#and i know i will feel the same about Bellara

[eliphasgraham]

I may be gay panicking months in advance because I planned on romancing Harding and Taash and I unfortunately cannot resist Neve's beauty, ice magic and snake coded outfit

[viennacherries]

okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc

so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.

we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.

then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.

so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.

and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.

we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.

but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.

all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.

and then they're back.

and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.

"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"

and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.

"i do. i know how to feel."

"it's one of the things i love about you"

"i'm not going anywhere."

he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.

"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.

so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.

"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."

this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.

so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.

i think it's absolutely beautiful.

[merrinla]

Companions banter with Assan in the Lighthouse

Davrin: (Hums) Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: What? Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: You don't like my humming? You think you can do better? Assan: (Squawk)(Squawk)(Squawk) Davrin: I'm still waiting. Assan: (Anxious squawk.) Davrin: I know, I know. It's not the same as the aerie. Assan: (Anxious squawk.) Davrin: Don't worry. We'll adjust. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: If you're asking for food, the answer is no. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: Still no. Assan: (Insistent squawk!) Davrin: Hey, what did I say about being rude? Assan: (Quiet squawk) Davrin: Good boy. Davrin: It's called "turlum." We move as one. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: I don't know how. But… we'll get there. Assan: (Sad squawk) Davrin: What's the matter, boy? Assan: (Sad squawk) Davrin: Feeling down? You miss your brothers and sisters? Assan: (Sad squawk) Davrin: Don't worry. I promise you'll see them again. Davrin: You did real good against the Gloom Howler, boy. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: Just be careful. Still a lot to learn. But you're getting there.

Bellara: Davrin, have you seen a Calcerum crystal lying around? Davrin: No, sorry. Bellara: I swear I saw it on my table. Davrin: What'd you do after that? Bellara: Well, Assan wandered in. Davrin: There's your problem. Griffons like shiny baubles. Bellara: He stole my crystal? Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: More like "borrowed" it. And then probably buried it. Bellara: Okay, now I think Assan took a runestone. I can't find it anywhere. Davrin: Assan? Did you steal Bellara's stuff? Assan: (Defiant squawk) Davrin: Assan… Assan: (Defiant squawk) Davrin: Assan… Assan: (Weak squawk) Davrin: Assan. Assan: (Whimpering squawk) Davrin: Good boy. Always be honest. Bellara: Thanks for that. But where's my runestone? Davrin: Oh, probably buried in a forest somewhere. Bellara: Davrin— Davrin: Let me guess: Assan took something of yours. Bellara: No, he brought it back! My runestone. I found it sitting on my table. Davrin: Yeah? Bellara: Even better, there were two more with it. Davrin: Did you do that, Assan? Assan: (Friendly squawk) Davrin: Yeah? Good boy. Bellara: Really good boy. He paid it back with interest.

Emmrich: One squawk for "yes," two for "no." Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: You don't really think that'll work. Emmrich: We can't afford to take anything for granted about them, Davrin. Emmrich: Let us try again, Assan. One for "yes." Do you understand? Assan: (Squawk) Emmrich: Ah-ha! Davrin: Hold on. Assan, is the sky made of chocolate? Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: Does water taste like pumpkin? Assan: (Squawk) Emmrich: Ah. Davrin: Sorry. He just likes to hear himself talk. Emmrich: It worked so well with Manfred.

Harding: Ew. Davrin: What? Harding: The, uh, smell. Davrin: Yeah. Ser Squawks-A-Lot over here doesn't always remember his potty training. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: Got any flowers that might cover the scent? Harding: I'll see what I can do. Harding: Does it have to be a truffle? Davrin: Assan? Assan: (Squawk!) (Squawk!) Davrin: He says yes. Harding: Okay, but just for you, boy. Assan: (Excited squawk) Harding: I like what you've done with the room. Davrin: Suits me well enough. Harding: I was talking to Assan. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: Oh. Harding: Such a pretty boy! Assan: (Excited squawk) Harding: So nice of you to let Davrin move in with you! Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: You can go now, Harding. Harding: Well, it smells a little better in here now. Davrin: Thanks for those flowers. They cover the scent. Harding: (Sniffs the air) Not well enough. Davrin: Because Ser Squawks-A-Lot over there eats them. Assan: (Satisfied squawk) Harding: Oh, dear. Davrin: Got any flowers that smell nice but taste bad? Harding: I'm on it.

Lucanis: This room is an assassin's dream. No defenses. Nothing to stop me from sneaking in for the kill. Davrin: Except him. Assan: (Suspicious squawk) Davrin: An eagle vs. a Crow? My bet's on the eagle. Lucanis: I know where the truffles are kept in the pantry. Davrin: You wouldn't. Lucanis: Maybe Assan and Spite should have a playdate. Davrin: Assan would tear him apart. Lucanis: How? Spite's not exactly physical. Davrin: Assan would find a way. Assan: (Squawk) Davrin: He'd squawk him to death.

Neve: Aren't you a pretty boy? Assan: (Happy squawk) Neve: (Laughs) Yes, you are. Assan: (Happy squawk) Davrin: Assan, you can stop flirting now. You won her over. Assan: (Squawk) Neve: Of course you did. Who's a good boy? Assan: (Happy squawk) Neve: What do you know about Assan's brothers and sisters? Davrin: Well, there's Thunder. And Beaktooth. And Stormwing. Neve: That's three. Davrin: Yeah, and then the other nine… it's a blur. Lots of feathers. I couldn't keep track of them all. (The Profane and The Lost isn't complete) Neve: Poor Assan. You miss your family? Assan: (Sad squawk) Neve: We'll keep looking. (The Profane and The Lost is complete) Neve: At least they're safe. Davrin: And the Wardens' problem now. A dozen mouths to feed. Davrin: And Eldrin's problem now. A dozen mouths to feed. Neve: Hey Assan. What do you think? Should I get some leads on your favorite truffles? Assan: (Happy squawk)

The lines below are cut. They were supposed to trigger after the final battle and if the player chose Davrin to lead distraction team. Previously, Assan could have survived.

Bellara: Assan. I… tried to whittle this. I'm not very good, but I thought, maybe… you'd like it? Assan: (Happy squawk) Emmrich: I suppose it's time you had another excursion. Emmrich: Perhaps the Necropolis? No. Davrin would want you exploring the wilds. Emmrich: Harding and I will take you a little later. Assan: (Happy squawk) Harding: My ma always says we never really lose the people we love. We carry them with us. Harding: You'll remember everything he taught you. All the faith he had in you. All of his hopes. And he'll be with you. Assan: (Squawk)

[lavenderprose]

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

[cider-and-isekai]

I'm having cider rn so this idea leaves my mind to flow here.

Rook was never invited to book club or anything really. I know, Rook's a leader and rarely has time.

But consider Rook who was already insecure about friendships and social bonds in general. Had experienced being the third wheel and not the first choice (totally not my personal experience showing up)

How Rook leaves the group silently after defeating the gods never wanting to be found again too bad Neve is in the team.

How everyone think Rook died but still keep looking, just like they did with Fade prison (I know this should be a great show of how team cares about Rook; imagine someone so deeply wounded they don't believe it was a genuine act of care, just that the team needed their leader back).

How Neve keeps looking for leads and asks Threads and remaining Shadow Dragons to keep an eye out.

Lucanis doing the same with the Crows and Spite being the sniffing dog. Illario gets a chance to do his annual good deed.

Emmrich asking spirits if they know anything. (Manfred trying to use his new magic to track Rook maybe?)

Davrin carrying something that carries smell of Rook to keep Assan looking. Asking Antoine and Evka for help.

Taash asking the Lords for help and maybe even Rivani seers?

Bellara out in Arlathan looking for a tracking artifact. Might even try and ask Irelin and in extent - Strife.

Bonus points if any of the above had romantic feelings towards Rook but due to lack of time/Rook's distancing themselves nothing happened.

Now I want this to be a legit fanfiction...

Anyone in????

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

You know what one of the Solas Banters in DAV should’ve been? Talking to the romanced companion about the romance.

Like there should’ve been a rough patch that you can navigate out of just before the big fight. Solas catches the smad looks the two of you have, if you’ve put them in your party.

-“Davrin, forgive my intrusion-“

“Mm.”

“I… am aware of your… bond with-“

“Don’t, Solas. This is between us, yes?”

“It is. But if I may… waste no time.”

“… this advice is from Wisdom, hm?”

“*Solas chuckles, clearly a little taken aback by being called that* Maybe. Avoid this one regret.”

“… you didn’t.”

Solas doesn’t reply.

———————

“What is it, Solas? You keep… looking at me.”

“I see what Rook sees in you, Bellara Lutare. Your mind. Your spirit. Both are very bright. I am, however, trying to determine what you see in him/her/them.”

“That’s- that’s none of your business.”

“You are right. It is not…”

Then quieter: “When I left Rook in the Fade, he/she/they whispered your name. Not for help… like a prayer. You are important to him/her/them.”

“I… he’s/she’s/they’re important to me. But I couldn’t-“

“Protect him/her/them… I understand. Do you think he/she/they love(s) you less for it?”

“… that’s… why are you saying this?”

“If I could, there is one person I would wish to see right now. Someone I do still believe I am a danger to. But I long to see her all the same. Avoid my folly.”

“… the Inquisitor.”

Solas doesn’t reply after that.

———————

“Professor… you seem troubled.”

“I… ah. Hm. Well. Yes. I suppose I am.”

“… I will not pry. But… I know the feeling of the face you wear. Whatever keeps you from what you want… ultimately it is unimportant. Especially if… if someone wishes to take it from you. Remember, being loved well should be answered in kind.”

After a long silence in which an understanding look is implied, Emmrich

“I will bear that in mind. Thank you, Solas. You are still a Spirit of Wisdom.”

“… scarcely.”

———————

“Spite, you have withheld something from your host.”

We don’t hear Spite speak, we only hear Lucanis. He sounds stunned and then relieved.

“… I… oh. You… you do? Solas. I… why?”

“I have… recently become a bit of a romantic.”

The implied conversation is that Spite not only doesn’t mean the romance Rook harm, but that he adores them also. Allowing Spite and Lucanis to be of one mind where they’re concerned.

I admittedly don’t know the others that well but yall get my point. Also that was kinda fun!

[lkblackham]

I want to update No Time To Apologize. But unfortunately it's Yearly Review Season over at my university. So I will content myself with this very sad but also very fluffy fic I wrote (very slowly and sporadically, over the course of several weeks) and illustrated instead.

There's a lot of hugging in it, which I think we could always use more of, even when the world isn't on fire.

I also would like to mention that I very accidentally wrote this right around the time @dragonracer's fic, The Moments Between, came to a very similar point in their story with their most recent chapters. It's really really REALLY great and it destroys my heart and makes me sob uncontrollably and I highly recommend it.

Read mine below the cut or on AO3. But also read The Moments Between. Very important. They actually have, like, a consistent long-form story. I just randomly drop chapters as it occurs to me.

*

*

*

It was a bright, sunny day in the Crossroads. But then again, it was always a bright, sunny day in the Crossroads, at least in Haven. 

“Looks like the Antaam have mostly cleared out,” Atash remarked, shielding her eyes from the sun as they walked through the deceptively serene tropical landscape. “Think we scared them off for good, or they’re just waiting until we stop checking?” 

“Until those who control them are gone, I imagine they’ll continue in their attempts to take the Crossroads for the gods.” Emmrich’s thoughtful voice drifted over from where he knelt nearby, closely examining a group of ethereal green butterflies fluttering about a small tree. “But there have certainly been fewer of them as of late.” 

“I’ll bet their resolve’s breaking.” Bellara declared. “They never liked being in the Fade, and they really didn’t like working with the Venatori. Now the Dragon King’s gone, and the Butcher’s losing steam, I’ll bet most of them are jumping ship. Only the really crazy ones are staying.” 

“You know, you might be right there.” Atash said thoughtfully, stepping through a particularly thick patch of shrubs covered in pink flowers. “But I feel like officially saying that out loud might jinx it, so we’ll stick with ‘they’re just regrouping’ for now.” 

“Wise words, in such a place.” Emmrich reappeared at Atash’s side, but was clearly ready to bolt off again at any moment. He never seemed to tire of their journeys through the Crossroads, even if they walked the same paths over and over again. It was a bit like walking with a child down an alley of sweet shops. 

Atash didn’t mind. She quite enjoyed traveling with Emmrich and Bellara. After traveling with so many hardened travel veterans like Varric and Lace, it was refreshing to be around people who got so excited over everything. Even if she didn’t understand half of what they said, despite being a mage herself.

Bellara halted ahead, causing Atash to nearly crash into her. “Rook,” she said, voice tense, “there's someone big up ahead. Behind the trees.” 

Atash looked to where she indicated. Hidden behind a jumble of thick green foliage, she could see a large, hunched figure shuffling through the shadows, about ten meters or so ahead. Squinting, she could discern the outline of a Qunari with flat-filed horns, arms bound together at the hands by thick metal cuffs, chains dragging in the dirt. 

She felt her heart drop. 

“That's-” 

The figure raised their head, suddenly made aware of their presence. Sunlight glinted off of the eyeless golden mask obscuring their face, ears twitching.  They rose to their full height, and Atash felt the energy rush around her towards them as they rose into the air, curling their limbs into their body.

In a beat, she grabbed Emmrich and Bellara and dragged them back, Fade-stepping through the air as far as she could go before the chained Qunari mage released the power he had gathered. 

She managed to get them away from the worst of it, but not far enough to escape the blast radius completely. She had the presence of mind to release Emmrich and Bellara, pushing them clear of her as the blast caught them. 

They were thrown several feet forward, Atash landing face-first into the mercifully soft sand. Ears ringing, she quickly scrambled to her feet, looking around for her companions. 

To her relief, they hadn't been thrown too far, or too hard. Bellara was already on her feet, bow at the ready, and Emmrich wasn't far behind, brushing himself off as he whirled his staff around into a defensive stance.

Atash turned back towards the origin of the explosion.

 The Saarebas.

 He was now some distance away, a large, hulking figure kneeling on the ground, hunched over his bound arms. His blast had decimated the plant life around him, flattening the trees and shrubs, dislodging massive rocks from the dirt, creating a small crater in which he now knelt. 

If they had been caught in that blast, they would have been mush. 

Atash stretched out an arm, wordlessly telling Bellara and Emmrich to stay behind her.

“Rook-” Emmrich started. 

“Wait.” She stepped forward cautiously, eyes narrowing as she looked around. “Where's his Arvaarad?” 

“His what?” Bellara's voice chimed. 

“Arvaarad - leash holder.” Atash took a few more cautious steps forward.

The Saarebas didn't move. She could see his broad shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breathing, the slight tremor in his muscles. He wasn't crouched, ready to spring up into another attack - he was sunk to the ground, arms limp, head bowed. 

Exhausted. Depleted. 

She could tell that he heard them, though. His ear twitched, and he had tilted his head ever so slightly in their direction. 

But there was no sign of the Arvaarad. And as Atash moved closer, she could see the ring on his collar, where his leash would be attached, was broken. He had no leash. 

He had no Arvaarad. 

Atash halted, still a good ten feet away from the Saarebas. He didn't move. 

“... Saarebas?” She ventured. 

Still no movement. 

“I am Vashoth.” Atash said, in Qunlat. “I am with two others. We did not know you were here. We have no wish to harm you.” 

Stillness again, for a moment. 

And then he burst into flames. 

“NO!” Atash ran forward, calling ice to her hand, throwing all she could into it, to quench the flames, to stop him before he was beyond reach- 

But the fire was too intense. Her ice evaporated in the air the moment she conjured it. Where's Neve? she thought desperately, as she leapt forward, abandoning the ice for soil that she ripped from the ground in a wave to cover him. She barely registered her companions behind her, Emmrich yelling something - 

-and then she was thrown back once again by a blast of hot, hot air, her wave of soil splattering to the ground. She felt searing pain on her outstretched palms and fingers, down her arms, on her chest and face, as she slammed into the ground. 

The sand was still soft, but with such force it might as well have been rock, as it knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping for air, vision blurry.

