#Cullen x oc Tumblr posts

[orangekittyenergy]

A commission for the absolutely wonderful @littlelostmabari ❤️ Of her beautiful OC Saoirse and Cullen 😘

Full under the cut

(Thank you for giving me an excuse to stare at that handsome face some more 🫠)

[ayamikasai]

This is for the Cullenmancers!

For @enterthedreams for their fanfic ‘God Touched’ ❤️✨

❤️ Discord (junyami) for commissions

❤️ Buy me a coffee!

❤️ Buy my prints!

❤️ Timelapses!

[baldursgrave69]

Im playing Dragon Age: Inquisition right now so have some pics of my Inquisitor Eve and Cullen bc I’m obsessed with the two of them

[cullenssweatyballsakk]

kind of in love with your dragon age posting, my liege, please never stop

Can't stop won't stop

As Cullen once said

"THESE THOUGHTS WONT LEAVE ME"

But I really appreciate people liking my shit posts

[littlelostmabari]

Day 2: Armor

Ok maybe I am doing #Veilguard30, whoops. Cullen / Non-Inquisitor Mage OC, established relationship.

Rating: T (lyrium addiction, references to death)

Word Count: 1500

I wrote this thinking about Saoirse from my fic One of the Good Ones, but her name doesn't appear. The POV is not described other than she/her pronouns. Inky in this universe is (spoilers) a bit of a shit. Also don't @ me about Cullen w/ a mage, it makes sense in OotGO 🙃

"The Commander sleeps in his armor."

He'd heard the joke before. Every day. For weeks.

He heard it as he stomped across the battlements to the Herald's Rest for a bite of stale loaf too early for even the kitchen staff to be awake. Someone whispered as they left his office late into the night, when the only other waking minds were the soldiers too ill-behaved or unlucky to be posted during daytime when visiting nobles could bear witness to their antics. Varric mentioned it offhand on a random Thursday in Wintermarch when the Commander had stormed through the main hall of Skyhold to another inane meeting with the advisors and this woman who liked to call herself Inquisitor.

The dwarf thought he was original.

No, Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Armies of the Second Inquisition, former acting Knight-Commander of the Circle at Kirkwall, formerly of Honnleath in Ferelden, did not sleep in his armor.

The truth was, he barely slept at all.

She closed the door, gently clicking wood and iron to shut herself away from the moonlight. Inside, three pairs of candles lit every available surface. One pair flickered on the table closest to the ladder to illuminate the path for runners between this office and the atrium of the elven apostate. Another pair were dimmer on the desk that she sometimes occupied when she helped him with supply ledgers.

The final pair, and the ones most frequently replaced, lit up the large wooden desk that formed the center of the Inquisitions armies. That desk was storied with symbolism and the weight of the duty of — oh who was she kidding. The desk was heavy as shit, and she knew because she and Sera had tried to stuff a small wooden wedge underneath it and their combined strength could barely shift the dust that accumulated along the edge. Fortunately the Iron Bull could be bribed.

Anyway, what was she looking at? Oh right, the candles.

Or more truthfully, the man whose face was lit up by the flicker of light. He was sitting, at least, a hand mulling about his three-day-old scruff. The shadow of yet another piece of paperwork struck an odd angle against his cheekbones and across the side of his nose, such that the emotions across his mouth and jaw were unreadable.

He hadn't looked up when she entered, but that wasn't unusual. Even this late at night, patrols and runners moved through his office with stunning regularity; unless something registered a threat or asked intentionally for his attention, he rarely got distracted by the doors anymore. She normally would take her time moving about the office, decluttering, dusting, replacing books back onto bookshelves in the way he had taught her because no, alphabetical order does not suffice, otherwise Genitivi's works would be too far away from the rest of the Chant.

