#lavellan x harding

[queerlyloud]

Am I gonna live my lesbian gigolas (gimleaf? wtf even is their ship name anymore?) fantasies by romancing scout harding with an elf inquisitor, MAYBE, AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, LIVING THE DREAM, BABYYYYYY

[an-established-butt-dent]

One of my many Solavellan head cannons.

They traveled together for months, years even. Don't tell me these lovesick fools didn't regularly disappear into the woods together, to have a quiet romantic moment away from the prying eyes of the other companions.

Mixed media on paper.

[star--nymph]

fjkhjgkd forgot I never posted this on tumblr with WHOOP

have some sketchy kissies

[blarrghe]

This is a story about trauma and relationships and socioeconomics and questioning belief and searching for balance. It's also about finding your soulmate on grindr.

Matchsies | A Complicated Match

Daff List: @warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @theluckywizard | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @mogwaei | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie

[howlingwolf23]

Solas - this mural depicts Fen'harel, an elven god

Sera - *snorts laughing* Finial? What? Was he the god of beds? But just the knobs?

Lavellan - *looks solas up and down then gives him a wink* maybe if you pray to him, you get his knob in bed

[pinayelf]

I know the save clan lavellan mission is like extremely stressful (in picking the right advisor to do what) but I added extra drama in my own DAI story where the stakes are higher (haven't figured out how yet) and there's also a great danger to the troops from trying to protect both the clan and city elves

so immy hesitates to send more troops because she doesn't want their blood on her hands but also she could lose her clan. Cullen tells her he will go there himself to fortify the city with a smaller number of troops but it's risky

and immy's like "cullen no it's too dangerous why would you do this for me" and he tells her "because I would do anything for you". this is pre-romance btw :3

[greypetrel]

"Reading together" for cullen and aisling 💗

Hi Mo! <3

Hope you’re doing better and better every day, thank you for the ask! And for this prompt in particular, it allows me to play on something that danced in my mind for quite some time eheheheheh.

(Namely: the “Find all 50 copies of Hard in Hightown lost in Skyhold” mission. Which was so deliciously whimsical and absurd, why the Inquisitor should be the one doing it, can you imagine seeing the Inquisitor bringing ten copies of a notoriously smutty novel around the Keep? *Vivienne shudders*. And well, Cullen had one copy on his bedside table… 😉 )

Tis the prompt list.

All-Nighter.

reading together (one may be reading aloud while the other is cuddled up against them, their eyes closed as they listen)  

It has been one of the weirdest days so far since Aisling set foot on that ship in Wycome. And this is saying something, since her whole experience included closing a hole in the sky, closing a lot of holes in the fabric of reality, speaking with a Magister born  centuries and centuries ago, travel in time, being proposed by a Gran Duke in Halamshiral and had her tower bombarded with goats.

But today risks to surpass them all.

First, Leliana and Cullen fiercely debating over whether to help Meryden stop her rival and the rumours she is spreading around. Nothing unusual, months of works later having the two discussing very animatedly at each other was basically a given in any council and weird when it doesn’t happen. The topic, tho, is what makes it weird, and Cullen’s stubborn intention of not doing anything about it as a group, not in a sense of “I won’t participate in this mission, you settle it yourself”. No, he’s been openly against anyone doing something, with the pretext that they can’t lose time and resources to settle a feud between two minstrels. By the time Aisling walks out of the War Room, she is running a headache from trying to conciliate the two with Josephine, convince them that they two would have dealt with the matter, they needn’t worry about it. To no use.

After that, a lunch with a couple of Counts from the Free Marches to ensure some favourable commercial routes that needs some discussion and her physical presence, and she all but climbs up to the first story of the library, groaning to bid Solas hello and doing the same with Dorian, groaning more, in happiness, as she finally sits down on the armchair and can close her eyes for a nap.

Except, she couldn’t: she is reached by a librarian who insists that she should be the one to search for and bring back not one, not two but fourty-eight (48!) copies of Hard in Hightown that are currently missing from the bookshelves.

Why the library needs all those copies of Varric’s book is a question that jumps to her and Dorian’s mouth as soon as the quest is proposed.

No amount of scepticism or questions about why it has to be her, the Inquisitor, to retrieve all the lost copies, could save her from the task, anyway: Dorian offers to help and they separate, looking for loose copies in two, that are found in all kinds of places, from behind her throne (she has no idea how it got there), to a void corner behind the Herald’s Rest she fakes she doesn’t know is Cassandra’s favourite reading hideout (she smiles at the Seeker knowingly, when she passes, and giggles seeing how the woman pales and looks at the copy she holds in her arms with pure horror). There are two in the Chantry (she notes the spot as a good reading place, since she unwillingly set the trend to gift Andraste mint saplings and plants, the small chapel always smells the nicest), and four in one of the towers that still needs repairing. And, weirder still, when in two they couldn’t find all of them and decide to call it off for the day, retrieving the 36 they managed to find to the Librarian, Aisling finds 4 more.

