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hannahbarberra162 · 3 days ago

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A Negative Outcome, Part 4

Infinite thank you to @gouraminnow who helped me so very very much with this chapter.

The other chapters | on Ao3

TW: angst and not much comfort here but there will be a lot in the next chapter.

Thatch POV

It had been a long time since Marco had been in trouble with Pops. Thatch remembered a time when he first joined the Whitebeard Pirates where Marco had killed someone they wanted for information and Pops had been mad about it. But that was decades ago and Thatch hadn’t seen a repeat performance since. Marco was always doing the right thing, making correct judgements, and trying his best to guide the crew under the supervision of Pops. Which is why nearly half the crew was on deck pretending to be working while listening in, himself included. You were resting in his room, exhausted after the long day and donating so much blood. Thatch had heard Marco’s statements that you shouldn’t be so tired but Thatch had been around long enough to know there was more to a person than just their body.

“My son, it was the wrong choice,” Pops chided Marco lightly. Pops didn’t need to use a harsh tone or to yell, the effect on Marco was devastating. He looked like he was wilting under Pops’ softly spoken words even as he looked directly at their Captain. Thatch had been in Marco’s position before and it was undeniably worse when Pops was disappointed rather than angry .

“She was harmed under our care, she needed time to recuperate,” Pops continued.

“But chemotherapy doesn’t work like that, I can’t just suddenly -” Marco tried to interrupt and throw his weight as the doctor on the crew. Whitebeard stopped him with a glance.

“I’ve lived a long time, Marco. One day would not have mattered,” was all Whitebeard had to say in order for Marco to hang his head. The quiet across the deck was louder than any argument could ever be. Holding himself high once more, Marco looked his Captain in the eye.

“But I… - of course. I’ll…make amends,” Marco replied. Thatch wondered how he would do so given the tension that radiated from you any time Marco came near. Thatch had to spend the majority of his time in the infirmary that afternoon calming and soothing you after Marco had chased you down in the kitchens. Thatch had heard Marco apologize many times but he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it after Marco had fucked up. Maybe it would be good for the doctor to be humbled slightly, maybe you’d get better treatment from Marco or at least be allowed to live a little more. Thatch finished clearing Pop’s dishes and left to bring them back to the galley. He wanted to be in the room when Marco sought you out to make sure the interaction went as smoothly as possible.

Marco POV

Marco shifted into his Phoenix form as he took his leave from Pops and launched himself into the air, soaring high above the ship. He wanted a few moments of privacy to gather himself before he went to go find you. He needed to center and control his emotions before he talked to you lest he make the relationship between you worse. Which…he wasn’t sure was possible right now. When you told him how you fucking hated him and your facial expression held more emotion during that declaration than he’d seen in weeks.

Marco had tried to empathize with you as best he could but he never got very far. His devotion to Whitebeard was so strong, he’d do anything to make his Captain’s health improve. He already had by betraying his oath to do no harm and keeping you aboard the ship. Marco would gladly have traded six hours of his day for Whitebeard, it wasn’t like you were working hard. All you had to do was sit in a chair with your arm on an arm rest and relax. And yes, he knew that you missed your family and friends but it wasn’t like he had murdered you. You’d eventually make your way back to them - Marco knew that even with his assistance Whitebeard was mortal and would eventually pass away. It was a temporary adventure in your life, and frankly, most people would go gaga for the opportunity to sail with Whitebeard. You could be having the time of your life but you chose to spend it moping about the ship.

What really ruffled Marco’s feathers was everyone was acting like he was the villain, like Marco was the one who was responsible for your torment and despair. Yes, it had been his plan, but everyone commented on how well Pops has been doing, how healthy he looked, how lively Pops was lately. It didn’t go unnoticed by the crew how vigorously Pops crushed Teach’s lifeless body once the traitor had finally been defeated. Everyone was pleased with the outcome but they didn’t want to get their own hands dirty by taking care of you. It was easy to accuse Marco of being unsympathetic and cold but no one was helping you escape, were they? Everyone wanted you to remain and to use your blood but they didn’t want to have to feel bad about it. Marco shook his head trying to clear the negative thoughts. He needed to figure out some way to apologize for making you give blood without causing further deterioration to your relationship. He lazily tightened the circles he was flying in and flew down to land on the deck. He went below deck after shifting back into his human form, finally ready to speak to you. He had to remain sensitive, this was probably the first time you’d had a near death experience. Even before he ate his Devil Fruit, being a pirate came with a certain level of risk. Marco was used to the danger of the high seas but that would be foreign to you as a civilian. Keeping that in mind, Marco headed towards Thatch’s cabin where he assumed you were. You’d hardly left the Commander’s side since Teach had tried to murder you, likely in an attempt to make yourself feel more secure. Listening from outside the cabin, he heard Thatch speaking to you in his deep voice and you responding occasionally to his questions.

Your POV

There was no other way to say it - you were hiding in Thatch’s room after your time in the infirmary. You felt completely depleted in mind, body, and spirit as you looked through the assorted books Thatch had in his room. Turned out he liked poetry and once upon a time you had too. But since you’d been brought on the ship your interest had dwindled. You ran your finger down the spine of a familiar book, a popular volume of romantic poems. At some point you thought all you ever wanted out of life was someone to care for you and love you like the people in the poems but it turned out you craved more important things - like freedom and autonomy. Even so, you plucked the slim book off the shelf and turned it over in your hands, opening it to the bookmarked spot Thatch had left.

A knock at the door had you whimpering in distress. You were never so jumpy before coming on the ship but now you startled at the tiniest noise. The door opened to reveal a concerned looking Thatch on the other side. Your cheeks heated as the chef came closer to check on you again. Thatch had been practically babysitting you since the events of the previous day and you felt awful for taking up so much of his precious time. You didn’t want to be a burden on the one person who seemed to care how you were feeling and maybe gave a shit about you.

“How ya doin’ Baby Pie?” Thatch asked, approaching you slowly. You tried to put on a cheery front so he didn’t come home to a dour loser every time he wanted to rest in his room.

“I’m good. I’m just, um, relaxing. I’m gonna go though, sorry. You can have your room back, I’m sure you want some alone time,” you said apologetically, closing the book and moving to replace it on the shelf near the couch before you left.

“I don’t want alone time, I came to see you. And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. You don’t have to go back to that other room,” Thatch said quietly. You hadn’t actually thought about where you’d go if Thatch wanted his room back. The thought of going back to the room where you nearly died wasn’t in the realm of possibility for you. Maybe you could find a room in the infirmary that was far from the phlebotomy room? But Marco wouldn’t go for that, you didn’t even have to ask. Beds were scarce and needed to injured crew, not frightened civilians.

“What’re you thinkin’ about Porkchop?” Thatch asked, plopping down on the small couch in his cabin. He held out his arms and spread his legs, a silent call for you to come sit on his lap. It felt childish to constantly seek out touch but you feet were propelling themselves towards the chef anyway. As you neared he scooped you up and placed you in his lap, wrapping his warm arms around you. You leaned into him, even the smell of oil imbued his chef’s coat not ruining your moment.

“Porkchop?” you asked lightly, nuzzling into him. You felt there was something building between the two of you but you didn’t want to address it right now. You were a little vulnerable and wanted some leeway in case your growing feelings weren’t reciprocated. You’d live in delusion land for just a bit longer before you brought yourself back to reality and talked to Thatch about your crush.

“Mm. Guess that wasn’t one of my better ones, eh? You can go back to being Sugar,” Thatch teased, squishing you between his muscled arms. He gently took the book from your hands, turning it over so the cover was showing. “You like poetry?” he asked softly, the fingers of his other hand drawing circles on your thigh.

“Yeah, guess so,” you answered, eyes already closing. You hadn’t been able to truly rest without Thatch around, feeling too unsafe and anxious to fall asleep. Eventually you would have to get over it and be an adult again but the chef was too comforting for your own good. A knock at the door had you stiffening up immediately. Thatch’s arms tightened around you as he beckoned to whoever was behind the door. You bristled as you saw Marco pushing in the door, his face sour like he’d eaten a crate of lemons. If Thatch wasn’t there you would have tried to take your chances by running again but you knew there was no way that you’d be able to escape the two of them together. But maybe Marco wasn’t there to talk to you, maybe he needed more from you, more time in the phlebotomy room, more blood coming out of your arm -

“I did six hours! I promise! I can’t - please -” you went straight to begging, trying to push Thatch’s arms off of you.

“No no. It’s not that yoi. You did fine today. I came to apologize to you,” Marco stated plainly. You didn’t respond, unsure what Marco was playing at. He’d never apologized to you before, why was he starting now? Sure he made you give blood the day after you were almost murdered but that was practically par for the course. You knew he didn’t feel bad about kidnapping you or using you but you were curious what he would say.

“I’m going to give the two of you privacy but I won’t be far,” Thatch said, taking you off his lap and placing you on the small couch. You made a small sound of protest and looked up at him with doleful eyes. You didn’t want to be left alone with Marco, especially not after you told him off not too long prior. Marco didn’t seem to take anything you said too personally but you also hadn’t told him to fuck off before either. After Thatch left the room it became awkward and quiet as you waited for Marco to continue his thought. Marco came inside and shut the door, leaving just the sound of the waves against the sides of the ship.

“I came to apologize for making you donate -”

“Give,” you corrected Marco. You’d never been so bold before but maybe almost dying would do that to a person.

“Pardon?” Marco asked, now crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“I don’t donate my blood. You take it,” you replied. You wished that your voice had held out for the whole sentence - you squeaked out the end. Marco bristled and you scooted backwards, putting more distance between the two of you.

“Yes, I suppose that's true yoi,” Marco conceded as he set his jaw. You regretted saying anything - if Marco was in the mood to play nice you shouldn't have spoiled it. Marco closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath before he continued, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers along his bicep, as if this entire conversation was irritating him.

“As I was saying, I am sorry for taking your blood today. I should have listened to you and let you rest. As a doctor, I know the importance of mental health as it affects the body and it was an oversight in my error to not let you recover yoi. You can have tomorrow off even though it does affect Whitebeard’s chemotherapy schedule,” Marco finished waving his hand in your direction. He paused as if he was waiting for something.

“Thank you,” you gritted out through your teeth. Marco didn’t seem to notice your tone but did give you a curt nod as if he was expecting your thanks, like he was granting you a huge favor for not forcibly taking your blood for one single fucking day. You wanted to roll your eyes and kick him out but it wasn’t your room in the first place.

“I hope you understand how much this affects everyone else yoi,” Marco said coldly. You wanted to retort back that being nearly murdered affected you badly when the door creaked open again.

“Marco, your apology sucks,” Thatch said, folding his arms across his chest. Marco bristled but didn’t say anything further. “No man, come on. Say something real,” Thatch prodded Marco as he blocked the door with his wide frame and tacitly prevented Marco from leaving. Marco looked at his brother, shifting his weight onto one foot. He exhaled and walked over, sitting down near you on the couch. You’d been near Marco many many times but never in a casual setting like this. You almost gave him your arm out of reflex but were able to stifle the impulse at the last moment. Marco considered you with his blue eyes, like he was really seeing you as a person for the first time. He put his hands on his knees and began speaking to you softly.

“I am sorry you were almost killed. I truly am. That shouldn’t have happened and you’re not used to anything remotely like that. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t and I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been yoi. I know you didn’t choose to be here with us and that you’d rather be home. I know. So for what it’s worth, I am sorry that you almost died. It wasn’t your fault and I’m not sure how much my promise to keep you safe is worth anymore yoi.” Marco gazed at you intensely while he spoke. You didn’t know where to look so you kept your eyes trained on your lap. Marco continued in the same calm tone.

“That being said, no, I’m not sorry for what I did today. You’re not the most important person on the ship. I’m not the most important person on the ship - it has always been and will always be Whitebeard. So yes, you get tomorrow off to recover but after that you have to go back yoi. None of us have a choice. I wish things were different, that I could drop you off on the next island, but life isn’t that simple. There’s a lot hanging in the balance, a lot more than you know. There are so many people, islands, territories that need Whitebeard’s protection. Even though you don’t want to be here, you play an important role in the fate of the world and I can’t let you go. Not yet. Can you understand that? Or at least try?”

You blinked rapidly at Marco’s statements, this the most raw emotion you’d ever heard from Marco since you’d met him. He always kept his true feelings guarded, crafting each sentence carefully to construct a meaning that didn’t necessarily match his own opinions. You preferred this real Marco to the palatable version he presented to you - at least you knew where you stood now. You looked at him as he waited for you to respond, his half lidded eyes still studying you.

“O-okay. I understand,” you said quietly, turning over Marco’s words in your mind. Thatch stood up and moved in the room giving Marco space to leave. Marco nodded at you and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and looked over at a gently smiling Thatch.

“Seems like we have a day to plan,” he said, clapping his hands together.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t think - you still have to work though, right? It’s just me, I wasn’t expecting -” Thatch crossed the room and sat back down right next to you on the couch. Reaching onto the bookshelf he pulled off a large thesaurus and opened it, revealing a bottle of rum hidden inside. Uncorking it, he took a swig and offered it to you as well. You must have looked surprised because Thatch furrowed his brow in mock confusion.

“What? It’s the least likely book for anyone to pick up. They’d have to first use the dictionary to find out what a thesaurus is. Anyway I got good crew under me, they can handle everything for a day. We’re celebrating starting tonight, take a sip,” he said, pushing the bottle into your hands. You hadn’t had alcohol since Marco had banned you after catching you drinking three beers. The hard liquor burned your throat as it went down, warming you all the way.

“What’re we celebrating?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“You,” he said, laying a muscled arm across your back, his hand hooking around your upper arm. He pulled you into his own body, your head now leaning against his own shoulder. You snorted but didn’t object as you handed back the bottle to Thatch.

A few hours later you stumbled out of Thatch’s room. You really didn’t have all that much to drink but your tolerance was low from abstaining for so long. You wanted to catch a shower in the women’s bathroom before you went to bed - you hadn’t had a proper one since before the…event. Walking down the now dark hallway towards the women’s quarters, you heard a conversation in progress. You thought you heard your name so you waited before turning the corner, curious to hear what the crew was saying about you.

“Tough break for that Bloodbag, eh?” you heard someone say around the corner. They called you - Bloodbag…? Is that what everyone referred to you as when you weren’t around? You waited where you were, you wanted to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation even though you were already on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, I mean who knew Teach had it in him? Not the killing, killing her would be easy. I’m saying the betrayal part -”

“I know, to hurt your own crew -”

“Well, she’s not crew exactly, she’s more like -”

“Like Marco’s pet, or medicine for Pops or whatever. Still would suck to be murdered by Teach though. Nasty bastard had to be put down by Captain himself. But yeah, I get you, it’s like stabbing Pops yourself. Good thing she lived,” someone continued.

“Yeah, then we would have had to find another Bloodbag. It took so long to find that one in the first place, we’d have to start all over again…” the second man trailed off as their voices and footsteps receded while they walked down the hall towards the infirmary.

Oh.

Your mind went blank as you processed what you heard, standing in the hallway unmoving for a few moments. Being tipsy didn’t help as you replayed their words in your mind over and over. You began to move robotically towards the bathrooms again, gripping your towel tightly in your hands. You didn’t really know how to feel at that moment - in some ways you were happy that the bandage had been ripped off your wound. You always suspected that the crew didn’t care about you and this had confirmed it. At least these two were being honest as opposed to Marco and Thatch and Whitebeard or anyone else who was kind of nice to you.

You spaced out for some time while your body continued to move. Your brain was consumed with going over the overheard conversation and you later found yourself in the women’s bathrooms. You were sitting in the communal bath, staring at the tiled floor wringing a washcloth between your hands. Your fingers, toes and palms were wrinkly, clueing you to the fact that you’d been in there for a while and the soreness in your fingers meant you’d been wringing the cloth for a while. None of that really mattered though. Even though the water was now cool you remained in the bath, sinking down to your neck. A firm knock resounded on the door, breaking you from your trance and making the water slosh as you sat up quickly.

“Who - who is it?” you called out. Any of the nurses wouldn’t have knocked and you guessed a killer would have just come right in.

“It’s Marco,” a familiar but muffled voice said through the thick wood. Drying yourself in a towel and covering your body in a fluffy robe, you padded towards the door. Cracking it open you saw it was indeed Marco and you pushed it open more widely.

“S-sorry, was I in here too long?” you asked, tucking your wet hair behind your ear.

