#Hide your wyverns/dragons!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the treacherous tyrant

the wistful wyvern, chapter three

a/n: I'm just gonna take this moment as an excuse to say that if you haven't yet checked out the info or maps about this world i've created, then i highly recommend you do, it'll make it much more fun, for example when we hop around from place to place in this one? you can spot on the map where we are.

summary: halting a moment, he turned to tug your horse’s reins out of your grasp and let her stand on her own, “look, just follow my lead,” before he turned with the expectancy of you shadowing him, “I have a plan.” 

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity

word count: 1374

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist

masterlist | join my taglist

“What is it?” you asked when Bucky suddenly leapt off his horse and kneeled down to investigate a spot on the dusty path that split the treacherous terrain. 

“…boot marks…” he mumbled, “fairly recent too…” 

It had been a week or so that you’d been stuck trying to navigate through the jagged landscape of The Asadånie Mountains. From climbing rocky hillsides to the crumbly trail you now followed, it had been hard to know if you were making any headway at all or simply walking in circles. 

Straightening back up to his full height, you slid off your horse as well just as a low rustling noise, from further up where the path curved, found both your alert ears. 

Swiftly, you rushed in behind the tall shrubs that grounded the thin pine trees that shot up towards the blue skies above the mountains. 

The bigger of the peaks before you appeared to open up into a dark cave. In the mouth of it, posted just outside, stood three figures that sent a chill down your spine. 

Silently nudging the knight hiding beside you, his eyes too grew wide with recognition of the uniforms they wore. 

“What are Oblén soldiers doing up here in the mountains?” he whispered, sharing a glance with you before you turned your gaze back to the guards. 

A fourth figure then appeared, marching out of the cavern and prompting the other warriors to go rigid at his presence. 

“Commander Abbot,” one of the soldiers addressed the man clad in gilded armour, “did it go as planned?”

“Well, I still have my head, you idiot,” he rolled his eyes, “so yes, it went as well as it could.” 

“So, The Treacherous Tyrant is agreeable to the king’s orders, then?” one of the others asked as their commander began to walk away from the grotto, the guard’s feet slightly shuffling to keep up, “will he strike again before next full moon?” 

“As long as we keep his dearest safe, then he will continue to do as the king commands.” 

You both stood frozen, hidden behind the flora as the soldiers from the southern kingdom passed, scarlessly even breathing at all before they were long gone. 

“The dragon’s in cahoots with them?” you uttered as you guided your horse back up onto the narrow path, “how is that even possible?”

With his gaze low to the ground, Bucky then mumbled, “The Treacherous Tyrant… I’ve heard that before… what was it…” he shut his eyes a moment, “Farrowghol,” his vision blinked open once more as he remembered, “Farrowghol, The Treacherous Tyrant.”

“Holy fuck…” you shuttered, unable to stop the terror that began to rain down upon you as you stared over at Bucky and saw the wheels in his brain still turning. 

“They mentioned something about keeping something dear to him safe?” his features crinkled up in thought before unfurling with clarity, “oh, what if–…” and before he could finish his own sentence, share his brilliant idea with you, his feet began to move. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I have a feeling,” he began to walk towards the cave entrance, “something’s off.”

“You have a feeling? You’re gonna go get flambeed based on a fucking feeling?”

Halting a moment, he turned to tug your horse’s reins out of your grasp and let her stand on her own, “look, just follow my lead,” before he turned with the expectancy of you shadowing him, “I have a plan.” 

“Fuck your plan!” you screeched, standing your ground, “I’m not going in there!”

But as you watched him get swallowed by the darkness of the cave, only a few seconds passed by before a sharp curse burst out of you and you reluctantly followed him inside. 

Catching up to him, the dark tunnel soon unfolded into a vast and echoing grotto. Stalagmites burst up from the rocky floor and surrounded various mountainous boulders that might have crashed from parts of the caved-in ceiling where light now streamed in through the cracks and lit up the dim interior. 

For a moment, you thought perhaps the beast had flown away right before you’d entered the cavern.

But that moment didn’t get to linger for long as one of the enormous silhouettes you’d assumed was just another boulder began to move. 

The deep growl that then rumbled throughout the lair caused the small rubble on the ground to vibrate around your boots. 

Its scales were such a murky brown that it nearly looked pitch black, and as it reflected in the rays of light gushing in from above, an opalescent sheen glistened on its hide at its movements as its head unfurled, towering above you and eclipsing the low light before its wide jaw unhinged and a smouldering glow began to appear in the back of its throat. 

Throwing an arm around your waist, Bucky yanked you with him as he ducked behind a nearby boulder just before the monster began to spew fire at you. 

As flames licked up the sides of the rock, the view of them cresting over the top caused you to curl further into Bucky’s side. 

But when the dragon paused a moment, reeling before another go, the man beside you unexpectedly yelled, “we’re here to help!”

Shooting a glare up at him, “what the fuck, man?” you cursed in a hushed tone, “what are you doing? Shaking its hand and offering it a fucking pint?”

The leviathan’s booming rumble then invaded the entire cavern, “Farrowghol doesn’t need the help of wheezily little insects,” his heavy stride shook the space as he circled you like a large cat ready to pounce on their prey. 

“King Ivan has something you love,” Bucky bellowed, “we can get it back for you!” 

Farrowghol then suddenly halted, the entire cavern growing dead quiet. 

“That’s why you’re doing their bidding, correct?” Bucky went on, “they took something from you?” he then shifted, slowly sliding his crossbow off his back, “you can trust us. See?” he tossed the weapon off to the side for the beast to spot, “you and I, we share the same enemy.”  

Squeezing your eyes tightly shut, you thought for sure the dragon would let you feel his wrath once more, but instead, his deep roar resounded once more. 

“Not something,” he corrected, “someone.”

“A person?” Bucky carefully stepped out, leaving your hidden frame still in his eye line as he faced the beast with his palms raised up high. 

“My kin,” the dragon bellowed, “that’s who he has imprisoned. Ready to crush each and every one of them if I don’t obey. They’re hidden deep within his walls, in a chamber made entirely of hellstone,” he spoke of the rare material, which was the only thing known to be able to withstand the obliterating breath of a dragon, “I could never reach them, even if I tried, and I have.” 

“We can get them back!” Bucky promised, “set you free from the king’s control!” 

You couldn’t help but tremble as the beast's words shook the lair once more, “I lost my mate aeons ago… Those eggs are all I have left,” he shared hesitantly, “if something happens to them,” he warned with a crackle that raised the temperature a significant amount, “I will burn down everything you hold sacred.” 

“Sounds fair enough,” your fellow warden nodded tensely, “and if we do this, you’ll hold out on their commands of attack?”

“You have one lunar cycle,” he slowly settled, “if my kin have not returned to my cave within that time, I will not hesitate to strike.”

When you finally exited the cave and the bright sunlight once more licked at your skin, Bucky’s tense shoulders dropped back down with a long exhale, whereas yours, on the other hand, did not. 

“Alright,” he muttered, passing you as he briskly walked up to where your horses were still waiting, “so we just break into the palace in Ingorn. The chamber, it’s probably like a vault or something? That can’t be too hard, right?” 

Trailing behind him, you breathed, “no, it is…” before halting your step completely as you sighed, “fuck…” staring daggers down at the ground as you then uttered, “I have to go speak to my father.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[the-kr8tor]

Hi! I hope you're well! I've got a bit of a request (maybe? idk can be whatever u want it to be:D) So- R recently has had their wisdom tooth removed, and I think you've seen how people get so loopy afterwards. I think it'd be hilarious writing Hobie trying to keep a straight face and talk to R rambling on about some random things in the most serious manner he can muster lol

Thank you for requesting! Muah 😘 ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's nervous for no reason, he knows you're alright behind the tooth shaped door but the sound of the drill’s muffled whirring has his spidey senses going haywire. He thinks it's the weird smell of the dentist's office and the stark white of the walls that adds to his anxiety. His leg nervously bounces to the beat of the crappy music that the dentist's assistant keeps playing on loop (torturing him basically.)

He kneads at his temple to get the scraping sound out of his ears, due to his enhanced senses that includes super hearing, he can hear every pull and tug of your tooth, unfortunately. But he thinks you have it worse since you're the one who feels every tug and pull. Or maybe he just hates it when you get hurt, especially if he can't help you or even see you. He curses the tooth shaped door for hiding you from his view. Seriously, who makes a door shaped like that?

With a sigh, the toothy door finally opens, and out you roll out of it in a squeaky wheelchair. Hobie stands up lightning quick to get to your side. The dentist smiles at him with her perfect teeth, hands guiding you out of the sterile room.

“She’s good, don't worry.” The dentist senses Hobie's worry, or she just sees it etched on his face. “Your girl's a bit loopy because of the meds but it'll wear off in a few minutes.”

Hobie kneels down to face you. He almost laughs loudly at your swollen cheek that makes you look like a squirrel that's hiding its nuts inside its mouth. He rubs your knee softly to wake your foggy self based on how glossy your eyes are. Drool drips from the cotton in your mouth and he swears he almost loses it right there and then.

“Hi, love, ready to come home?” Hobie smiles softly like he usually does when he finds you endearing. Despite all the bloody saliva dripping out of your mouth.

“Hat?” You ask, voice murmured by the cotton. Hobie guesses you said ‘what?’ instead of asking for his invisible hat.

Raising your hand to his face, you give him a good pat on his cheek, you then let out a giggle that sounded more like a cackle. It all makes him raise an eyebrow.

“You gave her the good stuff huh, doc?” He asks, never leaving his eyes off your disoriented self.

The dentist chuckles, “just give her paracetamol for the pain and don't let her eat or drink anything for an hour or two if she can help it.”

“Thanks, doc.” Hobie gives her a polite smile while standing back up to his feet. “Ready to walk with me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows knitted, hands balling at your soft pants. You dressed for the occasion, or rather, dressed down for it. You had the foresight to know that you'll be bleeding all over your clothes right after. Like how you are right now with one of Hobie's old band shirts. He clearly doesn't mind since he owns a hundred like them. But he won't miss the opportunity to tease you about it once you're sober and well awake.

You look at him like he told you the copper you gave him is in a poor state. “I hab boyfriend.”

“I know you do, it's me.” He sees the dentist crack a smile. “Get up, love, you'll kick my arse if we miss your episode.”

“Episode?” You once again ask with wonderment.

“Yeah, that dragon show you like so much. Up you go.”

“Dragons?!” Your voice echoes out in the room, like he just told you dragons are real. You stand up quicker than he thought you could. “Really?” Your question cements what he thinks. “They're dragons right? Not wyverns, they're different creatures y’know.” He tamps down a laugh.

Holding you by your biceps, Hobie flicks his eyes behind you and over to the dentist who just shrugs with a grin. “Her tooth was stubborn. Sorry, I could've given her the lighter stuff but she would've felt it.”

“That's alright, doc, this is how she usually is.” He jokes, which you chortle at. Well at least you recognize humour amidst the fog of whatever concoction the dentist gave you. “Thanks again.” He waves goodbye whilst he guides you out of the clinic.

“Why are you so pretty?” You look at him with sparkling eyes like you're about to cry from his sheer beauty. Tapping his chin, cheek squished against his shoulder, you don't look at where you're walking as you continue to admire him in the sun. “So p-pretty…like a-an angel.”

Hobie does all the walking for you, his arms are looped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the pavement. The tips of your shoes grazes the concrete as you squish his cheeks in your hand, making him pout from your cuteness overload.

“An angel? Just last night you called me a dick for eating your mango.” How could he know you were trying to save it inside the fridge?

You giggle, “mmm, mango.”

“I'll buy you a hundred more if you continue to dote on me.” You two finally make it to the van, he thanks his abilities for not getting winded out by the trek.

You lean back dramatically, making Hobie catch you in his arms. You both look like a cover from a romance novel.

“I can't! I have a boyfriend.” You say with your whole heart, and as serious as you can with your mouth full of cotton.

“Fuckin' hell.” He laughs, lifting you back up before someone in the street sees. “I'll buy you some ice cream if you get in the car. Mango or chocolate flavour?”

“I will,” you poke his chest, “not be,” poke “bribed by you–you stranger!” You poke him several times.

Hobie catches your finger mid poke. Leaning closer to your face, he smells the iron from your mouth. You sniff, moving your head away from him with a pout.

“Love,” he says sweetly, catching the back of your head before it falls further back. Laying his forehead against yours, he gives you a minute to recognize him from his warmth alone. He'd give you forever if he can. Holding your hand, he raises it to his chest, letting you feel the familiar thump of his heart. He remembers that you do it whenever he gets home from patrol. “It's me, yeah?”

Hobie doesn't realize the tears brimming in your eyes. He stands up straight at the sound of your quiet sobbing.

“We're gonna miss the dragons.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, the cotton in your mouth threatens to fall out as you weep in the parking lot with him trying his best to wipe the tears while he coos softly at you.

Hobie definitely has his work cut out for him, now to get you home without crying about dragons or acting like he's kidnapping you. Yet, he'd gladly do it all over again if it's you.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 2: New world same problems /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N meets their leader and get some answers.

Word Count: 3,2K

Warnings: Just some angst and swearing.

Notes: I hate how tumblr posts drafts when you edit them, so we had another leak with this one. Great just great. Also, if you're not getting notified even if you're in the taglist, please let me know!!

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Green liquid dripped from the beast's exposed teeth, as well as the thorns adorned the tail he had placed in front of her as a barrier. They had no way of getting closer to her, the option was either get eaten or get poisoned, if the flowers dying where the liquid touched was any indication of it. 

Cassian knew that too, and he motioned for Azriel to leave his shadows by his side so he wouldn’t scare the female. If he dared turn away from her, he would see that his shadows were already pooled by his feet, calmly resting like they did when no threat lingered around. 

“You’re in Prythian.” Cassian started, hands projecting away from his body in an attempt to appear friendly, voice loud and calm, she had to trust them. His eyes were slightly wide with panic, the monster she called a pet making his bone chill.

“We’re not in Erilea?” The female spoke in clear shock, her eyes squinted as she analysed her surroundings. The city in the back, a bit far away from where she stood now. They wouldn’t be able to call for help quick enough if she and Meraxes decided to attack. The wyvern’s head went forward in motion with her clutching her sword harder and sliding a foot forward, to give her stability to jump on them.

