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olive-main · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, hope you’re well! Saw your request for angst ideas. If you’re interested: Reader has been part of the Inner Circle for years, like an og member. Post war she watches Az fall in love with Elaine or Gwyn. She’s known they’re mates, but he’s always told her he loves her as a friend, and nobody else knows they’re mates. She watches as his relationship grows, maybe they’re having a kid or whatever, this can be all the angst you see fit. She’s finally had enough and decides to leave (either for work as an emissary or for herself). Maybe as she starts to rebuild, Az and the IC realize how much her loss impacts them. But when they go see her, she’s thriving. Ending can be whatever floats your boat, maybe she’s with Eris or thriving in Day as Lucien’s advisor, or something else all together.

To Love and Let Go

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: An unrequited love, and a one sided mating bond. What will reader do when she can no longer watch Azriel fall for another female who isn’t her?

Wc: 2.9k (gah dayum)

A/N: ok, this is the longggest fic I've written to date, but I don't hate it...and I may be persuaded to write a part two with multiple endings bcs I'm indecisive asf. Requests are still open and highly encouraged since I'm on break and have a bunch of free time, clearly.

Masterlist

The stars are mocking tonight, their gleam far too bright for the storm brewing inside you. Velaris has always been beautiful, but tonight the city feels suffocating. The laughter of your family echoes around the River House’s dining room, filling the space with warmth and joy.

You sit at the edge of the long table, wine in hand, your smile carefully in place. Cassian is in the middle of one of his stories, something about Azriel and a drunken spar decades ago. The table erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but glance at him.

Azriel sits across from you, his shoulders relaxed, his shadows soft and relaxed as they curl lazily around him. He’s laughing—quiet and rare, but enough to tug at your chest in a way you’ve never been able to stop.

Beside him, Gwyn is radiant. She laughs, bright and genuine, her hand resting on his arm as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand shifts, fingers brushing over hers in a way that’s intimate, tender. Simple. Devastating.

You lift your wine to your lips and down the rest of the glass in one burning gulp.

You’ve known for years that Azriel isn’t yours to have. When the Cauldron whispered of your bond, it hadn’t been the joyous revelation you’d dreamed of. Instead, it had been a curse.

You feel it even now—that golden thread tying your soul to his, pulling taut every time you see him. But Azriel never acknowledged it, not once. How could he when he didn't even know it existed?

“You’re my best friend,” he’d told you long ago, sitting beside you on a rooftop in Velaris, the two of you cloaked in silence and shadows. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And you’d smiled. Smiled and tucked the truth deeper inside yourself, burying it so far down you almost convinced yourself it wasn’t real. Almost.

The conversation shifts around you, but the words blur together, distant and unimportant. You force yourself to stay, to laugh when you’re supposed to, to nod in all the right places.

Across the table, Gwyn leans closer to Azriel, whispering something in his ear. He smiles at her, that soft, secret smile you’ve seen so many times over the years. But it’s never been for you.

The ache in your chest spreads, sharp and relentless, until you can’t bear it any longer. You push your chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.

“Everything okay?” Mor asks, her brows furrowing as she studies you.

You nod quickly, forcing a tight smile. “Just need some air.”

No one questions you, and you’re grateful for it. You slip out of the room and onto the balcony, the cool night air rushing to meet you. The stars stretch endlessly above, and for a moment, you close your eyes and pretend this life isn’t yours.

But the bond hums faintly in the back of your mind, tethering you to someone who will never feel the same way.

—

You grip the balcony railing, the cool metal grounding you as you draw in a shaky breath. The quiet should feel peaceful, but it doesn’t. Not with the sound of their laughter spilling through the open door behind you, not with the bond thrumming painfully in the back of your mind.

You’ve endured this for years. Watching Azriel laugh, fight, live, all while pretending your heart doesn’t shatter every time he smiles at someone who isn’t you. Gwyn. Elain before her, and Mor long before that. All the women who could never feel what you feel for him—but were lucky enough to have his attention anyway.

And then there’s you, his best friend. The one he trusts, confides in, leans on. Just never in the way you ache for. Even before the bond snapped, you’d been in love with the Shadowsinger. He was always the calm amongst the chaos of your family, the one you could seek refuge in.

The sound of footsteps interrupts your thoughts. You don’t need to look to know it’s him. His shadows reach you first, curling gently around your wrist, hesitant and curious. They always do that, as if they sense the things he doesn’t.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice is soft, warm in a way that makes it harder to breathe.

You release the railing and turn to face him, your mask firmly in place. “I’m fine. Just needed a moment.”

His brows pull together, his hazel eyes studying you in that unrelenting way of his. “You’ve seemed… distracted tonight.”

You force a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not distracted. Just tired, that’s all.” The lie was easy on your tongue, a lie you’ve repeated more times than you can count.

His shadows shift, curling tighter around you. “You can tell me if something’s wrong,” he says, his voice low, careful.

You want to laugh again. Wrong? Everything is wrong. Your mate is standing in front of you, looking at you with concern while his love sits inside, waiting for him. He doesn’t even feel the bond that’s been tearing you apart for years. How could you possibly tell him the truth?

“I’m fine, Az,” you say again, stepping back, putting distance between you. “Go back inside. Gwyn’s probably wondering where you are.”

Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before you can place it. He hesitates, his shadows brushing against your hand one last time before retreating.

“All right,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t look convinced.

You watch him go, his wings casting long shadows across the balcony as he disappears into the house. The bond hums faintly, pulling at your heart even as you stand there alone.

—

A part of you wants to blame yourself for never telling him about the mating bond. It was known Azriel always longed for a mate, so much so he had made the bold claim of Elain being his mate once upon a time. Now, he's with Gwyn under that same notion. Unfortunately, your heart had wanted him to love you without the influence of the bond.

Your thoughts persist as you force your eyes shut, trying and failing to fall asleep.

Instead, you lie awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of it all presses down on you. You’ve built your entire life around the Inner Circle, around him. And for what? To watch him build a life with someone else? To keep breaking your own heart over and over again?

No.

When dawn comes, the decision is already made.

—

“Are you sure about this?” Feyre asks, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

You stand in the foyer of the River House, your bags already packed and waiting by the door. The soft morning light filters through the windows, casting golden hues over everything. It should feel warm. Comforting. But all you feel is the ache of goodbye.

“I’m sure,” you say, and your voice doesn’t waver.

Rhysand stands a few paces away, arms crossed, his violet eyes sharp and assessing. You were like a sister to him, someone he’d protected and seen through every phase of life. “You don’t have to do this,” he says gently. “We can figure something out. If you need time off, time for yourself—”

“I need more than time, Rhys,” you interrupt, forcing a small smile to soften the blow. “I need space. A fresh start. This is the right move for me.”

You’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times, carefully framing your departure as a professional opportunity. An emissary position in Day Court. Helion had been eager to accept your offer, praising your skills and promising a new challenge that you could sink your teeth into.

It wasn’t a lie. You would thrive in Day Court. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Feyre’s grip on your arm tightens, her lips pressing together as if she’s holding back an argument. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you’re running away,” she says softly.

You glance past her, your eyes catching on the open archway leading to the dining room. You can feel him in there, his shadows faint even from this distance. The bond pulls, a sharp tug against your ribs.

“I’m not running away,” you tell her, even though part of you wonders if that’s exactly what this is. “I’m choosing myself for once.”

Rhys nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what you need, then we support you. Always.”

A lump rises in your throat, but you swallow it down, turning to hug Feyre. “Thank you. For everything.”

—

Azriel watches from the shadows of the dining room as you leave. He doesn’t mean to linger there, doesn’t mean to eavesdrop—but he can’t help it.

He hears Feyre’s quiet goodbye, Rhys’s reassurances. He sees the way your shoulders straighten as you step out the door, as if you’re carrying a weight none of them can understand.

Something twists in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar.

He doesn’t understand it. You’ve left Velaris before, gone on missions and trips for weeks at a time. But this feels… different. Permanent.

