#named rook

[lotusfueltofire]

Lucanis and Angel de Riva, my Rook OC.

The art is by the amazing @moonartjb! I loved commissioning them, definitely check their work out. ♥

Angel calls Lucanis his little teacup. If you wanna read the fic featuring them both: I could be your antidote.

The fic also features Viago x Rook.

[xhollowfaerie]

Anticipación

a/n: ok this is by far the craziest one i've written sdufhdsfisdjfsf oh my god im so nervous about postin gthis LMAO please lmk if this was any decent bc i did my best, i was really running out of synonyms for moan/whine/cry etc tags/warnings: demi4demi inexperienced Rookanis, (very slight) soft dom Lucanis, submissive fem Rook, plus sized Rook, praising kink, Lucanis discovers edging, also Lucanis discovering some things abt himself......, squirting + a surprise at the end hehehe

Kore’s moans filled the dining hall, echoing back around Lucanis, only driving him further. Their cold coffees laid long-forgotten by their side, his fingers slowly, audibly sliding in and out of her as she held onto the front of his shirt, foreheads glued together. She was sitting on the table, legs spread apart as he dipped his fingers into her, his other arm steadily holding her waist as she trembled in his grip. He’d always wanted to ravish her in that pink chemise, driving him insane from the very first time he’d seen it on her figure. His eyes flooded with desire, watching her lashes flutter helplessly.

She was panting, inadvertently dragging her nails down the back of his neck, causing a shiver to run all the way through him. His brown eyes were trained on hers, observant, taking in every microexpression on her beautiful, round face, memorizing every freckle. The way the dim light of the fireplace hit her glossy lips imprinted itself into his mind, swallowing back the thought of seeing them wrap around him. He took in a breath to gather his courage before his fingers hit deeper inside her, feeling her suddenly clamp down around them. 

“Lucanis!” Rook whined, arching her back. Fuck, she was so close-

He widened his eyes and gingerly pulled his fingers out, watching her carefully. “Lo siento, mi amor… I did not mean to hurt you.” Rook looked at him through half-parted eyelids, feverishly breathing against him, voice meek. “N-No… y-you, didn’t, I almost…”

Oh.

He flushed, embarrassed by his own lack of expertise. “I-I, I thought-”

She painfully clenched around the emptiness inside her, running her hands over his neck. Kore felt the overwhelming wetness between her legs drip down her thighs. Her pink nails held onto the lapels of his shirt, mouthing her words against his lips.

“Please.”

He closed the space between their mouths, lovingly kissing her as he slid his middle and index finger back inside - after she assured him many times that no, two were not too much, even though it had taken a bit of trial and error to figure out the best ones for the job - and she moaned into their kiss, desperately grabbing his face and bucking her hips into his hand as she started shaking.

“Lucanis, Lucanis-!”

His ears picked up a noise outside, making his heart stop dead inside his chest. He moved the hand from her waist lower, pulling her closer to the edge of the table by her ass in an attempt to cover how exposed it was, horrified that Davrin or whoever else was just about to walk in - also halting his fingers inside her.

Kore mewled in protest, collapsing her head against his shoulder as she breathed heavily.

“P-Please, L-Lucanis… you’re killing me…”

He mentally cursed himself, but something caught his attention; they had only made love a couple of times before, and while she always cried for him so sweetly - the way she said his name made it very hard to focus - he’d never seen her quite this worked up.

Almost as if…

Humming, he moved his lips to the particular spot on her neck that made her squeal, feeling her thighs tremble as he moved inside her again, gently curling his digits and quickening his pace - she shrieked and grasped a handful of his hair, her moans growing louder and louder.

“L-LUCA-NIS-”

He stopped again, smiling against her neck as she trembled from head to toe, breath hitching. The way she whined pulled at his heartstrings, but the intense influence over her was bringing something out in him that he hadn’t previously considered - that something he used in his profession could be so easily applied to pleasing her, more than he’d ever expected.

He pulled away just enough to watch her, the deliciously needy expression on her face, the blush over her ample chest and shoulders, the drops of sweat running down her forehead; the very light smears of makeup under her eyes. 

Spite growled behind him, eagerly watching Kore. 

“Nnnngh, Lucanis! Fill her already! I. Need. Her.”

They had convened (well, she had agreed for his sake- truthfully, she was not at all averse to the idea…) that no, Spite will not be coming out while they were intimate with each-other; frankly, after the things Lucanis had heard him say about her (the things he wanted to do to her), he was horrified of letting Spite out; not yet, at least. They’d barely begun their romance, and he was not about to let his uncontrollable demon lay a finger on his Rook.

“Ours!” Spite snarled at him, but Lucanis was easily distracted again as Kore leaned back, grabbing a hold of his tie to pull him towards her as she rolled her head, impatiently tightening around him until he felt his fingers go numb. Those eyes, the sweet, innocent expression he adored so, replaced by an uncontrollable lust, the gaze of a siren eating him alive.

Fuck, he wanted to please her until she was sick of him.

Cheeks flushed, pupils dilated, hair lighty tousled… she tugged on his tie again, biting into her lip. 