3 are on the stairway to her quarters, scattered around, and another lays abandoned on the railing of one of the balconies in her room. She is very sure she hasn’t left it there: she likes reading but ever since she became Inquisitor, all she had time for were non-fiction and treatises about this or that topic she should know to better act the part, and had a very vague knowledge of because apparently she grew up in a very different world. She read the Tale of the Champion in Haven, but she had considerably more free time back then, but now? Nothing much, save for something in Orlesian Josie got her to practice the language. But it could have been considered study.

She considers stopping by to read the book, out of pure curiosity about the whole ordeal of the afternoon, and just to understand why they have so many copies and why everyone got one without returning it. But, she is waited for, and as curious as she is and eager to go back to read something just because, she isn’t taking time away from Cullen.

Oh no. They settled for dining together, this evening, struggled to find the time and free their schedules enough (convincing Cullen to take an evening off is a deed by itself), and she isn’t rescheduling this. Sorry, Varric. She ponders whether to bring a copy with her, to read together… But remembering how he reacted when she all but named the Tale of the Champion makes her leave the book where it is. She just quickly washes herself, changes to something prettier -not a dress or she won’t ever pass the Great Hall-, brushes her hair, grab an extra clean shirt in the chance she’ll oversleep the next morning, and she’s out of her room.

She calls for dinner in the Commander’s office on her way there, and Frida launches her a knowing look she doesn’t really like, but pretends to ignore and not to be embarrassed about. As she pretends to ignore the faint remark to be careful and mind some defenses that in writing would come between quotation marks and makes her flush and stumble on her feet. And when she makes her way past the bridge out of Solas’ rotunda and knocks on Cullen’s office, he’s still finishing one last report, begging her for just one minute with hair down his coif -she loves seeing them undone, but she also knows that it’s a symptom of the day being particularly haphazard and hectic, forcing him to rake his fingers too much through it.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She asks when he leaves his quill down, giggling, and is met with his eyes, snapping out of the parchment, and a low, dragged groan explicating everything without a word.

“I know, it’s been a really shitty day.”

“Yours too?”

“Oh, I got the weirdest task ever, you wouldn’t believe it. Can I move the papers? Or we can dine on the floor and improvise a picnic.”

“I’ll never quit if you don’t take the papers away. Please, take the papers away.” He chuckles, grateful.

They settle to work in a practiced order, one facing each side of the desk. Aisling knows, by now, the order he likes to pile reports and orders and schedules, and can divide what she finds in neat piles, closing books on her way and moving everything on the side.

“What weird task was it?” Cullen asks, as they are still tidying the desk.

“Returning all the copies of Hard in Hightown of the library, apparently no one did.”

“… Why should you do it?” He puzzles, in disbelief.

“I know!” She giggles, shrugging. “And do you know how many copies do we have?”

“I am now afraid to ask.”

“Fourty. Eight.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Good sir, I am not! Why do we have those many copies? Is the book that good? I know Varric’s good but…  Fourty-eight? For a smutty novel? Who reads it who can’t wait for the others to finish?”

She’s so enthused in her speech that she doesn’t notice Cullen looking poignantly down on the desk, nor his cheeks gaining some colour. He just chuckles some more -it does sound more forced than before- and pats the last report pile together.

“I wouldn’t know…”

The topic gets abandoned as someone knocks on the door and, finally, their dinner gets in and placed on the now free(r) desk. Two plates each, plenty of bread, one dish full of tiny pastries, and since both prefer it and Dorian has put up a war to the wines served in the Keep, a jug full of beer. They eat, side by side on the same side of the desk, Aisling props her feet on Cullen’s seat, he slouches forward and spreads his legs, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee with none the wiser to keep them proper and poised as they eat and laugh together, winding down from the day and not in a real hurry to move, right now. Some casual touches are enough, getting progressively more, her knees bends on his thigh and his hand loosely on her calf, thumb caressing it mindlessly. Aisling lights the candles up when the sun sets, with a quick snap of her fingers so none of them has to raise from their sitting and they can keep on eating the pastries. A perfect, relaxing evening.

Except, nothing could really go fully well. None of them is really surprised when someone knocks on the door, a couple of hours after sunset, insistently. Cullen groans loudly, massaging his temples with bare fingers -they both got rid of gloves time ago- as the messenger outside apologizes and exclaims it is urgent.

“It’s always urgent, isn’t it…” He complains, softly.

“You love your work.” Aisling giggles, bending a little forward on his lap to press another peck on the corner of his mouth, for strength.

“No, I hate it.”

