was something disheartening at the idea that your partner didnt feel attracted to you. Let alone not find you desirable.

Emmrich’s voice came out soft, and apologetic.

“Oh Dear,” He said quietly, raising up from his seat and discarding his paperwork as he made his way across his quarters. Arriving infront of Rook, taking the book out of their hands and placing it onto the side table. Replacing the leather bound texture with the smoothness of his hands.

“It’s not like that at all. I had no idea I had been coming across as prudish- it’s just that-“, His voice failed him momentarily. Emmrich wasn’t shy, his sexual past was quite adventurous compared to his peers. But for some reason, the daunting idea of not being enough was sufficient to cause doubt within him. His fingertips rubbing over Rook’s palms as he thought.

“Of course I find you attractive. I find myself staring at you when you aren’t looking, unable to peel my eyes away from you- afraid to miss the smallest detail about you. My desire for you, both mind and body, bubbles beneath my skin in the most inappropriate of times.” He coughed out, albeit a bit embarrassed at the sudden confession.

A gentle sigh escaped Emmrich’s nose.

“It’s just that I worry. Nothing more than the ramblings of an older man.” He replied, aiming to settle the conversation with minimal details.

Although, this would not work on Rook. They had spent far too many nights solving the problems of their teammates. And their relationship with Emmrich made it even more transparent to them that something was on his mind.

“Love, please, talk to me.” Rook whispered, standing up from their seat to meet their eyes with Emmrich’s. A pleading look engrained from their eyes to the deepest part of their soul.

A silent moment passed between them, the necromancers shoulders relaxing as a breath he didnt even know he was holding escaped. He didnt want to bother his lover with such trivial things, but he found that they often wormed their way in anyhow. Grateful to be a shoulder of understanding and acceptance. Quietly, he pulled Rook back towards his desk, guiding them with a gentle grip. As he pulled his partner closer, he settled himself at the edge of his desk, shortening himself just enough so that they were eye level with each other.

“It’s not that I don’t find you absolutely enticing, far from it. More so, I am worried about my own endeavors.” Emmrich babbled, his eyes falling to the hands he cradled within his own. Admiring the contrast of his grave jewelry amongst Rooks skin.

“Such as?” Rook asked.

“I find that there are looming doubts within me. That I may not be enough for you- physically. There are far younger individuals who could fulfill my place. At my age, there are much more… compatible suitors. for you” He admitted.

Rook looked back at Emmrich, their face filled with worry. It’s not as if this thought hadn’t crossed their mind. Although, their worries didnt involve their compatibility, sexually or otherwise. They were far more worried about how others would view Emmrich, or if they were fulfilling his needs.

But the momentary falter in their gaze drove Emmrich’s stomach to the bottom of his abdomen. Their hesitancy a personal confirmation of his deepest doubts.

“I see you have your own doubts. I knew It was selfish of me to-“ He responded, gently pushing back against Rook. Only to be met with a force pushing against him, keeping him against the edge of the desk.

“Emmrich, you are not the one who decides who and what I am attracted to.” Rook responded firmly, tone absent of their usual jovial and forgiving nature. Honestly, it shocked Emmrich to see this side of them, the one usually reserved for the battlefield- for a leader.

“I am not ignorant of our differences in age. But do not think for a moment that you had “tricked” me into anything. I knew very well what I was getting into when I decided to pursue you.” They responded, a gentle yet firm hand coming up to rest underneath Emmrich’s chin, closing the small space between the two. Rooks eyes shifted their gaze from soft to an almost peering look. Looking across Emmrich’s face with rigid admiration, as if viewing one of the hundreds of phantasmal paintings that covered the Grand Necropolis.

“It would be amiss of me to not recongnize that being raised by skeletons and spirits in the Grand Necropolis turned my attraction to an… older audience. One that I can assure you fall into.” Rook divulged. Their thumb running across the bottom of Emmrich’s lip, admiring the way the muscle gave way to their finger.

“Darling, I didn’t intend to assume…” Emmrich whispered, his hands settling on their lowers hips given their proximity. Rooks gaze alighting a rumbling heat in his pelvis. There was something about Rooks eyes- the look belonging not to some hesitant, inexperienced lover. Rather, someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

“And yet you did.” Rook responded, shortening the distance between the two until Emmrich was forced to place a hand on his desk in order to maintain his balance.

