#wolfewrites

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"You are… uniquely distracting," he accuses. There's no bite to it, only the subtle uptick at the corner of his mouth. Infuriating, gorgeous man. As if she hasn't thought about their previous meeting every second since it happened three days ago beneath the dimmed light of his office in quiet hours of night. The golden thread of tension between them pulling taunt. The hungry press of his mouth against hers and the reluctant parting of ways before there could be more. The grip on her waist as he'd pulled her back across the threshold, back behind the privacy of a closed door, for just one more taste. A lingering promise. "Oh, is that what I am? A distraction?" The question slips out before she can stop it. Godsdamned mouth always running ahead of her brain. There's a breathlessness to her voice that she hopes will make the words come across as teasing rather than what they really are. What is this? She wants to ask. What are we doing? Because if this is a game to him, she isn't sure she wants to play. He can't just kiss her like he means it and then— Viago does not hesitate, closing the distance between their lips and kissing her with a kind of gentleness she had not expected. It's more than enough to stop every thought inside her head and then is over in the span of a heartbeat. Though he does not go far, leaving her staring down in a cross-eyed daze, entranced at the nearness of his mouth. So very close. So close that when he speaks again she can feel the whisper of movement against her own lips. "There are better things you could put in my mouth than words, I think." The shock of it snaps her eyes up to his as an incredulous laugh slips out, more huffs of air than noise. "Excuse me?" "I can think of at least four off the top of my head," he continues in that casually formal way of his. Unaffected aside from the glint in his eyes that always appears during their tête-à-têtes. A playfulness seemingly reserved just for her.

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Most Popular Fic

Hearthkeeper Astarion x Ceri (Named Fem Tav) Explicit | 39,657 words | Incomplete Indulgent comfort smut long-fic I swear I haven't abandoned this fic. The Dragon Age brainworms have taken me over and there are only so many hours in the day. 😩

Shortest Completed Fic

oh, make it good Davrin x Rook (Unnamed Fem Rook) Teen | 822 words | Complete Davrin and Rook take Assan and Manfred to the beach for an afternoon! Davrin was my first romance in the game and I'll love him forever 💕

Longest Completed Fic

Hold Your Horses Solas x Mirwen Lavellan (Named Female Inquisitor) Teen | 6,297 words | Complete Inquisitor Mirwen Lavellan and Solas end up on a horse together. Flirting ensues! Written immediately after beginning a playthrough of Inquisition for the first time after just having finished Veilguard and thinking "damn I wish I could have romanced Solas" 💀

In Progress Fic that I want to work on More

Inevitable [series] Solas x Mirwen Lavellan (Named Female Inquisitor) Teen | 7,669 words | Incomplete This is what I've been calling everything I write about Solas and Mirwen! I wanted to write more of their Inquisition story before I start posting Maeve's Veilguard story because they're part of the same canon but that's probably not going to happen lmao. 🤝

Spiciest Fic

Kinktober 2025 Viago de Riva x Maeve Aldwir (Named Fem Rook); Lucanis Dellamorte x Viago de Riva x Andarateia Cantori Explicit | 4,566 words | Complete Baby's first Kinktober! Indulgent Mango 🥭 smut and a polycrow (Lucanis/Spite/Viago/Teia) oneshot!

Most Updated Fic

i call & you come through ♜❤️‍🔥🐦‍⬛ [series] Viago de Riva x Maeve Aldwir (Named Fem Rook) Explicit | 18,238 words | Incomplete I can't believe how much I've written about these two idiots since *checks notes* the end of March??? I think about them literally constantly.

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Sylvie is quiet—not shy, but reserved—even as Spite bombards her with nonsense. Lucanis should stop the demon but… "You smell of roses and dew. Soft," Spite observes. He hovers far too close to her, bent so low over her where she sits at her desk that his nose almost touches the pale skin where neck meets shoulder. Lucanis does not allow himself to think about what it would feel like to press his lips to that spot. She hums. Offhanded but not dismissive. The way she almost always addresses the demon's queries. "It's rose water. The lotion I use after bathing is scented with it." "Taste sweet, too?" Before Lucanis can chastise him she begins laughing softly and the way Spite preens radiates through Lucanis' chest. Like petting a cat and feeling the vibrations of its purr. "Roses are sweet, yes." She glances at Lucanis. "I know tea is not your favorite, but would you be opposed to me making you a cup for Spite to try?" Lucanis' nod is reflexive. Perhaps a little overeager. He finds he would do anything she asks of him. The thought concerns him less and less by the day.

