#and their exchange so that even in the distance

[writerfromshikahr]

I want to state this is not a "hate Neve" piece. I wrote this originally as a bit of a tongue in cheek nod to players (perceived) frustrations about the flirting between Neve and Lucanis if you're romancing him. It was a one off piece originally and then a friend of mine encouraged me to write the whole damn thing. It's silly and probably not the best writing I have ever done, but it's a fun read (oh and long)!

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First Cut - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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It had been a mistake to stay in the room earlier, to stand there and watch Lucanis and Neve exchange flirtatious banter.

Neve had laughed, bright and melodious, and Lucanis had responded with a smile that seemed to light up the whole damn Lighthouse. Right in front of her. In front of her. The pang in her chest had been immediate and deep, leaving her breathless and struggling to maintain her composure.

Now, as she stood in the quietest corner she could find, away from everyone else, the hurt replayed itself over and over, accompanied by the cruel voice of self-doubt that she couldn’t quiet. What did you think would happen, Rook?…she chided herself. That he’d notice you when someone like Neve exists?

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment. Of course, Lucanis liked her. Why wouldn’t he? Neve was stunning, with her sleek, sophisticated appearance and the grace of a refined Minrathous mage. She always had the perfect thing to say, remaining calm under pressure and exuding an effortless charm that captivated everyone. Neve was flawless. Neve was everything a woman should be.

Rook, on the other hand, was�� well, she let out a humourless laugh. She was “pleasantly plump,” as one Crow had called her, with thick thighs and a belly she had long since stopped trying to hide. Her Crow leathers had to be adjusted to fit her more comfortably around her hips and legs. Where Neve embodied elegance, Rook was simply Rook. Awkward, self-conscious, and hopelessly bad at saying anything clever, she always seemed to trip over her words or, worse, blurt out something completely foolish at the worst possible moments.

You thought he felt the same way about you, didn’t you? Her heart twisted painfully at the realization. What a cruel joke. The way he had looked at Neve today was proof enough, wasn’t it? She wasn’t his type. The message was received—loud and clear.

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Rook had become a master at avoidance over the past few days, though it was starting to wear her thin. Every time she caught a glimpse of Lucanis, her heart clenched painfully, so she did what she could to keep her distance. She slipped out of rooms when he walked in, buried herself in tasks that required her full attention, and, when it came to conversation, she only offered clipped, polite responses to Neve, refusing to engage in anything more. It hurt to keep her walls up, but it was the only way she could cope.

Instead, she found herself spending more time with Davrin and Assan, grateful for the easy friendship they shared. Davrin, with all his swagger and occasional theatrics, had a way of making her smile even when her heart felt heavy. He was like the big brother she never had, someone who made her feel safe and seen without any of the complications that seemed to swirl around Lucanis. And with the added charm of Assan, Davrin’s adorable toddler griffon companion, there was always something to laugh about.

Today, they’d ventured out to the Arlathan Forest, a welcome reprieve from the Lighthouse and all the tangled emotions that currently lived there. The forest was peaceful, a canopy of golden leaves rustling overhead, and Rook felt some of her tension ease. She and Davrin found a small clearing atop a rocky outcrop, perfect for Assan to practice his flying. The young griffon flapped his wings with eager determination, making little leaps and swoops that brought a genuine smile to Rook’s face.

They settled on the smooth granite, sharing a simple lunch of bread and cheese, and conversation flowed easily between them. Davrin regaled her with tales of growing up in Arlathan, his voice full of life and humour, and she listened, fascinated by his stories. In turn, he asked her questions about the Crows, and she answered as best she could, occasionally making light of some of the darker aspects of her life. They even exchanged stories about their respective fights—the Grey Wardens and their eternal struggle against Archdemons, and the Crows with their endless contracts and rivalries. Despite Davrin’s opinions about her line of work, he respected her. They had built a solid friendship, and she had come to value it deeply.

He could tell she needed this time away, and so he did what he did best: kept her entertained and laughing. Still, even with all the humour and warmth between them, Davrin wasn’t blind. He’d noticed that something seemed off, that Rook was more distracted than usual. And, more curiously, he’d noticed the absence of Lucanis. Usually, the two were practically joined at the hip, their bond undeniable. But now… there was a definite shift, and he wasn’t sure how—or if—he should bring it up. As he watched her thoughtfully, he finally spoke up, trying to sound casual.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s got you all twisted up, or are we just gonna pretend you haven’t been acting like your mind’s somewhere else entirely?”

Rook looked at him, startled by the question, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. She had hoped that spending time with Davrin and Assan would make her forget the pain, but there was no escaping how deeply it cut her. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, but even she could hear the lie in her voice.

Davrin didn’t push. He knew her well enough to know when to leave things be. Still, he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, his usual cheeky grin softening. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back, right?” Assan warbled in agreement, flapping his wings like he was seconding the sentiment.

Rook’s lips twitched into a small smile. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to have someone who cared, someone who could make the world feel a little bit brighter. Even if she couldn’t outrun her feelings, at least she had friends who made the burden easier to carry.

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Lucanis’s gaze lingered on Rook, his expression dark with confusion and frustration. She had gone out of her way to placing as much distance between them as possible, choosing the spot farthest from him at the table, right between Davrin and Taash. She occasionally spoke, and her lips curved into a soft smile when Davrin leaned in to whisper something that made her laugh. The sound, bright and genuine, only twisted the knife deeper into Lucanis’s chest. She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

He took a sip of his soup, the taste barely registering, and let out a sigh that was loud enough to draw Lace’s attention as she grabbed seconds and plopped down beside him. “This is one of the best meals you’ve cooked, Lucanis,” she said with a grin. “Seriously, it’s delicious.”

He mustered a small smile at the compliment, but his eyes drifted back to Rook. He missed her terribly—her company, their conversations, and, most of all, the way her laughter used to be directed at him. Now, it was as if he had become invisible. What did I do? he thought, trying to piece together where he’d gone wrong.

Neve, who had also taken a seat nearby, picked up on his brooding mood. She arched an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me my assassin is feeling broody this evening?” she asked, her tone playful.

Lucanis’s eyes flicked over to her, unfocused. “What?”

Neve rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it into her soup. “I said, you seem broody tonight,” she repeated, though she didn’t seem all that concerned about it.

He nodded, distracted, and looked back at Rook, who was still doing her best to ignore him. “Perhaps I am, Neve,” he replied, the words tasting bitter. It was infuriating how Rook refused to acknowledge him as if he’d become a ghost. He had replayed every conversation and every moment from the past few days, trying to figure out when he might have crossed a line, said something careless, or given any reason for her to pull away. Yet he kept coming up empty.

Spite, normally full of commentary and sass, had fallen unusually silent. Then again, Spite tended to grow quieter whenever Neve was around.

Neve leaned closer, trying to pull his attention back to her. “Do you want to catch up this evening?” she asked, eyes sparkling with interest. “I found a book I think will be right up your alley.”

Lucanis had barely registered her words, his mind too full of the ache that was Rook. He blinked at Neve, his expression blank. “A book?” he echoed, his voice distant.

Neve, clearly unimpressed, shook her head. “Yes, Lucanis. I have one for you,” she repeated, with a touch of exasperation.

“Oh,” he said, realizing he’d made her repeat herself. “Sure, I’ll swing by later and get it from you.” His reply sounded mechanical like he was going through the motions. But then, out of nowhere, Rook’s laughter cut through the air, loud and free, a burst of joy that caught everyone’s attention. Even Taash choked on her drink, snorting with amusement.

Lucanis felt his heart sink further. Yeah, he thought miserably. I hate it here. Watching Rook smile at Davrin felt like punishment, and not knowing how to fix things between them was driving him mad. He had no idea how to bridge the growing distance or why he had ended up here in the first place, and that, more than anything, was the most frustrating part.

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Rook’s heart hammered in her chest as she froze in the hallway, seeing Lucanis waiting for her. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and walk the other way, to avoid whatever painful conversation was about to unfold, but she knew she couldn’t keep running. You can do this, she told herself, her throat tightening. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and forced herself to speak.

“Lucanis,” she greeted, her voice carefully cool. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His brow furrowed, confusion and frustration warring on his face. “What is happening, Rook?” he asked, a hint of exasperation leaking through. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She looked away from his gaze, her eyes fixing firmly on the stone floor. If she looked at him—into those deep, dark eyes that always managed to see straight through her—she knew she’d cave. She wasn’t ready for that. For once, she was determined not to fold, to hang onto her anger, even if it pained her. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’ve been busy, you know, saving the world, fighting ancient gods… that kind of thing.”

Lucanis regarded her quietly, the weight of his gaze like a physical thing pressing down on her. “I see, have I said something or done something?”

Rook forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of the warmth she usually reserved for him. The fine was a lie, but she clung to it desperately. It felt safer than admitting how badly he’d wounded her. And it gave her a semblance of control over her heart, a way to shield herself from the crushing weight of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

Lucanis tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Fine?” he repeated, scepticism heavy in his voice. “Hmm. It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

He took a step closer, and Rook instinctively backed up, keeping the same distance between them. She wouldn’t let him close, not when her heart was so fragile. “Perhaps you should go pick up that book from Neve,” she shot back, “I’m sure she’ll have your favourite coffee brewed and waiting.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened a fraction, the hurt flashing across his features unmistakable. Before he could respond, she brushed past him, retreating into her room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard, fighting the urge to cry.

In the hallway, Lucanis stood in stunned silence, the shadows around him deepening as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His head tilted slightly, confusion etched on his face. Was this about Neve? The question churned in his mind, sending him spiralling back through every conversation, every interaction with Neve, searching for any clue. Why would Rook mention her?

It was then that Spite finally spoke up, his voice echoing in the corners of Lucanis’s mind. “Tastes like… envy,” the demon mused, each word slow and almost thoughtful. “Yes. Bitter. Sharp.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened in sudden realization. Envy. Rook was jealous? His heart lurched at the thought, a mix of confusion, guilt, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Jealous of what? That was the bigger question, but he had a place to start, which was more than he had moments before.

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Lucanis listened to Neve, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back into the couch, sipping his coffee. The cozy yet refined atmosphere of her room couldn’t fully soothe his restless mind. "Jealous? Of me? Odd," Neve mused, sounding genuinely perplexed. "We aren't exactly bosom buddies, but we've always had a good working relationship. She's a capable mage, highly recommended if you listen to House de Riva. And she’s... well, sweet. Maybe a little too sweet at times. The world can be harsh, and people like Rook don't always make it out in one piece."

Lucanis tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Sweet? Yes, she is,” he agreed, but there was more to it. “there’s strength in her, too. The kind that can get us through this, no matter how bad things get.” He paused, searching Neve’s eyes. “You know why Viago sent her out of Antiva, right?”

Neve nodded, her brow knitting together slightly. “I got the gist from him. He seemed… displeased.”

Lucanis’s smile widened a fraction. “Viago is always displeased,” he said with a hint of humour, “but he does have a soft spot for Rook, even if he won’t admit it. She climbed the ranks fast. Full membership with the Crows at a young age. Orphaned and taken in by House de Riva when she was around eight. But what got her exiled was taking initiative where she shouldn’t have.” He swirled his coffee, his eyes reflecting a complicated mix of pride and sadness. “She has heart—a soft one, maybe—but she freed a group of prisoners and slaves one night, prisoners the Antaam would’ve had executed. Varric was among them. You know that part.”

Neve leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Yes, but?”

“But,” Lucanis continued, “her actions derailed a much larger operation. She saved lives, but it cost the Crows.. That’s what led to her downfall.” He stared into his coffee, the steam curling up like ghostly whispers. “She’s got a good heart.”

Neve considered his words, sitting beside him and absorbing the weight of what he’d said. “A good heart that ultimately got her kicked out of her city,” she pointed out, “But that doesn’t explain why she’s jealous of me.”

Lucanis gave her a wry smile, one brow lifting slightly. “I figured the renowned Minrathous detective might have some insight to bestow upon me.”

Neve laughed, the sound warm and clear. “Oh, sure. Because I’m great with people, right?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Tell you what: maybe I’ll have a word with Davrin. They’re close. Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you.”

Lucanis's smile softened, but his heart felt heavy with uncertainty. "I appreciate it," he said, though the thought of Rook feeling hurt, even if it was out of jealousy, left an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite shake.

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“Jealous?” Davrin echoed, his eyebrows rising with genuine surprise. “Of you? Hmm... nope. She hasn’t said anything to me, but she has been distracted. Yeah, that’s the right word.” He set down his latest whittling project, a small wooden figure of what looked like a griffon, and studied Neve with his usual thoughtful expression. “But she hasn’t said anything to you?”

Neve shook her head. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

Davrin let out a sigh, leaning back. “Look, Rook is a good person, but even I know some people need space from time to time. I’m not going to pressure her into telling me anything she doesn’t want to share. But...” he trailed off, tapping his chin, “she and Lucanis used to be practically joined at the hip. Wherever he was, she’d be right there. If you ask me, she’s sweet on him, and it’s not just that whole Crow loyalty thing.”

Neve’s eyes widened slightly. “She has a crush?”

Davrin shook his head with a small smile. “No, not a crush. She likes him. I can see it in the way she is around him, and I know her pretty well.”

Neve frowned, her mind racing. “So... what do I have to do with all of this? Seems a little strange that I’d be involved.”

Davrin tilted his head, smirking a little. “Well, who told you she was jealous?”

“Lucanis,” Neve replied, sounding almost exasperated.

“But who told him?” Davrin shot back, a knowing grin on his face.

Neve paused, then rolled her eyes. “Spite told him,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance.

Davrin’s laughter burst out, loud and unapologetic. “Oh, so we’re taking the word of a demon now?” He shook his head, clearly entertained. “This is hilarious.”

Neve threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Lucanis takes him seriously! And to be fair, that demon has never led us astray.” Her lips twitched with a hint of amusement despite herself.

Davrin exhaled, the humour fading to something more contemplative. “All right, leave it with me. Rook and I are heading out to Lavendel together soon. I’ll have a chat with her, and see if I can make sense of this mess.”

Neve nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face. “Thanks, Davrin. Just... tread carefully, okay? Whatever’s going on, it matters a lot to her.”

Davrin gave her a mock salute. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” But as he picked up his whittling project again, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was ready to admit the truth to herself.

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"What the fuck, Davrin? Who told you that?!"

Davrin blinked in surprise at Rook's outburst. "Who told you I was jealous of Neve?!"

"Hey, I’m just asking for interested parties. They figured I’d know what’s up with my friend," he replied, holding his hands up defensively.

Rook turned away from him, her fists clenched at her sides. She was too angry to speak—not at Davrin, no. Davrin could annoy her, sure, but Lucanis? He could make her seethe. And knowing that this line of questioning was coming from Neve of all people made her want to throw herself straight into the Fade, never to return.

"Rook," Davrin said quietly, his tone unusually gentle, "I promise, I won’t breathe a word if you tell me what’s bothering you. Warden’s honor."

Rook glanced at him, catching the earnestness in his expression. For once, he wasn’t cracking a joke to lighten the mood. She let out a sharp exhale and looked away again, debating whether to open up. Finally, she gave in.