“I can assure you, I am not without my desires. I am simply good at hiding them. I may be inexperienced, dear, but I am not unknowledgeable about what I want. I just thought it would better to keep said intentions to myself until we discussed it further. However, Im beginning to understand that you are a man of action, not words.” They continued, their hand traveling across the outside of Emmrichs thigh, fingers dancing along the side seam in a manner that caused his leg to shake.

“Must I show you my hunger? Reveal to you the heat that scorches my body until it’s the only thing I think about? How some days you leave my thoughts reduced to its only basic instinct?”

Rooks hand continued upwards, palming across Emmrich’s abdomen as he let out belittled breaths in return. The skillful hands of a mortalitasi unbuttoning his exterior vest to untuck his undershirt. Rooks head dipped into the crook of Emmrich’s neck, quickly removing the skull lapel across his neck to unbutton the top buttons of his undershirt. Needing to pay hommeage to the caratoid artery that kept the object of their desire alive. Belated breaths tickling across the pale skin before them. Tantalising close, as their own wants teetered out from under their control.

“Dearest- I- Please-“ Emmrich responded, his words finally reaching Rooks ears as his other hand clenched across their back. Torn between an embrace and halting them all together.

Softly, Rook’s hand drifted under his shirt, teasing at skin they couldn’t see. There was something arousing about finally getting to touch the skin Emmrich constantly kept covering up. Their feelings at odds with each other as they took the moment to explore. Dip their fingers into his back dimples and forgotten scars as if ingraining it within their memory for a later day. Although, their attention would quickly return to Emmrichs neck. Planting hungry kisses down to his trapezoid, far below the collar.

“Desire is a fools word, Professor. What I feel towards you is not as simple as a want- it’s an obsession. I need you just as much as the blood beneath my skin and the air in my lungs. If I could, I would devour you until we were one and the same.” Rook recounted, before planting wet kisses along the crevices of Emmrich’s life line. Alternating between biting and sucking the skin. Drowning the room out before them in a mixture of heated gasps, soft moans, and the until the fire within Rooks stomach settled into a gentle simmer. Their back only slightly sore from Emmrich’s grasp, before they finally leaned back. Revealing the dischevled Professor, his hair tussled and sweat on his brow. Not that rook looked any better.

Rook paused for a moment, allowing them both to catch their breath, before they removed the hand underneath Emmrich’s under clothes and placing it against his cheek. Relishing in the feeling of stubble just beneath their palm.

“I assume I have been quite demonstrative as towards my intentions?” Rook responded.

Emmrich could only give a wide eyed look, his face teetering on embarrassment and arousal. Shock could barely describe the revelation he just had.

“I think you’ve been quite clear, dear.”

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heylittleriotact · 10 hours ago

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🎄 Merry Almost Christmas Have A Festive WIP 🎄

(It's not looking like I'll be able to finish this before the holiday chaos ensues and I won't have a moment to myself until at least the weekend, so Christmas came sort of early, Emmrook friends)

❄️ Yet Untitled First-Day Holiday Fluff Piece ❄️

She stares at the gold ring and twitches her finger slightly, capturing a beam of groggy winter sunshine in the impressive red jewel that adorns it. She raises and lowers the finger, mesmerized by the comforting silence of the wood paneled entryway, and the way the light catches so prettily on the stone, making it look like bright arterial blood: rich with oxygen and scarlet in colour.

It’s no ruby though… not even relatively inexpensive garnet. It’s coloured glass, and the band isn’t gold: judging on the way it leaves a dull green shadow of itself on her skin by the end of each day, it’s brass or maybe copper.

If one was to look at it closely - which she has numerous times over the past few months - they would see where the cheap metal has been repetitively worn down, buckled, been repaired, and worn down some more over decades. There’s an almost imperceptible chip in the stone near the upper left edge of the setting, and in the right light you can see where small spiderweb cracks have been painstakingly filled in with a strong, clear substance, sanded and polished to match the shine of the rest of the stone.

She dare not ask how much coin Emmrich has spent over the years to keep this ring in good repair.

He rather insistently offered to buy her a ‘proper’ ring to mark their betrothal the morning after they returned to Nevarra: his Father’s ring was only meant to be temporary given the timing of his proposal, and what she really needed was a ring befitting the enormity and depth of his love for her; a ring that would at least compare to her beauty, though no bauble existed that could ever equal it. There were a number of other poetic and deeply romantic sentiments that she patiently waited for him to list off, nodding politely as he worked himself into a veritable tizzy, snuggled up alongside her in the warmth of the plush feather bed in the master suite of his house in the city.

