For @mythalsknickers , @nirikeehan and @dadrunkwriting
Cullen Rutherford & Dorian Pavus (SFW, pre-relationship, pining, feat Cullen having an exisitencial crisis), 231 words
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Cullen’s heart beats wild against his chest, like it’s doing its damnedest to break out of his ribs as he stares, wide eyed at a glassy-eyed Dorian who blinks owlishly up at him like he hasn’t just absolutely shaken the Commander’s world at its foundation with three little words. Honestly, it’s a miracle that Cullen hasn’t dropped him, while carrying him back to his quarters. Dorian’s mouth slides into a frown behind his mustache and Cullen thinks he must have been silent for too long. But what is he supposed to say? Dorian is… Dorian. Sure, he’s never shied away from flirting with him. He seems to enjoy it and making him flustered. But it's never been serious before. …Has it?
“You’re all I ever wanted,” Dorian says softly, abruptly pulling Cullen back from his thoughts. “Everything I always dreamed about. I’m sorry I can’t say it without too much terrible Ferelden wine,” the altus says softly.
“Dorian-“ Cullen begins cautiously, slowly lowering Dorian down onto his bed and pulling the blankets up around him, filling and setting a mug of water on the bedside table, tying to let himself and the mage down gently. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow.”
“Maybe not. But I’ll still feel it,” Dorian replies sleepily as he nuzzes his face into the pillows, giving into sleep and leaving the former Templar to his racing thoughts.
First part of the 6 (and more) fanarts meme - people sent me some cute OCs! 💞Hope I did them right <3
From top to bottom:
Reth by @wolfs-dawn
Neria Surana Lavellan by @inquisimer
Neria Surana by @windwalker57
Irassalin Lavellan by @xochihuacoyotl
Thalia Trevelyan by @nirikeehan
Malachi Trevelyan by @fthechantry
IT’S FRIDAY MER!!!!! Let’s see some Solas x Lavellan for the prompt ❛ i’m sorry that i can’t save you. ❜ from the hit 'em where it hurts sentence starters? 🤷♀️👀😈
takes your angst and rotates it into fluff
some pre-ship solavellan for @dadrunkwriting
wc: 994
~~~
Irosyl frowned at the chess board, trying to make her confused expression one of deep thought. Across the stone platform, the Commander was very politely pretending not to watch her from the corner of his eyes. She hesitantly lifted a rook and rolled the marble cylinder between her fingers.
It clicked against the board when she set it down. Cullen gave up his pretense of ignorance and immediately folded his hands under his chin, considering. Suppressing a sigh, Irosyl’s gaze darted out across the gardens.
The things shemlen did for fun. And the things she apparently did to appease the shems.
She meant to look back, to pretend that she could do any sort of analysis on the Commander’s strategy, but the glint of sunlight off a bald head caught her eye. Solas was in the gardens, collecting elfroot by the looks of it.
“Savhalla!” she called, a bit louder than strictly necessary, but she wanted to be sure Solas could not pretend not to hear her. Plate metal scraped in an unpleasant screech as Cullen jumped slightly, but success! Solas turned so that she was looking at him in profile, one eyebrow slightly raised.
Elfroot in hand, he came closer. “On dhea’him, Inquisitor,” he said at a much more reasonable volume. His low voice slipped down her spine like silk and she suppressed a shameful shiver.
She frowned, though. “I thought we were over the nonsense of that awful title.”
A distressed noise came from across the board. Cullen gave her an exasperated look as he moved one of his smallest pieces to capture the rook she’d just placed.
“Fenhedis,” she muttered.
“You really must stop disparaging your title in public, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, the honorific rolling from his tongue pointedly. He tilted his head toward where a number of agents and servants were clustered, mere paces from their game. “It does poorly for morale and faith to have our leader so…”
He trailed off, probably searching for the least offensive way to phrase his concern. Ever merciless, Irosyl crossed her arms and frowned.
“Impertinent?” Solas suggested, the hint of a glib smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
“I am not—“
“It is your move, is it not?” Solas cut her off smoothly, unquestionable with the infuriatingly smooth authority. He glanced over the board and this time his smirk reached the surface. “Well. They always did say losing was it’s own art form.”
Irosyl huffed, wondering why she’d called him over in the first place. “What, could you do better? It’s not as if chess was a common pasttime in my clan.”
“I could, yes.”
Irosyl rolled her eyes. She gave Solas her back and considered the board, as if looking at the pieces would actually help her. As she lifted one of her pawns, Cullen offered her a sympathetic smile.
“Do not feel bad,” he said gently. “They say chess is a skill learned over a lifetime. I’ve been playing since I was a child, myself.”
“Is that so?” Irosyl hummed curiously. She couldn’t imagine any of the wiggly, high-spirited children in her clan sitting still long enough to learn even the basic rules of this game. Nor would it occur to any of the elders to insist that they should. A pang of longing struck her heart and for a moment she longed to flee but—
“Oh, fenhedis,” she hissed. Cullen slid his queen along the board and a self-satisfied smirk pulled at the scar on his lip.
“I do believe that’s checkmate.”
