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lavenderprose · 3 days ago

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Emmrook Short: Rooftop Interlude

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ALRIGHT well this scene doesn't fit the narrative of the fic the way I thought it would. Currently gnashing my teeth and trying to fit it in elsewhere. I'll just throw it up here in case it ends up being left on the cutting room floor. Have at it.

Emmrook | Explicit | Semi-Public shenanigans ahead

They are in Treviso, the coffee is strong and the stars are beautiful. Rook watches with an open, laughing mouth as Emmrich hangs from a zipwire and, embarrassingly, screams with both exhilaration and horror as he flies above the glass-calm surface of a dark canal.

When his feet touch on the ground, his knees immediately buckle, though they don’t hit the pavement. Rook jumps forward and angles her shoulder against his chest. His arms go reflexively around her and she laughs and laughs as his nose crashes into the top of her head. She smells of honeysuckle and sweat.

“Whoa,” she says, stumbling only a little under his greater height and weight. She pulls back just far enough to meet his eyes, grinning as she says, “Hey, you did it! It gets easier every time.”

“Oh!” he says, panting, voice gone just slightly hoarse from the hollering. “That was…oh my, that was—quite something, I’ve never—” He straightens up, laughs, swipes a hand through his hair. Rook doesn’t move away, and he’s distantly aware that she probably should—the area they’re standing in isn’t necessarily public, frequented as it is almost exclusively by Crows using the vast rooftop system to move about the city clandestinely. That said, it isn’t necessarily private either. One could easily misinterpret the sight of them standing here, panting and wrapped around each other.

Still, Rook doesn’t move. Her hands find their way up his back, curled over the angle of his shoulder blades, and Emmrich can almost feel every movement of her fingers, every creak of her joints even through the thick fabric of his greatcoat.

“Lucanis went ahead,” she says, and flicks her fringe away from her face with a small, neat movement of her head. Emmrich watches as her mouth opens, her eyelashes flutter, and her tongue wets the length of her top lip. “He was—um, worried Viago would get upset if we left him waiting too long. Also, Spite was getting antsy.”

“Ah,” Emmrich breathes. “Well, forgive me the time I delayed us. I consider myself quite athletic, mind you, but overcoming one’s dread at the idea of zipping through the air—that’s quite something else!” He barks out another laugh, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“You did great,” Rook says again, and shifts against him in such a way that her hip collides with the front of his trousers. It’s purely accidental, and wouldn’t affect him in the slightest under normal circumstances—he’s more than capable of controlling himself, even with the feelings she inspires in him. There is, however, a great deal of adrenalin still coursing through him, and when her body presses to his—and one of her hands finds his chest.

“I am so sorry,” he gasps, taking a full step back. He’s embarrassed, flaming with it, and unfortunately it does nothing to ease his problem. There’s a wire crossed there—he’s never taken the time to examine it.

A moue of surprise curls onto her face. “That’s—alright. No, really, it’s fine—” She makes a grab for his hand as he takes another step back, and the grip she tugs on him with is shockingly strong. When he brings himself to look closely at her face, pushing past the mortification, he finds a sheen over her eyes and a high, pink blush blooming across her cheeks. She sucks her lip into her mouth. “Um. Here—”

She pulls him away from the ledge by which they are still, bizarrely, standing. There is a very narrow crevasse between the rooftops of two buildings, less than two full feet in width, and it’s into this crevasse that she leads him. They keep going until the moonlight almost doesn’t hit them anymore, illuminating only the silky top of her tonic-lightened hair and the metal notions on her gear.

Once sufficiently deep for her liking, she turns and pushes him into a wall. He’s panting, exhilarated and just a little alarmed, and she whispers, “Emmrich. Tell me, um. Tell me to stop, and I will.” Then her small hand reaches down his front, finds the outline of his erection, and tenderly caresses the throbbing head of his cock.

“Oh,” Emmrich whimpers, head clonking back against the brick wall. All ideals of propriety he’s ever been taught demand that he tells her to stop—that he politely rebuff her advance, initiate an encounter properly, privately, or else give himself over to the silent longing that is his lot in life. He knows he should, and yet cannot bring himself to; he is weak, weak for her, and she is beautiful, warm and offering herself to him like a wrapped gift. The weight of her hand, her sweet breath against his neck—he can only welcome them.

“Sh, sh,” she whispers. “You feel good. Is that—do you like—”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, that’s—” He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, Rook—please.”

Rook gasps against the crook of his neck, wet and hot, then she’s gone. His head spins as he processes her absence, and then her hands find him again—from below, and he looks down. Amber pools, so deep he could sink into them and never surface, examine him from hip-level. Her fingers are frantic, fumbling at the buckles and ties between the air and his flesh.

Emmrich Volkarin, who is far enough into his second half-century of life that he should know better, and still young enough that the world often manages to surprise him, stutters out a single word of protest—Rook, simply her name—and then can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I want to,” she says instantly, clearly aware of his train of thought. “Maker, I want you in my mouth. Let me suck your cock.”

“Okay,” he squeaks. “Okay—yes—that—Rook, darling, that button is a clip—"

He is stunned, overcome and so deeply aroused that he thinks his head might just pop clean off. Rook, who seems to know this, fixes him with a look of utter desire and he knows that whatever is driving her to do this, it isn’t something he needs to save her from. He joins her fumbling and, together, they free him from his clothes. The sight of his purpled, wet cockhead next to her comely face is utterly obscene, and it almost undoes him before he has the privilege of sinking into the heat of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, as she taps his cock on her chin.

“So are you,” says Rook, speaking directly to and possibly about his penis, but he can’t really hold it against her. He’s been known to appreciate the presence of a hard cock in his face, as well. The thought startles a chuckle out of him as she inches closer, settling into the task she’s chosen.

She shifts from her squat to kneel on his boots, keeping her knees out of the alley refuse, and his toes flex against the sweet, heavy burden of her weight as she takes him. Her tongue is clever, slick, twirling underneath the glans. Her eyes stay open and somehow, against all odds, his do too. Her lips are red, a perfect pucker around the veined shaft of his cock. Emmrich has always enjoyed congress in all its forms, giving and receiving, but the act of oral pleasure has always filled him with a particular mixture of shame and desire. Something about the baseness of it, the inherent submission of kneeling before someone and servicing them.

Rook doesn’t seem to do it as an act of submission, or even particularly an act of service. She gives fellatio selfishly, if that’s even a thing. Genuinely appears to enjoy it nearly as much as him; groaning around him, pressing forward until her nose is buried in the still-dark hair at the root of his cock, and fluttering her eyelids as if he can bring her to her own ecstasy simply by fucking her mouth. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about this—Maker, he has, and he’ll be judged for that someday. He’s also thought about his hands on her breasts, the curve of her ass in his lap, and the way she might taste. They aren’t thoughts he’s ashamed of, necessarily, because he would never breathe a word of them to her unsolicited. He’s red-blooded, she is beautiful, and it has felt for at least some short time now that they were hurtling towards this inevitably. Nevertheless, it’s shocking that it would happen now.

He considers himself a sexual being, deeply enjoys the act of it as both a source of intimacy and relief, and seeks it out when he desires it. It has, however, been a long time since he had the time or inclination to do so. She brings him to the brink quickly, and he can hardly breathe to signal to her his impending release.

“Rook,” he gasps, a hand clutching onto the nearest part of her—which, unfortunately, is her hair. He grips a handful of it far harder than he intends to. She groans encouragingly, hands spidering up to grasp at the backs of his thighs, and he bites savagely into his gloved hand as he spills onto her tongue.

She leans over and spits, which is one of the grosser things he’s ever found erotic, and then asks, “Do you have a handkerchief?” Her voice is quiet, now with the subtlest rasp. He immediately pulls out his handkerchief and offers it in trembling fingers.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wiping her mouth. She tucks him back into his trousers, reverse-engineering the complicated arrangement of his buckles with only a little guidance, and then briefly rests her forehead against his stomach. His toes are beginning to go numb under her weight—a minor and extremely bearable pittance.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks, curling a finger under her chin.

“Mm-hm.” Rook tilts her head up, eyes still closed, and presses a lingering kiss to his thumb. It reminds him that they have yet to so much as kiss, despite the taste of him now lingering in her mouth. “I’m so turned on I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight. Give me a second.”

“Ah,” Emmrich murmurs. She giggles. “If you desire some assistance in that regard, I would gladly offer it.”

“No time,” she sighs. “We were supposed to be at the Diamond ten minutes ago. Spite will know what we’ve been doing, and I’m sure he’ll tell Lucanis.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Emmrich says, resting his head back against the wall. The stars are just visible between the eaves of the two roofs almost meeting each other overhead. They seem almost audible in their brightness. “Spite is more likely to smell the alley than the sex. We’ll tell him you fell in a gutter.”

“Oh, I’ve been in the gutter alright,” Rook mutters against his hip, and they share another giggle.

The meeting with the Talons is awkward. Their delayed arrival had, indeed, aggravated Viago de Riva—though Emmrich has it on good authority that this is by no means an impossible feat. Lucanis, too, fixes them with a vaguely disgruntled look. Emmrich returns it, not missing the flash of purple on the edges of Lucanis’ pupils, and can only hope that a steady, reproachful look is enough to dissuade Spite from inserting himself into the conversation. Despite his assurances to Rook, Emmrich doesn’t yet know enough about Spite to be absolutely assured that Lucanis’ demon counterpart won’t smell Rook’s breath and immediately take it upon himself to announce his knowledge of their liaison.

This, thankfully, never comes to be. Teia is predominantly amused by their obvious dishevelment, and Viago is still grateful enough to Rook for Treviso’s rescue that he lets any observations of his own pass largely unmentioned. Lucanis only says one thing as they pass through the Eluvian.

“…on your own time next time, okay?” Emmrich hears, as Rook and Lucanis emerge through the mirror behind him. He also hears Rook’s huffed laugh.

“Sure.”

Spite, emerging at last through Lucanis’ throat: “Rook. Your breath. Smells like co—”

“Ah,” Emmrich snaps, prim, because Spite responds well to firm guidelines. Misguided spirits are, after all, something of Emmrich’s specialty.

“Ugh!” Spite snaps, before fading back into obscurity behind Lucanis’ eyes.

“Well,” sighs Lucanis, rubbing his neck. “This has been…fun. I’m going home.”

Rook lets him stomp ahead through the strange brush of the Crossroads, giggling under her breath, and Emmrich ignores the stark sting of mortification on the back of his neck. When the tails of Lucanis’ cape are swaying a satisfactory ways in the distance, Emmrich slants his gaze towards her and mutters, “I think you’re amused by this, my dear.”

“They were going to find out anyway,” she sighs, and shakes a hand through her hair, falling badly now out of its pins. It’s been most of an entire day since she put them in. She pockets them as they come loose until, after a moment, her hair falls over her shoulders in a sleek, pin-straight waterfall. The shadows of her black roots are only just beginning to surface at her scalp. “We’re all living on top of each other. It’s like the Novice Watcher’s dorms all over again.”

“It was a rather, um, effective way to ensure our relationship becomes common knowledge,” Emmrich murmurs, hands twisting together as they meander after Lucanis’ rapidly retreating form. “There are Crows in Vyrantium who I’m sure will know by the end of the week. And with Spite knowing, it’s only a matter of time before—”

“I’m giving it ‘til Thursday,” Rook says, it currently being Tuesday.

“Mmm. That’s generous.”

“Emmrich.” She stops, hands buried in the pockets of her Watcher’s apron, and waits for him to wheel to face her. She’s frowning and seems to be actively engaged in the act of making herself smaller, like she’s bracing for a blow. “We don’t have to…if that was too much, just let me know. I’m not made of glass. I’ve been rejected before.”

“That,” he says, stern, “is far from what is happening here.” The idea of rejecting her after the gift of her attentions in the alley, as unwise as they may have been, makes him see red. Someone, somewhere, must have made her feel so utterly worthless at some point. Someone left her to think that her body could be taken for granted and her sexuality scorned. He should hope that individual never crosses his path on a dark night.

It’s only the intensity of his voice that seems to keep her from pursuing that line of thought. She shifts nervously, a sort of girlish uncertainty about her, and she says, “This is kind of how I am. Impulsive. I don’t always make great decisions. You should know that before this goes any further.

“Rook,” sighs Emmrich, and he closes in to grip her hands. “Do you honestly think that my sexual experiences are limited to dark bedrooms? Quite the opposite. It’s rather flattering to me that you witnessed my floundering and still desired me at all afterwards, let alone right that very moment.”

“Well.” Rook, posture loosening at last, slides her arms around his neck. “It was very sexy floundering.”

“Point being,” Emmrich murmurs, lips against the tip of her ear, “I greatly enjoyed the experience. I’ll admit to being somewhat…embarrassed, but that isn’t necessarily an undesirable consequence for something of this nature. Not for…a man such as myself.”

He waits for the meaning of his words to reach her, and that delicious shame drifts down his back when her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.”

He clears his throat. “Yes. So, darling, you did nothing wrong…aside from make us tardy for the meeting with the Talons. I do so abhor tardiness.”

“Right. So, next time, work time into the schedule for the rooftop blowjob.”

“Congress under the stars can be so romantic,” Emmrich sighs elaborately, and he knows her confidence is done faltering when she laughs.

He wants to touch her, to feel the promised arousal between her thighs. He thinks about it on a loop as they walk back to the Lighthouse, but she begs off when they arrive.

“I’ll fall asleep on you,” she threatens.

“Not a distasteful thought,” he murmurs, hands low on her hips. He imagines easing her to sleep with swipes of his tongue—a gentle orgasm leading to a deep, dreamless slumber.

He feels her shiver. “I want to. I wish…but I have so much on my mind. Viago is concerned about Antaam movements, Davrin and I need to go speak to Antoine and Evka as soon as possible. I need to think. I need…” She sighs, rolls her eyes. “I think I need to talk to Solas.”

Of course. He’s allowed himself to forget, however briefly, that the Dread Wolf still quite literally occupies her mind. Her slumber is never truly her own, never private. He wishes now, as he often has, that they had met in the Necropolis, before the world took it upon itself to attempt to end for the third time in as many decades. Or else that he could insulated her from the burdens of her station, at least long enough for more than a furtive rooftop fuck.

When they part at the bottom of the stairs to her room, it’s almost unbearable to watch her go.

“Rook,” he says, before she opens the door. She turns to look over her shoulder, and he says, “If you need me—”

“I do,” she says, and disappears.

#DATV #Emmrook #Emmrich Volkarin #dragon age

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midnite-c6 · 4 hours ago

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Omg so I just LOVED the fics that you wrote about thanos and namgyu soo I wanted to ask can you like write more fics about them in like threesome degrading tf out of us so much that we cannot even think of anything or maybe like a second part for timid!reader THAT ONE WAS AMAZING!!!! keep up w your work btw its really good 😭🙏🏻

help thank you😭😭 honestly i love writing abt them i jus.. meow... thanos & nam-gyu imagine pt. 4!! 🤤

warnings: 18+ DARK content, drugging, dubcon (read at ur own riskk!!)

they both believe you can't fight for yourself since you're so quiet, so they do their best to keep you safe!! they're so kind despite their nature!! you think to urself..., and despite the way they used your body after the six legged race, you still stick with them since they helped you in mingle too!! honestly, thanos and nam-gyu would've thought you'd be getting away from them after that incident, so by you staying, they've confirmed they've got you right in their trap!!

thanos looks up from his food, his eyes lighting up when he sees you "señorita?" he tilts his head, "i don't have any other group to eat with.." you say, looking down at your feet, "nooo! i know what it is!" he nudges nam-gyu's shoulder, "you're here for more aren't you?" he says with that smirk again, dramatically gasping. "what..no.." you weren't like that, you swear! nam-gyu laughed "shit, she's just using our bodies, man!" you quickly shake your head "no!" nam-gyu tilts his head "when did you learn to say no?" thanos stands up, getting closer to you, "listen here, beautiful, we'll do whatever you want, sure.. you're the one in-charge." he smiled 'innocently', leaning in to whisper in your ear "c'mere after lights out, kay?"

nsfw below.. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

"you really are a fucking whore." thanos quietly whispers into your ear as he slams in and out of you, your back pressed against his chest, your moans being muffled by his hand, it was a good thing thanos' bed was closer to the ground and that the players above him were already dead, but you know the other players could still hear the faint squeaking of his mattress. "of course you'd listen like a slut, coming here, infact, you were excited for this. hmm?" why DID you go there anyway? ..maybe it did feel good? but poor you! his thrusts weren't giving you any mercy at all.

"i bet.. you don't have any shame at all. you're quietness is just an act.." nam-gyu whispered aswell, with his body infront of you, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, painfully pinching your nipples and biting your neck as you rub your hand in and out of his cock. "you're practically begging for it." "n-n.." you couldn't speak back because of that purple-haired addict's hand!

"wait.. fuuuck, you're sucking me in like crazy, you're gonna cut my dick off, god." thanos whined, putting in two fingers inside your mouth, the taste of his fingers all over your tongue.

