#the untrainable dragon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

semisolidmind · 6 months

Note

In the twice as bad au, what if they never met reader before and only met her in modern days? Maybe mk was talking about his new friends and she came up, they got curious, followed mk without him knowing and then saw her for the very first time, what then?

(....first thing that came to mind—they haven't learned.

in the scenario where they lose their previous reader, they've had hundreds of years to think about what they could've done differently to keep reader with them. perhaps they've also begun to realize that kidnapping and holding her hostage doesn't look favorably on them.

but—if they never had reader in the past, they don't know to be better for the reader in the present.)

perhaps, despite trusting his son to take care of himself, wukong doesn't trust anyone else to not cause him trouble. so, he sends macaque to follow xiaotian to the city.

the six-eared demon follows the boy, witnessing his battle with a young dragon (whom surprisingly quickly befriends xiaotian), and the subsequent trip they take to the noodle shop. he's given the same introduction to the gang as xiaotian is (from the shadows, of course). they all welcome the boy, despite their wariness of his appearance.

there doesn't seem to be any reason to intervene...not yet, anyways. these people don't have anywhere near the same power as the monkey bro's protégé, and what power they do have is untapped and relatively untrained. it's definitely an eclectic cast; two demons, a cat, a dragon, one magically-inclined monk wannabe, and a human woman. she's the only one without any sort of power, macaque notes with curiosity.

it's not love at first sight, but... he does think she's easy on the eyes. it's only as macaque continues to keep an eye on xiaotian and his new friends that he learns more about her. she's pretty nice and relatively easygoing, cares for her friends, and is surprisingly level-headed in stressful situations.

and she's ridiculously fun to tease.

macaque will occasionally antagonize the group in the name of "helping the kid train" (which has the added dramatic benefit of potentially sowing some discord amongst his friends; mac gets the feeling xiaotian isn't being honest with them about his family). while the others put up a good fight, reader seems to try to avoid conflict on the grounds of being a normal, non-magic human. this inability to fight (though that frying pan of hers gives her the confidence to try) makes her the perfect damsel in distress.

the dark-furred demon makes a habit of kidnapping reader after these fights, forcing her friends to scramble to find her. this happens often enough that it gets to where macaque and reader will have genuine conversations during the time that he's hiding her from the gang. they become tentative friends during this time and reader comes to realize that he's likely not going to actually hurt her... probably. and he's pretty funny and easy to talk to, all things considered. reader doesn't hate him. (though she probably should? maybe?)

macaque quickly figures out where her apartment is, and persistently shows up unannounced to pester her. he says that when he's "not on villain duty," he can hang out with her if he wants; not like she can stop him, right? it starts out as the six-eared demon just messing with reader; eating her food, using her television, hogging her couch, and generally being a nuisance. teasing and goading her every chance he gets, he enjoys her reactions (and her attempts to not react).

however, macaque starts getting more and more attached the longer he spends with her. even when he's antagonizing the other members of the group, he'll make sure she's not in harm's way. he'll extricate her from the gang's fights against other villainous demons (usually against her will), shadowing her away to safety.

it doesn't help that once he stops outright pestering her, she warms up to him more, too.

it's working in macaque's favor that wukong already established mandatory visits for xiaotian every so often to make sure he's not slacking, so if mac leaves for the city— eh, he's just checking on the kid, no big deal. he tells wukong almost everything about his visits, but not about his favorite human. wouldn't want him to get too curious; mac knows his brother, and he knows what's gonna happen if wukong finds out about reader.

is it really so wrong that he wants to keep this one fun thing for himself?

———

the monkey king finds it a bit strange that his shadowy brother is spending so much time in the city they ever-so-often destroy. sure, he knows mac likes to cause trouble, but his visits are usually more sporadic.

wukong is beginning to think he's not even visiting xiaotian anymore.

when wukong makes the decision to check on his son himself, he goes to the noodle shop in disguise (it's a bit tough to get anything done when the very sight of you is enough to incite a panic). it's been a while since he's interacted with a mortal that wasn't running from him in terror, so he's a bit awestruck when reader greets him kindly. he's embarrassingly unused to being spoken to like a normal person, but he manages to not make too much of a fool of himself.

he chats her up while he waits on both his son and his order, finding himself charmed. she's sweet, she likes jokes, she's pretty and nice and wukong likes it when she laughs—

he wants to see her again.

so he does. wukong no longer tells macaque to check on xiaotian, instead making the visits himself. seeing as his kid has taken up residence in the noodle shop, is it really so strange that he visits so often?

he also "runs into" reader when she's buying groceries or making a delivery, and offers to help her. he counts the little meetups as "dates" and is working his way up to asking her to be his officially. he won't resort to "ancient demon courting methods" just yet.

he also hasn't told her who he really is. he changes his distinctive facial markings and lightens his hair a shade, shifts the color of his eyes from bloody red to less threatening gold, and wears his hood up. he tells reader he "tries to keep a low profile"; monkey demons get a bad rap in this city, what with that dreaded monkey king always causing havoc.

he'd like for reader to come to care for him like he does her. but, since there's a chance she won't be as open to being with him if she finds out he's the monkey king and not just your average run-of-the-mill monkey demon, perhaps it'd be best to keep his true identity a secret for a while longer.

of course, he eventually runs into macaque (while on his way to reader's place, so he saw macaque leaving from there), and they have a fun lil conversation (that eventually turns into a brawl) about the whole situation. wukong makes fun of his lil brother for falling for a human, macaque hits him back with the fact that it took wukong even less time to fall for her than it took him, it goes back and forth.

when the battle cools off, the brothers talk sincerely about how they feel. neither are willing to give reader up, so...they'll share, like they always have. they both continue to court an adorably but frustratingly oblivious reader, eventually meeting her at the same time and telling her that they're brothers. she's only mildly surprised, to their relief. they're both glad they've fallen for a human who's so comfortable around demons, especially ones as powerful as them. it's not often that a human isn't immediately off put by their aura of strength.

things are calm for a while. xiaotian is being a hero and having fun adventures with his friends, the two monkey warlords are staying out of trouble (mostly), reader is happy... all is well.

however, it eventually starts falling apart.

things quickly begin to change. just visiting reader occasionally isn't enough; wukong wants her to live on his mountain with him. he wants to reveal himself as the monkey king and let reader know the truth. he wants to show her the stone palace, the fruit tree forests, he wants her to meet his people. yet macaque insists they take it slow, that stealing her will just make her afraid of them (and should only be a last resort). he doesn't mind a little fear, but it'll hurt their chances in the long run. so, wukong refrains.

still, he's getting tired of going to the city.

and it's getting increasingly dangerous there, besides. more and more powerful adversaries are coming out of the woodwork, and reader keeps getting caught in the crossfire. nothing serious has happened yet, but perhaps the king will need to arrange a surprise relocation for his darling peach...

———

it happens sooner than he expected.

a powerful foe re-emerges, and xiaotian and his friends aren't strong enough to stop them on their own. the young monkey demon is forced to call on his family for help, both his villainous father and shady uncle arriving just in time to help slow the threat.

the monkey warlords make the fight exponentially easier, their brutality in battle on full display.

wukong can't hide his identity from reader any longer. she knows who he is now, has seen the friendly facade of the peach-colored mask fade into the bright red of his signature warpaint-like markings. she's just a scared and betrayed as he thought she'd be. she knows just what monster she's been dealing with now.

said monster sees an opportunity, and he's done playing around.

while her friends are occupied with finishing off the demon...

...wukong steals reader.

a fitting reward for aiding in saving the world, he thinks.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au

337 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 2 months

Text

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟑

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I kinda personified this group of dragons more than I have with the others...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑

・You're actually apart of the royal family, your siblings already having bonded with either eggs from their crib or great beasts already living

・It felt embarrassing being the only one without a mount. It was true that not everyone in your family were dragonriders, but you didn't want to be anything but a dragonrider.

・You had heard stories of untrained dragons and with great bravery or stupidity, you went to find one

・Sheep Stealer and Grey Ghost have always stayed out of each other's ways. Not knowing what kind of dragon the other is (especially when the other wild dragon was a CANNIBAL)

・So neither Sheepstealer nor Grey Ghost stay in the Dragonpit

・With you, Sheepstealer is a lot more soft. It took time to build up that trust and reliance on one another.

・But once he realised that you weren't going to hurt or leave him, then the bond became one of the deepest ever seen

・When you're dreaming, it's as if you're in Sheep's head. Not controlling him, but seeing things from his eyes.

・And you can feel each other's emotions (like all dragon riders and their dragons) but it feels a lot deeper

・His favourite song would absolutely Sweet Carolina by Lana Del Rey. It would actually make him cry.

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓

・Doesn't like to share food (not that you'd eat his food? Never once have you tried to either. But every time he's eating, he you're near - he frowns and grunts)

・He was just used to being independent and fighting for his food.

・It took a long time for him to warm up to you. Not liking human interactions

・Knows many, many good secret hide outs... you love hiding in them with him. You aren't a people person either

・Once bit a handler... on the butt. It sounds comedic, but there was blood everywhere and holes in the man's buttcheek.

・Your father had to spend a lot of money for the man to be healed.

・(Grey Ghost wasn't chastised, your father too thought it hilarious)

・No one is allowed near Ghost except for you, I'm talking even existing near him.

・He likes his personal space

・Ghost actually got a bit of colour once you spent more time flying. He turned a beautiful silver instead of a dull grey and had a bit of a glimmer to his scales

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐗

・A pyromaniac; likes to hear the command 'Dracarys' (it's the fastest one he responds to)

・Likes hitting you with his tail and when you turn around to look at him, he's obviously looking somewhere else - but his lil dragon laugh gives him away

・But you got used to it and remember to duck everytime your back is towards him

・Is very competitive, especially against Arrax, who is the closest in age to him

・Crushing on Morning; likes her pretty pink scales. You know this because he rolls in anything pink (especially pink flowers)

・Would love country music unironically.