“Yes, and now you’re cold but that’s not why I’m here yoi. I think we both overheard a conversation earlier that wasn’t ideal,” he said, his earlier casualness forgotten.

“You mean the bloodbag thing? I mean it wasn’t great but -” you started, minimizing your feelings. Maybe you’d journal or something later but now that you knew how things really were you didn’t feel like pouring your heart out to Marco again.

“It wasn’t appropriate and those involved are being punished -”

“Not appropriate? I - you're gonna try and deny it? Gonna try and tell me I'm anything else? I don’t care and I don’t have the energy for this. Thanks for the day off tomorrow, I’ll see you the day after," you said, shrugging your shoulders. You sidled past Marco, walking out of the bathroom. Marco extended his arm but retracted his hand, letting you pass without further incident.

You didn't know where to go now that you were tired and ready for bed - in your foolish heart you wanted to go back to Thatch’s room. But after that blood bag conversation you weren't sure if he actually enjoyed your presence or just spent time with you out of obligation to his captain. It would certainly make sense for Marco and Thatch to work together, you were much more compliant for Thatch than you were for Marco. Maybe they were playing you off one another to get you more amicable to the situation you were in. You passed the turn to Thatch's hall but kept going, avoiding the now familiar room.

You plodded on until you reached your old room, the one that - you pushed that memory out of your head as you opened the door and looked around. Someone had cleaned your walls and brought in new furniture to replace the broken furnishings. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the room and shut the door.

#blood bag au #op x y/n #marco the phoenix #x reader #marco op #whitebeard crew #thatch one piece #reader x thatch #thatch x reader

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thebalmasque · 3 days ago

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Finding A Spellbook: I

Ed would never have admitted it, but his decision to attend college had been to make a new life. He wished to live differently now in a new state, in a new town, and in a new culture. Away from all his peers from high school and a state away from his family, he wanted to be someone new. Someone who wasn’t the introverted honor student that passed by unnoticed. Yet two years in, he remained largely the same person he’d been.

This year his first big resolution had been getting a job. He had gotten a full ride and his parents had told him they’d help pay for what he needed so that he could focus his time on his studies. But he figured getting a job would also help him reinvent himself. So he’d started working at the school library. He was naturally a bookish person but he’d hoped the environment would make him turn that trait into a more social one. Sadly it had yet to bear fruit.

One day while shelving and thinking, a book had fallen from the top shelf. It had thucked him in the head relatively hard. When he’d picked it up to inspect it, he found it was a weathered leather book with no title on either the spine or the front. When he opened it, he found nothing to suggest it’d belong in the nonfiction section he’d been shelving.

He began flipping through the pages trying to make out what the book was about. He found what seemed to be a few notes scribbled around the inside cover and the first page. They all looked to be different handwritings however, suggesting it had traded hands over the years.

“This journal is the property of Ryzam Magus, containing the translation of Uturiel’s De Arte Mutationis.” The oldest most faded note said.

“Keep to yourself and don’t share it with another while under your possession.” Another one said.

“Do not trust Ryzam.” Another said, scribbled on the border and barely legible.

Ed was transfixed and turned the page to find the first journal entry.

“I, Ryzam the Mage, here account the art of change as introduced to humanity by Uturiel. As presented in the original manuscripts, I shall break it down in three sections and supplement each with the fruits of mine own work. First comes the Transformation of Self-“ Ed began to read before he was jolted by a voice behind him.

“Hey man hate to bug you but where’s the printer?” The voice asked.

Reflexively Ed closed the book and hid it in the book cart. “Oh- uh no worries. It’s- around the corner from the study rooms. By the Waithe Collection.” He replied slightly flustered.

“Cool. Thanks man.” The other student replied and walked off.

Ed looked at his cart, now mostly finished shelving. He kept the journal in it as he finished shelving and brought the cart back down. When he returned to the front desk, he placed the journal in his backpack and signed off. He needed more privacy to read the journal.

—————— • ——————

Ed returned to his apartment. This year he had decided to move out of the dorms and live off campus. It was definitely a new experience with all the extra responsibilities he now had on top of his academic ones. But by far, the biggest change had been his roommate. His first and second year roommates had been mostly absent. They spent maybe a few nights in the dorm but the rest of the time they were somewhere else. He hadn’t really bonded with them.

This new one was different. Friendly, attractive, fun, and very… active.

As Ed prepared to slide in the key to the door, he was interrupted by the door being swung open and a girl coming out huffing and apparently mad. She acknowledged him for a second, but it was clear she wasn’t really paying attention to him as she turned her head back to yell.

“And fuck you Luke!” She yelled, storming off in anger.

Ed looked inside his apartment, seeing his roommate half-naked standing in the doorway of his room looking bored while reading his phone.

“Uh you got another one?” Ed asked, trying his best not too stare too hard at his attractive roommate.

“Hey Ed.” He said with a smile as he noticed his roommate. He had such a cute smile. “Yeah this one’s not gonna be a regular though.”

Ed took out his phone pretending to get a text and walked towards his room. “Oh ok. I got a lot of homework so I’ll talk to you later.” He said and prepared to lock himself in.

“Bet. Oh yeah I’m going out tonight with the boys. I won’t be back till tomorrow morning so don’t wait up haha.” Luke said and went back to his room, locking his door at the same time as Ed.

Ed flung himself back on his bed and sighed. ‘God I’m such a loser. I can’t even talk normally to my fucking roommate. Who just so happens to be a hot guy that likes talking to me. Ughhhhh’ he though with frustration.

After a few minutes of thorough mental self-deprecation, he remembered the reason he’d come home straight from work. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out Ryzam’s journal and began reading it now free of distractions and prying eyes.

After an hour, he’d gotten through the first chapter of the “Transformation of Self” section. He didn’t really understand much of the context but it seemed to be some sort of occult book with lots of references to magic and alchemy. Having little knowledge on those fields, Ed was largely lost. The first chapter had ended with a lead up to the following chapter “Physical.”

Outside his room, Ed heard Luke’s door open and his footsteps coming out. “Hey man I’m heading out now… Yeah I’ll meet you at the Casa… Haha yeah it’s gonna be wild…” Luke said probably on the phone with one of his friends. The door opened and then closed again.

Ed focused back on Ryzam’s Journal and flipped the page. It listed a set of instructions that appeared to be a magic spell of sorts. Ed didn’t really believe in magic but he was curious to try this out as he was curious.

“To metamorphose, it is best to start with something familiar to oneself. To catalyze and inform the transformation utilize a fragment of the desired form and will it over yourself with an incarnation and a witness to the change. In lieu of a witness, a mirror may be used to observe the change.” The instructions dictated.

On the margins, an annotation had been scribbled. “For beginners, transform into another person. Wear something that contains a piece of them.’

With the clarification, Ed thought of who to transform into. But with the instructions, there really was only one ideal candidate. He left his room and walked around the apartment, making sure the coast was actually clear. He headed towards Luke’s room and opened the door.

His roommate was trusting and didn’t bother employing extra security measures like locking the door. As Ed went inside he realized he’d never actually been inside. He’d seen the room from the outside but never actually seen it in any detail.

Unlike his neatly organized and tidy room, Luke’s was messy. It had the college boy room personality: unmade bed with sheets balled up, dirty clothes scattered all over the floor, a pile of what Ed assumed was clean laundry on his desk chair, and a musky scent in the air that combined body odor and deodorant. Ed was strangely entranced by it all rather than repulsed. Just one more thing about his roommate he found attractive, even if in anyone else this would have been repulsive.

Ed looked around quickly for whatever he could grab before settling for a pair of sweatpants that smelled like they’d been used at the gym.

——————- • ——————

Back in his room, Ed stood in front of the mirror staring at his reflection. Ed was thin and lacked any definite muscle definition. He was a “perfect twink” as he’d heard someone refer to him in high school once. He’d always wished he could put on some weight or muscle but he’d been gifted very different genetic traits.

He stripped off his clothes and focused more on his own reflection. He looked at the sweat pants and brought them up to his face. There was a lingering smell of sweat inside that drove him hot. It was Luke’s smell. Luke, his hot roommate who he was about to try becoming. He felt his dick twitch and begin to harden and rise. He sniffed Luke’s dirty sweats and rubbed his erection.

“Mmm Luke you smell so good. Let me smell like you too.” He muttered, now in heat.

He slid the sweats on and looked at himself in the mirror. The size difference became more apparent than ever. The sweats wouldn’t even stay on if he wasn’t holding them. His waist was much smaller. His thighs and his legs were thinner. He couldn’t even fill them in properly. But not for much longer, he thought now committed. He stared at the mirror and spoke as instructed in Ryzam’s journal.

Ed closed his eyes. “Farewell to the form of Edward Newell. Before thee witness myself, Lucas Martin.” He said with a voice that didn’t quite sound like his own yet was his own.

He opened his eyes again and stared at the mirror. It was still himself, Ed the shy nerd. He sighed in frustration, embarrassed he’d even thought this was real. Yet just as he was about to drop the sweats, a tingling emerged all over his body. It first started over his legs then intensified. It felt like the last time he’d gone to the gym and did an intense workout, his hamstrings burning and his legs barely able to support his weight. He collapsed on the ground.

His legs shook and the fabric of the sweats now felt more tight against his legs. He saw his thighs expanding under the fabric, his legs thickening as muscle was building up. His feet, uncovered, expanded. His thin toes widened and a coat of fur grew over them. These were definitely not his own feet.

Looking down at his bottom half, Ed concluded that this was definitely not part of his original body. Below the waist where the sweats sat was somebody else’s body and it now existed in an awkward attachment to his own skinny body. But he was still aroused by this. A new dick imprint created a tent. He slid down the sweatpants and pulled out the new dick.

“Holy fuck. So this is Luke’s dick…” He said in surprise and flicked it, a shiver going through his body.

Then the change seemed to resume. The same burning feeling spread above his waist, now concentrating on his abdomen, chest, and spreading across his arms. His stomach bubbled and churned, his skin expanding with fat and muscle filling up the space. His chest ballooned out and he could feel his ribcage grow underneath. He winced through the process and heard the other change.

“My voice…” Well not his voice. But it was definitely Luke’s. The sensation had spread into his neck now, hijacking his vocal chords and his throat. He looked at the mirror again, now erotically entranced by his transformation. His body was shifting in such an interesting way. The skin altered slightly in coloration, his chest and stomach bubbled like water over a stove. New mass came with it. He reached for his, no… Luke’s cock and couldn’t help but stroke it.

The mirror displayed such a bizarre scene. Something that looked like Ed, yet not Ed, that every second showed more and more traits and features of Luke.

“Hey there Ed, you’re doing great. You’re starting to look just like me. How do you like this juicy cock?” Ed told himself, obsessed with the reflection in the mirror. “You like my big arms? My pits?” Ed raised a muscled arm to expose a pit and took a whiff. Yeah that definitely wasn’t his scent.

“Yeah baby boy. Take a big whiff.” He said, now breathing harder. He loved Luke’s voice saying these dirty things.

The changes had now come to his head. His hair darkened a bit, going from his original blonde to a dirty blonde. His face widened, with his cheeks taking on some extra flesh. This was no longer Edward Newell. This was definitely Luke.

He began panting and furiously jerking Luke’s cock until a heavy shot of cum exploded out and dirtied the mirror, breaking Ed from the trance. “Fuuuuuuucckkkkk. You did so good, Ed.”

His body sore from the transformation and slick was sweat now expunged a new musky odor that Ed was very pleased by. He stood up disoriented by his new height and approached the mirror. The thick cum was wiped away with his tongue that found Luke’s baby batter tasted amazing. No wonder he had so many hookups coming and going. Ed had been missing out.

With the mirror cleaned out he could get a better look. And a what a nice delicious look it was. Hehe. “Luke” eyed himself up and down. This was definitely his hot roommate. And he now wore him exactly. He grabbed his phone and snapped a pic.

“What’s up world? It’s me Lucas Martin. But y’all can call me…” He said flexing into the mirror. “Luke. Hit me up for a good time.” Ed grinned cockily. This was an expression he couldn’t see his roommate doing but he found it suit him.

#body swap #mtmtf #male body swap

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hynnx22 · 1 day ago

Text

˚✧₊⁎Stubborn Like a Puppy ⁺˳✧༚

A/n:none

Warning:fluff,none

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:* *･゜ﾟ･

Alucard had always been known for his elegance, his strength, and his unshakable demeanor. But if there was one thing that Y/N had learned about him, it was that he could be ridiculously stubborn over the smallest things.

It all started with something trivial—she couldn’t even remember how the argument had escalated. Perhaps it was about him over-exerting himself during training, or maybe it was the way he dismissed her concern with that infuriatingly calm tone of his. Either way, Alucard had decided he was right, and instead of talking it out, he had chosen to brood in silence for the entire day.

He ignored her completely—not in a cruel way, but in a way that was so obviously petty. He would walk past her with his nose slightly upturned, his golden eyes flicking away just as she tried to meet them. If she spoke, he’d respond with a hum or a brief nod, nothing more. Even when they sat across from each other at dinner, he barely acknowledged her existence, quietly eating as if he was the most dignified and righteous being in the world.

And honestly? Y/N found it adorable.

There was something undeniably cute about the way Alucard’s stubbornness manifested—his usual gracefulness replaced by a sulky, almost childish determination to prove his point. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed, and every time she so much as giggled, his ears twitched in the faintest hint of frustration.

She had tried to hold out, to match his stubbornness with her own, but how could she stay mad at him when he was this precious?

With a soft sigh, she finally decided to be the bigger person.

She approached him in his study, where he sat reading by candlelight, pretending to be engrossed in whatever ancient text lay before him. Y/N stepped closer, watching as he stubbornly refused to look up, his golden eyes fixed on the pages despite the fact that he hadn’t turned one in several minutes.

With a smirk, she leaned down, resting her arms on the desk, her face just inches from his. “Are you really going to ignore me all night?”

Silence.

She reached out and gently brushed a strand of his golden hair behind his ear, watching as his jaw tensed slightly. “Alucard,” she cooed, her voice laced with teasing affection, “you’re so cute when you’re being stubborn.”

That finally made him react. His eyes flicked up, narrowing just a fraction. “I am not being cute,” he muttered, the faintest pout tugging at his lips.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and before he could turn away again, she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Alucard exhaled slowly, his pride visibly warring with the desire to just melt into her touch. After a long pause, he finally gave in, leaning ever so slightly into her hands. “You’re impossible,” he murmured.

“And you’re adorable,” she countered, brushing her thumb over his cheek.

A long silence stretched between them before, finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward in reluctant amusement. He sighed, closing his book and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. “You win,” he admitted against her shoulder, his voice muffled.

Y/N grinned, pressing another kiss to his temple. “Of course, I do. Now, let’s go to bed, you stubborn little puppy.”

Alucard groaned, but the way his arms tightened around her betrayed how much he loved her teasing—no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

#alucard x reader #alucard tepes #castlevania alucard x reader #Alucard x reader fluff

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queenshelby · 1 day ago

Text

The Peaky Role (Part 18)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

That same night, after a long day of filming and watching you kiss Barry on screen, Cillian struggled to come to terms with the swirling of intrusive thoughts.

The weight of jealousy gnawed at him as he paced his apartment, hands buried in his hair.

"Why does it bother me so much?" he muttered under his breath, unsure why he even acted the way he did.

There was nothing rational about his behaviour that day and he knew that he had to put it at rest.

After a glass of wine, he almost managed and went to bed early as usual during filming. But, it was a night of restlessness, the kind that taunted him with thoughts of you, which were thoughts he did not want to have.

Cillian tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around his legs, his mind a labyrinth of emotions. The way you had looked at him, the way you had kissed him, the way you had whispered his name in the heat of the moment—it all replayed in his mind, an endless loop of memories he couldn't escape.

He knew he had to stop. This was ridiculous, he told himself. You were too young. You were his daughter's best friend and he was a fool to let his heart get involved. But the more he tried to silence the thoughts, the louder they became, a chorus of whispers echoing through his mind.

Had he actually fallen in love with you? Surely, not. There was no way, he thought.

As the hours crept by, sleep eluded him, and he found himself staring at the ceiling, the moonlight casting a soft glow across the room. He thought of you again, your smile, your laughter, the way you had looked at him with those eyes that held a world of secrets.

"Stop it, Cillian," he muttered under his breath again, frustration creeping into his voice. "This is madness."