“My my, Commander, what would the Inquisitor say hearing you complain so?”

He opens one eye, looking at her with all mock reproach. She just smiles more, dipping in for another kiss. He answers to this, this time.

“Come on. I’ll wait for you up there.”

“It’s not really encouraging me to focus on work, you know…”

“No, I’m aiming at you dealing with whatever it is as quickly as you can, so I can steal you for some more time.”

“And your aim is unfortunately too good.”

They snort a laugh, together, and rise up from Cullen’s seat, separating their way. Aisling hops on the ladder as quickly as she can, sitting on the floor and looking up through the hole in the roof at the weather. She can see stars, so they won’t get rained on yet again -she stopped insisting on him to repair the damn thing at least a month ago. With another snap of fingers, she lights the candles around the bed, sitting down on the mattress and unwinding her leg wraps with a huff of delight, after the long day. From below there is discussing, and if she wanted, she could focus on the words. But her attention gets caught elsewhere, tuning down whatever urgent matter is coming from below. If Cullen isn’t barking and has not that tone of voice, it can’t have been that severe….

… So, she squints at a single volume on his bedside table (a barrell), looking newer than everything he got on the bookshelves below. She borrowed his books, she knows what he has, and this looks too recent an edition for his collection. She isn’t one to shuffle through other people’s things without a clear permission, and she wouldn’t dare to do so with him neither. But she is curious, and Cullen isn’t there to ask.

Her heart beats faster, as she gets rid of the leather and tosses it haphazardly on the side -forgetting that Cullen positively hates when she just scatters clothes or things around- and moves closer to the headboard. Just one look at the cover wouldn’t hurt, would it? He wouldn’t be offended if she just read the title…

---

Aisling hears Cullen stepping up the ladder before seeing him, when she’s in the middle of chapter 3. And indeed, she’s so into the reading that she doesn’t lower the book and just greets him with a “All done?” as she turns the page. She keeps on reading, waiting for an answer that never comes. After a minute, she lowers the book with a question in her eyes, and is met by Cullen staring at her with horror on his face, stuck there sitting on the ledge.

“What?” She asks. She took off her trousers and remained in her smalls and shirt, but he saw her with less clothes on.

“You found it.” He says, laconically.

“Wha- Oh, the book?” She asks, closing it on her index finger and sitting up straight on the bed, crossing her legs under her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried, but it was there and… Well, I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, easily enough apologizing for something she sees upset him. But, Cullen shakes his head, helping himself raising up with his hands and walking to the other side of the room, starting to unbuckle his armour.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything bad, you’re free to use my things.”

“But, you’re upset.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure, and I’m the Empress of Orlais.”

He turns to scowl at her at that, as the only reply. Aisling grins, smugly, letting him start again the conversation and just waiting there. It’s not so late, and she’s not really sleepy and has brought there, little by little, everything she needs to spend the night without showing that she didn’t get into his office for an early meeting for real. After that first time she had to sneak out, she left a brush and some spares for her morning routine around his loft, to gain a couple of hours more together. So, now, she waits patiently for him to discard his cape, first, pauldrons and vambraces then, cuirass last. Everything gets placed tidily and methodically over a mannequin, ready to be worn the next day. Her discarded pair of leg wraps and her trousers earn another scowl and a grunt, as he bends down and collect both without a word.

“Leave them, come on! I know where they are.”

“This time. Another, you won’t find them and I’ll laugh looking at you skimpering all the way to your room like you are now.”

He complains, in a well-reharsed ritual, neatly folding everything and placing her clothes on the back of the chair he sits onto to take his boots off.

“You wouldn’t mind the view.”

“I wouldn’t.” He admits, chuckling. “But we’ll have to count casualties between the scandalised nobles in the Great Hall, and I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of bureaucratic hell.”

She sits back, making space for him and outstretching her arms in a silent invitation for a hug, as soon as he raises up, barefoot and just in breeches and shirt. He flops down on her, sighing loudly in her shoulders and circling her bust with both arms, as she does the same with his shoulders -the cursed book still held in her right- and starts pressing kisses to the side of his head right away.

“Can you- the book?”

“What?”

“Put it away?”

“Can I finish the chapter? Donnen and Jevlan just entered the mansion under very mysterious circumstances…”

Cullen groans loudly.

“I can read it aloud! Or start from where you got if you just started it.”

“You really want to spend the evening reading Varric’s trashy novel?”

“It’s been ages since I last read something for fun… And the trashiness is what makes it fun.” She giggles, ruffling his hair. Just a little, just as a treat, treading her fingers between the curls and loosening them from the offending -to her- pomade. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that…”

“You do!” She chirps, delighted. “What’s the problem, then? We can read it together.”

“… Is it not a problem for you?”