"y'knoww.. so fucking funny how she's volunteered to be our personal ..stress toy." nam-gyu's hand find it's way to thanos' necklace filled with ecstacy, he grabs a pill, his attention back on you "we truly thank you for that.. are you proud of your services, freak?" he says mockingly just to spite you, his other hand grabs thanos' hand muffling your mouth. "let go, dude." "she's gonna scream," "nah, nah, she won't. she doesn't wanna die does she?" you whined, shaking your head. "good, slut." nam-gyu smiled, taking the pill he had in his hand and putting it in his mouth. thanos' takes off his hand, his middle and ring finger covered in your saliva as he now places it on your clit, rubbing sloppily. and before you could make any noise, nam-gyu slams his mouth against yours, making you swallow the pill of ecstacy. his tongue tasting your mouth, swallowing each moan escaping your lips. nam-gyu pulls away from your mouth, forcing it to open just to spit inside.

with all the pleasure they were giving despite the mean words, you camee:( your legs were shaking like crazy! "hey! no fair, bitch! i didn't get to cum yet." thanos was frustrated, yet you whimpered in response, you didn't mean to cum!!. "but.. just means we'll be here for muuuuch longer, baby. ya' can't complain, you know you're a whore who can't live without us." thanos didn't lie, your cunt was throbbing and overstimulated by both of their cocks in and out of you. he also didn't lie about how you wouldn't be alive without them, it's true, they saved you anyway, guess you gotta thank them for keeping you safe. ♡

this is pretty long, im srry guyss!! only putting in what my mind is thinking of atm AHHAAH 3somes are so hard to write 😭😭😿🙏🏻

#squid game #squid game x reader #player 124 #squid game 2 #nam-gyu #squid game smut #nam gyu #squid game season 2 #namgyu #nam gyu x reader #thanos smut #thanos #thanos x reader #player 230 #choi su bong

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maythedreadwolftakeyou · 23 hours ago

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thinking about Lucanis again (always). and how so much of his narrative boils down to the theme of "control". and of course also about how this applies to the Rook x Lucanis relationship.

like the first scenes with him in the game are, in theory, about freeing him from the Ossuary (although he seems to have an escape attempt already in progress at the time, they certainly weren't just letting him keep those knives on him for enrichment purposes, Rook just provided an opening/distraction he could take advantage of and crucially Rook has A Way Out of the whole place not just a cell). but ACTUALLY the purpose it to put him right into a new contract for Us, one set up by his own grandmother and first talon no less, and the person he has the MOST trouble saying no to. He's escaped torture and the Venatori for sure but he still isn't free, which I think is part of what leads to Spite's confusion/the Inner Demons plotline. He agrees to the contract but you can tell it's in many parts out of a sense of duty/mourning vs something he actively wants to do for himself. And then the FIRST real heartfelt conversation you have with him, where he tells you "even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me." But he's chaffaing at that! He thinks "to live truly is to live fully" and so directly tells you he doesn't think he's lived a life true to himself. He's been constantly smothered by the weight of expectations around him, even though he longs for more.

And then once you get him to the Lighthouse you see how this Big lack of control in his life comes out as all these smaller frustrations. He's terrified of sleeping and downing 11 cups of coffee per hour because sleeping means he will lose control to Spite, even though Spite is shown to flee rather than fight when he feels threatened, and once calmed down, is more drawn to just benign curiosity/mischief than anything actively malicious. Like if Lucanis loses control and sleeps for a few hours he is not going to wake up surrounded by bloodshed, he's going to wake up to a belly full of candle wax because he wouldn't like Spite taste one while they were awake. Which is the other half of this--he constantly denying Spite's impulses for reasons that in some ways make sense (HE doesn't want to eat candles), but not in a way that's actually satisfying to either of them (why not just take a bite, chew for a bit, and spit it out so Spite knows they kind of suck actually?). But he CAN say no to Spite and so he does. Over and over. Spite's one of the few people he can deny things without feeling bad about it, because it's HIS body he doesn't like that has to share now (<- this is what he thinks about it at first anyway, but he's wrong, it's both of theirs and it's useless to try to hold those kind of boundaries forever. but the "no its mine" spiteful instinct is very beautifully ironic and reflective of them both and their early relationship).

And personally I think this is where his fear of his own desires and intimacy is coming from, at the root. I don't think he's afraid of the concept of being in a romance or having feelings (even if they're unusual and rare for him, this is by no means incompatible with him being demi) but I DO think he is afraid of the kind of power it gives people over you. Getting something you want means there's something else that can be taken away. Admitting your desire means the other person has the opportunity to deny that. The more you have, the more you have to lose, and he has lost again and again and again in his life--his parents, his childhood to the crows, his independence, even his future--he doesn't aspire to be first Talon but he knows the rumors. He knows his grandmother wanted it for him, not Illario. His life path has been laid out for him by others and up to this point he has simply been going along with it anyway, even though it bothers him. He COULD argue and fight Caterina and push for Illario who actually wants the job to be First Talon instead, but from The Wigmaker Job we know he doesn't. He just ignores it and pretends maybe it won't happen, without him having to do any of the work. Which is why in the end Illario is the one who has to make a move about it (and even warns Lucanis of this!!!!). Lucanis KNOWS all this makes him a target but is neither taking charge or getting off of the train tracks, just closes his eyes.

And I think THIS context is what makes the almost kiss scene in the pantry make more sense to me. Rather than being afraid of having feelings (and then NEVER addressing this in game with a Rook who pursues him anyway) or not knowing how to finish what he's started via crow seduction training, it's more like this is a pivotal moment where he can actively choose to step off the planned path of be given a job -> kill the gods -> enact revenge -> go home. even if he doesn't at that point realize that a relationship with Rook could be something that lasts long-term, the very act of doing something just for himself is what's foreign and scary and hard. It's that first step off the tracks, and even if he were to keep walking in the same direction, it means he's making a choice about it. he's accepting that one way or another it IS in his power to go along with everyone else's plans or not. Hence the hesitation, and drawing back, and needing to clear his head.

And then the rest of Rook's role in his narrative IS about giving him more and more control for himself. Inner Demons, dealing with Illario, his questlines move less towards revenge and more towards just... not being locked into one fate. Which of course Caterina comes back and immediately tries to overturn by declaring him First Talon after all, even though she and him and everyone else knows she's not ACTUALLY ready to give up her rule/decision making power yet. Which in a way is maddening because cmon I did all this work here so this sad man could have some agency in his own life just to watch him get sucked right back in (which, at least we get many directions to headcanon from here), but there's no denying that THIS version of Lucanis at least is actually going in with his eyes open now. THIS Lucanis has had a taste of life outside the Crows, and seen the politics and power dynamics in other places/organizations, and finally has emotional ties to the big picture state of the world now, both in relationship and friendship paths with Rook. He's not just hyper focused on each contract as it's given to him now, he's looking at the whole thing.

Anyway of course the beautiful culmination of all this within the romance is the lighthouse scene with Rook, where he finally is willing to let himself be vulnerable (emotionally and physically), and fall asleep without fear of what Spite's going to do in the meanwhile. He also (depending on dialogue choice) finally talks about his feelings directly with you for the first time instead of in roundabout ways (the dessert being "not enough" is it really the dessert you mean, Lucanis. is it.). Even though he is STILL reluctant to verbally admit his feelings or let Rook share their own at this point, I think that's more a narrative choice about saving those last emotional dialogue options for the big final battle. but it is another point where he does have to stop just following along and ACTIVELY choose that yes, yes sometimes loving is worth the risk of losing it. Even if someone takes it away from you later, even if you don't survive it, sometimes the love alone makes it worth it.

I have like another 5000 words I could add into about how Spite ties into all this, about how having the demon in him is something he both fears AND how it forces him to acknowledge that actually yes he DOES share the same base feelings/instincts Spite does in terms of not wanting to be told what to do. And how this in a way is part of what gives him permission to act on it since he can no longer just shove it down out of sight. but this post is long enough already so i'm just going to take the rest of this and gnaw on it all day like a chew toy I guess.

anyway. AHG. it is kind of frustrating that the culmination of his arc seems to be "and then he got the job he never wanted anyway" but I do think at least all this prepares him for it in a way Caterina actively failed to actually do on her own. He NEEDED that step away from his straightforward path. Whether he stays first talon or not, and with or without rook as a romantic partner, he's finally been able to explore ideas outside the expectations of others.

#AND THEN of course how the whole control theme applies in terms of sex lmao. that man needs to be gently topped/dommed soooo bad #so much internalized shame and fear and he just wants someone who will see it & love him anyway #very much on theme to resent a thing (control) in everyday spaces but desire the inverse in the bedroom/forbidden spaces as a way to explor #it safely etc etc etc. fear of losing control vs desire to submit plus all the torture stuff mixed up in there oooohhh what a mess #themes of resistance etc etc You Get Me or you think im insane either is fine. anyway #dragon age: veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #rook x lucanis #rookanis #spite dellamorte #lucanisposting #datv spoilers #da4 spoilers #ramblings #dragon age #need to rip a pillow into shreds or somethign AHG im pacing around too fulll of Lucanis Thoughts this early in the day #this is usually a 3am hobby but im 12 hours early #but i think finally this is some watsonian reasoning that makes me more chill about the doyalist failures i have with the writing for him #this may be incomprehensible i did Not proofread it

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peachii-nitenite · 20 hours ago

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Much Needed Support (sfw-suggestive content) Part 1

JayVik x Reader Ramble

Idea: You’ve been overworking. Your aches and pains worsen by the day, and you can’t seem to tough it out like you used to… there’s only two people you really trust to help. 4.8k wordcount

Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, partial nudity, boys getting shy about said nudity, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, discussions on medical neglect, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain (slightly implied hand kink???)

Very self indulgent selfiship coded x reader with a reader with scoliosis and joint issues to help me deal with feelings about own deterioration and struggles with findin a doc who’ll listen lol 🥲

Side note- this ended up much longer than I originally planned 😅 so this might end up being like 3 parts with MAYBE some spice ^v^

-You are a student at the academy in the arts and humanities department, a year below Jayce and Viktor, and you have worked your ass off to get here.

-You and Viktor have always gotten along; you were both from Zaun, both scholarship students, and both passionate about your work.

-Viktor introduced you to Jayce shortly after they partnered up, and the three of you become nearly inseparable.

-despite not even sharing a major, you found yourself in the lab during most of your free time, bantering and tossing ideas around, or sometimes quietly working on your own projects.

-for as long as Viktor’s known you, you’ve been energetic and passionate, but recently you’ve been acting a bit differently. Quieter, more despondent. You visited less frequently, and you seemed constantly exhausted.

-the change was gradual, how you seemed a bit more sluggish, had been walking a bit more slowly, movements a bit more calculated. And then one day, you tripped on the stairs while heading to the lab, a sharp pain having shot through your knee.

-you shrugged it off, insisting that you were fine and that it was just a bit slippery, but both of them could tell something was up.

-Jayce was actually the first to notice: how you constantly adjusted your gait, how you would wince at times when standing up, how you consistently had to correct your posture. Something was causing you pain, and you were trying to hide it.

-you were stubborn, and fiercely independent, and as such they were deterred from prying too much

-Viktor was the one who pointed out another clue: your clothes were always long and baggy, as if you were trying to hide something bulky beneath it. He could have even sworn seeing you looking a bit longer than usual at his leg brace one morning.

-in spite of how stubborn you were, they still cherished you greatly. which meant they could not allow you to go on like that,

-and all while they were brainstorming how to breach the topic, you were getting worse.

-the pain made it hard to sleep, the dull aching of the muscles around your spine needling you awake any time you began to drift off. You could feel you knees grinding and creaking with every step up the stairs. Your homemade remedies and exercises could only do so much to help, and you can only take so many pain pills a day.

-you were sick of being dismissed by upper city doctors, who claimed you were “too young” to have such issues, or chalked it up to stress or poor exercise. You had been dealing with these things since you were a child. But you were always told when you grew up, you would get better; stronger even. Now in your twenties, you look back bitterly, having only gotten weaker.

-you had a pair of simple, worn out compression braces for your knees. It had been patched and reinforced so many times that they were god awful to look at, not to mention the embarrassment you felt simply having to keep using them after all this time. They were easily covered up by the long skirts and baggy pants you usually wore.

-aside from that, you had an old, ill fitting corset that you used to attempt some semblance of support for your back. But it was all becoming too much. You had to get help, and soon, before it got even worse.

-as much as you didn't want to burden them, you had no other ideas left.

-right when you came to visit, both of them were already there, discussing the situation.

-perhaps it was the fatigue that made you finally cave, or maybe it was the longing to feel less alone in your pain. Regardless, you found yourself shuffling into the lab with all the energy of a cadaver.

—

“Is it really our place to ask though? If she’s being secretive, maybe there’s a deeper reason…” Jayce was pacing, tossing ideas back and forth in his head. “I mean, isn’t it a bit rude to just…ask out of the blue?” He sighs. “You may have a point, but we know her, Jayce” Viktor rose from his seat, interrupting the path of his partner’s pacing to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I…I know, I just-“

He was cut of by the sound of the door creaking open. Speak of the devil.

You looked tired, dark circles much more prominent than usual, and there seemed to be a touch of…anxiety?

“…hey guys. Been a minute.” You smiled weakly as you walked toward them. They looked between each other, as if trying to will the other to say something first. But before either of them could, you spoke up.

“I….you know I hate to ask but… I need your help”

“Of course! You know we’d do anything to help you out, what’s wrong?” Jayce pipes up, smoothly steering you toward a chair. Viktor quietly observes how you slump in relief, despite your posture remaining oddly stiff.

“I…well, uh….” You hang your head and sigh, as you struggle to get the words out “…do you know any good doctors? Preferably unbiased ones?” You muster a dry chuckle. They both furrow their brows in concern. “Of course, but what seems to be the issue?” Viktor chimes in, coming over to stand closer to you. You sigh, eyes once again lingering on his brace and his cane. “It…well it may just be easier to show you.”

You adjust yourself in the chair, and begin pulling up the hem of your long skirt. The two men freeze- you can tell they’re caught off guard by their faces as you do, and you can’t help but laugh a little. You bunch it up in your lap and their eyes land on your patchwork braces. Viktor’s eyes soften sympathetically, and you look away.

“…how long?” He steps closer to get a better look, and the proximity flusters you a bit. Jayce, follows suit, kneeling in front of you. You can them actively going into scientist mode, as you affectionately called it; eyes scanning and assessing your handiwork- or rather, the *failure*of your handiwork. You hesitate with your answer for a moment, eyes flitting between your two friends. There was nothing but sincere concern in their eyes, and you almost felt a bit guilty for not talking to them sooner.

“…not really sure, probably since I was a kid…but it’s only been getting worse. The damn things barely seem to work these days” you grumble, shifting your weight in discomfort. “And I…well I’d show you my back brace too but uh…that can probably wait” you trailed off, face getting warm at the mere thought of having to take your shirt off in front to the two men. You almost swore you saw a tinge of pink to Viktor’s ears as he cleared his throat, but perhaps it was just the light.

“Well, we’re not doctors….but if you don’t mind, would you let us have a closer look?” Jayce asks earnestly as he looks up at you, and you nod. He quickly clears a spot for you on the work table, and gestures for you to hop up. You hesitate for a moment, wearily eyeing the two of them before situating yourself on the table.

If there’s one thing to be said about those two, it’s that they’re efficient. After having you remove your old braces, they immediately set to work sketching, brainstorming, and most importantly- assessing your condition. They ask you more about your condition: is the pain sharp or dull? What tasks or activities aggravate it? How long has it been worsening? Do you take any medications for the pain? Do you have a diagnosis?

Much to your embarrassment the answers were difficult to muster. Most doctors topside would scoff, say you looked healthy enough and that you were too young for such issues, and send you on your way without so much as an exam. “Perhaps you aren’t active enough” or “it’s likely just stress” were the most common responses. This much attention being paid toward you was…odd almost. Refreshing, comforting even, but odd nonetheless.

“Y'know, for a while I was convinced I was just being dramatic… that’s what my last doctor said anyways. So it’s nice to be taken seriously for once!” You beamed as Viktor took notes. At those words, however, his pencil abruptly stopped. Jayce also looked up from the diagram he was sketching with a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry…your doctor said what?” Viktor inquired, his tone tight and clipped. It quickly dawned on you that you had never seen him look so angry before, let alone on your behalf. It almost made you want to shrink away from that piercing gaze. Instead, you blinked, slowly repeating yourself before elaborating.

“Uh…yeah. My doctor wouldn’t give me a diagnosis or refer me elsewhere, and instead just recommended more exercise…” you scoff mirthlessly at the memory, how you felt so foolish and alone in that office under the doctor’s condescending gaze.

“…needless to say, I don’t see him anymore, aha…ha” you try to fill the silence with an awkward laugh, but neither of them laugh with you.

“And this… happens often? You’re dismissed like that?” Jayce asks, eyes fixed on your legs. It was strange for you to see the two of them so tense, especially on your behalf. You nodded, with a dejected grimace.

“…they usually think someone like me is after painkillers, so I get it- I really do. And it’s true that it’s odd for someone my age to be…well, like this-“ you gesture vaguely to yourself and to your discarded braces with a bitter expression.

“But… I just can’t tough it out like I used to. Even if I am being dramatic” you sigh, the mere act of explaining your situation only furthering your fatigue. “I…I’m sorry, didn’t mean to upset you with my sob story-“

“Don’t apologize.” Viktor cuts you off, his voice gentle, but firm. “Never apologize for this. It was wrong of them to neglect you.” He sets down his notepad next to you on the table, eyeing your old braces with disdain. “I know all too well what it is like. So do not apologize for seeking a solution to your pain.” His tone went soft, gentler than you’d ever heard him. There was none of the usual sass or clinical edge to his words, and in turn it made you feel softer as well. It reminded you why you had come for their help in the first place.

These were your friends- and they would do anything to help you.

