#bellara with her hair down...

[salesart]

leslie zhang photo study that turned into bellara thirst art whoops

[mabaris]

i CANT give up on harding romance when i’m so close to the finish line. but GOD neve and bellara and taash are tempting me

[snarkspawn]

little doodle of bellara with her hair down

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich is a morning person and Rook is only a morning person under duress, which becomes only a minor issue after the gods are finally dead because Rook's ideal wake up time is roughly noon, and Emmrich's up at the asscrack of dawn every day whether he works or not.

It's six thirty AM and Rook's face-down on the bed, titties out and hair splayed across three pillows, and Elgar'nan breathed this last breath less than a week ago. Emmrich gave the various factions of Thedas exactly three days to demand Rook's attention and, on the morning of the fourth day, grabbed Rook with one hand and Manfred with the other and asked the Caretaker if there was an Eluvian that might deposit one anywhere in the area of the Cumberland countryside.

Emmrich apparently maintains a small country house here, for 'Whatever occassion might arise' (demented) and it's modest but pretty. Manfred trampled straight into the rose garden when they got here and hasn't emerged since, but Emmrich claims that's normal for him. Rook personally believes that Manfred, even, is still processing their mutual ordeal, but she's content to let him do it with the caterpillars and the rose petals. Not like a skeleton can be pricked by a thorn.

The moment they arrived, Emmrich sought out the housekeeper and told her that her services would not be required for the coming week, and to stand by on the subject of next week as well.

"Go celebrate the world not ending, Helga!" he'd said, maybe a bit too loud and manic, as he closed what was surely much more than a week's salary into her hand. Knowing Emmrich, there was already a very robust system in place to assure that his housekeeper received her generous salary every week--this was merely some sort of consolation pay for the very difficult task of being given a week of vacation.

Helga was Elven, at least as old as Emmrich and blinked at him like a vaguely surprised cat. She swept her gaze over Rook as well before leaving. She'd been smirking, Rook thought, as the door closed behind her.

Thus, they've been alone in the house, and Rook has been sleeping, staring vaguely into the distance, sleeping, reading from Emmrich's extensive collection, looking at the ceiling while trying to forget the sight of Bellara's blighted eyes, sleeping, bouncing on Emmrich's dick like it's her job, and sleeping sleeping sleeping.

They've been here for two days, more or less 48 hours, and many of those hours were spent in his lap. Fucking him, yes, but also just clinging onto him like an extra limb because right now, she feels like she might disintegrate if he isn't touching her. He reads to her. Smiles and laughs through so many stories from his life. She thinks about Solas disappearing into the Fade, maybe never to be seen again. The last God of her people.

When she goes too quiet, sometimes he tells her a joke or puts a little chocolate in her mouth. Once, he ate her out while humming the Nevarran national anthem and she laughed as she came. Sometimes he joins her in melancholy and they lay together and cope. Sometimes she cries, mostly from exhaustion and relief and grief, and he kisses her face. Sometimes he cries. From exhaustion and relief and grief, probably. She tucks her head under his chin and rubs her small hand up and down his broad back, and then she swipes the snot and tears out of his mustache with her very own thumb because she loves him, she loves him.

This morning, she flutters her eyes open and enjoys the texture of the silk sheets against her bare body (Last night, and for lack of a better term, Emmrich fucked her to sleep--apparently, when the world isn't in active peril, he's very into the whole tantric thing. Hours of crazy hot, dragging sex that destroys braincells, but only the ones she's better off not having.) and she does that for about thirty seconds before she realizes it's just barely light outside, blue and cool. Then she starts wondering why the fuck she's awake right now.

The answer becomes apparent immediately: Emmrich is in the ensuite bath, running water and making the weirdest, loudest noises. She thinks at first that he's managed to gag himself with his own toothbrush, but then he sneezes, blows his nose with a honking noise like a malfunctioning horn, and clears his throat so thunderously that Rook thinks he must somehow be drowning.

She rolls out of bed and wobbles into the bathroom, birthday suit and all, because clearly he's become sick in the night and it's now up to her to guide him back to bed and care for him. She's surprised, then, to find him looking hale and healthy in front of the sink. He's wearing nothing but silk pajama pants and down slippers. He's making an absurd clicking sound and swirling a finger inside his ear.

"Are you okay?" Rook demands, propped on the doorjamb.

Emmrich jumps a foot on the air, winces as he jabs his own eardrum, and says, "Ow! Darling, please don't sneak up on--"

"You are being so loud," she says, because the polite section of her brain hasn't woken up. "Are you choking? Are you sick?"

"No," Emmrich says slowly. "I just--oh, the door must have fallen open. The floor isn't terribly even here. I'm sorry, darling--sound does carry in this old house." He twirls a finger behind his ear and clinks again. "I fear I suffer seasonal allergies, dearest, and it's been a long while since I slept more than a night or two outside of the Necropolis or the Fade. There's quite a bit of...mucus..." He clears his throat.

"Gross," says Rook, and then, "It's dawn, Emmrich."

"Mm-hm." Emmrich is now leaning across the counter, two inches from the mirror and examining his mustache like a jewel appraiser.

"Why are you making heinous old man noises at dawn?"

His eyes veer towards her reflection in the mirror, and they make eye contact in the glass. Very neatly, and with a raised eyebrow, he says, "Heinous old man noises."

Rook starts making hawking, gutteral noises in the back of her throat. It's a pretty faithful imitation.

"Dearest," he yells over the sound. "I apologize for waking you--"

"I cannot believe," says Rook, "that I'm going to spend the rest of my life being woken up at dawn by the hacks and sneezes of a man who wears wing tip shoes."

She's halfway through a half-asleep snicker at the hilarity of her own statement when Emmrich fixes her with a surprised look in his wet eyes and she realizes she's never actually voiced the idea that has become an unspoken certainty in her mind: That he's the love of her life, and her life may not be as short as she was thinking it might be this time last week, and that she wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her ambiguously-numbered mornings waking up to him.

She also realizes the truth of the situation. The baths in the Lighthouse were communal, and one never knew which companion they might encounter during their morning routine. Emmrich is fastidious and spends a great deal of his energy in broadcasting the image of a man who is utterly put together in everything he does. Never a hair out of place or a thread loose. It's a privilege of the highest order to witness him this way. Sleep-mused hair, shadow on his jaw. The bleariness of sleep in his eyes and, yes, even the throat-clearing and nose blowing.

Emmrich clears his throat and whispers, "Forgive me. I've...lived alone. For a very long time."

Rook's eyes water as she croaks, "Not anymore. I don't...want you to."

A smile spreads his face. It is wobbly, boyish, and so so beautiful. The absurdity of the situation finally reaches her--she is very naked and he's only slightly more dressed and there is a perfectly warm, perfectly comfortable bed steps away.

"Come back to bed," Rook says. "Please?"

He does.

[conchcronch]

Sweat, Salt and Seawater

WC: 1792

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem!Rook

Summary: Lucanis is just trying to enjoy the view, but Spite just has to distract him.

A/N: should I be finishing my Kinktober? Yes. Do I have a new hyper fixation? Also yes.

It wasn’t unheard of for Lucanis to be outside of his room during the day, cup of coffee in hand, his back against the stonewall of the dining room/bedroom. His eyes never leave Rook.

He watched as she swung her sword with so much ease it was as though the weapon was an extension of her arm. Next to her stood Bellara, who held one of Rook’s older, smaller swords in her left hand, nodding as Rook tried to explain basic hand to hand combat. They weren’t close enough for Lucanis to hear what they were talking about but now that Rook’s back was to him he was able to look her up and down without needed to act nonchalant about it.

She stood taller than him, something he was not new to. Her auburn hair which was normally tied into a bun when out in the field was currently swaying past her shoulders, only her bangs were pulled back in a half up style. Despite the use of a sword, she hadn’t bothered to daun her equipment, opting to remain in her casual attire. The red sash that wrapped around her waist always drew Lucanis’ eyes down to it, her body looking delicate yet deadly. He couldn’t see the muscles in her arms, but he knew they were firm from years of training with a sword. Where he was fast and light on his feet, she was sturdy and powerful.

While she moved, demonstrating how one should stand while anticipating a counter, something that Bellara seemed interested in knowing but unlikely to use, he couldn;t help but watch her ass. Every time she shifted her weight from her non dominant foot to show a brace, her pants hugged the curve of her cheeks, her thighs almost straining against the fabric as she bent at the knees.

He feels the presence without needing to look at the figure standing next to him. He hoped that by refusing to acknowledge him, Spite would quickly grow bored and retreat back into him. The sound of the creature sniffing the air beside him made the Crow sigh. “smells of-“ The twisted version of his voice rang both in his ears and his head simultaneously. The demon stepped out into the sun, his form untouched by the light, almost swallowing it instead. Lucanis knew there was no use telling him not to, so he hoped by not doing anything it wouldn’t draw attention to himself, allowing him to watch longer. “Smells of blood, of sweat, hints of…of melon, in her hair.” Spite walked right up to Rook, stepping around her as he sniffed the air, leaning into her personal space, the way Lucanis so desperately wanted to.

Lucanis couldn’t help the grimace that befell his lips as Spite sullied his view of Rook, no longer could his eyes move over her tensed muscles, firm ass, her tapered in waist or her pillowy chest, Spite was always in frame.

“Smells of arousal” Lucanis’ eyes raised from the swirling dark liquid in his mug, now seeing Spite directly in front of Rook as she listened to Bellara’s hurried questions, the demon’s lips were parted, his tongue darting out over them as he almost began to drool. “Sex, she wants it, craves it, reeks of it.” his words were becoming frenzied, Lucanis could feel the demon’s power surge inside of him, but he forced himself to remain level, not wanting to alert the rest of his companions. “Let me take over, let me give her what she craves” He’s back in front of the crow in the blink of an eyes, his knees bent so even while Lucanis is looking down at his coffee he can still see the crazed purple eyes. “Want a taste, a taste of her, she reeks of it, reeks reek REEKS of sex” The crows’ jaw clenches and unclenches, moving to breath through his mouth, as Spite power courses through his body just one inhale through his nose he’d smell whatever the demon did. And that was a line he didn’t want to cross.