“ROOK!” 

Hands grabbed her shoulders, dragging her back. She gasped, trying to get air back in her lungs, trying to get back to her feet so she could save him- 

“Rook - ROOK. STOP.” Hands that had been pulling her were now holding her down. They were surprisingly strong. 

“Can't…” Atash wheezed, “He- I have to-” 

“Rook. Atash.” 

Emmrich's voice spoke softly, but firmly, above her head. There was a slight tremor to it, though, as he said, “He's dead.” 

Atash fell still. Her body suddenly felt like it was made of lead. 

She didn't save him. 

She couldn't save him. 

“Rook.” Emmrich's voice spoke again, tone urgent. “We must get you back to the Lighthouse. Quickly.” She felt hands underneath her arms, attempting to pull her up. 

“What-” her lungs were still struggling to hold on to air. She coughed, gasping. 

“Rook, come on!” Bellara joined Emmrich in pulling at her shoulders. With their combined strength, and life slowly returning to Atash’s legs, they managed to get her to her feet. 

As her vision cleared, Atash saw the smoking, blackened remains of the Saarebas. The fire he had conjured was so hot, it had killed him and torched his body in an instant. The sand around him had been melted into a warped circle of glass. 

She had been incredibly lucky that she didn’t get torched herself, she realized faintly, barely able to collect her thoughts amidst the sudden and intense searing pain now radiating from her face, chest and hands. She hissed, shutting her eyes tightly. 

“Here.” Emmrich's thin arm threaded around hers, guiding her without taking her burnt hands. “Bellara-” 

“Right here.” Atash felt Bellara's arm, made bulky by her elven gadgetry, on her other side. “Come on, let's go. Quick.” 

Atash was pulled forward, her companions guiding her somewhere in the direction of the Caretaker's ferry. She managed to blink her eyes open, her eyeballs mercifully intact but the skin of her cheeks and nose blistered. 

“You don't have to help me,” she said faintly, “I can-”

Emmrich tightened his hold on her arm. “You,” he said, voice uncharacteristically hard, “for once, will  listen.” 

That stilled her. She fell silent, head lowering - like she was twelve again, being scolded by her teacher, Tide. 

Tide. An ex-Saarebas. 

Her chest now ached, along with the blistered skin. 

Emmrich took a deep, steadying breath beside her. “Let’s… let’s go back to the Lighthouse, to my laboratory. Quickly.” He shifted himself a little under her weight. “Lean on us, dearest.” he said, voice soft. “Please.”

The hackles rose immediately under Atash’s skin. Her whole body tensed. Her mother’s voice spoke in her mind: don’t be a burden, Ataashri. You’re a lot bigger. They can’t carry you. 

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her skin burned, the white-hot, searing pain radiating all the way out from her front to her spine, down to her toes. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Her limbs could not move properly, bound up by the agony of the skin that covered them. 

Neither can I, ‘Ma. 

He placed his hands on either side of her face, his touch light and gentle. She felt the cool, soothing touch of his magic flowing over her, taking the edge off the burning itch of her blistered skin rapidly healing all at once. 

She allowed herself to droop, her weight now held up by Emmrich’s and Bellara’s hold. Together, with surprisingly little effort, they were able to help her limp forward, towards the direction of the dock. 

***

“There.” Emmrich said quietly, running a thumb over the soft new skin of her cheek. “I'm afraid you've lost a bit of your tattoo, but there shouldn't be any scarring.” 

“Small price to pay, I guess.” Atash sighed, opening her eyes, blinking through the blurriness to see Emmrich's tall, lean form standing before her in his warmly lit laboratory. 

“Hm.” Before his face could come back into focus, Emmrich had turned away from her, walking over to one of the shelves beside his desk, which appeared to hold various herbal concoctions in a variety of mysteriously labeled bottles. “A small price, indeed, for such a dangerous act.”

His tone was even, calm, but Atash’s heart sank further in her chest to hear it. She looked down at her hands in her lap, blistered palms even more horrific looking than she had thought. 

“I know it was stupid.” 

Emmrich paused, hand on the jar of elfroot balm. He looked over at her, sitting on the stone table, hunched over, staring at the burned flesh of her palms. 

He silently took the balm down from the shelf, and walked over to the table, setting the jar down beside Atash. He sat down on the stool in front of her, and cradled one of her hands in his, barely even touching her skin. With his other hand, he neatly dipped two fingers into the balm, and with great care began to smear it over the burns on her palm.

She hissed a little under her breath, but otherwise did not react to the balm’s initial sting.  

“Then, why did you do it?” Emmrich asked, quietly.

His voice wasn’t angry, not even rough. He just sounded… sad. 

Atash closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of the balm numbing her burns, taking away the searing hot pain as he spread it over her hand. 

“I wanted to save him.” she said. 

There was a pause, as Emmrich seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he spoke carefully: “I have seen you act when lives are immediately at stake many times. I have never seen you act so… desperately, as you did today.”

Atash took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her nose. When she spoke, her voice was barely controlled, a slight tremor threatening to give way at any moment. 

“I did it because…. I didn’t see him. I saw me.” 

He halted, looking up into her face. She wasn’t sure what she looked like right then, but she did know tears stung at her eyes, threatening to fall. She was clenching her jaw, heart pounding, trying so desperately not to let out the terrible tsunami of emotions roiling within her.

 If she gave even a little, she would lose herself completely. And she couldn’t do that. Not now. Not in front of him. Not in front of anybody.

“Atash.” Emmrich’s voice was low, and soft. She couldn’t see his face, as the tears blurred her vision, but she felt his hand slide up to cup her cheek, taking care not to get balm on her face. 

“You wanna know what my greatest fear is, Emmrich?” Atash said, voice tight and rough. Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart, don’t- “That. What - what they do to the Saarebas. I’m afraid of that.” 

She felt his other hand on her face, warmth framing her cheeks. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling shame burn her insides as the tears trickled down her face.

“Kadan.” 

The word, so familiar to her, yet so strange in his voice, stilled her tremors for a moment, as surprise briefly overtook everything else. 

“Let go.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “There is nothing to fear here. You are safe.” 

“I-I don’t…” she brought the back of her wrist to her eyes, trying to cover her face, “I can't… not… i-in front of…” 

He slid a hand to the back of her neck, reaching with his other around her back, gently pulling her down towards him. She found herself burying her face into his shoulder, tears now soaking into his crisp shirt. 

“There.” He whispered. “No longer in front of me. I don't see anything.” 

These words, with the warmth of his arms around her, the soft green smell of him enveloping her, cracked through her decimated defenses. She went limp against him, sobbing uncontrollably, mercifully muffled by Emmrich's shirt. 

Atash hadn't cried in over twelve years. Not since her mother had died. She had been so proud of that. Thought it meant she had moved beyond needing to cry at all. That the tears she shed at the side of her mother's corpse during the nightlong vigil had been all the tears she could ever possibly have in her body. 

But now, crying like a child into Emmrich's shoulder, getting tears and snot all over his beautiful Orlesian-made shirt, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs… she realized she hadn't evolved out of crying. She had just been saving it up. Every disappointment, every heartbreak, every injury - it was all still there, packed away tightly in some dark corner of her heart.

But after the last year and a half - a series of near-death experiences, pain, failure, and constant, never-ceasing fear eating away at her…. there was no more room in that corner to pack away the Saarebas. It was just too much. 

It was all just too much. 

Emmrich was quiet throughout her weeping. Until she started to hyperventilate. 

“Here, breathe, darling. With me: slowly, in-,” 

“I…c-can't… b-breathe-” 

“Yes, you can, Atash. I promise you, you can.”  He brought his hand down from the back of her neck to her chest, which was rapidly going in and out with her short, gasping breaths. “Trust in me. Here, in….”

She attempted to draw in a deep breath, gasping a few times along the way - but getting the air in her all the same, following along with Emmrich as he breathed in. 

“...and, slowly, out…” 

She let the air out, her breath stuttering only a little. 

They went through the exercise a few more times, him breathing along with her, until Atash's breathing had settled. She now drooped over Emmrich, completely drained of tears, energy and fear. For the time being, anyway. 

“‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Whatever for, darling?” 

“Everything.” she sighed. “Gods’re my fault. Blight’s my fault. Saarebas’s my fault.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “Brought you here to be a Fade expert, instead you got Harding needing to be stitched up every other day and me crying all over you. Pretty raw deal.” 

“Hmm.” He stroked her back in small, soothing circles. “There are, indeed, many aspects to this role I did not anticipate, and I'm all the happier for it. Hardly a “raw deal”.” He gave her shoulder a light pat. “And I have it on good authority that you are not, in fact, the one who decided to singlehandedly end the world.” 

She allowed herself to let out a small, drained chuckle. He tightened his arms around her.

“Atash… there was nothing you could have done for him.” he said, voice low and serious. “Not without his willingness.” 

“.... I know.” She let out another breath, closing her eyes. “Part of me does, anyway.” 

Emmrich's arms tightened a little further. He shifted, so his forehead rested on her shoulder. She could hear him more clearly in this small, warm, muffled space they made with their bodies, as he murmured, “You never stop trying, do you?”

Another tiny, tired tear dropped down her nose and on to his shirt. “He was alone.” she whispered. “He was so scared. He probably thought he'd been infected by demons already, without his Arvaarad.” 

“There was no sign of any possession that I could see…” 

“That doesn't matter to them.” Atash sighed. “You know what Saarebas means, in Trade?” 

“Hmm.” Emmrich gave the question serious thought. “Bas translates to ‘thing’, yes? In reference to foreigners?” 

“In reference to those who do not follow the Qun.” she said, dully. “Those who are useless things, until they accept the Qun. Unless you're born a mage. Then it doesn't matter. You're doomed no matter what you do.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “Saarebas means ‘dangerous thing’. The second a kid under the Qun manifests their magic… they're chained up and put in a pen. They aren't taught how to use their magic. They have to figure it out on their own, just to survive. All they ever learn is how to…” her voice caught in her throat. She took a breath, tried again. “How to… blow up. Or… make things blow up. They're literally living bombs that can set themselves off over and over again. And that's why the Qunari allow them to live. They're useful. Except they're still bas. No matter what they do.” 

The sharp bitterness that entered Atash's voice surprised even her. 

“That…” Emmrich took a deep breath. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was horrified. “I… had heard rumors, read many histories, but… the stories of what the Qunari do to their mages, I had assumed to be exaggeration. Born of prejudice and propaganda.” 

“Might be true of some stories about the Qun.” Atash said dully, “But not these stories.” 

“Maker's breath.” Emmrich whispered. He hugged her even more tightly. “Atash.” He said, with grim determination, “I swear, as long as I live, as long as any of us live, that will never happen to you. We will not allow it. Even after I draw my last breath, I swear on my life and any un-life I live that I will not allow any such thing to happen to you.” 

She felt her body go stone still. Felt her usual compulsion in such circumstances, to dismiss it with a smiling affirmation that she was okay, she was just tired and overworked. Cover up that deep inner ache with a dumb joke, to make it seem like it didn't matter to her as much as it did.

Because to show that this mattered, meant showing that soft, vulnerable, weak side of herself she couldn't bear getting hurt. Couldn't bear putting it on display, to be used against her later. 

But this wasn't a display. This wasn't Gisela. This wasn't her Lords crew. This wasn’t the team gathered at the library table planning missions. 

This was Emmrich, in his laboratory, letting her ruin his lovely linen shirt with her crying. Hugging her still, even after all that. An elegant beanpole of a man half a foot shorter than her, arms wrapped protectively around her, shielding her heavily scarred, hard-muscled form from the world. 

“.... You promise?” She heard herself say, in a voice she hadn't heard in well over a decade - the small, quiet, uncertain voice of teenage Atash, the one she'd thought died and buried with her mother. 

He turned his face to her cheek, breath warm against her skin as he spoke. 

“Always.” 

She drooped against his shoulder, body sagging with deep relief. 

She hadn't ever told anyone about her greatest fear, she realized. By this point, everyone knew about her fears of thunderstorms, of drowning, of small dark spaces, but no one knew about this, about the Saarebas. About being stuck in a slaver's brig. About being trapped and alone. 

Except now Emmrich did. And he was still here. Warm and green and kind and loving and good. 

I love you.

“Thank you.” she whispered.  

He kissed her cheek. “Always.”

[acmelxvr]

An Excellent Pairing (18+)

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Viago de Riva x Rook

Summary: When Lucanis discovers that Rook and Viago's relationship goes beyond that of a normal Crow and her Talon, he throws caution to the wind and indulges himself for one night only; surely that will be enough to satiate him for the rest of his days. However, he's surprised when he finds that they want to indulge him too.

Genre/Tags: Explicit, FMM Threesome, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character, Dom/Sub, Accidental Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Slight Humiliation, Crying, Brat Taming if you squint, Face-Fucking, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Pussy Play, Aftercare, Creampie, Double Penetration, Overstimulation, Talk of Premature Ejaculation, Cum Eating, Gagging, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Mild Choking, Clit Slapping, Begging, Slight Breeding, Virgin!Lucanis, Bottom!Lucanis, Top!Viago, Viago cannot SHUT UP during sex, Rook is a Cis Female

Word Count: ~12,000

Notes: Entirely self indulgent and a beast to finish. Good lord, just take a look at those tags.

Tagged as Not Canon Compliant because it doesn't really follow that whole "crow families are like real families" BS. Also tagged as Out of Character because I think Lucanis and Viago would (probably) rather gargle rusty nails than ever have non-monogamous sex. And Viago is definitely not cool enough to do half of the things he does here. But this is MY fic and damn it I want these three to fuck!!!!

I'm on Twitter and AO3 as @acmelxvr

You can read this on AO3 if you'd like to here

MDNI!!!!

When Lucanis wakes up, he finds himself in the Eluvian Room with a hand already through the mirror. He jumps, cursing out loud as Spite fills his head with his incessant yammering. “I want. To leave!” The shriek pulses in his ears, causing Lucanis’ headache to worsen with each passing second.

“I have a contract.” Lucanis starts. He turns to go back up the stairs, but Spite rages against his prison inside Lucanis’ head, causing him to fall to his knees.

“LEAVE!”

“You are impossible!” Lucanis says through gritted teeth. “We will leave. As soon as the contract is completed.” The idea of being away from Rook makes Lucanis’ heart drop, but he pushes the feeling down as he stands back up. He expects the demon to argue, but only hears a snarl as Spite retreats to the deepest recesses of his mind. He sighs, in relief and in exhaustion, knowing that Spite will simply try again once Lucanis falls asleep.

He resigns himself to walking around The Lighthouse for the night, although day and night are indistinguishable here. There are moments where everyone feels the call of sleep around the same time, but the light of The Fade does not change; a mutual agreement between all parties to leave each other alone for a few hours, one that Spite violates frequently.

Lucanis thrums his fingers against the many book spines in the library. Some are clearly from when Solas was the main inhabitant of this place, the pages thinned from wear and centuries long use, with writing in the margins from the same signature, “F”. The newer books, placed amongst the shelves by Bellara and Emmrich, brightly stand out against the old tombs. Lucanis is about to grab one, a pirate romance on the high seas, that Emmrich graciously found for him when he notices how the light from Rook’s room seeps into the library from the ajar door. 

Lucanis wants to go inside and talk to her under the guise of avoiding sleep, but thinks better of it. “I won’t disturb her. She might be doing something important.” He whispers to himself. Spite appears again, much to the chagrin of Lucanis.

“I want. To talk. To ROOK!” he snarls. Lucanis tilts his head to the side, trying to block out the demon. Once Spite starts chanting his request, Lucanis holds up a hand.

“I will indulge you this time. If you allow me to sleep after. Deal?” Spite nods excitedly.

Lucanis approaches Rook’s room, the light seeping from the door dancing around, so at least Rook is actually awake. His crow training demands that he never makes a sound as he moves, even in the supposed safety of The Lighthouse. Lucanis has noticed Rook does the same; the steps are different, but the crows move to the same waltz. 

Lucanis pauses his approach when he hears Rook’s groan muffled by something. He quickens his step, his heart hammering at the thought of Rook being in danger, but his voice catches in his throat when he realizes that Rook is not alone willingly. 