For a moment, he almost steps forward, almost calls out to you. But then the door closes, and you’re gone.

—

The Day Court is a world apart from Velaris.

Here, the sun always seems to shine, casting a golden glow over Helion’s sprawling palace. It’s vibrant, full of life, and for the first time in years, you feel as though you can finally breathe.

Helion welcomes you with open arms, praising your work and throwing you headfirst into new projects. The days are busy, your nights peaceful, and slowly—very slowly—the ache in your chest begins to fade.

You make new allies and friends. Lucien, especially, becomes an unexpected source of comfort. He understands unspoken bonds, the pain of being tied to someone who doesn’t want you. For the first few weeks, most, if not all your time was spent by his side.

“You’re free now,” he tells you one evening, the two of you sitting on a balcony overlooking the Day Court gardens. His amber eyes glint in the fading sunlight. “It doesn’t feel like it yet, but it will. One day.”

You smile, a real smile, and let the words settle in your chest.

—

Back in Velaris, the Inner Circle feels the void you’ve left behind. Cassian complains loudly during training sessions about how things don’t run as smoothly without you. Mor keeps suggesting trips to Day Court, half-joking but half-serious. Even Feyre finds herself reaching for you during meetings, only to realize you’re no longer there.

And Azriel…

Azriel notices most of all.

He misses the quiet way you steadied him, the way you always seemed to know what he needed before he did. The balance you brought to the group. To him.

At first, he tells himself it’s just an adjustment. You’ll be back eventually. But as the weeks stretch into months, he begins to realize just how deeply your absence has cut into his life.

The shadow of the bond hums faintly in the back of his mind, but he doesn’t understand why.

Not yet.

—

It’s Feyre who suggests the trip.

“You’ve been working too hard,” she tells Azriel, shooting him with a look that leaves no room for argument. “We all have. A visit to Day Court will do us some good. Besides, it’s been too long since we’ve seen her.”

Azriel hesitates but eventually agrees. He tells himself it’s curiosity, that he just wants to see how you’re settling in. Since you’ve left his relationship with everyone, Gywn especially, has grown distant. He tries to find you in her, comparing the small things that shouldn’t matter—and every time it only makes his heart sink.

When they arrive, they find you in the Day Court gardens, laughing at something Lucien has said. The sunlight catches in your hair, your face glowing with a happiness Azriel hasn’t seen in years.

The gardens are breathtaking, a vibrant sprawl of golden blooms and gleaming fountains that seem to echo the brilliance of the sun overhead. But Azriel doesn’t see any of it.

His focus is entirely on you.

You look radiant, the golden hues of Day Court seeming to highlight the confidence you’ve gained in your time away.

Lucien leans closer, his expression soft yet intent, and the sight makes something dark and ugly twist in Azriel’s chest. It’s not the first time he’s seen Lucien or been jealous of the male, but this—this—feels different. He used to feel that pang of jealousy when he blindly pined for Elain, now with you it returned with a greater force.

He doesn’t understand why these feelings have suddenly spread through him. You’ve always been his friend. His anchor. But as Lucien reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, Azriel feels like he’s watching something slip through his fingers.

“Az?” Feyre’s voice pulls him back. She’s watching him with careful eyes, her brow furrowing.

He shakes his head and straightens his posture, forcing his expression back into neutral territory. “I’m fine.” But he isn’t.

Before Feyre can press him further, Lucien notices their approach and gives a low whistle. “Well, well. Velaris sends its finest.” His tone is teasing, but there’s warmth in his amber eyes as they flick toward you.

You turn, and when your gaze lands on Azriel, your smile falters. It’s a subtle shift, but he sees it. Feels it.

“Rhysand. Feyre. Azriel,” you greet, inclining your head slightly, your voice polite but distant. As if they were strangers and not the family you chose all those centuries ago.

He hates it.

The reunion is cordial at first, filled with pleasantries and talk of work. Lucien stands close to you, his presence steady, his hand occasionally brushing yours in a way that grounds you. Azriel’s shadows stir restlessly, but he forces them into submission.

“You’ve done well here,” Feyre says warmly, her gaze sweeping over the garden. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Your smile is genuine, though it doesn’t quite reach Azriel. “Helion has been… generous with his trust.”

“And with his emissary’s time,” Lucien adds, grinning at you. ��She’s a natural. Can’t imagine how Day Court managed before she arrived.”

The praise makes you duck your head slightly, a faint blush blooming across your cheeks. Azriel’s jaw tightens.

“Sounds like you’ve been keeping busy,” he says, his voice lower than usual.

Your eyes flick to him briefly before turning back to Lucien, but there’s something guarded in your expression. “I have. It’s been… fulfilling.”

The word stings more than it should.

—

Eventually, Feyre and Rhys drift away with Lucien, leaving you and Azriel alone amidst the golden flowers. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“You’ve been… different,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You glance at him, your arms folding across your chest. “Different how?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “Happier,” he admits.

The softness in his voice almost makes you falter, but you stand your ground. “I am,” you say simply.

His shadows curl around his feet, agitated. “You left so suddenly,” he says, his tone sharper now. “One day you were there, and the next you were… gone. No warning. No explanation.”

You raise an eyebrow, bitterness creeping into your voice. “I told you I needed space. I told all of you.” You pause for a second, staring at a cluster of white lilies. “Why does it matter now, Azriel?”

“Because I miss you,” he says, the words raw and unguarded. “We all do. But me… I—” He stops himself, jaw clenching.

You laugh softly, but it’s a hollow, bitter sound. “You miss me now? After I’ve finally started to find peace? After you’ve built a life with Gwyn?”

His shadows surge forward, brushing against your arm, but you shake them off. “Don’t do this, Azriel.”

“You’re my friend,” he says, and the words make your heart twist painfully.

You whirl to face him, your eyes blazing. “No. I was never just your friend, Azriel. I was your mate.”

The truth spills out before you can stop it, sharp and cutting. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief.

“What?” His voice is barely a whisper.

You laugh again, a broken sound. “The Cauldron tied us together centuries ago, but you never felt it, did you? You never even noticed.”

His shadows pull back, retreating like they’ve been burned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter!” you snap, your voice rising. “You didn’t want me that way, Azriel. You never did. And I wasn’t about to force something on you that you didn’t feel.”

He stares at you, his usually stoic face cracking with something raw and uncertain. “I—”

But you shake your head, cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve moved on.”

“You’ve moved on?” he echoes, his gaze flicking toward the direction Lucien went. His voice lowers, dangerous. “With him?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, though the word feels heavy. “Because he sees me, Azriel. He knows what it’s like to be unwanted. To feel second-best.”

The words are a dagger between you, and you can see the way they strike him, the way his shadows twist and writhe.

“Is that what you think?” he asks quietly, his voice breaking. “That you were second-best?”

Your throat tightens, but you refuse to back down. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The bond hums faintly in your chest, but it’s different now—fading, unraveling as you finally let go of the male who could never love you the way you deserved.

“I’m happy here,” you say softly, your voice steady. “And you… you have Gwyn. You have your life in Velaris. Let that be enough.”

Azriel doesn’t argue. He just stands there, his shadows a chaotic storm around him, as you turn and walk away.

This time, you don’t look back.