“Vik is right. We’re not mad at you, we’re mad at those idiot doctors for not doing their jobs!” Jayce chimes in. It makes you smile, despite the odd urge to cry. Instead of risking tears by attempting to respond, you simply nodded once more. “Once we’re done in here I’ll get you the contact info for my doctor. She’s good at what she does, and Viktor’s been to her a few times. Sounds good?”

You smile, your unease slowly ebbing away

“Yeah, sounds like a plan!”

“So, let’s get to work shall we?”

—

-The two men quickly resumed their work with a new fervor. A prototype sketch was done within the hour, and all that was left before the first draft could be made was the measurements. You knew this part might be a tad awkward. What you did not know, is how unbothered the two of them were when it came to personal space while they were in “work mode”.

-You sat on the table, skirt hiked up to your mid thighs as the two of them sat before you with a measuring tape and a pad of paper, delicately handling each leg as they measured. And soon enough , they began to bicker over the design.

-and you quickly learned that your friends were very hands on with their brainstorming.

“It does not need to be that long, her condition is much different than mine, so the brace must be different as well!” Long fingers slid up your calf, resting just under your knee, gently holding it higher as if to show Jayce his error. “The brace should end here, not there” he asserted, drawing invisible lines over your shin and a few inches above your knee. It took a lot of willpower not to shudder at the sensation. “Any longer and it would be bulky and cumbersome, which is what we are seeking to avoid”

Viktor’s hands were cold, and rougher than you expected, no doubt from years of tinkering and inventing. You were not going to lie to yourself and say you hadn’t stared at them before, as he wrote or worked on prototypes. You also couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about them more…intimately either. How they would feel on your bare skin. But as he drew his invisible schematic on your leg, all your curiosities were answered as you let out a small gasp.

The feeling was nice. A little too nice.

He stopped instantly, looking up with worry.

“I am sorry, did I hurt you? I will be gentler…”

“Ah! N-no I’m fine! Your…uh…your hands are just a bit cold…” you manage to stammer out. There was no way in hell you could tell him the real reason.

“Apologies… I didn’t think about that…” he sheepishly put your leg back down and returned to his notes. Once you were free from the tantalizing sensation of his fingers tracing your skin, you were quickly shackled once more by the feeling of Jayce’s hand cupping your other leg.

“I get that it’s different V, but I’m trying to be practical for day to day wear. If it’s too short, it’ll keep sliding out of place throughout the day! It should start here and end here. So that it’s less likely to ride up or down during the course of the day.”

You could barely process what he was saying, as you were too fixated on the fact that his hand; his very warm hand that was nearly large enough to wrap around your calf, was now resting dangerously high on your leg, just below where you had gathered your skirt into your lap. Any higher and he’d be properly groping your thigh.

Jayce’s hands were rough as well, with quite a few prominent calluses and healed scrapes. The sensation of his palm on the sensitive skin of your thigh sent electricity through your nerves-tingly and warm.

And again. You’d be a liar if you claimed you’d never thought about it. But in a situation like this, sleep deprived and fatigued as you were, it was much more difficult to ignore that fact. The reality of his hands on you made your head spin.

Remain calm. Remain professional.

These are your friends. They are just trying to help.

Damn them for being so pretty

“Well, what do you think?”

“Yes, which do you like better?”

The questions snapped you out of your internal crisis.

“Huh? Oh, right! Uh….” It was difficult to form an answer with the both of them looking up at you so expectantly.

“Is…is there no middle ground? Maybe a m-mix of both?” You offer feebly. They look between each other competitively, before looking once more at their individual notes, and then back to you.

“I…suppose it could be done.” Was all Viktor was able to concede. Knowing how particular he could be, it was the best Jayce was going to get.

“Sorry if we got carried away…you know how we get” Jayce chuckled. “But now that that is out of the way, we can take a look at your back brace now.” He began absentmindedly caressing your leg with his thumb, a reassuring gesture no doubt. Viktor was doing something similar, his hand back under the crook of your knee. But the sensation, and the proximity made you tense up as you averted your gaze.

For a split second, confusion crossed his face-before he realized what he was doing. Jayce abruptly stood up, pulling his hand away. Now it was his turn to chuckle awkwardly, gesturing to Viktor to release your other leg as well. Viktor blinked, looking between you and Jayce, before looking down at the somewhat intimate position the two of you were currently in. He quickly followed suit, scooting his chair back and busying his hands with more notetaking, his ears definitely pink this time.

-you decided to promptly disregard their reactions. You were friends after all! Surely there was nothing else going on right? Anyone would get a little flustered in that kind of position. Your friends didn’t see you like that…right?

-besides, you could’ve sworn they had something going on with each other anyways…

-to remain productive (and totally not because you couldn’t look them in the eye) you got off of the table and promptly told them to turn around so you could get your sweater off

-they quickly complied, and the room was quiet aside from the rustling of clothes.

-not having a proper back brace, you had modified an old underbust corset with additional boning. But now you were starting to outgrow it once again, and there’s only so many times you could take it out before needing to find a new one.

-all you really wore beneath it was a thin slip so that the corset wouldn’t chafe your skin, but it was so flimsy you might as well have just been topless

And there you stood, hands on the table, under the white light of the overhead lamp. You shuddered as the cold air of the lab set in, and your own overthinking sent goosebumps over your exposed skin.

be normal. this is normal.

"Alright, now hurry up I'm getting cold-" you hiss, breaking the silence. You do not turn around, but you can feel their gaze on you; a moment of hesitation before you hear them approach. They are assessing you, yes, but there was something else beneath that as the two scientists raked their eyes over you: something you couldn’t quite place.

Viktor breaks the silence first, clearing his throat. Your eyes are still fixed on the table, the sudden sound causing you to flinch ever so slightly. You hope neither of them noticed. “Well…the design could definitely be worse, I can see where you tried to improve upon it…”

there was a but coming at the end of that sentence. You could feel it.

“But, In the long run it may end up doing more harm than good, considering the state of the garment itself…” he gently taps the row of tattered lacing running down the back. You nod, willing your voice not to crack. “So- what should we do? It’s all I can really afford at the moment…”

“Don’t worry about that- we’re more worried about making sure whatever we come up with is comfortable” Jayce chimes in, retrieving his measuring tape and notepad once more.

“Now, I need you to stand with your back as straight as possible for a moment, can you do that?” You nod, and you can feel him directly behind you as you straighten up. It’s uncomfortable, and you hear a few soft, telltale cracks as you do it. You groan quietly, and you feel him still for a moment.

“…don’t worry about it, just do what you gotta do.” You mumble, shifting your weight between your feet.

“Ah-uh- right! Right…” he laughs it off as he proceeds with his measurements and notes, quick, methodical, and very gentle. Every so often, skin would brush skin, his warm touch would linger, and you became increasingly aware of just how warm he was behind you: like a human space heater. It would be so easy in your exhausted state to simply lean back and melt into his chest, to bask in the warmth amidst the cold air of the lab and fall blissfully asleep.

Instead, with every ounce of composure you had, you avoided dozing off or leaning back. You could feel your eyes getting heavier before the deep timbre of Jayce’s voice brought you back.

“Alright, that’s done. You can rest now.”

You immediately slouch with a sluggish sigh, and you can nearly hear the furrowing of brows and the concerned expressions occurring behind you.

“We can stop if you are too fatigued, we should have enough to get started…” Viktor offered up, now nearly as close as Jayce was. You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“No, no, I’m fine! It’s better to get this all over with now and save you both the trouble! So what next, huh?” You dredge up any remaining scraps of what could be perceived as enthusiasm as you turn your head to smile at Viktor.

The prospect of doing this again on a different day was already increasing your heartrate to an uncomfortable degree. Believe it or not; being examined by your two incredibly handsome scientist friends while half naked was something very anxiety inducing . Especially when you’ve been ignoring your growing feelings for said aforementioned handsome scientist friends. You felt awful for these thoughts and feelings, of course you did. So what better way to deal with this dilemma than to get it over with as quickly as possible. Right?

Wrong.

“Well, the last thing we really need is uh… well.” Jayce cleared his throat, carefully choosing his next words. “We’d want to get a look at your spine without your brace on, and take a few final measurements…”

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“… you need me to take it off?” You forced a nonchalant tone, unsure if it was convincing.

“Right. The measurements with it on will be slightly skewed since it is ill fitting in the first place…” Viktor added, a twinge of anxiety to his explanation. “But of course, only if you are comfortable doing so!” He quickly added. You began to spiral

Would it be weird to say yes? It would be more awkward if I refuse right? We’re all friends, this is fine! This is in a completely clinical context as well, so-

“Sure. No worries, uh-just… gimme a sec?” You blurted out before overthinking further, your hands leaving the table to fumble with the front closure of the corset. Your friends immediately averted their gaze, but did not completely turn around. Rather than dwelling on it, you focused on trying to get the busks open, before realizing you had laced it a bit tighter than usual that morning, thus making it a bit more difficult to get out of. You would need help. Great. You sigh.

“Uh… could one of you unlace me? It’s harder to get out of like this….”

The quiet that follows makes you cringe, and sets you a bit on edge, before Viktor pipes up behind you.

“Y-yes just a second”

You soon feel his cool hands against your back, nimble fingers finding the messy knot that kept your laces tight and marking short work of it. All three of you were quiet; no banter, no chatting, no bickering. Just the soft sound of laces being pulled through worn down grommets. Once it was loosened, you let out a breath it felt like you had been holding for a lifetime, slouching a bit as your back screamed at you.

Viktor leaned next to you, softly murmuring as he reassuringly placed a hand on your back. “Is that better?” His voice was low, soft, and held a bit of…restraint? You hoped the heat rising to your face wasn’t too noticeable, as the innocent action sent forth a troubling warmth in your gut. Not unpleasant, far from it. But troubling, given the circumstance.

“Mhm… y-yeah that’s better. Thank you” you murmured back, forcing your attention towards getting your corset off. The busks unhooked with ease as you shrugged off the patchwork garment, as well as your undershirt. As it fell to the floor, you instinctively moved to stretch, now free from the compression of your brace. A series of loud pops and cracks ring out into the lab as you did so, causing you to sigh in a unique mixture of relief and ache that you had grown accustomed to.

Once you had finished, you realized two things:

One: you were now completely topless in front of your two best friends

Two: neither of them had looked away this time.

Which could totally mean nothing

Upon this realization you kept your eyes forward, standing up as straight as you could once more, finding balance on the table.

“…well? go on, g-go ahead and look” you commanded weakly. Swallowing the anticipation that came with not being able to see them. Whose hands would you feel now? Whose breath would tickle your ear? You blamed your lack of sleep for how much your mind was wandering.

You felt a warm finger trace slowly down your spine, down from the nape of your neck, past your shoulder blades, before stopping and slowing down even further, following the unnatural curve that ended toward the middle of your back. It was Jayce, you realized. And a part of you was flustered even further now knowing you could tell it was him by just the feeling of his hands.

There was low murmuring, the sound of pencil on paper, and then Viktor’s hand, tracing from the bottom of your spine through your skirt, to the middle of you back before also stopping.

“…you’re too quiet. It’s unsettling” you manage to quip, starting to feel exposed under the bright light.

“…it’s your spine. You should’ve been fitted with a brace ages ago” Viktor finishes tracing his line up your back “a proper one, no offense to your handiwork of course.” He clarified.

“That bad huh?” You huff, wincing at the implication. You had known there was an issue for years now. But all you could do was your best in terms of treatment and preventative care. Every time it had crossed your mind to get checked out, you heard the condescending doctor’s voice echoing inside your skull: “you’re being dramatic.”

“Luckily, It seems manageable with a proper brace, and you already stretch and exercise, yes?” Viktor inquired behind you, his hand now resting on your shoulder. You hummed affirmatively, as you let yourself slouch once more. You knew it only contributed to your poor posture, but the temporary relief was worth it momentarily. The urge to fall asleep right then and there was overwhelming, even despite the cold. You could feel both of them shuffle back a bit as you did.

“Sorry, sorry! Did we take too long? Are you cold?” Jayce apologizes as he tries to get you warm again, picking up your sweater and getting it right-sides-out again. You let out a sleepy mumble as you reach back for it, turning toward him with your hand out.

Turning toward him.

After a few seconds of facing them with your hand out, and being confused as to why they were just standing there, avoiding your gaze, cheeks getting redder by the second; it hit you.

“Oh-oh shit! sorry, sorry, my bad-” you snatch up your sweater and quickly yank it on and you apologize profusely and so quickly that the words were barely recognizable.

Well, you were wide awake now.

You start rambling, trying to cram how you were cold and sleep deprived and achy all into the world’s fastest sentence as you got yourself together, gathering up your discarded braces. The only thing stopping you from bolting out of the door was the grinding of your now fully unsupported knees. You winced as you pitifully shuffled back to your chair, moving to put the braces back on.

The air was thick with…something.

It wasn’t quite tension, and although being a bit awkward it wasn’t quite full on embarrassment either. But it was something, and it was intense.

“….I’ll get going then…“ you murmur, standing on unsteady legs. Except now you weren’t sure if you were unsteady because of the pain, or because of the dizzying memory of their hands on your skin.

For a moment, your fatigue catches up to you; your legs feel like static and your vision blurs around the edges. Before you even have the chance to stumble, Jayce’s arms are around you.

“Easy there! Just give us a second, we’ll get you back to your dorm okay?”

“But-“ you were cut off by the sound of Viktor shushing you and guiding you over to a couch in the corner of the lab. The two men eyed you with a seriousness that felt strange in comparison to your usual lighthearted interactions. But it was oddly comforting now, as you let yourself sink into the plush sofa

“Rest for a while, you don’t have any more classes today, right?” It was less of a question and more of a reminder, as he retrieved a blanket to drape over you. You really had no say in the matter, and the couch was so comfortable….

You felt relieved, cared for, and so so very sleepy...

So you fell asleep.

Once you were certifiably slumbering, your two impromptu caregivers let out shuddering breaths they hadn't realized they were holding, exchanging knowing glances.

Little did you know, they had been struggling just as much as you, if not more.

"....Let's get back to work." Viktor mumbled, forcing his eyes away from your relaxed form on the couch. He gripped his cane tightly as he turned away, retrieving his notes. Upon noticing Jayce hadn't moved yet, he huffed at having to repeat himself.

"Jayce."

"Right! sorry..." Jayce nodded, slowly backtracking to the main worktable. Couldn't help the deja vu that hit him as he remembered your topless form leaning against it, illuminated under the overhead light. He groaned and shook his head.

"Heaven knows we need the distraction."

--------

tadaaa*~~~ took me long enough! p2 will be up relatively soon, i just needed to stop nitpicking.

part two will be primarily from the boys' POV!

#my writing #peachii fics #jayvik x reader #jayvik #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #sfw #arcane #arcane netflix #selfship coded

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hivemuthur · 4 hours ago

Text

The Ugly Thing

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! smut, love confessions, D/S dynamics (if you squint or if you know what I'm talking about), pinning, dom!viktor (but also not, if you squint, something something), Viktor-centric, AU college/university + modern era (again, you have to do some squinting for it to be relevant)

word count: 4,9K

summary: Yet another self-indulgent one-shot of Viktor and Reader. It's just an exploration. I want to believe this is erotica, but you tell me. Subspace/Domspace if you squint. Just squint, alright?

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Viktor was, at the very least, difficult. That was what he had called himself, and he relished the label, as it allowed him to be all things at once—sweet, shy, bold, cruel, smart, oblivious, observant. He walked through life making observations and turning his conclusions into actions, placing people exactly where he needed them, ensuring they couldn’t place him somewhere he didn’t want to be.

His relationships were fleeting moments of leniency—sometimes even kindness—offered only when he felt inclined. Occasionally, the kindness transpired twice, or three times, but never more, as the risk of forming a one- or double-sided attachment was undesirable. Viktor’s desires lay elsewhere, and in his pursuits, he indulged the weakness of the flesh while keeping his ultimate goal—recognition of his brilliant mind—crystal clear.

Always polite, so that nothing could hurt him. His armour of politeness and astute behaviour shielded him from the lingering hands that sought to cradle him through the night, from the tender offerings of morning coffee, and from the quiet intimacy of shared silences. Viktor didn’t crave these things. He made sure his politeness was cold, detached, and practised—a skill perfected to keep others at bay. There was no warmth in it, no invitation to linger.

From time to time, he indulged in fleeting encounters, moments where he allowed himself to surrender to the pull of human connection—physical, but never emotional. Emotional, but not lasting. It was a necessary recharge, a way to quiet the body’s demands, but he was always one step ahead. He ensured his partners understood that whatever fragile universe they built together in the night would dissolve with the first light of morning, leaving no trace beyond the cooling embers of his skin.

All that was left was being polite—a polite smile in the hallway, a pencil lent during a lecture, an elevator held for his perishable lover rushing to class. Their names never forgotten, but their warmth never wanted again.

Until you. Until you invaded his orbit and refused to be erased. Until you befriended Jayce, making it easy to keep meeting him, keep looking at him, keep exchanging amusements and something more than politeness—exchanging kindness. Until it turned out you were smart and driven and managed to scare him once or twice by pinning him with your joke.

Until he had slept with you, giving you his mediocre self—not the calculated, observant one, but the needy, touch-starved, pathetic one that moaned your name and groped you with begging hands. All during a completely unorchestrated evening in your dorm room, still half-clothed, just lustful and impatient. Just really fucking hungry in your mutual understanding, though you understood absolutely nothing. Oblivious to the ugly thing in him. Oblivious to the concept of boundaries. Oblivious to the need to protect yourself from prying eyes that might see the truth of what they were.