“You get to breathe when I say. And I swear, if you touch yourself I will make you regret it.” Viago’s tone is stern.

Viago.

Viago?

Lucanis’ head swarms with a million questions all at the same time. While he knew Rook and Viago were unusually close for a Talon and a regular crow in the same house, this goes beyond that. Talons do not fuck their crows, lest the opportunity to be lethally replaced presents itself. Not only that but Viago is…Viago. Uptight. Particular. Ruthless. Most rumors about each of the talons are exaggerated, but Lucanis knows that Viago’s reputation is rightfully earned. Everything said about him is completely true. So how has Lucanis not heard of this yet?

He reflects on the moments spent in the Cantori Diamond as Rook, Teia, Viago, and Lucanis worked to free Treviso from the Antaam’s grip. Were there stolen glances that Lucanis wasn’t privy to? Is this why Viago seemed more offended than the others when Rook’s slip-up was mentioned? How long has this been going on? 

Can he join?

Lucanis cringes at the last thought, his sleep deprived state allowing him to think things he otherwise wouldn’t dare to. He’s interrupted again when he hears a wet pop, and Lucanis can’t help but take a step closer to the door. “Please.” Rook moans, only to be silenced again by a growl from Viago. 

“Begging is a good look on you.” Viago says. Lucanis can hear his tip hit the back of Rook’s throat as she gags. The embarrassment that sat in Lucanis’ stomach has now dropped lower, melting into ashamed arousal. “You haven’t earned it yet, though.” Lucanis knows he should turn around right now and head back to the pantry, before he hears even more sounds he’ll never erase from his head. But as he takes another step towards Rook’s room, he’s palming himself through his pants and almost groans at the unreleased tension.

Lucanis has only dreamed about this situation, although never with the two objects of his desires together. He can’t decide if he’ll want to be in Rook’s position or Viago’s when he recalls this in private later. There’s the added layer of jealousy, too; that the two people he’s only ever flirted with can somehow fuck each other so easily, but not him. Is that what he wants from them? A quick fuck, one without feelings? Is that what they’re doing right now, or is it something more? A stolen moment between two lovers or two friends relieving stress?

Viago lets Rook up for air once again. “Viago, please…” Rook trails off, moaning as she takes Viago into her mouth again. Lucanis is a foot away from the door now, his cheeks burning hot as he presses against the wall, not daring to break the final barrier of actually looking inside and searing the visual component of this encounter into his head.

Viago hums in thought. “You look so beautiful like this. On your knees, crying with your lips around me.” Another growl, and Lucanis can discern that Viago has grabbed Rook by the hair and pulled her off. “Have you learned your lesson?” Lucanis can’t remember when he lowered his pants, but now his cock is firm within his grasp.

“Yes, sir. I have.”

Sir? Lucanis twitches at the title. His brows knit together in concentration as Viago chuckles. “Good girl.” Lucanis twitches again. “On the bed, on your knees.” 

This is a side of Viago that Lucanis can’t even fathom exists. Viago usually has the disposition of a wet cat: a bit scary from afar, but pathetic and charming in his own way once you get close enough. Lucanis always thought that the man was extremely talented in what he did, but similar to himself in that they usually killed targets first to avoid having to turn on their lacking charms. He loses his train of thought when he hears Viago’s whispers meant only for Rook’s ears. Clearly, Lucanis had read the man very wrong.

He’ll watch just this once. One time will be enough to sustain him for the rest of his days. He rationalizes it by noting that two crows should know to at least close the door if they don’t want to be interrupted. He’s walked by Rook’s door dozens of times in the hopes she’s standing outside only to find it closed. She knows how to close doors, right?

LOOK. Spite whispers in the back of Lucanis’ mind. He smears the pre cum leaking from his tip onto his palm, snarling at Spite’s interference. He hears a smack from inside Rook’s room and she whimpers.

LOOK!

Lucanis tears his eyes open and moves to occupy the small opening from the door. As he focuses his sight despite the dim lighting, he finds Viago and Rook on the small chaise in the middle of the room. Viago has one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around her neck, pulling Rook up against his chest. Lucanis examines Viago’s bare fingers, the first time he’s seen them without a pair of gloves on. They’re long, and covered in slick. Lucanis is unsure whose. His hair, which is usually brushed back neatly, has curled back to the look Viago had in his younger days, the thick black strands slightly stuck to his forehead with sweat. 

Rook whines as Viago rubs her clit with his tip, which earns her another slap to her ass. Her breasts are covered in purple splotches, some peeking through Viago’s hand on her neck. She’s also sweaty, but the sweat is mixed with her tears, her makeup running down her face and leaving black streaks in their wake. Viago’s grip tightens, his fingers pressing against her windpipe as he begins to slowly stretch her cunt. 

If this was the last thing Lucanis ever saw, he could die happy.

Lucanis matches his strokes with Viago’s pace which is achingly slow. He pulls all the way out, stops for a moment, then takes his time filling Rook up again. She covers her mouth with her hands as her moans increase in volume, but Viago is quick to tut at this. “Let them hear you.” He’s the perfect picture of control, the only indication of his impending orgasm being how his stomach tightens whenever he’s fully inside of her.

“What about–”

“Lucanis?” Viago draws out the assassin’s name as he moves the hand that occupied Rook’s hip to her clitoris, beginning to rub small circles around the bundle of nerves. She yelps, her eyes rolling back into her head in pleasure. Lucanis almost retreats at the mention of his name, but can’t bring himself to as his own hips buck into his hand. “I bet you’d like it if he watched us, wouldn’t you?” Rook nods, but Viago stops completely and begins to pull out. “Use your words.”

She whines at the sudden lack of movement, her eyes welling with tears again. “Y-yes, I would. Sir.” Viago nods approvingly, and resumes his agonizing pace. Lucanis’ heavy stare flits back and forth between the two, watching as Rook’s face contorts just so as Viago hits a spot inside her only he is aware of, his hips snapping against her. Viago is relentless; his middle and ring finger making Rook gush around him even as she begins to shake and attempt to swat his hand away. “It’s too much, Viago–”

“You can take it.” Viago’s other hand lets go of Rook’s neck, making her lean against him for support. He pinches her nipple and rolls it between his fingertips. “Just a bit longer till we can come together. You want that, right?” Rook incoherently babbles, nodding her head back against Viago’s shoulder while he smiles. “Of course you do.” 

Lucanis surmises that they’ve been at this for hours, at least. The way Rook is practically fucked out of her mind, tears streaming down her face while Viago pleasures her, has Lucanis’ thighs flexing in anticipation of his own orgasm. Viago looks down at his fingers that seem to be moving with a mind of their own and bites his lip, emitting a low groan into the crook of Rook’s neck while he kisses the bruised bite marks. Lucanis’ speed picks up along with Viago’s, both men beginning to lose control.

When Lucanis returns his attention to Rook, he gasps when he sees her eyes blown out wide looking back at him. 

The arousal that teetered into release flips into shame, his perverted viewing caught by the one woman he tried to keep away. He refuses to look or run away, at least giving her the grace of facing the consequences of his intrusion head on. Viago is blissfully unaware, completely lost in the crushing warmth of Rook’s insides. Rook is silent for one moment, her half-lidded stare holding Lucanis’ as Viago pistons away.

Then, she smiles, raises an arm to grab Viago’s hair, and tugs.

Viago growls, making Lucanis’ cock jump on its own. Rook nods, slight enough so Viago won’t notice, but perceptible enough that Lucanis’ heart flips when he starts touching himself again with Rook’s approval. “You are impossible.” Viago slaps Rook’s clit, making her jump and pull on his hair again.

“Please, Viago–” The way she whines makes Lucanis and Viago shake their heads at the same time, trying to put off their orgasms for a bit longer.

“Say my name one more time, and I swear to the Maker I will breed you till you see stars.” Lucanis goes slack jawed. Viago’s rhythm becomes erratic as he finally, finally, reaches his release. Rook’s entire body is shaking, and she draws blood from her bottom lip as she bites down.

“Viago–” She doesn’t even finish her sentence, the fifth talon moving his hand to her stomach as he adds pressure underneath her navel. It’s enough to put the trio all over the edge at the same time. 

Lucanis spills into his hand, his hips rutting into the air as he lifts his shirt over his abdomen to avoid a mess. It takes everything in him not to join the pair in their cacophony of moans, Viago especially as he twitches deep inside of Rook, making sure not a drop of his cum drips out of her. Rook’s thighs press in as her own orgasm rushes over her, Viago’s fingers slowly bringing Rook down from the edge. When the drum of his blood pumping finally subsides, Lucanis can hear the pair once again.

Viago still has not pulled out, but moves both hands to Rook’s waist and slowly leans her down, allowing her to rest her head against the back of the chaise. He supports her weight fully, his arms flexing as he holds her up, and Viago bends down momentarily to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. “Good job.” He murmurs against her skin, his usual stoic disposition returning and becoming the man that Lucanis thought he was. Rook lazily opens one eye towards the door, and has to hide a smile when she sees that Lucanis is still watching them. 

Viago’s arms wrap around Rook’s stomach, and she giggles. “You should know by now that that tickles.” Viago doesn’t move, his beard and mustache rubbing against Rook’s back. “And that does too! I’m very sensitive right now, you know.” Viago relents and pulls out, earning a content sigh from Rook as she lays down, out of Lucanis’ view. He moves to Rook’s bedside table, still naked, and retrieves a towel. They’ve done this before. They’ve done this before, here.

“And whose fault is that?” Viago wipes some of the sweat away from his forehead and then Rook’s. Here, in the perceived privacy, his shoulders drop some of the tension he seems to be holding all the time. He smiles more easily as he banters with Rook, and doesn’t get dressed immediately as he sits down on the cushions near Rook’s feet and lazily drapes an arm over the couch. Lucanis hears Rook groan and sees her stretch her arms out, then her legs, moving them over Viago’s thighs. “Have you heard of a thing called personal space?” Viago asks.

Lucanis zips his pants up and slowly steps away, careful to not alert Viago of his presence. “You just came inside me! You don’t get to complain about me violating your personal space!” The last thing Lucanis hears before he escapes back to the library, and then to the pantry, is a shared laugh between the crow and the talon.

The morning after, Lucanis leans over his breakfast and stirs his coffee absentmindedly. His mind keeps flashing back to Viago and Rook. How they looked so good together. How their bodies fit together perfectly, how Lucanis could fit in between.

“Lucanis?” The assassin jumps and drops the spoon he was holding. Bellara is quick to pick the utensil up for him and wipe it on her pants.  “Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have– You seemed so–” 

“It’s alright, Bellara. Just tired.” He waves her concerns away, trying his best to remain in this moment and not last night’s.

“Right, well, Rook needs us in Treviso today.” Lucanis’ flexes his hands, his cheeks flushing pink. “Andarateia– Sorry, Teia, and Viago found a lead about the gaatlok. Could be our big break up against the Antaam!” Bellara is excited at the new discovery, but dread floods Lucanis' veins at having to face Viago knowing what his dick looks like. How can he look at Rook and not see how her tits bounced with every thrust from Viago? He goes through the motions of getting ready, grabbing his daggers and then his back-up daggers, but his mind is somewhere else: back in Rook’s room.

When Bellara and Lucanis walk down to the Eluvian Room, Rook is already there, stretching her limbs in common Crow warm up exercises. She waves to both of them, refusing to stop her mission preparations for anything. “You alright, Rook? Did you hurt yourself?” Bellara asks, offering a hand to help Rook stand.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” Rook accepts Bellara’s offer, who yanks the crow up off the floor. “Neck’s just a bit sore.” Lucanis coughs in surprise, and both women look at him. He can’t make eye contact with either of them.

“Sorry, it’s just…I had some almonds earlier.” Bellara raises an eyebrow.

“...That’s nice!” She responds, and Lucanis almost kicks himself for making the situation somehow more awkward.

Once they’re in Treviso, each step further into the Cantori Diamond feels heavier and heavier. Bellara and Rook chat away, as they’re used to Lucanis’ silent brooding at this point, but only one of them is clued into exactly what he’s brooding over. “Rook! Lucanis!” Teia hugs the both of them once they’re standing in front of the Seventh Talon. “Thank you for coming.” Lucanis blinks and he relives the moment he came the same time they did.

“You’re late.” Viago snips, and Rook scoffs.

“If you were able to do this without us, you would’ve done it already.” Viago crosses his arms and sneers while Teia sighs and presses her fingers to her temples, a headache already coming on from these two.

“Right, because your reputation for finishing jobs precedes you.” Viago says, making Rook throw her hands up. Bellara laughs behind her hand, even being polite enough to turn away from the group. Lucanis watches them bicker, Teia even getting involved at one point to step in between them, and wonders how they can be so normal. How can their hearts not sing whenever they see each other after being so vulnerable?

“Please, ladies, let’s get to the job!” Teia exclaims, pushing them away from each other. It’s enough to pause their jabbering for now, and the group moves to the table to discuss the finer details of the talons’ plan. Rook leans in over Viago’s shoulder to look at the map. He points to a particular corner of the Drowned District, his gloved index finger tapping the parchment. Lucanis looks at Viago but doesn’t see anything more behind his usual harsh demeanor. Lucanis’ brow knits in confusion, considering the possibility that perhaps what happened last night was a dream.

But then, he spots it: a purple splotch peeking underneath Rook’s collar. The armor wasn’t high enough to hide everything. The bite mark is especially visible when Rook tilts her head. When Lucanis watches Viago, his eyes are unflinching, immovable as Rook speaks.

The slightest glance. Viago’s gaze roves down to Rook’s collar too.

And his lips quirk into the smallest smile.

Lucanis gasps, grabbing the attention of everyone at the table. Rook, Viago, Teia, and Bellara all turn quickly to him. “Something the matter, Lucanis?” Teia asks. Lucanis stumbles over his words, his palms quickly turning wet under the scrutiny of everyone. Rook’s stare is even when he attempts to answer. It’s almost a challenge, a way to say, “Did you see what you think you saw?”. Viago squints, studying Lucanis and how nervous the man suddenly is.

“Well, um…” Lucanis thinks for a moment. “If we’re heading to the Drowned District, we have to be careful of the infrastructure. Detonating the gaatlok could be detrimental to the people living there.” Teia raises an eyebrow while Viago tilts his head and purses his lips. “Load bearing walls and such.” There’s a moment of silence as everyone considers what Lucanis has graciously added to the conversation.

“I think Lucanis is right.” Rook says, turning the table’s attention back to her. “We don’t want the Butcher to blame anything that might happen on the Crows instead of the Antaam. Could lose us valuable support amongst the people.” It’s a good enough excuse that everyone moves on, and Lucanis lets go of the breath he was holding. When he’s brave enough to rejoin the conversation, he finds that Rook is already looking at him. She winks.

After the mission they return back to the Cantori Diamond to debrief. Rook has a small scrape on her cheek from when a Venatori member managed to move in close enough on her flank before Lucanis could stop him. It’s just a flesh wound that’ll heal with time, but Viago sighs as soon as he sees her anyway. “You got hit.” He deadpans.

“Your observation skills continue to impress me.” Rook says. “Yes, I got hit. It was fine, Lucanis took care of him. Look at how great I am!” She puts her arms out and spins, making Teia laugh. Viago remains unconvinced; He steps forward and grips Rook on the chin, turning her face to get a better look at the cut. He hums, his stature towering over the other crow when they’re this close.

His crow.

“De Riva crows don’t get hit. Dagger, or arrow?” Viago asks Rook. Teia pulls Bellara aside to talk more about the mission. Lucanis can’t peel his eyes away from the pair.

“Dagger. You know how the Venatori are.” Rook responds, almost leaning into his touch.

“I do. You should– need to be more careful.” Viago examines the wound closely. “They like to move in close like that so they can use blood magic on you.”

“I know.” Rook huffs. Viago pulls her face straight on so that way she has no choice but to make eye contact with him.

“Do you?” Viago hisses. Lucanis shifts, hoping his armor is thick enough to keep his erection hidden. Rook glances at Lucanis, then smiles up at Viago.