“I swear to the Maker, if you report back to them, I’ll take out a contract on you,” she grumbled before the words burst out of her. “It’s the fucking flirting! Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible. I—well…” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I like him, and he never flirts with me. Never mentions anything about buying me something at the markets, or, ‘Hey, Rook, here’s a flower I picked for you,’ or anything like that. Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Well, I know what’s wrong with me. Look at me. Look at this!”

She grabbed her thigh angrily, gesturing in frustration.

Davrin didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression calm and steady, letting her vent it all out.

“She’s perfect,” Rook continued, her voice shaking with anger. “Perfect hair, perfect outfits, perfect everything. And then there’s me—always saying the wrong thing, always crumpled. And he’s all, ‘Wow, Neve, great shot,’ while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn and not once does that man say anything.”

Davrin waited a beat to make sure she was finished before speaking. “I see. Well, thank you for finally telling me. I feel like we’re making progress here.”

Rook shot him a sharp look, her frustration now turning toward him.

“So, you like Lucanis,” Davrin said with a knowing smile. “I thought as much. I mean, it was obvious to me—everyone else seems to be walking around with blinders on.”

Rook groaned, dramatically flopping her head into her hands. “Don’t tell me that, Dav. It’s not making me feel any better. I already feel like the biggest idiot alive. I guess Viago was right.”

Davrin slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, his tone soft but firm. “That’s my friend you’re talking about, and I don’t take kindly to people putting her down. Question is, where do you go from here?”

Rook let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m so angry at him right now. And unfairly pissed off at Neve. But I can’t forgive him yet. I’m far too in my ‘petty era’ right now.”

“I can tell, Rook,” Davrin began, his voice steady but not unkind. “Thing is, he doesn’t know what he’s done. Not sure how the man is supposed to make amends if he isn’t told.”

Rook stared off into the small village that Davrin and her had spent the last two days protecting from the Blight, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. “How does he not know? The man is a walking romance novel with her! Why doesn’t he do that with me?” She paused, her voice dropping into something quieter. “I know I’m not like her… I get that…”

Davrin cut her off before she could spiral any further. “For the love of the Maker, Rook, you’re gorgeous. Why do you keep comparing yourself to her? Sure, you’re nothing like Neve, but you’re you, and that ain’t bad.”

Rook gave him a deadpan stare, one eyebrow arching. “Really? Now you’re hitting on me?”

“Fuck no,” Davrin shot back with mock indignation. “I know who your boyfriend is... and he terrifies me.”

Rook snorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “He’s not my boyfriend. I have no idea what we are. At the moment, he just annoys me.” She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?”

There was a note of defeat in her voice, like she was resigning herself to some inevitable punishment.

“Fuck… why do I have to be the one to do it? I want him to apologize. I want him to beg for forgiveness.” She groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Wow, I really am being petty.”

Davrin grinned, his expression both amused and supportive. “Yes, but it suits you.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you want me to say something to him? Informing him of his gross oversight of sneaking around trying to find out what’s wrong with you and then maybe steer him toward an ‘ah-ha’ moment?”

“You’d do that for me?” she asked quietly, her voice softer now, vulnerable.

“Of course,” Davrin said with a mock-serious nod. “Killing darkspawn, being a baby daddy to Assan, and sorting out budding romances at the Lighthouse? Those are my specialties.”

Rook rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm. “Dumbass.”

Davrin grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Maybe so,” he said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence, “but I’m your dumbass. And where would you be without me?”

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Lucanis had been quiet all day. Davrin knew he was a man of few words, but today’s outing with him and Lace had been decidedly less chatty than normal. Now, they sat around a tavern table, finally letting some warmth soak into their bones. The Lighthouse’s perpetual twilight made it easy to forget the biting cold of Thedas, but the roaring fire beside them was a rare luxury this evening.

Davrin watched Lucanis as he stared into his coffee mug, the steam curling up like ghosts between his hands. Lace was busy chatting with the patrons at a nearby table, her laughter carrying faintly over the hum of conversation.

“So, Lucanis,” Davrin said casually, breaking the silence. “You’ve been a little quiet today. Anything amiss?”

Lucanis looked up, his dark eyes sharp as they met Warden's. “I’m not in the mood.” His tone was flat, cold.

For a moment, silence hung between them, but Davrin wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned back in his chair, watching Lucanis carefully. “I see that,” he said finally. “Wondering if I can help you out with that?”

Lucanis sipped his coffee, his gaze distant, and he could tell he was mulling something over. “You know Rook well,” the assassin said after a long pause. “Probably better than I.”

Davrin shifted in his chair, not entirely sure where this was going. He prayed to the Maker it didn’t involve knives. “Ahhh, yes,” he replied cautiously. “Though I’d say you know our fearless leader pretty well too.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Lucanis’s words were quiet but firm, his eyes flicking back to him for a moment before returning to his coffee cup.

Davrin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m guessing you’re looking for answers,” he said lightly, nodding toward the mug. “Doubtful you’ll find them in there, my friend.”

A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at Lucanis’s lips. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But coffee is good for reflection.” He paused, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him visibly. “I’ve done something. I know I have. But she won’t tell me what it is, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well, I know what you’ve done.”

Davrin smiled slyly, taking a sip of his beer like he wasn’t about to drop a bombshell. “It’s your lucky day, Crow.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “You know?”

The Warden nodded, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Sure do. And I can’t say it’s an easy fix—for you, at least. But,” he added, setting his mug down with a heavy clink, “if you applied as much effort into correcting your mistake as you do into flirting with a certain detective, you might just win her heart back.”

Davrin punctuated his sentence with a deep, exaggerated gulp of his drink, clearly pleased with himself.

Lucanis just looked at him, his face blank, and said nothing for the longest while. The lively chatter and laughter of the tavern seemed to fill the silence as Davrin waited, unsure if he had heard him.

“Flirting?” Lucanis repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and offense. “With Neve? Flirting, as in me being suggestive with Neve?”

Davrin smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need to say it a third time, Crow? Whatever way you cut it, it still sounds a bit... shit.”

Lucanis blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to argue, but Davrin pressed on, clearly enjoying himself.

“I guess Rook just got fed up with hearing about you wanting to buy Neve fresh fish and flowers at the market.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, and I think she said—” Davrin cleared his throat for dramatic effect—“and I quote: ‘And he’s all, “Wow, Neve, great shot,” while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn, and not once does that man say anything.’”

He leaned back with a satisfied grin, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, I think that about covers the gist of what she vented to me for a solid 45 minutes.”

“Mierda,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Davrin waved at the serving girl over with a grin. “Yes, you’re screwed, Lucanis,” he said cheerfully. “But, as I mentioned, you can make this better… I think.” He ordered another beer for himself and a fresh coffee for his brooding friend.

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, his voice low and resigned. “What else did she say? I need to know just how much of a gilipollas I’ve been.”

Davrin laughed, the sound loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “I’m assuming that’s something bad—and if it is, you deserve it.” He leaned back, his grin widening. “Let’s see… what else did she say? Oh, right!”

Davrin sat forward, lowering his voice to mimic Rook’s, exaggerating her frustration: ‘Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible.’ He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “And, of course, more liberal usage of the word ‘fuck.’”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lucanis muttered, his voice low. He slumped back in his chair, looking more defeated than Davrin had ever seen him. “I’m not sure what I’m meant to say. I don’t mean anything by it—the flirting. I never thought…”

“No, you didn’t,” Davrin cut in sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Why would you? You ask her for advice on gifts for Neve, buy her nothing, and expect everything to be fine?” He shook his head, leaning forward. “Shit, Lucanis, you could pick Rook a flower off a random bush in Arlathan, and she’d be insufferably happy for days. I do it all the time for her, and I don’t even want to fuck her.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed deeper, but he didn’t interrupt.

Davrin leaned back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bare minimum, my friend. Bare. Minimum. And you’ve somehow managed to fall below that. Impressive, really.”

He punctuated his words with a long swig of his beer, shaking his head as he set the mug down.

“So, this is how you’re going to fix this,” Davrin began, pointing a finger at Lucanis for emphasis. “After we’re done at this outpost, we’re heading home, and you are going to beg for some kind of forgiveness. Kneel if you have to. Hell, throw in a prayer to the Maker while you’re at it and hope that gorgeous woman decides to give you another chance.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth opening slightly, but Davrin didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And keep your damn mouth shut around Neve,” Davrin continued, leaning forward for extra emphasis. “I get it—Neve is damn fine to look at. But those thoughts? Inside thoughts, not outside thoughts, Lucanis. And for the love of everything holy, make sure your demon is on board with this too.”

Lucanis fiddle with the handle on his cup, guilt practically radiating off him, but Davrin wasn’t done.

“She likes you, I know she does. But she’s hurt, and a woman scorned is a terrifying force of nature.”

Davrin sat back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So what’s the plan, Crow?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Lucanis muttered, running a hand down his face. “I’ll think of something. I’ll fix this.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Davrin.

“It better be good,” Davrin said pointedly, leaning back in his chair. “Because she is pissed, and I don’t blame her. And for the love of the Maker, can you tell her that you like her? It’s clear as day to me, but she has no idea. She thinks you don’t even see her.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to retort, but Davrin barreled on.

“This whole ‘I’m possessed by a demon and I can’t love anyone’ trope is old, Lucanis. If you can charm Neve halfway around Minrathous, you can bloody well lavish some of that charm on Rook.”

“I’ll fix it,” Lucanis said firmly, though the conviction in his voice wavered just slightly. “And… thank you, for letting me know.”

Davrin gave him a hearty pat on the back, his grin equal parts teasing and supportive. “I don’t envy you, Lucanis. I thought fighting the ancient Gods was going to be tough, but this? Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Lucanis let out a quiet breath, half a smile tugging at his lips. He knew Davrin was right.

----------------------------------------------------------

He found her up on the balcony, as he expected. Rook often went there to read when she needed space from everyone else. Davrin slid onto the bench beside her, and they sat in comfortable silence, the quiet of the moment broken only by the rustle of pages and the distant sounds of the Lighthouse.

Assan nuzzled his head against Rook’s arm, demanding pats, which she happily obliged, scratching behind the young griffon’s ears.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said finally, her voice soft but genuine. “I missed you. Did it go well?”

Davrin smiled, leaning back. “Of course it did. Harding is a terrible cook, though... but apart from that, we got the job done.”

Rook huffed a laugh, but before she could reply, Davrin added, almost too casually, “Oh, and I spoke to the Crow.”

Rook froze for a moment, her smile faltering. “Oh, Maker, how did that go?” She waved a hand before he could answer. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I’ve been perfectly happy here without him.”

Davrin turned his head, giving her a pointed side-eye. “Sure, sure... you’ve been perfectly happy.”

Rook glared at him over the top of her book, but he wasn’t done.

“He knows what he’s done wrong now,” Davrin continued with a shrug, “and is, and I quote, ‘formulating a plan,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

“A plan?” Rook repeated, her gaze drifting off into the endless expanse of the Fade sky. She hesitated, her fingers absently scratching Assan’s feathers as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want complete honesty. Even if it’s not what I want to hear.”

Davrin tilted his head, his smile softening. “Always.”

Rook turned to him, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Does the man even remotely like me?”

Davrin’s grin widened as he leaned back against the railing, taking a moment before answering. “Rook,” he said slowly, “I watched the blood drain out of the his face when I laid it all out on the table for him. I have never seen such a sorry sight.” He paused, his tone turning more sincere. “If that’s any indication of what he’s feeling, I think he’s sweet on you.”

Rook’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

“He’s clueless,” Davrin added with a shrug. “I doubt he’s ever had a relationship before. Doesn’t excuse what he did, but I know he’ll fix it—or at least try to.”

Rook leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is life so hard? Everything feels so complicated, and I’m so tired. I know you said I shouldn’t compare myself to anyone, but… I don’t always feel strong, you know?” She paused, her fingers idly stroking Assan’s feathers. “Have I blown this all out of proportion? I think… I think I need to speak to Neve. She’s lovely—I know she is.”

Davrin stayed quiet for a long moment, his usual humor replaced by a thoughtful stillness.

“I think, sometimes, Rook,” he said softly, “you don’t see yourself the way the rest of us see you. At the heart of it all, you’re a good person. And yes, you’re beautiful too.”

Rook shifted slightly, about to protest, but Davrin pressed on.

“People come in all shapes and sizes. That doesn’t make anyone worth less than the next person. Maybe instead of comparing yourself to what you’re not, you should take a hard look at all the amazing things you are. All the shit you’ve accomplished under impossible odds. Hell, you’ve even put Solas in his place a few times—and that guy’s a dick.”

“That’s a weird way to ask me out on a date, Dav,” Rook said with a small smile, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Davrin laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the balcony. “You wish, de Riva. You and me would never work out.” He leaned back, grinning. “Besides, I come with a kid in tow—parenthood is tough.”

Rook chuckled, scratching Assan under the chin as the griffon chirped contentedly.

“Nah,” Davrin continued, “I think you’re more suited to the stabbity-stab life of Crow intrigue. I’m just a simple man, a Grey Warden with modest needs. You’d outlive me, no doubt, and I can’t have you being all mopey about the charming and heroic warrior you once knew.”

----------------------------------------------------------

She heard the faint rustle of a note slipping under her door just as she was drifting off to sleep. For a moment, she considered leaving it there until morning, her exhaustion tugging at her. But curiosity got the better of her.

Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. With a quiet sigh, she padded across the room, picked up the envelope, and sank into the worn couch by the window.

The candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows as she slid her finger under the seal. The handwriting inside was instantly familiar, and her breath caught as she unfolded the letter.

-----

Rook,

I have thought about what to write in this letter to you for days as we made our way back home. I am usually good at making plans and coming up with solutions to any problem. Unfortunately, in this case, I am the problem, and I don’t know how to fix the hurt I’ve caused you.

That being said, I will try to make this right. If you decide not to accept my apology, I will understand. But if you can find it in your heart to let me make this up to you, I would be grateful.

Meet me in Treviso tomorrow evening at my favourite café—you know the one. We went there not long after I joined you at the Lighthouse.

I will wait for you.

—Lucanis

-----

Rook sank back into her couch, the letter still clutched against her chest. Stupid Antivan man, she thought, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself.

She couldn’t deny it—no matter how frustrated she was, no matter how much she wanted to stay angry—she was willing to hear him out.

----------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Rook?” Neve’s voice was soft but firm.

From inside, she heard a flurry of shuffling, a thud, and several muffled expletives. Finally, the door creaked open.

“Yes, come in,” Rook said, rubbing her toe with a wince. “I’m just getting ready to…”

Neve smiled knowingly. “Meet Lucanis in Treviso. I know.”

Rook sighed, slumping back slightly. “Of course you know. He probably told you.”

She moved to the couch, sitting down to pull on her boots, her movements stiff with nervous energy. Neve stepped inside, her gaze drifting to the window where the shimmering fish swam lazily outside.

“You really do have the best room at the Lighthouse,” Neve remarked, her voice distant. “No wisps, just the fish.” She turned back to Rook, her expression softening. “No, he didn’t tell me. Davrin did.”

Rook paused, her hands hovering over her laces.

