#I THOUGHT I WAS DOING BETTER WITH THAT FINALLY SCREAMS WHY

[svt-rosalie]

ohh i loved your rosie sick fic....it was cutee. prettyyyy plsssss i want to see jihoon getting mad and being protective over our rosie when she gets mobbed/ stalked / when do over works herself.

. . . ♡ ROSIE ! ? 💻 DRABBLE ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ requested, angst! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2024 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

content warning / anxiety attacks, woozi & seungcheol get angry, mentions of bodily harm, angst, no comfort tbh??

idol doesn't mean your

doll to fuck with.

i-doll, yunjin

It was already a horrible morning for the youngest female member of Seventeen.

Nothing was going well for Rosalie; she thought she lost her passport before boarding her flight to go back to South Korea from California, she dropped her food that she received from the flight attendant for lunch and there were unfortunately no extras for her to eat - so the poor girl was genuinely famished, and to top it all she was only able to get maybe two decent hours of sleep the night before the flight.

So, to say Rosie is having a bad day would be an understatement. At this point nothing could be done to turn her already horrible morning into something better.

But something can definitely happen to make it worse. . . which would be a crowd swarming the exit that Rosalie and her members need to get through to get into their cars. All Rosie yearned at this point was her bed and all these people were making it insanely difficult for her. She was happy to have a mask to cover her irritated expression.

The crowd was overbearingly claustrophobic to look at. Seeing people pushing at one another to get the "best" photo and video of them, trying to hand gifts to the idols --which was pointless sometimes seeing as how the managers and bodyguards always got to it first and shoved the reaching hands down and away-- it made her heart race.

Rosie wasn't necessarily in the back of the group; she was more off to the side. Her mind was so oblivious to everything around her (so it seems her security was too— only focused on the front of the group) including the amount of people stampeding her way from behind.

Rosie yelped as she felt people begin to step on the back of her shoes and shove their phones into her face screaming words of love, in their terms.

More hands were reaching around her with posters, presents and letters for the girl to take or sign. Unfortunately at this point Rosie was circled by way too many people, it was dangerous — the body guards nor her members could see her anymore.

Rosie was scared. “Please back away, please move, please.” She pleaded. It fell on deaf ears. The crowd surrounding her just continued to push and shove trying to gain her attention.

Jihoon was about 20 feet ahead almost to the car when he looked back and noticed the girl was not with any other member or in the car already. Dread filled his stomach, despite what the crew and managers were telling him to just get in the car whilst we go get her. He turned around and basically ran into the crowd surrounding Rosalie pushing people out of the way, not caring if he had to deal with he repercussions the company would set in place.

“Move!” Woozi shouted out loud as he finally got into the center and found Rosalie crouched, covering her ears to block out the shouts.

His hands gently but firmly grabbed the girl to lift her up, pulling on one of her hands to reassure her that it was just him, her partner.

Jihoon held her to her to his side, and rushed the two (security beside them now blocking all paths to get to them) to the doors and inside their company cars.

Once the doors shut and no one could see inside them anymore, the dam broke and flooded.

Rosie was sobbing, her hands too shaky to wipe the tears away.

“Why was there no security behind us? Why was nobody with her?!” Seungcheol shouted, there was no answer. The staff in the front seats were silent as was the other members Woozi, Jeonghan, and Dino.

Rosalie’s sobs were muffled as she was held into her husband’s chest. A place of comfort that she so desperately needed in this moment.

“Can we please go home?” the female maknae asked, her voice cracking. Nobody said a word the whole car ride to their separate homes.

God only knows the rage and heartbreak the members were feeling for their beloved female maknae.

They knew if something like this happened again, words would be said — their idol image be damned.

Woozi’s statement he posted on Weverse that night:

“Today’s actions showed at the airport for SEVENTEENs return home was inforgivable.

Our fellow member and my partner Rosalie was pushed, shoved, shouted at, scratched and knocked over. Not to the lack of security but for lack of respect towards celebrity/idol figures as human beings. I have seen nobody apologize for this happening to her, instead people are stating that this is what she signed up for.

Due to our profession, our private lives have been very public since we were young and yes we chose this lifestyle and we enjoy doing what we love. Our job becomes extremely difficult when we are looked at as circus clowns, payed to do everyone’s bidding. We are human beings, with feelings and emotions despite what most may think.

If something like this is to ever happen again to myself, Rosalie, or any of my fellow members. I will personally take legal action against those who cause or physical, mental, and emotional harm, whether you are fans of us or not.

Stop thinking we are dolls that you can parade around and make do what you want at your will.

Have a good night.”

click here to join rosie’s taglist!

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms @peachyaeger @sakufilms @aysxldea @swagcandyfun @wonwooz1 @s4nsmoon @seolarzone @miyx-amour @novwonia @marissa-11 @magicsoyeon @skzfairies @btskzfav @vhsdolly @iamawkwardandshy @yaebbinnie @conniesbbymama @jihoonsbbygirl @kaitieskidmore97 @cheolsboo @mars11rules67 @svt-manon @g4ns3y

[theotherrookie]

"That's exactly it." Rook confirmed, "The funny thing is that everybody told him not to buy the whole thing. But he wanted that to be my office, you know. He thought that saying 'pretty please' would finally get me to work for him."

"Fathers can be persistent like that." Lucien said, giving a solemn nod.

"But we got away, uh?" Rook replied. Lucien nodded in return and the two fist bumped.

Smokey meowed softly, happy with the scritches. In fact, he was so happy he started making biscuits, much to the dismay of the Twins.

"Yes, you can kill us. So could anybody with a gun-"

"-or a particularly dedicated duck."

"What did you do to the car?" they added.

The two crossed their arms, not caring about Bill's, nor Erica's threats. It was no secret that they were quite jealous of their chosen ride. But that aside, they needed it to work and they definitely didn't want to sit on scratched seats.

"I think we hit them where it hurts." Erica pointed at the very hostile looks on the mercs' faces, "Yeah. Be nice and maybe you'll get it back."

She didn't care to hear what the two had to say about it. The elf's ears perked up as Ratchet screamed once again. While that was a common occurrence by now, it was followed by Willow's distant laughing.

"They're having fun." Erica made her way to the board and drew a small square on the bottom right corner so they could start a third count, "Hey, why don't we ask these guys about their friends' powers and stuff? It could be useful."

It wasn't like the Twins had anything better to do.

"Well, it's true." Lucien replied, placing his hand on Rook's head. There was no denying that she was short, despite being still perfectly capable of rearranging his face.

"People living in their house lowers the property value too." Rook replied, "But since all ghosts are seen as pests, we can add my bosses' fee to the discount. I'm sure Edmund and the others wouldn't mind doing some target practice on that horrible patio."

"We should make them buy the parts back." Erica suggested, "They do stuff for us and get a little piece back."

Smokey hopped off and landed on the seat without a noise. After a careful examination, the kitten sat down and looked up at Travis.

"One doesn't exclude the other." Willow replied. Ratchet was straight up unpleasant as a person and was only bound to get worse. As far as she was concerned, he wasn't going to leave the building on his own two legs and he would be lucky to still be breathing by then.

The Twins understood that and intended to make themselves scarce before it'd be their turn to get puppeted around. They'd play nice and take the verbal abuse for now, but that was it.

It'd be surprising if they didn't flee. Willow waited for the two to be gone to go get herself a seat. "So, how shall we proceed?"

The Twins held their ground when Bill approached. They had been reduced to low level goons, they'd simply have to endure this.

"No, it wouldn't be."

"-be."

That got Lucien to stop and look over. They couldn’t possibly know.

"Yeah, we have to make them last." Erica said, jogging over to the Twins, "Now, which one of you guys shot me?"

The brothers stared at the tiny elf standing before them. She didn't look like much standing with her hands on her hips and a cute purple ribbon tied around her tail, but they remembered the claw marks she had left on the roof of their car and didn't want to mess with that again.

So they both pointed towards the room they just came from. "Ratchet did it!"

They had to work for Russell's friends, but that didn't mean they had to tell the truth.

[sylus-little-meow-meow]

The Sleepover: Part 3

She's back with Sylus again.

But it's that day. 

The day she finally decided to end things. 

He's standing in “their” room, his gaze distant, like always and that's something she could never change no matter how many times she tried.

She could wear the most gorgeous gowns or a potato sack and he'd simply give her a once over and a non committal “you look lovely” before he went back to whatever he was doing, his gaze never lingering. 

He's changing out of his robe and into something more befitting of a leader. 

She's never even seen him in casual wear. 

Sylvia: Sylus?

Sylus: Yes, kitten?

He doesn't look in her direction, doesn't note the shift in her tone.

Sylvia looks at her fingers.

Sylvia: You're never going to love me in the way I do you, are you?

The man freezes on the spot, his fingertips hovering over a black button down before he withdraws his hand.

Sylus: Where is this coming from all of a sudden?

Sylvia gives a laugh, but it's hollow just like this entire relationship.

Sylvia: You're dancing around the question. You don't want to answer it, do you?

Sylus: Kitten—

He turns around but she slips off of the bed, fighting back tears as she yanks off the shit she tried using to impress Sylus in the bedroom, the see through nightgown about as appetizing to him as a box  of  stale crackers. 

She's biting her lip so hard it's almost bleeding.

What's worse?

Having an ex so obsessed with you to the point they'd kill one of the most precious people in your life?

Or one who doesn't care at all?

Granted, at least with Sylus she'd still have her older sister. 

But she doesn't have either because her love life is a mess and every man she chooses is just…

She shouldn't feel hurt towards Sylus. 

This is nothing in comparison to what she went through, but the frustration of him agreeing to date her despite the fact he probably knew he'd never love her is too much.

Because she loves him.

Right down to her core she knows she's fallen in love with him.

And that's why she needs to let him go.

This will always be one sided and it's become clear there's someone else out there he's looking for.

She can see it in the way his gaze sweeps over every destination, like some part of him is missing and maybe he thought it was her once upon a time, but now they both know better.

It isn't her.

So she goes to the closet, moving him out of the way as she begins to collect her things.

Her jaw is clenched and her eyes are hard. 

Outwardly she'll show anger, yet on the inside she's crying for him to stop her.

For some small part of him to care.

Sylus: What are you doing, kitten?

Sylvia: Nothing you need to worry about. I'm done here. This was fun, but I think it's time we cut things off. 

Sylus looks down at her.

She internally pleads for him to hold her back, to lightly grab her wrist, to ask her to stop what she's doing but he doesn't.

Instead he steps back.

Sylus: If that's what you truly want, kitten.

Her hand pauses.

Sylvia: If you really think this is what I want you should go fuck yourself. 

She yanks the last piece of clothing off the hanger and spins towards him, the tears threatening to spill over, but she won't allow them to because Sylus doesn't deserve her vulnerability.

Sylvia: I wanted love and I wanted a partner. You've made it clear you don't want to act as either of those for me. You're not even present in this relationship.

Sylus stares at her, the quiet expanding between them and her outburst.

There's not even a flair or hint of emotion in his eyes. 

She wants to cry. 

She wants to scream.

She wants to throw something just to get him to react to her presence at all. 

But she doesn't.

Instead she stalks past him, her gaze trained forward, eyes on a door that will open and shut for the very last time.

Sylvia: Send me the rest of my things when you get the chance. Try not to forget because I know half the time you forgot I was even your girlfriend. Have a nice life, Sylus.

She says and then slams the door behind her.

When she sees Mephisto, she ducks her head to hide oncoming tears.

It's over.

They're done. 

The memory turned dream fades as a cool hand brushes against her forehead. 

Sylvia: Sylus…?

She murmurs, nuzzling her face into that same hand, pressing it more into her cheek with her own.

Sylvia: Did you come back for me…?

Her voice cracks, tears seeping through her closed eyes.

She buries her face into his palm. Did he finally see her after all this time?

The voice doesn't say anything, but the hand tries pulling away and Sylvia clings tighter, not wanting to let go of this one small gesture. 

Sylvia: Don't go. 

Sylvia: Please. 

She sounds pathetic, pleading like this, but she can't help it. 

If he's here now, even if this is a dream, she doesn't want to let him go. She wants him to stay.

She's completely forgotten that Sylus already moved on with another.

All she knows is that one small gesture from Sylus proving that their time meant something to him would mean everything to her. 

Sylvia: Don't go.

She says again and feels the hand shift, no longer trying to pull away and her body relaxes as a second one brushes the hair out of her face.

They're surprisingly gentle. 

Caring. 

She manages to slip into a peaceful sleep, feeling the hands of someone who cares about her.

                        ************************************

Felix awoke to the sounds of Sylvia calling out in her sleep.

He got up off the couch and found her tangled up in her bedsheets, her face flushed and beads of sweat trickling into her hairline.

Did she feel sick?

Did she need to throw up?

He approached her and gently touched her cheek.

Then he heard a name.

Sylvia: Sylus…?

She said it so quietly, her voice cracking at the last syllable.

Felix stiffened and attempted to pull away, not wanting to confuse her if she fully woke up.

But she held fast.

She asked Sylus to stay.

And it killed Felix that it wasn't him she was asking, but some other man.

He swallowed his pride, ducking his head as he warred with himself, wondering if there was even a right choice.

In the end, the hopeful expression on Sylvia's face—her eyes still closed—made him shift closer and brush the strands of hair off of her forehead with gentle finger tips. 

She relaxed then, a content smile finding its way to her lips. 

Felix didn't leave until he knew she was fully asleep.

She didn't need to wake up and have her dreams crushed when she realized it was him.

Felix goes to leave, but pauses at the doorway, looking back at Sylvia, her silver hair mussed, her face clear of makeup which softens her features.

It's looking at her that Felix realizes Sylvia wasn't the only one in this room with an unrequited love, wondering what it would be like if Sylvia looked at him like she did with Sylus.

He'll probably never know.

He won't ask that of her.

She's got more on her plate than just a man who didn't return her feelings.

So he gently shuts the door behind him and pads over to the couch, lying in wake for the rest of the night.

[reinreingoawayy]

— before i could kiss you first

part i | part ii | part iii

a/n: i offer you part 3 and the final part of this story. sorry if it took so long. thank you for being patient TT

sae itoshi x f!reader | fluff | kissing | some language | sfw

wc : 2.0k

•••

it was supposed to be a normal business trip to madrid, but you found yourself in sae itoshi’s locker room, caged by his arms with your back against the door.

it has been two months since your supposed “break up” with sae itoshi, and since then, your life slowly changed back to somewhat normal. the surge of notifications from his fans slowly ceased, and you thanked your coworkers for not asking about your relationship with sae. it was as if every thing is back to what it used to be except for the void in your chest you can’t seem to get rid off. every day, the void keeps getting bigger and bigger, swallowing you internally. it’s not like you were yearning for sae itoshi, because every time you hear his name, the void in your chest gets a little better. like a teeny-tiny better when you hear his name.

so when your boss told you about a business trip to madrid, you didn’t hesitate to agree on that. another thing was that, he—your boss— still doesn’t know that you and sae already “broke up.” you also couldn’t seem to quite tell him about it. maybe it’s because part of you still want to be with him even though you were the one who suggested the idea to stop. it was messy, your mind was in a mess.

it was supposed to be a normal business trip for you until your boss bought a ticket for you and the others to watch a match between re al and ubers. you were very much inclined to declining the offer, but all of your colleagues seemed to be very excited to watch the football match, and you didn’t want to be the person who kills the joy in every thing, so you accepted the ticket, hesitant.

“hey,” your boss called, nudging you with his shoulder.

“what’s up?” you said. when it comes to your boss, he was cool with casual conversation and didn’t mind the honorifics or whatever. he was like a big brother to all of you in the workplace. you were quite thankful that you found a gem like him. it was quite hard to come by to meet such a wonderful leader these days.

“you got into an argument with sae?” he asked.

“how did you come up with that conclusion?” you asked, scrunching your nose.

“it’s just that whenever i bring him up, you seem to be dodging the topics about him.”

your heart skipped a beat and didn’t say anything. should i just tell him, you thought. if there’s one thing you suck at doing, it was lying. that’s why these days, dodging any topic about saw itoshi has been one of the many reasons why your energy depleted so fast.

“so, it’s true?” he asked once again.

“true what?” you said.

“you had an argument with him. what do you call it? a lover’s quarrel?

“it’s hard to explain,” you said sitting on your assigned seat. it was near the players’ benches.