“Don’t worry. I have the Demon of Vyrantium at my side, right Lucanis?” Viago also looks at the master assassin, and drops Rook’s chin. Lucanis laughs uncomfortably at the heat radiating from them.

“You’re going to kill me.” Is all Lucanis says. He isn’t sure who he’s talking to.

Back at The Lighthouse, Lucanis adds some items to the grocery list. The dinner table is completely empty, tonight’s meal leaving most people too full and tired to socialize like they usually do. The dim light from the candles lulls Lucanis, whose eyes close wearily. When he blinks them back open, it feels as though no time has passed, but then he looks at the note.

Flour

Cocoa

Pastina

Tomato

rookrookrookrookrookROOK

vvvvvvviago TOGETHER

inbetweeninbetweeninbetween

Lucanis angrily crumbles the note up and stuffs it into his pocket. “Get out of my head.” He grumbles, and although there’s no response, Lucanis swears he can hear the demon laugh. He heads into the pantry for a moment of attempted privacy, leaning his forehead against the wood once the door is closed. He shuts his eyes, breathing in the scent of aged oak and lingering spices.

“For an assassin, you’re easy to sneak up on.” He jumps and quickly turns.

Rook sits at his desk, her feet resting on the bottom of the chair while she’s firmly planted on the table top. 

“Most people expect visitors from outside their bedroom, not inside.” Lucanis says, heading to his cot and sitting down, facing Rook.

“You’re not most people, though.” Rook responds, which makes Lucanis blanche in surprise. “Also, for an assassin, you lack subtlety.” Lucanis averts his gaze to anywhere in the room but Rook. She laughs, making Lucanis smile despite himself. He loves how her laugh rings clearly, unabashed in her joy. “Ask your questions. I know you have them.”

Lucanis sighs, leaning back against his bed and resting his head on the soft sheets. “So many.” Is his first response. Rook hums, much like Viago does, in acknowledgement. “Does Teia know?” Is his second.

“I’m not privy to what Viago shares with Teia about his life when they’re not together.” Rook chooses her words carefully. “But I haven’t had any conversations with her about our arrangement.”

“So Teia and him aren’t together right now?”

Rook laughs. “No, not right now. Though, you know them. That can change at any given moment.” Lucanis is quiet, his chest rising and falling steadily. He likes that Rook doesn’t attempt to fill silences.

“If they were together–”

“No. It’s one of our rules.” At this, Lucanis raises his head to look at Rook. “We have rules. For when we’re allowed to…” She waves her hand around. “If either of us are in a relationship it doesn’t happen.”

“It being…?”

“Sex, Lucanis.” Rook laughs as he looks away. “It might surprise you, but Viago and I do enjoy each other’s company without the added benefit of sex.” He chortles, which makes Rook roll her eyes.

“When did this start?” At this question, Rook looks up to the ceiling as though truly pondering it.

“Well, I had only heard about Viago before he became Fifth Talon. But we first met because of a contract, actually.” Rook cracks her knuckles. “We were on a mission, about six years ago; the client specifically paid for Viago to tag along on the job. And you know him.”

Lucanis nods. “He’s kind of…”

“A stick in the mud?” Rook laughs. “He wanted everything to go well. To prove himself to Caterina. So, we went to Orlais.” Lucanis props himself up on his elbows.

“Did you have to pretend to be a couple? And then everything that was fake turned real?” Rook leans over to shove Lucanis lightly on the shoulder.

“I didn’t know you were a romantic, Lucanis.” She shakes her head. “No, the job was terrible. It was raining the whole way there and back. The weather made for inclement traveling so we were stuck in Orlais for longer than we expected.” Rook rolls her shoulders, as though recalling the job is stressful enough. “And we missed the mark. Several times, actually.” At this, Lucanis laughs so hard his stomach begins to hurt.

“I cannot imagine Viago missing.”

“He can’t either. So, both of us were pretty unhappy. Unhappiness turns to anger, and both of us were way too prideful to admit our own shortcomings, so we became angry at each other.” Rook smiles. “Put two crows who hate each other and are constantly drenched to the bone in the same room for seven weeks…”

“...And they’re bound to have sex.” Lucanis finishes the thought. 

“Exactly. It became an outlet. And then, when we got back to Antiva…” Rook shrugs. “It became routine. Viago likes his sex in a very, very particular way. There’s not a lot of people who are willing to do what he asks.”

“May I ask…” Lucanis blushes. “How does Viago like his sex? Because it seemed…” Lucanis stops himself, realizing that they now have to talk about that night. “Focused.” Rook nods. 

“Viago is very tightly bound. About everything, even simple pleasures. Like wine and art.” She gets up to pace as she talks. “He desires control over every single aspect of his life. He usually doesn’t get it, because being an assassin means that he has control over everything except his own life. I desire to let go. To trust someone enough to completely dominate me for one night and come out okay. It’s a reciprocal relationship.” Lucanis rubs his beard.

“So I’m assuming the bickering is part of that?” Rook furrows her brow in thought.

“Yes, and no. We bicker because I think it’s funny to wind him up, and he thinks he’s allowed to say everything that comes into his head.” Rook seems to recall something and blushes. “But winding him up, making him mad and pressing his buttons, that is part of it.” 

Rook stops to stand in front of Lucanis. “Is that what he meant by ‘learning your lesson’?” Lucanis seems too shy to even speak the words. She just nods, with a wry smile. “I see. Well.” He rubs his hands together awkwardly. “Thank you for being honest.”

Neither of them speak at first. When Lucanis looks up, he finds Rook already looking at him. She uses her calf to bump his legs apart, spreading them wide and allowing her to take a step closer to him. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?” Her voice goes low, acknowledging the tension that's been here since they started chatting.

“I–I want to…” Lucanis seems to form several sentences all at the same time. Instead, he breaks the barrier between the two of them and plants both hands on Rook’s hips, looking up at her. “There’s so many things I want to say.” Rook nods, taking the opportunity to rake her fingers through his hair. The same way she did with Viago.

“Maybe it’s my turn for questions?” Lucanis nods eagerly, grateful that she understands his inability to explain himself. “Did you like what you saw last night?” Lucanis groans, leaning forward to press his forehead against Rook’s abdomen.

“Maker, yes.” 

“Did you like me, or Viago?” Lucanis sucks in a breath. He closes his eyes, his fear of Rook realizing his silly little crushes. Plural. “...Did you like both of us?” All he can do is nod. Rook laughs, but doesn’t move away. “I understand. Watching attractive people have sex can do that.” Another beat of silence, both of them listening to the gentle waves of the surrounding fade.

“Did you want to join?” The question barely comes out as a whisper but it’s enough to make Lucanis go crazy. His loins tighten from the sexual line of questioning, remembering every single moment where he wondered how things would go if he were there. “I figured. Viago told me about the time you sent him a dagger. Both of you are incapable of reading inbetween the lines, it seems.” Lucanis blushes, hard. “I have a proposal for you.” At this, his grip on her hips becomes stronger in anticipation.

“Viago will probably come by again in a couple days. You can stop by, see how things go. See if there’s anything you’re interested in.” Rook is quick to add on, “But no pressure, though. Do whatever you feel comfortable with, I don’t want you to–”

“Would you like me there? If I…stopped by?” Lucanis slides his hands up, roaming over Rook’s back. She sighs listlessly, leaning into his touch. Lucanis’ hands are different from Viago’s; rough calluses, fingernails bitten raw, his touch yearning instead of easy. It makes Rook’s heart hiccup, wondering how long he wanted, needed something like this.

“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure.” She says matter-of-factly. It takes a large amount of effort, but she untangles herself from him. “Let me talk to Viago. I can’t imagine he’d have any reservations.” She leans down and plants a chaste kiss onto Lucanis’ temple. When she turns to leave, Lucanis grabs her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the knuckles he saw her kill with just a few hours ago.

“I await your call.”

Four days later, Lucanis paces around the library. It’s late, but time doesn’t mean much to him these days. He glances over at the charcuterie board he’s made, the wooden cutting board covered with brie, goat cheese, fontina, chocolate, and crackers. He looks up, towards Rook’s room, and his heart starts racing again like it did a few days ago. Is he really doing this? He could just leave, head back to the pantry, and forget this ever happened. Rook and Viago would continue on normally, like nothing ever happened, because they’re professionals. Lucanis supposed he was too, before all this. 

He picks up the tray and goes up the stairs, taking his time approaching Rook’s door to calm his nerves. When he looks down the hallway, he sees that she’s closed it this time. “Now they make me knock.” He sneers. As he gets closer, he can hear snippets of the conversation happening inside.

“I just think that…”

“Well, you usually…”

“...my fault?...”

Lucanis takes a slow breath out, completely emptying his lungs. This is real.

He knocks twice, a bit softly, and all conversation inside ceases. There’s some moving around, and a giggle that definitely belongs to Rook because Lucanis doesn’t think Viago has it in him to giggle before someone comes and opens the door. Lucanis thought Rook would have the grace to open the door herself.

She does not.

Viago’s in his casual wear, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he holds the door open at the top of the frame with one hand. “Lucanis.” He remarks, completely stone faced. Neither of the men say anything, but this close, Lucanis can smell Viago’s cologne. It’s more woody than Lucanis was expecting, with a lingering undertone of vanilla. 

“Viago.” Lucanis says. He holds up the charcuterie board, and Viago quirks an eyebrow. “I brought food.”

“I can see that.” The other man responds. Maker, this is awkward.

“Lucanis!” Rook remarks from inside the room, granting him entry despite Viago’s supposed disinterest. Did he not want him here?

“I brought food.” Lucanis repeats, and Rook smiles warmly. The chaise has a multitude of blankets spilling over it, and some pillows are on the floor too. The aquarium casts a deep blue light over everything, making Viago’s eyes seem black. Viago examines the board as Lucanis sets it down onto Rook’s table, next to his wine.

“Is that brie? And goat cheese?” The taller man questions. Lucanis shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Those pair well with pinot noir.” Viago adds, and again Lucanis shrugs.

“Rook mentioned it was your favorite.” She watches the two men talk with interest. Viago seems genuinely taken aback, picking up a cut of chocolate and brie, and then smelling it. Once he realizes that the heir apparent to First Talon gains nothing by poisoning him, he takes a bite.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dellamorte?” Viago suddenly asks. Lucanis blushes, and looks away. He takes a moment to steel himself.

“That depends on if it’s working or not.” If he wanted, Lucanis could be suave. Perhaps he chooses not to. Viago doesn’t answer, but pours Lucanis a glass of wine and sits down on the floor near Rook. He motions to a cushion in between them.

“We were gossiping about other crows.” This is Lucanis’ last chance to leave and still have some semblance of normalcy with the two of them. He glances between them, noting how Viago loosens his collar and leans back on one arm. Rook’s smile is wide as she speaks to them, motioning excitedly at the latest news she’s heard about her fellow crows.

Lucanis cracks his neck, then sits down. He pretends not to notice how Rook’s smile widens. “Who were we talking about?” He takes a sip of wine, the warmth spreading down from his mouth all the way to his stomach. It’s dry, but the hints of fruit and acidity make up for it.

“Illario.” Viago grumbles, gesturing towards Rook. “She was recalling how they actually did meet once before, she just didn’t remember.” Lucanis turns towards Rook, who looks a bit bashful.

“You’ve met Illario?”

“Only once.” She responds, swirling her glass and taking a bite of cheese. “It was at a party, the Arainai one a decade ago. He looked so different!” She exclaims, and Lucanis chuckles.

“I believe that’s when he was curling his hair, correct?” Rook gasps and nods.

“Yes! Maker, it was awful. And he used so much product, I could smell him from a mile away. Everyone still followed him around, though.”

“Well, Illario has that effect on people.” Viago chimes in, leaning closer in towards Lucanis so that way he can fully take part in the conversation. “He could walk around in a potato sack and still get attention.” Rook laughs, snorting. 

“Viago, did you not use the same products in your hair?” Lucanis suddenly asks. Viago closes his eyes, his brow furrowing at Lucanis being able to recall something about him he’s pretty sure everyone else has forgotten.

“You did! I remember because it would take you hours to get ready when we were in Orlais!” The Orlais mission. Where this all began. Lucanis coughs as he tries to get the image of Viago and Rook together out of his head.

“My curls are natural.” Viago holds up a finger to both of them. “Illario faked them. It’s different.” Rook giggles so hard that she falls back onto the pile of blankets as Viago comes up with another defense. He’s passionate as he argues, gesturing wildly but never forgetting about the wine nor how he needs to take more sips of it. 

“If your curls are natural, then how come your hair is straight right now?” Rook asks, and Viago groans, bringing a hand to his forehead.

“Keeping it neat is good for appearances. As Fifth Talon, I can’t afford to appear messy.” Rook nods, but she remains unconvinced. 

“It is natural.” Lucanis chimes in, making Viago and Rook turn to him. Viago waves in Lucanis’ direction, moving in closer as he gets more and more heated.

“Well, I’ll believe Lucanis. But not you.” She sits up, propping herself up with one arm and leaning on her side.

“His hair gets curly when he sweats.” Lucanis adds, and this makes Viago pause in the middle of a bite. Rook says nothing, but smirks into her wine glass as the cogs churn in Viago’s head. “Not that I’m only looking at you when you sweat, it’s just–Maker, are we arguing about Viago’s hair?” Rook’s smile is easy, here. Perhaps with these two she can pretend to be just a crow, and not the leader of their small pack against the world.

“It’s a good head of hair.” Rook whispers, sitting up and moving closer to the men. There’s a distinct shift in the air, one that makes Lucanis put his wine glass down and pull away at his vest that suddenly feels too tight. Viago doesn’t initially respond, only taking another bite of cheese. She gasps. “Don’t I get a compliment?” It’s mocking him, but Viago allows himself to fall into the trap; he chuckles.

“What would you like to hear?” Viago asks, tilting his head and teasing her. Lucanis is a spectator to this dance they do, the push and pull of “will they, won’t they”. 

“Hmm…” Rook dramatically thinks, tapping her chin. “Don’t you think I’m funny?”

“Only when I’m laughing at you.”

Rook pouts. “Well, what about my charm?” 

Viago laughs. “That was actually funny.” 

Lucanis can’t help but smile at how Rook crawls even closer, shrinking the distance between the trio. “Surely you must like something about me.” Lucanis is completely enamored with her. He likes everything about Rook, but he’s not the one answering the question. When he looks at Viago, he’s shocked to find his expression has completely changed from when he first entered the room. His eyes are full of spark, his smile sideways as he carefully considers Rook’s flirting. Somewhere along the way, he’s even unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing a scant amount of chest hair that makes Lucanis’ stomach do somersaults. 

Viago moves a hand onto Rook’s thigh and pulls her closer, onto his lap. “I like your collarbones.” He finally answers. Rook rolls her eyes, but doesn’t move away as Viago’s hand slips under her shirt to expose his aforementioned favorite part of Rook. He ghosts his hand over her skin, and both of them notice how Rook shivers underneath his touch. “Lucanis, what is your favorite part of Rook?” 

An invitation to join. Lucanis seriously considers the question for a moment, but realizes Viago is giving him an in. He sits up and crawls behind Rook, between Viago’s legs. “I like her neck.” He simply answers, and Viago hums, nodding. Lucanis presses his palms into Rook’s trapezius muscles, noticing how she relaxes under the pressure and leans back into him.

“I’ve noticed.” Viago responds, smiling at how Lucanis gets nervous once he recalls their last visit to the Cantori Diamond. “It seems you have a knack for observation, Lucanis.” Viago leans forward, planting a kiss onto Rook’s chest, looking up to watch how her brows knit just so when his lips touch her. His eyes fall to Lucanis, pupils blown wide and hands massaging Rook. Viago pulls back, making her whine from the sudden cold. “Our safeword is saffron. Use it when you need to.” Viago says, and Lucanis nods. “Good. Now kiss.” He doesn’t ask, he commands.