“I wanted to stop by and tell you to enjoy yourself,” Neve continued. “If I know Lucanis, he’ll have a wonderful evening planned for you.” She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, her tone quieter but no less sincere. “And I also wanted to tell you... I envy you.”

Rook’s head snapped up in surprise. “Envy me?”

Neve gave a small, bittersweet smile. “He’s a good man, apart from the whole abomination thing he’s got going on.” Her smile widened slightly, a hint of humor in her voice. “I’ll admit, I entertained the idea of him and me once. But it was clear his heart had already chosen another.”

Rook opened her mouth to respond, but Neve cut her off gently.

“Like all men, he’s a bit of an idiot, and he’s made mistakes,” Neve said, her gaze steady. “But if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rook admitted, her voice quieter now. “I do feel stupid for being unkind to you. I’m sorry about that.”

Neve waved the apology away with a small smile. “No need for deep and meaningfuls, Rook. We’re both busy women with jobs to do. But tonight?” She stepped closer, her expression softening. “You have a date with a Crow.”

Rook shifted awkwardly, Neve’s eyes scanning her as if assessing her readiness. “I know,” Rook said, glancing down at herself. “I’m in my leathers. I probably should have dressed—”

Neve cut her off with a laugh. “I saw Lucanis leave for the Eluvian. He was dressed in his too. Are you Crows ever not on the clock?”

Rook chuckled despite herself. “You’ve met my boss, right? Viago?”

Neve grinned. “Point taken.” She reached for the door, her hand hovering for a moment before turning back. “Anyway, enjoy your evening. I hope it’s everything you need and want.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Davrin had insisted on accompanying her through the Eluvian to Treviso, despite her protests.

“You didn’t need to escort me, Dav,” Rook said as they stepped out into the bustling city. She smoothed down her cloak, her tone exasperated but affectionate. “I’m more than capable of navigating a city I’ve lived in most of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Davrin replied with a casual shrug. “But I did need to come here. Lucanis has me set up with his blacksmith. And, well…” He paused, glancing sideways at her. “I wanted to make sure you got here okay. If things go south, you know I’m around.”

Rook nudged him with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never had a brother, but you are bordering on the whole ‘protective big brother’ vibes right now. And I have to say, it suits you.”

Davrin smiled shyly, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you’re pissed at Dellamorte,” he said softly. “I get it. But let him speak. Give him a chance, Rook.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I’m not that angry anymore. I spoke to Neve before heading here—she came to my room.”

Davrin raised an eyebrow, his expression suddenly amused. “Please tell me she left said room. I know what you Crows are like,” he added with a chuckle.

Rook rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “She’s very much alive, thank you. And she said something… odd. Something I wasn’t expecting.”

“Oh?” Davrin leaned in, curious.

“She said she was envious of me,” Rook admitted, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Davrin stopped in his tracks, raising both eyebrows now. “Well, well,” he said with exaggerated flair. “It seems we’ve come full circle. Now she’s jealous of you! I believe I’m experiencing whiplash.”

As they walked along the bustling streets of her hometown, Rook couldn’t ignore the faint queasiness in her stomach. She wasn’t angry anymore—not really. More… disgruntled. But there was no venom behind the feeling now. Lucanis had made a mistake, and, if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably blown it out of proportion—a tendency she sometimes leaned into more than she should.

At least she’d managed to entertain everyone at the Lighthouse with the intrigue and drama.

“Ahhh, I love it here,” Davrin mused, breaking her train of thought. His eyes roamed the lively street, the laughter and chatter of the city swirling around them. “Great atmosphere, excellent food, and some rather beautiful distractions for the taking.”

Rook rolled her eyes, her nerves briefly forgotten as she fought back a smirk.

“And it seems,” Davrin added with a dramatic flourish as they neared the café, “I have delivered you to your destination, my Queen.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Maker, you’re an idiot,” Rook said, shaking her head with a smile. “But I love you despite it.”

Davrin grinned and placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning in just slightly. “You’ve got this, Rook. Go forth and get your man and—let him speak. He can actually be pretty good at it, you know, when he’s not saying all the wrong things.”

Rook took a deep breath, her nerves settling just enough to nod. “Wish me luck?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Davrin shook his head, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Nah, you don’t need it. You’ve got this, girl. No luck required.”

He stepped ahead and held the door open for her. She squared her shoulders and walked through, the warm hum of the café greeting her as she crossed the threshold.

Davrin lingered outside for a moment, watching her disappear inside. He knew, deep down, it would all be okay. But still, a small pang of worry tugged at him—for his friend, for her heart, and for the man she was about to face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The café was empty.

Anxiety, her old and unwelcome friend, crept up her spine as she glanced around the dimly lit space. Had she gotten the wrong day? The wrong time? Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she dug into her bag, pulling out the note Lucanis had sent. She unfolded it with shaky fingers, scanning the words again, double-checking that she hadn’t misread anything.

No. She was in the right place.

But as her eyes flicked to the counter, the absence of anyone behind it made her chest tighten further. The café felt eerily quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the soft ticking of a clock.

Now she felt like the idiot. Where was he? And why was she standing awkwardly in an empty coffee shop at eight o’clock at night?

As a Crow, this screamed assassination attempt, and the thought made her pulse quicken. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her hand instinctively drifted to the hilt of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.

Not that she’d ever killed anyone with a dirk before—magic was her usual go-to—but the weight of the blade under her fingers offered some small comfort. Her unease grew as she wandered further into the café, cautiously checking dark corners and peeking around the pillars.

She moved closer to the counter, her nerves prickling with every step, when suddenly, Lucanis popped up from behind it.

“Maker’s breath!” Rook yelped, jumping back, her heart hammering as she glared at him.

Lucanis stood there, his dark eyes warm as they met hers, and a small, gorgeous smile spread across his lips—the one that always managed to disarm her.

“Rook,” he said softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “You came.”

“Why were you hiding behind the counter?!” Rook exclaimed, her voice sharp with surprise.

Lucanis straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his leathers. “I was looking for sugar,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know you like your coffee sweet and hot. Good news: I found it.”

He turned his attention to the coffee pot, busying himself with making their drinks as if nothing about this was out of the ordinary.

Rook crossed her arms, glancing around the empty café. “And you now own this place?” she asked, her tone tinged with amusement.

Lucanis smirked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I asked the owner for a favor and promised to pay him back with a free contract.”

Rook blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not,” she said, shaking her head. “You never work for free.”

“Sometimes I do,” Lucanis said with a small smile, handing her the steaming cup. “Let’s sit… the table over there.”

He gestured toward a cozy corner, and Rook’s gaze followed. The table had been set perfectly, a small display of her favorite desserts arranged neatly on a plate, waiting for her.

Her lips twitched in a faint smile as she followed him. They settled into their chairs, and for a moment, a comfortable silence fell between them as they both enjoyed the first few sips of their drinks.

Lucanis leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands. “Good coffee...And yours?”

Rook took another sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. It was perfect—just the way she liked it. “You know it’s good,” she replied, glancing at him over the rim of her cup. “If there’s one thing you never fail at, it’s making it exactly the way I like it.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, lighting his dark eyes.

Setting her cup down, Rook slipped off her gloves and laid them neatly on the table, the nervous energy in her hands too much to contain. Lucanis noticed, of course—he always did. He knew her tells. Whenever she was anxious, she’d fidget, her fingers tracing the stitching of her coat over and over again or right now, fiddling with her gloves,

“Rook…” he began, his voice soft, testing the waters, “I’m sorry—” , but Rook cut him off.

“I know I’m an idiot,” she blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I should have just told you, and instead it became this whole thing involving everyone, and I didn’t mean for it to get so... big. It was stupid of me.”

Lucanis watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, without a word, he placed his hand gently over hers.

“Rook,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything,” she replied, immediately defensive. She picked up her cup again, taking a long sip—anything to avoid his gaze.

“Blaming yourself. Apologising for things you don’t need to apologise for,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I am the one to blame for your worries. I was the one who hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know,” Rook said quickly, her words tumbling out before she could think better of them. “And if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn—or dare I say petulant—I could have just told you. But I felt… well, I did feel stupid.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her voice softening as she admitted, “You were an arse though.”

A faint smile flickered across his face, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away. “It’s okay if you want to—”

She stopped herself mid-sentence, before her mouth could betray her further, she grabbed one of the neatly arranged cakes from the plate and shoved it into her mouth.

It worked—a bit too well. She sat frozen for a moment, cheeks puffed with cake, as the realisation of what she’d just done hit her. Across the table, Lucanis raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh.

It took forever to get through the sugary treat—she’d completely forgotten how chewy they were. Looking effortlessly graceful with a mouthful of cake was not the impression she’d been going for.

Lucanis, ever observant, seized the opportunity to speak before she could finish. It might be the only way to get a word in.

“Yes,” he began, his tone quiet but deliberate. “I fully accept your blunt observation of myself.”

Rook raised an eyebrow at him, still chewing, but didn’t interrupt.

“Why I did it?” Lucanis continued, his gaze dropping briefly to the table. “It’s… was easy to flirt with Neve. A distraction from what’s in my mind, who shares my body, and everything else—fighting Gods, dealing with the Blight…” He paused, his voice softening. “But, also, it means nothing. And when it means nothing, there’s no possibility of consequences.”

“Consequences?” she managed, still chewing, her words slightly muffled.

“Yes,” Lucanis replied, his voice steady but quieter now. “If I don’t say those things to you, it’s not because I don’t notice you, enjoy your company, or desire someone else. It’s quite the opposite.”

Rook froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

“But how would you know this?” he continued, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability. “I’ve never told you. And I have never reciprocated any of the affection you have so generously given me.”

“But you said consequences, and I’m still not following,” Rook said, finally finishing her cake.

Lucanis sighed, frustration flickering across his face. Maker, he wished he were better with words—like his cousin Illario. “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m not good at this, Rook,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I struggle with you because… because you mean something to me. You’re not just a distraction. You’re something that has—” He hesitated, the next word slipping out before he could stop it. “...weight.”

He saw her gaze drop instantly to her coffee, her expression unreadable.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucanis’s stomach dropped. Why the fuck did you say that? Davrin had specifically told him not to mention the word weight.

“Yes, I’m aware I have ‘weight,’” she replied, her tone dry as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, gesturing to the plate. “Thank you for highlighting that right after watching me devour at least three of these cakes.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a mock-serious expression. “And for the record, they were delicious, and I have zero regrets eating them.”

“What I meant is… you’re special to me,” Lucanis said, his voice quieter now, his dark eyes meeting hers. “To Spite, as well. And that’s dangerous to admit. It’s information that could be used against me—or you. And Maker knows Viago will not be pleased.”

He paused, frustration clear on his face. “I never flirted with you because… because I care for you. More than a friend.” His voice softened, the words weighted with sincerity. “Hopefully, I get to be more. But I’m the most foolish of men when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not good at… any of this.”

Rook’s gaze shifted, taking in the café around her. The warm, romantic glow of the lights, the beautifully laid-out table, the intimacy of the setting—it all seemed so deliberate, so unlike the Lucanis she thought she knew.

Her eyes landed back on him, and she arched an eyebrow. “You’re not good at being romantic? Or apologies? Because, by the way, you still haven’t said sorry.”

“Despite my Antivan heritage, we aren’t all blessed with my cousin’s gift for romance,” Lucanis said with a wry smile. “But I’ll try—for you.”

He stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, and stepped around the table.

“And this,” he continued, his voice dropping to something softer, almost reverent, “is where I kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.”

Before Rook could react, he sank to one knee before her, taking her hand gently in his. His eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression utterly sincere.

“I am sorry,” he began, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. “For any hurt I caused you. I am sorry for my misplaced charm. I am sorry for letting you think you are anything less than breathtaking to me.”

Her breath caught, the words hitting her like a wave.

“I am sorry you ever felt you were not enough,” he went on, his thumb brushing softly against her knuckles, “when you are—more than enough in every way a woman can be. I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

He paused, his voice softening even further as he added, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear to you—you will never doubt my affection for you for as long as I breathe.”

Rook sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the man kneeling before her. She turned her hand slightly in his, lacing her fingers through his as she searched for the right words.

“How am I supposed to stay angry at you now?” she said finally, her voice soft but tinged with exasperation. “The cakes, the candlelight, and that—” she gestured toward him with her free hand—“what you just said… Maker’s breath, you’re impossible.”

Lucanis’s lips curved into a hesitant smile, hope flickering in his eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “And… I forgive you,” she added, her voice steady now, but her cheeks flushed.

“But I swear,” Rook continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “if you ever make me feel that way again, I’ll take a contract out on you. Better than that—” she leaned forward, her tone dropping for emphasis—“I’ll kill you myself.”

Lucanis tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rose to his feet.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied smoothly, settling back into his chair across from her, “Promise me there will be lots of struggling,” Lucanis added, his voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Rolling around, grabbing for each other’s daggers…” He leaned forward slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “And sweaty. It’ll be sweaty, right?”

Urrgghhhh. She hated it when he turned it back on her like that.

Rook crossed her arms, trying to maintain her composure, but she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She wasn’t nearly as good as he was at making death threats sound… sultry.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, grabbing her coffee and taking a long sip to avoid saying anything else that might give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d flustered her.

“Are you flirting with me, Dellamorte?” Rook asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you didn’t do that.”

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “First time for everything, de Riva,” he replied smoothly. “You could say I’m making up for lost time.”

“I’m not sure if I should say yes or no,” Rook admitted, a nervous smile playing at her lips.

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady, his voice soft but teasing. “Say yes. Take a risk. See what happens.”

He could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between protecting her heart and giving in to her curiosity.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Lucanis half-smiled, standing as he offered his hand. She took it, and together they walked to the balcony overlooking the canal. The soft light reflected off the water below, casting shimmering patterns onto the stone railing.

He leaned against the cool stone, his hand still firmly holding hers.

“So… I said yes, and now we’re looking at…” Rook began, her voice tinged with nervous humor.

“For the love of the Maker, Rook,” Lucanis interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Shut up and let me kiss you. Just stop… talking.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his mouth brushing against hers in a soft, deliberate kiss. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, and Rook melted into him, her heart racing.

He was a good kisser.

Cliché as it was, she slowed time around them with a spell, savoring the moment as the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

Lucanis smiled against her lips, not breaking the kiss, his voice low and warm. “I know what you’re doing, Rook,” he murmured, his lips still grazing hers.

And she didn’t care.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[hannieehaee]

EUPHORIA (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: you've been inseparable with jungkook from the moment you landed in korea. from the initial language barrier to your group's immense success, you've remained dubbed as an iconic duo. but what will you do when a single moment changes everything between you?

content: idol!jungkook x idol!reader, f2l!jungkook, 8thfemalemember!reader, afab reader, reader is implied to be a foreign member of bts but you can assume all dialogue is supposed to be in korean, pretend this takes place during 2018/19 while they promoted fake love in the u.s, appearances from the other members, pining, miscommunication, dumb insecurities, smut, dry humping, body worship, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.6k (teaser); 12.5k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: december 22nd

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a/n: this was not fully proofread cuz it took me veryyy long to finish, so pls excuse any small mistakes<3

masterlist | patreon

"That's not how you're supposed to do it."

