#solavellan fan fiction

[amaryllislavellan]

Need | 590 Words A study in how words feel as they exit the mouth, or maybe over analyzing is just a defense against really feeling what they mean. (Best if the words he's analyzing are said out loud!)

"Need is such a weak willed word. It’s short, callous, and overall falls fast in the mouth as if you’re trying to hide the vulnerability of yourself behind your front teeth. No. I do not need her."

Need is such a weak willed word. It’s short, callous, and overall falls fast in the mouth as if you’re trying to hide the vulnerability of yourself behind your front teeth.

No.

I do not need her.

I could brace myself against the flowery tones and the roll of my tongue when I say desire. The way the breath escapes in an attempt to flourish the thought, extending it out within the room on heated breath and a softly opened mouth. But that too, would be inaccurate.

I can attempt to articulate my feelings into words but none of them resonate with the way my heart bursts when I see her. The gentle moments we spend together that make my blood burn up through my chest and the air escape my lungs without being exhaled. Her smile traps the air there, held in the embrace of her warmth. Instead of searching for an escape I draw in a deep breath that comes out as a tremble and I fight back against my heart, losing my true purpose. My composure.

I-- I don’t need her.

Perhaps I simply want her. But want is a curt word, ending on a pop. It’s a short term proclamation that ends in a puff of air that resides in the forefront of the mouth. It is a word begrudging of neglect once obtained and my body would not do me the courtesy of abandoning her. With fevered fingers I indulge in tangling in her hair by the fistfull, pulling it back until she makes that golden sound. No. Want is far too small a word.

It falls as short in tone as need.

I can’t begin to define what happens when she looks into my eyes with genuine affection. She trusts me and my council, and I shatter. I shatter into thousands of tiny fragments that reflect back the many truths I have withheld to show me who I am. Who I was? No. The deep pools of trust she gives me--- I feed off of them. I drink it in and spill myself in turn, overflowing with greed. I am her reservoir of knowledge, always guarded and protected by the unseen corners of my mind. But, I find myself allowing the real truth to slip through the dam, like tiny cracks and rivulets that condense on the surface. She’s been clever, and attentive, and strong. I both fear and long for her to see the truth I have laid out for her in tiny admissions.

I refuse to think the word that rushes through my pulse. That rolls my shoulders forward with longing when she comes too close. I will not say the word that makes clever use of its consonants. The word that pushes the admission out of my mouth by forcing the tone across my lower lip held back and then permitted across my upper teeth. It betrays me. The movement of my mouth releases the end of the word in a way that almost vaults the confession faster to her ears. It leaves me open and willing to tell her anything.

I want to tell her everything.

I need to fight this feeling with all of who I am; hide my weakness tight in my throat. I have to rebuild these walls she so easily collapsed and make myself again in iron. I have to find the right words that will force this wall to collect between us. But the thought of losing her--- I.

I don’t want to need her.

[s0lavellan]

some of you remind me why I left the Fandom Menace and that’s not a compliment.

[dustplustars]

Out here writing and finishing my second Solavellan monster fucking fic because this fandom inspires me to no end. I was already writing it a few days before the new trailer came out AND THEN WELL....

here it is!

Wolf and I

[awwwokay]

(WIP) Ancient AU | Solas x Elgar’nan x Lavellan x Mythal (+18 | Explicit)

She felt so warm and heavy as sweat trickled down her forehead, her chest, her neck. Mixed in with her other lovers’ sounds of passion, Ashinnas labored breathing could be heard from the corners of the dimly lit room. She happily agreed to this, wanting the presence and attention of them all at once.

Her mind began to register her surroundings a bit more, and she suddenly felt the large, soft bed shaking as the two men beside her shared a moment of intense passion. She felt soft hands grazing her soft, thick thighs, as the woman below her began to lick and kiss her abs.

Ashinna let her gaze wander, and finally saw him. His moans were intense and loud as the large figure behind him thrusted into him with such force,

“S-Sola-“ Ashinna let out softly before her sentence turned into a soft whimper as the figure between her legs began to gently comb through her light patch above her core and spread her open.