Tonight, however, his hand wasn't just mulling across his three-day-old scruff, and he wasn't just holding yet another piece of paperwork up to the light. His fingers dug into both paper and flesh, tearing where they could and intenting where they couldn't. Eyes wide, she stepped carefully into his vision before moving closer. She was desperate not to startle him.

"Cul," she said softly, her murmur just barely louder than a whisper. "Is everything okay, sweetheart?"

His eyes betrayed him.

His hand fell from his mouth, leaving small red splotches and soft lines where the leather and the seams of his gloves dug into the skin of his cheeks. He dropped the list onto the table, and sat back with a smile that would have looked natural to those who did not know him. He stretched and rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension in his back and spine, but the creak of leather in need of conditioning suggested that he had spent too long hunched in thought. The wood of the chair legs scraped against stone.

"Hey, Pup, you're early," he murmured in return, one hand leaving his lap and stretching out, welcoming her to take its place. She obliged, sweeping one leg in between his and perching on his left thigh. She could enjoy at least this one of the only parts of him not covered in steel.

"I'm late, Cul. The three bell patrol just came through, and you," — she clicked a nail against his breastplate — "are supposed to be in bed."

He grimaced at the thought of his tardiness, but his eyes betrayed him again. They looked into her face without seeing, and then back down at the paper.

"Those we lost at Adamant," he answered the question she didn't ask. "Inquisition and Wardens."

She reached lingering fingers across the desk to the paper and pulled it just close enough to see that the list was too long. She reached a little farther and flipped it upside down in an attempt to hide it from his gaze, but the list only continued on the other side. He shared her grimace.

"Too many mistakes," he whispered, as if saying it made it reluctantly true. "The Inquisitor didn't bother with the battlements, and sentenced all the Wardens she met to death. Even those willing to lay down their arms. The report from Straud was damning". He made to slam his fist down on the table, but hesitated in the nighttime hours. "If I had been… if I had been at my best, Pup. If I had been focused…"

She pressed her lips gently to his forehead and let them linger. A small incantation left under her breath when she finally pulled away, and she could see the ripple of restoration magic echo down from his forehead to his neck, through his torso, and down to the hands that had started to shake.

"Lyrium might have saved a couple of them, Cullen." Her eyes looked deep into his, where the wrinkles looked ever so slightly shallower. "But you are saved without it. And the Inquisition needs you, Cullen. The best version of you."

"And I am better without Lyrium."

A couple years ago the statement would have been snarled with a snide grin or a sing-song lilt. He would have mocked her, while in the throes of withdrawal. Today it was emboldening, a mantra. He didn't quite yet believe it, but he no longer thought her entirely wrong.

She held him, palm against his cheekbone and fingers nustled in his hair, her forehead to his, until he found his way back to her glade of calm. Then, wordlessly, she rose with her hand on his, and moved them both away from the desk and towards the ladder, and with four candles snuffed, he followed her up into the loft.

The routine was a nightly ritual when they were both at Skyhold in the cramped attic they shared. When either slept alone, they each found themselves a little lost in the moments before bed, missing the parts of their night where touch was shared.

He never let her remove his boots and cuisses. They were almost always filthy, and he thought more of her than to have her wash his feet (even as she protested that they were his feet so she loved them anyway). His hands worked the buckles at his shoulders, where she was just barely too short to reach comfortably, while her nimble fingers worked their sisters on the sides of his torso. He would watch as she removed his bracers, breathing in the scent of her hair. Sometimes he let her remove his gloves, but more often than not she would ask him to pull them off with his teeth while he watched her climb into their bed. There was something primal about him ripping the final pieces from his body, sometimes wrapping items like his fur pauldrons around her, that made her dizzy with need.

But tonight was quiet in both mind and spirit. She brushed her lips against the parts of skin that she uncovered, replacing them with the gentlest of fingertip touches as he placed the pieces on the armor stand with ritual born of unannounced spot checks and stern commanding officers. The rest of his armor, clothes meant for the laundry and leathers in desperate need of new conditioning, were piled neatly next to the stairs for attending to tomorrow.

