#inquisitor!reader

[arctrooper69]

Don't Forget

Crosshair x Inquisitor!Reader

For the @clonexreaderbingo prompt "Don't forget"

Warnings: Mentions of torture (both mental and physical). Generally dark theme.

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"They left you. They betrayed you. They hurt you."

It wasn't just the constant mental barrage of half truths and words twisted ruthlessly until you could no longer decipher your own thoughts. You could still feel the physical pain long after it was over - the electric agony coursing, stinging, burning through your veins. The smell of your own scorched flesh still lingered everytime you took a breath.

"Do you hate me now? Don't forget how angry that makes you. Let it fill you. Let it consume you. Let it grow until all you can taste is vengeance."

And it did. You let the anger fester inside of your veins like the chemicals they pumped to muddle your mind and dull your senses.

There is only much pain the human body can take before you become numb to everything else. There is only so much anger you can hold inside before you explode. When you explode, there's nothing left of who you were before and no one to pick up the pieces save for the one who made you this way in the first place. All the atrocities in the galaxy can be committed guiltlessly if you believe they wronged you first.

Crosshair knew this better than anyone but it still made him angry. It made him angry to see what they did to you. It made him angry to see how they broke you and built you back up in their own image. Just like him.

Empire. Inquisitor. Good soldiers follow orders either way.

"Don't forget that they left you. Don't forget the pain they put you through."

Don't forget.

Don't forget.

Don't forget.

"Remember the pain, the suffering, the anguish. Don't you want it to end?"

Don't forget who you are.

Crosshair sat on the cold, durasteel floor outside of the ray shielded cell they'd put you in. Force-binding shackles encircled your hands and feet. His brothers hadn't known what else to do. Your red-rimmed eyes starred at him, face contorting with rage. Maybe someday you'd come back to him. Maybe someday you'd forgive him.

"Do you remember who I am?" he asked softly.

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[wolveria]

gimmie my boy please (wip game)

One Crosshair, coming up ;)

It was a trap.

The night was calm, without any movement, and that was how you knew. You could have warned the rest of your team, but you weren’t here to hold their hands. If the got caught in a trap, it would only aid in flushing out the hidden insurgents, and that was fine with you.

You were all disposable tools, discarded once your use to the Empire ran out.

“Leave at least one insurgent alive,” you said, the filters on your mask distorting your voice. “I will interrogate them myself.”

Mere seconds later, ES-01 stepped on a pressure plate and activated several reprogrammed battle droids, including an impressive number of super battle droids.

Amateurs.

The ES troopers ducked behind whatever bits of encampment they could find, and you sensed CT-9904 heading for higher ground. He, at least, was intelligent enough to not get pinned down.

You didn’t bother to run for cover, you simply walked forward, letting the Force guide you as blaster bolts sped past you from both sides. You only ignited your lightsaber when two super battle droids got in your way. You cut them down without straying from your path, ignoring the rest of the droids. The remaining three ES troopers could handle the bulk of the pathetic force, especially with the covering fire from the clone sniper.

In the end, it wasn’t difficult to find the scouts. With your lightsaber extinguished, your robes blended into the night like a specter, and you slayed two of them before the third realized the fight was already over.

You indicated he should kneel before you, and he did, sweat coating his face underneath is round helmet.

“Where are the rest of your friends?” you asked, low and serene. “I know there’s more than you three. Perhaps they’re standing by to extract you?”

The rebel shuddered, but despite knowing his life was yours, he met your eye.

“You’re a Jedi,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “Why… why would you do this?”

Your own teeth wanted to be bared, but you simply held the red, burning blade near his cheek.

“Does this look Jedi to you?”

The fear in his eyes was quickly overtaking the bravery.

“Tell me where they are, or I start cutting.”

When the man remained silent, you brushed the blade against the side of his head. The effect was immediate, as was the sizzle of burning flesh and his muffled scream. It had only been a glancing blow, but his ear was permanently ruined.

Tears trickled down his face to join with the sweat.

“Save… save us both some time…” he said, the trembling worse now. “…And kill me. I won’t talk.”

You crouched next to him, your words soft. Almost sympathetic.

“Everyone breaks eventually.”

He cried out as you grabbed him by the nape of his neck and forced him to the ground. Extending his arm under your knee, you raised your lightsaber, the blade humming louder as if eager for the impending bloodshed.

The blade never came down. Danger and alarm rang through the Force, but when you looked up, you were still alone. It was not your own danger you were sensing.

With a jerk of your hand, you forced the insurgent into a sedated state, and then took off at a sprint. You leapt over and cut your way through the battle droids you couldn’t avoid, giving one last jump that sent you halfway up the nearby cliff face overlooking the camp.

You propelled yourself up the rest of the way, urgency fueling your muscles as you cleared the edge.

The clone was on his back, bleeding through several slashes in his armor. The vibrosword responsible was held in the hands of a droid commando, its yellow markings indicating it was specialized—the kind of droid that would know to sneak up on a sniper rather than face him at a distance.

It raised its sword above the clone, and you jammed your hilt into its back, activating the lightsaber.

The blade erupted through its chest plate, and you calmly removed the vibrosword from its hands before gravity could finish what the droid could not. You tossed the weapon aside and kicked the droid in the opposite direction, making sure it stayed down in the dirt.

CT-9904 stared up at you, panting either from pain or trying to catch his breath, but his teeth were clenched in clear dislike of you. Your lightsaber continued to thrum in your hand, bathing him in a red glow, until you finally extinguished it.

Picking up his fallen weapon, you tossed it back to the clone, and he caught it in one hand.

“Get up,” you said. “We still have a mission to complete.”

[verybadatwriting]

Um what??? So good! So angsty!

Betrayal

Pairings: Commander Wolffe x Gn! Reader

Summary: you had been knighted, and then confessed love to the man who helped you get there. And then everything fell apart... you were just so... angry..

Warnings: canon violence, torture, order 66, inquisitors, inquisitor torture. Insanity.

Word count: 2,284

“Congratulations Y/n L/n on passing your knight trials.You have earned the right to call yourself a Jedi Knight, and a General of the republic.”

Plo Koon spoke to you as you knelt down in front of him. He ignited his saber, moving it close to your neck as he cut the padawan braid which fell into your hands. You stared at it for a moment, tears welling in your eyes as you rose to your feet before pulling your master into a tight hug.

“Thank you Master.” You whispered, pulling away as your hand went to where the braid used to be, feeling the singed hair which would grow out with time and join the rest of your hair.

The Jedi in the council room all clapped for you, and you bowed gratefully as Plo-Koon took his seat with the council. You turned to Master Yoda, who was smiling. “A promising future, you have ahead. Grow stronger with the force, you will.” He said, and you bowed once more.

“Keep up the good work, and you might become a Master in the future.” Mace Windu stated, and a small chuckle left your lips. “I can hardly wait, thank you masters.” You stated, before leaving the audience room.

Waiting outside was your Commander, and his wolf pack, their helmets off as they turned to you, grinning. “Awoo! look at you go girl! Congratulations General.” Boost spoke up with a grin as he patted your shoulder. You laughed, pulling the whole squad in, including Wolffe, hugging them all.

“I wouldn’t have been here without any of you. Thank you.” You stated, pulling back as you turned to look at Wolffe, who had saluted to you, the rest of his men following suit. “You’ll be commanding your own squad soon, General. We’re proud of you.” He said, and you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll always be in my heart Commander, you and the wolfpack.” You started, pulling back with a smile. “Time for a wardrobe change i think.” You joked, waving goodbye as you walked off.

-

You smiled at the fond memory. It had only been a few months since you were knighted, and you jumped from battalion to battalion before you were told your permanent home would be with your original unit. Plo Koon already knew, but he wanted it to be a surprise for the Wolfpack, especially his commander.

You and Plo Koon were talking at the ship docking bay, watching as clone troopers walked by, waving or smiling as they passed. You had just arrived on your fighter ship, and now you and Plo were making your way up to the bridge.

The doors slid open with a hiss, and as you entered you noticed Boost, Comet and Sinker arguing about something stupid while Wolffe watched with his arms crossed. He was facing away from you, so Sinker and Boost were the first to see you. However you quickly placed a finger to your lips and they kept quiet.

You were now behind Wolffe, smiling brightly before you spoke up.

“I would think in my absence you’d have slapped these boys into shape. Goes to show I can't leave you boys alone.” You spoke up, folding your hands behind your back as your grin settled back on your face.

Wolffe spun around immediately, practically ripping off his helmet as he stared at you. You wiggled your eyebrows at him before pulling him into a hug, since you knew he wouldn’t innitate it. However he happily reciprocated.

“I thought you’d be getting your own squad? What are you doing here, General?” He asked, pulling away after a few moments. You chuckled. “The council requested a new battalion be created, but The republic denied it, so I hopped from Battalion to battalion until they decided I'd go back to my original squad.” You explained.

You then playfully punched his shoulder. “Why, wanna get rid of me already?” You teased me. “No!” Wolffe exclaimed suddenly, clearing his throat as he fixed his sentence. “No General, I am glad you're back.” He stated.

You grinned, patting his shoulder as you went on to greet the rest of the wolfpack.

It had only been a few months but Wolffe could pick out what changed in your appearance. Your hair was shorter and your skin was more tanned, from being out in the sun probably. You had a new outfit, something very different from what you wore as a padawan. There was so much more he could think of but the list would go on forever.

After all the hellos, Wolffe offered to take you back to your quarters which had changed since you were last here but you didn’t mind.

Because as soon as you and him were alone in your room he had you pressed up against the wall, gripping your hips in his hands, his lips against yours as he kissed you furiously.

You were in your early 20’s as a padawan so when you had met Wolffe you and him had a bit of a fling. And you had missed this terribly.

“Wolffe-” You whined, breaking the kiss as you panted for air, hooking a leg on his hip as you stared into his eyes. “I love you.” You whispered, watching as his eyes widened. “I- what?” He asked, breathlessly.

You grinned, sliding your hands from his chest upwards to his cheeks, dragging your thumb along the scar of his right eye as you hooked your leg on his hip. “I said I love you, Wolffe.” You repeated, feeling his hand slide under your thigh to help support you against the wall. You heard a noise from him, resembling a whimper almost.

“I love you too, Sarad.” He whispered, pressing his face into your beck as he inhaled your scent. “I want to take us slow, take you on dates…” He trailed off, picking you up in his arms as he brought you over to your bunk. But he wasn’t rushing, the mood had changed from needing, to all that love and softness that he held for you.

Wolffe removed his armor until he was just in his blacks, now holding you in his arms as he laid next to you. You rested your head on his chest, your hand splayed out against his torso as you sighed.

You talked with Wolffe for what felt like hours, about plans for the future and so much more. Eventually you got up, needing to use the fresher. You were humming to yourself, enjoying a short shower before drying yourself off and getting redressed. You were now drying your hair when you heard some voices from the other side.

You just figured it was Wolffe talking with his brothers over the commlink, or with Master Plo himself. But once you were finished when you opened the door you could immediately tell something was wrong with the way he was sitting, almost with a look of disbelief. He looked up at you, hate and sadness strewn across his face.

“You’re a traitor.” He hissed, and your eyes went wide. “Wolffe what? what are you talking about?” You asked, taking a step towards him, only to stop when he aimed his blaster towards you. You raised your hands in defense, feeling your heart break as he looked at you with such hate.

“The Jedi are being arrested for treason.” He sneered, and you just shook your head in disbelief as he walked towards you. However as he aimed for your head you shot your hand up, throwing the blaster out of his grip.

You grasped his arm and twisted it, kicking him in the torso before slamming his head against your desk, successfully knocking him out. You let out a sob, quieting your voice as you grabbed your lightsaber, hooking it onto your belt, taking Wolffe’s blasters, tucking them into your robes.

You then grabbed your commlink, calling Master Plo who answered with what you could assume to be a chipper attitude. “Wolffe just tried to kill me, Master plo! said that the Jedi were being arrested for Treason! you need to find a way off this ship.” You hissed, putting Wolffe back into his armor before flinging him over your shoulder. “I have a shuttle near the back of the docking bay, wait for me there and hide Master Plo.” You said over the coms before going radio silent.

It was a lie of course, Plo knew you didn't have a shuttle there but if the clones were now hunting Jedi, then he knew to head to the opposite end of where you just told him to go.

You heard voices outside your room, running past it. You waited for a few moments until you heard no voices and sensed no life forms. You opened the door and ran from one end of the hallway to the next, hiding yourself when you needed to. Your main goal was to get to the shuttle, but before you could get up and run again, you heard a stun shot, feeling it hit your back.

You grunted, turning to find Boost and Sinker. “You are being apprehended, on Order of the Chancellor.” They started before stunning you again.

Everything went black.

-

Your wrists were bound, all you could feel was the harsh cold of metal against your barely clothed back. You were wearing tight blacks from what you could see, and the room you were in was dark, minus the red lights in the walls.

You heard a shift coming from the door before it opened, and your eyes widened as you saw two men enter, along with a probe droid and other tools. You tensed against your bonds, trying to slip out of them… until you felt the force envelope you, squeezing you.

“I saw you in my vision, young one.” A voice, the one whom this force signature belonged to, rang out through the room, sending shivers down your spine. “You will break, and become a lethal user of the dark side, leader of the inquisitorius…” The man trailed off, the force squeezing you tighter, growing painful.