Aaannd scene XOXO ~

#oneshots #scenarios #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #azriel x you #request #reqs open #angstmas #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster

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yestrday · 8 months ago

Text

— BLUSH BLUSH ! anemo | hydro | geo | pyro

⤷ yan! hybrid! neuvillette, diluc, thoma, bennett, gaming, lyney

summary ! a connection to fire doesn't ultimately mean hot-headed, but these hybrids are equally passionate in their love for you. like a moth to a flame, you are taken in by their warmth, not noticing when the heat starts to sear.

content ! overprotectiveness; mentions of múrder; mention of breaking your limbs

notes ! oh and there's neuvillette too ig

for such a hybrid of his nature, the way you encountered NEUVILLETTE was entirely… ordinary. you were just out on a walk with zhongli to the village below after offering to run some errands. it was purely out of the desire to stretch your legs instead of being cramped in that manor, but that decision had led you to encounter one of the rarest beings alive… scooping water out of the nearby river and tasting it. you had gawked at him, eyes darting from the river to the sediments floating in his… wine glass? silently, he made a toast to you and sipped from the water. “earthy,” he had said, with all the refinement of a wine connoisseur.

you had been ecstatic when NEUVILLETTE introduced himself to you as a dragon hybrid, making that the fourth of the mythical hybrids you’ve met so far. zhongli was less than pleased, pursing his lips and choosing to say one or two curt greetings for the sake of basic politeness. you’re not as dense as the others make you out to be, but even if you were, anyone could tell that something was going on between the two hybrids. the way they exchange glances, human eyes turning into territorial slits for a few seconds before going back to normal as they entertain you… yeah, something’s up.

NEUVILLETTE had already caught wind of a benevolent young master who had one too many hybrids under their roof, so he had no qualms about introducing himself as a hybrid to you. something about you had already captivated him first-hand. perhaps it’s your eyes, filled with the naivete of a sheltered child but unafraid of knowing the curiosities of the world. or maybe it’s how your expression turned to that of glee when he introduced himself as a hybrid, overjoyed rather than fearful of his mythical status. when you walked him back to your manor, it was clear how well you took care of your hybrids with the way they greeted you warmly and clung to your side. … perhaps, this was the peaceful harmony between humans and hybrids that he had always longed to see.

except the longer he stayed in your manor, the more he could sense that something sinister was brewing underneath the surface. it didn’t come from the human housestaff or the human… you. you, who was as fallible as any human, was not the cause of this unease he was feeling. the more he observed your hybrids, the more he unraveled the image of this so-called found family. some of them touch you far too inappropriately for human standards, others sway you with carefully crafted words laced with sweet smiles, and gentle tones, and there are the occasional slip-ins to your drink and food when you glance away. all this he watches from afar, still too estranged from the others to make any comment about it. he realizes that rather than a house made for them, this was a cage they had created to be yours.

he had ought to bring this up with you, about the things they do to you. NEUVILLETTE could not see any of their actions as anything other than a strange displacement of obsession and it was only just that you become aware of it, if you hadn’t already. but one day you were called to your father’s in the city, and a week later you had come back looking a little blank and dead. your eyes were puffy from crying too much yet you forced yourself to smile (albeit shakily and weakly) whenever the hybrids had asked about your welfare. aether led you back to your room, shooting them all a glance before they all shared the same knowing glance and dispersed. it was only later that he realized the precarious position you were born into, with a father who could care less and high society’s eyes on you.

NEUVILLETTE is soft and gentle when he handles you. he speaks in that firm yet endearing voice, gentlemanly in all his conduct, and not once seeming to take advantage of you. he’s part of the education team, teaching you about language arts and sometimes even judicial subjects that would aid you should you ever step back into high society. those subjects are there for you to use for your own… agenda, but NEUVILLETTE doesn’t exactly have the heart to raise you to be a conniving manipulator, so he quietly leaves that to ayato.

NEUVILLETTE hasn’t felt a strong desire for anything in his long, long life, but that has changed ever since had met you. one smile from you was enough to break down the walls that had been built up over the centuries, enough to make him want you. to have you wrapped in his embrace, to hold your hands in his, to wipe away the tears caused by the harsh society you were born in. he wants to treat you gently, believe him, but it’s so hard to do when instincts are creeping up on him— to bruise your wrist whenever you try to let go, to trap you in this manor to protect you, to have so prettily dolled up in the treasures of the world that you’d never want to go anywhere else…

… but having you here right now, laughing at the cream on his nose, is more than enough. the hybrids do well to protect you and he does his best too. he hopes that this domestic bliss with you all will never end and that those monstrous instincts that want to… do things to you… will forever be kept in the dark.

RELATIONSHIPS: zhongli is a bit more fearful of him than he lets on, but the territorial instinct within him always tries to rile up neuvillette whenever they meet. neuvi isn’t one to lose to another dragon so easily. but on a lighter note, he enjoys tea time with wriothesley and aether and advises the younger hybrids whenever they need it.

DILUC is a peregrine falcon who has been skulking in the shadows of city life ever since he escaped from his previous owner. aether had come across him while he was on one of his stakeouts and after seeing the horrible state the hybrid was in, invited him to your manor. for the first weeks, he was obviously apprehensive, but seeing how well the hybrids were being taken care of, eased up you over time.

DILUC lives a relatively quiet life in your manor, helping out in the kitchen or going out on patrols whenever needed. he’s quite famous among the hybrids and servants for his bartending skills, and when the night calls for it he can be found stirring behind the counter to entertain some of the more liquor-inclined hybrids. venti is one of his usual patriots, strumming on his lyre for the entire manor. DILUC is a bit fearful of serving you alcoholic drinks, especially in a manor full of hybrids ready to pounce on you at any time, so when you order one he tends to leave out the alcohol and just let the placebo effect run its course.

one of the strongest from your non-mythical hybrids, he gets pestered by the others to clean up their messes. he looks irritated and will scold them for their incompetence, but he cleans up after them nonetheless. sometimes, you can catch him sparring with the younger hybrids as he instructs them on their posture and strategy. his words are harsh, but you can tell by how he pats their head and how fondly he thinks of them.

when it comes to you, however, DILUC noticeably becomes softer. he speaks to you softly rather than grumpily, and you often find yourself blushing with how tender he treats you sometimes. he’s quite patient with your mistakes and is happy to guide you through them. there’s nothing more he wants than to see you grow into a splendid and pure person, untouched by the corruption of society. he wishes that your eyes will stay the same, naive and innocent, that you won’t ever have to be burdened by your status as heir. alas, he knows that it’s nothing more than wishful thinking.

he’s taught himself how to suppress his hybrid traits, feeling nothing but distaste for them as they were the one thing his previous owner coveted so much. his wings were nothing more than a symbol of his inferiority, the natural chirps that’d come with his speech embarrassing, and his animal form a vulnerability that could be easily targeted. indeed, he’s been living most of his days as a human rather than a hybrid, but that couldn’t possibly be healthy for him. you try to encourage him to let himself go, and although he’s long forgotten how to turn back into his animal form or chirp, he sometimes lets his wings unfurl whenever he’s alone with you. he finds comfort in how your gentle hands preen and pet his feathers— so careful and tender, unlike his previous master.

should you stay inside the manor for the rest of your life, DILUC would be more than pleased. he’s ready to let everything go just for the sake of simple domesticity with you and the others. literally no red flags will be popping up because he’s satisfied with sheltering you from the dangers of the outside world. however, such an outcome is unlikely, and you taking up your father’s seat is the more likely scenario here. in that case, DILUC cannot help but swear to be by your side forever, watching over you and making sure that you do not go to the deep end.

danger lurks in every corner and DILUC just might go insane watching you teeter on such a perilous situation. he might consider dragging you away from that life and force you back into the safety of your manor. you don’t need to do all that, right? you don’t actually need to run the company by yourself— that’s what your hybrids are here for! he’s on his knees, begging you to come back to a life of safety. you can dress up fancy once in a while, and enjoy yourself at those galas, but you’ll be less of an owner and more than a face. who cares, really? being a puppet doesn’t sound all that bad, not when you’ll be dolled up and pampered and cared for for the rest of your life.

RELATIONSHIPS: kaeya and venti are always badgering him for another drink, which he icily ignores. he’s a bit of a lone wolf, but with the rest of your security team, their silent camaraderie allows them to carry out missions in the dark and protect you whilst lurking in the shadows.

it was by pure coincidence that you guys found THOMA. the handsome gentleman who’s always been helping out the villagers has always greeted you with a smile and offered to eat chicken skewers whenever you stopped by to visit and hence has been one of the things you looked forward to whenever you visited the village. whilst on a trip to the village with ayato, he took one look at the blonde man and with a coy smile greeted him like they were old friends. which they probably were, because ever since that day THOMA has been a part of your hybrid family as your resident dogboy.