But even as he said the words, he knew they were hollow, an attempt to deny the truth that pulsed through his veins. He was jealous. He was jealous of Barry, a man he actually had befriended many years ago when working together on another movie.

In the end though, at around midnight, he pulled himself together and, eventually, sleep came.

He had a few hours of rest at last and, the next morning, Cillian managed to arrive at set on time as usual even as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He spotted you near the coffee station, animatedly chatting with Barry, laughter brightening your face once again and, again, it bothered him.

Cillian clenched his jaw, battling the urge to intervene. This was just a job, he reminded himself. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he caught snippets of your laughter—soft, inviting. Just then, Barry leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, and Cillian's stomach tightened at the sight.

"Excuse me," Cillian said to you both, reaching for the milk which he usually did not drink with his coffee.

"Morning, Cillian," you greeted, glancing at him over your shoulder, a smile breaking through the tension.

Barry turned, an easy grin plastered on his face. "Jesus, you look tired man," he teased and Cillian shot him a tight-lipped smile, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Long night," he replied, tension creeping into his voice as he fixed his gaze on you.

"Right," Barry chuckled, oblivious to the storm brewing. "Join us for a coffee?"

Cillian glanced between you and Barry, tension curling in his gut.

"Not today," he replied, his voice clipped, as he turned back to the coffee machine, trying to mask the jealousy flaring inside him.

"Busy with work already, huh?" Barry quipped, misreading the atmosphere.

"Yeah," he grunted, pouring the coffee with precision, letting the steam rise between them before wandering off just to, minutes later, running into Shaheen who was buzzing with energy.

"Good morning sunshine," she chirped, her eyes sparkling with mischief and Cillian forced a chuckle, the tension squeezing his chest tighter.

"Morning," he replied, eyeing the coffee pot as if it held the secrets to the universe.

"Rough night?" Shaheen inquired, her brow quirked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Cillian shrugged, his lips pressed into a line, weighing his words. "Just thinking too much."

"About work?" she asked and Cillian frowned, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

"More like personal matters," he muttered, glancing across the set where you laughed with Barry, the playful banter filling the air.

Shaheen narrowed her eyes, sensing the tension that had settled over him. "Right, well...I better get these to Steven. He made some changes to the script and wants to run through them before filming starts."

"What are the changes?" Cillian asked and, seeing how he was a producer of the show, he had every right to know.

"Nothing major," Shaheen replied, her gaze flicking between him and your animated figure across the set. "Just some tweaks to some of Y/N's scenes as the director wants to amp up the tension."

Cillian tensed, fingers gripping the coffee cup tightly. "What sort of tweaks?" Cillian asked, a sharp edge creeping into his tone as he searched her face for answers.

"Something about heightened emotions and conflict," Shaheen replied. "There is going to be an intimate scene between Y/N and Barry, where her character manipulates him," she explained and Cillian's heart raced, and he clenched his fists, the taste of bitterness flooding his mouth.

"You are joking, right?" Cillian demanded, his gaze locked onto Shaheen, fury bubbling beneath the surface.

"No, it's in the script," she replied, unfazed, her brows arching in surprise at his reaction.

Cillian pressed his lips together. "That's not necessary. It undermines everything we've built." Shaheen crossed her arms, disbelief flickering in her eyes. "It's just a scene, Cillian. It's meant to highlight their relationship and, despite, it's not for me to make a call on. It's up to Steven so go and talk to him about it if you like," she retorted and Cillian exhaled sharply, frustration heating his cheeks.

"Fine, I will," he muttered, his gaze hardening but, before Shaheen handed him the new transcript of the script, she had something else to say.

"You know that she is a grown woman, right?" she asked, chuckling slightly.

"Who?" Cillian queried, playing it cool and feigning ignorance.

"Y/N, of course," she replied, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness.

Cillian narrowed his eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "What are you saying?" he asked and Shaheen laughed lightly, folding her arms.

"Well, you seem awfully protective of her and I know that she is a good family friend of yours but you need to let her breathe, Cillian," Shaheen explained and, again, Cillian's jaw tightened, although she had a point.

"This has nothing to do with being protective, Shaheen. I am just concerned about the movie," Cillian said and his tone sharpened as he ran a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from him.

"So, her and Barry getting close off camera doesn't bother you?" she queried further, knowing very well already that it did.

"No," Cillian snapped, crossing his arms tightly as he glared over at the coffee machine, the steam swirling like the turmoil inside him.

"Really? Because it sounds like it does," Shaheen pressed, tilting her head.

Cillian turned, eyes fierce. "This isn't about that. It's business and, for what it's worth, I am fairly sure that she knows the rules," he went on to say, causing Shaheen's eyes flicker with amusement as she leaned closer, arms crossed also.

"The rules?" she chuckled.

"Yeah, the rules," Cillian snapped back, fingers drumming against the counter. "No personal relationships at work," he clarified. "It's about keeping things contained, not letting personal drama spill onto the set," he went on to say before making another somewhat surprising comment. "Despite, she is too young to be involved with, well, Barry...," Cillian's gaze hardened, an edge creeping into his voice causing Shaheen to break out in laughter.

"Cillian, you sound just like her father would," Shaheen remarked, her laughter bubbling over. "It's pretty funny how protective you are, but you need to loosen up."

Cillian scowled, shaking his head. "Just give me the script," he grumbled, reaching for the papers in her hand.

Shaheen chuckled again but did not argue. "Sure, here you go," she said and Cillian snatched the script, eyes scanning the pages as he fought to maintain focus.

"Page 12," she prompted, pointing at the corner of the sheet.

Cillian's gaze flickered back to the script.

"Thanks," he mumbled, eyes scanning the page where their characters shared an intimate moment before walking off.

"Good luck with Steve," Shaheen called out, her voice laced with amusement as Cillian strode away, fists clenched around the script, fury simmering beneath the surface.

He stormed toward Steven who was working through the latest notes, oblivious to the storm brewing behind him.

"Cillian, everything okay?" he glanced up, his brow furrowing at the sight of Cillian's clenched fists and fierce expression.

"This scene on page 12, with Y/N and Barry—it's not happening," Cillian replied, the tension charging the air.

"Why's that?" Steven glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

Cillian leaned closer, intensity radiating from him. "It's unnecessary. We don't need cliché drama like this."

Steven's brow furrowed. "You think people won't relate to it?"

"No, it's...too much," Cillian leaned in closer, determination etched on his features.

"It's outrageous though and I think it will create a jaw dropping moment. I mean, think about it, Cillian. This character is playing Tommy by engaging with his son for payback and information. It's brilliant," Steven barked, the frustration seeping into his voice but Cillian clenched the script tighter, resisting the urge to shout.

"Perhaps, but we don't need another sex scene in the movie. Just hinting on what this character is capable off will keep the audience hooked. Trust me, it's all about tension, not just skin," Cillian explained as he leaned closer, his voice low and firm and, after some more arguing, Steven finally relented, his shoulders dropping in resignation.

"Fine, we'll rework it," he muttered, scribbling notes on a pad. "And I will talk to Y/N again, telling her she won't need to be involved in that scene after all."

"Good," Cillian muttered, a flicker of relief sparking in his eyes as he stepped back, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly.

"You know, you've got a knack for this," Steven remarked, studying him closely, his brows raised in amusement.

Cillian shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just looking out for the story," he lied, not knowing that you would soon find out that he had killed your scene with Barry.

Tags:

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #arthur shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader

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witchygagirlwrites · 3 days ago

Text

Kelly Severide x Reader

Guess Kelly's in love

Kelly watched you as you danced with Crocket, laughing when he dipped you and spun you out. There would’ve been a time another man touching his girlfriend probably would’ve had him getting CPD called on him but the moment Crocket pulled you back in your eyes tracked the crowd for Kelly, lighting up when they locked onto him and a grin split your face. You were friends with Crocket but that was it. Kelly knew his place in your heart.

This whole charity night you and Crocket had co-headed for victims of a hurricane on the east coast. He was so damn proud of you. The moment the music ended Crocket clapped for you then pointed towards him, you nodded and headed that way so he started to push his way through the crowd to be able to meet you halfway.

When you finally got past the last line of donors, smiling politely as you made quick small talk you practically threw yourself into his arms “When did you get here?” he laughed when he felt you bury your face in the bend of his neck, planting a kiss there “About five minutes ago. You were dancing with your co-head” you pulled back from the hug and your eyes were wide “You’re not mad are you?” and he shook his head “No baby”

You grinned “Why Severide. You really are not meeting your reputation since you’ve been dating me. I mean yeah when we first started dating you were a bit of a wild card but now it seems like you’re chilling out”

“Maybe I finally found something worth chilling out for” he replied with a grin before pulling you into a kiss. You whimpered lightly against his lips and he groaned, biting your bottom lip gently “I love you” you smiled broadly “I love you too Kelly, now do you feel like socializing with me? Because I’ve been talking about my fire lieutenant boyfriend half the night and I’m fairly certain half of these people think I’ve made you up”

He laughed when you stuck your bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Oh we can’t have people thinking that now, can we?” he pulled you into his arms and used his thumb to flick your bottom lip “Stick that lip back into your mouth angel” you grinned “Just because you asked so sweetly handsome” he shook his head “Well, come on. You wanted to show me off”

Kelly remembered the day he met you. He’d gotten dinged pretty bad on a call and Boden made him go to med to get checked. He’d been a bit of an ass, honestly. Instead of Maggie however like he’d half expected to see when the door opened the prettiest woman he’d ever seen walked in and grinned at him “I hear you’re a big baby when you’re hurt and being an asshole about it”

Before he left he apologized to everyone and somehow managed to get your number. The first time he’d taken you out on a date? It shocked him how damn nervous he was just meeting your eyes that night. Every time you looked at him, a small smile playing on your face he’d feel his heart flip. What the hell kind of sorcery were they hiring at Med these days?

_______________________

You were the calm to his chaos. He found himself thinking of you during the day whenever he had downtime. His mind always drifted to you, no matter what else was happening. When he had a bad day he craved holding you in his arms as a reminder that he was still alive.When he had a good day, he craved holding you in his arms to celebrate it.

The moment he knew without a shadow of a doubt he was falling for you it was a simple day. He’d had a fairly decent shift, so had you. He’d offered to go out for dinner but you’d told him you wanted to stay in. The two of you had ended up on his couch watching tv. You somehow got turned to be cuddled against his chest and he realized after about twenty minutes you were fast asleep. You’d trusted him to go to sleep on him. Just having you that close made his heart feel like it found where it truly belonged.

The first time he told you he loved you was after a bad call. Him and Casey had gotten trapped and just when it looked like that was in the rest of the truck managed to get to them. He’d gone ahead with the ambulance ride just to have an excuse with Boden.

___________________

He could still remember the look in your eyes when you saw him on one of the gurneys then you came busting into the exam room “KELLY SEVERIDE” he grinned at the sound of your voice as Connor examined him. “I believe you know my girlfriend” Connor nodded “She keeps me on my toes”

You shook your head at them both and walked over next to the bed, side eyeing Connor as you picked up the chart off the foot of the bed and started flicking through it.

“Minor smoke inhalation, waiting on xray but nothing appears broken” Connor told you and you nodded, eyes flicking back towards Kelly.

“His brain. His brain is definitely broken because I know for a fact Boden had to make him and Matt both bring their asses in” Kelly shook his head “I came willingly. I wanted to see you”

Connor looked from you to him “I'm gonna step out, give you two a minute. When xray gets down here I'll knock” “Thanks Rhodes” Kelly told him and he nodded and winked at you before walking out.

You waited until Connor was out of the room to face him and it was only then he saw the tears in your eyes “You fucking scared the shit out of me” “Come here baby” he whispered, holding a hand out towards you so you let him pull you into his arms.

You laid your head over on his shoulder, not caring about the fact that you were getting filthy from his clothes “I don't want to lose you Kelly” you whispered and he kissed the top of your head “It scared me too, the thought of never seeing you again” he admitted and you leaned back to look up at him, soot smeared on your cheek from his jacket “I'm sorry for yelling at you”

He grinned “It's ok sweetheart. I love you way too much for a little yelling to bother me” he hadn't realized what he said until a broad grin slipped onto your face “You what?”

He laughed lightly “I love you. I know it's bad timing but…” he was cut off by you pulling him into a kiss. He pulled you closer, trying to deepen the kiss but you pulled away laughing when he chased your lips. “Baby C'mon I'm hurt” he tried and you shook your head “Just wanted to say I love you too Kelly” before he could say anything else you pulled him back to you.

Kelly rolled over to find you curled up to your pillow wearing his shirt from the night before. He'd barely talked you into slipping it on after he helped you clean up, you'd been exhausted when the two of you got back from the fundraiser and just wanted out of the dress you wore.

He hadn't had any intentions of trying to have sex but the moment he unzipped your dress it was like a switch flipped you went from yawning to looking over your shoulder at him with that look that could get him to agree to anything. Needless to say by the time the two of you finally fell asleep you'd been out like a light. Even now you were snoring lightly, something that he knew embarrassed you but he found it fucking adorable.

He smiled and turned over to face you so he could watch you sleep. Neither of you had to work today and he couldn't think of a better way to spend his day off.

#kelly severide x you #kelly severide x reader #chicago fire drabble #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire fanfiction

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kennedycore · 1 day ago

Note

I was wondering if you had any lesser known stories or tidbit about Jack and Kick? They’re my fav Kennedy duo and had such a sweet relationship but I feel like we get so little about them.

*cracks knuckles* well well well... you've come to the right place! jack and kick are my favorite duo out of the kennedy siblings.

unfortunately, we get too little about kick in general, mostly because she wasn't a public figure like the rest of the kennedys and that she died so young. i'll try to list some stories/tidbits most people don't know about them (some funny and some sad):

(im sorry about how long this is lmao i just couldn't stop):

Joe Jr., Jack and Kick were Joe Sr.'s "Golden Trio", but Jack and Kick were closer because Joe Jr. could be an intimidating older brother figure who wanted to live up to his status as Joe Sr.'s "golden boy" whereas Jack and Kick were the rebels of the family.

As kids, Jack and Kick were quite rebellious (especially against Rose). Jack would call out for Kick using Rose's heavy Boston accent and he'd always exaggeratively call her Kathleen like their mother did. Rose had a habit of installing clocks everywhere around the house so people wouldn't miss important times of the day like mealtimes. Jack and Kick would take turns persuading the cook if they missed mealtime.

As teenagers, they would sneak out of the house together to go dancing at clubs or the movies once JFK got his driving license. Rose would actually get in her car and come looking for them, so they learned to recognize her car headlights and they'd drive back to the house quickly, close the doors and take off their shoes quietly and sneak into their beds pretending to be asleep. They got caught once and Rose pinned a note on Kick's pillow about it: "The next time be sure to be in on time".

Their relationship was really mostly based on jokes and banter. They rarely were serious together and this mostly happened towards the end of Kick's life - after Joe Jr., and her husband Billy were dead.

Kathleen and Jack were both incredibly messy and disorganized, and left clothes, music records, books, etc. all over their bedroom floors.

Kick's nickname for Jack was "Twinkle-toes" because he'd take her dancing at nightclubs all the time.

They'd also call each other "Kid". When Jack got mad at Kick for flirting with all his friends, Kick replied "Gosh Kid, that's too close to a knuckle".

Jack and Kick would often drink together at said nightclubs, and their parents would not be happy about it because they frowned upon alcohol (pretty ironic considering what Joe Sr. was doing).

Jack (especially early in his life) dated girls that were mostly set up for him by Kick. The most prominent was Charlotte McDonnell and Inga Arvad. If Kick didn't like one of Jack's girlfriends, he'd actually break up with them.

Kick wrote to her parents: "Tell Jack not to get married for a long time. I'll keep house for him".

Kick hated attending Convent school and was super depressed about it, and in her letters she always talked about how she looked forward to spending the summer with Jack (and Lem) the most because she found him the most fun out of her siblings.

Jack would write Kick "amusing letters" to cheer her up at Convent school because he knew she was sad and needed cheering up. Joe Sr. wrote this letter to Jack about it: "She really thinks you are a great fellow. She has a love and devotion to you that you should be very proud to have deserved. She thinks you are quite the grandest fellow that ever lived and your letters furnish her most of her laughs in the Convent"

He'd also send her gifts all the time, like jigsaw puzzles while she was at the Convent

When Kick lived in Washington, her, Jack, Inga and other friends would have the same dinner every day: steak, peas, carrots, and ice cream. Inga also said they'd play touch football in Kick's apartment's living room.

