Chapter Text
Lavellan always sleeps with her arms and legs tangled about Bull, holding his arm tightly to her chest, scared that if she let him go at some point, she’d awake to find him gone. Bull didn’t realise that when he started holding her just as close whilst they slept, that he had been overtaken with the same fear. He feared he’d wake in the morning, to find that he was in his own bed, and their whole relationship had been a dream. When he does wake now, her long hair’s fanned over his chest, tickling his chin, and he never fails to smile and pull her tighter against him.
Cullen and Trevelyan sleep the same every night, curled around one another, bodies slotted together like they were made for each other, every part of their bodies lined up, touching. She always lays on his arm, and he never complains, no matter how dead his arm goes in the middle of the night. Their fingers interlinked against her growing stomach, feeling their little one kick against their intertwined hands. When either of them have a nightmare the other instantly awakens, pulling them to rest against their chest, soft sounds of heartbeats lulling one another back to sleep, hands stroking hair, soft words murmured and kisses planted against foreheads.
Solas always sleeps on his back, so Lavellan started up the annoying – but endearing practice of sleeping right on top of him, lines of their bodies matching up as she pillows her head on his chest. He expressed his annoyance at first, a wry smile slipping onto his lips as she tells him she doesn’t care, and so he makes room, using her back to prop up his books while she naps, burrowing her head into the softness of his shirt. He doesn’t tell her, but he grows to love the way she sleeps, feeling their heartbeats brushing against one another in the middle of the night.
Blackwall loves the feeling of holding Cadash against his chest, the small mewls she makes in her sleep and the way her slightly upturned nose brushes his beard when she kisses his neck before she sleeps. He holds her tighter at night, his hand encasing her smaller fist, laid against the broad expanse of his chest, thanking the Maker that she forgave him after what he did, that this amazing woman, capable of anything, would lay here with him in her rooms.