“Why would it be, Venhan?”

“It’s trash. And clichèed. And I’m pretty sure it talks about one of the guards in Kirkwall.”

Aisling considers it, shifting a little to get comfier under his body. He’s warm and cozy, and she loves feeling his weight on her. But…

“Are you afraid I’ll judge you because you like smutty, trashy literature?” She asks, softening her voice.

Another groan, as the man clutches her more tightly. She huffs a little, giggling and doing pretty much the same.

“That’s all right. I’m sorry if I disclose it to you, but your strategy books are quite boring. Even more than Josie’s endless genealogies!”

“You’re just saying it to make me feel better.”

“I swear I am not! The last novel I read was something extremely cheesy that Cassandra lent me… We were in the Western Approach and I couldn’t sleep during the day.”

“And it worked?”

“Absolutely not, I read it all in one go and when I was done it was the sunset and we had to get back to work.” She giggles. “I don’t regret anything, tho, it was gloriously awful, the main dude was constantly glistening for some reason, and the lady found the lack of bathes and perpetual transpiration very sexy, somehow.”

“Should I try it?” He chuckles as well.

“Please, don’t.” The giggling turns into a full laughter that they both join in.

When it ends, Cullen sighs, loudly, turning his head and pressing a kiss on her neck, dragging it a little more than necessary. Not that she complains, particularly as the next thing for him is raising up on his elbows and searching for her lips for a better kiss, long and lazy.

“So.”

“So?”

“I reached chapter eight, but I don’t mind getting back with you.”

“Really?” She lights up in a smile, delighted.

“At one condition.” He nods, smiling back. “We-” He pecks her lips. “-Aren’t-” Another kiss on the left corner of her mouth. “-Reading-” Another one, on the right corner. “-everything-” One more kiss, on the tip of her nose. “-tonight.” He concludes with one last kiss, back on her lips, with some difficulty because she smiles into it.

“Aye aye, captain!” She agrees, kissing him back before shifting purposefully under him. “Turn back and bend your legs.”

They settle up, Aisling propping both pillows behind her back to prop herself straight against the headboard, legs and arms spread wide to accommodate Cullen, sitting with her back on her, more forward not to weight too much on her. He takes the book, minding to keep the page she had it opened to, and keeps it open on his chest, close enough that she can read it over his shoulder.

“Comfy?” He asks.

“Very much!” She replies, sneaking her hands under his armpits to hug him tight.

If Dorian’s definition of Aisling like an octopus had seemed exaggerated before, it certainly stopped being so since they got properly together and started spending the night in the same bed, as often as they could when Aisling was in Skyhold, and she got even more touchy than the usual. She started reading, putting real emphasis in the words and modulating her voice according to the tone of the tale, whispering when Donnen went undercover, making all the characters sound different and poking Cullen until he started to read Donnen’s lines himself.

It is trashy. And not as smutty as they both thought from the start. But Varric’s blatant lack of interest in boats and learning what the pointy ends are called is not enough to make the narration less captivating. They laugh and gasp, shifting position after a while, again and again, always keeping close to each other so they could read from the same page, limbs intertwined most often than not.

“ ‘The Sword of Hessarian,’ she breathed, almost a prayer.” Aisling breathes too, with comical pathos.

“ ‘You can get it to the Divine?’ Donnen asked.” Cullen reads, trying too to sound suffering and in pain. He has a laughter in his voice and is not a good actor, but he tries his best.

“She wiped at her eyes. ‘I'll take it to her myself. What do you want in return?’ “ Aisling asks, inkling her head towards Cullen and battling her eyelashes up and down very quickly, lips pursed slightly forward, suggestively.

“Donnen struggled- Maker, I can’t-” Cullen has to interrupt himself, to snort some laughter at Aisling. “-Donnen struggled to his feet. ‘Just put in a good word for me with the Maker, your ladyship. You never know when I might need it.’ And he walked away, leaving her standing in the firelight with history in her hands. The end.”

They both let down in some laugh, not caring if hours have passed, all candles flickered out and they are reading to some globes of light Aisling evoked effortlessly and are dancing loosely around them, as the sky pales out the hole in the roof.

“It was lovely, thank you.” Cullen says, sighing and leaning against her. They’re both on their bellies, side by side under the blankets.

“Mh. I didn’t like the ending, tho.” Aisling declares, with a pout as she closes the volume and shifts to place the book back on the side-barrel/table she found it in the first place.

“Why not?”

“Well, poor Donnen deserved some prize for his troubles, of course.” She declares, turning on her back and stretching, arching her back and her arms, like a cat.

“Oh? What kind of prize?” Cullen asks, placing a hand on her waist and dragging her closer.

