#;; THE EYES OF THE STONE DRAGONS AND OTHER BEASTS SEEM TO FOLLOW YOU! THEIR SHADOWS SEEM TO *MOVE AND SWAY* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfmoonblues · 1 year

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a quick werewolf short story im not publishing anywhere else okay bye <3

(Temp project name! Beauwolf: Wulven Knight. hopefully a drawn comic eventually bc i'm very bad at sharing written word lol)

Feel free to reblog, comment, follow, or like! If it gains traction I may continue it, and if not, I simply hope you enjoy :)

To begin: there is a wolf, and a girl, and a dragon. The wrought trials of a crusading animal duel have ceased after tirades of blood-slicked blades and roaring fire. Here beauty and beast crouch together as one singing and smoke-blackened heart, unsure in their fate at the whim of an even mightier monster before them, and the final flag remains to be thrown.

Though thrilling from the fear, the princess plays the dead rabbit well. She is still, and barely lets herself whimper as the great black wolf coils its body over hers. It lifts her up to its quivering lips and wet nose and adrenaline capsizes her every remaining ability to move. Under the jealous shadow of the beast, she hears its drum heart and the whistling, violent creaks of exertion, and when she drops her head back, its jaws crack open. They are gleaming and stained gold. The rush of hot breath sends goosebumps down to her chest.

It clamps a foaming maw over her neck, but the teeth don’t puncture. The touch is achingly delicate, hot and gentle over the prone neck—but one notch of pressure, and blood would pop and fill its mouth like overripe fruit.

The wolf growls. The sound freezes the maiden further. It’s a low, vibrating instrument and thrums in her ears with terrifying determination. At the warning note, the wicked dragon before them staggers to its feet. It’s twice the wolfbeast’s size, ichor-drenched and ragged from a moonlit battle, and it has decided, wisely, to count its losses. After a last vile glare, the massive villain slinks away. The wolf stares it down, a relentless snarl jumbling through its teeth at any sign of hesitation, until the fearsome lizard flaps its herculean wings and heaves itself into the dawn. They do not move until it’s a shadow in the clouds.

For a moment, the princess fears, manically, that the trust she had was merely lunatic hope. The werewolf does not let go. In fact, the teeth seem to begin pinching through skin. She gawks, drags her hands up to its neck and almost clasps it as if in prayer.

“Please—let go. Please.” She begs with her open mouth and grasping hands until the wolf, shaking, vomits her from its mouth. Before she can drop to the stone, it catches her—and they collapse, one body and then two.

It takes a moment for the wash of post-panic cold to leave her. She heaves herself up by the elbows and finds herself cradling the massive brute head of the beast. White scars criss and cross its pelt, but more urgently, blood and ichor from fresh wounds streak through its fur. The mess sticks to the princess’s skin. The wolf’s body kicks and convulses, and every breath wretches a pained cry from its entire body. The princess searches vainly for cause, until the sun lighting the horizon finally yields an answer. With the full moon gone, the lycan curse bades them alone at last.

The werewolf’s bones snap and knit tighter and tighter, pushing a new terrain from skin and muscle, and the monstrous screams of pain become gulping, human sobs. The fur recedes, or sheds—she’s not quite sure—until what’s left is a starkly naked woman, shivering and bleeding under a heavy coat of furs.

As the princess realizes she’s now instead clutching a very human head in her hands, attached to a very human body, she finally follows a charged emotion other than panicked fear: panicked care. She tears the sleeves of her dress away and finds a wound to wrap them around—a nasty gash close to the collarbone. With a half-dead grunt, the woman strewn on her lap reaches up and pushes her hands away. She forces her eyelids open and looks at the princess. Her eyes are the color of coal and night, and the bridge of her nose is smeared with blood, and it’s the most intensely anyone has ever stared at her. She strains to reach over again, but the knight’s grip strengthens and she forces her gaze to hers once more, this time unshakeable. She gives the faintest of disapproving grumbles—almost a growl, the princess swears—and then curls into a fetal position under her cape and is still.

–

She doesn’t move for hours. The princess has time enough to wash up, feed the horse outside, and prepare a lonely lunch before there is any movement from her rescuer. It’s quick, as well—one minute, she’s the lump on the floor, the next, she’s sat stretching her arms behind her back.

The princess watches from behind a stone outcropping. The knight’s back, gored the night before, is stitched together with threads of healed white sinew. Her entire body is downy with black, curly hair that trails from the nape of her neck and hugs in swirls around her shoulders and thighs, thickest at her hands and feet. She turns her head to yawn and dull fangs poke from under stretchy, cracked lips. Her ears are pointed and her hair is as well, and the princess’s stomach turns from the queerness of it all.

She doesn’t realize her transfixation until she cling-clangs against the lunch pots at her feet. The knight’s head whips around, unnaturally almost. A flash of assessment, and the dangerous reflex quells from her rigid stance. She pushes herself up and pads over to the princess in what feels like one swift motion. The princess stumbles back on instinct. She leans against the outcropping to catch herself and finds the knight already with her, standing close enough to count the fuzzy hairs on her neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

The knight says nothing but cocks her head to the side.

“I—I made you lunch. I thought you might be hungry. And there’s water and bandages, too, if you’ll take them.”

The woman’s face softens, just for one second. She turns to look at the spread and tilts her chin up with an agreeing nod.

The princess’s cheeks burn and chest tightens. She feels, somehow, like an idiot, but also very reasonable, and it mostly makes her confusedly indignant. “You don’t have to take it.” She manages to sputter. The woman-knight is taller than her. Her frame is lanky, and had it not been that she’d seen her nearly kill a dragon last night, she would appear unassuming in build.

She is also still freshly naked, and smells like wet hair and earth. The princess tries to find purchase anywhere but her gaze and her eyes travel downwards. She wears a necklace—a metal crucifix. Where it sits her skin burns red and raw.

This captivates her, until the soft brush of fingers against her neck flings her to the present. She flinches, and finds the knight looking despairingly at her throat. Teeth marks ring around it, bruising.

She catches the question in the knight’s gaze and hums, “Oh, did it hurt? No, not much.” Her eyes travel and try for distraction. The calloused tips of the knight’s fingers graze over her skin, and this charges her like metal in a storm. She freezes up again, nearly as badly as when her life hung between the teeth of the wolf, and the familiar aching gentleness bleeds her once again from air and thought. She reaches up, and stops the touch.

The wolf knight only looks at her, persistent in search of assurance. “You didn’t pierce skin. I’m okay.” The princess promises again, frigid, and she steps away, pushes her hair over the teeth marks. “Come and eat, now. It’ll be cold soon.”

She leaves to gather the plates and feels the gaze of the wolf linger on her back. This chills her thoroughly, but she says nothing. The lunch is served and at last the knight sits and eats, dutifully and with a practiced restriction. She swallows hungrily, though, and masticates as if to savor every last crumb.

The cape of furs rests over her shoulders and blessedly leaves the princess shy of imagination. She must have grabbed it before sitting, or at least, the princess believes that’s what happens. Her movements are far too damn quick for the inattentive.

A hearty grunt denotes satisfaction, and she hands the plate to her. The princess, scraping at her own empty plate, says, “Thank you.”

Puzzled, the knight arcs an eyebrow.

“For saving me. Thank you.”

The knight grunts again, nods. Quickly, this combination has become the signature of the dark-haired warrior.

“I really do appreciate it,” the princess continues, and she hears the frustration tip at the end of her words.

The knight follows with a shrug, then, as if sensing the curiosity, taps near her heart, lifts her necklace, and hands it over. The princess takes it with hesitant anxiety.

The necklace bears the cross, as well as two stamped tags: the king’s crest, adorned with the rampant lions, and a coat of arms. The design of the coat of arms is uniform, but shallow and dark, likely hand-carved. It bears only a crescent moon and the words ‘Beauwolf’ lettered at the back. She thumbs over the words carefully and mouths the name. It molds itself over her tongue.

“The knight Beauwolf.” She proclaims at last, soft. “You’re one of the Wulven warriors of the King’s order…of course.”

She folds the necklace in her hands and returns it. Beauwolf takes it and drops it over her head. Faintly, her skin sizzles at the jewelry’s touch, and the princess covers her hands with her mouth.

“You’re wearing pure silver?” She whispers. Beauwolf nods, and the fact that it doesn’t seem to bother her upsets the princess further. “Does the order make you?”

Beauwolf shakes her head, nigh amused.

“Then why?”

Beauwolf takes the necklace again and holds up the cross, as if every answer was obviously inside it. The princess squints. “For God? He makes you?”

Beauwolf shakes her head again, more vigorously than before, still with that glint of amusement.

“For what then?”

“You.” She speaks, finally. Her voice is smooth, and warm, and firm. The princess’s cheeks flush. The noises around them all suddenly quiet, sucked away to some other less important part of the world.

“...Me?” The princess squeaks. “What on earth could you ever mean by that? I wouldn’t make you wear something that hurts you so.”

“The cross to abate the curse, lest harm come to you.” The cadence she speaks with is rhythmic and low, as if the words dig themselves out of her chest one by one. She looks up under her furred eyebrows, and her eyes are like flint.

“You pain yourself to…to keep yourself from hurting me? To keep your flesh holy to the commandments.” The princess fumbles into the right answer, then. “But you’re a lycan! Cursed! Are you not damned by the Devil already?”

“Yes.” Beauwolf denotes, and the princess knows this will be the last she speaks for now.

They sit in their silence and smolder, with only the noises of crumbling ash and wind and morningsong between them. “I’m Adeline.” The princess finally says.

Beauwolf nods.

Adeline stirs and stews and crouches into herself. Beauwolf takes this as an end to their lively conversation, and rises to leave. Adeline feigns a huff and turn of the head for modesty, but her eyes trail when Beauwolf walks away; the knight really is light on her toes. She sheds the coat and dresses in the spot where she’d awoken earlier in the day.

She steps into linens first, and pulls a shirt over her head. The fabric is tight over the arms, but not so fitted over her breasts and torso, torn in places, and it hangs limp and sheer. Somehow the simple act of covering leaves Adeline more ashamed to watch than before—but she doesn’t stop, instead straining around her peripheral to see better.

Beauwolf pulls her trousers over the curve of her hips and ties it tight with the end strings. Her shock of black hair seems even more stark with the plainclothes. The woolen hose next, then a threadbare black aketon. Her armor takes longer to fit into, first with the metal mesh followed by a puzzle of plated armor, until the only piece missing is the gaunt wolf helmet Adeline had first seen her in. Her uncovered head looks silly and smaller, now built up by a menacing gilded frame, triangular in most proportions. Adeline finds herself chewing her lip to shreds, but feels she would go dizzy if she stared anywhere else.

Beauwolf ties her hair back into a tail and cranes her head back to watch Adeline with a knowing look. She kneels to fit her shoes, then picks up her cape and flips it over her shoulders, ties it tight to the base of her neck. Adeline watches openly now, until Beauwolf is walking back to her. She stretches out a gloved hand. Adeline takes it, and she’s lifted to her feet with a grace that she couldn’t have managed alone.

“Are you taking me home, Sir Beauwolf?”

The knight nods, then gestures over to the fireplace. Her helmet rests strewn on the floor, close to wrecked stone and overgrown plant.

Adeline steps to pick it up, then turns and finds Beauwolf, again, a heartbeat’s width too close. She bows her head and Adeline realizes, in a rush, just how aware she was of her consuming gaze and participation, and that the knight is offering her a hand in the ritual. She slides the helmet over her head and watches it swallow her coal eyes and crooked, scarred nose and narrow lips, until it’s only her chin that pokes underneath. Beauwolf drops her shoulders back, and seems to pause.

She stays paused for a while.

Adeline’s lips purse, annoyed the most you could be at your savior. “Am I to wait for you to carry me?” She crosses her arms, with the premeditated answer of ‘if you insist’ ready for harrumphing.

The knight points to the kitchenware, the scattered belongings—the recovered tiara wrapped hastily alongside spoons.

“Oh,” Adeline sucks her teeth, and ends with the, “Right.” on a sharp ite.

She squats to pick up the tiara—her one remnant of personal treasure, any other trinkets hoarded in whatever depths existed in this ruinous cavern of a castle. She brushes away the lint from its gems, and fits it back to the crown of her head.

“The rest can stay. Better to travel light, I assume.”

Beauwolf seems to have decided this is well. She takes her longsword, which had been leaning against a crook in the wall, and wipes away the dragonblood with her cape before she sheaths it, and they empty the castle.

#short story #werewolf #knight #writing #uh fuck idk #monster x human #wlw #blood ment #um yeah if i got any historical details wrong idc if i got grammar wrong my b im bad at it #b:wk #just wanted to uh. hold up to my promise ig!#goodnight <3 #not to mislead anyone there is also no dragon fight or no mention of how adeline gets her crown back bc im lazy lol #ALSO i make up words. sorry.

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daebakinc · 2 years

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D-20: Dragon

Pairing: Dragon Yongguk x Royal Reader

Genre: Angst, Action

Word Count: 1.6K

Faster.

You must be faster, but nature is set against you. Bushes and branches tear at your face and limbs. Underfoot, rocks and dips in the earth threaten to bring you down. Even your own body is ready to betray you. The muscles in your legs and lungs are on fire, but you demand more. So much depends on you.

The howls and thrashing sounds are getting closer. They are fresh whereas your energy has been spent searching for the past three days. If they catch you, it’s not only over for you, but for your family and your kingdom as well. Your world as you know it will end if you can’t find him. If you can’t convince him to help.

The ground beneath your foot gives way and sends you tumbling down the hill. Your fingernails claw and break on dirt and grass, but you can’t stop yourself. Your back slams into a tree trunk. A black darker than the night threatens to steal your vision.

Fighting the pain, you stagger to your feet using the tree and gritting your teeth against the pain. You realize you’re just outside a small meadow. The grass that glows white in the moonlight seems to reach toward a small boulder in the clearing’s center.

As your vision clears, the boulder comes more into focus. It’s not a boulder at all, but a roughly carved. The dark stone roils with storm clouds and weaving in and out of them is a long-bodied beast. A dragon.

You found him.

Your steps stumble as you try to run. Just behind the statue is a cliff face. There.

A victorious shout breaks through the night. “There they are! Remember, capture them alive!”

Alive only long enough to return to the city to be publicly executed, you’re sure.

With your last burst of strength, you push yourself straight at the solid rock. Instead of crashing into stone, you fall through what feels through a curtain of water so cold it feels like a shock.

Your body hits the ground and rolls a few feet.

Outside the cave, you can hear incredulous shouts and other sounds of confusion, but there’s something more important. A rumble from within the cave as if the earth itself is growling a warning and the growl is growing.

Footsteps echo from within the cave approaching you, but you can’t even lift your head, much less open your eyes. You made it. You’re safe.

A surprised yell sounds from behind you, followed by “I found them!”

Ice fills your soul. No. No, it can’t end like this. Your hands blindly reach ahead, scrambling to pull yourself deeper into the cave.

A hand grabs your ankle and cruelly yanks you back. A sword rasps as it’s unsheathed.

No!

“Who enters here?” a voice deep as the ocean booms.

The hand releases you. One of the men hunting you yells, “Stay where you are! This isn’t your business.”

“You have made it my business by entering my front door. Who are you and why have you come?”

Using their distraction, you kick out, hitting bone. But it was a futile attempt, because you’re grabbed and dragged once again.

Suddenly, a man yelps and you hear a sword clatter against rocks. Similar howls and clanks follow shortly.

“Violence is forbidden here,” the deep voice says. Its owner is getting closer still. “You would think those who enter my domain would know this.”

“Please, Lord! I beg your protection,” you cry hoarsely, lifting your head. The torches cannot break far into the cave’s darkness, but you can just make out an even darker shadow rising from the depths.

“Quiet, you!” a man shouts, kicking you in the back so hard you can’t help your scream.

A loud crack splits the air and something heavy behind you crumples to the ground to the gasps and cries of those around you.

“Did I not make myself clear? I said, violence is forbidden here. If it is your only intention, leave, but leave the child.”

Immediately, people start running. Someone tries to drag you up to take you with them, but there’s another crack and you drop, their body falling on top of you.

Dust sprays your face as a foot stops in front of it. A hand, warm and rough, lifts your chin. All you can make out is a blurry face before succumbing.

---

You wake up in such luxury that you bolt up, uncomfortable. The bed beneath you is softer than a cloud and the scarlet silk blanket covering you is so smooth it seems woven from water. When you push the curtain surrounding the bed aside, you find the room is open on three sides, all of which look out over a body of water so large you can’t see the edges where they disappear in the dark. But the lake itself is lit by low-hanging stars brighter than you’ve ever seen.

When you swing your tentative feet out from the blankets and onto the floor, you discover another miracle. All the sprains and scratches and other injuries you’d endured are gone with not a single blemish left on your skin.

“You’re feeling well, I assume?”

The voice from the cave.

Your head snaps up. A man stands before you in a white robe with twisting black marks along the arms. He’s tall and slender, but something tells you he’s much stronger than he looks. Then, you meet his eyes. Beneath his curly black hair, they shine gold.

You immediately drop to the floor and bow so low your head touches the cool stone. “My Lord Dragon. Thank you for saving me.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Hands grip your elbows to pull you up, but you resist.

“Please, Lord, I need your help. Do you remember my great-grandmother? When you were still an imugi, she found you being attacked by a tiger. She drove the tiger off, then cared for you until you could leave.”

The dragon lets go and you hear the silk of his robe whisper as he sits in front of you. “I do. That was a long time ago. Does she still live?”

“No, she died many years ago.”

“Ah. I’m sorry.”

“I never knew her, but her story was passed to all of us. But Lord-”

“Please don’t call me that. I’m not a lord. My name is fine. Yongguk.”

To do so feels treasonous, but you need him. “Yong-yongguk, thank you again for saving me, but I need to ask one more thing of you.”

He makes an affirming sound.

“Does your promise to my great-grandmother still stand? That you would help her and her family in their time of need?” You finally lift your head, watching him.

There’s nothing on his face for you to read, only thoughtfulness. “Does it pertain to the men who followed and tried to take you?”

“Yes. I’m sure you knew my great-grandmother was a high noble related to the royal family. Her grandson, my father, became king. Our people are under attack and we can’t hold off the invaders forever. We are a peaceful people. I promise on my life, it will just be this once. I nor mine will ever come again. Please, lend us your power.” Your voice sounds pathetic in your own ears, but you don’t care. Your pride means nothing in the face of losing everything you love.

Yongguk stays still, scarily so, instead of answering you for a long time. Your knees, legs, and back begin to ache in protest, but you can’t move.

“How,” he slowly says at last, “can you guarantee it will only be once? I have lived for a long time, child, a very long time.”

He reaches into the folds of his robe, closes his eyes in concentration, then pulls his hand back out. In his palm rests a small globe, glowing a smoky emerald green from within. A chintamani stone, the source of dragons’ power.

Yongguk continues, his eyes on the stone. “I have seen countless well-intentioned humans whose virtue withered in the face of their greed for power. I am always grateful for your family’s kindness, but you know a dragon’s powers are next to a god’s. That could be dangerous in the hands of a human.”

“I don’t ask that you give it to us. I just ask that you come with me. After, we will not keep you. I promise, Yongguk. Please...”

His gaze drifts from the chintamani to you and you feel his eyes searching down to your very soul. The gold in his eyes looks so cold.

“Would you give up your life in exchange?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer instantly. You grab the knife at your waist, unsheathe it, and put it against your throat.

A force yanks the knife from your hand so it skitters across the room.

“I did not mean your life’s blood,” Yongguk says. “You are ready to sacrifice everything for your people, and I can see your heart is strong, so I trust you as I trusted your ancestor.”

Your body automatically lurches forward, closer to him. “Then you’ll help us?”

“However, I cannot trust other humans. I will help, but I cannot risk others trying to assume or manipulate me. That has been done too often. If I help you, will you give me your freedom in exchange?”

You still. “You mean stay here? With you? Forever?”

He nods, rolling the chintamini stone in his palm.

You sit back on your heels, a chill shooting through your body. What a hollow victory it would be to save your family and kingdom only to never see them again. A sacrifice upon a sacrifice. You have a choice, but do you?

Looking back at Yongguk’s face, you infuse your spine with all the steel of your bloodline. “I will.”

#yongguk scenarios #bap scenarios #yongguk drabbles #bap drabbles #kpop drabbles #kpop drabble #yongguk drabble #bap drabble

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softandslow · 1 year

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i am asking for an excerpt 👁👄👁

you're my favorite, anon :') it's a fantasy au with dragons, friends to enemies to friends to lovers. louis has come to court harry's sister. no further context, here you go:

The last of his mother’s advisors trickled from the room. Harry watched them go, until it was only he and Louis left in the vast space. Dusk had fallen over the course of the meeting, and purple-blue darkness now colored their faces with shadows. It was as though an unspoken pact had been agreed to, that they had unfinished business to settle before this day was through.

Harry found he could not no longer hold his tongue.

“Many moons since you last stepped foot on Queendom soil.”

“Do you follow me that closely?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“I make note of all potential threats, and their movements.”

“Threats,” Louis seemed to digest the word, and Harry let him. “I do not make a habit of going where I am unwanted,” Louis leaned forward to grasp a pitcher of wine, and poured himself a deep glass. “Without reason.”

“Only imposing when it is to your advantage.”

“I do not recall you paying the Kingdom much mind since the war, yourself.” Louis swirled his glass before drinking deeply.

“Duty required me here, at my family’s side.” Harry thumbed the hilt of one of his daggers.

“You must be able to walk these halls blind without stumbling,” Louis’ tone was derisive. Then, under his breath, “seventeen years as a palace ornament.”

“And what of the woman you’ve brought with you?” He shot the words like an arrow, aiming to pierce through this farce.

Louis turned to face him fully again, only now a glimmer of the beast he rode reared its head. “What of her?”

“Am I to believe you truly capable of giving your heart,” Harry cursed his body as it began to tremble with the emotional charge of this confrontation. “To my sister when you trifle with another so brazenly?”

Louis’ eyes traced Harry from head to foot, searing heat along his skin.

“She is a trinket, a comfort from home.” Louis said dismissively. “If anything, think of her as a verification of my interest,” Louis paused, finished his glass, and then circled the table to stand before Harry without a barrier between them. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost a purr. “Listen through the walls, if you like.”

It happened swiftly. Instinctively.

His fingers found the smallest of his daggers at his hip, flipped it in his hand and caught it by the hilt, ducking to his right and aiming to drive the blade up, beneath the lowest of Louis’ ribs. The blade’s tip never found its aim, though, as Louis dodged jaggedly before gripping Harry’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back, and kneeing him in the stomach. As he bent to the blow, Louis knocked him into the edge of the table, sending goblets clattering to the floor, and pinned him, one hand still gripping Harry’s wrist, the other holding the back of his neck.