Azriel could almost hear the engines turning around in her head. She had maybe thought this was Wendlyn or some of the other fae territories she hadn't visited yet. And then his ears caught the lack of whispers, not a single word left his shadows, and he dared looking down. They rested peacefully, some strands looking like they were running after others, in a playful game of hide and seek. 

He didn’t know what this could possibly mean. He tried to command them to go after her, some of them darted towards the female, spinning around her calves. She looked down, confusing lacing both of their features. She bared her teeth, sword going down with a low whistle, cutting the shadows connecting them both.

“Keep them away from me.” She barked, and the dragon growled in unison. Now Cassian was 100 percent sure that the monster would do anything to protect its rider, which really complicated things a bit more. 

“We don’t know what this place is, but you’re in the Night Court, in Prythian.” Cassian elaborated, bringing back the attention to him, her eyes scanned his face for any signs that could indicate that he was lying but found none. Rhysand scrapped their mental shields, telling them that Morrigan was going there. 

Y/N watched as a female appeared from the shadows, right in between the two males, eyes of a dark brown and a long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. Mor watched the scene, looking at the female and her companion, eyes sparkling with admiration at the huge thing. 

“Who are you?” She inquired, blue eyes glued to Morrigan’s. Her body was so tense, feeling so rigid, like a band ready to snap. Her eyes glued to the trio in front of her, she wanted to look up, to where that gap had been, spitting her into this unknown land. She clutched her free hand in a fist as a thought took over her head. 

How the hell would she go back home? 

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, forcing the wild waves of emotions that threatened to flood her chest and drown her to calm the fuck down. Never show others that you’re weak, never let them see your emotions, you were born for war, born to be a weapon, act like one. That disgusting voice of the Martron filled her mind and she took a deep breath.

“I’m Morrigan, and I'm here to help.” The two flanked the female and she thought that maybe she was their queen. Steadying her breath, focusing on keeping her wobbly knees from giving out, she spoke. 

“Finally.” She groaned, hand still gripping the sword, but she clicked her jaw, her iron teeth going back inside her gum. “I’m assuming you’re their queen, exactly who I would like to speak to.” She started, but the male covered in red stones laughed, his laughter sounding like thunder. She looked at him with her eyebrows rising to her hairline. 

“Please, never say something like that again or else she will become an even bigger asshole.” Even the quiet male with the shadows smiled at that, a beautiful smile, that once again felt so familiar that her heart ached. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“They wish I was their queen, but do you wish to speak with our leader?” Y/N nodded. “We can take you to him.” She offered. 

“How do i know that the second i let my guard down your two bats won’t kill me and my wyvern?” Azriel watched the beast, finally putting a name to it. His gaze turned back to her, she had a very fair point.

“Because my power is the truth.” The female replied and before she could ask what the fuck that even meant, she continued. “I cannot lie, if I tried I would be in immense pain right now, and I know when others are lying.” She concluded. 

Just like a human King once could, she had heard about the power of the truth, Dorian possessed it even if he thought it was related to his sword. Asterin told her about it, she could almost hear her voice as they reunited around a fire, when she deserted from the Ferian Gap and ran away with the Thirteen to find the Crochans. 

And if she closed her eyes, she could see Asterin smiling at her, telling her to open her heart more, and that she should follow the female. She took another deep breath to steady her heart, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, with a shuddering voice, she spoke.

“Lead the way.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Meraxes’ wings carried her over the city, towards a mountain. She looked down, buildings adorned the streets, people stopped in their tracks, watching with curiosity the winged shadow that crossed just above their heads. A river glistened in the sun, following in the middle of the city until it disappeared between the mountains. Shops everywhere, people buying things, kids laughing and running. She thought of her home, and how hard they were working so they could have something like this to call their own. 

She dreamed of leaving the palace, having a small cabin for her, a garden with a large tree so she could rest by the end of the day, sitting in its shadows and reading her books. A tiny library to store them and a kitchen to perfect her baking skills, she wanted to learn about so much, and have a place to belong. 

She also wanted to learn about gardening, harvesting her own vegetables and fruits to bake fresh goodies, but mostly because she wanted a big flower field, with so many flowers that Meraxes would never get tired of getting to know every single one.

She shook her head, letting those thoughts be carried away with the winds that whipped her hair against her cold face. And as she looked forward again she spotted a residence carved into the mountain, the two winged males flew in front of her, guiding the way. She knew this was probably not the smartest idea, but if she wanted answers, who’s better than the owner of the place?

The males landed on a balcony, and Meraxes did the same, its claws digging into the stone of the mountain, waiting for her to get off the saddle and slide down his leg. Its huge head turned towards something in the distance and she groaned in annoyance.

The males watched her, and they had to hold back a smile as she adjusted her clothes, getting ready to walk forward, just to be brutally shoved by the wyvern’s nose, she almost fell. She turned to him with a death glare, in a staring match like they were having a conversation. 

“Fine!” She gave in. “If they kill me, at least have the decency to take some of your precious flowers to my fucking grave.” The wyvern roared and the whole mountain shook when it flew away. 

“Where is he going?” Azriel asked, eyeing the beautiful creature, its powerful muscles contracting as the wings moved in the sky. Cassian on the other hand was looking at it with worry. Would they really let that dangerous animal fly around as it pleased? 

“There’s no need to worry.” She stopped in front of him. “Meraxes is rather fond of flowers, the only thing he’ll destroy are the poor fields.” She pointed to where he flew in the distance, completely ignoring the city and aiming for the open fields away from the houses. The male with the red stones seemed to relax a bit hearing it. 

“Welcome to the House of Wind then.” Cassian gestured to the open door and she entered, the two following her close. She looked around, dark stone walls, fancy furniture adorning the space that looked like a living room. Hallways leading to hidden rooms and a big fireplace was lit. She noticed that in that room the only door was blocked by the two males, but there were plenty of windows she could jump out if things went south. 

Power lingered around the room, darkness sweeping in the corners of her mind. From the corner of a room a male appeared, he had violet eyes and dark hair, pointy ears peeking from his hair and a very tired expression. He looked just like her. 

Y/N hissed, her claws and teeth ready to attack, she backed away, her back hitting the hard chest of the Shadowsinger. The feeling of her tensed back pressed against his front, and the fact that she didn’t even realise what she had bumped into sent a wave of electricity zipping through his body. Her smell hit his nose, he had never smelled something like her before, but it somehow felt so familiar that he almost lost himself in it. She smelled like a rainy day with a tint of red wine, completely addicting. 

She felt the wall behind her back, not daring to take her eyes away from him, feeling her chest move with rapid breaths, she was trapped there with that demon. By the amount of power she could feel, and the slight scrape in her mental shields, she knew what he was before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me out, Valg scum.” She spat, anger lacing her tone. She didn’t have fire magic, but removing his head would be efficient too, even if she had to use her teeth to rip through the skin. The male looked at her confused. 

“This is our High Lord, Rhysand.” Azriel spoke from behind her, she turned her head to see him standing there, golden eyes fixed on hers, his figure towering hers, and as much as the idea of killing him made her feel weird and made her chest heavy, she would have to start with him if she wanted to kill the valg standing in front of her. 

“I don’t care about his name, I know what you are.” Not again, the horrors the Valg had done to her people, she had seen the witches being used to breed their babies. She stepped forward, to create some room between her and the male behind her. But now she was trapped with the three circling her, she cursed under her breath. 

“I won’t harm you.” Rhysand approached, she was clearly distressed, he could smell her nervousness, the anger boiling in her veins. Her eyebrows were furrowed, a defensive stance. She reached for her sword, prompting Azriel to reach for his dagger and Cassian for his sword too. “I don’t know what a Valg is, but I can assure you, I'm half fae and half illyrian.”

“Funny, Maeve also claimed she was a fae, but she was a fucking Valg Queen. Do not get closer to me if you don’t want to get impaled by my sword.” Nothing she said made sense.

“I’m not Valg or anything.” He started, hands lowering in the air to tell the illyrians to lower their weapons, this would only make her more nervous. 

“Prove it.” She challenged him.

“How?” He inquired, rubbing his temple in a tired motion, he had dealt with so much today, all he wanted to do was to be by his mate and son’s side. 

“Just a small cut, Valgs bleed black, like the putrid beings they are.” The two males behind her shared a look, he wouldn’t do it, would him? 

“Then do it, to prove that I'm speaking the truth.” He extended his arm to her, Y/N grabbed his wrist harshly with one hand, with the other, she dragged her iron claws along his skin, he winced, but red blood started to leak from the cut. “See? Not black.”

She immediately relaxed, letting him go. It didn’t make any sense, he looked so much like her, their powers almost the same. Her shoulders slumped and she let out a shaken breath, those emotions threatening to spill once more. She sheathed her sword back into place and closed her hands in fists to ground her, iron claws digging through the flesh, the pain helped her to stay in reality and keep her emotions controlled. 

Azriel smelled the faint metallic scent of blood, his eyes immediately drawn to her clenched fists, a tiny trail of blue blood slided down her hands and he had to hold himself from grabbing her hands and make her stop, the feeling in his chest of seeing her in such distressed state was strange, he couldn’t tell what he was feeling and this made him confused, he hated not knowing what to feel or say. 

“Please, have a seat, we have a lot to talk about.” Rhys gestured towards the comfortable couch in front of her and she sat, before her knees failed and she fell to the ground.

“I suppose we do.” It was only then that he noticed that despite speaking their language, she had a thick accent to it, one he had never heard before but  he liked it very much, and the Shadowsinger found himself wanting to hear more of it. 

“Let’s begin with simple questions. I’m Rhysand, these are Cassian..” He gestured to the male with red stones and longer hair, he nodded his head towards her. “And this is Azriel.” Azriel, she repeated inaudibly, wanting to test the words in her mouth, the name lighting something within her. 

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Blackbeak.” She introduced herself. “And that was Meraxes, my wyvern.” If she wanted them to help her, she would have to give them information, those kinds of things only worked with trust as Sorrel once told her. The male nodded.

“Where are you from?” She clearly wasn’t from Prythian or any land they knew, and Rhysand had a vague memory crossing his mind, the shooting star, the different smell and his power hitting it, slowing it down. 

“The Witch Kingdom in Erilea. I’m an Ironteeth witch.” It all made sense then, the claws and the teeth she had. Interesting. 

“We have never heard of such a place, how did you get here?” Rhysand asked, saying he was confused was a nice way to put it, he was completely lost. 

“I was having a beer with Fenrys..” She stopped, in a swift motion she was standing, like she could go back to him, she knew he would be looking for her soon, he had lost so much, she didn’t want to add more to his suffering. “Oh Mother, poor Fenrys.” She spoke to herself, slumping back in her seat.

 Azriel watched the scene, the male’s name making him puff his chest and take a deep breath. Cassian looked over at his brother and if he didn’t know any better, he could swear that Azriel was jealous. 

“They said I was being called to deal with the gap, so I flew there with my alliance. I got there and this slit was there, it felt like it was calling me, sunlight peeked through it. I got too close and when I opened my eyes again I was in that field and the gap was gone.” Rhysand didn’t know what this meant, a gap that made you travel to another world?

“So you didn’t come here because you wanted to?” She scoffed.

“Well, i was dealing with a lot of shit, but i don’t think  jumping to another fucking world would solve any of them, so no, i didn’t came here because i wanted.” Sarcasm laced her tone and she crossed her arms over her full chest. “I just want to go home, they need me there.” She said, and she wasn’t sure if it was to convince them or herself, she shoved the thought in the darkest corner of her mind, not wanting to think about it right now. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you, we have no idea how to send you back, but you can stay here while we figure it out.” Rhys offered and she nodded, she didn’t have anywhere else to go anyway. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” She felt her head throb and the scar itchy, she looked around and caught Azriel staring at her, his eyes glued to the scar on her face, she cringed in her seat, trying to resist the urge to hide whenever someone stared for too long. 

“You’re welcome.” He turned to the males. “Az, can you show her a room?” His tired eyes made Azriel accept. He started to walk and he heard her getting up to follow him when Cassian cleared his throat.

“HEY.” They all turned back to him. “Aren’t we discussing the most important matter?” Azriel watched as she tilted her head to the side, in a really cute way.

“What matters, Cassian?” Rhys sounded tired, he just wanted to go home.

“What does that thing eat?” Y/N looked at him, what if they didn’t have sheep for him? His favourite food. 

“Firstly, he’s not a thing, do not talk about Meraxes that way.” She warned, those strangers wouldn’t treat her baby that way. “Secondly, he loves sheep, as long as you guys have it, he will be fine.” Cassian cracked a smile.

“I wasn’t expecting sheep to be his favourite meal, I was guessing on innocent screaming people.” She rolled her eyes trying hard not to smile. 

“Nah, they make him throw up.” And with that, leaving an astonished Cassian behind, she followed the Shadowsinger. 

They walked in silence, she felt her chest heavy and all the events of the day weighing on her, she had her control slipping through her fingers, and when Azriel opened a door to a bedroom, she ran inside, knuckles turning white as she held the wooden door.

“If you need anything, my room is on the other side of the hallway, " he pointed to the door in front of her.

“Thank you, Azriel.” His name on her tongue sounded divine. She closed the door with a loud thud, leaving him standing on the other side, his shadows wanting to reach out for her from under the door, but he held them close to him.

She felt the room spinning, her breath getting stuck in her dry throat, and when everything finally sunk in, the dam broke.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16

@just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace

@asterinblacksword @tsumudoll @georginat12 @skyjasper @anuttellaa

@willowpains

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hey! This is a little silly but I have a request. One of my mutuals had her birthday a few days ago, but I had no time to prepare anything for her (the little shit literally told me just YESTERDAY, yeah, still mad at that one). Since your work is amazing, may I request a oneshot/headcanons (whichever you want) based on her post? (https://www.tumblr.com/lumar014ad/736193443690430464/imagine-that-youre-a-druidwizardwarlock-with-a)

Sorry if it's too personal, I just want to do something nice for her and this is the only thing I can think of. Thanks for hearing me out anyways :)

Hi! Thank you for your request! I usually do requests in the order I get them but since it's a special occasion I be like (quote) "How could I say no?"

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Tav!Cat Owner

As long as you can remember, you've loved cats.

Some may say, they are lazy assholes no one would want to have, but you disagree.

Cats are independent. They require unconditional love. If a cat loves you, it means a lot.

Unfortunately, the life of an adventurer isn't good for cat. A dog? Maybe, but cats need a stable home.