“Hmm.. Every part of you is undeniably beautiful”, Mythal softly said before delving her tongue into Ashinnas warm center, her right thumb trailing from above the patch of curls to the sensitive, small bud above her opening. As Mythal began to gently massage her clit, she let out raspy moans with every breath she took.

Elgar’nan watched as the scene unfolded beside him as he thrusted roughly into the man below him. His large hands trailed along Solas’s sides, gripping him tightly. For so long, Elgar’nan wanted to see Solas losing himself under him. To feel his skin against his own and to listen to the sounds that came out of that beautiful mouth of his. His own deep moans filled the room, aiding in the symphony of intimacy that echoed throughout the large space.

Elgar’nan leaned over slightly, allowing for his thrusts to hit a spot inside of Solas that made him cry out. He reached one hand towards Ashinnas amble breasts and began slowly massaging one, taking in a nipple between his fingers.

Solas kept his gaze towards Ashinna as he felt himself being pounded into the mattress. The skin of his soft, yet ample buttocks could be heard hastily hitting against the large man behind him. Solas was lost in please as that spot inside of him kept being prodded over and over again. He admired watching her lose herself to Mythal; Strands of her brown curly hair was plastered against her sweaty face as she began to lift her back off of the bed and cry out with each breath. Her eyes closed as she grabbed a handful of Mythals black locks and gently tightened her thighs around the woman’s head.

Mythal took her hand off of Ashinnas bud and pushed two fingers inside of her dripping center, bringing her mouth to her swollen clitoris as she did so. She angled upwards and started to piston them at a fast pace eliciting a brigade of moans from Ashinna.

Elgar’nan took his hand off of Ashinnas breast and lightly smacked Mythals soft buttocks.

“That’s it darling”, Elgar’nan moaned deeply as he reached beneath Solas and began to strike his aching member.

“Allow her feel that rush of intense, numbing ecstasy. Leave her prepared and aching for me”

[elf-trash]

lmfao I finished replaying Inquisition and my fingers somehow slipped and I accidentally wrote a second chapter to this Solavellan one-shot I posted literally 9 years ago (almost exactly to the day) ��️

[eluvianarts]

He felt her fingers weave back and forth across his skull, shaping and folding each strand of hair into place like a song. It was extremely calming for the both of them. She often braided little plaits into his hair for practicality or for fun. Sometimes they talked and joked about life, sometimes they stayed silent and contemplated it instead, but neither mattered. It was the pattern, the rhythm, that was so meditative and soothing as though with each exhale, with each comforting chuckle, the weight of all their duties washed clean from their souls. And when her hands had finished, the lovers found themselves imparted with a fresh outlook on their individual responsibilities and a brighter spirit within with which to tackle them. Before her, he’d rarely ever reached this level of relaxation outside the fade. She’d opened his heart in more ways than one and he was unsure how he’d ever manage without her.

[chasing-ghosts-silhalei]

Background Face: "The Goddess Artemis" by Linda Lhermite Double Exposure Photography

Chasing Ghosts - AO3

[ Only viewable by registered users due to AI theft and hate bots ] [ If you'd like an AO3 membership code, please ask - I got you ]

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

A life of freedom with her closest friends and the denizens of the wild on her side. What more could a girl want? Not a damn thing, except to be left alone.

When Mithra pledged to go to the Conclave, she thought it would be a quick job and she could get on with her life. Unfortunately, this tattooed, beat-up, foul-mouthed, prickly Ranger finds herself trapped in a…challenging situation. She'd be gone immediately if not for that hole in the sky. Until it's sealed, she must adapt and prevent them from finding out who she is and what she's done.

Thanks to fate's twisted sense of humor, and those fucking Fade rifts, Mithra can't keep shit hidden to save her life.

And for some bizarre reason, love's sneaking up on her as well. She doesn't have time for that shit… But-

[ This tale is a backstory & healing journey ]

[ Smut is separated into its own chapters + clearly indicated ]

[ Disturbing Content / Trigger Warnings are in the Chapter Summaries ]

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

This fic is a dark, gritty, tragic mystery with LOADS of fluff and humor to make it all better.

There are many layers to everything. When you think you know, you really don't. I love a long game.

My Ranger concept is based on the DA:O Specialization. I've turned it into a magic-based power because "summoning." The existence of Mabari war hounds, Avexis, and that conversation with Morrigan about understanding animals for shapeshifting have inspired the finer details.