“I cannot decide which is more delicious,” Louis’ voice was inches from his ear, his warm breath heating the electric air between them. Harry felt where their hips were flush to one another, hot as a brand, and his throat contracted. “That you are affronted on behalf of your sister, who has already granted me courtship—“ a huff as Harry struggled to free himself from the hold “—or your jealousy—“

Hot, coiling rage swept up through him. Harry was bigger, more muscular and taller than him, he broke free and would hear no more. Sweeping a foot back, timed with a buck from the table, he deftly caught Louis in the ankle and flattened him to his back on the stone floor. Harry pinned him by the neck with his forearm, and mounted him with his thighs, pinning his legs.

He could see stars swimming in Louis’ eyes as he reeled from knocking his head into the stones, a glazed smile playing at his mouth.

“Still have claws—” Louis’ voice was a wheeze as Harry pressed into his windpipe.

Harry’s free hand brought a dagger up to point just below Louis’ jaw. “Fuck her as loudly as you wish, I left my desire for you on the battlefield.”

Looking directly into Louis’ eyes he saw surprise, and something more flicker behind the piercing blue.

Harry cut a quick, shallow line down Louis’ neck before shoving off of him. As he strode from the room he could hear Louis gag for breath, and felt a pang of satisfaction.

A pair of guards who must have heard the commotion met him at the doorway.

“Escort Prince Louis to his chambers, he is certain to be weary after his journey.”

#fair warning there's violence #fic snippets

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it.

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them.

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The Sacrifice: Part 1 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

synopsis: every year, an unwed maiden is sacrificed to the Dragon God, and this year, you've been picked.

wc: 1.5k

tw: none (y'all know how I love to do backstory before I get into anything heavy)

A/N: thank you to @sunfloweroranges for this AMAZING idea that just rocked my world. I've been thinking about this for days now, and I've finally begun to write it. Thank you, love bug. This story wouldn't be written without you. Seriously.

masterlist

Inhale.

Exhale.

The reminder to breathe is the only thing you can muster as you are being misted with ylang-ylang and sandalwood, the scents akin to that of a virgin on her wedding day. It’s only when the elders rub ashes on the backs of your hands that you are reminded of your true purpose at the temple.

“Yew trees signify death and resurrection,” your mother used to tell you when you watched this ceremony from your perch on your father’s shoulders. It seemed so long ago when you were innocent; the virtue like the mast of a sinking ship you now desperately cling to. But now, your nails are being removed from this sinking ship and are painted over with crushed berries, staining the nail beds reddish-purple.

“Turn around,” a woman croaks, and you turn to face yourself in the mirror offered by another old woman. You see remnants of who you used to be: the long hair kept from the years spent living as an orphan, the full lips decorated with red lipstick instead of bruises, and the slight upward tilt of your chin. You were not always this poor and downtrodden; it seems that the only thing the creditors and bill-makers couldn’t strip from you was the way you could see right through people.

Even yourself.

“Follow me,” another woman mutters, and you depart from the eyes of the waiting citizens of Lampai, if only for a brief moment. The elderly female - who shuffles down a corridor and into a private, empty room - seems sweet enough, but perhaps that was because she knew your fate and wanted to take pity on you in your last moments here on this earth. When she turns around to you, she reveals a large pendant necklace that she has to stand on her tiptoes to drape over your neck. It’s made of turquoise and gold - something you would have killed for before today - and she tucks it into your dress, hiding it from sight. “Turquoise stones for your protection, and gold to bring the dragon pleasure.” In all of your years watching this terrible raffle, you’d never seen a necklace so divine, so beautiful.

“Thank you,” you murmur. But also, you’d never seen a criminal such as yourself standing on the dais before mounting the horse that would take you up the mountain, never to return again. This was an unusual year, but you would take all of the help you could get.

You ponder your odds of survival as the woman leads you back to the dais, where you stand before your peers, hoping someone would speak up and plead for mercy on your behalf. You know if your mother and father were still alive, you wouldn’t be in this spot at all. They had bought you decades worth of protection from being picked for such a medieval practice, but once they died and the General Commissioner found out that you were homeless, broke, and a criminal… Well, here you stood as punishment for stealing food from a market, your first and only crime.

“Her maidenhood has been confirmed, and she is ready to ascend the mountain,” the elder announces with hands raised to the sky. The people below you cheer with excitement at the half-truth, prepared to commence their yearly commitment to the Dragon God.

One maiden sent up the mountain per year as a sacrifice.

One maiden meant one unmarried, untouched woman. Despite your short criminal stint, you fit that bill quite well. And what was easier than the General Commissioner sending you up the mountain to be eaten by a dragon? Putting you in jail? No, he’d have to feed you there. That was just too much humanity to spare.

As you mount the horse that will take you to your destination, you look over into General Commissioner Gakuganji’s eyes and raise your brows, daring him to speak to you. But he doesn’t and waves his hand so the temple women would get on with the ceremony. It’s obvious he wants to go home and eat his fill of food before the evening is over.

The horse is led up the path lined by magnolia trees by one of the male temple attendants, his eyes glued to the road ahead and not daring to look up at you: the sacrifice. You want to hop off of the horse and make a run for the surrounding brush, but you know that the mountain is treacherous without a means to get up or down. You’d be stuck forever, wandering around with no food or water until you finally collapsed and died somewhere.

Well, that’s if you’re not eaten by the Dragon God first.

At the end of the magnolia path, the male attendant stops, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“I can go no further,” he states, and you take the reins in your hands instead, not sparing him another glance. “Ride straight up the path.” With a grunt, you urge the horse onward by digging your heels into its flanks and note that the path ahead seems more desolate than the one behind you. There are no trees, no signs of life, nothing but rocks and dust.

And that’s when the fear finally sets in.

The background to your ascent is the sound of cheers from the other people below you - the safe people who wouldn’t have to endure the shredding of limbs by dragon’s teeth. If an outsider were watching the spectacle, they might assume that you were ascending the mountain to commiserate with the gods, then return a hero.

But - again - there is no return down the mountain in sight. Not for you.

_____________________________________________________________

Silence.

The echoing of the cheers died off an hour - maybe two? - ago. All you can hear is the soft clomps of the horse’s hooves in the dirt and your own breathing. There was nothing on this mountain in the mid-fall. Not even a sign of leaves or something that would indicate any form of existence had been around before the mountain was stripped of its features and made into the vessel for sacrifices to be delivered unto the Dragon God.

You’re starting to believe this god isn’t real around the third hour of the trip. The peak - a sharp apex - is nearing ever so slightly, looming above like a sharp dagger waiting to fall. The evening is just now coming to a close, but you feel every single moment drag out forever as the horse passes more desolation and untouched land. But when a long shadow ghosts over the dimming sunlight, you jerk up in the saddle and hold the reins tightly.

“Just a hallucination,” you mutter, looking about the sky for some sign of the long shadow’s source. When you look down at the horse, another long shadow darts across the sky, and a gust of wind blows harshly in your face. With a jerk, the horse shakes its head, but another gust of wind from behind you sends the horse into a panicked state, and he takes off at a gallop without warning. Your screams must certainly be heard down the mountain, but you’re holding onto the beast for dear life and nothing else matters anymore except the concept of survival.

At some point, you lose your grip on the reins and you’re tossed backward, landing in the dirt with a pained moan. Your back and neck are lit up in agony, but as you rise up from the ground, you notice the horse is gone.

Your horse is gone.

“No!” As panic sets in, you try to jump to your feet to see if you could possibly catch up to it, but as you amble up the path, you realize you’re completely screwed. Without the horse, you had no food, no water… nothing.

But when a long shadow paints itself across the ground in front of you, you do only what you know how to do.

Run.

Going back down the mountain seemed foolish, but you had no other option to escape whatever that shadow foretold of. If you could just get to the magnolia trees you could--

A strong wind knocks you flat onto your back and right underneath the shadow, and you cry out, seeing two pairs of golden talons attached to a beige underbelly descend upon you and snatch you up in their sharp grip. You’re taken up into the sky, and for a moment, you dare to look down at the receding ground. But your nerves throw you back into overdrive and you attempt to pry the talons from your arms but to no avail. Tears stream from your closed eyes as you contemplate your fate.

From here, the dragon’s nest. Then… death. This was the end. Images of your family flash before your eyes and you silently pray that whichever gods still exist would grant you the mercy to join your mother and father.

You open your eyes as the taloned creature sets you on your back in a field of grass, then lifts off into the sky once more. After you struggle to find your feet again - they’d gone numb during the short flight to this knoll - you look upward to see if you can locate anything familiar, any sign of another dragon, or something that could tell you where you are. But the flood of nerves and adrenaline comes crashing down and you careen backward, all five senses shutting off as soon as you hit the grass again.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @leanne-tamashi @brownskinnedgirll

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen

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trinketprince · 3 years

Text

All the Youkaimatsus so far

JExcept sets that have all of them as the same youkais (Nekomata, Tanuki and the various Kitsune sets from Tabimatsu)

Pinup Poster from the Osomatsu Character Book #6 (July 2016)

A classic. The very first iteration of Youkaimatsu. Kind of hard to find since it was a bonus poster from the character book, so unless you were actively looking for the book, you wouldn’t find this.

Osomatsu - Kitsune (unknown how many tails he has but is often depicted in fan artworks as 6 or 9, 9 meaning strongest/wisest a kitsune has been, Spirit Fox)

Karamatsu - Karasu-Tengu (pun on Kara, Bird Man)

Choromatsu - Dodomeki (usually a woman cursed with long arms littered with many bird eyes because of greed. Most popular one imo)

Ichimatsu + ESP Nyanko - Nekomata (Two-tailed cat, legend says that cats who live longer than a 100 years gain a second tail)

Jyushimatsu - Rokurobi (available in two flavors. Long Neck and Floating Head. He is the former. Theorized to not actually be a youkai but created for entertainment. Also used as a literary device for a wandering soul.)

Todomatsu - Yukki Onna (Also a joke on Todo being scared stiff. Yuki Onna pull tricks on humans that usually end on the person’s death via cold. Has a harsh and soft side)

Youkai Units from The Great Youkai War event from Hesokuri Wars (November 2016)

Most popular Youkaimatsu set, this baby could get milked for miles, but for some reason isn’t. Has a lot of variants (Awakened, Darkness, Snow, Sakura and Hyakki Yagyou) and connected to a lot of other sets: Denki Mystery, Colorless Overalls, Mononoke and a bunch of others. She is the top DOGG set.

Osomatsu - Shuten-Douji (Oni Leader with a penchance for Sake, literally carrying a big ass bottle of it on his back, since he is the leader of the sextuplets and the one seen drinking beer the most)

Karamatsu - Aoandon (Summoned after 100 supernatural stories are told. Originated from the blue (ao) paper lanterns (andon) that were sometimes used to give a chilling atmosphere)

Choromatsu - Daitengu (Great Tengu, Tengus were theorized to be ascended souls, but also has its origins in a Dog Beast that looked like a comet. For some reason Dog Beast turned into Bird Man. The bird man’s beak is often anthropomorphized into long noses. Tells humanity to behave by throwing invisible stones at them)

Ichimatsu - Nine-tailed Kitsune (So wise. So powerful)

Jyushimatsu - Inugami (Dog God that possesses people)

Todomatsu - Bake-Danuki (also known as tanuki, mischievous spirits, mostly known in pop culture for their BIG FAT NUTS)

Dayon is a miko, a shrine maiden. Hatabou is an Onmyoji, an exorcist, Dekapan is a kannushi, a shrine priest. Totoko and Iyami are regular civillians

Youkai Hyakki Yagyou merchandise from Animate Girls Festival (September 2017)

One of the lesser known sets, considering that it’s just designs for a line of merch but their designs are so good? Why don’t people use these designs more often.

Osomatsu - Karasu-Tengu

Karamatsu - Nine-tailed fox

Choromatsu - Shuten-Douji (A possible reference to Season 1 Episode 2 where he gets the most drunk?)

Ichimatsu - Mizuchi (Legendary Water Serpent/Dragon)

Jyushimatsu - Kamaitachi (Beast that rides on dust devils. Cuts people using it’s scythe-like nails. The wounds are sharp but painless)

Todomatsu - Ungaikyou (A haunted mirror that can be used to trap spirits. The spirits in the ungaikyou can manipulate the reflection shown on it’s reflection.)

Kitsune Servant Set from Tabimatsu (September 2017)

Ok I know I said I wouldn’t cover the Kitsune sets from Tabimatsu since there are like 5 different Kitsune sets, but this one is noteworthy cause they have secondary Youkai traits other than the regular kitsune traits.

Osomatsu - Oni’s horns

Karamatsu - Tengu’s wings

Choromatsu - Orochi around his neck

Ichimatsu - True Kitsune (Or Nekomata’s paw?)

Jyushimatsu - Wanyudo (Flaming Wheel)

Todomatsu - I don’t know, but there’s something around his neck?

Japanese Youkai set from Shimamatsu (January 2018)

Shimamatsu was such a good game, what a shame it ended so soon. The 3D models were so cute. Edit: The two designs are from before and after evolution!

Osomatsu - Enma-san (A wrathful god in charge of judging souls in the afterlife. Resides over hell)

Karamatsu - Yamato no Orochi (Eight headed and Eight-tailed serpent/dragon)

Choromatsu - Kamaitachi (wields an actual scythe)

Ichimatsu - Youkai Catman or a Bakaneko (Catboy, furry)

Jyushimatsu - Yobuko (lives in the mountains, repeats whatevers shouted into the mountain, explains the phenomemon of Echos)

Todomatsu - Yuki Otoko (Snowman, a Yuki Onna basically)

“Inn” Osoma and Choroe from Osomatsu Season 2 Episode 17

A BUNCH OF PEOPLE REMINDED ME AND HOW COULD I FORGET THE BEST YOUKAI EVER. Osoma baby,,,, I’m so sorry..... Srsly, this skit was so good, I hope they make more skits like this where they make entirely new characters out of the framework of the sextuplets.

Osoma - A Zashiki-warashi, child spirits who live in store rooms or extra rooms, they died buried in their homes. Pranksters but meeting one is said to bring good fortunes to families. Osoma gets crossovered a lot with the other Youkai sets in JP fanart. A popular pairing is Dodomeki Chorosuke (from Denki Mystery) and Osoma also Kitsune Osomatsu (from the poster) and Osoma.

Choroe - Not necessarily a youkai, in fact in the episode she’s presented as just a regular human. But is theorized often to be a Yama-uba. An old woman banished to the mountains. She provides shelter to weary travelers (in the myth it’s just a humble shelter but you know. an inn is also considered a shelter) before eating them. In one story she eats the recently birthed baby of a woman who had to give birth in the mountains.

Mononoke from Hesokuri Wars (May 2019)

Technically they are all the same type of being, Mononoke, but they look different from each other. Mononoke can posses individuals and cause suffereing and even death. And technically they aren’t Youkais but Onryos, vengeful spirits. But Onryos can also be used to refer to youkais and truthfully I just wanna include this set cause their designs are so cool looking. This set’s attacks contain glimpses of units of other sets.

Osomatsu - Bear themed

Karamatsu - Wolf themed

Choromatsu - Rooster/Chicken themed

Ichimatsu - Spider

Jyushimatsu - Boar

Todomatsu - Bull or Ox

Edo Rock The Great Youkai Harvest Festival from Tabimatsu (October 2019)

This set is interesting cause rather than youkai alone, they are also musicians. This set also has another set like Hesokuri called The Great Youkai NEET which is basically the awakened versions, properly showcasing more of the youkai traits.

Osomatsu - Shuten-Douji (Again, we need to stage an intervention for you damn)

Karamatsu - Karasu-Tengu (Again)

Choromatsu - Mizuchi (actually riding said serpent)

Ichimatsu - Black Kitsune (Hot Topic, Goth version)

Jyushimatsu - Frog. Just. Frog. (could be a reference to the legend of Jiraiya, the ninja who could shapeshift into a frog/ride big frogs. His mouth is cover just like a ninja is too.)

Todomatsu - Kamaitachi (could be a reference to season 1 where Todomatsu wields a scythe)

Iyami - Oni (not sure if he’s any particular oni but he does have the horns and metal club)

Atsushi - Ibaraki-Douji? (White hair and singular horn, most imporant servant of Shuten-Douji)

Promo Merch from Sega Cafe collab (September 2020)

Edit: Thank you @zenryokubatankyu for notifying me! Another set of promo youkais! You can get them by random by ordering a drink or meal at the now-defunct Sega x Osomatsu collab cafe. And the return of F6? Damn I haven’t seen you since Season 2!

Osomatsu - Oni

Karamatsu - I’m not exactly sure but he seems like a Mizuchi, a water serpent/dragon. He also could be another legendary serpent/dragon though.

Choromatsu - Kappa

Ichimatsu + ESP Nyanko - Karasu-Tengu

Jyushimatsu - I’m not sure, at first i thought it might be a crab youkai judging from the legs, but upon closer inspection he has spider webs on his robes, so they may be spider legs instead. Could be a Jorogumo, a youkai that wields fire breathing spiders with it’s spider legs

Todomatsu - Bakaneko (I think? The veil could be the napkin a bakaneko puts on it’s head)

Ayakashi Sextuplet’s Retro Halloween Cafe merch from Web Kuji (October 2020)

Thank you @gradelstuff for telling me about this! Ayakashi are Youkai that appear above nearby bodies of water. Although the youkais they’re dressed up as (or are?) aren’t really what you would call ayakashi? Although it’s cafe themed, it isn’t actually from a cafe collaboration. These designs are merchandise meant to be won through lottery. So if say you really love Kara and Choro’s designs (I do), then tough luck buddy!

Osomatsu - Oni

Karamatsu - Now you may think he’s Dodomeki since he’s covered with eyes, but turns out there are two other eye-relateed youkai! Mokumokuren is a youkai phenomenon where eyes appear from torn paper walls and tatami floors, initially i thought this was it given the checkered pattern he was wearing. But he might actually be a Hyakume, a youkai covered head to toe in yellow eyes specifically. Underneath those eyes is a body of flesh roughly in the shape of a man. This Youkai isn’t particularly malicious, only detaching one of it’s many eyes to follow you and survey you for criminal activiy. He might also be a BackBeard, a youkai allegedly from the US, err that would make him a cryptid I guess? A Backbeard is often characterized as a shadow with a Yellow eye with a red iris in the center. Note: Backbeard’s true origins are not known as there doesn’t seem to be any cryprid called a Backbeard, it first entered the Japanese public eye as an antogonist in the show Gegege no Kitaro. Although ever since then this “yokai” has appeared in other media and games in Japan.

Choromatsu - He isn’t exactly dressed as it (only themed as it) but the youkai he represents is the one he’s holding, a Kasa-obake, One of my favorite youkais and it’s literally iconic. Thought to be a Tsukomogami, an object that gains a spirit after it turns 100 years old.

Ichimatsu - Edit: I’m not sure but he might be a Kuchisake-Onna. In the description attached to his teaser, it makes mention of specifically his wide smile, his dos dagger and his beautiful shirt. A kuchisake onna is a yokai that wanders in the street covering her face with a mask (skull mask for ichi) and a sharp object (his dos dagger). TW GORE DESCRIPTION: She asks you if you think she’s attractive and depending on your answer she muders you with her scissors, plunging it into you OR she takes off her mask showing her wide smile, her mouth slit at the corners to her ears and asks “how about now?” and depending on your reaction she cuts you in half with her sharp object OR she slits the corners of your mouth to look like hers. END DESCRIPTION. Ichi has the mask, sharp object, wide smile and “attractiveness”. Obviously it would be inappropriate to portray ichi in the same fashion as the kuchisake onna so he was probably given the internal organ tattoos to represent the gory yokai. (internal organs usually = gore in japan). This is speculah and he might be another youkai but this is all i can think of rn.

Jyushimatsu - sailor themed Jiangshi. Jiangshi are basically Zombies originally from Chinese culture. They hop around, and crave for life force. this little jyushimatsu has taken to tomato juice instead. (Bonus: the zombie that osomatsu is in the zombie set in hesokuri wars is also a Jiangshi)

Todomatsu - Kitsune (sly fox)

“The Night Path” Youkai from Osomatsu-san Season 3 Episode 6 (November 2020)

The latest and what sparked me to make this post tbh. This set reuses the Rokurobi design from the very first Youkaimatsu iteration! Full circle yo! I like to think of this set as an addition to the original youkaimatsu, since they’re both from the primary sources.

Jyushimatsu - Rokurobi (Again)

Totoko - Amabie (mermaid with three legs? prophesized about either good harvest or an epidemic, trivia: “Amabie” trended when Covid 19 hit the world)

Hatabou - Azukiarai (a youkai that originated from the sound of something like beans being washed near a river, anyone who comes near will fall into the river)

Dayon - Nopperabou (Faceless spirits that take the form of humans. They are harmless usually, they just scare humans)

Dekapan - Kappa (Mischievous River spirits)

That should be all of them!

Recap:

Osomatsu has been a Kitsune, Shuten-Douji (twice), Karasu-Tengu, Enma-san and an Oni

Karamatsu has been a Karasu-Tengu (twice), Aoandon, Kitsune, Yamato no Orochi and a Mizuchi (?)

Choromatsu has been a Dodomeki, Daitengu, Shuten-Douji, Kamaitachi, Mizuki and a Kappa (No repeats!)

Ichimatsu has been a Nekomata, Kitsune (twice), Mizuchi, Bakaneko and a Karasu-Tengu

Jyushimatsu has been a Rokurobi (twice-ish), Inugami, Kamaitachi, Yobuko, a Frog from Jiraiya and a Jorogumo (?)

Todomatsu has been a Yuki Onna (twice), Bake-danuki, Ungaikyou, Kamaitachi and a Bakaneko

You can definitely see a trend (lmao), I’m looking forward to more Youkaimatsus from Osomatsu-san!

bonus:

Osomatsu-san cameo from Yokai Watch!!!

#Osomatsu san #Youkaimatsu #Yokaimatsu #妖怪松 #Hesokuri Wars #Shimamatsu #Tabimatsu #I'm not tagging all the matsus lmao #long post

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justauthoring · 3 years

Text

To Be Loved (6/?)

Prompt: Perhaps, you understand Harry Potter better then anyone else. Perhaps, it’s why, when your eyes meet his for the first time, you feel an instant connection. Perhaps, it’s why, you love him.

Based off of: The Harry Potter Series Pairing: Harry Potter x Black/Tonks!Reader, slight Fred Weasley x Black/Tonks!Reader A/N: OKAY! WE’RE FINALLY BACK!! I’m so happy to finally be continuing this series and I am so excited to see what you guys think of it -- especially come POA and on! I worked really hard on this chapter and I hope it was exactly what you guys were expecting.

Also, come the end scene with the house points, I lowered how many points Gryffindor has originally so it, you know, makes more sense.

Oh, how Ted and Andromeda would be disappointed in you.