But cats choose their owners, not the other way around.

A tiny kitten, only three weeks old, yells desperately in the sewers. The second the findling is put on the ground, he climbs you and purrs.

"Well, I suppose, now you are mine."

Black and fluffy, but fierce. You call the little guy "Wyvern". Wyv, for short.

But the moment you put Wyv inside your travel jacket, you are kidnapped by the Mindflayers.

Shocked and scared, you make sure they don't notice the kitten, hiding him under your shirt.

You search your way to freedom. The kitten stays quiet all the time.

But hissing violently when he senses the danger ahead.

He somehow survives the fall with you but he looks at you with this face "wtf, I just wanted to be safe."

But Wyv, surprisingly, likes living on the road with you. He sits in your jacket or on your shoulder causing loud "awwwws" from strangers.

"This is Wyvern! I found him in the sewers!"

"Did you toss a coin to choose this name for a cat?" Astarion isn't impressed but even he admits the cat has a temper of a dragon.

As for Astarion, he loves cats. But animals fear the Undead. Especially cats since they can smell the reek of death.

But to his own surprise, Wyvern doesn't mind Astarion's company.

More than that, he constantly tries to sit on the vampire's shoulder or just yells until Astarion takes him in his cold hands.

"Please, Tav, take your animal back. He screams like a drunk goblin"

"Because he is hungry", you shrug. "Oh come on! Do me a favor - I feed you every night, you can manage to feed my cat!"

For some unknown reason, Wyv wants Astarion's attention - and even sleeps in his tent.

One evening, you notice Astarion meditating while the cat is purring loudly on his chest. Astarion's face is peaceful and you know this night won't bring him nightmares.

You see it as a sign. You were hesitant to suggest sharing the tent together but since Wyvern has already moved there why not follow his example?

And you can't stop thinking about that Astarion and Wyvern have very much in common.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part five

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, incest jokes

Word Count: ~5.8k 

A/N: all of your support with this little series means the world to me and is incredibly motivating! thank you so much. if anyone wants to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

series masterlist

“Only princesses live in castles all the time.” 

Rowan leaned against the wall, right next to the door, admittedly eavesdropping on your conversation. He’d intended to come talk to you, to see Ceri before bed, but now his heart is sinking. You’d only had this conversation with them yesterday, and insisted you speak to her first. Better sooner rather than later, he supposed. More time to figure out a plan. 

“Some of the guards live here as well,” you countered, “and healers.” 

A small pause. Then a sniffle. Gods, was she crying? 

“Do we have to?” 

Rustling and movement. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“So I don’t have to study maths anymore?”

A huff of a laugh, and then a giggle from Ceri. “Maths are important.” 

“You hate them.” He pressed his lips together to muffle his own laugh. Footsteps, and the door swung open. 

You looked exasperated, at him, but he knew you’d already scented him - Rowan wasn’t doing anything to hide his scent. 

“They’re still important,” you stepped aside to let him in, sending a pointed glance his way, “right?” 

His mouth tilted up at one side, “right.” 

A groan came from Ceri, then she was flying across the room, he braced himself as she flew into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. Absent-mindedly, he ran his hand over her back. 

“A story?” She tilted her head up at him, eyes pleading. Rowan nodded, and let her lead the way back to her room. They’d offered several other rooms, but Ceri always insisted on staying in the same one. At least it was semi-close to theirs.  

“What kind of story do you want?” He asked, leaving the door slightly ajar. He already dreaded the day she’d stop asking for them. 

“Wyverns,” Rowan blinked. Usually it was Dragons, and he’d tell her about a sea dragon. Lysandra was thrilled the first time she heard about it. “The ones the witches ride,” she added, as if exasperated he didn’t know. That’s what they had in history books now, or taught in lessons. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. 

Rowan threw together a story, from what he could remember, of Abraxos and Manon, carefully avoiding

what happened to the rest of her coven. 

As he reached the end, he was grateful her eyes started to droop, he was struggling to throw things together.  

“I want to ride a Wyvern. I want to be a witch.” 

Rowan was less grateful, his heart caught in his throat. She fell asleep before he could explain someone was born a witch, or that there’s no way in hell she’ll be getting within a hundred feet of a Wyvern. Most of them were not like Abraxos.

The door clicked shut gently behind him, and he found you, book propped up in one hand, cup of tea in the other. He settled in the armchair across from you, closing his eyes and kicking his legs out in front of him. 

A wyvern. He needs to be more careful about the stories he tells. 

Peeking his eyes open, he saw you close the book, gently tossing it to the side. No bookmark, he winced. 

“Do you remember the page?” 

“It wasn’t that interesting,” you muttered, hissing as you took a sip of your tea. Too hot. He didn’t think before he cooled the drink, just enough to be drinkable. Your eyes shot up in surprise, glancing between it and him. “Thank you,” you sounded a bit confused, but kept drinking the tea anyway. Confused he’d done something like that? He used to, all the time. Maybe you didn’t expect those sorts of things from him anymore, but he could easily change that. 

“Our daughter wants to ride a Wyvern,” not mentioning the part about wanting to be a witch as well. 

Jolting, the tea sloshed over the sides of your mug, landing on your pants, but you didn’t look away from him as the cup clanked on the side table. 

“Wyverns?” you choked. 

“She asked for a story,” he defended himself. 

A laugh, an honest and deep laugh left your chest, “If she manages to bond with one of them, she would’ve earned the right.” 

“You’re supposed to say it’s a bad idea,” he tried to scowl, but your laughter was infectious, and his mouth curved at the corners. 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” 

“Exactly. Silence is agreement” 

“Depends on the situation,” biting the inside of your cheek, you curled your legs up under you, snatching your mug again, wiping the small droplets of liquid off with the inside of your sleeve, expression straightening back out. He missed the smile. 

“I’m assuming you heard our conversation.” 

“I did,” a cautious answer, waiting to see if you’d snip at him for eavesdropping. 

“If I didn’t want you to hear, I would’ve stopped speaking,” you read through his lack of words. 

“I still want both of you to move in here,” he didn’t know what else to say, but made sure a small shield of wind would hide this conversation from small ears. 

“I’m not the one you need to convince,” hands clenched around the mug as you took another sip, tongue darting out to catch the drop gathering on your lip. He swallowed, for a reason he should not be. Not that Aelin hadn’t shown  … Rowan shoved that thought deep, deep down. Not the time. Would it ever be a good time? “I’m not sure what else I can tell her,” you continued, thankfully ignorant to his inner thoughts. 

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he forced the words out. Your hand covered a yawn, giving him a good reason to excuse himself, making it down the hall before he braced a hand against the stone, letting the rough material center him. 

-

It had been somewhat of a disaster, Rowan bringing up Ceri and you moving to the castle. She’d outright refused at first, and still refused by the end of the conversation, but a little less vehemently. Not enough to bring her hope, but she knew Rowan was still thinking through ideas. Sure enough, Ceri had quickly changed the subject, and Aelin found herself on the receiving end of one of her difficult questions. 

“Why do they call you Gods-Killer?” Ceri asked casually, and Fenrys choked. 

“Because I killed some of the gods,” Aelin answered. It wasn’t the whole story, but that’s all she needed to know for now. If Ceri asked some day, when she was much older, maybe she’d tell her more. But a ten year old doesn’t need to know that. 

“Why?” 

“They killed someone I cared about very much,” Elena was already dead - but Deanna had taken away her chance of an afterlife, “and broke promises.” 

“Good,” Gods, she really is so much like her father. And maybe more like her mother than either of them know. “So,” Ceri sat down her fork, and Aelin already didn’t like where this was going, “if someone breaks a promise, I can kill them.” 

“No,” you said quickly, eyes wide, “those were very different circumstances.” 

“Fenrys said we could have dessert first.” 

“I did not,” the male immediately countered. 

“You did,” Ceri shot back. 

“I said the day you can beat me, we’ll have dessert for breakfast.” 

“You didn’t say what I had to beat you in.” 

A groan from the male. “In. A. Fight,” he clarified, avoiding yours and Rowan’s gaze. 

Aelin watched as you leaned back, head tilted up towards the ceiling. Maybe praying for mercy, maybe cursing Fenrys - especially as a challenge gleamed in Ceri’s eyes. 

“There are laws against murder,” Rowan steered the conversation back. 

“When is murder allowed?” 

Aelin remembered there were few laws against murder with the Fae, but - laws applied equally in Terrasen, regardless of whether someone was Fae, human, or Witch. Rowan, bless him, carefully and thoroughly explained the laws. 

“Murder,” you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, “I don’t know if he’s realized he’s telling her when she can kill.” 

Aelin looked at Rowan, recognized the look in his eyes, “he knows.” 

You turned your head, still resting on the back of the chair, to face her. A long-suffering look on your face. “She takes after her father.” 

“And her mother,” Aelin added without putting much thought into it. You didn’t look convinced, so she kept speaking. “People … are drawn to her, the same way they do you.”

That’s the best way she could describe it, and a faint blush rose on your cheeks as you murmured a thanks. 

-

“It's too big.” 

“You’ve been coming here for months,” you’re not sure why you bothered to point it out, especially when she gave a contemplative pause. 

“But you don’t like it here.”

Too perceptive, she was too damned perceptive. “The castle is fine,” you forced the words, ignoring the conflicted emotions swirling in your chest. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that you'd prefer to live somewhere else. 

“Fine doesn’t mean good.” 

“Then we go looking for houses,” you ran one hand over her hair. “Don’t forget you can change your mind.” 

Ceri nodded, “I know.” 

“Would you like me to tell your father?” 

A scowl. “I’m old enough to do that myself.” 

Thank the gods, you really didn’t want to tell him. “I know,” you repeated her earlier words, hiding your relief. 

“I’m going to wait,”

“It’s your decision,” you murmured, running your hand over her hair again, and she grinned up at you before darting off. 

“What’s the verdict?” Fenrys approached a minute later. 

“Can you keep a secret?” 

He gave you a look that said; blood sworn, like you were an idiot for forgetting that. 

An over-dramatic roll of your eyes. “She hasn’t completely made her decision, but she thinks the castle is too big.” 

“She’s been staying here for over a year.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“What do you want?” He asked instead. For some reason, that surprised you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, even though the heavy coat kept away any chill. 

“Whatever she wants.” 

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms this time. “What if it was your decision?” 

“It’s not,” you said, with a bit more bite than you meant, and shot an apologetic glance at him. He didn’t seem phased. 

“But if it was?” 

You fixed your eyes on the cobblestone directly ahead of you. This was a dangerous question, a topic you’d avoided thinking of or ruminating on. 

“I was never born to live in a castle.” And that’s all you would say on that. Fenrys seemed to sense it, to sense the wall going up. 

“They mean well, but you know Rowan can be a bit stubborn about getting what he wants. So can Aelin.” 

He didn’t fight for you, the nasty voice said. I never wanted him to, you countered. It was a relief he hadn’t. 

“I’m not the one they need to convince,” you watched her climb up one of the trees, trying to get one of her friends to do the same. Another thing you’d noticed about your daughter while staying here, the amount of friends she has. Of course, she has plenty in Caraverre, but other children flock towards her. It’s always been that way. 

“I’m taking you on a night out.” Talk about a subject change. “You look like you need one.” 

“I’m vaguely insulted.”

“No monarchs invited,” he added. The storm had abated, the ‘monarchs’ in question insisted you stay an extra three days, just in case, and you were due to leave in two. The bitter part of you said it was only so they’d have more time to convince your daughter to stay in the castle, but realistically they did have a point, even if that was an underlying intention. Not everything has to be nefarious, you reminded yourself. Sometimes people do things out of genuine care. There’s not always a greater agenda, but in this case … you got the inclination there may be one, but you couldn’t figure out what, and that was going to drive you to the brink of insanity. 

“Tonight,” he added, drawing you from your thoughts. Tonight, meaning in just a few hours. You scowled at him, he’d left you little to no time to find an excuse to get out of it. 

“People go out in this weather?” The bright sun wasn’t enough to melt the snow banks gathered against the walls. 

“They serve alcohol for a reason.” 

He has a good point… and it would be nice to have a night out, a time you could pretend it didn’t feel like your entire world was bending and folding back over again. 

-

Aelin wasn’t jealous, she had no reason to be. Maybe a bit offended that Fenrys had immediately declared ‘no monarchs allowed,’ for your night out. Just the two of you. Rowan didn’t look entirely happy about it either. But, she supposed he was your closest friend in Terrasen. Fenrys liked to boast about it, ever since he learned it pricked at her husband's temper. 

When it came to pissing off Rowan, she was only second to him. Fenrys made it an art form. Still, as she watched you walk out arm in arm with him, she couldn’t help thinking he’d done it to piss off her as well. 

“A night out will be good for her,” Rowan said. 

“And if she decides to spend the night with someone?” She asked, a test. 

Rowan’s face tightened, “then that’s her decision.” 

Aelin frowned, he didn’t pass. 

-

You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun, or when you’d drank this much. Before you became a mother, that’s for certain. Still, you weren’t quite sloppy drunk, but a good bit past tipsy. 

“Your tolerance is shit,” Fenrys commented. 

Poking him in the shoulder, “you’re just as bad.” 

He shrugged, but grinned. At least you were equally as drunk. But, you were a bit peeved. One male had eyed you appreciatively, and even if you wouldn’t do anything about it - the attention was nice. Fenrys glowered at him, and he paled and turned away. 

“Why did you do that?” you huffed under your breath, 

“Do what?” He asked, voice honeyed with false innocence. He yelped as you dug your elbow into his ribs.

“At least my tolerance hasn’t changed.” 

“I haven’t changed,” it was an obvious lie, and you both knew it. You’d realized a few seconds too late he wasn’t talking about you as a person, just your limits with alcohol - but you’d already opened the floodgates. “Maybe a bit,” you amended. “We both have.” 

He hummed his agreement, “you don’t seem quite as … happy,” he hesitated on the word. 

“I am happy,” there wasn’t a reason to be sad. 

“I didn’t mean that. I meant you’re not as carefree.” 

“Child,” you pointed out. 

“More than that,” he ran a hand over his hair, perhaps a bit too drunk to put his words together. 

The bartender shouted last call, her voice carrying over the crowd, and saving Fenrys from trying to explain himself.

“Another would be a bad idea,” you murmured, but Fenrys was already moving, getting ahead of the crowd, and missing your comment. You followed him, a bit unsteady on your feet. By the time you caught up, he’d already put in the order. For something, but you didn’t particularly care what - as long as it was strong enough to make you forget the last five minutes. 