“well, you two better figure things out because here comes the boyfriend in three…”

you started to panic internally as he started to count down as you were trying your best to find sae.

“…two,”

fuck! you screamed internally.

“…one.”

you swiftly turned your head to the direction of his gaze and saw a sae itoshi walking down your way. he is still fucking beautiful, you thought. his hair is in its usual weird physics, his hands are in his jersey pockets and he’s wearing the usual re al jacket. he still got that aura that makes everyone turn their heads to his direction. you felt your boss waved beside you, and sae nodded as an acknowledgment.

“hey, can we talk? please?” sae asked as soon as he was in front of you, and for some force of the universe you nodded. your boss even pushed you a little and for a second, you wished you were not with him.

that’s how you end up in his locker room and end up having a staring contest with his teal green eyes. his eyes were so mesmerizing, you almost forgot why you were in his locker room. the room was big and spacious but the way he was staring at you made the whole room seemed to be so small.

“why’d you bring me here?” you asked, leaning on the wall.

“because i wanted to make a proposal,” he said, crossing his arms around his chest.

“a proposal?” you repeated.

he nod his head as he continued to look your way.

“i’m sorry but i can’t do it again,” you said with a conviction and walked your way to the door but a hand grab your wrist before pinning you against the door.

“you didn’t even let me finish,” he whispered, his tone—soft, and your heart started pounding. it was unfair to you that he has this kind of effect in you. you thought you were over it but as soon as you saw him again, you just keep coming back to him. his face was inch away from yours and you can feel his breath syncing with yours. you now have a clear view of his eyes, his structure nose, and just how beautiful he looks up close.

“from the moment you kissed me on that stadium, you got me hooked. you got me interested on you during that plane ride even though we only have a very few interactions during those few hours. i was going to find you after that match between barcha, but when you kissed me after that game, god knows how much i thanked the heavens that day…”

he tucked a stray hair from yours face to the back of your ears while staring at you, but you can’t seem to look at him directly in his eyes, so you remained staring at his necklace.

“is that why you told me to have a pretend relationship with you instead of suing me?” you asked.

you heard him chuckle.

“probably,” he answered, stroking your cheek, gently. “i like you, y/n. i like you a lot. so i have this proposal…”

“what is your proposal this time?”

“can we do it for real? can i be your boyfriend for real?” he said.

your heart might explode anytime soon. your heart felt like a bomb that might detonate soon by the way it was beating fast, you could almost hear the beats in your ears. you opened your mouth but no words came out so you bit your lower lip. his hand traveled to you chin as he guiding your gaze to him. his gaze were soft as he waited for your response.

“i—“

“hey, itoshi! 2 minutes before the start of the match. get out of your den, now!” someone shouted outside the locker room while banging on the door. you heard sae clicked his tongue.

“i’ll be there,” he replied, not breaking his gaze on you.

“let’s talk again later,” he said before leaving the room.

you sighed when he left the room. you clenched your fist on your chest while you deal with his effects on you. i like you. i like you a lot is what keeps running in your head.

you went back to your seat with your mood a little better. you smiled at your boss and your coworkers before sitting on the vacant seat next to your boss. your eyes went to look for a man in the field with a number 10 in his jersey, and you see him staring right at you.

“sooo?” your boss started.

“so what?” you said, trying to be oblivious.

“you know what, nevermind. judging from the smile on your face, my guess is that you two made up?” he said but you just shrugged because you two haven’t really made up yet. he just told you that he liked you, but you also haven’t told him about your feelings yet.

“i better be invited to your wedding. i did all the trouble of bringing you here so you two could make it up,” he whispered that made you wrinkled your forehead.

“what do you mean?” you asked. isn’t this supposed to be a business trip?

“i meant was sae might’ve asked me to bring you here because he said he had something to fix between you two, and as a good boss and a friend, i said yes,” he answered.

“so this is not a business trip?”

“it is a business trip. but before going here, i might’ve told him about it and he gave me some free tickets for the whole team in exchange of you,” he smiled cheekily.

you rolled your eyes, and looked back to sae itoshi on the field.

“what the hell?” you mouthed at him, but he just raised an eyebrow.

•••

during the whole match, he was very focused on the game. there was only one time he looked your way, and that’s when he scored a goal, did his celebration, while looking at you. his eyes were almost saying, “did you see that? are you proud of me?”

when the match finished, you didn’t realize how soon was his “let’s talk again later,” because right after the time stopped, you could see him jogging his way to your seat. many people congratulated him along his way, sometimes he nodded as acknowledgment, but most of the times, his eyes were fixated on you. he stopped only when he’s front of you with only a railing separating you two.

“what are you doing here?” you said, and very much aware of your coworkers and all the people watching.

“collecting my answer,” he replied.

you rolled your eyes again as you stood up and took a step forward until you were just inches away from him.

“what do you want me to do?” you asked and he acted like he was thinking for a second.

“kiss me if it’s a yes; if no, sorry not an option,” he said, then smirked.

“in front of all these people?”

“why? scared? you did it before. i’m sure you could do it again,” he said, challenging you.

“well, i was trying to run away from my ex be—“ you felt a finger on your lips, halting your train of thought.

“i don’t care about your ex. i care about us, so please kiss me now before i could kiss you first…”

“yeah, maybe you should be the one initiating the kiss, not me…” you said.

“oh, believe me i’ll happily do that, but i don’t want people to misunderstood.”

“what misunderstood? they don’t know we ‘broke up.’ so technically, they still know we’re still together,” you said making air quotations when you said broke up.

“i know, but i’m a fucking follower of yours, y/n. i want you to lead, and i’ll gladly follow,” he said.

you rolled your eyes for the fifth time before swallowing.

“‘kay, i’ll kiss you now…” you said, slipping a hand on his nape.

“…boyfriend,” you smiled before placing your lips against his. he eagerly returned your kisses and it somehow felt like seven, eight months ago, without your annoying ex and the fear of him suing you.

“that’s fucking so nice to hear,” he said when you break from the kiss. you laughed before stealing one more kiss from him.

“hey, itoshi! i know you missed your girlfriend after sulking for two months but you need to come over here for pictures,” a teammate of his shouted.

he grunted, rolling his eyes.

“let me fucking be with my girlfriend, you lukewarm human being!” he shouted back. you laughed at him before pushing him a little, telling him to go.

“you should go, sae. i’ll be waiting for you here,” you said. he gave you a are-you-sure look. he stole another kiss and another before jogging back down to the pitch. when he reached the field, he turned back at you, mouthing something.

“what?” you shouted.

“he said, i love you, you fool!” you heard your boss shouted behind you.

•••

[loquaciousquark]

you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

[decayed-cartilage]

The Intern

Hannibal Lecter x AFAB! Reader

Pt 1 / Pt 2 /?

Warnings for chapter: power dynamic? Mentions of erection.. creepy! Hannibal, Morally wrong! Hannibal

Synopsis: Y/N is on the brink of graduation, with just one requirement left—an internship. Somehow, she finds herself under the esteemed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a man as brilliant as he is unreadable. Cold, precise, and impossible to rattle, he keeps his thoughts well-guarded. But Y/N can’t help her curiosity—she wants to understand him, to get beneath the surface. And whether he intends to or not, bit by bit, he lets something slip. Something darker. Something she might not be ready to see.

After what felt like endless hours of writing and submitting, writing and submitting, I finally received an email back from one of the many psychiatrists I’d been desperately trying to reach for my mandatory internship—Dr.Lecter, A prestigious man with many colorful reviews, which had drawn me to contact him.

From: H***********@gmail.com

To: Y/e@gmail.com

Subject: Internship for Johns Hopkins University

Dear Y/N,

I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing your application and personal portfolio, and I must say—your dedication and talent are impossible to overlook. It’s clear you take your work seriously, and intelligence like yours is always refreshing to encounter. I have no doubt that you would be the perfect young lady for me to mentor

do get in touch at your earliest convenience, and please, use my personal number (***) ***-****

Best,

Doctor Lecter

My heart pounded out of my chest, my eyes scanning his words again and again as warmth flooded my face. Oh god—had I really sent all that? How had I forgotten? Yes—I had sent all of it, in a tired, near-lucid state, exhausted from working so hard. My words had grown almost desperate by the last emails, pleading for validation.

But really? My whole life story? A deep dive into why I chose psychiatry—endless run-ons about trauma and my relentless hope for a better world?

And—oh no—the pictures. Me in scrubs, grinning way too hard, double thumbs-up in front of a cadaver during one of my early tech programs. Or me, beaming like an overexcited tourist beside historical documents, looking ridiculously proud.

Yet, all of that faded as my eyes caught on one thing—his phone number.

I screamed like a teenage girl, shooting up from my seat as I sprinted to grab my phone, my hands shaking as I typed in his number—only to pause.

What do I even say?!

I groaned, throwing myself back onto my bed.

Third person (Hannibal's) P.O.V

Hannibal had been waiting. Days bled into each other, an endless cycle of monotony—listening to insipid patients whine about their problems, assisting in crime cases that barely challenged him, returning home to indulge in his more refined appetites. Even killing had lost its thrill. Nothing ever truly stirred him.

Until your email.

God, the desperation dripped from every word, a quiet, pleading sort of need that sent a slow, curling heat through him. You had laid yourself bare, unaware of what exactly you had just invited into your life. Your tragic little story, the way you carried yourself—so unassuming, so small. So easy.

Just picturing you in his office, lingering in his space, speaking to him with those wide, trusting eyes—his jaw locked, his fingers twitching with restraint.

Staring at the pictures you had attached, Hannibal felt his length twitch, his breath slowing as his free hand drifted—almost absentmindedly—palming himself through the fine fabric of his dress pants. God.

The way your lips curled, the way your smile beamed so effortlessly, so full of warmth—it was intoxicating. A stark contrast to the cold, calculated existence he thrived in. You radiated light, soft and unguarded, utterly unaware of the predator fixated on you.

His throat tightened.

Such an innocent little thing, standing there in your scrubs, so proud, so eager. So trusting. You belonged to a world of laughter and hope, while he—he was carved from shadow and silence, his smile only ever genuine when he was peeling flesh from bone.

And yet, here he was, jaw clenched, breath heavy, wanting.

Needing.

He exhaled sharply, fingers pressing harder against the growing strain beneath his waistband.

Oh, sweet girl… you have no idea what you’ve done.

Ding!

The sharp chime shattered the heavy silence, jolting him from his trance. His phone clattered against the desk, but his eyes were already locked onto the screen. He knew who it was. Of course, he did.

Hannibal was a meticulous man. A careful man. And yet, you had made it so easy for him. Every little detail of your life, carelessly scattered across the internet—your school, your favorite cafés, even the places you liked to study. He knew where you had been before you even told him. He had all of you at his fingertips.

And now, your number. Displayed so innocently on his screen.

"Hello Doctor Lecter! This is Y/n :),I got your acceptance email-"

The preview cut off, but he didn’t need to see the rest to know exactly how you would sound—bubbly, eager, grateful. A stark contrast to the dark amusement curling in his chest.

Still, he unlocked the phone, fingers rolling over the screen, expression unreadable as he took in the rest of your message.

and I just can’t express how grateful I am you responded! It’s even better since I’m attending the same school you did! I would love to set up a time for us to chat in person—I hope I’m not being too informal—if I am, please tell me! Thank you so much for your time!

Such sweetness. Such hope. He could practically hear the nervous excitement laced in your words, see the way your hands might have trembled as you typed, wondering if you were saying too much, if you sounded proper enough for him.

He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening, his fingers pressing into the screen just a little harder than necessary.

You had no idea what you had just invited into your world.

He began typing.

I’m pleased to hear from you so soon. Why don’t we meet somewhere comfortable? Perhaps a coffee shop—there’s a lovely one, [your favorite coffee shop], that I hear is quite popular. It seems like the perfect setting for our first conversation. Let me know when you’re available, and I’ll gladly adjust my schedule.

And please, don’t worry about being too informal. I much prefer sincerity. I look forward to meeting you, properly.

With that, he sent the message, his thumb hovering over the screen for just a second longer than necessary before finally setting the phone down. It slid across his desk with a soft thud, the only sound in the stillness of his office.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, a drawn-out sigh that did little to temper the hunger curling inside him.

You had been on his mind long before your message arrived, but now? Now, you were real. Tangible. Just a text away.

And soon, within reach.

Rolling his shoulders, he adjusted his cuffs with careful precision, though it did little to distract from the heat simmering beneath his skin. His jaw tightened. He needed a walk. Fresh air. A moment to compose himself before his thoughts spiraled into something indulgent.

His lips curled slightly as he stepped away from his desk, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

You had no idea what you had just done.

But you would.

YOUR POV

Ding!

I was too nervous to look at his message right away. My fingers hovered over my phone, heart hammering so loudly it drowned out all rational thought. When I finally mustered the courage to open it, my face went hot instantly.

He mentioned my favorite café.

Had he been there before? Was he that local? Had I somehow missed him in the crowd? My stomach twisted at the thought—equal parts exhilaration and unease. It wasn’t strange for someone to know about it; it was a well-loved spot, after all. But the way he said it, so casually yet deliberately, made my skin prickle.

I let out a small, breathless giggle, my lips pressing together as I read over his words again. I needed to calm down. Breathe, Y/N. Act normal. But I wasn’t normal. Not right now. I was too warm, too jittery, too caught up in the weight of his attention.

A walk. I needed a walk.

Without responding, I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door. My scarf—a soft, muted rainbow of colors—was next, the familiar knit worn and comforting against my fingers.

"I know it gets cold out there Y/nn! You're taking this scarf with you- it's my dying wish!"

I could still hear my mother’s voice, warm with fond exasperation, as she fussed over me before I left for college. The memory made me smile.

I wrapped the scarf snugly around my neck, letting the soft wool shield me from the crisp autumn air seeping in through the doorframe. My outfit was hardly practical for the weather, but I had always dressed like this—formally, neatly, a habit ingrained into me since childhood. A plaid skirt, fitted but flaring just above my knees, swayed as I moved. Tights helped ward off the chill, but only just. My dark grey moccasins were polished and proper, and beneath my heavy coat, I wore a delicate white button-up. The heart embroidery around the collar was my mother’s handiwork—stitched with care, meant to remind me of home.

Despite the structured appearance, I was anything but composed. Anyone who truly knew me would recognize the contrast between my polished exterior and the nervous, sweet-natured girl underneath.

I stepped outside into the cold, the late autumn air nipping at my nose and cheeks, turning them pink within seconds. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves tumbling along the pavement.

-

The walk stretched on longer than I had planned. What started as a way to clear my head turned into an aimless journey, my feet carrying me farther and farther from my starting point. By the time I thought to check the time, my phone screen flashed 4:07 PM.

Four hours. Four hours.

I had wandered nearly halfway across the city, lost in my thoughts, replaying that message over and over in my head like a song I couldn’t turn off. The crisp autumn air had settled deep in my bones, my fingers stiff despite being tucked into my coat pockets. My legs ached, but I wasn’t ready to go home just yet.

That was when I noticed it—the quiet hum of a near-empty park, tucked away from the city’s usual noise. Golden leaves fluttered from the branches above, painting the pavement in warm hues. It was peaceful here, the kind of place where no one would bother me, where I could sit for just a moment and-

That was when I noticed him.

A figure moving toward me, his steps slow, measured, deliberate.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Just another passerby enjoying the evening air, someone else drawn to the quiet solitude of the park. But something about the way he walked made my breath catch—a smooth, unhurried grace, like a man who never rushed for anything.

My brows furrowed as I squinted. Damn it, I forgot my glasses.

I could make out the tall, well-built frame beneath a long, dark coat, the way his shoulders sat perfectly squared, the way his hands—gloved—rested easily at his sides, as if he carried nothing but time and patience.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest, a quiet knowing before my brain even caught up.

Then, as he stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, everything clicked into place.

The sharp, unmistakable features. The neatly combed dark hair. The slight tilt of his head, like he had already recognized me long before I had recognized him.

Dr. Lecter.

Oh God.

My stomach flipped so violently I thought I might actually double over. What was he doing here? Had he seen me before I saw him? Was he here because of me, or was this just some freakishly timed coincidence?

My brain scrambled for an appropriate reaction—anything other than standing there like an idiot, heart hammering in my throat.

My cheeks burned before I could stop them, heat creeping up my neck, traitorous and undeniable. I must look ridiculous right now—flushed, wide-eyed, completely caught off guard.