You let out a choked cry, clenching your hands into fists. “Wh- Where… is Com- Commander- Wolffe.” You choked out, a pained yelp leaving your lips as you felt something being injected into your neck. “Your beloved Commander… you may have him, as soon as you break.” The man hissed, before leaving the room. The second man stayed, and you stared as whispers flooded your mind, hallucinations of all your friends, clones, beside him, screaming things at you.

They said you were worthless, that you would never have made a good Jedi knight.

this wasn't real. it wasn't- it can't be real.

It took a month.

Exactly one month until you got that vision of Wolffe, he was hurting you, bruising your flesh as he pushed you around. Anger swarmed your vision as it went red, your blood boiling with that raw emotion.

The man who was always interrogating you witnessed firsthand as a burst of electrical force energy broke the equipment around you. You killed that man with your bare hands. He was just an inquisitor to replace.

All you could see was red as you slaughtered your way through the fortress. You heard a voice, a real voice, not the ones in your mind. It was that man, that sick man who had brought you here in the first place.

You spun around, eyes golden with that rage as the man grinned at you. “Yes… yes! you are perfect.” He stated, coming to a stop in front of you as you heaved with anger. “Use that anger, child. Harness your new power. The Jedi are traitors, your old Master couldn’t even save you.” The man hissed.

You clenched your fists.

yes… the jedi made Wolffe hurt you. The Jedi started the war… this wasn’t your fault. No, the Jedi ruined everything.

you would make them pay.

-

Weeks later you stood tall, overseeing the turn of many Jedi to inquisitors. You were a hunter, and a damn good one, and the inquisitorius was growing stronger.

You were currently on a different planet, rumored to be harboring Jedi. But you had requested additional backup… a specific man who you hadn’t seen since the jedi tried to make him kill you.

You heard a ship land behind you, and you turned around as Wolffe and his new squad walked down the ramp. You were wearing a white mask, made of bone so he didn't notice you.

“Grand Inquisitor.” The man greeted you. “Remove your helmet, Commander.” You ordered, your voice crackling with the modifier of your mask. However as he removed his helmet, You lowered your hood, and then removed your mask, clipping it to the magnet on your belt.

Wolffe inhaled sharply as he saw you, his lover, the one he once thought a traitor. Now standing in front of him with yellow glowing eyes, bloodshot, an almost insane aura to you. You stepped towards him, grabbing his jaw as you gave him a wolfish grin. “You are my personal commander. Wolffe, my guard, my trooper.” You ordered, releasing his jaw as you instead traced your finger over his scar.

“Y/n-”

“No!” You shouted, grabbing his jaw again. “You lost the right to call me that name.” You hissed, taking a step back as you sucked in a breath to calm yourself. “You may call me Grand Inquisitor until I have deemed you worthy to call me that name.” You stated, placing your mask back over your face.

Wolffe stared at you with concern.

what had he done…

➺

Tag list:

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All:

@moomoog017

[bonesofapoet]

Commander Cullen Rutherford begs himself to get a fucking grip. The war table sprawls before him, mid-afternoon sun descending quick and cold behind snow kissed mountaintops. It leaves a chill in the air, something brisk and soulless to compliment the shadows gathering in the corners of the room.

The aforementioned table has not yet spoken any magical words of wisdom, nor has it moved any of his pieces to show him where best to place the newest wave of ready recruits. Tapered candles burn slow and languid in their sconces, yet they've been lit long enough that they resemble mere stubs now, instead of the tall towers they once were.

They resembled pale shadows of themselves, much like the lot of you, still staring at the map, still glancing at one another in the flickering flames hoping something else comes to mind before this session is adjourned. Anything, Cullen wishes, but another moment of this.

You've been here most of the day, and Maker, does it show in the tired eyes of those gathered 'round. That hasn't stopped his mind from wandering throughout the day however, eyes all but fixed on you, regardless of the task at hand.  He lingers on the way your mouth pulls into a tired smile at something Leliana has said, though all Cullen hears is your laugh, sparkling through the room in an echo that warms the cold mountain chill from his bones.

Andraste have mercy.

He finds himself wrapping one hand tightly around the pommel of the ever present sword gilding his hip, while the other clings to the edge of the scuffed wooden table. With leather gloves adorning his hands, no one will notice the tightness with which he clings to his chosen anchors. No doubt were his knuckles white with the strain. With the force. Yet, as much as he would hope, in this moment, that no one could tell how he longs to reach for you, gilded golden, holy, divine, always so, so wretchedly beautiful - he knows Leliana is no fool. Nor are you, for that matter. The slight tremble in his hands can be hidden, but his eyes will always betray him.

He clears his throat, stumbling over his breath when you catch him staring from across the room. His name falls softly through your lips, sounding ever more like a hymn, even with the laziness of sleep weaving through your voice.

You coming?

The steel of the sword bites through his glove as he nods and follows you through the heavy door. Without thinking, his other hand lifts to graze along your lower back, guiding you while he trails behind. He returns your smile, hesitant, too wrapped up in the way you're looking at him, much as he thinks he's been fawning over you all day. Ridiculous, he insists. There's absolutely no way - you're his - the - Inquisitor, and he's sure that -

He feels your hand slip into his. It takes him a moment, to realize what you've done. To realize what you're telling him. It's jarring, the realization that he doesnt know anything, actually. Except, if Commander Cullen Rutherford knows anything at all, it's how much he's been dying to curl his fingers around yours and press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

So when he walks you to your quarters for the night, that's exactly what he does.

[ghost-is-my-bbg]

Rest in peace inquisitore3/Vincent.💔🕊 fly High Man.❤....

SIGH THE PETITION!!

He was only 23. He didn't deserve the way he was treated. Accused and rumours made saying he was a groomer that weren't true at all. They were only proven to be fake after he killed himself on live. No one even let him speak to defend himself. He was undoubtedly a wonderful beam of kindness and love. Sick world we live in. Rip 🙏

[frankiesteinart]

Inquisitor Ghost

[gogogodzilla]

day 8, almost getting caught

cullen rutherford x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, creampie, unprotected sex, war room sex, semi-public sex kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You knew it was reckless, but that didn’t stop you for a second. You hardly had enough time to say ‘good morning’ before Cullen was off to his duties and you were off to yours. You couldn’t wait any longer.

The moment Leliana and Josephine left the war room you were rounding the table and pulling him into a heated kiss. He paid no mind to the markers you swiped off the map to make room for the two of you, he’d already memorized their locations during the meetings. 

You exchanged heated kisses as clumsy fingers moved to detach the armor and bits of cloth that dared to come between you. 

How you got into this position, back pressed against the hardwood of the table and him moaning above you, was a blur in your lust-filled mind. All you could focus on was how deliciously Cullen was stretching you and how much you needed more, more, more. 

You pulled him closer to you, raking your nails across the broad expanse of his back. You felt his muscles ripple under your touch, and you pressed your fingertips against the now-flushed skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to rut deeper inside you, causing you both to let out whines of pleasure.

“Inquisitor,” he groaned against the shell of your ear as he leaned over you, encompassing the whole of your body with his. 

Voices sounding outside the heavy wooden doors of the war room caused you to tense against Cullen and him to stifle a groan against your shoulder. 

“Josie, I’m sure you didn’t forget it,” Leliana’s voice was muffled behind the doors, but you’d recognize it anywhere. 

“I must be sure, Leliana. It’s my favorite quill; I’ll just be a moment,” came Josephine’s muffled response. Cullen froze above you, both of you straining to hear the conversation just outside the doors. 

“I think I saw it in the rookery when you walked up with me, maybe we should start there? I’m sure the Inquisitor and Commander are still discussing important matters.” Leliana’s voice rose at the last part of her bid to lead Josephine away, and you flushed. Nothing could get past your spymaster. 

It was quiet for a moment, and Cullen slowly picked up where he left off, thrusting deeply inside you. The gasp that escaped you when Cullen hit the particular spot that had your back arching against the hardwood was stifled by his lips against yours. 

The thought of getting caught sent a jolt through your body, and you clenched against him. His pace quickened, and you could tell he thought the same.

“Very well, we can check there first,” Josephine replied and the footsteps receded. 

Cullen cupped your face with one hand and, as his thrusts became sloppier, he kissed you. He pulled away after a moment, just enough to look you in your eyes as he fucked you.  With one final snap of his hips, you were coming undone and his name tumbled past your lips. 

He was soon to follow you off the precipice and he shuddered against you as his hips stilled within you. He pushed the hair out of your face and his gaze softened as he looked down at you. 

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, then to your nose, and finally to your lips. “I missed you, my love,” he whispered against you. 

“Perhaps we should move this to my chambers before Leliana and Josephine come back,” you suggested, a small grin gracing your features. 

A blush spread across Cullen’s face, but he nodded and helped you dress. He was quick to put the markers back into their correct spots and drag you out of the war room to continue your reunion elsewhere.

[scarfacemarston]

Cullen Rutherford Fluff Alphabet

Note: I sometimes say “you” because it’s shorter than typing inquisitor constantly. This is also Gender Neutral. Please think about reblogging or at least leaving a like! This sort of thing takes time to create. Feel free to request more Cullen!

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Cullen is new to love. Outside of his crush on Amell/Surana, he did not have any romantic feelings towards anyone. Love was terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. It was something entirely new and engaging and something that he would put his all into. He is very physically affectionate and primarily shows his love through embraces, kisses, and cuddling. However, he also allows the Inquisitor to vent or cry as much as they need to. He will also insist on shouldering whatever burdens they are struggling with, whether that's completing extra paperwork, scaring off those who want to bother them, or leaving behind little treats to cheer them up; he can do it all.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

Cullen doesn't really consider himself to have many friends until Inquisition. In fact, the last time he had friends was Kinloch Hold before it went to hell. (However, this was only with his fellow templars.) Inquisition is when he meets Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and the rest of the crew. It took time for him to see them more than colleagues, but they found a devoted, loyal, encouraging friend in the former templar who continued on even when he was at his worst. As time passed, he began displaying a more relaxed side to him and joined in game nights and his time with people like Dorian. 

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Oh, he loves to cuddle.  His family was very physically affectionate, but that quit once he joined the Templars. He didn't know how touch starved he was until he brushed hands with the Inquisitor and even more so when he held them for the first time. He hadn't allowed anyone near him since the fall of Kinloch Hold. Now, he can't sleep properly without holding the Inquisitor. Even if he can't sleep, his mind and body feel at peace in a way they never could before. 

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

His childhood dream was to be a templar. He never thought of any sort of domesticity. Templars rarely settled down. He never viewed himself as settling down during Inquisition, either, until he fell in love with the Inquisitor and only then did he dare to dream. After seeing what Mia has, he couldn't help but want the same. He wants a spouse, kids (or to be a busy uncle), and, of course, as many malbari as he can manage.

Cullen is not an amazing cook, but he's functional. Can he make basics like stew? Sure. Could he grill something? Sure. It's straightforward. Porridge isn't difficult either, but he's more likely to live off of rations. During Inquisition Inquisition, Cassandra made sure he ate at least twice a day. He is very tidy, but he has been known to be a disorganized type of organized, too.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

We've actually seen this in the game! He tries to maintain an air of professionalism and keep it with a bit of distance. He will still try to maintain his professionalism if you break his heart, but the hurt might bleed out. He tries to use logic and put some distance between the two of you.  However, it also depends on the circumstances. He can be very gentle about it and very apologetic. 

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, Cullen didn't have any ideas of romantic commitment until they met the Inquisitor. We know he's incredibly devoted to the templars and the Inquisition, so he has no issue with commitment. However, once he fell in love, he fell in love hard. I don't think it took that long for him to start fantasizing about marriage, even if he was so sure it would never happen. Cullen would wait for the right moment, but it doesn't necessarily need to be planned, just that it feels right like we see in the game. 

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

We've seen that Cullen can be incredibly tender and gentle. He especially appreciates having the ability and the safety to do so, emotionally and physically. He isn't ashamed of showing his gentle side - he cares for you more than anyone or anything else - but that doesn't mean he won't glare someone like Jim down if he tries to interrupt. The more comfortable he gets with you, the more likely you will see him become even more gentle. He is far more soft-spoken and sometimes even delicate in the way he touches you. 

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs are bone-crushing but one of the safest feelings in the world. Some of his hugs can be quite gentle and tender like he's afraid he'll hurt you, but usually, they are more solid, as if he wants to cement you there.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Cullen feels it quickly, but that doesn't mean he'll say it. When he falls, he falls hard. He doesn't mean to, it's only happened once before and went horribly wrong. He'll try to deny it to himself, also going through self-doubt, thinking he isn't good or deserving enough to have that happiness, but he will sometimes pine for the Inquisitor. Once the Inquisitor is in a relationship with him, he is anxious about when to reveal his feelings, but he will do so in a quiet moment, like cuddling together in bed. However, he'd much prefer his partner be the one to say it first. 

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

As alluded to before, he has a lot of self-doubt and self-loathing as he questions whether he deserves love after everything he has done. Early in the relationship, it would hurt, but he would tell himself that you are making the right decision…but that doesn't mean he'll give up entirely. As he becomes more secure in the relationship, he is more likely to get jealous despite that security because he knows what the two of you have built. He is more likely to step in verbally or give some light PDA.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

He kisses many ways, but they tend to be either tender or passionate. There's not quite an in-between. Expect a lot of stolen kisses, especially if the two of you have or are busy. He loves kissing on the hand, wrist, neck, and behind the ear, anywhere he can.