Fumbling with your pocket, you tried to slide a coin on the corner, but his hand stopped you. 

“Put any coin on that bar and i’ll shove it-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you cut him off, but slid your hand back. 

“We’ll finish the conversation when we’re sober.” 

“We will not.” Fenrys already had that look in his eyes, the one that told you the conversation absolutely would happen. More time for you to prepare, then. “If we remember,” you added. 

“I’ll write myself a note.” 

“Your handwriting is barely legible on a good day.” 

The drinks came by, saving Fenrys again, this time from trying to come up with a witty remark. 

Despite the rather … thought provoking statement he’d made, it didn’t put a damper or shadow over the rest of the night. You took full advantage of the remaining hour, finishing your drink, laughing, singing along to some kind of bawdy song you only knew half of the words too, and all too soon you were saying goodbye to at least seven new friends you made. Could they be considered friends if you’d already forgotten their names? Well, hopefully there would be some friendly faces once you moved here. 

If a night out in Orynth was this much fun, living here couldn’t be that bad. 

-

It’s possible a white-tailed hawk soared above the city around the time the taverns closed, and may have shot back to the castle once he spotted two familiar drunk and laughing Fae stumbling back through the streets. 

Rowan flew through the window, finding Aelin standing, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Really?” She tried to sound disappointed, but looked more amused than anything. 

A flash of white light, and he shifted back. “I needed to check.” 

Aelin raised a brow, “you didn’t need to, they’re both adults.” 

“I wanted to,” he corrected. “Is that a problem?” 

Aelin’s brows lowered, studying him for a few moments, but he held firm. “If I could have, I probably would  do the same thing,” her shoulders rolled back, “shall we greet them?” 

“I want to see just how drunk they are,” her eyes said. He held out his arm in answer. 

-

“Mother and father are here,” Fenrys announced as you entered the wing where your rooms were, just down the hall and around the corner from the Royal suite. Meaning, you usually had to pass by there in order to get to your room. 

“He’s the father of my child,” you frowned. “That’s weird. Incest is weird.” 

Each word began to slur into the other, and you heard a choking noise - but you were focused on Fenrys’s reply. “I suppose we aren’t in Adarlan,” you found some satisfaction that his words were slurred as well. 

“Oh gods,” that was Aelin. 

“Adarlanians,” you sounded out each syllable, “marry their relatives?” 

Fenrys shrugged, like it was a rumor he could neither confirm nor deny. Aelin groaned, and started ushering the two of you back towards your rooms. 

“My rooms are so far,” Fenrys whined - honest to gods whined, but his rooms were all the way down the hall, and around a few corners. For a drunk person, it might as well have been a mile. 

“Crash in mine,” you offered, “there’s a spare room, and a perfectly good couch.” 

“Thank you,” he went to link his arm through yours again, but Aelin beat him to it, turning over your shoulder, you caught Rowan glowering at Fenrys. Why would he glower? It’s not like you were sharing a bed. Why would it matter if you were? There’s nothing between the two of you, besides friendship. Friends shared beds all of the time. 

“I’m a great cuddler,” you said, just to see if they would react. 

“You kick,” Rowan countered. 

“I do not,” you insisted. 

“How would you know?” Aelin decided to cut in, “you’re sleeping.” 

“I’ll find out tonight,” Fenrys added cheerily. 

You could’ve sworn you heard a low growl or two, but you’d already reached the door, fumbling with the handle. You’d put too much of your weight on the door, because as soon as it opened - you went careening towards the floor. Fenrys tried to catch you, only to fall as well, alcohol throwing off his center of balance. 

At least the carpet was soft, you rolled over onto your back, running your hands over it. It was comfortable. 

“I might sleep here,” you sighed, eyes half lidded. Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway, amused at the two of you, and you shot a bright grin their way.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Rowan, the bastard, needs to stop trying to give you orders. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, turning over on your side and tucking one arm beneath your head. Fenrys mirrored your movements, the two of you facing each other. 

A long suffering sigh, from Rowan you thought, and gentle hands were pulling you up to your feet. You swayed back and forth, Aelin holding you steady with a faint smile on her face. 

From the corner of your eye, Rowan was tugging Fenrys up, not quite as gently. 

-

“Be nice to my friend,” you slurred. Aelin was biting her lip to hold back a laugh, and she was grateful Ceri decided to have a sleepover in another wing of the castle. Otherwise, she’d be wide awake right now and witnessing this mess. 

“Hear that Rowan, the lady says be nice to me.” 

Rowan released Fenrys, and the male stumbled back a few steps. She kept her grip on you as you tried to lunge for him. The last thing they need is to drag both of you off the floor again. Without realizing, her arms had wrapped around your shoulders, holding you back in place. When Fenrys caught himself, one hand on the arm of the couch, you sighed in relief, and melted back into her. 

“Time for bed,” Aelin shifted so her arm wrapped around your shoulders instead, leading you off towards the room. Grabbing some night clothes, she offered them to you, trying to shuffle you off towards the bathroom. 

“I think I’ll sleep naked,” you announced. 

“As much as I’d enjoy the view, it’s still a bit cold out,” you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but she’d remember how your cheeks flushed. 

Rowan and Aelin left, only as you fell asleep, alone in your bed - Fenrys already snoring on the couch. 

-

The end of the visit came all too quickly, and for the first time you found yourself looking forward to your return to Orynth. Looking forward to searching for a house on the outskirts of the city. Yes, you didn’t particularly look forward to staying in the castle in the meantime, but you couldn’t deny the city had it’s charm. Rowan and Aelin’s reassurances unlocked something in you. Not a desire to step into the public eye, but to stop avoiding it. If anything happened, you weren’t alone this time. Accepting help wasn’t a weakness. 

Ceri waved as you set off, just around sunrise. In around two or so weeks, you’d be heading back to Orynth. 

Your daughter, however, was currently pouting because you couldn’t ride horseback in this weather, and she didn’t like the carriages. She was mollified by the few books Aelin let her borrow from the Library of Orynth. You had a feeling she just hadn’t informed the librarians they’d be leaving the city.

Tilting your head, you caught part of the title; dragons. “What are you reading?” 

Thankfully, she didn’t look annoyed at your question. Instead, her eyes lit up as she lifted her head. “About last dragons, besides Wyverns,” she flipped the book around to point at a page. A sketch of mountains, you squint your eyes, made of glass with a few dragons circling overhead, one breathing fire into them. You looked further at the book, it was old, by the color of the pages, but well preserved. Maybe with magic. Was this one of the few books that survived the initial siege of Orynth?

“They lived in the Kyzultum Desert. But they were all killed in a war eight centuries ago.” Kyzultum, a desert on the southern continent, far south from Antica. You’d never visited, but always wanted to, to see the glass mountains. “They made mountains out of glass. The book says it’s just speculation, but soldiers from Doranelle hunted the dragons to extinction.” 

A small pain in your heart, for creatures hunted just for their power or because someone viewed them as a threat. Soldiers from Doranelle. You would bet gold marks on who exactly sent that order. 

“Why did they kill them? The book doesn’t say.” 

“Probably from fear.” 

She hummed. “Do you think dragon eggs could survive this long?” 

“I don’t know,” but Gods, if Ceri set her mind to it - she’d find out. And if they could … you started thinking of ways to discourage your daughter from hunting for Dragons. Maybe you’d have to lean on her father for that one. “Giving up on Wyverns already?” 

She scowled at you, drawing a small laugh before she returned to her book. 

-

Rowan was in a pissy mood, and Aelin knew exactly why. Ceri waited until the last night to announce her ‘decision,’ leaving all of them on edge. Then said she wanted to live on the outskirts of Orynth, with a small cottage, a garden, chickens, and a wyvern. Considering how you scowled at Rowan, she knew who you blamed for that idea. Still, they weren’t quite out of time. The two of you would return in around a month, permitting you could sell your house in that amount of time, and still stay in the castle while looking for another home. 

“Y/n didn’t try to sway her decision,” she commented - although Rowan already knew that. You’d decided to stay perfectly neutral. It’s smart, not wanting to get into an argument like that. After all, she’d chosen the same path. “Besides, Ceri might change her mind later.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. 

“So,” Aelin leaned back in her chair, “Wyverns?” 

“She asked for a story about them,” he groused. 

“What did you tell her?” 

“What I know of Abraxos.” As far as Wyvern’s go, Manon’s mount is the exception, and Rowan might’ve given the wrong impression when it comes to the beasts. 

Aelin laughed, “I can’t wait to tell Manon. Already a bedtime story.” She didn’t know if the Witch Queen would be offended or amused. Ceri hadn’t met any of their friends from other Kingdoms, not yet. It would come one day, especially with the move. Would you want to meet them as well? SHe hoped so. 

The little hellion’s presence made Aelin realize she wasn’t quite ready to have more children around. It would come one day, but faced with immortality there was plenty of time. Besides, maybe it was a bit selfish or strange, but she wanted to spend time with Ceri as she grew up, and wanted Rowan to as well. He’d missed out on seven years. 

Aelin always knew he’d be a good father, but seeing it with her own eyes only cemented that. Plus, the rest of the court and castle got to witness a softer side of him. 

“Had y/n already settled when you met her?” 

“No.” 

Gods, going through all of that with a small child. She had hers a few years ago, and it … sucked to say the least. The only plus being some of her magic returned, not quite to what it was before, but still much more significant. 

Rowan had turned back to his book. Another question had lingered in the back of her mind, “What is her magic?” He marked his page, setting it to the side. 

“She has an affinity for raw materials, imbuing them with magic. As far as I know, it’s unique to her bloodline.” 

“What else could it do? Besides what she sells.” Protective wards, enchantments, all impressive. 

“I never asked.” The dagger. Enchanted to leave a mark. Fenrys said she’d paled when she saw it. If it’s unique to her bloodline … maybe the attack wasn’t only meant for Ceri. “What are you thinking?” Rowan interrupted her train of thought.

“You said it’s unique to her bloodline,” Rowan nodded. “The dagger,” he stiffened but she kept going, “she recognized exactly what it was. Why use a dagger specifically meant to leave a mark? Why make a dagger like that?” 

“It’s possible her ancestors made it,” he started, “daggers and knives like that could be intended for different rituals. Using it could’ve been ignorance - or a coincidence.”

Aelin’s mouth tightened. That was a bit too strange to believe. “You know that’s bullshit.” 

“Sartaq hasn’t sent word of anything, there’s not much we can do from over here.” But, Rowan did look unsettled.

“Could anyone else have made it?” 

“She’s better suited to answer that question.” A month from now. Aelin wasn’t particularly patient on a good day, but she’d remember this. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to leave it in the past.” 

“What happened to her parents?” 

Rowan didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but she felt like she needed to know. Like it was relevant. He told her the entire story, not sparing any of the more gruesome details. She read the words in his eyes; I didn’t tell you. If you ever decided to tell her, she’d act surprised. A stone settled in her stomach. You hadn’t just been hiding from Maeve. 

“Then Lorcan hunted the rest of them down.”  

“Who was it, the ones who attacked them?” 

“The last armies of a Kingdom who particularly hated Fae, destroyed on Maeve’s orders.” And her father participated, that much she could put together. “It’s in the past, Aelin,” there was a hint of warning in his tone. To drop it. 

She nodded absentmindedly. If she could find a way to be subtle about it, she’d keep looking into it. 

-

“Leaving already?” One of your neighbors questioned, after you finished showing the house to a young couple - the woman currently at least a few months pregnant, and glowing. You nodded, watching them disappear. “Where to?” 

“To Orynth,” you turned to look at her. A friendly older woman, living a few doors down, who’d greeted you the day after you moved in with a basket of cookies. This neighbor happened to be the mother of the son, currently linking arms with his wife, trudging through the snow. It was a given you’d sell the house to them, if they ended up wanting it. 

“We’ll miss you here, and your little one.” 

“We’ll miss you too,” you murmured, rubbing your arms to stave off the chill. “Want to come in?” It felt right to offer. 

“I’d love to,” her face lit up. Ceri was due back from school in a few hours, and now big enough to walk on her own, although always with a group of other kids. It was a close little community, on the outskirts of the city,  and you really did like it here even if it was a bit … boring. Maybe that’s part of the reason Ceri wanted to move to Orynth. 

The two of you settled in front of the fire, hands warmed by mugs of tea, and you listened to her talk. Her husband - killed by Adarlanian soldiers, her three children - who went to fight in General Ashryver’s legion, the bane, only two returning at the end of the war. 

“Something happier now,” she waved her hand. “What about your family?” 

“It’s just me and Ceri now,” you forced a smile. She gave you a sympathetic look, and although you knew she meant no harm - you wanted to wipe it right off her face. 

“Her father?” There’s the catch. She knew damn well who her father is, the entire town does, and you shot her a look to tell her that. She had the grace to look a bit sheepish, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Can’t help the curiosity,” 

‘Yes you can,’ you wanted to say, but reminded yourself she’d been nothing but kind - and still is, but probably wanted to get in all of the questions she’d been dying to ask before you left. You were aware anything you said now would make its way through everyone else living here. 

“We’re on good terms,” you said firmly. 

“How did you meet?” 

“We knew a few of the same people.” Actually, you’d met at a bar - but she had no business knowing that. An ache started to form between your brows. A few hours passed, conversation thankfully diverting from Ceri’s heritage and into more neutral topics. You found yourself enjoying the company. 

“It takes a strong woman - or female, to raise a child on her own,” a brief haunted look passed through her eyes, and you offered her a tight smile. Her situation had been different, Terrasen being under occupation by Adarlan and all. She blinked a few times, letting out a long breath. “I’m making some meat pies this afternoon, I’ll bring one by.” 

“Thank you,” she stood, and you led the way out the door, walking her down towards her gate. 

Ceri was currently coming down the street, accompanied by a few friends, holding … something in her arms, bundled tightly. When she saw you, she sped up her pace, now almost-running down the street. 

“Look, look,” she said, shifting her arms just enough for you to see what she was holding. A little head peaked up, yellow eyes, then a meow. “She was all alone, I couldn’t find her mother,” Ceri looked up at you with pleading eyes. You ran a gloved hand over the kitten’s back, getting a small purr in reply. Orange. It was rare to find an orange female cat. 

“Let’s get her out of the cold,” a squeal of excitement, and she raced off towards the door.