“P-Plea-se?” Her voice wavered, and it was an almost impossible task for him to not just give in; but he was, quite frankly, desperate to see more of the insatiable side of her, the complete trust she had in him, the absolute control she surrendered to the hands of a trained killer.

A primal desire to dishevel her further rose inside Lucanis as he very tentatively started pulling his fingers apart inside her, making her gasp. Pleased with her reaction, he leaned in closer, his hand tracing the fullness of her shapes as he whispered in her ear.

“Beautiful, Rook” his voice rumbled lowly; the elf squirmed as her walls collapsed around his fingers, tugging on his tie more decisively than before. Lucanis very quickly discovered that he really, really enjoyed the feeling of his tie tightening around his neck, watching his elven lover tug him around as she pleased.

“Vhenan…” she croaked in response, shyly glancing away as her lips trembled. He felt her hands shake, urging him to angle his digits better and gently push them further in, inhaling sharply when she threw an arm around his neck, almost straddling him as she hung off the edge of the table.

“Oh, oh, Gods, Lucanis!-”

Swiftly, but carefully, he pulled his fingers out again, hearing her voice break into a frantic sob. Her chest rose and fell erratically. He kissed her ear, her cheek, along her neck and beneath her chin, circling his lips to the other side of her head. “You’re doing so well, my rose.”

His words made her whimper; she almost came from his voice alone, reeling from his praise, barely holding herself steady as more beads of sweat rolled down her skin; Lucanis watched as they beautifully rolled down the curve of her chest before disappearing in her generous cleavage, feeling his hands grow restless. Agile, skilled - the hands of an assassin. Cool, controlled, calculated. Twitching in anticipation.

Her gaze was fully bound to him, entranced; honestly, the pleasure was so intense, she was unsure if she was actually awake or if this was one of her many dreams of him - her heart was rattling so violently inside her ribs, she thought it would burst at any moment - especially as she watched him put his fingers in his mouth, relishing the taste of her as he licked them clean. She stopped breathing, lips agape - the smallest trickle of drool lingering around the corners of her mouth; without a second thought, he softly wiped her lips, tilting her head back.

“I must admit… I’m concerned” he whispered, holding her like that as he analyzed her, “concerned that I might grow much too addicted to seeing you like this.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and squeaked in embarrassment, trying to turn away; he gingerly took her hands and motioned for her to wrap her arms around his neck, moving his own down her wide hips, the thickness of her thighs, before finally reaching behind her, grasping her ass and lifting her with so much ease, it made her heart flutter. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, feeling his hardness brush up against her very damp core as she let out a long, sultry sigh.

He rolled his hips, rubbing himself against her; it barely took more than a few moments for her wetness to permeate the fabric of his pants, easing the friction between them. She tightened her grip on him, pressing their chests together; he felt the aggressiveness of her heartbeat colliding with his, the way she pulsated against him with lust -  and almost lost himself. 

“Please… Vhehan…” she pleaded, threading her fingers in his hair as she placed kisses over his face, covering his breathtaking features in a pink, shimmering shade of lipstick in the shape of her lips. He smiled between her pecks, moving his hips against her again ever so slightly. His voice was almost teasing, murmuring intimately. “Do you want me to stop?” 

She didn’t answer, burying her face in his neck as he grinded against her again, grasping his shoulders and digging her pretty nails into him so much it almost pierced him through his shirt.

Maker, did that feel - incredible.

He wanted - needed her to scratch him more.

“Should I help you finish, mi vida?” He lulled into her ear, preemptively smirking as he waited for her answer. “N-not…yet…” Kore bashfully glanced at him, surprised by the confidence he exuded as he placed her back on the table and guided his hand back between her legs, slicking his fingers in her juices with one, quick sweep that made her shudder. “Mm… I thought so.”

He slowly laid her down on the table, supporting himself with one arm as he curiously explored the sweetness between her legs; lovingly watching her squirm, gasp, contort under his touch. “Eres mi vida, mi mundo, mi todo (You are my life, my world, my everything)” he purred against her flesh, feeling her grasp onto him for dear life. “Eres mi alegria, la mujer de mis sueños. (You are my joy, the woman of my dreams.)” His voice only seemed to err her further, so he kept talking. The unabated huskiness of his voice rattled her to her core. "Quiero ver como mi Rosalina se deshace para mí. (I want to see how my beautiful rose comes undone for me."

Her thighs trembled violently as he brought her close to the edge, squeezing his sides with more strength than most would give her credit for. He moved so he could hold her thigh up with one hand, pushing her leg back and exposing her to him fully as she cried out in shame, feeling his thumb agonizingly circle her.

“Sathan (Please), Lucanis!” Kore wailed, feeling a flurry building inside her so violently it almost scared her. A heat unlike any other, a pressure threatening to spill at any moment. She brought a hand to her mouth and helplessly bit into it to stifle her screams, curving her spine so much her back lifted off the wooden surface, her chest spilling out of the pink satin of her chemise. 

The sheer self-control it took for Lucanis to not sheathe himself inside her then and there…

The dining room was a lewd mess of sounds; her wetness, her panting, the creaking of the table as she struggled atop; not to mention the sheer magnitude of her broken voice as she squealed and mewled for him uncontrollably, chanting his voice in between elven pet names and implorations. 