Rook turns to look over her shoulder at Lucanis. Her lips are pursed and glossy, her shirt falling off of one shoulder. Lucanis has to hold himself back from absolutely devouring her completely. He hesitates, unsure what to do with his hands, but settles for cradling Rook’s face. He presses his lips to her’s, gently like they have all the time in the world. Rook is not surprised by Lucanis’ softness, allowing him to lead and take his time doing whatever he wants to do. Viago intently watches, studying how Lucanis seems to shake a little when Rook places a hand on his arm. He can feel Rook’s core heating up in his lap, how her hips buck whenever Viago shifts underneath her and his erection rubs against her thigh. 

Viago unexpectedly moves his hands to Rook’s waist, rubbing affectionately and steadying her, making her moan into Lucanis’ kiss; it’s enough to completely break him. He removes his hands only for a moment to rip off his vest, but his lips never leave her’s. Rook takes a risk, and opens her mouth slightly allowing Lucanis in. He accepts the offer, fervently and needily, their tongues moving with each other and becoming more desperate by the second. Without opening her eyes, Rook uses her free hand to grab Viago by the shirt and pull him up, mere inches away from Lucanis’ face. Rook, sandwiched between the two men, tilts her head away from them. “Your turn.” Her voice is hoarse. Lucanis looks at Viago, whose harsh stare stokes the fire inside him even more. When his brown, doe eyes flick between Viago’s lips and hard glare, unable to be the one who makes the first move, Viago shakes his head before diving in.

Viago kisses like it might be his last night alive. He takes instead of gives, keeping one hand on Rook’s waist and moving the other to the back of Lucanis’ neck to pull him closer. One of them groans, Rook isn’t sure who, but it’s enough to make her roll her hips against Viago and her backside against Lucanis. Lucanis shudders when Viago presses his tongue into his mouth, unapologetic in getting what he wants. Rook unbuttons Viago’s shirt for him, her hands roving over his hard chest as he breathes in Lucanis like he’s his only source of air. When they break apart, it’s only so Lucanis can do the same, exposing his abdomen and how the hair that covers his muscles travels down, to his happy trail, and then disappears under his trousers. 

Viago and Rook take the opportunity to get reacquainted with each other, her arms stretching over his shoulders as he turns his attention to her. Their kiss is immediately all passion, tongue, and teeth; Rook even bites his lip, making Viago’s brow furrow. Lucanis watches as Rook wraps her legs around Viago’s waist, how his large hands grab onto her back. He begins to palm himself through his pants, his thighs tightening from the slight pressure. Viago peels Rook’s shirt off, exposing her naked chest, and he tilts his head, frowning. “No bra?” Rook shrugs.

“I always get what I want.” When she looks at Lucanis, her smile is deadly. “Stand up. Both of you.” Viago huffs, not used to being the one that takes orders, but obliges her. Rook kneels in front of them and uses both hands to stroke their clothed erections, making them tense. Viago takes her hand off of him, and whips his belt off, shimmying out of his pants and briefs in one fell swoop. He’s already leaking pre-cum, his tip red from the lack of stimulation.

“Stop teasing.” He tangles his hand into Rook’s hair, pulling her face towards his cock. Viago uses his hand to push her back and forth, occasionally making Rook gag as he hits the back of her throat. Lucanis slowly strips, distracted by the two of them completely. Once he’s naked, he guides Rook’s hand to him, gasping as she grips onto him. While she swirls her tongue around Viago, she pumps her hand over Lucanis, using her thumb to swipe over his tip occasionally just so she can hear how he whines. Viago steals a glance over at Lucanis, watching how his stomach flexes with every stroke from Rook. To his credit, he allows Rook to come up for air. 

She turns her attention to Lucanis, raising her eyes to his as she slowly takes him entirely into her mouth. He stretches one hand behind his head, every muscle in his arm contorting. He notices how Viago hisses in pleasure at this, and breathlessly laughs. “Are you a fan of my arms, Viago?” Rook flattens her tongue, licking a long strip from Lucanis’ balls to his tip. 

“I’m a fan of watching a beautiful woman go down on a beautiful man. The muscles are a nice side benefit.” Lucanis can’t deny that he blushes at the compliment, still shy in spite of his current station. He uses his other hand to brush Rook’s hair out of her face, holding the few strands that stick back with a loose grip. Rook nods, out of appreciation or arousal Lucanis can’t tell. With a satisfied sigh, she pulls away, Lucanis grunting at the sudden lack of warmth. But ever the gentleman, he offers a strong grip when Rook decides to stand. Wordlessly, she moves past the men and sits on the small bed, slipping out of her pajama pants along the way.

She spreads her legs, using her index and middle finger to spread her lips too, giving them a full view of their very near future. Lucanis bites his knuckles to stifle the noise that escapes him. “I want to watch Lucanis try.” She dips a finger in between her folds, bucking at the stimulation. 

Lucanis aims to please; he turns to Viago and gets on his knees, practically drooling at his length. “He can certainly try.” Viago drawls, running his fingers through Lucanis’ mullet. “I won’t play nice, though.” Viago grabs himself and pumps a couple times. “Open.” He commands. Lucanis tentatively agrees, sticking his tongue out; Viago slaps his tip in Lucanis’ mouth, smearing pre-cum onto his lips. He thrusts shallowly into Lucanis’ mouth, allowing him to adjust to his size. Lucanis doesn’t think he’s ever been as hard as he is right now, but knowing Viago he denies himself the pleasure of masturbation. Instead, he rests his arms on his thighs, arching his back for a better angle. 

“He follows instructions well.” Viago pulls Lucanis’ head back, forcing him to look up at the man. Lucanis chokes at the new angle, Viago hitting the top of his throat and momentarily cutting off his air. “Just a bit longer. You can do that, right?” Lucanis nods eagerly, spit dripping out of his mouth and tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Good boy.” 

Rook isn’t even touching herself anymore, just enjoying the show these two are putting on. She watches in awe as Lucanic copies her, circling Viago’s tip with his tongue and even flicking the sensitive slit. Viago’s stomach clenches, twitching into Lucanis’ mouth. “Just like that–doing such a good job.”

“You know, I think you’re nicer to him than me.” Viago laughs at Rook’s remark, sliding an eye open to the woman on the couch.

“Because I don’t have to worry about Lucanis the moment he leaves Treviso.” Rook stands, moving behind Viago to try and gain some semblance of his point of view. She slides her hands over his abs, tickling him as they settle where his thighs and stomach meet. The touch makes Viago thrust harshly into Lucanis’ mouth.

“You worry about me?” Rook murmurs against his skin, using one hand to join Lucanis in pleasing Viago. She grips the base of his arousal, lewdly spitting onto her palm and rubbing, occasionally dipping her fingers underneath to tease him. The added help allows Lucanis to focus on Viago’s head, where he’s the most sensitive. Viago’s jaw clenches at the sensation, his hands tangled in Lucanis’ hair flexing with every move from the man beneath him and the woman behind him.

“In my own way.” Viago admits, rolling his eyes at how he can feel Rook smile against him. “If you actually completed any contracts, I wouldn’t have to–” He falters when Rook slaps his tip against Lucanis’ tongue the way he did. 

“You talk too much.” Rook lets go of Viago, moving to stand over Lucanis as well. He glances up at Rook, his eyes grazing over her naked form so he can remember each curve and dip. He’s unsure if this will happen again, if Rook would ever want him without the added benefit of Viago. Would she give this up just to have him, entirely and by himself? He moves without warning, shifting his body to kneel in front of Rook instead, resting his chin against her and bringing a hand up in between her thighs. He dips a finger into her folds carefully, unsure of what exactly to do but hoping that his adoration for her will outshine his lack of experience.

Rook gasps at the sudden touch, her arousal coating Lucanis’ fingers. He’s careful yet curious, watching how her mouth forms an “O” shape at certain places, or how her little gasps turn to moans when he places just the right amount of pressure in other places. He presses his thumb against her clitoris, making Rook keen over and grip his face, pulling his mouth closer to where his fingers dexterously work. “Lucanis, please.” She moans, his name on her lips making his heart soar.

“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure.” He mumbles, dipping his mouth between her legs and tentatively taking a taste of Rook. It’s everything that he dreamed of, the way her fingers pull his hair, how her legs tremble around his face, how her eyes tighten close when Lucanis laps at her sex. Lucanis grips her thigh and lifts it, draping her leg over his shoulder and granting him further access. Unconsciously, Rook starts grinding on his face, his beard and mustache rubbing against the inside of her thighs softly. He takes a risk and moves his tongue lower to her entrance, teasing the inside of her hole with his mouth. Rook bucks even harder, chanting Lucanis’ name like how he used to chant the Maker’s in the Ossuary.

Lucanis has made the unfortunate mistake of letting Viago out of his sight. He’s unsure when, but the other man has crouched down behind Lucanis on his knees as well. He feels Viago’s long fingers trail the expanse of his back as his mouth latches onto Rook’s clit. Viago’s hands travel lower, then lower, until they’re cupping Lucanis’ ass. Lucanis’ brow furrows in pleasure when Viago spanks him, hard. Viago rubs the red, hand shaped welt beginning to form on Lucanis appreciatively before he moves in between Lucanis’ legs. He spits on his index and middle finger, creating some form of lubrication for Lucanis because Viago knows the man will need it.

With a surprising amount of care, Viago circles Lucanis’ hole. Lucanis isn’t unfamiliar with the sensation, but it’s another thing entirely for Viago to be the one performing this on him. Lucanis arches his back at the pleasure, pushing himself further between Rook’s legs. Viago takes things slowly, only rubbing the rim and adding a very small amount of pressure when Lucanis presses back against his fingers. The stimulation makes Lucanis moan wildly into Rook’s pussy, those vibrations in turn driving Rook even crazier. “Tell me if it’s too much.” Viago whispers, leaning over Lucanis and kissing his shoulder.

With as much restraint as he can muster, Viago pushes a finger inside of Lucanis. It’s enough to make Lucanis pull his mouth away from Rook and start kissing her thighs, the pleasure from both ends almost being too much for him. Viago winces against Lucanis’ skin, the tightness almost being enough to drive Viago to the edge and fuck him right now. Rook pets Lucanis’ hair lovingly, her touch enough to calm him down and focus on how the pain slowly ebbs into just pleasure. Viago works Lucanis’ hole for a while, giving him time to adjust to the idea of being filled, his tongue and teeth lapping at Lucanis’ neck. 

Lucanis returns his attention back to Rook, his passion for learning how to eat her out reignited by Viago’s fingers. The tip of his tongue circles her clitoris, noting how Rook enjoys more attention to the bundle of nerves than she does to any other part of her anatomy. She sighs with relief when Lucanis follows Viago’s guidance and drives a finger inside of Rook, his mouth still working her outer folds. Viago adds another finger inside of Lucanis, stretching the man to prepare him for the inevitable. It takes everything within Lucanis to relax and loosen up, as he expected this would happen, but actually having to practice to take Viago wholly is a different beast.

Viago’s pace quickens, the tension within Lucanis’ loins making his chest heave under the pressure of his impending orgasm. Rook is clearly close too, her hips snapping as she starts to fuck Lucanis’ face to chase her release. Lucanis relents, sticking his tongue out so Rook can use him however she wants. His nose bumps against her clit, and when Lucanis is finally able to open his eyes since Viago started fingering him, the sight of Rook is almost enough to push him completely over the edge. She’s sticky with sweat, her hands steadying Lucanis to give her more leverage and her nails digging into his scalp. Her pupils are blown out from arousal, making her eyes appear almost black. Her attention is entirely on Lucanis, the way he looks underneath her, how he moans partially from his own pleasure but also from her’s. “Lucanis, I’m so close–”

And just like that, Viago pulls out completely from Lucanis. The lack of stimulation makes Lucanis groan in frustration, turning around to glower at Viago. Rook, also denied of her orgasm, glares at Viago. While the looks from both assassins could probably kill most people, Viago is not most people. “Rook, lay down.” He commands, standing up briefly to grab a condom from her bedside table. She obeys him, grabbing a cushion and placing it underneath her lower back. Lucanis has yet to move, and with this view of Rook, he’s not sure he’ll ever want to leave. She instinctively wraps her legs around Lucanis’ hips, their two cores at the same height. He remembers something Viago did when he watched, and lowers his cock to Rook’s heat, slowly rubbing the shaft in between her lips. She squirms, her ankles latching together against Lucanis’ back. He presses his tip to her clit, adding just enough pressure to not completely slip inside, but enough so Rook’s back arches off the ground and her hands fly to Lucanis’ arms.

Viago rejoins them, slotting himself behind Lucanis between his legs while he slides the condom on. Lucanis moves to stand to grab one himself, but Rook stops him. “Don’t worry. Viago’s just a clean freak about certain…” She turns her head to the side. “Holes.” Lucanis blushes with understanding, and continues rutting against Rook. Her nails leave marks in his flesh, and she groans in anger. “Any day now, Viago!” He looks over Lucanis’ shoulder and tuts at Rook.

“So desperate.” Is all he says while removing Lucanis’ hand from his own cock. Viago grabs Lucanis’ member, now rubbing it against Rook. “May I?” He asks, and Lucanis enthusiastically nods. Viago guides Lucanis to Rook’s entrance, sinking Lucanis into her walls at an agonizing pace. Lucanis and Rook moan at the same time, his palms gripping her thighs just to pull her against him even more. 

He’s never felt this before, and although it’s probably obvious to Rook and Viago, they’re gracious enough to not say anything as he bites his bottom lip to hold the moans that threaten to spill out of his mouth and closes his eyes in fear of ejaculating early. It’s hot, hotter than his hand during the late nights spent in the Lighthouse where he’d lay there and think of Rook in this exact position just to get a few hours of rest. And tight, tighter than his collar when he’d look at Viago all those years ago across a banquet table and find his hard stare already fixed onto Lucanis. “Gracias a Hacedor–” The Spanish tumbles out from Lucanis before he realizes, his babbling more incoherent the deeper Viago moves Lucanis inside.

When he’s fully sheathed in Rook, her thighs plush against his, he stills for a moment, his brow knit in an emotion unreadable by Viago or Rook. He breathes in through his nose, out his mouth, Viago letting go of Lucanis and moving back behind him. “Lucanis? You okay?” Rook asks, worried.

“Yes.” Lucanis still has not opened his eyes.

“Are you sure? We can stop–”

“Please, no.” Lucanis whines. Viago chuckles from behind him.

“Is it everything you imagined, Lucanis?” Viago whispers into his ear, his own cock prodding against Lucanis. 

“It’s–” Lucanis gulps, every twitch of his body sending shocks down his spine. “It’s better. So much better.” Rook shifts underneath him, her own arousal mounting along with Lucanis’. 

“Rook usually likes to hear how good she feels.” Viago’s breath against Lucanis’ ear has him spinning, but he’s still grounded enough to catch the obvious hint. Lucanis cautiously opens one eye, then the other, returning to the situation at hand. He looks at where their two bodies meet, his shaft disappearing inside her, and almost comes right there. His eyes roam over Rook’s body, memorizing how she looks underneath him now, how her lips tremble at the smallest movement from Lucanis. Moving a hand to her face, he strokes her cheek with his thumb and brushes some of her hair out of the way. She smiles up at him, small and soft, like even now she’s afraid that he won’t like what he sees. Or maybe it’s that, in this moment, she sees Lucanis for who he is completely and won’t look away, despite everything.

“You’re beautiful.” Lucanis says, ignoring how absolutely wonderful she feels wrapped around him. Rook glances away, tilting her head as though her beauty and grace are something to be ashamed of. Gently, Lucanis uses his thumb to guide her gaze back to his, and he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. “May I?” Lucanis asks for permission to move. Rook nods, her hands moving to his and intertwining their fingers together.

When Lucanis first pulls out and thrusts inside her, he’s almost certain he won’t last longer than two minutes. He’s unsure how he’ll live without this for the rest of his life, Rook’s whines and gasps making his head spin. His hips slap against her’s, trying to find a comfortable rhythm that won’t make him come without warning. “Don’t start without me.” Viago grumbles, lining himself up with Lucanis’ entrance and finding a grip on Lucanis’ hips. Lucanis stills once again, completely inside Rook, knowing that if he was moving while Viago first pressed inside him he would surely release his arousal in mere seconds.