The two of you bathed her in warm water, and the weird little thing liked it. 

“Are you sure you want to keep her?” You asked, but even if she said no you’d probably insist. One hour, and you were already in love. Sure enough, you were hissed at. Twice. 

“You can be friends with her,” Ceri said, sitting as close to the fire as she could get, the kitten wrapped up in a towel, sound asleep. She was talking about your animal form. A Baast Cat, not a housecat. 

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” you smiled, taking up a seat next to her. That little head poked up again, meowing, before crawling out of the towel. Ceri let her go, choosing to take her mug of hot chocolate from you instead. Carefully, the kitten crawled over onto your lap, small claws digging in. “What should we name her?” 

“Wyvern.” A hiss. Not Wyvern, apparently. Ceri rolled her eyes. She tried out a few different names, but none of them were approved. You’d already noted she was very intelligent, even for a cat, and looked up at you like you were supposed to know the answer. 

“Halle?” you offered, as a half-assed guess. Surprisingly, a small purr came from her, and you ran your fingers through her fluffy fur, watching as she promptly fell back asleep. Like she was waiting for the conversation to be over. 

“Halle’s coming to Orynth with us.” 

“Of course.” You couldn’t leave the newest member of your family behind.

-

taglist: @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae

[writeforfandoms]

The Calling - 1

Find the series masterlist

This will eventually be Frank Woods x f!reader x Alex Mason. It was planned to be Frank Woods x reader but as I started writing it, Frank and Alex insisted on sharing. Menaces.

This is part of the dragon riders AU, but shows a different part of the AU. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.

Warnings: Swearing, yearning, repressed feelings, flirting, some politics, Frank and Alex are menaces of the best variety.

Word count: 1.4k

You tapped your fingers against your thigh absently as you waited, gaze only half-focused on the world around you. Frank and Alex were back earlier than expected, which could be good or bad. 

It was always hard to tell, with those two. 

At least they hadn't come back bleeding this time. 

Two familiar heads of dark hair bobbed into sight, and you blinked the world back into focus. Alex and Frank entered the meeting room together, as usual. Alex nudged Frank with his elbow, and Frank grumbled something and shoved him back. You raised one eyebrow at the pair. Alex grinned at you while Frank just huffed. 

But you didn't have a chance to talk to them, as the other three walked in together. The Primes walked in together, as always, with the Director just behind them. The Director closed the door behind him, giving everyone a moment to sit. 

You already had your chair pulled away from the table, separate from the meeting. A silent observer. You sat quietly, notepad balanced on your leg, prepped to take notes. 

“What have you found?” The Director asked, firm and no nonsense, as always. 

Frank and Alex both straightened, shoulders back, though Alex was the one that answered. 

“Fewer nests than last time,” Alex reported. “Most of the activity we spotted was higher elevation, too.” 

“Higher elevation?” The Prime man, Alistair, asked, leaning forward slightly. “How much higher?”

Alex shrugged. “High enough that it was nearly impossible to get up to them,” he said, speaking slowly. Probably weighing his words, making sure he wasn't being too brusque. “They were still hunting in the valley and the lower slopes of the mountains, but they had moved. We couldn't find any evidence as to why.” 

The Director accepted this, leaning back in his seat. The Primes, on the other hand, exchanged worried looks. You didn't blame them - any change in behavior among the wyverns was… concerning. 

“What else?” The Prime woman, Erika, asked, folding her hands on the table in front of her. 

Frank shrugged. “They're wyverns,” he said, leaning back a little. “They didn't care about much except hunting and fucking.” 

You had to hide your smile, made easier by the fact that you were looking down at your notes. Frank was one of the very few people you knew that dared to use such crass language in front of the Primes. 

“Even so.” She shook her head, dark hair streaked with silver pulled back and gleaming in the light. “I don't like this change.” 

Alex shrugged. “They've changed before. There was that season half their nests were destroyed.” 

“This is different.” But she didn't say more, lips pursing together. 

“This will require more investigation,” Alistair said instead. “We will discuss this matter and inform you when we need you to go again.” 

“In the meantime, you have earned a rest,” the Director cut in. “Dismissed.” 

Alex and Frank both stood, inclining their heads to the three. Alex nudged his foot into yours and, when you looked up at him, nodded to the hallway. You shrugged, and he nodded, taking long strides after Frank. 

You shook your head just a little and looked back at your notes, waiting for the three to decide if they were going to continue their meeting. 

“This change in behavior concerns me,” Erika said softly, brow furrowed. “They do not change their behavior lightly.” 

“Especially not in a year that has been productive,” Alistair agreed. “There is no shortage of food for them, no reason for them to live so high.” 

The Director snorted. “This is not the biggest change we have seen from them,” he dismissed. “So they have gone higher up the mountain. It is no concern of ours why.” 

Alistair and Erika exchanged looks, but you didn't say anything. It wasn't your place. 

“If you're so concerned, we'll send a team to investigate further,” the Director offered, waving one careless hand. “Those two should remain until after the hatching, at least.” 

“Very well.” Erika stood. “Pick your team. I want them ready to go by the morning after tomorrow.” She swept out of the room, Alistair right on her heels. 

You remained seated, finishing your notes. Besides. You knew that the Director would require your help. 

Sure enough, the Director tapped his nails against the table. “I'll send a group of three,” he decided without actually looking at you. “They'll need the usual supplies. I expect it all arranged before midday tomorrow.”

You nodded, accepting that easily. “It will be done,” you agreed. 

“Good. Dismissed.” 

You stood, inclining your head to the Director, and walked out of the meeting room. Fortunately, arranging supplies shouldn't be a problem. It would be nice to know which three the Director was planning to send, so you could be sure to take preferences into account, but maybe you could find out later. 

“Hey.” 

You jumped, startled out of your head by Alex. He and Frank both snickered at you. Not meanly, though it had taken you a while to figure that out. They just didn't have many chances to relax, and this kind of gruff teasing was a way they showed affection. 

“Jumpy today,” Frank observed, knocking a loose fist against your shoulder. 

“Just lost in thought.” You shrugged but didn't move away from them. “Any new injuries?”

“Nah,” Frank said, waving a hand. “Nothing worth noting.”

You eyed him, because his definition of something “worth noting” varied wildly from yours. A quick glance at Alex proved that he was still relaxed and smiling. Nothing serious, then. You relaxed. 

“So, where are you going first? Food? Or your friends?” You started walking again, trusting they'd keep pace with you. They did, Alex on your left and Frank on your right. 

“Food first,” Frank said, glancing at you. “That asshole can't cook for shit.”

“Neither can you,” Alex shot back with no heat. 

“Why do you think I make sure you both have easy food?” You shook your head, amused. “Honestly.”

“Because you like us and you'd be sad if we died in the wilderness,” Alex offered, only half-teasing. 

“Well, it would make my life easier…” You couldn't help but grin at the twin indignant noises that earned you. 

“You'd be bored without us, admit it.” Frank jostled you with his elbow, though notably more gently than when he did it to Alex. 

“I'd be something without you,” you conceded, still smiling. 

“Bah. Clearly it's been too long since you've been drinking with us.” Frank shook your shoulder loosely. 

“Don't even think about it,” you warned, shooting him a quelling look. “I have work I have to do.” 

“It'll wait,” Alex started.

“Nope,” you immediately protested. “The Director is sending out another group.”

“Who?” Alex asked, a little too casually. 

“Don't know yet,” you said, only a little snappy. “You'll find out when I do.” 

For a moment, strained silence settled between the three of you, even as you turned towards the store rooms. Despite food being the opposite direction, Frank and Alex stayed with you. 

“Didn't mean it like that,” Alex murmured, pressing closer to your side. 

“I know.” You deflated, just a little. “It's just not a good time for me to slack off. Go eat, rest. You deserve it.” 

You didn't look at the two as you pulled open the door to the office. The door closed quietly behind you. 

“What do you need this time?” The question was brusque but not rude, the man in charge of the store rooms glancing at you. 

“Supplies for three, this time.” You clasped your notepad in both hands, rocking slowly from heel to toe and back. “Standard set for each.” 

He eyed you for a moment before nodding, jotting that down. “They'll be ready tomorrow morning,” he grunted at you. 

You nodded acknowledgement, but didn't leave. Instead you slipped further into the store rooms, taking a quick look for yourself. You were one of the few people allowed to roam like this, something you didn't take advantage of often. 

But, well… despite your bluster and teasing with Alex and Frank, you had missed them. You missed them every time they were gone. 

Not that you'd ever admit that. They didn't need to know. 

So you found a couple things for them. Little things. Things they'd mentioned in passing. A new comb for Alex. The soap that Frank favored. A small bag of the hard candies Alex liked but never admitted he craved. 

Just little comforts, little things, to make them feel welcomed back. They never asked. And you never admitted to bringing them. 

It was a little secret. One of many you carried on your shoulders. 

It was no work at all to deposit the bundle at the rooms they shared and be on your way. 

You still had more work to do.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 2: [DRAGON AU] mammon / first encounter

ao3 link

note: requested by @whensam! i have to admit, i was hoping this'd pop up. i know i can write what i want, but i always feel i need an excuse anyway. you didn't indicate a preference for pov and i also just ended up wanting to do both, so this is a little longer than expected as a result!

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Baker's children don't make good hunters. We’re used to carrying sacks of flour, not sprinting across fields with pitchfork-wielding mobs in hot pursuit. We don't make good kindling, either, but that hasn't stopped about half the adults in the village - for shame, I'd say, if I had the breath to speak.

Here's the thing. Our village isn't exactly a popular spot by any definition of the term. We're too far from any big cities to make good business, we don't make much worth selling, and the people certainly aren't charming enough to warrant a detour.

More important, though, are the creatures we share land with. Through the grassland that border the crop fields, there are invisible lines drawn in the soil - ones that no one crosses.

These lines mark dragon territory, and everyone knows that a dragon would sooner eat you for breakfast than stop for a reasonable conversation. Reasonable conversation is not something I have the luxury of at the moment, which is why I’m already several hundred paces over the line.

Just fifty already takes you into the forest. I don’t hear footsteps in pursuit anymore - they’d have to be mad to follow me so far in, which is exactly what I'd been banking on. The issue now is that, rather than being pitchforked, or burnt at the stake, I’ll probably just get eaten instead.

I pick my way through rotting leaf litter and ridged roots before collapsing against an old oak, wondering if the moisture dripping from overhead is safe to drink - or at least to wash my mouth out with. Gnawing through rope seems like a clever idea until your teeth start bleeding.

I can’t stay here, I think. Dying now would be like letting them win. Then Dad will have smacked the alderman for no reason.

Just as I get back to my feet, something whooshes overhead. I freeze. Those wings were larger than any bird I’ve ever seen.

Surely it couldn’t see me through the leaves. I crouch low to the ground and try to hide in the undergrowth - the wingbeats disappear until all I can hear is distant birdsong.

At least they’re having a nice day. I duck my head and trudge through a hedge - and come face to face with a dragon.

“Argh!”

I leap backwards. Bad move. The sunlight falls across its pointed face just in time for me to watch its pupils expand into full moons, like a cat on the hunt.

It doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t charge, snap or growl. It creeps slowly, eyes fixed on me the whole way forward, as if making sure I know that I can’t escape.

Nowhere to run. I press my back against a wizened old pine and shut my eyes tight - throwing out an arm, as if that might shield me.

Nothing happens. Then something cold presses into my palm.

My eyes snap open. The dragon blinks down at me. Its eyes are such a deep shade of blue that it’s almost dizzying. Oh. Oh, okay.

Its - his? I wonder, noting the ridges on his nose - snout rests carefully in my palm. He seems to register me staring at him, and snorts. The hot air is just on the brink of scalding, but not quite enough to hurt.

Then, almost experimentally, he opens his mouth - a yawning chasm of teeth, poised as if to ever-so-gently bite off my head. Except he doesn’t do that. There’s no pain - no crunch of broken bone or split sinew - far from it. The dragon leans down, carefully hooks his teeth into the collar of my shirt, and takes off.

I’d have screamed if it wasn’t for all the air leaving my chest at once. The forest shrinks to a dark blanket beneath us faster than I can even register it happening, and I realise very quickly that I’d be dashed to bits if I so much as slipped.

Wyvern, says an unhelpful voice in the back of my head as we soar. The dragon’s white-and-gold wings blot out the sun, but they’re so brilliant that it’s hard to tell the difference. They’re good fliers.

Before long, the dragon lands - legs first, digging his talons deep into the soil as he skids to a stop. After a moment, he huffs, then (strangely gently) drops me in a heap on the stony ground.

There’s a rumble, a swoosh - then several thuds, a swoosh of wings. I watch a shadow fall over my field of vision, then slowly raise my head.

Oh, I think a little faintly. 

All sorts of colours, all sorts of demeanours. One in particular steps forward - dark, with crimson eyes, and the sort of air about him that tells me he's the leader. Boss, I'll call him, if only to settle my own nerves. The dragon that brought me here (Goldie, I decide, still trying to settle my breathing) steps forward with a sort of chirrup in greeting.

It's a spectacle, if nothing else. Here are seven dragons, horns and wings and all. I've heard cautionary tales and horror stories, but they never really tell you how majestic they look in real life - scales shinier than any jewel I could imagine. Marvels of creatures, really. If only I had the wits to appreciate it.

Boss is growling now - there's a sort of heat rolling off him in waves. Some of the feeling coming back to my numb legs.

If only I knew what they were saying...

-

It isn’t often that the forest bears treasure - usually it’s all very boring things, like meat and berries and leaves. To be fair, Mammon's used to treasure of the shiny, golden kind - not this weird little critter crouched against a tree.

It smells faintly of smoke and burnt wheat. He stalks closer, but he's testing it more than anything - it doesn’t look like any prey he’s familiar with.

When he gets close, it sticks out a little starfish-shaped appendage and closes its eyes. He smells bitter fear now.

Is it greeting him? Telling him it isn’t a threat? That’s smart. He thought only dragons could be smart, but it’s not behaving - nor does it look - like any dragon he's ever met.

So he returns the greeting with his snout. He half expects to be stung, like the time Asmo brought that little spidery thing home, but all the critter does is look up at him fearfully.

Interesting. On a whim, he scoops the little round thing off, and decides to take it back home.

The weird not-prey goes still as soon as he takes off. Once home, he lets it disembark (drops it on the floor, though he tries to be gentle), then looks up to face his brothers as they land around him.