“Mierda, I want to make you sing like this for me forever.” The look on his face was one of absolute focus as he drank her depravity in, lowering himself to rest his forehead in between her chest, taking a deep breath in. The scent of her threatened to make him come undone, too, overstimulated by her hoarse cries, her tantalizing appearance, her slickness on his pants and the dull ache beginning to set into his wrist - one he immediately tossed to the back of his mind as he satisfied his Rook.

Her skin, her sweat, her perfume, his scent on her intensified the yearning in his hands, finally sliding his fingers back inside her, hooking them deeply into her core as he kept his thumb caressing her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Kore got to take a single breath into her lungs before she saw white; she might have even passed out for a second as she vehemently coiled around Lucanis, thrashing under him with a high-pitched prayer of his name.

His eyes widened in surprise as a flood of liquid met his hand, squirting all over his fingers and palm, over the hem of his sleeve, the front of his expensive shirt and all over her thighs; that, and the way she twisted and shrieked in utter pleasure while burying his face in her chest, pulling his hair. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, feeling an increasingly insatiable need gnawing him alive.

He was so hard it hurt - and despite him usually being able to ignore it, this time, his arousal for her was almost unbearable.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan…” Kore panted deeply, feeling his face lift back up to hers. He kissed her, trembling fingers cupping his face as she twitched under him, intricately defensiveless.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan” he responded, lacing the Elven confession with his irresistible Antivan accent. She let out a groan, feeling herself throbbing still, jittery and breathless.  “Te amo con todo mi ser (I love you with all of me)” Rook whispered, trailing her fingers down his jaw and neck, feeling him shiver. “You are a dream come true. My safe haven.”

Her eyes slid to a close, clinging to him; he more than happily obliged, rolling them over so she could rest on top of him, cradling her sweetly, holding her tight as he kissed her forehead, brushing the beautiful length of her pink hair with his fingers. “Look who’s talking” he murmured, leaning his head back to rest against the table. He adored the feeling of her in his arms…

And Spite, well, Spite found it much harder to dismiss the overpowering arousal coursing through him.

Lucanis tried to part his lips to warn her as he felt his consciousness slip - instead, his eyes overturned with a eerily incandescent shade of purple, trailing his hands hungrily over Kore’s body. A growl dragged itself out of his throat, his hands closing around her ample chest, making her weakly squirm as he played with her breasts. “Mercy, Lucanis…”

He bucked his hips up against her ass, reaching a hand between her legs and wrapping the other around her throat, baring his teeth.

“Rosalina. I. Missed you. Need you. So. So. Badly.”

“S-Spite?!”

“Nngh. Yes…” 

She squealed as his grip on her throat tightened, shivering incessantly as he rubbed her clit - fuck, fuck, fuck, she was still so sensitive, she might come again right away if he doesn’t stop - his touch contrasting aggressively with her Crow’s - her demon was rough, impatient. 

Starving.

Kore felt his lips curving deviously against her ear, melting a little too easily into his possessiveness… oh, Gods, she was as horrified as she was excited.

His hot breath tickled her, feeling the dam inside her close to breaking again as he spoke. 

“Finally. Spite’s turn.”

[wolfmoonwildflowers]

Make Myself at Home

For Viago Week 2025 Day 6 Prompt: Emotional Sex

The week is technically over but I'm still going to post these as I finish them! Better late than never, amirite? Thank you so much to the lovely folks over at @viagoweek for doing this event!!

-

Chapter 1: Ritual Rating: Explicit

Named!Rook x Viago de Riva

Read the full thing on ao3!

WC: 1,944

-

Two, three, four different locks click into place in the time it takes her to turn on her heel and reach out. Viago swats her hand away and bends to roughly grip the back of her thighs. He hoists her unceremoniously into his arms and is already several long strides closer to the bathing room before she can hook her ankles behind his waist.

The irritated eagerness of it all makes her laugh, soft and breathless.

His scowl remains even as his eyes gentle in the face of her amusement. “You are a menace. I was trying to review reports.”

“I’m sorry.” Maeve tries to look as unapologetic as possible, just to vex him.

"Oh, you will be."

[gingervitus]

Traviesos: A Rookanis Drabble

AKA I had three beers and a cocktail last night and began writing vignettes that I'll probably post altogether at a later date.

Also I've fully leaned into the mixture of Italian and Spanish because it's fiction, and I'm in charge of writing this.

If you're also a 100 word drabble truther don't @ me because I am NOT.

“Signor Dellamorte.”

The day has passed in a flurry of gold and white and red. Music thrums loudly in their ears. Chatter lingers down every crowded hall. Food and wine have both flowed freely since early on in the day’s festivities. Nothing but smiles and laughs and stolen kisses matter at this moment even if Lucanis’s shoulders are growing stiff from the pose he’s been holding for what feels like the better part of an hour.

“Signore!”

His eyes snap to the hauntingly familiar old man peeking out from behind an enormous canvas. “Yes, Vittorio?” he sighs in response, exasperated. Vittorio had been commissioned for every portrait hung in Villa Dellamorte for as long as Lucanis can remember. The familiar signature of the painter can even be found scrawled on the corner of one portrait he spent much of his childhood drawn toward: his mother and father on their wedding day.

