#Room x Taash

[multi-fandom-hoebag]

Reflection (Taash x F! Rook)

Summary: Taash struggles with how to tell Rook exactly what she means to them. (Please tell me if I accidentally misgendered somewhere. All the “she” should only refer to Rook)

“Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?” ― Charles Bukowski,

Taash had never been good at expressing their emotions. They had always been a firm believer that intense emotional attachments of any sort were a burden and a weakness. In short, they were nothing more than a distraction from other more important things.

But that was before they had met Rook, the one person in the world who had shown that Taash was capable of feeling much more than anger and indifference. She had awakened a part of Taash that had remained dormant for most of their life, and while the feeling was certainly scary, Taash was learning to embrace it rather than try to run from it.

Yet as much as they cared for Rook, they still could not get over their own inadequacies when it came to expressing that affection. They knew that Rook was “the one” for them, as disgustingly cliche as that line was. They knew that they were meant to be together, and Taash would fight any God foolish enough try to keep them apart.

They were willing to die for their relationship, but for the life of them they couldn’t bring themself to actually say that. They found it utterly ridiculous that they were more afraid of words than their own death.

They stared at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying desperately to understand why it was so difficult for them to vocalize exactly what Rook meant to them. They considered themselves to be a highly capable person, but they still could not tell the girl of their dreams that she was the love of their life.

They ran their hand angrily over their face, resisting the urge to scream in frustration. The hour was late and Rook was sleeping soundly in the next room, blissfully unaware of Taash’s own internal struggle.

Taash chewed their lip thoughtfully as they weighed their options. They knew Rook would not appreciate being woken up at such a terrible hour, but on the other hand Rook had told Taash that they should try to be more open with her once in a while. It had not been to pressure them, only to let Taash know that they were not alone in the world anymore.

Taash knew they could go back to bed and put it off until the morning, but they also knew that there was a strong possibility that if they let it go then they would lose their nerve and let the matter drop entirely.

The decision was made before Taash fully realized it. They took a steadying breath and stepped into the bedroom, crossing the small room to the sleeping form of Rook curled up in the blankets. It was a good thing that Taash rarely got cold at night as Rook had proven to be quit the blanket hog.

Taash hesitated for only a moment before gently reaching out, placing their hand gingerly on Rook’s shoulder.

“Hey,” they said softly, gently shaking her awake. “Wake up, I need to talk to you.”

Rook’s eyes opened slightly, glaring at Taash with a mixture of confusion and more than a little annoyance.

“Unh?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No!” Taash said, slightly horrified.

“Then can it wait?!”

“No, I need to say this now.”

Rook huffed, but rolled onto her back, fixing her attention on Taash expectantly.

Taash took a deep breath, trying to find the words that would adequately express everything they felt for Rook.

“I know I’m not the most affectionate person, and I know I don’t tell you that I care about you as often as I should. But I don’t want you to think that I don’t care, or whatever, because I do; I care a lot. It’s just I was never...I don’t know how to..”

Their voice trailed off as they struggled to find the words their heart so desperately wanted to say, but they didn’t seem to exist.

Sensing their frustration, Rook sat up, gently pressing her fingers to Taash’s lips in an effort to silence them.

“Taash, what’s my favorite color?”

They gently removed Rook’s fingers so she could answer the unexpected question. “Purple, but that’s not-”

“When I’m sad, what flower do you bring me to cheer me up?”

“Crystal Grace. Can you-”

“And when I’m sick?” Rook continued, unwilling to let Taash voice their concerns.

“Dawn lotus, ” Taash responded, still unable to comprehend where this conversation was going.

“What’s the one thing in the world that can make me cry?”

“Sunsets,” Taash responded without hesitation.

“And when I’m having a bad day, and feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, what do you do to calm me down?”

“Stroke your hair.”

“And?”

Taash sighed, feeling their cheeks flush slightly. “And sing your favorite song to you,” they mumbled.

Rook’s eyes sparkled as a triumphant smile spread across her face. “See? Only someone who loves me would be able to answer all of those questions. You may not be the most vocal person when it comes to affection, but you show me in other ways every single day.”

Taash smiled sheepishly, pressing a gentle kiss to Rook’s forehead. “How do you always know the right things to say?”

“It’s a gift. Now, if you really do love me then there’s one other thing you can do for me.”

“What?”

“Let me go back to sleep!”

[nuclearanomaly]

JK... Unless

[buckynats]

I asked @greseadraws to draw Harding ranting about the bookclub pick while Fel listens affectionately. Why go to bookclub when you can just have your girlfriend summarize the story in angry bursts of emotion instead?

Less chance of catching a stray arrow to the heart that way too

[pinayelf]

not a lucanis hate post

but since I'm having biyaya save minrathous instead lucanis would understandably be upset w her

so for a bit he's serving her the burned corners of the lasagna

ofc davrin switches plates w her (bc he's crushing) and bc he and lucanis already don't get along everyone's watching the tension like

[the-warmest-machine]

These flowers are in the Fade, around the Lighthouse. The fact they chose flowers, manifested from the lovers’ whims, is just magical. Beautiful. A perfect reflection. And do you see how each flower represents the character? Each carries hues from the character’s color palette and is shaped symbolically to represent their faction or affiliation.

Rook’s flower grows like the wolf’s fang.

Emmerich’s flower is maroon and green (that glows!!). The petals create a silhouette of the Mourn Watch insignia.

Lucanis’ flower carries that sultry purple. The petals are reminiscent of daggers (or feathers).

Taash’s flower is her skin color with a harsh purple accent. The petals are more like tendrils, akin to an octopus’s legs. Just Lord of Fortune things.

Harding’s flower is warm and full. It’s also one of the most natural looking flowers.

Davrin’s flower reflects the Grey Warden colors. The petals are shaped like shields.

Neve’s flower directly mirrors her outfit’s schematic, bolstering a strong white and teal. The petals form a diamond, representing the Tevinter mage.

Bellara’s flower carries the Veiljumpers’ orange. The petals form triangles used to symbolize the Veiljumpers as well.

Romanced Companions: Flower Collection

So here's the updated collection so far

Emmrich

Lucanis

Taash (courtesy of @jollycapybara)

Harding (courtesy of @celestialalignment)

Davrin (courtesy of @iamthelordofcheese)

If anyone has screencaps of Bellara's or Neve's, feel free to add :)

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A Lucanis x reader where the reader gets severally injured by one of the false gods, which leads to an angry and worried mess of a man half bent of revenge and worry for the reader on surviving the night { she does! }

A/n: best boy 🥹

Lucanis felt sick as he held you close, you've lost so much blood, everything happened so fast. You had taken a blow meant for Harding and while they might have been able to take one of the false god's down none of that mattered to him. Not when he had the prospect of losing you.

Taash had taken you from him long ago, the Quin and Harding along with Bellara tending to your wounds.

His hands were still covered in your blood, his clothes covered in your blood. Everything was screaming at him to go out and slaughter the other god, for harming you.

Spite screaming at him to do something, to stop being such a coward.

You were hurt! How could he allow you to get hurt?!

What if he lost you? What would he do? He finally found love, finally found someone that understood him!

This was his fault, he should have been faster, stronger and now you were fighting for your life because he was not good enough. Gritting his teeth he slammed his fist against the wall.

"You should change?" Neve's voice broke his messy thoughts. "I highly doubt they wish to see you covered in their blood."

"She's awake!" Lucanis jumped to his feet, heart pounding in his chest.

"Change then go see her." Neve gave him a nod then turned her body away as she left his room.

The world was spinning, your mind still clouded. You weren't quite sure what happened but you did know you nearly died as Harding did her best to stay strong in front of you.

Bellara healed you, the best she could anyways but it was good enough.

"Mi amor!" Lucanis breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed to your side. His hand grasping yours as he brought it his lips. His eyes were bloodshot, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled but he didn't care as long as you were okay. "I thought I lost you." His voice was weak as he held your hand.

Fighting back a wince, you forced a smile as you placed your free hand on his cheek. "Not even a god could keep me from you."

Brushing a stray tear from his cheek, Lucanis rested his head against yours. "I will protect you, nothing will keep you from me." He whispered.

[rooksspite]

The Invitation

Lucanis Dellamorte x f! De Riva! Rook

this is my first time actually posting something i’ve written for dragon age! i’ve loved the series for so long and decided to finally bite the bullet.

I wanted to write about Lucanis’ reaction to that crow armour you can get from the lords of fortune. let’s pretend that there aren’t other npc crows that wear it.

“C’mon! It’s blue, has feathers, and some flowy stuff. Doesn’t that check all the boxes for what you crows wear?”

Rook turns her head to look up at Taash with an unconvinced look, “we also prefer to have our vital organs covered Taash. You’re sure there isn’t a missing shirt?” she asks, turning back to the merchant of the Hall of Valour, who only raised his hands and shrugged.

“It’s rumoured to have been worn by a pretty well known crow before making its way into my collection.”

“Right.” Rook replies, unconvinced

“Perhaps the crow was so good at their job they felt they didn’t need to cover up. Isn’t a big part of the crow uniform making statement against enemies?” Neve pipes up, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Rook narrows her eyes at the woman before turning back to the armour before her. Neve wasn’t wrong about crow fashion, and the quality was really nice but it was just so… exposing.

“if I showed up in Treviso in this Viago would burst into laughter and then kick me out… again.” Rook mumbles.

Taash groans in impatience, they’d been standing here for the better part of twenty minutes as Rook looked at the merchant’s stuff, “come on Rook, we have a ring to fight in! just get it! Show off some skin for once.”

Rook blushes at that, everything she wore usually covered her up. Even her casual clothes she wore back at the lighthouse was the most she’s ever shown.

“Why don’t you try it on and see how it fairs in the ring? I’m sure Isabela would be more than happy to introduce you in your new outfit.” Neve offers

Room sighs, she didn’t know why but ever since she talked to Neve about her very limited knowledge on beauty and fashion and Neve and Taash have both been very insistent on her trying out new styles.

“Fine… We have plenty of gold anyways.”

She doesn’t notice the victorious smirks Neve and Taash share over her head.

———

“Lucanis.”

“Davrin.”

Silence rings through the library of the lighthouse as the two men greet each other. Both pretending to look at the various titles in the spines of books. Lucanis swirls the coffee in his cup and clears his throat before taking a sip.

Davin finally speaks, “So… You and Rook hey?”

Lucanis pulls his gaze away from the bookshelf, turning to Davrin with a raised eyebrow, “we have been over this no?”

Davrin shrugs leaning against another bookshelf, “just double checking, leave it up to both crows of the group to end up in a nest together.”

Lucanis chuckles, “we have not ‘nested’”

There’s a pause before Davrin continues, “You two haven’t really gone out alone have you? Outside of our work against the gods i mean.”

Lucanis blinks at the question and pauses to think, “well uh… no not really.”

“Why not?”

Lucanis sighs, it had been weeks since their near kiss before he cowered away, and while they continued to show clear attraction on both sides, it’s not as if there was an official label on their… relationship. Would it be too much to spend time alone? With no goal in mind?

“it’s complicated” He finally says stiffly.

Davrin chuckles, “I can see that,”

The familiar whoosh of the eluvian from below can be heard, “perfect timing,” Davrin hums.

The doors to the eluvian room creak open and the murmur of chatter can be heard as the three make their way up the stairs.

Neve surfaces first and a sly smile crosses her face when she makes eye contact with lucanis.

Well that can’t be good, he thinks to himself as he takes a sip of his coffee,

“Welcome back,” Davrin greets, “How was the ring?”

Neve shrugs, “Isabela’s out another 60 gold. We would’ve been back sooner if someone didn’t take their time shopping.”

Rook’s laughter can be heard as she climbs the staircase, “I didn’t take that long neve.” she says as she reaches the top of the staircase.

Lucanis chokes on his coffee.

“Sooo what do we think?” Taash says as they walk up behind Room. A large grin on their face. They put their hands on Rook’s shoulders and spin her around like a doll, ignoring her sounds of protest.

Davrin throws an amused look back at Lucanis, “What do we think Lucanis?” he turns his gaze back and crosses his arms, “I think you’re missing a shirt Rook.”

“According to the merchant I’m not.” Rook says with a sheepish chuckle. Suppressing the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

“Thing fits like a glove though, she fought in the arena with this armour on and left perfectly fine.” Neve says, nudging Rook with her elbow.

“Mierda, you fought in that?” Lucanis finally chokes out. Barely recovering from the initial shock of seeing the woman he was already extremely attracted to wearing… That.

“Like a badass.” Taash confirms, smirking at the sight of Lucanis’ face, “well Neve you had to show me that… thing right?”

Neve nods, the mischievous smile never leaving her face, “right of course. would you like to come with Davrin? For the thing?”

The elf smiles knowingly, “I’d love to.”

the three waste no time in leaving the library of the lighthouse, the door swinging shut behind them.

Rook chuckles nervously under Lucanis’ stare, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“It’s a bit much right? The merchant said a renowned crow once wore this armour but I think he just lost the shirt.”

Lucanis rakes his eyes up and down her body. Trying desperately not to focus on her chest.

But how could he when she was wearing a variety of necklaces that led his eyes even further down? For once he could see almost the entirety of the tattoo she had on her chest, who put that there? Who had the pleasure of seeing the full expanse of her soft skin before he could-

“Lucanis?”

Lucanis jumps as his train of thought is broken, he clears his throat as he tightens his grip on his coffee cup, “you look…”

“VERY NICE ROOK.”

There’s a pause as Spite’s voice rings through the library. Lucanis suddenly wishes that the device spinning above their heads would malfunction and he would be torn up by the fade.

Rook, in all her kindness laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, “thank you Spite but I was asking Lucanis.”

Her eyes meet his again and he swallows. There’s a pause before he takes a deep breath, calming the shock in his mind.

“I think…” he started slowly, stalking his way up to Rook, “you look beautiful, though I would advise against leaving some of the most important parts of you… vulnerable.”

Rook doesn’t know if the dip in his voice is intentional but it makes her shiver nonetheless. Her eyes trained on the free hand that comes up to feel the plumage on her shoulders.

“T-that’s what I told Taash,”, she says with an awkward chuckle. Suddenly feeling very warm.

Rook breaks her gaze away from his hand and nearly gasps when she meets Lucanis’ eyes. Dark and intense, with a heat in them that was starting to become familiar to her.

Flustered, Rook breaks eye contact. laughing awkwardly as one of her hands comes up to fiddle with the chains in her neck. Lucanis tries to not make his stare so obvious.

“I-I should change, no need to be in armour here right?” Rook steps away awkwardly, not waiting for an answer. Nearly tripping as she quickly ascends the stairs towards her room.

It’s only when Lucanis hears the creak of a door opening and closing does he slouch and inhale shakily, his hand reaching towards a bookshelf to steady himself, “mierda.”

[starlsen]

A Scar's Caress

Fem!Rook x Emmrich Volkarin ✶ Lots of fluff followed by smutty goodness ✶ NSFW ✶ 6.1k words

Read on AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had been quite some time since the whole team had been able to gather at the dining table to enjoy a good meal together. Tonight, Lucanis had insisted that everyone make themselves available, because it had been far too long since any of them had taken a real break – especially Rook. She’d be the last one to admit she needed to take it slow, but was never one to turn down a plate of Lucanis’ signature paella, particularly when washed down with a glass of Antivan Red.

“That was amazing, Lucanis.” Harding sighed as she sat back in her chair, hands on her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

“I told you to save room for dessert,” Lucanis said indignantly, hands on his hips. “I baked a pie.”

“Oh,” Her cheeks flushed. “Right. I knew that.” Lucanis raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m not that stuffed.”

Rook’s mouth turned up with amusement as she cleared away the last of the plates and grabbed another bottle of wine, setting about topping up everyone’s drinks. Conversation had flowed easily throughout dinner as she and her companions exchanged stories, cracked jokes and enjoyed just… being. She felt lighter than she had in a while, finally able to set everything aside and pretend for just a couple of hours that nothing outside of these walls existed. That the weight of the world didn’t rest on the shoulders of everyone in this room.

“Thank you, darling.” Emmrich said as she poured more wine into his goblet, offering her a dazzling smile as she did so. She returned the gesture, affectionately brushing her knuckle under his chin before turning her attention to Taash and Davrin who, by all accounts, were now engaging in a heated debate about scars.

“That's nothing,” Taash snorted. “It's kinda precious, actually.”

“Precious?” Davrin repeated incredulously. “You think a scar I got from taking down a hurlock is precious?” Taash shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” Davrin baulked at dragon hunter, before turning to Rook for support as she topped up his wine.

“Are you hearing this?”

Rook snorted. “Yes.” Davrin waited, brows raised.