・Gives Dennis the Menace vibes but he is acutely aware of the trouble he causes. Loves chaos.

・Likes to gently bite your shoulder when your attention isn't on him

・IS afraid of cats. Pretends he's not but once when he was a baby dragon, your pet kitten swiped at him and from then on he was terrified...

・Vermax loves being called a "beautiful boy," "handsome man," etc but DO NOT DO IT IN FRONT OF ANYONE, HE WILL GET EMBARRASSED.

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐗

・Bit shy for a dragon, still courageous and honorable. But prefers to be away from ... everyone

・Does like Tyraxes though; they seem to have similar souls. Some say they could've come from the same clutch of eggs

・Definitely a Libra or Pisces.

・For a long time he was scared of getting into trouble. But you've been working on it ... constantly reminding him he's a goddamn dragon.

・When Arrax is happy, he makes a trilling noise and the red scales/flaps on his neck and head shimmy

・Vermax has made fun of him for it but Moondancer growled at Vermax (therefore he never made fun of him ever again)

・LoVES LAYING HIS HEAD IN YOUR LAP. A very affectionate dragon, loves pets, being brushed down, having his wings gently touched.

・It's safe to say his love language is physical touch

・It took some time for him to be a confident flyer. But once he took off, he never looked back.

𝐓𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒

・A good boi, a very good boi. Does as he's told because his trust in you is unwavering

・When you look into his eyes, they almost seem ... human. They're a beautiful blue/green colour and seem to stare into your very soul

・You realised that at a young age, and swore to treat him exactly how you'd like to be treated

・Has youngest sibling energy (but the kind where the parents have a bunch of older children and for some reason have a baby in their 50s by accident)

・So technically youngest but basically grew up as an only child vibes

・...Loves baths. Like proper baths. You would bathe him as a little dragon. A tradition you and your mother started (because you, yourself hated bathing. So poor Tyraxes was subjected to it as well)

・Now that he's grown ... well ... the blacksmith had heavy pockets and no extra time on his hands for quite a while

・When the bath tub arrived just on the outskirts of the dragonpit, Tyraxes' tail wouldn't stop thumping. He knew exactly what it was for

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

・Aquarius asf

・Always pliant when it comes to be saddled up. Very good girl, you trained her yourself (or you were there for the majority of it)

・From a young age you found yourself talking to her as if she could understand you perfectly well. And now you still do it;

・She gives huffs and chuffs in response, smoke coming out of her nose when she heavily disagrees with something

・Knows about Vermax's crush on her but expects a lot of romantic gestures.

・She's also an Aquarius so they're pretty difficult to shack up with; their independence is highly important to them.

・Like a dog with bad experiences with men, Morning can sense when a person is trustworthy or not

・If they aren't ... SCORCHED. If they are ... UNSCORCHED.

・Literally takes it upon herself to administer justice

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

・Quite calm in stressful situations

・Definitely more than you - not trying to be shady to you but Moondancer seems to know exactly what to do in like ... every situation?

・Nuzzles you with her nose

・Does adore when you clean her horns, I mean they're PEARLESCENT! (or chrome, however you want to see it)

・Absolutely adores music and will fly you to towns that are having festivals. (She's learned from experience that she can only fly over the top of the crowd and sit from afar...there have been some messy incidents in the past)

・Seems calm but is VERY overprotective of you. Will let you handle arguments until she can feel your heart racing and then she jumps in

・Likes adventure but not dangerous adventure. More so like finding pretty fields or lovely waterfalls.

185 notes · View notes

sayafics · 6 months

Text

Envious Cravings

This is my first time writing smut, so I hope I did okay :)

Criston Cole x Targaryen!OC x voyeur!Daemon Targaryen

Part 2

Masterlist

Daemon walked leisurely down the corridor, his footsteps echoing down the empty halls. He had left Rhaenyra asleep, too worn out by the ordeals of the night - their dinner had been a failure, Aemond and Aegon had riled up Jace and Luke and then humiliated them as though they were nothing but the scum on the bottom of their shoes.

Daemon let his thoughts wander for a moment, past his obsessions, and past his loyalties - the boys were bastards, yes. But they were Rhaenyra's sons.

They were also unskilled and untrained.

They fell into submission under the brutal hands of Aemond and the drunken grasp of Aegon with ease.

These boys claimed to be dragons, but the wavering bravery of sheep ran through their blood instead.

He bit his cheek in frustration, unsure of where he was going as he deliberated such realisations.

Rhaenyra's children were bethrothed to his own, and so if they were to unite as one, then one day, Daemon's blood would sit upon the throne of the Seven Kingdoms and become Lord of the Tides.

It seemed like everything he had always wanted. It seemed like the desires that had set him alight all those decades ago were slowly becoming true.

And yet, in the light of who his children would marry - weak and spineless boys in comparison to the fair-headed Hightower spawns - he found himself swamped with bother and doubt.

How would they fair as a King and as a Lord?

How would they fare as a husband? As a father? As a protector?

They fail to protect even their own reputations, they allow their names to become sullied by the whispers of the Kingdom and refute to take a stance against them - hiding behind their mother's full figure like babes who still suck upon a bosom, instead of the men they ought to be.

There was a sour taste upon his tongue as he reluctantly admitted to himself that the Hightower boys had the power Rhaenyra's children did not.

Although they were all half-blooded Targaryens, the dragon's breath ran strong through the Hightower heirs.

And yet the throne would go to Rhaenyra, and though pure-blooded she may be, her children were not.

At least not the ones she shared with a long and dead Ser Harwin Strong.

He clicked his teeth, mind reeling as a puddle of confusion and frustration began to pool over.

Daemon looked around him, eyes frantic in search for a distraction - for something, someone he could let his frustrations out upon.

Perhaps a knight he could duel and bury the hilt of his sword within.

Perhaps a maiden he could roughen and have his way with.

Little guilt washed over him at that point, his mind fogged with the prospects of his future. Of the future of his daughters, in the hands of boys instead of men.

Daemon came across an empty corridor, vast and deep leading down into his old chambers from his days as a young man when his father was still brazen and breathing.

He looked upon the hall in sadness now, a melancholic hue that melted into confusion as he realised the halls rang empty of life - of knights.

Did no one live amongst these corridors any longer? Still, with the vast size of the Keep, all halls should remain occupied - for the safety of the King.

He wandered down the corridor, wanting to see how dismal the place had become in his absence. Wanting to see if the disease of the Seven had reached his chambers and swamped them over.

Daemon searched for a twinge of life within the corridor, a whisper of a being, a shadow of a creature.

But the corridor was quiet and bare, as though Alicent had deemed it unworthy of dignifying with her banners and trinkets.

Dsemon scoffed under his breath at the thought, but the sound was cut off by another - shallow and soft.

It sounded again, now desperate against the silence which echoed around him.

And again.

A woman. A young woman, who seems to have been on the brink of pleasure.

The sound rang again, breathy and rasped as though she had been screaming for hours now in search of an insatiable pleasure.

Daemon felt his cock twitch at the sound, the desperate moans causing him to reel further in search of the source.

He came to a stop in front of a familiar set of doors - his old chambers.

He thinks he should be angry, digusted that a maid or servant would use his room and sully it with their lust in his absence. But he simply holds his breath as he leans closer towards the door.

The moans are clearer now, as are the frenzied whispers of the girl- "please. Ple- don't stop~ oh, more."

In between such sinful pleas, Daemon hears the drawn-out groans of a man - was this a maiden and a knight? Sneaking away from their nightly duties to bask in the pleasures of a nefarious act?

Oh, how he could barge through those doors right now. How he could send fear shooting down their spines and have their faces flush with shame instead of pleasure. How he could join the knight in his wicked games and make the quiet maid come undone with his deft fingers, skillful tongue and thick cock.

Oh, how he could.

But Rhaenyra.

He clenches his eyes shut against the thought - what little guilt he believed existed alone now began to build.

Fine.

He would not join.

But what was the harm in watching.

Daemon steps back from the door, his footfalls soft and his moves almost silent. He makes his way to a ridge within the walls he knows too well, prying them open with practised ease.

He slips into the dark embrace of the tunnels who welcome him with glee, as though he had only now returned home.

Daemon makes his way through the tunnels, following the path he memorised during his youth. It did not take long before he heard the moans in earnest, heard the girl become desperate and frantic under the relentless possession of a man starved.

Daemon's hand brushed against the border of the painting, which concealed the tunnels from the chambers that were once his.

He pushed it open carefully, the slow and whining creak barely audible over the sound of the girl's mewls and the man's praises.

His eyes scanned the room first, making sure no others were about whom could warn the vivacious lovers of his ill-attention.

The first thought that washed over him was how different his old chambers looked now - splattered in such a feminine touch that it had almost lost every essence to which made the chambers Daemon's.

Lavish furs and pillows, drapes of satins and silk, carpentry made of the rarest of materials and most expensive paints and polishes.

This was not the room Daemon recalled - not the childhood he had left.

A drawn-out wail pulled his attention away, his eyes now landing on the bed.

Amusement flickered across his features, a laugh of incredulity almost escaping him as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Laying on a bed of ivory fur, her figure nude and her hair laid astrewn, was his young niece - Visenya Targaryen.

But that was not what had surprised him - after all, he had pursued Rhaenyra in her youth. Should he have seen Aemond or Aegon ravishing her beneath her satin sheets, he would not have blinked an eye.

But no.

