#cullydia
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Romance novel inspired Cullen and Lydia by @theluckybard
Thank you so much again! 💜
#cullen rutherford#cullen x trevelyan#cullydia#cullydiaart#dragon age fan art#dragon age#dai#dragon age inquisiton
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Random OTP fact: cullen can braid hair really well! He does Lydia’s hair after tresspasssr and eventually she and their daughter have matching hairstyles :)
That’s absolutely adorable. I’m living for the mental image of Cullen very patiently braiding the hair of a very energetic toddler, haha. <3
Thanks for sharing!
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A beautiful commission of Cullen and Lydia from @starsandskies ❤️ thank you so much, it cheered me right up!
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in the garden, early morning, just us
So I heard tumblr was popular again? Anyway, have a short Cullen and Lydia early relationship fic <3
“Lydia?”
She couldn’t help but giggle as Cullen hovered over her, shading her from the morning sun. He had a careless, easy smirk that didn’t mock what Josephine referred to as her outlandish behavior. Lydia owned her outlandishness, her desire to walk barefoot through the garden and lay on the grass. Once, her mother walked barefoot through the grass at Ostwick.
“Come here,” Lydia said, thankful he wasn’t wearing his usual armor as she beckoned him to sit. He squatted and sat next to her on the grass, covertly scanning the garden to see if any of his soldiers were also rising early.
“It doesn’t matter if anyone sees,” Lydia promised, curling closer to him. “Trust me.”
“I trust you.”
His voice was gentler with her than with others. Did Leliana and Josephine know that? Did the whole Inquisition know they were lovers now? He trusted her. He—
He caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes, anticipating a kiss, anticipating all of him. “We can’t kiss here,” he muttered.
“Cullen.”
“Don’t pout.”
She exaggerated her pout. “A small one.”
He took her hand. He kissed her palm. He kissed her wrist. He kissed every finger. “There,” he said, offering another, final kiss for good measure. “For you.”
“I should love to be had. Especially by you.”
He grinned. “I could acquiesce.”
“What’s stopping you?”
His voice was low. “That I should also like to be had.”
Maker he looked so beautiful in the morning light. His beard was darker than usual. He neglected shaving solely because she told him she loved the scratch against her mouth. It prickled her fingers as she caressed his jaw and touched his cheek. Their skins were different shades, her hand tiny on his cheek. This wasn’t usually him, to lay on the grass in the garden unarmored where someone could surely find him And this wasn’t usually her, to so brazenly want. No, she couldn’t be so bold as to hoist herself on him, have him as he desired…
He wanted to be had. Just like her. He dreamed the same dreams she did. He laid on the grass with her.
She laid flush against him, hoisting herself on him like she always imagined. He laughed, not caring anymore that someone could see. Didn’t they kiss on the battlements where all could see? Wasn’t her love for him written on her face for months and months before this? They should let a woman be in love. They should let a man be in love. They should let him kiss, and cherish, and be hers before anyone else’s.
His lips were pliant against hers as they kissed, and then warm against her cheek after she parted from him, savoring. “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he whispered between kisses. “Nothing matters. Only you.”
“You don’t mean that.” She knew him too well.
She kissed him before he could answer. She meant it to be quick and sweet but his lips parted and she could not bear to part.
“I wish only you mattered,” he said. “In my head, at night, you are the only thing that does.”
He smoothed a lock of hair away from her face, letting his fingers run through the loose strands. They wouldn’t alone for long now. Skyhold’s pilgrims came in the early morn to pray to Andraste in the chapel. Cullen was one of their occasional pilgrims. Lydia hadn’t seen him pray to Andraste since they kissed.
“Cullen…”
“I know. I shouldn’t think such things.”
And yet he smiled deviously, knowingly. “I should be very cross with you if I wasn’t in your head. Especially at night.”
“Oh. Well. I can’t have that.”
She laid her head against his beating heart. They laid in the garden far longer than she would have ever thought he would allow. But his head, sometimes cruel to him, made her the only thing that mattered sometimes. By the way his heart beat underneath her ear, she knew what all mattered to him there in the garden, and perhaps a little bit more than that.
“You are the only thing that matters almost always,” she said. “And I am sorry. Because I care. I care—and I know you do too, but I can’t stop only thinking about you.”