You, who has never once acted out. You, who prided yourself on always being the best you could be. You, who had somehow found yourself wrapped up in detention with four others and for some reason, was a bit elated at the thrill of it all.

Of course, you’d never say that aloud.

Following closely behind Hermione, you eye the back of Filch with distain, rolling your eyes at his comment of “missing the old punishments” which was obviously a subtle-not-so-subtle threat. Because you highly doubted Hogwarts would ever approve of such teaching methods.

But then again, by the look of fear on Hermione’s face -- who were you to truly know?

“You’ll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight.” Filch explains, just as the group of you reach his hut, Hagrid himself stepping out. “He’s got a little job to do inside the Dark Forest.”

Maybe you were wrong about Hogwarts’ teaching methods after all...

“A sorry lot, this, Hagrid,” Filch calls sharply.

Glancing up at Hagrid, you frown at his lack of a reaction.

“Good God,” Filch huffs, exasperated, “you’re not still on about that bloody dragon, are you?”

You absolutely hate the smug look on Malfoy’s face.

“Norbit’s gone,” Hagrid sniffles, “Dumbledore sent him off to Romania to live in a colony.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione doubts, shaking her head in confusion. “He’s with his own kind.”

“Yeah, but what if he don’t like Romania?”

Lips parting, you frown -- you guess, that was, sort of, hard logic to argue with.

“What if the other dragons are mean to him? He’s only a baby after all.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Filch cuts in, disgusted, “pull yourself together. You’re going into the forest, after all. Got to have your wits about you.”

You share a nervous look with Hermione.

“The forest?” Draco calls, all squeaky-voiced and panicked. “I thought that was a joke. We can’t go in there. Students aren’t allowed. And there are...” On que, just as Draco pauses, you hear a distant wolf howling. “...werewolves.”

You roll your eyes. Figures he’d be a coward when he came down to it. All talk.

“There’s more than werewolves in those trees. You can be sure of that.” And after a dramatic pause, Filch steps forward with the intent to leave. “Nighty-night.”

You turn to Hagrid expectantly.

“Right. Let’s go.”

Hagrid had split you off with Draco and Harry and while you detested having to be with Malfoy, it wasn’t so bad with Harry there too. You simply ignored the boy as he rattled off about his this was ridiculous and ‘servants work’ -- you’re sure he makes some sort of comment about ‘wait till my father hears about this’ but you don’t much care either way.

You stick close to Harry, keeping one hand on Fang along the way. Even if he was ‘a bloody coward’ as Hagrid so kindly put it, it felt nicer having him by yourself.

But the calm only lasts so long -- or what could be considered ‘calm’. The three of you halt to a stop at the sound of Fang barking, the action causing you to jump violently, your attention instantly being stolen by the sight before you. The injured unicorn Hagrid had sent you all off in search of, clearly dead now, with a cloaked, hidden figure hovering over him.

You blink, head turning towards Harry when he lets out a cry of pain. Your eyes widen when you realize he’s touching his scar.

“Harry, what’s--”

But you’re cut off by Draco screaming, loudly, and running off in the next second. Fang follows him, and the loss of him next to you causes you to let out a light whimper of fear, turning back in the direction of the hooded figure only to find it now looking directly in yours and Harry’s direction.

You stumble back, expecting Harry to follow you and the both of you to run off together. But Harry doesn’t ever break out into a run.

“Harry!” You whisper harshly, just as the cloak figures moves, almost gliding towards the two of you -- though it’s clear to both you and Harry, that he’s after him and not you. “Harry, we have to go!”

You pull on the sleeve of his cloak and he stumbles back, crashing into you. The two of you lose your footing, and a scream tears past your lips as you crash into the forest floor, eyes widening in terror when you realize just how close the figure has gotten.

But it does make it closer then that. In the next second, the sounds of hooves rattling echo above the both of you, and then there’s a massive shadow gliding over the top of your heads, landing directly in front of you -- thus blocking the hooded figures path to you and Harry.

Your eyes widen when the centaur easily scares it off.

Harry turns to look at you, and you share a baffled look back at him, just as lost. He stands, helping you up to your feet just as the centaur starts making his way towards the both of you.

“Harry Potter,” and you blink, “you and your friend must leave. Many creatures know you here. The forest is not safe for the both of you at this time. Especially for you.”

“But...” Harry whispers, astonished. “What was that thing you saved us from?”

“A monstrous creature,” he says simply, “it is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn.”

He gestures to the slain creature, and you frown at the sight of it.

“Drinking it’s blood will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death. But at a terrible price. For you have slain something so pure...that the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have a half-life--”

“A cursed life,” you finish, causing both pairs of eyes to fall on you. Flushing, you shrink into yourself. “Sorry,” you eye Harry, before turning to the centaur. “Something a friend told me once.”

“You are right,” the centaur nods gently in your direction.

“Who would choose such a life?” Harry whispers.

“Can you think of no one?”

“Do you mean to say that that thing that killed the unicorn...that was drinking it’s blood, that was Voldemort?”

You gasp at the sound of the name, “harry!”

“What?” He turns to you, wide-eyed.

“You can’t just--”

“Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?” The centaur interrupts you, leaning so he’s right before the both of you.

And then it dawns on you, and by the look on Harry’s face, he’s realized it too.

“The Philosopher’s Stone.”

“--Harry!”

You blink at the sight of Hagrid and the rest.

“Hello there, Firenze,” Hagrid greets. “See you’ve met our young Mr. Potter. And of course, Ms. Tonks. You all right there, you two?”

Glancing at Harry, the both of you quickly nod at Hagrid.

“Harry Potter,” Firenze calls, stepping towards him, “this is where I leave you. You’re safe now,” he turns to you, smiling gently. “The both of you. Good luck.”

You watch in astonishment as he turns, galloping off.

“I’ve always heard Hogwart’s final exams with frightful, but I found that quite fun.”

Laughing gently at Hermione, you shake your head.

“Speak for yourself,” Ron snorts, before his attention is stolen by Harry. “All right there, Harry?”

Glancing past Hermione’s shoulder, you frown at the sight of the boy holding a hand to his scar much like he had that night in the forest.

“My scar,” he whispers, “it keeps burning.”

Frowning, you speak up; “it’s happened before.”

“Not like this,” Harry argues.

“You should see the nurse.”

“I think it’s a warning. It means danger’s coming.”

Just as he finishes speaking, Harry comes to a slow stop.

The rest of you follow, glancing at each other curiously. But before either of you can say anything, Harry’s mumbling to himself; “of course...” and then, he’s suddenly rushing forward. Right towards Hagrid.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you find it odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon...and a strange just happens to have one? I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs? Why didn’t I see it before?”

Equally as panicked as him, the four of you break out into a run, directly for Hagrid.

“Hagrid,” Harry calls, wasting no time for greetings. “Who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?”

“I don’t know,” Hagrid shrugs, baffled. “I never saw his face. He kept his hood up.”

Your eyes widen, turning to Harry; “just like in the forest.”

“You and this stranger must of talked,” Harry continues, nodding at you.

“Well,” Hagrid slows starts, recalling the moment. “He wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after. I told him, “after Fluffy, a dragon’s gonna be no problem’.”

“Did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

“Of course he was interested. How often do you come across a three-headed dog? But I told him, ‘the trick with any beast is to know how to calm him’. Take Fluffy, for example. Play him music and he falls straight to sleep.”

The four of you look at each -- he just gave it away.

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Do you think Ron and Hermione will be alright?”

“Yes,” Harry says quickly -- and it’s almost so quick, it sounds like he’s try to convince the both of you that it’s true. After that game of wizard’s chess, you were worried about Ron, and while you admired Hermione’s bravery and selflessness to stay back with him, you couldn’t help but worry at the idea of the four of you being separated.

Pausing to look at you, Harry nods; “they have to be.”

You nod at him, smiling faintly.

Then, the two of you stop in front of a door.

“What do you reckon’s next?”

“Quirrell and Snape are what’s left,” you whisper, shaking your head. “So, honestly, no idea.”

Harry let’s his hand fall on the handle, turning to you; “all right?”

You nod, “go on.”

He pushes it open and almost instantly a foul floods you. You pull at the sleeve of your sweater, pulling it over your nose to block the smell. Harry does the same, and the both of you eye the huge troll, with a bloody lump on it’s head with watering eyes. It was even bigger then the one from the bathroom.

“Quirrell,” you gasp, eyeing it with disgust.

“I’m glad we don’t have to fight that one,” Harry comments, pulling at your sleeve. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two of you quickly slip into the next room, staying as quiet as possible not to wake the troll. A sense of relief floods you as the foul smell no longer is invading your senses and you brace yourself for what’s next, only to find yourself puzzled by the lack of anything frightening. Just seven vials lined before you.

You take a step forward, and Harry follows, then, instantly a whooshing sound echoes.

You jump, glancing behind you, you eye the fire that now blocks the way you’d came with bafflement. It’s purple, not orange like a normal fire. And, glancing ahead of yourself, a black fire traps the both of you inside from the other end.

“Snape’s,” Harry says, “what do we do?”

“I...--” You eye the room with puzzlement, before noticed the scroll laying next to the bottles. “There,” you call, stepping forward and quickly unrolling the paper. Harry steps closer to you, leaning over your shoulder to read.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead, Two among our number hold only nettle wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore, To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

“It’s a puzzle,” you mumble and Harry turns to you. “Purely logic,” you further explain. “A lot of wizards don’t have an ounce of logic, meaning they’d be trapped here forever.”

Harry huffs, shoulders falling. “So will we.”

You shake your head, swallowing thickly. “I think... I think I can work it out,” you say softly, not trusting your own self.

What if you couldn’t?

“Give me a minute.”

Three minutes later and you let out a cry of frustration, Harry turns to you in panic.

“I need Hermione,” you cry, turning to him with a shake of your head. “She’d know what to do. She’s smarter then I--”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Harry cuts in, surprising you. “You’re just as smart as she is.”

“Harry,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You know that’s not true. Hermione knows everything about everything, she’d be able to figure this out. Just like she was able to figure out the Devil’s snare. You and Ron too. You got the key, and Ron beat the Wizard’s chess, I haven’t--”

“What happened before doesn’t matter,” Harry cuts in, stepping towards you, setting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them reassuringly. “This is now, and I know you can figure this out.”

Eyeing Harry, you hesitate a moment before nodding.

Five minutes later and the solution comes to you.

“I got it!” You exclaim, Harry instantly rushing towards you. “The smallest bottle,” you point at it, “will get us through the fire. Towards the stone. There’s only enough for you, that’s hardly one swallow.”

“Which one will get you back though the purple fire?”

You point at the bottle.

“Drink that,” Harry nods at you, continuing before you can argue. “Find Ron and Hermione, help them get Dumbledore. I’ll be able to hold off Snape, but I’m not match for him.”

“But... Harry,” you whisper, frowning up at him. “What if... he’s...?”

“I was lucky once before.”

And then your body moves on it’s own, surged with fear and terror for him, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Almost immediately, you recoil. cheeks burning and a quick glance at Harry and his cheeks are just as red.

There’s a pause, the both of you not sure what to do, before Harry is mumbling; “you go first,” he coughs gently. “Make sure you get through. You’re positive you have the riddle right?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod; “yes.”

“Okay, go.”

And you drink the bottle, wincing at the burning feeling that floods down the back of your throat. “It’s not poison,” you mumble, “just... cold.”

Harry nods. “Okay, go, before it wears off.”

You eye him one last time, carefully. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

Turning from the twins with a bright smile, you fall silent, as does the rest of grand hall at the sound of glass dinking. All eyes fall to the head table, where you notice Dumbledore standing up.

“Another year gone,” he starts, “and now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding.”

Eyeing Harry, Ron and Hermione, you frown.

“And as I understand it,” Dumbledore continues, “the points stand thus; in fourth place, Gryffindor with two-hundred-and-sixty-two points.” An echo of claps surround you, but your face falls with disappointment. Nothing like your house cup coming in last your first year, and undoubtedly because of you and your friends...

You don’t think your father would be so proud of that.

“Third place, Hufflepuff with three-hundred-and-fifty-two points,” raising your hands, you clap. “In second place... Ravenclaw with four-hundred-and-twenty-six points. And in first place,” letting out a sigh, you frown as you wait the inevitable. “...with four-hundred-and-seventy-two points, Slytherin house.”

Letting your head fall into your hand, you make careful watch not to look at the Slytherin table as they burst out in excitement, claps and cheering.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. Well done.” Dumbledore acknowledges. “However,” and at this, you pause, brows furrowing. “Recent events must be taken into account. And I have a few last-minute points to award.”

Turning to Ron, you both share a look of hope and curiosity.

“To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect...while others were in grave peril...fifty points.” Smiling brightly, you turn to Hermione, bringing her in for a quick hug as her cheeks warm faintly, smiling widely herself.

“That’s amazing,” you whisper, nodding at her warmly.

“Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess...that Hogwarts has seen these many years, fifty points.”

Eyes twinkling, you clap for Ron, as he turns to look at the three of you in astonishment.

“And third, to Miss Y/N Tonks,” and you pause at the sound of your name, wide-eyes turning to Dumbledore as he smiles gently at you. “For her will of strength and cunning loyalty to her friends, fifty points.” Blushing faintly, your eyes lower as cheering erupts around you once more, this time for you. The twins reach across to excitedly shake you, while the rest cheer for you.

And along the way, your gaze meets Harry’s and he’s smiling brightly at you.

“And,” Dumbledore starts, “to Mr. Harry Potter...for pure nerve and outstanding courage...I award Gryffindor house sixty points.”

“Amazing job, Harry,” you call to him brightly, clapping for him..

“We’re tied with Slytherin,” Hermione reminds, leaning forward to eye the three of you excitedly.

“And finally, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies...but a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I award ten points...to Neville Longbottom.”

At that, the entire Gryffindor table erupts into loud cheering, all for Neville who stares back in astonishment.

“Assuming that my calculations are correct...I believe that a change of decoration is in order.” He claps once, and you look up with a bright smile as the green Slytherin banners from above turn red for Gryffindor. “Gryffindor wins the house cup.”

Standing up, you share bright, excited smiles with the rest of your fellow Gryffindor’s, following suit as you all throw your hats up into the air.

“You’ll make sure to write to me, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course, ‘Mione.” You smile brightly, nodding at her. “I won’t forget.”

“Okay,” she smiles, all bright-eyed and excited. “See you next year?”

“See you next year.”

You share one final goodbye, hugging her tightly before she’s turning, heading off to where her parents await -- looking both confused and still amazed by everything around them. You watch with a laugh, before turning in search of Andromeda and Ted. Along the way, you find Ron and his family, sending the boy a wave to which he easily reciprocates.

This of course catches the attention of the twins, and with goofy grins they wave at you too, causing you to laugh.

And then, you catch sight of Ted and Andromeda, and you move to rush off towards them, before you notice Harry. He’s with his uncle and aunt, and remembering the distasteful stories he’d told you about them, you make the quick decision to bound over to him.

“Harry!”

He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking at the sight of you before sending a nervous look back at his uncle.

Coming to a stop before him, slightly breathless, you smile. “I just wanted to say goodbye,” you whisper gently, stepping towards him. “And I’ll make sure to write you over the summer as well.”

“Really?” And his eyes light up with excitement at that, “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” you nod, stomach fluttering. “Have a good summer.”

“You too,” Harry nods, waving at you as you step back, turning towards Andromeda and Ted.

Reaching them, you grin brightly up at them.

Ted grins at you; “take it you had a first good year?”

“It was...” And as you move to finish, your gaze falls behind you, on Harry. “Wonderful.”

Part 7?

TAGLIST: @storiesbystarlight - @scattered-mood - @tinymidgetsstuff - @itsfangirlmendes - @im-a-totally-random-person - @slytherinwriter618 - @bloodorangemoonlight - @subjecta13-thefangirl - @areallydrypie - @euphorictulip - @missmulti - @tinytommyshelby - @you-bleed-to-know-youre-alivee - @divergenttribute33qrunnerslytherin - @flaming-keys - @xsiredstyles - @silver-stilinski - @sweetheartliz07 - @bljndbeths - @justanotherfangirl2015 - @iilwdobyayy - @noxceleste - @gredandforges - @moonxxstxr - @sarablog10 - @schnapped - @officiallydarkgeek - @jovialcat123 - @justfangirling - @dubugf - @galacticstxrdust - @lovelyhufflepuff38 - @thequeenofpataos - @pieces-by-me - @kobachi-chan - @ezgithchaotic - @anscombecat - @depressed-teen-needs-her-coffee - @mcrvellouslystcrk - @yuptha-tsme - @euphoniumpets - @vxxn128 - @blisfvll - @stilesslove - @briargardens - @izzytheninja - @pepelachanel - @ikeamafiaisfunky - @eleven-bycrs - @villanqe - @abelbai000 - @stilinskiswritings - @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass - @awkwardnesshabitat - @celyndavies - @moonliightbabes - @figlia–della–luna - @nartassenav - @yoongisdumplingcheeks - @huffledor-able541 - @socialflake- @thatbandchick39 - @justanotherrandomlonlyfangirl - @missryerye if you’d like to be tagged, just send me an ask!

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter x reader #Harry imagine #Harry x reader #Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone #Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone #Harry Potter rewrite #Daniel Radcliffe #Daniel Radcliffe imagine #Daniel Radcliffe x reader #Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Sirius Black #Sirius Blake imagine

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musicallisto · 3 years

Text

Ψ — 𝐜𝐨́𝐦𝐨 𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫; (leo valdez x reader)

@fives-cup-of-coffee requested: Hi can I please get Leo Valdez (Hoo) + number 142? Tysm,bb ! Love your blog💗💗 song: morat - cómo te atreves | 𝄞

summary: In which Leo Valdez was having a good day. That is, of course, until you showed up.

word count: 1.9k author notes: at first I wanted to make it light-hearted & comical as the song would suggest and then it progressively got more serious and angstier and then I just have no idea where it went lol I hate it here. I hope you like this! + stan Morat they’re amazing warnings: there’s like one bad word in Spanish and I hope it’s not too Spaniard bc I looked everywhere for a Mexican equivalent of “cagüendios” asdjdj Mexicans please correct me

𝐋𝐄𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐙 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 have had the boldness of saying he was having a good day. No bloodthirsty monster nor megalomaniac Titan had decided to take over the world or rip him to pieces; he hadn’t had to dodge a meteor or plunge into the heart of a volcano; and to top it all off, he had not heard Percy sing once.

No, really, despite the cold, biting wind that froze the February morning, Leo Valdez was having a good day.

That is, of course, until you showed up.

Maybe it was his wind-swept curls blocking his eyes, maybe it was the whirring of Festus’ mechanical breathing under his fingertips, maybe it was the total peace of mind that inhabited him as he whistled to himself, but he had been impervious to his surroundings, surrendered to the memory of his aerial stroll with Calypso earlier in the morning, completely devoted to patching the dragon’s attrition up, so much so that he hadn’t heard you approaching at all. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your visit after this many years, especially not on a cold morning in the woods of Long Island.

“Leo?”

“Woah, buddy, your clicks are starting to sound more and more like a real human voice. I might have to celebrate your first word soon.”

“Leo Valdez, behind you.”

He whirled around, and stupidly enough, the first thought that went through his mind was disappointment—so Festus wasn’t learning human communication after all, despite his best efforts. But when Leo pushed the hair out of his face and devised for the first time in four years your slightly embarrassed figure, hands buried in your pockets and abashed smile on your face, he couldn’t stop his jaw and heart from dropping.

So the suspect, gravelly grunt he had heard just before was not Festus protesting—duly noted. It was you, impatiently—and rather awkwardly—scratching your throat to catch his attention... You! After four years!

“Y/N?” he called out, and the way your name rolled off his tongue, with incredulity yet ease, was enough to remind you of how familiar his voice had once been.

“In the flesh. Ta-da,” you tentatively exclaimed, unsure about whether you should step toward him.

Leo seemed just as lost and confused as you were, eyeing you without truly processing it. No one, nothing had ever prepared him to face the return of someone he’d loved so dearly after losing them for so long. No prophecy had foretold any of this, no mischievous god had ever sent a cryptic message in a dream or smoke patterns. One day he had more or less started to accept the unshakeable hole you had dug in his heart when you left, and that he had tried to fill up as well as he could with new memories and songs and adventures — and the next you were waltzing back into his life as though he hadn’t spent the better part of four years struggling to forget you?

He took a small step forward without realizing it, but his body language read all but cordiality. A bubble of irritation started to form in the pit of his stomach and throat; he had started to fidget with his adjustable spanner.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Behind him, Festus grated, a low and rumbling sound like still water stirring upon the approach of a storm. Leo swore he heard his heartbeats echoed in the loyal beast’s enormous ribcage.

“What do you want from me, Y/N? Haven’t you done enough?”

Oh, you had done more than enough. When you were friends and he had first fallen for you — you had mended his broken heart, stayed by his side as everyone went on to celebrate life and renewal and he was stuck in the downpour that Calypso’s first departure had wreaked. That was more than enough. When you were just a little more than friends and he had started to learn anew, step by step, what it meant to love, and first and foremost let himself be loved — you had been patient and kind, you had walked hand in hand with him on the road to healing, never pushing him to go further than he could. That was more than enough. When you were definitely more than friends, and he had found himself falling deeper in love with you with each passing day — you had loved him all the same, or so you promised, and made his every day an adventure and a safe embrace like no other. That was more than he ever deserved.

When you had left without warning for some foreign place on the other side of the world, leaving him only a note and a handful of colored glass shards, never to give a sign of life in four years...

That was more than enough.

You had dared to take one step forward, palms outstretched as if you were calming a wild animal. A frenzy of conflicting flames bubbled in Leo’s stomach — you were a stranger now to him, and he was once again happy with Calypso. Then why did he get the overwhelming urge to jump into your arms and rediscover the sweetness of your embrace?

“I’m so sorry, Leo, I never wanted to leave, I truly didn’t, but you have to understand —”

“Understand what? That whatever business you had to attend to was more important than me? That I meant so little to you that you just left me a post-it note with a sad smiley face on it and never came back? You didn’t send a word in four years! I bet you didn’t even think about me on February 29th!”

“Actually I left in April, but —”

“Can you imagine how hard it was for me to get over you? To forget you? No, scratch that—I haven’t forgotten you, no matter how hard I try to convince myself. But I was doing just fine, and you have a whole lotta nerve coming back now that I’m finally happy without you! ¡Pues huevos! ¡Al carajo todo esto!”

And he went on and on in a string of all the curses he’d remembered from when his mother argued on the phone, his cheeks reddening progressively, his breath faltering.