SO! Dalish Rogue 'Apostate' Inky x Solas and/or Cullen

[ Jealousy and pining ] [ Complicated Love triangle ] [ Enemies to Friends to Lovers ] [ Long Fic - Slow Burn / Romance ]

And there may or may not be a dog in the story.

Other pairings: Sera x Dagna Dorian x Bull

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

Rated Explicit for violence, occasional gore, eventual sexual themes (separated from the meat of the story), and strong language.

Trigger Warnings, Links, and [ the first three ] Chapter Summaries are below the cut.

There's a second link at the bottom of this post.

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

Here's a Six-Song Soundtrack to give you the vibe. Picrew tag-game post - A really good commissioned piece by Jazzajazzjazz! - A hilarious scene with Sera

Fic Trigger Warnings Include:

Past rape attempts, past rape threats, death threats ( past and present ), self-harm attempts, character death ( past and present ), past torture, past family loss.

Extremely graphic violence, graphic animal attacks ( C'mon - Ranger ), descriptions of injury, descriptions of gore, broken bones.

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

Chapter Summaries (just 1-3):

Chapter 1 - The Lone Survivor

Dressed in a Valo-Kas uniform, Mithra assaults the Breach She's badly injured. People scramble to save her. A few things about her are discovered and discussed.

Chapter 2 - Awake

There's a lot on Cullen's mind Mithra wakes up Cullen fetches Cassandra [ Poor everyone ]

Chapter 3 - The Herald

Leliana escorts Mithra into the dungeons. She's so amused. Petty pouting ensues. Mithra meets someone while in time-out.

There's much more, but I don't want to list every chapter or spoil things.

Fic Link: Let's fuckin' GOOOOOOOOOO!!

[shift-shaping]

Honestly. if you're going to wish violence on other women for writing what they want to write and not what you think they should write you don't really care about women, you just want a moral excuse for the misogyny you've never sat down to unpack.

[bitethebulette]

Ya’ll are sleeping on a damn good Dragon Age: Inquisition fic. I’ve been reading this to fill the emptiness the end of DA:I left in me while I wait for DA:TV to come out. If you are a Dragon Age fan I highly recommend it. It’s a bunch of extra scenes and conversations with not just Solas, but the other followers and advisors. Their interpretation of everyone’s voices is impeccable.

[seeker-ophelia]

HEY EDDIE

@unifadewalker

Hi.

Number 1, WhEreS tHe DWAARPH

And number 2, I did what you asked, ser.

From Yesterdays Stream:

Why does The Well matter? The fact that the well exists gives it relevance, gives it meaning. Mythal has control over your Inquisitor if they drink from the well. It could be told so well. Could you Imagine if Mythal made Inquisitor do something, do something she didn’t want to do, and Solas went batshit crazy about it? That’s why Solas yells at you, because you’re now in servitude to an ancient Elvhen god. (Ou, gimme the spice) someone write that.

[emotionally-masochistic]

My goal is to make you horny-sad.

Chapter 13 - An Enjoyable Side Benefit

He would never lie with her under false pretenses, but with all the cards on the table…Well, that's another story entirely.

"At last the drought was over, and he drank of her like a man who hadn't seen water in days. The space between their bodies had dwindled to such a minuscule distance, and yet when they finally came together it seemed as though they had bridged hundreds of miles to get there. It was like coming home; they fit together perfectly. Though either of them would have been loathe to admit it; it was the bittersweet and beautiful reunion they'd both been desperately hoping for."

[vespaer77]

Everything about this is sleepy and cozy and beautiful and reminds me that I also need to do my stretches..... thank you for that haha!

I also love that you and I are a couple of the few that don't hold to the "Solas is a spirit" theory. I actually just finished Jaws of Hakkon again and I'm getting ready to put my own last minute theory before Veilguard.

Solartist was 100% my favorite, though!

I truly hope you write more of these if you have time, and now I want to know more about your thesis. I'm in IT and also a songwriter, and AI is a very hot topic in my life right now. I'd love to get your perspectives on it.

I'm super glad I found your blog, friend!