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Cullen feels very awkward around children. He's never disliked them, and he was a good brother to his siblings. Some of the younger templars looked up to him during training. However, after becoming a templar, he sort of "lost" his ability to relate to children. He's kind but stiff around them. Sometimes, he could briefly imagine having a child or two of his own, but that was always a fleeting thought. It wasn't until meeting the Inquisitor and reconnecting with Mia that he truly wondered about having a child. He wants it, whether through birth or adoption, but he would never force the Inquisitor into anything. 

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cullen gets up early. He usually has his armour polished and on, training completed, and reports from the night before reviewed by 7:00 am. He often forgets to eat breakfast or munches on rations or jerky. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and now the Inquisitor all make sure he eats breakfast.

You're a "bad" influence in that he wants to sleep in or stay in bed and cuddle longer. His new time to complete his routine is a whopping…..8:00 am. Since leaving the Inquisition together, he sleeps a bit later but still prefers to wake up early. 

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

That man does not sleep. He just doesn't. It's like it's a foreign concept to him. However, it is not all workaholic tendencies. Sometimes, it's to avoid the nightmares he's had for well over a decade. Other times, the lyrium keeps him awake. Even when you pursue a romance with him, he struggles to stay in bed only because he can't shut his mind off, but a nice massage, cuddles, and or sex tends to quiet those thoughts. Otherwise, he's content watching over the Inquisitor.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Cullen is extremely private about himself. He reveals things incredibly slowly, but sometimes, his most personal moments come out at the most inopportune times when he doesn't have a choice but to reveal them, as seen with his lyrium addiction or his nightmares. These moments are incredibly frustrating to him, and he detests them when they happen. That's why, despite his discomfort, he is telling himself that he must be far more open and communicative so he has power over what to share, what not to share, and when to do so.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Believe it or not, Cullen can be irritable and angry. Most of it is the lrium, but he holds everything inside of him until eventually, it comes out whether he wants it to not. Usually, it's a whole series of events that cause him to eventually snap, but it is possible for something triggering to cause him to explode or shut down.

However, he is incredibly patient in most situations, but he is not perfect. He will not tolerate many things, as seen with some of the more annoying chantry members in DAI. 

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

Cullen sometimes struggles with his memory due in part to the lyrium but more so because he has so much on his mind. However, he will make you a priority above all else. Unfortunately, he punishes himself if he forgets or gets something wrong. Overall, he commits everything he can to memory, and as his lyrium cravings subside, he is more clearly able to remember things. He wants to know everything you're willing to share, whether it's your birthday, favorite color, favorite food, best battle tactics, or favorite ways to turn you on.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It's a difficult memory for him, but the relief he felt when the Inquisitor revealed they still cared for him despite his lyrium addiction and his trauma. It's not the most romantic memory, but it is a meaningful one. More positively, he loves how he surprised you with that first kiss on the battlements… until Jim interrupted. The morning after he and the Inquisitor slept together was also dear to him. 

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

We know and have seen how protective Cullen is. He is ready to give up his life at a moment's notice if needed, especially if it's for the Inquisitor. He was willing to leave the Inquisition because he felt he was a liability to it and the inquisitor. He is incredibly selfless and self-sacrificing. He's also not afraid to voice his opinion in defense of his partner. As for him, he doesn't really expect anything in return. However, he already thinks you protect him by looking out for his well-being, whether it's the lyrium, his anxiety, eating, sleeping, etc. He also greatly appreciates it if you speak up in defense of him for whatever reason, but he never expects it.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

After much worrying, he would fret about it and might turn to someone like Josephine for help or even Varric, Dorian, or Leliana. However, he is capable of giving gifts on his own, planning outings, as seen with the lake and giving his lucky coin to the Inquisitor. He definitely tries, but he's always worried he'll fuck it up somehow.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

He does have a temper and when hurt, he can lash out. We've seen this when he threw his lyrium kit against the wall, nearly hitting the Inquisitor. However, he works very hard to keep control of it. His anxiety and self-doubt can also be a problem, but again, he tries to hide these feelings as best as he can.

As for an actual habit, his pacing and constant movement can be anxiety-inducing to some. His office has a pacing track on it. 

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he's handsome. He sees the way people look at him and treat him. He's not stupid. We know he styles his hair, but I think PART of that is due to some insecurity about his curls. Other than that, he focuses on the upkeep of his armor, but that is habit and perfectionism. Besides his hair, he doesn't spend much time on his appearance.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would convince himself that he would. He never expected you to return his feelings, but he knows he would be crushed if you ever left him. He would respect your decision but doubt that he'd ever feel whole again as he'd be unlikely to trust himself with another partner.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Cullen secretly has a sweet tooth, but he doesn't want anyone to know that. Still, he wouldn't mind being given sticky buns or a pastry. (He's lying. He will devour them.)

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

We know he mumbles, tosses and turns, and has nightmares and insomnia. The poor guy has it all. However, he also sweats and overheats easily. This all improves as the lyrium addiction subsides. However, one thing that does not change is that he overheats easily…………………………….but still wants to cuddle. Once he has his arms around the Inquisitor, good luck getting up.

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Question

The republic fell slowly, then all at once. Rot building like a creeping cancer, in all the places the shining lights of luxury did not touch. Festering and untreated, all while I could do nothing to stop it. I knew it was coming, could see the story unfolding, yet? Was powerless to stop it.

No one listened.

Why would they? I was just a naive child, spouting nonsense. After all, they all said, they all believed... the Republic Was Forever.

Until it was not. Until it all died. And from the bleeding, screaming, ruin? The Empire came, swallowing everything whole. Right up to the end. While in my head, I knew how the story would unfold. Had tried and tried, to no avail, helpless and small as only children can be, as the tidal wave finally hit.

Believed, even as they lay dying. Even as I watch as the people cheer, as blood ran thick in the streets, clogging the gutters. The luxurites dead. Both guilty and innocent alike. The boot heels, upon the necks of the poor, no longer. Or so their leaders proclaimed...

Easy scapegoats. Obvious targets. The villians for their narrative, pay no mind to what happens next. The money and power, the land. We are HEROS! For the PEOPLE! You can TRUST US.

Ha.

Of course.

All hail the Emperor. Wealthier then any man has ever been. Truely, we are Free.

Yes, when the revolution came, I wasn't with them, my family. My "proper" social circles. That's probably all that spared me. I would have been hunted down, otherwise. Innocent or not. Can't have any of the old power bases lingering about, after all. People might get the idea to rally. Might miss the Old, when the New loses it's shine. Child or not, we can't have THAT, now can we?

The staff and volunteers of the soup kitchen, hid me with the other children as the adults boarded up the windows and doors. I held a young mother's child, looked her in the terrified eyes and swore, on my life, that I would gaurd her daughter with my life. I remember expecting to raise that child. To never see her again. Not alive.

Remember wondering, how far I could stretch the coin, if I pawned the pretty little bits of jewelry my parents gave me. Assuming they weren't ripped right off me, the second we got out. I had plans to hide them. Begun calculations. So many little mouths to feed. We had to stick together. We MUST stick together.

Then it was over.

My "disgrace" of an uncle came for me. Found me in the near ruins of my "silly little project". He was the one who had wanted to work. Had a stable worker lover everyone knew about but no one talked about. He was covered in bit of hay. Smelled strongly of horses. His lover had grabbed him and dragged him to safety, hidden him, desperately, among the stalls.

Out of our entire House...

An entire House, once noble, now wealthy. Out of HUNDREDS of people? Built over centuries, branches upon branches, marriages and adoptions. Wards and in-laws. Newborns to lovers to elders on their deathbeds? Of them all, so few remained. And yet... I could not even blame the servants who abandoned us. Who turned on their Slave Masters in all but technicality. They had been treated so cruely, for so long.

.....but the children? What crime did they commit?

I stood in the ruins of Manor after Manor, great house after great house, and wondered. Would I let this make me a monster too? Was this anger or grief I felt? Would any of us ever be free, from the sickening rot that had crept so slowly into the hearts of these people? Both, the ones I had called kin, and the very people who killed them. But oh... there were so many bodies to bury. So, so many bodies.

Some of them... so very, terribly, small.

But as we put out embers and buried the dead? The oh so glorious empire was rising. A fat and lumberous beast, settling with already groaning bones into the still smoking pit, where the Republic lay dead. And, benevolently, the Emperor saw no reason to kill us. We were informed by pristine letter, hand delivered, as we stood smoke stained and filthy, among the pyres.

At least... thank the gods. At least my Uncle remembered.

He and I, fellow outcasts and trouble makers, he recalled my "nonsense". How it had very much come true. So he took the Emperor's letter. Smiled benignly, with the bland promise of nothing. And gently corralled us few who remained into the only remaining dining hall, to pour over the letters as a House. A Clan. Together.

He looked to me with haunted eyes... and wanted to know.

I phrased it as a vision. It would be easier to swallow that way. Not unheard of, in legend. Not out of the realm of possibility. Just absurdly, absurdly rare. But... did we not live in world shaking times? It would make sense, it felt, that the gods would at least MENTION such things...

A novel, a lifetime ago. We were hardly the Protagonists. Not related in any way. Dramatics and death would surround them. A dark age followed, supposedly, by light. But... was the real world ever so simple? I didn't know. I could name all the players. What would occur.

It would be up to US to protect ourselves.

And we WOULD need to protect ourselves. For the Empire was not a kind place. Nor fair. It was the rot of the Republic laid bare. Without pretense. And soon... the purges would begin.

I was, of course, right. The people's blood soaked victory soon gave way to dismay, as they became targets. Divided. Conquered. Inquisitors, hand chosen by his most graciousness, the Emperor himself. I held my tounge, kept my piece... and hated it. Undermined what I could. Rebuilt my soup kitchen.

Attended court.

Because, of course, all we loyal subjects MUST attend court. Don't we love our Emperor so? See how we fawn! We simper and bask in his greatness! Oh we hang on your every WORD, most royal Majesty! We are entranced! Loyal, loyal subjects, all. Such decadent parties as the people starve.

Didn't my family perish for such similar actions? But, ah, they deserved it. Of course. And THIS is for MORALE!

I sip wine looted from the Redcrest family's cellars. They were dead now. Were proud of their wines. They made them for centuries. There shall never be more bottles, yet frivolous, we drink them away. What crime did they commit? Their workers? I close my eyes and keep my smile fixed.

A pleasant expression, because everything is Fine. Remember who you fight for, survive for, you are the canary in the mine. If you go silent, they know to run. The longer you live, the more people you can help, you can do this. Remember... sometimes rebellion is refusing to die. Refusing to let them pull hope from your desperate, bleeding, claws.

Just smile.

Everything is Fine! See? We're Smiling!

"Such a lonely seat. Not going to dance? Mingle? One might think you're not having fun." Comes from behind me, the voice an almost silibant rasp, rumbling thunder and the whispered hiss of a blade. If ever there was a voice made for threats and the confession of terrible things, it was this. "But how could that be? Such a loyal servant of his Majesty would never be so divisive and disrespectful. You must surely be ill. So, tell me then, your excuse?"

The only reason I do not jump, and splash on more reminder of tragedy right down my front, in a display I can not afford, is that I freeze up. Jumping would look guilty of something. It would not matter that he walks all but silently. That I did not notice him and was startled. That it is a simple, human, reaction. Why am I so JUMPY? Guilty conscious? Perhaps an Inquisitor and I should... Talk.

And dropping my wine? Making a SCENE? Am I seeking to undermine his Majesty?

That's ON TOP of the fact, that... frankly? My House can not AFFORD to replace a wine stained dress. With his Majesty's demands for constant decadence yet performative humility, his hoarding of wealth and demands of tribute? We are barely scrapping by. Most "graciously spared" survivors are.

Not ALLOWED to become lower class. Disappear into the masses and work or live quiet, modest lives. No. We must PROVE our LOYALTY to his Majesty. Constantly. Forever. Right up until we fail and are punished for it. In a sick game, no one can ever hope to win but him.

We are to continue on, as though he did not burn the world down. Yet in revamped parody of what was. Like a social outcast, holding towns hostage, to play out "high school prom" as the MOST popular kid, forever and ever and always more. Or ELSE. Because he never grew up and never got over it. Because people didn't like him. So he'll MAKE them. Kill them if they refuse.

The fifteenth version of this dress. Lace carefully taken off and redone elsewhere, I cycle through "new dresses" and trade with allies who are about my size. Who could possibly afford to meet the man's mad demands? When we are barely feeding are own? When he has seized our assets yet will not let us work?

We are dying.

Painted in what inherited gold, silks, and jewels remain. Terrified. We are dying.

"Nothing to say? How quiet. One might think you are... afraid. But how could that be? You would know, as a loyal servant of his Majesty, that you have nothing to fear from us. No Inquisitor would harm one of the loyal subjects, of our beloved ruler. You are perfectly safe... that is, of course, assuming... you are, in fact, Loyal."