You stayed immobile, just an arms’ length apart from him until he had spewed out everything he’d carried for years. His chest trembled, shuddering at all the dust and waste it had swept under the rug, now displayed in full light before him; and you ached for him, underneath your cool composure, you truly did, just as you had ached yourself when you had left. How could you not? Leo had been light and warmth and fire and a comforting smell of smoke and gasoline and coffee-stained fingertips on your cheek and your neck... and most of all, the heart you would least have wanted to break.

“Leo...”

You murmured his name a few more times, until he looked up at you. Oh, that face, red and weepy and distorted by rage and overwhelm! How you hated it in those moments, like a cheap mask over a Roman statue!

“Leo, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t excuse anything, but trust me, I would never have done that if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“What was, Y/N? What was more important than me?”

“I... I can’t tell you, Leo. I would if I could, but — “

“Of course! Even after four years, you’re still so full of secrets!”

“Jupiter told me not to say anything. To anyone.”

Leo’s parted lips, already fuming with more witty remarks, closed shut, and his chocolate eyes widened. The god of gods’ name was always enough to temper even the most boisterous of heroes’ fumes of anger, but not Leo’s erratic heart.

“Jupiter?”

“I got a mission from the gods. That’s why I left. To Rome. But they made me swear I didn’t say anything... not even an excuse.”

Leo swallowed, with difficulty, as if the information was a toxic flame permeating his throat. Before he could even register it, you continued, breathing deeply to steady your breathing:

“I owe you more than an apology... an explanation, at least. If you want to hear it... meet me in the woods at the gate of Camp Half-Blood at sundown. I’d understand if you didn’t come, but... just know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

For a split second, you were traversed by the thought, almost automatic, of leaning over to kiss Leo’s cheek, just like you had done it thousands of times to wish him goodbye; but you cut your impulses fast enough, only staring at his eyes for a few long minutes of dumbfounded silence before you turned on your heels and left.

In a single blink, the wind had caught your silhouette and carried it into the shadows of the trees.

And Leo stood there, colder than he would have admitted, motionless and partly oblivious to Festus’ impatient whirring over his shoulder. His chest rose and fell rapidly, quicker than the leaves rustling in the breeze; it had dried in his eyes too much for any tears to well up, despite the painful pang spreading in his chest. Had it not been for the weight in his ribcage, he could’ve believed you were but a ghost in the forest...

When you had left him without a word nor even a glimpse of a smile, Jason had admonished him to be brave and stronger than whatever misery you had inflicted; to not let any of your little games gnaw at his head and drive him wild. It was how Jason had always dealt with heartbreak and hardship because he was built of cold marble and electric stone; but despite Leo’s best efforts to follow his advice, he was Hephaestus’s son. Neither of them was exactly known for their fine handling of matters of the heart...

He had believed his inalterable strength would come back to him with Calypso. It was an endless ebb and flow between the two of you, each consoling him after the other left and tore a little piece of his heart. She had promised she’d be better — better than you, or than herself the first time around, he didn’t know, but he had believed her all the same.

But maybe what Leo had mistakenly taken for strength when he laughed himself to death with Calypso and captured her entirely with his lips, might have been solely absence. He had always had a knack for following in your steps... just like you had slipped from his embrace without a word, he had disappeared from himself imperceptibly.

Maybe he loved Calypso, truly and sincerely... but not in the way that allowed him to find himself.

Well, to hell with courage, with Jason’s heroic virtue and rectitude. Leo was realizing just then that the reason he clung so desperately to your memory was that he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet, and if it made him a coward, he accepted the fate with open arms.

“Come on, buddy,” Leo exhaled, a little shaky still. “Let’s get you patched up before sundown.”

Maybe it was a good day after all.

Or just a less-than-awful one at the very least.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing) / @lxncelot (Riordanverse)

#mywriting #riordanverse #pjo #hoo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #pjo imagine #hoo imagine #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez one-shot #leo valdez x reader #fives-cup-of-coffee

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silvereddaye · 3 years

Note

hello I have a need for dragon vader manhandling human luke I don't care what dragon au its in but only if your up for it and if not then please have a good day and remember to eat and drink something!

Let me answer this twenty years later. Inspired a bit from the Hobbit and LOTR. Not set in any previous AU of mine.

-- -- -- -- --

Luke crept down the hallway. He had discarded his boots as he could move quieter on bare feet. He was also in simple clothing with no armor or metal buckles. The less sound the better.

The hall was made out of large smooth stone inlaid with firestones in the walls. Warm light flickered out of them. There was plenty of light to see from as he kept moving steathily down the hall until it turned and opened to unbelievably large cavern. It was so big and tall the ceiling was lost in the gloom of the shadows as the firestones could only provide so much light. But reflecting that light were piles and piles of treasures.

There were thousands of coins from all across the continent and some from even beyond the great oceans. There were necklaces and rings that held every manner of precious gems. There were gold and silver cups and chalices, plates and platters, vases and urns of all shapes and makes. There were shields and sets of armor of metal more precious than gold or iron. There were swords that were unbelievably sharp that never dulled. There were babbles and ornmanents and statues from small to several stories large. There was even the bow of a large boat half buried in the piles. It looked like it was sinking into the treasure. Every now and then he saw cloaks and dresses with gold trim and gems and scatterings of crowns and tiaras.

But Luke didn’t dwell on any of them. He kept to the raised stone paths and cautiously stepped over any stray trinket. If one stray piece was knocked astray and jingled or clanged, the owner of the cavernous vault would be alerted. And Luke had no desire to have a run in with Vader, the dread darth dragon. He had heard dozens of stories about those who dared to challenge the beast; all had failed.

Luke would not be added to that list.

He followed a set of stairs that led to a pathway that walked above the treasure. He eyed the piles searching for movement or any sign of the dragon, yet all was still and quiet. He lost track of time as he navigated the maze of pathways and bridges until finally he had made his way to the back of the vault.

Oddly devoid of treasure, stood a set of stairs leading to a small platform where a single iron door sat. Luke walked up the steps and marveled at the simplicity of the door. It stood out compared to the sparkling treasures behind him. It looked so normal.

He carefully pulled on the leather cord around his neck on which a single key hung. It was simple, like the door. Hopefully it would be a perfect match. With one last look at the piles behind him, he hurried forward and pushed the key into the lock. It slid in without a hitch. Luke’s breath caught in his throat.

Was this the right key?

He turned it and heard a distinct click.

It had worked!

He grabbed the handle and slowly pulled the door open. The first thing he saw was the ceiling. It was dotted with starstones that gave off a soft light. The stones were arranged like the heavens, marking the constellations. He couldn’t believe how many stones there were. Starstones were extremely rare and worth a fortune. There were stories of kingdoms being traded for a single starstone. There were plenty of stories that said they held various magical qualities than just giving off light. That they could heal any wound or bless a person with long lasting youth.

Luke had no idea this was what the door was hiding. He blinked and his gaze slowly went lower--

The air was knocked out of him as his chest was crushed. His feet left the ground and he was flying through the air. He landed in a pile of the treasure with a hard thud. He suffered a few scrapes from a few hard and sharp edges of the treasure. He pushed himself up to his elbows to see a large black form standing at the top of one of the piles. The dragon’s black scales glittered, and his golden eyes seemed to glow like the firestones.

“Foolish boy,” a deep voice rumbled.

Luke tried to jump to his feet, but the soft ground of the gold gave him little purchase. Instead he stumbled up and started to run. Treasure rolled all around his feet and he tripped a few times. He just needed to get to one of the pathways, he could run much faster there. Then--

Something hard slammed into his back and he fell forward. He rolled a few times until he was on his back. He blinked back the spots in his eyes. But before he could get up, a large heavy foot landed on top of him. The dragon’s claws dug into the gold around him. Soon Luke was looking into large eyes with black slits focused directly on him.

“I must applaud you in how far you got, little one,” Vader said. “Much farther than anyone else before you, but that is as far as you will make it.”

Luke grunted as he tried to free himself, but the claws only tightened around him. Slowly he was lifted up.

“Put me down!” Luke demanded.

“So you can scurry away? I think not.”

The dragon’s mouth opened wide.

“No!” Luke said as he squirmed with all of his strength. “No! No!”

He was placed into the dragon’s mouth. It was hot and momist. He tried to jumped out when the claw pulled away, but Vader was too fast. The teeth came down . . . And Luke was trapped. He moaned as Vader trotted over the piles. A trip that Luke had spent hours doing, Vader did it in a matter of minutes.

They were soon at the other side of the vault at a large entryway and hallway perfectly sized for a dragon. They came into a large room semi-circular room with thin vaulted windows letting the sunlight in. Vader lowered his head and spit Luke out on the ground.

Luke groaned as he wiped off the dragon spit. Vader only curled up.

“You look so pleased,” Luke muttered.

Vader only blinked slowly.

“No luck?”

Luke turned around to see his sister sitting in a tall chair with a book in her lap.

“That was the right key,” he said marching over to her. “I even got the door open.”

Leia sat up. “You did? What was in there?”

“Starstones,” Luke said. “Dozens of them. They made a whole map of the sky.”

“That’s what you were hiding?” Leia asked as she looked over at the dragon.

“No,” Vader said.

“What?” both twins said at the same time.

“There is something far more precious in there than starstones.”

The twins shared a look. Something far more precious than starstones? What could that be.

“Father you must tell us!” Leia said jumping out of her chair.

“I will not,” the dragon replied far too smug.

“So the only way we can find out is if we break in?” Luke said as he folded his arms across his chest.

“That is not the only way,” Vader said slowly.

“What does that mean?” Leia snapped.

“All in due time, young ones,” Vader said as he closed his eyes.

#my writing #ficlet #dragon #dragon treasure au #dragons #luke and vader #ask silver #Anonymous

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oneoftheextras · 3 years

Text

treasure | dragon!hawks

dragon!hawks x reader

masterlist | tip jar

from the kinktober requests: “Could I request Tombstone, Peach, and 2 :D″

tombstone - hawks (keigo takami), peach - dragon, 2 - submissive

warnings: 18+, kidnap (if you squint), yandere characteristics, breeding kink, unprotected, choking & general sin

“I’m sorry, you know we have no choice” your father said as he stroked a stray hair out of your face, you whipped your face as far away from him as you could, the thought of him touching you made you feel disgusted.

The people who you used to call family, the members of your own village, had tied you to a wooden table with the strongest rope they had. All because you were of age and unmarried.

“Father please” you pleaded with him, surely he wouldn’t allow them to leave you here in the clearing of the forest - but he turned his back on you as soon as the last knot was tightened.

The village priest had the audacity to stand at the end of the table and raise his hands into the air. “On the night of the full moon, we bring you our offering, she is pure and she is young” he started the mantra.

Every 3 months this would happen, normally you would watch from the shadows, too ashamed to help or protest. For thousands of years, your small village had been plagued by dragon who would slaughter their livestock and destroy their buildings - that was until your great great grandfather started leaving ‘offerings’ for the beast as a way to appease him.

It started with a few sheep and pigs, which didn’t entirely stop the dragon’s destruction but definitely reduced it. The villagers started leaving other offerings: gold, food, gems, until finally resorting to humans. At first they gave him the elderly, but when that didn’t please him, they started choosing villagers at random.

Through a lot of trial and error they found that the beast stayed away for 2 months when they gave him a younger woman, and when he didn’t show on the night of the 2nd month when one of the herbalist’s virgin daughters was offered up - they realised they could keep him at bay for 3 whole months.

The price was a woman of age that was untouched and unclaimed.

You knew it was risky to refuse the hand’s of the other men in the village, but you’d stupidly thought you were safe by being the daughter of the village chief; oh how wrong you were.

“We give you her willingly in exchange for our livestock and our village” he finished the chant that you had heard so many times, but you never thought you would be hearing it from this angle.

The silence that came next was unbearable, you could hear every bird within the area chirping away, completely oblivious to the scene happening just seconds away from their woodland home.

Until the chirping stopped. Even the river seemed to hold its breath as the faint thump was heard in the distance.

At first it was subtle, a distant sound that you could have easily mistaken for the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. But then you heard it again, this time it was two thumps, one after the other - and then you felt the wind push past the trees.

Then you saw it.

The power of it’s wings pushed aside the treeline and it’s humungous body blocked out the moonlight, all that could be seen was the shadow of his form.

Your people started to scream and scramble away, not retreating from the scene earlier when they had the opportunity to. The shape came closer and closer until the shadow had a red hue to it.

Almost too quickly, you felt yourself being lifted into the air as your body was ripped from the platform you were bound to, parts of the wood splintering and coming with your limbs.

The drastic change in altitude made your head go woozy but unfortunately, you didn’t manage to pass out, you weren’t that lucky. You watched the trees become a distant blur of green and the faint light of your village disappeared until it looked no brighter than a star in the sky.

When you reached the beast’s cave, he dumped you on top a pile of fabric, they were a sea of different colours and materials - it felt weird to feel satin on your palms and then silk near your arms.

Instantly, you eyed the small bit of moonlight shining through the cave entrance and you played with the idea of making a run for it, it it weren’t for him heading back in that direction.

His body was even bigger up close, he was covered in huge red scales that were the size of your hand, the patches towards his tail got smaller and smaller the closer it got to the tip. He even had to duck his head slightly to avoid scraping it against the roof of the cave that was easily the size of a 4 floor building.

Every step he took shook the ground with his claws scratching again the cold stone. He balanced on his back legs and pushed a huge bolder in front of the only light source you had, and sealing your escape route.

The thumping started again as you fell the vibrations get harder and louder as, you assumed, he made his way towards you. Then they stopped, you held your breath as you waited for any audible indication of where he was.

“Are you frightened, little bird?” you heard a human voice say followed by the sound of a match being struck. The sudden light made you squint, but when you saw a blonde man with golden eyes standing in front of you lighting a portable torch.

You cautiously glanced around the area trying to locate the scaled beast, but it had seemingly disappeared. The blonde man eyed you for a while, smirked, and then used the torch he was holding to light a few hanging lanterns that were attached to the walls of the cave.

Once the room was illuminated enough for you to see the man fully, you realised where the dragon went. On his back were a pair of huge red wings, they were scaled just as the creature’s were. This man somehow had the ability to transform from a huge mythical being into what almost fooled you into being a normal human man.

He seemed to relish in the fact that you weren’t able to answer his question due to being so stunned at his appearance.

“Keigo” he said, extending his hand out to you as though he wanted to shake your hand. “That’s my name” he clarified as though he was just saying the word for no reason.

Taking his hand in yours, you noticed how the red scales continued to travel in patches up his arms and hands.

“Are you going to eat me? you quivered, as soon as you finished your sentence he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Why would I eat you?” he asked back, extinguishing the torch he was holding with a strong breath. Trying to avoid eye contact, you attempted to explain yourself, “That’s what you’ve done to the other women, haven’t you?”

Again, the room filled with his laughter, “God no!” he spat out, taking a moment to brush the dirt off of his bare shoulders - it must have attached itself to him when you were flying. “Human’s have hardly any meat on their bones, it would be more effort to eat you than it’s worth” he casually explained as though being told what its like to eat humans was a normal conversation.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by the assumptions you were making. “Where are they?” you bravely asked and he turned his body towards you, “I let them go” he shrugged as though it was nothing.

Starting is ascension up the mound of fabric, you noticed that he was completely naked. It made sense. He wasn’t wearing any clothes when he was a dragon, so why would be be wearing any now.

Averting your eyes quickly, you felt your cheeks heating up, “They deserved a better life than to be traded away for a few sheep” he displayed a displeased frown, you had never thought of it that way.

“Are you going to let me go?” you asked hopeful, you would be able to return to your family and explain to the village what you’ve seen. “Oh no” his frown turned into a smirk as he crouched down in front of you. If you were being honest, it was hard not to watch the thing that was dangling in between his thighs.

Then his words hit you, “What? Why?!” you asked, panic setting back in again, his hand came up to graze your chin, you were too frightened to pull away but were surprised at how soft his fingers were. “I like you” he smiled, and that was the only explanation he gave.

Using the hand that was already under your chin, he pulled your face up to meet his and gently kissed your lips, it was quick and delicate - in no way you thought he would be.

“You’ll stay here with me, mine” he growled the last word as though the dragon inside him was taking over his thoughts, his golden eyes merging and twisting into red reptilian irises, “Got it?” he more told you than asked, but you shook your head in agreement anyway.

Before you knew it he was on you, his chest pressed flat against yours with only your nightie to separate you, his lips trailing kisses down your neck as his hands drew the outline of your hips.

This was not how you thought tonight was going to go, but you were not complaining; often you found your hands trailing up his sides and brushing against his scaled wings.

It took you by surprise when his hand drifted in between your legs and abruptly push his fingers inside of you. You gasped, not expecting it, he had been so delicate with his kisses that his hand was a complete contrast.

If it weren’t for how turned on you were by his mouth, it would have hurt. Every time he pushed his fingers into you he hit your g-spot which made you moan so loudly that it bounced off the walls of his cave.

But he never let it linger, almost immediately he would drag them to the point where you would feel completely empty again, only to have them attack your spot again.

When you started to whimper because you felt your orgasm quickly approaching did he fully withdraw his digits from you. The cry that left your mouth was shameful.

Hastily, you craned your neck forward to look to where his eyeline had shifted, you watched as he prodded your entrance with the head of his cock, but he was hesitating.

For the first time since all of this started you glanced up to make eye contact with him, but he was already staring down at you. “Ready baby bird?” he asked quietly, waiting for your approval.

Without hesitation, you nodded frantically. Almost the same second you started to nod your head, he shoved himself inside you earning a moan from both of you. Pushing further and further until you could feel the tickle of his hair against your lips, you felt the fabric under your head start to dip.

You opened your eyes slowly and looked towards where you felt the shift in weight to see what his hand had turned into a huge red claw with shiny scales making their way to his elbow - he was starting to lose control of his form.

When he started to move inside of you, you watched as his razor sharp claws dug into the fabric; some of the more delicate pieces started to fray under the pressure.

He gave you time to adjust to him, but you could feel his want to move faster and harder. Almost as a way to encourage him, you wrapped your legs around his waist so he could get a better angle.

Instantly he moved his human hand to your hip so he could stabilise you as he set an unrelenting pace, even before your brain could register the ecstasy it was producing he had already pulled back to ram back into you again.

You could feel your walls pulsating around him, only emphasising how you could already feel every vein of his cock. His clawed-hand drifted from your fabric bed and up to your throat. He gently squeezed, not putting enough pressure to cut off air flow but enough to make your heart race - you could feel the sharpness of his talons against your skin but somehow trusted him not to scratch you.

“You’re mine, my treasure” he growled as he continued to impale you over and over, you held his scaled arm as a way to try and ground you as you unintentionally tensed around him.

One side of his mouth raised in a cocky smirk “Do you want to cum?” he sarcastically asked, it was obvious from your body language that’s what you wanted. You did your best to nod with his claw wrapped around your throat.

“I’m gunna - need to hear it - Baby Bird” he grunted in between words, he was clearly close too. “P-Please” you barely squeaked out, “What was that?” he pretended that he didn’t hear you. “Please, Keigo!” you loudly yelled, you didn’t need to wait for his permission, you couldn’t hold onto it anymore.

You unconsciously gripped his cock with your walls as you moaned through your own orgasm. He continued to push himself past your tight muscles “I’m gunna cum” he groaned underneath the noises you were making “I’m gunna fill you up until your human body can’t take it anymore” he growled, his primal side taking over.

“I’ve been waiting years for them to give you to me, waiting for you to carry my chicks” he confessed through pants, but his sentence was cut off by a somewhat animalistic roar as you felt his cock convulse and release his cum into you. It was almost enough to make you orgasm a second time.

After a couple of moments, he withdrew himself from you and nuzzled down into the blanket nest beside you. He pulled you close to him so his chest was against your back. Maybe being the village sacrifice wasn’t so bad.

#hawks #mha keigo takami #keigo takami #hawks x reader #dragon hawks #dragon hawks x reader

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softscummymammon · 3 years

Text

$Humanity's Shackles$

Assisted by:: @bigfan-fanfic

»»——⍟——««

Clark was having a very, strange day. It started out when he finally got to lay down on his plush bed at the Kent Farm. If only he could have enjoyed it.

His communicator beeped continuously at an ungodly hour. Picking up the device and answering it, he was instantly getting a mission report from an amused Bruce about a call from some locals close to his location about a disturbance. Recent scans have shown a large object was stationery nearby.

Having no other choice but to go to the location since he was the closest and no one else was available, Clark got off his bed and got dressed in his uniform. On his way out of the house, he gave his Ma a kiss on the head goodnight.

Flying down to the location, he was met with thick growth all around him. Though usually farm lands were flat for their crops, there would be forest growths between acres. Clark found himself in front of one of the largest ones he's seen in his time living in Kansas.

With careful footsteps, he proceeded forward. The trees shunned out any and all light coming from the moon hanging over his head. Since his normal vision wouldn't be helping him anytime soon, he switched to his x-ray vision.

In the blink of an eye, everything became clearer. It also seemed to be just the thing he needed to find what had caused the disturbance. A giant hole had been ripped through the tree tops and at the bottom of the destruction was a deep crater. Flying over to the crater, he landed in the middle of the dented earth and started looking around now with enough light to see with normal vision.

A flash of light caught his attention, so he knelt down and dusted off what looked to be a reflective gem. Clark caressed the flat piece of jewel with his hand. Acknowledging that what he was holding wasn't actually jewel, he turned it over to see what was on the other side.

Gasping, he dropped the object and held his hand close to his chest. He knew what that was, what all the other little but similar objects scattered around him were.

They were scales. Not any Earth reptilian scales, but scales from a beast not of this world. Or at least, with his current knowledge of Earth's wildlife. Those scales were the size of his hand, and oddly enough, sharp enough to knick his finger. A red rivulet of blood streamed down his finger and into his palm.

Now knowing whatever they were dealing with was definitely a problem, he quickly called the Watchtower for assistance. All he got was static, no wait, static didn't sound like that...

Clark froze, feeling the rumbling all around him, and not just at his ear. Slowly turning around, all Clark was able to see was shadow. The shadows didn't calm his nerves, not one bit if he was sure about what he was dealing with. The shadows moved just slightly, and Clark watched as it moved, not daring to take his eyes off the darkness.

A low groan shook the ground under his feet, and Clark's eyes snapped to the sound of a twig snapping. Easing his nerves, he tried to remember exactly what he was dealing with, and where he remembers those scales. If he was correct, this was a beast that had hunted his kind when Krypton was still alive.

The flash of scales and talons he's only read in the scripts he was provided at the Fortress. How they could cut through anything and all Kryptonian weaponry and deffensives. The powerful wings he can now see in the corners of the shadows slowly circling around him. He's seen recorded videos the hologram of his father was able to save with himself of only a blur, then destruction. The sharp canines that left ever lasting scars his father showed him on his computerized body.

All that was face to face with him now. Clark swallowed dryly as the beast before him growled and scented the air, as if it was smelling for something. It's glowing white eyes found the stream of red running down Clark's hand. Clark quickly hid his hand behind his back and watched as the beast's eyes tracked his movements.