🌙 early riser solavellan enjoy 🌙

"Vhenan, what are you doing?" She usually wakes before him, and usually, he does not mind her going about her morning routine by herself. He can barely hear the rustle of the sheets, usually.

How she does it, go to sleep after him, wake up through the night, rise before him, dashing to and fro in the keep all day, so fast he might as well see her double, and still function, day after day after day, he has no idea.

Usually, however, she waits until after chickencall and sunrise to get up.

"Abelas, ma lath," she whispers, tugs his blanket up around him and cups his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Come back to sleep," he counters. Trying to find her in the dark strains his tired eyes more than staring directly into the sun would, despite the low fire in the hearth and the green nightglow in her eyes.

This morning (this night, really), she's taken to her stretches still on the mattress. Likely in an attempt not to wake him. She's convinced she once woke him unrolling her cork mat. When he tells her again and again he awoke from a nightmare anyway, she never listens.

Butterfly, she calls it, a modified cross-legged seat where her heels touch the center of her and her knees are splayed out in front of her. She leans forward at the hips, so far the tilt in her spine is the only thing preventing her sternum from resting on the worn cotton.

She does not answer.

"Vhenan.."

"Josephine has me meeting.. somebody at the crack of dawn today. Some scholar from Rivain, I think. I'd like to get a head-start on all of their reports." A groan at the realization of more dreaded paperwork, her hands leave her feet and run through her hair when she buries her forehead in the mattress.

"Let them wait." He tries to lure her back into his arms, walking his fingers along the curve of her spine, curling a strand of her sleek waves around his index and middle. "Rivain has made you wait long enough." She had waited for their arrival for weeks now, without notice.

If she lets him, he'll wrap himself around her like barbwood until the midday sun in their faces wakes them yet again, and then he'll sneak beneath her nightgown and lazily rock their bodies together until the haze of their pleasure makes them both forget they ever had this conversation.

He does not remember having felt this much desire for another before he went to slumber through the Ages. Lusting for people, sure, especially those with long curls and curved hips and an eye for the arts, but never to the point to wanting to forsake the world and everyone else in it if it meant he could slip home inside them just one more time. If he spends too much thought on that, it scares him.

But alas, she shifts under his hand, and for a moment he thinks he succeeded, but then she stretches her legs out on either side of her and bends her chest back forward. There's a delicious gasp from her at the stretch in her hamstrings.

"I have enough things to do that aren't paperwork that would keep everyone here occupied for a week. Much as I want to climb your panadahl-" A sigh, now, from them both.

"...and all I have to do today is paint."

"Lucky you." She twists her body, her right hand on her left knee, her left hand holding onto his.

"No work, no title, no responsibilities."

"You can have a title, if you like. Gods know the responsibilities aren't for me to delegate. But the work you've got cut out for you. I would trust no one else with the chronicling of my journeys in art."

He forgoes the compliment, the way it makes his chest warm and fuzzy with her sincerity.

"And what would that supposed title be? Solas the Painter?" He rubs at the back of her hip with a hand.

"So long as they don't call you serving man anymore, I don't really care." She is, still, after weeks and weeks, deeply offended on his behalf, the way he used to be offended for those like her, marked and unknowing.

Somewhere deep in his past, Father rolls his eyes at him. Get your head out of the skies, stop chasing skirts and start to do something about it, Son, he tells him, seemingly oblivious to his own hypocrisy as he turns and starts clawing through Mother's skirts.

Here, in his present, Lavellan looks at him, a little knot between her brows as she considers if he's fallen asleep with his eyes open again.

He blinks, squeezes her hand.

"Humor me, vhenan."

"Husband?" Her nose crinkles with amusement. The suggestion caught him off guard, and she had caught the wonder in his expression immediately, even if he showed it for even less than a heartbeat.

"Scholar Solas?" Ah. Misplaced jokes, poor wordplay. Her favoured way out. "Scholas. No, Solartist. That's the one, because it's the truth."

"And you? Lavriter? Lathweaver." She snorts.

"Seam-vellan."

That is good, but the words disappear in his yawn. Her eyes are apologetic again.

Such an unbecoming expression on her.

"I'm sorry I woke you, vhenan. Go back to sleep, get some more rest." She leans over to kiss him, thumb in the dimple on his chin, before she rises to get dressed. "I'll come by to watch you paint as soon as I can."