THOMA seems to be able to do it all! the servants love him for his help around the house and his cheerful and easygoing personality. sometimes he’s cooking with the chefs, other times he’s scrubbing the tiles with the maids, or he’s trimming the garden with the gardeners. you often fret that maybe he’s pushing himself too hard, but he always laughs it off and assures you that he loves what he does. you don’t quite get the appeal, but he’ll distract your worries with a dessert that he’s whipped up just for you.

ayato doesn’t usually command him but whenever he does, THOMA is quick to follow. you don’t quite exactly know their past relationship, other than the fact that ayato was his superior, but THOMA says that ayato isn’t as bossy as he used to be. perhaps it’s because you’re the master of this house already. you don’t have to worry about making conflicting commands with ayato (because ayato would ensure that he’s lovingly brainwashed you enough to always agree with him), but if he ever does prioritize ayato’s commands, it’s only for your own good.

it puzzles you a lot, but THOMA seems to enjoy serving others, most especially you. he is happiest whenever he sees your delighted face at waking up to a platter of your favorite food for breakfast. he finds comfort in brushing your hair and weaving flowers in between the strands. whenever you’re sad, it is his utmost pleasure to poof into his dog form and curl up into your lap, letting you stroke his golden fur as you sob your feelings out. he wants nothing more than to treat you right, to be there by your side as you try to navigate the world and its complex intricacies.

he’s fiercely loyal to you and the hybrids, so much so that he’s blinded by it. he does not care about whether or not you have done something wrong; it will always be the outsiders who need to be eliminated. THOMA is a different person whenever he finds out that a subordinate of yours has betrayed you. he can’t even fathom it. who in their right mind would betray you? what is there about you to drag through the mud? THOMA only views it as a mere clean-up whenever he kills off one of the bastards. were it not for the blood that’s been carelessly splattered on his clothes, no one could even guess that your smiling gentleman had killed someone.

THOMA is a selfless and devout worshipper, and he gives everything that he is to you. should you proceed on inheriting your right, he will do everything in his power to spread your influence and good name. ayato usually calls on him whenever you need something special done, simply because of his vast network of connections. you’re a bit frightened when THOMA casually mentions an assassin he knows. he reassures you though, that this is all for your good! he says it so gently, as if he doesn’t have his fingers in multiple dangerous resources.

on a more domestic issue, THOMA has a guilty pleasure of seeing you sick. he knows it’s bad to wish harm upon someone as sweet and dear as you, but it fills him with such sick pleasure to be the one to look after your vulnerable state. he dotes on you a lot more, and if you weren’t so sick you could see the sweet obsession on his face as he wipes your sweat away. he thinks of asking one of the more science-y hybrids to slip a little something into your food now and then (he knows they’re more than willing to. hell, he knows they’ve already been doing that), but he thinks better of it. he loves you more when you’re smiling, sitting side by side with him without a care in the world.

RELATIONSHIPS: thoma is friends with everyone, even the villagers down below! if he’s not by your side, he’s at ayato’s, indulging him in his eccentric whimsies and often being the victim of his pranks. aether is often pestering him to rest, so when he’s not doing any chores, he’s often found taking a nap in the garden in his fluffy dog form.

you found BENNETT injured and alone outside of your house one day and you, already used to this song and dance, hurriedly ran with the bunny in your arms to the first aid kit. the poor thing had small nicks and scars all over its body, ash-gray fur matted with dried blood and mud. it took a lot of days for the bunny to recover enough to wake up, but when it did, it was already bounding with limitless energy and a sunny disposition. upon seeing you again, it bounded up to you, and with a poof!, BENNETT’s boyish grin greeted you in his hybrid form. “thanks for helping me out! i’m bennett, mind letting me stay here?”

how could you not say no to that charming smile? you found out that BENNETT had been abandoned by his previous owner after the unluckiness he had brought them— termites in their walls, couch eaten by moths, etc.— which seemed like a cruel joke because they had explicitly bought him for luck. you also realize that BENNETT finds some shame in his whole animal form, finding its scarred appearance ugly, and he often flattens his ears against his head to hide the cuts. he wishes that he could take a fully human form but alas, it seems that he’s still not skilled enough to reach that level.

BENNETT really tries his best but whatever he does seems to end up in failure. he doesn’t let this get him down though! he believes that eventually, he’ll run out of his unluck and be able to live a normal life. of course, this still spells trouble for everyone around him, so servants don’t usually ask him to do anything. he’s understanding of it, but it does make him a bit glum. thankfully, you’re here to cheer him up! making him run errands to the village shouldn’t trigger too much of his unluckiness… right?

he’s really touch starved, but he’s afraid to be near you let alone touch you. although he knows it's irrational, he can’t help but be paranoid that maybe just touching you is enough for his bad luck to rub off on you. you’ve already been kind enough to take in a mess like him, so he doesn’t want to make things worse by affecting you of all people. your sincerity and concern are enough to have him falling all over again for you, but when you catch him off guard and scratch his floppy ears, he melts into a contented puddle and into your touch.

BENNETT gets needier the more affection and touch you shower him with, but he tries his best to distance himself (though he fails). your kind eyes have been his only saving grace in a world where he was born to be sold and abandoned and the cycle repeated. you, who are so different from his sneering masters who saw him as nothing more than a pesky hybrid, have given him reason to power through all the pain he’s been feeling. whenever he does something successful, he gets all quiet and squirmy as he awaits your praise. when he doesn’t get it, he’s sent into a spiral of gloom and self-doubt.

should there be a dangerous mission that needs to be executed, the best candidate for the job is BENNETT who will do his utmost to make the job succeed no matter what. it doesn’t matter if his bad luck is getting in his way— he has to finish the job so he can make you happy. even though he’s wrapped up in bandages and suffering near-fatal injuries, he shoots you a thumbs-up and a happy grin as guilt settles in your heart. it’s painful, but what is a little pain compared to helping you succeed and rise to the top?

all of his motivations are spurred by the need to be acknowledged by you and to stay by your side. he’s already used up his luck in finding you, and he doesn’t want that to run out anytime soon. a deep fear encompasses his whole being; a fear that one day you might abandon him like the rest of them. but that won’t happen! because BENNETT sucks up whatever life throws his way, fatal or not, and continues to charge forward. if he makes himself useful, then surely you’ll still allow him to stay by your side, no?

RELATIONSHIPS: a hybrid on the younger side, he’s often playing with razor and the other youngins. since the hybrids all have their own unique dispositions, no one’s quite bothered by the disastrous aftereffects that his unluckiness brings. he’s often sparring with kaeya as he learns how to fight from him.

when GAMING first arrived, he gave everyone quite a fright. it was a peaceful day out, only for it to be ruined by one of the maids screaming. when you rushed out to see what was going on, you were greeted by a lion cub yawning on a big warm rock, unbothered by the stares directed at it. peeking one eye open, it finally saw the pairs of eyes on him until it met yours and with a grin (the maids shrieked again, mistaking it for bared fangs), he jumps from the rock and poofs into his hybrid form. a cute boy with twitching ears and sparkling eyes gazed up at you with an eager look on his face.

you all warmed up to the lion cub pretty quickly. GAMING was both cheerful and calm, and overall a pleasant boy to hang around with. you heard that he’s made fast friends with the villagers downhill and every time he comes back he always brings treats to share with everyone. to you, he personally sees to it that you eat the little treats he brings home. you think he likes to watch you eat, with how earnestly his eyes follow your hands’ every move and the excited wagging of his tail as he watches your expression. you try to feed him too, but he insists that you eat it because he bought it just for you.

he’s so charismatic and sincere that you find yourself blushing at the simplest of his actions. like when you walked into the hybrids taste testing the head chef’s newest treat, he quickly offered up a spoon for you to eat from. as he eagerly awaits you to eat from the spoon, you start blushing with how close GAMING is to your face and coupled with his earnest expression as well. the other hybrids drill into the back of his head with his deathly stare, so much so that the head chef decides to nope out of the situation and escape into the next room. he’s just a natural gentleman, you suppose, though it does attract some irked glances your way.

however, he’s not as composed when it’s your turn to shower him with affection. one time, you decided that it was nice enough weather to eat your teacakes outside. not one to pass up on snacks, GAMING quickly took you up on the offer to accompany you and your mind suddenly thought of taking revenge on him by teasing him with a teacake. it took a long time for him to realize, but when he finally processes the slowly closing gap between you and him, he makes a startled yelp and scrambles back. you sit back, amused at his steaming face and panicked eyes, before laughing at his expression and finally handing him the snack. your giggles continued to ring throught the garden as he very adorably pouted and whined you to not surprise him like that.