But there was no turning back. He was already close enough that ignoring him would be rude. Unprofessional.

So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I forced my stiff fingers to move, lifting a hand in a small, hesitant wave.

And then—I smiled. Nervous, flustered, but hopefully not as painfully obvious as I felt.

"H-Hi, Doctor!" I blurted out, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless.

I forced a smile, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. My big, wide eyes locked onto him, searching his face for any sign of reaction.

A second passed.

Then another.

My stomach twisted, dread creeping in. Did I mess up? Did I sound stupid? The silence stretched just long enough to make my pulse stutter.

"I-It’s Y/N—" I started, my voice unsteady, but before I could finish, he cut me off.

"I know it’s you, sweetheart."

My breath hitched.

His voice was smooth, effortlessly composed, dripping with confidence in a way that made my skin tingle. He looked down at me with an amused sort of curiosity, his gaze steady, unwavering—like he was taking his time, drinking in every little reaction, every tiny shift in my expression.

"How funny is it," he continued, his lips curving slightly, "that I should run into you here—right after we had just spoken?"

I swallowed hard. My stomach flipped again, my nerves unraveling by the second.

He was so calm. So composed. And here I was, standing there like a nervous wreck, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Whatever little confidence I had managed to build up crumbled beneath the weight of his presence. My body felt too warm despite the crisp autumn air, and I could hear the rush of my own pulse in my ears. Still, I forced myself to nod, hoping it looked casual—hoping he couldn’t tell just how flustered I was.

"It’s t-totally crazy!" I rushed out, my voice a little too high, a little too eager. I winced at myself, clearing my throat and trying again, desperate to sound normal. "I-I mean, I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. I must’ve wandered too far—I couldn’t even tell you where I am right now if I’m being honest."

I let out a nervous laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, willing my hands to stop fidgeting. My cheeks burned, and I prayed it looked like nothing more than the bite of the cold air rather than the sheer excitement buzzing beneath my skin.

I had imagined meeting him—dreamed of it even. But now that he was standing in front of me, watching me with that unreadable gaze, I felt like my legs might give out beneath me.

"I'm really sorry you had to meet me like this," I blurted, my voice smaller than I intended. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my jacket sleeves, twisting the fabric as I dared to glance up at him. His eyes—sharp, knowing—made my stomach flip. God, why did he have to look at me like that?

"I promise I would have been more presentable— and- l-less shocked—I'm very sorry," I squeaked, heat rushing to my face as I dropped my gaze again, mortified by how utterly flustered I was.

A deep hum left him, measured and deliberate. "There is no need for an apology, hon," Hannibal said smoothly, the richness of his voice wrapping around me like silk. "You present yourself in a manner most... revealing."

He tilted his head, gaze unwavering, studying me as though he were unraveling something unseen. "There is an honesty in moments like these. A rare and unguarded glimpse into one's truest nature."

My breath caught in my throat. What—what did he mean by that?

I tried to piece it together, but the warmth in his eyes, the weight of his words, left me grasping at nothing.

I nodded at his words, dumbly, still trying to process the way he spoke, the way his voice felt like silk wrapping around my thoughts. But then, like a slap to the face, realization struck.

Oh no.

He definitely saw that I had read his message but never responded.

My stomach twisted as I stepped closer, suddenly feeling the need to explain myself, to fix whatever impression that might’ve given. "I—I meant to text back!" The words left me in a rush, my hands gripping the hem of my sleeves anxiously. "I just got too excited—" I stopped abruptly, my breath catching as my face burned. Too excited? Oh god. That sounded ridiculous. Desperate.

"I mean—" I scrambled to recover, shaking my head quickly. "Not excited—well, I mean, yes, excited, but not in a weird way! Just… I thought I should wait until I wasn’t so—so—" I let out a nervous laugh, utterly failing to dig myself out of the hole I was sinking into.

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly, watching me with that same unreadable expression, his lips curving just enough to make my stomach twist even further.

"There’s no need to fluster yourself on my account," he said, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Some things are best expressed in their rawest form, unfiltered… unguarded."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing, trying to decipher his words. Was he talking about my message—or something else entirely?"I—I completely agree!" I rushed out, still trying to steady myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

I offered a small, nervous smile, shifting slightly on my feet, hoping I sounded even the slightest bit composed.

Third person (Hannibal's) pov

Hannibal watched you with quiet amusement, his sharp eyes taking in every flustered movement, every nervous breath. You were trying so hard to sound composed, but the way your words tumbled out—rushed, uncertain—betrayed you.

"I—I completely agree!" you blurted, your voice carrying that same delightful eagerness from your emails. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

You shifted on your feet, offering a small, nervous smile, as if willing yourself to appear more put together. How endearing. You had no idea how much you were giving away. Hannibal let the moment stretch just a second longer than necessary, letting you stew in the weight of his gaze before finally offering a slow, knowing smile.

"How about now, then?" Hannibal’s voice was smooth, effortlessly calm. "It seems the only thing occupying you at this moment is our conversation. I don’t mind in the slightest."

He watched as you blinked, clearly caught off guard. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your lips parting slightly as if scrambling for a response. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t considered that he might take control of the moment so easily, turning your nervous rambling into something entirely inescapable.

Of course, he knew you wouldn’t say no. You had been so eager, so desperate for this opportunity, your emails practically dripping with the need to prove yourself. The way you sought validation was almost endearing—so open, so unaware of just how much you had already given away.

And now, standing before him, you couldn’t hide it. The excitement in your eyes, the nervous energy humming beneath your skin. You were trying so hard to play it cool, but he could see it all—the way your breath hitched, the way you hesitated for just a second too long.

He let the silence stretch, just enough to make you squirm, his face giving no hints to how he felt.

"Oh! Of course! Now is perfect!" she blurts out, nodding far too quickly, her voice pitching higher than she probably intended. She grips the hem of her coat, wringing the fabric between her fingers, as if the motion might tether her to reality—might stop her from unraveling beneath her own nervous energy.

How utterly transparent.

I say nothing for a moment, only watching, taking in the way she fidgets, the way her pulse flutters just beneath the delicate skin of her throat. She is trying so very hard to maintain composure, but she is failing spectacularly.

She doesn’t realize how much she gives away. How easily every flicker of emotion plays across her face. It is almost endearing—the way she fights against her excitement, attempting to suppress it, as if I cannot already see through her.

And yet, there is something else beneath the surface. Something softer, untouched by the weight of the world’s cruelty. A rare thing, fragile and sweet.

My lips curl slightly.

She swallows hard, her breath quickening, the silence stretching just long enough for uncertainty to creep in. I can almost feel the way her mind races, second-guessing herself, wondering if she has said too much or too little.

Finally, I incline my head in a slow, deliberate motion.

"Perfect," I murmur, watching as her breath hitched

A/N oh my god I think is the first fanfic I've written since I was like ten, so if you like it tell me :) and if you don't, also tell me. I hope everyone is doing well and I hope to write more, or leave suggestions! Big kisses everyone :3

[lightan117]

I will wait, no matter how long - Part 1

Guys, I had to break up this massive chapter. It took me forever and tons of rewrites. 12k words just for part 1 alone. And I'm not even done yet! Please let me know how you guys like this! I worked really hard on this and to bring up more of Daisy's past.

Pairings: Lucanis/ (F)Mourn Watch Rook

Warnings: Some violence, drinking, ghosts, and mentions of abuse. There is also a lot of pining, fluff, and Lucanis/Rook being fools in love but can't express how they feel.

~oOo~

Daisy had never moved so quickly in her life. One second, she was in the pantry with Lucanis, and the next, she was almost taking Harding's door off its hinges. “I’ve fucked up.”

“I’m sorry?!” Lace’s head shot up as Daisy barged into her conservatory room, sending a ceramic pot teetering dangerously on a ledge. Her eyes went wide when the curse word fell from Daisy’s lips. “What in the Maker’s name—Start from the beginning!”

Daisy wheezed, trying to form a coherent thought, but her brain was still soup. Her whole life was about staying composed in tense situations—handling wayward spirits and working through magical problems with a steady hand. She was supposed to be calm. She was supposed to be rational. So why did it feel like she had just sprinted through a battlefield naked while screaming her deepest, most shameful secrets? She grabbed Lace by the shoulders. “I made a mistake.”

Lace stared at her. “Did you set something on fire?”

“No.”

“Did you accidentally invite a demon into the Lighthouse?”

“No!”

“…Did you finally tell Lucanis you like him, and it backfired spectacularly?”

Daisy made a strangled noise and smacked her hands over her burning face.

Lace howled.

“Oh, this is better than I hoped. Keep talking.”

Daisy flailed. “I didn’t mean to! I was just—Spite took over, right? So I talked to him, trying to keep things from getting worse—”

“Of course you did,” Lace muttered.

“—And then Lucanis took control again, and he was all broody and apologetic and tragic-looking, and I was just trying to be supportive, but then—then things happened—”

Lace leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “What things?”

Daisy whimpered. “He—he cornered me, Lace.”

Lace nearly fell off her chair. “Excuse me?”

“Against the pantry wall! He—he put his hand next to my head and looked at me and—and his voice got all deep and serious, and I—I said stupid things—”

Lace grabbed her arm. “How stupid?”

Daisy sucked in a breath. “He said, ‘This isn’t a good idea.’ And I—I told him—” She gulped.

Lace shook her. “What did you say?”

“I told him… ‘Sometimes a bad idea is better.’”

Lace screamed.

Daisy screamed with her, shaking her by the shoulders in sheer secondhand horror. “No, no, no, it gets worse—” Daisy babbled. “He said I liked walking too close to the edge, and I said, ‘So do you,’ and then he said, ‘At least I know I’m doing it,’ and his voice dropped, and Lace, I thought—” She gasped for air. “I thought he was going to kiss me!”

Lace was already standing up. “Did he?!”

“NO!” Daisy wailed. “He just stared at me, like he was debating all of his life choices, and then he walked away!”

Lace clutched her head like she was in physical pain. “HE DID WHAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE; I PANICKED, HE PANICKED, WE PANICKED, AND NOW I’M DYING.” Daisy flopped onto the floor, groaning into her hands.

Lace exhaled sharply and rolled her sleeves up. “Alright, I’m getting my crossbow.”

“Lace, no!” Daisy latched onto her waist.

“Oh no, no, no. He pulled away?! After that kind of tension?! What, does he think he can walk off a near-kiss like it was a casual chat about the weather?! I’ll show him weather—”

Daisy clung harder. “It’s fine—”

“IT IS NOT FINE.”

“I JUST WANTED TO VENT, NOT INCITE A MURDER.”

Lace gritted her teeth, arms crossed. “Alright, fine. No murder. Yet.” She sat back down, hands still twitching. “But what’s the real problem, Daisy? Because I know that face, and that face says, ‘I’m spiraling into an existential crisis.’”

Daisy sniffed. “…What if I imagined everything? What if he doesn’t actually like me that way?”

Lace gawked at her. “Are you joking? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

Daisy frowned. “But what about him and Neve?”

Lace groaned like she had been physically wounded. “Daisy. Please. You’re smarter than this.”

Daisy buried her face in her hands again. “I feel so stupid.”

Lace softened, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not stupid. You’re just… catastrophically in love for the first time and have no idea how to process it.”

Daisy whimpered.

Lace sighed, standing and offering her a hand. “Alright. Get up. We’re going for a walk.”

Daisy peeked through her fingers. “A walk?”

“Yes. Because if we don’t, I’m going to march straight to Lucanis and tell him to fix this before you combust.”

“…Fair.”

As they left, Tassh appeared at the top of the stairs. “Uh. What’s happening?”

Lace pointed. “Daisy’s in love and suffering.” Daisy's face grew red with every glare sent in Lace's direction.

Tassh nodded sagely. “Ah. Been there.”

“Want to join us?”

Tassh shrugged. “Why not? Watching Daisy have a meltdown sounds entertaining.”

Daisy groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Lace slung an arm around her. “No, you don’t.”

“…Fine.”

"We should go to the Hall of Valor. Isabella owes Rook a few drinks for helping out. Besides, the company isn't bad, and the Lords are fun to party with." Taash offered. It wasn't a bad idea, but...Daisy wasn't best friends with alcohol, and the few times she does have any, it's minimal moderation. Varric gave her some fruity Orleasian wine the last time, where one could hardly feel intoxicated until they stood up. Then, the feeling would slam them up against a brick wall.

"What's going on?" The group turned toward Neve, and Bellara approached them.

Before Lace could open her mouth Tassh jumped in, no stopping them. "Lace and Rook want to drink at the Hall with the Lords. Wanna join?"

"There are plenty of places in Minrathous, but is there something about the Hall that's more exciting, Taash?" Neve asked, and Bellara quickly jumped in with excitement over the idea.

"The Hall has free drinks and no venatori. What more could we ask for? We all deserve a drink." The three of them started to plan for the night, which was settled on that very evening, while Lace looked up at Daisy for some sign of discomfort. Lace had never seen Daisy take such a quiet stance before, and the far-off look behind her eyes was worrying.

"Daisy? I know how you are with drinking." Lace whispered, and Daisy shook her head, her ear cuffs jingling softly.

"It's fine Lace. I have you watching out for me, right?" Daisy's smile didn't reach her eyes. Lace nodded, speaking the word always before squeezing her arm while the three members of their party planned the night. "Besides, one drink won't hurt. It might kill any leftover embarrassment I have."  

No time like the present. Daisy barely had time to protest before Bellara, practically vibrating with excitement, grabbed her arm and dragged her from the Lighthouse. The energy was infectious, but Daisy could only manage a half-hearted chuckle as they stumbled forward together. Behind them, Lace hurried toward Emmrich’s quarters, knocking sharply before slipping inside to inform the necromancer of their plans. They wouldn't be gone long, just enough time for a needed reprieve from the constant weight of their reality. Meanwhile, Taash was already deep in conversation with Neve, pouring over the list of drinks with a mischievous glint in their eye. If all went according to plan—or horribly awry—they could always crash at their mother’s house should the need arise.

Daisy tried her best to keep up appearances, her usual mask in place. She smiled; she laughed at the right moments, but the effort was exhausting. She felt Lace’s perceptive gaze flicker toward her every now and then as if trying to decipher the emotions lurking beneath the surface. But Daisy was a master at misdirection, and Bellara, with her boundless enthusiasm, made for an excellent distraction. She seized every opportunity to steer the conversation toward Bellara’s latest experiments, her magical advancements, and all the questions Daisy had been meaning to ask but never quite remembered at the moment. Bellara, ever the

inquisitive person was happy to oblige, her voice animated as she shared her knowledge.

Daisy had spent much of her early life feeling like an outsider. Raised by two human women in a world where bloodlines mattered, her elven heritage had been a mystery—at one time, she was desperate to unravel. Now, she just wanted to know more about what she was missing. Learning the language had been a struggle; each word clawed from the depths of an identity she was only beginning to grasp. Even now, the scars of old prejudices lingered, reflected back at her every time she saw her...ruined pointed ears in the mirror. She had been judged for them, scorned by those who saw her as neither fully human nor entirely elven but something in between—something lesser. A half-breed. A mutt. A weed.

Meeting Bellara had been a turning point. The Dalish elf carried the weight of her people’s traditions with pride, and she had been more than willing to guide Daisy toward the answers she sought. When their paths eventually crossed with Davrin, a seasoned Gray Warden, Daisy had another mentor willing to help her navigate her tangled heritage. Davrin had taken her under his wing with an ease that had startled her, offering not just guidance but acceptance.

For the first time in her life, Daisy wasn’t an outsider looking in. The rag-tag group she had assembled—Taash, Davrin, Lucanis, Lace, Neve, Bellara, Emmrich—had become more than allies. They were her family. Not one she had stumbled upon in the shadows of Nevarra, not one she had been abandoned to by fate, but one she had built with her own hands. It hadn’t been written in the stars. It hadn’t been some grand destiny. It had simply happened. And she had never been more grateful.

When they arrived at the Lords, the night of celebration was in full force.

Laughter rippled through the warm night air, mingling with the scent of salt and spirits. Daisy sat with the others around a long wooden table, a half-empty mug in her hands. The glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows on their faces, and the sound of waves crashing against the distant shore provided a steady, rhythmic backdrop to their revelry.