Even so, she stokes the fire in the hearth and drapes her blanket over his own before she washes, dresses, leaves.

Solas calls out to her before she walks down.

"Hmm?"

"If you ever feel you need to escape - come find me. I shall hide you from their sights."

"Thank you, lath'in." She hushes down the stone stairs in small, nimble steps.

Home of my heart, Love says once he returns to the Fade. Its smile is wide and gap-toothed and fingers with brittle nails pluck petals from a neverending bed of daisies to its feet. She does not know you mean a spell, not to run away with her.

I know, he replies.

Still, he resolves to tell her that, later that day, when they settle down for the night, that no one ever made him question his very being like she does, and when she will inevitably construe it as criticism, then he will lure her into the sheets, underneath him, and whisper his professions to her until they claim residence in her as deep as her bones.

The next time he finds her alone, anyway.

🌙

I'm spending every waking minute either writing or thinking about my thesis so I got no other excuse for this one exept I want to put something else to paper than portrayal of AI in contemporary science fiction lmao

Also I wanna get the Lathlas ficlets out before I get to the Great Solavellan Reunification of 9:65 Dragon or Whatever so I gotta get them broken up lmao

I wrote a lil experimental Dorian POV ficlet about how hung up they are with each other bc Dorian is every Inky's best friend would anyone like to read that lmao

@vespaer77 as per your request 💕

[should I sign these? lmao ~rina]

[dustplustars]

new Solavellan smutty one shot!

I have a new one shot for y'all.

Two words: monster fucking

If you're not into it, I understand. But for those that are, lmao. Here you go!

In Peace

[galadrieljones]

You restricted replies, but I’d still like to point out varrics ass was dead (killed by solas, OOP) when he said the flower thing.

I'd thank you for the spoiler, as I haven't finished the game yet, but seeing as I am smarter than you, and I have read many books, and I have seen The Sixth Sense, and I have written countless words of fiction in my little adult life, I was able to figure that out for myself. Granted, I wasn't entirely sure, but now, I guess I am! So fuck you!

For the record: You have sent me an "anonymous" message on tumblr including an egregious spoiler based on a post that was clearly tagged "solavellan" and is written in good nature through the solavellan lens, and while you may think it's some sort of "gotcha!", all this has done is communicate to me and others that you, whoever you are, are a mean-spirited person.

Further, and because I'm literally incorrigible, if anything, the fact that Varric says this in an illusion crafted by Solas, is even more telling of Solas's desperate desire for human connection, and that he wishes for others to see his true heart, which he is too prideful to show himself, and which he has broken, all on his own, over and over again, including but not exclusive to the horrible injustice he imparted on Varric, in desperate pursuit of belonging, to fix his mistakes, and through the horrors of his own making. Solas crafts such an illusion because he needs Rook. He needs her to stop, not just his enemies, but also HIM. He said it to Lavellan in Trespasser. He walks the dinan'shiral. He expects to die. All this is exactly what I said in my post, which you would know, if you had bothered to engage in good faith.

If any of this bothers you, then please know that, from the depths of my heart, I do not give a shit. I have never once engaged with an anti-solas post or account, and I am not an aggressive fan or an anti or hostile in any way. I am here because I actually love Solas and his character. So remember that you came here, not the other way around, and therefore, please feel free to fuck off, and do not come back!

[an-established-butt-dent]

@rosieofcorona welcome to suffering. That means Solavellan Fic Rec time!

Allright, I'll post here so maybe other people can also stumble upon it! This is my top 3 at the moment.

These fics have had a terrible influence on my beauty sleep. (because who needs sleep when you can get dragged deep into emotional distress? Right? )

pressure point - 913718

Amazing exploration or a more dark and manipulative God™️ Solas. Honestly one of the best portrayals of trickster Solas! It starts pretty intense/psychological horror ish, but it developers into something much more healthy and romantic. This story is jgjdbrkfjdebfj read at own risk.

Plot 10/10, smut 14/10

The Book of Smokeless Fire - Shut_Up_Alexa

Written in beautiful prose. This is for if you like the mentor-student dynamic. It's not finished but the author definitely deserves more attention.