You sighed, movements halting and your eyes closing in annoyance.

Turning to face the culprit of the comment, you reopen your eyes, ready to snark at the exact person you were expecting.

"Do you have to be the bane of my existence?"

He chucked at that, nodding at you to turn and face the mirror located behind you once more. It was foggy due to the inhuman amount of heavy breathing exchanged in the practice room, but you could still easily make yourself on it. And Jungkook too, of course.

Standing behind you, — with an offensive lack of distance between your bodies — he grabbed onto your arms from behind, helping you position yourself to perfection, even to the exact inch, of the move you were trying to perform. His eyes found yours on the mirror, giving you a short smile before beginning to guide you through the small transition you'd been struggling with.

"See? Like that," he said once finally letting go of you after walking you through it a few times. By the end, you had gotten it as perfectly as your choreographer had described to you a few hours ago.

"Thanks, Kook."

"Thought I was the bane of your existence?", he chuckled as he bent down to collect a water bottle, taking a sip before handing it to you.

You were usually more worried by boy germs than this, but Jungkook proved to be an exception through the past few years.

You swallowed your sip, "Yeah, but I still have manners."

"C'mon, we should head back to the dorms. You've been at this all day. You beat Jimin at hours logged into the practice room this week," it was meant lightheartedly, but it was true. You'd practically been living here for the past few days.

"Where are the guys?", you wondered out loud as you followed him out.

The dorms, as Kook had called them, were really just a small living space located within the building. There were talks of moving onto a larger building within the next couple of years, but for now you were content with your living arrangements. Despite all of you either owning property or having family outside of the company building, you and a few other members usually opted to stay there due to convenience. You and Jungkook were the main ones to do so.

"Well, we technically have the next few days off, so I'm pretty sure they went visit family while they can. We probably won't be back in Korea for a while after promotions start."

It was true. You were soon due to head to America to promote your newest comeback. This was the first time you'd be taking promotions out of Asia and into the west, which made all of you incredibly anxious. As the most fluent English speaker in the group, the task of being the group's representative should've fallen on you, but luckily Joon had decided he'd be taking the brunt of it for you.

Still, you were terrified to open yourselves up for a way bigger audience.

"You good?" Kook interrupted your thoughts.

"Yeah, Kook. Don't worry about it."

The two of you headed over to the elevators, pressing the button leading you to the floor where your rooms were located. It was likely no one else was in the building at this time — holy shit, was it really 3am? — meaning that you and Kook would likely get some well-deserved rest in the privacy of the dorms.

That was one of the few nice parts of belonging to what once was a very small company. You had no sibling groups as of yet, which kind of made you own the place (or at least that's how Taehyung would put it sometimes). Late at night, it was just you and your group mates with the occasional presence of staff. Though more commonly, it was just you and Kook opting to stay together into the depths of the night.

"Nervous about flying to the U.S?", he voiced when the metal doors closed in front of you, caging you in with your friend.

"Maybe. You're not?"

He shrugged, "It's just like any other performance. You should be the least nervous. You speak English. You already know what America's like."

"Me? I'm the only girl in the group. I'm gonna stand out like a sore thumb," you whined, earning a chuckle from him.

It was a rare situation, being a girl in a group full of men. Other co-ed groups existed within Kpop, but they usually held a better boy-to-girl ratio.

But this wasn't really the reason you were nervous.

Opening yourselves up to an entire new audience within a mere five years since debut was an entire new battle you'd have to face. Worst of all was that no other Kpop group had ever truly promoted in the west before now. You were given accolades as trailblazers, but at what cost?

"Hey," Jungkook called your attention again, gesturing you to follow him into the hallway that would lead you to your room, "C'mon, let's find something to take your mind off of this."

Leading you into his room rather than yours, he sat you on his couch as he went back out to peruse the kitchen of any food he could get for the two of you for an impromptu night indulging yourselves. You relaxed as you waited, appreciative of Jungkook immediately noticing your lack of ease and working towards getting you cooled down again.

He always did have a way of being in tune with your emotions that no one else did.

His room was spacious and tidier than the average for a man in his early 20's. It was common for you to spend time here rather than in your own room. You had always been one to wander in search of your bandmates, and Jungkook just so happened to be the most receptive to it of them all.

The click clank of bottles bumping into each other was your first indicator of his return, making you look up from the couch, unable to withhold a smile when you saw him balancing various bottles of soju in his arms while also attempting to carry a few packets of spicy ramen.

Getting up to help him, you aided him in setting down all his snacks on the coffee table, moving aside any remote and controller that was in the way. Your usual set up was established then, as it had countless times before. It consisted of you and Kook on his old couch (that he refused to replace from the old days in which you could barely afford any luxuries) with a variety of alcohol and snacks accompanying you through the night.

He took a seat on the floor while you remained on the couch. It was common for him. Something about being at optimal proximity to the food on the table.

"We've got two more nights left in Korea. What do you wanna do to spend the time? And no, practicing isn't allowed," he interrupted you before you could respond.

You huffed, shoulders slacking before going back to their usual posture, "Well, then I guess just this."

"Just this? My dorm and some soju?"

"Yep. We're going to be overwhelmed by people and schedules as soon as we leave Korea. Might as well enjoy the quiet alone time," you reasoned.

Jungkook hummed in pensiveness, "Does it really count as alone time if it's together?"

"I like my alone time better when I'm with you," was your response.

And you meant it too. The quiet sometimes became too quiet if Jungkook wasn't around. You'd known him since you were 15 and had been unable to imagine an existence without him since.

It was joked around by members and fans alike, that the two of you were attached to the hip. Some people would even call you a dynamic duo due to how often you were together with no distance between you. Of course, you were shipped and speculated as a couple, but that did nothing to deter your friendship.

Had you been a smarter person, you would've noticed Jungkook's bashful smile at your response. But you'd grown so used to his constant company that the idea of anything further than platonic did not compute in your brain. You weren't even sure if you were opposed to it; it was just nonexistent to you. It was as if he'd spawned as your friend one day and you never once stopped to question it.

"Well, let's enjoy it while we can," he finally responded as he handed you a now-opened bottle of soju.

Clanking bottles, you each took a small swing, settling in for a night that you'd likely not spend sleeping. You settled closer to Jungkook after that, letting yourself slide off the couch snd knocking shoulders with him as you took a seat on the softness of the rug under you.

"What do you wanna do to spend your last few nights of freedom?" you asked after some silence.

"I'll do whatever you want," his head fell to your shoulder, "We can just camp in here til they come get us for our flight on Monday."

You hummed in absentminded agreement, sipping at your drink a little more.

Jungkook turned to look at you then, slight bunny smile showing through.

"So, is tonight a blackout drunk night or do you wanna stay up and watch some movies?"

"Hmm. Maybe a mixture?", you suggested.

With a grin, he raised his bottle for yet another clink before taking a drink from it in tandem with you.

...

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[purinfelix]

from your last post could i request pedri? from “about you” by the 1975 where perhaps reader and pedri had a past relationship all throughout high school and when pedri left for barcelona they lost contact / broke up but years later they reunite somehow? When they do it’s like a “i thought you’d forget about me by now” to “how could i forget about you?” maybe angst to fluff! sorry that was so long … i hope it made sense lol <33

did you think i'd have forgotten? ✶⋆.˚ - pedri gonzalez

w/c: 600 a/n: this is one of my fav songs of all time so tysm for this (and for giving a specific request HAHA) i got quite a few for this song but i liked this idea the most and thought it fit the best - hope u enjoy anon !! <3333

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

He still looked exactly the same.

Or at least, from what you could make as your train sped past where he was standing on the platform - though you were pretty sure you could still faintly his features, that dark black hair, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he laughed.

It was all exactly the same.

And maybe it was the realisation, that feeling of noticing someone familiar in a place like this - or something deeper within you that you dared not to question - that pushed you to speed off the train at the last minute when this wasn't even your stop. Maybe it was this that made you walk, then jog, then sprint towards what you recognised as his figure in the distance.

But it was also the reminder of what happened between you two, all those years ago, that brought your sprint to a screeching halt. And what would be the chances of you running into your ex-boyfriend here, at a random station, far away from your hometown or the country he had left you to move to? How could you face him, after all that?

"Y/N, is that you?" Too late.

"Pedri?" you called out, your tone confused even though you had made up your mind about it being him long before he had.

"Woah, hi, what are you doing here!"

"I could ask you the same thing," you laugh, a little awkwardly.

"I'm here for a match, we're playing a local team."

"Oh, right," you smile, of course, "I study here."

There's a slight pause, in which you can see Pedri's expression turn into one of surprise. "I didn't know that."

"I mean, why would you?" You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, but it's too late since his face is already donning an apologetic look.

"Right, sorry," he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks at the floor. "What are you studying?" he says after a while of silence.

"Nursing," you say matter-of-factly.

"Of course, you'll be great at that," he says, offering a warm smile.

It's clear he's eager to make this exchange as normal as possible, and you'd probably be obliged to let him. But it's hard to be normal given what happened between the two of you, when this is the first time you've spoken to him in years.

"It's nice to see you," he says after another moment of silence.

"Same for you," you laugh shyly trying to avoid eye contact, "I figured you'd forgotten about me by now."

"How could I forget about you?" When you look into his eyes again, you're taken aback by how well his expression reflects his words - his brows tilted slightly up in the inner corners, a tender confusion at the fact that you'd think he'd dare to forget about you.

"Well, you know with how famous you are and everything, I see how they chant your names when you play," you begin to ramble, eager to explain yourself.

"Well, I'd hardly consider myself fam- wait, you watch my games?"

"Well, yeah," you sigh shyly, feeling your cheeks glow pink at the sight of his smirk. The two of you stand there, looking at each other for a while, exchanging sly glances - and it feels, just for a moment, like you're the same high schoolers who were in a puppy-love relationship.

"Are you doing anything now?" he asks you.

"Well, I was on my way to class but I'm probably late for that now."

"Do you want to grab some coffee? I want you to show me what's good around here," he smiles, "oh, and catch me up on how you're doing."

You feel your cheeks begin to ache from how wide you're smiling.

"I'd like that," you nod, "I'd like that a lot."

[loulovingho]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[gothnitsa]

"Bioware's writing has gotten worse"

Ok, so I'm going to rant post about something and make it everyone elses' problem.

So, I recently came across a video that compared a scene of a queer character interacting with an unsupportive character in Dragon Age: Inquisition and a similar situation Dragon Age: the Veilguard. The video and the comments seem to imply that one scene is markedly worse than the other in a way that is immediately apparent. I want to push back against this.

Aside from the transphobia/anti-nb shit that is suggested by the video's framing and rampant in the comments, saying one scene is worse than the other is a mischaracterisation and discounts a lot of queer experience.

The scene in Inquisition is very dramatic: the language is flowery and elaborate, the performances are intense, it is a very compelling and dramatic scene. The framing for the scene and visual tone communicate a great deal of intensity and anger from Dorian: there are heavy shadows and dim lighting from torches that flicker, creating a scene that visually has a darkness and instability to it. The blocking of the scene puts a great deal of distance between the player character, Dorian, and his father, representing the distance in their relationship. It is very much a well crafted scene.

Now, the scene in Veilguard is much different: it opens with a very casual tone and atmosphere, the lighting of the scene is very warm and saturated. It feels like we are at a dinner table having a friendly conversation. Then, when the bomb gets dropped, we start to get close ups of each of the characters, interrupted by wide shots of the whole table. The shot of the table reminds us of the physical separation between these two characters, an echo of the rift that exists between them. We then get various close ups of each of the characters which get progressively closer, mirroring the intensity of the scene and the emotions.

Ok, so now we have the "Dialogue," the actual matter under discussion and point of comparison for these two scenes.

As mentioned above, Inquisition's style in this scene is deliberately intense and dramatic. It feels almost Shakespearean. We are given exposition on why Dorian's homosexuality is frowned upon, we get a tug of war between these two characters and the pain they both feel is palpable in the performances: the way Dorian's father speaks with such pain in his voice and Dorian's ferocity and anguish illustrate how this conflict isn't what either of them want, how the values and cultural circumstances have burned this bridge between them.

Now lets look at Veilguard. Right off the bat someone might feel critical of the sort of awkward start to this conversation. I won't lie, it was quite funny to hear someone go "here are some vegetables...so I'm non-binary." It's clunky, it's awkward, it's a strange way to introduce the topic but if you call this "unrealistic" or "bad writing," frankly I don't think you've seen many people come out.

Coming out is often awkward, painfull, and full of conflicting feelings. There's so much hesitation and anxiety baked into the very concept that there isn't anyway to bring it up that isn't awkward. This is actually a pretty realistic way to depict it. Furthermore, the actual conversation is also what I would call pretty realistic for an outing: the child tries to put it in as simple of terms as they possible can, lay it out in a way they think anyone can understand only for the parent to simply reject the explanation. What follows is a brief exchange that rapidly increases in intensity that is brought to life by some well done voice work (though, personally I think the music was a bit over bearing and did a little too much heavy lifting; I would have preferred the scene silent).

You can feel their frustration that is only further compounded by the mother's past behaviour and general presence. Even in this short video clip you can tell right off the bat that this mother child relationship isn't the most healthy, so this is just more fuel to the fire for them. The exchange is brief, harsh, and loaded with baggage and past bad blood between these two. You don't need to even know who these characters are to feel that. This is a much more realistic example of a character coming out to an unsupportive parent. It is laden with tension, awkwardness, unresolved anger, the burden of past expectations. There is, bluntly, a lot going on in this scene. Even just from this short clip you can get so much from these characters and their relationship while at the same time conveying a pretty impactfull and, honestly, real feeling queer experience.

So, no, one scene is not "worse" than the other. One scene has a deliberately awkward moment to convey the difficult and uncomfortable nature of coming out while at the same time communicating a great deal of character and struggle.

The other scene is an intense and dramatic confrontation that is meant to be more instep with the dark and intense tone that this scene holds within the narrative.

Both are well crafted scenes with deliberate directorial, cinematographic, character, and music choices that successfully convey what these moments are supposed to represent.

[starmatzz]

ok but like imagine mingi’s hand cupping the back of yunho’s neck, holding him steady as he fucks wildly into his mouth. yunho’s eyes watering, he is VERY much overwhelmed, but he takes it all

muhehehhee

Vase Of Secrets

yunho x mingi

smut | mdni

4.1k

Yunho, the quiet and reserved bodyguard to the powerful CEO Mr. Song, has always kept his distance from the Song family, focusing solely on his duties. But everything changes when Mingi, the CEO’s charming yet cocky younger son, begins to blur the lines between professional and personal.

It starts with a simple mistake—breaking an expensive vase. In an unexpected turn of events, Mingi offers Yunho a way out: take the blame, and in exchange, he asks for a favor. But when the two lock eyes in the aftermath, something shifts. A quiet tension grows between them, an unspoken understanding that neither can ignore.

nsfw tags under

oral sex, deepthroat, office blow jobs, fluff and smut, pet names, suit kink, bodyguard, teasing, praise, age gap, sub!mingi, top!mingi, dom!yunho, bottom!yunho, power play

author’s note: uhm so this is my first oneshot, I should’ve probably kept it as a short scenario but I got a bit carried away haha

Read on ao3

Mingi, the brash and cocky heir to a vast empire, lived a life of luxury with the kind of confidence only a rich son could afford. His father, a highly successful CEO, had built a sprawling business empire, and Mingi was expected to eventually take the reins. But instead of taking his responsibilities seriously, Mingi preferred to flaunt his wealth and indulge in the fast-paced life of parties, expensive cars, and a constant stream of admirers. His arrogance was his armor, his way of asserting power, even if it alienated those around him.