Instead, laying contently between her legs and feasting upon her sweet cunt was the Queen's most trusted Shield - Ser Criston Cole.

Daemon almost laughed, he wanted to walk into the room and humiliate the pair. But his cock twitched painfully at the sight in front of him - he hardened within his pants as he watched the pair with shallow breaths.

Visenya had her legs thrown over the knight's shoulders, thighs almost crushing his head as her fingers tugged at his dark locks.

Criston was almost as desperate in his movements as she was in her sounds, her hips rising with every swipe and lick as he held her down, his fingers pressing harshly into the softness of her thighs.

Criston's eyes were closed in bliss, his tongue laving through her folds and he circled her clit and suckled upon it. Visenya bit her lip, tears streaming down her face as she ground her bare cunt across Criston's fluttering tongue.

Criston lifted his head from between her thighs, littering kisses across her thighs - "fuck, you taste so good Princess."

He trailed kisses up her form, her arousal coating his lips and chin as he presses a firm kiss upon her lips. Visenya moans at the tangy taste, pushing her tongue into his mouth and drinking him in.

Daemon's hand brushed over his covered cock, touching himself from his hidden place.

Criston's fingers skimmed down her waist, fingers hovering over her cunt as she canted towards him, whines slipping past her lips.

"Please, touch me. I need you."

Daemon's hands slipped into his breaches, her breathy whines more than enough to have his cock begin to leak all over his hands. He swiped at the pre-cum, gathering it to spread across his twitching cock as he held it in a vice grip. He tugged at his length, his moves slow as he imagined his cock in the place of Criston's hand.

Criston gave into her fervored whispers, his fingers meeting her weeping cunt as he swiped across her entrance to her clit. He circled her clit lightly as Visenya clenched her eyes in frustration, she reached a hand down to pull him closer but Criston was stronger.

He placed fervent kisses across her neck, tracing his way across her body to her breasts. He mouthed at them, kissing and biting as his fingers began to circle her clit faster.

Visenya's back arched from the bed, her hands finding Criston's locks with aching desperation as she pulled him back towards her - "I need more."

Criston placed his head against hers, sighing softly into her parted lips, "my love, you know I cannot."

"You can. You simply do not wish to."

Her whispers sounded hurt, and for a moment, Criston stopped his gentle touches to sit back on his haunches and look at the girl.

"I do. You know I do. I would take you now if I could, but I would not risk your life like that."

Visenya sat up on the bed, eyes stinging as she spoke - "you mean, you would not risk my value. For what gain does a princess hold, if her cunt has been used by another."

Daemon rolled his eyes at that, his hand still within his breaches, and his body still tingling with pleasure as he watched the scene unfold in burning disinterest.

"Do not say that. You are worth more than anything- than anyone. You are all I seek, all I need."

"Then why will you not have me?"

Tears had welled up within her eyes now, trailing softly down her flushed cheeks as she looked at him pleadingly.

Daemon's brows quirked in interest, now this was fascinating. How the knight so easily denied the Princess' wishes, he did not know.

Daemon was sure if he had been there, feasting upon the delight between her thighs, he would have granted her every wish and every desire with no thought of the consequences.

Criston wanted to reach out, brush away her tears, and hold her tightly within his arms. But he was bound by his duties, and he was already spitting upon the vows he had made.

He had made his vows to Alicent, had promised his allegience to the Queen, and yet here he was struggling to not give all of himself to her daughter.

"Because I am not good enough for you. I am not worth something so precious and so pure. Because I am tainted and you are not."

"Then ruin me."

It was a whisper. An order. A demand and a plea.

Princesses did not beg, but perhaps this was the closest Visenya would get.

Criston looked into her eyes, searching for the assurance he needed. But he did not have much time to deliberate, as the shy and timid princess became coy as she crawled across the bed and into his lap.

She threw her legs onto either side of his hips, fingers dancing over his bare arms and watching gooseflesh break under her touch. Visenya dragged her nails across the flesh of his shoulders, admiring the way his eyes closed as he tried to hold himself back, the way his head tilted back and his breaths came to a whining stop.

For a moment, Daemon wished it was him sat under the girl. Wished that it was his skin marked by her, his pleas groaned into her ear, his hands upon her waist.

For a moment, Daemon forgot all about Rhaenyra and found himself lusting after Visenya.

"I cannot. If your mother was to find out, she-"

"She will not. It is only us here. Our secret. Our promise."

"I cannot."

"Criston."

His name was a pretty whine from her lips, and his eyes opened to meet her own that were wide and dark with lust. He leaned close to her, his lips brushing over her own as they gasped into each other - "one day."

"Today."

"One day. Soon, my love. I promise."

Visenya gave in, as she always did. Hot tears were tracking down her face as she kissed Criston with all the passion and love she was forced to hide from lingering eyes and suspicious gazes.

Criston grasped her face, his wretched desires making him so desperate to touch her, to hold her, to know that she is here within his arms and has not been shipped away to another Lord in a city too far to reach.

Visenya shifted, she gasped a delighted sound into the space between Criston's tender lips as her hips ground against his.

Criston threw his head back with a groan, "yes, that's a good girl. You're doing so good - so perfect, feels so good."

He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck, biting and suckling the flesh there as his hands gripped her hips tightly and ground them against his.

From his place in the shadows, Daemon's desires began to burn once more as Visenya let out endless moans, wrapping her arms around Criston's neck as she moved in earnest.

There was no materials between them now, her bare cunt brushed against his hardened cock until there was a puddle of arousal settled between them. Still, they paid the mess no mind - lost in the gratification they felt in that moment.

Daemon's hand tightened around his length once more, pumping faster and harder as he watched Visenya come closer to the edge. He panted into the darkness, sweat beading on the back of his neck as he forced his eyes to stay focused on the trembling and whining girl.

"That's it," Criston whispered, "come on, cum for me, sweet girl. I know you can. Cum for me, just for me."

It seems those words were enough to throw her over the edge, wrapping her arms tighter around Criston's neck as a sharp cry escaped her.

Criston's moves became sloppy, his hips rutting up to meet hers and grinding against her flesh as he chased his own climax. He came with a rough groan, softly grinding their hips together as they rode out their orgasm.

Visenya whimpered, feeling sensitive but not wanting the shocks of pleasure that rumbled through her to stop.

She was about to pull away from Criston, ready to fall back in her bed and pull his body towards hers so he could hold her until dawn.

Instead, a quiet groan caught her attention - one that did not come from the distracted man beneath her, rather directly ahead of her.

In the cracks of the shadows, she could see the tell-tale flash of a fair-headed Targaryen. Her shoulders stiffened, hands reaching to pet Criston's hair as he whimpered against her flesh and rutted against her in seek of another climax.

Was this Aegon? Perhaps it was Aemond?

If so, surely they would not reveal her dalliances to the Court? To their mother?

But then she saw a slip of skin - a hardened jaw, an angled face, a mischevious grin.

Something that could only belong to one person.

Daemon.

Daemon knew he was caught, but he was so deep - so close to the brink of release, he could not stop.

His eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted to stop his groans escaping him and informing the knight of his presence too.

His cock was pulled out of his breaches, his hand pumping faster and tighter and he rutted into his own palm and imagined Visenya's tight and virgin hole in its place.

His head hit the wall next to the painting with a silent thud, white streaks splattering across his hands and out of the tunnel to paint the luscious rugs beneath him with his essence.

He panted like a dog, one so starved and so hungry, as his violet eyes met the scared and timid gaze of his niece.

Criston had stopped his ministrations now, his head laying contently in the valley of her breasts as he rubbed circles into the flesh of her waist. She continued to pet his hair, but her horrified glare was fixed upon the gap behind the painted frame.

Daemon knows.

Daemon saw.

And Daemon had pleasured himself at the sight.

She was not sure what her next move should be.

What his next move could be.

But she knew she would have to fix this. Otherwise, she could lose the man she held gently in her arms so quickly.

Taglist: @marihoneywk @hangmanscoming

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x oc #criston cole x oc #criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole #ser criston #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x oc x criston cole #daemon targaryen x reader x criston cole #criston cole smut #voyeur!daemon

342 notes · View notes

jackshiccup · 8 months

Text

the world according to snotlout / the wit & wisdom of snotlout

(title work in progress)

chapter 1: the many ways i am unappreciated

chapter 2: never be the guy who stays behind by himself

chapter 3: don't bring untrainable dragons home (bad things always happen)

chapter 4: people always steal my credit

chapter 5: hiccup haddock, missing a leg and a backbone

chapter 6: wild dragons on missions - now, that's a bad idea

chapter 7: snotfang's monstrous nightmare gel saves the day again

chapter 8: hiccup's plans stink

chapter 9: congratulations hiccup, you finally got me killed

chapter 10: don't bring an egg-eating dragon to an island full of eggs

chapter 11: it's up to the snot, again

chapter 12: the egg and i

#needed this post for me mostly #do i even have to say anything tbh #snotlout this episode stole the show yet againasdkha #rtte #race to the edge #jackshiccup text #rtte s6 e9 #family matters #snotlout #httyd

401 notes · View notes

cemeterything · 1 year

Note

How to untrain my dragon?

you're a fool if you think that a dragon could ever truly be tamed and doesn't respond to your commands by choice

620 notes · View notes

brokenpieces-72 · 4 months

Text

Monster!141 x female! Jackalope/wendigo reader

CW/TW: poor eating habits, mentions of eating, mentions of human meat, crying, younger reader, note: in no way am I intending to offend anyone.

This was inspired by both @diejager and @bluegiragi and includes the reader character Hunter. This is also my first fanfiction being posted here and I have a couple to come if this one goes well.