“Please stop moving your head.” With a blink, he glances from Vittorio to his partner in portraiture. Rook, who arches a brow at him without turning her head, for whatever reason–one he cannot truly understand himself–stands with him on this day. Their wedding day. He squeezes her hip with the hand that has been perched on hers while they await their release back to the wedding reception. “You will be able to look at her for the rest of your days, so please, hold still now.”

A grin crawls across her lips. “You’re causing a ruckus, Signor Dellamorte,” she clucks. Her palm is warm in his hand. Comfortable. Familiar. Just as she has somehow always felt to him. Regardless of the distance he attempted to put between them, she has been constantly available. Right by his side even if he felt he didn’t quite deserve that. When she shifts her head to meet his eyes, he feels the warmth of the sun on his face.

“Lady Dellamorte, please.”

Lucanis can hardly contain himself at the resigned scolding. Words escape him. Elation courses through his veins. “Huh,” she breathes, watching him. “You liked that, didn't you?”

“What?” He blinks rapidly at her, fully aware he can't fool her. Hearing her referred to in that way–Lady Dellamorte–stirs something in him he didn't realize existed. It had always been Illario he thought would be having this sort of life event. A grand wedding with hundreds of guests. Effervescent dancing and loud music. Endless drinks and food that just kept appearing. The portrait that would be hung with all the others in the villa. All Lucanis had to be was efficient. Good with a knife. He was raised to work. To take up the mantle of First Talon or get himself killed before it could be handed to him.

But here he is. Awe fills his mind as he stares directly into her eyes. Somehow, he is here, and she is with him. Rook. His Rook. His wife. “Signor Dellamorte, please face forward,” Vittorio begs.

This time, Lucanis doesn't even bother looking away. “Vittorio, surely you cannot begrudge me a moment to look at my beautiful wife,” he replies easily, and he wonders if the mystery liquor Davrin fed him earlier is speaking for him or if he is simply drunk on bliss alone. A blush rises over Rook's neck and cheeks. The smile that crosses his lips is one that isn't worth fighting.

A grumble comes from behind the canvas, “Che due palle.” It is no matter. Years ago, he would have dutifully posed for as long as the old man needed, per his grandmother's instruction. However, all those years ago, his life had not been his own. He went through every motion he was instructed to complete. Every job. Every event. Down to the very meal at times. While the painter works, Lucanis dips forward to press a kiss to his wife's lips, earning a huff of laughter from her. “Just like your father. Unbelievable.”

Months later, the portrait hangs in the villa. The pose is not what Caterina intends, and she makes it known how displeased she is. Rook and Lucanis stand nose to nose, staring with a longing that, frankly, they're all impressed translated so well through oil paints. There are whispers of smiles on their faces that contrast heavily with the somber portraits lining the hall.

Labeled beneath the painting on a small golden plaque in swirling script reads:

Lucanis & Eleanora 9:57

[itsrainingpandas]

Seven Places to Kiss in the Lighthouse

A Rookanis Fic

(Listen, this is entirely self-indulgent fluff. There's no plot, no growth. Just Rook and Lucanis making out like teenagers.)

Chapter 6: The Wolf’s Den

Lucanis didn't know how they kept ending up like this.

Though that was probably the least honest way of phrasing it. He knew how it happened.

[blackwall-my-tiny-husband]

Let your friends take you out!

For Bellara week day 4: friendship / romance

Since I wrote something kinda sad last I wanted to go with fluff next. I finished this early this morning but work ended up busy today so I’m blaming it being late on that lol, thanks again to @datvcompanionweeks for hosting!

Takes place after after Bellara’s fireplace talk after Weisshaupt

“-Bellara? Bellara!”

With a start the elf popped her head out of the large puzzle box that she’d been tinkering around in. It had a rusted catch that was keeping it from closing and it was making a few of the magical gears shriek and she wanted to fix it.

Rook was standing in her doorway, leaning against the frame with an amused smile on his face.

“Oh! Zalan how long were you standing there?” She climbed down the stool she was on, wiping her hands on a cloth tied to her belt.

“Long enough to hear you curse in, I think, 3 different languages?” He chuckled and pushed off the doorframe, pointing over his shoulder as she cleared her throat, trying to keep a small blush contained to her ear tips.

She thought about protesting, it was only two languages…. If you didn’t count the one made up one from the serial she’d been reading about ancient spirit possessed elves. But before she could decide if she wanted to argue the point Zalan added,

“Come with me? I’m trying to convince Neve to take us out around Minrathous. And you need a break you’ve been working on that puzzle box for days now. We can make Neve take us to that bazaar and to the fancy mage restaurant.” He started for the door and she froze for a moment, processing the idea, wondering if it would be ok to tag along, to leave her work here for a bit. “Come on, my treat Bel.”

And that was it. Her friends would take her out. She would have a good time, clear her head, and then fix the box mechanisms when she got back. The problem would probably be obvious if she stepped away for a bit. Maybe she was finding excuses to agree but if thats what it took.

With a smile she followed after him.