Bellara and Lace were already deep into their drinks, each engaged in an unspoken contest of who could down more without slurring their words. Neve leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting with amusement as she sipped from a delicate glass, while Taash, already flushed from the alcohol, animatedly recounted a story of a battle in a jungle, arms waving dramatically. "You should've seen it," Taash boasted, their grin wide. "This thing was bigger than a druffalo, with scales like darksteel and teeth like daggers—"

"—And yet, here you are, still in one piece," Neve drawled, smirking over the rim of her glass.

"Obviously," Taash said, feigning offense. "What do you take me for? Some common soldier?"

Isabella snorted. "We take you for someone who embellishes their tales more with every drink. Take it from someone who embellishes often."

Lace laughed, slamming her mug down. "If she’s lying, at least it's entertaining!"

Daisy chuckled along with them, warmth blooming in her chest—not just from the alcohol but from the ease of the moment. It had been too long since they'd all had time like this, where battle and duty didn’t weigh down on their shoulders. Here, they could just exist in a pocket of laughter and camaraderie, away from the expectations that usually hung over them. But even as she smiled, something in the back of her mind buzzed with unease. She shifted in her seat, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the sudden prickling under her skin. Daisy...a whisper of her name more than once caught her attention, shifting her eyes to look over her shoulder. She ignored it, mistaking her real name being mentioned instead of her normal Rook.

When she started to feel it, Daisy was perhaps two or three drinks in.

The night around her buzzed—too warm, too loud, too much. Even outside, the air felt thick, pressing in on her skin like a smothering embrace. Voices blended into a single, overwhelming hum, layered with laughter, cheers, and the occasional clink of mugs. Even the spirits of Adventure, those boisterous echoes of old stories and grand exploits, seemed to swell in volume, their ghostly voices bouncing off one another like a chorus inside her head. The heat crawled up Daisy’s neck, settling behind her cheeks. The alcohol left her limbs floating and buzzing at the same time, like she wasn’t fully anchored to the ground. Her fingers tightened around the half-full mug in her hands—whatever they had given her was more potent than she anticipated. The Lords around her continued their endless tales; their excitement was palpable, their pasts bleeding into the present as if time had unraveled for them. Isabella was chatting with Neve and Taash, their laughter cutting through the thick air like a blade. Bellara and Lace had disappeared and were likely off to get another drink.

And Daisy… Daisy was alone.

The thrill of it sent a tremor through her chest. And yet, so did the fear.

Every sip made it easier, loosening the iron grip she kept on herself. The last time she had drunk this much, it had been with Lace and Varric by a crackling campfire, the stars sprawling overhead like tiny, unjudging eyes. She had been reluctant then, hesitant in the way only someone raised to fear indulgence could be. But Varric had made sure she drank, nudging her toward a lovely Orlesian wine that had hit harder than she expected.

That night, the weight of years had spilled from her lips. The War of Banners. Her family. The orphans she had cared for as penance, as repayment. The chains she would wear until her last breath. Her memory loss. By morning, she had been dizzy and aching but lighter.

The ocean breeze brushed past her, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire in her skin. "Having fun?" Daisy flinched. Neve leaned against the overlook beside her, drink in hand, sharp eyes watching.

Daisy willed herself to stay steady, gripping the railing as if it could anchor her to the moment. "Just… thinking," she managed, the words heavy on her tongue. "Needed to step… away. Got hot all of a sudden."

The ocean stretched before them, the salt air tangling in her hair. Beautiful, as always, but the thought of sand sticking to her boots was enough to sour the scene. "Everyone seems to be having a great time, though," Daisy added, voice slightly distant. "Glad we could do this. Gods, can you imagine if Davrin were here? I’d pay to see who could drink more—him or Taash."

Neve hummed. "My money’s on Taash. But Davrin did mention Wardens drink a lot. Could be close." Daisy nodded, grateful for the distraction. But Neve’s gaze lingered too long. "You do remember I’m a detective, right?" Neve said, her voice light but her meaning sharp. "It’s my job to notice what’s missing. Find the problem. Or—" She stepped closer. "understand why something happened." Daisy’s stomach twisted. "You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about a certain assassin who lives in our pantry now, are you?"

Her breath hitched. "I am not…" The denial came too quickly, her voice too tight. She refused to look Neve in the eye, afraid her expression would betray her.

Neve chuckled. "You know he likes you, right? More than likes you."

Daisy’s heart tripped over itself.

"I’m sorry?" Her tongue felt clumsy, too thick.

"For such a strong leader, you might be a bit blind when it comes to someone having feelings for you." The words were casual, but they slammed into Daisy with the force of a war hammer. "What could possibly be the problem between you and Lucanis that makes you look like the world just ended?" Daisy’s grip on her mug tightened.

"Lucanis and I… nothing is going on between us!" The words rushed out, too high-pitched, too defensive. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the sound of waves. "You and Lucanis are—I mean—the way you two flirt, I assumed…"

Neve raised an eyebrow, and Daisy felt herself unraveling by the second.

"He rejected me," Daisy admitted, cheeks burning. "I thought it was because he was with you. If I had known you were, I wouldn’t have…"

"Developed feelings?" Daisy made a strangled noise, her entire body thrumming with heat. Neve laughed, sipping her drink. "Sunshine, nothing is going on between us. Sure, he’s handsome, and the flirting is fun, but when he looks at you… it’s different." Daisy wanted to melt into the ground. Or vanish. Or throw herself into the sea. Neve’s voice softened. "Should I have stopped flirting when I noticed? Maybe. Maybe I was still bitter about your choice of city to save. But now… I understand. You did what you thought was right. And I have to deal with the aftermath."

Daisy opened her mouth, guilt rising in her throat, but Neve lifted a hand.

"Don’t," she said simply. "I don’t need an explanation. I just wanted you to know—there’s nothing between Lucanis and me. What we have is a shared love of our homes. We’re good friends. But you? You’re different. And if he rejected you… maybe he just got cold feet."

"Cold feet?" Daisy echoed, barely above a whisper.

Neve tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Have you ever been with someone, sunshine?"

Daisy’s breath hitched again. The room—the night—everything felt too close—the warmth of the alcohol, the weight of Neve’s gaze, the pounding in her chest. "Neve…" she pleaded. "Please stop looking at me like that. I think I’ve had too much to drink."

Neve smirked. "Go figure—the two people utterly smitten with each other, both too blind to see it, are both virgins." Daisy nearly choked on air. Neve leaned in, her grin wicked. "Adorable." Daisy groaned again, resting her face in her hands as Neve gave her head a soft pat. "Talk to the man and tell him how you feel since he can't tell you himself. Words are good. Actions can always come later."

"Thanks, Neve," Daisy muttered softly.

"Anytime, sunshine." She was gone, leaving Daisy alone. Without much thinking, Daisy downed the rest of her mug in one go. The burning made her quickly regret the small burst of courage, but she held it down. Daisy would talk to Lucanis once she was sober enough. Once she had the courage to confront him and tell him her honest feelings. That even if it took forever to admit his own, she would wait.

She felt it then.

Eyes.

Someone was watching her.

The sensation crawled over her skin like icy fingers, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Her stomach churned—not just from the alcohol, though the burn of it swayed her movements and made the world tilt dangerously.

Daisy…

She turned too fast, nearly stumbling. The tavern spun in a haze of dim lantern light and smoke, but none of it could blur what stood before her.

A spirit.

A ghost.

A person who should be nothing more than the rotting bones of a memory, yet here she was.

Watching.

Seething.

Daisy’s breath hitched. The spirit’s lips never moved, but the voice slithered into her ears, coiling around her brain, slurring through the alcohol clogging her thoughts.

Found you.

A sharp jolt of terror cut through her stupor, but her body lagged behind her mind. She lurched sideways, her shoulder hitting a table, glasses rattling. Someone cursed. Strapped to her back, her staff clipped a mug—amber liquid sloshed, drenching the table. Someone shoved her. Laughter? A shout?

The spirit moved.

Not walked—moved. Gliding, reaching, her presence stretching toward Daisy like something cold and wet curling around her throat.

She ran. Her pulse thundered. Footsteps stumbled beneath her, too sluggish, too clumsy. Behind her, the spirit turned, those hollow eyes locked onto her, a silent promise that made Daisy’s veins run to ice. She ran past Lords, who were drinking joyfully, not paying any attention to one lone person who seemed to be too many in their cups. Daisy's companions were nowhere close, and she wasn't sure if what she saw was real.

So she ran.

And she didn't stop.

~oOo~

Daisy staggered through the crossroads of the Rivan eluvains, her mind drowning in a haze of memories and shadows. The world spun around her, uneven beneath her feet, and she barely registered the rough scrape of stone and sand against her palms as she caught herself from falling. No, no, she could not have been here. The face she had seen—so familiar, yet impossibly distant—could not have been real. It couldn’t be. Faces like hers existed only in nightmares, in the twisted corridors of dreams she dared not walk, illusions that flickered and vanished like candlelight in a storm.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, the air too thick, pressing down on her chest like unseen hands. Her stomach twisted violently—not just from the alcohol burning in her veins, but from the knowing. A terrible, clawing knowing that something had shifted, something had changed. But what?

Sand clung to her skin, gritting beneath her nails as she dug her fingers into the ground, desperate for something solid. But even the earth betrayed her, shifting, slipping, reminding her of everything she could not hold onto. The hum of the Fade pulsed around her, seeping into her bones and pressing against her skull. She felt it in every pore, every breath, every panicked heartbeat. It was an itch she could never scratch, a voice just beyond the Veil, whispering things she couldn’t make out.

Her hands shook.

No.

Her hands weren’t hers.

Daisy let out a strangled gasp, reaching up instinctively to claw at her throat, her fingers searching for the cold bite of metal that wasn’t there. But she felt them—tight, constricting, chains digging into her skin, wrists bound, movements sluggish as she fought against invisible restraints. Her pulse roared in her ears, a frantic drumbeat of terror, the weight of something unseen dragging her back into a place she refused to return to.

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.

She tried to stand, but her legs refused to move, too tangled in past and present, in fear and liquor, in a reality that felt paper-thin. Her vision blurred, and for a moment—just a moment—she swore she saw her again. A glimpse of dark eyes watching, waiting.

A ghost. A memory.

A whisper. A shift in the air.

And then, they stood before her—spirits of Adventure and Madness.

"We need your help! They will die without aid!" The Spirit of Adventure seized her hand, its ethereal grasp cool yet urgent, pulling her toward the Rivan Coast gate. Daisy clawed for breath as her head swam, her senses oscillating between sharp clarity and thick, muddled fog. She barely registered that she had moved, had passed through the eluvain, and now stood upon the ruined fort they always appeared at. "This way!"

Daisy did not resist. She knew better than to fight fate when it called.

Possession was nothing new to her. She had long since mastered the art of housing spirits within her, allowing them to speak and feel without relinquishing complete control. She had safeguards and rules—she would not let rage consume her or let vengeful spirits take the reins. She had learned that lesson well. Daisy followed silently, gaining back control of her body once they were close enough. The spirits had explained that their friends were to meet them on the beach with refugees but were met with ill fate. Antaam pirates, if you could call them that, had sunken their ship and were going to take them to be slaves. Madness cackled and spoke of cracking of bones, splitting of skulls, and...familiar faces?

Daisy gave Madness a look before trying to slowly shake away more of the fog that continued to cloud her mind. Within a moment, they hid among the trees lining the coast. There, Daisy could see clearly that this would not be an easy fight. Twenty-five antaam pirates stood, weapons gleaming beneath the crimson kiss of the rising sun. Behind them, fifteen captives knelt in the sand—elf, human, and qunari alike. Some sat defiant, their gazes hard, while others bowed their heads in silent resignation. Madness and Adventure murmured silently about their plans of help, but Daisy was already deep within her plan.

Before stepping onto the sand, Daisy raised her hands, weaving an illusion with magic. The air thickened, the shadows stretching unnaturally around her. Her form elongated, her fingers turned into clawed, blackened talons, and her eyes glowed with spectral, inhuman light. The whispers of the Fade amplified, swirling around her like the wails of the damned. From the vantage of the antaam pirates, what approached them from the jungle was no mere human—it was a monster born from nightmares.

"Let them go! They belong to me!" Daisy used magic to throw her voice, making it errie and echo along the shore.

"Come on out! Fight us, demon!" The pirates stiffened, some gripping their weapons tighter, others shifting uncertainly. One took an involuntary step back. Fear flickered in their expressions, uncertainty gripping them in their hands. It wasn't enough.

"Where are you going?!" The Spirit of Adventure pressed urgently while the Spirit of Madness merely laughed, coaxing her forward.

"To kill the antaam pirates who hold those people captive. Don’t worries, I’ll... hick... be fine." Daisy slurred, shaking her head to clear the fuzziness, though it did little good.

Then, with a slow, deliberate step, Daisy let the illusion flicker and twist, just enough to keep them in suspense before stepping fully into the open.

The jungle gave way to golden sands, her bare feet sinking slightly with every step. The scent of salt and blood thickened the air, warning of the carnage to come. The antaam leader, a hulking qunari with a face carved by old battles, sneered. "You think a drunken human and her foul magic can stop us?"

Daisy did not answer. She stepped forward, slow, deliberate, the wind catching the edges of her dark cloak, making it billow like the wings of a shadowed specter. With measured calm, she drove her staff into the sand. The earth trembled. Shadows coiled around her feet, slithering outward like ink in water. From the depths, skeletal warriors clawed their way free, their hollow eyes burning with spectral fire.

The antaam hesitated. Then, with a bellow, they charged.

Fools.

The battle erupted in a symphony of steel and sorcery. Daisy wove between them, necrotic energy crackling from her fingertips. A pirate lunged—she sidestepped, whispering a curse that sent him crumbling, his own shadow snaking up to choke the life from his throat.

A skeletal warrior met another attacker, its spectral blade driving deep into quivering flesh. A pirate swung wildly at her—she raised her hand, impaling him through the jaw with a flick of dark magic. Yet even as she fought, she knew that she would be in trouble if they charged all at once.

She called to the dead, and they answered.

The fallen antaam rose, their lifeless eyes turning on their former comrades. Panic rippled through the remaining pirates as their own slain brothers turned against them. The antaam leader roared, hoisting his Warhammer high. Before he could bring it down, Daisy let out a terrible, inhuman wail. The Fade surged, swirling into a necrotic storm that crackled and burned, consuming all in its path. The captain screamed in terror and pain as slowly his skin started to decay, turning black and green, melting away. The remaining pirates broke, their courage shattered, and fled into the wilds.

As the storm dissipated, Daisy swayed on her feet. Her breath was ragged. With a mere wave of her hand, the captives' bonds unraveled. "You are free," she murmured. "Go before the tide claims the dead."

The last echoes of battle faded, and the dead returned to their slumber beneath the sand one by one. Daisy, too, felt herself unraveling. Her body ached as though she had run for miles. Her limbs trembled from exhaustion, and the world tilted dangerously.

"By all the Gods of the dead... Daisy, is that you?" She turned, her vision swimming. A qunari stood before her, his face familiar yet blurred by the drunken haze still clouding her senses. But his voice—that voice she would recognize anywhere.

"Ti'Lan? That... you?" she whispered, the last shreds of strength slipping through her fingers like sand. Darkness swallowed her. She never felt herself falling, never felt the impact of the ground.

But she was caught.

Strong arms lifted her, cradling her against a broad chest. A low chuckle rumbled through the night. "Easy, sister. I have you." As she drifted into unconsciousness, she barely registered his following words, though they carried the weight of a grin. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others how drunk you got."

~oOo~

Lucanis felt like such a fool.

After leaving the pantry, he strode toward the walkway beside the kitchen, trying to steady his breath. He only realized then how tightly he had been holding it in, how his chest ached from restraint. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, but it did nothing to shake the burning fire beneath his skin.

Spite, ever-present, roiled with frustration in the back of his mind. Coward, the spirit snarled, its anger a reflection of his own. Lucanis ignored it. He had enough of his thoughts clawing at him.

Daisy deserved more.

More than an assassin tainted by a demon of Spite. More than a man whose hands had done far too much harm, whose past was stained with blood he could never wash away. Daisy, with her kindness, her patience, her warmth—she was light, and he was the shadow at her heels.

But Maker, he wanted to kiss her.