“Well, maybe he would have liked a kiss from Lady Marielle. Like this…” She giggles, cupping his cheeks with both hands to drag him down for an illustrative kiss. “I was promised some smutty literature, and all I got was meaningful stares!” She pouted, eyes glinting in mirth nonetheless.

She doesn’t have a poker face, and Cullen loves it. All games are just so openly so. It’s impossibly late and they’ll both regret this in the morning and during the day. But they don’t have that much time together, and since they’re both there… Better yet adding the smutty part that the book lacked.

[itsmxbee]

Playing dragon age inquisition and yall when I tell you I almost started crying when mother Giselle began singing?! THE THEME SONG?! Actual chills

[fenharel-apologist94]

Tea Leaves and Sweet Dreams

(m!Lavellan/Solas)

There are four things Kieran knows about Solas:

(1) He’s Professor Flemeth’s infamously irritable and reclusive TA, and tears his essays to shreds (2) He’s Kieran’s new labmate in one of the most difficult academic programs in Ferelden, under the supervision of one of the most mysterious professors alive (3) Solas hates point (2) (4) Solas hates tea

When Solas makes his distain for Kieran clear, Kieran decides to fight fire with tea. Will Solas survive this tea war? Will Kieran find the one tea Solas can tolerate? Is there more brewing beneath the surface that neither of them want to confront?

(The answer is yes.)

[chiefambassador]



[dolceaspidenera]

OMG I love this idea so much! I had to make one for each of my favourite couples

Thank you for the tag @vspin and @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate both of yours were so incredibly sweet 🥺🥰

Rules: make your ships in this adorable picrew, then give me their song. Tag some friends to share too!

Number one we have, of course, Astarion x Sameira (I love these two dorks).

It was hard to choose just one song for them, I have so many that make me think of these two 🥺 (I Found, You And I, Take Me Back To Eden, Jaws, Undisclosed Desires)

From left to right from the 3 Dragon Age titles: Zevran x Nerissa - To Be Alone Fenris x Hawke - Find Me Solas x Lavellan (the tragic couple 😭) - Where's My Love

Julian x Venere (my apprentice from The Arcana) - Northern Star

Ais x Selenia (my "Unnamed" MC from TouchStarved) - Smoke And Water

I would have snuck in Shepard x Garrus but alas, it was impossible to replicate Garrus 😁 but he gets an honorary mention for best space husband ever.

(Yes, I'm aware I have an addiction in making either dark or white haired ocs, apparently I keep forgetting other colours exist).

Tagging (sorry if you've already been tagged, I'm already losing track - and as usual no pressure): @cleric4vampire @astarionposting @phasebun @senualothbrok @howlsmovinglibrary + anyone who sees this and wants to join in on the fun!

[rachelgrey]

RULES: answer all questions, add one question of your own, and tag as many people as there are questions

thank you @good-enemy for the tag <3

coke or pepsi: coke

disney or dreamworks: sorry but i prefer disney i could name maybe like two dreamworks movies off the top of my head

coffee or tea: tea because coffee tastes burnt

books or movies: books

windows or mac: windows

dc or marvel: unfortunately i am a marvel fan

x-box or playstation: i havent used either of these in years

dragon age or mass effect: what

night owl or early riser: night owl

cards or chess: cards

chocolate or vanilla: depends on the food but usually vanilla

vans or converse: docs

lavellan, trevelyan, cadash, or adaar: ⁉️

fluff or angst: angst. hurt that blorbo you know you want to

beach or forest: beach

dogs or cats: dogs by default because im allergic to cats

clear skies or rain: clear skies but like the kind of clear skies when its sunny with no clouds in the sky but its chilly out

cooking or eating out: depends on the food

spicy food or mild food: mild food bc im a picky eater and also white

halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: hanukkah

would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: a little too cold

if you could have a superpower what would it be: telekinesis but that might just be because im a jean grey girlie

animation or live action: live action

paragon or renegade: ⁉️

baths or showers: baths but unfortunately showers are more convenient

team cap or team iron man: i hate both of them

fantasy or sci-fi: anyone who knows me knows i am the biggest fantasy lover out there

do you have three or four favorite quotes, if so what are they: idk i have a lot but i couldnt name them off the top of my head

youtube or netflix: youtube

harry potter or percy jackson: percy jackson obviously. he'd also kick harry potter's ass but thats a whole other conversation

when do you feel accomplished: when i succeed

star wars or star trek: ive seen bits of star wars so that one

paperback books or hardcover books: hardcover books because they have built in bookmarks and also theyre pretty

live in a world without literature or music: nice try but no

who was the last person to make you laugh: i dont know probably my dad

city or countryside: city i love the city i am a big city person (i dont live in a big city)

favorite chips: baked lays

pants or dresses: pants

libraries or museums: museums we have no good libraries here

character driven stories or plot driven stories: oh thats hard. probably plot but i do love a good character driven story

bookmarks or folding pages: bookmarks

dream job: music therapist

what gives you comfort: my dog. also music

what are you currently having brain rot levels of interest over: the once upon a broken heart series by stephanie garber and also maisie peters's music

what is your current favorite song: coming of age by maisie peters

(added question) how many books have you read this year?

tagging @henwilsons @napollya @thegoosewitch and whoever else is interested

[an-established-butt-dent]

Solas x Lavellan

Still not over how my poor Lavellan her heart broken in the Glen. She didn't deserve to be left behind like that! 3 Weeks travelling from Skyhold on the premise of a romantic date... only to get dumped.