GAMING is very overprotective of you. understandably so, since you are the naive heir of a multmillionaire company squirreled away in the boonies who’s never experienced the real world. he has no problem killing off outsiders— he’s got no emotional attachment to them, so he slices through them quickly and easy like knife and butter. but he’s at a loss when you hurt yourself. it’s a given that you might get overexcited when you’re let out into the outside world, but sometimes that makes you a little bit reckless. his eyes widen and his breaths go uneven when he spots the bloody scrape on your knee, but he swallows it down and quickly tends to it like a good big brother. he scolds you lightly, but there is something… unsteady… underneath that brotherly smile.

the more you move up to the world, the more at odds he is with himself. he realizes more and more that it’s becoming nigh impossible for him to protect you. soon, the world’s eyes will be on you, and there will be no place for an insignificant beast like him to insert himself in. he argues with the other hybrids to stop this, to stop you, because sooner or later all this money and fame will kill you. others empathize with him, then others support your rise. GAMING grows more unstable as he watches you put yourself in more and more dangerous situations all for the sake of duty.

there are more powerful hybrids in this house, so GAMING can’t possibly act on his wishes, but he prays that he can just break that leg of yours or leave you incapacitated enough that you are unable to inherit your rights. it’s your father, isn’t it? shackling you down with a life you never asked for. he wishes that you’d never have to live a life so burdened by the decisions of your father, that you’d continue eating dimsum and cakes with him and the others like before. but all he can do is join the fight to protect you, the only thing he can do as a humble beast.

RELATIONSHIPS: gaming is often spotted enjoying snacks with chongyun and xingqiu or taking out the other security team members to a nice food stall in the village. because aether is a cat, he often asks him for tips on how to fight, believing that he could learn from a stronger feline. he is also often seen staring wide-eyed at zhongli and getting shy when the mythical dragon greets him.

LYNEY approaches you on one of your visits to your father’s building, with a charming smile on his face and endless magic tricks to entertain you with. you are quickly drawn in by his charisma, but when you’re held back by a frowning and apprehensive aether, you decide to behave yourself. aether is often never wrong in his assumptions about people, and perhaps there is more to the friendly boy than meets the eye. LYNEY, however, plays the pity card, slightly raising his hat and showing off the pair of twitching cat ears on his head. he puts it down and pleads his case— a hybrid on the runaway from his abusive owner. you gasp and aether falters, and after enough pleading with him, you’ve added another catboy to your collection of hybrids.

half of the house is torn about LYNEY. the more naive ones welcome him into the fray, eager to have another hybrid and harem member to play with. meanwhile, the wiser ones can sense that something is… off about him. none of them have definite proof to back up their suspicions, so none of them bother to tell you. if you’re perceptive, you can sense how on edge they are, but if you’re not then you’re also easily taken in by him as well. no one can deny that LYNEY treats you like you ought to be treated— delicate yet playful, serving you like you’re royalty and him the servant.

although LYNEY treats you like a friend, there are times when he feels immeasurably distant from you. you often catch sight of his darkened gaze directed at you, but when you ask him what’s wrong, he just shakes his head and forces a smile. you think that his eyes look at you with some sort of sadness, but you never push it. you ask the other hybrids if they know LYNEY well, and though they regale you with tales of his magic and friendliness, they never say anything more than that. you wish that he’d come to find his manor as his home… though when you bring this up to neuvillette, he just shakes his head and pats you. “some things just cannot be replaced,” he says, and you wonder if the magician had left something behind at his old place.

when he got this job, LYNEY thought that it would be an easy one. a spoiled rich kid with numerous hybrids at their every call… it sounded just like the slavers he abhorred so much. his apprehension was shattered when he met you in the building lobby, fiercely protected by aether like you were some sort of precious treasure. he recalled the way your eyes widened in compassion upon hearing his story and his conflicted feelings only grew stronger when he entered your home and was surprised at how… happy everyone was. all the hybrids he’d seen, including himself, were miserable. they could be lucky enough to not get an abusive owner, but that didn’t change that they were essentially slaves. here, however, everyone was free. the only thing that tethered them to this place is because they wanted to be with you.

ever since he’s stepped into this manor, it’s been lies upon lies upon lies. LYNEY never really lets himself get too close to the others, and he’s also well aware of the way the more guarded ones look at him. when it comes to you, however, he wishes that he didn’t have to wear such a facade. if it’s you… then maybe you’d accept him, madness and all. instead, he continues to feed you half-truths— his past abuse, his loneliness, the loss of his siblings— and delights in the affection he receives. he can’t get enough of your attention, even if it is directed towards a half-fiction version of him. but he curls up in your lap nevertheless, purring contentedly as you pet him and ease wallow in the bitterness of his life.

… he thought it’d be easy, but LYNEY thinks this is the hardest mission he’s been ever given. the knife is already pressed to your throat, so what’s stopping him from slitting it? his hands can’t budge, and guilt and desire only overwhelm him as he watches your sleeping face. you’ve given him more love than he deserves, and he can’t seem to get enough of it. you’re so gullible and naive, falling for his tricks and lies, feeding him information that could lead to your downfall… what could you possibly do when he leaks everything? right… that’s right… your entire life depends on him. that night, he curls up to your bed, pressing kisses to your cheek and whispering all the betrayals he’s done to you. he’s still torn about whether to continue lying or to bare his entire soul to you, but either way, you’ll still be the captivating thing he’s laid his eyes on.

RELATIONSHIPS: the moment freminet arrives, he’s ecstatic. aside from his usual magic shows and entertainment, he never sticks around the others for far too long. he’s only spending time with freminet and you, though he and aether have a quiet solidarity as cat hybrids.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere diluc #yandere thoma #yandere bennett #yandere gaming #yandere lyney #yester.writes #yester.au — hybrids 🐾

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radiance1 · 9 months ago

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Tim, officially, does not have a new caretaker.

Tim, unofficially, does have a new caretaker.

A large, large man with long flaming purple hair that was capable of touching the floor if it didn't move like fire with sharp glowing green eyes and a neutral, if a bit of a resting bitch face, expression on his face.

Comparatively, he was not dressed oddly. Nothing but a white compression shirt, grey sweatpants and a pair of black sandals. The only thing odd about it was the sword constantly strapped to his waist, though Tim ignored it when he saw the man using it to chop ingredients.

Fright, he called himself, and Tim never asked if it was his actual name or not. He was just glad someone came over as constantly as he does.

He doesn't know where the man goes at night, after making sure he's tucked into bed and asleep, but he never pried. Mostly because he wasn't supposed to know that, and he doesn't want Fright to catch onto the fact that he was constantly sneaking out at night either.

So they'll both keep their secrets.

===

Fright Knight was at a loss with himself.

His master, Pariah Dark, had been once again released from the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep and he wasted no time to return to his side. Even with his previous betrayl.

The events that followed were unexpected.