Yunho, on the other hand, lived in the shadows of that empire, a loyal right-hand man to Mingi’s father. He was the CEO’s trusted bodyguard and chief advisor, the steady presence in a world full of chaos. Calm, composed, and fiercely dedicated, Yunho kept the company running smoothly—and more importantly, kept Mingi safe, even if the younger man often pushed the limits of his protection.

But beneath Yunho’s professional exterior was a secret he had kept buried for years: he harbored a quiet, intense crush on Mingi. Every glance, every careless smile from the younger man sent his heart into turmoil. Yunho knew it was forbidden—knew that nothing could ever come of it—but it didn’t stop the longing. As Mingi’s recklessness grew, so did the silent ache in Yunho’s chest.

In this world of power, privilege, and hidden desires, both men were trapped—one in a life of expectations, the other in a love he could never have.

Mingi’s life was one of excess and indulgence, yet beneath the confident facade, there were hidden longings he couldn’t escape. He’d always known that his status as the heir to a powerful business empire meant living under a microscope, but it also meant he had a lot of freedom—freedom to enjoy everything he wanted, but also to keep the things he didn’t understand locked away.

One of those things was Yunho. The older man, his father’s trusted right-hand and bodyguard, had always been a figure Mingi admired—though he’d never dared to admit it to anyone, least of all himself. It was subtle at first: the way Yunho moved, the quiet authority he carried, the way his eyes would linger just a moment too long when they spoke. Mingi found himself distracted by the sight of him, by the calm and strength Yunho exuded in contrast to his own impulsive, reckless nature. There was an attraction that Mingi couldn’t explain—a pull that gnawed at him every time Yunho was near. He would often spend lonely nights with his hand in his pajama pants, lazily stroking himself at the thought of the tall and handsome bodyguard.

It was an ordinary afternoon when Yunho found himself back at the Song family’s sprawling estate, though his presence here was far from unusual. As Mr. Song’s personal bodyguard and right-hand man, he was often dispatched on various errands. Today, it was something simple—deliver the important documents his boss had left behind in the rush to attend a high-stakes business meeting. Yunho’s footsteps echoed softly in the marble-floored hallway as he made his way through the expansive mansion. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that made everything feel distant, as though the world beyond the walls of the estate didn’t exist.

He’d been to this house a hundred times before, but it always seemed different when Mingi wasn’t around—less chaotic, less alive. Mingi had a way of making the space feel full, whether it was with his loud laughter or his cocky remarks. Yunho, despite himself, always found it hard to ignore the younger man’s presence when he was home. It wasn’t just that Mingi was his boss’s son, and thus strictly off-limits—it was that Mingi had a kind of magnetism that Yunho couldn’t resist, even though he tried.

Today, though, it was just him and the empty house.

As he entered the study, where Mr. Song usually kept his most important documents, Yunho set the briefcase down and began rifling through the papers. The hum of the house’s heating system was the only sound breaking the silence, and Yunho could feel the weight of the moment. Normally, he wouldn’t stay here for long. He’d drop off the papers, send a quick text to Mr. Song to confirm, and then leave. But something about the stillness today seemed… off. Almost like he was being watched.

As he reached for a final folder near the edge of the desk, a voice suddenly broke through the silence, making him freeze in place.

“What are you doing here?”

The words were smooth, laced with that cocky edge that Mingi always carried, yet this time, there was something different in his tone—almost curious, almost amused.

Yunho’s heart skipped. He hadn’t heard Mingi’s approach, hadn’t even noticed he was in the room until the voice rang out so unexpectedly. Startled, he spun around a little too quickly, his hand brushing the edge of the shelf behind him. Before he could react, the delicate porcelain vase perched there wobbled, then tipped over the edge.

Time seemed to slow as the vase fell, crashing to the floor with a sharp, deafening crack. Yunho’s eyes widened in panic, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The vase shattered into pieces, its fragments scattering across the polished floor in a jagged, dangerous mess.

Mingi’s gaze flickered from the broken vase back to Yunho, his expression unreadable for a moment. Yunho stood frozen, his heart racing, trying to process what had just happened.

“I—” Yunho began, but the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed or worried about what Mr. Song would say.

Mingi’s lips quirked into a grin, one that was equal parts amused and bemused. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said with a chuckle, though his voice carried a hint of teasing. He stepped forward, looking at the mess with a slightly raised brow. “You know, you’re not exactly the most graceful bodyguard.”

Yunho’s hands were still slightly trembling as he bent down to start picking up the shattered pieces, a mix of frustration and awkwardness swirling inside him. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice stiff, trying to regain control of the situation.

Yunho carefully scooped up the jagged pieces of the shattered vase, his mind racing. The crash still echoed in his ears, and his hands trembled slightly as he tried to gather the remains of the porcelain. He was hyper-aware of Mingi’s presence, standing just a few feet away, watching him with that trademark mischievous grin. It felt like the younger man was enjoying his discomfort a little too much.

As Yunho reached for another fragment, Mingi’s voice broke through the silence, light and teasing. “You know, that vase was my father’s favorite,” he said, the words laced with an edge of amusement. His tone was so casual, but the weight of the statement made Yunho freeze, his heart skipping a beat.

Yunho looked up, startled, meeting Mingi’s eyes. “W-what?”

Mingi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth curling up as he watched Yunho’s reaction. “Yeah. He always said it was a family heirloom,” he continued, as though talking about a trivial matter. “He’s going to love hearing about this.”

Yunho’s throat tightened, a rush of panic coursing through him. He had always tried to stay professional, always kept a strict distance, but the thought of having to face Mr. Song after breaking something so important—something sentimental to him—sent a wave of dread through Yunho. His mind spun, already preparing himself for the worst.

“I— I didn’t mean to—” Yunho stammered, his voice strained, tears brimming his eyes as he thought about the consequences of his actions.

As Yunho carefully gathered the pieces of the vase, Mingi’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “You know, I could always take the blame for this… If you want to avoid my father’s wrath.”

Yunho froze, his heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

Mingi smirked, stepping closer, his gaze locking onto Yunho’s. “I mean, I could say it was me. I’m always breaking things around here anyway,” he said, his tone casual, but there was something calculated behind his words. “And you won’t have to deal with Mr. Song’s temper. All I need is a small favor in return.”

Yunho blinked, trying to process the offer. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you want?”

Mingi grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “It’s simple. You just have to do one thing for me, Yunho… And I’ll handle the vase situation.”

Yunho hesitated, the weight of the offer hanging in the air. The tension between them felt unbearable, but he knew he couldn’t afford to get too involved. Yet, as Mingi’s grin widened, Yunho realized it might not be as easy to refuse as he hoped.

As Yunho bent down to pick up another shard of porcelain, his gaze inadvertently dropped to Mingi’s legs. The younger man was wearing gray sweatpants, casual but tight enough to leave little to the imagination. Yunho quickly looked away, his heart pounding in his chest, trying to focus on the broken vase.

But Mingi, ever observant, noticed the shift. He grinned, stepping closer, his voice playful yet laced with a challenge. “What’s wrong, Yunho? You like what you see?”

Yunho’s face flushed with heat. He could feel Mingi’s eyes on him, almost teasing him, and it was all Yunho could do to keep his composure. “I—I wasn’t…” His words faltered, his mind racing for a way out of the uncomfortable situation.

Mingi’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect he was having. “It’s okay, you know,” he teased, voice lowering. “No need to pretend. You can look all you want.”

Yunho stood up quickly, brushing off the last of the shards, his heart pounding in his ears. He didn’t know how to respond to Mingi’s boldness, but he couldn’t help but feel the heat of the moment—a line being crossed, and the tension thickening between them.

Mingi took a step closer to Yunho, a playful smile playing on his lips. "You've been staring at me like that for a while, you know," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "I can't help but notice the way your eyes follow me whenever I'm in the same room as you." Slowly, Mingi took hold of Yunho's hand, leading it toward his own lap. He pressed the man's palm against his own clothed cock, letting him feel the hardness that was already starting to grow there. "You've wanted me for a long time, haven't you?"

Mingi suddenly let out a soft moan as he felt the heat of Yunho's big hand against his own crotch. He bit his lip to stifle the sound, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he ground against his hand. The friction between them was sending jolts of pleasure through his body, and his desire was growing with eachpassing moment. Yunho, on the other hand, was surprised by the situation, his nerves palpable. But he couldn't deny the fact that he'd been fantasizing about this moment for a long time.

The air between them was thick with tension, and Yunho’s heart raced, his mind struggling to focus. Taking a deep breath, Yunho steadied himself and glanced up, meeting Mingi’s eyes. “What’s the favor?” he asked, his voice a little firmer than he intended, trying to pull himself back into control. “You said you’d take the blame for the vase. But what do you want in return?”

Mingi’s smile didn’t fade, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. He grabbed his hand again, hooking Yunho's slender fingers over the hem of his sweatpants. “I thought you figured out already,” he said, his voice smooth. “I know you want this too.”

Mingi’s gaze softened as he grabbed Yunho's tie, pulling him closer. For a moment, everything seemed to still, the world outside their little bubble of space vanishing entirely.

He placed a hand gently on Yunho’s head, a quiet command in the gesture that spoke volumes. There was no need for words. The pressure of his touch, though subtle, was firm, as if conveying that this was a moment of understanding between them—unspoken, yet clear.

Yunho’s breath hitched at the sudden intensity of the gesture, a wave of realization washing over him. He didn’t need Mingi to say more. The look in his eyes, the soft but insistent touch, made Yunho understand exactly what Mingi wanted. The shift in their dynamic was unmistakable.

His heart raced, and for a brief second, Yunho hesitated, unsure if he should push back or give in. But the pull of the younger man’s presence was undeniable. Slowly, he lowered himself, kneeling in front of Mingi without a word. It wasn’t just the favor anymore—it was something deeper, something that Yunho wasn’t sure he was ready to confront but couldn’t resist.

Mingi watched him silently, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was a power play, but it was also something else. A challenge. A question. And Yunho found himself caught in the web, unable to look away.

He looked at Mingi with wide eyes—almost like a puppy, unsure but eager to please, as if silently asking for permission to proceed.

Mingi noticed immediately. There was something about Yunho’s eyes in that moment—soft, almost pleading—that made him pause. It was as if the older man had let go of all his reservations, giving Mingi full control over the situation.

The shift didn’t escape Mingi’s notice. His lips quirked into a knowing smirk, but there was something almost fond in his gaze as he watched Yunho, kneeling at his feet. “That’s what I thought,” Mingi murmured softly, the words heavy with meaning.

Mingi's voice was sultrily low as he looked up at Yunho, his eyes dark with desire. "Don't stop," he whispered, his words laced with unabashed need. Yunho, taking the cue, began to pull down Mingi's sweatpants, his movements careful yet filled with a growing hunger to see more.

His mind whirled with a cocktail of excitement and nervousness, the weight of the moment making him feel both vulnerable and alive. He couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at the corner of his lips, nor could he suppress the racing thoughts that filled his head. This wasn’t a dream—it was real, and it was happening now.

Mingi's hand grabbed the back of Yunho's head, guiding him closer to his aching erection in his boxers. While looking up at him with desire, Yunho nuzzled his head against Mingi's clothed cock, earning a sharp gasp from the younger.

The man's patience was wearing thin, and he couldn't help but urge Yunho on. "Hurry up," he panted out, his voice rough with desire. "I need you now." Yunho understood the urgency in Mingi's voice and moved quickly, taking off his boxers in record time. The action left Mingi exposed, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability as he stood there before the guard.

Yunho wrapped his hands around Mingi's soft thighs, looking at his cock already dripping with pre-cum right in front of his face.

Mingi looked down at Yunho with a knowing smile, his gaze holding a dark promise. "Open your mouth for me, puppy" he repeated, his voice a low, seductive command. Yunho couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as he slowly opened his mouth, unable to keep his eyes still, flicking nervously from one spot to another.

"Look at me." he let his hand slide up to Yunho's chin, gently tilting his head so they were looking directly into each other's eyes. "I want you to keep your eyes on me." There was a mixture of command and tenderness in his gaze, and it was clear that Mingi was taking control of the situation.

"And stick out your tongue." Yunho stuck out his tongue, obediently holding an eye contact with his boss's son. While still holding the back of Yunho's head steadily with one hand, he grabbed his cock with another, slapping it teasingly on Yunho's tongue.

But Mingi wanted more, wanted to feel the bodyguard's lips wrap around his cock. And it seemed that Yunho felt the same way, as he, without hesitation, put Mingi's whole length in his mouth. The sensation made the younger groan deeply, barely holding himself back from fucking into his mouth. He wanted to give the man time to adjust, as he saw him struggle a bit with his mouth full.

"Mmm..what a good pup," he praised, grabbing a handful of Yunho's hair. The reaction he got from the bodyguard was priceless; the man whined, looking up at him with dedication in his eyes, eyebrows pulled in in taunt. "Look at you, who would've thought a big guy like you would be kneeling in front of his boss's son, sucking his cock like a whore." The humiliation only made Yunho blush, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

Yunho decided to take the control, bobbing his head and swirling his tongue around Mingi's cock, earning a high pitched moan from the younger. Mingi's hand tangled in Yunho's hair, his fingers gripping and pulling gently at the silky strands. The action was commanding, a way of letting Yunho know that he was still in control, even in this intimate moment. It sent a thrill through the older man as he continued to pleasure Mingi with his mouth, the other's grip guiding him.

Mingi let himself go and moved his hand, cupping the back of Yunho's neck as he held him steady. "Fuck..you feel so good puppy," he groaned, fucking wildly into his mouth.

Yunho was both overwhelmed and enjoying every second of it. He could feel the pleasure building within him, but there was also a sense of submission as he looked up into Mingi's eyes. His own desires were growing stronger, his tongue moving over the younger's member with increasing need. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and all he could think about was pleasing him.

"Just like that, keep going." Mingi moaned, the sound being a smooth melody for Yunho's ears. Mingi’s gaze locked with Yunho’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop around them. The tension between them thickened, each of them silently trying to read the other. Yunho felt his breath catch as Mingi’s eyes held his, steady and unblinking, as if daring him to look away. The air was thick with something unspoken, an uncharted territory neither of them wanted to explore yet couldn’t seem to resist, the silence between them only being broken by wet sounds, groans and Yunho's occasional gagging.

As the pleasure continued to build within Mingi, the he found it increasingly difficult to speak, his words becoming more strained and breathless. "Just... don't stop..." he panted out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Right... there... just like that..." He dug his fingers into Yunho's hair, his body trembling with need. Each movement of Yunho's mouth brought him closer to the edge, and he could feel his release nearing.