“Please don’t be sorry.”
“Cullen. I couldn’t even muster it. I couldn’t dare.”
But they did dare, there in the garden. It still wasn’t long enough.
#cullen rutherford#lydia trevelyan#cullydia#shakeswriting#just like old times lol#cullen x inquisitor#cullen x trevelyan
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Cullen and Lydia in the early morning by @commander-sarahs-art 💜
Thank you so much!!!!!
#cullen rutherford#cullydia#cullydiaart#💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜#cullen x inquisitior#I’m obsessed#the colors#her hair#their faces
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Ok but like Cullen explaining battle tactics to Lydia and the calculations behind siege warfare and she’s all like “that’s hot take off your clothes immediately.”
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Her “I’m going to climb him like a tree” moment and his “oh shit she’s cute” moment
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Lovely YCH commission from @ashalle-art <3 Thank you so much!
See the full thing here <3
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Spicy prompts it is! Cullydia, stuck in a tight space with each other. 😏🤭 OR modern AU with Cullydia being in a club (dark, heavy bass, probably hole in the wall kinda place) getting handsy out on the dance floor~
Can be in established relationship or not (yet). 🤣
If either of those peak your interest, ofc.
As a rule Cullen doesn’t like dancing, but he loves holding Lydia. That afternoon when she came home from Emprise he would have been more than happy to stay in his office with her, or perhaps venture above, but she promised Cabot at the Herald’s Rest an Inquisitorial appearance with the Commander in tow. The sancere arrived from Orlais. She needed to try it. He should have known then she’d be lulled to dance once there.
When they were perched against the bar, Lydia with the sancere, she took a delicate sip. It was a rich and smooth wine with only a hint of acidity, or so said Lydia. Cullen couldn’t tell. He preferred Fereldan beer. Leaning against the counter after Lydia finished both his and her sanceres, she started swaying to the flute and the drum. It lulled her well. She asked him to dance.
Cullen doesn’t like dancing. Not one bit. Especially when he’s not properly inebriated. He doesn’t advocate for intoxication, but he recognizes his soldiers need a bit of fun ever now and then. He made that mistake, among many, in Kirkwall. He didn’t give his men time to celebrate, even if there were far fewer things to celebrate back then.
Lydia is a celebration. As he dances, or tries to anyway, he finds her his own brand of intoxication. How does she know he loves the way the little whisps of her hair hit her shoulder? How does she know he loves it when she pushes her hair away from her face, revealing that small and tantalizing widow’s peak at the top of her forehead that’s almost a crown? Her sleeves fall off her tanned shoulders, her embroidered corset cinching in. He gulps at the valley, sighs at the closeness of her. She doesn’t take proper form anymore as more couples and some singles scurry to the floor to dance, pressing them in. Lydia pulls him closer, too concerned with him than proper form. He’s always more concerned with her than proper form.
She’s been gone before now. He's missed her. It should be easier to part with her the more they’ve had to do it, but for Cullen she sticks to him more like honey with every reunion, making every parting all the less of a sweet sorrow and all the more a despairing torment. She’s pliant in his arms, lithe and strong, and she lifts herself to her tip toes so they are more shoulder to shoulder. If he thinks too much of how he’s missed her, he’ll harden and what good will that do for morale? His soldiers will laugh, perhaps call him whipped, as if he’s even cared about that.
It doesn’t matter. He’s hard. She grinds against him, all too aware of it. “I missed you,” he whispers in her ear, holding onto her more tightly as soldiers, loungers, friends—Sera even, and is that Dorian? crowd around him on the dance floor. “I missed you so much.”
“I know that,” she whispers back, groaning when her nails skim lightly down the nape of his neck. “I can feel you.”
“Let’s get away for a while.”
“Let’s stay right here.”
No one knows, she says. It’s just us. It’s not quite true but what’s also true is that Lydia has the uncanny ability to make anyplace seem paradise, and to make anyplace the place where only the two of them exist in the world.
“I missed you too,” she says. “I thought about you. I ached for you.”
“Still?”
“Yes. Still. Always.”
“Thank the Maker.”
“No. Thank me.”