“Of course it is,” Irosyl groaned, burying her hands in her hair. “Oh, Bull is gonna have my head over this. He’ll know I haven’t been paying attention.”
“I’m sure he knows already,” Solas commented. “He would be a poor spy otherwise.”
Irosyl’s face twisted in distaste. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
Stone scraped against stone as the Commander stood, sketched a bow to the elf across from him. “Thank you for the game, Inquisitor. I’m afraid I must take my leave and return to work.”
“Of course,” Irosyl waved her hand. “It was a…pleasant distraction, Commander.”
“Was it?” Solas asked, surprising Irosyl by sliding into Cullen’s empty seat as he walked away to the battlements. The other elf reset the board with deft, knowing hands, ignoring his partner’s surprised look. Lacing her fingers together, Irosyl rested her chin on them and regarded him with ill-disguised curiosity.
“And if it was?”
“Then I would have expected you to come up with a better way to express it.”
Something halfway between a laugh and a scoff escaped Irosyl. For as unreadable as Solas had been—since the beginning—he could certainly read her like a book.
“Yes, well…” She pursed her lips, considering the fresh alignment of pieces. Solas had given her the ivory half, so she was expected to move first. So he could gauge her style, no doubt. Bull had told her that intellectuals used such analysis to learn intimate details of their opponents.
Intellectuals. Irosyl wrinkled her nose.
“The commander is someone I must appease,” she said, nudging a pawn forward. “As opposed to this game which—“
She folded her hands and regarded him intently over them. “I will enjoy. Immensely.”
“Yes, well.” Solas cleared his throat—was it Irosyl’s imagination, or were the tips of his ears going pink? It should be able to tell against his lily white skin, but as in all things, he was hard to read. “I couldn’t quite save you from the Commander’s attention, so the least I could do is replace it with something more…palatable.”
“What high praise you give yourself,” Irosyl teased.
He rolled his eyes, then raised an eyebrow as she moved her pawn forward rather aggressively. “Is that the kind of recklessness the Iron Bull has been teaching you?”
Irosyl pouted.
Leaning forward, Solas pushed her pawn back to where it had been before. “Let me teach you how to beat him, falon.”
I have a few that I like, actually: Varric/Cassandra, Bethany/Fenris, Bethany/Sebastian, Varric/Hawke (I'm not 100% sure if that's a rarepair or not, but I love those two together). Also Nathaniel Howe/Cousland for some nice enemies to lovers <3
I’ve got a big fat fucking bone to pick with you, my darling (lmfao)
From the Alkaline Trio prompts!!
Josephine is nearing sleep, when there's a knock on the door of her quarters. The hour is very late, and only the banked hearth gives any light to the room. If someone wishes to speak with her, they surely will wait for her as she pulls a dressing down over her nightdress.
She does not expect the Iron Bull to be at her door. She most definitely does not expect him to be holding someone by the scruff of the neck.
"I have a bone to pick with you," says Zevran, not even struggling even though his feet are off the floor. "This is no way to treat a guest."
"Do guests usually try to climb in ladies windows?" the Bull says.
"Bull, oh! I must apologise if my... aquaintance here has inconvienced you."
Thank the Maker that the Iron Bull has proved to be discreet, when it is warranted.
"He's only lucky I recognised him before I broke his neck," the Bull says, jovially.
"You know him?"
Zevran grins. "I know lots of people."
"Why am I not surprised. You can put him down, Bull."
Iron Bull drops Zevran, who lands fairly gracefully.
"You good, Josephine?"
"Yes, thank you. I can... deal with Zevran from here."
The Bull gives what she think is a wink.
"I'm a lot to deal with," Zevran says, leaning against the wall beside her door. "Perhaps he should stay to assist you."
"Oh, my," Josephine says, which is not, apparently, a no. It would be a lie to say she hasn't considered the Iron Bull in such a sense; he is a uniquely huge and handsome man, as well as thoughtful. She does not imagine that the rumours that persist about his prowess are untrue.
"Spoken for, little guy," he says, saving Josephine from herself. "Got my own good trouble tonight, can't keep a vint waiting. I'll leave the lady Josephine to hers."
"Another night, perhaps," Zevran says, and the Bull tips his head and makes to leave. "Who's his good trouble? Are they any fun?"
"Sweet Maker," Josephine says, at the sheer concept of Zevran meeting lord Dorian. "Come on in before anyone else sees you!"
[my fic on ao3] [my fic on tumblr] [bluesky] [prompt me]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
The DAFF Satinalia Exchange has been revealed! This is the piece I wrote for @nirikeehan, featuring her Inquisitor, Thalia Trevelyan.
With Samson in custody, Thedas clamors for justice. The problem is that after Thom Rainier was pardoned Thedas no longer trusts Inquisitor Thalia Trevelyan to be the one to oversee that justice. On the precipice of victory over her enemy Thalia must once again prove herself in the political arena or risk losing all support, and she must do so without compromising her morals.
Pairing: minor Cullen/Trevelyan
Word Count: 3668
Status: Complete
Rating: T
Important Tags: Politics
Content Warnings: brief mention of some squicky body horror stuff regarding red lyrium, mentions of addiction/withdrawal