Neve had looked at her for a whole minute, taking a breath and holding it before letting it out in a long suffering sigh. But she had agreed. Lace had said it was because Bellara was Neve’s favorite. Zalan insisted that it was because Neve secretly liked having friends to drag her out to do fun things. Bellara was happy with either of their answers, a happy little butterfly fluttering in her chest at idea that she could be anyone’s favorite, let alone the Neve Gallus.

But whichever was the case Neve did agree and that’s how she ended up leading Emmrich, Lace, Zalan, and Bellara into a restaurant that could have just as easily been the cobbled swan but with more magic in the air.

Bellara marveled at the lamps floating above every table, swirls of color dancing in every magic flame. Emmrich pointed out several enchanted portraits along the walls where the scenery moved as though you were looking out a window. The veil jumper wondered if everything in the building had some sort of magic. It was a lot. Clearly meant to show off but still it was beautiful.

Only Neve could have gotten them all a table, looking confident as they were seated while the others gawked.

Wine and food was brought and the magic orbs surrounding the food was intricate spellwork and although a ploy to keep non mages from the place Bellara found the delicate almost ice crystal pattern to the spell a thing of beauty. Neve demonstrated how to pop it without disturbing the food. Emmrich commented how light the spellwork was, he was also rather delighted by how interesting it was as he popped his own dinner.

Bellara popped her own, watching the spell twinkle out atop the food like little salt crystals and turned to watch Lace examine hers. She had stopped Neve from magicking it and said she wanted to try. Her eyes turned lyrium blue and she poked at the bubble looking unconvinced but it did pop although maybe with less finesse than Emmrich’s or Neve’s, the bubble wobbling as it dissipated.

The elf turned to Zalan who had put himself in the corner obviously trying to keep a low profile, he’d said it was because he was the only one without any magic; and with Lace’s ability to get her food out, a feat she was celebrating with an excited giggle and fist pump, Bellara figured he’d been correct.

“Would you like me to..?” She gestured to his food floating there. Rook poked the bubble, the magic holding fast but he shook his head with a reassigned chuckle.

“Let me poke it a bit, I want to see if I can find a weak point.” He looked determined to try on his own. Neve laughed and Bellara worried he wouldn’t get to eat but he looked happy enough trying to slip one of his daggers he’d pulled from a belt into the magic.

The others ate and chatted and Neve asked her about her projects and Lace offered to help her go back into some of the old Arlathan ruins if she wanted to look for more parts. Bellara smiled at them, swept up in their conversations, she told a story about a set of veil jumpers that swapped bodies for a day because they calmed an artifact wrong, the others swapped stories of their own.

She wondered, suddenly, if Rook had taken them out to cheer her up. She’d confided in him that she’d felt so guilty for the evanuris’ actions because they were her gods.

She glanced at him, he was still poking at the magic, dripping what she was pretty sure was a poison over the bubble. Luckily for him it only slid off the magic and didn’t just drip inside.

Emmrich pulled her back into the conversation by asking her a question about one of the eluvians they’d come across in their last outing and she launched into a discussion about that.

//

Zalan had to eventually give in but hadn’t seemed all that put out that he wasn’t going to have food. Bellara waved magic at it and popped it to put him out of his misery. Lace chuckled and teasingly told her she should have let him suffer.

After the food was gone and they’d left Plumeria Neve led the party to the outdoor bazaar, acting rather put out but with a small smile on her face that Bellara had a feeling meant she was having fun despite the ‘cheap trinkets’ and ‘watered down’ drinks.

Looping her arm in Neve’s she let the detective show them around to various stalls and trinkets.

By the end Emmrich was complaining about the prices being steep for cheap metals but found something he thought Manfred would like anyway. Neve had bought drinks for everyone and they were watered down but Bellara thought it was better that way. Lace had found a new plant she wanted to add to her room, next to the fade plants. Bellara had found Neve a new fluid writer pen and bought it when she wasn’t looking.

As they were leaving the Bazaar Zalan popped up next to her and held his hand out. She wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted but held her hand out dutifully.

He placed a little slightly crooked hummingbird broach into her hand. The gems used for the colors were cheap and some were scratched a little but it was beautiful.

She pulled it close to look at it and a little gasp slipped out before she could catch it.

“You said your brother called you hummingbird right?” And she looked up at him, he was just grinning at her, excited that she was happy with the gift.

She wanted to hug him, but she hesitated unsure if he would be okay with that and then he was pulling her along gently by the arm trying to get them both caught up with the group.

She clutched the new broach in her hand, and Neve bumped shoulders with her when they were back by her side. The group’s lighthearted chatting making her feel light as they headed back to the lighthouse. Back home.

[adhd-riddled-crow]

Two Crows & Their Nest

Summary:

"First the Antivan Crows. We've got you. But if one assassin's good..." she raises an eyebrow over her shoulder.

"Why not two? You have someone in mind?" Rook perks up, standing a little straighter than before.

"Your most feared mage killer. The Demon of Vyrantium."