“If you wish to spoil me with a second engagement ring, I daresay I’ll be the talk of Nevarra, and I won’t utter a single complaint,” she grinned, rotating the priceless ring on her finger. “But I hope you realize I’m going to keep wearing this one. This is the real one: this one is you. And you could drop a small kingdom worth of gold on the finest ring from King Caspar’s personal collection for all I care, but it would still look like cheap junk next to this, so if this is all just a clever ruse to get me to give it back, you’re out of luck, love: it’s mine– just like your heart… but don’t fret: I’ll take good care of them both.” And she planted a kiss on the top of his head, burying her nose in tousled hair that smelled of ripe cherries.

He made her come three times in a row that morning.

She smiles at the memory and tugs on a pair of lined leather gloves, looking around the inviting entryway of the house as she does this. It’s a level of status and comfort that she’s still very much getting used to. It’s not a palatial manor by any means, but rather a high-end rowhouse in a quadrant of the city where nobles, high-ranking Mortalitasi, and retired political advisors live. Rowhouse or no, it’s still got four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and the nicest kitchen Amina has ever seen. Emmrich worked hard for the comfort he enjoys, and Amina was no pauper before her break from the Watch, but getting used to having staff has proven… challenging. Blessedly with the holiday coming up, Emmrich has sent the housekeeper, footman, and butler home - with full pay of course, and some extra - to be with their families. The house is empty and quiet but for the two of them, and it’s been a boon to just feel able to fully relax without the ever-present awareness of someone perceiving her, even if it was done benevolently by the curious staff of Professor Volkarin.

She couldn’t blame them for their interest: their employer went on sabbatical months earlier and returned home, a lauded hero of Thedas, with a relatively young woman on his arm and rumours of an imminent marriage trailing the pair.

She runs a gloved finger down the dark chestnut door frame (not a speck of dust) and shifts, feeling a bit warm standing inside wearing her thick, gray wool coat. It always takes Emmrich forever to get ready to go anywhere— they’re going skating, not attending high tea with the Empress of Orlais…

“Rook!”

She glances over her shoulder to see Manfred shuffling down the hallway towards her, a pair of ice skates held aloft in front of him as he races towards her.

“Knives!” He declares, eyes flaring gleefully. “Knives!”

“Sort of,” she remarks wryly, her lip curling in an amused smile that she can’t help whenever the enthusiastic construct is around. “Best not let your Father see you running with those: you remember the incident with the scalpel, hm?”

“Pressure!” Manfred recites proudly, “Put! Pressure!” He grips Amina’s forearm with surprising strength to demonstrate.

“Very good.”

“Hurray!” He relinquishes his grip and hops from foot to foot, unable to contain his excitement.

It had been difficult to convince Emmrich to bring Manfred skating, what with her beloved citing the obvious incompatibility of brittle bone, hard ice, and gravity.

“What if he falls?” Emmrich had queried, his brow knitting in consternation, his lips pouting, fingers laced over his heart - hell, his moustache might have drooped a little.

Emmrich still turns brick red when Manfred calls him ‘Father’ and tries to correct him, but when he’s not within earshot, Amina tells Manfred not to listen: just this time - because he is Manfred’s father, and he’ll get used to it eventually, but denying it isn’t going to do either of them favours.

“He won’t fall,” she had promised Emmrich, tracing the shape of his shadowed jaw. “Not when he’s got both of us by his side.”

He made love to her twice that night: long, passionate encounters that left her muscles a bit achy and her brain a bit foggy come the morning.

She’s still been taking her weekly tincture to prevent pregnancy, but sooner or later she knows they’re going to have to talk about the future of that… and all that might come of stopping it. She could have broached the topic by now - could have said something, but he hasn’t said anything either, and even if she did float the idea of a child by him and he said no, that would be fine, but she hasn’t felt ready for the permanence of that conversation yet… the fact that once its had, it can’t really be taken back: she’s thirty-seven, and running short on time to act on such things…

“Emmrich is Father. Rook is Mother!”