“And?” He pressed when Rook didn't elaborate, and she pressed her lips together in an effort to suppress her amusement, shrugging casually.

“I'm with Taash on this one.” Taash smirked, folding their arms across their chest, and sat back in their seat.

“Told ya.” They said, and Davrin sighed heavily.

“Why are we talking about Davrin’s adorable scar, anyway?” Rook asked, setting the bottle down and returning to her seat beside Emmrich. The Grey Warden rolled his eyes.

“It’s the story that counts.” Taash said, turning back to Davrin. “Yes, it’s very cool that you took down a hurlock with a bunch of cracked ribs, or whatever. But the scar itself is…” They paused.

“Kind of pretty?” Rook offered, much to Davrin’s chagrin, and Taash snorted.

“Alright,” He said flatly, turning pointedly towards Rook. “I think it's time we ask our fearless leader.” Her friends snickered at the nickname they'd started throwing around within the last couple of weeks, to which Rook rolled her eyes as she brought her goblet to her lips. “I bet you’ve got some adorable stories of your own.” She arched her brow as she sipped her wine, and considered him for a moment.

“I think we should hear from Emmrich next,” She said, offering the man at her side a sweet smile, to which he chuckled and sat back in his chair.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He clasped his hands together in that way that made Rook’s heart soar. “I’m quite sure my scars don’t come with stories to rival the excitement of any of yours.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Professor.” Bellara said earnestly, her eyes shining. “All the things you’ve done in your career? I bet you have some amazing stories to share.”

“Well,” He mused. “There was an unfortunate mishap when I was a much younger, considerably less experienced necromancer.” He sighed, a note of nostalgia in his eyes. “You see, as members of the Mourn Watch, it is commonplace to raise skeletons in order to carry out work within the Grand Necropolis. And, being hungry for ambition and driven by my determination to prove my worth,” He balled his fists in front of himself to emphasise his words. “I attempted to raise a skeleton before I was ready.” Rook’s brows rose in surprise, though her lips curled into a smile.

“So what happened?” She asked, and he turned his gaze to her, smiling bashfully.

“Its coordination was frightfully misaligned.” He said, and Rook’s eyes widened as Emmrich placed a finger on his left pectoral, dragging a diagonal line across to his sternum. “Thankfully, I was able to get out of the way,” He paused and chuckled. “Well, mostly.”

“That’s a great story!” Bellara exclaimed. “I told you!”

“That’s so messed up.” Taash grumbled.

“Not bad.” Neve said, and Emmrich held his hands up.

“That’s it from me, I’m afraid.” Rook watched as he sat back in his chair and lifted his goblet to his lips, taking a sip of wine. His eyes met her own and her heart fluttered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“That was pretty good,” Davrin said, pulling Rook’s attention away from Emmrich. “So I’m willing to bet, as a fellow necromancer, you have something good, too.” She shrugged nonchalantly, sitting back in her chair.

“I don’t know, almost getting axed by a skeleton sounds pretty hard to beat.” Emmrich tutted from her side and she flashed him a grin.

“Come on, Rook.” Lucanis said from across the table.

“Alright, alright,” She said, all eyes on her, and sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to know about her scars, necessarily; she supposed, more than anything, her hesitancy came from never having actually told another living soul about them. She’d never told anyone how she got them. Never let anyone see them.

“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.” Harding said, and Rook blinked, looking over to find her friend smiling, and tried not to think about the scar on her forehead – or how and why she got it, all those months ago.

“It’s okay,” Rook said and cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Much like my esteemed colleague here,” She gestured to Emmrich. “I also attempted magic far above my station when I was way too young and way too hot-headed to realise how stupid it was.” Emmrich scoffed, and their friends laughed. “No offence.” She added, touching his arm, to which he rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“Alright.” Taash paused. “So… a spell went wrong, or what?”

“Something like that.”

“Where is it?” Davrin asked. “The scar, I mean.”

“Right here,” Rook said, pointing to her sternum. “All the way down to around… here.” She gestured down to below her knee. The table fell quiet, then, and she could feel Emmrich’s eyes burning into her. Taash let out a low whistle.

“Mierda,” Lucanis said quietly, and Rook shifted in her seat.

“Damn,” Davrin laughed, turning to Taash. “Now I see why you think mine are adorable.” Rook grinned as the others joined in his mirth.

“I stand by what I said.” Taash drawled, and laughter filled the dining table once more. “Who’s next?”

She was thankful for the diversion away from herself and knocked back the rest of her wine, all too aware of the man at her side, that his eyes were still fixed on her. She set down her cup and turned her attention to him to find him watching her thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.

“What?” She asked, and he lowered his voice.

“I had no idea.” He said, glancing down at her body before bringing his gaze back to her own. “Darling, what happened?” She smiled, leaning in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“Come to my room later and I’ll tell you,” She purred. “Maybe I’ll even show you.” She sat back in her chair and his brows shot up, eyes slightly wide, before clearing his throat and reaching for his wine once more. She flashed him a wicked grin and he chuckled, relaxing somewhat and shaking his head.

The truth was that while she’d dodged having to explain the details of the incident to her companions, she’d realised relatively quickly after meeting him that Emmrich was likely to be the only person she could share it with. He understood her in a way that nobody else could, and often seemed to know her better than she knew herself. And now, many months later, he was so much more than just a fellow necromancer, companion or friend. What they shared was… simply put, utterly magical, and they’d formed a bond that she knew could survive anything.

Not only that, but it had become increasingly difficult to ignore the way he made her feel, to ignore the all consuming desire that overwhelmed her senses whenever he was near – which was, incidentally, almost every single day. The alluring, dazzling and devastatingly charming gentleman had assured her they’d take things slow, to allow their relationship to progress organically; the only problem was that she wanted to take things further. Much, much further, and was confident that Emmrich was just as ready as she was.

There had been a handful of occasions in recent weeks in which she’d almost gone through with it, but as soon as it came to taking off her clothes, she’d freeze. She’d spent so much of her life hiding her scars that it felt alien to do otherwise. It had been almost a week since the last time she’d allowed herself to get carried away in the heat of the moment, driven by lust to throw caution to the wind; she’d been in his quarters and had become painfully aroused just listening to him read a passage from a book. She’d climbed into his lap, her kisses bruising and feverish, and he’d held her close and kissed her back with equal fervour, his broad hands roaming her body. Yes, Emmrich was definitely just as ready as she was.

And her scars were the only thing holding her back.

She’d remained wholly distracted for the rest of the evening, unable to think about anything other than getting Emmrich behind closed doors. And so, by the time they’d all decided to call it a night, she was all too happy to loop her arm through his and lead him away from the dining hall. She listened as he gushed over Lucanis’ skills in the kitchen, his appreciation for a delightful meal, and how exhilarating it was to share a story from his youth. As they reached the threshold of Emmrich’s quarters, he paused and turned to face her, a softness in his eyes as he took her hands in his own.

“Rook,” He said gently, and she hummed. “You know there is absolutely no pressure for our relationship to move forward, don’t you?” He ran his thumbs across her knuckles. “None whatsoever.” Gods, her heart ached with the affection she felt for him. She offered him a small smile and stepped into him, leaning up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. The kiss lingered for a few moments before she sank onto the balls of her feet and took a few steps backwards, towards her own quarters, letting go of his hands as she did so.

“Are you coming?” Is all she said, and after a moment, the corner of his lips turned up as he gestured for her to lead the way and followed in her stead. She tried to shake her nerves as she led him to her room, reminding herself how badly she wants, needs, this. She headed for the small meditation table before the expansive fish tank that filled the far wall, watching the candle flames flicker as Emmrich closed the doors behind them.

She listened to the steady, even stride of his approaching footsteps, and hovered a hand over the candles, the heat from the flames licking her fingertips. He was at her side, then, and she took another moment to admire the way the candles shone a fiery glow over her palm, the fish tank casting an icy blue hue across the back of her hand.

“I've never shared myself with anyone, not entirely.” She said into the peaceful calm of her room. “I've never known anyone that made me want to, y'know?” She pulled her hand away from the flames, turning to face where Emmrich stood, shoulders squared and hands clasped in front of himself, and nodded.

He was absolutely beautiful. The light of the fish tank cast his side in glorious aqua blue, his eyes appearing more green than hazel, contrasting with the warm shadows on his other side, candles all around them; and while dazzling was usually her go-to word to describe Emmrich, right now, it felt as though there were no words that would do him justice. His beauty, his kindness, his everything.

“But then I met you.” She said, and his eyes were so kind and earnest and caused an ache deep in her heart. “And those nights in the memorial gardens, you shared so much of yourself with me. Made me realise we were more alike than I ever realised.” His eyes dropped to the floor for just a moment, almost bashfully, the smallest smile tugging on his lips when he brought his gaze back to her own.

“You introduced me to your parents,” She continued. “You have no idea what that meant to me, Emmrich.” His eyes softened, chest rising as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. “You make me want to share everything with you.” He closed the space between them.

“If you are ready,” He said, tucking her long, lavender hair behind her pointed ears. “Then it would be an honour, my darling.” He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, and her throat tightened, her heart beating a little faster again. She leaned into his touch, lifting a hand to his chest, to the scar she now knew lay underneath. She glanced down at herself, then raised her chin to meet his gaze once more.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” She hoped the playful tone in her words would take the edge off the nerves pooling in her gut, and Emmrich let out a breathy chuckle. He said nothing, at first; just smiled down at her, his eyes warm and safe and kind, always so kind. She raised her eyebrows just slightly, and then his lips were on her forehead in a gentle kiss.

“Very well.” He took a short step back from her as he unclipped the gold chain across his waistcoat, and Rook watched his fingers intently as they worked their way down, one button after the other. Watched as they pulled the waistcoat over his shoulders and set it down neatly on the chaise lounge. Watched as they unfastened his belt, the sound of leather sliding along soft calluses as it unwound from his hips. Watched as they slipped into luxurious red, unravelling the silken sash around his midriff. His usual gold cuff and leather glove were absent from his ensemble today, and she marvelled at how beautiful his hands really were; soft and warm and purposeful, bedecked in the finest jewellery.

She could watch those hands at work for an eternity.

As he unclasped the dainty skull pinning his collar together, she tugged at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and his lips turned up slightly. Heat rose in her cheeks as he began unfastening the buttons of his shirt, slowly exposing his neck, clavicle, and sternum. She worked from the bottom until their fingers met, knuckles brushing, and she inhaled deeply through her nose as he slipped the shirt over his shoulders, revealing his broad chest, the gold bangles on his forearm chiming as he removed his shirt completely and dropped it on top of his other clothes.

Emmrich had always cut a very fine figure; his tailored clothes made no secret of his slender frame, but Rook hadn’t expected his shoulders, his chest, to be quite so broad. She followed the lines of his frame as it dipped in at his waist, his soft and slightly toned abdomen, and finally observed the scar running from his left pectoral to his sternum.

She brought her hands to his chest, tracing the line of the scar with her fingertips, and goosebumps flooded his skin under her featherlight touch. She hesitated for just a moment when he tensed, before he visibly relaxed and let out a breath. She could feel the heat crawling from her cheeks to the tips of her pointed ears as she touched him, her pulse racing, while he remained wholly still, hands once again clasped in his usual composure.

He was beautiful.

“Emmrich,” His name was barely above a whisper, and she finally looked up to meet his gaze, finding him watching her, a vulnerability in his eyes and something akin to uncertainty. She returned her attention to his chest and leaned in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his scar.

“I know that I am not exactly,” He paused, and she looked up at him. “Well, you know.” She tilted her head to the side and he huffed, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink as he averted his gaze. “I'm no Davrin or Lucanis, let's say.”

Her brows came together, then, and she reached for him, taking his cheek in her hand and gently bringing his gaze back to her own.

“Emmrich,” She said, taking one of his hands and lifting it to her chest. “Do you feel that?” He glanced down to where she was firmly holding his palm over her racing heart, his lips parting ever so slightly, and hazel met violet once more. She smiled.

“That's what you do to me.” She said, and he chuckled bashfully. Her smile widened to a toothy grin, and added, “Among other things.” Emmrich laughed heartily, then, the pink in his cheeks turning a little darker, and she giggled, feeling the familiar ache begin to stir between her legs.

“You are beautiful.” She said as their mirth eased, and his throat bobbed as she took his other hand to her chest, guiding his fingers to the buttons on her shirt. “I want you to see me, too.” She tugged the bottom of her shirt from where it had been tucked lazily into the waistband of her pants, before letting her arms return to her side.

“Are you sure, darling?” He asked, and she nodded, taking a breath to steady her racing heart. He held her gaze for a moment longer before leaning down to brush his lips over her temple, and began unfastening the buttons. She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, the flush in her cheeks deepening, and gazed up into gorgeous hazel when he pulled back.

Though her racing heart wasn't because of her desires for the man before her alone, or the anticipation of what she knew was going to happen tonight – no, her heart was racing because she was finally letting someone in. Because she finally felt safe enough, finally had the desire to be truly intimate with someone, finally wanted to show someone the reminder of just how close she had come to dying; a fact that had utterly terrified her and shamed her as a member of the Mourn Watch.

But after Emmrich had confided in her about his own fears, she’d realised she’d found a true companion in him. And now, bearing themselves to one another, she knew she’d found her twin flame, her soul’s calling, and at long last was ready. Truly ready.

His fingers had reached the bottom of her shirt and he paused. She nodded, and he slowly pushed her shirt over her shoulders and she let it fall to the floor, and his eyes dropped to her naked torso. Her heart was pounding by now, and Emmrich's lips parted, his eyes darting across the expanse of her scars. Her breaths came a little shorter, a little faster, and she inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out slowly, willing her heart to slow down, willing for him to say something.

He lifted his hands, and she held her breath as he gently brushed her hair back over her shoulders, letting the long, lavender locks cascade down her back, and stepped back slightly.

“It was lightning magic,” She said, and Emmrich glanced at her before returning his gaze to her abdomen. “I mean-” She snorted nervously and gestured to them. “Obviously.” He reached for her, trailing his fingers over the lines branching across her body, disappearing underneath her pants.

The magic had entered her body just below her hip, the lightning forking up and down as it surged and left scorched skin in its wake. Jagged lines spread up and around her ribs, across her abdomen to her sternum and breasts; it branched down her thigh, coiling itself around her leg to her shin. The scars remained a deep, dusky pink, though they had healed many years ago.

“Rook,” He said quietly, his brow pinched together. She took a breath.

“They run almost the entire length of my body,” She said, and with trembling fingers, reached for the button on her pants. He placed his hands over her own, halting her, and swallowed hard when he knelt before her; he unfastened the button, pulled down the zip, and carefully tugged them down her thighs. She held onto his shoulders as she lifted one leg at a time so he could remove her pants completely, leaving her clad only in her undergarments.

He remained on his knees, his eyes roaming her body as he asked, “What happened?”

“The magic was beyond my abilities at the time,” She said. “I was tired of being told I wasn’t ready, that I couldn’t do it. I was so sure they were wrong, that I could prove them wrong, so…” She sighed. “I performed the spell in my quarters and I couldn’t contain it. I struck myself by accident.” She paused as her voice wavered. “And, uh,” She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “It almost killed me.”

Emmrich's eyes shot up, then, and she could feel his gaze burning into her as she focused on the candles across the room, willing herself to calm, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I was terrified.” She admitted. “And I couldn’t tell anyone because what good is a necromancer whose greatest fear is dying?” Emmrich sighed, and she looked down at him, his brows drawn and such sadness in his eyes. She brushed her knuckles along his cheek. “But then… I met you.”

“Darling,” He said gently, so agonisingly gently, as he leaned into her touch. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn't,” She said. “Nobody does. I've never…” She trailed off, and he tilted his head to the side.

“You've never told anyone?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“No,” She said, and his frown deepened slightly, before lowering his gaze once more to her scars. Then, he leaned in, and she inhaled sharply when he pressed a kiss to her abdomen.

“They are beautiful, Rook.” He said firmly, and placed another kiss on her hip. “You are beautiful.”

Her cheeks were blazing now, and she chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” She said, and he looked up at her, his expression entirely too serious, and rose to his feet once more. She almost shrank back from the intensity of his gaze, and he took her face in his hands, cradling her jaw, his touch so tender she could have cried.

“I see you.” He said, and she swallowed hard as her throat tightened, tears threatening to fill her glistening eyes. “You are the most beautiful young woman I have ever laid my eyes upon,” He spoke so gently, so earnestly, and she sighed as she leaned into his touch.

“And,” He added, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “There are none in this world more fortunate than I.”

She had never truly grasped what it could mean to be swept off her feet, but when his mouth met hers in a kiss so dizzying that it stole her breath and left her knees unsteady beneath her, she wondered if this was what it felt like. Her eyes slipped shut as she melted into him, chest-to-chest, their hearts beating wildly as one, hands cradling each other’s faces as though they couldn’t be close enough.