The same staticy whine he now recognized was coming from the beast quivered the air. It was stifling to Clark, as he was now facing probably the only survivor of his ancestor's predator in the face as the beast was facing the only survivor of it's once prey. Oh how Clark hated irony.

Oddly enough, the beast wasn't attacking him. He's sure he read somewhere that the beasts were ruthless and would waste no time in attacking. But now, almost weak sounds were coming from the dragon before him.

Clark needed a better view, so he quickly blinked into x-ray vision. If he were a lesser man, he probably would have paled and fainted at was he saw. The beast was large enough to curl around the crater it left in the ground, easily longer than three school buses, possibly the length of a subway train.

He watched as the chest cavity of the beast rose and fell almost slightly faster and shallower than the average breathing of a human. Though he knows he shouldn't compare humans to the dragon. Though it was alarming at how docile the thing was, and how weak it seemed.

It must have been the crash to earth, Clark denounced. The scattered scales and damp patches in the soil added to the theory it was injured. An injured beast like this was never good, but if, and he knew it was, it was starving as well. It must have followed the smell of his Kryptonian scent and crashed here.

With careful movements, Clark took slow steps in the direction of the beast's head. No movement was made in retaliation, so he proceeded. He got as close as he could, and warm breath wafted over his front as he looked into the glowing eyes of the dragon.

He could kill it now, Clark supposed, as it had done the same to his kind all those years centuries ago. Slaughtering his people like live stock. But seeing it now, like this, it pulled at his heart. Bruce always said he was too kind, too weak in the heart for the unfortunate. Besides, even if he had wanted to, he couldn't. It took a special type of Kryptonian stone to kill one of these things.

Clark knew he would look stupid to anyone else if he tried to talk to it. But since no one else was hear, he might as well try. He took a deep breath and braved some words out his mouth.

"You are on Earth, and you are injured. I am willing to help you. Do you understand? "

He held his breath, and it seems, the dragon did too. After a minute of silence, Clark was about to try again, when suddenly a smooth surface was pushed into his stomach. He grunted and tensed as warm breath was once again wafted over him. He shivered as felt the hot air push over his skin.

A slight dip in the skin was his answer. So the dragon wasn't mindless, so it seems. Careful movement allowed Clark to set his hand on the scales covering the dragon's snout. He marveled at how he really felt the scales under his hands, like humans could when they touch a lizard. They felt the sharpness while he couldn't because of his indestructibility. But now, he didn't have that with this beast. So he proceeded with caution.

"So you understand what I'm saying. Can you talk as well? " He tried again.

The scales under his hand shook, so that was a no. Clark sighed, "Alright, I understand. Is the injury manageable to where you can stand? "

His answer the given to him as the dragon shifted. It's powerful limbs moving under it's body to slowly push itself off of the ground. Soil and dust fell from it's scales as it did so, and a soft whine came from it's jaw.

Clark took a step back and watched as the dragon followed him with a limp. Slowly backing up into the moonlight, his breath was sucked from his lungs as the dragon followed him and he saw the beast for what it was.

It's scales were almost obsidian black with freckles of white and silver. It's underbelly was pale but dirty. It's head ended in horns and spikes, and while they may be sharp, the beast itself almost seemed...soft.

With a regrettable sigh, Clark looked up at the injured beast and spotted where it was hurt. He winced unconsciously as he eyes met with mangled flesh and blood. One of its wings was covering the carnage of it's side the best it could. Clark sighed, and looked back up to the white eyes of the beast as it watched him like a hawk.

He knew he was gonna regret this, but this beast couldn't stay here where it could do more damage, either to itself or wondering humans. He knew one place that it would be safe and could get the right treatment. But it was gonna be difficult.

He turned to the beast and raised a hand. The dragon considered it before slowly leaning down and pressing it's snout to his hand. Clark let out a breath of awe and slowly pet the beast. Rao his father was gonna kill him for this.

"I know a place that can keep you safe and heal. But that means I have to trust you, and you have to trust me. " It was watching him with rapped attention as he talked. Taking in everything he was saying, "Will you trust me to take you to there? And, can I trust you to not hurt anyone there? "

The dragon looked him over once, then twice before a slow rumble echoed from it's chest cavity. As if it was purring like one of his nephew's cats. Clark nodded in understanding as the dragon's eyes slowly closed and more weight was put into his hand.

Clark raised his other hand to his communicator and called into the Watchtower, "Batman, I'm gonna need a zeta-tube to the Fortress of Solitude. "

»»——⍟——««

#dc fic #dcmultiverse #clark kent #dragons #space dragons #writing #tw bl00d #mentions of death #superman

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 7: The Outside

word count: 8.2k

chapter summary: Everything seems to be crashing down around Sophie, so she had to try and figure out how to clean up the aftermath.

warnings: explosions, injuries, burns, panic and numbness, theft, desire to pull out hair (no actual pulling), collapsing, swearing, intentional misuse of grammar

taglist: in the replies. let me know if you want to be added or removed!

I had a lot of fun with this one, so hopefully you'll enjoy it even a fraction as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I don’t want to keep you here, so enjoy the chapter!

ao3 link here or read below

The world ended years ago.

Left in haphazard chunks littered across the sky, cracked glass sunken and molding at the bottom of a lake, stone pillars crushed into ash.

So why was it still breaking?

Why were those shards of glass splintering into dust, why were the pillars scattering in the wind? Why did every single day wake a new horror from the shadows.

Sophie’s ears rang hollow, each and every second stopping as the mist parted. Marella and Linh were moving so slow, each fork of lightning visible and trackable, the nothingness building to a roar in her mind and then everything was happening all at once.

Creatures had abilities now.

Lightning struck and something screamed and the thunder cried and her hair whipped about her face in a frenzy the winds were agonizing the air pressure pressed against her ears her shirt stuck to her skin the air yelled its fury and dragons fought fought fought in the sky.

When had she last breathed?

Air rushed, choked into her lungs as the world broke around her. Focus. Choose a fight and win it.

Marella.

That would be her fight.

Far below, the assortment of friends she’d dragged into this hellish world watched as Marella glowed hotter and hotter, a light against the storm. Sophie took the single moment it took to find her amongst the rain, pinpointed her location, and moved.

The dragons were not the priority, getting Marella away from them was.

Distance ceased to exist before Sophie as she darted forward, carried by those wings. She jumped through pockets of space, teleported through around and out of reality, blinking through existence, each jolt taking her closer and closer to Marella.

Marella, who had nearly reached the origin of the storm.

Sophie was mere feet away now, a single glitch away from grabbing her.

Her fingers wrapped around Marella’s wrist; Heat boiled against her skin, the glow of the flames simmering beneath her skin scorching her eyes. Don’t let go. She couldn’t.

Energy drained from her fingertips, dispersing and scattering and leaving and powering and enhancing.

No difference existed between the two of them.

Her eyes were alight with flame and pain, the very core of her power thrumming outside her skin, her gaze focused on those beast above, the lightning crackling all around them, the boom of smoke curling through the air, the harsh rasp of teeth and talons on scale as they fought just above the two of them.

Marella and Sophie were the only two people in the entire world.

And then it ended.

Pure heat exploded out from Marella in a shock wave, turning the rain to steam, lighting the sky as though the sun had gone out and she was the only thing left to replace it. Something bright white flashed around her, enveloping her for a brief moment as the sky shook. Sophie’s skin screamed, but she did not let go. She would not freeze. She couldn’t.

Sophie glitched away, dragging Marella with her.

And the void did not let them out.

There was nothing everywhere as far as the eye could see. Infinite empty for eternity. The everything in between.

And they were ablaze.

Sophie’s eyes were pressed closed against the deluge of dry heat and light emanating from Marella, but she just couldn’t bring herself to let go. She couldn’t now, would lose her forever if she did not hold tight for all she was worth.

“Marella!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Marella. No response. All she could find within the web of consciousness around this void was the--

MARELLA.

Something snapped, and a downpour of something aqueous crashed through their minds, sizzling and popping against the flames. Streams of multi-colored thought flowed, flooding their minds until they were completely submerged, sinking down down down into the depths of an ocean, bubbles rising above them as they descended, utterly helpless.

Down

down

down.

Until the fire went out.

An ocean surrounded them, infinitely deep, the surface trickling further and further away. Smoke curled against her skin, the taste poignant on her tongue as she drowned her fury, her pain, seeing nothing but everything.

They hovered there, time meaningless as it ticked past, suspended in those watery graves, that space between.

Distantly, she became aware of ragged breathing, uneven and pained rasping against her ears. The sound was so far away, yet she began to follow it, chase it through those depths until it became clearer and clearer and she could hear it and she was aware and the ocean parted around her and she erupted into her own mind and body and she was alive alive alive.

Sophie’s hand remained clenched tight around Marella’s wrist, the flood of adrenaline dancing through her veins masking the pain for now, but eventually it would fade and she’d have to face the consequences of playing with fire.

The breathing continued, harsh, uneven.

Marella. She needed to check on Marella; there was no way she was alright after an event of that scale--

No.

That wasn’t Marella’s breathing.

The pained breaths were coming from the figure beside her, draped over her shoulder, holding tight like the world was in her hands and it was made of glass and she couldn’t dare break it.

That was Linh.

“Don’t let us out,” Linh grunted, fingers spasming as her breathing quickened.

She had followed. Sophie had been reaching for Marella, but Linh had been too. And now her fingers clenched in Marella’s clothes were red and raw and bruised and peeling and her skin was cracked and dry and nothing but pain pain pain caressed her face. No. There was fear there, too.

Not for herself. No, she was staring down down down at the figure she held so tight, so fragile. She had come to save her and she would not stop until she had.

What? Her mind was moving too quickly to make sense of what Linh had said, to remember to respond, or what she meant--out of where? Don’t what?

“The void,” she said, having heard her confusion. Sophie didn’t bother raising her mental barriers now, the thought not even occurring to her. “Give her--Marella--a few minutes to cool down. Don’t let us out yet.”

Oh.

Marella’s eyes moved beneath shut lids, the rhythm of her moving chest hypnotically slow as they drifted through the void, waiting waiting waiting. Light continued to pulsate out of their unconscious friend, a glimmer of bright against this endless dark, pressing in like an ocean of inevitability around them.

Her gaze darted back and forth between all the space around them, the tiny threads she could feel, the places they would take her. Memories of when she’d been here before, the places she’d gone, the places she could return to.

The Lost Cities, the underground.

Home.

It was foolish to even think about--Havenfield had one of the first places overrun with all those animals around. And the people she wanted so desperately to hold her wouldn’t be there anyways.

She needed to stop thinking so hopelessly about the past. It was gone. Remembering it did nothing but propagate heartbreak and regrets.

Linh inhaled sharply, jerkily, and Sophie’s shot to her, the crease between her brow, the gritted teeth, the--

“What the hell,” Sophie gasped, leaning forward involuntarily with disbelief, the sudden movement sending them spinning as they floated along.

Linh grimaced, offering a shy, embarrassed smile as she flexed her hand. It was...iridescent. The surface of her skin was separated into small, chaotically organized sections, reflecting the light from Marella’s skin off her own. The effect was not local, instead spreading up her entire arm, across her chest, over her face--every inch of skin.

Rainbows of faint color refracted, lighting her up and setting her aglow, a muted complement to Marella’s intense blaze.

Linh’s muscles spasmed, disrupting the brief serenity as she glanced down at Marella, exhaling heavily. Shit. How badly had she been hit? How close had she been to Marella when she’d gone off like a bomb?

Close enough that she tagged along on Sophie’s teleportation. Close enough to make skin to skin contact. Shit.

How badly was Sophie hurt? Adrenaline still buzzed through her as they floated, but it became less and less with each second, even as Linh’s clear pain marred her determined face.

Dammit. What was she supposed to do in situations like this? Burns--how did you treat burns?

“We need to leave now,” she said, gentle. The next step was to get them out of here. They couldn’t do anything just floating around in the void, and they’d left their other friends behind.

Fuck.

It hadn’t even registered until that very moment. How long had they sat here, what had happened back at the gnomish village? Were they all looking for them? They’d just vanished out of the sky--

“Okay,” Linh whispered, and it broke Sophie. Whatever happened, she had two injured friends on hand, alongside her own injure body.

She conjured up the clearest picture she could of the village, the one she knew by heart, had stared at so solemnly she could tell you how many flowers dripped down the shattered window even without her photographic memory.

The void ruptured, the intricate web parting before her as she pulled them all through, into that bedroom she’d claimed as her own.

They needed to be with the people who could care for them when the adrenaline faded.

Hard wood and poignant petals grated against her skin, tearing down her arm as she skidded slightly. The echo of the thunderclap lingered in her ears, haunting as that nothing was replaced with everything.

Move.

Forcing herself to push upwards, propped on her elbows on her back, she allowed herself a few moments to observe before taking action. Marella was still unconscious, sprawled across the floor, petals and glass curled in her hair. Linh lay beside her, still conscious but fading quickly, flush with Marella’s back.

Okay. She could do this, she could think this through.

Sophie?! Sophie where are you--

Never mind. A cascade of voices barraged their way into her mind, the mindbubble screaming with activity the moment she’d left the void. Every single friend howling and scrambling, their minds hives of thought and panic.

They’d heard the thunder, heard them return, now frantically running about trying to locate them.

My house. She responded, unsure how else to describe it. It wasn’t hers, but it was the one she’d claimed. Gingerly, she sat up fully, pressing her hands to her temples, fingers tangling in her hair. It was so loud--

“Sophie. There you are--wait, what? Hang on--” Fitz had burst into the room, cutting off as he saw the prone figures on the floor.

Over here. His voice echoed through her mind, reaching out to the others and giving them a sense of direction to follow, a way to find them. He winced slightly as he did so, the cacophony overwhelming for him too.

All at once, the adrenaline faded and reality came crashing into her, the scrapes on her arm the burns across her skin the dryness of her lips the crackling simmering skin coating her body.

Fitz caught her as her muscles went limp and tensed, sagging to the floor. He set her down, and it was all she could do to breathe breathe breathe and hold her eyes closed as footsteps approached, as the door was tossed open and voices whispered and screamed and panic and sweat and indecision coated the air, dripped down her tongue.

People were moving talking singing crying, yet Sophie’s world was painted with deep blues and hurt reds and all she could see was nothing.

Cool water poured over her head, gliding down her hair and back, soothing the burns, the ache, the regret. Tam had told her Linh rerouted the irrigation systems. He hadn’t told her she’d redone the entire goddamned room. Rich greens frothed and bloomed from every available surface, overwhelming the pots and creeping up the walls. The open wall to the side showed off the night sky, starts blinking overhead, moonlight reflecting off the glass pots and decor scattered around the space.

There was no way she could’ve done this on her own in such a short time.

Sophie sat, curled in a raised bath, water spilling over the edge into other pools, sprawling through the room until it eventually drifted off towards the open wall, spilling towards the ground below. It reminded her of those natural hot springs she’d visited as a child--although this one was chilled, reminiscent of a pool on a summer day.

Stop. Stop remembering what’s past.

Her fingers clenched and she pushed off the edge, drifting back until that silent pour of water from the top hit her in the head once more. Carefully, she made sure the wings were held above the water line. Linh wasn’t here to keep them dry anymore.

Linh.

No, as talented as Linh was, she couldn’t have done all this. What purpose this place used to serve the gnomes, she couldn’t even begin to guess, but the overwhelming scent of pollen and nectar pressed against her mind, a heady lull that wouldn’t fade. The flowers were unnaturally bright, the way white glowed under a UV light. That’s not important.

Cool water to soothe burns. That’s how it went. That was important. So she sat here.

Tam had taken her here, pushed her gently through the door, and left. To give her privacy. Fitz had stopped by a few minutes later, dropping off a thing of water, along with an elixir or two he must’ve grabbed from Elwin’s office before they’d run. Smart. Thinking ahead. She’d have to ask him how he did it.

Cool the burns, replace lost fluid. That was the procedure. So she did.

She was the only conscious one, that’s why she’d been left here. Marella was unconscious, Linh too, so they were being cared for elsewhere. She shouldn’t be so calm.

She should want to be by their side, wait with them till they woke, hold cold compresses to their skin and wait wait wait for them. So why was she so unbothered?

Her friends--

Oh.

Her friends, the ones she trusted so entirely, were taking care of the situation. Sophie had got the three of them out of the sky, held them till they mellowed and brought them back. She’d done her part. Everyone else could handle the rest. For a brief moment, she could breathe easy. Delegate.

So what was she supposed to do? What was next?

Faint rain pattered against the roof, splashing through the open wall the water fell from. But it was...natural. Where had those beasts gone? What had happened to them after the three of them tore the sky apart and vanished into it?

There was so much information she was missing--

No. Not now. That was a problem for the future, for when her skin didn’t peel from her bones and her tongue didn’t grate against the roof of her mouth.

It was like a river, the flow of the water around her, constantly in gentle motion, running against her skin. But she couldn’t follow it, couldn’t linger and tip over the edge to see where it led.

Her friends had covered where she faltered, but she still had a responsibility to them. Sophie belonged with them, beside them, leading them.

Grabbing an elixir and downing it like a shot, she rose from the water.

Fatigue pulled at her each step she took, bare feet thudding against the wooden bridges as she moved. Twigs and flower petals pressed against her skin, but she ignored it. She’d tracked the others with her mind, now all she had to do was get to them. The rest she’d figure out later.

Fitz had left a change of clothes alongside the elixirs, a simple pair of black drawstring shorts and a blouse to match. She’d torn slits in the latter, wings protruding through the loose fabric. Mindlessly, she pulled her hair back, braiding it out of the way as she went, wet strands sticking to the back of her neck. Vertina had taught her how. She wasn’t sure, but Vertina might be broken now. In her destroyed bedroom.

It didn’t matter, don’t think about it.

She wasn’t as tired as she should’ve been. Wasn’t in as much pain as she knew she should’ve been. They were completely without the resources to properly treat burns, yet she was walking and talking--well, she could talk, she just hadn’t yet--perfectly fine, if a little loopy. Whatever fragrance those flowers gave off was strong.

None of this matched any of her past experiences with medicine, and she had plenty. What was going on with her?

One of her friend’s presence flickered close by and she paused, looking around for them. They weren’t with the rest of the group, the others who were clustered around one space, the place she was heading. She assumed that’s where Linh and Marella were.

Her ears were better than her eyes, and the telltale creak of a swinging bridge off to her right had her pivoting in place, turning to see--

Dex. His pace quickened when he saw she’d noticed him, but he winced slightly, holding a hand to his chest as he came to a stop beside her. When had he gotten so tall?

“You...alright?” he asked, but it clearly wasn’t what was on his mind. Like he was expected to ask and he just wanted to get out of the way. He seemed...distracted, fidgety--more so than usual.

“I’m not dead. You?” He laughed slightly, then winced again, the movement jarring to his injuries. She didn’t know what else to call it; none of them knew what was wrong with him, but at the very least it seemed to be improving with time. Maybe. She couldn’t tell if it was the lighting, but he seemed unnaturally pale.

“About the same.” Okay, so he wasn’t going to make this easy. Whatever was eating at him would have to be drawn out then.

“I was going to go check on Linh and Marella, need anything?” That seemed a good place to start. Open the conversation for him.

“Oh. Cool. I’ll go with you,” he said, turning alongside her as she resumed her stride, much slower with him beside her--not that she minded. She’d prefer he take things slow until someone could figure out what was going on with him. Not that any of them were qualified to do that. No, that was something for--

“I have a request,” Dex blurted out, uncharacteristically formal.

“What is it?”

He wouldn’t make eye contact, looking around the trees, surveying the flowers. “I…”

Sophie nudged him slightly, playfully, trying to encourage him. “I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me, dumbass.” He smiled slightly at that, although he didn’t stop wringing his fingers. She’d take the partial win.

“I want you to take me back to The Lost Cities.”

What. She’d stopped moving. Clouds drifted by overhead, wind swayed through the leaves, time ticked onward. But Sophie had stopped moving.

“What.” Her voice was dead flat, shocking even to her.

Dex bit his lip, holding his hands up, placating. “It’s not what it sounds like, I promise.”

“I hope not. Because it sounds like you’re saying you want to go back home, you know--where there are hordes of creatures. Creatures that drove us underground. Just...roaming around. Everywhere.” Shivers trembled down her spine at the mere thought. That one day, when they’d crushed the gates and shattered through crystal walls, looming and gaping and towering over her--

“Okay so maybe it’s a little bit like that.” She could feel her eyebrows raise, and the color staining his cheeks reminded her that he was a friend a friend a friend. She should be nicer. She didn’t have the energy left to be nicer. “Just for a quick trip. To...pick up some things there. And I’d go on my own but--”

“Nope. You cannot go alone to the monster-infested Lost Cities--”

“I’m not going to! I can’t! The pathfinder cracked, remember? You’re our only form of long-distance transportation.” Fuck. He had a point. “I literally cannot do this without you! And I don’t want to, either.” The last part was so quiet she would’ve missed it could she not hear every single sound screaming through the night.

“Where exactly in the Lost Cities do you want to go?” She wasn’t agreeing, not yet. But dammit she was curious. And he was her friend. She trusted him, wanted to hear him out.

Dex shook his head slightly, as though trying to keep himself awake, hand shooting out to catch himself on a nearby tree trunk. She reached out as if to catch him, but he wasn’t falling and there was nothing for her to do. Her hand dropped back to her side.

“I’m fine,” he said. She didn’t believe him. “I need to stop by Slurps and Burps, where my old lab is. Just...Eternalia in general.” Right. He’d said he needed supplies; there’d be a plethora of things for him to work with there. Whatever project he was working on, clearly he hadn’t brought enough when they’d run away.

Run away. Huh. They were runaways now, weren’t they?

“I’ll think about it. I can’t...too tired to think through all the details right now, okay?” She rubbed at her eyes and he nodded along. “I’m not saying no.” She wanted to. “I just…” she trailed off, exhaling heavily.

He nodded even more, looking slightly off kilter and pallid after doing so. He really shouldn’t be moving around so much without treatment for whatever it was. But they didn’t have anyone who could do that sort of thing. Or properly treat her and Linh’s burns.

“I understand,” he said. “Thanks.”

For what? The world had ended already. She wasn’t doing anything.

Dex had left her a ways away from the clustered mass of minds she’d been approaching, most of them in some sort of lull. Worn and tired. She glanced towards the sky, the stars on full display--Dex hadn’t seemed even remotely tired. Fatigued? Yes. But that was from his healing injuries, not any kind of natural exhaustion. She’d forgotten how late it was despite the ache in her own bones.

He seemed...better. Like it was just a matter of time before whatever had happened yesterday--holy fuck was that just yesterday? Why was everything moving so fast? Life had been so much more peaceful, even boring when they’d been underground. She supposed this was why they were down there in the first place. Just a few days above the surface had tossed them into absolute chaos so consuming it felt like the last few hours had lasted weeks.