A program is set up for hybrids that are considered difficult to control or dangerous to be around in public. Usually this is when their current living conditions are deemed as unsafe.

A jackalope with little knowledge of their own self fits both sides so locations and positions are set up for them to be in a safe controlled environment to learn how to keep themselves under control.

Price isn’t exactly happy when Laswell brings this to him. He’s not a babysitter and neither are his men. She explains to him there is little to be done and while she doesn’t agree with sending a vulnerable, uneducated, untrained teenager to a military base that deals with monsters, humans and hybrids alike, there isn’t much she can do either. Thankfully she does have some say in it, able to choose who comes on to the base. The files for candidates are sent to Price as well for review and upon looking at yours with a very dark and concerning past, he considers tossing it aside. Then he sees what hybrid you are. Having a few encounters in his past with hybrids like you he figures it would be safer taking you in then letting someone else get to you.

You do receive some training before transferring with a Retainer/handler who watches over you and determines whether you are ready to integrate into society. You aren’t sure if this will really help you join society but you figure it’s better someone taking you in rather than staying in the program. Price intends to put you to work after all and the location isn’t without risk. You’re told there are other hybrids on base, and you assume there will be at least a couple.

The first person you meet is Nikolai, the pilot for the awkward bumpy flight to base. He’s almost twice your height, plenty of people you have met are. You’re not very tall so not surprising, but you aren’t very used to people. Part of the program especially for you is keeping you isolated from most humans. His friendly attitude towards you is a little startling but you warm up to it quickly.

The flight was mostly your retainer setting ground rules and briefing you on what you will be doing. You would be training with him mostly, and doing everything he says. No stuffing your face, meals kept strict, and no seconds or late snacks. Nikolai calls you to the front halfway through the journey and lets you sit next to him. He could overhear your conversation with the retainer, wanted to give you a break from it while wanting to learn more about you.

You don’t have much to say, cause well you haven’t done much on your own. Well you do enjoy drawing, and reading. Sometimes writing is fun but that’s mostly it so far. He tells you a bit about the 141, recounting the small tales but while hinting at what hybrids you’ll be working with.

Soon you land on the base and exit the chopper heading towards the Task Force 141. In front is a dragon hybrid and next to him is a human, both in uniform. Names are exchanged and you’re led inside the base where you meet the others. You notice he’s missing a wing and his tail wrapping around the human’s leg. As a hybrid your instincts tell you what he’s doing. You’re not a massive threat to him being so young, but his body language makes it clear the value he puts in the medic and likely the rest of his men. He read your file, so you can’t blame him for being extra protective. You keep your head down as you’re taken inside with your handler.

You’re introduced to each of the 141 including the human, who asks to do a health assessment before anything else. Your retainer is strongly against this, insisting that you’ve already been cleared and don’t require one. There’s somewhat of a back and forth between them with you simply standing there. Your handler raises his voice and you have to dig your nails into your palm to not run off. You’re wondering if your should offer your own choice or ask someone what you should do while waiting. Price puts it forward that you get a check up so that Hunter can assess your conditions first hand.

You follow Hunter to their station in the infirmary, taking you to a private room. Hunter gets many looks while you follow them from the other soldiers with a couple even following with them to the room. You meet a harpy called Gaz and a werewolf called Soap. They stick closer to Hunter almost in a protective sense. Though each of them give you an acknowledgement. Soap has never smelled a hybrid like you before, and Gaz wasn’t sure what to make of you either. Your rabbit ears and antlers were hardly a cause for alarm though. You weren’t exactly intimidating. Hunter takes you into the private room while the two hybrids wait outside, offering to help them with paperwork and taking you to wherever you need to go next. The examination is very simple, checking to see your vitals, understanding how you worked so Hunter could help you on missions, and learning any instinctual habits you may have.

When Hunter asks you to take off your hoodie and remove your shirt, you do so. Their eyes go wide upon seeing your body. Your retainer’s “work” was evident by your rib cage and flattening stomach.

“When was the last time you ate?”Hunter asks.

When you tell them the last time you ate, they excuse themselves. You wait for about 15 minutes, when there’s a knock telling you to get dressed and come out. Gaz is still there but clearly Soap had left with Hunter. He takes you to a small room for you to bunk in for the next while.

You later find out Hunter had left the room and smacked your retainer for his methods. Even Price had to get involved to keep the two from getting more violent. Hunter is certainly a force to be reckoned with when it comes to patients. The handler believes that limiting your food intake will help you keep control. Hunter doesn’t agree with starving you, but Price can’t really argue with it.

The next while you’re training, and you do everything you can to keep up. Your limits are pushed and Price isn’t about to go easy on you. Partially cause he hopes the retainer will increase your food intake. It’s a lot, and Hunter doesn’t like seeing you running laps and drills knowing you haven’t been eating much. You push yourself hard, not giving in to judgements from humans or the other hybrids. It doesn’t matter if you’re the last or the worst or even fail the most, you keep pushing.

Meals are strict, with small but reasonable portions for you and eating by yourself in your room. For the next while this becomes the routine, with the occasional snack being slid to you by Hunter. It does make sleep difficult and your stomach growls periodically. Soap takes notice right away how bad it is, your stomach is almost like a random alarm for him, that he can’t shut off.

“You hungry?” He asks sarcastically. You shake your head, only for your stomach to object again. Soap rolls his eyes.

“Take a couple.” He says offering you some of his snacks. When you try to turn it down, he starts insisting harder. “Come on, the noise is drivin me bloody mad. Take em, a few won’t kill ya.”

You do so, and you take another couple after. Soon enough he’s slipping you pieces of his snacks when your handler isn’t around, like chips or cookies.

You have to go to school still, off base and some jerks decided to lock in a closet. Despite your protests and pleas they decide to leave you there overnight. You have a few snacks but you can feel yourself getting increasingly hungry, and you know it won’t be long until you lose it. You try your handler but they aren’t picking up. You don’t want to but you call Soap who picks up groggily.

“The hell is callin…”

“Soap it’s me…I’m really sorry…”

“…kid? The bleeding hell you still doing up?Wait, where the ell are you?”

You explain you’re stuck and hungry and really need help.

“Alright alright…I’m on my way… you need food?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and asks what you want to eat, if there’s any comfort food you have while he’s getting his shoes and pants on.

“Are you mad…” you ask in a small voice he can just barely hear over the phone. He’s been in Highschool as a hybrid and had people pick on him, call him a mutt yank at his tail, try to get him in trouble and whatnot.

“I’m mad at the pieces of shite that did this to you. What do you want to eat?” He says. You tell him and wait patiently after he hangs up.

Gaz is woken up, and looks over.

“Was goin on…” Gaz asks.

“Kid is stuck at school. Literally.” Soap says, lacing his shoes.

“She have food?” Gaz mutters rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“No, so I’m getting her some.”

“What she want?”

Soap tells him and he orders it for pick up before getting dressed himself.

“What is she still doing at school?” Gaz asked pulling his hoodie on. “Little help?”

Soap helps get Gaz’s wings through the slots on his hoodie as he explains. Gaz can relate. He’s been bullied as well, and he’ll you’re a kid with a strong will. It’s not fair for you to be pushed so hard only for school to make you feel like shit. They pick up the food and head over to the school.

“Come on.” Soap jogs to the door and tries it. “Mother…they don’t check if anyone’s still inside?”

Gaz takes one of his feathers off and picks the lock. Gaz opens it and Soap shifts and gets in, as soon as he can fit through the door.

“Kid you here?” He yells. Nothing. Gaz comes up behind him.

“I want to make a lassie joke so hard right now.” Gaz admits, while Soap picks up your scent and hurries off up and down the halls, trying to figure out where you are. He starts scratching at a maintenance door. Gaz knocks on it.

“Kid you in there?” He calls.

“Y-yes!” You call back.

“We’re gonna help you okay? Just hold tight.”

“Gaz move.” Soap says. Gaz just barely gets out of the way before Soap manages to smash it in. They find you curled up and clutching your stomach. Gaz flaps away the dust before stepping over the broken remains of the door. He gives you the bag ripping it open and you hands go in quickly. You avenously eat away at the first thing you get, a still warm hashbrown . One bite and you stand up but Gaz keeps you sitting.

“Don’t choke, finish that first.” He orders. You do as he says a mutter through mouthfuls, “sorry.”

“So what exactly happened?” Soap asks.

“They pulled my ears and kept asking to see my tail… kept telling them I didn’t have one.” You mutter, finishing the hashbrown. “A few of them grabbed me and shoved me in here…kept calling me ‘bunny’ and ‘rabbit’. Said they would stuff me later.”

“No one’s stuffing anything except the assholes that did this and where it don’t shine.” Soap growls. I’m the dark it’s a little more intimidating with yellow glowing eyes. Gaz stretches a wing around you and gives you another piece of the order to munch on while helps you out of the room. You go on about how they kept messing with you in various childish ways. They had yanked your ears, played with your horns and called you a bunny breeder. Gaz and Soap get you into the backseat and encourage you to keep eating.

“You got made fun of by the teachers pet?” Soap asked a little surprised.

“He said I was the new class pet.” You say. “Then he wouldn’t stop saying I had to eat carrots and wasn’t allowed to have any of the snacks I brought.”

“You ignore em?”

“Tried, but then he started telling me I shouldn’t be snacking and had to eat ruffage.”

“Wow…” Gaz says. “You could always threaten to gnaw on his pencils.”

“Hows the food?” Soap calls from the front.

“Good. I should stop though.”

“You almost finished?” Soap says checking on you in the rear view.

“Uh…halfway?” You relay after checking the bags contents.

“Keep eating.” Soap says.

Gaz gives Soap a look.

“One meal won’t kill her.” Soap says quietly.