The others decide to keep their distance. Lucifer is the first to plod forward and investigate.

He sniffs carefully at the air, then makes a crackling noise somewhere at the base of his throat - which isn't usually a good sign.

“That’s a human, Mammon," He says, glaring at the little critter. It’s still sitting, frozen.

“It’s a what?”

“What’d you bring that for? Stupid.” Belphie settles back on his haunches, blowing out a puff of frost. “Can’t go around snatching humans. We’ll get hunted. Stupid.”

“Shut up,” He grunts. “And I didn’t snatch it. Found it walkin’ around in the forest.”

“That’s impossible,” Satan says nearly immediately. His tail swishes back and forth - slow and deliberate, an analytical glint in his clever eyes. “They don’t let their young anywhere near us.”

“Well, whaddya call this, then?”

The human - apparently - suddenly seems to regain use of its limbs. Springing to its feet (Levi shrinks back, crest flattering over his head), it stumbles for a moment, then abruptly ducks under one of Mammon's wings.

The rest of his brothers - who'd similarly drawn back - relax again with a simultaneous murmur of vague confusion. Mammon blinks. Then his tail starts flicking at the end - like it always does when he's pleased.

“...you are not keeping it,” Lucifer says, looking as if he'd very much like to fly off into the sunset.

“It might have a disease!” adds Asmo.

“I don’t care what any of ya say,” Mammon says stubbornly, snapping at Beel when it looks like he might creep in for a bite. “I’m not sendin’ it back to the forest. It’ll be dead in a day.”

"It might be dangerous," Levi hisses. "It's totally giving me the evil eyes."

"Stop scaring it, then,” Mammon says loftily. “Relax, ya big baby - You’ve got teeth bigger than its whole head.”

“You are not keeping it,” Lucifer says again, as if repeating himself will make him sound more in charge.

“Pfft. Can’t tell me what to do.” He snaps at Beel again. “Oi! No bitin’! Go raid your stash or something.”

Beel’s horns seem to droop a little. “...fine. C’mon, Belphie.”

“I was busy,” complains Satan with a huff as the twins flap off. "This is boring. I've seen deer carcasses more interesting than that weird little thing."

"Go look at your stinkin' carcasses, then," Mammon shoots back, fighting the impulse to spit something at him.

Satan does exactly that. Levi soon slinks off as well, apparently still intimidated - and Asmo seems to have disappeared as soon as he decided the human wasn't going to make a good accessory.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stands his ground. His tail is beginning to lash in agitation. If Mammon’s lucky, maybe he’ll even start spitting fire.

“I'm not gonna eat it,” He says stubbornly.

“I wasn't going to tell you to,” Lucifer replies, but he sounds very much like he’s considering it. “Belphie was right. If a hunter sees us with one of their young, they’ll take it as a threat.”

“Like we wouldn’t win,” He scoffs, sitting down with a thump. "Anyway,don't ya smell the fire on it?"

A single scarlet eye narrows a little. Evidently he hadn't - though Lucifer's always smelling smoke, by virtue of the literal furnace in his chest, so he can't really be blamed for not noticing.

The human is peeking out from beneath his wing with a little more bravado now. Lucifer eyes its round little face as if it might start spitting poison at him.

"...humans don't usually try to set fire to their young," Lucifer says after a moment. "You're sure she doesn't have anywhere to go?"

"Wouldn't've been in the forest if it— uh, she did." He glances down. "C'mon! Not like we don't have the space."

Lucifer is silent. Then he gives a long-suffering sigh - sending a plume of dark blue smoke into the sky - and bends down to the human’s eye level again.

“Will you behave?” Lucifer asks her severely, as if she can understand dragon-speak.

The human child blinks up at him. Then she reaches up and plants a hand on his snout.

Mammon holds his breath. After a moment, Lucifer’s wings flutter, then settle.

“I’m not having any part in this,” He announces, stepping back. “This is to be your responsibility only. Don't make any trouble for your brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says dismissively, occupied with keeping his triumph from showing in his tail. Got it.”

Lucifer glances down at the human one final time. “...take care of her.”

And off he flaps - to attend to his usual nighttime duties. He says he's keeping watch for danger, but mostly they seem to involve gazing darkly into the sunset.

With his brothers dispersed, Mammon takes a moment to actually consider his situation. He doesn’t actually know what taking care of a human child involves. He doesn’t know much about humans in general - it’s not like he usually pays them any attention. Maybe some of his brothers could give him some advice… if any of them were interested in the kid’s well-being, at least.

They’ll come around, He decides after a moment, unfurling his wings and attempting to nudge the human in the general direction of their living caves. First, I gotta figure out what these things eat…

[lonetile]

FIRST FLIGHT

Predaking x GN!Human!Reader. No use of Y/N, and no gender specifics. Can be M/M or F/M. This is my first time writing an x reader fanfic.

Inspired by @emotionallyattachednerd 's work. You inspired me to finally write an x reader!

Trigger Warning: This story contains talk of terminal illness and death. If this is something you're not comfortable with, I suggest reading something else.

You sat on the cliff's edge, looking out at the expanse of endless ocean in front of you. The sun was setting, coloring the waters with an array of pinks, purples, and yellows. It was beautiful, but you weren't there for the sunset.

A few weeks ago, you were there just to admire the sight, listening to the waves break on the jagged rocks below. That was where you first saw it. At first, you thought it was a bird. A really big bird. That was until it spread its wings. They seemed to envelop the whole sky, blocking out the sun and showing off its true shape. A dragon. A majestic, real-life dragon. The beauty of the ocean was lost as you gazed at the beast, watching as it flew past. You had tried to follow parallel to it on the cliffs, but after almost slipping on some loose rocks on the edge of a particularly steep section, you were forced to stop.

That was why you were there. You hoped to see it again. With your sketchbook in hand, you did your best to remember the first sighting. It had been days with no results, however, you still kept coming back in hopes that you'd get one more glimpse of it.

You checked your watch. It was getting close to 9. It was going to be dark soon. With a sigh, you stood up, about to return to your car when there was a heavy thud behind you. You whirled around, fearing that a boulder came loose from the rock face above, but instead, you saw it. The dragon.

Up close, you saw that it wasn't your typical scaled dragon, but a metal one made up of armor plating, robotic joints, and glowing yellow eyes. You were in awe.

"Wow…" It was all you could say as you took a small step forward. It was huge. Far bigger than you imagined. You were expecting something of Toothless's size, or even the wyverns in Game of Thrones, but the dragon in front of you was about the size of Tohru from Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid.

Its head moved away, its mandibles chittering slightly as you reached out. Seeing that it didn't want to be touched, you pulled your hand back and clasped them behind you.

"Hello." You said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again." No response. You didn't expect one.

"I was hoping to see you again before I…" You cleared your throat. "Yeah…" This had been your dream for the past few days, and now that it came true, you're at a loss for words, like a shy teenager asking their crush to the senior prom.

You watched in amazement as the dragon's armor began to shift and change with whirrs and clicks, each piece shifting into place as it changed shape to a more humanoid shape. A very spiky, metallic humanoid.

"You are not afraid." It was a statement, not a question. You nodded.

"I've been coming here every day in hopes I'd see you." You replied.

"And why is that?" The mechanical figure asked.

"I… uh… like dragons." It was the only reply you had. It wasn't false. It just felt stupid to say out loud. "Do you have a name?"

"I am called Predaking, little human." He said. He stood proud. It was indeed a fitting title. You bowed politely. There was a small, awkward pause.

"You hadn't finished your sentence before." You looked confused for a second before realizing which sentence he was talking about.

"Oh… uhm... I don't have long before an illness I have kills me." You replied

"You are dying?"

"It's not so bad." You replied. "That's why I used to come up here. I wanted to memorize the sunset because there will be a time I won't be able to see it again like this. Now I come here in hopes of seeing you. Which now I have." You teared up but quickly tried to hide it with a laugh.

"What kind of illness is it that ails you?" Predaking asked.

"My heart's beginning to fail." You replied. "It doesn't help that I walk two miles uphill every evening. I wish I could fly like you." This time, you couldn't hold back the sadness you felt.

"S-Sorry, your majesty." You said, covering your face. You tried to stop the tears, but they were endless. Predaking stared at you. He felt pity.

"Perhaps... I can offer you some comfort." Predaking suddenly said. You sniffed, looking at him. "You said you wished you could fly. I can lend you my wings, just for the evening."

"Y-you… is that alright?"

"I would not have suggested it if it wasn't." Predaking replied. He transformed back into a dragon, crouching down and letting you use his wing as a ramp. Once he felt you settle, he spread his wings before taking off. You felt all your worries stay on the cliff top as you rose into the air. You clung to Predaking's spines as he half flew, half glided through the evening sky. The stars were just beginning to appear as the sun dipped behind the horizon. Your weak heart felt strong again as you looked down at the waters below. Predaking's wings seemed to glow in the approaching darkness. He circled the mountain, being careful not to fly too fast. He liked feeling you cling to him. You began to chuckle before it turned into a laugh, then into an excited whoop.

"This is amazing, your majesty!" You shouted. "You're amazing." You didn't want this to end. The darkened sky, feeling the wind in your face, your hair, your clothes. It felt wonderful. It only became better as the darkness of night filled the sky, the stars lighting up the world around you. You reached up, feeling as if you could grab hold of the tiny twinkling lights. Even Predaking gazed up. He never really admired the stars before. He had been too focused on other things. But with you on his back, his own anxieties were left on that cliff top. He was afraid that, when he landed, the anger would return. 

The flight continued for another hour before Predaking returned you to the cliff. To his surprise, his negative feelings did not return. He felt… happy.

"Thank you, your majesty." You said as he returned to his primary form. You hugged his leg, being the only part you could really get to.

"Perhaps… We could do this again?" He asked. You nodded eagerly.

 "I would love that."

The next few days were the same. You'd meet on the cliff before soaring through the evening skies, forgetting all your worries. As the weeks passed, you showed up less and less. However, Predaking still returned to wait like you had for him.

One day, Predaking arrived at the cliff like he always did. Once again, you weren't there. He waited for an hour, but when you didn't show up, he turned to leave when he saw something on the ground. It was your sketchbook. He picked it up, carefully opening it. Inside were numerous drawings of dragons. Many of which he remembered you telling him about. Toothless, Drogon, Tohru, Spike… all the dragons from different media you had watched. As he turned the page, the cartoony sketches changed to something else. Him. When did you have time to make these wonderful pieces? He flipped through them before reaching the last page. It was a sketch of you and him this time. Beside it was a note:

Your majesty,

I am sorry for not meeting you this evening. My condition has worsened greatly these past few weeks, which is why I often failed to show. I used my last ounce of strength to leave this here for you to find and remember me by. I will not be returning.

I am happy that I got to fly with you. The time we spent together helped me forget the pain I felt fearing this moment. But I am no longer afraid. I am happy. You made me happy. I hope, as you soar through the skies, that you will remember me as I do when I look out the hospital window at the sunset. Thank you for everything.

I'll miss you. 

A pained screeching roar echoed over the mountains before it became a whimper as he stared at the drawing. He took the sketchbook gently in his claws before transforming, spreading his wings, and taking flight.

As you sat on the hospital bed, staring at the lowering sun, you thought you saw the majestic form of Predaking in the distance. You smiled. You knew it was him. You laid back down as rhythmic beeping beside you began slowing. Just before it turned into a still whine, you whispered your final words.

"I'll miss you."

[grizzersmamma]

Hi I love your Nikto fic! Can you tell us what a zmei is though? I've never heard of one before

That is a most excellent question, anon!

Not too many people seem to know what a Zmei is, but that's understandable, it's a bit of a more niche legend. Obviously, if you don't want any details spoiled for the fic at all then you're more than welcome to skip this ask, but it'll be a while before it's fully explained in the main story. Honestly, it's not much of a spoiler since I've already touched on it a bit in some of the baby fics.

I'll be mentioning some concepts and characters from @ghouljams (obviously lol) so head up for that!

To begin, Nikto isn't a fae himself, despite this being the fae AU. I looked at different types of fae and faeries found in Russia and the surrounding areas, but nothing really jumped out at me until I came across the legend of the Zmei.

In Russian mythology, the Zmei is a three headed hydra who typically features as dangerous, malevolent creature, intent on tricking and killing humans. There's multiple stories that have the Zmei as the antagonist and stories vary about his exact appearance, but it's typically a large, black, three headed hydra - sometimes he can breathe fire, sometimes lightning - and can vary in size from a large horse to a mountain.

As mentioned by Ghoul in one of their asks, dragons and their kin were probably a thing in the past, but have since died off because of how difficult it would be for them to hide among humans. However! An important part of the Zmei legend, is that he can change his form from a hydra to a human accompanied by a black dog, a raven/crow, and a large black stallion.

In my version, the animals are extensions of Nikto himself. Each of the three heads are all Nikto, just different parts of his mind, which I found fitting given his potential DID. When in a human form, these animals are just those other parts of his mind. The human is Nikto, the dog is Nikto, the crow is Nikto and the horse is Nikto.

Since Zmei is capable of becoming human, the lack of other dragons/wyverns/hydras in the world doesn't prevent him from reproducing, hence how Nikto was born: his sire was Zmei and his dam a young Russian woman. Hence the title of the fic, Son of Zmei.

Their human forms aren't perfect - Nikto has some black scales on most of his body, including his face, which is why he prefers to wear a mask and clothes that cover every inch of his body. He's inherited the same ego and sense of superiority that most hydras have, along with a highly possessive and obsessive nature. He collects anything and everything that he finds interesting and, recently, he's found his attention drawn to the cute human running the antiques store.

The Zmei is actually the main inspiration for the design of King Ghidorah from Godzilla! So, just think of that bad boy and you'll get an idea of what Nikto looks like in his proper form.

Hope that answers some of your questions!

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 11 Part 1

Welcome back to my liveblog! Today we're covering volume 11! No more monster of the week, things are getting juicy!

He has such a punchable face.

Haha, get it? Cause this situation is a complete nightmare?

Priorities! I dunno, judging from the rest of the house, Thistle doesn't seem like the sort to bother with getting proper silverware. Then again, when using lion power, there's no point to skimping out.

Oooh, I bet the spoon acted as a lightning rod.

It's no fun if you're also having fun.

Too bad they already killed Chichuck. These dragons need to unionize.