The moonlight she had shut out so long ago peeked in through the hole in the roof that neither of them wanted to fix. The oblique angle spread a path of silky white across two bodies that tangled themselves together under lightweight blankets, weaving legs over and under and arms across chests and under necks until neither knew where they ended and the other began. With her restoration magic quieting the simmering under his skin, sleep came quickly.

The morning did too.

And, as he did every morning, the Commander of the Inquisition's forces woke before the sun. It had no chance to gleam across steel and fur, even through the hole in the attic roof, until it was already on his body and he was striding across the battlements for a bite of stale loaf.

[ar-lath-ma-cully]

and it slips through loose fingers Chapters: 32/? WC: 98.9k Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Explicit Warnings: major character death, explicit depictions of violence and death Relationships: Cullen x OC, Solavellan, Blackwall x OC, OC x OC Additional Tags: character death, long fic, slow burn, characters start out young and age throughout the story, eventual romance, PTSD, trauma, hurt/comfort, growing up, Modern Girl in Thedas, canon divergence, recreational drug use, friends with benefits, *work in progress* Summary:

"Amaryllis wondered — not for the first time, nor the last — why misfortune seemed to follow her everywhere she went."

Amaryllis is nine years old when she dies and wakes in a forest naked, afraid, and alone.

DAFF Tag List: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur,

@ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb,

@theluckywizard, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe,

@agentkatie, @delicatefade, @leggywillow, @about2dance, @plisuu

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: After a bus accident, Liz wakes up in Haven, stuck in the fictional world of Dragon Age. How does a modern girl get by when she can't speak the language, and her expansive knowledge of the Blight and Kirkwall, but limited knowledge of Inquisition would only make her look more suspicious? Fake being deaf and mute, and hope not to get caught before she can find proof of her origin. But the best laid plans never work out as expected...

Author: @stormontheocean

[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!!

[andrastesacredknickers]

Rain and Jasmine

Summary: When he said goodbye to her at Haven he never thought he would see her again. Now there was a chance he could have more with her, to finally hold her in his arms, to be close to her. Eve told him that she cared about him.But she’d been drinking. Maybe she didn’t mean it. Maybe the rumors that she and Blackwall were still involved were true. Maybe this was all some elaborate idea he had made up in his head. But maybe…

While writing this I was listening to: Talk Too Much by COIN

'You know I talk too much. Honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up'

Pairing: Cullen x Lavellan

Word count: 3.3K

Tags: fluff, comfort, first kiss, Cullen finally stopped fumbling

Find me on Ao3 here

“Well, I’m writing today off seeing as we’ve gone through,” Eve counted the bottles of wine on the table before her, swaying slightly. “Three bottles,”

“You and The Iron Bull went through three bottles. I had maybe a glass,” Dorian said with a huff, tracing his finger on the rim of his wine glass. Eve's head began to spin as she braced herself against the table, taking a deep breath. Perhaps drowning her sorrows in wine this early in the morning wasn't the best idea, considering she was the Inquisitor...

“You can put ‘em back, Boss. I’ll give you that,” Bull said with a hearty laugh, slamming a massive hand onto the table. Dorian shot him a nasty look, rolling his eyes and scooting farther away from the man beside him. 

“I think it would be best if you took the rest of the day off. I’ll tell Ruffles you’re sick or something,” Varric said, eyeing Eve as she stood up, watching her nearly fall over. He helped her steady herself, raising an eyebrow at her.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Eve admitted, adjusting her tunic as her head spun from the wine.

“Do you need me to carry you to your room, Boss?” Bull asked, readying himself to stand up.

“What? Of course not,” Eve huffed, looking at the three men at the table. “I’m fine guys, I can handle a few bottles of wine,” the elf said, doing her best not to slur her words.