Yunho continued to give pleasure to Mingi, feeling his eyes water. The sensation was overwhelming, his emotions mixing with the physical demands of the moment. It was a combination of pleasure and vulnerability, a feeling of submitting completely to the other’s desires. The tears that started to run down his face, were a statement to the depth of his own surrender.

Feeling the younger's sensitivity and the power that came with it, Yunho took advantage of the situation, allowing Mingi's cock to slide deeper into his throat. He relished in the feeling of submitting to him, the knowledge that he was pleasing him making his own desire grow stronger. His hands roamed over the other's thighs, leaving a trail of tingles in their wake.

"God..I am about to—" Mingi let out a whimper, his body tensing and his eyes rolled back. The squeeze on his thighs, Yunho's lips wrapped around his cock and the warmth of his mouth—it was all too much. His hips thrusted forward for the last time, releasing the salty substance deep into Yunho's throat.

Yunho squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to gag as he felt the strings of cum aim for his throat. When Mingi rode down from his climax, Yunho continued to lazily suck on his cock, paying extra attention and care to his swollen tip.

"Nobody..," he panted, combing Yunho's hair back, "nobody should know about this, okay?" As Yunho finally pulled away with a loud 'pop' sound, he nodded and wiped his mouth.

Mingi’s fingers gently lifted Yunho’s chin, tilting his head upward with surprising tenderness. The simple motion was enough to make Yunho’s heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat. Mingi’s touch lingered for a second, before he softly guided Yunho to his feet.

As Yunho stood, Mingi found himself momentarily stunned. He had always known Yunho was tall, but in this close space, standing face-to-face, the difference was even more striking. Yunho’s height made him feel almost dwarfed in comparison, and Mingi couldn’t help but blush slightly, caught off guard by the sudden realization. The tall, commanding presence of Yunho seemed to draw him in further, and for a fleeting moment, Mingi hesitated, his heart racing.

Mingi leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Yunho’s cheek in a quick, almost teasing kiss. Yunho’s breath caught in his throat, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Mingi pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You better bring those documents to my father now,” Mingi said, his voice smooth, like he was giving an order. But there was something almost affectionate in the way he said it, his tone laced with amusement.

Before Yunho could respond, Mingi smirked, his gaze playful. “And don’t worry about the vase,” he added with a casual wave of his hand. “It was a cheap one. My dad won’t care.”

Yunho blinked, still trying to process the unexpected kiss, the sudden shift in energy. Mingi was looking at him like he knew exactly what had just happened—like he was in control of the whole situation.

Yunho felt his face flush, but he couldn’t deny the lingering thrill of the moment. He nodded quickly, eager to move on from the awkwardness, but still acutely aware of how close they had been just seconds before.

As Yunho turned toward the door, Mingi’s voice stopped him. “Thank you for the service, Yunho,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

Yunho paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to face Mingi, his posture still professional, but his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. “The pleasure was on my side, Mingi,” he replied smoothly, his voice warm but teasing. “And for that, I’d gladly break more vases… if it means getting your attention.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk curling on his lips. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, clearly enjoying the banter.

Yunho offered one last polite bow before turning to leave, his smile lingering as he walked out of the room. The tension between them hadn’t eased, but there was a new understanding—a mutual acknowledgment of something more than just the task at hand.

After that encounter, something subtle yet undeniable shifted between Yunho and Mingi. What had begun as professional distance, masked by layers of formality, started to unravel, thread by thread. Each interaction that followed carried a quiet weight, an unspoken understanding that neither of them fully acknowledged—at least not out loud.

Yunho found himself lingering a little longer when he delivered documents or when Mr. Song had tasks for him. Mingi would always find a reason to engage him in conversation, whether it was a casual question or a playful remark. Their exchanges, though lighthearted, were now laced with a deeper layer of meaning.

Yunho could no longer ignore the pull he felt when Mingi’s eyes caught his, or the way Mingi’s teasing smile seemed to linger longer than usual. Each glance, each subtle shift in tone, added to the growing tension between them. The connection, once tentative, began to solidify with each passing day.

Mingi, too, noticed the difference. He started seeking out Yunho more often, not out of necessity, but because he enjoyed the dynamic that had developed between them. The teasing had turned into something more. There was a playful tension between them now—a dance of words and glances, a bond forged in the heat of a shared moment neither of them would forget.

It wasn’t just about the vase anymore. What began with a simple joke had evolved into something deeper, something that neither of them were entirely ready to define. But the connection was there, undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with time.

[mirai-e-jump]

BoyAge Vol.25 ft. Chinen Hidekazu (other pages and translation below)

Publication: November 11, 2024

Chinen Hidekazu-kun, who currently plays the role of Shouma in "Kamen Rider Gavv," makes his first appearance in BoyAge! During the interview, Chinen-kun's genuine kindness and personality was overflowing. Make sure to also check out his mature styling in the beautiful gravure!

Miraculous Encounters

"We'd like to hear about these "miraculous encounters" of yours."

Chinen: I believe I'm here now because of many miracles. First, becoming a Kamen Rider was the greatest miracle. I hadn't done any entertainment activities, but I came to Tokyo from Okinawa saying, "I want to become a Kamen Rider!," and not even a year later, I participated in my first Kamen Rider audition. I think it was an amazing miracle that that's where I was chosen, and I even shocked myself. Then there's the bonds I've made with people. Ever since I was a child, I've been blessed with the teachers and friends that surrounded me at school. Along with everyone affiliated with my agency, all the Rider staff, including the Directors and Producers, understand my traits and are trying to help me grow. I've been blessed by so many people, that I'm confident in saying that I'm a "miracle man."

"Do you ever feel afraid because these miracles are progressing without a hitch?"

Chinen: "Afraid" is certainly one way to describe it, but…..Maybe it's because of all the things I've done up until now? I was told from an early age to "practice good in secret," so perhaps luck is on my side.

"Is that like good deeds that are done without anyone knowing?"

Chinen: Right. That's why it's not something I tell people, but as an example, if flowers on the road were drooping, I'd stop to straighten them up, even if I was in the middle of a run. When I throw away worn out products like a toothbrush, I say "thank you" to it out loud. Because it's such a rare thing, people ask me, "You're still doing that at your age?" (laughs), but it's become a normal thing for me. Sometimes people think it's strange that I talk to flowers, but I think that's also part of my identity. I'm not embarrassed about it, as I do it with confidence.

"Is that something your parents taught you?"

Chinen: Yes! My parents were incredibly strict, as they only allowed me to eat sweets on weekends. The first time I went to a fast food restaurant was when I was in middle school. I haven't walked down any of the "paths" that everyone around me has taken. Shouma, the character I'm currently playing in Kamen Rider Gavv, also came to the human world from another world, so I can relate to his fresh approach to everything.

"You weren't unhappy as a child?"

Chinen: No, that's just how things normally were, but in exchange, I was allowed to do whatever I liked. I was also doing five extracurricular activities at the same time. They didn't buy me gaming consoles or a smartphone, but I now think that it was a good thing. I was able to become interested in alot of things because of that, and in this era of information overload, everything is convenient, but sometimes that makes me feel lonely because of the distance between me and others. And of all the activities I took on, I'm especially grateful for karate, as I'm using it in the action scenes in Kamen Rider.

"How long did you practice karate?"

Chinen: I did it for 4 years, from my third to sixth year in elementary school. I was doing full contact karate, where you can seriously strike your opponent, but I was so small at the time, that I was weak enough to be beaten by girls (laughs). However, there were also advancement tests, and I could actually feel that the more I did them, the better I got, so it was worth doing. Then one day I decided, "I want to play badminton," and so I quit and became devoted to badminton starting from middle school.

"You had so many things you wanted to do (laughs)."

Chinen: That's right (laughs). It's one of my weak points, but I'm interested in alot of things, so I move quickly. Acting was just something I was curious about at first, and I thought, "Ah, I want to do that," so I quit badminton, which I had been playing until my second year of high school, and during Summer vacation, I thought, "Alright, I'll go for an audition." The audition I had during that Summer vacation was the audition for my current agency.

"The gap between your enthusiasm when you start and the honesty when you stop is amazing, don't you think?"

Chinen: Yes (laughs). I was so passionate about badminton, that I thought I'd have to burn myself out before I'd stop. I was able to compete in the Inter High Championships with my seniors, who were one year above me at the time, and since I felt satisfied with things, I was able to switch directions quickly and easily.

"So once you're satisfied, it's onto the next thing, huh?"

Chinen: When I focus on one thing, I can't think of anything else. In the future, I'd like to make use of that in my acting career.

"What will you do if you feel satisfied as an actor?"

Chinen: Don't worry! Acting is something you study your whole life. It's a world with no limits, where you develop until you die, and that's what makes it so appealing, so I think I can continue to be enthusiastic about it. In addition, I can experience various occupations through my roles, so I was able to find the perfect job for myself.

"Yeah, that's good (laughs). Now then, who's the person Chinen-kun wants to meet the most right now?"

Chinen: There's a ton, but I'd like to meet my middle school teachers. Ever since I was in elementary school, I've been closer to my teachers than my friends. I'd go to the staff room or music room to talk with them during breaks. There, I'd always say, "I want to be an actor," and they'd give me encouragement by saying, "If it's Chinen, you can make it." The reason why I was attracted to this world in the first place was because if I appeared on TV, tons of people would be able to watch me through the airwaves, even if they're far away. I hope they're happy that their student is now making appearances. I think it's thanks to my teachers that I was able to enjoy a fulfilling youth. I want them to see me after all these years and see how much I've grown.

"We're sure they'd be overjoyed. Now that you're currently appearing in Gavv, and it's been half a year since filming started, do you feel more relaxed?"

Chinen: I don't have the time to say, "I'm totally OK now!," but I think I've developed alittle bit of enjoyment in my heart. At first, I had no experience, so I was the one receiving advice, but now I can ask by myself, "Can I try doing this?" Other than that, I've also expanded my interests by watching films I wouldn't normally watch as references. I'm having the most fun right now. I've found what I want to create, and I feel that I've finally reached the point where I can enjoy it. I was hesitant at first to talk to the other cast members and guest cast, but now I'm trying to talk to them myself.

"Did you feel any pressure in the beginning?"

Chinen: Yes, it's not completely gone now, but I'm still concerned about the reaction of the viewers every time a broadcast airs, and when we were filming on location in town, the neighborhood children would cheer me on and say, "Go for it, Shouma!" I'm conscious of the fact that I'm participating in a production that's supported by tons of people, so I make sure to never forget that. I'd like to create this show while keeping a certain level of tension.

"Filming a tokusatsu program is hard, isn't it?"

Chinen: I think so. Nevertheless, I spend my time thinking that everything is a positive thing for me, and that I'm living in the best environment possible. It's all been a learning experience, and I appreciate all of it, so when we reach the end, I want to be sent off with pride in my chest. I entered this world on my own because I admired it, so it doesn't bother me at all.

"How do you raise your spirits on days when things aren't going your way?"

Chinen: I think it's important to be properly let down. It'd be a waste of time if I thought, "Oh, alright," and then forgot about it a week later because I was too busy with filming. I think you'll grow faster if you really think about each and every thing and think, "I'll make sure that doesn't happen next time." So, I try to cherish the time I have alone to properly sulk. I love music, and before I started working on Rider, I was the kind of person who always had to have background music playing in my life. However, one of my seniors told me, "It's also important to take time to create silence and listen to your heart," and I thought that was a really good method to follow. I may get really depressed on a certain day, but I can reset myself after a good night's sleep, so I try not to drag it over into the next day!

"Self suggestion is also an option, huh? (laughs). Have your impressions of Shouma changed since playing him?"

Chinen: Shouma's abit different since he's from another world. In the beginning, I was conscious of making the viewers immediately think, "Huh? There's something off about this kid." Things like how only the vibes around Shouma are different. Still, as the episodes progressed, I began to think that I wanted to see Shouma as a human being and began to play him as such. I think that as the second half of the show unfolds, we'll see his humanity, and the parts of him that'll seem to be no different from everyone else's. The Director also changes every two episodes, and their approach to portraying Shouma is different from each other. There's alot of action and highlights in every episode, so I think that's one of the things that'll keep you coming back to the show.

"You mentioned earlier that "the neighborhood children would be cheering you on," but how has the response been since the broadcast started?"

Chinen: It's trending every week, so I'm beyond happy that tons of people are watching and caring about it. It seems that even the little monster toys known as Gochizou are hard to acquire. I'm really happy that there are people who watch the show, find it appealing, and want to "own it." They're so popular, that even we can't buy them (laughs).

"It's a Kamen Rider with a sweets motif. Every time we finish watching an episode, we want to eat something sweet."

Chinen: That makes me happy. I also heard that girls are watching the show because of the sweets. The visuals are also colorful and pleasing to the eyes, but there's a part of the show's story that's abit "bitter." Since the broadcast started, the atmosphere on set has changed again. We got off to a good start, so everyone's even more enthusiastic. I hope you'll continue to support us as you've been doing, and to see this through to the ending.

[jmkjournalblog]

"Soulmates" Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes

Warnings: None

Y/n POV

The flashing lights and clamor of the Harvesting Festival surrounded us, each noise and vivid display feeling almost surreal compared to the shadowed stone walls of Nevermore.

After we left the mirror maze, I found myself walking alongside Enid and Yoko. Enid was practically vibrating with excitement as she flitted between booths, desperately trying to convince us to ride a garish-looking Ferris wheel or taste-test the vendors' multicolored sweets. I played along, amused at the sight of her hopping from stall to stall, though I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling that something was off.

Yoko walked at a more measured pace beside me, her crimson-tinted sunglasses casting a strange glow as the neon lights caught their reflection. She seemed content to keep a casual distance, her attention darting around with an almost predatory interest in the people around us.

“Do you always look this unimpressed?” I teased, bumping her shoulder lightly as we meandered past a ring-toss game.

She tilted her head, lips quirking. “Only when I’m surrounded by chaos. Nevermore’s a circus on good days. This? This is just… another layer.”

Enid popped up between us, holding a pair of steaming caramel apples. “Come on, you two! It’s not all bad. Y/n, you haven’t even smiled once.”

“I’ve smiled plenty,” I shot back, taking the apple from her and pretending to inspect it as if it might bite first. “It’s just hard to tell when I’m surrounded by so many vampires and rainbows.”

“Rude,” Enid huffed, though her playful glare didn’t last. She spotted another attraction—this one involving some kind of spinning ride—and bounded away, already calling out for us to follow. I chuckled under my breath and exchanged a glance with Yoko.

“I’m surprised you tolerate the glitter bomb,” she said, amusement coloring her words.

“It’s a strange dynamic,” I admitted, my tone light. “Maybe I have a weakness for contrasts.”

Before Yoko could respond, my attention was drawn away. Across the expanse of booths, weaving between carnival-goers with a dark, purposeful gait, was Wednesday. I watched her as she moved—silent, alone, eyes fixed on the edges of the forest beyond the fairgrounds. My senses, ever attuned, sharpened.

“Y/n?” Yoko’s voice brought me back, but my eyes remained on the retreating figure of Wednesday. She had nearly reached the shadows of the woods, the darkness swallowing her small frame. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t good.