And the way you stared at him afterwards, gave your body a long stretch, and your limbs flopped back onto the mattress. And the way you said, “It’s ok if you want to go,” an understanding smile cracking across your face—yet you understood absolutely, utterly nothing. A way out he craved, but he wanted to carve it out for himself with his politeness, not with this—this knowing, wise look in your eyes that came from nowhere, because you knew nothing. He almost wanted to stay, just to spite you, but found himself only nodding, scrambling to his feet to fetch his brace and cane, and bidding you goodnight with a polite nod.

And the way you remained friendly. Not friendly—the way you two remained friends. The long nights spent in study groups, pulling straws to determine who was doomed to coffee duty, your head slumped in sleep on Jayce’s shoulder, his head resting on Mel’s. Your bare, cold feet stretched out, toes brushing against Viktor’s thigh, sending ice through his veins—and the way he didn’t mind. The way he contemplated cradling your feet in his palm, warming them against his better judgement.

The way your touch lingered on his arm when you grabbed him in the corridor to show him something funny on your phone. And the way the thing on your phone actually was funny—a picture of Jayce passed out in the library under a mountain of plastic cups balanced on his shoulders. The way his own laugh startled him, made his chest shake and his face lean in close to yours.

The way you would fall asleep in the common room, watching old horror films, your throat vulnerably exposed on his lap. And he just wanted to grab it, squeeze it tight, choke the confession out of you—that you lingered because you wanted more, because this friendship was unthinkable.

The way you got upset when he was mean, and the way he went out of his way to apologise with a childish, shit-eating grin. His arms reaching out for you, your palm pressing his face away in that same friendly gesture.

When he flushed his system with alcohol, all he could think about was fucking you senseless. And when your gaze lingered on him, burning all the way down into his ugly thing, you would ask what was on his mind, and he would say, “Physics.” And you would laugh his lie out.

The way, once, he gave you a lingering kiss on your doorstep and stopped himself. But seeing the question poised on the tip of your tongue, he sunk back in, turning the kiss into a sloppy, drunken mess, so you would be the one to push him away. A gentle pat on the shoulder, sending him off with the unspoken instruction to come back sober. And how he never came back for that.

All of this made him so fucking angry. His carefully mended self, constructed from sweetness, shyness, boldness, cruelty, wisdom, and oblivion, was crumbling under your pensive eyes—and the way you floated atop the pissed-off ocean of his mind.

And oh, he loathed himself on that evening, loathed the way his feet carried him to your room because he was feeling vaguely sad and distracted. He loathed his feet for doing so, loathed his finger for pressing the elevator button, loathed his knuckles for placing a quiet knock on your door. It was all so gross, so out of character, and he loathed it all.

And there you were, opening the door, your face full of dinner, hair messy, cheeks puffed out as you curled them into a closed-mouth grin and gave him a wave to come inside. A quiet “hi,” followed by a chuckle as you tried to swallow before chewing—and a cough when the gulp was too massive for your throat.

“Are you busy?” Viktor found himself blurting out, scanning the room. Your flatmate was gone for the weekend—her bed made, her shoes and coat missing. Observed, concluded. His eyes flicked over to the other bed: messy but cozy, notes scattered across it, a steaming cup on the bedside table, and a laptop propped in the leg area playing background noise. Studying, of course.

“I am always busy,” you grinned at him, your teeth bare and beautiful like the rest of you, as you dropped your dishes into the sink and put the kettle on. “Watching Dexter and studying. Do you want tea?”

“Maybe,” Viktor mused, biting his lip. He negotiated silently with himself, wondering what it was he hoped to find in this room that might sweeten his sour mood—and why his mood was sour in the first place. His hand wobbled on his cane, the traitorous thing, and he leaned against the doorframe to deflect, refusing to decide whether to step fully in or out.

“Okay, what’s gotten into you today?” you huffed, picking a mug you deemed suitable for him. Good Vibes Only, with a middle finger printed on the bottom of it, seemed fitting.

“Meaning?” Viktor cocked an innocent eyebrow, feeling the burn of your inquisitive gaze. Oh, to yank that lovely head by the neck and shove it between his legs, to ease the torment in his mind.

“This is the third time you’ve bothered me today. It’s the weekend. You usually work on the weekends. You’re being vague but resistant to probing. Did something happen?” The countdown of his sins, and it was only the count of one day. Nothing had happened, and that was the issue.

“I suppose I’m feeling… down?” He shrugged, the movement worn down, defeated. His brain ached, and he felt lonely. It had started to feel indecent to pursue others—and for that, you deserved a whack as well.

“Do you need a hug?” A mocking snort reached his ears. A long pause as the scales tipped between a ‘no’ and a ‘yes.’

“Yes.”

Another long pause, as you blinked and scanned him for any signs of a sham, your expression still uncertain. You had to make sure again. “Do you need a hug now?”

“No, in fifteen fucking minutes.” His undignified huff earned him a pair of raised eyebrows from you, and a remark already rolling off your tongue—but he cut it short. “Yes, now. Come here.” His head hung low, and only his hand made a beckoning gesture.

You smiled, disarmed by the black cat of Viktor, finally trying to scramble into your lap after months of teasing and playing around—head bumping and blinking at each other from afar. You walked up to him, your hands hesitant, as if this open display of need was unthinkable.

Before you could settle, Viktor snaked himself around you, his cane propped by the door, his frame bent and draped over you, leaning his body weight forward. It was the grabbiest, the neediest hug he had ever given—or that anyone had let him have. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, smashing his nose against your skin, and inhaled you deeply, through both mouth and nose.

His palms, open and wide, raked as much of your body in one go as they could. They slipped under your clothes, seeking the taut skin stretched across your back and shoulders. He wanted to go lower but could only squeeze.

You weren’t hugging him; he was hugging you. Caging you in his grip, controlling when the hug would end—and as far as he was concerned, not ever. You stilled under his touch, your hands resting obediently on his chest as he rubbed his face on yours, purring like a cat.

“Viktor?” Your voice was barely a whisper, bouncing off his mouth, an inch away from yours. “Would you like me to kiss you?” He sang his swan song in that moment, almost asking permission, granting you the illusion of control, the illusion of choice—when in truth, it was him silently begging for the kiss to happen.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Of course. A deflection. Nothing he wasn’t prepared for.

“I asked you first.” A cruel blow, almost childish. He pulled his face back a few inches to watch you wrestle with the indignity of the situation. The whine you tried to suppress at the loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed, and the snake in Viktor’s belly coiled its head up, smug and poised.

But then you did the thing he didn’t expect—twisting the serpent’s head off and tossing it aside with quiet defiance. You moved closer, nudging his chin with your cheek, your wide eyes pleading for his plea. His resolve shattered instantly.

He held you in place, his lips hovering just above yours. His whisper was longing, desperate. “Can I kiss you?”

A silent ‘yes.’ He only knew it was a ‘yes’ because he felt the movement of your lips on his—but he didn’t let you finish. He sank into your mouth with a disturbing, possessive urgency, pressing his tongue inside, licking your beautiful teeth, biting your beautiful skin.

He kept you locked in, pressing you down under the weight of his kiss. His mouth drooled into yours obscenely as he breathed heavily through his nose. It was the ugliest kiss he had ever given anyone—the ugliest anyone had ever taken from him. And yet, it was taken with such grace, such gratitude, that he wanted to give you everything else.

With inhuman strength, he pulled you both apart and placed his thumb on your lower lip, still glistening with his saliva. He traced it lazily, transfixed by the shimmering reflections on your skin. His heart swelled as he observed the redness blooming around the spots he had bitten. He wanted you bruised by his love—for everyone to see.

“What are you doing tonight?” Another plea, another promise, fell between you. Viktor cursed himself for being so open, so exposed. Because even though you knew nothing, you would understand this question.

“Watching Dexter and studying,” you said in an absent voice, your eyes following his, following the path of his thumb. The silence stretched between you, taut, until you felt the need to fill it. “Do you want to watch Dexter and study with me?”

“No.” The word escaped him in a croak, sung low and jagged, as if he had only just realised this wasn’t what he wanted at all. “Are you wet?” was all he wanted to know.

“What?” The word escaped you, surprised, almost appalled. Viktor braced himself for you to pull away, so he tightened his grip—but you didn’t. You just stared at him with those beautiful eyes on your beautiful face, your pupils dilating at the vulgar perversion of his question.

“I think you heard me. Are you wet right now?” He leaned in to whisper the filth into your ear, feeling his snake grow out a new head at the full-body shudder that went through you.

“What if I said no?” you asked shyly, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“I would demand proof,” he murmured, holding the sides of your face as he poured his poison straight into your ear, his voice so quiet and rude that your eyes fluttered closed.

“What if I said yes?” You found some bravery in yourself, tracing your fingers along Viktor’s neck, just under the line of his hair. You smiled at the feeling of goosebumps rising under your fingertips. He couldn’t have this, of course.

“I would demand proof regardless,” he responded, his lips grazing the shell of your ear before licking it, slow and deliberate. He craned his head back to look at you. You appeared frightened and excited all at once, and if Viktor had no restraint, he would have run his fingers through your hair to soothe you. Instead, he placed a flat palm on your stomach, fingers pointing down, waiting for your permission.

He received a timid nod, but it wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.”

“You can check.” You closed your eyes and exhaled, as though allowing yourself to be judged for your crime. And as the crime was that of lust, Viktor, somewhere deep down, knew he didn’t really need proof, and that your punishment would be light. Because he didn’t truly want to punish you. He wanted to love you in an ugly way.

He slid his hand down, down beyond the waistband of your pants, down your lower belly straight to your womb, palming your cunt through the underwear and gasped, “Oh lásko, look at you.” His chest fluttered at the first touch, with joy and accomplishment, but also because he was right, when he slid the fabric to the side and ran his finger through your slit. Warmth dripped onto his fingertips, and he felt himself grow hard beneath the restraint of his own clothes.

“Do you really like me this much?” he cooed, so pleased that just one ugly kiss had managed to drench your knickers and make you feel so ashamed you nearly flinched away.

“Viktor—” You looked at the floor, your brows furrowed, your face burning from being so exposed, so naked. And you looked so, so beautiful.

“I am not mocking you,” he murmured, placing a reassuring hand on your cheek and caressing it gently. It was almost a praise, though he dared not say it yet. “What makes you want a cripple so much? Is it your heart that longs for me, your mind that thinks you can change me, or just your body?” he mused, revealing too much merely by asking.

You looked almost offended by how blunt he was about knowing what you wanted, just not knowing why. His fingers now parting you, playing at your entrance, teased you but you wouldn’t flinch. You just searched his face hesitantly and as Viktor grew tired of waiting, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them, mercilessly bumping your wall, forcing you to flinch. He really wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, and he really wanted to hear his name distorted by a breathy moan.

“Which… would be the worst?” Your breath fanned his face as you steadied yourself on his shoulders. Truly, you weren’t ready for any of the options to be soured.

Viktor thought for a moment, his fingers slowly retreating, almost absent-mindedly. When his answer was found, he pushed back in, smiling innocently, his face moving close to yours. “The first. The second,” he mused, another slow, unbearably so, thrust. “I could fuck out of you. The third, well…” A gentle kiss on your lips, almost loving. “I see no fault in the third.”

“Of course, you don’t,” you scoffed, your grip on his shoulders tightening with each minute. “And what bring you back to me over, and ah,” a gasp escaped your mouth when Viktor brushed his thumb over your clit. You closed your eyes and evened your breath. “Back to me. Heart, mind or… body?” you asked, your brow furrowed in concentration against Viktor’s efforts to throw you off course.

“Which would be the worst?” He quirked his lips against yours and chuckled at another concentrated huff. He could feel your unrelenting grip on his shoulders, was convinced that it would leave a mark, and it made his cock twitch in his pants. To be marked by this gentle creature, a dream.

“Any of them, without the others,” you quipped, your eyes shut. Viktor’s movements stilled at that. You had managed to surprise him. Again. Of course, you would want to devour him as much as he wanted to devour you. Eat you whole, spit out the bones and build a shrine out of them. Ugly.

He retreated his hand and chuckled at the muffled whine that followed. He licked his fingers clean once your eyelids fluttered open, making sure you were watching. Rude. But he was going to kiss you with this mouth.

His hands snaked back up your spine, your body pliant against his, providing him with warmth. His teeth and lips got back to work on the swell of yours, and you fell right into it, mouth open, when his tongue pushed itself down your throat as Viktor began his meal. “I will die if I don’t fuck you,” he rasped. So fucking dramatic over nothing, over just a kiss and some unfinished fingering, and a clipped conversation about what he wanted.

He could abandon it here. He could walk out; he could sit on your bed and just study and watch Dexter. He could drink his tea, already cold, he could make you blush all evening, bid you goodbye and go back to his grimy room to jerk off and fuck off. But he couldn’t stop.

“Please, I’ll be so good to you,” he prayed to you, your hands so warm on his waist as he kissed you till he was out of breath. “You don’t know what you are doing to me.” Pathetic, moronic wail escaped him. And he knew you only grew wetter and wetter, your lips getting hotter on him. Panting, you pulled him by the belt and walked the two of you over to the bed, leaving Viktor with no other support than yourself.

He had never rid himself of his clothes so fast. Everything he had on, tossed and crumpled by the bed, next to your own little pile. All the layers of the second, the third skin abandoned, his brace, his pants, his boxers, embarrassingly soaked with sweat and precum, when he crawled on top of you just to keep kissing you and biting your neck, leaving nasty marks everywhere. He panted, his own breath betraying him as your skin came in contact and Viktor whined simply at his cock rubbing against your thigh and he wanted more.

“If you want to stop, tell me.” Another raspy, absolutely dishonest, but a proper plea, asking for the complete opposite. Please, never ask me to stop. “Do you understand?” You nodded, again—not good enough. Your eyes so wide, he could barely see the colour. When you were splayed flat below him, he could see your heart twitching, your chest contracting. A minuscule movement, but he could see it.

“Words, I need to hear your words, lásko,” he growled, stunned by his own impatience.

“I understand.” A kindness in your voice enveloped him. He slid you down the mattress by the ankles, his cock rested against your slit. With clumsy hands he put on a condom, stole a pillow from under your head to support his bum leg and adjusted his crooked crouch. You had the audacity to chuckle at the commonality of his movements and he bit your calf in response.

Absolutely unhinged, you hooked your foot behind his neck, and he immediately loved the weight that pulled him down, steadied him, as he teased your entrance. You held a breath; he had forsaken the privilege of air long time ago.

The first thrust was just blissful. He could feel the crease on his forehead relaxing, his mouth opening, his jaw hanging heavily, just joy and warmth, him awash in it. He felt so full, so complete, yet it was you who was full of him as your bodies slotted together easily, differently to the last time, which left him feeling awkward and ashamed and unfinished.

You rested your hands on his hips, gripping the sharp angle of his bones, your fingernails leaving crescent marks that he would run his fingers over in the morning. “You are doing so well,” he whispered in awe, and it was honest, and you loved it, he felt it in his cock getting squeezed in a silent gratitude.

He felt his ugliness leaving him with each pump of his hips, each sloppy sound of your bodies bumping against each other, his cock twitching inside you, and he needed one more thing to make this even less ugly.

He brushed his thumb over your clit, stretching it, teasing you and taking in all your huffs and puffs, your contorting stomach muscles, your tightening walls. A longing look and an echoing question followed. “Do you love me?”

“Viktor, don’t be cruel,” you answered so fast, he almost retreated. How could you think so? A childlike curiosity creeped onto his face.

“I am not. I really ought to know. Just say yes or no,” Please, just say yes. He felt you twitch at the question, and it made him think he was right. But he could have also been completely deranged. Brain burnt by lust and all the ugly things.

“Viktor—” you pleaded at the loss of his thumb on you.

“I can feel you. Yes or no?” A hard thrust, right up your guts. You yelped, and he could see the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and the sight was something to behold, keep in the palace of his mind forever.

“Then, why are you asking?” You were ready for filth. For his erotic weirdness, for his awkwardness, for all the want he would suppress every time you interacted. You felt it all in his fleeting touch, in the warmth of his thigh when your naked toes rested against it idly, unintentionally, though very intentionally. But this was how you coax a cat. And this was not how cats responded.

“You will see,” he promised, more to himself. “Do you love me, now, in this moment, when I’m fucking you? Yes or no?” Another twitch of your cunt at ‘love’. He left himself unguarded, shielded only by the mould of your womb.

“Yes.” A tiny, shy ‘yes’. But it fell right into Viktor’s heart and there it grew into a big promise, and he would keep it and take care of it and cherish it.

His body bent in half, his mouth seeking yours. A sloppy kiss, painful, with teeth at your tender lip. Another, earnest, slow and careful. Another, quick and fleeting, before he found your ear. Between them, “I love you,” whispered back like a secret, like a prize for your struggle.

Your breaths grew frantic, you wanted to keep him close. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging him in, so you could lick the sweat from his neck, bite it and claim it. Your leg slipped onto his hip, and you curled it around him, his bone digging into your thigh.

“Do you see? How it feels?” he rasped into your ear, gripping you tight. “To be loved while being fucked? Tell me how it feels.” Viktor moaned with each of his thrusts, holding back getting harder and harder. His cock getting more swollen. Your walls getting tighter.

“Amazing,” you whispered, pulling his mouth back to yours. “I love you.”

Viktor’s eyes rolled back into his skull. He slumped onto you, his hands snaking behind your waist, and he could feel your sweat merging with his as your chests pressed together. “I love you,” he cooed weakly. “You can come now, lásko.”