Neat! You can actually see Laios hiding in the fur here.

Thistle would be such a shit DM. He clearly didn't bother reading any of their stat blocks. Also, the Leviathan is just happy to be here. Good for her.

I can't take these wyverns seriously. They look right out of how to train your dragon.

An important image.

Because much like the green dragon earlier, you took too long toying with your prey.

Even if it's bad, food still brings people together.

This is what I really hate about the lion. It claims to just want to help people, but it doesn't. It fulfills things in such a way that you are always left wanting more. It twists and corrupts the lords so they can no longer be satisfied with simple rational solutions. Laios did his best... but sometimes you just can't get through to people.

I'd feel abject disgust, but honestly, I mostly just surprised stuffing didn't come up sooner in this. So how much longer until the vore shows up?

Honestly, I'm just kinda concerned why you already knew how to summon that thing.

Have I mentioned how absolutely I detest this lion? This vile demon is a predator, under every definition of the word.

:/ In a story where no one really dies for good... the lion kills Thistle in the only way that matters. Oh wait, those corpse collectors died, but nobody liked them anyway.

So, is this how it happens? The lion interpreting Thistle's last words as a desire to revive Marcille?

The correct decision. Now grab some black magic/zip ties and make sure they stay that way.

Just you wait, it's only gonna get dumber.

On the one hand, this plotline is underdeveloped. On the other hand, it's really funny how irreverently the narrative treats it.

The best ending, clearly.

That's it for this post, next, we have... oh no. I've been dreading these two chapters.

[queen-rainy-love]

Cookie of the Week: Royal Margarine Cookie

This Cookie of the Week is...

Cookie name: Royal Margarine Cookie

Pronouns: He/Him

Rarity: Epic

Position: Middle

Type: Ambush

Lore: Royal Margarine is the last descendant of Dragon City’s famous Dragon Rider Clan. He spends his days wooing passerbys with his looks and dragon partner, Buttercream. However, there is a possibility that he’s not made of real butter, and that his partner isn't a real dragon (actually a wyvern). He plays a role in the special episode Legend of the Red Dragon where he helps Hollyberry, Pitaya Dragon, Tart Tatin, and Snapdragon to fight the Red Dragon.

Personality: Royal Margarine is at first flirtatious, charming, and perhaps sleazy. He’s also cocky and boastful, mostly about being the last dragon rider and his dasing, rugged looks. However, he hides multiple insecurities that lead him to exaggerate his achievements. When he was drunk, he did revealed that he was too scared of the dragon roars when he was twelve. Despite his cowardice and dishonesty, he has always genuinely desired to be a hero. He does care and love Buttercream, giving her a back scratches and dotes on her.

Skills: Royal Margarine's Skill is called Buttercream Blast. This skill has Royal Margarine soar on Buttercream’s back and fires Buttercream Blasts at the three enemies with the highest ATK thrice. This deals damage, poison, reduce ATK and DEF, and amplifying debuffs they gain. Then, Buttercream swoops toward the enemies to deal damage, additional damage in proportal to the number of periodic damage effects the targets’ have applied. He will become resistant to interrupting effects.

Costumes: Royal Margarine has one costume: Noble Dragon Rider. It can be obtained at any point in the game, is not part of a costume set, and does not have a special effect.

Cookie Decor: Royal Margarine does not have a Cookie Decor.

Thoughts: He reminds me of a slightly dialed-down Snotlout from How to Train Your Dragon. It’s amazing.

[gristlegrinder]

Hm... For the OC asks: how about Fear, Ghost, and Mistake for the GW2 OC you most recently played in-game?

not-so-nice oc ask meme

hello anon! unfortunately the answer to that question is almost always siya. i play them too much.

content warnings for discussions of trauma, near death experiences, and death. this one got heavy in my drafts. sorry, it’s a long one!

GHOST: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

there’s a joke here about siya having a shitty ex-boyfriend literally named ghost. anyways.

siya ran to lion’s arch to get away from the grove, and quickly adopted it as their home with a sense of pride. i really cannot emphasize enough how much of their early sense of identity hinged on belonging to a city of pirates and scoundrels. they fell in with all the other misfits that had called it home, and reveled in late nights, bad decisions, and having the future laid out in front of them, as unending as the ocean.

scarlet briar destroyed it without warning.

they never said goodbye. their tenement was burning rubble before they even woke up among the survivors. there are friends and neighbors and regulars at their bars that they never heard from again, that they’re reasonably sure are still alive but don’t have the means (or true desire) to get back in touch with. when they close their eyes, they can retrace footpaths in alleyways that don’t exist anymore. gendarran apples dipped in dark chocolate, notches in their usual booth’s tabletop made with sif’s pocketknife, the stench of fish being unloaded at the docks at four in the morning, their face against the cool tile of moldy bathroom floors.

it aches. and they never went back— they still haven’t. they’ve been avoiding it for years, taking the long ways around travel routes to avoid the asura gate hub and the ports. too much has changed, in really painful ways, and they don’t want the memories they have of the place to be “spoiled” by plaster-and-stained-glass pavilions sponsored by the captain’s council. they want the shadows, and the shiplap, and the sense of self-discovery that sent them there in the first place. even if those memories aren’t particularly good, anything else feels wrong, and bad.

whether or not that preservation would actually make a difference (they can’t go back to that version of lion’s arch either way) doesn’t matter; there’s a finality to accepting that things are gone that they’ve been putting off for the last decade of their life, mostly in the form of never thinking about it ever and avoiding all reminders of it forever, reinventing themself as who they are today in the process.

FEAR: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

okay, so i think there are two ways i could take this question— first is a very tangible fear, in the sense that they very clearly have PTSD from what happened in lion’s arch. siya was there when the first bombs dropped and the miasma had a coin-flip chance of killing you. their actual memories of what happened are spotty, on account of the blast, but their unconscious body was pulled from the wreckage after the initial chaos, and it was deemed a miracle that they had survived.

for a long while, that lingering panic manifests as a twitch in their hands when the air gets too thick; tensing up at sudden loud noises and drawing exit strategies for any enclosed space and fighting any situation where medical personnel want to put their hands on them.

(siya finds refuge in the canopies of the maguuma jungle for a time, living in the wyvern cliffs with a friend. mordremoth sends the pact fleet crashing down into the trees and it startles them more than the dragon’s call itself ever could. afterwards, they flinch at the slightest provocation and spit that they’re going to personally shoot the killing bullet into mordremoth’s skull, when they remember how to feel anything at all. that’s the first time they realize there might be a problem.)

it’s hard not to be honest about it all when it’s visible on them (the hacking cough, the scarring on their face, the bad knee) so they don’t bother trying to hide that something’s fucked them up. if anything, it doesn’t matter that you know— they just don’t want you to stop taking them seriously. they can hold their own in a fight, they can handle themself.

and while that fear hasn’t ever gone away, it’s stabilized; helped by years of distance, self-soothing rituals, and lithium salts. the love of their life is a volcanic eruption, and they’ve grown to find comfort in heavy, warm pressure blanketing them.

what they’re really afraid of, underneath that, is death. the lights being snuffed out for good. rolling bad dice, finally, and getting unlucky. not knowing what’s gonna happen afterwards (do they get the gold chariot? do they float through the ceiling?). not wanting to lose the few good things they’ve got. braham’s prophecy starts unfurling and they spend months picking their wounds and watching him like a hawk when they can’t sleep at night, in case he’s the one that doesn’t make it.

that one, they don’t talk about. they can’t.

MISTAKE: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

siya has never made any mistakes in their life, ever.

okay, that’s a lie— but most of their mistakes feel petty in the grand scheme of the world. shooting themself in the foot (metaphorically) by reading situations wrong, talking a bit too much and slighting somebody, fumbling a good thing by being a little too much or pushing somebody away before anything can start. that’s just being neurodivergent. none of those are life-ruining on their own.

likewise, there are things they would consider to be significant mistakes of theirs that i don’t personally agree with their judgment on. lying in the grass underneath a friend they’ve already lost to the nightmare court. locking eyes with ghost across the room in a dive bar that was never up to code. staying home with garm and a migraine when braham gets invited to the all-legions rally.

(okay, that last one hurts more, but they can’t get too caught up in it for the same reasons they don’t let braham get caught up in his own what-ifs.)

not taking the lionguard suggestion to re-enter the city when able to do so, in order to retrieve the rest of their belongings, probably ranks up there. they took whatever they were rescued with, shoved away every worried medic trying to stabilize them, and followed their gut instinct to get as far away from the burning wreckage as possible. it was an irrational, anxious impulse, and they do really regret not getting to say goodbye before that became insurmountable.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Be Careful, She Bites!

Synopsis: What happens if you snatch a dhampir-baby without her consent

Based on @elora-the-slutty-songstress idea!

Tags: fluff, dadstarion, Alethaine bites, a snippet of the future

Alethaine's age: 4.5

Thanks @themadlufor beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Daggerlake is a peaceful town far from the troubles of richer places. On most days.

But not today.

A gang of bandits attacked the town in the middle of the night burning the huts and taverns on its surface. 

Death, blood, and gore – that’s what entered through the gates.

“Kitten,” Alethaine hears her mother’s voice through the veil of sleep. “Kitten, wake up.”

Alethaine opens her pitch-black eyes. Tiriel sits on the bed, wearing her spider silk armor. 

“Hm?” Alethaine is still half asleep but can already hear the distant sounds of a fight.

And she also smells blood.

“The town is under attack, we are going up. Come on,” Tiriel takes her daughter in her arms and heads to the basement. 

Astarion is already there, donning a light armor as black as Alethaine’s night dress. 

“Princess, you sit there,” he says to her. “And don’t go unless we or someone you know comes to get you.” 

Alethaine nods.

“And if someone notices you, run to the ceiling.”

“And what if they can run to the ceiling too?” She yawns. Now she is afraid too. Both her parents are leaving and she is going to be in the house all alone. 

“Then run as fast as you can.” Tiriel places her on a bench and gives her a plushie dragon, also black, and a wooden doll. “We will be back soon.”

Alethaine nods watching her parents leave. Tiriel goes first, she is going to engage in the fight with her battle ax. Astarion will hide in the shadows ready to peel someone’s skin off. 

And the little dhampir is going to stay here. 

In the dark.

She almost doesn’t hear the sounds of the fight, but the basement is uncomfortable and cold. One blanket is absolutely not enough to warm her feet and Alethaine presses the dragon plushie to her chest.

What if her parents don’t come back?

What if they get killed?

Who is going to take care of her? Maybe she will have to live on her own? Alethaine remembers a story she once read – it was about a girl whose parents were enslaved by Drows and she had to survive all by herself till she met a kind wizard who took her into his tower to teach magic. Alethaine actually did like that story (especially when the girl learned how to cast fireballs), but the part of the main character being all alone in a big cold house made the dhampir so sad she came to her parent’s bed to sleep.

Alethaine places the plushie in front of her.

“...I am Aurix the wyvern! Who dares to challenge me?!” She tries to imitate the voice of a big scary dragon. “I am the princess of all elves, I am not afraid of you!” Alethaine places the doll in front of him. “My father taught me sword fighting and my mother taught me dark magic!”

The door slams above Alethaine and the girl gets silent.

Those aren’t her parents. 

“Check all the rooms for something valuable! This place looks well off!” She hears a hoarse female voice. “And go check the basement!”

Alethaine moves to the darkest corner of the basement. Oh no, are they going to kidnap her? They totally are. And they will eat her, that’s for sure, that’s what bad people do to little girls!

A half-orc comes down the stairs and immediately notices a chest with gold and silver in the opposite corner of the basement.

“I told you they keep valuable things here! These people are adventurers!”

The other bandit, a one-eyed human male, follows her, but something else catches his attention.

“Look at this!” He chuckles playing with a dagger. “It seems like the host is home! What is your name, fairy?”

Alethaine presses her back against the wall. These people are bad. They are going to do something bad to her, she knows it.

“Answer me, fairy, or I’ll get angry!”

“I am not allowed to speak with strangers.” she mutters. 

“Hey, don’t hurt her '' The half-orc says. “If her parents make it through the fight, we can ask for a ransom.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you can do whatever you want with her.”

The man grabs Alethaine’s long hair. “Come on, little fairy! We will not…” He laughs. “Hurt you.”

“LET ME GO!!!” She cries out as the man lifts her up. The bandit smells horrible – of sweat, dirt, and blood. “Let me go!”

“I saw rope in the kitchen. Make sure she doesn’t scream.”

Alethaine squirms trying to set herself free but the man grabbing her is too strong.

“Interesting teeth you have,” he suddenly notices. “Aren’t they too big?”

Teeth.

There are many things Alethaine isn’t allowed to do. Talk with strangers. Go into the woods alone. Be outside after sunset.

Bite people she doesn’t like. 

Alethaine makes a screeching sound and bites the man’s neck.

Fangs easily pierce the skin and rip the artery. Alethaine immediately pulls away clenching her teeth as the blood splashes her face and head, soaking her black dress and the toys that lie on the floor.

There is one more rule, the most serious of them all.

Don’t try to take someone’s blood. Something bad will happen if she tastes it. 

“What the…” The half-orc exclaims seeing her partner falling dead on the stone floor. “Fuck!”

The half-orc rushes upstairs dropping whatever she’s collected in the Ancunins’ basement.

Alethaine sits on the floor. Now she isn’t only cold, she also feels disgusting as the blood covers her body.

She wipes her mouth.

And how the fuck does dad even drink it, she thinks. 

The man takes his final breath and Alethaine hears its heart beating its last.

Alethaine looks at herself. She is soaked in blood. Her hair, her dress, her skin, even her toys. 

And no one is around.

She feels tears pricking her eyes and she starts crying. 

“Stupid bandit!” Alethaine kicks him with her leg. “Stupid!”

She tries to wipe herself with a blanket but it’s too thick. And now the blanket is dirty too and Alethaine starts bawling, rubbing her eyes.

**

“Fuck, my ax got stuck,” Tiriel mutters trying to set her weapon free. The half-ork’s armor is made of something weird and the blade won’t come out. 

Astarion presses his leg to the dead bandit’s chest and Tiriel finally releases the ax.

“Now I need to bathe and sleep,” She says. “Come on!” Tiriel takes her husband’s hand. Astarion looks the same as he did a couple of hours ago. If it wasn’t for his blood-stained clothes and hair, that’s for sure.