The near shifting of heavy cloth against heavy cloth, the sigh as it slid against armor, markes a deadly presence behind me. Light, almost silent, steps are nearly lost under the music, as he moves. Circling me like a hunter. I force myself to turn towards him instead of shying away. Claw control back of my instinct frozen limbs, with desperate hands. I cannot, CANNOT afford this.

"Ah, but you are sick. Headache, perhaps? The drink too strong?"

Red eyes bore into me from a silver mask. Infamous claws, on hands that have done so much, are tucked behind his back like gentleman, out on a stroll. Bone white robes, over armored black under robes. Monochromatic, blood red, and silver steel.

The Grand Inquisitor.

"Perhaps you've tired yourself. With all that dancing you did not do. So many questions. So few answers. But then, ah, I've been speaking so rudely, my dear. Talking over you. How has your evening been, hmm? Pleasant, I take it?" His voice was as light and almost charming, as a gentle hand; wrapped delicately around the throat. Not squeezing, not yet, just a simple remind that it could. If he did not like, what you had or were about to say. "Come, sit, I insist."

The smile on my face felt like it was a dam under pressure. Like my teeth could only barely held back the screaming in my head. The mask of my expression, covered in hair line fractures, only just holding together as I nodded. Followed along. Hysterical comparisons to the march before firing squads, danced in the back of my head. I shoved them back. Down and far away. I... I had to be present. Alert.

The chandelier's light caught with terrible beauty, on the brutal points of his claws. As he gestured, almost a mockery of the polite gentleman. He would be one, if not for the unspeakable things he had done. He was certainly polite. His etiquette immaculate.

Social dances. A mockery of comfort. Mock, mock, mock. His mere presence, his brutality, desecrated it all. Made profane the familiar. For who? WHO? Could break bread with the butcher of men? Could smile politely and serve them thoughtful bits of nothing? Treat them as your own? Yet... yet we were all to afraid to resist. To refuse.

Did they delight? Forcing us to welcome them, where they clearly were not wanted? Where we could not refuse them? Perverting the purpose of our traditions and our ways? Was... was it funny? Or just another tool to use against us?

Smile, dip your head, a small curtsy or bow. The guest invited sits first, serve drinks, time appropriate food if you have it. In my head I knew each step. The etiquette of the classes and why each was the way it was. He did not reach for the pitcher on the table. Merely settled back into his chair, like a throne.

Was he deliberately breaking the social norm? To create discomfort and pressure me to talk? Did he not know? His past was shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he simply did not feel like it. Who, here, could insist? Shun him for his rudeness?

I tried not to sweat, under his heavy gaze. Did not partake. Sat, back straight, my gentle mask-like smile fixed, as I stared over his shoulder. A pretty doll. Ragged and worn around the edges. Trying desperately to appear The Good And Loyal Citizen, least something... Unfortunate, happen.

"What a lovely dress." He mused into the tense silence, breaking it to brutal shards. "Yet, I can not help but notice the shade. The cut and design. Madame Signe's work, isn't it? It suits you." Everything inside me went cold. It was. But if he recognized it...

"Yet? I can not help but wonder, my dear. Why the lace is in the wrong place? You wouldn't happen to be trying to pass off that dress as something new, would you? Trying to subvert and undermine his Majesty's very clear command? That would be treasonous. And you, such a loyal subject, would never."

He knew.

I didn't know how much he knew, but he DID.

Struggling not to shake, not to give everything away, I lied. Of course, I did. Right through my teeth. I would, I had, and I promised. Straight to the end. Lie and lie, until I had nothing left in me. I know nothing, I know no one, there is nothing here to find. Lies upon lies, all while those I love flee for their lives. Praying to gods I don't think can even hear me, that it will be enough.

The slight tilt of his head somehow projected a sense of mocking indulgence. One long leg crossed the other, lounging like a warlord. The clawed gauntlets on full, gruesome display. Every part of him, from the set of his shoulders to the angle he sat, radiated amusement. As though he were watching a silly little child, playing foolish little games. Getting into mischief, then trying to hide the obvious evidence.

Was I quite done? His silence seem to say. He can wait.

I tilted my chin up with a strength and defiance I did not feel. Yes, I was done. Let come what may. I... I tried.

"So afraid, dear citizen. Acting as though I'm some sort of monster in the night, out to butcher and hunt the innocent. One might get the wrong impression. You might even hurt my feelings." He laughs, a sound that seems to roll and fall dangerously, past grinning teeth. Sharp and deadly. "But of course... I understand, I do. About your dress. You can not help it."

"After all, you have not changed a bit."

....what?

"Still compelled, against all rhyme and reason, to tend to the wretched under classes. The filth and wastrels. Beggars and whores. Instead of purchasing dresses for parties? You, oh loyal Citizen, are of course, exemplifying his Majesty's great Mercy."

That's not what... He KNOWS it's not... Where is he GOING with this?

"Yes, we must make exceptions, perhaps. Have mercy. After all... you had nothing but the best of intentions. And how can I hold that against you? When you can not help what you are? Soft and foolish. So very merciful and giving. Humane."

He dropped the word like it was a joke. Almost snide, laughter haunting the edges of it like a pack of hunting hounds. As though humanity to others, itself, was laughable. What a joke, he seemed to suggest, the mere concept of mercy. Of compassion for the sake of it.

So, why? What game was he playing? If he had to mercy to give me? Why even suggest...?

"Do you remember, the Revolution? That glorious rise, as the old fell away. As shackles were broken. As class lines no longer bound us. As we, both children, sat in the dark?"

Impossible.

No... no it... please, God, it can't....

The music was very far away. Muted, as though through blankets. Conversations becoming indistinct. Memories of stale air and dust. Packed earth beneath me and cold stone pressing against my back. The terrible, uncertain creek, of cheap woods from both the crates and ceiling above us. Everything that COULD be stacked against the doors, was.

Wondering if we would survive fire. If they, in their anger and hate, would think of it. Oh god, oh god, we were just kids-!

White hair, like bone, forever silent and staring. Never came close but showed up every time I did, they noted. A crush. Local boy, they mused. He was too thin. Bruises where there shouldn't be. Scars on skin too young. He didn't run when I went to him, but never came to me. I tried to feed him. Just one more story. So many tragedies, that I could do so little to change. All I had was soup.

"Ah~ there it is. You recognize me now. It's been so long, hasn't it, my dear?" Something pleased and horrifying, curled like spreading poison through his tone. "I am a man, grown, now. Have become quite accomplished, if I do say so myself. Wealthy, influential, well connected. Powerful. No longer weak and unworthy of your time."

"In fact," He leaned forward, as though telling a secret. Almost playful, despite the horror of his words. "It's my turn to control you. To be the powerful one. To have everything while you have nothing."

"I will admit... I have been waiting for this for a very long time. You were so beautiful. Trapped in you wretched blood bought finery, chained to the House that would keep us apart. I knew even then, that I would have you, that I was the ONLY one that could be allowed to have you. No one else. And oh, his Majesty has been so very, very obliging."

Folded papers were withdrawn from his robes. Offered almost carelessly. If it weren't for the intensity of his stare? I would believe he didn't care, how I reacted. With shaking hands. I smooth the pages as I open it. From the desk of the Emperor himself... a... a marriage contract.

"Exactly as I wanted. You'll never escape me again. Smile, my dear."

"We're getting married."

[cumtastiics]

My birthday is in 2 days! :> What sort of birthday presents would the yans give to the reader?

happy early birthday!! hope u enjoy this ❤️

yan mean ceo - fancy jewelry, and some new clothes.

"your birthday? i don't have the time to spend it with you." sends a personal chef to your house

yan nice ceo - a bouquet of roses with chocolate, gift cards, and a date night to your favorite restaurant.

"it's your birthday! c'mon, no budget all day!" 

yan doctor - a bunch of new clothes, and new electronics.

"i can't be with you all day.. but happy birthday."

yan dilf - new jewelry, perfumes/colognes, with a necklace that has your name engraved on it.

"i hope you like the gifts i got you, my daughter helped me choose them. happy birthday, (y/n)."

yan magician - gives you a bouquet of money instead of roses, with a new necklace.

"happy birthday to my favorite assistant."

yan inquisitor - gets new furniture for your room, and new books for you to read.

"yeah yeah, i get i locked you up in here, but hopefully you'll be less bored."

yan puppy boy - brings you lunch for school for a week, and some gift cards.

"it's not much.. but tell me you like it!"

yan elf prince - holds a party in your name, and lets you do what you want for the day.

"now everyone in the kingdom can celebrate the birthday of my queen."

[goosewriting]

Glad to hear requests are open! I just wanted to say I love your inquis!cal fics :D

I was wondering if you could write something with Cal? Lovesick Inquis!Cal hunting an in-denial-of-feelings-for-him Jedi!reader is always a favorite of mine. Literally just Cal pinning the reader down and insisting how they’d make such a great team if only reader would join him. Just anything really, being at his mercy- ugh.

Feel free to write it or not, I don’t mind, just figured I’d put it out there :)

Loth-cat and Mouse

summary: as reader escapes from an inquisitor, old sparks might reignite despite the danger.

relationship: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!Jedi!reader

warnings: mentions of death and murder 

word count: 3.6k

A/N: top tier request anon, tysm! writing the whole force shenanigans was my favourite part tbh. i’ve been meaning to explore that aspect for so long, battle of the will and all, and i’ll definitely be doing it again! tell me what you think pls c: 

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Living in hiding when the galaxy thinks you’re dead is easy. It comes with the privilege of being virtually invisible in a galaxy that seeks to oppress and exploit every living soul.

Ever since escaping the Clones turning on the Jedis as a Padawan, and the rise of the Empire, you’ve lived in hiding, as most of the surviving Jedis did. And for a long time, you were successful. That is, until an Inquisitor picked up your scent and started hunting you down.

This went on for two years, and you somehow managed to evade her, always being a step ahead. You only came face to face with the Inquisitor twice: the first time, when you looked the purplish skinned Mirialan in her yellow eyes for the first time, and the second when you knew what you had to do.

Sitting in the dusty booth of a run-down tavern somewhere in the Outer Rim, your shoulders slump forward as you remember how you had felt her life essence vanish through the Force like a cloud of spores disappearing, carried away by the wind. You knew you couldn’t get through with it with your own hands, so you rigged an old warehouse with so many explosives that not even the strongest Jedi Master would be able to escape. Using yourself as bait, standing by the entrance to the building, that was the last time you’d see her. Your plan worked, and the whole thing came down on her. So much so that it almost took you out as well, but you survived despite the injuries. You hope that in the eyes of the Force, you had freed her from her pain. Maybe somewhere deep inside she was thankful.

Or that was what you’d keep telling yourself to be able to sleep at night. 

It’s been a couple of months since then, and you’ve doubled your efforts at staying hidden, as you don’t think you can take another Inquisitor hunt. Not because you can’t win against them. You already did, and that’s the problem. When you first realised an Inquisitor was trailing you, you were afraid. But now, after defeating her, the thought of going out there and turning around the hunter and hunted roles suddenly seems… exhilarating. But that would make you no better than a Sith, would it? Your face contorts in discomfort as you can practically hear your Master’s disappointed voice at what has become of you.

“I thought I taught you better.”

You sigh. Yeah, you did. But you trained me to be a peacekeeper, not an outlaw. It’s a kill or get killed world out here. It probably always has been, but we were shielded from it, had a roof over our heads, clothes to wear and food on our plates. You smile bitterly to yourself, the hood of your cape casting a shadow over your face as you twirl a toothpick between your fingers. Who’d have thought that we had it better during the war than afterwards. 

Your motions come to a sudden halt and you involuntarily snap the thin piece of wood in two as you feel the air in the tavern change, turning impossibly cold. The constant chatter doesn’t stop though, the few customers currently in the tavern continue on unaware of the shift. 

Rising up to your feet quickly but without making a noise, you beeline towards the bar, turning a sharp corner into the kitchen and then towards the back exit you know of. You can hear some modulated voices back in the main room; Purge Troopers. And where there are black armoured troopers… you don’t need to look to know what else is there. 

Once out of view from the main area, you quicken your pace, exiting the place with one goal in mind: getting as far away as possible. With your mind reeling, you skilfully evade every person and droid in your way so as not to make a fuss or cause noise by something falling to the ground. Mentally, you go through every interaction from the last several weeks, trying to find where you did something careless that gave you away. But you’ve been so thorough with your recons, moving every few days, never staying in one place too long. 

How did they find me? 

This question echoes through your mind over and over as you take step after step. The destination of your brisk walk doesn’t really matter, you just need to put as much distance as possible between yourself and whatever hound they’ve sent after you. 

It isn’t until you suddenly feel your burning lungs and aching legs asking for a break that you realise how far you’ve walked, and at what speed. You ran all the way back to your hideout. Agh, stupid! you reprimand yourself, smacking your hand to your forehead. it must have been an automatic response to come to your current “safe spot”, but if they find you here, you wouldn’t be able to come back to retrieve your supplies. In the few days you’ve been here, you’ve collected several machinery parts that you were planning on selling, but that plan just went down the drain. So you pack up whatever you can carry, mentally saying goodbye to not only the place and everything you’re leaving behind, yet again, but also the potential money you could have made which you desperately needed. With a sigh and a mental promise to do better next time, you head out to the port. Not the nearest one, though; the troopers probably have that one surrounded and monitored. You’re going to the one two towns over. It will take a while to get there, but it’s the safer choice. 