It was hard enough to be so infatuated by the party’s leader, to look at her every chance he got, to invite her to Traviso under the gauze of dealing with Crow matters, but truly only wanting to get an evening alone with her, it was becoming difficult to handle. But to smell her, to really smell her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He could already feel Spite’s frenzied arousal pulse in his crotch, having to shift his position to cross his legs as he leaned against the wall. “Smell her” He was back, where there should have been air from his words on his cheek there was nothing, as though there was no one standing a few inches from his ear and yet the words rang so loud. “Give in, smell her, taste her on the air” Spite huskily spoke into Lucanis’ ear, “Salt, seawater, sweat” salt…Lucanis recalled one of their first normal discussions over coffee after his cousin had left. She had mentioned salt in her drink, as they went back and forth over the taste of a first kiss.

Subconsciously he sucked in a breath through his nose as he recalled their banter. Her smell flooded his senses, breathing it in wasn’t enough. He swallowed a lung full of air, her taste on his tongue as though he were between her thighs. “Yes yes yes yes taste, smell, she needs us, craves us”

The sound of two swords clashing made his body tense, his head snapping up on instinct. Rook stood with her sword in front of her, slashing lightly at Bellara who was standing with decent blocking form, her sword crossed in front of her face with her palm firm against the side to give the weapon more support.

Normally pride would fill his chest to see his companions teaching each other, helping one another improve but his mind was so clouded by the taste of her on his tongue and the throb between his legs. His erection was now so obvious he had to excuse himself, kicking himself off the wall and turning on his heel as he tossed the rest of his now cold coffee back.

If he had looked over his shoulder he would have seen Rook glance in his direction, eyes hoping to land on the crow but seeing him step into his room instead. Her smile dropped. And he missed it, but Spite did not.

The door slammed, his cup placed on the long wooden table as he walked around it and towards his small back bedroom. He couldn’t remember the last time his cock pulsed like this, the taste gone from his tongue but not to be forgotten. Maybe it was Spite’s nagging but he vowed he would taste it again, when he was on his knees between her legs, he was determined.

He closed and locked his bedroom door, his hands working his pants open before he could even get to the bed. He hated to do this, it always made him feel so slimy, especially when the only person on his mind was his employer. When his hand wrapped around his cock the two of them moaned in unison.

Spite wasn’t material, but his voice and sounds were everywhere. “We need her” The crow tipped his head back against the stone wall, mouth falling open as his breathing quickened. “We need to fuck her, claim her as ours” Lucanis’ eyes felt heavy, allowing them to fall closed as he worked his cock with quick strokes, his thumb swiping over his flared head, wiping the bead of pre cum down.

Behind his closed eyes he imagined it. Imaging how she’d look underneath him, her hair splayed out on his lackluster bed. Her soft lips parted, waiting for him to press his lips to hers again. Her sounds could be like music to his ears, nothing like her battle cries. But maybe like her pained winches, he once heard her dressing a wound and since then he found himself replaying that sound as his hand tightened around his shaft.

“Get her” Spite’s words rang around him, his tone dripping in carnal lust. “Bring her in here” for the first time this afternoon Lucanis found words coming from his own mouth.

“No” Spite growled then hissed as Lucanis tightened his grip on his cock, his hips twitching up to fuck into his hand.

“We need her”

“No” even such a simple word was a struggle to push out through his bared teeth, his hand now moving so quickly the sound fills the room.

“I want to see her” Spite’s tone was insistent but also with an underlying whine, something that only happened in these private moments. “I like her, I want to fuck her, make her scream, make her beg for me, for us!” His words were frantic, moans echoing around the crow as he tried his best to focus on chasing his pleasure instead of imagining his employer.

“Rooook” Lucanis’ own voice surprises himself, his free hand shooting up to cover his mouth, unsure whether the word came from his own pleasure or if Spite was the cause, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

“Louder”

“No” Lucanis breathed, muffled by the hand gripping the bottom half of his face.

“Loud enough she comes running” the crow tries to ignore the demon, he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of orgasm. “Give me control, I can ta-“ The rush of pleasure must have come as a surprise to the demon, his sentence ended prematurely by a moan perfectly echoing Lucanis’ own as he spilled his seed.

“Maker” the crow breathed, when the shocks of climax had died down, staring at his hand which now had ropes of drying cum on it. He knew he should get up, to start cleaning the few drops of cum that had landed on his pants and his vest before they left a crusty stain, but he just couldn’t force himself to move quite yet.

He couldn’t remember the last time he slept, exhaustion settling into his limbs quicker then he could fight it off. But the sound of knuckles on his closed door jolted his eyes open. “Lucanis” her voice was soft, a hint of concern underlying his name. He remained silent as he forced his softening cock back into his pants, grimacing as he wiped his hand on his blanket and hoping she would call his name again as he rested his head against his barely used pillow, sleep tugging at his eyelids. Spite was appeased, for now.

[acmelxvr]

An Excellent Pairing (18+)

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Viago de Riva x Rook

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

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

Word Count: ~12,000

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

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

I'm on Twitter and AO3 as @acmelxvr

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

MDNI!!!!

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

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

“LEAVE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viago.

Viago?

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

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

Can he join?

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir. I have.”

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

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

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

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

LOOK!

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

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

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

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

“What about–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And his lips quirk into the smallest smile.

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

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

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

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

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

His crow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flour

Cocoa

Pastina

Tomato

rookrookrookrookrookROOK

vvvvvvviago TOGETHER

inbetweeninbetweeninbetween

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If they were together–���

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

“It being…?”

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

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

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

Lucanis nods. “He’s kind of…”

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

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

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

“I cannot imagine Viago missing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maker, yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I await your call.”

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

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

“I just think that…”

“Well, you usually…”

“...my fault?...”

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

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

She does not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve met Illario?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only when I’m laughing at you.”

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

Viago laughs. “That was actually funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? We can stop–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maker, this is addicting. They’re addicting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[reeseykins]

Thoughts on Emmrich while Rook is trapped in the Fade

Kind of obsessed with thinking about Emmrich's deteriorating mental state while Rook was trapped in the Fade.

The first few days he's ultra focused on finding a way to get Rook back. He's a Fade expert -- this sort of problem was made for him to solve. He tells himself he WILL find a solution, because that's why he's here, right? He keeps telling himself that over and over, willing himself to solve this impossible problem.

He stays awake for 48 hours straight. Bellara and Neve are with him at first, each pouring over an arcane text he's brought with him from Nevarra, searching for the very few-and-far-between references of anyone who has physically walked in the Fade. Sometime after the sun rises, he realizes he's alone. He doesn't remember when the others left, presumably to rest.

Lucanis brings coffee. He squeezes the elder mage's shoulder and assures him -- "We'll get her back." Emmrich doesn't look up from the page. He knows that if the Crow could see his eyes, he'd see all the fear and guilt he's trying so desperately to pretend isn't slowly consuming him from within.

By day three he's coming undone. He hasn't shaved, hasn't bathed, has barely moved from his seat amongst an ever-growing stack of books, each carefully flagged or left open wherever he's found even a hint of a clue that could bring her back to him. He dozes off, face down on an open tome. Bellara sneaks in and drapes a blanket over his shoulders, careful not to wake him.

He loses his focus on the seventh day. It's been a week - an entire week - since she's been gone. He'll never see her again. He spent their last night together arguing with her. He lays down on his bed and presses the palm of his hand to the mattress where Rook had once curled beside him. It's cold; there is no scrap of her warmth left.

By day ten he's manic. His mind still replays the argument over and over and over, but the memory is quieter now, interspersed with a hundred other, brighter moments. The curve of her lips as she smiled just for him, the fall of a lock of hair across her face that he gently pushed behind her ear, the sweet sound of her sudden inhalation of breath as they made love. These memories should be a comfort, but instead they torment him with the knowledge of what he's lost. He paces back and forth along the walkway at the top of the spiral staircase in his room, praying that a solution will materialize out of the haze clouding his mind. This cannot be the end.

Darkness takes hold. He's losing himself, losing the very essence of what makes him who he is. There are whispers at the edge of his consciousness, and he knows instinctually that he's become a target of some demon or another - desire, or perhaps despair. He'll rip open the Fade, he thinks to himself. To hell with the Dread Wolf, he'll bring down the Veil if only to get her back. He'll drown the world in demons, in blood, lay waste to everything. His chest heaves, he's frantic now, running his hands through his hair and panting. There is no air in the room, in his lungs. But then he feels a familiar presence behind him. Manfred is there with tea. The madness fades, he regains himself and musters the will to banish those evil fantasies from his mind.

What good would it do to get Rook back if he destroys himself, possibly everyone and everything, in the process? He washes up, shaves for the first time in days, changes his clothes, and goes to find the rest of the team. He cannot be alone anymore with his thoughts.

And then, she is back. She doesn't see how dangerously close he came to succumbing to despair. She doesn't see him unkempt or disheveled. But she knows. He wraps his arms around her in bed that night, hooks his foot over her ankle, drawing her in tight like a choking vine, and she knows.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

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

A/n: best boy 🥹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part I (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Lucanis & Crew are determined to get her out.

Word Count: ~4500

Lucanis Dellamorte is a man with an excellent memory.

He can remember every part of his favourite childhood story, ‘The Joyful Wyvern’, with striking clarity. Reciting it in his head kept him sane in the Ossuary on some difficult nights.

He can remember the most minute details of a pages-long dossier for every job he has ever taken. It served him well to know every entrance, exit, chokepoint and weak point in case his plans went awry. Like that time he walked in on an orgy during a job in Minrathous, but remembered a note about a hidden servant’s entrance on the far side of the room he could sneak out of. Fail to prepare, and you prepare to fail, he would tell himself.

He can remember the meal preferences of every member of the Veilguard. It makes everyone’s life easier at dinner, even if it means he’s preparing up to three separate meals at times.

Yes, Lucanis Dellamorte has an excellent memory. And for much of his life, that memory was a gift.

Until the day Madeleina Mercar is sucked into the Fade, and he’s left with nothing but the image of her terrified face seconds before a Fade Rift swallows her whole, ripping her from the waking world with terrifying speed.

And he can’t forget.

He replays the moment in his mind on an endless loop.

Her green eyes – they only had a moment to widen before they’re gone from his sight. Her soft lips parted in confusion, then panic. No time to let out a cry for help. The ripples of raw magic as the Fade Rift collapsed in on itself sent everyone flying back, everyone but him. Spite’s wings unfurled and steadied them against the force. He braced himself, and walked forward, arm outstretched.

Only to pass through empty air.

First, came disbelief.