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The pup is larger than the last time he saw her. Considerably so. Heavier, too, he observes, catching her with an umph as she leaps up into his arms. Soon she will be far too big for him to hold. Each time Viago visits he continues to wonder how she could possibly grow so quickly in such a short amount of time. Yet a tiny creature compared to the adults, she's already larger than any dog he's seen in Antiva. At just past four months old, her head is even with his knees; she won't be considered fully grown until she reaches his waist.

—

Ferelden Deerhound are not easy things to obtain. It took him the better part of a year to track down a breeder and he's almost chagrined to admit that ended up being the easiest part of the process. No amount of money (or threatening) could convince the woman to reserve him a pick from her next litter; Muriel Crowner insisted that in order for her to even consider allowing him to purchase a pup he must visit the farm in person.

And so he did. For his own amusement, of course. Viago needed to meet the woman audacious enough to deny a Talon. If the dogs she produces are even half as obstinate then all of it will be a worthwhile endeavor, a justified purchase. Wilfulness is exactly what drew him to the Deerhound in the first place. That, and the sheer size of the beasts.

Nothing makes him more uneasy than leaving Maeve. It's not a matter of her being capable—she's a god-killer; he knows she is more capable than even himself in many regards—but having such close ties to three Talons puts his amorina at significant risk. It would be foolish to underestimate someone's willingness to strike at her. Emil Kortez had attempted much worse for far less and almost succeeded, after all.

A dog is undoubtedly less effective at protection than a Crow, but Viago finds the benefits to outweigh that cost. Maeve would never accept a guard but she has been interested in getting a dog. A dog who, unlike a guard, will sleep in her bed and lounge by her bath and eat from her plate. (He tries very, very hard not to think about the uncleanliness of it all. Staff will need to be hired just to keep up with the filth it tracks around. Maker, the things one does for love.) Despite the frustratingly small amount of research available to him, Viago quickly found exactly the creature he was looking for.

The Fereldens have bred their hounds for centuries, favoring large and sturdy-yet-slim builds with short, wiry coats; a combination that allows them to thrive in the rough terrain where they chase and bring down flighty deer. Viago knows that the beast's size alone will act as a deterrent to many assailants, but if appearance was all that mattered he would have chosen a Mabari.

Unlike the arguably more intimidating looking dogs, Ferelden Deerhounds are not particularly aggressive or territorial. They exhibit the same sought-after loyalty and affection for their family but a cool indifference toward strangers. Indifference that can easily be mistaken for disregard by anyone foolish. An innate desire to observe has been bred into them. The resulting creature is one that prefers to lounge with its companions and watch for something it deems worthy of chasing; a vigilant shadow.

Viago had asked to test their supposedly unparalleled observational skills, attempting to slip unnoticed into the Crowner's home and only getting halfway through the unlatched window before a single stern boof was issued in alert. The sentry lay on its soft cushion by the fireplace, her head barely inclined to assess Viago's movement. Of the five pups—only eight weeks old at the time—tucked around her frame, one raised its head and another stood, both peering toward him.

The twins, Muriel called them. Two females, their coats the same dark mottled gray, a nearly identical white star on each of their chests. Two new members of House de Riva.

It had taken him several moments to notice a third pup with its eyes fixed on him. Another female, the only entirely black coat from this litter. She hadn't moved when her mother barked, but she had watched. And she had kept watching long after the twins laid back down. Too docile tae hunt, wrong color tae breed, Muriel had said about this one. A waste, Viago thought. She's twice as clever as the rest of them. Muriel hoped to find it a nice family to settle down with but Viago had already made up his mind; if the pup hadn't been claimed by his next visit, she would be his.

—

"Have you found a family for her?" he asks, neck craned back to avoid being licked in the face. Maker, why did he think this was a good idea, again?