“If you say so,” Varric said, raising an eyebrow at her. The three men watched as Eve walked out of the tavern, seeing her hesitate at the door. The elf took a deep breath before heading in the opposite direction of where she was meant to be going.

“She’s going to do something stupid,” Varric mumbled, moving to stand. Dorian grabbed his arm, causing the dwarf to turn and face him.

“Let her. Maybe this is what she needed to finally talk to the man,” Dorian said, tilting his head as he looked at Varric. Varric looked back towards the door, letting out a loud sigh.

“If this goes poorly, I’m blaming it on you,” Varric said, sitting back down at the table.

“Give her a chance, surely it’ll be fine,” Dorian replied, leaning back in his chair. Varric shook his head, letting out a loud sigh.

“I’m getting too old for this,”

Eve made her way towards Cullen’s office, her head spinning. If the commander wasn’t going to step up and make the first move, she was going to do it. Dorian was right, it was obvious that Cullen felt something for her. Why else would he have spent all that time caring for her as she recovered from the incident at Haven? He didn’t leave her side for days according to Mother Giselle, refusing to allow others to take shifts at her side. She remembered waking up to find him asleep across from her, a book in his hands. She'd watch him sleep, the candlelight illuminating his features. That was when she knew she felt something more for the commander.

She had always been fond of him, though his past as a Templar made her weary. She and Cullen didn't always see eye to eye regarding the mages assisting the Inquisition. They had argued when she recruited the Grand Enchanter and her mages for the Inquisition's cause. He felt it was dangerous to have so many mages around without the assistance of Templar's due to the threat of possession. Eve felt that the mages deserved freedom just as anyone else did, and they needed to find a way. Though he didn't agree with her methods, Cullen always respected her decisions.

Eve knew now that this wasn't just some momentary infatuation, she cared for Cullen. Deeply. She hoped he felt the same way.

The Inquisitor looked up to find herself at the commander’s office, her heart pounding. She couldn't wait any longer, she needed to tell him how she felt.

What was the worst that could happen?

She pushed the door to his office open, finding him leaning up against his desk looking over a map. Eve stood for a moment, watching him from afar. His brow was furrowed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled over the map. Eve took in the sight of him deep in thought. She rarely got to observe him without him seeing her first. Any time she stole a glimpse of the commander, he was already watching her. He’d avert his gaze, cheeks and ears blushing red, trying to hide a smile. She could watch him all day, the way his nose wrinkled when he was focused, a single wave of blonde hair falling from its normally pushed back style.

“Well hello, Commander,” Eve finally said, swaying slightly as she leaned up against the door frame to his office. Cullen looked up, immediately setting down the map in his hand, smiling at the mage. After a moment his smile dropped, observing Eve as she tried to remain steady on her feet.

“Eve… are you alright?” He asked, taking a step closer to her. She smiled at him, pushing herself off of the door frame and stumbling forward. Cullen rushed towards her, catching her by the shoulders as she fell. Eve hiccuped, laughing to herself as Cullen held her.

“I’m wonderful, actually," she said, looking up at him. You’re just the man I was looking for, in fact,” she continued confidently, puffing out her chest and straightening her posture.

As her gaze met his she was hit with sudden regret. What was she doing here? It wasn’t even noon yet and she was 3 bottles of wine deep getting ready to tell Cullen how she felt about him. Surely this was not the way to do things, surely seeing her this way would sour any feelings he might have. Her eyes darted to the ground as Cullen's hand remained on her shoulders, gently holding her still.

“I… am?” He asked, confused as he watched her carefully. She smiled at him sheepishly, her cheeks red from the wine. “Eve… Sweet Maker, are you drunk?” He asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Perhaps,” Eve mumbled, looking up at him. His eyes were golden brown, warm like honey. Why had she never noticed how beautiful his eyes were?

“You have great eyes, did you know that?” She said, swaying a bit. Cullen huffed, furrowing his brow as he looked at the elf.