No, no, she’s not gone. She’ll pop back into existence in just a moment. She’s Rook, she always finds a way. But when the moments stretched on in deafening silence and Madeleina still hadn’t returned, white hot rage, fuelled by Spite’s power, quickly took the place of disbelief. The demon, who had become fond of Rook, barrelled forward and took over in a way he hadn’t done since Illario killed Zara in front of them.

NO. SMELL OF. LAVENDER AND ROSEWATER. NO THUNDERSTORMS OR SMOKE.

WHERE.! IS.! ROOK.! WANT.! ROOK.!

There is not much recollection beyond that. He thinks it took no small effort on Davrin and Bellara’s part to calm them down before they destroyed everything in sight. Zipping around the body of Ghilan’nain on purple-and-black wings as if he could whip the fallen God back to life and demand she bring Madeleina back. The Warden may have had to physically restrain them at some point – he doesn’t know. Doesn’t care, either.

Now, back in the Lighthouse, the void she left behind is palpable in every corner of this place.

He sees her reading on the couch in the library, long brown hair spilling over her shoulder, and brows drawn together in quiet contemplation. He sees her sneaking an extra dessert from the dining hall, one he made just for her because he knows she’ll want more. Chatting the hours away with Neve in her office, getting caught up on the latest comings and goings of Docktown – or, what’s left of it after the Venatori took over Minrathous. Excitedly debating magical theory with Emmrich and Bellara at dinner, or in the Professor’s study. She trips over herself when the topic shifts to something she has an interest in – her lips forming words faster than her brain can form them properly.

Then, the one that hurts the most.

Sitting across from him by the fireplace, telling a story. Face awash in soft blue light. Light green eyes sparkling with joy, crinkling because of her wide, warm smile. Her illusions dancing in the space between them. In his memories, she’s close enough to touch, instead of a world away. Close enough to kiss, if he had just leaned in closer. Lucanis tries not to remember the one time he did and pulled away at the last moment, crippled by his own fear and hesitation. The thought that he may never get to try again sinks his heart into his stomach, so he quickly turns to other memories.

And perhaps that’s why Lucanis has all but barricaded himself in her room for the past week. To surround himself with these reminders of her and take comfort in that because if he doesn’t, he’ll lose what little tether to sanity he has left.

He’s holding her gilded, silver hairbrush in his hand. It looks like the one from The Girl and the Glass Slipper. Something of hers to touch.

He lights the lavender-scented candles on the credenza. Something of hers to smell.

Casts his gaze over her room, eyeing her wardrobe – where a few pieces of clothing lie hanging on the open door. Then, to her magical contraption from her Circle days whirring and clicking autonomously on the round table by the window. Things of hers to see and hear.

Something, anything, to tie him to the remnants of Madeleina in this world. Proof that she was here, she was real. That he didn’t dream a saviour and a soulmate. Didn’t dream a love like the one in the romance novels he’s taken to reading with Bellara and Emmrich and Neve. A love like the ones in her fairy tales.

Lucanis can’t say how long he’s been holding onto her hair brush. Even at the best of times, telling the passage of the hours was tricky in the Lighthouse. Now, the days pass in a monotonous cycle, and there are no stories by the fire to measure the nights by. He grips the hairbrush’s handle tighter and exhales.

She’s here. Lost in the Fade, but not here. Not this part of the Fade.

Spite’s wrath crackles under his skin, begs and urges him to move. To fly off the edge of the Lighthouse and soar into the deepest recesses in the Fade to find her. The demon would take them to the edge of eternity to bring her back, and Lucanis would go to the edge of eternity for her. While he and the demon have struck an accord, in this moment in time, they are only unified by a singular thought:

We need to get her back.

Yet, where Spite demands action, Lucanis’ body doesn’t move. He has lain roots so deep in her chamber that even the strongest gale-force winds couldn’t dig them out. Lucanis feels the weight of her absence so deeply, it’s become an oppressive weight on his shoulders. It is a paralyzing loss – and inaction is something fundamentally contradictory to Spite’s nature. It doesn’t make for a quiet mind.

Lucanis Dellamorte is a man who has become entirely too accustomed to losing those he cares about.

His parents and aunts and uncles and cousins. For a time, his grandmother. His brother. Although Illario lives and walks free among the Crows (with every dagger at his back, albeit), he is lost to Lucanis until he is willing to face the uncomfortable concept of forgiving him. And that’s not something he knows he can even do, considering the magnitude of his betrayal.

Yes, he has lost much. Too much.

There is one thing that is not lost to him, however. It is the one thing of hers that he doesn’t yet have the strength to even look at.

Her father’s journal lays unopened, untouched on the table in front of the couch. Its faded leather is illuminated with flickering candlelight. Lucanis leans forward and steeples his fingers together. He stares at journal and releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

This journal was everything to her. He watched on so many nights as she handled it with the care one might use with a newborn babe. She held it so gently. Treated each page as if it were made of glass.   

Lucanis takes the journal in his hands. He’s afraid to open it, like some terrible thing will leap from its pages if he does. Some secret he shouldn’t know. His thumb passes over the rough cover, and lets it linger.

Smells like. Rain in Spring. And mothballs. Like her. Sometimes. But Sharper. Older.

Gently, he pries the journal open to the first page. On the back of the cover, there is an inscription, written in an elegant hand.

Bedtime Stories for My Little Love.

Orpheus Arcturion.

He takes a deep breath and begins to flip through its contents. Most of the pages have been blotted out with bloodstains. They’ve dried a dark maroon, almost black. As if someone spilled a bottle of ink on the journal. In a kinder world, that is how the story of her family would have gone, but he knows better.

As he goes, he sees scrawled notes for stories – some familiar, some not. All as dear to him as the person who spent her nights bringing them to life so he wouldn’t be alone.

The Toy Solider. The Sleeping Princess. The Girl & The Glass Slipper. Swan Lake. Le Petite Sirène. Mother Gothel & The Rampion Babe…

Every title is like a mortar to his chest. His breathing comes deeper and quicker, as he is nearing the end of the journal, making out what he can.

Lucanis comes nears the end of the journal, he stops in his tracks when a few sentences scribbled in Madeleina’s familiar handwriting catch his eye. His breath hitches in his throat as he reads on.

The Charming Rogue & The Hapless Hero.

I know how to tell a good story but go figure I have no idea how to write one.

Bellara’s tried to help, but I don’t know if I can incorporate all of her suggestions (seriously, where are we going to find an inn with only one bed in a story like this?).

It starts with a Charming Rogue being held captive by a terrible, evil bitch Witch in an underwater prison. The Hapless Hero needs his help to slay two terrible monsters plaguing the land – I don’t know, is that too vague?

Ugh. I can’t do this. This is stupid. I’m stupid. Writing fairytales is harder than I thought.

I don’t know how to put the words – how to phrase it properly -.

Maybe I could try winging it with an illusion instead? The silly little fairy tale ending I want so desperately?

I’d make figures of us standing in front of a small cottage on a hill, somewhere in the country side. It has a tiled roof. I’ve painted the walls some obscenely bright colours – I’m thinking pinks, yellows, greens. There’s flowers of every kind in the window box. It has huge windows, to let the sun in from every direction. A nice spot on the windowsill for a cat to lounge on. I’d steal one of the strays from the Treviso market (I like the orange tabby who hangs by the lady who sells flowers). Dried herbs hanging from the ceiling for Lucanis (he will obviously be doing all the cooking). A small library for me so I can read all the books I’ve been meaning to, lost in their pages, but never lost alone.

A home. A little corner of the world just for the two of us, when this is all over.

Perhaps my magic will tell him what my lips cannot. That I love him. I have loved him for some time now.

 I need to ask for Bellara’s help after all.

I don’t know what I’m doing. This would be so much easier if the world wasn’t ending. It would… right?

Maybe, just maybe he wants to share that dream together.

He is my happily ever after.

I hope I can be his.

M. Mercar

14 Ferventis, 9:52 Dragon

Lucanis grips the edge of the journal tight enough that the pages crinkle under his thumbs. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and bites down on his tongue to keep them from falling. He doesn’t want to ruin the pages, but he can’t help it.

A small part of him knew how she felt. He felt it too. That thing they were dancing around since that first outing at Café Pietra. The thing that neither of them had a name for until it was too late.

She loved him.

Loves him.

He loves her too, of course – hopes with every fiber of his being that she knows it wherever she is in the Fade but curses himself for never saying it aloud. If – when, he finds her again, he swears he’ll say it a thousand times over, until the words are burned into her very being, incapable of being forgotten.

Spite doesn’t understand love. But like any petulant child, he understands the sting of having something taken away from him that he holds dear, in his own strange Spite-like way. The demon bristles behind his eyes, stirring his thoughts again.

Smells like salt and coffee. Spite bellows, Time to Find! Lavender and Sweet Things Again! Find Rook.!!

“Lucanis?”

He snaps to attention at hearing his name. Lucanis hadn’t even realized someone had come in. Once again, he proves himself a poor assassin.

Bellara’s gentle and hesitant footsteps grow louder as she gradually makes her way towards the couch. She’s holding her hands together and looks like she’s almost afraid to approach him. A pang of guilt reverberates in his chest at seeing her like that.

“Bellara” He says, rubbing the backs of his eyes, pretending it’s sleep instead of tears he’s wiping away.

“Hey…” she whispers, coming around the couch to stand in front of him. She rubs her hands together and looks to the ground. “I’m … I’m sorry to bother you but – “

“Please, Bellara” Lucanis runs a hand down his face, “Don’t apologize. It’s no bother” He hates that he’s made her feel the need to apologize for coming to see him.

“I …” She starts but looks unsure of how she wants to proceed. Bellara takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “Emmrich and I think we may have a way to find Rook”

Lucanis’ eyes widen. He reflexively clutches the journal tightly in his hands. “Really?”

Bellara is quick to add, “We don’t know that it’ll work but … but we think it’s worth a shot”

Lucanis’ heart beats so quickly in his chest he thinks it’ll leap out and run away at a moment’s notice. He blinks away a few errant tears and sets the journal aside.

His Elven friend rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet nervously, “We’ll umm… we’ll be in the library when you’re ready. Make sure you bring the journal”

“The journal?” He repeats, tilting his head.

Bellara nods quickly. “It … it’ll make sense, I promise. Just come see us soon”

And with that, she’s practically jogging out the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and the key to Rook’s salvation beside him.