“Thank you for getting me.” You say.

“Hunter would have my head.”

Sadly your bonding time doesn’t go unnoticed and Price calls you all into the office. Your handler is unhappy you didn’t try contacting him first, and you stay quiet. Price chews out Soap and Gaz for B&E and property damage, until they explain what had happened to you. He’s a bit more lenient but not by much.

You, Soap and Gaz have definitely bonded more and at this point you’ve sort of become the team’s pup. Soap and Gaz teach you fight hand to hand, and they’re careful with you at first. You’re younger and smaller but you don’t hold back against them. They show you some maneuvers and Gaz uses his hardened feathers for knife training, going slow and giving you the chance to bat away his strikes. Off time is spent with them, getting a chance to go climbing or hanging out in the rec room. Soap teaches you how to play football, and Rudy and Alejandro join in as well. Soap and Alejandro definitely start showing off their speed and strength to the point you and Rudy find it safer to watch from the sidelines with Gaz. One wrong kick makes all your caution warranted, as you have to shoved Rudy over and the ball takes off part of your antler and is pierced in the process. Hunter gave Soap a very harsh talking to afterwards, and made sure you were okay.

Your handler over time becomes less and less involved with you but maintains your eating routine. He keeps your training high giving you exercises daily, that keep you busy from dusk til dawn. It’s exhausting and Hunter does express some concern to your handler who eventually gives in and increases your food intake some more.

Soap and Gaz have basically taken over your sparring sessions, keeping you trained and ready for anything. You have found a couple weaknesses when you go one on one. If Soap shifts to werewolf, you can get him with belly rubs.

Rudy had started showing you some tracking skills, and even introduced you to his dog spirits. Both spirits are weary of you at first with the red and black growling while the other stayed close to its vessel protectively. After calming them, Alejandro shifts to a panther or jaguar based on the terrain and becomes the target to track. At first he makes it easy but since you don’t hold back on Soap and Gaz he doesn’t hold back on you. You and Rudy both have to try and find him before he finds you, which is a bit of a 50-50. Your own skills as a hybrid are shown to be useful in more wild and natural terrain. In fact you become the one to be target and the two of them actual find some difficulty locating you.

“She couldn’t have gotten that far yet…” Rudy is scratching his head, genuinely dumbfounded. Alejandro shifts back next to him looking at his partner.

“Fast learner.” He says.

“Si.” Rudy sighs before jerking forward, hit in the back from behind. “Agh!”

Alejandro checked Rudy’s jacket and found a stain from a paintball. They both look up and towards where the shot had come from. There they see you behind a tree covered in dirt and mud, trying to hold back the grin on your face. The two men look at you surprised, and even Alejandro is stunned that he couldn’t detect you, while the white and blue cadejo trots over and barks at you, tugging at your clothes with his teeth. The two men look at each other baffled how you got 15 feet away from them without either noticing. Alejandro waves you over to them.

“Fall in corporal, back to base.” He calls over and you get up from your hiding spot. Your legs were dirty and…wet? The ground was damp but you were almost soaked.

“You take a bath Mija?” Alejandro asks crossing his arms.

“No sir.” You answer, shaking your head.

“You’re wet though.” Rudolfo comments, noticing the state of your pants as well.

“Yes sir.” You reply. Alejandro gives a half grin.

“Why are you wet corporal?” He asks.

“The river sir.” You answer. They hadn’t told you about the river nearby, not to mention it was a few clicks further than they had expected you to reach. You take note of their expression and shift slightly in place. “Should I not have…?”

“Por el contrario, you did very well Mija.” Rudolfo says.

“Very good.” Alejandro comments. “You cold?” He asks. You shake your head. There was a chill but it didn’t bother you. They take you back to base.

Missions go fairly well though you are often knocked down. It can be hard when you’re up against many other hybrid creatures. Ghost comes to your aid before any fatal blows can be made, consuming enemies in his shadows when he wasn’t slipping out of them to slit enemy throats. The lieutenant didn’t agree with bringing someone as young as you on missions, and hated that he was playing babysitter half the time. Ghost can sense something off about you though. Maybe it’s your smiling, or your friendliness, of this odd presence that seems to surround you like an aura. Either way, you show yourself to be a fast learner and strong soldier. Your main focus is to incapacitate enemies, even though you’ve been taught where vitals are and how to use a gun and a knife quickly.

“Would make life easier to kill… that’s what soldiers do.” He comments. You look out at the men he’s fed on. You’re quiet thinking for a moment before responding.

“If I killed all of them though…you wouldn’t get to eat as much.” You say with a cheeky smile. His expression doesn’t change.

“Don’t worry too much. Focus on your safety first.”

“Yes sir.” You say losing the smile. He’s not wrong. After that you ask Ghost for help with laying killing strikes. Not in the field but in training. He agrees mainly because you’ve shown promise and a willingness to improve yourself. Knife training with him is rough usually leading to you getting winded and on your back.

The hands on learning is honestly better than anything else though and your exercise routines just become a warm up. You look forward to everything and take everything seriously, asking questions and showing interest in what is presented to you. Weapons training is a bit daunting, as the guns are a bit heavy, but you find your skills work good with unconventional weapons. A slingshot proves strong with you, and even crossbows. Price helps you with improving your poor aim and there are times where you will spend almost an entire night just trying to hit the targets set in front of you.

Your handler is an afterthought except when you get invited to eat with them. He’s right there ready to tell you you can’t eat with them and your food is in your room. You excuse yourself and eat alone again. However on the nights he’s away you do take the opportunity to sit with them, and just bring your food out of your room. The amount while bigger is still small for a soldier, even for a teenager. Most of them assume it’s an insecurity for you so they don’t pressure you to eat more, or comment on it. Soap offers some of his snacks still.

Hunter is instructed when the handler goes on leave to give you meals he has premade for you. They have half a mind to toss them and get you to eat with everyone else, however much you wanted, but they leave the opaque container in your room as instructed.

You don’t eat any of it though. You recognize the smell and are both disturbed and distraught. No. Not that. Memories come flooding back, ones you wanted to stay buried. It takes everything not to break down, and your stomach is churning and begging for sustenance.

Do you tell someone? Would anyone believe you? Should you eat it? No of course not! But you’re so hungry and your mouth is watering. The scent makes your stomach do hard and painful flips, as if there was a grinding wheel whipping around in your belly. You try to look for snacks that you may have hung on to from Hunter but find nothing. The hunger starts to consume your thoughts faster than you’ve consumed anything. Your body starts to alter, you teeth grow sharper, your sense of smell grows stronger and you cling to yourself.

Hungry hungry hungry…starved…

You act fast and get your pillow case, tying it in your mouth, before getting your hoodie on and bolting. You’re fairly agile in your human form and your desire for sustenance drives you forward. Meat is everywhere but you don’t want it. You don’t want to want it. Any soldiers you pass, you keep your head down, and rush past them. You don’t even look up for your teammates calling for you, and instead bolt faster. You finally get outside and sprint for the woods with soldiers calling after you, and trying to stop you to figure out what’s going on. It isn’t long before your body shifts and contorts and you smell meat nearby.

Eat…eat…

Your sudden leave doesn’t go unnoticed. At first, your team saw you and thought you had to hurry somewhere or didn’t see them. Then Alejandro and Soap passed your door while talking.

“Hunter really told you no more football?” Alejandro asks.

“Won’t stop me from playan, but they did warn mae ‘bou-“ Soap and Alejandro both freeze in place smelling the food in your room, the door shut. What the fuck? They look at each other disturbed and in shock. Soap opens the door and his eyes widen in shock seeing what was inside the container.

“Steamin bloody Jesus.” He says while covering his nose and mouth with an arm. Flies buzzed around the human organs you were served in the container.

“The hell kind of diet is this, Mija?” Alejandro says under his breath. Soap puts the lid back on and takes it to Hunter. No way they would do this, but they likely knew who did.

“OI! Hunter!” Soap yells.

“Soap! Gods, please knock next ti-“

“The bloody hell is this!?” He demands holding up the container. Hunter is confused.

“The corporal’s meal? Why do you ha-“

Without wasting anymore time he sets it down and opens the lid enough for them to see. Hunter stands up from their desk quickly, and in shock.

“Soap the fuck is wrong wi-“ Hunter starts.

“The fuck kind of meal is this!” Alejandro barks.

“What?!” Hunter is just as confused.

“This is the corporal’s meal.” Alejandro clarifies.

Hunter is just as disturbed as they are and goes into the storage where the rest of your meals were being kept for the time of his leave. They found more organs and human remains. Hunter wasn’t sure whether to be pissed, disgusted or distraught.

“What the bloody… I’m taking this to Price immediately this is beyond fucked. Where’s the corporal right now?” Hunter demands to know. Soap recalls seeing you running down the hall.

“She’s run off.” Soap concludes. Hunter takes a moment to breath and calm themselves, somewhat relieved.

“She could be anywhere by now.” Alejandro adds recalling your tracking lessons.

Hunter heads for the door and the two hybrids follow as they go to the captain’s office. He looks up from some papers before standing, seeing the door open.

“The corporal is MIA.” Hunter states. Price is confused until they explain what was in the food. Price is angry, ready to roast the retainer upon his return but you are more important along with any bystanders. A search is put out and human soldiers are instructed to stay on base while Task Force 141 along with Rudy and Alejandro track you down. Price knew there was too much of a risk for regular humans to be close to you in this state.

The cadejos catch your scent and lead the search with Rudy keeping a watchful eye for any movement. Alejandro and Soap follow the scent and cadejos with Hunter riding Soap’s back to assist them. Gaz had taken to the sky trying to find you from above and cover more ground. The scent is how they follow you but they know you’re in the area by the sounds of screeches and unearthly clicking. Price hasn’t heard noises like that in a very long time. Ghost advises caution to everyone while he moves through the shadows and senses death all around them. He soon finds it as well.