“Oh. Um… not… not just yet, Manfred… wait— who told you that?” She feels her face redden, feels even warmer in her coat and scarf than she already does: where the hell is Emmrich? “Your ability to speak is certainly coming along, isn’t it?” She pretends to take a nose he doesn’t have, sticking the tip of her gloved thumb out from between her index and middle finger. She shakes it tauntingly and bites back the laugh threatening to break loose at the sound of Manfred’s scandalized hiss. “Give you a few years and I bet you’ll be running entire lectures by yourself.” She ducks Manfred’s grab for the ‘nose’ in her hand, bobs under his skeletal arm and straightens: they’ve played this game before - it rapidly became one of his favourites once Amina made sure he was crystal clear in his understanding that it was a game and he was not to actually remove anyone’s nose.

“Oh good, you’re both ready!”

Emmrich traipses down the stairs, hauling his own dark green wool coat up over his shoulders, a man in his element with his hair impeccably coiffed, his charcoal trousers perfectly pressed even in the absence of his butler. His earthy, herbal aftershave follows in his wake as he squeezes past Amina, his hand trailing over her waist to tug a soft woolen scarf from one of the hooks lining the wall.

“The ice on the river might have started melting had we waited any longer.” She snags Manfred’s wrist and gently deposits the ‘nose’ in his hand. After he jams it back on his face, clacking madly the entire time, she turns to Emmrich and beams at him, watching him weave the brown scarf into a complex but distinguished knot, tucking the ends down the front of his coat before buttoning it and lifting the collar to frame his angular face.

He’s flustered - at odds. Is it because he hasn’t skated in years, or is he still preoccupied with worry over Manfred?

“I loathe feeling rushed,” he half mumbles into the scarf, verging on a proper strop.

“No one’s rushing you.”

He’s taking this very seriously. Too seriously: the tension in his frame gives it away. So she catches his eyes with hers along with his hands, and rises on her tiptoes to press a long, soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like life and embalming fluid and strong black tea.

“You’re the one that wanted to take me skating anyway,” she purrs against his lips, half tempted to tell Manfred that skating has been cancelled so she can take Emmrich upstairs and put a properly fucked out smile on his face instead of the dour pout he’s currently wearing. “We’ll have a lovely time, and if it helps put your mind at ease, why don’t we bundle Manfred in your thickest down-filled coat?”

His mouth turns up slightly at the corners after a moment of consideration. “What an excellent idea, darling.” He kisses her again, holding her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his fingers so wonderfully warm and real. For a moment she wonders if he’s having thoughts about calling off their excursion as well, but he turns from her to rifle through the closet. He leans further and further in, going further and further back through decades of fashions - some timeless, others dated and eccentric - she’s well familiar by now with the state of his sprawling closet upstairs: it’s little wonder he has this many coats too.

Eventually she hears a muffled ‘a-ha!’ and Emmrich resurfaces gripping a massive down-filled jacket that’s a virulent shade of yellow plaidweave. It’s got about forty pockets, twenty-odd buckles, and a dozen black toggle style closures running down the front all shaped like skulls. The hood and cuffs are trimmed with…with some sort of fur? …Why is it bright green?

It’s hideous.

Actually, ‘hideous’ is a polite assessment: in fact, it’s so, so far beyond hideous that Amina is unsure if there actually exists a word to accurately describe the severe affront to all things fashionable that this jacket is.

Unable to help herself, Amina bursts out laughing at the sight of the thing, mostly due to the immediate mental image of the man holding it, wearing it.

“What?” He frowns.

“It’s so…” she gasps between giggles. “It’s just so… hah! Did you actually wear that?” She collapses in a fit of amused titters again as the love of her life holds the jacket at arms length and studies it.

“Well… yes.” He states, sounding nonplussed. “Granted, I was in my very early twenties when this style was popular with the more… avant garde circles I ran with in those days…”

“It looks cozy, I’ll give it that.” She gently tugs it out of his hands even though he’s still frowning at it, nostalgia evident on his face. “And we certainly won’t lose Manfred in a crowd with this colour combination.”

#wip whenever #wip #v writes #emmrich #emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrook #emmrich x rook #emmrich x ingellvar #emmrich x amina ingellvar #emmrich romance #emmrich fluff #emmrich went through a greasy punk phase in his younger years confirmed #thedosian holiday special #datv #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard

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basket-of-cats-and-witches · 6 days ago

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Carry my heart (and hold it gently in your arms)

Another Emmrook piece! I just feel like this old man is too smooth, and needed early pre-relationship old man flustering. Ghil can be a poetic flirt, as a treat.

Feat. My Ingellvar Ghil'danan, and the bone daddy himself, Emmrich Volkarin.