That moment had been perfect, painfully perfect. It was as if it was out of Bellara's serials that she was writing how her eyes met his, unwavering and filled with something unspoken but understood. The way she had answered him—not with fear, not with hesitation, but with certainty, with want. Every small inch she moved closer sent his heart into a frantic rhythm, a sound so loud in his ears he swore she must have heard it too. And then—

He froze.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close the space between them, to press his lips to hers, and finally let himself have this one thing. But the weight of it crushed him. If he kissed her, if he allowed himself even a sliver of what he longed for—what then? What happened when Spite reared its head at the wrong moment? What happened when the past he carried became a weight she had to bear? Spite had lost control and put one of his daggers against her throat. The fear that he could lose control could harm her...

He couldn’t do that to her.

So, instead of leaning in, instead of taking what he wanted, he pulled away. He left her standing there, looking at him with something he couldn’t bear to name. He told her he needed to clear his head and walked away. Like a fool. Like a man who did not know what to do with something precious when it was offered to him freely.

Gifts like her...

Lucanis braced himself against the wood railing, gripping it tight enough to make his knuckles ache. His hands curled into fists. He could still feel the warmth of her presence, the ghost of where their fingers had nearly brushed, the space between them so small he could have—should have—closed it.

Spite simmered, its presence crackling through his veins. She wanted you, it hissed, low and knowing. And you ran.

Lucanis closed his eyes. He knew.

And yet, despite the torment in his chest, despite the pull he could not fight, he still wasn’t sure if he had made the right choice. Because even now, as the cool fade air failed to steady him, all he wanted to do was turn around, find her, and finish what he couldn’t bring himself to start.

"Enough Spite. I don't want to hear more of it; I made a choice."

A foolish choice. Spite stood beside him, its presence a flickering distortion in the dim light, pressing close enough that Lucanis swore he could feel its breath—if the thing even breathed. Its sneer curled like a knife at the edges of his thoughts. She likes us. Wants us. And you let her go! Go. After. Her!

Lucanis winced as Spite’s voice crescendoed, each syllable pounding against his skull like hammer strikes. He pushed himself away from the railing, rolling his shoulders as if he could shake off the demon’s weight and the lingering regret clinging to his skin. He turned, forcing his feet to move, leading himself back into the kitchen, where the scent of smoldering embers and barrels of coffee beans greeted him.

The fire still burned low in the hearth, its golden light licking at the edges of the stone walls. The silence was thick, save for the occasional pop from the wood. The kitchen, once filled with the warmth of company, now felt empty. He had no hope that Daisy would still be here. That didn’t stop his pulse from leaping for a foolish second before the quiet confirmed what he already knew.

Disappointment gnawed at his ribs.

With a steady breath, he reached for the coffee grinder, pouring dark beans into the worn wooden bowl. The rhythmic scrape of the handle twisting against the coarse grounds gave his hands something to do, something to focus on other than Spite’s simmering irritation. The demon materialized fully before him, its form purple flickering with embers of its agitation. Anger was etched deep into its expression, its sharp features twisted in frustration. It muttered under its breath—dark, crackling words Lucanis refused to acknowledge. He kept his gaze downward, watching the rich, ground coffee collect in the vessel below.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Daisy. To the way she had looked at him, eyes searching, lips parted just so—an invitation, if only he had dared to take it. His fingers tightened around the mug as he poured steaming water over the grounds, watching the deep brown liquid swirl. A creak of the dining room doors pulled him from his trance. He blinked, realizing he had been staring into the fire, fingers curled around his cup like a lifeline.

"Seems like it's just you, me, and Emmrich tonight. The others have gone off with Rook for something." Lucanis turned as Davrin strode in, his usual easy manner in place, though his sharp gaze flicked over Lucanis with something keener. Assan followed at his side, the griffon letting out a short, expectant squawk. Lucanis absently ran a hand over its feathered head, earning a satisfied huff.

"They left?"

"Maybe an hour or so ago? I just ran into Emmrich, who told me." Davrin studied him. "Daisy didn’t tell you?"

Lucanis cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep his expression still, unreadable. "No, I haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she was researching with Emmrich." The lie slid out smoothly, easily—a believable one. Davrin didn’t buy it.

His brow furrowed, and Lucanis could feel the weight of scrutiny settling over him. "Look, Lucanis, I know we’re not on the best terms, but you sound off. Is everything alright? Is it Spite?" Lucanis exhaled slowly, fingers flexing around his cup. The warmth of the coffee did nothing to thaw the cold coiling beneath his ribs. Davrin crossed his arms, watching him closely, then tilted his head with a knowing smirk. "Ah. I see now. This isn’t just about Spite, is it?"

Lucanis stiffened slightly. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, feigning disinterest.

"Right, sure. Because you always look like a kicked mabari when someone leaves without telling you." Lucanis shot him a glare over the rim of his mug. "Let me guess," Davrin continued, undeterred. "It’s Daisy, isn’t it? You’ve got that whole brooding, ‘I could have kissed her but didn’t’ look about you. I bet you—" His words trailed off as realization dawned on his face. "Oh. Oh, I was joking, but... that’s it, isn’t it?"

Lucanis sighed, running a hand through his hair before setting his coffee down with more force than necessary. "Meirda, drop it, Davrin." Spite was beside Davrin, making crude gestures, which Lucanis rolled his eyes at.

"Gods, I was just messing with you, but you actually—" Davrin let out a low whistle, shaking his head with amusement. "Lucanis, you really are a piece of work. You like Daisy, but instead of doing anything about it, you just… skulk around in dark corners and wallow in self-loathing?"

"I don’t skulk."

"Oh, you absolutely skulk. Or brood. It’s like your second nature." Lucanis shot him another glare, but Davrin just grinned. "Look, I get it," Davrin said, his tone shifting from teasing to something softer. "She’s different. She has this whole kind-hearted, ‘probably too good for an assassin with a demon in his head’ thing. But if you think pushing her away is going to make things easier, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought."

Lucanis clenched his jaw. "It’s not that simple."

"It never is," Davrin agreed, shrugging. "But here’s the thing—if she really didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t care about you as much as she does. She wouldn't look at you like she does. And don’t even try to pretend you don’t know what I mean." Lucanis didn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw twitched. Davrin smirked.

"See? You do know. Not as blind as I thought."

Lucanis sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change anything." His voice turned hoarse, thick with something he couldn’t quite voice. "Daisy is… she’s light. She’s warmth, she’s kindness, even when she has every reason not to be. She looks at people and sees their worth, even when they don’t deserve it. He prays over the dead when they just tried to kill her." He let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. "And me? I’ve got blood on my hands that’ll never wash away. I’m...tainted, Davrin. I’ve been tainted for so long that I don’t even remember what being whole is like. And Spite—" He let out a humorless chuckle. "You think Daisy deserves a man who’s possessed by a demon? Who can’t even trust his own mind?"

Davrin leaned against the table, arms crossed. "You know, for someone who thinks so highly of her, you don’t actually give her much credit." Lucanis frowned, glancing up. Spite turned back to Davrin, glaring at the warden. "If Daisy is as strong and kind and good as you say, then don’t you think she’s capable of making her own damn decisions? Don’t you think she already knows what you are and cares about you anyway?"

Lucanis opened his mouth, then closed it. His chest ached, and for a moment, all he could think about was how Daisy looked at him in the pantry. The way her breath had hitched, how her fingers had rested on his chest, the warmth of her hand through his clothes. He had wanted to kiss her. Had wanted it so badly it hurt. But instead, he had pulled away. Just like he always did.

Davrin sighed, shaking his head. "Look, all I’m saying is—stop being an idiot. If you want her, do something about it. If you think she deserves better, be better." Davrin watched him carefully, then shook his head with a laugh. "You’re hopeless. But hey, if you ever decide to stop being a coward about it, let me know. I’d love to see what happens when you actually act like a person instead of a brooding shadow."

Lucanis shot him one last glare before picking up his coffee again, but Davrin just chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked off.

"You so like her," he called over his shoulder. "Yell if you need any help, assassin."

Lucanis groaned. This was going to be a long night.

~oOo~

Daisy felt like the dead.

Truly, like the dead.

Her skull throbbed with the force of a Mourn Watch guard hammer, each pulse a fresh wave of agony that made her groan into the scratchy fabric beneath her. The taste in her mouth was an unholy mix of stale wine, sand, and regret—like she had been chewing on old parchment dipped in seawater. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, dry and sluggish as she smacked her lips, immediately regretting it when nausea twisted in her gut.

From what she could tell she was residing in, the tent around her was stifling, the canvas trapping the heat of the morning sun, making the air thick and heavy. A dull glow of daylight filtered through the fabric, far too bright for her pounding head. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a pathetic whimper, rolling onto her side, only to feel sand shift beneath her. That was the second worst thing—sand. Everywhere. Stuck to her skin, gritted between her fingers.

Oh, Maker. She remembered. She had passed out on the beach.

Her stomach twisted as fragments of memory drifted back—staggering through the Rivan eluvains, the flickering glow of the Fade pressing against her mind, voices she wasn’t sure were real. She had run. From what, she wasn’t entirely sure. A face? A shadow? The past? It was all muddled in the thick haze of alcohol and exhaustion. She reached up, her fingers grazing her throat instinctively. It was too hot, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she swore she could feel the weight of chains that were no longer there. They had been gone for years, but in her drunken haze, the memory clung to her like a phantom pain. She clenched her fists tighter as if grounding herself in the feeling of sand slipping through her fingers would somehow bring her back to reality.

Outside, the rhythmic crashing of waves only made things worse, a constant reminder of the poor choices that had led her to this exact moment of misery. A distant noise—footsteps crunching on the sand, the tent's flap shifting in the breeze—made her groan and bury her face deeper into the makeshift pillow.

If anyone tried speaking to her right now, she might actually die.

“Well, now, I see that you aren’t dead.” Daisy cracked an eye open; her vision blurred and wobbly, but she recognized that voice—steady, warm, and tinged with an affectionate tone. The face hovering above her was familiar in a way that loosened the knot in her chest, a balm to the ache in her head. “Come now, little sister, drink this.”

A cup was pressed to her lips, and Daisy drank greedily, the cool liquid easing the desert dryness of her throat. She tried to gulp more than Ti’Lan allowed, chasing the brief relief, but he pulled the cup back with a soft chuckle. “Ti’Lan?” she croaked, her voice a rasp. “Is that really you?”

“A home in life, a berth in death. A house of many mansions. How long has it been? A year?” He set the cup down beside her makeshift bed and lowered himself to the sand beside her, his long limbs folding comfortably as if he’d sat by her side a thousand times before. “Gods, where did you come from? I did not expect you to rescue me when I asked the spirits to get help.”

“Was…drinking…” Daisy muttered, the admission slurring slightly.

“Oh, I can see that from how you reek of it—not to mention you fighting pirates drunk!” Ti’Lan’s voice rose, exasperated, and Daisy winced at the spike of pain his volume sent through her head. Immediately feeling bad, he softened, his expression shifting to one of gentle concern. “Sorry.” He reached out, and his hand threaded through her tangled hair, untangling a few knots with the tender familiarity of someone who’d done this since she was small. His touch was grounding, soothing, a reminder of simpler days when their biggest worries were stolen sweet rolls or whose turn it was to help with the washing.

Daisy blinked slowly, trying to piece together the tangled mess of memory and dream. “You...you were really in trouble?”

“I was,” Ti’Lan confirmed, his hand never stilling in its comforting strokes. “But it seems the spirits saw fit to send me a bedraggled, sand-covered sister instead of a rag-tag group of Lords.” His lips curled in a grin, eyes dancing with amusement. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d take you over anyone any day.”

A tiny, fragile smile broke through Daisy’s hangover misery. “I’d fight pirates for you any day. Just…maybe not while drunk.”

He laughed softly, the sound rolling like the waves outside. “I’d prefer that. But you did well despite the state you were in. You have to teach me that one spell at the end with the captain later.” He reached over to dab a cool cloth at her temple, soothing the sweat and grit. “Besides, when I saw it was you, I knew you'd be ok. You always come through when it matters.”

Daisy groaned again, rubbing her temples. “What were you even doing as a captive?”

Ti’Lan let out a slow breath, his expression turning more serious. “Helping the Lords of Fortune. We were smuggling people out—those who escaped the Antaam.” He leaned back slightly, absently tracing patterns in the sand. “Our ship was caught.”

Daisy pried open one eye, attempting to focus. “So… you were captured for helping people?”

“Essentially,” he said with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the only thing.” His tone grew hesitant, and she could tell something weighed on him. “There’s a matter I need to discuss with you—about one of the captives. A little Qunari girl.”

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of nausea rolled through her. “Can’t talk until the world stops spinning. But I promise to talk about her when I can...think clearly.”

Ti’Lan chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Rest up, little sister.” He reached out, ruffling her already messy hair with the same affectionate ease he always had. “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

She groaned in response, curling into the thin blankets, while he chuckled again and stood. As he slipped out of the tent, the scent of sea salt and cooling embers drifted in, mixing with the lingering haze of alcohol in her mind. Daisy exhaled slowly. Whatever he had to tell her could wait. For now, she just needed to survive her hangover. Daisy’s eyes fluttered closed, the tension in her body slowly unwinding under her brother’s gentle care. “I missed you,” she murmured, the confession slipping out like a secret.

“I missed you too,” Ti’Lan replied, his voice softening with an ache that mirrored her own. Feeling safe and loved, Daisy drifted back into the dark, the warmth of her brother’s presence anchoring her through the storm.

The next time Daisy woke from the darkness, the sky was painted in strokes of red and orange, the sun dipping low over the water. The salty breeze carried the mingling scents of roasting meat and the sand beneath her. Her head still ached, but the world wasn’t spinning nearly as much. She groaned, pushing herself upright, her fingers digging into the fabric of the tent for balance before she finally got to her feet.

Outside, the battle remnants had been cleaned up, and the remaining captives had formed a small camp. A few fires flickered against the twilight, and around the largest, Ti’Lan sat turning a spit, the savory scent of cooking meat wafting through the air. The soft murmurs of conversation filled the space, punctuated by occasional laughter—an attempt at normalcy after everything. Daisy’s gaze landed on Ti’Lan, who was calmly rotating the spit, his large frame steady and familiar. But what truly caught her attention was the tiny figure clinging to his legs. A little girl with silver hair and small, barely developed horns peeked out from behind him, her large eyes darting around curiously.

When Ti’Lan spotted Daisy, he grinned and waved her over. “About time you woke up. Hungry?”

"Starving." Daisy took a few steps forward, her legs still shaky but stronger than before. Her gaze dropped to the child, who pressed herself closer to Ti’Lan’s leg but continued to watch Daisy with quiet interest.

Daisy knelt, offering a gentle smile. "And who is this beautiful princess standing next to you?"

"This is Demihan, but everyone calls her Demi." Ti’Lan rested a large, protective hand on the girl's head, ruffling the soft strands of silver hair between her small, growing horns. “Demi, this is my little sister, Daisy. Can you say hi?”

Demi hesitated, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of Ti’Lan’s pants. After a long pause, she managed a small wave, her expression uncertain but curious.

“She’s still a little skittish,” Ti’Lan explained, watching the girl with something like affection—guarded but genuine.

Daisy chuckled. “That’s okay. The big teddy bear you’re holding onto was skittish, too. He used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms just so I could chase them away.”

Ti’Lan groaned, rolling his eyes. "Hey now, I remember you came to me a few times too."

“Yeah, the one time,” Daisy shot back playfully, winking at Demi. The little girl’s lips twitched, the first hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She slowly peeked out from behind Ti’Lan’s legs, her small horns catching the last light of the setting sun. Daisy took a moment to take her in properly—she could be no more than four, her horns still round and stubby, her gray skin peppered with freckles.

Daisy sat down on the sand, stretching her legs in front of her. “I’m guessing she’s the one you wanted to talk about?”

Ti’Lan exhaled, his expression shifting to something more serious. He glanced down at Demi, his hand resting lightly on her head. “Demi is... special.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow, looking between her brother and the little girl. “Special, how?”

Ti’Lan hesitated before answering, his expression unreadable, his fingers tightening briefly on Demi’s head. “She’s a mage.”

Daisy exhaled sharply through her nose. “Yes, and?”

“I need you to take her home with you.”

Daisy blinked, her exhaustion giving way to sharp irritation. She ran a hand down her face before fixing Ti’Lan with a look. “I can't take her with me, Ti'Lan.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you can,” he said, his voice edged with impatience. “You bring kids home all the time.”

Daisy scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ti’Lan… when was the last time you were home?” Her tone shifted, more pointed now, a warning laced beneath her words. “I haven’t seen you in over a year.”

