#cullenxadaar

[rivvetgunn]

random inquisitor bs

[warlock-enthusiast]

first meetings

for the dragon age alternative pairing week <3

Day 1: First Meetings

Calla Adaar x Cullen Rutherford

To say that Calla wasn't impressed, would have been an understatement. 

She survived an explosion and a huge, green breach in the sky, just to face a village full of humans, who reeked of dirt and leather. The Inquisition looked like a joke, which she couldn't understand. And she worked for them now. The crisp air hit her lungs, as she walked through Haven, gathering stares, because of her frame and well, horns. She wore her hair as a thick braid, letting them stand out even more. Suspicion was clearly readable in their expression. There were exceptions to that, of course. Cassandra was a formidable woman and so were Josephine and Leliana, as far as she knew, but their group still seemed small and who know what else was to come. Oh, how Shokrakar would laugh about it. A deep, throaty chuckle and a pat on the arm. 

Her steps led her right to the training grounds, because her muscles were sore from a bad night, haunted by nightmares of past and present. Calla needed to hit something. Hard. She put her arms above her head, waiting for some relief of the tension. At this time of the day, only a meager portion of the army was out and about. She watched a few soldiers hitting straw puppets and the blond man, who ran around wearing fur. Maybe to look broader? His head came up to her throat, if she stood directly in front of him.

“You are Cullen. The commander of our forces?”

He nodded and put the sword back into its sheath. Cullen clearly wasn't used to looking up to someone, because in the world of humans, he counted as tall.

“Yes, Lady Adaar.”

“Don't call me that. Neither Lady nor Adaar.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to hide the grim expression. Was that anger? Distrust? His whole body spoke of defiance and rejection. Calla knew about his past. It was a part of Josephine's diplomatic role to fill in the blanks of her own lack of knowledge. Her commander hailed from Kirkwall and who hadn't heard about the Arishok's failed attempt to take over, only to be slaughtered by some Hawke woman. Calla had been living too many years among humans to be utterly surprised. Arrogance meant weakness. And the Arishok offered lots of it. 

Cullen shook his head, fingers near the hilt of his sword.

“How would you like to be called.”

“Calla is fine.”

Kaariss always joked about her inability to read expressions and mood-swings, but it wasn't hard to guess that Cullen felt rather uneasy around her. That seemed mutual, because she simply didn't know what to do about him. Yet. He was the Inquisition's commander. She couldn't just get rid of him, or choose another, even, if he was judging her based on his Kirkwall experiences. Many found it hard to understand that some of them weren't part of the Qun and had no interest in ever joining it. Calla collected a wooden greatsword from a crate.

“Would you like to spare, Cullen?”

A fight always cleared her head and thoughts and would hopefully ease some of the strain between them. 

He unsheathed his sword.

“I'd be my honor.”

[commandertabris]

I really want to write a cullenxadaar fic

and I already have some chapters for the middle and plan for how to move it forward but I am have this big writer’s block in the beginning and I don’t know how to break. I could jsut have him meet Herah but I want a little bit of a build up before that. If anyone has any suggestions that would be sweet.

[commandertabris]

Thinking of Her

pairing: AdaarxCullen

Summary: Cullen has hidden secret feelings about the Inquisitor; pining and stuff

“You look rather dashing, commander.”

Cullen blinks at the sunlight shining through the horns of the herald. She grins like a wildcat, breathless and smiling with fierce joy, her hands tightly gripping the reins of her horse. He gives her a curt nod, brief but refusing to give into her teasing. He learned a long time ago that her comments were to get a reaction, make him blush. Or at least that's what Leliana said.

Cullen nods to the herald at her kind comment, a well meaning grin on his face as hers broadens. Its one of the those moments when the inquisitor is not the inquisitor. She chuckles, before spurring her horse onward, out of the courtyard and into the wild. The braid between her horns flies in the wind as she rides away for a brief respite from planning, papers, and orders. He's learned not to ask where she's off to when Lady Adaar leaves. It only distracts her. He turns back to the recruits he's coaching, watching as their weak grips slowly grow strong as they learn from their mistakes.

Its not that he wants her. He respects her. At least, that's what he tells himself.

It started not long after they first met. Cassandra had properly introduced the herald of Andraste, this tall fierce looking creature, who was slouched in a chair trying to tie the end of her hair together. She greeted him with a polite, if cheeky, grin and asked who he was trying to impress with all that armor. The words had little bite and served as an ice breaker as she invited him to take part of the meal she had just had laid out. For a mercenary, for a qunari, she was very kind. She had none of the rough manners and angry stance he had heard of whispered by the soldiers.

But the soldiers had been right all along. She had been practicing one day, with one of fighters at Skyhold. Her face was fixed with cool determination, her eyebrows furrowed and her back arched like a bear, waiting to strike. The steel clashed loudly and Cullen could appreciate her form. She's a good fighter, with the mass to wield a great sword properly but also the footwork to make it count. The fight is a practice, a tossing of various moves between two experienced fighters. A block there, a missed thrust of of her blade against the shield of her opponent. She was surprisingly quiet in battle, soft grunts; none of the roaring and shouts he typically associate with the gray horned people. She only speaks after several rounds of casual if rigorous play.

“C'mon! Fight me! I want more than just to be slapped around!”

Her opponent grunts and the next time they meet, the shield meets her face. She staggers back, lip bleeding, slightly off balance. Cullen can hear the collective gasp from the audience. Smiling and bleeding, she gives her all.

It makes him only slightly hard. At this point, Cullen has assumed it was merely a fantasy, the kind of thing one only thought about when you were in bed and desperate for something new and deliciousy strange. Her bleeding smile as she pulled his head back, licking up his neck to kiss his mouth. Him pulling back her head, by her horns, in a similar fashion. Sparring that becomes rutting and then sex that feels rough, straining and oh so relaxing. Its a good fantasy.

But when the fantasy morphs from rough sex to the quiet breathing after, Cullen is slightly troubled. Its no longer just about idle release in the dark of night which he'll ignore in the morning. This is about the fact that he dreams of being the shoulder she leans against when she's about to fall asleep in those too small seats, of pushing the hair out of her face, fastening her braid, weaving their fingers together as they drift off to sleep. Its becoming difficult to not think about her.

[garagriffon]

the tag-team duo giving Aveline "Nice night for an evening" Vallen a run for her money

shit i am so into this now it's all over i can't control my hands anymore