“I… I do? I, uh. Thank you…” Cullen said, his hands still resting on her shoulders. After a moment he pulled away, realizing that he was still touching her. “May I ask why you’re drunk before noon?” Cullen asked, cocking his head to the side.

“It was Bull’s idea, said I needed to let off some steam,” Eve said sheepishly, her face turning more and more red. Cullen shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I see,” he said, doing his best to hide a smile. Eve cocked her head at him, narrowing her gaze.

“What?” She asked, her hands resting on her hips. Cullen chuckled, shaking his head.

“It’s nothing, though I am disappointed that Iron Bull let you leave the tavern in this state on your own,” Cullen said, walking towards the elf.

“I”m not in a ‘state’,” Eve huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “And Varric and Dorian were there too,” she said. Cullen laughed, approaching her and extending his arm.

“May I escort you to your room?” He asked, flashing her a warm smile. Eve froze, her gaze falling to his lips. What would he do if she kissed him, she wondered. Would he kiss her back? Would he let his hand fall to her waist, or maybe thread one through her hair? She snapped her eyes up to meet his, taking a deep breath before hooking her arm with his.

“Yes… thank you, Cullen,” Eve said, trying to regain her composure. “Let’s not tell Josephine about this, hmm? She’d be so angry with me,” Eve said as she and Cullen made their way towards her suite on the other side of Skyhold.

“Hah, yes let’s keep this our little secret,” Cullen replied, smiling to himself.

“Thanks again, Cullen. I… I don’t really know what to say,” Eve said as they approached the door to her room. She turned to face the commander, looking up at him. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to feel his lips against hers, his hands on her body. 

“It’s nothing, really,” he said, adjusting his gloves. He smiled at her, dropping his gaze after a moment.

“It’s something to me,” Eve replied, taking a step closer to Cullen. She placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone. He brought his gaze back to hers, taking a deep breath. Just as he was about to say something, Eve interrupted him.

“You mean something to me, Cullen. I just really care for you,” she blurted out. The mage felt her body grow cold, her eyes growing wide as soon as the words left her mouth. Cullen froze, looking down at her in shock. The two stared at each other for a moment, Eve’s hand still resting in the commander’s cheek.

“Creators help me,” Eve hissed, pulling away from him. “Thanks again,” she huffed out, quickly opening her door.

"Eve, I-" Cullen started, but Eve quickly slammed her door shut. She took a deep breath, resting her back against the door. The mage looked up at the ceiling, cursing to herself. “That was real smooth, Eve,” she mumbled, sliding down to the ground and pulling her knees up to her chest.

Cullen stood outside Eve’s room, his eyes wide as he stared at the door. Had that actually just happened? He had thought over and over how it might go for him to tell Eve how he felt. What he would say, how he would say it. Would he kiss her, embrace her? Would she kiss him back? Would she even want him? He wasn’t even sure she felt the same way, he was always convincing himself that he fabricated any possible connection between the two of them. And now here he stood, mouth hanging open as he replayed what had just happened. Cullen rested a hand against the door, letting his head hang. 

“Curly?”

Cullen jumped at the voice, turning to see Varric walking down the hall towards him. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“I… uh, yes. What is it, Varric?” He said, awkwardly adjusting his armor.

“What’re you doing?” Varric asked, an eyebrow cocked at the commander. He observed Cullen for a moment, noticing how flustered he was. A sly smile crossed the dwarf’s face as he approached Cullen.

“I brought the Inquisitor back, she was… a bit under the weather,” Cullen said, running a finger through his blonde hair.

“Yeah… under the weather…” Varric replied, his arms crossed over his chest. “Is she okay? Does she need anything?” He asked, watching Cullen attempt to regain his composure.

“Uh, no. I think she’s fine,” he said, turning to walk back down the hall. Cullen stopped, dropping his head. “Varric… can I ask you something?” He mumbled, turning back to face the dwarf.