Lips fused in a slow, tender kiss, they moved back towards the chaise lounge. Rook reached blindly for the frame as Emmrich set a knee on the seat, sliding a hand down to her waist and around the small of her back as she found purchase at last and laid back, his body warm as he settled between her legs and leaned over her.

He trailed his lips along her jaw and down the length of her neck, his kisses gentle and unhurried and Gods, she was breathless as he reached her collarbone. The warmth of his breath left her skin tingling as his lips caressed her breast, then her sternum, and her heart all but soared out of her chest upon realising that he was slowly, and very deliberately, tracing the branches of her scars.

She couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell, watching as he took his time, eyes roaming across her skin, as though he was taking such care of where to place his lips next, worshipping her body with his mouth. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, sighing softly through parted lips as he kissed her stomach, then paused as he glanced down at her undergarments. His gaze met her own in silent question, his eyes softening when her answer came in the form of a single nod, and sat back on his knees as she lifted her hips to allow him to remove her underwear.

She blushed furiously when the corner of his mouth tugged into a deeply alluring smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her stomach, then her hip, before shifting further back on the seat and nuzzling the inside of her thigh with his nose, his lips barely brushing her skin, his eyes fixed on her own. By the Gods, the darkness in his lustful gaze sent a thrill running straight through her. He tucked his shoulders under her thighs, running his hands along her hips, and she gasped when he dipped between her legs and ran the flat of his tongue over her slit.

It was as though every nerve ending in her body was centred entirely within her sex, a feeling she could have only ever dreamed of; Emmrich worked his lips and tongue like a man starved, leaving her thighs trembling, chest tightening, toes curling. Every cell in her body was on fire, arousal pulsing through her, and she was breathless as she tipped her head back, her senses overwhelmed because his tongue, Gods, his tongue; warm and wet, gliding through her soaking folds, over and over, yes, yes-

“Emmrich,” She moaned, arching her back, and he slid a jewelled hand from her hip to her abdomen, his palm flat against her skin. She wasn’t going to last, not like this, the familiar feeling already beginning to swell deep within her core. She clutched his hand tightly, writhing against him, and cried out when he planted his mouth over her clit and began gently sucking, expertly rolling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He groaned into her sex, the sound vibrating through her as he gripped her fingers that were closed over his own. She ached for release, was ready to beg for it, when the pressure building between her legs erupted with a final sweep of his tongue and she gasped sharply, her mouth falling open, her entire body tensing and trembling as her orgasm sent lightning surging from her core.

He slowed his tongue to gentle rolls as she rode out her high, his eyes fixed on her writhing body, marvelling at the way she moved and how utterly breathtaking she truly was - especially like this. Her moans gave way to breathy whimpers as her grip on his hand slackened, and with a satisfied chuckle, he turned to press his lips to the inside of her thigh and shifted to lean his forearms either side of her hips. He watched her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath and, admittedly feeling a touch smug, couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his mouth at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked. It was all she could do to nod, because she was infinitely better than alright; she’d never been made to feel the way he made her feel, had never experienced pleasure quite like that before, and certainly never dreamed Emmrich could do that with his mouth. She hummed when she felt his lips on her hip, trailing kisses along the forked branches of her scars across her abdomen and breasts.

“Amazing,” She sighed, and he huffed a laugh before his lips found her neck once more as he settled between her legs. Feeling his hardness pressing against her, she let out a breath and guided his face back to hers, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss. She moaned as she tasted herself on his tongue, running her hands down his chest and already feeling so dizzy with the way he was kissing her, his lips moving so easily, so expertly, with her own. Her fingers found the waistband of his trousers, and she pulled back from the kiss just slightly as she tugged at them.

“Take these off.” She whispered against his lips, and he nuzzled her nose with his own before nodding, brushing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth and making quick work of kicking off his boots and removing the last of his clothing. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as their eyes met and he leaned over her once more, hooking an arm underneath her shoulder to slide his fingers along her neck, threading them in her hair, gripping her thigh around his waist with the other.

She cradled his jaw in her hands and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks, her heart racing and his eyes searched her own, seeking permission. She answered with a buck of her hips and he laughed breathlessly, the sound curling around her heart and spreading warmth through her chest. He turned into her hand to press a kiss to her palm, returning his gaze to hers for a moment before leaning his forehead against hers as he slowly pushed himself into her slick heat. She gasped, body tensing, her brows coming together as heat flooded to her cheeks because Gods, he felt amazing inside her.

His breath was hot on her lips as he waited, stroking her thigh with his thumb, hardly able to believe he was tangled up with her; Rook, the most courageous and dangerously breathtaking woman he’d ever known – and she wanted him. He pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose, then her lips, and she relaxed, offering him a smile that could shatter the world as she nodded for him to keep going. Affection blossomed in his chest at the gesture, and he closed the space between them to press his lips to hers as he pulled his hips back and sank into her again, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.

And that sound drove her wild. She whimpered, parting her lips to kiss him again, and when his tongue swept in to caress her own, she moaned and wound her arms around his neck. He began rolling his hips into hers, his movements masterful, as though he'd spent an eternity making love to her. It felt so right. Their bodies fit together and moved perfectly, as one - and finally, for the first time in her life, Rook felt whole. Complete.

She broke the kiss to look into his eyes, her brow pinched and mouth open as she gasped with every delectable roll of his hips into hers. He'd never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment; pieces of his usually pristine hair hung over his forehead, his eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. A fire ignited within her, unfathomably powerful and burning exceptionally bright; she'd never felt this feeling before, but greeted it like a long lost piece of herself as she welcomed it - and Emmrich - into her heart.

“I love you,” She whispered, and something changed in his eyes, a recognition, an understanding, and he smiled; wide and bright and absolutely breathtaking.

He chuckled breathlessly and nuzzled her nose with his own as he said, “And I love you, my darling.”

She returned his smile, a joyous giggle escaping her lips, and gasped sharply when he thrust his hips into hers, harder now, and her eyes slipped shut as she tipped her head back and moaned. Emmrich buried his face in the crook of her neck, his moans low and deep, and she was sure it was the most beautiful and holy sound she'd ever heard. She wound her arms around his waist and up his back, her fingers digging into the skin below his shoulder blades, clinging desperately as a familiar feeling began coiling around her core, twisting and tightening and building and building, an intense pressure mounting, her entire body tensing and trembling.

“Emmrich,” She whimpered, and he removed his hand from where it had been buried in her hair to clutch the arm of the chaise lounge, gripping her thigh tightly with the other, practically growling into her neck as he drove his hips into her, harder, faster. She tightened around him, her mouth falling open and arched her back, the air forced from her lungs as her orgasm slammed into her with the staggering force of a hurricane. She gasped sharply into his shoulder, crying out and making a sound she was sure she'd never made before, and with that, Emmrich moaned loudly, his movements stuttering, thrusting hard and haphazardly as he came.

The pleasure was utterly blinding, her heart thundering and chest heaving, leaving her on the verge of feeling delirious. She pulled back to nudge his temple with her nose, words failing her, and he slowly lifted his face from her neck, eyes dazed and half-lidded. He glanced at her mouth before leaning down to kiss her, their breaths heavy as their lips parted and came together again, slowly and tenderly, as his hips slowed altogether.

She brought a hand from his back to cradle his cheek, and he pulled back just enough to find her gaze as she brushed her thumb over his top lip and smiled. He quickly returned the gesture, and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, feeling utterly giddy for arguably the first time in her life. He chuckled, capturing her lips in a single, lingering kiss before pulling his hips back and all but collapsing on her chest.

She brushed his hair back as he closed his eyes, absentmindedly trailing his fingers up and down the length of her arm with a contented hum. She wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, tangled up in each other until their breaths became slow and even, their hearts beating as one; but after a short while, she looked down at him and smiled as she continued to smooth back his hair.

“The dishevelled look rather suits you, y'know.” She said after a few moments, and he snorted.

“Never.” He said with a sigh. “A gentleman is anything but.” Rook grinned.

“I had no idea gentlemen could fuck like that.” She quipped, and Emmrich barked a laugh, shifting to look up at her as he leaned his forearms either side of her hips.

“Darling, I can do much more than that.” He said, his voice dangerously low. She bit her lip, her smile bright and wicked.

“Oh?” He hummed. “Tell me more.” She said, and his tongue darted over his bottom lip before he raised a brow.

“I'd rather show you, my dear.” She laughed, patting his shoulder and closed her eyes, lying her head back.

“Give me a few minutes and I'll be good to go.” Her smile remained as he chuckled, and she felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to the scars between her breasts.

“I may need slightly longer to recover.” He mused. “But I will gladly do this again,” He kissed further down her abdomen. “And again,” Another kiss. “And again.” She hummed happily.

“Sounds good to me.”

[thatapostateboy]

sleep awake

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte (and Spite) x Rook x Davrin - pre-relationship

Word Count: 3142

Synopsis: Lucanis falls asleep making breakfast, and Rook orders him to rest, under Davrin's watch - a confusion of feelings ensue

Note: this has no set place in the timeline, it's pure vibes only, all you need to know is that Rook (Eva) and Davrin have been hooking up since Weisshaupt, but she's also a lil in love with Lucanis

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Lucanis swore he only closed his eyes for a second. Enough to let out an exhausted exhale before continuing with the hearty porridge he had been making for breakfast, but he snapped back to consciousness with a call of his name, too late to stop himself before he hit the floor hard, the bowl he had been reaching for shattering on impact around him.

Rook was up from the table and at his side first, Taash and Harding, who had all been sat chatting around the breakfast table together, quickly behind her. Davrin glanced up as well where he was sat with one leg cocked up on the table, chipping away at some new carving, but did not rise from his seat.

“Are you alright?” Rook asked, reaching for him, hands guiding him to not lean on any of the broken crockery as he attempted to stand.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, relenting a little as Rook guided him to sit against one of the counters instead, wincing a little at the knock he’d taken to his shoulder, “Must have just slipped.”

Spite was watching from the periphery of his vision, had clearly been waiting to jump in control once his guard was down. But there was no teasing or temper, instead he was pacing back and forth, watching Rook fuss over him.

“He fell asleep,” Taash said from behind them all.

“I did not,” he protested.

“Uh, yeah you did,” they folded their arms across their chest, “You were stirring the porridge, you closed your eyes and then you went down like a sack of potatoes.”

“When did you last get some rest?” Rook’s eyes widened a little, as they always did when she worried about him.

“Always concerned about you,” Spite hummed, crouching down beside him to lean in closer to Rook’s face, “Smells like chocolate and salt and want.

“I…” he tried to ignore the purple visage, focusing on the elf in front of him, “You know I don’t sleep.”

“Well, you need to.”

He waved her off, grabbing the countertop and pulling himself back onto his feet, “I’m fine.”

Her hands went to her hips, head tilted to look up at him, “You literally just passed out making breakfast.”

“I’ll have some more coffee and I will be ready to go,” he said, “You’ve got business in Rivain, I’ll finish breakfast and we can get going.”

“No,” she said firmly, “You can’t keep pushing your body like this. You’re going to get yourself or someone around you hurt.”

“And if Spite takes over?” he asked.

“Then one of us will watch you, wake you if we have to. But you have to rest.”

“Rook, I-”

“No.”

“Eva-”

He watched her eyes soften as he used her real name, but she held firm, “No. I’m benching you. Stay here and sleep. Boss’ orders.”

“Boss Rook,” Spite cooed as Lucanis’ form straightened up a little.

She turned from him before he could protest again, asking Harding if she’d be okay to gear up and come to Rivain with her and Taash instead of Lucanis, as the assassin busied himself cleaning up the broken bowl and finishing off breakfast.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her take a seat on the edge of the table, hand rested on the Warden’s leg as they began to converse quietly.

“You say. Rude to stare,” Spite reminded him, and he turned his head away to finish his task.

Across the room, Eva traced the pattern on the stitching of Davrin’s trousers, the pair playfully avoiding each other’s eye contact as he pretended to be more engrossed in his carving.

“Would you do me a favour today?” she asked.

He glanced at her, a dark eyebrow cocked, “You want me to watch him? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’d do it myself, but I promised Taash we’d head out to the coast to fight some Antaam. And I trust you the most to look out for him,” she said, “And I know you bicker, but he trusts you too.”

“Really?”

“Hey, you two have buried the hatchet since Weisshaupt. And you’re both…” she trailed off a little, unsure how to word the fact that they were her two favourite people in the whole world without opening herself up to the vulnerability of that sentiment. She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear instead, “Besides if you won’t do it for him, will you do it for me?”

He pondered for a moment, recognising the gleam in her eye before he sighed, “Fine, but you owe me.”

She smiled, “I’m sure I can find a way to repay you,”

“You’re a tease, you know that?”

“I do,” she leaned forward and brushed a kiss against his mouth, “But you enjoy it.”

They all enjoyed a quiet breakfast together, nothing more said about the incident in the kitchen this morning, though Eva noted that Lucanis was particularly quiet, pointedly eating his porridge and not replying to Spite as he was known to do. Compliments were passed around about the breakfast, as usual, Manfred insisting on cleaning up, with Emmrich to watch him to ensure that nothing was broken in his ward’s eagerness.

Harding, Taash and Eva readied themselves to head out through the Eluvian, Bellara and Neve joining them to take a jaunt into the Crossroads, Emmrich taking some time with Manfred and Assan both in an attempt to run them ragged. Eva had spoken a few more quiet words to Davrin before leaving, stopping in front of Lucanis who was nursing a cup of coffee in the library to take his hand in hers and insist once again that he get some rest, turning to address the air and tell Spite to behave.

Before he could register the warmth in his chest and the fact that Spite was near bouncing up and down because Eva had spoken to him directly, she was gone, down the stairs and headed to the Eluvian.

“C’mon.”

He glanced up to see Davrin stood over him with folded arms.

“What?” the assassin asked.

“Rook said you gotta sleep. She told me to watch you so the demon doesn’t escape,” he nodded to the door, “So c’mon.”

Lucanis dragged himself to his feet, the pair of them sharing a begrudging expression, knowing that this was neither of their first choice, but neither of them were going to defy what Eva had asked for.

They walked out into the courtyard side by side, Lucanis faltering in his step as he saw Davrin divert to his quarters.

“Where are you going?” he frowned.

“What? Did you think I was just going to post up like a guard and watch you sleep?” Davrin asked.

Lucanis followed him up the steps, brushing past him as the Warden held the door open to allow him entry, “I figured you’d bar the door and sit outside it.”

“Figured we might as well try and make this comfortable,” Davrin shrugged a little, “And if Spite gets jumpy, I know my room better than yours.”

“Smart.”

Lucanis had not spent much time in Davrin’s room, the pair of them generally avoiding each other when the Warden had joined their party, and even once they had formed their somewhat truce, he found no reason to just hang out in search of conversation. If he wanted company, there would always be someone in the dining area or library, and if Davrin happened to be there, then so be it. Besides, it was the worst kept secret in their group that if Rook and Davrin were having some private time, they would be holed up in Davrin’s quarters, so it would be better for everyone not to enter the Warden’s chambers without knocking first and having a damn good reason to be disturbing them.

Davrin gestured towards the bed that was tucked in the corner, “Have at it.”

Lucanis awkwardly toed off his boots, but was stopped from crawling into the bed by a scoff from Davrin, “What?”

“That’s what you’re going to sleep in?” the elf cocked his head a little, “Do all you Crows sleep fully clothed or is this just a you thing?”

Spite appeared at Davrin’s shoulder, sniffing curiously, “Warden wants. To see what’s under.”

“Unlike you, I do not sleep naked,” Lucanis bit back, earning a smirk from Davrin that sent a spark of warmth right to his gut.

Davrin held his hands up, “Just want you to be comfortable. Don’t want your fancy silk vest getting creased.”

Lucanis sighed, swiftly unbuttoning the vest and set it aside before climbing effortlessly into the bed, feeling uneasy at the amount of tension that left his body simply by laying down on a comfortable mattress.

Davrin clambered in next to him, boots also off, shirt still on though those low collars of his could barely be counted as such. His much larger body blocked off the easy exit from the bed, trapping Lucanis, and Spite, against the wall. Lucanis watched the Warden take out a book from his bedside table, flick open to a marked page and begin reading.

“Y’know, most people close their eyes when they’re going to sleep,” Davrin said in a low voice, eyes not moving from the page.

“Are you reading a romance novel?” Lucanis frowned.

“Maybe,” Davrin spared him a glance, “Problem with that?”

“Not at all,” the assassin admitted.

“Thought I’d want something with more monsters and thrill?”