And now she sat on the floor of an old dilapidated cottage, flower petals scattered beneath her, two friends unconscious before her, other’s resting around her. They’d made the most out of what they had, cool water poured over burns and pressed against feverish foreheads, torn clothing wrapped around blisters. But they hadn’t anticipated this. Any of this.

Their world had only shifted underground a few months ago, how could everything above be so chaotic, so frantic? Beasts could have abilities, control the weather, breath smoke and scream ash. She still didn’t know what had happened to those two, the one’s battling up above, the one’s Marella had tried to join as if entranced.

She didn’t want to ask.

And now Marella lay sleeping before her, skin pulsating and gleaming with sweat, uneasy even in rest. The blankets had been thrown to the floor, damp sheets sticking to her exposed skin--entirely unblemished from the blast.

Linh hadn’t been so lucky. Her skin was angry angry red, shining in this dim light. And not the way her new iridescence sparkled, no, this was hurt, damaged skin coating her body. And still...it didn’t seem bad enough.

Marella had exploded, each of them mere feet away at most. They should be coated, covered, dying from these burns. Instead she was only aching, wincing, awake. What had happened?

“It was Maruca.” Tam’s voice took a moment to register, but she looked at him. He was perched beside Linh’s bed, sitting absolutely preposterously in a chair--how hadn’t he fallen out of it? His lip was red and raw, chewed over and destroyed. How had he made such a mess of it? Sleep appeared to elude him, and he tugged at his bangs as he shifted, eyes darting towards her. Wait, right, she was supposed to respond.

“What was Maruca?”

“She happened.” This was a very productive conversation. Tam exhaled, tugging harder at his bangs, like he was trying to gather the proper words. “You said it into the mind bubble,” he continued. “What happened? Maruca did. That’s why your injuries aren’t as bad as they should be--or at least part of it.”

Oh. She checked her mental barriers and sure enough, most of them were down, her consciousness standing exposed within their shared network. She fixed it.

“What did she do?”

He took a moment to respond, looking down at Linh. “It was hard to see what was happening because of all the rain and storming, but Marella was easy to track. She lit up the sky like a beacon. Whatever was happening with her...it clearly wasn’t good. So Maruca threw up a shield, trying to isolate her, but she wasn’t quick enough. It only blocked some of the explosion. But it was enough to help.”

Wait.

“Wait I saw it,” she responded, talking mostly to herself. “There was a...like a white light just before she went off. It wrapped around me--that must’ve been the force field.” Oh. Okay. Problem solved. She wasn’t as hurt as she should’ve been because she’d been shielded. So why did the question still irk her?

Turning, she searched for Maruca; she had to be in here somewhere. Ah, there she was, asleep against a wall beside Biana. Everyone had passed out from stress and exhaustion, littered around the room like they couldn’t even muster the energy to make it past the door. She could see Keefe and Fitz cuddled on a couch in an adjacent room, haphazardly draped over one another. Wylie was nowhere to be seen, and Dex hadn’t come into the room with her.

It was just her and Tam awake against the world.

Neither of them spoke, falling into an anxious, taut, comfortable silence. Pain buzzed along her skin, and she lowered herself backwards onto the floor, staring into the ceiling. She hadn’t thought ahead enough to take any elixirs from Elwin’s office when they left, and none of them had grabbed nearly enough. She didn’t even know what they had and she still knew it was insufficient.

What the hell were they going to do?

She sat up. Tam looked at her and she stared back.

An idea struck. A stupid one, but those were the best kind. “How do you feel about petty theft?”

“I can’t think of any possible way this could go wrong,” Tam whispered, and she resisted the urge to shove him over.

“I can. I can think of several.” They stood just outside the cottage, the others’ sleeping forms still visible through the window. She pressed her hands together in thought, trying to think through as much as she could in the next few minutes before all reason left her.

Tam crossed his arms, looking down at her with faint amusement. She scrunched her nose at him.

“Okay. Okay okay okay,” she repeated to herself, shaking her hands slightly to get her mind working. “We need to stay hidden. So who would...” She glanced back inside, looking towards the couch. Who out of their group would be the most prepared when they’d run away, specifically…

“What are you doing,” Tam hissed as she crept back into the building, stepping over Biana’s legs, hoping she could muster just enough agility to make it through without waking anyone else up. She already had Tam on her side, but she didn’t know if she had the energy to convince anyone else.

The wings at her back shivered in agitation. “Something smart.”

Silently, she crept towards that couch, the one Fitz and Keefe had collapsed upon. She was looking for--there. Fitz’s bag was discarded towards the end, spilling out various elixirs and fruit bars and water bottles and an old shirt. Hands ever so gentle, she pried open the top as she crouched down, the sound of the shifting floorboards grating against her ears.

Keefe’s breath caught. She stilled, not daring to move a muscle. Tam pulled at his bangs in her peripheral vision, face planting.

She eyed Keefe; his hand tensed in Fitz’s shirt, the fabric riding up his back. He relaxed, turning slightly.

Sophie exhaled heavily. He was still asleep. For some reason, the idea of anyone else knowing what they were doing was absolutely unacceptable. She rummaged through the bag for a moment--aha. Perfect.

She held the obscurer close, rising fully and making her way back to Tam, moving around cluttered floors and unconscious friends. Fitz’d had the foresight to bring an obscurer along when they’d run away to join the Black Swan, wandering through Florence. If anyone would have one, it’d be him.

She pressed the gadget into Tam’s hands, and he looked at her in question

“I don’t know how to use it” she explained, hooking her arm through his and dragging him away. The longer they were near those rooms the more anxious she became that someone would wake.

He fidgeted with the thing for a moment before a faint ripple marred its pristine surface, and she knew he’d turned it on.

“And what’s the next step in this brilliant plan of yours?”

She glanced around the area, then pointed to the near straight path of bridges laid out before them.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I’m mostly winging it,” he glared at her unintentional word play, but she just ignored it. “But now we run really fast.”

“We what--” his words vanished into the night air as Sophie charged forward, building speed with each step, the trees a blur around her and she pounded over the wooden bridges and platforms, darting so quick her feet barely grazed the ground. Tam, to his credit, tried his best to match her pace, but she was mostly dragging him behind her.

And then she could taste the void on her tongue and they vanished.

Sophie always forgot how much the Forbidden Cities stunk, but the gas fumes and humidity was home. Tam’s face was apprehensive, lip curled as he adjusted to the poor air quality.

She just stood there a moment, observing the scene--she hadn’t seen humans in months. Tam’s unease propelled her forward, shaking her out of it, ignoring the people on the street who ignored them. They couldn’t even see the two of them, obscurer clutched tightly in hand.

She glanced to the sky--the sun was just beginning to set, late afternoon. Good. That meant a few select places would still be open. It was disorienting, almost, to jump that quickly through time zones.

“Okay. This is good. This is fine.” Sophie grabbed Tam’s wrist, pulling them along the street, past the rush of the cars.

“You don’t sound confident.” She ignored him. She could hear the faint whine and compress of each individual engine as it shot past, and she made a mental note that they’d all need earplugs if they went literally anywhere ever. Especially the Forbidden Cities. They’d been loud before, but now…

They both winced as a motorcycle revved a few streets away.

A few minutes passed in relative silence until the building Sophie was looking for became visible as they rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding some family out for a casual stroll. It was so...normal. She’d known that the Forbidden Cities had been left unaffected, had been untouched by the ruin, but to see it so clearly--

“Wait for me to say it’s okay, Tam!” she screeched, jerking on his sleeve, hauling him back with a burst of that new strength. He’d been inching out into the road, Sophie so lost in thought she’d almost let him walk into the intersection.

He nearly toppled over from the force, and she mentally scolded herself for not giving him at least a basic rundown of how to not die.

“You can’t just walk in the street,” she began, trying to calm her pounding heart. “The cars won’t stop for you, and they can’t even see us right now. See that little red hand over there?” She pointed to the street light on the other side of the crosswalk and he nodded, confused but sensing her distress. “When that turns into a white figure, then we can go, okay?”

He fiddled with the tips of his bangs and nodded, face flushed beneath. His eyes were too bright, too reflective, and he looked away.

“Anything else I should know?”

“I…” Huh. Everything human was so deeply ingrained in her mind she didn’t even know what was useful to share, what she just assumed was common sense and didn’t need explaining. “We’ll see.”

Tam’s attention shifted and he pointed across the street, to the white figure now on display and the countdown that had just begun.

“See, now the cars are all stopped,” she gestured as they hurried by. She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of crossing the street when no one could see her, so she moved a little faster than necessary.

Once they made it to the other side with no trouble, she began to cut through the store’s parking lot, holding Tam close. No cars could see them and he didn’t know what to look for, so she was not taking any chances.

The more she thought about this, the more she began to realize maybe she should’ve come on her own--but she’d already snuck off once today, she wasn’t pushing her luck.

She was hoping she’d never have to tell them about that creature she found in the forest, about what she’d done.

A couple walked through the doors just ahead of them, and Sophie dragged them in behind. She didn’t think the automatic doors would be able to detect them, and even if they could, it might draw attention.

“What is all this?” Tam asked, glancing around. Aisles of overflowing shelves filled the space, everything from scented soaps to candies to old movies to vitamins to books to prescription medication counters.

“A human store,” she whispered--she knew the obscurer covered any noise they made, but she didn’t want to give it more work than necessary. She could hear the pounding of each of their hearts as they moved, beating a fraction too quickly to be comfortable.

Their bodies were so close they nearly bumped into each other with each step, slipping through aisles and around humans, each of them none the wiser to their presence. She brought them towards the back of the store, the rows of human medications and ointments and creams--this was what they’d come for.

Tam had been willing for this reason alone. They didn’t have any useful medication, hadn’t thought to bring any--aside from Fitz--so this was their next best bet. Sophie eyed the shelves, grabbing bottles of pills and tubes of cream at random, just looking for key words--she’d figure out what to actually use later. Burns, irritation, pain relief, blister, you name it, she grabbed it.

Footsteps sounded as an elderly woman wandered into the aisle, moving with surprising agility. A family approached from the opposite way, two young children in tow. Shit.

One of the kids screamed, throwing a fit as they tossed themself out of their parent’s arms, running down the aisle directly towards them.

Neither Tam nor Sophie dared breathe as they searched for an escape; they couldn’t get caught between the two. Tam’s hand clenched around her arm as he hauled the two of them back, narrowly avoiding the kid as they skirted by.

Shit, he hissed, and her eyes darted to him, widening as she saw him fiddling with the obscurer, tapping it frantically. Fuck. Shadows condensed around the two of them, but they wouldn’t do much in the middle of a well lit store.

Panicked, she turned back to the scene--that little kid. The parents were chasing after the kid, the old woman’s eyes following. They had a few seconds at most before they were noticed, two beat up, ragged teens with fucking wings just appearing in the center of a store.

“Woah!!” Her heart constricted, head whipping around to the source of the noise, mind on high alert, only to see the other kid, no more than three, pointing directly at her over their parent’s shoulder, eyes wide.

“In a minute, buddy,” their parent said, but Sophie couldn’t think over that pair of too-brown eyes boring into her own. She stepped back almost instinctively, the urge to run overwhelming, the tapping of Tam’s finger’s against the obscurer incessant.

The movement jostled her arms, and a bottle slipped, careening towards the hard tile floor. No no no no no no no--

Got it! Tam breathed, and Sophie watched as the child’s mouth fell open in shock as the two of them vanished once more.

Desperately, her mind reached out towards the bottle, jerking and clenching around it as she stopped it midair, levitating it an inch above the floor. She didn’t dare move. Only slowly directed it back towards her, sending out other little tendrils of energy to the bunch she held in her arms, a preventative measure.

“Here,” Tam mumbled, shuffling the two of them over and away from the people. She had severely overestimated the number of things she could hold at one time.

They paused for a moment in a vacant section of the store, adrenaline lingering in both their systems. Neither said a word, just breathing until they stopped shaking.

“We need a bag,” Sophie whispered, barely audible even to her own ears. They should’ve thought of that before they left. Dammit, there always seemed to be one little detail she was missing when he planned something out and it always came back to bite her in the ass.

“Umm...there’s a few over there. Does this work?” He handed her a cloth backpack from a shelf after they shuffled over a little.

She dumped all the contents of her arms into the bag, pleased to see there was plenty of room left over for anything else they could grab once the aisles were a bit more vacant.

“Sure. This works,” she said, grabbing the handles. “We could put the obscurer in there too.” He seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment before he shook his head.

“If it stops working again it’ll take too long to get out and fix.” She hummed in agreement, looking around. They might as well circle around the entire store while they could. Fingering the straps on her shoulder, careful to keep the wings from brushing against them, she glanced at the display Tam had grabbed it from.

Her heart stopped.

It was a local artists display, filled with various embroidered backpacks and totes and hats and anything cloth, vibrant threads of red standing out against browns and rich purples and electric teals. She took the backpack from her shoulder, flipping it around to run her finger along the design. It was a bird of some kind, a peacock or a phoenix, golden tail feathers spilling down the black fabric of the bag. It came to life with luscious greens popping white, layer upon layer of stitches running together in such a deliberate, careful pattern she couldn’t breathe.

There was someone, somewhere in the world, who had the time, the safety, to decorate a backpack. To painstakingly carve the details into permanence, to render it exactly how they wanted at their leisure.

“It’s like nothing has changed here,” she whispered, and Tam’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. He had no connection to this past of hers, but he surveyed the people mingling in the store, the smiles and laughter and idle chit chat. No, these people were unaffected.

The world had ended for them, but it flourished here.

He glanced at her fingers fisted around the backpack handles. “Are you okay?”

“No.” How could she be? “But let’s finish this first.” He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, and she threw the bag over her shoulder once more, that embroidered bird out of sight.

They started moving again, shadows condensing around their feet as Tam added to the obscurer's power, Sophie scanning the shelves for anything that could be useful. She grabbed bars of scented soap, washcloths, fancy water bottles, heart pounding pounding pounding.

This had been her idea, so why was she so goddamned nervous? Her intestines squirmed and wiggled within her abdomen and she ran a hand through her still-wet hair, gripping it tight. She wouldn’t pull it out. She wouldn’t. It was braided anyways.

A hand intertwined with hers and gently began tugging at her fingers, untangling them from the strands. Tam’s face was blank as he pulled her hand away from her head, smoothed out her hair, and pulled them forward.

She couldn’t do this. There were so many people everywhere she looked, so many people living completely ordinary lives unaware of the creatures that roamed their Earth, wreaked havoc upon the delicate ecosystems. They didn’t know it yet. But they would. Eventually. When the ocean spoiled with more than just crude oil, when the animals vanished entirely, when the bees fell from the sky like rain.

“Breathe, Sophie,” Tam’s voice slammed into her, dragged her from the depth of her mind and suddenly she was breathing she was processing she was dying. She didn’t know where she was, blurs of shadows and nothing fuzzy in her peripherals and she was inhaling faster than she was exhaling and there was everything in her lungs and her heart was trying to implode, to scatter itself into pieces.

“I said breathe, dumbass.” His voice was so so soft, so gentle, a damp cool stone against the night sky of her imagination. She inhaled. She exhaled. She did it again.

The first thing she saw was her knuckles, white. Her fingers were wrapped around Tam’s wrists, gripping him so so tightly. She inhaled again. His hands were on either side of her body, holding her by the shoulders. She exhaled.

Slowly, she raised her gaze, meeting his eyes for a prolonged moment. They shone red, reflecting some far off light, oh so wide. Fear and concern lined the soft edges of his face, relaxing slightly as she held eye contact, as she breathed, as they both listened to her heart slowing, the race of her blood calming.

“Sorry,” she whispered, vision going blurry again, sagging beneath the weight of the world.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” She nodded instinctively, not even fully registering what he said. Time ticked by, the sky darkening in silence.

She released his wrists, the skin red where she’d grasped him so tight, and he dropped his arms back to his sides. Carefully, she wrapped the guilt that sparked into the knot beneath her ribs, pressing her palm against it.

Tam noticed, but didn’t mention it. “Are you ready to go back?” She debated for a moment, taking stock of her body, all the signals and alarms beeping in the background. They stood a ways away from the store, off in a shadowed segment of the parking lot. She had no idea how he’d gotten them out here.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Let’s go.” Her limbs were made of lead, her brain an amalgamation of dense fog, but she’d be okay.

He just nodded, retrieving the obscurer from wherever he’d set it before they turned back to the illuminated store.

“How are you so...awake,” she slurred, rubbing at her eyes. His brow creased for a moment, glancing down at her.

He wiggled his shoulders, drawing her attention to the movement, the things behind them. “I haven’t been able to sleep since the mission.” They flared under the attention, and she realized somehow she hadn’t taken notice of them this entire trip. Just how oblivious was she?

The wings protruded sharply from his back, bones spreading, membrane stretched between each section. Charcoal blacks textured like leather melding into fuzzy browns near his shoulder blades. Sharp talons graced the top--wait, were those talons? Her mind was too mush to tell, but it was painfully obvious what they were.

Bat wings.

It made sense, she realized. The reflective eyes, the alertness this late at night, the--wait a minute. Curiously, she looked to his face.

“Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“Just do it, real quick.” Something had clicked together in her mind, and she just couldn’t find the energy to be cordial about it.

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth slightly, bewilderment and embarrassment written plain across his face. Her own mouth fell open as she leaned forward, trying to get a closer look.

“What are you doing--”

“You have fangs,” she whispered, cocking her head to the side as he clamped his lips shut, hiding those sharp canines. That’s how he’d bitten through his lip earlier, chewed it raw so quickly. It might’ve even been an accident.

She shook herself off, backing away slightly, skirting towards the doors of the store once more. Just a quick, final lap, and then they’d head back. Nothing could go wrong this time. She’d hold it together, as long as it took. She wasn’t doing this just for her, although the longer she moved the more each of her muscles begged her to stop, the more her skin chafed against her clothes.

Tam’s face flushed as they snuck back through the aisles, heading straight for the pharmaceutical section. Her determination was just enough to get her moving. She knew the moment she stopped her body would give out, collapse, but she couldn’t allow that to happen.

She was Tam’s only way back and none of the other’s even knew they’d left.

They grabbed items in relative silence, more alert of their surroundings. Sophie was the only one between the two of them who could read the labels, and Tam was the only one with any energy. They made quick work of it, that embroidered backpack stuffed so full she could hardly close it.

As they made their way out of the store, weaving around people, Sophie stumbling along, eyes falling shut, she spotted one more thing she wanted. It was stupid and nostalgic, she knew.

But goddammit if she was going to commit crimes, she might as well enjoy it.

Tam said nothing as she swiped the items off the shelf, only smiled exasperatedly as they emerged into the dark parking lot.

The streetlights seemed to flicker above her, and Tam gripped her tight, more prepared for what was to come.

She took off at a sprint, fueling every last drop of remaining energy into her run as she cracked the void open before her, the lingering sweet scent of the memory fogging her mind.

Hard wood met her skin, her palms, scraping against fragile, healing skin.

And she collapsed.

She couldn’t see herself.

She was supposed to be here.

That wasn’t her.

That wasn’t anybody.

Water rippled pulsated groaned over an endless expanse of everything, echoing the sky and screaming. Delicate. Inescapable. Never.

The hallway stretched on for miles upon miles upon forever and ever and she couldn’t find her way back and this. was. not. her.

The choice was not hers. It hovered there, taunting, before plummeting and vanishing beneath the surface, leaving not even a ripple in its wake.

Wake. Wake up.

No. She couldn’t. She wasn’t asleep.

Focus.

Everything shattered.

It rained down in heaving whorls and coasted through her consciousness and broke and broke and splintered and caved and cried and screamed and she was screaming too. It was not her and she was not dreaming and she was screaming too.

Wake.

Up.

Something was breaking--no, broken. Something was going to break.

It was her.

Commotion. Everywhere. Everything. Slammed into her all at once and she was choking she was breathing she was thinking the sun was burning her alive and her skin had turned to ash and her mind was fog and--

“Sophie? What do we--” Keefe hissed beside her, uncharacteristically tense, but she eased. Okay. Everything was okay. Keefe was right there and everything would be fine and--

Something buzzed and vibrated. Several somethings, all in sync.

Keefe supported her by the shoulder as she jolted upwards, that familiar tune gravel grating against her ears. She fumbled, the floor dancing and her stomach swimming, reaching for that bag, the one she’d taken from home not the one she’d stolen.

She slipped the device out of its pocket. Saw everyone else present in the room look towards their own. Their imparters, each buzzing with an incoming call.

Sophie tilted it towards her so she could read the screen, the words taking a few seconds to sink in.

An incoming hail, one for each of them.

Hers was from Councillor Oralie.

#i just think they're neat #i have so many thoughts about this au #it has taken over my life #/pos #yours is next /j #but like sophie and tam my beloved #everyone's a dumbass your honor #if you have any thoughts about this au feel free to scream in my inbox /g #i love hearing your thoughts #kotlc #kotlc fanfic #keeper of the lost cities #shattered upside down #shattered upside down chapter #kotlc wings au #quil's quill

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theprincesslibrary · 3 years

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#26: Quid pro quo

She had a plan. A good plan, flawed of course, but a good plan nonetheless. She would march into the Azure dragon’s lair, offer him a deal he could not refuse, and spend the rest of her days in relative peace. She would not be burned alive, nor have her body desecrated postmortem. It was a good plan, albeit a bit of a crazy one.

She had carefully designed said plan for months, spent countless hours with her nose buried deep in obscure literature, practically harassed the head of the royal guard into telling her every tiny detail of his encounter with the sand dragons - the man used to boast about his tale of glory, now he couldn’t bear to utter the word dragon - but for all her effort she still wasn’t ready for the Azure dragon himself. There were a few key elements about the beast which were not accounted for in those dusty grimoires: for one, he was a man rather than a scaled monster; and two… he was incredibly handsome. He had ordered her to sit opposite him, and she had since spent a stupid amount of time staring at his face, which wasn’t all that smart considering her current predicaments. Yet, one could hardly blame her; she had been expecting a blue lizard - a giant lizard, with wings, and teeth, and claws - and she was now sitting in front of the most gorgeous man she had ever met. Nothing during her months of research had prepared her for the day's events, and she was a bit lost and quite unsure of how to proceed.

*****

When she had walked past the entrance on the north side of the snowy mountain, she had expected a cave or an abandoned mine; a place dark and humid, where the air would be stale, almost putrid. There would be spiderwebs on the walls and maybe a few rotting corpses lying in the shadows of a dusty corner. The place would be grim, quiet - save for the few drip drops of a leaking roof - and extremely scary. But the halls she was wandering in looked nothing like old collapsing tunnels. There were sculpted columns where she expected old support beams, and vast rooms with smooth walls instead of rough rock and loose stone. It looked more like an underground palace than it did the belly of a mountain, and she couldn’t help but be a little bit in awe of the craftsmanship required to achieve such a feat. Her father’s castle could never compare to the dragon’s lair, nothing could.