No matter how many times she tells him she’s not some divine gift from above, but only herself who loves him as much as he loves her, he can’t quite help it sometimes. He asks himself how. He asks himself if it’s possible. She reminds him it is.
“There’s too many people here,” he whispers in his ear. “How am I supposed to look nondescript?”
Her warm hands slide underneath his tunic. “You don’t have to try.”
He laughs in spite of himself. “I can’t do that. What will my soldiers say?”
“Do you care?”
“Not particularly.”
Oh, to make love to her with a thousand eyes upon them. They may as well have from the first. All the Inquisition had their eyes upon them. History has their eyes upon them. Love in the middle of war, the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall with a former Circle mage. To love a woman not despite her magic but because of her fire she is so very warm at night and her hands heal. To love a woman who is a tempest on the battlefield and a tempest in bed, to have stories told about them and speculations thrust upon them. He loves seeing her in the mirror without inhibitions. To have others see her, see it’s his cock she takes, see it’s him she loves…
He groans into her neck, far too intoxicated and far too aroused. She pushes closer to him and he cannot pull away. They are surrounded, firstly, and secondly, he can never think of a good reason to pull away when they’re together. Work? What does it matter? The world? They are the world.
“I’d make love to you in front of thousands.”
He doesn’t realize he has voiced his thought until she asks him how. But of course. She’s a woman of details, though he had only the thought and the notion. But she’s a woman of a thousand good stories, a woman of only the best trouble, and his. He sees no reason at all why he shouldn’t inform her of how, or even a reason why not.
“Here.” He says.
“On the floor?”
He smirks. “As if we haven’t.”
“It hurts my back.”
“Alright. The war table.”
“It also hurts my back.”
“Mine as well, but only after. But it’s alright. You’ll be on top. I can make the sacrifice.”
“Your Inquisitor and lover appreciates your service.”
But I would hold you, he promises, as you ride me. You’d sink against me for a bit and I’d hold you close, and I wouldn’t even turn my head to see. I’d feel their eyes but I’d mostly feel you. I’d feel you with so much of me that the part of me that should protest is a mockery.
“I’d look,” Lydia says. “I want to know everyone who loves us.”
On top of me I’d hold you, he continues, as his hands remained concerned with the tantalizing dip of waist and hips. You’d feel so good, encased. Full. Feeling me as well as you know yourself. My extension, the other half of me. Sunlight would stream through. Sunlight was made for your body.
“You were carved in sunlight,” Lydia says. “It pours from you. It’s your own magic.”
It’s one thing to be watched, she says as the music changes to a slow dance met for lovers. But imagine if an artist were to paint us. My hands all over your scars, writing a love letter. Your hands cupping my face rather than my breasts because you are a sweet contradiction…
“I’d touch them too,” he promises, his lips already pressed against her ear, then skimming against her neck, tugging her hair down and kissing the top of her breasts. She moans at the slight prickle of beard, weaving her hands through his hair and keeping him there.
But he must pull himself upward, seize her in a searing kiss as if that will abate his want rather than enflame it further. He could kiss her for hours and lay in a bank of her arms for hours, and that is how he would have the world watch. The world would watch them kiss, as if they haven’t already, as if they’re love hasn’t been discussed and analyzed like scripture. If they are scripture, they should worship.
“If I do not have you now,” Lydia says, “I will cease to exist.”
“You must not say that.” On that matter, he’s firm.
“Then you must have me. That is that.”
First, he plants a kiss against her cheek. Then his lips linger against the corner of her mouth. His hand under her chin, their eyes meet. The shocking intimacy never overwhelms anymore. It’s quite like their kiss.
The kisses still overwhelm.
“You have me,” he promised.
He holds her tighter. He’s never going to fall in love again.
#cullydia#shakeswrites#thanks!#cullen rutherford#only a little lemons#firstly loved both ideas may have to do modern AU someday#decided to incorporate both
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I do think Cullen would pass away from the side effects of lyrium, but I do think he’ll be an old man when it happens. His memory won’t totally go away but he’ll forget little details. That just means Lydia gets to retell then how they fell in love. He’d ask her how, and she say they were in a castle in the sky when he held her face in his hands and kissed her anywhere but the lips until at last he kissed her and they made a promise to try together. They’ve been trying every day since and they are good at it. The best even. Cullen would ask even now, and she’d say “especially now.” He’d never forget he loves who he loves. But every day he rediscovers what exactly he loves about her, and his children.