For a character that's supposed to be wise, Solas has a terrible grasp on the idea of romance.

I'm trying to mend my heart by dedicating this piece to my Inquisitor Lavellan 'Artemis' and the annoyingly sexy and emotional unstable dread Egg.

[ly-art]

Snippet of my latest chapter—NSFW (Solas x Lavellan

I'm a bit late with updating since some personal shit came up, but I'm trying to catch up! So here is a snippet of some sexy time between Solas and Lavellan. enjoy!!😈

When he sank his teeth into her shoulder, she gasped, arching towards him, her hands clawing at his tunic, desperate to feel more of him. A deep, primal moan escaped Solas, sending shivers down her spine and fueling her frenzy. It was the most erotic sound she had ever heard, intensifying her desire beyond measure. Surely, she couldn't get any wetter. Whispering into her ear, his voice husky with lust, he murmured, "Isalan na. Isalas em?" His words were barely restrained, and her grip on him tightened. Her thoughts scattered, unable to form coherent sentences. All she could think of was Solas. Whatever the consequences, she needed him. "Vin! Aman na'mis, Solas! *Sathan!* Her voice cracked with desperation, almost unrecognisable even to herself. "Ma nuvenin," he purred, a smile playing on his lips against the crook of her neck. His hand slid underneath her leggings and small clothes and found her heat, his touch fierce as he rubbed her clit, eliciting a cry from her as her hips surged against him. Inhaling sharply, he chuckled. "Already so eager? So wet..." His fingers slid inside her, moving slowly at first, the friction against her walls causing her entire body to tense with pleasure. She tilted her head back, lost in the sensation, small gasps escaping her lips as he increased his pace. Amatisha's mind overloaded. All she could do was grind her hips against his gand, urging him deeper. Before she knew it, the surroundings shifted. They were no longer outside, but inside the Chantry. Leaning against the war table, catching her breath, she watched in disbelief as Solas withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his mouth. His eyes glinted devilishly, liquid silver with hints of amethyst dancing within them. "You taste absolutely delicious," he murmured, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. Amatisha flushed at his boldness, realizing more and more that he was the predator, and she, his willing prey. In this moment, as he towered above her with a smirk, Solas seemed divine—a god she yearned to worship. Cocking his head to the side, he rasped, "How about you find out yourself how perfect you taste?" Closing the distance between in two strides, he seized her, his hand gripping her neck firmly as he pressed his lips against hers. His tongue explored her mouth with an intoxicating hunger, leaving her breathless and dizzy. She tasted herself on him. His hands moved to her breasts, his touch both firm and gentle, teasing her nipples until they hardened under his thumb. Amatisha's breath hitched as he pulled away, his lips trailing down to brush against her chin. The urge to surrender overwhelmed her, her head instinctively tilting back, eyes fluttering closed. "Do you know how many times I imagined fucking you right here on this table?" His voice was a low hum, laced with temptation, holding her captive. Amatisha swallowed hard, shaking her head. "No..." she breathed, astonished that he had desired her for so long. "Since I held you that night you sought comfort," he confessed, his words sending a shiver down her spine. "Since my cock hardened the next morning, craving your heat. As much as I hate to admit it, you have haunted my thoughts since the day we met. Your mesmerizing emerald eyes, your wonderful round ass," his hands gripped it possessively, fingers digging into her flesh. "Your perfect curves, those full, ripe breasts," he tore away her tunic, exposing her breast wraps, which he swiftly discarded. Solas cupped her breasts, kneading them roughly. The slight pain made her writhe beneath him. As her tunic slipped away, she felt his hungry gaze devouring her exposed skin. His mouth descended on her nipples, sucking them fervently, teeth grazing over sensitive skin. Amatisha arched against him, pulling him closer, wishing he would never stop. *I'm going... crazy... This is...*

[honeysunai]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Cullen Rutherford x Lavellan reader

During the two years after Corypheus' defeat, Lavellan had to leave for months on end to seek her allies to keep the Inquisition afloat. Amidst the diplomatic endeavors, a letter from Cullen finds its way to her. author’s note: I'm writing this because I absolutely love Dragon Age. It's one of my favorite game franchises and I adore Cullen. Tumblr needs more Cullen. This is probably my favourite one shot I wrote ever. wordcount: 1,3k

The days are getting frustrating.