“Perhaps.”

“Rook said it was good,” he said, “And I trust her judgement.”

“She does have good taste,” Lucanis agreed, feeling a warmth in his cheeks as Davrin’s eyes met his, quickly rolling onto his side, face somewhat buried in the pillow.

“Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if Spite causes any trouble.”

Lucanis closed his eyes, feeling the pull of sleep dragging him into unconsciousness, his last waking thought was that the pillow smelled like Rook.

Spite sat in wait, watching over Lucanis as he drifted off, knowing that he could take control now. But with the Warden so close, he would not get very far. So, he crouched on the edge of the bed, watching the elf curiously as he read.

He had hated Davrin at first. He threatened Lucanis, threatened him, and worst of all, when he came to the Lighthouse, Rook changed. Rook had only ever looked at Lucanis, and them, with that smile and those eyes, and then the Warden had arrived, and she gave him that smile too, looked at him the way she looked at them. And after Weisshaupt, the smells had changed. She still smelled of chocolate and salt, but there was always a hint of something else.

Gingerwort and wood shavings.

He had been viciously jealous at first, encouraging Lucanis to get the Warden out of the way, not wanting to have to share Rook’s attention. But as his temper had cooled, he had seen that Rook cared for the Warden, could not bare to see them fight, so they would keep the Warden around; to make her happy. If he and Lucanis ever agreed on one thing, it was that they would never do anything to intentionally hurt Rook, even if Lucanis would never admit his feelings for her out loud.

And somewhere over the weeks, even Lucanis had relented, finding somewhat of a kinship with the Warden. Not a friendship, not like the nights when he would laugh with the book club or share a drink with Rook, but an understanding was there that Spite could not quite get his head around.

So he watched, and he waited, taking in the line of the Warden’s nose, the ripple of his muscles, the curve of his bottom lip. For their animosity, Lucanis looked, and when Lucanis looked, so did Spite. Spite had only wanted Rook, and the Warden was nothing like Rook, save for their pointed ears. The Warden was not small, able to fit into their arms, if only Lucanis would let them hold her, did not smell like chocolate or buy them knives. But the jealously he had once felt had relented into a fire in his chest whenever he saw the Warden hold Rook, saw how she kissed him, and touched him. If Rook enjoyed how the Warden held her, would he? Would Lucanis?

It felt like hours he sat for, as the Warden read his book, head tilted in curiosity at every smile, every soft chuckle, even the slightest hint of warmth and shift in his scent at whatever words he read on the page.

Finally, he finished his book, hands now resting on his stomach, glancing around as though wondering what to do now, but not wanting to move too far from Lucanis. Spite watched as the Warden shimmied down into the bed, getting comfortable on his side, and soon enough, fall asleep himself. He observed a little while longer, curiosity eating at him as the Warden succumbed to a deeper sleep, Lucanis not even disturbed by the shifting body beside him, a wry grin crossing his face as the pair instinctively moved closer together, the Warden’s arm reaching out to wrap around Lucanis.

It was some time later that Davrin awoke sharply. He felt something move under his hand, and he subconsciously wrapped his arm tighter around it, at first thinking it Eva shifting in her sleep before he remembered his charge, and tightened his hold even more, curling his arm around Lucanis to hold him in place.

“Spite,” he said in a low, warning tone, “Don’t.”

“Warden no fun,” Spite grumbled, “Light sleeper.”

He cracked his eyes open to see Spite wiggling in his grasp, turning so that they were lying face to face, the purple light in the assassin’s eyes a little unnerving so close, but he didn’t relent his hold.

“Lucanis needs to sleep,” he told him, “If he stays awake much longer it might kill him, which will definitely be no fun for you.”

He grumbled again, “Don’t want him dead. Just want. To see.”

“All you’re seeing today is me, I’m afraid,” Davrin said, “You gotta let him rest.”

Spite quieted down for a little while, the pair simply taking in the other’s features as they lay so close.

“Pretty Warden.”

Davrin’s eyebrows rose, “What?”

“Warden is pretty,” Spite told him, “Lucanis thinks so.”

“Does he now?”

“Won’t say, won’t ever say. Thinks Rook is pretty too. Pretty together. Beautiful. Won’t let me tell. Never lets me tell.”

Davrin gave a soft chuckle, “Well this definitely isn’t the conversation I thought I’d be having with you… don’t tell Lucanis, but he’s not so bad himself.”

“Won’t tell,” he said, and it felt like a promise from his tone, “Pretty Warden. Smell like…” he sniffed harshly, “Gingerwort and wood shavings and… chocolate.”

“Chocolate?”

Spite nodded, “Smell like Rook. Chocolate and salt.”

“Do you smell Rook often?”

He shook his head to himself at the smile that played on Spite’s mouth, but they both glanced up at the sound of the door opening and he felt Spite vibrate in his arms as he recognised the presence.

“Y’know,” Eva said, rounding the corner to stand at the foot of the bed, “When I asked you to keep an eye on him, this isn’t what I meant.”

Davrin flushed a little, taking stock of the fact that he was laying with Lucanis’ sleeping form tucked comfortably, “Was the easiest way to keep Spite in check.”

“Uh huh…” she nodded, “You got room for one more?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t mind me interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he said.

She clambered into the bed, tucking herself in on the other side of Lucanis, feeling him turn to nuzzle in closer to her warmth.

“Chocolate and salt,” Spite hummed, “Rook.”

She gave him a smile, “Hey Spite.”

“Pretty Warden said Lucanis need sleep.”

Rook laughed softly, “The pretty Warden’s right.”

“No fun.”

“Is this not fun?” she teased, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertip. She felt the shiver of Lucanis’ skin under her touch, and the heat of Davrin’s gaze over his shoulder as he watched her interact with the demon.

“Lucanis won’t let me. Says it’s too dangerous.”

“You let me handle him,” she said, “Why don’t you lay here with me and Davrin for a little longer? And when our Crow’s had some sleep, I’ll talk to Luca about rewarding you somehow.”

Spite preened under the attention, “You. Spite’s favourite.”

He settled fully at her insistence, but kept watch as both Davrin and Rook found rest of their own, falling asleep with their hands rested on his waist.

Lucanis’ eyes opened to find himself face to face with Davrin, warmer and more comfortable than he had been in far longer than he could comprehend, almost sluggish with how much sleep he had managed to get.

“Mierda.”

“For full transparency,” Davrin mumbled his own eyes barely open, “Everyone remained fully clothed.”

A shame, Spite hissed in his ears.

Lucanis frowned sleepily, “Spite didn’t try to leave?”

“Oh, he did,” Davrin told him, “We convinced him to let you sleep.”

“We?”

Chocolate and salt!

He glanced over to see Rook curled up behind him, face buried against his shoulder blades right where Spite’s wings would unfurl, her own arms wrapped around him, to keep him close.

“Mierda,” he whispered again.

She began to shift at the sound of voices, the warmth of her breath against his skin as she let out a soft yawn, stretching, the softness of her body pressing against him.

“Luca? You okay?”

Her brown eyes were wide, that concerned look back once again. His mouth flapped, trying to wrap his head around the entire situation, how he had ended up from being forced into a nap under guard to waking up in the arms of one person he desired desperately and another that he had begun to change his feelings on, resigning himself to never having either of them; least of all because they had each other first. And somehow most confusing of all was that the demon that possessed him, that kept him from sleep, that would take control and be a danger to others, had let him rest; not because he was threatened, but because he was held.

She offered him a soft smile as she noted the flush in his cheeks, “Don’t think I’ve seen our Crow blush quite like that before.”

Our Crow, Spite crooned in his ears, Ours. Theirs. Our Warden. Our Rook. Wood shavings and chocolate.

Lucanis sat up quickly, breaking the embrace and clambering gracelessly out of the bed, Spite cursing him as he leapt up, grabbing his boots and waistcoat, “I should go. I need to clear my head.” They both called after him, but he kept walking.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Lost

Took this idea from @chumett and expanded on it. Basically the aftermath of Rook being pulled into the Fade prison for Lucanis and Spite.

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem!Rook

Word Count: 1460

Rook was gone. Ghilan'nain was dead. Solas had escaped. Rook was gone.

Lucanis tries not to panic but Spite has no such reservations.

‘Where. Is. Rook?!” The spirit screams in his head. Lucanis looks everywhere on the battlefield, as do the others. But Rook is nowhere to be found.

“Where is she? She can't just be gone?” Lucanis panics and that gives Spite the opening he needs to take over.

“Rook!!! Where. Is. Rook?!” Spite screams. The others flinch at the sound and when no one can offer him an answer, Spite screams and begins kicking Ghilan'nain's corpse.

“GIVE! ROOK! BACK!” Spite yells, each word punctuated by another kick. The body of course offers no answers. Emmerich tries approaching carefully.

“Spite, it will be okay. We will find Rook. One way or another.” He tells the spirit. But the spirit doesn't listen. He rages over Ghilan'nain's corpse and it takes Davrin and Taash to pull him away. In the process, Lucanis is able to wrestle back control from the demon. The change from rage to immense sorrow is instantaneous. Lucanis sobs and goes slack in Davrin and Taash's arms. They have to drag him away as the others follow. The way back is silent aside from Lucanis's stifled broken sobs. The loss of Harding, Neve, and Rook has broken the small group. Bellara cries silently and Emmerich stays close to her. Lucanis finally manages to stand on his own and Davrin and Taash give him space. He silently leads the group back through the Eluvian. Everyone goes their separate ways. Lucanis finds himself outside of her door. He opens it and lets himself in. Ignoring the oppressive feeling that being near the fish tank gives him, he lays down on the chaise. He can smell her scent and both him and Spite breathe it in. 

He goes back to their last conversation and is angry with himself for stopping Rook from saying whatever it was she wanted to say. He was pretty sure it was going to be a confession of her feelings. He doesn't know which would be worse: not knowing what she was going to say or knowing and then losing her. 

There, on her chaise, Lucanis lets himself fall apart completely.

In the weeks to follow, Lucanis finds himself losing hope. Emmerich and Bellara are doing everything they can to find Rook but nothing seems to be turning up. It seems bleak and Lucanis is almost ready to give up. Spite, on the other hand, has never given up asking for Rook. Lucanis has not known peace since Rook's disappearance. He slept even less than before, afraid Spite will lead them on a wild goose chase. He spends his time either wandering the Lighthouse or sitting in Rook's room. But he's not the only one suffering. The whole group feels the loss of their companions. But Lucanis can't find it in himself to check on them. He can't put himself into Rook's place. It feels wrong. He tells himself that when she returns, Rook will check in on everyone like she always does. This hope dwindles with each passing day that she remains missing. 

He's just about ready to give up when they find her. He's in the dining room when the news breaks. 

“I've found her!” Emmerich yells, Bellara hot on his heels. “Come! We have to hurry.”

Lucanis moves without even thinking, chasing after the two as they head towards the Eluvian, grabbing the others along the way. Emmerich leads them to a field that seems unassuming but even Lucanis can feel the magic in the air.

“The Fade. Is weak. Here. Rook?” Spite finally makes himself known.

“Hopefully.” Lucanis mutters back though he doesn't feel very hopeful.

“This way, it's thinner here!” Emmerich calls, bringing the others running.

“Better be right.” Taash says. Lucanis finally feels hope swell.

“Rook!” He calls.

“There! A light!” Emmerich points to a tear in the veil.

“We've got something, get ready!” Lucanis says and they all reach into the Fade. Lucanis flounders for a moment and then something, someone, is grabbing his hand. He puts both hands in and the others reach for him too.

“Heave!” Taash yells. And just like that, something gives and Rook comes flying out, knocking them all over. 

“Rook!” They all exclaim. Rook is sprawled across Lucanis's chest, her head just below his. Slowly, she picks her head up and her eyes lock with his and Lucanis almost bursts with relief.

“Rook…” He breathes out. His arms move of their own accord and wrap around her, crushing her body to his.

“Rook!” Spite yells. “Found. Our. Rook!!” Lucanis feels his cheeks heat at Spite's choice of words but he doesn't deny them. There's chuckles around him that reminds him that they are very much not alone. With a clearing of his throat, Lucanis lets go of Rook, intent on helping her up. Together, they stand, Rook's hand in his. But as soon as she's vertical, Rook sways and falls back into Lucanis, eyes rolling back into her head.

“Rook!” Lucanis catches her easily and panics when she doesn't respond. Did he get her back just to lose her again, he wonders. But she's still breathing so Lucanis tries not to panic too much.

“She's likely exhausted. Who knows what horrors she faced in that prison.” Emmerich says grimly. Lucanis shudders then carefully picks Rook up.

“Let's get her back to the Lighthouse.” Taash says. They leads the way, Lucanis walking somewhere in the middle. Bellara and Emmerich are chatting excitedly behind him while Davrin and Taash walk silently up front. The journey back to the Lighthouse is swift. Walking through the Eluvian, Lucanis tells the others that he will be taking Rook to her room. There are murmurs of agreement and Bellara offers to cook something simple to eat. Emmerich puts his hand on Lucanis's shoulder.

“Let us know if she needs anything.” He says, before letting Lucanis go. Lucanis nods then heads towards Rook’s room. Once there, he lays her gently on the chaise and grabs a blanket to throw over her. Then he settles down on the floor with his back pressed to the fish tank so he can watch her and the door. Spite practically purrs in his mind.

“Rook. Is. Safe.” Lucanis lets out a breath and nods. 

“Yes, Spite. Rook is safe.”

“We. Keep. Rook. Safe.” Spite says with such conviction, Lucanis is almost proud.

“Yes, we will.”

Lucanis is unsure how much time passes until Rook wakes up, but every second is torture. Every move or sigh she makes, Lucanis perks up. And every time, she stays unconscious. So when she finally does wake, Lucanis almost misses it. He sighs when she moves but then she groans and brings her hand up to her forehead. Lucanis immediately jumps up. Trying not to startle her, he calls for her softly. Her real name, not what everyone calls her. Doing the opposite of what he intended, she startles, causing her to sit up suddenly and look around wildly. Her eyes finally find his and she sags in relief.

“Lucanis? Am I… is this real?” Her voice cracks and Lucanis immediately crosses to her, cupping her face in his hands. 

“It's real, mi amor. You're here. You're safe.” She sobs and leans into him, her forehead on his chest. For a few minutes there is just the soft sounds of her crying and Lucanis's reassurances. When she gathers herself, she pulls back to look at him. 

“How long was I gone?”

“Weeks. It was torture being apart from you for so long. Especially not knowing if you were…” Lucanis trails off and looks away but Rook turns him back, forcing him to meet her eyes. It is her turn to reassure him.

“I'm here, Lucanis.” They press their foreheads together and just breathe for a few moments. Rook is the one to break the silence and she does so reluctantly. 

“We need to gather the others. I need to tell you what I've learned and you all need to tell me what's happened.”

“Can't we do that later?” Lucanis asks, though there is no real feeling behind the question. He knows the truth. If they weren't fighting gods, maybe they could take the time Rook needs to rest. But they are fighting gods and every second counts. Before Rook can remind him of this, Lucanis speaks first.

“Come. Bellara has made some food. We'll get you fed then gather the others.” Lucanis tells her. His tone brokers no argument and she smiles softly at him.

“Deal.”

Together, they leave the room and steel themselves for what is to come. But even they could not be prepared for what happens next.

[mothmangela]

Between Taash making Neve x Lucanis fanart and Bellara’s fanfic writing, nobody at the Lighthouse seems appropriately worried that those two are holed up in Bellara’s room inventing Thedas’s closest equivalent to Tumblr

[aldisobey]

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.

[cherrypikkins]

'A Question of Trust' - Rook x Lucanis Short Fic - Part 3

description: lucanis has no memory of what happened during his most recent sleepwalk. all he knows is that seiren is badly hurt, there's blood on his clothes, and spite is strangely quiet

Continued from Part 2

(cw: blood, injury, brief spoiler mention)

credits to @sakurabunnie for throwing ideas at me :3

Emmrich tends to Seiren, assisted by Manfred. The others convene in the Atrium. The moment Lucanis emerges from the infirmary, all eyes are on him. Mercifully, the unbearable silence doesn't last long, but what follows isn't much better.

Davrin shouts. Taash shouts back at him louder. Assan circles anxiously, ears flat, head low. Harding won't stop staring at Lucanis, her gaze like an arrow, while Bellara can barely glance in his direction. And Neve has that familiar look on her face. She is no stranger to untangling horrifying truths. But this time there is a haunted look in her eyes that carries a different weight. It's not just another case to the hard-boiled detective. Not when friends are involved.

As words are exchanged, Bellara meekly checks in on Lucanis, but he is barely present, his eyes ever drifting towards the archway leading to the infirmary.