The whole way there, you do your mental meditation exercises to keep your Force signature hidden. The familiarity of it also helps you calm down a little and recentre yourself. 

After what felt like half an eternity, you’re finally at the port, and you go to buy a ticket off the planet. You’re relieved that at first glance there don't seem to be any Stormtroopers doing patrols out here. There is a bit of a line at the ticket shop though, so you stay a little further back by some crates and equipment waiting to be loaded into the cargo ships. Hiding out of sight, you wait until you can approach the window directly. 

One by one you watch the people in the queue leave, and when there’s only one person left, you take a quick look around to make sure no Imperial has arrived. The coast is clear, and you take a step in that direction. Except that your boots remain stuck to the ground. All at once, you’re surrounded, no, enveloped in that cold, eerie aura from the tavern earlier, which holds you in place. You take a gulp of air much like a fish out of water, and you try to turn your head around when you hear a modulated chuckle behind you, but you’re frozen in place.

“Going to the port further away even though it cost you more time. Bold choice,” the modulated voice of a man says, and your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your throat. 

This is it. They found me, you think to yourself, trying your hardest to slip your hand to your belt underneath your robe to reach your weapon, but to no avail.

“Don’t worry. All the troopers are probably still by the tavern searching the whole village,” he says, and you can feel yourself slowly being turned towards him. You were ready to spit in his face and curse him out, but the image before you catches you completely off-guard. While the red visor of his sleek helmet is practically unmistakable regarding his line of work, he threw on some sort of poncho to cover his armour. It’s almost comical, and were it not for the imminent danger you find yourself in, you probably would have laughed a bit.

“Everything has been so boring lately,” he continues, rolling his head back and to the side to make his point. Then, his visor locks onto your face, and he stays silent for a moment. “When I read what you did to the Eleventh Sister, though, I knew I had to come check you out for myself.”

“W-why,” you manage to croak out. His Force grip is starting to get tighter and it's getting harder for you to breathe.

He slightly shrugs, one of his shoulders leaning onto the big supply crate that shields you both from view. “As I said, I was bored. And you get a head start, so…” He pulls the poncho over his head, letting it fall down to the ground unceremoniously. “Entertain me.” 

As he turns on his heels, he finally lets go and you can fill your lungs again. You don't know what just happened, but you’re not about to waste this chance to escape, so you beeline to the ticket shop and buy your way off the planet. Before boarding the ship, you take one last look over your shoulder; the Inquisitor is nowhere to be seen. Or felt. 

From then on, a strange game of Loth-cat and mouse starts. You’d escape, the Inquisitor somehow following your trail, even though you took great care to stay anonymous. Only days after arriving at a new location, you’d find his Purge Troopers looking for you. Every time you thought you might be able to get a break and rest at one place a little longer, the Inquisitor would reach out in the Force, poking at you ever so slightly, just as a reminder that he’s still there. 

You’re exhausted.

People who aren’t Force-sensitive emit a certain aura, while those who are able to tap into and manipulate it, manifest in different ways. Most seem to have an extra set of long, immaterial limbs, able to scan their surroundings. Sometimes it’s like a flowy cape, fluttering around the person with grace; sometimes it’s more like thick and heavy vines, dragging themselves around and scratching everything with their thorns. 

Inquisitors have a very strong and rather aggressive presence in the Force, but you’ve never quite felt a signature as distinctly intense as the one currently hunting you. His whole essence feels like an icy mist, spreading quickly around him and seeping into every corner, looking for his victims. It starts out slow, unnoticeable at first, but by the time you realise what’s surrounding you, it’s too late. Once the victim is found, the mist solidifies into ice, sticking their feet to the ground, rendering them unable to move. The Inquisitor stretches out his arm in their direction, and the mist becomes more dense, constricting their airways, squeezing out every last drop of oxygen agonisingly slowly. 

At some point, his presence starts haunting you at night. In the few hours of restless sleep you allow yourself while on the run, you find him to be there more and more often. Worn down by how long the chase has been going on, your guard starts to fall. Suddenly you don’t dread it anymore, the cold shudders as you walk through a market, and the icy mist following you into your dreams. Not just his Force signature but his whole presence as a whole, it’s so strong, it’s almost intoxicating. The more he keeps finding you, the more you keep catching yourself almost looking for his presence.

Much to your surprise and not delight, you realise his manipulation game is working.

It doesn’t take much longer until you finally come face to face with the Inquisitor. You know it’s too late to escape him, and you don’t know if you can hold your own against him in your current state, but you have no choice.

As if the exhaustion wasn’t enough, you’re currently stuck in a tropical forest, and you can feel the dirt and debris after running through the thick vegetation sticking to you, a thin sheen of sweat on your skin. The only sound you hear is your ragged breathing and the sounds of the jungle. You know the Inquisitor is not far behind you, but he’s been moving surprisingly silently given his armour. More than ever, he feels like a predator. 

Arriving at a clearing in the forest, you stop. Deep in your gut you can feel it: it’s time. Whatever happens, only one of you will walk out of here. So, after taking a deep breath and wiping off your face with the back of your sleeve, you turn around. 

All this time, you’ve tried not to imagine what he looked like underneath his helmet, as you knew it would only humanise him and make it harder for you to fight the man. So when you’re met with a face instead of a red visor, you’re surprised. Whatever mental image you might have had of him, you were not expecting him to look as handsome and young as he did. There’s also a strange air of familiarity which you can’t place, but decide to ignore for the time being.

Sizing each other up from either side of the clearing, you merely stand there, looking at each other. He moves his hand and you instinctively reach for your sabre, but he casually adjusts his gloves, weapon stil sheathed.

“You know,” he says with a slight chuckle. “I only ever came after you because I recognised your name. I personally requested to pick up where the Eleventh Sister left off.” 

Your brows furrow at his confession, which feels very much misplaced. He talks like he’s expecting you to be flattered or honoured at his words.

You deny ever having seen him, and he seems a little dejected at that. Kneeling down, he picks a little blue flower from the shrubs, and takes a couple steps in your direction. Offering it to you, he calls you by a nickname that you haven’t heard in what feels like several lifetimes. 

That’s when you suddenly remember: you had met him once, on Coruscant, when Padawans from all over the galaxy would go to the temple and be shown the archives. You were from two different home planets, there was no reason for you to have ever crossed paths, yet fate would have you attending the tour through the archives on the same day. All Padawans got to spend some time together, mainly to train and spar with each other. You can’t really remember anyone else you met that day, and the events are pretty blurry as is, but you do distinctly remember a Padawan with wild copper hair and freckles that looked like the constellations the Jedi taught you about. You and him would steal glances at each other the whole day, until finally he approached you, offering you a little white flower he picked somewhere. Where exactly, you had no idea, given the lack of green spaces on the planet. 

“Cal. Cal Kestis,” you say as his name comes back to you, like it’s always been on the tip of your tongue, dormant. 

“Ah, so you do remember,” he smiles a little at that. You don’t take the flower from his hand though, so he flicks it away without a second thought.

”What did they do to you…” You shake your head in disbelief.

You mentally compare the sweet little boy with fiery hair that you had met that day, and try to superpose that image with the man now standing before you, and it’s just not possible. It’s not the same person any more. His eyes, once the colour of oceans and clear skies, now glow an angry yellow, his gaze piercing right through your soul.

Since coming face to face in the clearing, Cal’s presence in the Force has been as unmovable and strong as ever, so you had no choice but to mentally and emotionally shield yourself, like hiding behind a rock in a snowstorm, trying to avoid the relentless icy wind clawing at your exposed skin. But now that you know who he is, you’re certain there has to be something left, even if very deep within him. So you dig deep in your own heart for that short connection you had felt with him that day on Coruscant, and bring it back to the surface, holding onto it for dear life. You dig out the warmth, the safety, the certainty that those days used to have, using them as a shield to part the cold wind as you take step after step in the metaphorical snow towards Cal. 

Feeling the shift, Cal straightens up.

“What are you doing?” he questions.

You don’t answer immediately, holding his harsh gaze the best you can.

“I’m reaching out to you,” you say after a moment, the light of your Force finally strong enough to allow you to approach him without being knocked back by his icy aura. The dry leaves crunch under your feet as you take a step towards the Inquisitor.

To an outsider, this interaction would have looked like an intense staring contest. But if you allowed your dynamics in the Force to have an impact on the physical world, you two would have flattened the terrain around you both in an instant. 

During this battle of will and determination, which seems to go on forever, you shorten what little distance separates you from Cal. His whole body is tense, trying to keep his wits as you’re blinding him with your light. You wonder if there is a part in him that wants to give in, and that’s exactly what you’re trying to find within him. Stretching out your hand, you carefully cup his face. He flinches slightly in surprise, but doesn’t pull away.

“It’s not too late, Cal,” you say. Your voice is soft, contrasting the intensity in both your gazes. “Please come back.”

Now that you’re so close, you decide to drop the metaphorical shield you were holding up, exposing the warmth and joy from before to him. His icy wind almost knocks you back a couple of steps, but you let it wash over you. You inhale sharply as you let everything he’s throwing at you bounce off; his hate, his  anger, his pain. 

“Stop,” he demands almost breathlessly.

But you bring your other hand to his face too, holding him, as you cling onto the memory of your first meeting with him and try to emanate that light through his own shield wherever you find cracks. And you succeed, feeling how, for a split second, all his walls come crumbling down and all you’re left with is just a boy, scared and alone.

“Stop!” he yells, as his own hand reaches out this time, swatting yours away and harshly grabbing you by the throat. Pushing you back several steps until your back hits a tree, he holds you there, your own hands clawing at his wrists in an attempt to ease the pressure of his grip.

“Stop,” he repeats, much more collected this time. 

“You’re so deep in that dark cave, you forgot there’s an exit at all,” you say. “You don’t have to stay there, you know. Let me help you get back to the light.”

“Why would I want to leave?” He chuckles darkly. “Let me show you the way into the dark instead. There’s more here than you could ever know, so much power to be tapped into that you’re missing.”

He takes a moment to study your face, loosening his grip on you ever so slightly, which allows you to take a gulp of air. 

“Come with me,” he offers. ”You’ve already proven how powerful you are. Imagine how much more we could both accomplish if we joined forces.” 

“Me? Become like you?” You scoff. “I’d rather you kill me now.”

Cal hums, as if considering your suggestion for a moment. But he remains silent, with you still pinned to the tree. He doesn’t let go of you nor does he tighten his grip, leaving the next move to you instead. Your head spins, trying to figure out what to do.

He raises a brow at you, urging you to do or say something. You frown, conflicted.

“All this time I thought you were just playing a twisted game, coming after me until you got bored. And then you’d kill me. Now you’re trying to recruit me?”

“If I wanted you dead, you never would have even seen me coming,” he retorts with a bit of a snarl.  

Then he reaches out for the lightsabre at your belt, and one of your hands protectively grabs onto it before he can. Cal gives you a smug look as that’s exactly what he wanted, and placing his hand over yours, he guides your weapon up, pressing the unignited end into his ribcage. He’s essentially saying, ‘if you don’t want to come with me, you’ll have to kill me right now, right here.’

“Quite the conundrum we find ourselves in, huh,” he says after a moment, giving your hand a squeeze. “What’s stopping you?” 

“…Hope,” you answer rather unconvincingly, cringing at how corny it sounds.

He scoffs and lets go of your hand, which falls to your side still holding onto your weapon.

“Don’t worry, I can fix that.” 

Cal suddenly leans in, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m looking forward to our next encounter,” he whispers into your ear, and a shudder runs down your spine. 

He lets go suddenly, your legs giving in, and you fall to the ground with a grunt as you take a couple deep breaths now that your airways aren’t constricted anymore.

As he walks away, Cal doesn’t turn back once. He picks up his helmet where he discarded it earlier, putting it on and disappearing amongst the trees.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/N2: part 2 anyone? 👀 let me know how you’d like the story to unfold!

A/N3: the amount of times i’ve written reader getting choked by inq!cal…….. i think i need to unpack something there

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis, @reckoning-star

[aerynwrites]

Mixed Signals

Solas x reader/inquisitor

A/N: the Poll has spoken! y'all chose option 2 (I love that btw) so you shall receive. Some backstory - for whatever reason and despite having all the approval requirements and everything, my game bugged and I did NOT get the solas balcony romance scene and I'm MAD!!! idk what the scene was even supposed to be other than a kiss but yeah. here's this lol. this is also my first ever DAI pic so I apologize if things seem OOC. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, very slight angst, fluff, kisses, petting? lost of kissing.

 “I’ve disturbed you enough for the evening.”

Solas’ parting words ring in your head endlessly since he left your chambers yesterday. They had stunned you, making your brows furrow as his demeanor seemed to change. You were sure, so sure he was going to take a step forward in your relationship. Even though you’d both agreed to take the risk, the tension had never waned, as if one wrong move would destroy the fragile relationship you’ve built. 

When he left…you thought it had finally shattered. That not acting on the energy crackling in the air, Solas was - effectively - giving you a final verdict. 

That was until today, when you went to visit him, after hours spent in the war room. Cassandra wanted you to speak with him about his knowledge on the elven artifacts you’ve been finding throughout the region. 

You walked in, finding him sitting in his chair, thumbing through a worn leather book. 