The Unwritten End - SolainRhyo

Solas x human inquisitor

This one is an absolute MUST read (I mean they all are but yeah). The portrayal of Solas is really on point.

Summary:

When Solas again became Fen'Harel, the Inquisitor vanished.

Unseen but not forgotten she watched as the Veil was destroyed, as the Evanuris were freed, as the world again went to war. She bore witness to the devastation knowing she could have stopped it, if only. As years passed she became a wanderer, a chronicler, using words to capture all the terrible things her decision had wrought on the world, using words as penance for all she hadn't done.

And using words, unwittingly, to lure the Dread Wolf to her door.

Enjoy!

every day i wake up grateful that i was ten years late to inquisition bc i am foaming at the mouth for dreadwolf and i am haunted by visions of how unwell i would be if i maintained this level of yearning for a decade

[chasing-ghosts-silhalei]

Chasing Ghosts - AO3

Chapter 26 Plans

[ Link to Tumblr Synopsis ]

“Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it’s far away,” Blackwall murmured while gazing into the Breach. When he noticed Mithra, he turned and said, “And to actually walk out of it, to be that close.” 

She shrugged. “It wasn’t that thing. Just a smaller rift that opened right outside the ruins. Then Inquisition soldiers scraped my crazy ass out of the dirt and here I am,” Mithra muttered with a deadpan, “Yaaay.” 

Blackwall raised a brow with an amused smirk. “Don’t get too excited.” When she laughed, he smiled and poked, “And Inquisition soldiers? That’s not what I’ve heard.” 

She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “In case you haven’t noticed, I really hate that story.” 

His mouth tightened into a line and he eyed her for a moment. “Right... I have to admit, I thought you’d be-” 

“Not an insane bitch? Taller? Beefier!” At his blank stare, she said, “Oh, you mean human.” 

“I- Yes.” 

She shrugged and muttered, “At least you didn’t call me a knife-ear.” 

His brow knit. “It was a foolish thought. Should’ve known better than to say anything. It’s what you do, and how you do it, that’s important.” 

“Yep,” Mithra muttered, then smirked and thought, ‘Oh, this poor bastard.’ 

He shook his head. “But the Breach, the Divine’s death, the Wardens… it doesn’t make sense. There’s so much we don’t know.” 

She smirked. “’We?’ Already feeling like part of the team, I see.” 

Blackwall smirked back. “Too soon? I thought we were starting to build a rapport over the past few days.” 

She shrugged. “Eh. You seem like a good one so far, but I know I’m an acquired taste. We’ll show each other what kind of people we are in time.” 

“You’re eager enough to kill bandits. I also heard you helped the refugees in the Crossroads. The others seem comfortable enough following your lead. That’s saying something.” 

She shrugged once more. “I guess. Anyway, just be there when we need you and don’t ask me too many questions.” 

His smirk widened. “I like a woman who takes charge.” 

Confused, Mithra squinted at him. “What?” 

His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to offend.” 

Still squinting, she muttered, “I’m not...offended, it’s just-” She wanted to ask why, but didn’t at the same time. 

Blackwall cleared his throat. “Of course. We’ve only been acquainted a few days. Sorry about that. Just one question then. How do you fit in with all this?” 

“That’s the thing: I don’t fit. I’m a paranoid, feral, abrasive asshole that belongs-” She waved toward the mountains. “-anywhere but here. This shit’s been challenging, but I want to help stop the war and get that damn hole closed.” 

He puffed his chest and crossed his arms as well. “Worthy goals. Ones I’m happy to support. As for the rest... Well, if I say the wrong thing, will you take my head?” 

Mithra scoffed with an amused smirk. “I honestly enjoy being teased and I admire people that aren’t afraid to tell me how it is, so not likely.” 

He chuckled. “Good to know. But you’re a terror in battle. That’s all you really know, isn’t it?” 

“I mean-” She sagged a little. “Yeah.” 

Blackwall shrugged. “It’s suited you thus far. For me, I’ll be satisfied so long as we get our hands on the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers.” 

Mithra’s nose wrinkled with a grin. “Those same bastards got me stuck in this bullshit, so I’ll happily help put a few holes in them.” She turned to go. “Anyway, I have some thinking to do. Nice talking with you, Warden.”