Within minutes, Lucanis is sick of the arguing. Of the accusing stares and the uncomfortable glances. The thought of Seiren wounded, unconscious and stricken with some unknown ailment. Her blood on his hands. Her words in his head…

Spite… No, you mustn't…

The gap in his memory plagues him still, but he can't run from the truth. What does Neve call a case like this?

…Ah, yes. Open-and-shut.

Without a word, Lucanis spins on a heel and leaves. The doors to the courtyard fly open as he exits. Davrin is about to give chase, but Taash and Harding stop him.

The discussion resumes without Lucanis. Taash and Davrin continue to argue, albeit more civilly as Harding tries to calm them down. Bellara flits nervously, then notices Neve heading back to the Eluvian room - the scene where it all started.

Though her eyes dart back and forth with indecision, she ultimately breaks away from the group... and follows Neve.

...

Lucanis returns to the dining hall alone. He strides past the table laden with books and half empty wine-glasses and Bellara's meeting notes… and steps into the darkness of the pantry. The door shuts behind him. More than ever, this place feels like his old cell - but maybe this time he belongs there.

He sees his familiar cot, pushed up against the far, far wall - waiting for him. He makes his way over, turns, and sits down. Closes his eyes. Slows his breathing. Purges his thoughts until his mind is one with the dark. Eyes shut, he stares into the void.

Spite stares back.

Lucanis takes a deep breath. Control. Focus. He tells himself.

"You've been awfully quiet since that bloodbath in the Chantry," he begins conversationally, but without mirth. "I think it's time that you and I have a talk."

He can feel his lips curl, baring teeth - but that is all Spite's doing. The usual perks of sharing a body with a demon.

"Talk? You never want to talk." Spite snarls back, using his voice. He is as baleful and grating as ever, but there is a bitterness to his tone that wasn't there before.

"You've been planning this, haven't you?" Lucanis accuses him. "Waiting for everyone in the book club to have their meeting before sneaking out. Clever, even for you. But Rook knew something was wrong. She went looking for you, didn't she? Looking for us."

Spite hesitates.

"Answer me, demon." Lucanis snarls, determined to wrest out the truth by any means necessary.

Spite clenches his teeth, visibly chafing. "Little Crow thinks he has all the answers."

Lucanis can feel his own jaw hurting, but does not flinch for a second.

"Don't play dumb. Everyone knows what happened. You tried to escape into the Crossroads. Tried to operate the Eluvian by yourself, but you didn't know how. That's why it's damaged, isn't it?"

Spite is silent. But Lucanis can feel the demon's rancor growing, a swell of black smoke and embers burning up his lungs and guts. And yet, in his mind, Spite seems to recoil in shame and agony - even breaking eye contact to look down, something he has never done before. But rather than contemplate this, Lucanis presses the attack.

"And Seiren found you," he scorns with cold fury. "She tried to stop you from leaving. And that - that was when you hurt her. You even used some kind of poison to-"

Spite whirls around to cut him off, eyes ablaze.

"NEVER."

The demon's aura erupts into full-blown rage. Lucanis flies back, thrown by an unseen force. The breath explodes from his chest he hits the wall and sinks to the floor. Somewhere around him, he can hear things breaking and falling.

Wreathed in purple veilfire, Spite lunges until he and Lucanis are nose-to-nose.

"NEVER. I would never. Hurt. Rook. EVER."

Lucanis flinches. His concentration shatters, and the demon evaporates in a howling storm of phantom feathers. His eyes snap open. Hyperventilating, he looks around wildly and finds himself haphazard on the pantry floor. His sleeping area is a mess, as if a storm had torn through. The wooden cot lies overturned, his belongings spilled to the floor. The leaves from his logbook are scattered, still drifting in the air. And on the floor around him are pieces of a broken mug. Maybe two.

He notices the pantry door, now inexplicably open. It sways back and forth on its hinges, disturbed by a stray breeze.

Ears ringing, Lucanis rises to his feet, wiping the cold sweat away from his forehead. He makes his way to the door and looks out, only to find the dining hall empty. The desolate wind howls through the rafters overhead.

"Lies," he mutters. His throat hurts, as if he was the one shouting at the top of his lungs just now.

But inside, he knows - no matter how hard he tries to convince himself, he can't run from the truth.

(to be continued)

[deny-the-issue]

Oblivious and in Love

Summary: Rook's relationship with Emmrich blooms among the thorns. !Spoiler warning! This oneshot takes you through the events of DATV, and while I do not go into great detail, there are still many spoilers.

Thank you so much to @juniper-sunny for beta reading <3

AO3 link

Link to divider

I have a multi-chapter Emmrich x Reader taking over my brain, so be on the lookout for more Emmrich fanfics from me! Also art. Lots of art.

[MDNI] [Emmrich x fem!Rook] [Emmrich x you] [Mourn Watch Rook] [Fluff] [angst] [smut] [hurt/comfort] [no gender pronouns] [Neurodivergent coded reader] [fingering] [vaginal sex] [3.8k words]

Your pining for Emmrich started as a pleasant distraction from calamity. Who wouldn’t want to daydream about a dapper necromancer sweeping you off your feet with his charismatic charms in between battling ancient elven gods?

But that’s all you thought it was. A daydream. Why would an esteemed scholar of the Mourn Watch pay a young upstart any mind? He treated you with kindness and grace, just like with every other living thing he encountered. 

You admire that most about him, you think. His reverence for life. It goes far beyond anything the Mourn Watch teaches. He invokes the spirits of the dead with the grace of a seasoned conductor, the magic of the fade as his orchestra, all at the whims of his deft hands. 

The etheric dance of his fingers entrances you, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in other ways.

Tonight, you cannot get them out of your mind. It doesn’t help that you had a strange interaction with him earlier that you still haven’t processed. 

Walking back to your room, you run into Taash. Quite literally a full-body collision with the immovable force that is Taash.

“Shit, what’s wrong with you?” Taash grumbles.

“S-sorry!” you stammer out an apology but stumble on the excuse.

“Out with it.” Taash crosses their arms and frowns.

Sighing heavily, you concede. Maybe Taash could give you an outside perspective. You trust her to not sugarcoat things. And, after all, they were there. 

“Ya’know, earlier? When you scratched my back?”

“Yeah?” 

“Did I do something wrong? Emmrich was acting…”

“I thought he was going to explode.” Taash smirks. 

“Wait–what? Why?”

“You can’t moan like that in front of the old man. He’s so down bad for you it just might kill him!”

“Hey, it felt good and I couldn’t reach it!” You’re so busy defending yourself you almost missed the point. “...Down bad?”

“Yeah. He wants to kiss you and stuff.” 

You frown in disbelief. For a man with such a way with words, he hasn’t uttered a single passing phrase that could be counted as flirtation. 

Taash’s face settles into a smoldering frown and you start to back away, afraid. “He looks at you with doe-eyes constantly! He gifted you some of your favorite chocolate from the Necropolis! You don’t need my sense of smell to know his intentions.” Taash prods you with a finger to make her point. “You’re both hot for each other! Do something about it.”

Shocked and still processing, Taash is already walking away when the first laugh bubbles its way out. From the aggressively friendly talk to the revelation of Emmrich’s returned feelings, you can only sit idly by as a passenger of your surging emotions. 

Rushing back to your room to close the door, you let out a dampened squeal as you dance around the room before plopping down onto your bed. 

Looking back on it, Emmrich was blushing when he finally found the words to excuse himself. It’s like his brain stopped working for a moment–just like when you complimented him after he discerned the location of the rogue necromancer. 

Life just got a lot brighter, and it’s not just because the outer wall of your room is a big aquarium. 

It wasn’t long after the back-scratching incident that you two shared your first irrefutably romantic moment. You talked over the intricacies of the fade, his envy of your adventures, and then, finally, embracing the elephant in the room. 

You leave his room with a smile so wide it hurts, and no amount of cock-blocking from Manfred could ruin it. 

You love Manfred, but his timing is just awful. 

Things moved so fast after that. The world is in ever more peril, and all you look forward to are your moments alone with Emmrich. Walking through the gardens with him is paradise amidst the chaos. You catch the surge of happiness from yearning returned in his loving gaze. 

How long has he waited for love? How many times has he thought he found it only to be crushed? How many times has he plucked a bloom of Shoud’s kiss to inhale its fragrance alone, wishing for everlasting companionship? 

Emmrich sweeps you off your feet with dulcet tones and lustrous magic. You lose yourself in the moment–in him. He holds your face so sweetly, leaning in to press his soft, warm lips against yours. 

You dream about his touch alone that night, fingers slipping below your underwear. He could have taken you right there on that statue–you wanted him to. Still fighting the urge to go wake him from needed sleep to ride him to bliss, you pretend your hand is his as you pleasure yourself. 

It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough. But it brings you some relief and a lot of clarity. You’ve always moved too fast in your relationships before, and Emmrich is significantly older. The desire was there, you saw it in his eyes and his movements. How his hands slid across your body…

But there’s something holding him back. 

Lichdom lays heavily on his mind, you know, but it’s more than that. Taking it slow will be good for you. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself to try and get some sleep.

It’s unhealthy how much you think of him. Every waking moment outside of battle is spent daydreaming about your potential life together. It keeps a spring in your step amongst the world’s rubble.

How can you not fall head over heels for him when he pulls out all the stops, likely abusing his senior-staff privileges to give you a dinner date you’ll never forget? 

But again, the intimacies that follow are tame. Slow, delicate, teasing kisses and gentle roaming hands. You’re shaking by the time you lock your bedroom door behind you, shedding clothes like a cat sheds fur in summer. Needy fingers rush to circle your slick, throbbing clit. One, two, three times before you cry out his name and collapse onto the bed. Sighing wistfully, you let the undulating muscle spasms carry you off to sleep, knowing the relief is only momentary. 

Just like that, all your romantic interludes come to an end. Now too busy babysitting Hezenkoss’ skull to have any meaningful conversation with you. To top it off, you overheard a conversation between Emmrich and Harding that sowed doubt in your mind.

Does he blame you for choosing Manfred over Lichdom? Or is this residual guilt of having made the most important choice for your loved one?

He has been mopey, Harding’s right about that. Does he truly have a problem with your age? Why hasn’t he talked to you about it? Emmrich isn’t the only one to take Harding’s advice of keeping both eyes open. Where one relationship would have twigs and branches, you’ve seem to hit a brick wall. 

The other couples of the Lighthouse add salt to the wound, and you’re left bereft and all shades of jealous. It’s a good thing, ultimately, you didn’t fuck Emmrich. If you’re moody now, you don’t want to imagine the monster you would have become if you shared your body with him. 

This is different from any love you’ve known. It doesn’t feel healthy–this attachment. Is it because of the end of the world, or do you have to re-evaluate your life choices? Are you being oversensitive, or are his reservations preventing you from going further? 

Plagued with thoughts, you focus on everyone else’s needs but your own. Dwelling on it never helped anyone, and you have to keep your head in the game, right? 

In the hours before heading to the Island to kill two gods, you find yourself pacing outside of Emmrich’s door. This may be your last time you get to feel his lips on yours, if he still wants you.

Yet no such intimacy occurred–only the glacier tipping to show its dark underbelly, and you’re crushed by the waves. With each step away from him, your composure deteriorates. It’s all you can do to rush to your room and shut the door with your back, sliding down its frame as the strength leaves your limbs. 

Dammit. You knew he had a problem with the age difference–why didn’t he just come to you about it? If he cannot trust you with his fears and insecurities, what hope is there for the two of you?

Tears stream down your flushed cheeks, breathing fast and heavy. You’ve only known him a few weeks, how can this feel like your heart is shattering? 

You just wanted a quiet moment with him. One more moment. Is that too much to ask? Before you go off, uncertain if anyone will return? 

Nails dig into your palms as your fists shake with anger. Why did he do this? When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders? And how can you go off to battle like this? 

Unclenching your firsts and hiding your face in them, the darkness is welcoming, and you cry until your eyes are dry, red, and puffy. 

The outburst drained most of your anguish, allowing your rational mind to slowly reawaken on the cold stone floor. 

You did know this was a problem–this argument was not unforeseen. There was certainly a better time for it, but with his fear of death, you cannot fault him. There is a way through this for the two of you; you just hope you live long enough to see it come to fruition. 

The thought of taking someone else into battle crosses your mind. Would you be too distracted to lead with Emmrich by your side? Or even more distracted without him as you worry endlessly about his safety?

You know the answer, even if you don’t like it at the moment. Picking yourself up off the ground, you slowly compose yourself to face the team. 

Somehow, you all manage to reach the island’s shore unnoticed. When it comes time to pick who goes with you, Emmrich cannot meet your gaze. 

When his name spills from your lips, he looks to you with such a soft, grateful expression. 

There is hope for you, afterall. Survival seems that much more palpable with him solidly at your back. 

The first fight puts your worries to ease–you’re even more in sync than unusual. Attuned to each other's movements in a way you haven’t been before. It felt natural.

Emmrich starts to apologize, but you’ve already forgiven him. You see the tenacity of his will to make it through this with you, past words said in times of stress don’t change that. Neither the time or the place for a formal apology, you tell him you’ll talk at home, hiding the tremor in your voice.

You’re right to be scared. Falling to your knees in the Fade prison, angry, confused, and broken, you scream into the abyss. Facing your regrets has never been so hard, and even when you see the way out, you’re unsure you processed any of it. 

When you’re pulled from the prison you fall into Emmrich’s embrace. Lifting your face with a hand under your chin, his tired, worried eyes search you for signs of injury. You would have stayed like that forever if it were up to you. Emmrich glances behind and you follow his gaze. Locking eyes first with Taash, then Lucanis, the weight of the world comes crashing down as they look to you for answers.

Taash’s gaze was the hardest to meet. They lost everything, all with you driving at the helm. Lucanis too, as far as you know. You can’t even ask yourself if there was another way, because it doesn’t matter. You made the hard decisions, and now you have to live with it. 

The group catches you up on the dire situation when you arrive back at the lighthouse. As soon as everyone parts ways, you start to unravel, mind and body. Emmrich reaches through the fog, and asks you to entrust the team with the preparations while you get some rest. 

Asking is the wrong word. Commanding is more appropriate, and you’re left alone in the Library before long. If it were any other time you would blush at such an interaction, but the blood won’t rise to your exhausted face. Your vision blurs and after a barrage of blinking, you sigh, defeated. Sleep is one of the few things that aren’t trying to kill you at the moment, so you concede.

A nap should fix me. 

Walking into your room, your feet stop just before the bed. Body wavering slightly with each breath, shoulders slumped forward, you stare at the rich green fabric.

Not with any purpose–your mind is so shut down you cannot even process why you’re not laying down. 

Rest. You need to rest.

Fingers pulling at your hair, you let out a frustrated growl. How can you lead when you can’t think clearly? And to think clearly you need to sleep? And to sleep you need to lay down on this fucking couch you call a bed?

Turning to look at the fish swimming, the aquamarine light sears your sleepy eyes. 

Oh.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, willing your brain to think. Your mind wanders to the only other unoccupied bed in the lighthouse. As much as you loathe sleeping in the bed once owned by the person that just betrayed and imprisoned you, your desperation for sleep outweighs your simmering hatred. 

You close and cover your eyes to walk through the portals, stumbling to the top of the lighthouse blind to roll into a bed not surrounded by a giant aquarium. Taking off your clothes, the breath of fresh air across your skin is a welcome relief. The only one that would venture up here is Emmrich, and you don’t mind him seeing you in your underwear.

There are more comfortable beds in the world, certainly, but none felt so good as this one. Turning to face the wall, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not the dark of night, but it’ll do. 

The events of the past who-knows-how-long have taken their toll on you, and you spiral into unconsciousness so fast your body jerks violently only to start the process over again. 

It’s a battle against Solas, against Elgar’nan; of course it’s a battle to sleep as well. 

As much as you grumble about it, your mind relaxes soon enough, carrying you off to a deep and dreamless sleep. 

A voice pierces the veil of unconsciousness, and then a shifting of weight on the mattress. Half awake, you feel the warmth of someone sitting beside you. 

“Emmrich?” you ask blindly, too tired to open your eyes. 

“I’m here, my darling.” He touches your arm reassuringly. 

“Stay with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He climbs into bed behind you, kissing your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. 

Your body relaxes in his embrace, and you sigh peacefully as something stirs in your core. His body against yours—the contact begins to drive your sleep-addled mind crazy. Mind awakening more with each breath, a devilish idea forms. The thought-action barrier is thinned when you’re like this, and you’ve waited far too long already. 

You roll your hips back into him, and the soft gasp from Emmrich is all the encouragement you need to keep going. Entwining your fingers with his, you press his hand to your breast as a breathy moan escaping your bitten lips.