His jaw tensed, and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “I shared a few letters with Alilya and Ma, but… not for a while.”

Daisy let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Of course you haven’t.” She shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Listen to me, I was sent away from the Mourn Watch. There was an uprising—a war called the War of Banners. I was… able to stop it, but it resulted in me being practically banished. I can’t go home until they allow me.”

Ti’Lan’s eyes widened. “What? That can’t be true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Daisy said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “And you would know that if you ever bothered to check-in. But no, you’re off doing gods-know-what, and I’m the one left to pick up the pieces because that's what I do. I fix everything and continue to put back pieces that should remain broken, but I'm too stubborn to say no.”

Ti’Lan had the decency to look guilty, but Daisy didn’t stop. “And for your information, brother dear, for the past year, I’ve been helping Varric Tethras hunt down Solas—yes, that Solas—the one who just happens to be Fen’Harel, an ancient elven mage trying to bring the Veil down and return the world to the time of the ancient elves. And guess what? I interrupted his ritual! That little act of heroism unleashed two elven gods—Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain—from their prison, and now Solas is trapped in the Fade.” She threw up her hands. “And the best part?! Almost every time I sleep, I get to see his ugly, annoying face staring at me from the other side.”

Ti’Lan was staring at her like she had grown a second head. “Daisy…”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Daisy gestured around them wildly. “The spirits you called to help found me leaving an eluvian, which—by the way—is an ancient mirror that lets people travel through the Crossroads inside the Fade itself. My friends had to drag me away because of—well, let’s just say reasons—and I left because I’ve been remembering things from that time.” She let out a breath, rubbing her temples. Ti’Lan was silent, his brows furrowed in concern, but Daisy wasn’t in the mood for his judgment or shock. She was exhausted and aching, and now, somehow, he expected her to take in a kid when she barely had control of her own life.

She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. “So tell me, dear brother, where exactly in that mess do you see room for me to take in a child?”

Demi pressed herself closer to Ti’Lan, watching Daisy with wide, nervous eyes. Daisy felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside—she needed Ti’Lan to understand that this wasn’t a simple request. Ti’Lan exhaled, running a hand over his horn. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said dryly, “Shit.” She let herself fall back onto the sand, the fine grains sticking to her sweat-dampened skin. The world was still tilting slightly, but the cool breeze from the ocean helped settle her stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a long, tired sigh. “I can send a letter home and see if someone could meet us at the Necropolis, but that’s as far as I’ve been allowed to go. The higher nobles still hate me, and I still hate them. I saved lives, and what do I get? A big fat ‘fuck you,’ as Iishka would say.”

Ti’Lan let out a quiet chuckle. “Gods, Iishka would curse them to the Void and back.”

“She probably already has,” Daisy muttered, rubbing her temples. Ti’Lan sat beside her, Demi still clinging to his leg as he absentmindedly ran a hand over her silver hair. The little girl watched Daisy carefully, trying to figure out if she was safe.

“Well, where are you staying?” he asked after a moment. “If it’s okay, I’d like to stay with Demi until we hear back. I promised her father I would look after her.”

Daisy cracked an eye open, glancing at the girl again. Demi’s tiny hands were curled into the fabric of Ti’Lan’s trousers, but her gaze had softened just a bit. “Everyone else gone?” Daisy asked.

“Yeah,” Ti’Lan confirmed, his expression darkening. “I promised I would watch over her and give her training once she was old enough. She’s sensitive, Daisy—really sensitive. She can sense spirits before even I can.”

Daisy lifted a brow. “That’s impressive.” She waved a hand vaguely. “And everyone else? Where did they go?”

Ti’Lan exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “No idea. We were supposed to dock at Kont-aar, but I’m not even sure where we are now.”

Daisy sighed, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Well, good thing I’m here then. I can escort everyone somewhere safe. My friend Isabela will be able to get them where they need to go.” She looked to Ti’Lan then. “After that, I can take you to the Lighthouse. That’s where my friends and I have been staying. It’s the safest place for us while we figure out how to stop the gods.”

Ti’Lan’s brows lifted slightly. “Gods… gods are real, then.”

Daisy let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, you have no idea. And they’re ugly.”

Ti’Lan snorted, handing her a piece of roasted meat. “Ugly, huh?”

“Elgar’nan looks like he was carved from rage and bad decisions, and Ghilan’nain? She’s a nightmare with too many tentacles and not enough mercy.” Daisy took a bite of the meat, sighing at the taste. “And those are just the two I know of."

Ti’Lan shook his head, staring into the fire. “Shit.”

Daisy’s nerves buzzed beneath her skin, an uneasy restlessness that refused to fade. From what she could gather, it had been a full day—maybe two—since she had left the Lords. Time had slipped through her fingers like sand, and though she had no way of knowing what was happening back at the Lighthouse, she prayed that nothing catastrophic had erupted in her absence. She ran through the plan again in her head, trying to find some comfort in its structure. If all went well, getting everyone through the eluvian would take half a day, and then she could make the return trip to the Lighthouse before nightfall. Ti’Lan and Demi would bunk with her until she received a letter back from her mothers. They would be safe there—at least, safer than wandering unfamiliar lands with nowhere to go.

The rest of the night was spent huddled close to the fire, laughter breaking through the heavy weight of exhaustion. Daisy and Ti’Lan took turns sharing stories, weaving images of mischief, daring escapes, and childhood memories. Demi hung onto every word, her silver eyes wide, her small hands clenched in excitement. When Daisy exaggerated a tale about Ti’Lan getting stuck in a tree while trying to impress a girl, the little girl let out a breathless giggle, covering her mouth as if she wasn’t supposed to laugh.

The warmth of family, of shared history, settled something deep in Daisy’s bones. By the time sleep came, Demi was nestled between them, her tiny frame curled close to Daisy’s side, her fingers tangled in Daisy’s shirt as if afraid she might disappear by morning. Daisy lay awake for a while, listening to the rhythmic sound of Ti’Lan’s breathing, the soft crackle of dying embers, and the distant hush of the waves against the shore. She shut her eyes, willing herself to rest, knowing that tomorrow would come too quickly.

~oOo~

The morning was a blur of movement, tension, and unspoken emotion.

The camp stirred before the sun had fully risen, the air thick with the scent of smoldering ashes and damp sea breeze. People moved with a quiet urgency, rolling up bedrolls, securing packs, and dismantling makeshift shelters. The weight of departure pressed down on them, heavy but necessary.

Daisy moved through the motions, checking supplies and ensuring no one was left behind, all while keeping a careful eye on Demi and Ti’Lan. The little girl clung to her brother sleepily, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists, her freckled face scrunching as she tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep. Daisy exhaled slowly. Today would be long, but if everything went according to plan, it would at least be the first step toward something better for all of them.

The journey back was slow but steady, and as the hours passed, Daisy felt the remnants of her hangover gradually loosen their grip on her. The sluggishness remained, clinging to her limbs like a heavy fog, but at least the pounding in her skull had dulled to a manageable throb. The spirits of Madness and Adventure lingered close, their presence a steady, guiding hum. They whispered warnings when needed, alerting her to any dangers that lurked ahead.

Thankfully, only one threat stood in their way. A wandering group of antaam had blocked their path, but they barely posed a challenge. Daisy and Ti’Lan made short work of them, their movements fluid and practiced, a silent rhythm between siblings who had fought side by side before. By the time they reached the eluvian, Daisy felt the first stirrings of relief settle in her chest. Handing Demi over to Ti’Lan, she stepped forward first, placing a cautious hand against the cool, glass-like surface of the mirror—the magic within thrummed beneath her touch, sending a ripple through the Veil as she passed through. The world bent and twisted around her, and then—silence. The Crossroads stretched before her, an eerie and endless expanse of pathways and ancient structures. She scanned the area; her muscles were tensed, her senses sharp, but nothing stirred.

Satisfied, she turned back, watching as her brother hesitantly stepped through with Demi clutched in his arms. His face morphed from suspicion to awe, his golden eyes widening as he took in the surreal landscape. "By the gods…" he whispered.

Daisy smirked. "Worth the trip, huh?"

He huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve been traveling through this?”

“Among other things,” she said, guiding them forward toward the Hall of Valor eluvian. The short walk was enough to allow Ti’Lan to gather himself, though his grip on Demi remained firm as if he feared she might slip through his fingers in this strange realm. What Daisy didn’t expect was Isabella storming at her when she approached the main area. The pirate queen did a double take once she saw her, an uncharacteristic look of concern shadowing her usually mischievous expression. Isabella’s sharp eyes locked onto her, scanning her from head to toe.

“Where the hell have you been?” Isabella’s voice was edged with worry, but her posture remained guarded. “Your friends have been looking for you everywhere. You ran out of the Hall like you saw a damn ghost, and then—nothing. No word. Nothing.”

Daisy parted her lips, struggling to find the right words, but Ti’Lan spoke before she could. “She ran because of me.” His voice was steady, carrying the weight of quiet authority. “She found out I was in danger and didn’t hesitate. She had no time to waste.” Daisy swallowed, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough. Close enough to shield her from the real answer—the one she couldn’t bring herself to say. That she had run not just because of her brother’s plight but because of the face she had seen. A face from a long-dead memory, one that shattered her resolve and sent her fleeing like a coward.

She had felt the weight of chains that no longer existed, their phantom grip tightening around her throat, dragging her back into the abyss she had spent years clawing her way out of. How could she explain that?

She couldn’t.

Instead, she exhaled, forcing a wry smirk onto her lips. “You know me, Isabella. Always running headfirst into trouble.”

The pirate queen didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let it go with a shake of her head. “You’re a damn headache, you know that?”

Daisy grinned. “Wouldn’t want to be anything less.”

Thankfully, Isabella had other priorities. When she learned of the refugees, she immediately offered her help, her usual roguish charm slipping back into place as she took command of the situation.

With a plan in place, Daisy let herself breathe. Just for a moment. Because soon enough, she would have to face everything she had been running from. As Isabella took charge, she wasted no time in assessing the newcomers. Her sharp gaze flicked over Ti’Lan, appraising him with obvious interest. A slow, knowing smirk curled her lips as she sauntered closer, placing a hand on her hip.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. “Daisy, you didn’t tell me you had such a charming company. You keeping him all to yourself?”

Daisy groaned, already regretting every choice that led to this moment. “Isabella, don’t—”

“Oh, hush, sweetheart. I’m just being friendly.” She turned her full attention to Ti’Lan, her smirk widening. “So, tell me, tall, dark, and handsome, do you happen to have a taste for pirate queens?”

Ti’Lan blinked, momentarily taken aback, before chuckling. “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m very married.”

Daisy nearly choked on her own relief as Isabella feigned a wounded gasp, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, tragic! Another good one taken.” She sighed dramatically, but the twinkle in her eye showed she wasn’t truly disappointed. “Tell me, does your wife happen to be the jealous type?”

Ti’Lan smirked. “Extremely.”

“Shame.” Isabella winked before stepping back, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, if she ever decides to throw you overboard, do let me know.”

Daisy rubbed her temples, her annoyance peaking. “Are you done?”

Isabella grinned. “For now.” She gave Ti’Lan a final, exaggerated once-over before turning back to business.

Ti’Lan simply shook his head, amused but unfazed. “Is she always like this?” he asked, glancing at Daisy.

“You have no idea.” Daisy crossed her arms, eyeing Ti’Lan with open suspicion. “But before we leave—married? Since when?”

Ti’Lan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “For a little while now.”

Daisy gawked at him. “A little while? You’ve been gone for over a year! When exactly were you planning on telling your favorite sister?”

"You are certainly not my favorite." He shrugged, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I figured I’d tell you when I saw you.”

Daisy threw her hands up. “Unbelievable! Do I at least know this person?”

Ti’Lan’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smirk. “You might.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you’re getting for now,” he teased.

Daisy groaned in frustration. “Oh, you are horrible.”

Isabela, still within earshot, let out a low whistle. “Mystery spouses? How intriguing. Now I have to know who was lucky enough to tie this one down.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Ti’Lan, but he only chuckled.

Daisy jabbed a finger at him. “We will be talking about this later.”

Ti’Lan grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

The journey back to the Lighthouse was eerily quiet, the hum of the Fade surrounding Daisy and Ti’Lan as the boat carried them through the shifting mists. The air crackled with magic, the reflection of distant, shattered eluvians flickering in the distance like dying stars. Demi clung to Ti’Lan’s cloak, her small hands gripping tightly as she peeked over his shoulder, wide-eyed at the strange, weightless movement of the boat. Daisy, still drained from the remnants of her hangover, pressed a hand to her forehead and exhaled slowly, trying to center herself. As they neared the Lighthouse’s dock, the familiar sight of its ruined stone archway wrapped in roots was a relief. Daisy stepped out first, her boots crunching on the gravel path leading to the main courtyard. Daisy helped Demi out of the boat first, holding her tightly while trying to keep her distracted until Ti'Lan stood beside her.

Just ahead, movement caught her eye. Two figures—Lucanis and Emmrich—emerged from the opposite dock, deep in conversation. Daisy’s heart leaped at the sight of Lucanis, a mix of relief and something deeper settling in her chest. She took a step forward, calling out, “Lucanis! Emmrich!” She handed Demi off to Ti'Lan.

She barely had a moment to breathe before he was suddenly there. One second, he was across the courtyard, and the next—Lucanis, or perhaps Spite, had closed the distance in the blink of an eye. His arms wrapped around her with a force that nearly knocked the air from her lungs, holding her tight—as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. The sheer intensity of it stunned her, and for a moment, all she could do was grip his coat, grounding herself in his warmth.

“Are you alright?” Lucanis’s voice was rough and urgent, with the faintest tremor beneath it. His breath was warm against her temple, and his grip was unrelenting.

Daisy blinked up at him, her hands instinctively coming up to cup his face, thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of his jaw. His skin was cool to the touch, his warm brown eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place—relief, concern, and something raw beneath it all. “I’m fine,” she murmured, searching his face. “Are you? Has something happened to Treviso? Is everyone ok?” For a moment, he just stared at her as if committing her to memory, as if he hadn’t been sure he’d see her again. Then, finally, he exhaled, his shoulders loosening just a fraction, but he didn’t let go.

Lucanis gripped Daisy so tightly that it almost hurt, his arms like iron bands around her as if he were afraid she might slip through his fingers. His breathing was uneven, and she could feel the tremor in his body as he held onto her.

“Daisy,” he rasped, his voice raw with something she couldn’t quite name—fear, relief, anger, all tangled together. “Where the hell have you been?” Lucanis’s grip was firm, tense, his fingers pressing just a little too hard into Daisy’s arms as he held her. He was breathing steadily, but there was something controlled about it, too measured—like he was forcing himself to stay composed. His dark brown eyes flickered over her, sharp and assessing, taking in every detail—her disheveled state, the exhaustion lining her face, the way she swayed just slightly from the remnants of her hangover. “You vanished,” he said, his voice low and taut. “No word. No sign. Just—gone.”

Daisy met his gaze, trying not to flinch under the weight of it. She could feel the tension in his grip, the effort it took for him to keep his touch from bruising. Lucanis was always careful, always in control—but right now, that control felt like it was on the verge of snapping. “I had to,” she said, barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t—”

Lucanis’s fingers twitched against her arms before he exhaled sharply through his nose. “You ran,” he muttered like he was trying to make sense of it. “You never run.”

Daisy swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Not knowing if there was anything she could say that would make a difference. Then Lucanis’s gaze flickered past her, his body going still as he finally took note of Ti’Lan standing at her side. His grip on Daisy loosened slightly, but the tension in his frame only deepened. “Who,” Lucanis said slowly, his voice like a blade sliding from its sheath, “is that?”

Daisy barely had time to open her mouth before Ti’Lan, ever the opportunist, clapped a hand on her shoulder and grinned. “Me? Oh, I’m Daisy’s husband.”

Daisy choked. “Ti’Lan—what the fuck?!”

Lucanis went completely still. His eyes darkened, a flicker of purple flashed before it disappeared, his expression unreadable—but there was something almost lethal in how his jaw tightened. His fingers flexed at his sides like he was resisting the urge to reach for a weapon. Ti’Lan, the absolute menace that he was, just grinned wider. “What? No ‘dear husband’ for your beloved spouse?”

Daisy smacked his arm hard. “I swear to every god listening, I will drown you in the ocean.”