Viago’s tip presses against Lucanis’ hole, and he slowly moves past Lucanis’ rim to his warm insides. Both men let out guttural moans, Lucanis more so, Viago taking as much time as he wants to completely fill the other man. Lucanis’ hands tighten within Rook’s, squeezing her so hard that her fingertips turn red for a moment. “So good, so good for me…” Viago mumbles, beginning to move back and forth inside Lucanis. While Lucanis has more girth than Viago, Viago is long, longer than anything Lucanis has ever put inside himself. His thrusts push and pull Lucanis inside Rook, doing all the work for him, the overstimulation almost too much for Lucanis. 

Viago finds a rhythm more quickly than Lucanis, the experienced man laughing at the state of the one sandwiched between him and Rook. “Can’t take it Lucanis? You can always tap out, you know. Settle for watching, like you usually do.” The challenge is enough to make Lucanis rise to the occasion. He matches Viago’s tempo, the sound of skin slapping skin almost drowning out how all three moan lewdly. Viago takes control, angling his hips up to hit Lucanis’ prostate, attempting to break Lucanis’ concentration on not coming. Lucanis cusses, out of arousal and anger.

“You’re not–not being fair.” He whines, pressing his face into the crook of Rook’s neck and biting down. She gasps, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“Hard to be, when you look like this.” Viago traces Lucanis’ back muscles, watching how they go taunt with every touch. He briefly interlocks his hand with Rook, squeezing her palm in appreciation before increasing his speed. “How does it feel, Lucanis? Use your words.” Lucanis is silent, the only thoughts he’s able to comprehend fully being Rook and Viago, earning another spank from Viago. He pulls up, away from Rook, leaning against Viago’s chest and tilting his head to make eye contact with him.

“Incredible. You–She–Both of you feel incredible.” Viago looks down at Rook, raising an eyebrow, asking if she deems his answer acceptable or not. She smiles and nods, lifting her legs so that her feet rest on Lucanis’ shoulder. Viago is relentless; he kisses Lucanis, his tongue moving in tandem with his and growling when Lucanis moans into his mouth. Rook reaches a hand down between her own legs and stimulates herself, her core tightening in pleasure not only at the sight of Viago and Lucanis but also at how her fingers rub against her clitoris perfectly. Lucanis stutters at the new sensation, breaking the kiss to moan her name. “I’m…I’m close–”

“Just a little longer, Lucanis.” Viago’s teeth are gritted, his own orgasm now imminent as well.

“I can’t–” Lucanis’ hips stutter again. He starts to imagine how it’d feel to completely empty himself inside of Rook, what it looked like when Viago did the same, how he said he’d breed her–

Viago pulls out completely. Lucanis gasps at the sudden feeling of emptiness, how it’s almost painful, and stills inside of Rook. Viago uses his strength to pull Lucanis out of her, and stands over the other two, taking the condom off. Maker, if this is what Rook went through every time she had sex with him, Lucanis could see why she was hell bent on annoying the shit out of him everywhere else. Tears form in the corner of his eyes, his cock being so sensitive from his two denied orgasms that it hurts. “Lucanis, lay down.” If Viago feels bad, he certainly doesn’t let it show. Rook wipes Lucanis’ tears away, sympathetic to his plight, and helps him lay down on the chaise. Viago grabs another condom and slides it on while Rook shifts on top of Lucanis, resting on his upper thigh to give him more time to rest. 

No one speaks, but they move as one, Viago coming up behind Rook much like he did with Lucanis, and picking her hips up so that her core rests on top of Lucanis’ member. She gasps with Lucanis, his hands coming up to grab at anything, eventually finding her thighs. Rook and Viago look down at him, watching as she raises her hips and tantalizingly lowers herself onto Lucanis, his moans increasing in volume as he finds himself back inside of her. Lucanis’ eyes flit between the two of them, how Viago kisses Rook’s neck, how his hands grab her breasts from behind. Viago licks a long strip from her shoulder to her neck, making Rook shudder. 

Maker, this is addicting. They’re addicting.

Rook bounces on top of him, the sounds from where their bodies meet so obscene that Lucanis blushes at the idea of anyone walking by her room at this hour. She leans down and kisses Lucanis, her whimpers against his lips making him grunt in anticipation of his orgasm. He wraps his arms around her and begins to pound up, taking control for the first time since the night began. Rook wails in surprise, biting down onto Lucanis’ lip so hard she draws blood. 

Viago presses against her other entrance, only giving a few seconds of warning before he sheathes himself inside of her completely in one motion. It’s enough to knock the air out of her, her arms tightening around Lucanis’ neck for support as she puts her entire weight onto him. Viago would never admit it, but he’s as sensitive right now as the other two are. The way his cock feels inside Rook, how he can feel Lucanis move in and out of her, how Lucanis’ and Rook’s lips move against each other sloppily is almost enough to make him come right now. He holds onto the last shred of his self control, his hands gripping onto Rook’s ass and spreading her cheeks apart to get a better look. He makes a noise in between a chuckle and a moan, watching how Lucanis’ and his cocks move in tandem with each other, one pulling out while the other pushes in.

“How are you feeling, Viago?” Lucanis mutters, breaking his kiss with Rook briefly to speak. Viago’s eyes roam up the expanse of Rook’s back to Lucanis’ face, where he sees a string of spit connecting the two of them. Lucanis’ lips are red and glossy, his entire face scrunched up in concentration. Viago laughs at Lucanis’ question, the tables now turned on him as he struggles to find the words.

“Never better.” Is his response, each word punctuated by a particularly hard thrust. “Rook? You okay?” He asks. She doesn’t speak, merely groaning in affirmation against Lucanis’ shoulder. Viago decides to let it slide for now. All of his thoughts are dominated by this moment: the sound of their bodies moving against each other, the taste of Rook and Lucanis’ lips against his, the feeling of Rook’s body being able to take both of them. Lucanis seems to be a natural at this, his hands finding Rook’s hips once again and moving them for her when she can’t. She is completely fucked out of her mind, which is exactly where Viago wants her. “Perfect.” He whispers, low enough that even Lucanis can’t hear.

It’s only a few more thrusts from both of them when Rook chimes in. “I’m gonna–” She pauses when Lucanis winces in pleasure, her voice enough to bring him to completion. “–Gonna come.” Viago pushes his hair out of his face before leaning down over the other two. The motion presses his cock inside of her against Lucanis’, whose eyes roll into the back of his head.

“I’m close too.” He stammers out, nerves almost getting the better of him when Viago’s hard stare flicks to him. “Please, Viago…” His heart flips when he remembers how Rook said the exact same thing just a couple days ago. It feels like a lifetime ago now. Viago considers the both of them, his abdomen tensing as he also comes close to the edge. While he could go at this for hours, unfortunately for all three of them they have lives to return to. He moves his lips mere inches away from Lucanis’, teasing him with the promise of a kiss. 

“Come for me.” He murmurs, pressing his mouth against Lucanis’ as the other two practically sigh in relief, finally being allowed to orgasm. The way Viago grunts into Lucanis’ mouth is enough to tip him over, spilling himself into Rook’s messy cunt. The feeling of Lucanis’ seed being released in her makes Rook clench hard around the both of them, her orgasm washing over her in waves. Her thighs tremble as Lucanis continues to fuck her through his own orgasm, ensuring nothing is wasted. Viago is the last to finish, pressing a final harsh thrust into her as he comes. Lucanis’ tongue moves with Viago’s, his cock still shallowly thrusting into her as her release starts to subside. 

There’s a long, long break before anyone moves. Viago pulls out, careful not to hurt Rook, pressing a kiss against her ear. “You were perfect. An absolute dream.” He mutters, tasting the sweat that sticks to her body. Lucanis picks Rook up for a moment, only to also pull out, before setting her down gently on top of him. The only thing he can hear is Rook’s breath against his neck, and her heart beating against his chest. It hammers loudly although her breathing is slowed, a cheap shot at calming her entire body down so that way she’ll be able to actually stand tomorrow morning. Lucanis’ hands stroke through her hair, pulling her so close that their bodies could almost meld into one.

Viago bends down, pressing his knee into the chaise, and spreads Rook’s legs, using his thumb to slip inside her vagina and groaning a long chain of curses when Lucanis’ cum drips out of her. Rook jumps at his touch, still sensitive after being rutted against by the two of them. When Viago removes his fingers from inside her, Rook sighs in relief, but cries out once more when Viago attaches his mouth to her core instead. His tongue digs inside her, pulling more of Lucanis’ seed out of her and into his mouth.

She pushes herself up onto her hands and arches her back, moaning deliciously while Viago grips her backside and spreads her even more. While he grunts into her, his mouth against her wet cunt creates such crass sounds that Lucanis breathlessly laughs in equal parts embarrassment but also arousal. Viago swallows everything he can get, uncaring whether it came from Rook or Lucanis. He laps at her outer folds, his mouth sucking on her sensitive bud and forcing Rook to cover her mouth so she doesn’t scream.

Finally, Viago relents, pulling his mouth away from her core with a satisfying pop. Lucanis gazes at him in amazement, the other man standing over the two and his icy stare meeting Lucanis’ wide eyed face. He notices how some of Lucanis’ release drips down his own chin; and without breaking eye contact, swipes his thumb across his face and licks, swallowing deeply. Lucanis’ cock jumps at the mere sight of Viago consuming a part of him, all while Rook’s body presses against him in all the right places.

Lucanis brings a weary hand to his face and rubs his eyes, sighing. “You’re going to kill me.” Again, he’s unsure who exactly he’s speaking to.

[mageknife]

"do i like veilguard? yes. do i think it’s good? not really. do i think it’s a good dragon age game? definitely not." shaking your hand on that one. this is how i feel about it after backplaying the rest of the games too.

like i’ve had enough fun with it that i’m replaying it! a lot! but it’s the da game that leaves me with the least to think about when i’m not actively playing it, and certainly the least positive things to dwell on. i have like 250 hours in veilguard and 30 in da2 but da2 has had a significantly bigger lasting impact on me and i spend way more time engaging with it outside of physically playing it. veilguard is fun and pretty and you can make a cool character but underneath that there’s very little depth, very little nuance, and a story that’s removed enough from the preexisting world in setting, tone, and overall narrative that it barely feels like canon

[mosswiind]

RANKING THE VEILGUARD COMPANIONS AS SPICY PARTNERS

This is definitively correct and I will not be accepting feedback.

In seventh and last place, we have our sweet boy Lucanis.

He's so into you. Spite is at least the same amount of into you. Lucanis though, is wildly inexperienced. Dude blacked out seeing Rook of any gender without a top on. A single titty would put this man in the hospital.

As a person who has slept with a lot of people, enthusiasm does not always compensate for skill. Lucanis would be very sweet, and apologizing because this has literally never happened to him before.

In sixth, we have Bellara.

Bellara is wonderful! But, similar to Lucanis, she's pretty inexperienced, and not in a position to acquire more experience without Rook’s involvement. She did date Irelin, but Irelin also doesn't give "exciting spicy partner" vibes. I feel like she would be enthusiastic about figuring out what you both like! It would just take some time to get there. She would also be very open to using magical aids. Electrical magic? Hell yeah.

She's also absolutely a bottom and if that's a consideration for you, she would be very good at it.

In fifth, we have Harding.

Harding is one long conversation away from being down for some Actual Freak Shit. She's already down, she just doesn't know what to ask for.

HOWEVER. Harding has precisely zero game, so it may feel a little silly while y'all figure your stuff out.

It will be good, it will also be clumsy and sweet.

In fourth, Taash.

Taash is similar to Harding, but has more sexual experience. They are also a confirmed top. Those are rare! They are coded to feel like they're in their early twenties, and extremely athletic, so stamina would not at any point be an issue. I've seen some comments that their bluntness would be bad for dirty talk/having game - those people didn't have to take a minute to do some deep breathing after the Taamlok scene, and also do not have taste. Taash will break you in half in a good way. Taash is a capital T Top and honestly, I respect it.

In third, Davrin.

Davrin, in a different group, would be the top pick. He's cocky, confident, has game for days. He's not a snack, he's a meal, and he is very aware of that. In my experience, banging Extremely Hot Dudes can go one of two ways; it's either sex you will wake up thinking about ten years later, or it will be like, extremely mid. I have faith in his ability. He is also a top, but I feel like he would also be into another top so there's a Fight (America's Next Top Model theme plays).

Thrill of the chase, indeed.

In second, Emmrich.

I know Emmrich is a canonical sex god. I know a bunch of y'all are extremely horny for Dr. Hose Goat. He caught me on the back foot a couple of times.

I also understand that this is a community that is very into Hot Authority Figures Who Remind You To Drink Water. There's a top shortage. I know what you people are like. I get it.

In first, it's the internet's wife, Neve Gallus.

Neve reads people for a living. She's also hot, emotionally unavailable, and would rather make out than acknowledge she has Actual Human Feelings. She's so locked into everything going on around her that she knows what you want before you do.

She's also creative at problem solving - no good surface? No problem. Just...not her desk, probably. There's a lot of notes to get displaced, and she has a hard enough time with the wisps. She will not allow your dumb ass to be too horny for organization.

Also - frost magic for you sensory seekers, and the ability to slow down time. I feel like we're all on the same page about the possibilities.

Your brain will melt out of your ears. You will not be able to stand. For days, potentially.

She's also a switch, depending on the vibes presented.

Emotionally unavailable romantics will ruin your life.

[dragonbabes]

Ok this might be cheesy but in my Crow!Rook play-through, I’ve had Lucanis on my team since we yoinked him out of the Ossuary. I have done quite a bit since then, and have now finally decided to give the man a damn break. My brain, dreamer that it is, took the thought and ran.

Rook leaves with Davrin and Bellara. Lucanis thinks now he has time to sit and catch up on the missives from contacts he’s let pile up, maybe try that new brew Teia got him as a “welcome-back-from-the-dead” present.

But as he works, he finds his gaze trailing toward the door of the dining hall, expecting to catch sight of that lopsided grin — one that makes his heart forget itself and stutter — burst through the doors. He’s gotten use to the sound of Rook, it seems. He enjoys some quiet with his coffee, anyway.

Sighing down into the seat at the fire, the assassin inhales that warm, rich coffee frangrence rising with the steam. He gives it a light swirl; a very light, practiced movement of his wrist. His brow pinches slightly at the sharp pain racing up his arm, the result of a nasty blow from a hurlock and a sloppy block on his part.

Rook was quick to take the hurlocks attention with a precisely aimed arrow that had embedded itself in the hurlocks throat… He’d expected the dark spawn to fall over, but it charged the younger crow.

The fight was brutal — Lucanis shudders at what would’ve happened if all the darkspawn they put down that day would’ve gotten into Minrathous’ streets — and Rook, he remembers, took a few blows themselves.

The cup pauses just as it touches Lucanis’ lips. Trouble finds Rook… Or perhaps it’s Rook who finds it (maybe they’re one and the same). What sort of trouble has that reckless assassin found this time? Will Davrin know to keep an eye on Rook’s left, which they always leave open?

Is Rook cutting it too damn close right now? As he sits there, hesitating to drink his perfect brew, Rook could be fighting. Could be bleeding.

Could be loosing.

“Where is Rook?” Spite asks.

And all Lucanis can manage is a quiet response, nearly a mumble as the flicker of the fires flames consume him while that feeling — the feeling of a hand around his throat, tightening, heart moving from a flutter at the thought of Rook to an aching thud — is consuming his chest, “I don’t know.”

Rook has made it this far without him. They’re strong; the strongest he’s ever known. And with a beautiful smile, too. A dimple that forms in their cheeks, and a curve of their eye to illuminate that mischievous spark. A laugh, strong and sweet, like the feeling of the sun hitting his face for the first time after leaving the Ossuary… The only reason he is out of that hellhole -

“You gonna drink that?” Hardings voice snaps him from the flames. Her brow raises and her mouth wobbles with a smirk, “You’ve been staring at the fire like that for minutes.”

“Ah, I was lost in thought.” He disarms her with a quick smile. A delicious brew will make a person think. He will miss the taste when he finds the bottom of the cup. Which he will. It’s inevitable.