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Asking for suggestions - I was recently reminded of your Butter Cakes and Cherry Tarts and we need more dadbod soft Cullen steamy content 👀
Oh wow, that story is a blast from the past! Totally inspired however, thanks anon! <3 Rated M, post Tresspasser.
If Cullen were awake he’d shower her with kisses for her homecoming, and though never having forgotten what it was like to be loved, she’d have her cups of affection and longing refilled by the only man who can replenish. Yet as it is, he’s sound asleep.
She should be quite put out and indeed it’s not quite the homecoming she would have expected, though truth to be told she’s anything but put out. He looks far too dreamy, literally and figuratively. He lays flat on his back with the covers draw to his waist as per years of Chantry living taught him, calm as he gently breathes. His brow isn’t furrowed. He is gentle. He is calm. He is good. He dreams of sweet things, perhaps herself if she’s so bold.
She is bold. She is bolder still, pulling off her riding boots and slipping off her trousers, smalls, corset, and prosthetic hand. She only leaves on the shirt she confiscated from his stash before she left for the College. Slipping in bed, she curls closer, her leg pressed against. He humphs. She throws her arm around him, breathing him in. In the darkness as he stirs and responds she feels his grin, and she clutches his shirt as he wraps an arm around her. There are soft kisses on her forehead, a “welcome home,” whispered in her ear.
“They’re still sound asleep,” Lydia mutters, thankful their joyful and rather large mabari, too happy to see her mistress home didn’t wake the children. “I kissed them and they didn’t even wake.”
“They’ll be so excited in the morning,” Cullen says. “I told them you’d be home in the afternoon.”
Though he must ask, he says, why she’s early. “Thought it was obvious,” she answers. “I missed you too much.”
He kisses her like he used to kiss her, waiting for her on the battlements of Skyhold. They aren’t desperate like they used to be however, only grateful. Only loving. In truth however, she didn’t expect such a homecoming. She thought she’d fall into bed and turn groggy after a few sleepy kisses, Cullen only awake enough for a few kisses before settling soundly again. Instead he is as efficient as clockwork. Kisses are left here and there as he envelopes and entangles. She’s reminded what it’s like to be possessed again, like the first few times when they began a tentative relationship and he asked to try with her. A brave, gallant knight has me in his arms, she used to think, eternally soaring high in the sky. A braver man built her a home, a bed, and became the father of her children.
She grasps, she clings. He must be everywhere. He must be inside her. He grips her ass and pushes her to her back and she can feel his need to be inside and succumb. His weight is hefty on her body, comforting and strong. As her breasts smush against his chest she needs closer still, and she hooks a long leg over him. Her hand glides down his back, squeezing a dimple.
“You’re soft,” she says as his stubbly neck prickles against her sensitive neck. “Maker…”
There’s a stiffening above her, a detachment like she’s far away from home again. Underneath him, she wiggles her hips. “Is something wrong?” she asks as she strokes his hair and his back, kissing the top of his head. Her first thought is Kinloch or Kirkwall, though it’s been a while since he’s remembered either. In fact she can’t even remember the last time. When they dream, they dream of the Inquisition. They dream of each other.
“Darling.” She calls to him, hoping she’s not far away. “I’m here.”
“I know.”
“Oh.” She plants another kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she hears muttered as he buries her head in the crook of his neck. And before she can ask what’s wrong, she hears his resigned, sad question.
Am I really that soft?
“Oh, you’re very soft,” she replies immediately. “You always have been soft. Of course you used to play the brooding and detached Commander but I always knew—”
He humphs in disapproval. It wasn’t what he meant and she knew it.
“Well, me too you know,” she answers. She retired and had two babies. It was bound to happen.
He peeks at her. He calls her beautiful and he sounds spellbound. “Glad you agree,” she says, kissing the little furrow in his brow away and wondering why he doesn’t think what has always been true, that he is beautiful. Yet he’s crestfallen in her arms, and though she couldn’t see that little furrow between his brows she knew she didn’t quite kiss it away.
“Does it bother you?” he asks, nearly pleading.