He felt your thighs clutch on his hips, a long spasm twisting your spine underneath him. You came with an orgasm wrenching breath out of your lungs, leg bending, blinding. The ‘I love you’ falling from your lips over and over again, and Viktor could finally let go and spill all his ugliness out. He came with a loud moan seconds after, his brain fucked out, his heart swollen, as he came loved for what he was.

He held you tight through it, chests heaving, when he felt a quiver and wetness on his cheek. “Are you hurt?” he whispered.

You sobbed onto his chest, hands caged in his arms as you tried to release them and wipe the tears away. “No, no,” you shook your head. “What is this… feeling?” It had no name. For Viktor, it was a dumbing bliss. He could cry too if he wasn’t so warm.

“How do you feel?” He wanted to know what it was like on the other side. No one ever told him, no one ever shared this with him.

“Hollow. Ah… fuck. Empty,” you struggled to find the words, trying them out on your tongue, but they felt wrong. “I feel like you took something… bad from me. And now I don’t know what to do with the space left—” you gasped between sobs as Viktor rolled you to the side and pulled your hair to expose your neck.

You buried your face in the curve of his shoulder. Tears fell on their own, and Viktor wanted to drink them and cry them out himself. When the sobs transformed into clipped breaths, and clipped breaths transformed into one long exhale, you asked carefully, “Viktor, you don’t really love me, do you?”

“Well, do you really love me?” His chest was swollen, his head heavy. He was triumphant. He was so invincible he had it in him to love you.

Silence, for a while. Viktor nudged you gently with his chin and whispered a soft command, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll be here.”

You looked at him, the practicality of it spreading a strange warmth in your belly. Wordlessly, you got up and disappeared, still naked as day, and Viktor watched your feet shuffle in the creak of the bathroom door. He got up, put on his underwear, and drank his cold tea in one go.

When you got out, a relief glimpsed through your face, as if you were expecting him to be gone. He waited for you with a cup of tea and a clean sweatshirt, beckoning you to slide into it. Once you both had a singular piece of clothing on, he pulled you back into bed and cuddled sweetly into you. “How do you feel now?” he asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“I feel… like I really need you to love me right now,” you let it slide out. Even though your sweatshirt shielded you from the chill of the room, your soul was still completely bare and shivering. And Viktor loved this nudity, the weirdness of it, the feeling of belonging it gave him.

He found that is was his hands that were lingering now, that the tender thought of the morning coffee was no longer distorted by fear, the quiet and the silence became comfortable in a good way. He felt so wanted, so beautiful in your eyes. He felt all the right things and none of the wrong things. His ugly snake was skinned and turned into a beautiful object. In this beautiful space only beautiful words seemed fitting. “I really do love you right now.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation

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zachsanomaly · 3 days ago

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Don't forget DON'T FORGET to send him more letters. Don't forget that no matter what's happening with this case, or his fandom, or if he's guilty or innocent.

He's been held in solitary confinement without trial. He's alone. He's very likely not being treated well. We watched them slam him into a wall in spite of his back injury on live television. I can't imagine how much he suffers when no one is watching to get outraged. Keep sending him letters, books, donations, whatever you can. Just don't let him believe he's alone. He doesn't even have a cell mate to talk to and he hasn't been convicted of anything.

That could be you in there. That could be your loved one. It's a horrific thing that an American citizen can be charged as a terrorist for merely allegedly murdering ONE person when people are murdered every day in this country, in that same city, and many get a slap on the wrist. The only reason they're mistreating what could very well be an innocent person is to scare anyone out of ever daring to say "eat the rich"

But they'll eat us and dance on our graves. They wouldn't even bury us if it saved them a dime. They don't care about us, they don't care about justice. Right now they just care about putting a human being through the worst solitude imaginable, for months at a time, and he still hasn't been found guilty of doing anything at all.

Just don't let him believe that we let them get away with it. Don't let THEM believe they'll get away with it. Don't let this kid, this gen z suspect, think he's as alone as his cell walls are there to tell him he is.

#Luigi #free luigi #Mangione #luigi nicholas mangione #luigi mangione

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blessedbyahuntress · 18 hours ago

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Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Nineteen: I'm currently going through ChArAcTeR dEvElOpMeNt

Prev/Next

A/N: Y'all I swear we're getting somewhere!

Warnings: None...?

Word Count: 900

You raised a hand as both men turned their heads toward you, mouths open to defend themselves.

Fury glittered in your eyes, silencing them more than the motion. Your perfect hair was getting tossed around in the wind, but never flying into your vision.

“Eurylochus,” you said, voice even icier than your eyes. “Get off of him.”

He wrinkled his nose as he removed his foot from the other man’s chest. Belerphius scrambled away and the wind picked up, seeming to follow the direction of your anger.

“What were you thinking?” You shouted over the roaring of the waves crashing against the ship.

“I wasn’t thinking!” Eurylochus yelled back, coming closer so that he wouldn’t have to raise his voice.

You glared up at him, briefly annoyed by how much taller he was compared to you. “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t doubt that,” Eurylochus snapped. He looked away, trying to contain his anger. “It’s just that…”

“It’s just what?” You asked sharply. No response.

You sighed as all rage seemed to leave your quivering body. “It’s alright, Eurylochus,” you said. “I know what Belerphius said; Odysseus told me. It’s- we just can’t be fighting about something so… unimportant.”

Eurylochus’s gaze snapped back to you, your words causing all of his anger to resurface. “What?” He demanded. “Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re gorgeous, Y/N! And imagine how you had already looked beforehand- it was all I could do just to keep their hands off of you!”

You couldn’t seem to decide which emotion to favor; confusion, anger, and maybe a bit of sadness flitted across your face. “Eurylochus-”

He studied the floorboards, face a dark crimson. “I think we should both-”

The second in command was cut off by a crewmate yelling for Odysseus. You sprinted to the stairs, feeling Eurylochus’s gaze burning into your back the whole time.

“Odysseus!” You shouted. “Captain! They need you above deck!”

Odysseus’s door flew open, and the man came running out, leaving the door open behind him. You closed it with one foot before hurrying after Odysseus.

“Captain!”

You turned your head, gaze softening as you saw Polites rushing toward you. “Captain, there’s an island nearby!”

“Show me,” Odysseus ordered.

Polites scurried over to the helm of the ship, you and Odysseus tagging along close behind.

You gasped, the sound going unheard in the heat of the storm. It wasn’t what you would call an island- it was a rocky, gray strip of land, looking as if it had been put there purely out of spite, to lure sailors to their doom.

You jolted back, a memory filling your head. You could only watch as a vision that wasn’t yours flashed before your eyes.

“What-” You mumbled, pressing your hands to your forehead.

“Y/N?” You heard Polites ask, but it sounded as if he were far away. Hadn’t he been right next to you? Why was the world suddenly spinning?

A sweet melody filled your ears.

“Kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor…”

You blinked, eyes glazed over as you started toward the helm of the ship.

Looking out, you saw that you were docked on the strange island, only this time, it was covered with green grass and rich with trees and animals.

Your attention snapped back to the beautiful woman in the water before you. “And when you get a taste can you tell me what’s my flavour?...”

Your eyes flew open, the floorboards hard beneath your back. A collection of blurry faces stood peering down at you, concern etched upon their faces. You recognized Odysseus, Eurylochus, and Polites.

“What?” You mumbled, scrambling to prop yourself onto your elbows.

“What?” Polites echoed, looking even more confused than you.

Odysseus crouched down by your side. “You just… fainted.” He studied you as if you were some foreign language he couldn’t understand. “Y/N, has this happened before?”

Eurylochus offered you a hand, and you gratefully accepted. Your fingers seemed so much more delicate when you placed them on his.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. You dusted off your trousers, not glancing away from Odysseus for a single moment. “Captain, I think you’ll be needing an explanation, though.”

He raised an eyebrow, motioning for you to continue.

“There are sirens in this part of the sea.” You finally broke eye contact to stare at the murky water with unease.

“Sirens?” Odysseus questioned sharply. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“I- er… I kinda had a vision?”

“What?” Polites and Eurylochus demanded at the same time, even taking a step forward in unison. You shuffled back nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I think I was some sailor who got murdered by the sirens a while back,” you explained. “It was… weird, to say the least. I saw myself getting lured into the water by a beautiful woman’s singing.” You looked at Odysseus, eyes tired. “So now we have evil, monstrous, yet gorgeous women with gorgeous voices to deal with. Plus, they want to eat us.” You ran a hand down your face as a sigh escaped your lips. “Why am I actually not surprised?”

Polites gave you a pitying look, while Odysseus put a fist into the palm of his opposite hand.

“Alright,” he whispered, gaze flickering over the three of you. “Here’s the plan.”

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041 @thereigningking @m-carriaga2021 @jackintheboxs-world @fallenh34art @itzkingbo @sabrina-senpai @smartiepants217 @doodle-with-rhy @trashcannotbealive @uselessmoonlight @permanently-nothere

#epic musical #epic the musical #blessed by a trickster #polites #polites x reader #epic fandom #epic odysseus #epic the musical x reader #eurylochus #eurylocus x reader #jorge rivera herrans #hermes x reader #odysseus

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livefromthedas · 2 days ago

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Lifeless, barren, hazy and grey. At first, Rook could see nothing that would indicate where she was. She felt disoriented and unusually, bitterly cold.

“Spite?” Rook asked, her voice sounding weirdly hollow and distant in the space, “Are you—“

She turned and gasped. The form that Spite cut here felt surreal. Hunched and watching her with intense curiosity, the demon was a near carbon-copy of Lucanis, but shorter, somehow, and kohl black in color, as though dark, billowing smoke had worked itself into a person. Lucanis’s usually dark, kind eyes cut through that black in a bright, glowing purple.

“Maker, he wasn’t kidding,” Rook said pensively, slowly dawning on her just where the demon had brought her, “You’ve managed to look just like him. A demon with good taste.”

Spite didn’t immediately respond. He seemed unusually tense and twitchy, as though coming to grips with this very real new person encroaching upon a private space.

“Hey,” Rook said quietly, “Hey, buddy. It’s okay.”

Despite nerves that crawled in her belly, she steeled herself. Trust was a decision, albeit a potentially reckless one, and as had repeatedly been the case, Rook willed herself to trust Spite… at least until he gave her a reason not to.

The demon shied away, initially, at the careful hand she extended its way. But as she remained calm, he managed to still himself. And Rook found herself endeared as he nuzzled into the palm of the hand she’d graced to his cheek. Every bit as touch starved as his unwitting host.

“Spite, how did you manage to pull me… here?” Rook glanced around. It looked like the fade, but different, somehow. It was neither truly beyond the veil, nor a memory, as she’d experienced from Solas… It was, instead, somehow more familiar.

“Lucanis keeps us here. Always,” Spite said, “Behind locked doors. I can’t break through.”

“Keeps you here…” Dawning struck her and Rook’s eyes went wide, “Literally here… Mythal’enaste. Are we in Lucanis’s head? How?”

“Rook tastes his blood. Spite reaches Rook,” the demon replied matter of factly.

Rook winced against memories of waking to crimson on her lips, warm copper, and the immediate panic that had followed. Always a bit chaotic, with Spite.

“Okay, we are going to have to have a nice, long conversation about using blood magic. And soon,” Rook sighed, feeling ill. Spite seemed to tumble into an immediate panic, fidgeting where he stood, and she was quick to add, “But first, let’s figure this out. Lucanis is here?” The demon nodded quickly, and Rook glanced up and around, squinting against the gray haze, “Then, let’s go get him.”

No sooner had the notion left her lips, the haze of their environment began to clear - solidify. Rook took several paces forward, wide eyes blinking and mind doing her best to register what she saw.

A cold, despondent man’s voice - a memory? - rang in her ears.

“Couldn’t you simply die already? This experiment has gone on for far too long.”

Rook knew that voice.

“That was Calivan,” Rook stammered, “That son of a bitch. And this…” She was fighting internally what she already knew.

Spite ambled up beside her, watching closely as she admitted, “I know this place… It’s the Ossuary… the prison we freed Lucanis from.”

“Freed? No!” The demon scoffed, “We’ve always been. Here.”

Rook’s heart felt lodged in her gut as the full picture of what was going on here took shape, “Aw, Vehnan…”

She swallowed hard, shook off nerves, and did her damnedest to focus, before catching Spite’s gaze, “Ok, if he’s here, then where? Where they kept his blood?”

The demon grew excited. Hopeful.

“Yes! Go there!” Worry was quick to shadow Spite’s features again, though, “But… The locks. Everywhere. I can’t touch them.”

“Well, then, the least I can do is try,” Rook decided, “Come on.”

It was the Ossuary, but wrong. Darker. Somehow even colder and more cloyingly damp. Rook walked uneven ground that felt ready to drag her to her knees at a moment’s behest.

“So…” she thought aloud to the demon on her heels, “Less the actual Ossuary… more like.. the experience of the Ossuary.”

“Yes. Yes!”

“So, locks to the experience of the Ossuary…How do we get past those? Turn ourselves into mice? Fight giant spiders?”

Spite looked at Rook as though she’d grown a second head.

“By getting past the guards. It’s a prison.”

Rook managed an awkward laugh, “Right. Naturally.”

This was Lucanis’s consciousness, after all. And the man was nothing if not a pragmatist.

… A pragmatist with some very deep shadows, Rook was quick to find. With as damp and isolated as the Ossuary had felt in passing, it became nearly intolerable when combined with the weight of genuine fear. Of hopelessness. Of meager scraps of longing for revenge. The deeper Rook traversed its crumbling hallways and surprisingly claustrophobic ocean as sky, the more she felt all of these things. Viscerally.

“You feel the same pain he does,” she noted carefully, after his breathing once again matched the calm of her own, “Do you not feel his exhaustion as well?”

“All. Of it. And he feels. Mine.”

The depth of Lucanis’s shared experience with Spite hit Rook hard alongside this memory, and fast. It was horrible here. And heartbreaking.

“Promoted from flying vermin to malicious spirit,” Rook heard the memory of another familiar voice, “Whatever will you become next, I wonder?”

Zara Renata. That bitch. Rook bit hard, quelling anger. She pressed ahead with an even more determined stride.

“… Nobody’s here,” she said, baffled, as they waded into The Ossuary’s storage. Memories of blood vials - Proof of prolonged, meticulous torture and control - hovered eerily near by. Lucanis, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Of course not,” Spite said, “Rook can’t be here.”

Rook had barely begun making sense of that statement when she found herself bracing, hearing the memory of another familiar voice. Another absolute bastard.

Illario Dellamorte.

“If I were in charge, you wouldn’t have to do this anymore.”

“Oh, absolutely fuck you, guy,” Rook spat.

Still, she took the memory as a hint, and wandered in the direction of that voice.

It was a long, disparaging walk. Frayed memories and frigid, deeply compartmentalized feelings of grief seemed hidden in shadows around every corner. They broke her down, slowly and methodically. It was impossible not to share those sensations here. It was awful.

Worse still were scraps of parchment Rook kept finding, singed at the edges and written neatly in Lucanis’s hand.

…But we’re more like brothers. Caterina took us both in… (all we had left.)

What if I go after him and get Caterina killed? (All I have left.)

Rook was startled then, bracing to fight, when she rounded a corner to find someone else in the room with them.

And not just any someone.

The First Talon of the Crows, Caterina Dellamorte.

“Rook,” the old woman bit coldly, “Did you forget our deal?” She somehow stood taller than was natural.

Rook struggled to harangue the electricity that crackled anxiously at her fingertips. She breathed deep, and righted her stance, though no less baffled by the question.

“You were to bring my grandson back to me.”

Rook eyeballed the woman cautiously, “I… did?”

“You brought me an abomination,” Caterina sneered, “Where is my grandson?”

Rook was immediately incensed, “Oh, fuck yo—“

Spite’s slither up beside Rook, accompanied by a curious sniff, stole her attention.

“Tenderness and terror. Rage and relief. Old, stale fear of disappointment,” said the demon.

That’s right, Rook thought, this is the memory of Caterina - Lucanis’s idea of her - not the woman herself.

With everything he had told her in confidence about his family’s long-time matriarch, their relationship had been contentious, at best. Stories of days without food, time locked away in dark, tight spaces. Countless beatings with that damned cane if he so much as put a toe out of line.

“Lady, I don’t give a singular fuck who you are,” Rook sniped. This was a lie, of course - Rook did care. Deeply. Caterina was important to Lucanis. And, admittedly, Rook found the woman absolutely terrifying. But by the maker, she was mad - and it felt good to lay into Not-The-Real-Caterina, “He’s not fielding insults from anyone monstrous enough to do everything you did to a child.”

“I kept him alive,” Caterina replied simply. Frigidly.

Rook struggled to swallow, still furious. “Look, you say that you love him?”

“He is my grandson,” she said, as though that made it obvious.

“Lucanis is trapped here. Somewhere. He needs our help… he…” Rook sighed, “The idea of disappointing you terrifies him, do you get that? I think that’s part of the reason he’s even here.”

Caterina eyed her down the bridge of her nose, “What is it that you want? To release a demon?”

“The demon isn’t the one who’s trapped!” Rook gestured to Spite, who hovered - practically hid - at her left shoulder, “Lucanis is. Out of fear that he’s failed you… when you know he hasn’t done a damned thing to deserve what he was put through here.”

Rook stumbled back a pace, bumping back into an equally startled demon. Caterina’s entire visage had suddenly undulated and churned. Seconds later, it evaporated into a haze of white light, the old woman’s last words fading with her, “My poor boy.”