All delicious things come to an end.

Lucanis takes a small sip…

Anyways that’s what I started thinking about before I entered the crossroads… I’m gonna go recruit Taash now 💕

[raymurata]

Just scroll (or go ahead and block my #dav critical tag) if you don't wanna read me whining abt Bellara's Archive choice again, but I'm not done with the salt.

What bugs me isn't that the choice to destroy the archive exists, it's that the game frames it, through its UI (which is the closest thing we have to a nonbiased narrator in this medium), as equally weighted against the opposite choice.

If they had worded it like this:

"Free the archive (the knowledge will be lost)" x "Keep the archive (the knowledge will be kept)"

With no extra commentary, then that would be better. If you got to be openly racist against the Dalish or openly in favor of the Dalish, period. Just like in previous games.

Bellara says "(the archive would help us) get back what made us who we were," and "With it, we could be that again."

Which is funny because... People don't study history to return to the past. It's fine if Bellara is idealistic and saying whatever unrealistic, grandiose dreams she and Cyrian had, but the Dalish would never (could never) become like the ancient elves again. For starters there is a Veil now. So what it would in fact do is help them understand where they come from, what they've been through, and trace the changes in their culture.

Of course our modern historians and scientists have tried to reclaim lost technology, too. They've figured out how the Romans made their extra sturdy concrete, and scientists in Brazil have long been trying to replicate the extra fertile Terra Preta from indigenous peoples that lived in the Amazon basin, and several South American historians would love to know how exactly the Inca used the quipu as a writing system aside from counting tool, etc... And that's super cool!!! And maybe (but that's a big maybe) the Archive could give the Dalish a technological edge to carve a corner of the world for themselves without the constant struggle with Tevinter trying to enslave them or Andrastians trying to subjugate them.

But I personally don't think anyone's reading Aztec accounts of human sacrifices to replicate the same practices in modern cults, or that there is an army out there utilizing Roman decimation as a method of discipline. We're using different horrific methods of control now, lol.

But let's say a modern general does decide that the best way to punish a battalion for one man's insurgence is to force every group of ten soldiers to violently murder the 10th man.... Do you really think that the fault would lie with the historian who unearthed that information and put it on Wikipedia? Or the insane general that decided to do this? Would modern morality and laws allow for that punishment to be executed? Do you think that the existence of that article online is inherently dangerous and controversial, and that it should be taken down? Do you think this general would have been a good and non-violent general if he hadn't ever read about Decimation? Or is it clear to you that violence and ingenuity are both inherent to mortals as a whole and can't be so easily blamed on the spread of knowledge?

Because it's not clear to DAV. The game (not Bellara, not Varric) words it very unambiguously as a dichotomy: The only safe way to deal with this Archive is to destroy it. Keeping it is inherently dangerous because the knowledge could fall in "the wrong hands."

What Bellara says is "Cyrian is gone because of what that thing knew," and "what about the bad side, the other things we did?" and "We stole the dwarves' dreams."

Again, she gets to say whatever she wants because she's a character and she's an anxious, idealistic mess. Love her for it. I like that she feels guilt here too because she has been established (through her way of dealing with Cyrian's first death) as someone who takes the blame for mistakes she didn't even commit (She certainly isn't responsible for Solas' actions). She's someone who drives herself sick cooking up the most horrific scenarios in her mind, and she's so compassionate she can't stand the thought of being the one perpetrating violence against innocents. Her misplaced guilt and dread are the emotions that lead her to consider destroying the Archive.

But no matter how guilty a young german may feel about the holocaust, destroying knowledge about gas chambers is not what will prevent other genocides from happening around the world. Individual guilt is barely productive.

Furthermore, Corinne Bursche says that DAV gives you a choice between "destroying" or "sharing" elven knowledge, which is not how the game worded it. But the point still stands even if the Veil Jumpers, for some condescending plot reason, completely lost control of this knowledge, or were so flippant as to put everything on Thedas' wikipedia without curing it at all.

Let's accept, too, that the Archive contains knowledge of how to build something equivalent to nuclear weapons, which one could argue is in fact truly dangerous, but... Well. Do you think it's fair that the countries that have nuclear arsenals are some of the most vocal about the dangers of other countries ever developing their own?

Because that's what it feels like, to me, when the game calls elven knowledge dangerous without ever allowing you to question -- what about Tevinter rituals and magic? Tevinter's millennium of slavery, still in practice at present day? Should we destroy all their libraries too to keep the world safe from dangerous magics? Why do we only get to tell the Dalish, the nomad nations severely subjugated in present Thedas (If you ever played the previous games and have the context, at least, since this game that happens in Tevinter somehow manages to completely gloss over racism against elves as if it never existed) to destroy a one-of-a-kind, ancient trove of knowledge? And have it be framed as good and safe? As "moving forward"?

If you choose to free the archive, Rook says "The elves deserve the chance to chart their own course" to which Bellara answers "Right. Define ourselves by who we are, not who we were," but once again that writing just makes me question Bioware -- Do they not understand the point of history at all? Do they think indigenous peoples are monoliths stuck in the past if they choose to study the history they lost to colonialism? What purpose do they think that keeping that history and culture extinct serves? Who do they think it benefits?

If you step outside of what the game is telling you as fact and think for yourself, with the context of the other DA games in mind, do you still agree that it's inherently dangerous to keep the Archive? Do you still think these are equally morally weighted choices?

Or would you agree that DAV has to subtly convince you, out of character, that keeping this knowledge is inherently dangerous to make this dichotomy make sense?

Again. This wouldn't bug me if they just owned up to the fact your protagonist can, once again, genocide elves/their culture, just like in previous games. And scapegoat present elves too for the sins of their thousand-years-old tyrants, now suddenly returned (it would make so much sense for characters in the narrative to scapegoat the elves, and for us as heroes to fight against that. But no, they don't even go there except through Bellara's guilt.). It's just bizarre to have an elven historian guiltily agreeing with destroying the Archive and then telling us "The Evanuris broke us and kept us broken" without anyone, either Rook or her, ever mentioning a thousand years of Tevinter slavery and several centuries of Andrastian persecution and subjugation.

No. The Evanuris are the be-all and end-all of evil and everything bad that ever happened in Thedas, ever, can be traced back to them.

[rookamell]

Just Sweet Enough

Pairing: Lucanis x f!Rook

Summary: Rewrite of the relationship lock in scene

Notes: I need them to kiss here and I need it to be sweet and this happened. Bioware please hire me to write a dlc for u I'll do it for free I swear. Spite dialogue in italics.

"Emmrich, I need your help."

Emmrich looked up from the tome he'd been reading. A fascinating history on Arlathan that Bellara had thought he might enjoy.

"Lucanis," he said jovially, glad to see the man was feeling better, looking slightly more rested.

"Rook told me about your little fade expedition," he said. "Is there something amiss?"

He'd ached to go and ask Lucanis and Spite about exactly what had been going on with them, but Rook had told him not to. Told him to let them get some rest, so he'd settled for grilling her about it instead, until she'd been all but falling asleep on his shoulder.

He did think sometimes she indulged him a bit too much.

"No," Lucanis said, pulling Emmrich back to the present, "I think we've... reached an agreement. Somehow."

We have. A deal. Spite sounded different. Not happy, persay, but... Emmrich struggled to think of a word for it.

Determined?

The younger man's hand went to the back of his neck.

"With Rook's help, no doubt," Emmrich said. "Remarkable young woman."

"She is," Lucanis said, and Emmrich did not miss the way his voice softened when he did.

"That is... actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. He gestured at the couch next to Emmrich.

"Of course, my dear boy, sit!" He scooted over slightly. It was his favourite place to sit, beneath the astrolabe in the library. Oh, he could spend hours on that couch, provided Manfred brought him enough tea.

"Is something the matter with Rook?" He asked.

"No," Lucanis said quickly. "No, nothing is the matter, not that she has told me. I just... want to..." he trailed off, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Faintly, Emmrich could hear Spite talking.

Thoughts are too loud when he thinks of her. Feel. Too much. Honey and lightning and home. He's stupid.

"I want to do something for her," he said finally, quietly.

"And I'm sorry to ask you, but Davrin would talk to me in hunting metaphors as if they are even remotely the same thing, Bellara would start talking about something else entirely, and Neve wouldn't know about any of this if it stabbed her in the neck."

Emmrich supressed a grimace. An accurate summary of their travelling companions, if a tad unsympathetic.

"She is- she deserves- " he sighed, he ran a hand across his face in defeat.

"Well, then," Emmrich said, taking pity on him, putting a hand on Lucanis's shoulder. "I'm sure she'd be delighted. If it came from you."

"But that is the problem," he said, almost panicked. "I am an assassin, Emmrich. All I know is death. What could I ever possibly do for her?"

He looked down at his hands, open now in his lap.

"How could I ever thank her for... " he closed his eyes, blew a long breath out of his nose.

Emmrich thought about it for a moment. Oh, there was no question that young Rook was infatuated with him, and he with her. No question at all. But how could they prove it to each other? To themselves?

"Hmmm," he hummed as he thought, and then an idea came to him.

"Surely," he said, his brows raising innocently, "You can think of one other thing you might be good at?"

Lucanis looked at him, lost. Emmrich almost laughed at him.

Good at making. To eat! Slice things! BURN THINGS! HA!

"I think Spite has the right of it, there," he said with a grin. "Sort of."

"Cooking?" Lucanis asked. "You think I should cook her something?"

"I think our Rook has a lot of worries," he said. "I think that she would appreciate someone taking the time to think of her, and do something special. Romance, or whatever you would like to call it, Lucanis, is about the small details."

"I know that," Lucanis replied. "But cooking? I cook every day. Almost every day."

"Do you make something with her in mind? Something to bring her some comfort? It's no small thing, making a meal for someone."

Lucanis sat for a moment, frowning at the floor in front of him, then his expression lifted.

"Emmrich," he said, grinning, "I think you might be right. I'll see you at dinner."

We go to Burn Things! For Rook!

He stood and walked to the door, then turned with his hand on the handle.

"You wouldn't... happen to know a dessert that pairs well with coffee, would you?"

***

Lucanis was just adding the last sprinkle of chopped hazelnuts to the torte when the door opened.

"Rook!" He said, his voice pitched too high. He cleared his throat.

Oh, mierda. He should have put someone outside the door to keep her away. Spite should have told him she was coming. Damned demon.

"Lucanis?" She said uncertainly, frowning at him. She walked toward the kitchen, and he tried to stand in front of the stove so she wouldn't see what he was making.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I was... hungry?" she said, one eyebrow lifting.

"I wanted to see if someone had started on dinner already. What are we having?"

She peered over his shoulder, and he could see her expression change as she beheld the pot, smelled the contents and connected the two things. He'd realised when he'd started cooking that he'd never made anything special for her before. It was always other people asking him for things. Katchapouri for Neve, spiced rices for Taash, turnips for Harding.

She never asked for anything, not even her mother's rabbit stew. It was Orlesian, she'd said, and the library had helpfully provided him a recipe.

A part of him felt ashamed, because it was such a small thing, the simplest thing he'd cooked since getting here, but he'd been so busy thinking about Illario, and Caterina, and Minrathous that he hadn't thought about what it might mean to her to have something from home.

A different part, a bigger part, the part that her presence in his life had woken up, that part was determined to make it up to her, no matter what.

"Wait..." she said slowly, her eyebrows lifting in surprise, "Is that...?"

"You said it was your favourite," he said, and he couldn't help that his voice became soft as he said it.

"In a passing comment weeks ago," she said, shaking her head. His heart broke when she looked at him, because there was disbelief on her face, as if he wouldn't remember everything she'd ever said to him. As if he'd dare forget any little thing that added up to who she was.

"You remembered?" She asked, her dimples appearing as she smiled. Her voice was so small and fragile that he almost couldn't bear it.

"Of course," he said, trying for a grin. "And a hazelnut torte for dessert. It pairs well with the coffee you like."

"You- " she stopped, shook her head. "You made all of this for me?"

"There is enough for everyone," he said, trying for levity. Immediately, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. She wilted slightly.

Wrong, wrong, wrong! It made her smaller!

Of course he felt like saying something now, Lucanis thought, annoyed. More at himself.

"Well," she said, and he heard how she tried to hide how much it meant to her, crossing her arms in front of her chest like a shield. Mierda, he didn't want her to hide anything from him, ever again.

"As long as they're fine with having my favourite meal."

"They won't complain."

She was quiet for a moment, frowning at the stove.

"You didn't have to do anything special for me," she finally said, quietly.

You are. Making it. WORSE. Make it. BETTER.

"Yes, I did," he said quickly, and she looked back at him. Maker's blood, he was listening to a demon tell him how to talk to her. He wasn't used to this, to holding something as fragile as her heart. "I still don't know how to apologize for... everything."

And there was so much to apologize for. To thank her for.

"And you- "

"You made Orlesian stew, and dessert," she said, cutting him off because she knew, of course she knew he didn't know how he wanted to finish that sentence. She gave him a grin that punched straight through his chest. Mierda, she was still trying to make him feel better.

"Just for me."

"It's nothing," he said, earnestly. Just then, Emmrich's idea felt decidedly laclustre. He felt decidedly laclustre.

"Or, not enough."

"It is."

Her smile was soft. Soft enough that he almost believed it when she said,

"And you are."

And you are.

Then her grin turned more crooked, her eyes sparking with mischief.

"And I'm perhaps too easily bribed by sweets."

"I'll... keep that in mind," he said, smiling back. He realised he could stare at her forever, if she let him. He also realised he'd been doing it too long, and quickly cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Rook," he managed after a moment. "I suppose that is what I wish to say."

"Oh," she waved a hand dismissively, her grin turning decidedly crooked. "What are friends for, if not to break you out of your mind... fade... prison... thing?"

He looked at her, and those weeks of trying to pretend that he felt nothing, that it was just Spite, that he wasn't good enough, that an assassin should not get attached, worried that her kindness and trust was something to be wary of, piles and piles of excuses, all went through his head. Weeks of being so worried about Illario and Caterina that he'd missed the fact he'd never made her dinner before.

For once, he agreed with Spite. Because he was an idiot.

She changed everything. And perhaps the world might end, and he might have to kill his cousin, but just then, looking into her eyes, he wasn't scared anymore. Not of this.

"Friends?" He asked softly.

She blinked. Then frowned at him.

"What else- "

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

"You mean- ?"

Then her expression melted, and his heart broke, because before she turned away from him, he could see her write this off as something she didn't deserve, as one more thing that could go wrong. As if there was anything she could do that would change what he felt for her. As if she wasn't the best thing he'd ever been given a chance to know.

"You don't have to- "

Whatever she was going to say was cut off, because he kissed her.

Despite his fears and excuses and dissmissal of his feelings for her, since that first coffee at Cafe Pietra he'd pictured this moment so many times it had almost become rote. He'd pictured it happening in Treviso, at Cafe Pietra. On the beach in Rivain, beneath the stars, or in Arlathan, with drops of rain falling off the leaves they were sheltering beneath. In his dreams, there'd been lightning, and fire and ice and butterflies after he'd said exactly the right things, done exactly the right things, charmed her the way Illario would charm someone, and given her a first kiss worthy of a romance book.

This was not that.

It was a peck, and he hadn't even thought about it, and she was looking at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I want to," he said, breathless. Maker, he wondered if a proper kiss would kill him.

Hesitantly, he cupped her cheek with his hand. To his relief, she didn't pull away.

"You know my mind better than anyone," he said. From this close, he could count the little brown specks floating in the grey of her wonderful eyes. "I've wanted to. But I was... scared. And an idiot."

Her hand came up and closed around his wrist, like she was trying to find something to hold on to.

Or trying to keep him from leaving.

"What changed?" She asked, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say she looked scared.

"You," he said simply. "You change everything."

Rook opens locks.

She smiled hesitantly, and the only thing he could compare it to was the first breath of fresh air he'd taken outside of the Ossuary.

It wasn't in Treviso, beneath the lantern light, or on the beach beneath the stars. He hadn't said the right things, not the way he wanted to, but she'd understood. And when she leaned forward, her soft lips were warm against his own. Warm, and unsure, and sweet.