His master did not continue his eons long war with life. Though it had long since turned silent with his imprisonment, it was still brewing under the current of 'peace' that the Ghost Zone fell into.

Fright Knight knew that well.

So, what exactly was he supposed to do when his master returned to his time as naught but a humble farmer and started to rebuild the bridge he had long burnt with the Master of Time?

He felt... conflicted.

Of course, reconnecting with the Ghost of Time was a good thing, and he has been subject to witness just how much passion they had for each other during days long past.

But his master picking up a life that was not one honed through blood was always an odd thing for him to experience. Two peas in a pod, as some would say they were.

War and Fear.

Where War went, Fear followed. Rivers of flowing blood with storms of fear promised was something too tempting for him to resist.

Fear was a sword, and he was War's blade.

So it was not something easy for him to adjust to when War settled down into peace and sought prosperity instead of his namesake. Of course, he, as always, adjusted regardless of the situation and followed his master in his newest endeavor.

It was much harder to preserve a life, than it was to end it. They both came to realize. On his master's part, farming was something he pondered over and donned for a brief time eons ago, the new methods of today clashing wildly with what little he knew of the activity before War sung to him again. For Fright Knight, he had not a single nail's worth of experience in the act, never having had an interest like War did and as such, never learned.

It felt rather odd to use his blade to cut gifts from the land, but if he replaced them with images of enemies long since snuffed, it wasn't exactly hard.

He could not stay there for long; however, it was just too... different, from what he was used to. The Ghost King knew this and told him he was free to be left to his own devices so long as it did not affect the rules the Master of Time had set for them.

Or rather, War. But as Fear was in his service, he was not exactly exempt from said constraints, either.

So he wandered, keeping to his 'human' persona he was told to set for himself here. He was thankful that these beings called Meta's existed as no one gave him more than a second glance.

Though if that was more something to do with his height he did not know.

He came upon a city, one of shadows and filled with curses in numbers that even made him pause in slight bafflement. Lady Gotham, the city's spirit, brushed against him as soon as he stepped foot within her haunt, and it did not take long for them to reach and accord.

Fear was allowed to stay, so long as he did not do anything she did not permit. He was fine with said rules, after all, what was another constraint compared to those set by Time itself?

He had a favorable view of this city, just the ambient fear alone made it worth stepping inside. It was better than War's attempt at peace, though it was nothing due to the being itself he was just... used to being surrounded by fear.

Then he met a human child by the name of Timothy Drake. A meeting by chance and nothing else, but he did need something to do by Lady Gotham's suggestion.

So he became the boy's 'caretaker' though if he were a good one was something he could not comment on.

He did not need sleep, his new ward did, so when night fell, he always stepped out of the city to go back to his master and reappeared the next morning.

The thing about his new master's attempt at peace, was that he was quite willing to give away the gifts he received from the land. Which was helpful, considering he had no idea how to acquire money in this new age.

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callsigns-haze · 4 months ago

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His Shadow: Chp 7

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences

Azriel returned to work the following week, but the moment he stepped into the River House, the atmosphere shifted. The usual ease that surrounded him had been replaced with something colder, darker. His shadows clung closer to him than usual, swirling in restless patterns around his frame, a reflection of the tension simmering beneath the surface. He was always a quiet presence, but today, there was a weight to his silence that everyone in the room could feel.

He didn’t greet anyone as he entered the main hall where the Inner Circle was gathered. Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor were deep in conversation, their laughter dying down when they noticed him. Feyre, seated by the window with a book in her lap, looked up from her reading, her brows knitting together in concern as she sensed the shift in his energy.

Azriel’s golden-brown eyes scanned the room, taking in each of their faces, but he said nothing. His usual mask of calm and control was firmly in place, but there was a hardness in his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders that betrayed the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Rhys was the first to speak, his voice casual but laced with a hint of wariness, as if he sensed the storm brewing beneath Azriel’s controlled exterior.

“Azriel, you’re back. Everything alright?”

Azriel’s gaze flickered to Rhys for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth that usually colored his interactions with his High Lord and brother. He didn’t bother with pleasantries or explanations. He crossed the room with a purposeful stride, heading toward the large oak table where papers and maps of the Illyrian war camps were spread out. His movements were precise, methodical, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a quick glance. Cassian, always the one to break the silence, leaned back in his chair, trying for a lighthearted approach. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, brother. Rough week off?”

Azriel didn’t answer immediately. He focused on the map in front of him, his hands moving with practiced ease as he made a small adjustment to one of the marked positions. The silence stretched for a moment too long, thick with unspoken words. His shadows, usually so controlled, twined more erratically around his hands, curling like smoke over the parchment.

“It was fine,” Azriel finally replied, his tone clipped, as if that would be the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Everyone could feel it—an undercurrent of anger, or perhaps frustration, that Azriel was working hard to bury. It wasn’t like him to let emotions get the better of him, but something had shifted in him during his time away. He was always a fortress, a man of shadows and secrets, but today, that fortress seemed more impenetrable than ever.

Feyre closed her book, her voice soft but cautious. “Azriel… if something’s wrong—”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he cut her off, his voice sharper than he intended. His eyes flashed as he glanced at her, realizing too late that his irritation had slipped through the cracks in his carefully constructed mask. He let out a slow breath, forcing the tension in his body to ease, at least outwardly.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, not pressing further, but his gaze lingered on Azriel, studying him. They had known each other for centuries—there was little that could be hidden between them. Rhys knew something was off, even if Azriel wouldn’t admit it. But pushing wouldn’t help. Not yet.

Cassian, sensing the shift, tried again. “You sure? You’re wound tighter than a drum, brother.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. He knew Cassian was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working. Everything in him screamed to confront them—to demand answers about the spying on YN, about their constant presence in Hewn City. But he didn’t. Confrontation would only bring their secret crashing down, and he couldn’t afford that.

So instead, he stayed silent, letting the tension coil inside him like a tightly wound spring. He continued to scan the maps and documents in front of him, forcing his mind to focus on the task at hand, but it was a losing battle. His thoughts kept drifting back to YN, to Knox, to the spying, to the way Rhys and Cassian had been watching her at the pleasure house.

The room grew quieter, the air thick with the tension everyone was pretending wasn’t there. Even Mor, usually so full of energy and warmth, seemed unsure of how to break the ice.

Rhys sighed, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Azriel, if you need more time—”

“I don’t,” Azriel interrupted, his tone final. “I’m here. Let’s get to work.”

His words left no room for further questions, and though Rhys and Cassian exchanged another glance, they respected his silence—for now.

But as Azriel moved through the motions of the day, reading reports, discussing strategies, and mapping out potential missions, the weight of the unspoken truths lingered. The anger, the frustration, the protectiveness he felt for YN and Knox—it all simmered beneath the surface, ready to erupt.

No one said anything, but they all felt it. Azriel’s anger wasn’t directed at them—not exactly. It was the situation, the impossibility of keeping his family safe while maintaining the secrecy he had so carefully built. The Inner Circle didn’t know it, but they were walking on thin ice, and Azriel was holding himself back from shattering it.

That evening, the tension from earlier still lingered in the air, but Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel decided to return to the pleasure house in Hewn City. It had become an oddly routine visit for them since Azriel first suggested the place weeks ago, and tonight, though there was a storm brewing inside him, Azriel forced himself to follow along. It was better than sitting alone, brooding on things he couldn’t yet fix.

They landed just outside the dark, glittering entrance of the pleasure house. The usual lights flickered along the ornate arches, and the murmur of voices inside could be heard, thick with a mix of laughter and quiet conversation. Rhys opened the door with a casual ease, and they were greeted by the familiar scent of perfume and the low thrum of music in the background.

The three of them settled into their usual booth, a secluded corner where they could have privacy despite the bustling atmosphere around them. Cassian ordered drinks, and they fell into conversation about the war camps, the strategies they had discussed earlier in the day. But even as the others talked, Azriel’s mind was somewhere else.