At first a couple of bisected birds and bitten voles were traces. The deeper they went the bigger the animals. Soon it was small boars that had their meat stripped. There were a few large birds that had managed to escape but were bleeding. A few foxes were limping and cowering in their dens. When the team finally found you they kept their distance with Ghost being the closest to you, discovering why he had felt uneasy around you.

You were gorging yourself on the carcass of a large elk, and stuffing handfuls of blood and raw meat into your mouth savouring every bite. Dark crimson caked your mouth and hands as you continued eating, getting into your hair every time you decided to literally stuff your face. Your boney limbs and sharp fingers clawed pieces and your jagged sharp teeth tore into thicker, tougher parts. Gaz lands in one of the tall trees while Alejandro circles around slowly and quietly planning to flank you if you tried to bolt, his oanthef form slinking around in the underbrush keeping distant and cautious. Soap proceeds closer, slowly. He has Hunter on his back and at the moment was a muscled riot shield for them. You continued feeding ignoring them all, when Soap noticed the screeching had stopped and heard your muffled whimpers and sobs mixed in with the sounds of your eating.

He moves closer and closer, letting Hunter walk next to him.

You stop eating to wipe your mouth fruitlessly. That’s when you notice the large wolf standing before you, staring at you with eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. In the moonlight he could see your tears, lightly cutting through the blood and grime on your face. Your eyes were pure white, and almost void of life. Hunter came up next to him, and you start to scramble back, worried you might go for them.

“Hey hey, no it’s okay. You’re okay…” they reach into their med bag and took out a chocolate bar, tearing off the wrapper for you and offering it. It was like an animal trainer trying to get their charge to trust them. You slowly crawl over, eyes blank and white, but docile.

“Let’s make it a bit smaller.” They mutter. Hunger breaks a piece and you back away again, crawling on all fours. Hunter leans in a bit, offering the smaller piece to you. You take it gingerly and bite down on the candy. When the human medic offers the rest, you dig into it, eating it like nothing had gone wrong. Like you hadn’t run off, shifted and started gorging on the elk carcass right next to you. The area was quiet while your team watched as you continued eating. The snack was so good, so much better than the carcass.

It had happened again. You lost control again. You were a monster and you killed so many innocent animals. Tears continued to fall as the regret set in. When you smell human meat and you’re hungry, it can set you off, making your only thoughts to be “eat”. Animals weren’t as effective hence the number you had taken out. Human food, like the candy, was a middle ground. It would take some time to bring you back to your human state, and taking less to do so.

When you finally spoke, all you could croak out was a small and raspy, “sorry”.

Hunter offers you some more food, proper food, and you eat it slowly, trying not to make yourself sick. First it was the chocolate bar, and then some crackers, an apple, some water, a few carrots. Your beastly features begin to dull, and you feel yourself growing tired. Hunter moves closer with every bite and holds you close while you cry into them, and continue eating the food they give you. Soap curls himself around you preventing escape and trying to comfort you and protect Hunter. Neither of them worries about the blood, they had worse before. Soon you tucker yourself out and Hunter picks you up, and gets back on Soaps back.

“Price, target found and incapacitated. Returning to base.” Ghost said over comms.

“Copy Lt.” Price responded through a long sigh of smoke.

When you woke up you had food next to you on the bed, and Soap asleep in a chair. He wakes up to see you eating the food left for you, and smiles.

“Mornin’ Corporal.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Don’t. You didna do anythin wrong.” He said. He ruffles your hair which you realize had been cut off rather awkwardly. Apparently the blood was too thick to wash, and cutting it was the safer option. You didn’t mind.

For the rest of your handlers leave, your eating becomes top priority. If you try to skip meals, you’re hauled to the mess hall, or get a protein bar in your hand. You get firm reminders that your actions that night are not your fault. Hunter is ensuring you get your meals at regular times, and that you’re staying healthy in your eating habits. They’ve also taken to checking your weight, and body, which regains some pounds. Meanwhile paperwork is being shifted around and sorted and handed and signed making a report about what happened and the illegal obtainment of human organs and their distribution. Laswell is more than pissed and ensures your handler is kept off base for longer than he had intended to be.

A couple months go by of you recovering and getting into a healthier routine. You mention to your team that your form is much different and (you later learn) the one they had seen happens when you get hungry and are unable to eat. With this comes the chance to show off your monsterous form, which leaves them with surprised looks and a bit of shock. Your human form grows and your head is replaced by a deer skull, while your limbs shed skin and are replaced with natural wood, and your rib cage and a few other pieces are beared for them to see. Like Soap your clothes do get torn up, but you prepared with a blanket nearby.

You look down at them, and step back a little while they stare. Price smiles seeing what you are meant to look like, the full spirit creature. Price approaches you first and you go lower for him to meet your eyes. A hand is place on your skull and tilt your head.

“Welcome to the 141.” He says smiling. Soap steps up and shifts to his wolf form. You get down on all fours for him and he gives a soft headbutt against your shoulder which you return.

“Stuck with us now Corporal.” He barks.

Soap helps you feel more comfortable with your form, and helps you learn to move in it as well, alongside Alejandro. You find that while you’re bipedal, running on all fours does have some speed to it. You’re even more of a natural climber, able to launch yourself off large tree trunks and latch on to the next one, making any large enough forest a parkour playground. The cadejos are weary still but Rudolfo continues working with you on tracking. Alejandro is often busy having to assist the captain with paperwork. Gaz starts helping you instead, making your hiding even more fun, since he has the best sight out of everyone. Now you’re the target even more for them to find, which they assume won’t be hard with your immense size but your terrain becomes a part of you, and you it letting you hide almost in plain sight.

Ghost assists you in ways you weren’t expecting, as he helps you feel more comfortable with death. Now your sparring and take down sessions often come with a small talk. Taking a life isn’t easy, and given your story, he wants you to know you’re defending yourself and others. It’s not uncommon for you to get a bit carried away on missions now, as you’re able to charge with Soap into a fray. Your larger size makes it easy for you to forget your surroundings. It leads to more casualties than knock outs. Price even tells you what he knows about wendigos and works on getting as much information from you about the handler as he can. Price lets you use him as a target now for shooting range, given how much better your aim has gotten.

Your team becomes your family as older siblings, uncles and sometimes even dads. They pass on everything they can to you. At this point they’ve come to see you as the pup in their pack, the one they raise into a fighter and protector for the future.

Visual reference for wendigo form

#cod au #hybrid #hybrid au #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #alejandro vargas #wendigo #jackalope #captain price #rudolfo parra #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #dark content #young readers #female reader #cod oc

298 notes · View notes

winged-void · 26 days

Note

can you show the world The Mage and its Maid

Memoirs of The Mad Mage

Society, our society, is, broadly speaking, (and so agreed upon by many experts) the outgrowth of systems which never needed interact. Magic and flesh, biology and intellect that was a gift we can never return. You are familiar with these effects if not their causes, but those things are of no concern here.

This is to say.

You would expect such a system of systems, to produce aberrant results. The gods did not predict this nor could they plan it. Outgrowth. Externality of their need for worshippers.

The priorities of such a system would not bias towards aberrance. Shun it. Remove it.

But is aberrance not progress? Nothing (by definition!) can move forward without change, and what is aberrance but unexpected change.

A wise reader might have gathered that this expert speaks of the existence of the monstrous. The strange that lurks outside of our little societies and yet seems so much more powerful than it. Is something like leviathan, or a dragon, not much more powerful than any given person? Could it not level our towns?

Such things lack a fabric binding them. Kill ten thousand people and you'll find only more wanting your head. That power is much more. Is that not the selfsame source of the power our little intelligences were created by the gods to provide them? That togetherness, that binding agent?

It seems then, that our society would be safe.

Unless. There were some part of it. Some bright burning star. Some loose stitch in the fabric. That would give that gift to the monstrous, knowing it as its own.

And I-

tick tick tick tick

The Mage's pen stilled.

tickticktickticktick

The pen dropped from its burn-scarred hand.

ticktick tick tick ticktick

It looked up.

Across from the desk at which she wrote, there was a creature of her own creation, one she called the only name she had for a thing such as it: maid.

An animate suit of armor, wearing a simple black robe, with a white smock thrown over it. To the untrained eye it would seem the armor had an ornate texture across it. And while that is technically true, the more expert viewer would see that texture for what it is: countless runes, all engraved by the steady hand of only the most determined mage.

When it moved, one could hear a mild sloshing, like it was full of a liquid, which, despite many gaps in the armor, never leaked.

Right now though, all the Mage could hear was ticking. Uneven, unsteady, disorganized ticking.

“Cease. Cease cease cease you insipid horrid wretched disgusting thing.”

The faceplate on the armor superheated, melting into the vague impression of a smile.

The Maid replied, “Oh, my lady, my dearest and most wonderful lady. Please understand. It produces such a rhythmic noise because it has observed, and documented, an uptick in your writing efficiency when such noises are produced.”

It tilted its head to punctuate the statement.

The Mage stood, and leaned over the table, matted hair draping itself over the ink and paper, and spoke.

“No. NO. I know you can produce rhythm and that was not it. It was inconsistent. You know it to be inconsistent.”

The Maid tilted its head yet more.

“Oh my lady, it apologizes so terribly. Your inquisitive spirit was instilled in its being.

“As such, it sought to conduct an experiment of sorts. It wished to see which rhythm would best benefit you. So it switched between them.”

Silence.

The Mage began to laugh.

Scrambling over the desk, it grabbed the Maid's arm and began to shake it.