“Dearest…” he breathes into your ear, hand gently kneading your bosom. “You need to rest.”

His cock twitches against your backside as you run your hand down his side, pulling him harder against you as you cant your hips. Emmrich delves his face into the crook of your neck, his hips matching your pace. Releasing his grip, his outer hand slides down your body, caressing your curves as his other resumes his hold on your breast. The closer he gets to the smoldering heat between your legs, the more you have to stop yourself from begging. Your body has no such reservations. Lifting your leg, you hook it behind his, inviting him to touch you without a word.

A broken, trembling whimper echoes off the stone when his fingers find their mark over your underwear.

“P-please. Touch me…” The rest of your restraint falls through the grate at the center of the room, raining down on any unfortunate in the Library below.

“Anything for you, my love.” Emmrich kisses your neck as his fingers trace the hem of your panties.

Squirming, you hide your face in your pillow as you giggle. 

Emmrich joins you with a breathy laugh. “Does that tickle?”

You squeal as he continues, bringing your knees together defensively. Devilish man–this was part of his plan. With a proud grin, he yanks your underwear down, taking advantage of your surprise. 

Emmrich lifts your thigh, hooking it over him again. The ambient air hitting your cunt is downright salacious, and the thought of being overheard only adds to your excitement. Want buzzes behind your eyes, your thoughts entangled with the featherlight, teasing touch against your lips. 

With a hand just as skilled as you imagined, he dips a finger into your folds, and hums. “All of this, for me?”

He strokes you, fingers slipping inside, gliding his palm against your hard clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasp, barely able to form the words when each agonizingly slow movement of Emmrich’s hand inches you closer to the edge. “I’m hnn–yours, Emmrich–ah!”

Emmrich trails kisses down your jaw, whispering gentle affirmations with your every twitch and noise. Attuned to you in every way, he plays on the chords of your pleasure with such passionate, practiced patience. 

Toes curling, legs shaking with each pass over your throbbing clit, you fight the building crescendo with every ounce of your will.

“Emmrich, please,” you pant, rolling your hips with the rhythm of his hand. “I need you inside me…”

Your pussy aches from the loss of his hand, and you squeeze your thighs together to dull the want as he kneels on the bed. Normally deft hands fumble over his many buttons, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“Don’t be,” you smile, sitting up so you can aid him.

You set to unbuttoning his vest while he gets a jump start on his shirt, sneaking a kiss just to see him smile. His many layers discarded, he slowly pulls down his trousers, eyes locked on you.

Slack-jawed, you can’t hide your excitement when his cock bounces free. Perfect length, girth, everything, with a bead of precum glistening at the tip. 

“Beautiful man, beautiful cock.” You crash into him, not able to hold back any longer.

Kissing with such passion, you barely feel yourself falling backward until your head hits the pillow. You wrap your legs around him, canting your hips at the feeling of his cock grinding across your soaked cunt.

Moaning unabashedly, you drink in his sounds of bliss. “Emmrich…”

His cock twitches, lining up to your entrance, and he finally pushes in, allowing you to adjust to his size before fucking you slow and steady. You hold him tight, fingers digging in at the divine pleasure. Throwing your head back, your desperate little noises are a harmony to his, perfectly in tune to the obscene, slick overtones of your coupling. 

You tilt your hips upward on the next thrust and he reaches new heights inside, sending a rush of tingling currents from your navel to your toes. 

“I’m c-cumming–” you cut yourself off, crying out as Emmrich fucks into you hard and deep.

Drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth as your body contracts, pussy clamping down on his cock as he pounds the bundle of nerves deep inside of you. Emmrich cries out your name, caught in the tsunami of your pleasure.

You cradle his face in the crook of your neck as you climax together, barely feeling the tell-tale pulse at the base of his cock over the twitching and spasming of your core.

The time wisps by in his tight embrace, but neither of you can bear to break this moment. This peaceful, perfect moment where nothing else exists.

Hair messy, breath hot against your skin as he pants, you hold each other too tight. Fingers digging into flesh, arms tense. Your hands begin to shake as emotions chased away come rushing back with a vengeance. Something warm and wet trickles down your neck. You dismiss it as sweat until your body shakes from the first of Emmrich’s gentle sobs. 

You kiss his forehead, hands rubbing his back soothingly, all too eager to comfort him than to face the storm raging inside. Your vision blurs anyway as tears stream down your face, unable to keep anything back anymore.

“I thought I lost you.” Emmrich confesses, crying harder now. “I put all my effort into creating that damn replica because I couldn’t bear it–” 

“I’m sorry.” You feel guilt snake its way through your guts.

Emmrich pulls away just enough to wipe away your tears, his enchanting eyes filled with such devotion. “It’s ok, dearest. We’re together now, and I’m not letting anything come between us again.”

As much as your soul soars at his declaration, your mental state continues to silently devolve. Too close to hide it, Emmrich is quick to catch on. 

“Please talk to me, dearest. I’m here for you.” He holds your face gently, thumb caressing your cheek.

Lips quivering, a sob rips through your body.

“Oh, my love. You’ve been holding onto so much, let it out.” 

He turns onto his side and you follow, leaning your forehead against his. 

With eyes closed, you take a deep breath, and break down. “Harding is… Harding’s dead. Varric is gone. Neve is dead or blighted. Everything is falling apart. I was never supposed to lead!” you choke down another sob, disgusted with your weakness. “Is this the undead rebellion all over again? I was so sure I was doing the right thing only to be reprimanded and cast out afterward. What if I’m doing this wrong?” 

“Listen to me, Rook,” his calm voice soothes you as much as his embrace. “You’ve made impossible decisions that would humble the best of us. Never once did you doubt us. The losses we’ve endured are meant to break you–the god’s will is cruel.

“When you disappeared, the mere thought of finding you kept this ragged band of heroes together. You took all of our woes unto yourself, asking nothing in return. Truly, you are indomitable–of body and spirit. If anyone can lead us to victory, it’s you.”

His relentless faith in you is both endearing and worrisome. You yearn to be the person reflected in his gorgeous brown eyes, and decide right then and there that you’re going to make it through this. Both of you, alive. Nothing else will do.

“I love you with all my heart, Emmrich.” 

“Oh, dearest. I love you, too.”

Tag list: @gamerheartthrob, @vincetadark, @lunanovagames, @mollymauksboi, @pwney, @roxnpens

[princess-leaorgana]

Death, Despair, and Other Crow Stories

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Fanfic

Full Length, Post-Game Fanfiction of my Rook, Antivan Crow Leo de Riva and his relationship with Mourn Watcher, Professor Emmrich Volkarin

Pairing: AMAB Rook x Emmrich M/M

Read On AO3

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Spoilers Ahead Beta Reading Credit to: @jazzmorelikespazz

The Veilguard will stay vigilant.

But for now, a rest.

Leo felt a gloved hand in his own. He was in so much pain, he was covered in blight and blood, and who knew what else came out of elven gods and darkspawn. He was more than certain he had cracked a rib. But he was upright. He was walking through the ruins that were the city of Minrathous. Behind him, around him, in front of him were his friends, his allies, and his family. Next to him was someone who was more than all of those things put together. He looked up at the man who had just taken his hand, a little shocking for him, being so timid of public affection. But a hand hold after saving the world? He was daring, wasn’t he. Leo smiled at him, but Emmrich Volkarin’s green eyes were just full of worry.

“Darling, you are badly hurt, I wish you would let me-” Leo didn’t care what he had to say. He was in pain, but it was dulled due to adrenaline. He stopped walking and turned to Emmrich, pulling the older man close and pressed his lips to his. He was half expecting Emmrich to pull away and hit him. Neither came, instead, a tired sigh from the mage and pressure back on Leo’s lips. Leo lifted his free hand and gripped the lapel of Emmrich’s cape to keep him close. The heroes of the Veil were allotted a kiss, at the very least. Emmrich tasted like salt from his sweat. Leo couldn’t help it, tasting him and going a little too far, parting Emmrich lips with his tongue, carelessly begging for more. Leo heard a soft sigh from Emmrich. The softest sound in the world and he felt a warm heat rush over him. He was too easy.

“Aawwwwww…” Bellara attempted to hold that back and Emmrich lifted his face and cleared his throat, a little embarrassed that he was caught necking in public. Leo chuckled at him.

“Ah, gross,” Taash muttered, walking past them.

“Stay jealous, Taash,” Leo threw at them and they smirked at him and winked.

“Darling, please, I know you must feel elated. Trust me, the weight off of my shoulders is such a relief, but I beg that we go home and make haste. You are seriously injured,” Emmrich said and Leo looked at him with a smile.

“Home?” Leo asked him and Emmrich’s face deepened with blush.

“Oh well, I uhm…back to…Nevarra, I’m sorry, I misspoke,” he said and Leo chuckled.

“Fix me up at the Lighthouse, then we can talk about all of that, mi vida,” Leo said happily and Emmrich smiled.

The band did end up traveling back to the Lighthouse; as much as Leo wanted to bring Emmrich home and begin whatever happy ending they could dream of, he was in critical condition. Besides, Bellara and Lucanis did promise a large celebration dinner and dessert, and Leo would never pass up a meal from Bellara. Emmrich brought Leo upstairs to his room so he could properly heal Leo while he laid on his examination table. Leo hated that thing, but with help from Taash, Leo got up the stairs and onto the table.

“So Volkarin and his lackeys return, did you kill the dragon, at least?” spoke the skull and spirit of Johanna Hezzankoss. Leo had meant to throw her out into the Fade before they left, but Emmrich wouldn’t allow it. She would be brought back to Nevarra and dealt with properly. Until then, Emmrich was in charge of her possession. And she would be very, very annoying until she was handed off.

“Hezz, once I’m upright, I’m going to chuck you into a blight boil,” Leo said with a grunt as Emmrich attempted to remove his leather jacket, if you could call what Leo was wearing a jacket. All style, zero function.

“Don’t you dare,” Emmrich scolded him.

“Don’t worry, Rook, I got your back. I can punt her and Emmrich can’t run faster than me,” Taash said and Leo smirked up at them. Emmrich shot them a look and sighed, looking back at Leo, noticing a large red bump down his lower left hand rib cage. Emmrich was shocked Leo was still conscious.

“Oh, oh darling,” Emmrich muttered and turned to look at Manfred. “Manfred, please fetch me a vial of that sleeping potion with the Heatherum, if you could, quickly,” he said and Manfred toddled quickly over to a large shelf behind glass to obey Emmrich’s request.

“Sleeping potion? Isn’t there just a spell or something?” Leo asked and Emmrich sighed.

“You won’t want to be awake during this, darling. I will need to manually realign your left false and floating ribs,” he said and gently placed his fingers on the large lump at Leo’s side. Leo hissed.

“Cool, can I watch?” Taash asked and Emmrich glanced at Leo for his permission. Leo groaned and nodded before Manfred arrived with a tray with a drinking glass and a large purple bottle.

“Ah, thank you Manfred, lovely,” Emmrich said before he poured a small dose of the potion into the glass to hand to Leo. Leo sighed, knowing full well what to expect. Leo got hurt a lot. Broken bones and stab wounds were no stranger to him, and neither was a sleeping potion. He also had a knack for making potions like this. The extra ingredient, the Heatherum, Leo knew would knock him out and make him feel dazed for a while after he woke up. “Quickly, down in one if you can,” Emmrich said and Leo nodded.

“To fucking freedom,” he said and knocked the sweet potion back.

“Taash, help him lie down, if you would be so kind,” Emmrich said and Leo shot Emmrich a sideways look.

“I don’t need hel-“

And he was out.

Leo felt nothing but darkness for the next three hours. So much for dinner. Waking up, he was no longer on that slab in Emmrich’s room. He was in his own room. He was lying on his back on that horrific sofa bed. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mandfred watching the fishes behind glass, his hands and emerald eyes right up against the glass. Leo loved that little mage terribly. He might have fallen for Manfred before he fell for Emmrich, that brave little guy that continued to fight so well. And he made a mean cup of coffee.

Leo felt heavy, as if there was a fog in his brain and a boulder keeping his body down. He was aware of his surroundings, but he felt no control over his body. Which might have been the point, since he also felt no pain. He blinked slowly and groaned. From behind him, he heard Emmrich’s voice. He felt a wave of heaviness once he heard that voice, like he had been chucked into the ocean.

“Rook? Rook darling, are you awake?”

Rook. Rook. Rook.

Leo felt sick. At the sound of that name, the one he had been exclusively using for months now, a picture of a little girl flashed in his mind. Short, coily hair with a single red plait sitting on her shoulder. Leo heard her snicker. His lips curled up in a smile and he closed his eyes and groaned again.

“Rook?”

Leo opened his eyes and saw Emmrich kneeling in front of him. He had one of Leo’s hands in his.

“Rook no está aqui, mi vida…Rook se fue,” he said softly and closed his eyes again. He felt so tired. That potion was working overtime. “Mmmmm…”

“Darling, how are you feeling?”

“Leo.” It was the last thing he said before he fell back into unconsciousness.

This felt more like sleep this time. He dreamed of the Fade, the fear of being lost forever. His regrets pressing into his mind, Lace, Varric, those bodies from the Archon palace. The devastation that he felt responsible for. All of those lives gone, families broken, homes shattered. Right before he woke up, he witnessed one more regret.

“I want to play with the Qunari!” uttered from a sweet little voice, then a blood curdling scream that woke Leo up with a shout.

His brown eyes snapped open. Emmrich was the first thing he saw. He was still on his sofa bed, but his pillow had been replaced by Emmrich’s lap. Emmrich’s cold hands touched Leo’s cheeks to ground him.

“Easy, easy, take a deep breath,” Emmrich said and Leo realized how hard his heart was beating, and how deep his breaths were. And the pain on his left side with every breath. He took in a deep breath, and groaned in pain. His left side was sore. Emmrich placed one of his hands just over Leo’s injury, a bright green light of summoned magic and Leo felt a tingle and the pain was gone. A beautiful relief, the release of pain and Leo felt awake and himself once more.

“I am so sorry, my dearest, I thought I healed it all. How do you feel?” He asked and Leo looked up at Emmrich. He looked a little scruffy.

“I’m alright, just…nightmare. I have a feeling after the last few weeks that won’t be the last one I have for a while,” he said and Emmrich frowned, placing his mage hand back on Leo’s cheek. “But I’m very happy to be awake and to see you, mi vida,” he said and lifted his own hands to touch Emmrich’s face. Emmrich smiled down at him. Leo could get lost in those green eyes of Emmrich’s. Or were they hazel? The color didn’t matter, Leo loved them. He loved everything about his necromancer.

“I was so worried, I did not think for a moment you would have such a reaction to that draft. Clearly, it’s gone bad, I’ll replace it,” Emmrich said and Leo smiled, keeping his hands on Emmrich’s cheeks. “All that tossing and turning and groaning, and you were shouting, I feel awful. What pain you must have been in.” Emmrich fussed harder and Leo’s smile only grew. He’d never felt so safe in his life than when he was with Emmrich.

Leo never thought for a day he ever needed to be taken care of; he was wildly independent. He hated receiving help or praise, until Emmrich. He felt like a neglected child, begging for attention now. But he was terribly happy. “And who in Thedas is Leo?” Emmrich asked and Leo stopped his day dreaming.

”Oh,” Leo said softly. No, he had never told anyone his real name. He hated himself for never telling Emmrich. He let go of Emmrich’s face and grunted to sit up. Leo remembered being lucid before falling back to sleep. He had tried to tell Emmrich then, but had fallen asleep.

Leo looked at Emmrich and sighed. “Leo is…uh…me,” he said and Emmrich’s eyebrows shot up. Leo felt terribly guilty. “Please don’t tell me you thought my real name was Rook,” he said and Emmrich’s face softened a little.

”Well, no, but…do…do you not use your real name?” Emmrich asked and Leo nodded. He hated himself for taking this long to explain something incredibly simple to Emmrich. He remembered their first kiss, just before their lips touched, Emmrich whispered ‘Rook’ and Leo wanted to tell him there and then, but he let it drag and drag. Now here he was, planning on moving countries to be with Emmrich, and he was just now telling the poor man his real name.

”When Viago and the other houses pushed me out, Viago insisted I embarrassed our family too much to deserve a family name,” he said and sighed. “And I didn’t think my contract with Lace and Varric would end up with me finding someone who I-“

Leo stopped himself. That word. He’d used it twice before with Emmrich, but it still frightened him to say it. “Who I would fall so in love with. I’m sorry Emmrich, but my name is Leo. And…if you can stomach it, I’d…really like it if my partner used my real name,” Leo said and reached over to take Emmrich’s hand. Emmrich took it happily and gave it a little squeeze. That felt nice.