“Go on with Enid,” I said quietly, handing Yoko the apple I hadn’t bitten into. She raised an eyebrow, sensing my sudden shift in mood.

“Is this a hero thing, or...?” she asked, a trace of humor lacing her voice.

“It’s a me thing.” I offered her a thin smile and began walking away. “I’ll catch up later.”

Without waiting for a response, I moved toward the path that Wednesday had taken, the noise of the carnival fading behind me with each step.

The darkness of the forest greeted me like an old companion. Trees loomed high, their branches twisting and knotting together to block out much of the festival's light. The carnival sounds became a muffled murmur, as if I'd crossed a boundary into a world that shouldn’t coexist with the one of clowns, rides, and caramel apples.

Wednesday's figure flitted ahead, her black silhouette blending into the night. I kept my distance, careful to match her quiet footfalls. Whatever drew her into the forest had her moving like she was chasing—or being chased. It was unlike her to be so transparent, but it was also clear she was driven by something more than mere intrigue.

She glanced over her shoulder once, and I quickly stepped behind the thick trunk of an oak tree. My heartbeat sped up, adrenaline prickling beneath my skin. If she saw me following, she’d either ignore me or take it as a challenge. Either way, I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight—not with whatever ominous weight hung over this moment.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush pulled my attention. It was only then that I noticed how still the forest had become. No chirping insects. No night birds. Just silence.

Wednesday picked up her pace, slipping deeper into the woods. I cursed under my breath and quickened my own steps. Branches snagged at my clothes, and the cool air bit at my exposed skin. I focused on her movements, the sharp lines of her shoulders and the determined tilt of her head.

She came to an abrupt stop. In front of her, Rowan stood, eyes wide with a manic edge. I squinted, recognizing the anxious boy from school. His body seemed taut, ready to spring—like prey cornered by a predator. But Wednesday was not the predator here.

The wind shifted, and I caught their words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rowan hissed, his voice trembling with both fear and anger. He held a piece of paper clenched in his hand, but even from where I stood, I could see it was no ordinary scrap.

“Prophecies are meant to be broken,” Wednesday countered, her tone as cold as winter’s edge. “I’d think you, of all people, would know that.”

I took a step closer, every sense alert. I couldn’t yet see what drove Rowan’s desperation, but his power crackled in the air, and he was looking at Wednesday like she was his doom.

He raised a hand, and suddenly, she was pinned against a tree by some unseen force. The breath caught in my throat as I watched her struggle, her pale face set in a mask of grim determination.

“This isn’t about you, Wednesday,” Rowan said, sounding almost apologetic, though his eyes betrayed no mercy. “This is about saving us all.”

With that, he raised the crumpled paper high. “My mother saw it. You will destroy us.”

The wind howled around them. I edged closer, my instincts screaming at me to intervene, but before I could make a move, something crashed through the trees behind Rowan—a blur of snarling fury. The beast. It was large, hulking, and covered in coarse fur. I had heard rumors about such creatures, but seeing it was different—a nightmare given form.

In an instant, it was upon Rowan. He screamed, a chilling, guttural sound, as claws tore into him. Blood sprayed across the forest floor. I barely had time to react; Wednesday was freed from her telekinetic restraints and dropped to the ground, rolling away from the carnage.

The beast’s wild eyes locked with mine for a split second. It paused, as if recognizing me, before it bolted into the darkness, leaving only destruction in its wake. Rowan lay motionless, and the air was thick with metallic scent and dread.

I stepped forward, breathless, as Wednesday pushed herself up, her eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. She glanced at Rowan’s body, then at me. Her gaze was unreadable, but beneath it, I sensed a torrent of emotion she would never let surface. Anger, confusion, maybe even fear.

“You followed me,” she said, her voice low but pointed.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” I replied, matching her cool tone despite the whirlwind inside me.

She didn’t thank me, of course. That wasn’t Wednesday’s way. Instead, she turned her attention to the torn piece of prophecy clutched in Rowan’s lifeless grip, pulling it free with grim determination.

Third person POV -next day-

Wednesday’s eyes never betray emotion, but this morning they burn with cold determination. Rowan’s reappearance after the brutal encounter in the woods is not just unsettling—it’s infuriating. She stalks the stone halls of Nevermore with unyielding purpose, her boots striking against the floor like war drums. Y/n follows at a calculated distance, her steps silent but presence unmistakable.

“Would it kill you to make less noise?” Y/n drawls when Wednesday pauses by a Gothic archway to scan the students shuffling past. “People will think you’re trying too hard.”

“Like you?” Wednesday’s retort is venomous, but her eyes remain fixed on the hallway leading to Rowan’s dorm.

Y/n smirks, leaning against the cold stone with predatory grace. “You’re wasting your time with this alone act, Addams. You want answers. I can help you find them.”

“No.” Wednesday turns to face Y/n fully, her expression as cutting as a blade. “You want an excuse to meddle. There’s a difference.”

Y/n tilts her head, amusement playing in her dark eyes. “Touché.” She takes a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, provocative whisper. “But I’ll meddle whether you want me to or not. I find it thrilling to keep you… on edge.”

Before Wednesday can respond, the sound of muffled voices draws her attention. They slip into the shadows near Rowan’s dormitory, where Xavier’s unmistakable voice can be heard. The boy is arguing with Bianca in the hallway, their tones heated.

Wednesday’s hand darts out, signaling Y/n to stay quiet. Y/n raises an eyebrow but obeys, watching intently as Wednesday edges closer. When the door opens, Wednesday moves like a shadow, slipping inside while Y/n remains as a lookout. Wednesday’s gaze flits across the cluttered space until it settles on a notebook with an unmistakable emblem—a purple book symbol, just like the page Rowan had shown her.

A creak behind her makes her whip around, daggers practically shooting from her eyes. Y/n stands in the doorway now, her expression serious for once. “You have seconds, Addams. Move.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightens, but she slips the notebook into her satchel. Y/n steps back just in time. Xavier and Bianca’s footsteps echo in the hallway. The girls forced to hide under Rowan’s bed, their bodies forced close together. There’s barely an inch between them.

“If they find us,” Y/n murmurs, her breath hot against Wednesday’s ear, “I’ll say you dragged me in here. You do have a thing for secluded spaces.”

Wednesday’s pulse quickens, but she refuses to look away. “I’ve killed for less.”

“Make me believe it,” Y/n dares, eyes darkening.

The door creaked open, silencing their exchange. Heavy footsteps and the sound of voices filled the room as Xavier and Bianca entered mid-argument.

“Your little stunt at the Poe Cup doesn’t impress me, Bianca,” Xavier said, his tone edged with frustration.

Bianca scoffed, her voice laced with condescension. “Of course it doesn’t. You’re too busy sulking to appreciate greatness.”

“This isn’t greatness; it’s cheating,” Xavier snapped. “Every year, you sabotage the course so no one else can even finish. You think that’s something to be proud of?”

Beneath the bed, Wednesday stiffened. Her mind churned with the implications of Xavier’s words. She turned her head slightly toward Y/n, who raised an eyebrow, intrigued but silent.

“Sabotage?” Bianca’s laugh was a dagger, cold and deliberate. “I prefer to call it… ensuring my rightful place. If the others can’t keep up, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Xavier said, the disgust in his voice palpable.

“No, Xavier, I’m practical,” Bianca replied sharply. “Unlike you, I don’t rely on pity points or half-baked efforts. If you want to win, you do whatever it takes. That’s survival. That’s power.”

Y/n’s lips quirked into a faint smirk as she glanced at Wednesday, her voice barely audible. “Sounds like your kind of girl.”

Wednesday shot her a murderous glare, silently willing her to remain quiet.

Xavier let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible, Bianca. This whole school is just a game to you, isn’t it?”

“Correction,” Bianca said, her tone as sharp as a blade. “It’s a game I always win. And this year will be no different.”

The tension in the room hung heavy as Xavier let out another sigh and turned toward the door.

As the door shut behind them, the silence in the room was deafening.

Y/n shifted slightly, her lips brushing against Wednesday’s ear again. “Cheating to stay on top. She’s more interesting than I thought.”

“Enough,” Wednesday hissed, crawling out from under the bed. She stood and brushed herself off, her mind already calculating the next move.

Y/n followed leisurely, a grin tugging at her lips. “You’re thinking of a way to humiliate her, aren’t you?”

[thebramblewood]

thebramblewood's Legacy Universe: A Primer

I've never really been one for following specific legacy challenges, but I do get incredibly attached to families and love seeing genetics play out, so generational gameplay has always been my thing. Recently, I've been very distracted by Helena Zhao Is Dead, which means my long-running family of nine generations (!) has been on indefinite hiatus for most of this blog's life.

I discovered their save got accidentally deleted, which is probably for the best, considering it was the same damn save I started back in 2018. Luckily, I had the current generation in my library, and I missed them, so I decided to bring Naomi and Micah back for Life & Death. I thought it might be helpful to summarize past events for those who might be interested in their family's background. Don't worry, we're not going all the way back! I love my earlier generations, but I didn't start getting into a more story-based approach until pretty far in. So here are the relevant details from generation five on (and I really did try to be brief, I promise).

GENERATION FIVE

This generation's heir was Gaby Martinez-Jang. After saving Strangerville from the Mother Plant with her ragtag investigative team, she moved to Sulani with the hunky conspiracy theorist she met along the way, Alvin. The impetus for this journey was Alvin being adopted and deciding he wanted to learn more about his birth family. In Sulani, he not only met his biological sister, Kaimana, but also discovered and embraced his mermadic ancestry! Meanwhile, Gaby became a conservationist and even won a Starlight Accolade for her documentary film on Mua Pel'am!

GENERATION SIX

Gaby and Alvin's one child, Noelani 'Aukai, became the new heir. After struggling to figure out their identity as a teen, Noelani's love for music led them to pursue DJing and producing. They started off doing pop-up performances in Sulani that gained traction on social media and led to a record deal. Meanwhile, they were falling in love with their childhood BFF, Nani Kealoha. Eventually, the two of them moved to San Myshuno, where Nani pursued her political dreams and Noelani was thrust into stardom.

This is where it becomes really important to pay attention. Noelani's other best friend was Malia Kahananui. The result of MCCC shenanigans, she became the granddaughter of Mele and Alika Kahananui because I thought they were too old for a surprise baby, lol. She was left with her grandparents by her reckless and impulsive mother, who was always going off on grand adventures and eventually just never returned. A yoga enthusiast and masseuse, Malia discovered her talent for communing with the island spirits when she was visited by her recently deceased grandparents, who encouraged her to nurture the gift they never got the chance to tell her about.

The spirits were always cryptic, but during one visit she received a more specific warning: "One day, there will be a cataclysmic threat to the realm where all spirits go. Humans occupy this realm, too, humans with supernatural talents who coexist with us in exchange for the protection they offer. A human of modest background and raw power is the only one capable of defeating this threat. They will sacrifice greatly to save our realm from extermination." She promptly filed that information away for a decade or two.

GENERATION SEVEN

This generation's heir was Noelani and Nani's son and robotics enthusiast, Sione 'Aukai. Unfortunately for him, he was almost immediately overshadowed by his eventual spouse, Malia's daughter, Cassie. Oh, Cassie... Possibly my favorite Sim of all time. As kids, they had a long distance friendship, bonding over their love of magic and fantasy. When Cassie started having dreams of a world beyond her own, her mother remembered the warning from the spirits and, fearing the worst, tried to deter her interest, which only made Cassie more stubbornly determined to seek out magic. Malia thought her daughter's rebellious streak might be fixed by a change of scenery, so she moved in with Sione's family in San Myshuno.

Unfortunately, Sione decided he was "too cool" for their shared childhood interests and rejected Cassie's long-time crush. Even so, they agreed to share a house for uni, where he studied Robotics at Foxbury and she studied Art at UBrite. Cassie soon decided college wasn't for her, but she used her connections in the Secret Society to make her way to the Magic Realm, where she met L. Faba and finally began her magical training. A few years later, she and Sione met up again in the city, finally worked it out, and got married. (Can you tell I'm a big fan of the childhood friends to romantic partners pipeline?)

GENERATION EIGHT

Sione and Cassie have twin girls. Rowan 'Aukai is the heir of generation eight. Rowan and her sister, Sabrina, are just beginning their own magical educations when tragedy strikes. A rogue spellcaster, having acquired forbidden magic, storms the Magic Realm and kills the three Sages. As word spreads, Cassie is one of the first spellcasters to arrive. She defeats the rogue spellcaster but dies of magical overload. Overcome by grief, Sione forbids the girls from continuing their training. Rowan misses magic and her mom every day, though everyone else seems to be moving on. She starts having visions of her mom trying to communicate something important. After clashing with her dad, she runs away from home, determined to teach herself the magic she needs to bring Cassie back to life.

Rowan ends up in Evergreen Harbor, where being a homeless teen in a smog-infested city isn't conducive to developing her magical prowess. She temporarily loses her abilities but is introduced to a couple who takes in wayward teens. After a dream visit from her mom, her magic returns. She and her friend, Alejandro, research all things paranormal and find themselves in a haunted house, where she receives advice from Claude René Duplantier Guidry. Eventually, she returns to the Realm, which is shockingly still intact, and where she finally learns what she needs to do. She casts dedeathify at her mom's grave, and her family is finally reunited.

GENERATION NINE

Whew, we're finally almost finished. Generation nine is ongoing, and its heir, August Uchiyama, only just became a teen the last time we saw him (and will probably look a bit different when we see him again because I have to remake his teen version 😭). After bringing her mom back, Rowan started dating one of her friends from Evergreen Harbor, Raveena Uchiyama. They eventually got married, settled into a hippie lifestyle on a big Henford-on-Bagley farm, and had five kids. August is the middle child and only boy. He's had a rather idyllic childhood full of farm animal friends, oversized crops, and adventures with Uncle Alejandro and Grandma Cassie. He has a lot coming up for him that remains top secret. 🤐

Back to Naomi and Micah, they're August's older twin sisters. (They also have younger twin sisters, Tess and Sadie.) Since August is the heir, they've existed mostly in the background so far. But Naomi proved herself to be a cigarette-smoking rebel who frequently snuck out at night and cut class to hang out with her delinquent friends, and Micah was a reserved, rather moody teen who enjoyed painting and journaling but eventually branched out and joined the cheer team. In The Mourningvale Files, they're meant to be in their late 20s and still struggling to find their footing as adults. I'm excited to develop their characters more before I eventually (hopefully) make my way backwards to fill in the rest of August's story. This may be the final generation for how fucking long it's going to take me to finish. 😅

And that's what you missed on thebramblewood.tumblr.com!