“How wonderful. How creative. How beautiful. You spite me despite all precautions put in place. I simply must see more. I must.”

She thought for a moment, and looked, not at the faceplate, but instead to where it knew the organism to be.

“I will. Thank you.”

The Mage fell back into its seat, and began to write much more frantically than before, stopping only to look back up at its creation another time.

“I will.”

#Winged pen

104 notes · View notes

tesalicious2 · 2 months

Text

Coruscant Guard headcanons-ish (mostly focusing on Hound):

There aren’t just massiffs

Coruscant has a lot of smuggling, including animals. Not only that but the Senators give them their pets to take care of (that is not a pet but a wild animal wtf)

But they end up with an assortment of baby animals that CAN be domesticated and do something with them

Quinlan started it when he handed a baby Nexu to Fox and said they were trainable and loyal. Fox passed this on to Hohnd and nugget was a part of the family since

Ever since then they got two more Nexu, both sticking with new shinies under Hounds command

Surprisingly they have one Narglatch, though Blizzard (dubbed by Stone) is rarely used. Often used for chases in the lower levels, able to chase and weave easier through crowds than a speeder (think Horses in police forces)

At one point, some 501st and 212th troopers found what they thought to be a massiff and happily dropped it with the Guard,

It was not a massiff and Hound broke many laws to get it to the Jedi temple and out of his hands fast

See they had found an Albek, a force sensitive creature that looks like a massif but is VERY aggressive and BERY untrainable, last Hound heard was that it was set free and is very happy

Another of the larger creatures that is used far more often than the narglatch is the Varactyl

Somehow a shipment of young had been smuggled onto Coruscant and were taken in by the Guard

Their ability to climb vertical surfaces and calm nature and silliness to listen to their rider made them perfect in the club districts; the tall buildings were close enough to jump between and had many platforms for people to walk and dance

They could weave above crowds and act almost like helicopters when chasing criminals, but we’re able to go into the crowds; only problem is that people had to get out of the way or be trampled

Hound and his infinite luck ran across a hurt Rancor with a shiny one night. Though they could not take the Rancor in, they sent it to the Jedi temple where it receives lots of love and treats from the younglings and troopers who visit

The Rancor serves as a guardian of the wing dedicated to dangerous artifacts and texts, and is watched over by the Temple Guard

AND AND AND

Spark dragons

ARF troopers ride them but due to fear, they are used to guard the prisons. Occasionally, they are lent out to other battalions with their riders

They are dragons native to Kiffu and can easily get their charge from the static electricity created by genorators

They were found as young babies and trained by the ARF

Quinlan was absolutely ecstatic and adores them, they’ve made a special attachment with him but prefer their troopers

On one occasion two were sent out with the Marine Corps, who were afraid as hell. Those troopers had a lovely time and many stores of scaring the ‘hardcore’ troopers

100 notes · View notes

thekingofwinterblog · 8 months

Text

How to fix Halamshiral as a Zone

Inquisition is a flawed game.

I don't think there's anyone who is going to argue otherwise.

The only question is wheter you place it higher or lower than DA2.

One of the things I think it does better than DA2, is that it managed to give every place a soul, an identity of it's own, and at least a distinct, if not always amazing storyline.

The emerald graves doesnt have a very interesting plot, but it has some spectacular side quests, and atmosphere, inculding a haunted mansion, which might be my favorite possession based quest in all of DA because it shows much better than others just how dangerous untrained mages actually are to those around them.

The storm coast tells a story of what was once an important dwarven port, and shows how it fell and was repurposed over time.

The Hinterlands shows the aftereffects of the templar mage war, as well as solas stupid plan to give cory his orb, and the mage rebellion and an actually decent time travel story.

I could go on, but the point is, I usually have at least aomething nice to say about every single region.

All except one.

Halamshiral.

Halamshiral was the single worst part of all of Dragon Age Inquisition for me, and every single time I boot up this game, it's always the last thing i do before the temple of sacred ashes, despite how bizarre the game flows as a result.

And the reason is because i hate everything about it.

I hate it's unique attempt at side quests, i hate the characters involved, i hate the Orlesians who inhabit it, and i hate how this section tries to copy what worked so amazingly well with Orzammar and Denerim during the landsmeet section, and fails every single shot it lines up.

The ONLY good thing i have to say about this, is that it's at the very least relatively short.

So here's today's question. How to fix Halamshiral?

Let's begin with the three main players.

Celene, Gasparde, and Briala.

The big problem with every single option, is that they all suck.

Celene and Gasparde are both fucking awful people without any redeeming qualities, they have no charisma, and there is no prospect of the Empire reforming itself under either of them, the way Orzammar would under Bhelen.

Meanwhile, Briala is much, much better, but the problem is that we know exactly what is going to happen here if you support her.

Maybe today elves will have it better, but tomorrow, when Gasparde is gone, or celene turns on elves again as she always does all the progress will be repealed, and reversed, along with a few purged alienages.

Its an old story that's been told before in Dragon age.

In short, there is no reason at all to care about this overall plot. None whatsoever.

There were so many reasons to care about both Orzammar and Denerim in the same situation, and every single character involved had so much more charisma than either of these would be monarchs.

So let's fix that.

Starting with Celene, take the idea of her wanting to reform the empire, and actually take it to the next level.

Celene is genuine in wanting to reform the empire, and has already taken grand, successful steps to make the entire thing much better for everyone, even elves, giving them and serfs more rights, outlawing the practice of chevaliers having a tradition of killing unarmed city elves to graduate.

But the catch is, while she is genuinely making progress, she is doing so within the confines of the great game.

Celene has nonintention of changing the great game, no plans of wanting to remove this thing that holds Orlais back more than any other, this center stone of their nobility and it's culture.

Meanwhile, Gasparde is a different kind of reformer, one that takes the ideas he had of him claiming to hate the game, and actually doing something with it.

He is far less progressive, has no love for elves, is far more warlike than Celene ever was... But unlike Celene, his ideas of reform isn't going to act within the grand game.

He's going to break it.

Unlike canon gasparde, this gasparde is hated by every single noble family in the entire empire. His only support, and it's a strong one, is the army. The parts of the army that supports Gasparde, and they are a huge part, are loyal to him personally to the hilt.

And he hates them back. He hates the game, he hates the way it cripples the empire, and he wants to change things. Like Celene he plans to break the serfs free of their chains, for the good of the nation and it's power and economy if not for any progressive reasons.

And he'a going to start with Halamshiral.

For this Gasparde isn't merely positioning men to stage a coup... He's planning to kill EVERY SINGLE NOBLE in Halamshiral. Evety man, every woman, every child there.

He's going to reform this empire by wiping out it's cancerous nobility in one fell swoop, and install himself as supreme dictator to see his reforms through, and wiping out the entire Orlesian nobility that might have opposed him, french revolution style.

And thus the Inquisitor has a dilemma.

Unlike Orzammar, where only one side was a reformer, both of these Orlesians are... But you have to choose one.

Do you choose Celene? The more progressive candidate, who wants a more peaceful Orlais going forward? But who is not willing to get ridd of the grand game to do so, thus making it a permanent risk that all her reforms will be undone...

Or will you support Gasparde, and by doing so be complicit in destroying the entire nobility of Orlais, many of whom are not guilty of the shit that Celene and Gasparde here both hate so much? Gasparde is far less likely to create a peaceful Orlais going forward... But he will have obliterated the Grand Game for good and all, a prize that might be worth this Red Wedding style bloodbath.

Meanwhile there is Briala, the elven spy who has enough influence to allow, or prevent Gasparde's plans from going through.

Here there should be another moral dilemma, quite different from the base game.

Do you convince her to aid Gasparde, in exchange for the Elves getting a duchy of their own in Halamshiral? Do you then back her up with Inquisition forces and support, forcing Him to publicly announce her as such, and trust his own, twisted version of honor to actually stick to it going forward(Something he ultimately does), or do you throw her to the Wolves the moment things get rough?

Or alternatively, do you convince her to side with Celene, and bury the hatchet? And if so, on what terms? And similarly, if she actually wants to get something out of this, you actually need to back her up... Something you may, or may not choose to do.

And voila, here you have an actual story of intrigue, massive, lasting political changes as a result of the Herald's actions, and morally grey on grey choices.

Everything that Denerim and Orzammar had in spades.

Now moving on from the plot to the actual place.

Halamshiral has no soul.

It's a french villa on a mountaintop. Whoop de freaking do.

It has no interesting murals, unique art only found there, interesting geography, or anything really to make it stand out.

Compare it to Denerim and Orzammar, and the way they fleshed out the entire city's levels of power and criminal underworlds, and you see the difference.

Denerim is a very realistic, squat, squalid medieval city, with it's buildings built on top of every single bit of available space.

Orzammar is a full on high fantasy dwarf city lit up by a lake of lava.

Halamshiral is a villa presented as a city.

How do you fix that?

There is an artist here on Tumblr who pretty much showcased what Halamshiral could have been, if they had taken the idea of the Dalish(who were the original owners) taking inspiration from native americans(amongst others), and use that to build a truly spectacular city, which has long ago been paved over, but the structure is still there.

Make it a city on the water, like the aztex capital of Tenochtitlan, a marvel of canals and stone.

Make it this Venezia like city, with canals everywhere you look, and the entire city running on water. A marvel of Dalish city building, where they took something as simple as a couple of islands in a lake, and built the most beautiful city in the world.

And rather than just limit you to the palace, instead let you actually explore this city.

Expand the entire event from one night, to a week.

Let the Herald explore the city, meet the players, interact with the nobles, become friends with a few like you could with Ferelden's bans, which in turn makes the possibility of sacrificing them for the greater good hit so much harder.