~*~

He finds the Veilguard gathered in the library, in the main building of the Lighthouse. Emmrich and Bellara are engaged in heated discussion. Manfred watches curiously. Taash is sitting on the couch, sharpening one of their axes. Davrin whittles a small figure of a griffon, and Assan lounges by his feet.

The room quiets when he enters, and you could hear a pin drop. They all turn to look at him as he slowly makes his way to the group.

Davrin clears his throat to break the tension, “Lucanis… you’re here”

He nods to Davrin but remains quiet as he stands beside Emmrich.

“Bellara tells me you may have a way to find Rook” He says. “Let’s hear it, Professor”

Manfred tilts his head at the mention of her name. “Rook” He hisses.

Assan perks up at her name and scans the room upon hearing it, one ear flopping wildly as he looks for her. Whines softly when he realizes she isn’t coming. Davrin gives the young griffon lying at his feet a soft, reassuring pat on the head.

“It’s alright boy, we’ll find her” The Warden smiles, and the Griffon settles again.

Emmrich’s expression softens at Manfred, before turning back to Lucanis.

“It’s… an idea.” He says, hesitantly. As if trying to measure his expectations, “We have no clue if it will actually work. And making it work will be exceedingly difficult”

“’Exceedingly difficult’ is becoming a specialty of ours” Davrin murmurs, as he blows some wood shavings onto the floor.

Bellara cuts in next, “We think we can temporarily weaken the Veil enough to pull her out” She pauses and runs behind the couch where Davrin and Taash are sitting. With some effort, she pulls out an Elven-looking contraption, with golden concentric rings and a blue crystal orb in the center. Bellara heaves it on the table in the middle of the room with a soft clank.

She wipes her forehead and lets out a breath, “This is a Resonance amplifier. We use them to stabilize weakened areas of the Veil in Arlathan forest”

Emmrich steps forward and points a finger, “Theoretically speaking, if Bellara can reverse the polarity of Resonance Amplifier’s magical effects, we can use it to weaken the Veil rather than strengthen it. We have a few of them, on loan courtesy of Strife and Irelin. Mages from the Veil Jumpers are on standby to help, but …”

Of course there’s a but.

“But?” Lucanis asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“She’s in the Fade. She could be anywhere” Taash frowns, pausing their work with the whetstone.

Emmrich nods, “Astutely observed, Taash. We can’t just go around weakening the Veil all over Northern Thedas. We could be searching for an eternity”

“How does the journal play into this?” Lucanis finally decides to ask the question that’s been burning in the back of his mind since he walked into the library.

At said question, both Bellara and Emmrich exchange nervous glances. It is Bellara who decides to speak next, after a tense moment of silence.

“We need something of hers that she has a strong connection with” Bellara explains, “The hope is that it would act as a beacon for her in the Fade and guide her home”

“Theoretically, of course” Emmrich adds quickly.

“Theory is better than nothing, Professor. If you think you can pull this off” Lucanis holds the journal out to Emmrich, “Do what you need to”

To his surprise, Emmrich gently pushes the journal back into his hands, “My dear Lucanis, it won’t be quite that easy”

Lucanis clutches the journal tightly to his chest and his brows draw together, “What do you mean?”

Emmrich hesitates for a moment and sighs.

“We are fortunate indeed to have a companion who hosts a being that can freely traverse the raw Fade”

Spite.

The demon feels like a bird fluffing its feathers in the back of his mind. Spite shakes his plumage loose, ready to take flight.

Find! ROOK! Me! YES!

Spite once pulled Rook into the Fade to help them. It’s only fitting he should pull her back out.

“That being said” Emmrich continues, his voice sombre. “It would require us to effectively destroy the journal in this world, that Spite might absorb its essence in the raw Fade and use it to find her. I know that journal means a great deal to her. I can only imagine the weight of its loss”

The pregnant pause after his explanation suggests he wants to add something else but thought better of it. The words left unsaid form in his thoughts.

I know it means a great deal to you as well.

He considers Emmrich’s words. Lucanis looks down at the journal. It was the only thing left tying her to her family. An entire lifetime before she was Madeleina Mercar. Before she was Rook. He grips the journal tightly and clicks his tongue.

“And you’re sure nothing else will do?” He asks quietly, but he already knows the answer.

Emmrich shakes his head. “It has to be something she has a deep, personal connection to. Something that…” He waves a ringed hand, and the soft clinking of his golden bangles fills the air, “Something that effectively embodies who Rook is – past and present. To find her in an endless, ever-changing landscape like the Fade, it has to be tied to her in a way no other object in her possession is”

Bellara’s voice is gentle, careful, as she adds, “Spirits … demons, are attracted to powerful emotions. For Spite to become an effective anchor and beacon, he needs to merge with something she’s going to react strongly to. If Spite has an attachment to the object too, we… well, we think it’ll work even better”

Lucanis runs his palm over the tattered, faded leather. This journal saw him and Madeleina through so many nights together. Memories come flooding of her as she flipped through its worn pages, bathed in the warm light of the fireplace. How her eyes lit up with mirth when she landed on the story of the night. The scent of lavender and rosewater. The warmth that settled in his chest. The comfort that she brought him. How he came to crave her company on the nights they couldn’t be together.

This journal was her story. Their story. To lose it forever…

Lucanis sighs.

If this journal is the key to bringing her home, to giving him another chance to say the words left unsaid – he has to try. He would take her anger and her tears at the loss of the journal. At least she would be around to be upset over it.

He looks back up at Emmrich, barely holding back tears.

“How do we do it?” He asks, voice hitching.

Emmrich puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gives him a warm smile. “All you have to do my friend, is go to sleep. Bellara and I will handle the rest. When you wake, Spite should have her location”

“This better work, Emmrich” Taash rises to their feet, axe in hand. “We lost too much already.” They didn’t have to elaborate. Taash had not taken losing Harding well. The team was afraid they might burn down the Lighthouse at one point. Eventually, they retreated to their room to work out, almost compulsively, as if they could punch the grief away. The fire-breathing Qunari made for the stairs to their room and was gone moments later.

“It’s a sound plan” Davrin added thoughtfully, nodding his head. “Let’s hope it pans out”

Assan gave an assenting squawk, before hopping up on all fours and bounding for the door.

“Hey!” Davrin calls after him, rising from his seat. Knife and wooden figurine in hand, he starts jogging after the Griffon trying to escape the Lighthouse. Manfred decides to give chase as well, because why not.

“Get back here, boy! It’s not dinner time yet!” Davrin cries, as the doors close behind him.

After Davrin and Taash make their unceremonious exits, the three of them left in the library start planning the ritual.

~*~

Spite Dellamorte has not been a demon for very long, and there are many things that are new to him. Chief among them, is his fascination with the young woman named Rook.

He has heard others call him Determination. He supposes he understands that well enough. One can be quite determined to be spiteful, after all. And he’s seen Rook possess determination in spades. The way she barrels through every obstacle in her path and relentlessly keeps going is something the demon thinks he could watch forever. Something he wants to watch forever.

Spite isn’t sure if living among the mortals of this world has changed him, but he is certain absorbing Rook’s journal did.

When he merged with her journal, he was bombarded with a flood of emotions and memories that were entirely foreign to him – because they were not him. They were hope, joy, love, compassion, sadness and so many more. But not Spite.

It was confusing and overwhelming. If he had a mortal body, he would have felt what Lucanis called ‘a massive headache’.

Spite Dellamorte stands in the Fade and begins his search for their Rook.

What he has heard the others refer to as The Black City hovers, much like the Archon’s floating palace, off in the distance. An imposing maw of sharp, jagged angles cutting the eerie green dreamscape of the Fade. No matter where he moves, he never gets closer or farther away.

He doesn’t linger on it, and instead, places a hand over his chest and feels for the piece of the journal resonating within his being. A faint blue light, mixing with his own purple glow, erupts outwards. Waves of resonating magical energy ripple out into some unknowable distance, and all Spite can do is wait until one of them comes back.

He stands in his lonely corner of the Fade. Emotions and memories that are not his own tumble back and forth in his thoughts, swimming around each other until they form new, unknown things he cannot understand.

Spite doesn’t know how long he’s been standing in his corner of the Fade, when he finally feels something pulling him in a certain direction. A ripple of that same magical energy, harmonizing with his own, drags his feet towards it. The demon does not have the patience to wait.

His wings unfurl and he flies, as fast as he can, towards that pull. He follows it through hordes of demons and spirits, with a fierce determination to find Rook. Spite is certain he’s never flown this fast in his short existence.

Time does not exist in the Fade, so he is unaware for exactly how long he has been flying. He follows the pull of the magical energy until he comes to a new landscape within the Fade. The Black City hovers in the distance as it always does.

There is a black void of nothingness vibrating in the middle of the landscape. That is where he feels the pull most strongly. He surmises that is where Solas has trapped Rook. Spite takes in his surroundings.

Tall, peaked mountains to one side. Bordered by a forest of high sycamore trees. Ruins of destroyed buildings. A lone house on the hill, decimated by demons. He’s seen this before. Lucanis has seen this before.

In one of her stories.

Arvanitum.

She’s back home.

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

Big thank you to @thewardenisonthecase and @teawithshakespeare for helping me with this chapter. Writing out the mechanics of how the team would actually find Rook in the Fade was tricky. Originally I wanted to write this all as one fic, but then I realized it would be like 20k words. Hopefully I'll get to the next part soon.

This is meant to be a bit of a standalone story within the larger 'Bedtime Stories for a Demon' series. I've intentionally left a lot of things vague because I technically haven't gotten to this part yet in the main fic. I might have to rework a few things depending on how things go.

As always, thank you for reading! I love seeing your comments, reblogs and tags <3 I appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to do so!

[cosmiccrushes]

A Choice Made

Lucanis x Rook || 2k words

Summary: Lucanis finds Rook drowning her sorrows at the bottom of a bottle as she struggles to come to terms with the consequences of her choice to help Minrathous or Treviso

i'm also on ao3 <3

***

Lucanis plops the heavy pot of stew down in the center of the dining table. His team filters in around him, like clockwork. Meal times in the Lighthouse have become an easy routine for them all. Bowls clatter, dishes are passed around, and finally Lucanis takes his own seat. Observing the group, Lucanis registers that one head of curls is missing. 

“Where's Rook?” He asks the group at large. 

Some glance at Rook's empty chair, several of them shrug. 

It's Bellara who speaks up. “I found a note earlier. Rook said she was going out for a drink.” 