“Solas -”

“Yes, vhenan?” 

You nearly choke on air, hiding it behind a small cough. The term of endearment was not one used lightly, especially not by Solas. Your heart was thrumming in your chest, eyes wide as Solas finally looked up from the withered pages at your silence. 

He raises a brow at you, closing the book on his thumb to keep his place. “Did you need to speak with me?” he asks, again. 

Your mind runs at breakneck speed, yet you’re still unable to comprehend his words, still stuck on his initial greeting. 

Vhenan…

Solas stands then, setting his book down before taking a few steps to stand before you, settling a gentle hand on your arm. 

“Vhenan…are you alright?” he asks, voice soft, concern glittering in his gaze.

Finally your eyes connect with his own, and it feels as if the breath is stolen from you once more. That memory from the fade playing over and over in your mind. But you quickly shake it off, breaking his gaze and looking at the wall over his shoulder. 

“Yes, I…” you trail off, voice small, unsure. “I seem to have forgotten what I came for. Forgive me.” 

You turn without another word, hurrying from his presence with a greater haste than when you arrived, leaving a baffled Solas in your wake. 

That had been hours ago, the sun having long set, yet sleep evades you as you lay in your too large bed in your too large chambers. You are more confused now than when he left you on your balcony just a day ago. He had a chance, a chance to speak with you about…well about whatever this was. You had expected as much when he asked to speak to you alone, in your chambers no less. Yet…he didn’t take it. And now, he’s calling you endearments you’d always dreamed of hearing from his lips, whispered against your skin…

With a frustrated huff you sit up in bed, tossing the covers aside. You are going to find answers, you have to talk to him. 

Quickly lighting a candle, you reach for the robe hanging on the post of your bed, pulling it over your shoulders before reaching for the candle once more. You make your way across the room, the chill of the stone floor sinking into the soles of your feet as you pad towards the door. 

Pulling the door open, you have to stop the shout that bubbles up in your chest as you’re met with the very person you were searching for. Solas stands on the threshold of your chambers, hand raised to knock, and the tips of his ears just the slightest tinge of red at having been caught. 

“Solas-” “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

You both speak at the same time before falling silent, waiting for the other to speak. 

“I was just-” “I need to speak with you”

By now your own cheeks are burning, as silence envelops you once more. 

“Well, this isn’t going to work.” you finally say, heart fluttering at the smile your words elicit from the elf in front of you.

“Conversation will not get far that way, no,” Solas concedes. 

You step aside, gesturing him in, a command he silently obeys. 

Neither of you speak for a moment, and you take the opportunity to light a few more candles around the room, noticing only briefly that Solas seems…nervous. 

“Vhenan-”

“Why do you call me that?” you interrupt, setting the last candle down on your bedside table. 

This question seems to perplex the man, his brows furrowing as confusion settles on his features. 

“Vhenan,” you repeat the term, “Why do you call me that?”

“Do you not like the term? I just assumed it was appropriate-”

“Why?” you interrupt again, all your confusion and inner turmoil and insecurities coming to the surface now that you're alone with him. “I didn’t think…I know you were hesitant about this relationship. I know you think it’s a risk. But you…you left, Solas.”

You can tell he wants to speak, but he stays silent, encouraging you to continue in his own peculiar way. 

“On the balcony,” you clarify. “I thought…you asked to speak with me and I thought-” you cut yourself off, clenching the fabric of your robe in your hands as you struggle to verbalize your thoughts without sounding like an idiot. 

“I thought there was more to  say, there was more you were going to say. About us. But then…you said that you respected me deeply but then you just left! As if you are some burden I wanted gone, or as if you aren’t worthy of my time, but I- I want this Solas. With you. I want you, and I thought you wanted me, and if you don’t that is fine. But you can’t keep sending these clashing signals-”

You don’t  even notice him approach, not until his lips meet your own, cool hands cradling your face as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. A kiss you eagerly return, hands dropping your robe to instead fist into the fabric of his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer, wishing you could pull him into your very being. 

You stumble blindly as Solas urges you backwards, your knees hitting the edge of the bed, Solas following you down to the feather mattress, catching his weight on his forearms. 

He never breaks the kiss, his lips molding against yours as fire runs through your veins, burning brighter than the summer sun. His hands, calloused from years of wielding his staff, slide beneath your robe and ruck up your night shirt in search of the soft skin beneath. 

You both only separate for desperate gasps of air before Solas is devouring you once more, teeth nipping at your lip before you feel his tongue slide along the seam of your lips. You clutch him tighter as he sighs into you at your willing acceptance, exploring your mouth with his own before he finally breaks away from you, nuzzling against your jaw as he presses feather light kisses there and down your neck. 

“I want you,” he breathes, hands clutching at your waist. “I crave you. And it terrifies me.” he admits. 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the thoughts that were scattered leagues apart from one another by his kisses, by his hands roaming over your skin. 

“You…you can be afraid and still do it,” you tell him. 

Solas chuckles then, an almost inaudible sound against your collar bone. 

“What do you think I’m doing?”

You smile, sliding your hands up to cup his jaw, urging him up to look at you, heart stuttering a the look in his eyes. 

“I thought…”

He shakes his head, turning to place a kiss on your palm. 

“I have not stopped thinking about our kiss in the fade,” he admits. “I’m sorry if my actions betrayed otherwise.” 

 “Will you stay?” you ask.

Solas smiles down at you before capturing you in another breathtaking kiss. 

“Nothing would please me more.”

Solas lifts himself from you, helping you beneath the covers before moving to extinguish the lights around the room. When the last one is blown out, you only know he joins you when the bed dips at your side, the covers lifting as he slides in beside you. 

Warm hands seek you out once more, lips fumbling in the dark until you kiss one last time, this one seeming to promise more than words ever could. 

Neither of you speak again. Not until you both settle, Solas’ body pressing into you from behind as his arms snake around your waist, legs tangling with your own. Not until you’re already in the dregs of slumber and you hear him call to you one last time.

“vhen’an’ara.”

[weevil-wallflower]

Inquisitive Experiments

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Cal's gaze lingered on You, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation as he contemplated the possibilities swirling in his mind. "You know," he began when You didn’t address him first, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been thinking… We could try something different in the bedroom. Spice things up a bit."

Warnings/Tags: NSFW 18+, f!reader but no pronouns used, no use of Y/N, unprotected sex, rough rex, dom!Cal, aftercare, during/post-Jedi: Survivor, no spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: I began story writing once more after a long time and while my writing has been greatly improved due to studies, English is still not my first language so I'm pretty nervous. Edited it like four times... Also my very first nsfw story so might not be super good. Aaaand this was written on a whim because inspiration struck after I played the game ^_^ Gif by me!

Word Count: ~4,201

Also on AO3!

The Mantis drifted through the depths of space, its metal hull humming softly in the void. It was a quiet night— or day? Time seemed to lose its grip as the ship travelled through deep space, the clock in the kitchen the only thing that provided a schedule.

For Cal, the silence of the ship often felt suffocating, a stagnant calm that seeped into every corner. With no external stimuli to break the monotony, the hours stretched on endlessly. Despite the ever-present hum of the engines and occasional beeps of the consoles, the silence weighed heavy on the redhead’s shoulders.

In moments like these, Cal couldn't help but feel a sense of restlessness growing inside him. Always a man of action, the absence of excitement or activity left him yearning for something more, anything to disrupt the monotonous rhythm of ship life. To him, the quietness of the Mantis wasn't just peaceful—it was downright boring. The extreme restlessness he felt only worsened upon seeing You relaxed on the sofa, looking content as You were absorbed in a holobook.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of the ship's charging station, BD-1 lay idle. Only Cal and You remained aboard, while the rest of the crew was scattered across different planets. The original plan to meet an informant on Zeffo was quickly abandoned when the seemingly shifty Twi'lek changed course, opting for Felucia instead. This unexpected detour promised to stretch their journey twofold, a deviation that typically wouldn't faze Cal, seasoned as he was in flying the Mantis solo for nearly half a decade. However, this only made him feel more tense, his mind working in overdrive to think of all the possible ways their informant may be scheming to lead them astray or worse.

You on the other hand, felt excitement surge within You as Cal's gaze bore into You from behind, even without relying on the Force to confirm it. Standing next to the ship's kitchen counter, his intense gaze, hidden beneath the cascade of his fiery hair that he'd allowed to grow past his ears, was undeniably fixed on your form. It sparked a flutter of anticipation, prompting a subtle shift in your posture as You switched to a new page, pretending to be absorbed in your holobook.

As the stillness persisted, Cal's restlessness reached its peak. Meditation crossed his mind momentarily but he decided he would rather spend time with You. You were right there, ripe for the taking. Hence, with measured steps, he walked closer to where You sat on the curved sofa, lost in the pages of your holobook. Towering over You, his presence loomed large, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the dim light of the small lounge area.

Cal's gaze lingered on You, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation as he contemplated the possibilities swirling in his mind. "You know," he began when You didn’t address him first, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been thinking... We could try something different in the bedroom. Spice things up a bit."

You glanced up from your holobook, your eyes widening in surprise at Cal's unexpected proposal. "Something new... in the bedroom?" You echoed, the words hanging in the air between you both, laden with both curiosity and budding excitement.

Cal nodded, a slight flush coloring his cheeks with excitement as he ventured further into uncharted territory. "You know, like roleplay or maybe even some light bondage," he suggested, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down his spine at the mere thought of it. So far, the two of you have only been engaging in activities that can be considered… vanilla, so to speak. Not that Cal disliked it— Anything with You involved got his blood pumping. But he was craving something new.

"Cal...!" You giggled, unable to contain your surprise at his bold suggestion. "This is so unlike you! What's the special occasion?" Your voice laced with amusement and intrigue, wondering what had sparked this sudden desire for experimentation by the usually reserved Jedi.

"Just felt like doing something different," Cal said, taking a seat next to You. "And besides, I've seen how you respond to certain things... I can tell it turns you on." His calloused hand reached out to caress your cheek gently, his green eyes full of desire.

"Oh, yeah?" You breathed out, leaning into his warm touch, savouring the sensation. "What kind of things do I respond to?" You asked, your voice tinged with curiosity, eager to hear his answer.

"Powerful gestures," Cal whispered, his other hand slowly sliding down to your waist, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "The way you moan when I take control," he continued, his voice low and husky with desire. Leaning in closer, his lips brushed against your earlobe, sending a thrill coursing through You. "I want to hear more of those sounds," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, igniting a fire within You.

Unable to believe how the typically kind and shy Jedi had suddenly become so assertive, You couldn't help but giggle nervously, your laughter betraying a mix of excitement. You rested your hands on his shoulders, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch as You pressed your soft breasts against his chest, the closeness between you both heightening the tension in the air.

Cal's heart raced at the sensation of your breasts pressing against him, a surge of gratitude flooding through him for having someone like You in his life. "I want to make love to you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a raw intensity that mirrored the passion igniting between them. 

The redhead then closed his eyes, taking a moment to savour the moment as he took a deep breath, allowing himself to become enveloped in the sensation of your body pressed against his. "Let me show you how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness and longing. With gentle strength, he lifted You up into his arms, cradling You close. He wanted to do so much more than that. But he was at a loss for words, unable to bear the thought of overwhelming You. Fortunately for him, the two of you often worked on one wavelength. Hence, he did not have to voice his desires again as You did it for him.

"I think I'm up for a little roleplay..." You whispered, your voice laced with anticipation, as he carried You towards the bedroom at the back of the Mantis.

Cal's eyes widened with surprise and excitement at your words. "Roleplay?" he echoed, his voice tinged with anticipation. With careful yet eager movements, he carried You into the bedroom and gently set You down on the bed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he prepared to indulge in whatever playful fantasy you both would come up with.

You couldn't help but laugh at his excitement, your eyes gazing up at him with adoration. "Do you... still have that Inquisitor uniform from our mission last time? When we infiltrated that Imperial base?" You asked, your voice tinged with a hint of shyness, the memory of that daring mission adding an extra layer of excitement to the scenario You had in mind.

"Yes, I do," The Jedi replied, his voice hitching slightly with anticipation. "You want me to wear it?" There was a moment of hesitation in his tone, uncertain of how You would react. But seeing the desire in your eyes, he knew he had to try.

"Mhm..." You eagerly nodded before quickly justifying yourself, your nerves causing You to ramble. "Not a big fan of Inquisitors, of course, since they're ruthless workers of the Empire and all that, but I do love to see you in dark armour or uniform...!" Your cheeks flushed slightly as You stumbled over your words, hoping he understood your preference despite the conflicting emotions tied to the attire.

His worries eased, Cal offered You a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I understand," he said softly before leaving the room to retrieve the uniform. He felt a mix of excitement and nervousness himself as he sought out the outfit. Upon his return, he was clad in the dark suit, its distinctive black cape billowing behind him and sleek torso armour gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"S-so... we should get in character, right...?" You whispered, your wide eyes appreciatively trailing over the redhead's figure in the Inquisitor uniform. Despite the intimidating aura associated with Inquisitors, seeing Cal dressed as one only fueled your desire for him.

"How about I play the Jedi, and you play the Inquisitor hunting me down?"