Velasco de Riva and the famed Demon of Vyrantium were in a relationship before the supposed passing of Lucanis Dellamorte. What will happen after they reunite with one another? How awkward will it get when their family reunites with them? Read along with me and you might just find out :3

[blightedbutdelighted]

A Crow Never Forgets

Rating: Teen & Up Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook/Spite, Viago De Riva & Rook, Andarateia Cantori & Rook, Andarateia Cantori/Viago De Riva

Ch. 1: Homecoming Summary: Viviana De Riva's life changed drastically the night that Venatori mages attacked the ship she was on. They stole away with the Demon of Vyrantium and left her for dead. A year later, the First Talon of the Crows hands her the means for her revenge. Ch. 2: Reacquainting Summary: Viviana and Illario catch up while making their way through Treviso. Ch. 3: Rescue Summary: Viviana and her companions make their way through the Ossuary as they try to locate the Demon of Vyrantium.

[racheloleo]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rook/Emmrich Volkarin Characters: Emmrich Volkarin, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Mild Smut, Domestic Fluff, Female Rook (Dragon Age), Professor Emmrich Volkarin, Mourn Watch (Dragon Age), Not Beta Read Summary:

Aoife covertly watches Emmrich dress for the day.

[lotusfueltofire]

Angel de Riva is my canon Rook~

Beautiful and amazing commission made by @dudouji - they're a wonderful artist, please check out their work! ♥

This is his outfit on chapter 7, when he meets with Teia in a Crow party. If you'd like to read the Antidote AU,

click here.

The story starts Viago x Rook, then Lucanis x Rook, until it becomes Viago x Rook x Lucanis.

[xhollowfaerie]

Añoranza

a/n: damn, wombo combo!! two in a day, lol! sequel to this tags: demi4demi soft Rookanis, yearning, hurt/comfort, supportive Spite, idk why but they speak like they're in a historical drama romance lol

-

Rook crept into the dining room in the early morning hours - or at least, that's what Lucanis estimated. It was always daytime in the Fade. He despised it like he despised little else, except Venatori.

“Coffee?” he would always ask. This time, the sight of her left his lips agape before they pursed with emotion. Grief, relief. He wasn’t sure.

A heartfelt “Rook” slid past his lips instead. He wished it could convey even a fraction of all the things he dreamt of telling her.

It’s so good to see you.

Oh, how I’ve missed you.

We have been worried sick. It’s so hard to focus. You’re all I think about.

Let me take care of you. You look exhausted.

I’ve made you coffee every morning.

I know you’re not okay.

I'm so sorry.

How could I ever show you how much you mean to me?

She shuffled towards him, dragging her bare feet against the cold floor. With a scowl, he ducked into the pantry and procured a pair of his own slippers. She slipped wordlessly onto a chair, and he kneeled in front of her, placing them onto the floor. 

He felt something burn in his throat when he looked up.

Empty.

Rook… looked… so empty. It almost broke him.

Spite wailed, tugging onto Lucanis.

‘Misery. Smells like old wounds. Shame! Pretty flower... Wilting!’

A Crow never regarded anything with such love and softness in their eyes.

‘Failed, Lucanis. We failed Rook! She protects us. We couldn’t… Protect our pretty rose.’

Spite sniffled, sitting in the chair next to Rook, behind Lucanis. ‘Tried to help… didn’t work’ he lamented, uncharacteristically quiet. He bit his tongue.

No, he thought. We don’t give up this easily, Spite.

The demon’s scowl lessened. He idly stuck his tongue out over a plate, forgetting he couldn’t see his reflection in it. It made him snarl.

A Crow always fulfills their contract.

People come in three kinds. Family, contracts, enemies.

Which kind did Kore qualify as, as the yearning, adoring gaze of a melancholic Dellamorte studied her so?

She felt the overwhelming urge to collapse into his arms, to wrap hers around him sweetly; to cry into his chest, to run her fingers over his breathtaking face and kiss him until every single thought other than his lips left her mind.

But Kore saw the image of Viper, blighted and bleeding, and grit her teeth, teetering on the verge of tears again as she clenched her fists. It was hard enough seeing Ashur like that… if she ever got Lucanis hurt, she would never forgive herself, or be able to live with it. Live without him.

“Rook” his voice rang again, this time rougher, missing the Antivan accent as he rested his forehead against the side of her thigh. “Lucanis hates. Seeing Rook. So sad.” 

She brought a hand to her mouth and whimpered, hesitantly placing a hand atop his head before it moved on its own, gently running through his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Spite knew not to overstep this time, letting Lucanis return not a moment later. He was so taken with her, their intimate touches escaped him as he stood a bit taller. How he longed to tuck the pink strads over her face behind her ear.

Do it, the voice in his head rang, and Lucanis couldn’t tell anymore if it was supposed to be a demon or an angel on his shoulder, but, very hesitantly, he obeyed nonetheless. 

His hand paused mid-air as it reached for Kore; he almost jerked it back in fear as she glanced at it, horrified by her awareness, but instead was met with her warmth as she desperately held onto his digits and pulled them further to her face, nuzzling into it, inhaling the scent of his skin, feeling the weight of his fingers ground her.

His eyes trembled, heart erratic in his chest as his other hand followed Spite’s guidance, pushing the mess of hair back so he could see her face.

“I cannot change a thing” he finally broke the silence between them, the self-hatred lingering deep within him, “but I know this better than I have ever known anything in my life: I am your blade, Rook. Sharpened and ready. If you wish to use me for revenge, I will gladly oblige.”