Lucanis’ brow furrows with concern. “Alone?” 

Bellara lifts a shoulder. “I guess. The note didn't say, but we're all here aren't we?” She looks around the table at their companions. 

“I don’t like this.” Davrin's mouth is set in a hard line. The Grey Warden, always the pragmatic protector. “None of us should be going off alone, but especially Rook. The Gods must have a massive target on her back.” 

Lucanis is in very strong agreement. “Did the note say where she was going for drinks?” He directs his question at Bellara. Bellara shakes her head, her smile tight and apologetic. 

Lucanis’ chair scrapes back from the table as he stands. “I will go find her.” 

Emmrich’s hand flutters on top of the table in agitation. “But how? She could’ve gone anywhere.” 

Lucanis’ gaze briefly locks with Neve’s. “She could’ve. But she didn’t.” Neve responds with the smallest nod of her head. A shared, silent knowledge passing between them of how Rook has struggled since Minrathous. Since Neve began rejoining the group- at least for meals. 

Davrin stands as well. “I’ll accompany you.” 

“No,” Lucanis says, too sharp. Davrin raises an eyebrow at him. “I know where she’ll be and I don’t think she’ll be all that grateful for company.”

Davrin squints at him, one fist flexing. Then relents, drops back into his chair, pulling a steaming bowl of stew towards him. “All right. But at least tell us where you’re going in case you don’t come back.” 

Lucanis looks to Neve again. She stares impassively at the food in front of her. “Dock Town,” Lucnais answers Davrin’s request.   

***

The streets of Dock Town glint with Venatori steel. The cultists prowl everywhere. Lucanis’ stomach twists as he passes through a square, Shadow Dragons swing from ropes. This could have been Treviso. That could have been Rook. He quickens his pace. 

The Cobbled Swan’s warmth spills onto the street as he approaches. Music and conversation rise up to greet him. He weaves his way through the tavern, shouldering past drunken patrons who get in his way. His eyes peeled for red hair. He finds her. Tucked into a corner, pint glasses fanned out around her. She rests her head on folded arms atop the wooden table, her back to him. Tension releases that Lucanis did not even realize his body was holding.

“Rook?” He eases into a seat beside her, briefly thinking of a time they sat just like this, sharing a cup of coffee in a different city.

She turns her head towards him, not lifting it from her arms. “Luc,” she says in greeting. The smell of whiskey hangs heavy on her breath. 

Lucanis glances at all the empty flagons. “How much have you had?” 

A noncommittal gesture moves through her shoulders. “A few.” 

Lucanis itches to reach out and snatch the half full cup in front of her away. But it’s not his place to tell her what to do- or how to nurse her grief. “Have you eaten anything?” 

“Ever in my life? Sure.” He inclines his head at her sardonic tone. She sighs. “No, Lucanis. I haven’t eaten anything tonight.” 

“This won’t fix anything, you know,” Lucanis says softly. 

“Really?” Rook looks at him with mock surprise. “And here I thought I’d cracked the code to curing bad decisions!” 

“It’s dangerous to be out on your own.” Rook rolls her eyes at him and he grits his teeth. “What was your plan? Get so drunk you couldn’t find your way back to the eluvian? Stumble your way into a Venatori trap?” He can’t keep the anger from coloring his words. 

Rook finally picks her head up off the table. “My plan?” Her words slur. “Oh, my plan was most certainly to drown my woes in booze and then-” Her signature mischievous smirk. “I thought I’d see about stumbling my way into that handsome bartender’s bed.” She points over her shoulder at a man pouring drinks for patrons. “I thought that sounded like a far more enjoyable trip to make. And not even a single Venatori involved.” 

Lucanis’ throat squeezes. He feels Spite’s jeering laughter skittering across his mind. If Rook wanted to distract herself, relieve her pain with pleasure- that was her choice. Lucanis didn’t get a say in who she took to bed.

Yet he couldn’t hold his tongue- or his jealousy- enough not to say, “If you need a distraction, I could help.” 

She smiles coyly at him. “Are you offering your bed, Luc?” Mierda. The intimate way she shortened his name shot straight through him. A familiar, frustrating yearning. Spite laughed harder. No. No, Lucanis was not offering that. Could not offer that. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a game of Wicked Grace. Or perhaps a friendly duel.”

She huffs. “Your plan would involve swords. I think mine is better.” 

His fingers twitch against the table. If he has to watch her walk out of here with someone else…

Selfish, so selfish, Spite hums. 

Lucanis does his best to ignore the demon. 

Won’t take what you want…won’t let her have what she’d like. 

Lucanis looks away. Shut up, demon. 

Spite is delighted. Let me talk to her! I could help her. I could give her the distraction she seeks.

Lucanis brings a fist down, rattling the drinkware and startling Rook, who looks at him with the most sober eyes he’s seen from her tonight. 

“Forgive me.” 

“Spite?” She asks knowingly.  

“I have it handled.” 

She nods, eyes already skating back to the bartender. 

Lucanis braces himself. “You deserve a night off, Rook. And you deserve whatever joy you can find.” He nods towards the bartender, “If that’s it, then take it.” The words are ash in his mouth. “But eventually, you need to talk about what happened. You cannot avoid it- and Neve- forever.” 

“Talk about what happened…” Rook says faintly, staring at the bartender for so long that Lucanis thinks her decision for the night has already been made. Then she says, in a tone so miserable he has to stop himself from reaching out to take her hand, “What happened is that I made a choice. And that choice cost people, my people, their lives.”

She takes an angry swill from her mug. Lucanis is silent. It seems a dam on her words has broken and they pour out of her now. “I chose not to go to my own people, Luc. How could I do that? Neve is never going to forgive me- and why should she? I betrayed the Shadow Dragons trust.”

Slow and patient, Lucanis nods. “You chose to come with me to save Treviso. Innocent people lived because of you.” 

“And what of the innocent people of Minrathous who did not live? What of my fellow Shadow Dragons, slain by the Venatori?” 

Lucanis suspects this is not a rhetorical question as her eyes bore into him. That she seeks an absolution no one can give her. “You had to make an impossible choice-” A distressed shake of her head. “So- why did you make the one you did, Rook?”

He can see the tears she is fighting hard to hold back. “I thought they would win,” she whispers. Lucanis cannot stop himself from reaching out now, cupping his hand around hers where it rests on the table. She looks down at their joined hands. “I didn’t think for one second the Shadow Dragons would fall. I didn’t think-” She looks back up at him, a rare softness to her that Lucanis aches to wrap up and protect. 

“I know,” Lucanis squeezes her hand, silent permission to say what she needs to say. 

“I thought I could do more good in Treviso, prevent more deaths. The Shadow Dragons, they are accustomed to moving as one, coordinating. But the Crows,” She watches him, something of an apology in her eyes. “The Crows operate alone in the shadows so often.” Another squeeze of his hand around hers. “I feared they wouldn’t stand a chance trying to protect the citizens and fight off a dragon.” 

“Rook,” Lucanis dips his head to hold her gaze. “It is not a crime to have faith in your people. To help those you think will need it most.” 

A tear finally breaches the rim of her eye. Lucanis sweeps it away with his thumb. Immediately dropping his hand away to join his other clasped around hers. 

“But I was wrong,” her voice hardens. “The Shadow Dragons did fall. And I wasn’t there.” She pulls her hand away from his, draining the rest of her cup. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and sways in her seat. 

“An impossible choice, with irreversible consequences,” Lucanis offers solemnly. “But we will rebuild and retake Minrathous.” It’s a contract he speaks between them. 

“We?” The single word on her lips sends a thrill through Lucanis. 

“You chose to help my people. I will repay that debt to yours.” Lucanis vows. 

She focuses on him, reaches out a finger to tap his chest. “You would do that?” 

“You are not alone, Rook.” 

Sadness bends the curve of her mouth. “It feels like it sometimes. Everyone is looking to me to make decisions. The team. Varric. I feel like I’m one footstep away from leading everyone off of a cliff.” 

“If you are the one leading, I would gladly go over the ledge.” Lucanis bites down on his tongue, afraid he’s revealed too much in his desire to provide her comfort. Worth it when the sound of laughter falls from her lips. “I only mean to say,” Lucanis goes on. “That you are a good leader, Rook. And all good leaders must make the best of impossible choices.” 

“Thank you, Lucanis.” She smiles. “Well then,” She stands abruptly on wobbling feet. Lucanis rises beside her, anxiety coursing through him that she’s decided to proposition the bartender after all, that this is farewell for the evening. 

She takes a step, stumbling. “Oh!” In her drunken surprise, she throws out a hand to steady herself against his chest as she trips. He moves with an assassin’s instinct, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her hand presses flat against his heart, which he’s sure must be racing.

“Are you sure you don’t have any bad decisions in you tonight?” There’s a challenge in her eyes.  

Mierda. He releases her, steps back, his hand lingering at her waist. “You’re drunk,” he says gently. 

“And you’re possessed by a demon. We all have our issues.” 

He fights down a smile, unwilling to encourage her. Drops his forehead to hers, his restraint slipping for just a moment. But he lets go of her waist, motioning to the tavern’s exit. “Can I interest you in an evening stroll instead?”

“Will it end with Venatori filth on the end of my blade? Surely that’s one bad decision you can allow.” 

Her words still slush together and an unsteadiness vibrates her frame. A vision of her facing off against Venatori cultists in a darkened alley, reflexes slowed from drink floods through him. “When it comes to you, they’re all bad decisions,” he replies gruffly, turning to lead them from the bar. 

She matches his stride on shaky legs, grips his bicep as she ducks under a server hoisting a drink laden tray over their heads. Mutters a curse when she staggers against him, the liquor in her blood proving to greatly impair her agility. Lucanis sighs, wrapping an arm back around her, tucking her in against his side as he pushes through the crowded bar. She closes her fingers around a fistful of his jacket, her knuckles pressing into his abdomen. When they cross the threshold to the street outside, she does not let go. Neither does he. 

They walk, pressed together, all the way back to the eluvian. 

[witchofthewild]

Lil outfit line up for my girl, talking about her under the cut (includes endgame spoilers)

Canon saysss that mercars are adopted into a “military family” but since they don’t elaborate on that at all and I can’t figure out how to make that make sense for an elven mage im throwing that out the window and creating my own lore.