As she made her way from room to room, she found no pile of gold or shiny jewels, not that she hoped to find any, she had specifically chosen the Azure dragon for its peculiar taste in treasure. She had however expected a few rotten corpses, maybe some dead knights, or discarded armors, but again she was pleasantly surprised: not a dead body in sight. Just books, shelves after shelves for as far as the eye could see. They occupied every surface of the place: wooden tables covered in parchments, rare volumes piled up on the floor. Some piles were so high, she had to crane her neck up to see the top and almost lost her balance more times than she’d admit to. Some books were torn or half-eaten by mice, soot-stained or with missing their spines, others were brand new and carefully ordered by author and date. And everywhere the dry scent of paper mixed with the faintest bit of charcoal, a good indication that she was in the right place. Which might sound confusing to some: what kind of princess would willingly seek out a dragon? But she was desperate, and desperate times called from desperate measures. Crazy measures, some might even say.

Now that she was deep into the beast’s lair, she was faced with two issues. One, for all her planning, she hadn’t come up with a solution to prevent the dragon from killing her without hearing her plea. She had a proposition for the creature, one that required some explaining, and she could hardly do so once reduced to a fuming pile of ashes. She had thought she’d come up with something eventually, but as her twenty-first birthday grew closer things accelerated, and now she was here, with no idea how to speak with such a being. Maybe she should send words in advance? Did Dragons get mail? And If so, who would be brave enough to deliver such correspondence? There wasn't any protocol on how to converse with a dragon. She was taught how to politely greet foreign emissaries, but somehow her etiquette lesson didn’t cover “how to greet a mighty dragon without being toasted”. Clearly a gap in her royal education. Most people - knights in search of gold and glory - marched into a dragon’s lair with two goals in mind: kill the beast and steal its treasure. They either succeeded or died, adding to the long list of nameless fools no one remembered. There was hardly any tale of them having a civil conversation with the beast.

And either way, if she knew how to politely engage the Azure dragon, she would first need to find him. One would think a creature this size would be easy to spot, but so far she only passed by empty rooms (saves for the mountains of books) and deserted halls. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the place to be abandoned.

As she continued her discovery of the underground palace, she stepped inside a dimly lit room, more vast than the rest, that looked like a library. There had been books in every room she visited so far, but this one looked like it was meant to hold paper and manuscript. It was dark, save for the few candles and the fire roaring in the hearth.

“Excuse me.” She called out to the shadows, not expecting an answer. She had been doing so in every room, and only got an eerie silence as a reply. So when the shadows moved in a corner of the room, she nearly jumped out of her skin. The shadow was in fact a man sitting in a chair with a heavy book in his hands. Her heart was in her throat, and it took her a few minutes to regain her composure.

“Forgive my intrusion,” she started, “I'm looking for the Azure dragon.”

The man barely lifted his eyes from the books to give her the most unimpressed look. He was handsome, almost painfully so: silver-white hair, high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut through glass. But his most striking features were his eyes: icy blue, pupils slit in the middle. And then everything clicked: the hair, the pointed ears, the haughty look...

“You're one of the Elezens” she whispered dumbfounded, “It was said that your race had passed into legend.” “Sorry to disappoint.”

Panic ran through her, insulting the very being she had come to beg for help was a mistake, insulting one of the Elezens was a death sentence. She quickly dipped in a graceful bow, knees almost touching the ground, and lowered her head as much as her spine would allow.

“Forgive me, your grace, I spoke out of turn.”

She did not dare look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She could sense his disdain and perhaps a hint of curiosity. She kept her head low and her knees bent, waiting for him to speak, to dismiss her, or worse, to kill her. Her muscles screamed at her, and she secretly thanked her mother for her rigorous etiquette lessons. Lya might look frail and delicate, but she could curtsy for hours, her body well-trained to the princessly art of lowering oneself (literally) to please powerful men.

“Sit.” He finally said. “And pray tell, why is a princess seeking me out. That ought to be an interesting tale.”

For a brief moment, as she sat opposite him, nervousness overwhelmed her. Her hand clenched into her skirt, her fingers tugging at the fabric. She had not planned for this, hadn’t even considered the possibility, his kind was supposed to be extinct. This changed everything. Elezen were stronger than most dragons, smarter too. Knights didn’t kill Elezens, they simply ceased to exist; or hid in the heart of a snowy mountain, it would seem. Still, she couldn’t help but stare, he looked so… human.

“Speak.” He ordered, “all the fidgeting and staring is deeply annoying.” “I’m sorry, your grace, I expected you to be…” “Taller?” “Bluer actually, with more scales perhaps?” “I can hardly read with a full set of claws,” he pointed out with a haughtily condescending tone.

She swallowed heavily and nodded. She had been willing to face a beast breathing fire, surely she could converse with a man reading a book. She hadn’t escaped her father’s dungeon and portaled all the way up north to give up now. She brushed off her skirt, took a deep breath and raised her head to meet his gaze.

“I've come to request the honor of being your captive.” Words stumbled out of her mouth so fast she wasn’t sure she had been intelligible. “Do I look that feeble that you’d rather be my prisoner than some baron’s wife?” He said, weary and just a little bit sharp. “Do you not fear me?” “I do, very much fear you, your grace. Even more so now that I know of your true lineage. But I wish to live, and being held captive, given the proper circumstances, seems rather small compared to losing my life.” “I don't follow.” “I was born under the blood moon, your grace…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, didn’t need to, they both knew what it meant. Silence stretched between them, only broken by the sound of a log cracking in the fireplace. When the dragon spoke again his voice wasn’t thunderous nor loud, it wasn’t “ dragon-like ”; it was soft, barely a whisper, with a hint of sadness to it, and something else. Empathy? Pity? Most people pitied her.

“I didn’t realize humans still followed the old ways. And they call us beasts… Very well, I can see how this agreement would benefit you, but what's in it for me?” “It is my understanding that a dragon’s reputation among his peers is correlated to the size of his hoard and his ability to keep a princess captive.” She started, glad her voice didn’t betray any of her fear. “Your hoard is rumored to be quite impressive, but you never…”

She hesitated for a while, she needed to be careful with her words, she had insulted him once, it would be a mistake to do it again, dragons weren’t known for being magnanimous. Still, there wasn’t exactly a pleasant term to describe the situation, ‘prisoner’ seemed a bit excessive considering she was offering to be locked away in a tower of her own free will. Well, maybe not locked away, and there was no tower…but ‘guest’ would be most inappropriate. Hosts had duties towards their guests, she could not insinuate that he’d owe her anything.

“You’ve never ‘harbored’ a princess before”, she finally settled on. “I suppose you find the task bothersome, fending off knights can be quite tiring, believe me, I know.”

He laughed, barely a huff, but she heard it, and she liked it. It spurred her on, and she smiled in return. Maybe their shared disdain for knights could bring them to a quid pro quo.

“I'm the thirteenth princess of the sand kingdom, hardly the golden prize, and even if a knight wanted to risk it all, well, rumor has it your hoard is made of books…” she let her eyes wander around the room, her stare landing on yet a precarious tower of volumes, minutes away from collapsing on the ground. “Not exactly the type of treasure knights tend to seek out. They're not very well-read. So you see, this agreement would benefit both of us.”

His eyes narrowed at her as he studied her. His stare was neither cold nor disdainful, but calculating. He was appraising her, measuring her worth and deciding whether she was worth the hassle; and for those interminable seconds, she held her breath in anticipation of his response.

“I can clean too. And sing.” She hastened to add. “I'm fairly good at enchanting animals. I could sing the rats away from your books.”

He huffed once more, amused at her outburst.

“No need to oversell it, Princess. You have yourself a deal.”

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #estinien x wol #Estinien Wyrmblood #my writing #soulmate AU #AU #dragon Estinien is the hill I'll die on

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fromthehellmouth · 3 years

Text

One for Sorrow, Two for Mirth

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Part Two! Part One here. Maledictus! Femme! Gryffindor! oc. Some tension & angst! original prompt suggested by @hyacinthsandbooks

Drawing by me and inspired by scenes from the story.

Overview:

Tom find’s Lucia in an embarrassing moment, which later goes awry as they find themselves in a compromising situation by unforgiving eyes. Tom causes a bit of a scene in front of Lucia’s friends.

...I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his bright eyes flashed in that cold room. It was as if the only thing my head could focus on were those piercing eyes and the image of that magpie darting right toward me.

I decided to go for a flyover of the grounds again tonight, and buy time before I could confront Tom about his nighttime leisures. Defeatedly, I cleaned up my mess of books from the commonroom table by the fireplace and dropped my bag on the surface with a thud. I ascended the staircase to the girls’ dorm and in the dark I wandered to the window where I opened it about halfway. My housemates knew of my struggles with insomnia and the girls in the dorm with me had begun to routinely shut the curtains surrounding their beds because they knew I would be up with my light for hours into the night. Although I wasn’t in the commonroom before they fell asleep, it had become somewhat of a routine, and I appreciated the privacy for continuing my transformations. Changing into my winged self I perched on the propped open windowsill. The view overlooked the grounds, and in the far reaches of the horizon I could glimpse the outline of the thick woods in the distance, “forbidden to students” was obviously not a clear enough restriction, I thought, and propelled myself into the crisp open air.

The weather was beginning to get colder, and some leaves had begun to yellow on the tops of the trees surrounding the castle grounds, beautifully blending with the indigo sky to create a haze of emerald green that wafted through the chilling air. It reminded me of his eyes, the striking sea-green, the thick dark lashes and the low furrowed brows that screamed of caution and thinly veiled anxiety. I let my mind wander as I surveyed the hills for his familiar frame, and finding nothing I circled back to the south of the castle toward the Black Lake. The large body of water looked almost completely black with the exception of tiny sparkles that shimmered and twinkled like the reflections of the moon’s imitation of the stars in the sky. Diving down to the lake I soared closely above the surface, feeling small sprays of water splashing up against my body as I cut ripples in the water with my talons. It was a carnal and otherworldly feeling, pure visceral adrenaline, your core pounding with desire. It must have been like what dragonologists feel like when they fly their first dragon, touching the rough scales with their bare hands that they’ve studied for years, or what aurors feel like when they finally see the dark wizard they’ve been stalking bound with their incarcerous charm. My mind followed the train of thought through to its end, soon plunging the images into the realization that I would have none of these accomplishments by the end of my human life. These realizations never ceased to make me feel so hollow and full of dread that I wished I could just fly into the horizon and forget my anxieties. There was that unexplainable comfort with being a beast that paired with a dread of never living my life as a witch to the extent I had dreamed of since I was so little.

My wings had begun to get more wet, and I decided to circle around back to the courtyard, to dry off my dark feathers. The grounds were unexplainably peaceful as I flew over the endless clusters of tonal-green forest-tops, the moisture in the air beautifully cohesive with the scent of pine, fir, and balsam that wafted up from the leaves and needles below. It smelled like a winter wreath, like a childhood Christmas, like a walk in the forest on a snowy day. The time must have been near 1am, and after checking the large gothic clocktower my suspicions had been confirmed. I had found my way over the courtyard fountain, and I looked for a place to land. Swooping down from my aerial position, I perched myself on one of the winged stone gargoyles decorating the reflective pool. Floating down into the pool below I cupped some water up with my beak and let it fall down my throat as I raised my beak to the night sky. My feathers completely wet at this point, and for a moment I had forgotten about looking for Tom. It was, of course, in this moment when he revealed himself.

“There you are.” His cool voice seemed to slip down my neck.

I froze, suddenly my body felt cold, shivers ran down my wings over and over, and I knew there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t fly away, he had seen me, and I couldn't act as though I was a regular bird--you could spot a magpie easily from afar. So I changed. My hair was wet, and my face felt damp and cold. The shivers hadn’t stopped, and it was as if my body had gone into a state of arrest, almost feverish, just cold and damp and also somehow simultaneously, my face felt so very hot.

“I was waiting for you,” I lied, looking up at him through matted eyelashes, my bare feet still stood in the fountain. I always removed my shoes when I transformed, and the clothes we wear before we change materialize as we form back into our human selves. I couldn’t take my mind off my freezing feet.

“It looked like you were playing in the fountain.”

“I wasn’t playing, I was cooling down.”

“Do you get very heated when you fly the campus looking for me?”

I didn’t say anything, I looked away and wrapped my hands around my arms, feeling a shiver wrack through my body.

“You don’t look very hot now.” I saw him remove his robes and fold them over his arm, taking a step toward me. “Here, take my robes.” A glint of moonlight flickered in his enchanting eyes.

“I don’t need them,” I shook my head. “I’m not very cold.”

“I’m not asking you if you want my robes, I’m telling you to take them.”

Another shiver.

I swiftly pulled the long draping fabric from his strong arms, my hands swiping it around my shoulders, allowing the robe to settle on me. I soon realized they were meant for someone much much taller, and the bottom of the robes had brushed the surface of the pool I was still standing in, and the fabric had begun to darken in the water. He held out his forearm, and I cautiously clutched it, stepping out of the cold water onto the even colder stone courtyard floor.

Suddenly, the massive doors of the clocktower begun to shudder a monstrous creak as they slowly snuck open. Without warning, Tom grabbed my arm, and aggressively thrust my body along with him as he ran behind the wall at the far end of the courtyard. Behind the shadow of the stone wall he pushed my body against it, and silently raised a finger to his pink lips. “Don’t make a sound.” He whispered, barely audible. The door continued to groan, and footsteps could be heard as someone entered the courtyard.

“Is anyone out there?” a hoarse voice called. The caretaker? Was it a professor? His face was so close to mine, but the movement happened too quickly for me to process it immediately. I felt his hot breath on my neck, and I also felt the awkward tension thicken. He turned his head to the side in a feeble attempt to break it. He couldn’t move back, or the side of his frame would be in view of the investigator, and we couldn’t move farther into the shadow or our steps would be heard. I soon realized my bare foot and his shoe were actually touching, and I could feel the outline of his clothed ankle with my bare one. I desperately wanted to look down at the strange arrangement of our feet, but I worried that he would think I was looking at something else, so I moved my head to the side as well. The footsteps ceased for a moment, and as Tom begun to move his face closer into the light, in a moment of falter I quickly grabbed his face with my left hand, preventing him from exposing our location.

“No!” I let my mouth form the words but said nothing, and quickly removed my hand, I soon felt the hot red blush flow up to my cheeks. I couldn’t help but look down at our feet--our still touching feet.

***

“Quite the close call,” Tom whispered after the footsteps ceased and the door made a small shudder. His expression was blank, but I could tell he was confused by my sudden touch and our intimate position.

We walked into the light together and immediately froze in our tracks. Professor Merrythought stood in front of us, her arms crossed and a concerned look shone across her pale, aged skin. A gray curl of hair fell in her face and her lips were pulled tight in a reluctant frown.

“Lucia?” Her voice shook slightly, as her focus seemed to shoot right for my face. “Mr. Riddle?” She turned to Tom, who had straightened out his stance, attempting to gain back some dignity after being caught out far past curfew even for a prefect.

“Mr. Riddle, you will see me after class for detention. Off to the dungeons. Now.” She sternly pointed to the door leading back to the castle. Tom shot me a look full of a feeling I couldn’t place, and walked briskly to the door, not looking back. “Lucia...” I swallowed. “Come with me to my office and we’ll have a talk.” Her lips had come together once more to form an small apologetic frown, as if there was nothing else that could be done but many things she wanted to do.

We walked silently through the castle, and my pace a meter or so behind her made me feel small, and childlike. I let my head hang, and I felt completely foolish walking in the castle still, with no shoes on. My bare feet made soft patting noises as I followed the echoing click Merrythought’s shoes. Her office was massive, and I had been invited to it on only one other occasion which had been when we discussed my curse for the first time. The walls drove up to the ceiling in pointed arches, leaving the center of the room shaped in a beautiful dome. She had a large roaring fireplace at the front of the room with long red velvet couches flanking it. In the far back of the room was her desk and her numerous bookshelves lining the walls. She lead me to one of the couches where she beckoned me to sit, my feet overlapping at the awkwardness of my strange exposure.

“Lucia, I know we have not discussed the status of transformations recently, would you like to talk about that?” She let out a heaving sigh.

“They’re still voluntary at the moment.”

“I see,” she started, and turned away, walking toward the back of the room where a kettle sat on a little furnace. “And I assume that is how you got down to the courtyard, considering you are not currently wearing shoes.”

“Yes professor, that’s correct. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately and I found that releasing my stress by flying has been very calming.”

“You know I want to see you finding helpful ways to cope with your anxiety but I cannot openly condone breaking school curfew. Tea?”

“Yes please, miss.”

“I know your situation is quite unique, and so if this were any other student I’m sure we would be having a very different conversation.” I saw a faint flicker of a smile prance across her thin burgundy painted lips. “Milk or sugar?”

“No thank you.”

“Which is why you came with me and not to detention.”

“I’m very grateful for your pardon.”

“There is not much else I can do it ease your surely... frustrating transition.” She handed me the hot cup and sat down across from me. “Now, I must ask what you were doing out in the courtyard with Mr. Riddle.”

“I had just barely noticed him when you found us.”

“That is not how it appeared to me.”

“It’s the truth... I just went out by myself and he happened to find me.” I muttered. She didn’t have to know I was hoping to find him. She also didn’t have to know I had met him before, and she definitely didn’t need to know--

“You are wearing Mr. Riddle’s robes, Lucia.”

A shot of panic rushed down my core. I had completely forgotten I still had them on, and suddenly I felt so exposed, as if my wardrobe had utterly switched, leaving me with no clothes... but my feet covered with warm wool socks... There was no way to explain this without looking as if I was trying to meet with him after hours.

“He gave them to be because he saw I was wet...” I quickly tried to explain. “I was in the fountain.”

Merrythought slowly closed her eyes and let her brow furrow deeply as she brought her hand up to her temple and gently massaged her skin. She looked strangely young, and I saw remnants of my mother’s countless disappointed expressions in her current face.

“Please never let me find you out at 1 in the morning with him again or I will have to take house points.”

I nodded, and sipped my tea in silence. Merrythought had gotten up and walked to her bookshelves where she returned with a small black leather book with gothic script scrawled across the smooth surface:

The History of Magical Blood Curses and Afflictions.

“Chapter thirteen.” She said, handing me the book as I finished my tea.

“Thank you for the tea professor. I’ll just go straight to my dorms, then.” She muttered something in response I couldn’t understand as I quickly rushed from the room, my feet pattering in an awkward tapping rhythm in the halls as I made my way to the Gryffindor tower.

***

It was strange to think of how intimate I had gotten in so little time with that boy, considering we had never spoken before yesterday when he had come across me in the fountain. I didn’t even know his name until a few days ago. Tom. It rolled off my tongue, it seemed so natural and sweet--maybe too natural, as I realized I had accidentally said his name out loud while I was changing. A girl named Jude, with enviously-beautiful wavy copper hair turned to me after she slipped on her slightly thinning, likely hand-me-down shirt. She lazily raised her eyebrows, cooly bringing her thick hair up in a messy ponytail, her hair waving around in the movement.

“Did you just say Tom?” she smirked slightly, removing the ribbon from her teeth and wrapping her hair in the thin, smooth fabric.

“No--I didn’t say anything.”

“Come on Lucia, what did you just say?”

“Nothing, Jude.”

“You just said Tom, I heard you. Were you thinking about him?” She fell back onto her bed, bringing the uniform’s socks up over her ankles.

“What Tom, it’s a quite common name.”

“So you were thinking of a Tom, then.” My stomach cringed and I tried my hardest to hide a defeated expression from peaking through. “Is it the Tom everyone in our DADA class has been talking about? The Riddle boy? You know, the Tom whose boggart was that terrifyingly ghastly corpse that made Merrythought end class early?” I swallowed hard.

“Perhaps it’s that Tom, perhaps it’s another Tom.”

Jude looked up at me through her lashes and raised a brow critically. She just opened her mouth in a small grin and let out a small huff, getting up from the bed and finding her shoes. We finished dressing in silence, but some of the other girls who had begun to watch our escalating conversation looked at each other and exchanged small smiles. I sniffed, and put a thick button-up cardigan over my blouse, I felt a fever coming on--most likely because of getting in that damn fountain. I glanced at his robes I awkwardly kept with me after Merrythought sent him to the Slytherin common room, and when I came up to my dorm I quickly took them off before anyone could see me in them. The black robes sat neatly folded under my bed, the accents of dark green shone on the top, and his silver prefect badge pinned on the green strip glinted slightly in the dim light. Pushing it slightly farther under my bed, I put my loafers on and followed Jude to breakfast.

***

I sat at the Gryffindor table, my hands wrapped around a small cup of black tea, and my body shivering slightly. It felt so unreasonably cold in the Dining Hall, but I suspected it was just a cold or a fever creeping into my immune system. Not being very hungry, I finished my tea before anyone was done with their meal, and was suddenly interrupted by a firm hand being pushed into my shoulder. I almost let out a small gasp as I turned to see who had touched me. Tom stood next to me, looking down from his tall height, his lips were opened slightly, and his eyes looked dull and tired. His hair looked slightly messier than normal, and a single strand of hair fell into his face.

“Hello Lucia.”

“Oh, hello Tom.” The air felt so thick and I felt like the entire hall had gone quiet as we spoke. I felt Jude’s eyes prying into the side of my face.

“I came by to ask for my robes back.” Good Godric! He did not just say that in front of the entire Gryffindor table! I felt heat immediately rush to my cheeks as my eyes widened and my mouth hung slightly open in confusion.

“Well… I--I don’t have them with me right now Tom, I’m not sure what you expect me to do.” My stomach felt tight and constricted inside me and I swallowed hard.

“I’ll just come with you after class then.”

“I suppose that’s fine.” I say calmly as my heart races simultaneously.

“Splendid. And I see you’ve finally found some shoes.” His eyes danced down my body to my feet and back up to my eyes. With that, Tom left the table.

“What the bloody hell?” Jude’s mouth sprung open in a teasing grin, her tongue ran across her bottom lip in a taunting fashion. “You’ve got his clothes Lucy? Tell me why the hell you’ve got his clothes! I didn't even know you knew Riddle.”

“It’s so complicated...” I whispered, my face fell into my hands defeatedly. I was in shock--the way he worded his comments insinuated so much more than I felt comfortable with the table knowing. I began to picture the taunting that would surely happen in the common room later. How was I going to explain my situation without revealing my blood curse? My mind jumped from worry to worry... He acted as if we knew each other, as if we were close friends with inside jokes who share each other's clothes--or even worse, that we were in the position to mix up our clothes… I couldn’t imagine the kind of things Jude would say about the incident, so I decided to pretend it didn’t happen. Unfortunately, that was the last thing my mind allowed me to do.