“Ok, Lucanis,” Rook muttered before righting her stance, half-smiling that the man’s demon seemed uninterested in releasing his grounding grip on her arm, “What’s next?”

There were more people to be found, it turned out. Or, visages of people they knew, at least - shallow projections of them rooted deep in a fear of rejection.

First came Lace Harding. This surprised Rook at first - He and the tenacious little dwarf had gotten on quite well over the past many months. Rook often caught Lucanis smiling fondly after the little woman, like one would an endeared little sister.

But then she remembered their rocky start. With so much experience fighting demons beneath her belt, Lace had been more vocal than most about their new “team abomination.” She hadn’t trusted Lucanis in the least, and made no qualms about saying so. Out loud. Repeatedly, and oftentimes as though Lucanis wasn’t even in the room.

And then, there was Neve.

Ah, Neve Gallus. Stunning, brilliant, irritatingly charming Neve. Rook liked Neve. Truly, she did. But she also doubted it was lost on anyone by then that Rook had stopped bringing the detective and Lucanis on missions together after only a handful of outings to Dock Town within weeks of the Crow’s joining the team.

They had chemistry, Neve and Lucanis. She also clearly found the man attractive, having little problem saying so - Neve was a flirt, and a talented one. And petty thought it was, it drove Rook nuts. Doubly so when Lucanis started playing right along.

Unsurprisingly, there was something extra satisfying about watching Lucanis’s gorgeous mental image of the woman erupt into blinding white smoke.

Rook was more than happy to leave that mess in her wake.

Still, the further she and Spite ventured, the more memories and fear found them. The sound of Zara Renata’s voice circled overhead like a vulture, and every time it crowed, Rook felt a seed of nausea that she wasn’t entirely sure was her own.

“I was supposed to have a useful demon, and instead I have a useless abomination. Wonderful.”

“Still fighting? How tiresome. There is no point, you know. Nothing awaits you anymore. You’re long dead.”

Rook caught a singed piece of parchment as it flittered down into her path. Some of its words she remembered, others Lucanis had kept to himself.

“I didn’t want you to see that. Again.”

(I’m not this… I cannot be this.)

Rook felt absolutely gutted, and for the first time since arriving, she stumbled against the weight of the grief this Ossuary held. She choked back hot, furious tears.

“Rook?” Spite hovered at her flank, growing nervous. His rescuer breaking into tears had certainly not been part of the demon’s plan.

“Rook… you’re too good to be wasting your time in a place like this.”

Rook suddenly glanced up with a ferocity that could have cut glass. That voice again.

Illario.

She grabbed Spite by the hand, and immediately strode in the direction of the disembodied voice.

The visage of Illario Dellamorte stood, suave and cocksure as ever, at the bend of an especially dark hallway. Even as a concept, he peacocked where he stood - a man fully aware just how obnoxiously gorgeous he was, with no qualms about putting those looks to use.

“You have my attention, all right?” Rook said irritably, “So, where is he? Where is Lucanis?”

A forced but no less gorgeous smile stretched across immaculate white teeth.

“Forget my cousin,” Illario purred, “You’ve got much more important things to worry about, don’t you?”

Spite stepped in flush with Rook. She could feel the emotion radiating from the demon - it nearly mirrored her own, amplifying it all the more. Righteous anger threatening to boil over with a healthy dose of fear. He inhaled deep.

“Sharp. Jagged edges. Hurt with every breath,” Spite growled, “Grief and relief. Hope and anger. Mixed.”

“You’ve no right to tell me or anyone else what’s important, you dick,” Rook managed to keep her voice steady, though barely. “And you don’t even owe this bastard the time of day. Do you hear me, Lucanis?” Rook found herself shouting at the endless, watery grave that consumed them.

Spite added, snarling, “He. Put. Us. HERE!”

Illario was furiously unthreatened.

“You’ve got to leave this be, Rook,” he crooned with another flirtatious half-smile, “You turn my cousin loose, it’s only going to cause more grief.”

“Yeah? Who’s?” Rook sniped, “Zara Renata’s? Her Venatori thugs? Because they’re all dead, Illario, without a single innocent bystander so much as breaking a nail. And that just leaves you.”

“You know,” the assassin ignored the threat completely, “that Caterina had five children. Eight grandchildren. All dead now, except for Lucanis and me.”

“I…” Rook trailed, “Yes, I know. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Last time the Crows fought a war of succession,” Illario continued, “House Dellamorte lost everything. Except the seat of First Talon. This time, we fight ourselves. What will be left then?”

Rook shot the man a look to kill.

“You think you’d survive as his friend, let alone his lover?” Illario smirked darkly - authentically, for once - as the observation made the pretty little elf before him squirm, “And what about your friends? Your cause?”

“Yeah… yeah, no,” Rook shook off indignation, before speaking past Illario again, “This asshole doesn’t get to speak for you, Lucanis. I’m not going to stand here and act like the bastard who stabbed you in the back gets to tell anyone how to feel about it. This is his fault. All of it.”

“Is it? Are you sure?” Illario mused, “Do you really think he made a deal with a demon? He’s not even a mage! Or do you think, maybe, he just found the one there already? He’ll carry this prison with him forever, and he’ll fill it with corpses, given time.”

Spite was only growing more anxious, radiating heat where he glowered at Rook’s side.

“We. Need. OUT!”

“Lucanis, anything could happen - we could literally die tomorrow!” Rook called out, feeling desperate, “But that’s not a good excuse to hide somewhere that’s hurting you. Please, just…”

“You always have an answer, don’t you?” Illario bit sharply, “Are you sure you can live with the consequences?”

“Better than I can live with the consequences of not even trying, like a complete fucking coward,” Rook sniped without a moment’s hesitation.

Spite sneered, and grinned at the younger Dellamorte, as though that sure showed him.

… And the demon was right. Illario’s visage shuttered and broke, erupting into a mist of white light like the others.

Rook breathed a massive sigh of relief, promising aloud, “Whatever happens, Lucanis, I’m going to be there to help you. You’ve handled enough alone.”

The deep, resonating clang of a deadbolt lock slipped loose through the air. Rook shared curious glances with Spite, before the pair of them followed the sound. Massive, heavily fortified double doors lay around the corner, and with a low, baleful creek, one of those doors had opened by a matter of inches.

Determined, Rook once again gathered their demon, “Come on.”

To say it was a relief to spot Lucanis the moment she stepped past that threshold was an understatement. Rook was quick to sprint his way, Spite on her heels like an eager wisp of smoke.

Lucanis looked as exhausted as he was startled to see her.

“What are you doing here, Rook?” He stammered beneath a deeply furrowed brow.

“I had to find you,” Rook struggled to catch her breath under the weight of relief, “If anything happened to you… I can’t even think about it.”

Lucanis sighed softly, barely masking a pained wince. He shook his head.

“You should go,” he said softly, “It’s better I stay here than risk losing you.”

Rook felt the threat of tears at those words, quelled only when Spite snarled in frustration, “You see? He breaks. Our. Agreement! His mind. Is still here. He wants. To stay here. So he keeps. Me here!”

“Mierda,” Lucanis cursed the demon, “Why would I want to stay? Even in my head, this place is a nightmare.”

“Right, but,” Rook said softly, “It’s a nightmare you’ve already defeated…” Her mind raced as she caught Lucanis’s gaze. Those warm, kind eyes were so tired. So utterly defeated. He quickly looked away.

She understood. And sometimes, it hurt to understand, too.

“I get it now,” she said with a sad smile, “As bad as the Ossuary was for you, it was better than the alternative.”

Lucanis glanced up past that knotted brow, “What alternative?”

“The Ossuary, Zara,” Rook explained, “You could solve those problems with a blade. But healing again? Living as an abomination? There is no simple answer there, vehnan. And, if you fail,” she shrugged, finally admitting to a very real danger, “You could hurt the ones you love.”

This sheer level of transparency seemed to rattle the assassin to his core. It was a truth given words that he had fought so hard to ignore.

“No! I… This is not…” Frustration boiled over and Lucanis growled angrily, “Damn it, Rook!”

It was frustration he apparently shared with his demon.

“Make. Him. Leave!” bellowed Spite.

Rook shuddered a sigh, determined to stay calm, “It doesn’t work that way, Spite, I’m sorry. It’s going to take time. And it’s got to be something Lucanis chooses to do for himself.”

Spite growled in frustration, but something about the presence of possibility at least helped him calm.

Rook, meanwhile, was watching Lucanis carefully, reading the storybook of emotions that played across his face. He finally breathed deep, a palm at his forehead. He seemed to settle on simply looking overwhelmed.

“Rook, you are right. There has to be a way through this,” he said, sounding like a raw nerve, “It’s just… so much. I cannot see how to begin.”

She watched him quietly for a moment. He seemed to find some calm in that silence, as did Spite. The demon became distracted, apparently content in the fact that there was a productive conversation between the two adultier adults in the room.

“Start small,” Rook suggested, “You and Spite. Figure out a goal you can both agree on. Then, make it happen.”

Spite’s attention returned - He lit up, curious, “A contract?”

A flicker of amusement teased Lucanis’s face, but he seemed to be giving it a serious consideration.

“Contracts are for clients,” he said to Spite. “Call this… an alliance.” Dark eyes came back to Rook. Always back to Rook, “But on what terms?”

“Didn’t you just learn your grandmother was alive?” Rook grinned - doubly so at the light it brought to Lucanis’ tired features, “What are you waiting for? Go rescue her!”

“That’s true.”

Spite looked eagerly between Lucanis and Rook, “Fighting Crows?”

“And anyone else who gets in our way,” Lucanis said to his demon, that steadfast fire returning to his eyes with a renewed determination. “Do we have a deal? We free Caterina together?”

Spite looked earnestly excited, to which Rook could barely stifle a grin.

“Together. We fight!”

Spite’s words rang in Rook’s ears as a flash of white light consumed everything in sight. She felt a distinct yank backwards at the navel, and a full-body halt, the sound of the Seventh Talon’s voice chiming as that bloom of light faded back into the fire-lit innards of the Cobbled Swan in Minrathos.

“Rook? Are you all right?” Teia sounded worried.

Viago, meanwhile, sounded very annoyed, “What is the matter with the two of you?”

Lucanis and Rook were both struggling with eyes re-adjusting in the dark.

“It’s ok,” said Rook as she caught Lucanis’s gaze, “We needed a moment, but… I’d say we’re ready for anything. Though, uh…” she pulled a face, asking awkwardly of the Talons, “How long were we standing here?”

Teia smirked, “Long enough for it to get awkward. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Lucanis smiled after the concern, “We’re fine, Teia. Don’t waste your worry on us. Can I trust the two of you to keep an eye on Illario? If he starts anything, I want to know about it.”

“I was going to do that, anyway,” Viago assured.

Teia’s gaze danced between Rook and Lucanis knowingly, “You’re planning something.”

“I’m getting Caterina back,” Lucanis grinned, “But Viago is right, we need more information before we move. Illario panicked when I came back alive. If he panics again, he could actually kill her this time.” He looked between the Talons and Rook, “We’ll only get one chance at this.”

“We will make it count,” Teia said.

Viago nodded in agreement, before his gaze fell on Rook, “That aside, we finally got word this morning on which contracts Caterina had in motion for House Dellamorte before she was taken. There are complications with three of them, and the chance that Illario will make any calls, let alone good ones right now is…” he looked to Lucanis.

“We will talk,” Lucanis agreed, “Give me a moment to show our guests out.”

“Rook,” Teia nodded and smiled as Lucanis took Rook’s hand and ushered her away from their murder of Crows.

“Find me, when you get back to the Lighthouse?” Rook asked. They came to a table near the door, where Bellara caught sight of their return over a fancy-looking bottle of wine.

Lucanis rounded to stand before Rook, his expression warm and soft. He had hands upon her shoulders as he often did to steady her, “This may run long, but I will find you as soon as I can. And Rook?”

She glanced up just Lucanis stepped in closer. A hand at the side of her neck, thumb brushing the delicate spot behind her ear, the assassin surprised her with a kiss.

Stunned and delighted at once, Rook pulled him even closer by the belts on his coat. Their kiss became a chuckle into a mischievous grin.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Rook whispered teasingly.

Lucanis was already ambling away, back towards the Talons, looking endearingly smug.

It took a number of moments for Bellara to hoist Rook’s attention from the gutter well enough for Rook to realize her fellow Veil Jumper had joined her at her side.

“Heyyy. How we doing?”

“It, uh…” Rook finally managed to relocate words, before joking, “It got a little warm in here all of the sudden.”

Bellara giggled, “I’ll bet it did. Want to talk about it?”

“Oh my god I do.”

Rook’s enthusiasm had the pair of women cackling as they headed for the door.

Notes:

Oookay, so re-interpreting game stuff can be a little tiresome, but hey, we got there.

Also, just a heads up, the next chapter gets ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ SPICYYYYY ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ and will probably up the overall fic rating. So, avoid that chapter, if that’s not your bag (Though, we all know it probably is. Greetings, my people!)

Thanks for reading!

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age veilguard #lucanis x rook #dragon age fan fiction #rook x lucanis #rookanis

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midnightwind · 4 hours ago

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you guys like me going off on random DA tangents and musings, right?? because I've been awake too long so you're getting another one

I have been sat here trying to figure out Why Lucanis' prison looks like a bunch of ice and why it was so far away from the "lab" settings for a while now. (arguably two rooms fit this description, the one where Lucanis tells you about Zara and the one right outside his phylactery room) Like, even without that bridge being broken, it's in such a bizarre corner of the Ossuary. And I mean, it wouldn't really matter with a normal prisoner, but Lucanis was a notorious Crow and mage killer on top of that, plus he was Zara's special little guy to fuck with. You would not want to take him for a long walk to experience the worst shit on earth every few days. Maybe it's close enough to the little room where he mentions Zara and maybe she wanted him close to the door so she didn't have to go far to torture him, but again, leaving such a challenging subject close to the exit seems like a bad choice. You want him to have to get through so many guys and doors before escaping so you have time to take him down.

This also ignores the magic required to leave, but they're not clear on what that is and not all the Venatori are mages so there's gotta be a mundane way out he could snatch off a guard. I digress, the whole ice cage and far off room doesn't make sense. But we know they were shipping demons to Zara. (I'm pretty sure the few demons you confront in Minrathous were Zara's little pets set loose so we can assume she wanted them in the capital for the eventual Venatori coup on the crown) If Zara was about to be stuck in Minrathous for the foreseeable future, setting things into motion for Elgar'nan, I could see her wanting her pet Crow at her side. Especially if you consider the initial idea for Lucanis: he was going to be a mind controlled murder puppet before you break him out.

Sure, Spite didn't crack open his ribcage and crawl out like some new horror, but having a demon in Lucanis lets her control him via the phylactery if not just outright with her blood magic. Maybe his will was too strong for mundane control, but the phylactery works. We know it works based off of Lucanis' dialogue about it. So we know she had a surefire way to keep him under control. (There's a whole other post exploring the amount of dead Venatori and the fact that Lucanis still has his leathers and weapons [which would make sense if he was Zara's murder puppet, but alas] and whether Lucanis recently made a break for it or if the loose demons/spirits/undead killed them all) Maybe he kept his leathers because Zara wanted him presentable upon delivery, I don't know.

But I do think he was being prepped to move. The Ossuary is falling apart, Zara is pulling all the best results, they're losing personnel and servants without being given more; Zara was clearly moving on from that location. But she wanted her little Antivan prize. He's too dangerous to move normally, a Crow is likely to escape if given an inch especially a skilled one like Lucanis, so they need to lock him down somehow. Ropes and chains aren't reliable, not with a Crow, but he's not a mage. You can use magic. You can literally put him on ice. I think they were packaging him up in an ice cube and doing it next(ish) to the door so they could more easily move him. I think Zara was going to take him and his phylactery to Minrathous and use him to cause some absolutely ruthless mayhem in the city before her cult took it over.

I think Rook showing up weakened the spell being cast just enough for Lucanis and Spite to break out, and I think it saved a whole lot of lives.

#I had to scroll so far back in a group chat for that screenshot because 1) I think it's funny and 2) it's what made me think of this #like the Ossuary makes very little sense layout wise for what they claim it is #even as repurposed ruins they really just assigned random rooms for stuff #they don't even have that many cells! it should have been far more harrowing imo #but I may be biased here #anyways I continue to scramble for breadcrumbs about Zara and Lucanis #she could also have just wanted him as a trophy and that was more like crystal and not ice #which means he probably wasn't going to survive that whole thing lol #why she remained in Treviso after the breakout- I'm not sure #maybe she just wanted to see Illario squirm lol #or maybe she was going to send Lucanis ahead while she tidied up in Antiva #I'm not really sure what else she was doing in the city since we don't get much on her #things I've been thinking about while writing the fic etc etc #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis #yeah I am tagging it be subjected to my ramblings #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Veilguard #DAV #DAV Posting

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feroluce · 2 days ago

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So we were talking about Dan Heng reincarnating in the boothenghill server recently. I think there's a lot of wiggle room in there for how it would go, given

a) we know very little about the transmutation arcanum and how All That works and

b) Dan Feng fucked around hard and found out even harder, so anything we would have known anyway is kaput.

This is something that, apparently, has never occurred before. There's no precedent. There should never be two Vidyadhara with draconic features at the same time, but even so, we have Dan Heng and Bailu both displaying tails and horns.

tl;dr I have a permit that says I can do whatever I want!