She has been working day in and day out to keep peace between her allies to bring them to compromises over the Inquisition. She was after all, in title still, the Inquisitor. Her unwavering commitment led her to bend rules and relinquish much, driven by an unshakeable determination. A lingering sense of unease gnawed at her, as if some malevolent force lurked in the shadows, ready to exploit any moment of vulnerability. The Avvar tribes from Frostback Basin were the least helpful and indulgent in her needs. She needed their written support in the continuation of the Inquisition and be part of the protectors of the realm and with such a generous and honorable offer she was humbled.

Humbled by bitter words and disapprovals beyond measures. After two days of diplomatic quarrels and revisiting the pros and cons of their alliances they still hadn't made up their mind.

She sat at a desk made of bones and dark wood with her head in her hands. She had to come to the realization that soon it would be the end. No one believed the Inquisition useful any longer, no one believed her to be of use no more. No matter how hard she'd work to keep the fires of hope burning, it was now a mere flicker as she reminisce the past.

She missed the old days, the action, the adventure with her friends. She missed Bull and his teasing; her reading times with Cassandra when the world wasn't burning; her chess games with Dorian, her endless training with Blackwall; her drinking friend, Sera and Josephine and her stupid dancing lessons that she'd grown to love. Amidst the nostalgia, a pang of longing hit her for the one she left behind months ago to pursue her quest: her beloved, Cullen.

Closing her eyes, she let the scenes unfold in her mind's eye—the tentative glances exchanged in Haven, the warmth of their shared laughter amidst the chaos of the Inquisition's formation, and the quiet moments stolen in the tranquility of Skyhold. But one memory she'd always cherish was the day he'd invited her for a game of chess, a game Dorian has taught her and he was a very severe teacher.

The flickering candlelight bathed the room in a warm, golden glow as Lavellan and Cullen sat across from each other, an ornate chessboard laid out between them. The air hummed with anticipation, the only sound the subtle clink of chess pieces being moved.

Lavellan's fingers danced gracefully over the carved ivory pieces, her eyes alight with a strategic fervor that belied her calm demeanor. "Your move, Commander," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Cullen raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. "I must admit, Inquisitor, I wasn't expecting such a challenge."

She grinned, capturing a pawn with a swift move. "Well, Commander, it seems elves aren't just skilled with a bow. We have a few tricks up our sleeves when it comes to chess as well."

Cullen chuckled, a warmth spreading across his face. "I'll remember to never underestimate you."

The game unfolded with a balletic precision, each move a careful dance of intellect and banter. Cullen, initially taken aback by the unexpected prowess of his opponent, watched in awe as Lavellan executed her strategies flawlessly.

As the tension mounted, Lavellan leaned back, studying the board with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Your move, Commander. Don't tell me you're surrendering already."

Cullen's gaze met hers, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Never, Inquisitor. I just enjoy keeping you on your toes."

With a triumphant smile, Lavellan declared checkmate. Cullen's surprise was evident, his eyes widening in genuine admiration. "Well played," he conceded, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lavellan leaned in, a sly grin playing on her lips. "A game well fought, Commander. Perhaps you'll catch me off guard next time."

Cullen leaned back, a subtle twinkle in his eye as he crossed his arms. "One can only hope, Inquisitor. Surprises can be quite... captivating, after all."

The victory wasn't just in the game but in the shared laughter that followed, a playful banter that hinted at the deeper connection blossoming between them. She couldn't help but smile at the memory of that victorious chess match—the strategic moves, the playful banter, and the spark of flirtation that hinted at the beginning of something more profound between them.

They've been through the hells and back and their love was stronger than it ever was, but this didn't mean she didn't miss him any less. He was on her mind every night and every morning, wishing he'd be there next to her. He would comfort her and make her laugh to ease the frustration that plagued her.

"What would you do, Cullen?" She'd muttered under her breath while pinching the bridge of her nose.

A knock on the door of her cabin echoed and she rushed to opened the door hoping to receive positive news of the clan chiefs, but was met with a messenger from Skyhold.

"Inquisitor, a letter for you." The man offered her the folded parchment with the sigil of Kirkwall molded in the red wax that held the paper from revealing the words written inside. She thanked the man and returned to her desk with her eyes glued on the wax seal. The Inquisitor's heart raced as she carefully unfolded the parchment, a mix of anticipation and longing swirling within her chest.

"My Dearest Vhenan,

I find myself surrounded by the quiet shadows of Skyhold, the empty halls echoing with the absence of your laughter. In these moments, I am acutely aware of the words I struggle to say, the gestures I fumble, and the emotions that elude my grasp. So, in the silence that separates us, I turn to this parchment, attempting to weave the sentiments I cannot articulate in person.