Shanna is liberati caste, but she was borne to an enslaved mother. She grew up keeping her magic a secret to avoid attracting attention. Her facial scars were a mark of from her master, who was a venatori mage killed during dai. The Shadow Dragons (who I hc to have been established as a group around the end of dai) protected her and her mother and helped them become liberati. Shanna became liberati around the age of 13.

Shanna and her mother worked as many odd jobs they could as maids and manual laborers. Her mother passed away when Shanna turned nineteen, and Shanna joined up with the Shadow Dragons shortly afterwards. She earned her tattoos working with the shadow dragons (I have so many hcs about tevinter elven culture and how it should be a culture in its own right if bioware weren’t cowardsss). On the mission before datv where Shanna had to go into hiding, she ran into Fenris who was also working to take down that group of slavers. Fenris points Varric her way, and that’s how she joins up with the solas hunt.

Skipping way ahead to the end of the game, Shanna cuts her hair after Tearstone Island when she believes Bellara to have died and discovered Varric has been dead (my personal canon now is that davrin or Harding didnt die bc fuck it). HC Cutting one’s hair is a grief protocol both liberati elves and dalish share, so when they find Bellara it’s a stark symbol of Shanna’s grief over Bellara. I’m rotating their reunion scene in my head constantly of the first thing Bellara noticing is that Shanna has cut her hair.

[himluv]

Something a Little Sweeter

Hello again! May I present some more Lucanis? With a side of Embria backstory?

This calls back to the last piece "Preparations" so you might want to read it before this one, if you haven't yet :) .

The dining table was clean, the dishes dried and stored, and Bellara and Neve had ducked out to continue their conversation in Neve’s study. Lucanis sat in a chair close to the fire and listened to the comforting burble of coffee as it brewed.

He was tired. He hadn’t slept since he and Rook went to Treviso to meet with Teia. It was impossible to track time in the Fade but there’d been two dinners. He’d lost track of how many cups of coffee.

Twenty, Spite grumbled.

“Soon to be twenty-one.” In two days? That might be a new personal best. He stared at the fire and tried not to think. Not about the funeral, about Illario, or even about Spite. He tried no to think about Rook, but he kept replaying their conversation from the Crossroads. 

“When do you get your way?” She’d asked.

A normal person would probably think she’d been teasing him. Flirting. But he’d seen her flirt and she was much more… warm. Being on the receiving end of her interest felt like a sip of Viago’s best brandy. 

Their conversation in the Crossroads had been different. Less like brandy and more like stepping out of a warm bath and into a cool night. 

Vulnerable, Spite spat.

Lucanis checked the coffee and poured a cup. He’d just taken that first, glorious sip when the dining hall door opened. He turned to see Rook step into the room.

She wore her usual Arlathan leathers, but he could tell she’d just come from the bath. Her hair was down, dark with moisture, and her pale face was bright and dewey from the steam.

Staring?!

Lucanis jolted at that and took another sip of his coffee.

“Hey, Lucanis,” she said. She stood at the end of the table, one hip rested against it. 

“Rook,” he said. 

She crossed her arms, uncrossed them only to immediately cross them again.

He recognized the desperate need to do something with your hands. He raised and eyebrow and asked, “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

She sighed. “Yes, please.”

He chuckled and poured coffee into the twin of his own cup. The silver and purple ones she’d gifted him. He waited for her to take a drink, watched her shoulders drop from around her ears, and smiled at her little sigh of pleasure. 

He found her love of coffee very endearing.

“Better?” He asked.

She gave him a sheepish smile. “I missed coffee.”

“Do the Dalish not have it?”

She shook her head. “They steep a certain kind of tree bark that helps keep you alert.”

He frowned. “Is it good?”

She snorted. “Gods, no.” she took another sip. “Though nothing in the Marches was ever this good.” Her smile warmed him more than coffee, the fire, or brandy combined. 

Flirting?

Lucanis wished he knew. “Did you just come for coffee, or was there something else you needed?” That was neutral enough, right? Helpful without encouraging her attentions? But also not necessarily denying them either?

Want? Spite asked. Or not?

Another impossible question.

Rook sat in the chair next to the one he’d used a moment ago. She stared down into her cup, her posture curling in on her self. 

“Actually,” she said. “I was hoping I could talk to you.” She winced. “About something personal?”

Lucanis froze mid-sip. He took a measured swallow of his coffee, then cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said.  “If you want.” He leaned one shoulder against the mantel. “But surely Bellara will give you better advice?”

She shook her head. “I need an outside perspective,” she said. 

He hummed at that. “Meaning not Elven?”

She grimaced. “Is that okay?”

He could point out that Neve or Harding would also probably give better advice, but he doubted it would matter. It seemed she wanted to to him specifically.

Wants. To talk. To you? Spite crouched on Lucanis’s vacant chair, perched like some bad mockery of a Crow on a rooftop. WHY?

Lucanis smiled at her. “What’s on your mind?”

She took a deep breath. “So.” The word hung between them, and Lucanis braced for impact. Whatever she was about to say seemed important to her. 

“I joined the Dalish, and eventually the Veil Jumpers, to try to find my father.”

Lucanis blinked at her. “Mierda.”

“I’ve never met him,” she added quickly. “And I’m pretty sure he had no idea I even exist.”

Did she think that made it better? “He was Dalish?”

She nodded. “Mom always said he was a Dalish mage with Mythal’s vallaslin.”

He tilted his head at the unfamiliar word. 

“Oh! Sorry.” She gestured at her face. “Our tattoos. They honor the gods.“ She looked down at her cup again. “Or, at least, they used to.”

Rook. Sad? Spite flashed into being in front of Lucanis. Why? You?!

“What’s he saying?” Rook’s mournful expression was replaced with a tiny smile. 

Lucanis frowned. “How do you know he’s talking?”

Rook blushed. “Your gaze gets really intense, but also… far away?” She cleared her throat. “Like you’re listening to something, but looking somewhere else.”

He stared at her. “It’s that obvious?”

Rook’s eyes went wide, gleaming in the firelight.  “Oh, no! I don’t think most people would notice, I just–” she stopped and blushed so hard her freckles vanished in the wave of crimson. She looked down at her coffee again. 

She watches us, Spite said. 

“Ah,” Lucanis said. He stared into the fire for a long moment, willing the awkward tension to pass. 

Why does Rook watch? Spite asked. He blurred toward Rook, crouching low to peer up at her downturned face. Doesn’t trust us?

For once Lucanis understood, and it was very much not that. He cleared his throat. “You were telling me about your father?”

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and ran a hand through the damp stands of her hair. “Yeah,” she said. “So, I left the alienage to find him and when the Dalish couldn’t help anymore, I joined the Veil Jumpers.” She sighed. “I had his trail for a little while, but it went cold in Orlais just after Halamshiral burned.”

He’d never had many contracts in Orlais – they preferred to settle their disputes with their Bards – but Lucanis remembered seeing an uptick in contracts during Celene and Gaspard’s little spat. Shamefully, he’d forgotten about Celene’s actions against Halamshiral’s elves. 

“I figured he was dead,” she continued. “It’s been over a decade since anyone heard from him.”

“But?”

She tapped her index finger against the ceramic cup. She glanced at him, then away. “I found a note.”

“A note?”

She nodded. “First in the Lighthouse, and then another one on the docks in the Crossroads.”

“And they mentioned your father?” The Lighthouse was strange, producing things as needed. He could see the note being conjured here. But the Crossroads seemed somewhat less malleable.

She looked up at him and the confusion on her face made his heart clench. “They were written by him.” She shook her head. “Or at least by someone with the same name.”

“Perhaps it is a common name?” Even as he said it, he felt how ridiculous the words were. She would know better than him what elven names were common. 

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s from one of our tales about Fen’Harel. We all know it.” She shook her head again. “But I’ve never heard of anyone else taking it as their name.”

Lucanis watched her for a moment, noticed the way she fiddled with her cup and bounced her knee. She was nervous, perhaps even upset. This was not a conversation for coffee. 

He set his empty cup on the mantel and marched into the kitchen. He took out a small pot, a pitcher of milk, and a thick bar of chocolate. 

Rook joined him by the stove, at safe distance to avoid getting in his way. “What are you doing?”

“This conversation requires more than coffee.”

“There’s something ‘more’ than coffee?” 

He heard the smirk in her voice and smiled. ��To my mind? No,” he said. “But, sometimes the heart needs something a little sweeter.”

Rook said nothing to that, though he heard a couple of delicate sniffles over the gently bubbling milk. 

You made. Rook cry!

So he had. But not all tears were bad, and after all she’d done for him, he would not hold a few of them against her now. 

By the time the chocolate had melted, Rook’s eyes were clear and curious as she peered over his shoulder. 

“So, what is this?”

“Cioccolata calda,” he said. 

She sniffed the air and hummer her appreciation. Rook’s sweet tooth was no secret, and this recipe was sure to delight. 

“The woman who worked in the kitchen, Mirabella, would sneak me a cup on my birthday each year,” he said. He hadn’t thought of Mira in a long time, but he could not see a cup of cioccolata and not smile. 

“You weren’t allowed to have it?” He voice was soft and genuinely curious. It made Lucanis’s chest ache. 

“Caterina was not fond of luxuries,” he said. “At least, not for her fledglings.”

“Sounds like she was a complicated woman.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He stirred the milk more consistently now, the chocolate dissolving to thicken the mixture. “Maybe she was,” he said. “Our relationship was certainly complicated.”

He watched the chocolate and milk swirl together until they were fully blended. Then he added careful pinches of salt, sugar, and the barest hint of Bellara’s cinnamon.

He glanced over his shoulder at Rook. “Get me a cup?”

She knocked back her coffee, then presented her newly empty cup to him. 

Mierda, this woman. Was she trying to kill him?

He took the cup and poured the cioccolata carefully. When he turned to hand it to her, she offered his empty cup from the mantel in exchange. 

“As a treat,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He blinked at her, then smiled just a little. She waited while he poured a cup for himself, then they returned to their spots by the fire. He watched her take that first sip, the way her eyelids fluttered with pleasure and her cheeks bloomed with warmth. She licked her lips slowly and Lucanis had to look away. 

Spite crouched in front of Rook, sniffing at her cup. Sweet, the demon breathed. Comfort?  He glared at Lucanis. Help Rook?

Lucanis hoped so. He would certainly always try.

“So,” he said. “Either your father coincidentally shares his name with the author of these notes…”

“Or, my dad was an ancient elf.” She took another sip of her chocolate. “And not just any elf, but a friend and follower of the Dread Wolf.”