"Na, I havenae. Poor wee thin'." Muriel's grin is impish as she waggles her finger at him. "Dinnae ye worry, now, bird man. A knew ye haed a soft heart. She'll live a bonny life here on the farm, teachin' new pups their manners an such."

Bird man has Viago biting down on his tongue until he tastes copper. How is it that he always ends up finding the most impertinent women? He can't wait to surprise Maeve with the pups for her nameday if only because it means he can finally introduce her and Teia to the only other woman in Thedas brave enough to call the Fifth Talon something like bird man to his face.

He deposits the wriggly pup back onto the ground, expecting her to gallop off and rejoin the others. Instead, she flops down at his feet and rests her head on his boot. You don't need to convince me, he wants to say. I'm already sold.

"I'll take her, as well," he sighs.

Muriel doesn't try to hide her shock, eyes wide, jaw hanging open. Hesitantly she asks, "Sure yer wife'll want a third?"

That almost chokes him up more than bird man did. He clears his throat carefully before deadpanning, "She will be displeased I did not bring home the entire litter and their mother."

"Ah. A woman after ma own heart."

When the time comes to leave, Muriel retrieves a large lidded basket. Inside is a blanket for each of the three girls that carries the scent of their mother and litter mates, a small leather-wrapped ball, a heavily-chewed knotted length of rope, and a stuffed rabbit made of linen and wool. At the top sits jerky wrapped inside a kitchen towel (lamb, Muriel explains—their favorite) and several pieces of folded parchment with helpful advice for the months ahead.

Viago expresses his thanks, a little surprised to find himself genuinely thankful. It's only logical, he decides; evidence that these three absurdly expensive investments have been well-reared and therefore more likely to fulfill their purpose. Payment for the third "impromptu" purchase is handed over and his girls are collected.

"Oh, am just gaun'ae miss ye little lassies," Muriel sobs. She plants a smacking kiss on each of their snouts and pulls her wife from the barn to make her say goodbye as well. They both watch as Viago lifts each pup into the driver's box before climbing up himself.

He tells them to expect correspondence within a fortnight as Maeve is sure to have many questions regardless of his diligent note-taking. Muriel wipes away tears as her wife rubs her back soothingly, insisting that Maeve is welcome to send as many letters as she'd like.

The girls seem to handle all the commotion of departing quite well. They're probably used to it, after all. A good thing considering how hectic Villa de Riva can be at times. It is still early in the day and as he encourages the horse forward, Viago expects they'll make good time. Barring any unforeseen issues (the Eluvians still make him nervous no matter how many times he uses them), the four of them should be home by nightfall.

Only a few minutes into their journey the twins curl up together to nap. The third pup makes use of her lanky legs to climb up into Viago's lap. He anticipates another attempt to slobber all over his face but it never comes. She sits carefully in the crease of his legs and leans heavily against his chest, brown eyes blinking up at him. On this dirt road in the middle of the Ferelden countryside, there's no one to witness the Fifth Talon as he bends to kiss the pup on her shaggy forehead.

"Aren't you worried it will bite you?" Maeve asks, skeptical as can be about the little red and black spotted beetle on Nona's finger.

Nona's smile is gentle and the little laugh she gives doesn't carry any venom. "Not at all. I suppose it could bite, if it wanted to, but only if it perceived me as a threat."

"How do you know that it doesn't?"

"Ah! Well, that's one of the most interesting things about them, actually."

Maeve can't help but return Nona's excited grin, finding herself—for the first time in her life—somehow excited to hear a bug fact.

"They do this thing called 'reflex bleeding' and it's exactly what it sounds like. When threatened, they exude drops of blood from their knee joints—"

Maeve blinks, screwing her face up in half wonder, half disbelief. "Their knee joints?"

"Their knee joints!" Nona echos, nodding animatedly. "It's quite bitter and has this awful smell that deters predators from eating them."

Slightly more reassured that the little creature won't be making any sudden movements, Maeve leans in for a closer look. "Fascinating... Why the knees, though?"

"There was actually just a new publication about that last year," Nona begins and Maeve settles back in her chair, ready to listen attentively. "They think it has to do with the anatomical structure of the leg…"