“This ought to be good. Lay it on me, Curly,” Varric said with a chuckle, arms still crossed as he eyed the commander.

“Hypothetically speaking, if someone says something to you when they’re not of the right mind, do you think that means anything?” Cullen asked, shooting a glance back at Eve’s door. Varric laughed, walking up to Cullen and clapping a hand on his back.

“You’ll just have to ask her, now won’t you?” Said the rogue, shaking his head as he headed back towards the main hall of Skyhold.

“Right… ask her,” he said, watching as Varric made his way back down the hall. “I can do that…”

Cullen paced before the tavern, his mind racing. He’d been up all night thinking about Eve. He played back all of the times he could’ve told her how he felt. Thought about the nights he spent by her side as she recovered from Haven, watching her as she slept, hearing her mumble his name in her dreams. He had been the one to find her in the snow, his prayers answered as he held her close to him. When he said goodbye to her at Haven he never thought he would see her again. Now there was a chance he could have more with her, to finally hold her in his arms, to be close to her.

Eve told him that she cared for him.

But she’d been drinking. Maybe she didn’t mean it. Maybe the rumors that she and Blackwall were still involved were true. Maybe this was all some elaborate idea he had made up in his head. But maybe…

“Good morning, Curly,”

The commander turned to see Varric approaching him, a wide smile on the dwarf’s face.

“What’re you doing anxiously pacing in front of the tavern? You usually do that in your offfice,” said the dwarf, resting his hands on his hips.

“I, uh. I’m looking for the Inquisitor,” Cullen said, shifting uncomfortably under the rogue’s gaze.

“Well, seeing as she has breakfast here every morning at the same time, I'm assuming she's inside,” Varric chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way into the Herald's Rest. Cullen took a deep breath before following the rogue inside. Now that Varric had spotted him, there was no getting out of this.

He scanned the tavern, his eyes landing on Eve, her bright white hair tied up in her usual bun, head resting in her hands. Cullen felt a knot growing in his stomach as he took a deep breath, gathering all of the courage he could. Compared to this, being the commander felt easy. Wielding a shield and sword, no problem. Making decisions for the Inquisition's forces, easy. The potential of being rejected by the one person he truly cared for? Terrifying.

He walked over to Eve, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “Inquisitor?” He said, holding his breath as he waited for her response.

Eve turned to face him, smiling awkwardly up at the commander.

“Oh, hi,” she said, looking at the hand on her shoulder. 

She didn’t correct him for calling her Inquisitor. She always corrected him, even refusing to answer to Inquisitor at times. Cullen felt his stomach drop, nearly deciding to abandon his whole plan. He steeled himself, letting out a puff of air and squeezing her shoulder. 

“Eve would you… well, would you want to take a walk with me?” He finally said, his hand remaining on her shoulder. Eve nodded, the tips of her ears and cheeks beginning to blush.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said as Cullen moved his hand from her shoulder. She turned her body in her chair to face him fully, smiling up at him. Cullen's face grew warm, he loved her crooked smile and the way her eyes glinted. He realized after a moment that she was staring at him, her head cocked to the side and an eyebrow raised.

“Oh… great!” he replied, letting out a sigh of relief. Eve chuckled to herself, flashing Varric a wide eyed smile as she got up from the table.

“I told you that you would be fine, Lucky,” Varric said, winking at the elf. She narrowed her gaze, subtly shaking her head at him.

"Shall we?" Eve said, looking over to Cullen. He nodded, taking a step back to allow Eve to get on her feet. She pressed her hand to her temple, groaning.

"Headache?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Something like that," she replied, making her way towards the exit to the tavern. Eve stood in the sun for a moment, raising her head to the sky with her eyes closed. Cullen watched her, feeling the knot in his stomach grow as he took in her features. Her freckles and blushed cheeks glowed in the morning sun, her eyelashes snow white and impossibly long.

"Sorry, I just love the sun," Eve said after a moment, looking over to Cullen. 