“And if he was?”

She considered it as she took another sip. “It should be harder to wrap my head around” she said. “But with everything that’s happened?”

“What’s one more thing?” He understood the sentiment all too well, but Rook deserved better than to carry so many burdens. 

“I just wish I knew what happened to him.”

Lucanis sipped at his cioccolata, savored the intense sweetness and subtle spice. He could not remember the last time he’d had a cup, and he couldn’t help but smile at the memories the flavor conjured. 

“Have you told Neve about this?” He asked. “She might be able to help.”

Rook shook her head. “Bellara doesn’t even know.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “It just seemed so pointless after so long. I was happy with what I’d discovered. He was real and he was Dalish.” She looked at the fire and whispered. “I had people. Somewhere I belonged.”

She took another sip and smiled at him. “And, now I do again.”

She means you. Us! Spite said. Rook belongs. With us! He sounded very pleased at his statement.

Lucanis shook his head to ward off the demon’s words – they were all too enticing. “Maybe we’ll discover more in the Crossroads,” he said. 

She nodded after a moment. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.” She set down her cup, empty, and stood. “Thanks for this, Lucanis. It was really good.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant the cioccolata or the conversation, and even less sure if the distinction mattered. He met her gaze, saw the warmth in her eyes, and refused to look away. 

“Any time, Rook.”

And as she walked out of the dining hall, he was sure she knew he meant it.

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 think-ception masturbation rookanis enjoy 🪶

He knows why his entire being feels off. Too much wine, too much coffee, paired with too little food and too little rest.

It dulls his mind, clouds his judgement. Makes him cold in the feet and warm in the face. Stirs something else.

As numb as his brain is, he can't forget the sight of Rook during battle, moving the same as any Crow and yet somehow substantially more graceful than anything he'd ever seen, even though it moved her hairpart from just above her right ear to the middle of her crown, had her chest heaving trying to catch breath and a ghost of sweat forming on her forehead. There's a flash of green and purple from the depths of her cleavage and her many necklaces stick to her freckled skin.

She'd caught him looking at her, with her wide eyes and unnervingly steady gaze, mid-fight, and flashed him a quick, but all the more genuine smile before she ducked away from an incoming suckerpunch and pinned the Venatori to the shack behind them with their own blade through their shoulder.

With an almost nonchalant gesture, she'd flicked her part back above her ear, though her curls were dripping with rain and blood and sticking to her skull from the center again by the end of the skirmish.

Her gleaming aura, despite all their struggles, despite her being soaked to the bone with the diluted blood of others, stayed with him the entire day.

And so did she. Wiped down the dining table, set the dishes, refilled the water carafes. She'd briefly, fleetingly touched his forearm as she moved past him in that small cooking corner of the hall, reaching for the balsamic and the herb salt, fingers lingering for barely more than a heartbeat, but the memory of their weight on his skin burning like acid in his throat.

If she has anything to say about how he doesn't stop to enjoy the fine wine, doesn't stop to consider the texture of the pasta sauce, she doesn't mention it. She'll probably chalk it up to a long day, or Spite being especially grating, and patiently wait for Lucanis to come to her for venting of his own volition.

Though, to be fair, Spite is especially grating tonight, oscillating around her so closely that Lucanis cannot look away to ignore him. To ignore Spite would also mean to ignore Rook, and she's done nothing wrong.

Next time you sleep, Spite taunts, trying to go for Rook's eartip with his teeth but catching hair instead. Rook doesn't know the way a strand of purple sticks out from her head just behind her ear. I will tell her.

Absolutely not, Lucanis replies, in this strange space they share inside his mind where he does not speak out loud, but Spite hears him anyway.

Rook won't mind. She won't hurt you. Doesn't want you hurt. I'm not hurting, I'm longing. You're hurting. Us both. Rook will help.

Lucanis knows that Spite's correct, and that's what's truly terrifying him. If he asked, she would, with no regard about what it might mean for her.

Rook picks up her plate, then his, then Bellara's, puts them on the tablet and walks off into the strange, ceilingless scullery.

Spite follows like a shade behind her, crouching down when she stops to open the door, tablet balanced against her hip to free a hand.

She smells of it again. Spite's words are muffled, somehow, inside his mind, as he pushes his nose between Rook's buttcheeks. Smells like you. Between her legs. Coffee and cologne and stupid useless longing. Don't be ridiculous. There's no way.

Even if he meant it in a literal way, that would mean Rook snuck into his things and put his cologne on her genitalia, and she's smart enough to know that's a terrible idea. And Lucanis would probably smell it himself. He never uses much of it, but the cedarwood is rather pungent. There's no cedar in the Fade.

Yes, she does. Smells like you. You smell like her, between your legs. Soil and chocolate and comfort.

Lucanis knows for a fact he hasn't snuck into Rook's things, and he's not worked with chocolate in days.

She does it. Thinks about you. Wants us to touch her. The scullery door is long closed, but Spite still crouches by the door, knees by his ears and hands on the floor.

His mind wanders, before he can stop himself, to fingers sneaking into pants, to hair over cushions, curling toes and cheeks pressed into fabric.

The inseam of his slacks starts to feel uncomfortable against the swelling muscle.

Lucanis pours himself some more wine.

-

When he finds himself on his cot, he doesn't fight himself as his hands slip under his clothes, as his mind walks out of the pantry, across the grounds and into the Lighthouse.

Imagining himself perched on that green sofa he's at most seen five times is a lot easier, suddenly. Somehow. Because right now, he's more alcohol and caffeine than flesh and blood, probably.

He doesn't feel dirty or wrong for thinking of her, this time. He knows he should, now more than ever before.

Because this time, his fantasies have her naked, her knees by her face and a hand between her legs.

He can't find it in himself to care.

Her hair is parted from the center, her chest heaving and a ghost of sweat on her forehead. Her necklaces pile up in the dip of her neck, the green and purple crumpled up somewhere in his periphery.

This Rook twirls her nipples the same moment he touches his own, claws her fingers into the supple flesh of her freckled breasts and pulls her knees a little closer to herself.

What exactly she looks like, between her legs, Lucanis can't imagine, but she runs a wet forefinger around her clit in quick, tight circles. Her legs uncurl, her toes flex against his leg, she pushes the back of her head into the cushion beneath her. Her moan is quiet and choked.

It makes him reach around his sack and squeeze.

If this were real (it isn't, it can't ever be), he'd lean over and kiss her open mouth, uncaring of their teeth colliding or the strain in his low back, maybe dare to let go of himself and let her teach him what she needs. He'd feel the soft warmth of her chest under his, the give of her ass as he lifts her legs, one over his hip, the other over the back of the sofa. She'd complain about the way her heel collides with the bookshelf behind that, but there'd be no bite to it, and the brief pain would be forgotten by the time his hand finds her and hers finds him.

But it isn't real, so he contents himself with the thrill of his imagination. He pumps into his hand once, twice, and Fantasy Rook curls two fingers into her wet, glistening cunt.

They fuck themselves in sync. Unceremoniously, almost, with no thought other than taking the edge off. That edge she likes to walk so close to her toes dangle in the air.

And yet, there's something so enchanting, so seductive and effective about it that his decorum has long ago given up the fight.

When he thrusts slow, her fingers still and she grinds down, and when she returns her attentions to her clit, his own fingers move to his balls.

He whispers her name more than once, when he wipes up what he leaks already, tries to use it for the wet of her he can't have.

She's at the same time, more vocal than him and not. She tries his name more than once, when her thumb pushes into her clit just right or her pulls on her nipple shoots that delicious lightning up her spine, but then her voice breaks over the second syllable and she struggles to catch air between thrusts. His nipples abandoned, he runs a finger along his trail, and Rook moves to work clit and cunt at once.

The thought of her breaking with his name in her mouth, thinking of him as she chases her high, maybe pretending it's his fingers pushing her over the edge is what makes him break, writhing and whining.

In his mind, she's flushed pink all over, her chest is heaving, some hair sticks to the sweat on her brow. Her eyes are half-closed and glassy.

She looks so happy.

He turns his face to his side, tries to choke the sounds out of him with what he can reach of his pillow.

-

He wakes some time later, both hands still in his pants, even somewhat rested for once.

After cleaning himself up the best he can without water or towel or change of clothes, he walks out of the pantry to see Rook, already armed with breakfast and having an animated conversation with Davrin.

She smiles at him, small and tired and close-lipped, around her spoon.

"Good morning, Lucanis," she says, nodding toward him just barely.

"Good morning, Rook. Davrin."

Her hair's parted down the middle and a hint of green and purple lace peeks out the deep cleavage of her shirt.

"You were in my dreams last night."

🪶

@victias slow but steady or whatever <3

part 2 to this, based on this

I have no excuse exept im v horny for this man.

[~rina]

[wanderingjedi77]

Not my Rook hiding away in her room after Weisshaupt and the other companions getting worried when she doesn't come out for two days. Not my Rook trying to hide how tired they are and Neve and Lucanis keeping them company with good coffee and pastry. Not my Rook laying with her head in Lace's lap in her garden as Lace tells them about the Inquisition and plays with their hair or Rook helping Bellara bake cookies. Not my Rook feeling like a failure and Taash telling them that they bring a little light wherever they go. Not Assan finding Rook crying on the balcony in Solas's room and Davrin trying to cheer her up by telling her an awful story about the first warden that makes them laugh through her tears. Or Emmerich leaving Rook books he thinks she might like and little notes of encouragement. Not Rook trying be strong because she doesn't want to appear weak the next time she dreams in front of Solas and he just gives her this look like a kicked puppy and Rook just breaking down because why does everything have to be so hard amd despite all the horrible stories she heard about the dread wolf, he's next to her with a hand on her back and a worried expression and for a moment he seems like he cares and sees her as a person because he knows the heavy weight of leadership all too well.

[catyo90]

Veil guard Romance Head-Cannon Scenario: Ballroom

(Really missed the idea of a Ball room quest from DAI. So I thought what if I made up some for ya'll.)

Taash - They wear a more formal arrangement of fabric with multiple medals and jewels with a long blue cape to accent the body and arms. At first they are really uncomfortable, the idea of lavish food and drinks and having to be polite isn't really what the Qun or Lords of Fortune teach but they do love the jewels and gold around everyone saying how everyone in the room, be it friend or enemy, they are like dragons. They will fight tooth and nail to be at the top and smote away their competition. The stares from many women and men who find them attractive causes a smirk every time knowing full well what they are thinking. Rook being there helps, they are comfortable around them no matter what and loves it when Rook winks at them. The idea of dancing with Rook makes Taash blush a tad everytime the thought comes to mind.