Her tears rolled down onto his hands, and he gained the courage to inch closer. “Not only do I owe you my life, I now owe you the life of everything I have ever held dear” he was so soft-spoken; he could never, ever express the magnitude of his appreciation for her, let alone repay her- “But in exchange, you paid much too steep a price. That which you love.” For that, I cannot forgive myself.

His voice trembled, the gnawing frustration inside him burning at the corner of his eyes. This was so unfair to her, so fucked up. Would he ever stop wronging her? And to think, the most selfish parts of him still wanted her so badly, as if she hadn’t given enough for a lifetime already.

“Lucanis” Kore whispered, and while her heart ached much too painfully to ever part with the words she desired, her eyes did their best to fill in the blanks, gazing at him like she had never gazed at anything, anyone ever before. 

Not all that I love is lost.

He felt his heart threaten to shatter, swell and shrivel all at the same time.

She mustered half of a smile, glancing away shyly as their circumstances sunk in. Kore slowly let go of his hand at the same time he began to retreat with a mirroring blush, both clearing their throats. He ran his hand over the side of the table, as if to smoothen out the tablecloth lacking any wrinkles simultaneously with her shyly tugging her baggy sweater down, in an attempt to cover up more of her thighs.

Spite stared at them, biting into his own hand to stop himself from saying anything, wide-eyed and filled with hope.

“Thank you” Kore choked out, tentatively glancing up at him as she stood to her feet.

He straightened his back and looked around the room awkwardly, their gazes catching each-other for a brief respite before they both glanced away again. “It is I who should thank you, but there are no words in this world to express the light you bring into my life.”

She flushed in place, as did he - mierda, he must have been reading too many romance novels, what in the Maker’s name possessed him to say that?! Of course, Spite snickered, despite the words belonging to Lucanis and Lucanis only.

Kore slipped her feet into the oversized slippers, fidgeting with her scarred fingers in front of herself. “You always say the sweetest of things, and I always fail to reciprocate, despite wishing nothing more…” she mumbled, reaching a hand up to nervously play with her hair. “You have done more for me than you know” she breathed, slowly clenching her hand, steadying her voice. “You do not only bring darkness, Lucanis.”

The exhale was louder than he intended, blinking rapidly as he tried to process her words. Unsure of what to do with himself anymore, he glanced at their empty coffee cups, scrambling to his only saving grace, but she was faster.

“Coffee? I’ve… missed it terribly.” 

The honey in her voice wrapped him in the sweetest trance. She couldn’t get enough of the longing in his eyes, the gravelly sound of his voice reminding her of the oddly comforting feel of wet coffee grounds sticking to her fingers. “As have I.”

He gave her a charming smile, throwing a towel over his shoulder. She watched him roll his sleeves up with a tilt of her head, curving her lips and following behind him, doing the same with a giggle as she relished the sound of his voice again. “Coming right up.”

[wolfmoonwildflowers]

Patron of the Arts

For Viago Week 2025 Day 4 Prompt: Music or Arts/Dancing

Thank you so much to the lovely folks over at @viagoweek for doing this event!!

Go read all of the lovely works people have done for these prompts!

- Rating: Explicit

Named!Rook x Viago de Riva

Read the full thing on ao3!

WC: 3,542

-

“You lack imagination,” he decides. His fingers peel away from her jaw and he kisses the place where each of them had been before starting another descent. “Tell me, tesoro mio, am I a man who does things by halves?”

“No,” she whispers.

“No,” he agrees, flingers slipping under the hem of her top.

[clodicious]

Don't know what to write!

Right now, I'm between:

-'Rockin' your world': Second part of Emmrook date. Jazz club and maybe...a makeout 👀

-'At Death's Reach': Emmrook giving each other lusty looks from afar among other watchers who doesn't know. Myrna who knows: 🤦‍♀️

They don't know either:

[itsrainingpandas]

Seven Places To Kiss in the Lighthouse

A Rookanis Fic

(Listen, this is entirely self-indulgent fluff. There's no plot, no growth. Just Rook and Lucanis making out like teenagers whenever they have the chance.)

Chapter Two: The Labratory

"I'm sorry I yelled at you,” he offered uneasily, not looking at the demon. Their relationship had improved, it was true, but apologizing to the spirit that had taken over his life, even if forced, still felt strange. Spite was quiet for a moment. “We shouldn't hide Rook...You hide too many things.”

[gingervitus]

Crushed or Minced: a Rookanis Post-Canon Drabble

Here is part one of my contribution to @thedissonantverses Writing Challenge Weekend prompt which you can find here.

I watched this tiktok and have been thinking a lot of Ella and Lucanis post-canon lately. So here's what I did (Davrook with Rook talking about another one of her worst jobs coming soon. This was just done first.)

I rolled yellow, rustle, and bottle to start but added a couple other words as well.

The very best part of a job going off without a hitch has always been the celebration. As Rook. As Ella. As a no name orphan from Rivain. It doesn’t matter, never has. Success is meant to be enjoyed in some way or another, so when she receives word from Isabela that the raid on an abandoned castle deep in Nevarra went off without a hitch, she has no choice but to indulge in a bottle of particularly expensive whiskey.