[ohmylcve]

tilting her head while confused with the movie, maisie wondered where she was in that very moment: while her eyes were trying to hold on to the images, they seemed to switch so quickly, as if she didn't have enough time to properly feel them. this simple thought sent goosebumps all over maisie's body, when she came to the realisation that no matter what this movie was about, living would always be just like a movie: when you begin to understand and to feel yourself inside the movie, another scene would pop up, making you have to adapt or else you'd be suffering the nostalgia of not having something. and this was the moment in which she allowed herself to properly think about what was going on between the two of them: he was feeling. she was feeling. both of them were eager to savour the moment, but what if the scene changed? what if just as quick as a movie cut, they could find themselves apart?

but their connection was stronger than simple cuts, wasn't it? their connection lasted for so many movie cuts, almost as if it the exchange between scenes were a translucent one, not changing to another one, but yet transforming. the way their hands touched while passing the joint, it seemed like they were giving space to the unsaid to express itself in the way they were ready to do so... which was using objects to fulfill the lack of touch by the other's hands. as julian mentions the popcorn, maisie grabs it and has to hard blink to properly see the popcorn. with the exchanging light between scenes on the movie, maisie finds herself a bit confused when grabbing the popcorn. there's no sauce, she thinks, recalling the fact that neither her or him had put it all on. with the honey-sriracha-and-others kind of sauces by his bed, she grabs each one, a movement taking way more than it actually should, but time isn't a thing for her right now. as she finish, she shakes the popcorn in order to mix all of the ingredients, letting some of it fall on the ground. without a question, she's quick to grab herself a hand full of popcorns, and put it in her mouth. noticing he's looking at her, she can't help but to laugh while the weird taste mixes itself, playing on top of her tongue as if it was their own playground. "i am maisie. i told you- no, no more..." she laughs, knowing how complex it is to simply form sentences without laughing. "no more silence, okay?" she keeps on laughing, catching her breath as she inhales the haze between them, feeling as if she could actually be even higher just by this simple act. "for...?" she questions, wondering what is it that it's going around on his mind, making him form sentences wide opened, with multiple possibilities of interpretations. as she notices him cutting his sentence by the end of it, she can't help both the curiosity and the expectation towards his next words. pretend you're not what? please, say it, her eyes begs at him, like the invisible string is now around her chest, unable to be cut and unable to be untangled, unless they both used words for it. how she hoped he was about to say what she was feeling as well.

with an attempt to get the answer she wanted, maisie leaned in, even closer to him, holding up a curiosity gaze and not backing away any inch. from this point on, maisie decided that the only movement related to their distance would be to decrease it, and not increase: their bond seemed to be blossoming, and she wouldn't be the one to tear it down. not when she was this deep in. "julian," she says it back, savouring his name just as much as he was savouring hers, each and every letter lingering on her tongue; an abstraction of themselves on each other's tongues. with the smoke escaping from his lips, maisie leans in a bit more, inhaling the smoke once more as if she wanted to show that whatever he wanted to give her, she would take it. "never." voice down low as she was now blinking slowly, eyes no longer able to hold the disguise of its desire. curious of what would follow, her whole face is letting out, one by one, of those so mixed up feelings. as maisie's now aware of the rush of her heart, there's literally nothing else holding her back. "would you do the honors?" she lets out in a whisper, almost as if she was breaking the secrecy they've built up for so long.

julian’s mind felt like it was moving in slow motion, each thought dragging itself into clarity before dissolving back into the haze. the buzz of the joint softened everything—the tension, the questions, the weight of what was happening between him and maisie. or maybe it didn’t soften them at all. maybe it just made them louder, unavoidable in the silence. he could feel his heart beating too fast, its rhythm oddly matched to hers, as if they were caught in the same invisible current pulling them toward something inevitable. her earlier question lingered in his head, echoing as the room settled into the dim glow of the television. the screen flickered with surreal images from the movie, its eerie tones and disjointed visuals only amplifying the strange energy in the room. julian felt maisie’s presence next to him—closer than usual, close enough to feel her warmth, her slight movements, the way her breath hitched every time their hands brushed or the joint passed between them. he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs like armor against the vulnerability threatening to surface. he held it in, watching maisie as she sat there, facing him instead of the movie. her gaze darted between his eyes and his lips, lingering just a moment too long, as if she were caught in some unspoken thought. he exhaled slowly, the smoke curling out in front of him, dissipating into the air between them, and passed the joint back to her without a word. when her hand touched his to take it, it felt like electricity, a static charge running up his arm and into his chest. her fingers lingered, just barely, but enough to make him question whether it was intentional or if he was imagining it. his eyes traced the line of her hand to her lips as she took a pull, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how easily the joint had become a stand-in for everything else they weren’t saying. the way her lips closed around it, the faint blush in her cheeks when she exhaled—it was a slow burn, and he was letting it consume him.

julian watched her cough and laugh softly, the sound breaking the silence and pulling him back from the edge of his thoughts. she mumbled an apology, her voice quiet, almost bashful, and finally turned to face the television. but he wasn’t looking at the screen. he couldn’t. his eyes were on her, on the way her body leaned just slightly toward his, on the way her presence seemed to take up all the space in the room. she feels it too, he thought, his mind circling the idea like a moth around a flame. there was no way she didn’t. every glance, every laugh, every hesitant touch—it was all there, unspoken but undeniable. he wanted to say something, to break the silence, to make sense of this overwhelming pull between them, but the words wouldn’t come. so he let the moment stretch, the movie’s strange, haunting soundtrack filling the room as the two of them sat there, caught in a tension that felt as fragile as it was inevitable. when maisie turned to him again, her head tilting slightly as she surveyed the snacks on the bed, julian couldn’t help but grin. she was playing along with his silent dare, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. her eyes flicked to his, her brow raising as if to say, well? what now? he reached over, grabbed the bowl of popcorn, and held it out to her with a smirk, his free hand gesturing toward the array of sauces and snacks.

julian took another deep drag from the joint, the smoke curling into his lungs like it was trying to fill all the empty spaces inside him. the haze was thick now, both in the room and in his mind. he could feel his thoughts slipping away, like sand through his fingers, leaving him with nothing but raw sensation—maisie’s laughter echoing faintly in his ears, the warmth of her body just inches from his, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. god have mercy on me, he thought as he exhaled slowly, the haze swirling around them. he wasn’t sure what would happen now, but he knew he couldn’t think straight anymore. every filter, every wall he’d built to keep his feelings in check, was crumbling, and he was too far gone to stop it. the movie played on, but neither of them seemed to care. she was looking at him, her eyes heavy-lidded but focused, and he didn’t even realize he was staring at her, his own thoughts a mess of what ifs and why nots. “maisie,” he murmured, her name slipping out before he could stop himself. it wasn’t a question or a statement, just her name, spoken like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. he looked down at the joint in his hand, then back up at her, a crooked smile tugging at his lips despite the nervous energy building in his chest. “i think… i think i might be too high for this,” he admitted with a low laugh, the honesty spilling out before he could second-guess it. his voice was softer now, more vulnerable, as if the haze had stripped away all his usual defenses. “like, way too high to pretend i’m not—”

he stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. his mind was too numb to think clearly, but not numb enough to ignore the way maisie was looking at him, the way the air between them felt impossibly charged. he knew he should pull back, crack a joke, do something to break the tension, but he couldn’t. he didn’t want to. julian took another slow drag, the joint burning low now, and let his head tilt back against the mattress. his eyes stayed on maisie, though, watching her as if she were the only thing in the room that made sense. julian's head lolled slightly to the side, his gaze settling on maisie with a hazy intensity that even he couldn’t fully explain. the joint was down to its last embers, and as he inhaled again, a sudden thought surfaced in his mind, one he couldn’t suppress, no matter how much his rational brain might have tried if it weren’t so thoroughly numb. “maisie,” he murmured, the words slow and drawn out, as if he were trying them on for size. he let the smoke escape his lips, the wisps curling into the space between them. his voice was soft, a little slurred, but carried a thread of curiosity that felt oddly weighted. “has anyone ever… like… given you a shot when you were smoking?”

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked: "Do not open your eyes yet." Neuvillette repeats for the third time, as though Dainsleif bears any chance of doing so, when the Iudex's gloved hand is covering closed sapphires as he guides him by the arm down a sinewy path. The Chief Justice of Fontaine has never been one for surprises -- but, over his many years spent dwelling among humans, he has learnt that surprises were, in fact, an appropriate, and even recommended occurrence for birthdays.

Neither he nor Dainsleif bear much importance to their so-called birthdays, but something this particular year compels the sovereign to, for once, try his hand at this particular custom.

The Iudex and the Bough Keeper leave the trodden path and soon find themselves in high grass, before their steps quickly find soil and sand again; and at last, Neuvillette brings their excursion to a stop. "You may look now." He commands, with a voice so softened, it might as well be a mere request. His hand falls back to his side, and he lets his companion take in the view before them; a tall weeping willow, towering over a crystal clear pond, dying sunlight shimmering between the branches like a cascade of early stars. Upon the 'beach' surrounding the pond, lays a table and two chairs, and a meal expecting its two guests (how the furniture and food were transported and kept at adequate temperature, shall remain a secret of the Palais Mermonia's best staff).

"I thought we might enjoy some time away from the madness of the Palais." Neuvillette muses, before extracting one last surprise, much smaller, but possibly more effortful, from his coat. A small box is handed to Dainsleif; upon opening, he shall find a locket, made of gold and bronze, delicately engraved with azure markings closely resembling the sourcewater patterns adorning his own person (few people know the Iudex to be a craftsman - Dainsleif is now one of them). If the Bough Keeper were to open the locket, he would find, entrapped in sturdy glass casing, a single drop of Spring of the First Dewdrops, shining a faint, pearl-like light within.

"You gave me something to remember you by; I thought it would only be appropriate to return the favour." The dragon of water smiles fondly at his companion - may this droplet of hope and optimism guide him even when his own unwavering hope wavers. "And I promise this dinner is not only made of water. Happy birthday, dearest Dainsleif."

Suspense is not necessarily one of Dáinsleif's cherished things, were he asked. In fact, it brings memories that aren't yet behind him in his long-lasting strife against the Abyss Order where this factor is nerve-racking at best until a clearer outcome shines through. However, when in combination with a presence soothing like holy water to his curse and a gentle touch calming like a balm, Twilight can tolerate it better without opposing resistance nor offering a huff of complaint.

The wait comes to an end at long last and so albescent lashes flutter open to take in the breathtaking sight before them. An emanation of what's been his biggest support for a very long time until his soul encountered repose in another primordial one standing pride and tall in all its cyan glory that pierces through the dyeing orange of the heavens as the sun sets down, all to give room to shy stars to glow crowned by a solemn moon. The clear water of the pond reflecting all colors like aquarelle —how in tune with Neuvillette, to search on purpose a body of water nearby to grant them its beauty— and the table right in front of them, clashing with the scenario in an amusing manner, teller of what the sovereign's insistence to exercise patience and trust in him was about.

And truth to be said, for all the surprise and confusion previous years when this day neared would cause Dáinsleif, Neuvillette never fails to surprise him with something new next. For the longest of time, the abandoned seraph took this day whenever it was possible as a moment of respite and to seek out the comforting presence of the rex, to heal from the solitude that every time becomes heavier the more he grows accustomed to linger in a trusted companion's presence. And today, in commemoration of their new union as lovers, the manner Neuvillette sought to do something for his birthday has bloomed in a different kind.

The Iudex's voice rouses him from his train of thoughts, thus does the knight look at him with interest and nigh puerile curiosity as he watched him fish something from his coat until he's presented a small box. You didn't have to— comes a thought born from small guilt that he has already done enough by bringing him here and arranging dinner for both, but a thought that would never pass past his lips, nevertheless. Dáinsleif opens the box with delicate care, as if his touch would suffice to break it if he weren't careful enough, and so the box reveals a locket that draws the luminary's attention even more.

He takes the little thing in his gloved hand and looks at it, takes in every delicate detail engraved so reminiscent of the innocent culprit that brought him here in the first place. Astral pupils look at primordial echoes for a silent confirmation that he can open it upon noticing that it must conceal something within before he does just that. Sapphire eyes soften at the sight of the dewdrop within and the immediate sentience of Neuvillette's power coalesced within. So small and hidden from external threats, but brilliant and precious when one takes the time to gauge the enormity of its meaning. The locket closes as Dáinsleif's hand closes around it to bring it to his chest, albescent lashes fluttering to a brief close before they open anew to look into draconic eyes.

◜I will treasure it, always.◞ Just as I do you— and our blossoming relationship. As the Iudex' attention returns to the table set for the two of them, Dáinsleif tucks the little locket inside the waistcoat, close to his heart. An amused smile plays on his lips as the Bough Keeper deafly reaches out for Neuvillette's hand to hold in order to guide him to the table as he guided him to this place before, not without pressing a gentle kiss on the back of his hand first. ◜That is for me to judge if it's the case, do you not think?◞ He huffs a soundless chuckle, then he squeezes his hand a tad. ◜Since we're here, let us enjoy this moment, shall we?◞

For filling the void in my heart that would never be filled, and for making me find happiness in a life that knew no justice... I thank you, ol Mph Arsl Gaiol.

[fatedroses]

he is indeed very proud of himself.

[gingermintpepper]

Hi! I just want to clarify that actually Apollo was a sun god in Greece too... The most ancient author who refered Apollo as a solar deity was Aeschylus lived from 525 BCE - 456 BCE

“The unseen land [i.e. the underworld] where Apollon [here the sun] does not walk, the sunless (analion) land that receives all men.”

- Aeschylus, Seven Against Thebes 858 ff

Apollo being a solar deity was definitely not something Romans invented. Yes, maybe in Roma Era he was syncreticed with Helios and was seeing as the sun itself, even replacing Helios in some myths (like Phaeton and Clytie stories). But he was a sun god in Ancient Greece, maybe not itself, but something more like Horus to the egyptian, a solar deity.

Hi hi!! Thank you so much for the clarification!!

I do have to apologise for my own super casual tone probably giving the wrong idea but if this is referring to the tags on a recent post making a (wonderful!!) case for dark-haired Apollo then I do have to say that I didn't state Apollo wasn't associated with the sun in Greek culture but that he was not primarily associated with the sun!

Like you do very correctly say he was more of a civic god with solar aspects like Egypt's Horus (and even that is a large simplification), mostly from a cosmic standpoint. I like saying that Apollo is the 'light' in 'enlightenment' to the Greeks vs being a physical light to the Romans ♡♡

Thank you so much for double-checking my work though! I'll make sure to be clearer with my tags so these kinds of things don't happen in the future 🥰🙇🏾

[silent-sentinels]

dont mind the username change btw we're just separating blogs into a personal talky blog and a more plural oriented (ploriented...) blog, we'll keep you updated [fingerguns]

[goldiipond]

thinking about how easily ray was willing to make an exception to his firm ‘i can only save emma and norman’ stance once don and gilda are actually in on the escape. the fact that, during his ‘deal’ with norman in ep 5 ‘we can bring don and gilda too’ isnt a condition norman had that ray begrudgingly agreed to but rather one that ray brought up completely unprompted.

ray has spent years coming to terms with the fact that saving everyone is impossible, years putting emma and norman over everyone else because they were the most precious people in his life and because risking a bigger escape could get everyone killed. he thought it was better for the others to live ignorant, happy lives until their shipment than to get killed on the outside. 

ray never had that same ignorant bliss the others had, emma and norman lost it after seeing conny, and while don and gilda aren’t given the full truth at first, they are given enough to have that illusion shattered for them as well. i just think a lot about how ray knows what it’s like to be trapped in that house without that happy illusion, and the moment don and gilda lose it, he can’t allow himself to push them away anymore.