When Jack and Lem came back from their Europe trip in 1937, they were met at the ship dock by Kick. Jack wrote about a funny incident that happened when they came back with a bunch of grouse that they'd brought back from shooting in England: "We carefully turned our grouse over to [Kathleen] for safe keeping while we went through customs—I remember they weren’t looking too good. When we next saw Kathleen, she didn’t have the grouse. She said the odor was more than she could stand and had thrown them off the dock.” The boys were furious.

When Jack got very ill and was sent to Florida to recover, Kick tried cheering him up by telling him that all the girls were asking about him and that they'd called him "Jack Kennedy the cutest thing"

Kick actually gave JFK his leather bound journal which he used to document his 1937 trip to Europe (and it went up for auction a couple of years ago)

In 1936, Kick went to "The Cotton Club" in New York with Jack and Lem, and Joe Sr. was furious about it when he found out because it was a shady nightclub that allegedly had mafia connections.

When they moved to England, Kick's friends noticed that all she did was talk about Jack. When she introduced her friends to him, they actually called Jack and Kick "the Kennedy twins" because of how similar they looked/acted and they practically finished each others sentences.

They apparently had a habit of saying "terrific" a lot for some reason lol. One of their friends who was at dinner with both of them wrote that their conversation was basically "a terrific day, a terrific movie, terrific this, terrific that, everything was terrific."

When Jack wrote "Why England Slept", Kick helped him with sending out signed copies of his book.

Both Jack and Kick were described as emotionally cold, which they believed was a result of their upbringing. However, after Billy (Kick's husband) was killed in the war, Jack met Kick at the airport (after not seeing each other for 2 years) and she "ran into his arms and wept".

Jack stayed awake the entire night with Kick while she talked to him about Billy. He later described it as the worst night of his life.

When Kick died in a plane crash, Jack asked if the body was confirmed to be hers. Once his father had confirmed it, Jack openly wept which was incredibly rare for him.

Jack couldn't attend Kick's funeral. He got all the way to the airport and at the last minute turned back.

He made sure to visit her grave during his 1963 trip to Europe as president, despite having a very busy schedule. He visited her grave in June of 1963, just 5 months before his death.

#i realize this is excessive but i just love their relationship so much #kick not living long enough to see jfk as president is so sad #ask #answered

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inkedinfusions · 7 hours ago

Text

𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | geto suguru chapter 4

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

⊰–prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟒 | 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

chapter word count: 3k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!!!! Kingdom dance scene and the lantern scene changed my brain chemistry when I saw them for the first time. Eugene Fitzherbert you'll always be famous to me

Thank you for reading!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 up by the snort of an animal. But not just any animal, because when has life given you a rest? When you crack open one of your eyes, you notice none other than the horse with the gold colored eyes, standing menacingly above you, still wet from the flood.

Ugh. It's too early for this.

"I hope you are here to apologize for yesterday," you mumble, still half asleep and you close your eye and move to a more comfortable position.

Apparently he is not, because you're suddenly being dragged away by the boot, and you claw at the ground, looking for vines, roots, plants—anything to grab so you aren't pulled away.

"Hey—hey! Stop that!" you yell at the horse. "Let me go! I don't even have the circlet anymore!"

The horse does not relent, only stopping when your body straightens up into the air. Suguru takes your hands, pulling you towards him to fight off the horse. "Release her!" he says, pausing between each strain.

Finally, your boot comes off, leaving you with one foot in a boot and one in only a sock. You scramble to stand, taking refuge behind Suguru's bigger figure as he tries to calm the beast. You pray his princess nickname is somewhat accurate, because you don't see any other solution to calming the creature.

"Whoa!" he says, arms up. "Hey—hey, calm down—"

You take a step back when the horse gets too agitated, letting Suguru handle the situation.

"Easy there," he continues, somehow succeeding. "Easy boy. Now, sit."

The horse looks at him with contempt and you almost want to scoff. Pigs would fly before that animal would ever—

"Good boy!" Suguru says when the horse sits and drops your boot at his order. "Why was Y/n so mad at you? You're not appreciated enough, are you?"

You watch in disbelief as Suguru pets the horse without a care in the world, and what is even weirder, the horse lets him. This crazy guy just blabbers on about him being such a good horse and whatnot, leaving you speechless.

"I can assure you," you say, "he is nothing but a menace."

"How can you say that?" Suguru asks, turning to you whilst still petting him. "He's just a big sweetheart, isn't that right—Koryu?"

"This has got to be a joke," you say, tensing up when the horse—Koryu stomps his leg.

"What, can't get along with a horse, Starlight?" he says with a teasing glint in his eyes. You want to retort like you always do, but something in the way he says your nickname makes you pause.

"Hey, this is like, a super important day for me," Suguru says, addressing the horse. He pulls you up, bringing you face to face with Koryu. "If you could pause your manhunt for twenty four horses I would be very grateful. After that it's fair game, of course."

Man, this guy sucks. Why do you even like him?

"Also it's my birthday," the guy adds when Koryu seems unconvinced. Seems because, well, heis a horse. A horse that strikes you right between the ribs the moment Suguru turns away.

Suguru makes you both shake on it at the end, and you follow the sound of the village's bells ringing in the distance, leading your group of four to the bridge connecting Corona and the Mainland.

You walk five paces behind Suguru, having given up catching up to him, his glee at the village something you can't match. Your mood is soured even further when you catch a glimpse of one of your posters on the side of the bridge, so you quickly rip it off the wall and crumble it into a ball.

Koryu neighs in protests to which you stuff the paper up his snout, laughing until he decides to spit it in your face. You retaliate with a shove, small actions turning into a borderline fight. Suguru's lizard stares you down from the top of his head, and you grumble, separating yourself from the horse.

In the entrance of the village, however, Suguru seems to have a bit of a problem with his hair, the length of it causing people to step on it, ducks to stomp on it, dirtying it and bothering the man. You jog to catch up to him, momentarily forgetting your gripe with the kingdom, and you help him pick up his hair, both of you carrying large chunks of it in your arms.

Your eyes scan the plaza, looking for anything that might help. Then, sitting at the border of the fountain, you see the solution presented to you in the image of two little girls, one twin braiding half of the other's hair, while that girl braids what's left.

You whistle at them to get their attention, nodding towards Suguru when they look your way. You chuckle at the way their eyes light up when they see the amount of hair in your arms, immediately running up to Suguru, who watches them nervously.

You put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to kneel on the side of the plaza so the girls can reach his scalp. You pat him twice for good measure, walking off to get flowers or something for his hair. You were going to turn him into a real life princess—the price to pay for making you call a truce with that stupid horse.

You bring back the flowers and let the girls loose with them, ducking behind a wall when a patrol approaches. Thankfully, they don't notice you, nor does Koryu alert them of your presence.

"Thank you!" you hear Suguru say, and so you turn to look at him from where you are hunched.

The teasing remark you had prepared ages ago dies on the tip of your tongue, taking with it the remnants of the air in your lungs. Suguru twirls at the girls' request, his new braid almost reaching the floor, absolutely covered in wildflowers of various colors. You stare at him with a dumb smile on your face, forever grateful he never looks at you directly. Koryu does though, and you shove him away when his snout somehow manages to form a teasing grin.

You walk from shop to shop, stopping to buy a banner with the royal crest from a kid, giving it to Suguru after a little bit of bickering. He uses it as a guide to help some kids paint a mural on the floor of a different plaza, staining his hands with the dark purple and yellow of the crest.

You lose track of Koryu in one of your multiple escapades when you buy Suguru a cupcake, barely avoiding the patrol that passes by the bakery. When you finish your pastry, he pulls you into a bookshop and you both stay there for a while, browsing books and maps and poems.

Later, you stand in line with Suguru after walking through the market, going from here to there at his signal. You haven't eaten anything today though, so you patiently wait for your turn, not even looking when you see Suguru disappear from the corner of your eye. He probably just saw something new to him, and he definitely doesn't need you for protection. So you wait and pay when the merchant hands you a loaf of bread and cheese, turning around to search for the black haired man.

You find him immediately, dancing in the middle of the square with people it seems he pulled in, moving his body to the rhythm of a band at the edge of the group of people. You watch as he dances with one of the girls who braided his hair, the brunette one, offering his other hand to the blonde one when she approaches him.

He leads the villagers into a circle, more and more joining the fray. He turns to you with a smile, gesturing for you to come and dance, but you decline with a swipe of your hand, not really wanting to. Koryu, however, has a different plan, because he pushes you in, causing you to lose track of your food.

You don't have time to lament the loss of your lunch as you are swept away before you can reach Suguru. It happens time and time again, both of you getting close only to be pulled away by different dancing partners each time. It's fun though, and you don't think you've ever felt this happy in the kingdom.

The music swells, with the violinist carrying the main tune, and you dance and laugh and sway as the tempo rises, changing partners with each breath you take. You look for Suguru in the crowd as you dance with another, when your partner sends you twirling away.

You bump into Suguru just as the music flourishes and ends, your hand on his shoulder, his on the small of your back, both your other hands clasped together. You stare at each other as you pant slightly, breath spent on the dance.

You look at him—I mean, really lookat him. At how the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles slightly, how he has slight dimples in his cheeks. How his skin is ever more tan now, with some freckles giving life to his pale face. How his eyes shine, deep purple and yet so bright, how he looks at you tenderly, an expression that is sure to be reflected on your face.

"To the boats!" a villager yells, breaking you out of your moment. Both your faces heat up as you take a step back, putting a small sliver of space between your previously pressed together bodies. You've only just separated, and still you long for him again. You don't even wantto snap out of it, but you must if you want to make it to the boats in time.

"Where are you taking me?" Suguru asks when you retrieve his hand to guide him to the boats. No other purpose or ulterior motives here, no sir. You just don't want him to get lost, is all.

"It's a surprise!" you say, grinning as Koryu follows.

The dock is just a few paces away, and there stands the boat you had borrowed from an old lady, who was all too happy to lend it to you after you told her it was your friend's first time seeing the lanterns. She wiggled her eyebrows and said something about young love, but you didn't have to pay a cent, so you didn't question it.

You help Suguru step into the boat, taking the paddle when you sit behind him. The currents take you away into the middle of the water, but not before you throw a bag of apples to Koryu, who stands on the dock. He looks at them suspiciously, making you chuckle.

"They were legally sourced, I swear," you defend, smiling when he starts to eat them. "Well, most of them."

You don't turn around to see his reaction but you are sure it's something out of a comedic book, so you instead busy yourself with letting Suguru's lizard climb the end of the boat. You row until you are a sizable distance away from the coast, the sun long gone, giving way to the stars. But the light they emit is nothing compared to the spectacle you're about to witness.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask Suguru after you notice the worried look in his eyes.

"I'm... scared, I think," he answers, looking at you.

You tilt your head questioningly to the side with a smile. "About what? I thought this was your lifelong dream."

"It is," he says. "That's what scares me. What if it is not everything I dreamed it to be?"

"It will be," you assure him, looking up at the stars. The lanterns should appear any second now, illuminating the sky like nothing else.

"Well, then what if it is? What am I supposed to dream of now?"

"I don't know," you say, meeting his eyes. "Something new."

You go back to silence, wordlessly contemplating the night sky. You remember you have some leftover flowers in your pockets, so you bring them out and offer them to Suguru. They're a little crumpled from being inside your pocket for so long, but he still accepts them with a smile. One by one, Suguru drops them into the water, until his eyes widen at the appearance of the first light.

The king and the queen's lantern is always the first to appear, floating into the night from the balcony of their castle. The rest follow their cue, and you watch enraptured as hundreds burst to life, when Suguru scrambles for the bow of the boat, prompting you to grab the side of it so you don't topple over.

From the hull of the boat you see Suguru lean against the stem, his dark hair swaying as he cranes his head upwards. You wonder how he feels, now that he has fulfilled his lifelong dream of seeing the lights. You wonder if you've done enough to give him a memorable experience.

You sit up, uncovering one more surprise from your bag. Well, two more surprises, given there are two lanterns stashed away there. You prop them up, lighting the inside with some matches the grandma gave you. The lanterns are ready by the time Suguru turns to you, and you relish in the way his eyes go bigger with amazement.

He smiles, moving to sit down in front of you, giddily taking in the lanterns sat atop of your hands. You extend your right one towards him in offering, when he gasps and turns to his side, revealing a very familiar looking satchel.

"I'm not one to break promises," he says when you watch him incredulously. To be honest, you had completely forgotten about the satchel and the events that led you to be here, content with simply living in this moment.

"I probably should've returned before, but truth is, I was kinda scared to," he continues. "But I'm not anymore. You know what I mean?"

Your eyes dart from him to the satchel, then to him once again. You don't think anything has been this clear before, not when you extend your hand and gently push the satchel down, not once breaking eye contact with Suguru. "I think I'm beginning to," you say.

The corner of his eyes crinkle as he takes the lantern you offer him, and you both release them into the night in sync. You watch as they twirl with one another, blending into the thousands that are already up in the air. And yet, they never seem to drift apart, staying together even when a slight breeze runs through them.

You don't know if it's just you, but everything seems more vibrant now, more alive. The days that went by in that orphanage were drab and grey, and the ones as a thief were slippery and unreliable. But now? Now you are starting to see the way things truly are. And it all started because of him.

Suguru leans on the side of the boat, his body directed towards the lanterns, as if the closer he gets to them, the more beautiful they'll look. It's endearing how he adjusts his weight so as to not fall, how he pushes stray strands of hair behind his ear.

How he points at a lantern that approaches, glancing at you and then back at it. The lantern with the royal crest floats towards you, getting close enough for Suguru to give it a push upwards. When he sits back down, a surge of courage washes over you, and you take his hand in yours.

Suguru reciprocates, taking your other hand too, bringing you closer. Next to his eyes, his strand of ink-black hair sets itself loose, no longer tucked away into his flower-covered braid. To take the opportunity to slip it behind his ear, ghosting your fingers against his jawline.

He leans closer, and you lean closer, and everything is magical and wonderful and golden. His eyes slip shut, and yours are about to too, when a green lantern on the coast catches your eye. It is not the green lantern that makes you pull away, but rather those holding it: Jogo and Mahito.

"Is everything okay?" Suguru asks when you stay frozen, the boat swaying when the currents take it closer and closer to the coast.

"Yeah, just..." you start, addled. "Just need to take care of something."

"Oh," Suguru says.

"I'm sorry," you say when the boat docks, grabbing your satchel from his side and slipping onto the ground. "I'll be right back, I promise."

Suguru nods, just in time for you to walk away.

It takes no time for you to arrive where the Curses are, standing tall in all of their deformed glory. Jogo without an eye, Mahito covered in stitches. The gravel crunches under your feet as you greet them with a smile.

"Jogo, Mahito, long time no see!" you say. "I didmean to get in touch with you, but then there was this whole thing about—well, I won't bore you with it."

"Anyway," you say, throwing the satchel to their feet. "Sorry for stealing your target, but I'm sure we can all put this in the past like the mature adults we are."

"Mature adults?" Jogo sneers. "What about your little friend who almost decapitated me?"

"A misunderstanding, I'm sure," you say, itching to get back to the boat. "Well, I'm off. I'd say it's been a pleasure, but I'm trying to ditch the habit of lying."

"Not so fast," Mahito says, intercepting you. "Word is you've found something far more valuable."

"Valuable? Well, unless you are a big fan of matches—"

"We are talking about the guy," Jogo interrupts, signaling Mahito to do something. "We want him." You don't get to find out what it is Mahito does though, because you get knocked out at the next second. Wait, that was probably it.

#ebony and gold #ann writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto #suguru

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abbysimsfun · 2 hours ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 137 (What Happened to Ash Landgraab??)

cw: kidnapping

"We know this is difficult, but can you walk us through what happened before Ash was taken?"

The San Myshuno PD officers stood in the living room of the Landgraabs' penthouse while a despondent Heather sobbed into Conrad's shoulder. Ash's friend Pearl hugged her mother tightly.

"We've spent most of the week here at the penthouse," explained Geoffrey. "Ash loves swimming in the pool, and both grandkids have loved playing with our new puppy, Sansa. But we started our day at The Soup Kitchen in the Spice District because Ash wanted to show us around."

"I didn't want Ash and Bridgette in such a dangerous neighbourhood, but I thought the location was charming and the cafe is a wonderful idea," admitted Nancy, but her voice trailed off as she pushed back her shoulders. Pacing the room nervously, Geoffrey continued for her.