The future of the Inquisition has scattered us like leaves in the wind, and each step away from you feels like a stumble in the dark. It is in these quiet spaces, where your presence is most keenly missed, that I realize the depth of what we shared. You, my love, are the melody in the chaos, the anchor in the storm, and the warmth in the cold solitude.

I am not gifted with eloquence when it comes to matters of the heart, and my attempts at grand gestures often fall short. Yet, in the silent chambers of my thoughts, you are ever present, a constant hum in the background of my consciousness. Your courage, your kindness, and the way your eyes light up with passion have become the compass guiding my way.

As we find ourselves on separate paths, know that you are the sun on my horizon, the spark that refuses to be extinguished. I miss you more than words can convey, and with each passing day, the ache of your absence grows. Every quiet moment serves as a reminder of your touch, and every fleeting memory stirs a longing within me.

In these lines, I attempt to bridge the distance that stretches between us, to convey what my stumbling words fail to express. Until the day our paths cross again, carry with you the truth that you are missed, loved, and cherished beyond measure. The ink on this parchment may be a poor substitute for the warmth of my embrace, but it carries the essence of a heart that beats for you.

Yours, always and with all that I am,

Cullen" With each word, she felt the weight of Cullen's emotions, the sincerity of his struggles to express what lay in the depths of his heart. A tender smile curved her lips as the ink on the page painted a vivid picture of his love.

Her fingers traced the lines of the letter, as if seeking a tangible connection to the man who had become her anchor in the chaos of Thedas. The sincerity of his words resonated within her, echoing the sentiments she had sensed but had not dared to voice aloud.

As she reached the end of the letter, a gentle warmth enveloped her, like a soft embrace that bridged the physical distance between them. Tears welled in her eyes, not from sorrow, but from the overwhelming realization that she was deeply, wholly loved. In that solitary moment, she felt an unspoken bond, a connection that transcended the miles that now lay between them. With a soft sigh, she whispered, "I'll be with you soon, vhenan," as if the wind could carry her words across the continent.

[inquisimer]

HEY BB if you had to pick 5 fics you’ve written to make a “crash course” and sum up your writing personality, which would they be? I must know.

thank you for the uno reverse, MWAH

it's only fair that I have to turn this lens on myself but DANG was it hard to be like "what is my writing personality?" I think it really boiled down to: platonic relationships, grey wardens, a just a hint of Lore™️

Gen'adahl - Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Rated G, 1485 words

this was one of the first ever DA fics I wrote; I remember scrawling it out in a notebook at my last job where I wasn't allowed to keep my phone at my desk. And I was so proud when I finished it! For me, it represents the proof that I can finish pieces, no matter how long it takes

to be seen feeling - Male Mahariel/Morrigan, Rated T, 5039 words, a gift for @dreadfutures as part of the 2023 DAFF DIscord's OC Swap

writing this fic was not only an absolute joy, it was a pinnacle for me: if I could write a fic that captured the depths of Blue's OCs, I could probably do anything. And I did! And I can! It was exactly what I needed at the time and also a reminder that however blase my own knowledge or fandom experience feels to me, it will slot into what even the most knowledgeable fandom personalities know in surprising ways.

Shards of Glass - Female Brosca & Rica Brosca, Rated G, 3304 words

One of my first toe dips into the gray area of lore! It was so fun to imagine an alternative for Brosca's origins, to give her a deeper connection to the Stone, to play in the absolute barren wasteland wide open sandbox of Bioware's dwarven lore. Beyond that, this piece highlights my Sibling Bias™️ and how much i love exploring the DAO origins before the Blight, in general.

nothing hits the ground without an echo - Alistair & Bethany Hawke, Rated G, 1045 words

My first Dragon Age canon/canon fic! Absolutely wild to think that before I got into Dragon Age I was vehemently anti-oc in fanfic 😂 I'm so glad I outgrew that and can love and celebrate all of our OCs. At the same time, it was a joy to return to my canon x canon roots and play up the Grey Warden lore and happenings at Vigil's Keep that seemed to die in game after Awakening ;-;

I carried my own ashes to the mountain - Zevran Arainai & Female Brosca, Rated G, 1202 words

Nothing particularly poetic to say about this one, to be perfectly honest, I just like the Vibes™️. I think the humor and sarcasm suits my writing personality, and the lighthearted overtones that are haunted by unnamed pining and angst are Very Me :3 Also Nika not recognizing her face and yet reluctant to let go of it until someone gives her permission is something deeply personal to me, that I didn't even realize until after I'd written this. I look back on it and go, yep, yeah, I see you now, past mer😅