The entire time, his eyes kept drifting toward the entrance to the back room, where YN usually worked. He hadn’t seen her yet, and something about it unsettled him. She was supposed to be here—she had mentioned her shift this morning, hadn’t she?

Finally, after some time had passed and YN still hadn’t made an appearance, Azriel couldn’t ignore the growing unease gnawing at him. His shadows stirred, as if sensing his concern, whispering around him in silent confusion. He caught the eye of one of the waiters walking by their booth, gesturing for him to come over.

“Where’s YN?” Azriel asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge of urgency he couldn’t quite hide. “She was supposed to be working tonight.”

The waiter, a tall, thin male with pale skin and sharp features, blinked at him in surprise. “YN? She didn’t come in tonight,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with uncertainty. “I’m not sure why. There’s been no word from her, and… well, without her, the pleasure section of the house isn’t being properly run.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed at the response, his stomach sinking slightly. “She didn’t show up at all?”

“No,” the waiter confirmed, glancing nervously between the three powerful males in the booth. “It’s been chaotic. She’s the one who manages the more… intimate services here, and without her presence, things are a bit—disorganized.”

Azriel’s mind raced. YN was meticulous about her work—she never missed a shift, especially not without warning. She hadn’t mentioned any change in her plans that morning when they spoke. If anything, she had seemed resigned to going to work, despite how much he hated her returning so soon after Knox’s birth.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, dismissing the waiter. His shadows curled tighter around him, reacting to his growing confusion.

Azriel’s shadows clung to him tighter, a swirling mass of anxiety as they walked through the dark streets of Velaris. He kept his pace quick, but not quick enough to draw more suspicion from Cassian and Rhys, who followed behind him. Every step felt like a weight in his chest, his mind consumed with thoughts of YN and why she hadn’t shown up to work.

“Where exactly are we going?” Cassian asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity. His wings flared slightly, catching the cool night air.

“To check on something,” Azriel muttered, not breaking his stride. He didn’t want to tell them more. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Rhys’s gaze was sharp as ever, watching Azriel closely. “You’re worried about her,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

Azriel’s jaw clenched. He could feel the weight of Rhys’s violet eyes on him, probing, trying to read deeper into his actions. His shadows rippled with unease, but he didn’t slow down. “She didn’t show up for work. It’s unlike her,” he replied, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Cassian glanced over at Rhys with a raised brow. “You’re this worked up over someone skipping a shift?”

“She’s reliable,” Azriel said, his voice sharper than intended. “Something’s off.”

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance, their curiosity piqued, but neither of them pushed harder for details. They continued walking in silence, though Azriel could feel their unspoken questions hanging in the air. It was unlike him to be this open with his concern, especially about someone they didn’t know. It wouldn’t be long before they pressed him for more information, but for now, they followed.

Azriel’s shadows stretched out ahead of him, sensing the path to the apartment. His heart was pounding, every instinct telling him to fly ahead, to get there faster, but he couldn’t afford to tip them off. Not when everything felt so fragile.

Rhys broke the silence, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “So, who is she to you, Az?”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his shadows tightening around him protectively. He wasn’t ready to answer that question. Not now. “Just someone I work with,” he replied coolly, though even he knew how weak the excuse sounded.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “You’re acting like she’s more than that.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his steps quickening as they neared the apartment. His mind was racing, and he could feel the tension coiling tighter in his chest. He needed to get to YN. He needed to make sure she was alright.

When they finally reached the street, Azriel stopped, turning to face Cassian and Rhys. The apartment was just ahead, and he wasn’t ready for them to know—wasn’t ready for them to see.

“I’ll handle this from here,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rhys tilted his head, his expression unreadable, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

Azriel held his gaze, not flinching. “I’m sure.”

Cassian looked ready to argue, but Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to stand down. “Alright,” Rhys finally said, though his eyes lingered on Azriel for a moment longer. “We’ll wait here.”

Azriel gave them a curt nod, though his heart was still racing. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him as he turned, heading toward the apartment alone. His shadows swirled around him, and though he kept his face impassive, inside, the panic was clawing at him.

He had to get to YN. He had to know she was safe.

---

YN’s heart pounded in her chest as she heard the angry voices just outside the door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone—certainly not the five men she could now see through the small peephole, all armed with knives and swords. Their menacing glares sent a wave of fear crashing over her, but she pushed it down, her instincts taking over.

Knox.

Her thoughts flew to her son. She moved quickly, grabbing the tiny three-week-old from his crib and rushing to the closet. Inside, there was a basket filled with blankets—Azriel had used it before to hide things in plain sight. She carefully placed Knox in it, her heart clenching as he made a small sound. "Shh, sweet boy," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "Stay quiet for Mama."

Once she pushed the basket to the back, she grabbed a clothes hook and quietly wrapped it around the closet door, securing it as best as she could. She prayed it would be enough to buy them time. She wasn’t sure how much time they had, but she had to defend her son, herself—everything she had left.

Her fingers brushed against the cool steel of one of Azriel’s knives. He always made sure she had at least one hidden in the apartment, just in case. She gripped it tightly, her palms sweating, but there was no room for hesitation now. Her other hand went for the large pan in the kitchen—a ridiculous weapon, but Azriel had taught her that defense meant distraction first, striking with the most unexpected object.

Her shadows stirred around her, curling and writhing in anticipation, feeding off her fear and anger. It was their little secret, the shadows. No one knew she had them. Not even Azriel. She had kept them hidden, a part of herself she never let surface, but now—now she needed them.

The door slammed open with a thunderous crash. The men charged in, their faces twisted in fury. YN's heart raced, but she didn’t freeze. She acted.

The first man lunged toward her, knife raised high, but YN swung the pan with all her strength. The clang of metal on metal rang out as the pan hit the knife from his hand. He stumbled back, shocked, giving her enough time to drive Azriel’s knife into his side. He let out a pained grunt, eyes wide, before collapsing.

The second man charged her with a sword, but YN’s shadows snapped to life, dark tendrils wrapping around his legs, tripping him just enough for her to slam the pan against his head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Her shadows retreated, swirling back into her, but they were weak—too weak to keep fighting like this.

Two down.

Her chest heaved as she turned to face the rest. These men were stronger, larger, and they weren’t going to fall for her tricks so easily. The third man, faster than the others, dodged her swing and grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully until she dropped the knife. She tried to use her shadows again, tried to summon them with more force, but they sputtered, flickering weakly as the man backhanded her across the face.

She stumbled, her vision going black for a moment as pain exploded across her cheek. She tasted blood, but she couldn’t stop. Knox. She had to protect Knox.

The fourth man kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her crashing to the floor. She gasped, the wind knocked out of her, but her mind screamed at her to get up. She clawed at the floor, trying to reach for something—anything—but the fifth man grabbed her by the throat.

Cold, rough hands squeezed around her neck, and YN’s world spun as she was lifted off the ground and slammed back down. Her head hit the floor, dazing her, but the worst part was the grip around her throat tightening, cutting off her air. She gasped, her fingers clawing at his hands, desperate for breath. Her shadows flickered again, weak and useless. She couldn’t focus—couldn’t control them in this state.

Her vision blurred as the man leaned over her, sneering. "Stupid girl," he hissed, his grip tightening as black spots danced in her vision. The world was slipping away, her strength failing as she gasped desperately for air.

But even as the darkness closed in, YN’s thoughts were with Knox. She could hear him, small and quiet, rustling in the closet. He needed her.

---

Azriel’s heart raced as he neared the apartment, the shadows around him twitching with anxiety. He had been about to open the door when he heard the sounds of a violent struggle from inside—a cacophony of grunts, crashes, and muffled cries. His pulse hammered in his ears. It was YN. He knew it instantly.

“Rhys! Cassian!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the empty street. His urgency was raw, fear clawing at his insides. They had been waiting outside, but now, he needed them.

Rhys and Cassian came running, their faces taut with concern. “What’s happening?” Rhys asked, but before Azriel could answer, the three of them burst through the door.