"Ash was telling us about bad wiring and a boy named Zach who needed art supplies, but he and his mother had already moved on (to @bloomingkyras' save!), so he showed us around the rest of the place. My grandson's always had good taste, and the shelter does good work. We got to know the director and started the paperwork for Landgraab Corp. to become a regular donor. We had such a nice morning that we decided to spend he afternoon at Myshuno Meadows."

The female officer turned to Pearl with a comforting smile. "And you went with them?"

The ten-year-old nodded. "My mom said I could when the Landgraabs left the shelter. She volunteers there and I go with her a lot."

"You were told not to run off by yourselves," Nancy scolded. Pearl slinked behind her mother, avoiding Nancy Landgraab's stern expression.

"They're just kids," Dylan insisted. "They weren't trying for this to happen."

"What happened when you got to Myshuno Meadows?" the female officer pressed, keeping the distraught family on track.

"We were playing with Sansa near the historic hall, checking out different things inside, and we lost track of Ash and Pearl," Miko admitted nervously.

"At school I heard there was a place just outside the park that looked like a monster's foot," Pearl said nervously. "From when San Myshuno was attacked by a giant monster from the sea! We wanted to see if we could find it."

"That's just an urban legend," Malcolm scoffed. "There's no monster's foot."

"I didn't know! We didn't find it because a man came up and said he knew Mr. Gordon."

"What did he look like?" asked the male officer.

"I don't know! He was wearing a hood and sunglasses, but it looked like he had cuts and bruises around one of his eyes."

"What happened after he said he knew Lieutenant Gordon?"

"Ash asked him how and the man got mad. He said don't ask him questions and he pushed me on the ground. Ash said he wouldn't go with him but the man grabbed him and ran past some bushes. When I stood up, I didn't see them anymore. I screamed but I didn't hear him call back, so I ran to get the Landgraabs."

"Why did the man say he knew you?" Malcolm shot an accusing finger in Conrad's direction.

Conrad and Heather had been quiet, listening as they desperately processed Ash's disappearance. Heather was practically catatonic, but she sneered at her son's father. "Why did Ash disappear on your watch?"

"Don't blame me for this!" Malcolm shot back. "He's the cop who's been chasing his crazy ex and her cartel! Since he brought his warrant to copy my conversation with George Brindleton for a murder investigation in the Bay, I haven't done anything with the files I have because he told me not to!"

"Cartel? What cartel?" Nancy eyed her son incredulously.

"Los Tigres de Selva."

The officers wrote a few notes in their notepads. "You think Los Tigres kidnapped your son?"

"We're used to threats, detective," said Malcolm. "But our security team says everything lately is pretty benign. He brought this on my son!"

The officers turned to Conrad. "Lieutenant?"

"My ex is in prison for rental fraud, and I've been trying to pin her for ordering a hit at the docks in Brindleton Bay."

"Was no one going to mention this to me?" Nancy barked, but the female officer spoke over her.

"Could she have ordered the kidnapping from behind bars?"

"Of course she could. She's a criminal!" said Malcolm.

"Has she tried to take credit for it yet?'" wondered the man, but the Landgraabs shook their heads.

"No one's called in a ransom yet," said Geoffrey.

"If she was responsible for ordering the kidnapping, do you have any idea who she might call?"

Conrad shook his head dejectedly. "I think she killed her most loyal associate. Aside from her brother."

"Where's her brother?"

Conrad hesitated, but Ash meant more to him than keeping Rafa's secret. "Sulani."

"Do you think she got someone to bring him to her brother in Sulani?"

"Rafa's not involved in this," he insisted. "He hasn't spoken to his sister in years and wants nothing to do with her."

"Conrad, what if he is involved?" Heather countered quietly. "And if not, he could still help us. If he knows the same people your sister does, he might know who she got to take him."

"We don't even know this was Ximena," he reminded them carefully, but he doubted the words himself.

Nancy jumped in with an angry stare. "I don't know who you think you're covering for, Conrad Gordon, but if you don't get that man on the phone right now, I'll make sure you never work again for any precinct in Simlandia."

Conrad knew Felix and Lilith were still in Sulani, but Felix' phone rang until his voicemail kicked in. "Hi-oh! You've reached Felix Psyded, Esquire's messaging service. Leave a note detailing your needs, leave your number, and I'll call you back."

Frustrated, Conrad hung up the phone with a click. "I'm going back to Sulani. I'll go get Rafa myself."

"I'm coming with you," Heather insisted. Conrad tried to protest, but Nancy, Geoffrey, and Malcolm were in staunch agreement. Dropping everything for Ash was just about the only thing Heather Nesbitt had in common with Nancy Landgraab - aside from stubborn conviction.

"We're all going. Tonight," Nancy said stiffly. "I'll tell San Myshuno Airport to pull our jet out of the hangar." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Poses Used? Don't Tell Me I Don't Love You posepack by @sim-plyreality (a great posepack though I only wanted one pose that is not the same vibe as the rest of the photos when used out of context!), Family Poses by @sunivaa, @natalia-auditore's Protecting Child posepack, Random Emotions for Kids by @libetsims, and @simmerberlin's Kid Seated poses.

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hymnserendipity · 1 day ago

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Sylus break up pt 2

Angst, no gender mentioned

Sylus spent his days, as usual, his mind lost between one meeting and another until suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket, because he still had, for some reason, your ig stories updates. And he saw you smiling as you kiss someone.

It wasn't his place to feel anger or anything else, but seeing your happy smile next to another man made his blood boil. He couldn’t take his eyes off his phone, looking at you and your new boyfriend, thinking about how it had hurt him so much and how you had gotten over it so quickly, and it pissed him off even more. So he decided to send you a message, maybe piss you off too. "So?" He typed. And you blocked him.

Sylus wasn’t expecting you to block him. He was at his office when he tried to get into your story again and found that you had blocked him. He was angry, hurt, and annoyed. He spent the rest of his day working, but his mind wasn’t really in it. All he could think about was you, how caring and loving you had been, and how much he had been a prick to you.

After a few days, he gave in and tried to find you on social media once again, only to remember that you had blocked him. Sylus's emotions were like a whirlwind inside of him as he realized that you had blocked him. He felt a mixture of anger, annoyance, and sadness. Anger that you had blocked him without even giving him a chance to talk to you, annoyance because he couldn’t check on you even if he wanted to, and sadness because he missed you, he missed your smile, your voice, your everything. He tried to stay focused on his work, but your memory occupied a significant part of his thoughts. Sylus couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you, walking down the street, with another guy on your arm. A knot was forming in his stomach as he watched you smile and laugh with the stranger. The sight of you happy with someone else made his blood boil with anger and jealousy, and before he realized it, he was walking towards you. His steps were quick and resolute as he approached you. He couldn’t help but glare at the man by your side, and as he reached you, he spoke up, his voice a mixture of irritation and possessiveness....

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

"Hum?" With a sight you tell your new boyfriend to give you a moment and follow him in a alley.

"What do you want?"

Syluswas surprised that you had accepted to talk to him alone, and he wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Who the hell is that guy?” He asked, gesturing towards your companion. The jealousy in his eyes was evident.

"My boyfriend, someone that actually care." Sylus clenched his jaw as you spoke. The mention of your boyfriend felt like a punch in the gut, and he did his best to control his rising anger.

“Yeah? And how long have you been together?”

"Three days. We broke up four months ago." Sylus felt a pang in his chest as he heard how long you had been dating. Four months, and you had already moved on and found someone new. He wanted to know more, but his jealousy and anger got the better of him.

“So you’re already dating another guy? And you're happy with him?”

"Yes."

Sylus's face became a stony mask as he tried to hide his emotions. He was seething with jealousy and anger.

"So you're happy with him, huh? You don't even miss our time together?"

"Leave me alone. You broke my heart, now i'm happy." Sylus's eyes flicked from you to your boyfriend and back again.

"And what? You think he's going to make you happier? He doesn't know you the way I did. He doesn't know what you like, or what you don't like. And he sure as hell doesn't know how much better I was for you."

"Stop. I don't want to talk about it again, that's what u did." You were mad as you left, he didnt follow you. Sylus watched you walk away, feeling a lump forming in his throat. Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, and he couldn't blame you for not wanting to talk to him again. He had hurt you, and now you were happier with someone else. The jealousy and anger that had filled him had turned into a wave of sadness and regret.

He clenched his fists, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. How could he have let you go so easily? He had been a fool. And now it was too late to change anything.

#lads x reader #lads sylus #lads #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus love and deepspace

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dusty-pistol · 2 days ago

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Woo hoo Dr. Sawyer headcannon!!! Plus some other stuff and more under the cut =]

As it says in the photo + more. Also, keep in mind that some of these may seem harsh because he's literally an evil, terrible person in the game.

>>: 40-60 year old man.

>>: Wrinkly old fucker....

>>: Not thin, but not muscular either. Just extremely average figure.

>>: Grown out hair that he's too busy and focused on his work to cut.

>>: Grayin hair cuz he's old and from stress.

>>: Yellowin teeth that again he's too busy and focused on his work to brush.

>>: Tries to keep up with appearances to look good, but constantly forgets to take care of himself/his appearance cuz again, work focused.

>>: Since this is a headshot I didn't show it, but for his outfit it's just black dress shoes, black dress pants, black button-up shirt, red tie, white lab coat with chemical and blood stains on the forearms, and black surgical gloves. Full doctor fit since this guy is literally a neurosurgeon.

>>: Ruined fingertips but not because he bites his nails. He just peels the skin around them until it bleeds. But he doesn't really notice he's bleedin cuz he's got a high pain tolerance. He just kinda does it idly when he's bored and subconsciously fidgets. It would worry the people around him to see blood on his hands but.. well nobody really likes him enough to care AND this is Playtime.Co. I feel like it'd be sorta normal for the scientists to be a lil bloody.

>>: The WORST eyebags you've seen. Bro gets NO SLEEP. Will and does fall asleep at his desk and gets like really fuckin mad at himself for doin so. And then he's grumpy at everyone and everythin for the rest of the day.

>>: Addin onto that, the corners of his eyes are red cuz he rubs them constantly due to the lack of sleep. It would be concernin but again, nobody cares about him enough to ask him about it. (That, and if they did ask, he'd just tell them off.)

>>: Does NOT own up to his mistakes. He'll just blame them on someone else for their "incompetence" even though it's a completely baseless accusation.

>>: God complex, narcissistic, the whole package. Hurts people just for his own amusement. (Not sayin anyone who has these issues hurts people for laughs, btw!!! It's just him. Like, canonically, he has said he finds enjoyment outta others' pain.)

>>: Uses a large vocabulary with complex words to make others feel stupid.

>>: If he has children, he doesn't care about them. Nor would he particularly care about his wife if he has one. Personally, I think he's single because he thinks he's too good for anyone. But it's actually cuz nobody FUCKIN LIKES HIM.

>>: High maintenance bastard. You can't keep up with him? You're not useful in his eyes.

>>: The kinda guy to yell at or not tip waiters if they got his order wrong.

>>: Doesn't really have a soft spot for anythin. But he's more calm around the experiments (especially Yarnaby) cuz he knows he's protected. (Or at least, he thinks so.)

>>: Hates not knowin/understandin things. It makes him feel stupid and weak. So he immediately forces himself to get as much information on that thing as possible so he can be better than those around him and gloat that he knows more than them. But does it in a casual way so he doesn't seem like a tryhard.

>>: Absolutely despises the commercial jingles Playtime.Co made for the toys. He finds them obnoxious.

#dusty yaps #poppy playtime the doctor #doctor harley sawyer #poppy playtime fanart #headcannons

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partially-controlled-chaos · 16 hours ago

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Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte X f!Rook (Veil Jumper Rook. Unnamed, but heavily implied backstory) Rating: Good for everyone because it's fluff. Warnings: Mentions of nightmares and possibly PTSD from Rook, but mostly just sad Rook and fluffy Lucanis. Also grumpy Spite because it's Spite. Summary: After the dragon attack in Minrathous and Treviso, the choice that had to be made haunts Rook. Guilt and shame snake their way into her dreams, causing sleepless nights and panic induced episodes of sleepwalking. Her hands are stained with the blood of innocents and who better to wash it off than an assassin for hire. Word Count: 11.9K

an: I'd taken a bit of a break from writing, but the brain rot caused by Lucanis Dellamorte has struck me hard. This was originally supposed to be a little drabble, but it very quickly got out of hand. Set after the dragon attack in Minrathous and Treviso, but before Siege of Weisshaupt.

Full can be found under the cut or in the link above on AO3!

The rich, aromatic scent of a special Antivan blend coffee filled the dining hall as it sputtered and rippled through the coffee maker, the smell soothing Lucanis as he fought off the ever persistent gnawing of his demon. His eyes remained focused on the coffee maker, watching the brew with a scowl as Spite scratched at the edges of his mind, clawing and snarling with a ferocity that had been dormant for a few days. But, that was the routine he now faced. Even with coffee, days without sleep was making his control over the demon more and more precarious. He couldn’t remember how many cups he’d had over the course of the day and into the evening, but considering he was running low on clean mugs, it told him all he needed to know.

We had an agreement. Spite hissed beside Lucanis, crouching like a caged animal. We. Want. Out!

Lucanis ran calloused hands over tired eyes, letting out a lengthy sigh as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Spite had been incessant for most of the day. Screaming and shouting in riddles and half formed sentences about agreements and leaving, making less and less sense the longer the day dragged on. He was tired, both from the lack of sleep and the constant snarling of the demon that inhabited his body. Perhaps with a few hours of sleep he could think with a clearer mind and satiate the mad ramblings that bounced off the inner walls of his skull, but it was too risky now to try and rest. With the rest of the team asleep or in their rooms for the night, it wasn’t wise to rest his eyes. It would almost be inviting for Spite to take control and send them into the endless abyss of the Fade or through the evluian to Maker knows where in an attempt to escape.

“Enough!” He shouted at Spite clawed at his back, the flesh burning and itched under phantom nails and fingertips. Spite appeared in front of Lucanis again, teeth bared and almost frothing at the mouth as he prepared to either lunge or actually rip at the tender skin of Lucanis’s throat, but stopped almost instantly. The demon stood straight, his mood instantly calming as he sensed the approach of the one person he actually liked.

Rook.

Spite turned towards the door, his nose pointed towards the ceiling, sniffing in short bursts. His face twisted and contorted as he searched for the right words.

No. Not right. Rook is here. But also. Gone.

Before Lucanis could question in incoherent ramblings of the demon, the door to the dining hall swung open suddenly, the force behind the shove strong enough to knock the solid wood against the stone wall with a sound that echoed in the near silence of the room. Rook stumbled into the dining hall, her bare feet padding against the stone floor with an uncoordinated haste. The doors to the dining hall closed, cutting off the ever illuminated sky of the Fade outside and bathing the room in firelight once more. Both demon and assassin watched in uneasy silence as Rook clumsily made her way towards the wash basin, seemingly not noticing Lucanis’s presence in the room.

Rook discarded the blanket that she had wrapped around her form, unceremoniously dropping it to the ground as she made her way across the room, making Lucanis avert his gaze at the sight of so much bared flesh. Even in her downtime, Rook was never undone in the way she dressed. When not clad in armor, Rook could always be found in well put together Arlathan leathers that covered most of her freckle-kissed skin. Lucanis had never seen more than the skin of her hands and bare feet as she flitted around the Lighthouse with a graceful ease, but now there was very little that wasn’t covered.

Dressed in nothing more than a simple sleep tunic, Rook appeared rather disheveled. The collar of her shirt had slipped over the elegant curve of one shoulder, revealing skin that rarely saw sun or the gaze of another. The hem of the tunic opposite of the bared shoulder had been lifted with the shift of the fabric, teasing the smallest hint of the smallclothes that beneath the off-white fabric. Her legs were bare, toned muscles flexing and tightening with each frantic footstep towards the sink, illuminated nicely in the crackling light of the fireplace.

Smells like. Sweat and leather. Afraid. Although Lucanis had looked away from Rook in such a vulnerable state, he was powerless over the infatuation Spite had over the amount of skin on display.

Rook stood at the wash basin, bumping into the counter with a light grunt before her hands began tapping almost blindly around for whatever she was searching for, her movements almost frantic as she went. Eventually, she grasped the carafe of water by the edge and tipped it over, the stone of the water container clinking against the wooden bowl as water poured from the spout and splashed against the sides of the basin. Rook pressed her palms against the bottom of the washing bowl, submerging her hands in the cool water before rubbing them together in an attempt to clean them hastily.