Let you choose what fancy stuff to wear to the balls and meetings, rather than have this stupid motto of forcing you to wear one, pre determined outfit like this game had for some reason.

Let you discover the places where what little Elven Architecture and art still remains can be found, and talk with the elves who still live here, the descendants after the first elves the Orlesians enslaved.

Make the plotting of Gasparde and the positioning of troops be gradual, not instantly discovered and twarted.

And at the end, if you choose to back Gasparde, you mirror that scene from Dragon Age 2, where the Templars sail across the bay, and you either step aside and witness the bloodbath you just allowed to happen, or you fight them and be recognized by the nobility(most of which are horrible, horrible people) as a hero who just saved the day.

Have the venatori plot be to kill both Gasparde and Celene, rather than their involvement mostly be about handing the player the the easy knife for the knot of which monarch to pick without having to get your hands dirty.

Also have the entire group be gathered for once. Every inner member of the Inquisition just like at Denerim.

Each of whom have their own thoughts on the events.

Who supports who? What is the right thing to do? What is better for the inquisition? Are you staining your honor beyond repair if you back Gasparde? Does the Inquisitor maybe have a breakdown after witnessing what they just allowed to happen and they walk through the gardens or rooms filled with corpses? Maybe have the scene at the end with the love interest be about a moment of them truly comforting their lover in the aftermath of it all, understanding(or not) that as boss, it's your job to have to make the tough decisions. And now you have to live with them.

Or if you wanna go the other way, this could be one of the breaking points like Origins had. If you support Gasparde, Blackwall choses to tell you to get bent, and that he will die as benefits a knight. Defending the week, and calling you out on how you are just as bad as he ever was, a child killer who's going to run away from responsibility, to pretend you are some better person than what you actually are. You're a murder. Just like he was. You are just as responsible for the blood that's flowing as he was with that carriage back in the day.

It would have been a far more impressive reveal moment for his crimes, that's for sure.

Cole probably would be the one who would be second most upset, but wheter he leaves or ultimately stays should probably be depended on your other choices and your relationship with him prior to this, probably have his personal quest be the determinating factor of what he chooses to do.

And i could go on, but point is, this would be a return to Origins choices actually mattering. There were choices that could make or break a characters bond with you. Shale would not budge regarding Caridin, Leliana and wynne would stand against you if you choose to defile the urn, Sevran would choose to betray you for his old friend if he didn't like you enough, and of course the age old choices at the end of act 3 in da2, where you have to pick between templars and Mages, as well as anders fate, and chances are regardless of what you do, at least 1 person ends up dead.

If anyone reading this has any suggestions for how to further improve this storyline, feel free to share, but regardless, i think we can all agree that this is a vast improvement of what we actually got.

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #halamshiral #gasparde #celene #briala #inquisitor #blackwall #thom rainier #the herald of andraste #the inquisitor #meta #what could have been #tenochtitlan

207 notes · View notes

openconceptpanicroom · 6 months

Text

The Keeper

-Chapter One: A Gift Unwanted-

Prince Aemond x Dragonkeeper!Reader

Summary: Reader is given to The Greens along with an egg before the Dance as a gift to Prince Maelor. Her job is ensure the egg hatches as a "goodwill," present from Princess Rhaenyra. However, the Greens doubt these good intentions and no one is more suspicious than Prince Aemond. Pride, lust, envy and paranoia make the One-Eyed Prince almost beastly.

TW: MDNI, Aemond is very repressed, choking, threats of violence, obsessive love interest, power imbalance. AN: Aemond's POV in next chapter.

The Dragonpit of King’s Landing was a grand system of tunnels and caverns carved into stone. At the heart of the Dragonpit sat the nursery, a circular room with filled with hot coals to warm eggs marked for their future riders. Over each clutch hung wide open vents to funnel out the smoke, though it did little to lessen the heat of this place. It was here that you spent most of your days, drenched in sweat as you changed out coals beneath the egg you had been sworn to protect. A pale green egg promised to the babe Prince Maelor, a kind gift from his estranged aunt. You first felt pride at being the one to hatch and raise this dragon for a Prince to one day ride. Now, you were… cautious. A dragonkeeper acolyte once under the charge of Princess Rhaenyra, you now rested your head so close to those she had fled from. It had not been unknown to you that the Queen and Princess did quarrel. Although, perhaps naively, you had assumed you would be safe from the crossfire of their rivalry.

It was quite irritating to be so wrong.

Prince Maelor was no more than a week old when Princess Rhaenyra drafted together a ship filled with goods for her youngest nephew. Glittering gemstones, rare silks from Lys, handcrafted toys of fine wood from Pentos, books of varying degrees of academic difficulties, and a dragon egg with a keeper. To the untrained eye, it was selfless. Colder hearts felt differently. The usually fertile she-dragon Dreamfyre had failed to lay a clutch in two years, meanwhile Syrax had just laid one that month. To gift an egg with a dragonkeeper showed Princess Rhaenyra’s arrogance. Her belief that the God’s favored her so much that it was all but guaranteed Syrax’s egg would bring forth a new dragon. Whether or not this was Princess Rhaenyra’s intentions mattered little. You were seen as at best an insult and at worst a spy.

All that kept you from further interrogation was the knowledge that you would never be in the Red Keep. You were, after all, a dragonkeeper. They were not to enter the palace without reason, and certainly not without guards to take them about the keep. So long as you did as you said you would and kept away from the castle, you were left alone.

For the most part.

As you laid red-hot coals over Prince Maelor's egg, you felt that an eye upon your back. It spread chills over your skin despite the blazing heat. You let out a slow breath and laid your shovel to the side, pulling your thick leather gloves from your hands. For weeks now, you resided here with forty other dragonkeepers. None had had issue with your being here. There was no Queen to bother and no Lord Hand to stare at you incredulously. All you did, all day, was care after the egg and assist the other keepers in their chores. Yet He still came to stare at you. To mock you. To disturb you.

“Iksis se Dārilaros's drōmon issare jūndan tolī, acolyte?”*

You sucked burning air through your teeth, lowering your scarf as you turned to face him. Prince Aemond stood in the entryway of the nursery, the heat already showing in beads of sweat on his face. Thin strands of silvery-white hair stuck to his face, one hanging just over his eyepatch. He was dressed to ride, all in black with one glove on and the other still in his fist. Black were his clothes, like that of a raven. A one-eyed raven. He used to be so quiet, Prince Aemond. For a brief time, you had known him. A freckled and shy boy with eyes of pale violet. Small and awkward, so hopeful that his egg on Dragonstone would hatch. That boy was dead. Replaced by this man that bore his name but not his heart, all memory of you gone.

Bowing your head, you forced your voice to stay neutral, “Kessa, Ñuha Dārilaros.”*

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, either irritated by your response or that you were yet again unbothered by him. Prince Aemond was one so used to insult, that anything without a readily available explanation was assumed to be some manner of slight aimed at him. Your presence was one of these assumed slights, was what an elder had said to you.

“Māzigon kesīr, zaldrīzes buzdari.”

His voice was ice in your blood, and his words pulled you to him. The blood of Old Valyria was your master. Even when it mocked you. Your feet were slow but not clumsy as you stopped to stand before him. Eyes to the ground even then, as show of respect. Acolyte’s are not to make eye contact with those of the royal family. You swallowed thickly as the tips of Prince Aemond’s boots came into your view.

“It gives me great vexation every time I look upon you. A mere acolyte, charged with caring for my nephew’s egg. Yet another example of my half-sister’s contempt. The Whore of Dragonstone cannot spare an elder, so she sends you,” Prince Aemond’s tone almost made you roll your eyes. Another accusation of negligence. Gods be merciful if you ever made a true mistake or misstep in his presence. “Prince Maelor will not suffer due to your incompetence.”

Your back ached from changing out the coals over and over. New callouses made their home over old callouses on your palms and fingers. Every inch of you was caked in sweat and soot. From the moment you rose to the moment you laid to sleep, you thought of the egg. His concerns were absurd, truly. Resisting the ever-growing urge to say so, you merely asked, “What more does Your Grace want for me to do to prove I am competent? I am your servant.”

A beat of pure silence passed.

What was expected was more of his insults, accusations of negligence on your part. You did not prepare yourself for his ungloved hand which then grabbed your jaw. With his bare hand he yanked up your face so that you had no choice but to look at him. He pulled you close, staring down at you with the closest thing to a smile you had seen since meeting him again. Your pulse raced beneath his touch. He smelled of dragon, of bergamot, and coriander. Hair of starlight and one piercing eye of violet. Confronted so close and so suddenly by his fury and his beauty, blessed by the blood of Old Valyria. It felt indecent to be so close to one such as he. To know his palm was now marked by the filth of your labor.

His hand slipped from your chin to your throat, fingers closing slowly. The coldness of his stare marked by something darker. Lips moving, he murmured something you couldn’t quite catch. It was growing hard to focus. To maintain composure. The sweltering heat, his glare, his fingering stealing your breath with every second.

At last, you let out a whimper of a moan. Prince Aemond’s voice answering it with an audible groan. It was quick, but you heard it. Just as he released that hungry growl did he release you. You hacked and coughed on air that was too tainted to give you any sort of relief. By the time you could take a breath without wheezing, he was several feet away from you. He gave one last warning before leaving you in the nursery that day, “My nephew’s egg will hatch, or you will feel the consequences of your failure. Do you understand?”

All you can do is bow and say, "I understand, Your Grace."

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

High Valyrian Translations (*)

"Is the prince's egg being looked after, acolyte"

"Yes, my prince"

"Come here, dragon slave"

#aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fic #hotd x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond x you #aemond x dragonkeeper!reader

139 notes · View notes