“Leo,” Emmrich said and Leo smiled. That felt amazing, hearing Emmrich say his name, finally. “I’m terribly embarrassed, you were repeating your own name in your sleep, and I was losing days on my life because I assumed it was the name of some paramour you had left behind in Antiva,” Emmrich said and Leo laughed, his big booming laugh. Emmrich joined him and Leo shook his head.

“I told you, mi vida, I’ve never been in a relationship before; no paramours, I promise,” he told Emmrich and Emmrich rolled his eyes.

“I really do have a hard time believing that, you know,” Emmrich said and Leo scooted a little closer. “You radiate charm. I can’t believe you’ve never broken any hearts,” he said and Leo lifted Emmrich’s hand to his lips and kissed his jeweled knuckles.

“I never said I was a virgin, Emmrich, just not…a very good boyfriend,” he said with a wink. He hated that term, but it was true. Leo was a flirt, Leo was a lover, but Leo was never one to stick around. In his mind, there was sex and intimacy, and then there was companionship, and for his whole life those two things never crossed. Professor Emmrich Volkarin had taken a hammer to that.

“If you had ever claimed to be a virgin, I’d have to depart from this relationship, since that is clearly a bold-faced lie,” Emmrich said softly, watching Leo kiss his hand over and over. Leo looked up at Emmrich and smirked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said and Emmrich’s lifted his left brow.

“As it was intended, my dear,” Emmrich said in a low voice. Leo lifted his head slowly and leaned in closer. “Leo,” Emmrich whispered and Leo tilted his chin up to kiss Emmrich. Softer than his last kiss with the mage, but more connected. Emmrich was a bit more consenting this time, compared to necking in public. Leo sighed against Emmrich’s plump lips, gently rolling his tongue inside Emmrich’s mouth until he felt Emmrich’s against his. Emmrich tasted like bitter tea. What time was it? Did Leo sleep through the night? Was it morning? Why did he care so much right now? Emmrich and Leo had only had one chance of true intimacy before, that was two days ago. Leo wanted a second chance to really woo his love, make him happy, make him feel as secure and safe and loved as Emmrich made Leo feel every moment of every day. But that wouldn't be for now.

“LEO!”

A little shout from the other side of the room. Leo stopped kissing Emmrich and looked at the large fish tank in his room. There was Manfred, just sitting down and watching Leo and Emmrich kiss.

“Oh…Manfred, I’m sorry,” Emmrich muttered, embarrassed. Leo snorted and shook his head.

“Should we have a chat with our son about the birds and the bees?” Leo asked and Emmrich laughed.

“I wish you would stop calling him that; listen to how quickly he picks up language from you,” Emmrich said and Leo looked back at Manfred.

“Leo!” Manfred said happily and Leo grinned.

“Quick as a dagger in the hands of a scorned woman,” Leo said and Manfred just hissed happily. Emmrich chuckled and Leo looked back at him. “How long was I out for?” He asked and Emmrich sighed.

“Long enough. Lucanis is waiting for us, apparently; he’s also under the impression that we are the four of us to return to Treviso. I assume you had a conversation with him that I was not privy to?” Emmrich scolded Leo and Leo pulled a face and wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I would have told you, but you and Taash drugged me last night, so I apologize, I haven’t had the chance,” he said and Emmrich’s face fell, not amused by that. Leo smiled up at him. “I need to talk to Viago. We need to settle what I am now to my family, and then we go wherever you want, mi vida. I follow you, I am all yours,” he said softly and Emmrich looked down at him.

“Settle what you are? Darling, I could never ask you to leave your family,” Emmrich insisted and Leo sighed.

“If I don’t leave my family, the business of the Crows, Emm, I’d have to leave you,” Leo said, now frowning. Emmrich’s mouth opened a little and Leo sighed. “Antiva is my home. I was born there, I thought I’d die there. My family is all in Antiva, but Emmrich, my lifestyle was dangerous. You have a prestigious career in teaching and a lot of people depend on you in Nevarra. I will not be the reason you leave Nevarra, I don’t want that for you.” Emmrich’s hand found Leo’s and held it tight. “And, because I know you’re as stubborn as I am, I also…just want to go to Nevarra,” he admitted and sighed.

“After saving the world…seeing all those good people,” Leo chewed on his bottom lip. “All of you, this team, I feel, wrong going back to hiding on rooftops waiting for some poor soul in debt to one of my uncles walk my path alone at night. I’m tired of making poisons knowing they are just going to jealous wives to use on their husbands. Maybe I’m being dramatic, I don’t know, but to clear out these nightmares we’ve been having the past few weeks, thoughts of what,” Leo looked down, a flush hitting his cheeks as he was nervous to admit these stronger, more specific feelings to Emmrich. “Of what we could be, they help me sleep at night.” Leo felt Emmrich’s hand on his chin, pushing it gently up. Leo’s cheeks burned hotter as he made eye contact with Emmrich. Those green eyes were full of two things, love and curiosity. Leo felt his stomach flip.

“Oh my dearest,” Emmrich said softly and Leo continued to chew on the inside of his cheek. “I have to confess how delighted I am for you to say all of this, not just about Nevarra but that you do, indeed, think of our future together. I do get stuck in my own head about how you really feel about us at times, and oh, it does keep me up at night,” he admitted and Leo gave his hand a squeeze.

“Tell me when you have those thoughts, Emm. Even if I’m sleeping, wake me up, so I can talk to you. I don’t want you to ever think like that.” Emmrich’s face softened and he sighed.

“Oh, Rook,” he whispered and Leo chuckled as Emmrich’s little slip. “Oh, I am sorry, darling. Leo,” he corrected himself and Leo shook his head.

“If you ever make that mistake, it is my fault. I should have told you months ago, mi vida,” he said and Emmrich smiled.

“I wish you would tell me what that means,” he said and Leo grinned. Emmrich had asked plenty of times, and Leo was always hoping Emmrich, as studious as he was, would figure it out. But at this point, he had no problem translating his favorite pet name for his partner.

“‘Mi’ is Antivan for ‘my’,” Leo explained and Emmrich nodded. Then when Leo didn’t continue he sighed.

“And the second word?” He asked and Leo snorted.

“‘Vida’ is Antivan for ‘life’,” he answered and it was Emmrich’s turn to look down for a second. “So, in Trade Tongue, that’s ‘my life’, mi vida,” he said and Emmrich looked back at Leo.

“You will never cease to take the words out of my mouth,” Emmrich said and Leo leaned up to kiss him again. Poor Manfred was going to have to get used to this. Emmrich cupped Leo’s cheek gently and Leo pressed his cheek against it and placed his hand on Emmrich’s thigh. Emmrich sighed and Leo grinned into their kiss. Manfred hissed and Leo chuckled. Emmrich attempted to pull away, but Leo pushed forward to capture his lips again. Emmrich laughed at Leo but indulged him. Until a knock on the door interrupted them. Leo groaned and lifted his head and turned to the right.

“Dellamorte, vete a la mierda!” He shouted, but the knocks persisted.

“We should head out, my darling, I’ll indulge you later,” Emmrich said and Leo sighed and stood up and walked towards the door.

“Lucanis, First Talon does not give you the right to bang on my door-” Leo opened his door, letting it swing open and he froze. Lucanis wasn’t at his door, someone else was. Someone who he hadn’t seen for almost two years. His furrowed brow and pursed lips softened as he saw an elf in front of him with long blue hair, bright blue eyes and a smattering of infinite freckles on tanned skin. “Ewan?” He asked with a cracked voice and the elf smiled at him.

[dragonagegayz]

Baby, Don't You Know I Suffer

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7

Rating: Explicit

Game: Dragon Age The Veilguard

Pairing: Emmrich x Rook, Emmrook, Emmrich x Trans! Male Rook, Emmrich x Mourn Watch Rook

Word Count: 5,357

Summary: Emmrich (and the rest of the team) is feeling the flirtatious heat from their illustrious leader Oz or "Rook" as they mainly know him. What happens when the senior necromancer starts having less than pure thoughts of his smooth-talking, flirt of a qunari? Smut of course! (Or the 6 times Emmrich Jorked it to the thought of Oz and the one time he helped him jork it)

This is time 5

Smart man Emmrich believes burning off his energy will stop his impure Oz focused thoughts from controlling his life. Unfortunately for him, he didn't think about the fact of Oz being there, dressing in his inappropriate ways and getting hot and bothered in the fights himself.

All a man can do is find a corner to relieve himself! There was no other choice!

Title: Super Massive Blackhole (the Twilight baseball scene song if you know) by Muse

NSFW Tags: Masturbation, Semi-Public, Semi Sweat Kink (???)

The original intent of going to the Hall of Valor for Emmrich was to burn off all the extra energy he had to avoid indulging in his less than appropriate images of Oz. He had even asked if they could go, much to everyone else's surprise. Taash had, of course, laughed at him, which they were gently chided at by Rook who had given the senior necromancer one of those devastatingly charming smiles. ‘If that’s what you want, just let us get ready and we’ll all head out. Make it a group trip,’ He had said, turning on his heel to head to his room to change into his armor, which the rest of the team followed suit to their respective rooms. As Emmrich prepped himself, he thought he was a genius, such a smart man, as this way was going to fix this issue and everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be.

Well, that’s how it was supposed to go, what he was not expecting was the thoroughly exhausting experience of the Hall of Valor. After two rounds he found himself needing to call out. The added Rivaini heat and the muggy sea air made the fights far more taxing than the combat the older man had grown accustomed to. Once they finished their second fight, the man found himself very winded. As the group made their way back to Isabella, Emmrich be lined it for a seat as he tried to catch his breath after their mercenary fight. It had been so straining he hadn’t even realized the condition Oz was in, his skin was sweat slicked, panting like a dog, and this crazed look in his wide, excited eyes. He saw it now, sitting next to the rest of the team with the weight of their heavy eyes on the mage. The rest of the group was checking to see if he was alright when Oz came bounding over, a pep to his step, but still had the courtesy to give a concerned look to the mage. “I think you’ve had your fill professor, why not sit out the next couple of rounds and just watch?” Something about the way the younger man said that, the way his eyes became half lidded and almost teasing. It was too much for poor Emmrich. A part of the older man did want to argue, he wanted to show that he wasn’t going to let his damnable age ruin his ability to fight, but he couldn’t deny he was exhausted. With a defeated nod of his head, he set his staff aside and leaned further into his chair. “I suppose you are right, Rook, someone else may take my place on the team,”

A warm, deeply kind smile came from the qunari and the senior necromancer hoped the flush in his cheeks could hidden as exertion from the fight. Oz turned to the rest of the group sitting at the table, and through the corner of his eye Emmrich saw them all sitting with a sort of anticipation of who was to be chosen. A bile of jealousy came up his throat and he choked and coughed on it, shaking off any concerned looks. Why couldn’t he control his damn self anymore? “Well, I heard it’s gonna be Antaam next so, you feeling up to fight Lucanis?” Rook asked, holding his hand out to help the assassin stand from his chair, which the man gave his awkward grin in response, the faintest bit of pink on the tip of his nose. “Always,” He growled out, pulling his hand from the qunari quick as he could, Emmrich assumed from sweaty palms, an effect Oz seemed to have on anyone under this attention. An easy laugh came from the warrior.

“This is why I like you Lucanis, always ready for the good kill, and you do it with such flair and drama, so ruthless,” The flirtation under the words was dripping, only an idiot wouldn’t have been able to hear it (it even caught the attention of a couple patrons from different tables) and the poor Crow’s face exploded into a blush which earned a few laughs from the Veilguard. “Merida,” The man whispered under his breath as he ducked out and took his place by Taash. “You are not subtle, you know that?” He asked as he crossed his arms across his chest, slightly sunken in, probably to hide his embarrassment as best he could. Oz just shrugged. “No one has ever accused me of being subdued with my appreciation of the finer things in life, you and,” He gestured to the group, “All of you guys, are no different. No one seems to hate it? Unless…?” How quickly everyone in the group added their own ‘No!’s, some louder than others and Emmrich was very embarrassed to find himself the loudest of them. Another easy smile.

“Well then, glad that’s settled. Shall we kill some Antaam now?”

For all the time the crew had been in the Hall of Valor, Emmrich had never properly watched a match, usually in the thick of the fight or chatting with the Lords of Fortune necromancers and spirits, as they provided such a fascinating perspective. This time however, his body was still too tired to act so he simply made sure to get a good seat and take in the show. Had he known the consequences of such a decision, he probably would have excused himself to the Lighthouse. The sun was shining bright in the sky as Oz, Taash, and Lucanis made their way into the arena, the Mourn Watcher with his two-handed axe thrown over his shoulder as if the thing weighed nothing. Oh how Emmrich wanted to know if the man could lift him, throw the older man over his shoulder as if he were light as a feather. Ever one to bask in attention, the younger man waved to the crowd, giving a dramatic bow as the screams and yells for him grew loud. Then, oh, he looked directly at the necromancer, he must have purposely searched him out before he winked, big and dramatic for it to be seen by not only him but the whole crowd, which just set them off louder. Blood rushed through the older man’s ears, nearly deafening out the loud group of people around him from how fast it went. He needed to get a grip on himself, trying to do so through subtle breathing exercises from his years. He watched the group ready to fight the Antaam being released into the arena.

Oz, ever in his glory, was heavy with attacks, moving his weapons as if they were light sticks, rolling every which way with powerful kicks to the guts of the fools idiotic enough to try to get a close hit on the warrior. It was wildly impressive, Emmrich couldn’t deny that. The young man was talented at combat, no wonder he managed to stop an entire undead uprising, and why Varric chose him to become his second in command. He was like an animal, fighting with the savagery yet grace of a predator, crafted by nature to kill. His skeletal scars also followed the lines of his body so well, emphasizing the growing muscle there. Oz was just crafted so beautifully, how his birth parents must have looked ethereal as well, sculpted from gods maybe.

Try as he might, heat began to flare in the necromancer’s skin as he watched the qunari move. How could he not react? The man of his attention was covered in sweat, throwing Antaam around as if they weighed nothing and giving loud laughs that he swore were shaking the stadium with every note he belted out. He was so unapologetically himself and maker Emmrich couldn’t handle it. Why was this happening again? What was it that Rook did that made him act like this? After so many years of control, why was this young man becoming his undoing? Was there something in the Lighthouse causing this? Fear clutched at the older man’s heart for a brief, agonizingly long moment.

Could he be being targeted by a despair demon?

As quick as the thought came, he shook it away. There was no way. He was a senior mage in the Mourn Watch, a professor of death magical arts, who would have no clue he was being targeted by such a demon? There was no possible way. Right? “Holy hell! Look at Rook and Lucanis go!” Isabella’s voice broke through his thoughts and he found his eyes snapped down to see what was happening in the arena, anything to push away the horrible thoughts of something so insane, something so implausible. Right?!

In the fight he spotted the two, in combat side by side and working in tandem to take down their enemies. The warrior, talentfully throwing out moves expected of a Mourn Watch warrior, a specialty in necrosis which Lucanis was so easily able to bounce off of with his necrotic moves, ruthless against the Antaam now trying to flee the two fighters. Impressive felt minimal, it felt as if it couldn’t capture the true feature of the display going on. Artful felt more worthy, a dance of instincts and aggression, especially as the Crow and qunari worked so well together. Jealousy’s evil claws dug deeper in the mage’s skin again, making him bite down on his tongue as punishment.

“And with that, Rook’s team wins again! Let’s give our reigning champions applause, yeah?”

Thunderous clapping echoed through the hall as whistles and shouts of praise reigned down on the group in the arena. Oz, naturally, was basking under all the attention, sending kisses out, bowing and spinning around to show himself off. Taash and Lucanis were more reserved with their acceptance of the attention, the Rivaini giving a few waves and the Antivan’s arms staying strictly at his side, not even looking at the crowd, saying something to Rook. Emmrich watched as Oz’s mouth moved to respond before he accidentally knocked his weapon holstered to his side onto the ground. A laugh, because of course he laughed, echoed out from the qunari as he bent over and oh sweet whisps those shorts he was wearing barely covered anything. The crowd’s noises intensified as he bent over and the necromancer watched as Lucanis’ cheeks turned into a very noticeably bright red as the warrior had bent over right in front of him, quite nearly shoving his ass into the man’s personal space. More than anything Emmrich wished that was him, wished he could reach out and squeeze, swipe a finger through the folds he knew to be hidden there, use his tongue to-.

As he found himself doing often nowadays, Emmrich shook his head at his dirty thoughts with shame burning at his ears. This was too risky for one and for two, completely and utterly disgusting to think about in public. The privacy of his room or the bathhouse was one thing, but here? Now? What was he? A 20 something year old who can only think with his dick? He desperately needed to get a grip on himself lest he do something completely foolish in public like going to hide in a corner to touch himself. He’d like to think he had more self control than that, he wasn’t that crass, that far gone.