“Rook?” Lucanis called from across the room, his body still partially leaning against the coffee counter as he observed her unusual behavior, yet was met with only silence.

Before he could recall his personal demon from slinking around Rook, Spite had scuttled up to the elf, watching her with absolute curiosity as she scrubbed more and more frantically at her skin. He pushed himself off the counter, slowly meandering towards her, a hand wrapping around the knife he had stashed behind his back in his waistline.

Although Rook had a tendency to rush into things head first and think about consequences later, she was still careful when it came to combat. She moved with an almost otherworldly ease and swiftness combined with a deadly accuracy when equipped with her bow. She preferred attacking from a distance, allowing her an advantage and better opportunities to see the battlefield as a whole instead of having something sneak up in the heat of the moment. However, she wasn’t afraid to jump into the middle of the action with a sword and rapier.

Such an opportunity had arisen earlier that day in the Hossberg Wetlands, which left an unpleasant taste in Lucanis’s mouth as his mind started to form unfounded ideas as to what had Rook in such a frenzy. He, Rook, and Davrin had been knee deep in mud and sludge collecting blight samples for Antoine and Evka when they had been swarmed by a group of darkspawn. The battle that ensued was fierce and bloody, leaving everyone exhausted and soaked from head to toe in swamp water, although relatively unharmed. The singular casualty of the day came in the form of Rook’s leathers, which had been sliced through cleanly with a javelin on the upper arm. Rook was more upset about damaging her favored armor than she was the wound that had been inflected on her flesh, but had later admitted to how the cut ached after the adrenaline had worn off.

Lucanis had patched her up quickly enough in the moment with a few swipes of a clean rag dampened with part of a healing potion and wrapped the wound in a scrap of cloth to protect it from any other impurities in the water they trudged back through to get home. The cut had appeared fine at the time, large and deep enough to bleed but not enough to scar. But, most importantly, the wound and surrounding area had been cleaned well, he was sure of it. She had acted normally on the journey back to the Lighthouse through the Crossroads, showcased her usual appetite at dinner, and had joined him for their nightly cup of cioccolata calda after almost everyone had turned in for the night.

For a brief, fleeting moment, the horrid idea that blight had gotten into Rook’s system through the unassuming cut struck Lucanis in the heart like one of his knives, twisting and wrenching as he inched closer. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words, but he had begun to care for Rook in a way that was equal parts exciting and terrifying. Relationships, either platonic or romantic, were not his strong suit. He was much better equipped with a blade than a quill for fine words and romantic gestures. As far as he could tell, there was nothing romantic going on with Rook, but there was something present that he couldn’t quite place. She’d pulled him from the Ossuary after a year of torment, taken him in and trusted him despite being possessed by a demon of spite, and she was always so, so kind to him even when he couldn’t find kindness for himself.

He wasn’t completely oblivious to her moments of flirtatious banter, but he always took them with a grain of salt. Rook was kind and gentle and flirted with everyone on the team; it was her nature. But sometimes late at night when he fought sleep, he liked to imagine that perhaps she flirted with him a bit more than everyone else. That maybe the softness and warmth in her eyes when she looked at him meant something more than simple friendship brought out by a job, but he would never admit it aloud. The thought alone terrified him, but also brought feelings of sorrow. He was a deadly assassin possessed by a demon; death, pain, and spite were all he knew. It wasn’t the type of misery to share with someone else, especially not someone who had done so much for him in so little time.

However, in this moment the thought that terrified him the most was thinking that everything could come to a complete halt if she was indeed infected with blight. No one lived long once they’d been blighted. By the time Lucanis had settled at her side, Rook had found the bar of soap sitting on the edge of the basin and held it firmly enough to where her knuckles had turned white. Her nails dug into the hard soap as she soppily scrubbed her hands and fingers, even reaching up to her forearms. He cleared his throat, hoping the noise would be enough to get her attention, but was once again ignored. His eyes fell to her bare shoulder where her tunic had fallen and realized it was the same arm that had been bandaged earlier in the day.

With a gentle touch to not startle her, Lucanis used two fingers to peel back the edge of the fabric of her shirt and expose more of the bandage. At first glance, the wrappings around her arm appeared to be fine with nothing oozing, leaking, or smelling. Slowly, he placed the very tips of his fingers to her skin. It was warm, but not in a way that was alarming. In the few times she touch had met his, he was always met with a gentle and wonderful warmth; something that was mild and soft. He’d half expected her skin to be ablaze with heat and pulsing with blight, but his fears held no weight when he saw she was of normal temperate and complexion.

“There’s blood on my hands,” Rook said finally, her voice soft and on the verge of breaking, “can’t you see it?”

Lucanis quickly snapped his touch from her arm, thankful that she had not mentioned the intrusion. A twinge of guilt settled in his chest for the inspection, knowing Rook didn’t particularly care for causal touch. He glanced to her hands, finding them to be soapy and pink from her frantic scrubbing, but blissfully clean of blood. His gaze then shifted to Spite, who had already taken to sniffing along Rook’s personal space.

Smells like. Lavender and salt. No blood. Only fear. Spite picked up the scent of lavender and salt from the bar of soap she’d purchased from the vendor in the Veil Jumper camp; something to remind her of home, but he too sensed no blood.

“It won’t come off,” she continued, her voice now turning into the whine that comes before a sob as her lip trembled lightly, “I can’t get it off.”

His eyes traveled to her face, looking over her features for any signs of blight. No darkened tendrils had sprouted from around her eyes and the orbs were still green and not reddened from corruption. His gaze traveled lower, cautiously inspecting what he could see. There were no blotches of darkness cascading down the column of her throat, but one thing did catch his eye. Deep red scars on her chest appeared in the absence of her tunic to keep them covered, the wounds almost purple with how deep they went. He’d never seen the marks before, given that she always kept herself well covered, but she’d also never mentioned them. They ran parallel with her collar bones, turning sharply and descending along the length of her sternum. Each line was dotted along the sides with pinpricks for holes, evidence that at one point they had been stitched together. Lucanis yanked his gaze back towards Rook when he realized that has inspection of her scars had him staring at the curvature of her breast and the realization that nothing else was underneath the shirt in terms of clothing.

He found it to be good timing as Rook all but threw the bar of soap in the basin and reached for the hard bristled brush that was used to scrub pans. She began raking over the soft skin of her fingers at a distressing pace. Rook’s eyes were typically bright and clear, a piercing green that always had a warmth to them, but had gone dull. Her gaze was almost glazed over as if her mind were in a thick fog or if she was somehow looking past her hands and to some inner depths of the Fade. With eyes that were half-lidded and heavy when she blinked, Lucanis recognized the look. Rook was sleepwalking.

Here. But also. Gone. Spite’s ramblings now made sense. Rook was in the Lighthouse, within arms reach, and safe. Perhaps a little confused, but nothing that couldn’t be solved by getting her back into bed and asleep. But, as Spite noticed, her mind was gone from these walls and wandering somewhere in the Fade, the realm of dreams, and was disturbed by whatever she saw that her own physical body had to run away. He admittedly gave a small sigh of relief, pleased to know it was simply a bad dream that had her acting erratically and not blight coursing through her veins. Lucanis removed his hand from the hilt of his blade and wiped his palms on the front of his vest, smoothing the fabric.

“It won’t come off.” Rook whispered, her eyes met his, but her consciousness seemed far away.

“May I?” He motioned towards her hands with a quick nod of his head, seeking permission for a touch before simply reaching out. Even dazed by a dream, there was a hesitancy within Rook. Her body bristled at the question, her heart thrumming and was evident by the twitching pulse point in her neck; fear.

Rook was finicky. She could charge head first into battle against Venatori or Antaam without hesitation or fear, but flinched under a seemingly friendly touch. Of course essential touches were different and most certainly welcome, whether it be wrapping a bandage around a teammate after a particularly brutal fight or being hoisted up on a roof when she nearly missed a jump. She wasn’t obvious with the aversions she did have, but after years of working as a Crow, Lucanis knew how to read body language. Sometimes there was a subtle tightening of her muscles, an intake of breath, clenching of the jaw, a smile that was a bit too practiced to remain polite as she dodged a pat on the shoulder; rehearsed and performed more than once.

Although he couldn’t put a definitive answer as to why she shied away from physical contact, there was something lurking beneath the surface to her aversion, but would never explicitly state why. Rook was a closed book when it came to sharing personal details, which he can’t say he didn’t sympathize with given that he often did the same. Lucanis knew she had joined the Veil Jumpers not long before she paired with Varric and hailed from Arlathan Forest, but much more past that was a mystery.

Perhaps the only member of the team that knew anything about Rook was Bellara, who had known Rook before she ever got the moniker or agreed to fight gods. But, being the ever loyal and genuine friend of their leader, Bellara had sworn herself to secrecy. Lucanis had lost count how many times Neve had cornered the mage in the kitchen to get the tiniest bit of information about Rook. Apparently even the greatest detective in the Tevinter Imperium couldn’t dig up anything about Rook.

The sudden movements of Rook’s nodding head pulled Lucanis from his thoughts. Carefully, he took the scouring brush from her grasp and placed it back along the edge of the wash basin. He took her hands in his own, glancing to her eyes once more to look for any of her usual signs of discomfort, but was met with her sleep heavy eyes and the same trembling lip that had greeted him earlier. The backs of her hands were swiped over a few times before he began rinsing. Cupping one of his palms, Lucanis poured handfuls of water over her fingers until they were mostly free of soap. He worked quickly, hoping to get her calmed and back to bed before she either collapsed from exhaustion or found herself wide awake holding hands with an assassin while being a hair’s breadth away from standing nude in the dining hall.

“No!” She whined, freezing Lucanis in his spot, “Not clean. Blood. Dripping.” For a brief moment she almost sounded like Spite with his unusual way of describing the world around him. Water dripped from the tips of her fingers as they hovered over the wash basin, her dream controlled mind mistaking the droplets for something far more sinister.

With a light nod, Lucanis set to his task properly. Picking the bar of soap up and out of the basin, he twirled it in his grasp a few times, lathering his own skin in a thick layer of the scented solution. He took Rook’s hands in his own again, carefully smearing the tops of her hands and palms with the lather before settling on just one hand at a time. Her hands trembled and shook against his own, fingers tightly clenching around his. He softly thumbed over her knuckles in an attempt to soothe, waiting for her grip to loosen before continuing. He wasn’t entirely sure if the trembling was a result of the nightmare or that he was touching her.

“Whose blood is it?” He moved methodically, gently cupping her wrist with one hand while the other set to the task of properly washing over her skin. His thumb moved across the back of her hand in sweeping motions, lathering each bit of skin with the floral soap, Spite watching in awe at the bubbles that formed with the movement. Lucanis took each finger one by one in his own, lathering soap along one side from knuckle to fingertip, swirling around her cuticles and along the underside of her nails before descending back down the opposite side and repeating again.

“Minrathous.” The sob she tried to suppress earlier finally broke free as tears fell from her eyes. Lucanis felt his heart clench at her words and tone.

When dragons attacked Minrathous and Treviso, Lucanis had hoped deep down that Rook would come to his aid in his city, but never expected it. He was all too familiar with the threat the Venatori posed if they managed to take Minrathous and, in hindsight, knew in his heart that Treviso was not the wise choice. A merchant city was nothing when compared to the heart of Tevinter, but it never stopped him from pleading his case to Rook. He’d left before she’d made her call, never expecting to see her twisting through the streets of Treviso to stop a blighted dragon.

He couldn’t describe the feeling that latched onto his heart when he saw her running at full speed towards him in the city, jumping over rubble and ice to find him. Her bare hands had found his cheeks, the warmth of them melting away his icy exterior in a few heartbeats. She’d held him firmly in place, checking him over for injuries before simply asking if he was all right. He remembered nodding as an answer before she pulled from him to turn to Teia and Viago, who gave her as much information as they could about the dragon haunting the skies. His cheeks burned for the remainder of the fight, but he was certain it wasn’t from exhaustion or the battle.

Rook fought the blighted beast brilliantly, landing more hits on the abomination than he or Davrin combined. She showed no fear when standing face-to-face with a god, even going so far as to taunt with the enchanted dagger she kept on her hip. All done without fear or hesitation to help his city. To help him. Ever since that day, Lucanis found himself smiling more, especially when she was around, and even cracking a smile at her godsawful puns. His face was quick to flush if she ever looked at him for more than a moment and would have trouble finding his words when they spoke, more so than normal.

But while he had found himself almost a touch lighter in recent days, he knew the same couldn’t be said for Rook and Neve. Neve hadn’t returned from Minrathous since the attack, staying behind to help and reverse some of the damage. He wasn’t there for the conversation, having stayed behind in his own city to quell small fires and coordinate with the fifth and seventh talons, but the unusual silence and somberness from Rook signaled that Minrathous had not fared well and Rook had been ribbed fairly well. Rook had offered to stay and help Minrathous how she could, but she later in the dead of night, she confided in Lucanis that Neve wanted nothing to do with her for the time being, understandably so.

Rook wept that night in the safety of her room in the Lighthouse, away from prying eyes and hushed whispers. Lucanis had only noticed that she cried more than she slept when she crept into the dining hall in the early hours the following morning to steal a cup of coffee and bread from the night before. Her eyes had been red-rimmed and wet and her voice was hoarse. He invited her to sit at the dining table and made the coffee for her, sitting with her in silence as she drank; never explicitly asking her to discuss the issue, but offered an ear if she wanted to talk. She never did.

Rook placed a high value on living creatures, only considering the death of someone when it was absolutely necessary and even then there was some degree of remorse. Saving lives is what had her exiled from the Veil Jumpers and she had expressed countless times that saving the lives of fellow jumpers was much more important than any knowledge that could have been found some flimsy old map. The loss of life showcased in Minrathous had weighed heavily on her and Lucanis could only assume that it was heavier than she let on because she was the one who decided to go to Treviso instead.

“Their blood is on my hands.” She whispered as tears streamed down her cheeks, “They’re all dead because of me.” Rook took a sucking breath, the air catching in her chest before the exhaled and tried again.

“Shhh.” Lucanis shushed softly, the sound slipping from behind his teeth as he shook the soap and water from one of his fingers. When his skin was dry enough, he hesitantly reached forward, his thumb barely grazing the skin of her cheek as he clumsily wiped away falling tears. Rook leaned forward and pressed her head against Lucanis’s shoulder at his touch, her body relaxing against his. Lucanis cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping that maybe the sound would be enough to have her straighten back up. Instead, she remained pressed against him, the occasional warm tear slipping from her skin onto the pressed fabric of his shirt.

With her ear pressed firmly against his chest, Lucanis could only hope that she was oblivious to his heart pounding away in his body. He tried to distract himself by resuming his duties of hand washing, but Rook’s breath was warm against his throat. Her breath came in even, steady puffs that slowed as time went on. It didn’t take Lucanis long to realize that she was falling asleep. Lucanis gave a few final strokes of his fingers against her skin before lacing his fingers with hers, gently turning her palm towards the ceiling, using the leverage of intertwined digits to seamlessly shift her hand. His thumb rubbed small circles in her palm, showering the skin there with the same amount of care and attention he had previously shown the top.

They spent the rest of the moment in silence, Rook’s eyes beginning to droop as sleep beckoned her once more and Lucanis repeated the cleaning process on her opposite hand. Her hands were surprisingly soft, given her skill with both blade and bow. She had the faintest beginnings of callouses forming on her fingertips from the string of her bow and a few forming along the heel of her palm from her sword. He imagined they’d formed more quickly since their fight against the gods started.

Once he, and of course Spite, were sure her hands were thoroughly scrubbed, Lucanis poured the remaining water from the carafe over her hands. Rook shuddered at the cool water, her eyes fluttering open briefly, but not enough to wake her from her dream-induced midnight waltz to the dining hall. She settled back against him rather quickly, dangerously close to falling asleep in the kitchen and on top of Lucanis.

“Is this better?” Lucanis asked quietly once the last traces of soap had been rinsed away, craning his neck as best he could to steal a glance at her face and see if she was still awake. Rook brought her damp hands up towards her eyes and gave a half hearted attempt at an observation, but was ultimately happy with their cleanliness.

“Better.” She echoed his words with a weak nod, her voice was slurred and soft with exhaustion as her eyes gave another slow blink. Satisfied with her answer, Lucanis took a dish towel from the counter. He placed it over her damp skin and blotted Rook’s hands dry, being careful not to tear the small cuts that formed with the dish brush she had raked frantically over her skin.