"I love... me too," he stuttered, his face growing warm. He was going to mess this up, wasn't he?

The pair walked in silence for a while, Cullen trying his best to nonchalantly lead them towards the armory. He didn't exactly want to have this conversation in front of everyone at Skyhold.

"Did you sleep well?" Cullen asked as he approached the door, turning to face Eve.

"What do you think, Commander?" Eve mumbled, rubbing her forehead. He chuckled to himself, resting his hand on the door handle to the armory.

"Can we talk? In private?" he asked, looking over to Eve. The elf's eyes darted to the ground as she kicked at a weed in the dirt. 

"I suppose," she mumbled, following behind Cullen as he walked into the armory. Cullen allowed Eve to enter, closing the door behind him.

“About yesterday,” Cullen said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Eve let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Can we just forget that ever happened?” Eve asked, feeling her cheeks growing warm as she looked down at the ground.

Cullen didn't want to forget. He wanted to tell her he'd been waiting to hear those words for months. He wanted to tell her that before she spoke the night before, he was getting ready to say the same thing. To tell her that he cared for her, that he wanted something more. The commander approached her, lifting her chin so that she would look at him.

“What if I don’t want to?” he said, studying her expression.

“You… really?” She asked quietly, furrowing her brow. Cullen felt his stomach flip, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. The commander leaned down for a kiss, his hand now resting against the elf's neck. As he did, Eve dropped her gaze, his lips colliding his her forehead. 

"I, I'm sorry, I thought-" he started, a rush of embarrassment running through him, making his body feel warm. Of course he had misread things. How could he be so stupid as to think the Inquisitor truly felt something for him. Just as he went to pull away, his cheeks flushed red, Eve stopped him.

"You think too much," She whispered, grabbing his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his. 

Cullen felt a fire ignite in his chest as his lips were pressed to Eve’s. She smelled of fresh rain and jasmine, her lips warm and soft. He felt her tangle her hands into his hair, moving her lips against his. Cullen placed his hands on her hips, pushing her back against the edge of a table. He pulled away, gaze darting from her lips to her eyes.

“Wow,” Eve breathed, looking up at the commander through her long, white eyelashes. Cullen couldn’t help the smile on his face, feeling his heart beating heavily in his chest. He had wanted to do that for months, it felt unreal.

“I, uh. That was… really nice,” Cullen said, his hands still resting on her hips. Eve laughed, tilting her head to the side, her gaze falling back to his lips.

“I believe that was a kiss, Commander,” said the mage, pulling him towards her. He pressed his forehead to hers, laughing to himself, their noses touching. Cullen pressed his lips to Eve's once more, pulling her as close as he could. 

There was so much working against them. The fate of Thedas was resting on their shoulders. But together, he felt as if they could do anything.

[teconkaals]

I drew this fanart from my fanfic long ago and I forget it so, well, here it is.

I used a screenshot from DAI to draw the line and the background is another screenshot full of filters (I don't regret anything).

Anyways, she's my OC named Theriel, a dragon hunter apostate elf who rides a big black wolf named Sa'bir (who wants horses while wolves exist?). Of course, she has a dark past and falls in love with Cullen.

Hope you like it and sorry for my English.

[orangekittyenergy]

Second part of a commission for the lovely @littlelostmabari of her OC Saoirse and Cullen ❤️❤️❤️

[eryniell]

My Lavellan Eryniell and Cullen in a moment of peace <3

[baldursgrave69]

I’ve never felt anything like this

[conversationswiththemoon]

Hii! I recently found and read (or more accurately binged, I seriously couldn’t put it down) your DAI fic “The Lion and the Lark” and I absolutely love it! I adore your Elena, how she fits among the rest of the characters, and of course her budding relationship with Cullen. Also her music taste is too notch, you should create a playlist for this story, seriously! I cannot wait to see where you take these characters, I’m very excited to read whatever comes next, and in the meantime I will probably be rereading my favourite bits 🙌🏻

Hi! This is such a lovely and wonderful thing to read! After a longer-than-planned hiatus to handle some health stuff (and, let's be honest here, fall down the BG3 hole!), I've started writing the series again. So expect more in the near future! :)

[littlelostmabari]

I didn't know it was @orangekittyenergy 's birthday but now that I do here's a little drabble for the AMAZING artist that lovingly brought my babies to life (here and here).