They walk back home in silence, though Astarion keeps making jokes about dumb people who chose the wrong town to attack.

“Stop,” Tiriel says. “Something is wrong.”

“The door is open,” Astarion notices it too. “But no one is inside.”

Tiriel feels a knot in her stomach – the worst thing that could have happened did happen.

Someone was in their house.

Someone could have hurt Alethaine.

“I am going to rip their spines out,” Astarion bares his fangs and rushes inside. Tiriel follows him.

At first, Tiriel doesn't exactly understand what she sees.

There is a dead man on the floor with his throat ripped out.

Alethaine sits beside the body all covered in dried blood, sniffing and hiccupping. 

“Mum, dad,” she hiccups again. She tries to say something else but bursts into tears once again.

Astarion lifts her up and Tiriel caresses her back.

“It’s all right, baby kitten, we are here.”

Alethaine wraps her arms around Astarion’s neck.

“I peed myself,” she says, much quieter. 

Astarion kisses her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

Alethaine shakes her head but Tiriel senses her daughter’s fear. Poor girl! All alone with people who could do all possible horrible things to her!

“I will wash her,” Astarion says. “Get some rest.”

“Are you hungry, kitten?” Tiriel asks. Alethaine nods. “I will cook something.”

“Perks of being a vampire – I am never hungry after a fight” He grins.

Alethaine sniffs and Tiriel squeezes her little fingers, assuring her baby that she is safe now.

**

The tub with warm water feels much nicer than usual. Astarion splashes water over Aletaine's head and she rubs her hands and legs with a sponge.

“I wasn't scared!” She says. “I just bit him like a vampire!”

“He got what he deserved,” Astarion takes another sponge to rinse her back. “You are such a fierce little girl”

“I am!” Alethaine proudly says. “I was playing as a princess fighting the dragon!”

“And did she kill the dragon?”

“What? No! Who kills dragons?! Only bad people kill them, Dad, everyone knows it! She was going to challenge him and become a dragon rider! She is an elf like you and me but she has red hair like Mum. And she is also a princess, her father is the king of all elves.”

“Does he rule Moon or Sun elves?” Astarion asks. 

“All elves! Like, all the Tel’Quessira!”

“Princess, I hate to break it to you but elven nations never unite. Especially Sun elves. They hate everyone else.”

“That’s stupid. If elves unite under one king, we can have all these kingdoms and realms!”

“We, princess? Last time I checked I was a vampire and you were a dhampir.”

“We are still elves!” Alethaine insists. “And mum, too, no one thinks she is half human.”

“The form of her ears doesn’t agree. Now stand up.”

It takes almost an hour to wash all the blood away from her silver hair. By the time they finish, Alethaine catches the scent of food coming from the kitchen.

Astarion gives her a towel and once Alethaine is ready to leave the bathroom he picks her up again.

“Daddy,” she whispers, “I didn’t taste the blood, I promise.”

“I believe you.” He kisses the tip of her nose. 

“And can I sleep with you two?” Alethaine adds.

“Of course! Someone as scary and dangerous as you needs to sleep safely, right?”

Hours later, Alethaine nestles between her parents and falls asleep. In her dream, she sees herself going through a dark field toward a dark mountain. Alethaine knows she is an adult and she must do something important, something vital, something…

She looks around and sees ten thousand dead warriors marching behind her.

**

304 years later

“O’si! O’si!” The red-haired elven girl grabs her mother’s hand. “Come!”

“What is it, Little Fire?” Alethaine yawns. She’s just got back home after trying to put some rational thought into her subordinates, a small tribe of aqua elves who still believe they can survive on their own. This is the side of her adult life she loves the least. Apparently, just being scary and dangerous isn’t enough for the king’s wife. And those water-loving morons weren’t even on the battlefield when Alethaine had resurrected the army of the dead, so she has little to no authority in their ocean blue eyes.

“I told you! I told Dad and he thought I was making things up! And you told me it was dead and you are a necromancer, you need to be good at this!”

Tiri (named after her grandmother, Alethaine didn’t even have a second thought about it) opens the door to her bedroom where it’s almost impossible to breathe because of the blazing fireplace. 

“Tiri, I told you the egg was dead. It turned to stone when the Star Elves still lived in Sildëyuir. I brought it only because it looked nice. And because your grandpa stole it for you – ”

Alethaine stares at the egg.

It’s not an egg anymore.

A small red wyvern crawls out and immediately stares at Tiri. The elven princess makes a squealing sound and kneels in front of the newborn beast.

“Mum, look! It’s not just a wyvern, it’s a wyvern that can carry a dragonrider!” Tiri grabs it. “Dad told me to read stories to the egg, and I did! I read about Dragonriders and the war-dragons… And… Oh, he needs a name!”

Alethaine sits on her daughter’s bed looking at Tiri and her little dragon. Well, within her lifetime Alethaine Ancunin has seen all types of strange things. She has fought demons, resurrected an army of the dead, advised a human king on how to rule his kingdom, hunted an infinite amount of monsters and mortals. 

But this is something different. 

Besides, it really was just a beautiful dead stone egg. Astarion probably stole it just because it caught his eye and then decided to shove it into Aletaine’s hands as a gift for Tiri. 

He would love to hear what happened next.

“Aurix!” Tiri says. “I will call you Aurix, it means Fire in Draconic!”

--

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

@nyx-knox

@jessaryss

[sugarbooger513]

I have a request for a Hanzo x reader

Maybe the reader has a similar power to his, but instead of just shooting the animal spirt out a people… the reader transforms into their spirt, though the down side with is… their spirt form stays for some time, sometimes a few minutes, or maybe longer. But it’s made where the reader has accidentally scared others when they saw their spirt form.

It slowly made them see their spirt form as a monster, so when ever they turn into their spirit form, and are done fighting… they hide, anywhere, just to make it where no one can get frightened by it. They just wait for this form to go away, but maybe one day… a fellow overwatch member finds out about this?

( I personally think of the reader’s spirt being an animal someone would find dangerous from first glance, but it turns out the animal would only hurt you if they had a reason and not just out of thrill of the hunt- something that is on outside terrifying, but on the inside sweet and maybe even a bit timid )

I had a lot of fun with this one actually. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of fighting, blood, and at one point scared children. Hanzo is a v understanding friend.

Heavy panting fills the air. You look around, noticing how the other people on your team instantly check on each other. 

Next to you, your spirit animal, a wyvern, lets out a growl. You take hold of her wing, rushing away from the team before they can look over and notice her still out. 

You run down an alley, leaning against the brick building before you slowly slide down. Your trust spirit tilts her head, walking over to lay in your lap. At this point, she’s roughly the size of a medium dog. 

“It’s alright.. Just calm down.” 

You can see the way her misty eyes look worriedly at you. “Hey, no looking at me like that.” You hope your smile comes off as comforting. “This is normal for us. Just relax until you can go back to your place, okay?” 

Truth be told, you have no idea why she doesn’t disappear the moment you leave battle. You’ve seen how Genji and Hanzo’s dragons are quick to leave their sides, but your little childhood friend has always been rather stubborn in that aspect. 

You run your hand over her head as she closes her eyes. Despite her frightening appearance, you know that she’s a very sweet animal. She’s only attacked under your command, but she would only ever do it if someone tried to hurt you. 

“Y/N? There you-” 

Your animal jumps up, blocking you as she lets out a deep snarl. You can see smoke going through her nostrils. 

The sight makes Hanzo back away slightly. 

“N-no! Hey girl,” you grab her tail tightly, “Hanzo is good! He won’t hurt us!” 

At your words, she relaxes. Once she stares your friend down for a little longer, she turns and goes back to your lap. 

Hanzo clears his throat a little. “I umm.. I was worried about you, so I decided to sneak off and look for you. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah! I just.. She scares people, so I had to take her away before someone noticed.” 

He hums, now lowering himself so he’s sitting across the alley from you. Your wyvern lets out a small whimper, staring at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Is she a dragon?” 

“Close enough. She’s a wyvern. See?” You point out how she stands exclusively on her back legs. “People tend to run away when they see her.. She’s made many kids cry, so I’ve kind of-” 

“Gotten used to hiding her away? Yeah,” he nods, “I understand.” 

His soft smile seems to rub off onto your face. “And for some reason she rarely goes back as quickly as your dragons. Most of the time, she tends to stick around for a few minutes afterwards.” 

“My dragons come out when we’re alone. They’re a little smaller than she is right now when they do, but they like to sleep in the bed.” He chuckles lightly. “If you’re worried, she doesn’t frighten me. I feel better knowing you didn’t walk away to bleed out anywhere or something.” 

Your small laugh gently shakes your body. “No.. I just didn’t want anyone to worry about her sticking around. Are you.. Going to go back to them?” 

He hums, leaning his head back onto the wall. “No. I think I’ll sit with you until she deems you safe.. If that’s alright.” 

Something about his words make you blush lightly. “Yeah.. thank you, Hanzo.” 

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

do all the characters have dragons? are they dragons? what does a world with dragons look like? i want to know more

okay so!! this specifically is an au where abilities are dragons (but i will probably make an au later where they are dragons, i enjoy designing creatures <3)!

it's fairly httyd inspired because i really love httyd, so it's not modern, though.. maybe that'll be a seperate au later haha

BUT!! for this au specifically, there is a focus on dragon racing in the main plot; atsushi gets roped into joining the twilight agency (aka the ada here) when it turns out the dragon that he thinks has been chasing him is actually one he bonded with when it was little, it got seperated from him, and then went to find him again.

the twilight agency both races and investigates suspicious going ons and possible cheating in said races! i didn't finish up organizing the google doc, i'll admit, so i don't have everyone's roles written down, but:

atsushi and juni'chiro tend to race most often, ranpo is one of their usual investigators (ranpo claims to have a small feathered wyvern, but.. it is actually a golden eagle that fukuzawa gave him as a baby in that universe's version of untold origins), and they have clerks as well (naomi and haruno, though naomi races too when her brother can't, due to the fact that their dragon listens to both of them).

the night wardens are heavily involved in seaside transactions, transports when needed.. and cheating, it’s rumored, although no one can find any proof. they race too, though they did lose their BEST racers a while ago (those being the flags).

mori himself doesn't have a racing dragon. in fact, his dragon elise is more akin to a very, very cranky chihuahua crossed with the dangerousness of a poison dart frog. she's tiny, bad tempered for nearly everyone, venomous, has sharp claws, among other things.

those are the two organizations i have figured out the most ^^

but for how the world actually looks, that's a fun question!!

i've always really loved the design of berk revamped to fit the dragons :P so something like that, but yokohama

(i couldn't find any other good imgs </3)

the twilight agency's building has a stable for the dragons, the port has plenty of places to put (or hide, if you're tachihara michizo and your brother's dragon has just tracked you down and won't leave despite how much you tell it to) dragons.

one BIG change is that the moby dick is now a dragon; a giant, very old one who despite this is tasked with carrying the guild around. at the end of the arc it and melville disappear to finally actually retire.

i'm not entirely sure how accurately the arcs play out, though i know it's not.. too different, i think? i'm still working on it!

ty for the ask! <3

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Colour of Fire

"This must be tough on your lot, huh?"

"What do you mean," Palira asked, already knowing where this conversation was headed. Her tail coiled instinctively beneath the desk.

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean." The customer was human, as they so often were. He counted out his coins on the counter, as if she wouldn't have to tally them herself. "I don't know what the right word is nowadays. Is dragon still allowed? We're not supposed to say wyrms, right? Or is that wyverns?"

"Dragon is fine." She didn't bother outlining the difference. If he cared, he wouldn't already know. "But I understood the your lot, as you so diplomatically put it. I meant the other part. What must be tough?"

"Look, you know, getting rid of coins and that. The paper money. You people like piling it up, right? Hoarding? What are you going to do - make a stack? Build a mattress out of wads of notes?"

"That's a stereotype." Palira let the you people slide. Some days she was just grateful for people. "The idea that we sleep atop of a mound of gold. It really doesn't work that way."

Her ancestors would have swallowed him whole, but evolution had seen them go the way of the giants, adapted for life in the crowded cities. She'd kept her tail, her wings, her penchant for pyrotechnics, but wore clothes and worked behind a counter; the same number of scales, just scaled down. No less a dragon, but more of what his sort would recognise as a person.

She began the process of counting his coins away, keeping a tally as she went. This change to paper money was welcome, but it involved an awful lot of hassle: all of the old coins would need to be taken out of circulation, with notes issued in exchange. Vast exchanges had been set up to manage the transition, with dozens of trusted workers like Palira having to manually convert between the two. It wasn't too bad, when they let her concentrate.

"Right, that's what I'm asking." The human really wasn't getting the hint. "How does it work, then? You just pile it up to look at it? You don't eat it, do you?"

Palira sighed, a wisp of frustrated smoke escaping from her nose. "Traditionally - and I don't speak for all dragons here, because we're all individuals - we've just been drawn to gold for the way that it gleams. In our culture, it's the colour of fire, which is obviously also sacred to us. It's that lustre we revere above all else. Not how much is can be traded for at the greengrocers."

They'd always loved gold for its appearance - just as his ancestors had, before they'd gone and made it weird. Humanity had declared this simple metal to be the unit of all worth, the symbol of trade, and then also used it as the marker of their greed. A love for gold was seen as toxic, the root of all their sins, whilst loving other things was still allowed. Dragons were painted as the embodiment of miserly evil, when they were aesthetes: they'd only ever cared about the beauty of the gold itself.

Of course, the human translation of gold-as-money had also made it incredibly hard to get hold of the stuff. Even those who didn't care for the colour needed it to eat every day, to invest in new clothes, to save to put a roof over their heads. They started hoarding it, hiding it, packing it away in bank vaults where nobody could admire it at all. For Palira and her lot, the transition to paper money couldn't have come sooner.

No wonder so many had applied to work at exchanges like this: handing out the new notes, and taking the redundant old coins in exchange. Finally, they could show the world how little they cared for money: they would make an arrangement of that gold, yes, now that it was no longer legal tender. They would remove it from circulation all right. It had been freed up to be worshipped, just like in the olden days. Legally worthless, but still worth everything to them.

"Fire's red," the man told her. "Everyone knows that."

"You have a good day," Palira said, handing over his wads for safekeeping. She could easily find out where he lived, if she thought he needed more of a lesson, channelling the fury of her ancestors for the modern age. That was the other good thing about paper money, she thought: it was much more flammable.