“Come on, Rook,” he said after tossing the dish towel into the wash basin, “you need rest.” Rook’s eyes were fully closed by now and she merely gave a small hum in recognition, but made no effort to move.

Lucanis managed to pull his arm from between them, pressing his palm against her mid back as he gingerly nudged her from his chest. Rook was uncooperative and instead doubled down, leaning more heavily against him, her fingers hooking around the small crow buttons on his vest. He floundered momentarily, unsure of exactly where to place his hands against her to guide her back towards her quarters. The night shirt she was wearing had shifted with her movement, twisting tightly around her body and bunching together in the wrong places.

“Mierda.” He whispered harshly as his fingers grazed a piece of bare skin somewhere along her stomach as his free hand latched there in an attempt to have her stand straight. He desperately tried not to think about how he was certain his little finger ghosted over the hem of her smallclothes. Spite snickered from behind Rook’s shoulder, finding Lucanis’s struggle to be immensely amusing. Lucanis shot his a straight lipped glare as his mind raced for a solution.

These situations were always much easier and significantly more romantic in the novels he read at night than it was in reality. He knew that if this was literature, he would have swept Rook up into his arms like a true romantic and carried her bridal style across the courtyard, up the spiral stairs of the library, and through the heavy doors leading to her room. From there, he would drape her across the chaise lounge that she considered a bed and she would wake up in just enough time to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a searing-

He shook the thought from his head with an actual shake. Now was certainly not the time to indulge in unrealistic daydreams while he supported a rather vulnerable Rook against his person. Lucanis ultimately decided that dragging Rook back to her room was out of the question. Carrying her while draped across his shoulder might actually make Davrin or Harding think he’d killed her if they happened to cross paths. Instead, he settled for shuffling across the dining hall and to the couch he’d almost forgotten about while Rook leaned heavily against him, her feet only working to take a step wither every four of his. Spite remained on their heels, assisting Lucanis in thought more than action.

It took a bit of time and maneuvering, but Lucanis was able to finally guide Rook to the couch near the door, using two hands to make sure she was firmly planted against the cushions and not at risk of falling forward and onto the stone floor beneath them. Her eyes cracked open just enough for Lucanis to see that they were still glazed over and that she more than likely had no idea what was going on around her, but he couldn’t help the warmth that crept up his neck when she gave him small, blissful smile.

Leaving her perched precariously on the edge of the couch, Lucanis retraced their steps and found himself by the door, standing over the blanket she’d hastily discarded when she entered. He bent forward, scooping up the knitted mass in his arms to return to Rook. The fabric was soft and ever so faintly warm in the centermost parts, suggesting that this was a blanket Rook used while sleeping. It was sage green in a chunky knit and very obviously well loved. The fabric was thinned in some places, fading along the edges, and had torn and been mended by Rook to the best of her abilities. Perhaps in his spare time he could make her a new one to keep as a spare. Knitting was good dexterity training, after all.

Spite had left his post from beside Rook and appeared next to the blanket, sweeping his nose across the surface of the fabric and inhaling sharply.

Smells like Rook. He said simply. Smells. Nice.

Lucanis hummed in agreement, running his fingers over the fabric a few more times before returning to Rook. By the time he’d come back to the couch, Rook had slumped to the side, her head resting awkwardly on one of the small decorative pillows that sat in the corner of the seat while her legs remained in their previous spot. Her eyes were closed and her breaths were slow and deep, signaling that she’d finally returned to sleep. Lucanis smiled softly to himself as he glanced to her face, which seemed much more relaxed than he’d seen in the past few days.

He tossed her blanket at the foot of the couch, letting it rest momentarily as he focused on making her as comfortable as possible. Gently, he secured his hands on her calves, lifting gently until her legs were lying along the length of the couch, being careful not to lift her shirt in the process. He once again averted his gaze as her tunic shifted and bunched anyway as her hips and legs adjusted, still wanting to give her as much privacy as possible. He couldn’t help but notice the scars on her legs that matched the ones on her chest in both color and depth, suggesting that maybe they occurred at the same time. Once seemingly wrapped around her knee on one leg and another around the ankle of the opposite with one particularly deep one on her thigh.

Once Rook was secured, Lucanis snatched one of the pillows that sat in the chairs that Neve and Bellara frequently used when they chatted in the dining hall. Being gentle and careful not to wake her, he placed his hand on the underside of her neck, lifting slowly until there was a space large enough to slide the pillow into. With the extra support, Rooked appeared to be much more comfortable and hummed softly as she nuzzled into the fabric. Finally, Lucanis took her blanket into his arms once more and spread it over her sleeping form, lightly smoothing over the fabric with his hand without putting too much pressure on her.

“Keep an eye on her.” Lucanis said to Spite, pointing from the demon to the elf finally sleeping peacefully. He didn’t have to tell the demon twice. Almost immediately, Spite had crouched on the ground beside Rook, his arms crossing on top of the cushions on top of the cushions before he rested his chin on his own arms, simply watching.

With the excitement of the evening dying down, Lucanis felt the ever familiar lull of sleep calling his name from the inner depths of the Fade. Spite had finally calmed because of his current fascination of watching the steady rise and fall of Rook’s chest or investigating every little whimper or mumble that passed through her lips as she slept, which left Lucanis in actual silence for the first time in days. He still didn’t feel comfortable, however. Spite could easily take over while he rested and he didn’t want to entertain the thoughts of what Spite might do to Rook while inhabiting his body.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

Thankfully, the pot he was brewing when Rook barged in was still hot and fresh and he promptly poured himself a cup. He gave a content sigh as the steam from the coffee wafted into his nose as he brought the cup to his lips, the familiar smell bringing a sense of comfort. Lucanis took a long, slow sip, the brew was wonderfully dark and rich and just the right balm to soothe the fraying edges of exhaustion. Initially, he’d planned on returning to his cot in the dimly lit pantry with coffee in hand to attempt to finish the latest serial Bellara had given him, but now that Rook was asleep in the dining hall, he felt conflicted.

On one hand, Rook deserved some semblance of privacy. She was barely dressed in a communal space after experiencing what must have been a rather disturbing nightmare, so a peaceful sleep for the remainder of the night was certainly needed. She frequently spread herself thin between elven gods, blood mages, a brutish army, and requests from the team that ranged anywhere from walks in the forest to life altering decisions; she needed to rest and needed to do it without disturbance.

On the other, Lucanis didn’t fully trust that Rook wouldn’t sleepwalk again and do something dangerous. She was already near the door and it would take would be to take one too many steps once outside and plummet into the abyss of the Fade surrounding them. Honestly, he found it to be a miracle that she didn’t lose her footing on the questionably floating stones of the courtyard on her way over to begin with; forever thankful that she decided to go to the kitchen and not to see Bellara or Harding with their questionable masonry.

Ultimately, Lucanis decided that if he went back into the pantry, he would drive himself mad with checking on Rook every once in a while to ensure she was still firmly seated in place on the couch. To reduce possible noise disturbance from repeatedly opening the pantry door and for the sake of his already frazzled sanity, Lucanis pulled up a chair from the corner of the room and drug it near the couch. He was within arms reach of Rook in the event something were to happen, but angled himself to where she could sleep without being watched head on.

Stepping inside the pantry for a brief moment, he pulled the loaned book from his cot and brought it back with him to his seat in the dining hall. Lucanis eased into the chair with a tired sigh, nestling his back along the hardened frame while perching the ankle of one leg atop the knee of the opposite, laying the open book in the triangle crated from the bend at the knee. The handle of his coffee mug remained looped around his two middle fingers as it rested on the arm of the chair, still steaming in his grasp.

Lucanis ran his fingers along the edges of the pages as he read, quickly getting lost in the words on the page. He found it astounding with how much easier and more enjoyable reading was when he didn’t have a demon screaming in his ear every waking moment. It was peaceful, even, which was something he hadn’t truly felt since before his imprisonment in the Ossuary. He never thought that he could find a peaceful moment as an abomination, either through the stigma that brought or the actual antics of the demon, yet he found himself enjoying a book and a cup of coffee in pleasant, although sleeping, company.

He glanced to Rook, a small smile tugging at one of the corners of his mouth as he watched her steady breathing and listened to the small whimpers she would release on each exhale. She looked as peaceful as he felt, hoping that whatever dreams that came to her were pleasant ones. It was the least she deserved after all she did for the team, but especially for him. Lucanis never expected someone who valued life so highly to want to be close to someone who dealt death so freely, but Rook always managed to seek his company and seemingly never judged him for it. She knew his trade and knew that he had killed countless people over the years. He was dangerous and lethal, yet she accepted him for it without hesitation.

And that danger was only enhanced now that he shared his body with a demon of spite, and yet Rook was unfazed by the spirit. Although she couldn’t see Spite, it never stopped her from including him in daily life around the Lighthouse. Asking how they were both doing as she cleaned dishes after dinner, inquiring about what scents Spite preferred to make him calmer, even going so far as to entertain his incessant questioning with a genuine response. It was no wonder the demon favored Rook. Perhaps it was naivety on her part, given that he wasn’t exactly sure how familiar she was with the world outside of Arlathan, but perhaps it was a wisdom far beyond what he could comprehend. He wondered if he should be concerned with just how fascinated Spite was with Rook in return, but for the time being he relished the calmness of the moment. The feeling created a fluttering in his chest that he didn’t quite understand.

In a sudden movement, Rook groaned softly as she shifted in her sleep, rolling onto her back and releasing a long sigh before quickly settling back into place. Her arm shifted as she did and slid over the edge of the couch, bending at the elbow and dangling just above the ground and straight through the astral being that was Spite’s leg. Lucanis could see the visible excitement on Spite’s face as he ghosted his touch over the bared skin of her arm, enthralled with how her skin prickled at the mild electricity that emanated from Spite’s fingers.

“Spite.” Lucanis said firmly but quietly, not wanting to wake Rook. He nudged the demon with the toe of his boot, shaking his head slowly, signaling him to stop his investigation and let Rook sleep in peace. Spite grumbled for a bit before ultimately settling back down, not wanting to miss a moment of being this close to his favorite person.

Satisfied, Lucanis took a sip of his coffee before returning to his book, running his fingers over the edges of the pages once more while Rook slept soundly for the rest of the night. Hours passed before Lucanis pulled his gaze from the pages of his novel after hearing a small whine that turned into a deeper groan. Rook’s limbs and body were moving, her arms lifting upwards and then straight back as she pulled them into a deep stretch, her back arching up and off the cushion of the couch with a few audible pops of her back. Her legs stretched out in front of her, trembling after a few moments with the intensity of the stretch. Lucanis looked back towards his book as half the blanket covering her body slipped off her form with the movement, exposing her legs to the warm air of the dining hall.

Rook’s body relaxed into the cushions once more with a satisfied huff, her eyes remaining closed as she rolled onto her stomach, one arm snaking under the pillow as she scrunched it under her head, her hand hanging over the edge of the cushion landing delicately atop Lucanis’s thigh. His body tensed at the touch, unsure of her state of consciousness, although ultimately deduced she must have been somewhat aware of her surroundings as her touched changed. Instead of simply resting against him, Lucanis felt Rook’s fingers begin to move across the fabric of his trousers, blindly patting up the length of his leg in and attempt to figure out what she was touching.

“Rook.” Her name fell from his lips in the form of a croak, the wandering and curious nature of her hand lighting a flame that burned across his cheeks. The movement on his leg froze, Rook’s fingers scrunching into a ball before slinking back and from under the pillow like a viper in a hole. Rook raised her head, her eyes finally opening as she slowly blinked.

“Lucanis?” Rook asked groggily, her eyes squinting to adjust to the little bit of light radiating from the fireplace. He stole a quick glance as she remained on her stomach rose onto her elbows, the corner of his mouth turning upwards at her appearance. As all great romance novels portrayed, people just waking up were the epitome of beauty and grace, waking up blissfully with perfect hair and perfectly pressed night silks. Rook, on the other hand, was plucked out of Arlathan Forest and not a romance novel. Her hair was messy and wild from tossing and turning before marching into the kitchen, she had sleep crusted in the corner of her eyes, and he thought he saw the faintest remnants of dried drool stuck to her lip; far more beautiful than anything he’d found in a book.

“Good morning.” Lucanis tried to say as casually as possible, purposefully keeping his gaze on anything but the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder or down the expanse of her bare leg. With a small grunt, she flipped to her side once more, scratching the remnants of sleep from her eyes as the collar of her tunic slipped over the crest of her shoulder again.

“Why…” She paused momentarily as she glanced around the room once more, “am I in the dining hall?”

“You don’t remember?” He asked softly. Rook looked at him quizzically, head tilting to the side as she took in his response, “…You were sleepwalking.”

“Ah. Of course.” She said, almost sorrowfully. “Must have been a bad dream.” Lucanis hummed, confirming her suspicions, but didn’t press the issue further. Using the heel of her hand, Rook rubbed at her eyes as a deep yawn overtook her. She buried her face into her pillow and released a long groan, making Lucanis keenly aware that Rook was not a morning person.

“Coffee?” He offered after a long pause, waiting to see if Rook wanted to discuss her late night journey further.

“That sounds wonderful.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow. Lucanis stood silently, placing his book in his chair before making his way to the coffee pot across the room.

This wasn’t their usual morning routine, but Lucanis found it peaceful regardless. Typically, Rook found him in the early mornings before the others could come from their rooms and make their way to the dining hall for breakfast. It would begin with the distinct creak of the dining hall door opening just enough for Rook to slip through before closing with a soft click. From the silence of his cot in the pantry, he would listen as her bare footsteps padded closer to the door, noting on the pace. Quick, light footsteps meant she was in a particularly social mood and he could expect a chatty morning. If she hadn’t slept much the night before, he could tell from the slow and heavy footfalls and he always made sure to brew a strong roast. Usually, her pace was steady and soft and the direction the morning conversation took would depend on him.

As she trotted her way to the pantry door, he would wait for Rook’s usual knock before calling her inside. A quick set of three, one single, and two final knocks greeted him every morning before Rook would poke her head inside and greet him with a smile that was always warm and friendly. Lucanis insisted every time that she didn’t need to bother with knocking, considering he’d decided to sleep in the pantry, but Rook would have none of it. She always rebutted by saying he deserved a sense of privacy and a place to call his own.

Lucanis scooped beans from his strongest variety of coffee into the grinder, ensuring there would be enough for the two of them. As he set to work on milling the beans into a fine grind, Rook stayed silent. By the time he’d finished grinding and had begun scooping the beans into the coffee pot, Lucanis heard a soft rustling and another yawn behind him. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder as Rook began sitting up, pausing briefly to give a final stretch of her arms over her head. He averted his gaze once more as her tunic twisted and clung to places that would have left very little to the imagination had he kept looking.

“Do you sleepwalk often?” Lucanis asked as coffee began to bubble and brew in the pot.

“Not as much as I used to,” Rook as she sat up fully, pulling her tunic back atop her shoulder, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t doing it more often recently.”

“And you said this is because of a nightmare?” In as many mornings that they shared together, Lucanis couldn’t recall a time that Rook had been up and wandering around. In fact, he always assumed she slept pretty soundly given that she was always properly dressed and put together by the time she made her rounds.

“If a dream gets bad enough I’ll get up and walk around. I guess it’s some last ditch effort to wake myself up.” She said with a shrug, “Usually I’m awake by the time I get to the library, but I guess I was in too deep this time. I also tend to have more clothes on…” Rook’s voice tapered as she overlooked her sleeping ensemble, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Same dream every time?” Lucanis pulled the two remaining clean mugs off the shelf in front of him, a matching pair from the tea set Rook had purchased for him not long after they met.

“Oh, no, they vary. Back before Varric found me, I always dreamed about…,” Rook paused suddenly, as if she realized something private had slipped out, “but lately it’s been about whatever new horror we stumble upon. New experiences. New regrets. New nightmares. Vicious cycle.” She changed course quickly, wrapping her blanket around herself as she stood before joining Lucanis beside the coffee maker.

They stood in silence together as they watched the coffee drip into the lower reservoir of the machine, the drops fast and frantic against the stillness of the dining hall. The fire in the room had begun to die down from its roaring blaze, blanketing the room in a soft glow. Lucanis wanted to say something to make Rook feel more at ease; something to take some of the weight off her shoulders and let her breathe. But finding the right words never came easily to him. He was much better at stuffing down his emotions and letting them fester and brew until they hardened within him. In an impromptu attempt at comfort, he reached forward to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but decided against it at the last second. Thankfully, the bowl of sugar cubes sat beside her elbow and gripped that instead of her arm.