Part three here!

Tags: @tmr-simp-pride

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #harry potter imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine

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theatresweetheart · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Prince | 2

Part One

Warnings: Swearing, blood, injuries, fear, anxious thoughts, arguing.

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Roman

Word count: 5002 words

——————————

A‌ few days had passed. They had remained just as uneventful as the first one had been and Virgil watched sunset after sunset. Each and every day that brought those fading hues across the sky chipped away a little more of his resolve.

Life in the cave wasn’t…bad, necessarily. It was far from easy and certainly far from comfortable, but he was still alive, so that counted for something.

Of course, he’d still tried to escape when the dragon’s back was turned, but each attempt gifted the same response. He was snagged by the back of his tunic, hefted up and carried right back over toward the dragon’s bed. Once there, he was kept pinned in place until he quit fighting. It never took long before Virgil tired himself out and eventually ended up giving in.

The dragon was never too bothered to feel the prince’s struggles cease.

There was almost always a content rumble that followed Virgil’s relaxing. A thrum that hummed through him. The prince was left to guess that it was a soothing mechanism that the dragon would use on unruly or frightened young.

It was a demeaning thought– being treated as no better than a hatchling but, again, Virgil had to remind himself that he was indeed still alive.

The feeling of cool hard metal in his hand brought him back to the present. He was sitting back against the stone wall of the cave, idly tossing a few golden coins up in the air. He flicked his wrist, watching silently amused at the glittering pieces before catching them swiftly and tossing them up again. It was the most entertaining thing he had.

The dragon was nestled close by, eyes watching the human lazily as he amused himself. It was more of a curious glance than anything serious.

The longer the dragon looked, the more uncomfortable Virgil got.

“What?”‌ He finally snapped, turning to face the great crimson lizard, the gentle clattering of coins stilled as he held them.

The dragon only tilted its head at him, seemingly asking what the problem was.

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting his head thump against the stone wall. “I’m not going to run away,” he said sharply, before throwing a hand out in the direction of the cave’s entrance—where the dragon had not-so-subtly positioned itself in front of, just so the prince wouldn’t be able to make a break for it without having to go around the beast itself. “You’re right in my way and, believe it or not, I‌ don’t have a death wish.”

He tossed the coins up again, listening to the gold clink together. The fading colours from outside danced off the hoard. It was just another day where Virgil remained captive without the knights rescuing him.

No, he didn’t need some strong man to walk in sword-a-swinging to save him, he could save himself. This situation just made saving himself increasingly difficult.

The dragon huffed at him, looking rather distraught.

“Do you want something from me?” The prince snipped, bitterness raising in the back of his throat. He side-glanced the dragon as it crept the slightest bit closer to him. “If you want riches and gold and glittering jewels, I‌ can’t give you that.” Not here at least. He took a breath. “Look, you seem, ah, decent. Maybe even decent enough to return me home?”

The dragon—as it had softened the slightest bit—instantly shut down and snorted at him.

Hot air brushed Virgil’s dark bangs back and he sneered.‌ “Well,”‌ he said, his tone lacked mirth and amusement, “it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?”

The dragon rolled its eyes, shifting to lean back on its forearms. They were both surrounded by the soft sounds of gold clinking again as Virgil resumed tossing the coins up and down.

That relative silence was quickly broken by the prince’s stomach growling.

Pink immediately rushed to his cheeks and Virgil could feel heat creeping up the back of his neck. The dragon’s ears twitched and it lifted its head again, watching Virgil wrap his arms around his midsection, stifling the sounds.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was embarrassed, he just was.

He turned his attention away from the dragon watching him intently now. However, that only lasted for so long. The dragon made a soft humming noise, wanting to get the prince’s attention. It succeeded after a moment, but mostly because the constant noise was annoying.

“I’m just a bit hungry,” he admitted, red dotting his face. “That’s all, it’s not a big deal.”

The dragon pushed up so it was sitting back on its hind legs. It turned around, looking over its shoulder toward the mouth of the cave. It almost seemed to be debating whether or not it should just go and get something to eat anyway. Virgil could almost see the cogs working in its head, before the dragon turned back to look at him skeptically.

It almost felt like he was being accused of faking.

“If you’re thinking about leaving me here while you go hunting,” Virgil said slowly, watching the dragon’s expressions to the best of his ability, “I won’t run.”

The dragon scrunched its snout in disbelief.

Virgil scoffed. “Come on, why would I‌ lie? You could probably literally scent me all over the forest if you tried,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “But fine, you want to drag me along on your hunting trip and risk me getting hurt? Fine.” The reaction he got from the great beast was exactly what he had thought it would be; a soft whine as it tried to figure out the best solution. Virgil examined his nails, feigning boredom. “It would be all your fault if something happened to me.”

The dragon wasted no time in nabbed Virgil by the back of his tunic—not without a squall of surprise—and the prince was settled back down into the soft cloths and silks on the dragon’s bed. (It had been collected and piled for the prince himself, since gold and old maps weren’t comfortable for a human to sleep on.)

Virgil winced backward slightly as the dragon snarled in a warning at him, those sharp teeth making a threatening reappearance. He easily understood the dragon was telling him that if he tried to escape, the prince would just be hunted down again.

His stomach jumped at the terrifying display, before surprise painted itself across the human’s features as the dragon then pushed itself back up into a stand and stalked toward the entrance of the cave with its shoulders set. It sent a final glance over its shoulder toward the shocked prince before stepping down onto the mountainside, spreading its great wings and taking off into the night.

He sat there for a moment. The silence seemed to echo in the cave like bells and it took a moment, but he understood he was alone.

Alone.

It was the perfect opportunity to make a break for it. Did it matter if Virgil knew where the kingdom was in relative to where he was now?‌ Yes. It definitely did. But getting out of the cave was his first priority and figuring out where he was could wait.

It took no time at all before he was scrambling to his feet, stumbling down off the mount of riches and jogging toward the front of the cave. He paused a moment longer, making sure the dragon hadn’t decided to camp out and wait until Virgil made his escape to show itself again. When the coast was indeed clear, he climbed down the rocky entrance leading up to the cave itself and broke into a dead sprint the minute his boots touched dirt.

He’d never been so relieved to feel dirt again.

Night was falling quicker now, and the trees began to loom with overgrown shadows. He could hear the howling of wolves off in the distance, but it didn’t matter.

Not when he could get home.

A loud, pained and rather shrill cry suddenly bellowed over the air, seeming to shake the very trees around him.

Virgil’s blood ran cold at the sound. He had an itching feeling he knew the owner of that agonized noise.

Don’t, a small voice in his head yearned– pleaded with him, don’t go back. Don’t go and help. If you do, you know the dragon will keep you prisoner longer. You have the chance to go home!

But, another part of him said, a louder part, how will you be able to sleep at night knowing you let the creature suffer in its last moments? You’ll lie awake, haunted by the sounds, knowing that you could have changed its fate.

He turned to look over his shoulder. The sound had been close enough that he could pinpoint the general direction of it. Virgil bit his lip, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again, make a blind beeline into the woods and leave everything that had happened to him in the past.

It would never had to be spoken of. He could just pretend it had never happened in the first place and move on with his life. Get back into the humdrum of his daily life and princely duties.

“You’re fucking insane,”‌ he muttered, hands clenched to his sides.

Needless to say, the prince turned on his heel and went toward the sound.

It took awhile of searching and following. It was a mix between sitting and waiting in silence for the dragon to make another panicked and helpless cry into the night, and following it. Virgil was well aware that there were other creatures out in the forest, creatures willing enough to end the defenseless human prince where he stood.

When he’d stumbled upon the grotto where the dragon was currently hunched over, he ducked behind a tree, heart hammering in his chest. Virgil pressed his head against the bark.

You’re unbelievable. You had the perfect time to escape and look at you now.

He dipped around the tree and into plain sight. The dragon tensed instantly and its head shot up, a snarl already on its features and its eyes narrowed into distrusting slits. If Virgil hadn’t of known the dragon beforehand, he would have been terrified out of his mind at the murderous look. He also knew the beast was frightened, and defending itself by baring its teeth was one of the only things it could do.

Virgil raised his hands in surrender, heart slamming against his rib-cage, half-wondering if he’d made the wrong decision to come back and help. He was relieved when the dragon softened after a moment, taking in who was standing in front of it. It whined at him immediately afterward, shifting its entire body back to show the human prince its limb—which was caught in a series of barbed wires and sharp metal teeth.

Virgil wrinkled his nose.

Bright red blood splattered the area and continually oozed onto the ground into a puddle of crimson that shimmered dully in the cool moonlight. It was disgusting. There was just so much of it.

However, when Virgil tried to take a step toward the wounded appendage, the dragon growled at him.

He kept his hands up and halted in place. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, finding this situation the tiniest bit ironic. At this point, Virgil held all the cards. The dragon couldn’t do anything to him and they both knew it. He was the one that could decide what happened here and the dragon could only put up an angry facade to frighten away wayward travelers. “I‌’m going to help you get the trap off if you’ll allow me.”

The dragon still seemed hesitant. It watched him with keen and careful eyes, before relenting and shifting back a bit more to make its limb accessible.

Virgil approached, still slowly as the dragon was still watching him intently. The limb itself had barbs embedded into it from each and every possible side. It was such a cruel sight.

It was the work of people that wanted to cause misery to the creature they were catching, whether it was something magical and mythical or something real and powerless.

“Hunters,”‌ he mused softly to himself. Though, he must have spoken loud enough for the dragon to hear since it chirped dejectedly at him. Virgil rolled his eyes. “What?‌ I can’t say it wasn’t hunters.” He leaned forward, inspecting the trap a little more thoroughly. “Though, I don’t think you were their intended prey.” He motioned to the trap as an example. “If they wanted to catch a full grown-ass dragon, this would not be the trap to do it.”

The dragon leaned forward and nudged the prince in the back, big eyes blinking at him, almost confused as to why he knew this wouldn’t be the trap to catch something like it in.

“I‌ know what you’re thinking,” he said, reaching forward and letting his fingers drift carefully over the barbs, looking for a weakened spot. “And no, I’ve never caught a dragon before. Hell, you’re the first one I’ve ever seen. My brother has always wanted to see one, you know.” Virgil gave a halfhearted laugh at that. “Though, I don’t think having his little brother kidnapped is exactly what he meant when he said that.”

After struggling for a moment, Virgil found a weakened spot in the barbed wires and tugged. The dragon yipped, and the prince winced from the sheer volume of it. He flinched back a moment as the pale red eyes focused on him as if he’d betrayed the creature.

“Sorry,” he gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, “I’ll warn you next time, okay? That way you won’t blow out my eardrums.”

His hands found the same spot he’d just pulled at and grabbed it again. His attention drifted back up to the dragon, making it obvious he was going to pull the trap again and the dragon gave a soft nod, as if telling him to get it over with.

Virgil tugged the wire again, the barbs pulling out further from the dragon’s skin. A loud rumbling sound erupted from behind him, showing the beast’s discomfort without harming the human’s hearing. He tugged harder, seeing the little process they were getting, but the more he yanked, the more the dragon fidgeted at his back.

His hand slid, a stray barb slicing over his palm and cutting it open. Virgil flinched back with a hiss, red painting his hand as blood blossomed through the opening the laceration caused.

He grit his teeth, the stinging almost unbearable. He’d been cut before, but not to this extent. Curling his injured hand back to himself, his eyes roved back to the barbed trap embedded in the dragon’s limb. He was being a wimp, the large creature had it worse then he did. A cut on the hand, so what?‌

“Let’s try this again,” the prince said, moving to get back to the trap when the dragon snarled at him instead, shifting the injured limb away from the small human. “What are you doing? I’m gonna help!”

The dragon growled lowly back at him, but it wasn’t threatening. It was more of a warning. Its eyes flickered down to the blood dripping down Virgil’s hand. His gaze followed the dragon’s and he rolled his eyes.

“I‌ can still help,” he snapped, “it’s just a cut, it’s nothing too bad. Now move and lets get those barbs out of your foreleg.”

The dragon only reciprocated by pulling it further out of the prince’s reach.

Virgil thinned his lips. “Well, what do you suggest we do? Sit here because now we’re both injured and wait for some nice hunters to come back to their trap, kill you and ransom me for money?”

The dragon rumbled something, before snipping back at him as if giving him a sarcastic response. If Virgil had any doubt that the dragon understood human language and tone, this was the last bit of proof he needed.

“This isn’t going to work,” he finally said, settling down against the creature before tearing a strip of his tunic and beginning to tend to the laceration on his palm. He tied it tight enough to help with clotting, even as red kept dotting the cloth, quickly turning it a warm crimson. “I can’t believe I’m even arguing with you!‌ You’re a dragon, you can’t speak to me. Most you can do is answer in sarcastic rumbles. Bare your teeth at me when you’re unhappy— wait.”

After finishing with his makeshift bandage, Virgil let his eyes focus on the barbed wires wrapped around the dragon’s limb. Pulling wasn’t doing much because it was still curled around the entirety of the forearm like a snake would constrict a small animal.

“Your teeth,” Virgil raised himself up into a stand, before pushing the dragon’s snout away from him—an action which earned a displeased rumbling low in the dragon’s throat. “Shut up for a minute and listen to me.”

He knelt down beside the injured limb again and grabbed a hold of the uninjured part to keep the dragon from moving it. Virgil put all of his weight into keeping it steady, even as the large lizard looked down at him with contempt. Of course, even though Virgil was putting everything into keeping it at bay, the dragon could still very easily shake the human off and move on with its day, but he was being listened to.

His hand stung at the movements, but he shifted so he was instead sitting on the forearm instead of leaning on it. “I‌ couldn’t get it all off quick enough because it’s stuck and tied around,” he motioned to the barbed wires winding around the limb with a motion of his uninjured hand. “If you stopped fighting me for once, I can help cut the rest and pull it out afterward. I’m just going to need you to use your teeth.”

The dragon scrunched its snout, shaking its head and focusing its attention on something other than the stubborn prince and the sharp barbs digging into it.

Virgil groaned. “Stop acting like a big whiny overgrown baby, and listen to me.” Insulting the beast probably wasn’t his best idea, but the sharp words got its attention. Virgil slid his hand under the loosened part of the trap before lifting it up enough and holding it out. “Bite through it.”

The dragon gave him a look that practically said ‘you bite through it.’

The human clenched his jaw. “I can’t,” he said in retaliation, “my teeth aren’t sharp enough to bite through wire. If you want to get out, you have to trust me.”

After what seemed like forever, and the great creature debating the prince’s trustworthiness (which was fair enough, Virgil could understand the hesitation when trusting him), the dragon finally relented. It leaned down and opened its jaw enough to bare sharp teeth. Virgil’s heart jumped into his throat, realizing his vulnerable position a heartbeat too late. Just as easily as he had held all the cards, their places were swapped just as quickly.

He held the wire up as far as he could without it tugging painfully on the dragon’s foreleg, and leaned back in precaution. His wrist was thinner than a lot of those sharp teeth and, if the dragon so wished, could take his hand off without a single thought. However, the dragon took the wire impossibly gently and without taking his hand off, too. Relieved, the prince watched as the wire snapped like thread between those powerful jaws.

The wire loosened around the rest of the limb slightly in response. Feeling as if they were finally getting somewhere, Virgil fingered around more of the wire and found another place that was loose enough to lift.

They repeated the motions a couple more times, before the wires were loose enough to tug on. It was still going to be painful for the dragon, since he needed to get the barbs out, but after that, they would be home free.

Standing up, Virgil circled around the injury before accepting the loosened wire into his uninjured hand. “This is going to hurt,” he told the dragon, watching its expression. After a moment, he received another nod of approval.

As soon as he had gotten the go ahead, Virgil pulled on the wire as hard as he could. The dragon’s claws dug into the ground surrounding it. The prince had to lean most of his weight into getting it to finally budge, but after a few more agonizing moments of yanking, the barbs finally came loose with a wet shlup.

The prince gasped in surprise, tripping backward just as the dragon yelped, loudly vocalizing its pain once more. Virgil braced against the ground, protecting his injured hand by curling it into his chest. He hit the ground hard enough that his elbow stung, his shoulder ached and his ears rang.

The discarded wire trap laid off to the side, covered in fresh and dry blood, showing how much time they had spent trying to find a way out of it. His gaze shifted as the dragon pushed itself into a stand, great red wings spreading out wide enough to hide the night sky. The dragon tentatively tested its hurt limb before focusing its attention on the prince on the ground.

Virgil had almost forgotten how big and intimidating the creature could be. The initial terror he had felt at being kidnapped rushed back when it began to limp over to him, only to loom over the human, absolutely swallowing him in its shadow.

He felt the beginning of panic raising in his chest, worried that the dragon was upset with him. To be fair, the only reason Virgil was even able to help was because he had been planning to escape. He was sure the dragon knew that and had possibly been waiting for the best time to retaliate.

When the dragon leaned down, Virgil twitched away from it on instinct, turning his head away just in case it was preparing itself to injure him further. He was genuinely surprised when nothing happened. Was he not going to be punished for his escape attempt?

Instead, the dragon only trilled at him, a soft chirping sound showing true concern.

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed after a moment, more so when the dragon nudged him gently with its snout, prompting the prince to look at it with wide eyes. “You’re… not upset I‌ tried to leave?”

The dragon gave him a forlorn look, but it didn’t seem angry. It shook its head in answer, before leaning down and so very carefully nudging at the prince’s hand—the one wrapped in makeshift and bloody bandages. In all honesty, Virgil had forgotten he was hurt in the blind terror he was going to be hurt worse.

He held up the injured appendage, looking at it briefly as if it held any answers, before sighing in surrender. “You have cloth in your hoard, right?” He said, the dragon looking somewhat surprised at the question, before nodding its head in answer. The prince smiled mirthlessly. “Good,” he then said, moving so he was sitting up in a cross-legged position, his hands resting on his knees. “I’m going to need it. Besides, we should probably bandage you as well.”

The look he was getting wasn’t exactly something Virgil had expected, but it did surprise him. The dragon almost looked apologetic, in its own way, as if trying to express its feelings without being able to form human sentences. At least, human enough for Virgil to understand. He could pick up on hints, but sometimes being verbally told something was nicer than guessing for himself. It was all just one big guessing game with the fire breathing creature.

“What?” He finally said. “It’s not like you can do it yourself. Your big nose would get in the way.”

The dragon snorted at him, as if offended. However, that little jab didn’t hold the dragon’s attention very long, it instead nodded its head in the direction where civilization allegedly laid.

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, as if he would see lanterns bobbing in the darkness between the trees, the sound of armour and swords and shields. He didn’t know why the hope in him fluttered like it did, but he was rewarded with nothing but the same inky and pressing void of night as before.

He shook his head, defeat clear in his shoulders. “I wouldn’t make it far like this,” he told the dragon, staring down at the bloody bandage. “Especially not in the pitch dark. Honestly? The safest option is to go back with you.”

As insane as that statement was. Just the realization that going back to a dragon’s cave would be safer than trying to brave his way through the dark night. He’d rather stay the night in an overly warm cave with an overgrown lizard than fight off bears and wolves and whatever else laid in wait in the thick line of trees.

“Well, come on,” Virgil said, pushing himself up into a stand. He brushed his pants off before looking to the dragon expectantly. “I’m not going to walk back to your cave.”

The dragon made a low thrumming noise, the crimson eyes watching him curiously. As if it was seeing the prince in a whole new light. It seemed to brush the thoughts off a moment later and moved up onto its hind legs after a moment. The great beast checked their surroundings, before leaning down a bit further, nearly putting its neck directly against the forest floor.

It took Virgil a moment to realize what exactly the dragon was asking of him. Since its front limb was injured, it wouldn’t be able to carry him the same way it had when he’d been lifted out of the castle gardens.

He took one more glance down at his hand, scoffing as if he didn’t believe what he was about to do.

Virgil stepped up to the dragon and reached his good hand out. He found a handhold just above where the dragon’s wing connected to it’s back and he heaved himself up as best as he could one-handed. Even after he was up on the creature, it took another moment of adjusting before he actually felt comfortable enough where he was.

To be completely fair, Virgil was never sure he would ever be comfortable being on the back of a creature that was written about, mostly in tales of burning villages and kidnapping princes, while stashing gold in their hoards. The only reason he had been willing enough to try with this one particular dragon, was because it could have eaten him on countless different occasions and it almost always refused to even bare its teeth in a snarl at him.

This dragon was odd. He wished he knew why, but that was probably going to remain a mystery. However, if Virgil ever had the chance to understand the creature—really, truly understand it word for word—he would have so, so many questions.

The dragon rolled its shoulders and the prince was pulled right back from his wandering thoughts, and stood up to its entire height. Virgil could see a little further into the darkness then before, the higher up on the treeline. Just not enough to really see over the tops of them. The wings spread out beside him and the human royal ducked down the slightest bit closer to the dragon’s smooth spine.

The scales were cool beneath his touch, but shimmered dully in the moonlight.

One powerful beat of its great wings later and they were off the ground. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut in surprised, his shoulders pulled right up. He was wound tight as a spring. The cold air surprised him as they rose higher and higher into the night.

Once he found himself opening his eyes, the sight itself was astonishing. The inky darkness was no longer so suffocating. It felt like the stars were right at his fingertips and ahead, the further he looked, he could just barely make out the outline of the walls leading to his kingdom.

Virgil felt a rush of mixed emotions at the realization that they were so close and yet so far. Walking by himself would take ages. Getting back home would be impossible without the dragon’s assistance.

Though, he knew he couldn’t linger in those thoughts. Instead, he leaned back as much as he dared and let out a breath. Taking in the fresh air that stung his lungs like tiny daggers of ice. While this was completely out of the ordinary, there was just something so exhilarating about being so high up– not to mention getting to be that high up by being on the back of an incredible creature that was always told to be evil.

This was the same creature that people whispered about, told children horror stories. Dragons were the creatures of nightmares for countless people. All save for one.

In the dark of the night, in the cold air of autumn and impossibly high off the ground, Virgil laughed. The sudden sound even surprised himself, but he couldn’t stop the second one that bubbled up. Nor could he stop the third and the fourth. Not long after the sounds of joy, he could feel the dragon vibrating. It almost felt as though the creature itself was purring, showing there was contentment with it as well.

“What my brother would give to be here right now,” Virgil called over the whipping wind, the dragon showed it was listening by turning it’s head just enough.

The stinging of his hand faded into a numbness as the wind chilled it. He didn’t care.

No one would ever believe him if he ever got back to the kingdom.

But a part of him knew no one would ever have to.

-----

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#Brook writes #Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides fic #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Dragon!Roman #Prince!Virgil #Human!Virgil #TSSides #Platonic Prinxiety #Prinxiety #tw swearing #tw blood #tw injuries #tw fear #tw anxious thoughts #tw arguing #ts Virgil #ts Roman

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