A part of her misses her days with the Lords. Traversing far off lands. Delving into dungeons. Unraveling twisted tales of nobles. Returning artifacts to their rightful places. Following the endless chase for gold and glory. However, as she sips her whiskey, leaning against an open doorway that overlooks Rialto Bay, she can’t say she misses the constant movement and frequent danger that came along with that lifestyle. Semi-retirement seems to suit her just fine. 

Consulting from time to time with the various guilds within Thedas is enough these days. Mostly, she corresponds with the Lords through Isabela or Taash, looking to map out a dungeon expedition or strategize weaseling their way into a noble’s inner circle. She has received a request here and there from the Crows. Mostly from Teia and the occasional very begrudging Viago looking to map out a complex infiltration and requiring a second set of eyes. The Threads or Shadow Dragons periodically will write to her to get her thoughts on leads they’ve received through unnamed sources. A Grey Warden (or two… or three) often wants to pick her brain with regard to mapping out a siege of an abandoned village filled with lingering Darkspawn. 

She smiles against the rim of her glass, knowing full well this is more than enough for her at this point in her life. A taste of the adventure she’s known for so much of her life will suffice now. Comfort and peace have been waiting in the wings for her for many years, and she is finally able to reap their rewards.

Inside the house, there is a quiet rustle, much like paper crinkling and tearing. “This is a bulb of garlic.” The voice is deep and gentle and familiar, causing her smile to grow and her heart to skip a beat. She glances over her shoulder to find Lucanis standing at the kitchen island, rolling a whole bulb of garlic with the ball of his hand to loosen the cloves. A chubby hand reaches out to grab a flake of discarded skin quicker than he is able to stop his movements. “Ah, ah, que asco!” Before the papery skin can be deposited into a mouth glistening with drool, he catches a tiny wrist. “That is not good to eat, mi cielo.”

Pale blue eyes stare up at him, curious and maybe a bit perturbed at his scolding. Rook watches the pair intently with a set of eyes to match the smaller pair watching Lucanis carefully move the garlic skin out of reach. The baby sits comfortably against his forearm and rests at his hip, adorned in a light yellow cotton dress to give some comfort in the summer haze that has begun to set over Treviso. “This is what we look for,” he continues as he plucks three cloves now loose from the bulb to place on the large cutting board before them. Small neck craning to look up at him, a headful of black curls tosses around as the child shifts against him. “Bellara may tell you mincing is preferable, but we know better.” 

Moments go by every now and then where she feels like she’s peering in on an intimate moment she isn’t meant to see. Watching a father and daughter quietly prepare a meal together falls into that category until it quickly dawns on her that, despite everything, she’s supposed to see this. Watching her own family interact is something that she should witness. That he would want her to be seeing. Observing a one-sided conversation that they both worked to create. 

“Crushing the garlic allows for more flavor to be released,” he explains while grabbing the handle of a large kitchen knife, resting the blade atop the clove. “Which is exactly what we are looking for.” The palm of his hand lines up and then comes down onto the side of the knife with a thud, an act Rook herself has experienced many times before… much like the mincing versus crushing argument between Lucanis and Bellara. Before she is able to make a comment about the longstanding disagreement between friends, a raucous giggle cuts through the room. Their daughter vibrates with laughter beside him, eyes trained on the knife. He stares back down at her with one brow raised. “Really?”

Resetting with a single hand takes him longer than Rook recalls him prepping to cook. Many times, she would find herself with piles of missives in front of her while she sat at the edge of the table in the dining hall. The rhythmic thud of the knife was therapeutic while she attempted to make her way as a leader against blighted gods. Over and over as he sliced through peppers, onions, mushrooms, whatever they had been able to get their hands on, she wouldn’t even notice when it ceased. Not until a piping hot cup of tea and a plateful of food materialized in front of her at least. 

His hand hovers over the knife that now sits upon another clove of garlic. The palm slaps the broad side of the blade once more, though he doesn’t remove his gaze from the baby. Amusement shines bright in the umber of his eyes as another fit of laughter bubbles from the baby’s belly. “Why?” he chuckles. It is less of a question than it is a flabbergasted response. The newly crushed garlic is moved to the far side of the cutting board before placing the last clove onto the surface. 

This time, he moves with haste, hand grasping the handle of the knife and then slamming his hand onto the blade. When the child dissolves into a fit of giggles this time around, he joins her, unable to allow her to enjoy the odd humor alone any longer. The corners of his eyes crease with the broad grin that has spread across his lips. Their laughter fills the air all the way to the ceiling and rings out through the open door that Rook watches them from. “You are ridiculous, tontita,” he laughs. 

Ridiculous she may be, but he watches the little girl with an adoration he shares with very few. With a joy that many people never thought possible from him. 

And Rook, while still observing them silently from the back door, is thrilled to share in such unbridled glee.

I've been laughing about that baby laughing at garlic crushing for the last couple of hours tbh.

[alpaca-clouds]

Old Depts & New Beginnings [Neve & Rook Hurt/Comfort]

The Day 02 story for @veilguard-appreciation-week, this time with the Waves prompt. :P

Old Depts & New Beginnings

Fandom: Dragon Age - The Veilguard Relationship: Rook & Neve Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It has been three months since the gods were slain, but Thel knows, that Neve has not quite forgiven him yet.