-----------------

Strong arms wrapped around him, sliding under his knees and around his shoulders. There was something about the scent that soothed him, kept him from startling even as he blinked awake.

Something floral, like the soap Ghil used.

Dazed, Emmrich looked up, his eyes adjusting to the weak light. White hair turned to pale gold in the candlelight, spilling over a broad chest and draping across Emmrich’s lap.

“Rook?” He asked sleepily, before the full reality of the situation hit him. “R-Rook!” He flailed uselessly, locked firmly in place by Ghil’s embrace.

“Shh. You fell asleep, professor.” The warrior’s low tone was melodic and even as he climbed the stairs.

“You could have just woken me up!” Emmrich protested.

Ghil snorted. “We tried. Dozing off at dinner…should I take you on less missions?”

Emmrich glared, smacking Ghil’s chest. His ears were hot with embarrassment. “I'm not an invalid!” He scolded sharply. “You requested an expert on the Fade, which requires me to-”

A rumbling chuckle cut him off, the vibrating sensation warm and deep against his side. “I know,” Ghil said, almost affectionately. “I'm just teasing.” He paused at the top of the stairs, glancing down at the professor. “Would you like me to set you down now?”

No.

“Yes,” Emmrich lied. How mortifying it was to feel the longing rise up in his chest, a sweet ache he could not deny. “I'm perfectly able to walk to my own quarters. Where is Manfred, anyway?”

Ghil gently set him on his feet, and again the professor was struck with how startingly tall the elf was. Nearly his own height.

“In your room,” Ghil replied. “I asked Manfred if he’d prep your bed for you, just in case you didn't wake.”

Emmrich truly blushed at that. “You would have taken me all the way to my bed?”

The warrior opened his mouth, snapping it shut as if closing off a sudden thought. He coughed shyly. “Of course.” Whatever had run through his mind had caused a bloom of pink across his skin, flustering Ghil nearly as much as Emmrich. “Wherever…” his voice lowered, grew softer and more intimate. “Wherever you need me to carry you, I'll always be more than happy to.”

Something about those words caught Emmrich's attention. The lingering insinuation, perhaps of something…?

No. It couldn't be. Rook couldn't be interested in…

Fidgeting, Emmrich straightened his clothes. “Well,” he said weakly. “I appreciate the offer. And…thank you for carrying me.”

Ghil's lids lowered, heavy and inviting. “Anytime, professor.”

“You know what I prefer to be called,” Emmrich croaked out. If only anyone else was here. If only the low lights didn't lend an intimate, private touch to their conversation, as if they were the only two people in the entirety of the Lighthouse.

If only he were younger, braver.

The warrior stepped closer, reaching out, making Emmrich’s breath catch.

He plucked a long white hair off the professor's shoulder, smiling softly.

“Sorry. It's the worst part about having long hair,” he commented, pulling away.

Emmrich nodded. “Of course. Thank you, dear Rook.”

“Professor. Say my name.” The command was soft, but everything in Emmrich’s mind leapt to obey.

“Ghil’danan,” he whispered hoarsely.

The look he was rewarded with practically turned his insides to jelly, filling him with heat. He was far too old for stomach butterflies, for the yearning of a new infatuation.

And yet.

Ghil took his hand, lifting it up and examining the rings there absentmindedly.

“If the sound of my name on your lips is the last thing I hear, I don't think I'd mind,” he commented casually.

By all that was good, this man was sent to kill him personally. Nevermind Lucanis, the true assassin was right here.

His cheeks flared with heat as Ghil leaned down to kiss his knuckles, that lilac gaze flicking up to pin the professor in place.

“Goodnight…Emmrich,” he murmured, before stepping away.

Emmrich found himself at a loss for words. Those lips had been so soft against his skin, the sensation lingering like veilfire long after Ghil had vanished from sight.

Letting out a shaky breath, Emmrich slumped against the wall.

A snicker caught his attention.

Taash leaned in the hallway to their room, just barely in sight.

“Get it, professor,” they said, smirking before slinking back into their quarters.

Emmrich just covered his face and wished he could sink into the floorboards.

#my writing #ghil'danan for oc tagging #meathead my beloved #emmrich x ingellvar #rook x emmrich #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #dav #datv #I just need this old man flustered and blushing #he deserves to be courted as much as he courts rook #fic Ghil is much smoother than actual Ghil lmaooo #to be clear Ghil is not a real person! he is an OC I just have headcanons vs fic abt him

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