Ti’Lan finally laughed, holding up his one free hand in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—she’s my sister.” He winked at Lucanis. “Though if you saw the look on your face just now—priceless.”

Lucanis exhaled slowly through his nose. “Charmed,” he said flatly.

Daisy groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Lucanis just crossed his arms, glancing between them. “So this is your brother?”

Ti’Lan extended a hand. “Ti’Lan. A pleasure.”

Lucanis eyed the offered hand, then, after a moment, shook it briefly before releasing it. His gaze flickered back to Daisy, unreadable. “We’re going to talk later.”

Daisy sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” Before Daisy could recover from the absolute humiliation of Ti’Lan’s little joke, another voice cut through the tension.

“By the spirits. Ti’Lan Ingellvar.” Daisy turned to see Emmrich standing behind them, arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing. His usual stern expression softened only slightly, though his tone carried something bordering on approval.

Ti’Lan straightened, his posture shifting instinctively into something more formal. “Professor Emmrich. It’s been some time.”

Emmrich gave a slow nod. “It has. Last I heard, you were working with Professor Klous. I take it that didn’t go as planned?”

Ti’Lan exhaled through his nose. “That would be putting it lightly.” He hesitated, then inclined his head. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t expect to find you among Daisy’s allies. I thought Mourn Watchers never leave Nevarra?”

Emmrich arched a brow. “Some of us do travel. And I didn’t expect one of my more promising students to turn up needing rescue. Life is full of surprises.”

Daisy, at this point, was entirely done. She had reached her limit between Lucanis, Ti’Lan’s nonsense, and now Emmrich sizing up her brother like a disappointed father figure. With a dramatic sigh, she shifted Demi in her arms and turned on her heel. “I swear to every spirit listening before I deal with any of this—any of you—I am having a bath.” She pointed a firm finger at Ti’Lan, Lucanis, and Emmrich. “You can all stand here and analyze each other to death, but I smell like a damn sewer of Minrathous, and I refuse to do anything else until that changes.”

Ti’Lan merely nodded. “Understood.”

Lucanis gave the slightest twitch of his lips but said nothing.

Emmrich, however, smirked faintly. “Still as dramatic as ever, I see.”

Daisy didn’t bother looking back. “And still dealing with too many men talking at once.” With that, she strode off toward the Lighthouse, Demi tucked securely against her chest, leaving them behind to their quiet assessments and unspoken judgments.

[solaestial]

Flashback, Francesca ♫ ☁

[the-heron]

he probably broke up a few fights between fitz and crozier right? probably? that's the only excuse i have for this

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[noosayog]

[3:47 pm] ft miya osamu

wc: 700

--

When you slam open Atsumu’s bedroom door and plop yourself onto the carpet next to him, he barely looks up from his phone. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You lay belly down on the floor and scream into the worn fuzz of the carpet. 

“Gross. You know our bare, unwashed feet walk on this floor right?” 

He offers you a pillow and you take it, squishing it between the floor and your face. Atsumu waits for your breath to run out. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Atsumuuuuu…” you bemoan. “I’m going through a crisis.” 

He says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone but you can tell you’ve garnered some of his interest. 

“I have a secret. Like one that I can’t tell anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s so shameful. I’ve been keeping it to myself for, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I bet I couldn’t guess what it is.” The sarcasm is completely lost on you. 

“Yeah. You’d make fun of me. It’d be material for you to tease me for a lifetime,” you pause, take a deep breath. “I-

“-have a big fat crush on my brother?” 

You gape. “What?” 

He looks up from his phone. He blink at you, like you’re any simpleton. “You,” he says slowly, punctuating each word, ”have a big, fat, embarrassing, crutching, debilitating crush on my brother.” 

“I didn’t even realize you knew so many big words-”

“What?” 

The two of you freeze up. 

“‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaims. “Thought you weren’t gonna be back until later tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

He gives no other explanation. You stay still, hoping that if you don’t move or breathe, he won’t notice you. The silence stretches.

“Ohhh.. kay. Well, I better go. You kids-”

You jolt awake at that, in disbelief that Atsumu would flee alone after what he’s done.

“I’ll go with!” You turn and run, making monumental efforts to avoid a dark eyes trained on you. 

You’re about to squeeze past when a hand slams against the doorframe, arm now blocking off your exit. Osamu stares hard at you while your gaze stays glued to the exit beyond, though it’s more like you’re staring at his bicep which is now stationed at your eye level. 

“I’m just gonna go…” you hear Atsumu mumble, ducking under Osamu’s arm barrier, stealing your escape route. 

“Jackass-” you mumble.

“Hey.” 

The low voice comes from right above your head.

“Osamu,” you greet, still staring at his arm. “I gotta go. I have plans-”

A finger comes up to lift your jaw. It’s careful, but still forceful. When your eyes finally meet his, the one finger turns into two which grip your chin in place. 

“Was what Atsumu said true?” 

It takes a lot for you to hold back a stutter. “Sounds like you heard him loud and clear to me,” you say, ready to slap his hand away. 

“I did.”

“Then why are you still asking-” 

“If it’s true,” he leans down, talking slowly. It makes you start to hyperventilate. You need a paper bag or something. “I don’t wanna hear it from my stupid brother.” 

His eyes are mesmerizing, captivating. Not even the many, many years of knowing him dulls the effect of his straightforward gaze on you. You think you hear someone concede, “it’s true.” 

“What’s true?” he whispers. He’s so close you feel his words ghost your mouth.

Autopilot talks. “That I have a big fat crush on you.” 

He eats up the next millimeter of space. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

Suddenly, his neck is caged inside of your arms and you’re licking up his familiar minty breath and surely this all isn’t your doing because your brain is still catching up. 

His smile widens against your lips and you can feel the smugness radiate off him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, then.” 

That clears the fog. You shove his shoulders away and try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t go very far.

“Why?” you demand. 

He kisses you again. “‘Cause my brother’s got a big mouth.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Osamu takes it as an invitation to slot his face better against yours. 

His kiss almost makes you forget your train of thought, but that’s okay because he answers your question anyway. 

“And he probably would’ve blabbed that I have a big fat crush on you too.”

[aajjks]

tw/ hórny èx bf, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum if you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna

[scap34]

No one touches what’s yours ♡

sub! sugar baby! Toji x sadistic! rich! dom! younger! male! reader

warnings: cussing, mild daddy kink, oral sex, dirty talk, degradation, implied sex, mild manipulation, mention of murder

Another shitty gala. What was this one for? A charity? Who even cared? If half the money wasted on flaunting wealth actually went to the cause, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t even be a need for charity anymore.

Instead, it was just another popularity contest. And lucky him, you happened to be the star of the show—the hot, rich jock everyone loved to worship.

What did that make him? Your cheerleader? 

Toji scowled as he downed the wine in his glass. Expensive, yet it tasted like shit. He’d already had three in the last half hour, and the buzz was barely there—a waste of both time and money.

But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was all the eyes on you. The overly flattering tone, and greedy eyes people looked at you with. His fingers itched for his blade. To paint the shiny white floor red with their blood. 

You were his. So why the hell were people so fucking close to you?

Then your cold gaze met his, and for a moment, that disinterested look melted into faint amusement. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him, leaving behind a trail of disappointed murmurs and bitter faces, none daring to voice their complaints aloud. 

Toji stayed rooted in place, arms crossed, waiting for you to come to him. When you finally did, he didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Why the hell did you drag me to this?” he grumbled, his tone bordering on petulant—not that he’d ever admit it outright.

You had the audacity to chuckle, a soft, amused sound that only annoyed him more. “I didn’t.” You replied smoothly. “I told you, you wouldn't like it, but you insisted on coming anyway.”

Did he say that? Yes. 

Did he care? No.

“What was I supposed to do? Sit around at home like some miserable housewife?” He snapped back. 

You didn’t respond immediately, but the gleam in your eyes said everything. It was that look—the one you got right before one of your ideas. The kind that left him sore in all the right places and utterly, blissfully wrecked. 

Was it the housewife comment? Fuck, would you care about fucking him here? 

“Yeah, baby? Need your husband to make you happy?” you practically purred, your voice low and husky, dripping with amusement.

The tone alone had him shifting in place, a rush of heat racing down his body. Damn tux was too tight, but he knew better than to blame it on the suit. Knowing you, the control freak you were, you’d probably had it tailored perfectly to his measurements ages ago. Made perfectly to hug every curve of his body, all on display for your eyes.

Getting a fucking boner right now would like public exposure. 

You must have been rubbing off on him, cause the thought only served to make him more aroused.

“Y/N! What a delight to see you here!”

Your eyes shifted lazily from Toji to the man approaching, your expression unreadable. He was in his late forties, with hair that was clearly dyed to hide the gray creeping in—an attempt to cling to his youth. Everything about him screamed smug, from his tailored suit to the self-assured smirk plastered across his face.

The man practically radiated envy as he took you in. Of course he did. You were everything he wasn’t—young, rich, and devastatingly handsome. Flawless in a way that made people resent you the moment you walked into a room. And you were all his. 

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” he said, voice dripping with fake humility, “but luckily, I managed to find a spot in my schedule. I’m sure you didn’t have that problem. After all, you always attend these things, don’t you?”

He spoke loud enough for others nearby to hear, as if trying to gain some kind of upper hand in the conversation. 

You didn’t look fazed by it. The coldness in your eyes was sharp, daunting even as your lips curled into a fake, practiced smile.

“Isn’t it customary for the host to attend their own gala?” Your words were curt and polite to the point of biting cold. Throwing his words right back at him with chilling precision. 

Toji could almost hear the man’s teeth grind together in outrage at being one upped in the rich people dick measuring contest. Not that you were playing along. You didn’t need to. He could attest to how big your dick was. 

He let out a huff of laughter. The man’s eyes landed on him. The annoyance in his eyes shifted to interest as he took in Toji’s body. The tux, obviously not doing anything to hide his body. 

If this had happened anywhere else, he would’ve beaten the shit out of him. But this was your fancy gala, surrounded by those rich assholes who eyed your wealth like pesky flies. He wasn’t stupid enough to mess up your business. You’d be pissed at him, and not in a good way.

“And who is this? Your date?” The man’s slimy gazed trailed down his body. Toji had to resist the urge to shove a wine glass into his throat. 

“Yes. This is Toji.” You replied seemingly unbothered but he could see the way annoyance crept into your eyes. The way you shifted slightly closer to him. You didn’t bother introducing the man to him like you couldn’t bother with it. 

Toji bit down on his tongue, fighting the smug smile that threatened to tug at his lips. The man wasn’t important? Good, he didn’t want to play nice anyway. Toji’s eyes didn’t leave you. 

Fuck. He didn’t think you could get hotter. But you were hell bent on proving him wrong weren’t you? 

The confident, uninterested attitude of your that pissed everyone off was such a fucking turn on. Why the hell were you so hot? 

Your eyes met Toji’s heated look. Your eyes rovered down his body, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “My sugar baby.” You added on as an afterthought. 

He hated you. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. That confident smug gleam in your eyes. You sipped your wine with a smug smile. 

Damn you. You had fucked him before coming here. So why was he getting horny again? He got less boners as a teenager during puberty. 

“Then do you mind if I have a taste? What’s a bit of sharing between business partners?” The man’s slimy voice cut between the tension. 

Your smile disappeared in a flash. Before he could react, you had an arm around his waist. A possessive hand pulling him to you. Half his body pressed against your warmth.

“He’s not a toy.” You half snarled the polite facade in your face slipping. Your arm wrapped around Toji’s waist, a possessive gesture. 

Toji’s mind short circuited at the firm possessive touch. All he could hear was his heart thumping in his chest, and feel your firm muscles against his. Your fingers felt like a brand, marking him, claiming him as yours. 

He knew he was yours. But this just cemented it. It wasn’t something that had been there but never acknowledged anymore. It was real. He was yours. And you were his. 

He barely remembered anything past the man paleing at the thunderous look on your face. Stuttering half apologies even as his face burned with embarrassment and anger. Leaving as soon as possible. 

Toji didn’t give a fuck about him anymore. 

The innocent touch of your hand on his waist, made heat pool in his stomach. Your gesture was possessive, and demanding. He loved it. 

Despite the fact that he could have easily defended himself, or even killed that scumbag, this was better. You defending him with possessive anger burning in your eyes. A scowl on your lips as you protect him. This was so much better. 

He didn’t even notice when you led him out the hall. Only when your eyes met his, did he kiss you. Pushing you up against the wall, body grinding against yours. 

His lips pressed against yours, hungry for more. You easily took back control, after your initial surprise. Kissing back ruthlessly, plundering Toji’s mouth. Fucking his mouth with your tongue. 

He pulled away panting softly, and leaned his body against yours. The hard line of his erection pressing against your thighs. He resisted the urge to grind against you. 

You recovered quickly, a sadistic smile spreading on your lips. “Hard from a kiss, baby?” You cooed, your hand moving to cup his clothed cock. Your thumb flicked the head of his cock. The movement had him moaning, expensive fabric rubbing against his sensitive head in delicious ecstasy 

“It’s your fault.” He whined, shifting his body to hump your thigh, more dog in heat than an experienced killer. Need burned in his body like a drug. He wanted you. Wanted your cock in his hole, taking what was yours. Making him yours inside and out. 

“What a needy slut.” Your eyes were dark, all consuming. He wanted you so fucking bad. He humped against your thigh, pants falling for his kiss swollen lips. “Need to be fucked that bad?”

“Yes,” he practically whined. The thought of your cock had him salivating. His hips rolling against yours. You didn’t even look bothered, the dark look in your eyes only gave it away. 

“My needy cock whore,” you cooed lowly, your tone anything but sweet. “Don’t worry, daddy will fuck you good.” The nickname and the way your fingers squeezed his ass, had him melting into your arms like putty. 

“Mhmm yes please.”

…

“Who was that guy anyway?” He asked suddenly, a few days after the gala. You looked over at him, your fingers paused typing. All your attention on him, he almost wanted to change the topic, just so your focus stayed on him.  

A live horse race played on the tv. Like a typical day, you spent your time working near him, like the possessive asshole you were.

“What guy?” 

“That asshole who tried to hit on me.” He said vaguely unsure how to describe him. All he could remember was getting fucking into the sheets. Your voice muttering praises into his ear each time you started a new round. 

“Him? Don’t worry about it. I got rid of him.” You said turning back to typing on your computer. He blinked at you incedulously. That was it?

You got rid of him? 

“What,” his throat felt dry, he licked his lips. “Did you do?” He didn’t even know what he was expecting to hear. 

You didn’t even look away from your laptop to answer. “Exposed a few scandals and destroyed his company. His reputation and business are gone now.” You retorted coldly, working on your laptop.

He blinked at you, dazed, bewildered by your words. He knew you were cruel. The words tycoon most commonly used with you. You had to be cruel to make it to the top at such a young age. He knew that too. But it felt different experiencing it firsthand. You’d destroyed someone’s business and reputation for him.

He didn’t want to bring up that he could take care of himself. That he was the sorcerer killer. A weak human was nothing to him. He’d been taunted all his life for being the black sheep of the Zen’in family. For running away. For all the money he lost gambling. 

But you were different. You were a bastard. He knew that. You’d humiliate him. Push his body to the limit. But you’d also caress his cheeks and praise him. He was yours and you found nothing wrong with him. You were an oddity he didn’t mind.

He tugged your computer away from you. You let him, looking a bit bemused. He gently placed it on the table and straddled your thighs, his knees on either side of you.

His hard cock pressed against yours. You looked up at him with a raised brow. Your hands wrapped around his waist, rubbing circles. He grinded down on your cock, making your breath hitch, eyes darkening with lust. 

“Toji? What are you doing?” You asked huskily. Your hands encouraged his hips as he grinded down. Your cock rapidly growing harder. 

“Nothing,” he replied mischievously. His hands ran up his thigh, and disappeared under his shirt. Under your hungry gaze he played with his chest. Moaning when he pinched his dusty pink nipple, the pain mixed with pleasure.

“Yeah? How about I give you something to do then baby?” you muttered huskily. Your hands held his hips as you smirked. “Why don’t you suck my cock, baby?” 

His grinding nearly stopped if it wasn’t for your hands moving his hips, in slow circles. His cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. 

Suck your dick? He’d never done that before. But he couldn't help but want it. The idea made him harder. 

You could see his reluctance and palmed his clothed cock. “Be a good boy, Toji and suck me off.” He flushed darker, at your blunt words. His cock strained against his flimy pants, pre-cum smeared onto it. 