In the case that they find out Dan Heng will no longer reincarnate the same way- with Dan Feng having successfully broken the line of the Imbibitor Lunae- I think Dan Heng would be happy about it, in a way. He'll reincarnate the same as any other Vidyadhara now, where he will be a completely different person with no memories every time. There's no more pain or expectations to inherit. Whoever comes after him will have the clean slate he'd always wanted.

The only bitterness he holds about the whole ordeal is that it means he'll be leaving Boothill alone.

And so Dan Heng holds out as long as he can, to the point that even Bailu goes before him ("Now next time you'll have to call me jiejie haha!") but eventually the time comes for a hatching rebirth, and he and Boothill make their way back to the Luofu, to Scalegorge Waterscape.

(As he gets older, as he pushes the limit of the Vidyadhara lifespan, Dan Heng gets slightly more delirious, more forgetful. One morning, Boothill wakes up to Dan Heng trying to crawl out of bed half-asleep, asking what time it is. He was supposed to get up early to help Himeko make breakfast, so he can try to save everyone's stomachs.

Himeko has been long gone for centuries.

Boothill coaxes Dan Heng back into bed with him, tells him it's alright, someone else took over breakfast duty this morning. He forgot to tell him last night. Sorry. Dan Heng settles back in, right up against a warm metal chest plate, goes back to sleep.

If he remembers any of this later when he wakes up again, he doesn't say anything. Neither does Boothill.)

Boothill knows the water isn't good for him. He stubbornly wades out as far as he can anyway.

Dan Heng kisses him goodbye, pinches his cheek, tells him to behave himself through the crack in his voice. There's not much left to say at this point, they've been saying their goodbyes for days now. Boothill cheekily makes no promises, even as he slides his own hand over Dan Heng's, cradles the flat of his palm against his face and holds it there as long as he can. Dan Heng finally disappears under the waves.

Boothill still can't cry.

One of the Pearlkeepers has to come up and chase Boothill out, how long he stands there rusting in the water.

He wouldn't tell Dan Heng about it, of course, but as the 700 year mark approached them, Boothill starting having Ideas. And he decides, as he stands there alone in the sand feeling horribly hollow like he hasn't in a long, long time, fine! Fuck it! Fine!!

Execute Operation Last Hurrah!!

Because I think Boothill should get to go out in a petty, spiteful blaze of glory! Let the man die like how he lived!!

Boothill had simmered down a bit after he killed Oswaldo Schneider, and then even moreso when he and Dan Heng got hitched. But now Dan Heng is gone. There's no one left to stick around for, or to keep him together. So Boothill just goes on an absolute bender.

He leaves everything he and Dan Heng had to charities and rebel organizations. He steals whatever he wants from the IPC and then some. He fucks over as many of their plans as he can, and as horribly as he can. He hijacks himself an entire spaceship to hide away whatever it is he's pilfered and made off with- just the things that are no use to anyone else or that he can't give away without causing too much trouble for the receiver, but he can destroy them and make sure they don't fall into the wrong hands ever again.

And then Boothill finds himself a nice cozy little spot in the captain's room, kicks back with his feet up as he sets course for the nearest sun.

He makes himself a sad little one-sided toast, with the godawful sake Dan Heng would always insist was good after you got used to it. Boothill already figures he's not gonna make it to wherever it is Dan Heng ended up. If he does, it's a sign somethin' ain't workin' right.

But oh, Hell is about to become so, so much worse for all them IPC folks down there.

See ya soon, Oswaldo! ☆

#honkai star rail #henghill #bootheng #honkai star rail boothill #honkai star rail dan heng #hsr boothill #hsr dan heng #I love the thought of Boothill dragging as many evildoers plans down with him when he goes #but doing that kind of thing takes a certain level of preparation that you just don't get from dying suddenly in battle #I think Boothill is incredibly stubborn and cockroach-coded so tbh-#-I think I COULD see him simply pushing himself to keep going and going until someone else finally takes him out #but he's also incredibly petty and spiteful and he absolutely loves to make that other people's problem skzhsjjsnd #so I think if he ever actually decided he'd finally had enough of being alive he would pull this exact kind of shit haha #hsr #boothill #dan heng #major character death #suicide

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hotricebowlsoup · 2 days ago

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And the Snakes Begin to Sing

(evamon, 1.8k, relationship study, canon compliant + my own flourishes)

She’s the first you meet. The world began when you leaned in close and she snapped her eyes open, boring into yours.

Your trust is not misplaced in the Ultimate Liar, ironically. From the moment you meet her to the end of your first trial, she speaks fluidly in your language, facts and truth.

Even when she disrupts the suffocatingly optimistic atmosphere with a well-intentioned warning.

Oddballs stick together, you bitterly suppose, as everyone shoots you dirty looks after agreeing with her sentiment. You convince yourself you’re not doing this for her, you’re not doing this for anyone—

The glimpse you catch of her fisted hand and furrowed brows makes your noisy mind come to a stop.

You leave the courtroom before you can bear to look back again.

It’s not really a surprise when you wake up the next morning, cast out from the main group after your shenanigans yesterday. Nor is it surprising to be cast out with her.

The so-called “Ultimates” flock to Wolfgang like a herd of sheep to its shepard, brainless and dependent. Desperate to grasp at hope in this desolate sanctuary. Between the two of you, you figure he’s more snake-like than you are, giving the hungry mindless purpose like a carrot on a stick, the tempter who offers the apple to Eve.

But then your Liar shares something exclusive with you for the first time, and your spite towards Wolfgang’s cult matters no more.

(If you’d known the poster in the laboratory was Eva’s apple, perhaps you could’ve saved the only person who truly knew you.)

Although, your Eden crumbles a little after the rather anticlimactic reveal.

It baffles you, why anyone would choose to play the role of someone dangerous in an already dangerous situation. It baffles you because that’s the last thing you’d do, and the last thing you’d thought someone of her caliber would do. It baffles you because her now demolished lie was the reason you both are outcasts.

It baffles you because you thought she, your Liar, was the only one you could trust.

When free time begins, your legs bring you to her at once.

You find her in the underground level, where you first met. She tells you she’s avoiding the others; you hope she doesn’t mean you, too.

“I expected the Ultimates to wear their titles with pride,” You point out, very aware of the depressed look on her face. “But for you, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“It doesn't… fit well.”

She tells you about her world, enclosed in a box, obstructed by a frame. Despite her best efforts to push beyond the boundaries set upon her by others, they are nothing.

Who reads a literature essay written by a highschool mathlete?

It’s not something you can relate to, since you’ve never bothered to stray towards a path that doesn’t lead to a podium. You don’t know how it feels to make a greater, scarier name for yourself yet ultimately fail because of a silly title that defines you forever.

You don’t know what keeps you listening to her. Even when she cracks her first joke with you, and calls you gullible.

You don’t know what pulls you back to her in your next available time.

She tells you about her world again, because you’re her only willing audience. That she, an Ultimate, was treated lesser than a dog for her talent. That she, instead of attaining recognition and awe like you did with your title, lost all friendships the average girl should’ve had.

Despite your attitude, you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. (Even if you find it kind of funny how her hair untwirled itself when she spoke of her depressing story, too.)

It’s unexpectedly mundane after she leaves, you find. Probably because the Ultimate Debater can’t stand a silent house.

That’s probably it.

Your roommate is with you when she seeks you out for the first time. The Ultimate Influencer unabashedly makes a big fuss when Eva tries to pull you away alone, and if you weren’t already waiting for the next opportunity to speak to her, you would’ve found Kai’s (rather loud) concern to be well-intentioned.

Or maybe not, you suppress a sigh, as he walks away giggling to himself, muttering “freaking mathlete” under his breath.

You keep your eyes on her. She’s silent, eyes trained on the floor. Her hand fists her long sleeves, like the sight from the courtroom you couldn’t forget even if you tried.

Her eyes flutter upwards, meeting yours. You ignore the loosening of her grip, or the slowing of her heaving chest, in favor of keeping your eyes trained on hers. When she exhales calmly after a few moments, you feel yourself relaxing along with her.

Alone again in the underground level, she gives you another piece of her.

“Why are you showing this to me?”

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and you feel like a stupid math question. “Because I’m worried, duh.”

Duh. Slang sounds kind of weird coming from her. It feels unnatural, unpracticed, like she’s never spoken it before. You know why, and you surprise yourself by keeping your words to yourself.

But she surprises you more. “It’s because… I trust you.”

You?

“I’m… really sorry about how things turned out.”

What for?

“The other students wouldn’t have treated you unfairly if it wasn’t for me.”

It is, well, kind of her fault, but you figure you’re unlikeable enough to gain enemies by yourself. You had a choice to stay silent after the trial, but you deliberately chose to take her side.

And, when you look at her downcasted expression, how could you bear to blame her for any of it?

As a consolation of sorts, you give her a small piece of you, too.

Wolfgang’s blackmail is handled delicately by her, yet the words from her mouth are harsh and crude. While you agree that your classmates weren’t… intellectually capable of distrusting Wolfgang, there’s an extremely transparent reason why they didn’t believe Eva instead.

“Why did you do it?”

“...Huh?”

“You knew you were in a dangerous situation. Why would you draw so much negative attention to yourself like that?” You hiss the next part with equal amounts of condescension and worry. “Don’t you realise how much danger this has put you in?”

When she gives you a look that you can instantly recognise, you realise how frightening it is that you can read her quickly. “You know you can’t run away this time. Give me an answer.”

“Because…”

Before today, despite your closeness with her, there was always a line that couldn’t be crossed. Before today, your Liar stayed in her bubble, guarded and untrusting from past experiences.

But you have burst through her bubble, your arms outstretched, the first light in Eva’s world. The wall shatters around you both. You can see her. You can feel her. Damned be it if you two were forced comrades, with no obligation to mingle— you will erase the distance that separates her from you.

The facade is finished, the line is crossed, and you see she’s a sheep at heart, donning the mask of a carnivore. To see yet another sunrise, another sunset, without the fear of being someone’s dinner.

With a phantom ache in your chest, you implore her to trust you as you do the same for her.

Then, she does something you’ve never seen her do before.

“...Hm.”

She smiled.

The longer the time you spend with her, the goofier your impression of her is.

And yet, you keep returning to her.

“Eva.” Silence.

“ Eva. ”

Your Liar barely spares you a glance, before returning to her game console. This girl…

Bending down a little, you tap her hand to pull her gaze upwards. Her hand is soft. Her gaze is intense. Her face is close.

You pester her about the console. She simply ignores you, puffing out her cheeks and pouting to the side. “If I partake in conversation, will you leave me alone?”

“That’s an eloquent way to get me to shut up.”

“...It’s not that.”

“So you do want to have a conversation.”

Triumphant in your victory, you allow the edges of your lips to twitch upwards. Your cheeks hurt a little from the lack of exercise.

She stares at you for a short while, and it dawns on you this was probably the first time anyone saw you smile.

(Your smile is quickly erased as she continues to play theatrics with a poker face, making you question your sanity whenever she attempts to joke. It’s unimpressive, it’s bizarre, it’s… endearing.)

“And you never know…” She murmurs, matching the smile you lost. Your heart stops for a split second. “...maybe I’ll change my mind and play in the tournament later.”

Your Liar is subtly different from the girl you first met. Here, sitting in this chair, she looks more relaxed and content than ever. Her bubble is shattered, yet she is safe. With that smile on her face, even with her eyes closed, she’s almost radiant.

It pains you to say it, but smiling is a good look on her.

You don’t recognise yourself when you start wishing she’d do it more.

When the class trial inevitably came, you’d known your Liar would be actively participative, pointing her finger at those she had good reason to suspect.

You just never thought you’d be at the end of it.

As the usually composed Eva Tsunaka gradually gets more agitated, you try to dismiss the betrayal as her vengeance after you called out her name with a shaking voice.

Without knowing, your heart breaks. Once. Twice.

Without knowing, the bubble you burst is back up. The wall is rebuilt, stronger than ever. The line you thought you crossed was further than you realised. She is unreachable, unreadable. She is no longer yours to know. The panic, the hatred on her face… where is the girl who smiled and shared secrets with you?

Fact is undeniable. An argument holds no water if there is no indisputable evidence to back it up. Not that you are unconfident in your theory, or that you are hesitant to bring her to justice.

It just breaks your heart a third time to demolish her with the same language, facts and truth, that you found solidarity with her.

You will make sure this is her final lie (to you).

The rebuilt bubble that obstructs her from you matters no more. Not when its occupant is dead, anyway.

However cruel and gory her execution was, you can’t bear to look away from the one person you believed and hoped was on your side.

The end comes, after an excruciatingly long time. The courtroom is enveloped in a deafening silence. All of you watch as the crow’s feather, unmistakably hers, flutters to the ground. It never moves again, no matter how long you look at it.

A part of you wonders if she truly was the Ultimate Liar all along.

It doesn’t extinguish the wetness on your cheek, o r the bubble you feel forming around you.

#project: eden's garden #project edens garden #p:eg #pjeg #p:eg spoilers #p:eg chapter 1 #eva tsunaka #damon maitsu #evamon #maitsunaka

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onestopanime · 2 days ago

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Another writing prompt from the discord I’m in. This one is nsfw so 18 and over only.

Prompt were: hair pulling and wearing out Lucanis out to the point he falls asleep.

I’ll be posting this also to my AO3 and it goes with my Rook oc story poison in the garden

———————————————

A sharp breath echoed throughout the dim study of the lighthouse were Iris took as residence. She slow rose from her make shift bed, hands raking over her face in exhaustion. The past couple days have been rough on her and the team more issues popping up every day to the point where sleep was becoming a luxury. Standing up from her spot with a light stretch to her aching bones needing to have a drink of anything to dull the thoughts.

The Lighthouse proper itself was quiet. No gentle whispers of Emmrich’s reading to Manfred. No sounds of Taash sharpening weapons for the team, a small task Iris had found them doing in the late hours to their side from everyone. Not even any stragglers in the main common area. it was just painfully quiet, causing her thoughts to grow even louder.

Even in the fade time was quite interesting. Day and night cycles were so much different than how it should be. It took everyone a moment just to adjust to how rapid the night seem to go. But it always had a certain charm to the courtyard. The “night” sky of the fade’s personal haven for us was comforting but even that didn’t dull her thoughts. Continuing her journey up the stairs, walking into the dining hall.

Entering through those doors she could almost feel massive weight roll off her shoulders. The soft scent of herbs and spices that Lucanis recently brought were present in the air. But the thing that did surprise her a little bit on entrance was how quiet it was. Maybe for once Lucanis was asleep and Spite was keeping to himself with that book I lent him last time we kept each other company. A small smile painted on to her face as she began rummage for one jar of tea that he specifically always bought for her, begrudgingly of course though.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she lit the fire underneath the pot using her magic trying to boil the water. Leaning her back against the counter behind her, eyes closed just to focus more on the sounds of the gentle bubbling and hissing from the kettle. Hoping that this would be able to bring sleep back to her.

“Flor que tú haces aquí a esta hora?”

“Fuckkk!!” She exclaimed while slightly jumping out of her skin. “Coño no te oí!” Placing a hand to her chest and trying to breathe normal again.

“ Then you should remember to always keep an ear open for your enemy.” Lucanis chuckled as he moved closer to tuck in a stray curl back behind her ear before attending to her kettle.

“Luca you don’t have to do that..” she whispered while walking up behind him wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Shh deja que yo hago esto para ti.” He whispered back while pouring out the water into one of his many coffee cups and placing in the tea leaves allowing it to steep.

They stayed like this for what felt like forever to them. Iris’s arms holding him securely against her soft body. They’re breathing almost in sync with one another’s. Lucanis slowly bring one of his hands to Iris’s arm, tracing the geometric design of her floral tattoo before peeling her arms off of him and turning around around to hold her back.

That was the moment when Iris finally properly see Lucanis’s face to see he was maybe even worse than she was. She knows that the look of exhaustion was present but it was to the point where she could hide it just enough. But on him, the level of exhaustion just painted on his face made her heart ache. His eyes darken with what looks like to be days of no sleep so evident that even coffee wasn’t doing its job to keep him up anymore.

“ Luca cuando era el último tiempo que tú dormiste?” she asked him worried while placing gently, her palm to his face, stroking his cheekbones.

He turned his head towards her palm, gently kissing it looking at her with those tired eyes, “Tú preocupas demasiado por mí.”

She shook her head lightly, chuckling under her breath something he couldn’t even put together from how exhausted he was. Away from his embrace, she placed her smaller hand, his leading him out of the dining hall. He just followed her too beaten down to even asked questions to where she was even taking him, just allowing the quietness and stillness of the fade to cover them. Slowly returning to the lighthouse proper and entering her underwater oasis of a study.

“Sit..” she commanded to Lucanis once they were right by her sofa.

Not even an ounce of hesitation, he just followed her command so loyally. Iris’s hands found purchase on his face and hair. Slowly scratching his beard and scalp watching his eyes flutter in bliss and a deep groan creeping out from his lips, only fueling her to continue her work. Slowly moving her hands to cradle his face to look up at her and smirking at how already relaxed he looked. His deep brown eyes -finally regaining a little bit of that sparkle that she loved so- falling deeper into her own mixed green and amber gaze lovingly.

“Es bien claro que nosotros necesitamos dormir.” She spoke oh so gently while stoking his beard.

“Flor tú sabes que no puedo.” He mumbled drunkenly from her gently handling of him.

“Cómo tú tienes control por eso.” She smirked as she straddle his hips and pressed her lips against his neck and peppering her kisses gently to his skin.