Harding- She wears a similar garb to what the inquisition wore in orlais but with small stitching of her own and her hair down. Having worked with the Inquisition she isn't unaware of the game needed to be played since Leliana showed her the ins and outs of everything to look for. She stays near the balconies to keep an eye out from above, a birds eye view so to speak. She loves seeing Rook coming to her and sneaking kisses around the corner knowing all too well they both want to return to the lighthouse for private time. Dancing is a bit embarrassing for her seeing as the last few times she danced it was difficult to move along but Rook let's her lead but everytime Rook can they dip her, causing them to smile as the sounds of music echo on.

Bellara - She wears a combo of elven robes and her clans as well with her hair done into two smalle buns with her signature triangle accessories. She is super excited about meeting such well known scholars and researchers. Always answering and asking questions about human customs and their love of cheese which she seems to find everywhere she went. She loves the idea of dancing with Rook, so much so she will pull them onto the dancefloor and dances in her clans way. Both a delight and welcoming from all who witness the dance. Afterwards she is out of breath having enjoyed herself too much. After the dance she thanks Rook for bringing her to experience something new.

Emmerich - He wears a long green robe with bone like trims and small silver details of the human anatomy with a flower in his pocket. Having been self taught in manners and learned to honor all people politely he finds himself quite comfortable in the noble halls, basically follows the manners maketh men like style. He stays close to the center of the room drinking fine tea brought to him by Manfred who he has in special noble robes. Everyone is delighted by Manfred and his excitement. Rook is the one to ask Emerich to a dance, at first he's not confident enough, he wonders if the others around will judge for the age difference or even the idea of a necromancer finding any companionship, he finds Rook taking his hand and whispering sweet encouragement to him helps as the gentle tones of the songs block out the whispers of those around them.

Davrin- Wears a more formal Grey Warden armor with feathers along his arms and shoulders with Assan having a matching cloak around his neck.

Being a Grey Warden and an Elf having not really been influenced by the idea of elegant dancing or as Neve would tell him playing "The Game." He does love the rich food and drinks and bringing Assan he tends to stay outside keeping an eye out on any Venetori agents while Assan tries his hardest to be polite but finding it difficult to not chase the bejeweled outfits and shiny baubles that nobles wear. Seeing Rook though does ease the time spent as he will ask Rook to save a dance for him, warning that he can't help but stare at the way they are dressed.

Lucanis - The robes he wears are a dark black and purple trim with hidden pockets for his daggers, along his shoulders are crow feathers with a long cloak and hood with a lighter sash around his waist. He is quite at home here but he sticks close to the shadows and watches every step and gesture like his life depended on it. Having been imprisoned for a year though he is a tad rusty at the small talk and rather keeps to himself on the lush couch drinking coffee all the while trying to keep spite in check who keeps smelling the secrets of every nobles desire. All the dark secrets to spite as clear as water making him laugh inside. It is lucanis that asks Rook for a dance after the mission smiling all the while as spite shows off his wings to accent the dance entirely evening gently lifting them into the air away from prying eyes.

Neve - She wears a teal dress, not too long or short but enough to show off her legs, he hair is down with a small serpent hairpin and a custom prosthetic for dancing. She is very used to this sort of atmosphere having worked with Dorian and the magistrate undercover. She loves the chase of clues and the idea of hidden secrets in the halls and in the words of servants. While she does know how to dance, after losing her leg she became a bit more restrictive in the art but with Rook that fear goes away, the reassurance of love and comfort from Rook reminds her that she doesn't have to be the detective of the streets and instead be a courted lady of the evening.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Chapter One

The Lighthouse is a sheer delight to Emmrich. The rooms given to him seem to shape themselves around him to his ideals and tastes without him needing to ask. He and Manfredd spend a happy afternoon putting all his things away, and Emmrich makes mental plans for how he may help this charming group of people. They are facing two ancient Elvhen gods, and the task before them is forbiddable. 

Manfredd goes out to explore the lighthouse, and Emmrich sits behind his desk to write letters to his colleagues in the Mourn Watch. How does one post letters in a place like this? He supposed he’d figure it out. 

There’s a soft knock on his door, but before he can call out for the person to enter, the door opens, and Lisbette appears. 

He smiles at her, and opens his mouth to say, “It’s wonderful seeing an old student doing so well,” but the expression on her face makes the words turn to bone dust in his mouth. She’s smiling at him, but it’s a hard, fixed smile, very unlike the friendly welcome he received at the Necropolis. 

But now he thinks of it, Bellara was the one doing most of the talking. Lisbette was merely polite.

Without a word to him, Lisbette takes a long, slow walk around the room. She’s wearing comfortable off-duty clothes, a pale shirt tucked into high-waisted pants. The ensemble is nothing special, but she somehow looks lovely in them. Her masses of curly red hair is down past her waist, and the freckles on her face and glassy green shards in her eyes catch the sunshine.

Lisbette pokes at a skull on a shelf. Examines a bottle. Her attitude is irritatingly overfamiliar, as though she feels she has a right to both examine his things and ignore his presence. She was never rude to him during her student days. Lisbette had been rebellious and provocative on paper occasionally, but in his classes, tutorials, and private meetings in his office, she’d always behaved with manners and respect. 

Emmrich sits back in his high-backed chair and watches her with what he thinks of as his chilliest gaze. Though her student days are over and her relationship with him is quite different, he still expects manners and respect.  

Finally, she saunters over to him, though she still doesn’t look at him. Her fingertips trail across the surface of his desk. “ Coming in here reminds me of being called into your office, professor.”

“How so?”

“I can feel waves and waves of your disapproval, just like the old days.”

“What do you believe I disapprove of?”

Lisbette laughs softly. “Always a teacher, aren’t you?”

“Lisbette. If you don’t want me here...”

“I need you here,” she says with a careless shrug, and perches on the edge of his desk. 

Emmrich opens his mouth to tell her not to sit on his desk, but then closes it again. She wants to provoke him, and he feels certain that he mustn’t be provoked. He supposes she wishes she didn’t need him. Needing someone from the Mourn Watch upsets her after she was unofficially banished from the faction. He feels nothing in particular about that. He wasn’t there when the decision was made, and it’s good for a young person to learn that their actions have consequences.

“You have gathered together quite a team,” he tells her, hoping to change the subject to a topic they can both enjoy. 

“Yes, they’re like family. It’s good to have family around me again.”

Family?

He feels his heart sink. 

Lisbette was found abandoned as a baby in the Necropolis. Like him, the Mourn Watch raised her, and just as it does to him, the Mourn Watch means family. Home. Love. 

Or it did until they banished her.

How would he have felt if the only family he’d ever known shut him out and told him to leave? Has she had one kind word or letter from anyone at the Mourn Watch in the year since?

But Lisbette has landed on her feet, he reasoned. She’s a talented young mage and she’s navigating these unfamiliar waters with confidence and apparent ease. 

All the same, him being here hurts her. Angers her. She doesn’t want anything from the Mourn Watch, but she has no choice. 

He can find a way to win her over, surely.  

In a kinder tone, he begins, “Lisbette, what happened a year ago...”

She scoots around his desk toward him, and then reaches for a book on the far side of his desk. Doing so, she splays herself across his lap in a bewildering manner. His fingers flex on the arms of his chair as he stares down at her. 

Lisbette sits up and pushes her red curls out of her face with a breathless smile. “ Alvarus’ Treatise on the Undead . I’ve always wanted to get my hands on this.”

There’s better light from the window if she’s facing the other way, and she perches on the arm of his chair. Emmrich finds himself with his arm around her, but pulled back as far as he can so as not to touch her inadvertently. She wriggles back, closer to him, making that task difficult for him.  

“ Lisbette, there are chairs for both of us.”

As she turns the pages, she slides further from the arm of the chair until she’s half sitting in his lap. “I’m fine here, professor.”

“Lisbette.”

“Hm?”

“ Lisbette .”

She looks up at him with a dazzling smile, her face just inches from his. “You’re handsome when you’re annoyed.”

“I know what you’re doing. You dislike that you need help from me. You’re provoking me because you’re angry with me. If we could have a mature conversation...”

She blinks innocent eyes at him. “Don’t be silly, professor. I’m provoking you because it’s amusing me.”

Slowly, she sinks even further into his lap. Her bottom feels soft against his bony thighs and very warm. Lisbette rests against his chest, licks her fingertip, and turns a page of the book. 

He grits his teeth. If she won’t speak seriously, he will. “I will speak with the Mourn Watch. You’ve been punished long enough and you should be allowed to return to the order .”

The smile fades from Lisbette’s lips. She reaches up and touches the silver strands of his hair, and then combs her fingers through the locks. Her touch feels surprisingly sweet. 

Then she boops his nose with her forefinger. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had better adventures since being told to leave, and now I have a Mourn Watch professor all to myself. He’s going to help me save the world.”

He gazes at her, feeling unimpressed by her arch tone and the way she’s touching him. She might be their leader, but he was not her pet.

“How may I be of service?” he asks icily.

She muses on this for a moment. “Do you have any advice for me, professor?”

“Your spells were ragged today. Your staff work was sloppy, and your incantations poorly aimed.”

“You called out Beautifully done, Lisbette at least three times.”

He had, hadn’t he. He was delighted to be invited onto the team, and he’d been impressed and inspired by the leadership his former student had shown. The way she smiled at everyone. Her warm confidence. He’d congratulated himself that he’d been responsible in part for the young woman she’d become, the old fool. 

Emmrich clears his throat. “I must encourage as well as correct.”

She tilts her head teasingly toward his. “Ah, so you encourage me in public and correct me in private?”

“You’re trying to provoke me, young lady.”

Lisbette reaches up and ruffles his silver hair. “I am provoking you. Thank you for the book.” 

She snaps the volume closed, gets up from his lap, and saunters out of his room with an maddeningly hypnotizing sway of her hips. 

Emmrich opens and closes his mouth. Too late, he thinks of something to call after her. “Lisbette! I was reading that book.”

But the door closes behind her, and he thinks he hears her laughter in the corridor. 

__

Oh, Lisbette and Emmrich, you're both in so much trouble. Not the same bit of trouble, but definitely a lot of it, and together. Thank you for reading!

CHAPTER TWO