Cal nodded, a wicked grin stretching across his features. "Yes, precisely," he affirmed. Stepping closer to You, his voice deepened, assuming the persona of the Inquisitor. "I've been tracking you for weeks, little Jedi."

You barely stopped yourself from letting out an excited squeal as the redhead fully embraced his role. Instead, You quickly stood up from the bed, your expression a mix of shock and fear. "How did you find me?!" You exclaimed, playing along with the scenario as your heart raced with anticipation.

"My training has prepared me well for situations like this, Jedi," the Inquisitor replied, his voice dripping with ominous authority. With purposeful strides, he advanced towards You, each step echoing in the small room. "Your hiding place was not so well-guarded after all," he added, his tone implying a sense of superiority and triumph.

You backed away as his menacing form advanced upon You, your eyes frantically scanning the room to calculate an escape route.

Cal stopped a few feet away from You, close enough to see the fear in your eyes but not close enough to make You feel trapped. "You're strong for a Jedi, little one," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you're also alone." He let his gaze drift down your body before meeting your eyes again. "You should've stayed hidden," he said with a sigh, reaching to his side for his lightsaber hilt.

Taking advantage of his brief distraction, You swiftly sidestepped him and dashed towards the workbench where your own lightsaber lay.

Cal swiftly spun around, his hand gripping his lightsaber tightly as he faced You. "You think you can outsmart an Inquisitor, Jedi?" he asked, his voice dripping with darkness and menace. Yet, he hadn't even bothered to ignite his lightsaber, so confident in his ability to detain You without the use of a weapon.

Gripping your lightsaber in terror, its blade not yet ignited either, You glared up at the Inquisitor. "Leave now, if you know what's good for you," You attempted to sound threatening, but your voice shook with fear too much to be convincing.

Cal chuckled darkly. "You really think that will stop me?" he asked, taking another step closer to You. "I have hunted Jedi like you for years. You're nothing special." With a menacing grin, he reached out with the Force, attempting to pull your lightsaber from your grip, causing You to grunt and hold your weapon tightly. Your arm outstretched as it was almost pulled away, forcing You to plant your feet firmly on the ground in resistance.

The Inquisitor could sense your strength through the Force as you both struggled against each other. Finally, with a surge of effort, he succeeded in dislodging the lightsaber from your grip, causing it to fly into his outstretched hand.

Gasping as You were rendered defenseless, You realised You had no other choice but to flee. Quickly, You rushed over to the door, desperation urging You forward.

Unfortunately for You, the Inquisitor proved quicker, pushing You roughly against the wall. He pressed his body flush against yours, pinning You there as he looked into your eyes. "I can offer you another choice, little Jedi," he whispered, his voice laced with a sinister undertone.

"W-What other choice...?" You stammered, your voice trembling with uncertainty and apprehension.

His lips brushed against yours, his lips cold but his heart pounding in his chest as he slowly, gently claimed your mouth in a kiss. You softly returned the kiss, standing on your tip toes to meet him halfway, almost breaking character before glaring up at him after he broke it off a few moments later, his eyes gleaming with desire. "You could give yourself up," he said silkily.

"And become a slave to the Empire? Like you? No, thanks..."

Cal smiled darkly. "Unfortunate," he murmured, gripping your chin roughly to make You meet his gaze. "You're not as clever as you believe, Jedi. You have nowhere to run." His hand tightened around your chin, forcing You to hold his gaze. "You'll eventually be locked in a cell, but I can give you one last chance," he growled, his tone laced with lethal intent.

"You could give in... to me." He continued, pressing closer as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Or I'll have no choice but to make you mine by force."

"I-I'll never give in..." Your voice shook as your thighs pressed together, attempting to relieve some of the ache You felt in your core. You wondered what Cal would do if You chose the harder route.

In response, Cal's eyes flashed with a mix of lust and anger. "Then you leave me no choice," he growled, forcefully pushing You against the wall, eliminating any space between your bodies. His mouth descended upon yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he took what he desired, causing You to gasp and softly moan into the kiss, your hands clutching his broad shoulders in response.

Cal's grip on You tightened, his tongue dancing with yours as he claimed your mouth completely. His other hand slipped down to grope at your ass, squeezing the firm flesh through the clothes. He broke the kiss only to growl against your neck, "You'll submit to me, Jedi. And you'll enjoy it." He grabbed your arms, holding them above your head with one hand before leaning in to nip at your exposed neck, his teeth leaving marks as he continued to grope at your butt with his other hand.

The hand that had been holding your arms captive slowly trailed down to your chest, roughly squeezing your breasts through your clothes, grinning menacingly against your neck. "You desire this," he growled, seizing a handful of your hair, causing You to wince as he pulled your head back, his lips grazing against your throat.

The redhead momentarily paused, whispering in your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps rising on your skin. "Are you comfortable with this? Because I can go as far as you want," he murmured. He nipped at your earlobe, his other hand continuing to squeeze your breast through your clothes.

His question elicited a soft smile from You, your heart fluttering as Cal broke character to ask for your permission, demonstrating his deep care for You by being unwilling to hurt you, even unintentionally.

"I'm okay... I'm actually enjoying this so far," You shyly whispered, reassuring him. "Please, don't hold back. Be as mean to me as you want... I know I can always use the safe word if things feel too much."

Cal's smile returned as he slipped back into character. His eyes flashed with lust and power as he smiled cruelly, releasing your hair but maintaining his grip on your breasts. "You want me to be cruel? To take you against your will?" he questioned, his voice laced with dominance and desire.

"Please, Inquisitor... don't do this!" You whined, your tone almost playful as your soft folds moistened with arousal.

Cal chuckled darkly as he moved his hand to cup your sex through your pants, asserting his dominance. "Oh, but I will," he growled, his hand feeling how wet You were even through your clothes. His free hand reached up to undo his pants, pulling out his thick cock with a harsh grunt.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. "I-I don't think it'll fit..." You whispered, aware that you both knew it was partially true. You just wanted to say it to boost the redhead’s confidence.

Cal smirked, taking it as a challenge. "Watch me," he growled, pushing your pants down and panties to the side. He positioned himself at your entrance, his thick cockhead pressing against You slowly. "Are you sure you don't want me to go easy on you?"

Your lips curled into a soft smile as your hands tenderly brushed against his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble. You were so grateful for his concern and love for You.

"Yes, Cal... Don't hold back," You whispered, giving him permission to fully immerse himself in the moment.

Cal's heart skipped a beat at your words, feeling a surge of desire course through him. He pushed forward, slowly penetrating your tight folds. It was a struggle to get all of his girth inside You, but he managed it with a grunt. "Kriff..."

The intense pressure caused your back to arch off of the wall, pushing your breasts against the chest plating of his dark uniform, feeling his girth fill You to the brim.

The Inquisitor gritted his teeth, determined to fulfill your desires. He began to thrust slowly but powerfully, feeling his cock sinking deep inside You with every push. His free hand moved up under your shirt to cup one of your breasts roughly, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

"Oh... Oh, please, Inquisitor... It hurts..." You playfully whined, though your facial expressions conveyed anything but pain.

Cal chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating against your sensitive skin. "That's it, my little whore," he growled into your neck, his pace quickening as he took You roughly against the wall.

You squeaked and threw your head back, the unexpected derogatory word causing your inner walls to clench hard around him, eliciting a groan of pleasure from Cal. "You like that, don't you? Being called a whore?" he demanded, grabbing You by the hair and forcefully pulling your head back to make You meet his gaze.

Softly moaning, You gave him a little smirk, replying, "N-No, Inquisitor. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Cal laughed, his thrusts becoming even harder and faster. "Liar," he snarled, slamming into You with brutal force. His other hand slid down to your aching clit, teasing it roughly as he continued to pound into You.

The intense pleasure wiped the smirk off your face as You arched your back, closing your eyes in ecstasy. Your hands clutched Cal's shoulders tightly, one moving up to run your fingers through his fiery hair. You loved how he had allowed his hair to grow past their usual style.

Cal growled, feeling the pleasure coursing through him as he took You roughly against the wall. Sensing his climax approaching, he slammed his hips into yours with a feral intensity. "You enjoy being taken like this, don't you?"

"O-Only by you!" You gasped out, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he pounded into You, a grin spreading across his face as he felt his climax building rapidly. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a rough, passionate kiss as he continued to thrust into You, feeling your walls clenching around him tighter and tighter.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling Cal's tongue intertwining with yours as your walls tightened, signaling your impending climax. Cal's thrusts became more erratic as he neared his climax as well, the pleasure coursing through him reaching new heights. He felt your walls convulse around him as your release synchronised with his, and with a final roar of pleasure, he released himself inside You, filling You with his seed.

Cal panted heavily, his body shuddering as he leaned his head against yours, still buried inside You. He looked down at You, both your eyes locking in a moment of shared satisfaction. "That was... intense," he said with a chuckle, slowly pulling out of You.

"Mhm..." You hummed, feeling blissed out as You rested between Cal and the wall with your eyes closed, your legs feeling like jelly when the redhead gently placed You back on your feet. Letting out a satisfied sigh, Cal planted a gentle kiss on your forehead before he pulled You into a warm embrace, feeling a stirring of affection for You. "You're quite something, aren't you?"

"So are you..." You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thank you for doing this with me..."

Cal smiled, his heart warming at your words. "No need to thank me," he said softly, nuzzling his face into your neck. "I enjoyed it just as much as you did."

"You enjoyed being bad to me...?" You teasingly whispered, unable to resist, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, causing his cheeks to flush at your words. But he couldn't suppress the smirk that spread across his face. "Well... perhaps just a bit," he admitted, brushing his lips against yours playfully. "But only because it made you feel good."

Your smirk softened into a loving smile at his words, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the man and the fact that he was yours. However, You were pulled from your thoughts when Cal's eyes widened as he noticed the bruises on your hips and thighs from where he had gripped You too hard. "Oh no, my love..." he said worriedly, tracing his fingers over the marks gently. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so rough."

"Don't be!" You softly held his hands in yours, stopping him from fretting over You. "I wanted this, remember. And besides, it's a good kind of hurt."

Cal sighed, still grappling with a mix of emotions, both guilt and satisfaction, as he remembered the passionate encounter. He then scooped You up into his arms and carried You towards the refresher, setting You down gently on the edge of the tub, his mind set on making you feel better. "Perhaps we can take it easy and ensure you're feeling alright?"

"Oh yeah, what do you have in mind?"

With his eye green eyes full of love, Cal replied, "How about a nice bath together?" He began running the water, adjusting the temperature until it was warm and inviting. "We can sit back, relax, and just... enjoy each other's company."

"That sounds amazing..." You sighed in delight before smirking up at the redhead. "You might want to lose all that armor..." You gestured to the inquisitor uniform he still wore, prompting a soft chuckle and nod from him. "Good idea." He proceeded to unfasten the various straps and buckles of his armor, unveiling his toned physique underneath.

You observed his body with without shame, admiring the abundant freckles that dotted his skin like stars, the scars and muscles revealing his experience as a seasoned Jedi, etching the image into your mind. "As much as I enjoy seeing you in uniform, the downside is not being able to admire you in all your naked glory..."

Cal grinned at your comment. "Well, now's your chance." He stepped out of the armor entirely, standing fully naked before You. His anticipation palpable, his cock twitched slightly as he eased into the tub. But despite his returning excitement, he reminded himself that your comfort was of greater importance at that moment. Hence, with gentle hands, he guided You in, mindful of your still-unsteady legs after your intense session earlier. Your skin brushed softly against each other as you both tried to find a comfortable position.

Once You were settled in, You sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, feeling your body immediately relax as You nestled between his legs, leaning back against his strong chest. The warmth of the bath melted away both your sweat and any lingering tension from the encounter. In that moment, You couldn't help but reflect on how safe Cal always made You feel, more than anyone else has ever been able to.

Meanwhile, the Jedi leaned his head against yours, breathing deeply as he relaxed into the moment. Holding You close, he gently stroked your hair while you both shared the bath. The silence enveloped you, comfortable and serene, allowing the two of you to simply enjoy each other's company without words. Cal placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, feeling content in that fleeting moment of peace.

After some time, he began to softly massage your shoulders and back, his strong hands working out the knots of tension that had built up there. He continued down your spine, slowly working his way towards your hips and thighs.

As the redhead's soothing touches eased your tension, You couldn't help but emit soft, appreciative sounds, allowing your body to sink deeper into his embrace, raising one hand to gently caress his stubbled cheek. "You're so sweet to me..."

Cal's gaze softened as he leaned closer, his eyes fixed on yours. "You deserve all the sweetness in the galaxy, my love." He couldn't resist pressing his lips to yours, your lips meeting in a gentle but passionate embrace. In that moment, he poured all his love into that kiss, relishing the taste of You.

[imdoingaokay]

Romanced!DAI Companions and Advisors (+ Platonic!Vivienne) when The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold late

(A/N: Heyyyy guys... I've missed you :) This past few months have been awful for me... but I'm back... teeheehee

I think this is gonna be really niche so I feel a need to explain what I was thinking??? Basically, The Inquisitor has been on a mission for a while now and they're returning extremely late at night.