“No,” she promises.
Rylen told him he got soft, Cullen says as they settle into each other and to more kisses. It made him think.
Lydia sighs. “Darling you know I love him, but you also know he jests.”
“It’s true though.”
“But you’ve lived well. You’ve lived gloriously. You’re much cozier, but you’ll always be beautiful”
“I…”
She feels the patter of his heart against hers. They push and pull, give and take, but mostly give. Back into the earth they go. “Make love to me Commander,” she says, and he does and he does and they live that glorious life they carved for themselves.
“I care a little too much,” he admits sometime after, hands grasping and stroking her body with careless abandon, loving her as indiscriminately as she hopes he loves himself.
“So do I sometimes,” she replies.
“What makes it stop?”
The answer, she says as she strokes his cheek, is simple. “When we’re here loving each other.”
You asked me something a long time ago, Lydia says, recalling as she finger-combs through his hair. You asked me if I had a problem with your body.
“And you said only when it’s not on top of me.”
She buries her head in his chest as she laughs. “Oh. You remember!”
“I’ll remember everything.”
For the rest of the night, he showed her what he remembered. He showed her he believed her.
#cullen rutherford#cullen x inquisitor#post tresspasser#cullydia#shakeswrites#need to put on a03 lol
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Bought myself a ticket to see P!nk because her song “try” is the cullydia anthem
#cullydia#personal#I also just love her lmao#and I was sad I didn’t go when she was here years ago#So I am going to rectify that :)#I do hope she sings try
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I turned my fic into a Penguin classic cover here <3
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F and M for the fanfic ask game?
F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
this is always tricky for me because I write a lot of dialogue. i think that's where stories come to life. That being said, this is a one shot i wrote about a year ago, Cullen and Lydia dancing at the Herald's rest (nsfwish,) From this fic
He doesn’t realize he has voiced his thought until she asks him how. But of course. She’s a woman of details, though he had only the thought and the notion. But she’s a woman of a thousand good stories, a woman of only the best trouble, and his. He sees no reason at all why he shouldn’t inform her of how, or even a reason why not.
“Here.” He says.
“On the floor?”
He smirks. “As if we haven’t.”
“It hurts my back.”
“Alright. The war table.”
“It also hurts my back.”
“Mine as well, but only after. But it’s alright. You’ll be on top. I can make the sacrifice.”
“Your Inquisitor and lover appreciates your service.”
But I would hold you, he promises, as you ride me. You’d sink against me for a bit and I’d hold you close, and I wouldn’t even turn my head to see. I’d feel their eyes but I’d mostly feel you. I’d feel you with so much of me that the part of me that should protest is a mockery.
“I’d look,” Lydia says. “I want to know everyone who loves us.”
I like this for a few reasons--I love exploring themes of what it means to be watched, what it means to live a public life (this is in my original fiction as well) and writing romantic banter is always my favorite. Plus I love couples just openly talking about sex lol
M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?
Two. One is an Ada and Leon fic, wherein Ada comes to Leon after he sends her a message telling her he needs her. She eases his anxieties and his troubles and they act a little like lovers. My second is a cullen and lydia fic--partially inspired by that dancing scene in third class in Titanic (I actually started drafting it when I saw the rerelease in February) and partially inspired by that scene in the Witcher 3 hearts of stone DLC where Shani and the Vlod possessed Geralt go to a wedding. Essentially Cullen and Lydia go to a wedding of two of Cullen's soldiers, they get to be normal and show up for their people, dance, have a blast, and wonder when it'll be their turn to just be regular old normal people
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I have a commissioned cullydia picture on my desk and apparently my students think Lydia looks like me, so win 😂
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"He wanted to say so much, yet he could give no thought on how to begin. Merely instead, he squeezed her shoulders in thanks. Thanks to his despaired, pained savior. Thanks to a beautiful woman, who shouldn't have been there with him on the field of battle"
Anyway, slowly remastering In Waking Dreams again.
#because whenever I have titanic on the brain i go back to IWD#because lydia gives rose ok lol#plus ive been wanting to for a while#anyway yeah cullen is smitten from the get go and this is a romance#i see no#reason to evade that#cullen rutherford#cullydia#cullen x trevelyan
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