Not what he'd dreamed. Better. Because this was real.

He wondered where he should put his hands. He wanted to pull her closer, or perhaps run his fingers through her hair, or maybe he should keep a hand on her cheek...?

"What is it?" She asked quietly, pulling away slightly, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I don't know where to put my hands," he said, stupidly. But then she laughed softly, and suddenly it seemed nothing else in the world truly mattered.

She took his hands and put them around her waist, and her own arms closed around his neck, pulling him close again.

"I think this is good," she said, and Maker help him, he could smell the lightning on her hair she was so close.

"So?" He asked her, allowing a satisfied grin to steal across his features, "How would you describe the taste?"

She looked up at the ceiling, considering.

"Just sweet enough," she touched her nose to his, then frowned, as if in thought.

"With a hint of hazelnut."

He laughed, breathless.

"You're blushing," she breathed when he stopped, grinning, her eyes filled with wonder, a finger gently tracing along his cheekbone.

"I'm happy," he said, realising he meant it for the first time in a very long time as his hands splayed across her back. "You make me happy."

He kissed the grin off her face, deciding that was a better use of both their breaths than talking.

"Oh!"

Lucanis almost pulled out a knife when Rook pulled away, startled by the noise.

Neither of them had heard footsteps, and he realised belatedly that the door was still open from her earlier entrance. Sloppy, dangerous, but just then he'd never felt further removed from Caterina's strict lessons on discipline.

"Bellara!" Rook said, staring at the elf, who was staring at them. Lucanis watched as a blush spread across her cheeks, and couldn't help but feel a strange pride at it's appearance.

"We were just- " she looked to him for help.

"Finishing dinner," he said, aware he was still smiling, aware he still had his arms wrapped around her, aware he didn't care, not in the slightest.

"Oh, that's ok!" Bellara said, striving for casual and not achieving it in the slightest.

"I'm... gonna go. And come back later!" She said, "And definitely not tell Neve!"

She was gone before either of them could say another word, the door closing behind her, leaving them alone together in the firelight.

Rook turned back to him, her head dropping onto his shoulder as she laughed tiredly.

"Who's blushing now?" He asked her softly.

She lifted her head and levelled a playfull scowl at him.

"Shouldn't you be cooking?"

He grinned, pulling her closer to him.

"In a second," he murmured, before he kissed her again, and somehow, every time, it seemed to get better.

[talesofesther]

something worth losing

Neve Gallus x Rook

Summary: Neve didn't ask for much. She didn't ask for attention or for people to stick with her. Yet one taste from Rook got her yearning to bend her own rules and ask, anyway.

A/N: I love them so much. They're gonna be the death of me, I swear. Another little moment between my two babies, this time with a little more personal touch regarding my Rook. <3

Masterlist

"Venhedis", Neve hissed through her teeth, instinctively scrunching her brow when the sharp pain bit at her skin and regretting it soon after, as the motion only worsened her predicament.

Neve had snuck into the dining room of the Lighthouse, where she knew a small mirror lay forgotten on the counter beside the stove. She could have gone to Bellara's room, no shortage of mirrors there, but Neve knew the elf was working on her archive and she didn't want to bring unnecessary worry.

Because, Neve was trying to take off the stitches closing the wound on her forehead.

They needed to come off, Neve decided this morning. The wound she had gotten when she followed Rook to the heart of Solas' ritual was almost healed, even the black and blues around her eye were barely visible anymore, so she figured the stitches could go too.

A mistake, maybe. The small mirror Neve used as her guide wasn't much help, as her fingers accidentally tugged and twisted the small stitches in ways they weren't supposed to go. Her skin around the healing scar started to turn a bit red, still quite sensitive and now hurting because of Neve's less-than-gentle ministrations.

The mage huffed, sitting back on her stool and dropping her hands to her lap. A soft crackle coming from the ever-burning fire of the hearth caught Neve's attention, it bathed the dining room in warm tones of yellow and orange, reflecting against pans and porcelain plates.

It was still a bit of a mystery to her; why she had so promptly and willingly followed Rook into a dangerous ritual upon knowing the woman for no longer than a couple hours back then. Neve spoke of delivering a job well done, and while that was true, she had a feeling she'd have done the same regardless.

Neve picked at her nails, pointer finger to thumb, scraping the teal color—another thing that bothered her since then, she was usually better at keeping it neat.

Rook had a dangerous pull to her, something alluring. It beckoned Neve closer like a lighthouse did to lost ships drifting through tempestuous seas.

Neve pushed the feeling away and stored it in her heart's 'best ignored' drawer. Or she tried to.

The heavy dining room doors were pushed open, disrupting the silence, and in walked the subject of her troubles.

Rook had a whole apple held in her mouth, as the doors closed behind her again, she brought a hand up to hold the fruit, taking a bite out of it. The corner of her eyes scrunched with a smile when she spotted Neve sitting by the corner.

"Skipping dinner, Rook?" Neve teased in lieu of a greeting, a smirk to her lips.

Rook raised a finger as she swallowed, walking up to Neve. "Actually, I was just about to start making dinner." She left her apple on the counter beside Neve and leaned her hip against it. Her hair was damp, half of it haphazardly tied back. Her clothes were casual, even more so than usual; a blue shirt with a few buttons undone, sleeves a little too long almost covering her hands.

Neve hummed. The image of Rook like that—soft and ever so casual under the warm light of the fire, with an easy smile and pinkish cheeks from a recent hot bath—got Neve's heart stumbling in ways it shouldn't. She forced her eyes away. "Then I might be the one to skip dinner today."

"Hey," Rook grumbled in the same beat, crossing her arms over her chest as a stubborn child would, "I'm a decent cook."

"By whose standards?" Neve raised a brow, there was a playful edge to her voice, "I'm not sure the undead count as a valid opinion."

Rook rolled her eyes, but wasn't able to fight the grin stretching her lips. "Alright, it's not like I had that many options to practice with back in the Necropolis. But,"—her eyes lit up rather pridefully—"Lucanis has been introducing me to some Trevisan culinary, and says I'm a natural."

Neve chuckled, a quiet little thing as she averted her gaze back to her lap, where she fidgeted with the small scissors she'd been using to try and fail to cut her stitches earlier. For some reason, the thought of Rook spending time with Lucanis, alone, caused a bitter and heavy twist to Neve's chest. The smile on her lips faltered and faded, and she was glad her loose hair shielded her from Rook's attentive eyes.

Neve felt more than saw the way Rook walked around her, stepping closer, near the stove and the forgotten mirror lying beside it.

"What are you up to, anyway?" Rook asked, picking up the small mirror for a moment and putting it down again—always so antsy. She added, softer; "Hiding from the wisps?"

With a clearing of her throat, Neve schooled her expression back to something nonchalant and raised her gaze. "No, I…" She gestured to the stitches and scar on her forehead with a careless shrug, "I was trying to get these off." A humorless laugh. "Not much luck though."

Rook followed the motion, instinctively taking half a step closer to Neve; and with the detective still sitting on the tall stool, Rook was almost standing between her legs.

Neve gulped at the sudden proximity, feeling a little trapped, a little too hot. Her heart picked up pace and beat loudly in her ears.

"Oh," Rook whispered. She raised a hand before her brain could catch up with her actions, and Neve held her breath when the warmth of Rook's skin was just shy of touching her.

But Rook reeled herself in before it, blinking a couple of times. She lowered her hand and took a step back again, shifting on her feet. The air became something heavy between the two women, almost electrical.

"I could help, if you'd like." There was a timidness to Rook's voice that hadn't been there before, a deeper pink blush beneath the crooked scar across her cheek.

It was a peculiar thing, that scar, starting from behind Rook's chocolate-colored hair and ending just past her lower lip. When Neve caught herself stealing a glance at the end of it, she reasoned it was just curiosity at how such a mark came to be. There were others too, sometimes when Rook had a button or two of her blouse undone—like now, despite Neve trying not to think too deeply on it—bigger and harsher scars could be spotted, seemingly the same on each side of her chest and going lower on her stomach until it disappeared.

And Neve stared at Rook, eyebrows softly furrowing, as if she was a mystery for the detective to solve. A daunting case bound to end in disaster; she had always been a sucker for those.

Neve had taken small notes about each member of their team—a habit that came with the territory and she couldn't shake. Rook's was the one containing the most lines, and a small inquiry about the origin of her scars was among them.

Maybe someday she'd solve it.

Perhaps a little too late, Neve realized she still hadn't answered. Rook looked at her patiently though. Neve shook her head, feeling her cheeks warm up. "It's alright, you don't have to."

An unreadable expression clouded Rook's gaze then; as if taken back to a memory. "It's my fault you got that scar in the first place," Rook's voice became too gentle for Neve's liking. It was dangerous, when Rook spoke to her as if Neve was worth caring for.

Just as quickly, Rook's easy smile came back. "The least I can do is help you take care of it now."

A beat or two passed as Neve weighed her options. Rook offered a tempting bargain, and it was ever so difficult to tell her no.

Just like when Neve's smile gets a little too loose each time Rook makes those terrible puns and jokes, and she can't help but laugh anyway, because it's Rook who said them.

"Alright," Neve shrugged, trying to make light of a situation that had already caused her blood to pump faster and her mouth to go dry, "Suit yourself."

Wordlessly, Rook wiggled her fingers, asking for the scissors Neve still held. She placed it upon her hand and Rook stepped closer.

This time, Neve allowed her to stand between her legs. She was engulfed in the warmth of Rook's presence, hyperaware of a proximity that was foreign territory for both of them. Her hands closed into fists, and teal nails carved half-moons on her palms.

The moment had a sort of intimacy to it that it shouldn't have. Rook reached for Neve, but her hand lingered by the detective's cheek, just shy of touching. "May I?"

The consideration for her feelings made Neve's stomach flutter with butterflies. For the first time, she didn't trust her voice, not when Rook was standing so close, being so gentle. Neve simply nodded.

Only then did Rook's fingers finally found Neve. She brushed dark strands of hair aside, bringing them behind Neve's ear with a type of tenderness Neve had forgotten the feeling of—Rook didn't have to, she did anyway. She then took hold of Neve's jaw, holding her steady in place while she moved to ever so carefully cut through the stitches and pull them loose.

Neve's eyes dropped close against her better judgment, she couldn't fight the way she leaned into Rook's touch either. Neve hardly felt when the stitches were removed, focusing instead on the shape and warmth of Rook's hand against her skin—how Rook absentmindedly moved her thumb back and forth by the corner of her mouth, in a soothing motion, taking Neve's mind off any slight pain she might feel.

It didn't mean anything, couldn't mean anything; Neve insisted on telling herself. Rook was only helping her, nothing more.

It was done. But still, Rook refused to move away. Her hand lingered, holding onto Neve, and for some reason, Neve let her.

The touch moved up. Rook's fingers traced the outlines of the new scar etched onto Neve's forehead. She kept going until she reached the arch of Neve's eyebrow and then the crinkle at the corner of her eye. Exploring, mapping, keeping. As if Rook wanted to carve the shape of Neve's features into her memory.

Neve shuddered under the gesture, as if stars were dancing across her skin. Her throat closed up and held her breath hostage until her lungs ached and then some. Oh, this was dangerous. The tender look in Rook's eyes spelled trouble, the care she held Neve with would be her undoing.

There was a soft furrow on Rook's brows, like caught in a trance, not fully aware of what she was doing or how it caused Neve's heart to seek a new home outside her ribcage.

"Rook…" It bordered on being a whimper, all breathless and teary and desperate. And Neve almost grimaced at the sound of her own voice. Pleading, though she wasn't sure what for.

In the same breath, Rook let go of her, perhaps quicker than Neve would've liked her to. A soft gasp of surprise fell past Rook's lips, her eyes somewhat apologetic.

But that's what Neve wanted, wasn't it? Safety, distance?

Neve tried to tell herself 'yes'. It was a lie.

Neve didn't ask for much. She didn't ask for attention or for people to stick with her. Yet one taste from Rook got her yearning to bend her own rules and ask, anyway.

Rook cleared her throat, gaze shifting between countertops and porcelain plates, nowhere near Neve. Her fingers tapped the side of her thigh in an unsteady rhythm, Neve caught it with a glance.

The silence was loud, thick with unsaid words and actions that spoke better than such. The detective was rarely out of words or a good quip, but right now, her tongue was tied. All she could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

Ever so slowly, Rook raised her gaze. Their eyes met then, and Neve knew she should have looked away, but didn’t. Questions hung, stretched out in the space between them.

What is this? What are we doing?

Do you feel it too?

None knew the answers.

"All done." Rook was the first to speak, a touch of hesitance to her words and the way she fidgeted with her hands.

Neve felt her skin prickle. She clenched and unclenched her hands, slick with perspiration. A beat passed, and she stood up from her stool, smoothing out her pants in an attempt to dry her hands. "Thanks… Rook."

Before Neve did something she would certainly regret, she gave Rook a tight-lipped smile and turned to walk away.

Neve was halfway to the doors when Rook asked, all hopeful and chipper; "See you at dinner?"

Neve had read it once, maybe it was on one of Bellara's serials. A tale of a warrior and his maiden, who were always forced apart; yet each time they said goodbye and had to walk away from each other, they would look back over their shoulders, until they couldn't see the other anymore; looking back to the one they hoped to return to.

Neve stopped in her steps with one last click of her prosthetic on the stone floor.

How dangerous it would be, to have something worth coming back to. To have something worth losing.

For several beats, the only sound was the crackling of the fireplace.

Neve looked back and over her shoulder, her chest tightening when she caught the way Rook's lips stretched in a gentle smile.

"I wouldn't miss it."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Something worth losing" means a person, thing, or idea that is so valuable to you that even if you were to lose it, the potential pain of that loss would still be justified because of how much it means to you; essentially, it signifies something precious enough that the risk of losing it is worth taking.

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[ab121500]

Listen i'm a big fan of Veilguard. Feel like I gotta start with that.

But can I just say not all origins are created equal?

My first playthrough I did Veil Jumpers. It was cool but there was really no mention or connection to the other Veil Jumpers. You haven't been gone long and yet Bellara doesn't know you? And besides a few little lines theres no real mention of you interacting with the other Jumpers.

Compare that to Crow Rook. Teia missed you, Viago missed you. You hear from gossip with the other crows how Viago is worse when you aren't there. You have fun little conversations with Lucanis. You have a letter from Viago where he calls you Idiot. You matter and were important, only sent away because you had to be but people missed you.

Now i'm not too far in yet but Warden Rook gets fun bits with Davrin. The First Warden hates you even more. Antoine and Evka talk about how you fucked up but they still love you and know you did good.

I haven't done the other factions yet, so I don't know if its the same for them. But the fact that the Veil Jumpers are so lacking makes me sad. Its like you had no impact on that faction. Oh you lost an important map? Well shit. We aren’t going to mention it. Its dumb and I wish there was something for them.

[i-lived-i-died-and-now-i-sleep]

I don't fully buy Emmrich on his humbleness sometimes. And it's absolutely not a bad thing. But when he meets Bellara and Rook and says that he can't believe that someone came all the way just to see him, it feels more like a polite modesty than honesty. Emmrich KNOWS that he is a fade expert of highest standards and surely has been consulted in person before. As a Professor and senior mage,of course he knows that people would come all the way just to see him and talk with him.

Same goes for the politeness he shows during a romance. Don't get me wrong. I think he really didn't think that Rook could be interested in him. But at the same time, I think Emmrich also not only hoped that they might be. He knows damn well that the way he talks,acts, his looks and his intelligence is appealing. So when Rook showed interest it catched him a bit off guard,yes, but he knows that he is a fine man and that he has chances. All the things he says: That he choses his words carefully. That he has anatomical knowledge. That one chat with I think Harding where he revealed that he once wanted to impress a fellow student. This is not how a shy man would talk and act. Emmrich knows very well what a gem he is but isn't full of himself or boasts about his persona. He is not shy or insecure or doesn't think highly of himself. He is positive that he is still able to make someone fall in love with him, despite the age. He just doesn't expect it or thinks he is the only man that can.