I nabbed the prompt "No. Not going to happen." from @creativepromptsforwriting.

Cullen x gn!Reader (Inquisitor or not) Dragon Age: Inquisition (no spoilers) 650 words of established relationship fluffffffffff

"No. Not going to happen."

"But Cullen —"

"No. I said no."

The morning sun streamed in through the windows and landed lazily about a horde of papers and books stacked almost to your height. The bookshelves were half empty, their contents scattered about the room as if they were never meant to return to their homes on dusty shelves. Even his chair had three stacks of books, although you guessed that those were the ones he might actually be reading.

"Culleennnnn…", you beg, with a smile that creeps up the side of your face. You are trying to give him the most pitiful pout you can manage, but the man can read you like the books he refuses to put away.

"I told Sera no. I told Krem no. I told Blackwall no. I said no."

"Cullen, it's just a small tournament." You watch him move behind his desk to the window, casting a long shadow in his otherwise dimly lit office. You've had to order more candles for him; between your Antivan diplomat and your Ferelden commander there is no shortage of wax nubs thrown out each morning. At least Leliana preferred to work in the darkness.

He turns and stares at you with whiskey in his narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his breastplate, and your mind whispers about the wide shoulders and broad chest that he hides under steel and fur. There was a piece of you that wanted to keep those images to yourself, selfish as you might be. You shove that voice down. It was just a tournament after all, and Blackwall was right — the commander did need to loosen up a little.

"A druffalo riding tournament is no place for the commander of the Inquisition's armies. It would be… inappropriate." He shakes his head like it was all your fault that the tournament rules forbade shirts.

He approaches the desk and reaches for the papers that are flung his way from a page that is clearly running behind. The page stops and glances between the two of you, mouth agape, before scurrying on to their next task. Cullen sighs. The barracks would be whispering by lunchtime, recruits calling on him to join in the raucous fun. It still probably wouldn't be enough to convince him.

"Is there anything I can do, Cullen? Anything at all to get you to sign up?" You take slow deliberate steps around the side of the desk, before pushing a leg up and over the corner and resting there. You are in his space, now, your leg pressing up against his cuisses, and he feigns disinterest at first. He barely looks up from the paper — some list of resources for the Emerald Graves — and raises one eyebrow.

"Anything?" he whispers, looking back to the document and then dropping it gently onto the pile of papers he needed to address today. He backs away from you, his eyes still drilling into your own, before rounding the corner and pressing himself in between your legs. You sit fully on his desk now, and he looms over you with that devilish smirk.

"Anything." It's more of a sigh than an answer, and he gently presses a finger against the bottom of your chin, pulling you up to look at him as he presses millimeter by millimeter ever closer to you. His warmth emanates out from underneath his layers of metal and cloth and fur, and your entire vision is of browned wheat hair and whiskey eyes and soft skin where it meets hard armor, and he smells of greenery, of embrium and oakmoss and elderflower and —

"Get Sera to stop putting bees in my practice dummies, and I'll consider it." He presses his finger and thumb to your chin and pulls you to him, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead before pulling back… with a wink.

You groan. An impossible ask.

Then, a smile.

An impossible ask, but damn if you're not going to try anyway.

His soft laughter follows you out the door.

[monabee-draws]

Little wip of Cullen and Saheila for a series I want to do covering all my favourite dragon age romances celebrating each of the holidays in Thedas!

I love love love drawing curly hair ahhhh