He nodded weakly. There wasn’t any chance he’d refuse anyway. He was weak for you.

…

“I can’t,” he sobbed, around your cock. The sound sent bolts of pleasure. Red marks on your thighs, where your baby dug his fingers in too hard. The pain barely registered to you. Not when the pleasure was so strong. 

You held back a smirk and frowned. “Already baby? I haven’t even cum yet.” Toji let out another frustrated sob. The sound reverberated through you making you bite back a groan.

“Please please ple’se can’t,” he begged, rubbing his cheek against your cock like a puppy. Like it would make you give in. You wouldn’t say it’s Toji’s fault for not making you cum. That was all you. Making him take a dildo as he sucked you off. You conveniently forget to tell it was also a vibrator. He’d came immediately when the vibrations started. And again when you increased it. 

The view didn’t help you. Fat pecs bouncing with each movement, trembling thighs parted lewdly, showing off his useless cock. His own cum staining his thighs messily. You had half a mind to turn him around so you can see the way his hole took the toy. 

But then you’d miss the dumb slutty look on his face. The fucked dumb look on your baby’s face. Cheeks flushed red, tears clinging to his lashes too stubborn to fall, lips bitten red and swollen, expression scrunched in pleasure and overstimulation. 

His pretty lips stretched obscenely around your cock. Messily sucking your dick, licking it like a pathetic kitten. The sight of his face could make you cum but you were holding out. After all, you had a goal in mind. 

“Come on Toji. You’re really going to leave me hanging?” You usually never called him by his name during sex. Your baby caught on. His hands clenched tighter and he tried to please you. Messy and sloppy. You loved it. 

“Ple’se t’rn it off,” he pleaded looking at you with desperate tear filled eyes. It just made you want to shove your cock back into his mouth and fuck his throat till his voice was hoarse. 

“Make me cum first, baby.” You replied like that other times he asked. He let out a choked sob, body trembling when you turned up the vibrations. Desperate and wreaked was the best look on your baby. 

“That needy, baby?” You can see the conflict in his eyes, all his previous confidence thrown out. Only a hazy of need and wanting to please in his eyes. He nodded lips around the head of your cock. 

“I’m going to fuck your throat then baby. Can you take it for me like a good slut?” He shivered from your words and nodded quickly. Opening his mouth obediently. 

You smirked. “Use your words baby.” He flashed a pretty red. 

“Ple’se, fuck my throat,” he pleaded weakly voice a bit hoarse. 

“As you wish, baby.” You smirked, your hands holding his hair a bit roughly. He barely winched, his cock twitching with interest. 

You had to hold back a grin as you pressed your cock into your baby’s mouth. He didn’t even gag. The perfect cock slut. You let out a groan and started to face fuck him. 

Toji barely protested, his moans sending heat pooling. Within minutes you finished onto your baby’s tongue. Toji obediently swallowed it. Hazy adoring eyes meeting yours, begging for praise. 

You chuckled and wiped your cum off his lips. “Good boy.” Your perfect baby. 

[reasonsforhope]

Masterpost: Reasons I firmly believe we will beat climate change

Posts are in reverse chronological order (by post date, not article date), mostly taken from my "climate change" tag, which I went through all the way back to the literal beginning of my blog. Will update periodically.

Especially big deal articles/posts are in bold.

Big picture:

Mature trees offer hope in world of rising emissions (x)

Spying from space: How satellites can help identify and rein in a potent climate pollutant (x)

Good news: Tiny urban green spaces can cool cities and save lives (x)

Conservation and economic development go hand in hand, more often than expected (x)

The exponential growth of solar power will change the world (x)

Sun Machines: Solar, an energy that gets cheaper and cheaper, is going to be huge (x)

Wealthy nations finally deliver promised climate aid, as calls for more equitable funding for poor countries grow (x)

For Earth Day 2024, experts are spreading optimism – not doom. Here's why. (x)

Opinion: I’m a Climate Scientist. I’m Not Screaming Into the Void Anymore. (x)

The World’s Forests Are Doing Much Better Than We Think (x)

‘Staggering’ green growth gives hope for 1.5C, says global energy chief (x)

Beyond Catastrophe: A New Climate Reality Is Coming Into View (x)

Young Forests Capture Carbon Quicker than Previously Thought (x)

Yes, climate change can be beaten by 2050. Here's how. (x)

Soil improvements could keep planet within 1.5C heating target, research shows (x)

The global treaty to save the ozone layer has also slowed Arctic ice melt (x)

The doomers are wrong about humanity’s future — and its past (x)

Scientists Find Methane is Actually Offsetting 30% of its Own Heating Effect on Planet (x)

Are debt-for-climate swaps finally taking off? (x)

High seas treaty: historic deal to protect international waters finally reached at UN (x)

How Could Positive ‘Tipping Points’ Accelerate Climate Action? (x)

Specific examples:

Environmental Campaigners Celebrate As Labour Ends Tory Ban On New Onshore Wind Projects (x)

Private firms are driving a revolution in solar power in Africa (x)

How the small Pacific island nation of Vanuatu drastically cut plastic pollution (x)

Rewilding sites have seen 400% increase in jobs since 2008, research finds [Scotland] (x)

The American Climate Corps take flight, with most jobs based in the West (x)

Waste Heat Generated from Electronics to Warm Finnish City in Winter Thanks to Groundbreaking Thermal Energy Project (x)

Climate protection is now a human right — and lawsuits will follow [European Union] (x)

A new EU ecocide law ‘marks the end of impunity for environmental criminals’ (x)

Solar hits a renewable energy milestone not seen since WWII [United States] (x)

These are the climate grannies. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect their grandchildren. [United States and Native American Nations] (x)

Century of Tree Planting Stalls the Warming Effects in the Eastern United States, Says Study (x)

Chart: Wind and solar are closing in on fossil fuels in the EU (x)

UK use of gas and coal for electricity at lowest since 1957, figures show (x)

Countries That Generate 100% Renewable Energy Electricity (x)

Indigenous advocacy leads to largest dam removal project in US history [United States and Native American Nations] (x)

India’s clean energy transition is rapidly underway, benefiting the entire world (x)

China is set to shatter its wind and solar target five years early, new report finds (x)

‘Game changing’: spate of US lawsuits calls big oil to account for climate crisis (x)

Largest-ever data set collection shows how coral reefs can survive climate change (x)

The Biggest Climate Bill of Your Life - But What Does It DO? [United States] (x)

Good Climate News: Headline Roundup April 1st through April 15th, 2023 (x)

How agroforestry can restore degraded lands and provide income in the Amazon (x) [Brazil]

Loss of Climate-Crucial Mangrove Forests Has Slowed to Near-Negligable Amount Worldwide, Report Hails (x)

Agroecology schools help communities restore degraded land in Guatemala (x)

Climate adaptation:

Solar-powered generators pull clean drinking water 'from thin air,' aiding communities in need: 'It transforms lives' (x)

‘Sponge’ Cities Combat Urban Flooding by Letting Nature Do the Work [China] (x)

Indian Engineers Tackle Water Shortages with Star Wars Tech in Kerala (x)

A green roof or rooftop solar? You can combine them in a biosolar roof — boosting both biodiversity and power output (x)

Global death tolls from natural disasters have actually plummeted over the last century (x)

Los Angeles Just Proved How Spongy a City Can Be (x)

This city turns sewage into drinking water in 24 hours. The concept is catching on [Namibia] (x)

Plants teach their offspring how to adapt to climate change, scientists find (x)

Resurrecting Climate-Resilient Rice in India (x)

Edit 1/12/25: Yes, I know a bunch of the links disappeared. I'll try to fix that when I get the chance. In the meantime, read all the other stuff!!

Other Masterposts:

Going carbon negative and how we're going to fix global heating (x)

[precure1ove]

crush panic

summary : how they act when they have a crush

characters : all dorms (-grim &ortho)

warnings : some may be ooc, crack?, fluff, not edited, completely self indulgent everything is intended as romantic

a/n : new theme how we feeling!! my favourite is loser as its the most fun to write. im thinking of making a second part on how they confess if this does well

an absolute loser in love

he has absolutely fallen head over heels for you and now has no idea how to act normal around you anymore. the slightest bit of physical contact or praise will send him into shock, and later cause no sleep at night because he over thinks that one moment again and again. “does that mean they like me too? Or are they just being friendly?” 

yeah there's no hope for him. he acts super awkward around you, stuttering, laughing randomly, no he isn't blushing it's just suddenly hot all of the sudden-in the middle of the coldest season-he always agonizes over why he can't just act cool in front of you. during classes, if you're in his you bet he’ll just stare at you from afar, and if you're in his well he discreetly glances at you every now and then not knowing that you can clearly see him looking at you-though you don't seem to mind finding it cute.

and if you tell him that he’ll go bright red and avert his gaze “haha.. uh thanks.. I think?” cue screaming into a pillow later at night.

deuce, idia, azul, riddle, sebek + ur fav

stage five complete and utter denial

he's in complete denial. there's no way that he likes you, he must be getting sick that's why his heart beats fast when you're near with his cheeks burning a bright red. he makes it his entire goal to try and lose feelings for you, so he creates a list of all your good and bad attributions-unsurprisingly all the negative ones turn out not so bad when he puts thought into it it ...what the hell is he thinking? 

it may take a while for him to accept his feelings, so you're gonna have to endure glares when passing or in class and possible snarky comments thrown at you. However, if he hears someone is mean to you, crush be damned he can only do that to you. He tries to act completely uninterested in you, a way to fool himself that he does not like you, but the second he hears any bit of gossip he's suddenly interested. 

he looks at you weirdly, flustered at your question “uh... why am i suddenly interested in who you were with.. no reason.”

leona, ace, vil, ruggie + ur fav

doesn't realise he has a crush

oh spare this oblivious boy, he hasn't ever really liked someone before so he doesn’t know that wanting to spend more time with you, fussing over your well-being, thinking of you and how much better it would be if you were here is not what platonic friends should be thinking-especially if those thoughts lead to how would your lips feel.

someone would have to straight up tell him that he has a crush on you or he would never figure it out for himself and go on with his life never confessing. when someone finally does tell him, he’ll notice how different he really acts, catching himself waiting for your messages and dropping everything once you text back. you also get the added bonus of finally seeing him flustered! since he's in the stage of actually being involved in having a crush, every touch, smile, or praise is enough to make his face and ears turn red.

“wait so you mean wanting to kiss them is not normal?” he pauses and rethinks everything he thought about you.

silver, kalim, malleus, jack + ur fav

quick to show off to impress you

he doesn't believe he can win your heart with his personality so he works extra hard on stuff he knows he can do well-better than the average person-he believes if he impresses you by this he has a chance. surprisingly he acts rather normal with you, excluding the way he's more relaxed with your presence and the constant flush on his face.

he's rather quick to recognise his crush on you and he's even more quick to decide he needs to make himself an available suitor in your eyes. you’ve gotten used to your name being called out across the halls from him, strutting over to you to show you what he made or did last night-he'll become flustered if you praise him shrugging it off with flimsy excuses until he gets back into what he originally wanted to share albeit with a slight red face. what's even better is if he invites you out to come try it with him, enjoying the chance to spend time with you and show off in real time what he can do.

“what do you think of this, isn't it impressive? you really think so.. haha..”

trey, cater, jamil, epel + ur fav

he goes straight to courting you

he's the first to notice his change in feelings for you from platonic to romantic instantly and wastes no time to try and court you. he starts greeting you daily, offering you gifts, takes you out with the excuse of needing help and you find yourself out at a restaurant eating expensive food and wonder how the hell did you end up here when he needed a book? 

you will never catch this boy being flustered instead you'll find yourself stuttering while turning a bright red. if you enact physical contact or compliment him he flashes you a mischievous smile and teases you for ‘finally falling for him’.. no, that was not a joke. despite all the teasing he does genuinely care about you and goes out of his way to buy or make stuff he'll think you'll like, your reaction to his displays of courting amuses him especially when you make such cute faces at him. courting is just a way for him to make his feelings known, after all you were his the moment he caught feelings.

“hm.. how did we end up at a restaurant.. does it matter? now what did you choose for the meal?”

jade, rook, lilia

there's no crush. you're dating

floyd has never experienced the crush stage and he doesn't want to after all that's boring. why wait thinking about coincidental glances, and accidental contact when he knows he likes you and you like him! he's fast to let you know his feelings and won't take no for an answer why would you reject him if you like him. 

now that you think about it, you're not even sure floyd even asked you out. he just sort of grabbed your hand, said 'you're mine' and you both went to get food. so well done you're in a not relationship-relationship with a giant eel! floyd feels like he can never get bored being with you and is always by your side, or on since he's a fan of physical touch and will have some part of him touching you-an arm on your waist, legs over his, head tucked into your neck-the only time he's away from you is if jade or azul need him for the lounge and that's only for a few moments until you're also called by them to keep floyd in the lounge.

“huh, do i like you?” floyd glances at you briefly before grumbling, “we literally made out this morning and you're asking if i like you shrimpy.”

floyd

likes & reblogs appreciated

masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

neighbor!reader x simon 'ghost' riley pt 6

masterlist

The morning after you had shared a bottle of wine with your mysterious neighbor, Simon, you woke up to a new bottle of wine and your wine glasses, washed, from the night before on your welcome mat. You had expected the glasses, since you had forgotten them at his place after all, but not the wine.

Not that you were going to complain about that.

Wine nights with your neighbor, Simon, didn't become a regular thing. You weren't sure he had any regular things. His schedule was completely irregular, he was in and out at odd times, never following any sort of pattern.

Not that you were paying attention or anything.

You had a day off in the middle of the week, for some reason, and you decided to fill the day with baking, because why not? The weather was getting colder, the days seemed to get shorter, and you just needed something to lift your spirits.

It was just past eleven in the morning. Your Bluetooth speaker was playing absently in the background as you baked. You had already finished a few batches of cookies, making extras of the ones you knew were Simon’s favorites-

Not that you paid attention. Literally. At all.

It wasn’t until you were on your second loaf of chocolate chip bread that you finally looked up, for some reason, and there it was. The biggest spider you had ever seen in your life, right on the ceiling above your oven.

And you let out a scream.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley heard that scream.

He immediately knew it was you, and that it had come from your apartment. If his mask hadn’t already been on from when he had run his morning errands, he probably would have forgone it entirely in his haste to get to you, to the source of your cries.

However, he didn’t expect the reason for your scream to be a spider on the ceiling.

“Can’t reach it from down there?” He almost sounded amused. 

You jumped when you heard his gruff voice behind you. “Simon-! How did you get in-?”

“You left the door unlocked. Again. You need to stop doing that,” he chastised you before brushing you aside to get a better look at the beast on the ceiling. “Huh. That’s what made you scream?”

“Maybe…”

“It’s just a spider, love. It won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t like spiders,” you grumbled as you watched him grab the spider with his bare hands without even having to grab a step-stool, get on his tip-toes, or anything. His muscles seemed to bulge through the simple black t-shirt he was wearing with the movement. You couldn’t help but stare, although you tried not to look like you were gawking.

Damn.

“Clearly,” he hummed. “Are you baking again?”

That brought you back to reality, at least a bit more than you were. “Oh-! Yeah, I am,” you replied. You thought about making a joke about how you weren’t baking again, you were baking still, but you decided it wasn’t funny enough of a joke to try out on your neighbor. “Was it the smell that gave it away?”

“That, and the flour on your apron,” he replied gruffly, though you could almost hear a chuckle in there somewhere.

You could feel your cheeks heat up a bit, but you couldn’t tell why. Of course you had flour on you- you were baking, after all. Why were you blushing that he pointed it out?

“What have you been baking this time?” he asked you, still holding the spider in his bare hand. His gaze had shifted to the multitude of baking racks around your kitchen and on your dining room table, mostly filled with cooling baked goods. Cookies, dessert bread, muffins-

“Oh, just a little bit of everything,” you answer absently. “Anything that looks good to you?”

Now, Ghost had a decision here. He could go with the safe choice- picking a dessert that you had made, and you would likely let him have some, if not all of it. That was almost a guarantee, in his mind.

But he could also go with the wild card choice. He could say something that looked good to him that wasn’t something that you had baked that morning. But that was the more risky option. It could go one way or another, and quickly at that.

“Are those snickerdoodles…?”

He went with the safe choice. For now.

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