Apologies for the inaccurate lore stuff, I don't think hours exist in Dragon Age because they don't have clocks? Or they do??? I dunno man I got a final tomorrow and I don't know if I'm gonna pass

Just know that the whole reason I got inspired for this was because it was late and I was imagining Vivienne watching The Inquisitor come back and her wrapping her robe around her waist like a mom watching their grown child come home from a rave or something

Once again, no beta we die like men

And happy late dragon age day, love y'all)

TW: Mentions of death

Blackwall/Thom Rainer: Unable to sleep. He’s waiting, whittling at the griffon he keeps. He doesn’t want to sleep anways, who will greet his lover? The wind? No. He’ll stay up, just for a few minutes longer, he tells himself… But soon he finds himself whittling into the early hours of the morning. That’s when there’s a stir of the guards, the whispers, and alerts are quiet, as to not wake up the many souls sleeping, but the message is clear.

His love has returned. And he will wait by the gate, a grin on his face and sleepiness in his eyes. He greedily hopes his lover may wish to sleep a few hours before the rest of Skyhold truly awakens.

Cassandra: She’s in bed, but not sleeping, reading a book. She’s trying to sleep, but her anxieties are getting to her. Somehow, ever since she got the letter saying that her love was returning, she fears even more. Her mind is plagued with images of an assassinated Inquisitor on the way back to her. Maker! Why didn’t that fool just bring her? 

Just as she scoffs, she hears something of a commotion outside. She prays for a moment, the news is good, and she throws on her armor, knowing better than to leave her room without it, and rushes to the gate. This is where her fears are put to rest as she greets her lover, a relieved smile on her face. And it is with this her sleepiness finally settles in. after a quick word, she urges her lover to rest, with or without her. All that matters that they returned.

Cullen Rutherford: He hasn’t slept since his lover left. A few moments where he stares off into space, drifting off before yanking himself back into consciousness. So it feels normal for him as he scribbles away the missives on his desk, being sure to double check each one so he didn’t accidentally write something foolish in his sleep deprived state. Somehow, in this half-dead state of his, he can hear the murmuring of guards outside of his door, and one enters. 

The guard has been ordered to inform Cullen of when they see The Inquisitor, so when they enter, Cullen knows what it’s for. And somehow, the sleepiness Cullen once had disappears, replaced with a drive he always feels when his lover returns. He rushes down the battlement steps, sure to not seem too desperate to his men. And in his excitement, he quickly meets his lover halfway on the bridge. They may be on their horse, but Cullen will happily walk back with them, looking up at them like they hold his whole world in their hands. When his lover gets off their horse, however, that is when he embraces them, a chaste kiss pressed to their cheek. This is when he finally asks them to rest with him, as his exhaustion is coming to bite him in the ass.

Dorian Pavus: Dorian has lied to himself multiple times throughout the night. He lied to himself claiming he didn’t care if he was asleep when his amatus returned from their very dangerous mission. So he lays in his bed for hours, trying to sleep. And when he can’t? He lies to himself, coming up with some excuse as to why his mind will not rest. So he waits in the library, sipping a glass of wine while attempting to read nonchalantly. Of course, he seemingly can’t. So he decides to wait on the battlements, claiming he must need some fresh air. Even though he despises how cold it is that night. 

But, somehow, without meaning to, he notices the small group of people making their way across the bridge. And, without a reason at all, a huge weight is lifted off of Dorian’s shoulders. 

He lets out a sigh and returns to the warmth of the library, happy to wait for his lover to come to him. And when he does, only then does Dorian finally agree to go to sleep. 

Iron Bull: Doesn’t sleep, but this is because he knew his lover was coming back tonight. So he waits patiently in the tavern, a ear out and ready, waiting for murmurs of The Inquisitor’s return. And when he does hear, he happily shoots up from his chair and makes his way to the gate, happy to greet his lover.

Bull was only slightly worried to be away from his lover, he knew they could handle their mission without him, but still, who knows what could happen? But the news that The Inquisitor was coming back? That was enough to settle his nerves. But seeing… and feeling his lover in his arms? That is what truly relaxes him.

Josephine Montilyet: Josephine is the only one who is asleep, she was corralled to his bedroom by Leliana, who told Josephine that she would wake her up when The Inquisitor returned. True to her word, Leliana gently shook awake a sleepy Josephine who, wrapped in a robe, quickly made her way to the empty Great Hall. She situated herself onto Vivienne’s balcony. She happily watched her lover pass the gates a promptly made their way to her, greeting her with a gentle kiss, which Leliana thankfully turned away from. Afterwards she’s happy to lead her lover to bed, as the second the pair’s heads hit the pillow, the pass effortlessly into a dreamless sleep.

Sera: Sera’s mindlessly making arrows, her door is locked, as she grew tired of Cole trying to make his way into the room to encourage Sera to talk about her anxieties surrounding her Inky leaving without her. She doesn’t even know her lover has returned until she hears the door jiggle a bit before her lover’s voice calls, “Sera, I saw the light was on, are you awake?”

This is when Sera happily throws the door open and grabs her Inky and drags them inside her room, into her arms. The two were eventually found the next morning by a messenger, who reported The Inquisitor and Sera were fast asleep in a pile of various blankets and pillows.

Solas: Solas isn’t sleeping much either, somehow he can’t take his mind off of his vhenan. He completely understand why his lover would take another person on their adventure, potentially a different mage than him. But he worries when they’re away! And there’s not much to do in Skyhold when The Inquisitor is gone. Most servants and nobles steer clear from him. He busies himself painting the various frescos in the atrium. He’s just taken a break and decided to walk along the battlements, and that’s of course, when he sees his beloved. He’s happy to walk down the stairs of the battlements and meet his lover at the gate, awaiting them with open arms. He happily leads them away, whether to their bed in their room, where Solas will leave them to rest. Or if they prefer, they can spend a bit of time in the atrium alone, Solas would be happy to hear the stories of his vhenan’s journey. 

Varric Tethras: Varric is rotating between the tavern and The Great Hall. Ever since he first got the letter from his lover, happily informing him of their return, he’s only been more nervous. Like Cassandra, he fears the image of a truly tragic hero, beaten down on the way back to the arms of their lover. 

He thinks he’s been writing too much tragedy when he firsts gets that mental image

Nevertheless, he pushes through the night.

Eventually, he’s sitting at his usual spot near the fire, unhappily grumbling to himself, sounding like a real dwarf. His mind is racing, and he can’t seem to get the thoughts to stop. So, for one last time that evening, he walks out of the hall, preparing to return to the tavern for a drink and a song from Maryden. That’s when he sees his beloved standing by the gate, quietly talking with a solider who leads their horse away. They’ve returned and they’re safe, that’s all he needed to know.

When The Inquisitor finally catches a glimpse of their lover, all they see is a bright grin spread across his face.

Varric is happy to go along with whatever The Inquisitor wants, bed, a drink, a tale by the fire, he’s just relieved they’ve returned.

Vivienne: Vivienne lies to herself. The day that she hears The Inquisitor will be returning that evening, she nods and nonchalantly walks away. Yet she finds herself constantly checking the gate everytime there is movement in that direction. She has no idea why, however. Her friend, whom she doesn’t really call friend, is taking an awful long amount of time to just get back to Skyhold. 

She justifies her musings on The Inquisitor’s safety as rationally as she can. If The Inquisitor dies, Thedas will be lost. If The Inquisitor dies, her position in court may affected. If The Inquisitor dies, she will be sad-

That is what gives her pause. She straightens her back, hands quickly going to her face as if to smooth out her frown that was previously there, and then she turns on her heel and returns to her sofa. She attempts to swallow down her fear the entire day, but as the night swiftly covers Skyhold, she finds herself unable to sleep. The moons is high in the sky when she emerges from her room, robe tightly wrapped around her. She is sure not a single soul will see her in such a… vulnerable state. She quickly makes her way to the balcony again, and stays there for what feels like an entire age. But just as she gets ready to sigh and return to a sleepless night in her bed, she hears a disturbance coming from the gate. That is where she sees The Inquisitor, alive and perhaps wrapped in the arms of lover. And with a sigh of… relief? She quietly returns to her chambers. Never speaking of this again.

[aethes-bookshelf]

a taste this bitter || solas/inquisitor

Something possessed me to write this. Gods above, I don't know what it was, but I pumped this out in an hour. I haven't written fic since February, I can't believe this man is the one to get me to do it again. I thought it'd be Alistair or Zevran, or Fenris, but you'll get the egg instead.

I love me some angsty pining and unresolved feelings and since Solas is Solas, he's perfect for this scene concept.

Pairing: solas/inquisitor (can be read as self-insert as well)

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, unresolved romantic tension, made to fit any inky, not just fem!lavellan

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: For a moment he missed the way their fingers wrapped themselves around their teacup, holding it like something precious, something worth touching; he missed the way he longed to be held by them just so.

Solas hates tea, but he promised he'd never forget them.

[Written to fit an Inky of any gender/race, not just fem!Lavellan.]

ao3 link

The scent of tea was not the problem to Solas — it was its taste. It didn't matter how fragrant its smell, how earthy or flowery the flavor's undertone, tea was always far too bitter. Bitter enough to twist his face with disgust, bitter enough to burn his tongue. Sugar made it a sickly kind of sweet, but the bitterness never really went away. It would spread inside his mouth like a disease, and each time he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it, to replace it with a taste that actually agreed with his palette.

The cup he was holding was nothing like the one the Inquisitor had used in years past, back when the sun seemed brighter and his purpose didn't weigh so heavy on his shoulders. Theirs was small and light, made of fine porcelain, and his was heavy, thick and tall.

For a moment he missed the way their fingers wrapped themselves around their teacup, holding it like something precious, something worth touching; he missed the way he longed to be held by them just so.

He pushed that longing down just as he had so many times before, the same way he did it over and over again as the years passed and the light of their soul grew brighter. He'd allow himself just this one sign of weakness, just this one moment of despair and not one more. It was for the best.

---

The sun outside was setting and the entire sky was on fire with it.

The Inquisitor was sitting in Skyhold's rotunda, a dainty porcelain teacup cradled in their hands. The tea was still steaming, its aroma filling the space around them. It was rich, fruity and sweet. They took a deep breath, enjoying the fragrance, before taking a tiny sip.

Solas stood nearby, a brush in his hand. He'd spend the past few days working on another one of his murals and was about to add the first layer of color. The Inquisitor usually accompanied him while he worked. Sometimes they'd talk — about the Fade, about the Inqusition's next move, about a book they'd both been reading. Sometimes they'd sit in silence, the Inqusitor watching and Solas quietly enjoying the attention. But almost always, they'd bring with them a cup of hot tea.

‘Inquisitor, if I may,' said Solas, adding a big pass of a bright, vivid red to the wall.

‘You may,' said the Inquisitor, tone light.

Solas' smile was small; it was gone before they could see it. ‘I couldn't help but notice how you always bring tea with you, yet you don't seem to enjoy it, not really.'

‘Ah,' they made a quiet, startled sound, clearly caught off guard.

‘I don't mean to pry, but I find it a little curious that you keep drinking it despite that. I assume you have a reason.' Solas turned away from his painting to look at his Inquisitor. His eyes were drawn to their hands and the cup in them; a sudden burst of feeling in his chest made him catch his breath.

Foolish, foolish man, he thought. He didn't let it show.

They, too, took a long look at the cup in their hands before taking another tiny sip. A mostly hidden look of disgust passed their face, but Solas caught it anyway.

‘It's a reminder.'

It was Solas' turn to be caught of guard. Of all possible answers. ‘How come?'

The Inquisitor carefully lowered the cup down to the floor and left it right by their seat. They cleared their throat as they straightened, looking a mixture of solemn and bashfull.

‘I never really liked tea, you see.'

‘You are not alone in that.' He let his nose wrinkle a bit for emphasis. Not too much, but just enough to be noticeable.

‘Oh, I know, don't worry.' They chuckled. ‘I never liked tea, but my mother always had. She had this big tea and cup collection she was very proud of, you know?'

They looked at the wall opposite to them, but it was like they weren't looking anywhere at all. ‘And she knew I didn't really like it, but she'd make me drink it with her anyway.'

Was there a shine to their eyes?

‘We'd pick a flavor, and she'd make me pick the cups we'd be drinking from.' Their next chuckle was wet; they must have realised this — they cleared their throat again. ‘At the time I found it rather annoying, but now, well…' They turned to look at Solas. ‘It's my way of remembering her, I suppose. Her and all the happier times.'

He was silent for a moment. The air all around them smelled of fruit.

‘I see. I'm sorry for your loss, Inquisitor.'

---

The drink in his cup smelled of fruit, but the scent wasn't quite right. He didn't know nearly enough about teas to pin-point what was missing, but he knew something was. A certain note in the smell, so familiar he could almost taste it.

No matter. This one would have to do.

The cup warmed his hands as sweet-smelling steam filled the air with an aroma that, to him, smelled like paint and sunsets, and a sky on fire. His eyes burned with tears he wouldn't, couldn't let himself shed over memories he had no right to grieve. Not after he had left, not before he was about to do something unforgivable and yet, to him, necessary. Something he wouldn't be able to take back. He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

He took a sip of his tea and grimaced.

It was so, so bitter.

[andraste-preserve-us]

Ok but putting a cloak on someone is so personal. The other person has to wrap it around you in almost a hug-like position, then readjust it on your shoulders so it sits right, then get in close to clasp it around your neck, and just imagining Cullen wrapping his cloak around you/your Inquisitor UGH