Lucanis’s hand quickly found his way to her wide hips grabbing on to ground himself. His own voice stuck in his throat with only deep moans being worked out of him with each kiss and nip his flor leaves on his neck before silencing him with a deep kiss. It was instantly a one sided win over dominance with this kiss. Iris finding a way to just have him be absolute putty in her hands. Each nip to his lips, each brush of their tongues, each grind of her hips down on him brought him closer and close to the edge.

Her kisses only became more and more intense the moment she just felt how hard he was getting just for her. Breaking the kiss with only strings saliva connecting it together she went back to working at his neck, biting on his ear, grinding even harder against his lap and back to his lips. She craved to see that drunken expression on his face.

His hands tried holding her hips down in pitiful act of defiance not wanting to come in his pants like a teenager. But to no avail in stopping her from dragging out pleasure from his tired form. As one of his hands slowly move to grab her ass- over filling in his grasp- his other slowly began to trail up her back with small chills rolling down her spine from his gentle touch. Slowly his hand finding his way up behind her head, fingers curling around her long black curls, pulling back enough for her head to leave his neck, ripping out a lovely strangled moan from her lips. His grip stayed firm on her hair as his own lips moved up to start his own work of art on her neck. So lost in the moment his hips began to sync with her grinds, breathy moans from the two lightly filled the still air of the study.

Lucanis feeling his climax rising gripped hard on her ass rocking his hips more firmly and biting down on the crux of Iris’s beautiful tanned neck muffled his moans. His hips slowly losing rhythm and power, his grip on her loosing with his body relaxing deeper in the sofa. Looking up at her look at the mess she was too. Eyes blown out of lust, her curls all messed from his hands, lips bruised and that neck littered with love bites and still she was a goddess to him.

The one thing he did truly sometimes forget was sometimes how much of a little demon she could be. With a little smirk on her face she pushed back slightly slowly unbuttoning his shirt, nails lightly scratching down his chest to the start of his belt. Before he was even able to open his mouth, she quickly unbuckled his pants sliding off his lap, laying her head so innocently on his thigh, looking up at him. He was at such a lost for words watch her drag his pants down his hips. Her breath fanning over his sensitive cock.

“Párate.” Lucanis moaned breathlessly as his hands found their way back into her curls, gently pulling at their scalp trying out a nice little moan from her bruised lips.

Iris didn’t even bother to answer back, only looking up at him innocently as she gently grabbed his sensitive cock before placing him gingerly in her mouth. She watched his head tilted back from the sofa, strangled groans ripping from his throat. His hands tightened in her curls hands but that only made her want to please him more. Teasing his head before dragging her tongue down his shaft, catching every moan as a little reward.

Her rhythm was ruthless to her lover. Not giving him a moment to even think before he felt her bobbing her head sucking his soul from him. Whimpers of ‘please’ and ‘coño’ and ‘sigue’ were a song for Iris. Killing him as her eyes stared back into his, forcing his gaze to watch her. Feeling him twitch against her tongue. She knew he was close to climaxing again that did not stop her to slow down. Trailing her nails up and down his thighs encouraging him to come hard as her eyes sparkle mischievously up at him.

Groaning loudly as he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Gripping even tighter in her hair, his hips lifting off the sofa thrusting deep into Iris’s mouth. Not care if he could hear her little chokes and moans, only focus was his need to cum. And with one last set of thrusts his body became boneless. His spill filling her mouth as he removed his cock from her lips.

His head falling backwards as he tried to regain his breath once again. His body feeling heavier than it did before. Lucanis trying his best to keep his head up to find his Flor’s eyes watching her swallow down his spent causing him to moan from just the sight. His hands slowly reaching to caress her face, his thumb moving to her lips pulling it down begging her to open her mouth for him. Just making it even more real for him.

Iris turned her head and his hand to place a chaste kiss on his palm, almost like she was returning the favor back to him. Still kneeling between his thighs she slowly unbuttoning her blouse maintaining that eye contact, needing to feel his eyes on her. Feeling her nipples harden the moment the cool air hit them only increased Iris’s hunger for Lucanis. The way his eyes took in her form was deliciously intoxicating. And the way that his eyes just kept flickering down below her heavy breast to the flame tattoo -one she took much time designing- made her proud of how much he wanted her like she did for him.

Slowly standing up between his legs to quickly removing her trousers and placing herself back onto his lap, almost felt like whiplash. Her lips back to teasing his neck and ears, nails scratching up and down his chest and in his scalp, and the feeling of her wet folds against his overtly sensitive cock it was too much.

“Flor por favor no puedo más…” Lucanis whimpered out, which out made Iris smile as if she won the best prize ever.

“No te preocupes yo te tengo.” Iris comforted him as she lifted her hips to take him whole.

The moment she fully bottomed out the joined moan between the two filled the space around them effortlessly. Lucanis’s arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close to stop her from moving. Yet that did nothing to stop her from grinding herself down crawling out whimper after whimper from her love. The look on his face was to good to pass out on and the need to get him the the brink was so tempting.

With each touch, each grind of her hips, each nip on his neck, each teasingly chaste kiss on his lips had him falling deeper and deeper into what he could only describe as heaven. He tried to match her hips with thrusting up into but even that was too much for his overly sensitive body. Iris like a musician has strung him up so tightly that all he can do is just sing her praises with every moan and groan he didn’t know he could make.

“Iris….please.. Coño stop..” Lucanis whimpered feeling his third climax of the night rise. His hands running up and down her curvy form, like a man drowning looking for something to hold onto to survive.

“Luca.. please wait… Fucccckk so close.” Iris moaned loud, throwing her head back and doubling her effort to bring them both to their peaks.

“Fuckkkkkkk~” Lucanis threw his head back exclaiming loudly feeling Iris tightening around his cock. His body on overdrive, thighs twitching under her delicious weight.

They held each other like that for a few moments. Both their bodies feeling the exhaustion hit ten times more. Placing their sweat heavy foreheads against each other just taking that minute to breathe together in silence. Finally letting their eyes flutter open to look at each other with such love they closed the space between them with a sweet kiss. Settling down on the sofa together -not even pull out from her warmth- with Iris plastered to his chest feeling sleep take him swiftly.

“Iris..” Spite acknowledged her but was quickly interrupted.

“Spite please for tonight just Luca rest. I promise later we can talk. But please for right now just hold me?” She mumbled to Spite feeling sleep finally take hold of her.

“Fine.. We Talk Later. Sleep tight..” he soon to her stroking her head watching her fall asleep.

#da: the veilguard #da4 lucanis #dragon age rook #lucanis x rook #da4 #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age the veilguard fanfic #lucanis x rook smut #da4 smut #spite dragon age

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dramaticallytotal · 2 days ago

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I've Been Around The World

I just realized that I never made an official post for my TDWT Rewrite despite the fact that I've made headcanon posts for it already, and I feel like I must rectify that!

_____

Noah, of course, works as Chris's personal assistant, though it would be more accurate to say he was Drama Productions' most capable production assistant. Which is sad, considering he's only 17. He knew Chris was trying to get the network to recognize all the work he does and to actually give him the title of production assistant so he could also get the pay, but alas, the producers are dicks. The cherry on top of it all is that they wanted Chris to fire him so he can be in the new season of Total Drama because apparently he was a fan favorite. Yeah, he knew Total Drama Dirtbags was a cover for the new season. It may have been Noah's idea to dupe his old castmates with the announcement of a new show, but he had totally said it as a joke after reading some of his sister Nidhi's old psychology text books. (He got bored.)

Of course, Chris ran with the idea, and here they are. Planning a fake show but making it seem as real as possible, even the new cast, believe it, which is sad but not Noah's problem. He knows that there is one of the new guys that Chris wanted to be on World Tour, so he makes sure to make the budget a little more flexible because he made a chart of all the people he believed would make it onto the show.

Then, the plan goes into effect, and he's "fired" and joins the rest of the cast for the new season with surprises here and there. He definitely did not think the new guy would be his type, nor did he think the new girl would be a legit stalker. He also didn't see Trent making it onto the show, but he was grateful Eva didn't leave the bus. It changes nothing for him. He's still going to try and get eliminated so he can go back to work, but he's going to at least make it farther than he did on Island.

This story is pretty Noah centric, but with other character POVs thrown in! Because even though it'll focus a bit more on Noah, I do want to showcase the other characters, too. Especially Eva and Trent, who will always make it into World Tour in any of my aus.

It will focus a lot more on the relationships of everyone with the competition kind of being the background for it. I will still focus on the competition, but like I said, it's more so the background for everything.

Chris and Chef haven't definitely pseudo adopted Noah like I said in the headcanons. Chris is better than in canon but is still pretty insane. He loves his husband and his kid/assistant, but like...he still is kind of horrible to everyone else XD. There's not much room in his heart for others. He's somewhat fond of his contestants, but not enough to make his show actually OSHA safe.

Plus, so many people have deals with the network to help keep the drama alive! One deal is Noah getting voted off so he could get back to his job as Chris's personal assistant.

Once Noah was voted off, he found out the producers wanted him to basically get on board a sinking ship and fix everything. He was not about to do that, not without a raise which they were unwilling to give, so he fought his way back into the show in the Second-Chance Challenge. He literally wins out of pure spite.

Once back on the show, he is more determined than ever to win. Even with Alejandro being...weird with him. Alejandro may have a small, so small, crush on him. (It's a big fat obvious crush)

This au features plenty of Team E-Scope shenanigans, Alejandro being pathetically in love, relationships making it or breaking it, new relationships forming, more thought out competitions/challenges, and background stories explored!

Headcanons so far!

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 •

• Part 6 • Part 7 •

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lani-heart · 3 days ago

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|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

parings -> park jay x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hybrid au warnings -> mental health, abandonment issues, etc. word count -> 1.8k

abstract -> people aren't as they seem... but they are always redeemable

jay’s perspective

She didn’t fight it not like I really expected her to but… what did e/n mean by murderer? How did the two even know each other? I’ve been left confused and questioning it as I found myself in the same cycle my life has been. With fancy clothes, jewelry, fancy food… and yet I was just a temporary trophy.

It felt pathetic.

“Back to being a part of the upper class huh?” I heard Sunghoon sitting next to me. He was someone I knew for a brief amount of time. Some would say he was… a nice guy before his owner got amnesia.

Sunoo… a poor fox hybrid who wants to please his owner he was severely abused. He was kind and kept to himself but he defended Sunghoon sometimes. That made me believe there was more to the famous snow leopard.

Someone better than the bully to everyone, even his owner.

“Do you know why I hate you, bird?” he asked and I shook my head. “y/n and e/n were best friends with my owner a long time ago” he said and I was shocked at the revelation. e/n never would associate herself with… someone who wasn’t in the same financial class as her.

“y/n was from a well-off family before getting disowned for what they did–” disowned? “e/n though… deserves all the karma y/n got as well. I don’t like either of them let that be clear but there are rumors about you, you oversized chicken” he said and I scoffed.

“Since y/n was keen on adopting you e/n is now keeping you to spite her” he said and I let my eyes widen. “And where did you hear that?” I asked and he chuckled. “Rumors, I don’t know if it's true but… it does piss me off,” he said and I wondered…

“What did they do?” I asked and his facial expressions turned to hatred. He looked at me with sad but vengeful eyes…

“Almost killed my owner”

y/n’s perspective

I just had to continue my life as I did before.

Study and become someone worthy of forgiveness. Someone who helps people… it's why I changed my major after all/ I want to help people as a doctor to atone for my sins.

To finally be able to face her again.

“You need to take a break” Haechan begged for what it felt like the hundredth time. “I’m sorry for forcing you but I wanted you to get better,” he said and I didn’t want to listen. “It’s fine… I know my limits. I don't need someone taking care of me” I said and he sighed.

“But you do… you're self-destructing. You need to learn to forgive yourself… she already has” she said and I scoffed. “She’s an idiot who doesn’t remember anything! She can’t forgive me if she doesn’t remember what I did!” I yelled and he sighed.

“You’ve been punished already… you’re just punishing yours;more besides you weren’t completely at fault. You weren’t the only one there” he said and I felt tears blur my vision.

“But I could’ve stopped it…” I muttered. “You weren’t the one who organized it… you were framed and you couldn’t do anything again e/n. You’re a better person now than before… just please remember you need to calm down and try to accept what happened– What really happened and try to forgive yourself” he said and I sighed.

“Haechan… I really liked having company for once” I admitted and he smiled. “Jay is complicated but I think he liked you. He just protects himself from getting hurt… like you” he said and I sighed and even let out a chuckle.

“When did you become mature?” I teased and he scoffed. “Oi! I have always been this way!”

I wanted Jay back… he was nice for the one time he was and now that I look at it through Haechan’s clarity… he was pushing me away like how I did everyone I met when I first crumbled from where I stood.

I knew though I couldn’t get him back… I had to accept it and move on.

“Ah! y/n!” I heard someone who made my blood run cold. “Huh? What are you doing?!” I heard the angry snow leopard. “It's been a while! How have you been!” she asked with that same smile… she was also too innocent and sweet to be around me and e/n.

“G-good how’s the… treatments going?” I asked and I noticed people now staring and gossiping around us. She smiled brightly though…

“Good! Sunghoon helps a lot!” she said and I was glad. “Sunghoon said you had a hybrid–” “Not anymore” he muttered, cutting her off to look at me sadly. “Oh… sorry I must’ve forgotten,” she said and I shook my head.

“No… it's not your fault” I said and she nodded softly. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself?” she asked and I chuckled. “I should be saying that,” I said and she smiled. “Well, let's make that promise together huh?” she asked and all I could do was smile.

“Sunghoon has a bit of training in the ice rink so I have to go but please don’t forget to take care of yourself… and maybe we can hang out again?” she asked I smiled and said sure and our goodbyes. My throat felt tight knowing I lied to her…

I couldn’t let myself be in her life again.

Not when I know I ruined her social life… and humiliated her… and caused her disease. Not directly but I was there and I could’ve stopped it. I should’ve stopped it when she asked me to help her…

“Who do you think you are talking to?” I heard and saw e/n… with Jay by her side. “She came up to me… I was just being nice” I said and she scoffed.

“I don't know how you can wake up in the morning knowing you did that to her… it should’ve been you in the forest that night,” she said and I sighed… “Maybe… or maybe it should've been you,” I said and she scoffed and started yelling at me. It wasn't all my fault I knew that…

Sure I helped… but I didn’t plan it and besides I didn’t know half the things she did to her.

“See Jay… I saved you from her. She ruins the lives of people around her” she said and I sighed… “Whatever e/n,” I said and left her. I was at least bettering myself… she will never have the chance to.

I was at least studying and doing my best to be someone worthy of her forgiveness. Not someone who will never change and ruin and belittle others for the rest of her life.

Funny when I was the one by her side protecting her from mean bullies and pranks when in the end she was no better than those who bullied her. And endless cycle…

That will unfortunately never change.

jay’s perspective

I tried and learned everything that had happened.

Sunghoon’s owner was always known as sweet and kind. However, she associated herself with two queen bees. Both may be as bad as each other but as they grew up she improved. Though others will always blame her for it… I didn’t think someone in their position could change but she really was.

I heard things like she volunteers a lot and she’s on the honor roll. Before all she would do was party and… just live the life e/n did but now she truly was trying to make a name for herself on her own.

So much that she would often not take care of herself which is why Mark and Haechan thought a hybrid would be a good idea in the first place.

“I don’t even know why she would want a hybrid? Her parents never allowed it calling them icky and failed experiments anyway” e/n said to her group of friends.

While many people thought hybrids were luxurious there were some who thought otherwise and saw them lower as humans that shouldn’t even be in the same room as them…

“I guess now that her parents disowned her she’s wanted one I guess but she never mentioned it” she continued with a slight daydreaming expression. “Didn't you guys used to be like bffs” the girls laughed but she didn’t

“Yeah until she did something unforgivable! Only monsters do things like that!” she laughed but it almost seemed forced.

“Anyways see ya!” she said as I followed her but she stopped abruptly to look at me with a glare. “What was it like? Being under her care?” she asked with crossed arms and I shrugged. “Was she as clumsy and stupid as ever?” she smirked and I said nothing until she sighed.

“She rarely takes care of herself right? It's all I ever hear” she muttered and I nodded. “I see… well Jay! You’re not what I want… in fact, I don’t think I even want a hybrid too much work and I never get my privacy after all” she said as she started walking…

What was she on about? We walked until I realized we were at the cafeteria somewhere she’d never eaten…

“Oh? Didn’t think she’d be here… ugh and asleep? How low Cinderella has fallen~” she taunted as I saw Mark, Haechan, and Chenle…

“Well, Jay is all hers… I’ll get some of his stuff I don’t need any more hybrids things after all ~,” she said as she took off my collar and threw it on the table and it seemed to wake y/n up.

“Huh?!” she let out and e/n laughed. “Careful your mask is falling,” Chenle said and she scoffed. “Whatever… buh-bye!” she said and left… but she looked back and tried to look at her reaction… maybe she did care a little after all.

“What is happening?” she asked as the boys laughed. “Looks like you’re stuck with each other again,” Haechan said as he gave my collar to her.

Would she even accept me again after how mean I was? “But… Jay said he didn’t–” “I do! I want to be your hybrid!” I said this time being truthful… when would I have the second chance like I do now to… finally be with someone who could appreciate me?

“Y-you do?” she asked flustered and I smiled… “Well, the two of you have lots to talk about and I need to pick someone up from the airport” Chenle said as he waved goodbye. “We should go too!” Mark said and Haechan looked confused… “Huh? We don’t have anything–” “Yes we do!” he said leaving us alone.

“Do you really mean it?”

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