“I don’t even remember what I dreamt about last night.” Rook glanced around the room, her brows knitting together in thought, “Why did I come in here?” Her head rolled to the side, looking to Lucanis for answers.

“You came to, well, wash your hands.” Lucanis wanted to find a way to mention the sleepwalking without divulging the reason why. He wasn’t particularly keen on reopening freshly healed wounds.

“To wash my hands?” Rook’s face scrunched at the thought, nose crinkling in confusion, “I walked all the way in here just to wash my hands?”

“You were very adamant that they were clean.” Lucanis plucked cubes of sugar into Rook’s coffee mug until three rested neatly on the bottom, sliding the sugar bowl away once he was finished. Although he preferred his coffee rich and black, he knew she preferred hers sweet, as she did most things.

“I’m sorry,” Rook said softly, “I feel bad for troubling you.” Lucanis waved his hand in a dismissal of her apology.

“Don’t be. You’re no trouble. You slept well once we got you to bed.” He avoided her questioning gaze as he began to pour fresh coffee into each of the cups.

“We?” Rook all but squeaked, the slightest bit of panic hiding in her voice.

“Spite and I.” Lucanis reassured gently, “I believe he thinks he was more help than he actually was, but he did keep watch.”

“Maker, take me.” Rook groaned as she ran her hands down her face, “You shouldn’t have had to make sure I didn’t tumble head first into the Fade.”

“Of course I did,” Lucanis said matter-of-factly, glancing up from his cup, “how else would I get paid?” Rook snorted a chuckle which quickly turned into a fully bellied laugh.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with a wide grin, her laugh subsiding, “I wasn’t aware you were being paid, Master Dellamorte.” Lucanis scoffed at the name.

“I’m contracted two kill two elven gods and I don’t get a single gold piece?” Lucanis said with feigned offense, “That’s not exactly a fair trade, Rook.” He tried to sound firm and insulted, but the smile on his face quickly gave him away.

“Is that why you have a contract negotiator?” She teased, leaning her hip against the counter as her blanket slipped from around her shoulders.

“Precisely.” As a final step, Lucanis stirred the sugar in Rook’s cup of coffee until it was dissolved.

“But if you kill two gods, you can increase your prices tenfold. I’m helping you invest in a very profitable future.”

“Work for free while building that experience and I have to make all the coffee?” He asked with a playful lilt to his usually smooth voice. He handed her the steaming cup of coffee, pleased as she waited to reply until after she’d inhaled the aroma.

“Well, would you rather me make the coffee?” Rook took a long sip from her mug, the little moan she made when the brew touched her tongue was enough to make his heart pound in his chest and encourage Spite to join in the conversation, the demon lingering between them as he sniffed at their coffee and made comments on the differences in aroma.

“Rook, I’ve had your coffee and that was the closest anyone’s ever gotten to killing me.” He shifted beside her, being mindful to keep a bit of distance between them. And even though the distance between them was small, Lucanis could still smell the faintest hint of sea salt and lavender from her skin, the scent mixing with the strong aroma of the brew.

“It’s not that bad.” Lucanis shot her a deadpan look as he paused from sipping his own beverage.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you manage to do it.” He continued, his fingers pinching together and his hand shaking to embolden his words, “You pour water over coffee grounds and it comes out thicker than cioccolata calda. What do you do?”

“Secret recipe from Arlathan that I’m not allowed to share.” She quipped, trying desperately to suppress a series of giggles, but failing spectacularly.

“Mierda, Rook,” Lucanis grumbled, leaning back against the counter, “you keep your secret recipe from Arlathan far away from my coffee pot; you and Neve.” The simply memory of Neve’s boiled coffee was enough to make him shudder.

There was a sudden change in the air, the mood of the conversation quickly shifting from something playful and, dare he imagine, even flirtatious, to tense and uneasy. Rook’s grip tightened on her cup, her fingernail picking at the embellished rim as she sighed heavily. Her eyes shifted downwards, no longer wanting to meet his gaze.

“Neve…” Rook said softly, the smile having quickly disappeared from her face and replaced with something somber. Lucanis cursed himself for bringing up the detective.

Idiot. Make. Rook. Sad! Spite growled from between them, snarling at Lucanis with bared teeth and squinted eyes.

“She’s won’t actually say it, but she’s so angry with me.” Rook muttered after a stretch of silence, “Not that I can fault her. I also wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t come back.”

“She will,” he said simply, not exactly sure how to remedy the situation, “You know she can’t leave something unsolved.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that, but it doesn’t seem to make things better.” Rook mumbled, still not meeting his gaze. Instead, her eyes remained glued to the floor and she shifted against the counter, anxious and ready to move.

Rook had a hard time staying still when something rested heavily on her mind. It wouldn’t be abnormal to see Rook pacing the courtyard after a particularly rough day or to find her lapping the inner circle of the library if she couldn’t quite figure out a deeper question in the fight against the gods. Rook shook her free hand by her side with a slow exhale of a breath, something she frequently did when the group encountered something tough out in the world. A way to relieve nerves before they weighted too heavily on the mind.

“Rook-” He said her name in an attempt to calm her down and bring her back to the moment, but she cut him off before he could try and soothe her nerves.

“The people of Minrathous are dead because of me. I made a choice that got people killed. People died, Lucanis.” Tears began welling in her eyes again, but she hardened, refusing to let them fall and show vulnerability now that she was conscious and free of her nightmare.

“You’re blaming yourself for something out of your control.” He countered.

“Am I not to blame? I made the call.” Her voice was unusually short, the sorrow she’d previously felt being very quickly replaced with anger.

“It was an impossible choice. If anyone’s to blame, it’s the gods. Neve may blame you for now, but it’s unjustified and she’ll see that with time.” Rook scoffed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe he couldn’t see the logic in her argument.

“She is justified. Look me in the eyes right now and truthfully tell me that if you went home to Treviso and found hundreds dead and blight infecting the canals that you wouldn’t look at me differently.”

With that, Lucanis looked away. His gaze fell to the floor as he pondered her question, effectively giving her the answer she was looking for. He would like to say that he would stand behind Rook no matter what. She had saved him from the Ossuary, returned him to his family, and treated him like an actual living person despite the demon that infected his body. Yet, there was hesitation when it came to answering. His heart cracked at the idea of seeing his home, his city, infected with blight.

He imagined tendrils of black and red ooze wrapping around the buildings, longer pieces stretching high into the sky like damnable fingers that clawed at the heavens. The thought made I’m sick to his stomach, an uncomfortable combination of fear for what could have been if Rook had chosen Neve over him and anger for the actions of the so called gods. But in this came the realization that if this had been the outcome of that fateful day, he knew in his heart that they would not be standing here now sharing an easy cup of coffee between them.

“I don’t know why Varric chose me.” She said softly, her voice once again breaking through the increasingly loud thoughts in his mind.

“Do you wish he hadn’t?” He asked quietly, seeing that her anger had faded and was once again replaced with something sombre.

“Sometimes,” Rook’s voice was small, almost whispering, “and I can’t help but think that I’m getting people hurt with every decision I make.”

“As long as those people are our enemies-” Lucanis started to say, but Rook quickly cut him off again.

“And what about when they aren’t? People are dead because I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. I tried to stop Solas’s ritual and Varric paid the price. I had to make a call on Minrathous or Treviso, but no matter what my choice was, it would have ended in death and destruction for one of them.” She took a long drink of her coffee, eyes closing as she savored the taste and tried to swallow the rising fear with the drink.

Lucanis listened quietly, not knowing what to say that could make her feel better. He could see himself in her when he thought about her struggles to lead and his destiny to become head of the Crows. They were both being thrust into a positions they never asked for and had the weight of their respective worlds crushing them without mercy. Responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders in the same way it clung to his, pulling them both into a world swirling in nightmares and sorrow.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to make one stupid decision and get everyone on this team killed.” Rook continued, her eyes still closed, “One decision already lead to Minrathous being destroyed and Neve will never trust me again. How can anyone trust me to make the right call when this all comes to a head? How can I trust myself? ”

She was open and vulnerable, falling prey to the beast of self doubt and despair. Rook was normally the strong one of the group, letting anyone lean on her if they needed. She very rarely took time for herself and he could see the cracks beginning to form in her ‘fearless leader’ mask. She was asking for a shoulder to cry on and Lucanis wanted to be that support for her.

“The Grey Wardens already hate me. The Shadow Dragons would never stand with someone who let their city burn. Don’t even get me started on Strife and the Veil Jumpers.” She exhaled sharply at the mention of her former companions, “And we haven’t known the Mourn Watch or the Lords of Fortune long enough to build a decent connection.”

“You have the strength of the Crows. They’ll stand with you for what you did for Treviso,” Lucanis said confidently, “…and Teia is already fond of you.” His statement caught her off guard. Rook raised an eyebrow in his direction, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Teia likes me? Should I be worried?” Rook asked playfully.

“She’s already made it clear that if you ever decide to join the Crows, she gets first shot at asking you to join House Cantori. She said that your strong will and refusal to give up would make you the perfect asset. That and she actually enjoys your company.”

“Oh?” Rook was smiling now, very much enthused by the sudden change in conversation.

“Viago disagrees, of course.” Lucanis continued casually, resting one arm on the counter behind him, “He thinks that your knowledge of plants and the life you had in Arlathan would make you a better fit for House de Riva. Poisons, antidotes, venomous snake, all of that.”

“I’d have to get on board with the whole ‘murder for hire’ thing first, don’t you think?” Lucanis chuckled around the rim of his mug as he drank the last of his coffee.

“Well, you better get on board fast, Rook. Teia’s already designing you your own cape.” He was delighted to know that his quick diversion had lifted her spirits, but he made a mental note to tell her later that he was also telling the truth. Teia was planning a way to sneakily take Rook’s measurements for a properly fitting cape.

No! Spite yelled suddenly. Tell Rook we. Want her. They. Cannot have. What is ours!

Lucanis grimaced at the sound of his voice, not wanting to admit that he shared the sentiment. Rook did not belong to him. Rook did not belong to the Crows. But if by some grace of the Maker she did ever decide to join the Crows, he would want her to choose to join House Dellamorte. He had not know Rook for too long, but he already couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day. He was fond of the time they spent together from their shared coffee in the mornings to their adventures in whatever city needed them; as long as he could spent time just being around her, he was happy. And he did not want to let those moments go.

But deep down, Lucanis knew Rook would never do such a thing. Once the gods were sorted, everyone would go their own way. He would return to Treviso and try to live life as a changed man without the ever steady support he found in Rook and she would go back to her life in Arlathan. She would never want to join the Crows. She would never want to join a dying house with an abomination at the helm. She would never want him.

“Rook, I’m not…good at talking to people. At finding the right words,” Lucanis said softly, “but if it helps, I want you to know that I trust you. You’ll make the right decisions.”

Spite also. Trusts. Rook!

“…And Spite also trusts you.” He added reluctantly, peering around Rook’s shoulder to briefly glance at the demon sporting a wide grin. Rook couldn’t help but crack a smile at the comment.

“How long has he been standing there?” She asked, peering behind her shoulder to the empty spot she assume Spite to be standing in. She couldn’t see Spite, but Lucanis could feel the excitement radiating off the demon as Rook glanced in his direction as if she were actually seeing him.

“Too long,” he muttered as he glanced towards Rook, “and don’t stare; you’ll only encourage his behavior.” Rook stared at the empty space between them for a few seconds more before returning back to the cup in her hands. She wiped away tears that threatened to fall with the heel of her palm, sniffling softly.

Lucanis had read enough romance novels in his time to imagine that now would be the time to reach up and gently cup her cheek, wipe away her tears with his thumb, and kiss her softly, but he didn’t. Rook wasn’t a damsel in distress that needed to be swept off her feet at the climactic end of a book, she was real and she was hurting. He wasn’t good with sweet talking like Illario was and if the end result didn’t involve killing someone, he felt almost useless in the face of Rook’s worry. However, there was one thing he could offer.

“Do you want anything to eat?” He asked suddenly, “I could make breakfast.”

“I don’t want to make you do more for me.” She said with a final sniffle, “Maker, you’ve already stayed up all night making sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m up every night,” Lucanis said with a light chuckle, “…but I picked up more of those cured meats you liked so much the last time I was in Treviso.” Rook’s expression perked at the suggestion. If there was one thing he knew for certain about Rook, was the easiest way to win her over on something was with the promise of good food.

“And I stashed away some of the good cheeses you like to snack on in the pantry so Harding wouldn’t find them. We have fresh eggs and cream…” He gently nudged her foot with the tip of his boot, pleased at the sweet smile that slowly started to form.

“Maybe a quiche?” She asked hopefully. An easy smile spread across Lucanis’s lips.

“Just say the word.” His voice was smooth and low, surprising even himself with its sound.

“Well,” she said quietly, leaning towards him ever so slightly as she met his gaze, “if you’re going to twist my arm like that, how could I say no?”

Don’t. Hurt. Rook! Spite all but howled, his teeth once again bared and ready for a fight.

“Mierda,” Lucanis spat, “it’s an expression, Spite. I’m not actually twisting her arm.” The demon growled lowly, settling back beside Rook, keeping a wary eye on his host.

Rook giggled at the exchange, elating both Lucanis and Spite at the sound. They stood in silence for a stretch. Both having finished their coffee, but not quite sure what to say next. There was still something tender in the air, Lucanis knowing that what he told her had temporarily soothed the ache in her heart, but also was aware enough to know that the wound had not healed. But Rook, being the ever persistent one that she was, would locked it away and not show weakness in front of the others. She would be bubbly and perky by the time they all settle at the table to eat, pretending that nothing had been wrong only hours before. They counted on her to make the right choice and she couldn’t afford to show any sense of having something bothering her. She and Lucanis really were alike in a lot of ways.

“I should probably get dressed before breakfast,” Rook sighed after a while, “I can’t let everyone know how much of a mess I am.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Lucanis placed one hand over his heart while raising the other, mimicking the action of taking an oath.

“Ma serannas.” She thanked him in elven with a slight bow of her head, her voice quiet as she spoke. Although Lucanis wasn’t completely sure what she had said, he understood the sentiment.

Leaving his coffee mug on the counter beside him before smoothing out his waistcoat with his hands. He met Rook’s gaze, finding her expression lingering in the realm of wanting to speak but not having the courage to do so. He excused himself quietly so he could begin breakfast, stepping around Rook to head into the small alcove that was the actual cooking area. As he made it a step behind Rook, he felt her touch graze his.

“Hey,” Rook reached around as Lucanis passed by her and wrapped her little finger around his, squeezing gently, “thank you.”

“It’s a quiche. I’ve made much harder dishes.” With a roll of her eyes, Rook gave a light tug and pulled Lucanis a step closer.

They were close enough to where he could feel the echo of her warmth in the blanket as it brushed against his hand. He could smell the faint aroma of coffee as it lingered on her lips and the dying breath of lavender hand soap. Rook adjusted her grip slightly, her fingers climbing against his until they were interlocked securely with one another, firm yet gentle. The previous night aside, this was the most outward physical affection he could recall Rook partaking in and despite being so simple, it was enough to make his heart flutter in his chest.

“I meant for last night. And this morning.” Rook’s voice was sincere and warm, “Thank you for listening.” In all his romance novels, this would be the time to press his lips to knuckles in a chaste kiss, but he knew better. Instead, Lucanis simply gave a small smile.

“Of course. If you need me again, I’m yours.”

Rook returned the gesture before parting. She still held his fingers in hers as she stepped away, her touch lingering in a reluctance to let go of the moment. Ultimately, she decided to part ways, her grip slipping from his before being tucked into the safety and warmth of her blanket. Her eyes remained on his for two additional steps before finally pulling away and focusing on the door ahead. Rook left quietly, her footsteps treading lightly against the stone and the door closing with a soft click.

Once Rook had slipped through the doors to the dining hall, Lucanis released a held breath as his mind tried to fully wrap around the events of the night. He kept his eyes fixed on the door in the off chance she might slip back through, but soon left to start on the meal they had planned. As he began gathering ingredients, his hand tingled where her touch had been. Her skin was soft and warm, gentle and something to get lost in. While he worked, he could smell the faintest hint of lavender, sea salt, and something that was distinctly Rook.

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