“Tell me, were we good or were we good?” The deep rumbling voice of said man broke the necromancer from the trance of his thoughts and he looked up to see Oz and the other two had returned from the arena. Emmrich hoped more than anything that the heat in his cheeks that he felt burning could be chalked up to the Rivaini sun beating down on them. Congratulations were passed around the group to the three, which seemingly got to the Crow considering the tints of red on his cheeks. At one point the qunari had thrown his arm around the man and brought him close, which only made the red on him go darker as the man’s eyes darted anywhere but to the warrior. Rook remained oblivious to the plight of the assassin as he babbled on about the fight, complete with sound effects and gestures, till Emmrich finally had to take pity on Lucanis as he spoke up. It had nothing to do with the stinging jealousy gnawing at his ribs as he watched the man be oh so close to what his brain demanded was his.

“Well, perhaps you should all take a seat and we celebrate with some dinner? I have heard that Rivaini food is some of the best,” He remarked, watching as the qunari’s eyes went wide at the mention of food, pulled himself from the short man and rushed to take a seat next to the senior Mourn Watcher. “Now you’re speaking my language, Harding, did you bring any of your-” Anything else the man said was completely lost to Emmrich as when the younger man sat down, he threw his arms up to rest on his head and oh whisps his smell. Oh, the poor necromancer’s entire body stiffened as that sweat, musky work out smell just hit his nose. Fragrant was the best way to describe it, a strong masculine smell probably brought on by the magic the man had used to help in his gender transition and did it do something to the mage. A barely repressed shudder inched its way through his spine, his head rushed around as he swore he could practically taste the salty dew radiating from the qunari. What were to happen if he leaned over, if he bit and sucked at the exposed skin of the younger man? How beautiful would he bruise under Emmrich? Would his taste linger on his tongue for days, always there when he spoke as a reminder of what he had done?

Then, the older man adjusted his seating, brushing a hand down to smooth his slacks when he very nearly let out a moan he caught at the very last minute. Oh no. There was no way, he could not be. Not here in front of everyone with Oz at his side and a table just barely able to cover himself up with unbecoming noises trying to fight their way out of his chest. What he hoped to be in a subtle way, the necromancer glanced down and instantly felt his face drain of color as he very noticeably bulged in his pants. His cock sat to the side, nearly angrily filled out. There was no possible way he could ignore this for their dinner and he only wondered what would happen were the younger man next to him to see. He absolutely could not see, that would surely send Emmrich into an early grave. For a pathetic moment he tried to cover himself with his sash that hung to his hips but no, that barely did the trick either and if anything he worried it would bring more attention to it. With a glance to the side to make sure Oz was not looking directly at him and a glance to who he in front of him, it was Lucanis whose eyes were trained on the qunari. Pink cheeks too, a part of the older man snarled. Quick as he could, Emmrich excused himself from the table, saying something about using the restroom, and with the help of his sash and coat, covered himself as best as he could as he stood and nearly sprinted away, but containing himself at a slow walk. He hoped his panic was at least semi-hidden as he headed down one of the many stairs, not caring much where he was going just as long as it wasn’t anywhere near Oz.

Luckily for the necromancer, most of the Lords had gone upstairs to watch the fight, as they usually did when Rook was in the arena. It was near vacant minus the merchant who seemed a few wine jugs deep and a straggler or two who also seemed to have found their own fill of alcohol. None of them paid mind to Emmrich so he did the same, hoping they were too drunk to notice the mage slinking about. He needed somewhere private, somewhere he could calm himself, get a damn grip on his mind and body before he could return to the table and try to eat dinner with Oz to his right, smelling and looking the way he did. This time when the shudder went through his body, he could do nothing to stop it nor the whisper of a moan which came out of his lips.

Sweet Maker, what in the hell was wrong with him?

He made his way to a hidden spot, one where he knew the bookshelves would move to the side to give him the moment of privacy as he tried to relax from the heat burning in his gut. Those breathing exercises he had once taught Bellara were going to be his ideal way of relaxing, ridding himself of this insatiable, shameful boner of his. Even just that thought made him give a despicable groan at himself. Where had the older man’s shame gone off to? Was Oz holding that too? Along with his dignity and control? Perhaps this was to the point where he had to say something, perhaps he had lost his head so much that there needed to be a change to this pathetic routine of his.

‘Yes’, he thought as he made his way to the book shelf, searching for that lever to move it to give himself a hidey hole. (Rook had found it much quicker than he did). After this, he would speak to Oz, damn the consequences weither he is kicked from the Veilguard or shamed in Nevarra for his sorry actions. Emmrich had to do something at least. With a ‘Ah!’ he found his prize, clicking down the lever and taking a small step back as the shelf moved to the side. One final glance around to make sure he wasn’t being watched or hadn’t been spotted before he stepped into the little area, back to the entrance and resting his head on the cool wood in an attempt to calm his blazing skin.

The Mourn Watcher took in a slow, deep breath counting to 4 slowly as he did so, letting the sea air fill his lungs. He held onto that breath for 4 as well, emptying his head of anything but the numbers as he felt his shoulders begin to relax down and his spine’s tension start to leave. Exhaling for 4 as well, he made sure to be slow and deliberate, keeping the breath as even as possible as he let out all his air. Another hold for 4, ignoring the slightest burn of his lungs for having no air to breathe but it worked to lessen that fire that had tried to start in his veins. There were a few cycles of this, in, hold, out, hold. It was a favored breathing technique of his, one he had taught to a lot of younger Watchers in his days at the lecture. It was a great grounding technique, one to keep the mind focused when easing any anxieties or refocusing the mind from whatever distraction one might be feeling.

Then, he allowed a hand to linger down, he just wanted to check, he told himself. It was a slow, deliberate trace down his body, just to ease himself into it, he reasoned. He waited till he held his breath and let his finger swipe across where his cock had been sitting hard, just to reassure himself that it was over and so he could return to dinner. There was a moment where he thought he had succeeded in his venture to calm down, that he believed he was presentable enough to return with no one being none the wiser but…

Maker, whisps, death; why was he still hard?!

A frustrated huff went through his nose as he pressed further into the wood, his breathing losing its pattern as shame welled up inside of him. What was he to do? He couldn’t return to the group in this condition and he could be here for hours, trying hundreds of different calming techniques only to find none of them worked. What could poor Emmrich do?

“Why do all that professor, when you know what you want?”

A gasp came from his lips. No, please no! In the sanctuary of his room was one thing, in the bath chambers hidden in the Lighthouse was another, but to have this imaginary Oz accosting him in a public place? This was far too out of hand. “Come now Emm, don’t be so cruel. Why not live a little? Don’t you miss those days of your young 20s, the thrill of getting caught with a hand on your cock? A little less pathetic in those days though, then it was somebody else, at least,” A whine escaped his lips as he shook his head, breathing picking up as he desperately tried to keep some semblance on control despite the way his dick twitched where it was stuck in his slacks. A glance down and a grimace overcame him as he noticed the slightest beginning of a pre-cum stain wanting to form. “I mean, what would you rather do Emmrich? Go back with a raging hard on, ready for everyone to see because everyone will see it,” That would be arguably the most terrible thing, embarrassing wouldn’t even begin to cover his feelings were he foolish enough to do that. “Or would you rather take care of it right here, no one’s around, and if you don’t take too long, no one will come snooping,” The voice chuckled lowly, a deep rumble in the older man’s ear. “Or maybe Oz will come searching, maybe he’ll see you with your hand on your cock and watch as you bring yourself to pleasure. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He definitely shouldn’t, he knows he absolutely should not but…

There was no time for second thoughts as the necromancer fought with his clothes, pushing whatever he needed to down or to the side so he could release himself to avoid making a bigger mess of his clothes. His cock bobbed out when he finally let it free and without so much as a groan, wrapped his hand around it to squeeze at his head. A much more violent shudder than he was expecting went through his body as a quiet, but loudest of his sounds yet, moan came from his mouth. “Tsk, tsk Emmrich, you know better than to let your sounds out. At the Lighthouse you have much more control, but here you let yourself be so free?” Those words were spoken so cruelly, they felt as if they were spat at the senior mage, and if that didn’t make him fight against even more noises as he shook his head trying to defend his dirty self. “No? I don’t believe you, I think you want to be caught,” The imaginary Rook purred, the words vibrating through Emmrich’s ears as if it was the real qunari, bent down over him mumbling into his ears. His hand started to move on his cock. There was no slow pace as he usually did, no he was fast, ruthless against himself as his hand moved up and down his dick.

“You want him to find you, hunched over with your hand on your cock. You want him to bend over you and grab it with his much bigger hands, then treat you like the sleazy man you know you are,” The necromancer shoved his free fist in his mouth to cover the small noises he found himself making. He knew better than to let them out but fuck how could he control those when he couldn’t even control himself enough to not be rubbing his damn dick in some corner. At a particularly rough pull of his cock the older man winced, the pre-cum wasn’t providing the slick he needed to get away with this comfortably. “You know what would help you, professor?” Emmrich already knew he wasn’t going to like whatever this imaginary Oz came up with. “If I were here, I could bend over for you, I bet I got real worked up from that fight. I must just be dripping from that cunt of mine, that and the sweat? You could use my wet pussy to slick up your cock real good,” Much to the Mourn Watcher’s surprise (though at this point it shouldn’t have been) his hips gave a violent twitch and cum shot out, splattering across the wall on front of him as his brain fuel him with the image. His throat strangled out a moan as he tried to fight against the noise from echoing out into the world.

What he wouldn’t give to see that, the qunari bent over with those damnable shorts he was wearing, just pushed down far enough to show off his dripping cunt. How would he react if the older man dropped to his knees, bent him over further and just went to town? Once again, (this time not to his surprise) his cock gave a twitch at the thought. Like the pervert he was, Emmrich reached out for the cum he had smeared on the wall, taking what he could then rubbing it across his presistent dick. “You would love nothing more than to get your mouth on me, aren’t I right Emm?” A shameless nod of his head as he basked in the feeling of back and forth again, this time with a much smoother glide thanks to the white cum he had gathered. His hips jolted from the overstimulation of pleasure right after an orgasm but he didn’t care, the sparks only made it that much more delicious. “You think he’d scream out Emmrich? I know you want to hear those noises, unhindered and loud, just like Oz is,” Yes, yes of course he wants to hear the warrior’s sounds, out loud and filling his ears so he could memorize them, hoard them into his mind like a dragon for himself and only him. Gnawing jealousy nipped at his ankles but he ignored it, he didn’t have time to fight with it.

“Remeber how he complained about Tythas not making him cum, imagine how much better you can be for him. I bet you’d never leave his pussy alone, you’d stay there forever if he’d let you,” He’d never leave, to be able to bring pleasure to Rook, over and over and over would be a job he’d put everything into. If anyone deserved such pleasure it was the qunari, the leader of the Veilguard, soon to be destroyer of the gods. His hips jolted so violently he nearly fell from the way his pants trapped his thighs. His pace sped up, the slide so smooth as he fucked his fist with rapid thrusts.

It was too much, it wasn’t enough, Emmrich wasn’t even sure what he was feeling as the tension built in his groin, balls tightening as he crept closer and closer to the edge again. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in the cunt of Oz right now, with a hand on his cock and the taste of the man on his tongue, musky, filling, thick in his mouth and it would linger for hours. Were he to lick his lips he would probably still taste the sweetness of the man, hours later maybe even at dinner with everyone else there, totally unaware of the fact that their beautiful, flirtatious leader had been eaten out by the senior necromancer. Oh he would be smug about it, how could he not be? The man everyone seemed to desire being his and his alone? Another jerk of his hips and Emmrich watched as another load painted the wall in front of him, wishing it was over the qunari’s cunt instead.

Were that the case he’d get down on his knees and lick it clean, it would be only the gentlemanly thing to do after all. Then, even if the poor warrior was begging for reprise, he’d bring the man over the edge, again and again. Emmrich would hold him down, no matter how the man squirmed and moaned that it was too much, he’d have to keep on giving, how could he not? (Of course, if Oz truly wanted him to stop, he would, but he had this feeling the man wouldn’t play like that) The senior mage’s dick twitched once more, even tho it was dropped down, it was evident he probably had one more in him. Which indulging that would be stupid, he was already pushing his luck with how long he had been gone, but one more couldn’t hurt, right?

It wouldn’t take long either way, the thought of Oz writhing in pleasure was enough to get him semi-hard though he doubted he could get fully hard again, not after those very sharp back to back orgasms. Plus he was far too sensitive to touch, he would have to attempt a hands free, spill free too seeing as he just shot his two loads against the damn wall. A very sharp flutter went through his muscles as the necromancer looked down at the mess he had made. He probably looked so obvious, hunched over the wall with his pants undone and his head pressed to it. Sweet death if the other Mourn Watcher were to walk in on this, what would he do? Would he smile that devastating grin, give the older man that once over he sure loves to give and… What would he say?

“What would I say, professor? Walking in on this mess you’ve made? Would I comment on your cock? Would I walk over and run a finger down your length and gather the cum you’ve smeared on it? Would I bring it to your mouth and make you suck it off, clean the wall you’ve dirty?” Another twitch of his hips as his perverted mind filled his brain with images of just that. The much larger man walking up behind him, making him watch as he drags a finger through the mess on his cock and the wall then bringing this much larger fingers up to his mouth and shoving them in. “Fuck Oz,” He whispered, quickly bringing his hand back up to muffle his sounds as his hips moved on their own again, his dick jerking again. It shouldn’t feel this good, why was this so good? Addicting, he concluded to himself. The thought of Oz, the way the man was, and just everything about him was addictive to the older man. He should feel shame, he knew, fantasizing over this 23-year-old man, his boss, a fellow Mourn Watcher, someone who could have been his student were he a mage. But what could he do? This feeling, this pleasure was unlike anything the man ever felt, and this was by himself, he couldn’t even imagine what being with the qunari could be like. Were he to tell though, he would lose that opportunity, he knew. Emmrich wasn’t going to give that potential up. He reached out and squeezed his cocks head.

His hips jerked on last time giving him a dry orgasm that had sparks exploding behind his eyelids and him needing to grip the wall to hold himself or else he would have slipped down to his knees. The moans he let out were barely muffled by the hand he had shoved in his mouth to silence them, the taste of salty cum and leather filled his mouth. Oh, how he wished it was the flavor of Rook instead, the musk and sweat he had smelled on the man earlier still fresh in his mind.

“Emmrich?”

For a very brief moment, the older man thought it was the imagined Rook in his mind, calling out for another that he absolutely could not give.

“You around here?”

He very quickly realized that it was indeed not him, this man calling out for him was all too real.

In a complete panic, the man drew his slacks up, shoving his still sensitive dick into them as he tried to fix himself, retying his sash as best he could with a cum covered hand. He looked around for something, anything to wipe his hand off of but found nothing and grimaced as all he could do was wipe it against the wall he had already made a mess on. There was no way anyone wouldn’t know what it was, he could only hope the populace was still up the stairs so he could at minimum get away without anyone seeing him, or anyone else not seeing him. With one last once over, the man stepped from his hiding place and looked around, catching Oz down another short set of stairs, looking around for Emmrich. The older man cleared his throat as he stepped out and to the other Mourn Watcher, trying to ignore the stickiness still on his hand. “Here Rook, my apologies I got distracted rummaging through their books,” The qunari smiled down at him, a chuckle on his lips. “Of course you were,” He teased and for once the mage hoped his blush was bright, covering what he assumed was already flushed cheeks.

The silence stretched between the two and Emmrich realized the other man was very deliberately staring him down. His eyes, one blinded, one white and green, stayed trained on the older man, almost like he was looking for something. There was no way he knew, right? Even if he did, there was no way he wouldn’t say anything. Any reasonable person would after all. Emmrich shifted uncomfortably, Is something the matter, Oz?” He questioned, trying to hide any nerves with more dramatic flair to his words. It took the other man a moment to respond, seemingly lost in his mind until his head shook and the grin on his face deepened and those eyes went half lidded. “Nothing professor, nothing at all. Shall we?” He gestured to the stairs and eager to run from his mess, nodded, taking the few steps in front of the qunari to head up. He may or may not have jumped when a large hand was placed on his lower back with gentle pressure, and when Emmrich looked over at the warrior, he only had an innocent smile on his face.

“After you,” He purred.

Oh, the necromancer was on the road to complete and utter degeneracy.

This was very hard to get thorugh but it is done! I'm gonna hopefully start working on the next part starting Saturday if my Lexapro can kick back into gear and make me feel good again lol

AO3 Link if you wanna show me some love over there <3 -Skunch