The sight that met them was horrifying. YN was on the floor, her face twisted in pain, her hands clawing desperately at the man strangling her. The other men were scattered, injured but not out. Azriel’s rage surged as he took in the scene.

Without a second thought, Azriel dove into the fray. His shadows lashed out, extending like living whips to entangle the nearest attacker. The man staggered, his weapon slipping from his grasp as Azriel’s shadows tightened around him, pulling him away from YN.

Cassian was quick to join, his wings flaring as he threw himself at one of the attackers with a roar. His movements were a blur of strength and precision, and the man he targeted barely had time to react before Cassian’s fists and kicks overwhelmed him. The man went down hard, crumpling to the floor.

Rhys, meanwhile, moved with a grace and lethality that left no room for hesitation. He focused on the fourth attacker, his eyes sharp as he dodged a blade aimed at him. With a swift flick of his wrist, Rhys disarmed the man and delivered a decisive blow that sent him sprawling.

But the fifth man—still holding YN—was the greatest threat. Azriel’s vision narrowed as he saw YN’s struggling form beneath him. Anger surged through him, fueling his movements. He lunged at the man, tackling him with all the force of his shadowed power.

The man grunted in surprise, losing his grip on YN momentarily. Azriel seized the opportunity, tearing the man’s hands away from YN’s throat with a savage strength. The man twisted and fought back, but Azriel’s rage was like a force of nature. He threw the man against the wall, sending him crashing down, but he didn’t stop there.

Cassian and Rhys were already on the remaining attackers, their movements synchronized and brutal. Cassian had managed to pin one man to the ground, delivering a series of calculated blows, while Rhys’s elegant strikes were precise, disarming and incapacitating with deadly efficiency.

Azriel stayed by YN’s side, his heart pounding as he gently held her hand. Rhys moved efficiently around the room, assisting with the attackers and making sure the area was secure. The tension in the room was palpable as Azriel’s gaze remained fixed on YN, willing her to wake.

Minutes felt like hours as he waited, but finally, YN’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was unfocused, but she managed to lift her trembling hand, pointing weakly towards the closet. Her lips moved, though no words came out. Azriel’s breath hitched as he followed her gaze, his eyes locking onto the closet where Knox had been hidden.

“YN, where’s Knox?” Azriel asked, his voice tight with worry. But her eyes were focused on the closet, her small, desperate gesture the only direction he had.

He turned to the closet, his fingers shaking as he fumbled with the clothes hook she had used to secure it. It was a clever move, one he had to admit, and the hook was proving to be stubborn. Azriel’s frustration grew, but he fought to stay calm. His heart ached with every second that ticked by.

Rhys knelt beside YN, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “Azriel, be careful. If she moves around too much, she could cause herself serious injury,” Rhys said firmly, his hand gently pressing YN back down to the floor. “We need to keep her as still as possible until we can get a healer here.”

Azriel nodded, focusing intently on the hook. After a few tense moments, he managed to pry it free and pull open the closet door. The sight that greeted him—a small, terrified baby wrapped in blankets—was both a relief and a fresh wave of anxiety.

With trembling hands, Azriel reached into the closet and carefully lifted Knox out of the basket. The baby’s tiny face was scrunched up in a frown, but Azriel’s soothing presence seemed to calm him. He cradled Knox close, his voice a soft murmur as he whispered, “Shhh, Daddy’s here.”

Knox made a small, inquisitive sound but settled against his father’s chest, finding comfort in the warmth. Azriel’s heart ached with relief and love as he held his son. He glanced back at YN, who was watching him with exhausted but relieved eyes.

Cassian, who had just finished dealing with the remaining attackers, joined them. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Azriel holding Knox, the tiny baby resting peacefully in his arms. Rhys stood nearby, his expression a mix of awe and concern.

“Azriel, I didn’t know…” Cassian began, but the words trailed off as he looked between YN, Azriel, and the baby.

Rhys placed a reassuring hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “We need to get YN to a healer now,” he said, his voice steady but urgent. “And make sure Knox is taken care of. Azriel, can you manage?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at Knox. “I’ll make sure they’re both okay,” he said, his voice firm despite the turmoil he felt inside.

With Knox safely in his arms and YN being carefully tended to, the reality of the situation began to settle in. Azriel knew there would be many questions and difficult conversations to come, but for now, his focus was on ensuring the safety and well-being of his family.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

What worse can happen now huh? Hehe......right?

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagine #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #az

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heli-writes · 11 months ago

Text

A dragon's heart, part 3.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Katsuki always gets up early. There's something about it that makes him feel calm. The fresh morning air, the silence of the forest. His dragon and y/n are still sound asleep when he gets up and goes to the river to get some water. Upon his return, his dragon yawns loudly and watches him with a lazy eye. Y/n is still knocked out and Katsuki wonders if anything can wake up that woman. He heats some of the water in a pot and throws some herbs in it that he collected along the way. When the water is cooking and y/n still isn't up, Katsuki stomps over to her and harshly kicks her feet.

"Oi! Get up!", he yells and y/n jerks up. Her hair hangs over her face and Katsuki's sure there's some drool on her chin. "If you keep lazying around, I don't know why I am keeping you around!", Katsuki barks at her and y/n ducks her head away a little bit. He swirls around and stomps back to the tea he is brewing. Y/n rubs her eyes and looks at him disorientedly. She turns over to see the dragon who has raised its head at Katsuki's loud voice. She peels Katsuki's cape away from her and shivers at the cool air.

After getting up, she walks over to Katsuki sitting by the fire. She hands back his cape with a quiet 'thank you'. Katsuki gives her a mean side-eye and hands her a cup of tea. It's piping hot and y/n burns her tongue when she tries it. She almost chokes at the sensation and Katsuki snickers.

Y/n sees how he has a grin on his face. Involuntarily she has to laugh too. "You ass!", she giggles and pushes him a bit. Katsuki doesn't move an inch at her shove but he bursts an even bigger grin. Then, he grabs her head and puts her in a chokehold rubbing his fist over her hairline. "Hey, that's mean!", y/n whines and tries to get out of Katsuki's grip. Eventually, Katsuki lets go of her and y/n fixes her hair. There's a slight blush on her cheeks. She's not sure whether it's because she struggled against him or because Katsuki is so close to her right now.

Katsuki has a cheeky grin on his face when he hands y/n her tea back. Y/n eyes him suspiciously and takes another sip. It's more cool now. He must've put some cold water in it to make it more drinkable for her.

When they're done with their tea, Katsuki starts gathering his hunting gear again. "Are you leaving again?", y/n asks him. She walks closer to him. "Do you want me to stay?", she wants to know. Katsuki looks up from what he's been doing. Y/n points at herself. "What about me?", she repeats again and points towards her. Katsuki grunts. "You", he tells her while pointing at her. "Stay here!", he continues pointing to the ground.

Y/n crooks her head. "I guess that means I should stay.", she contemplates and then gives him a short nod. Katsuki nods back at her, content that she understood what he meant. "He stays with you, so you don't go running off again.", he adds pointing towards his dragon. Y/n looks at the dragon, then back at Katsuki. The question mark on her face is very visible.

When Katsuki disappears into the woods, y/n assumes he needs to go pee before flying off with his dragon. However, he doesn't come back. And y/n is left alone with the giant dragon looming over her. Actually, that's not true. The dragon continues to lay lazily at the edge of the clearing watching her with one eye. Y/n feels a bit lost. She's not sure what to do, so she tidies up a bit around the campsite. She checks the vegetables and herbs she collected yesterday. She brews some more tea. When she's done, she takes a bowl of it over to the dragon.

"Uhm, do you want some?", she asks the dragon. The dragon opens both eyes and then opens his gigantic snout. Y/n is taken aback a little bit by its sharp teeth but then pours the content into the dragon's mouth. The dragon lets out a content grumble. Y/n has to giggle. It seems like dragons also enjoy tea. The dragon nudges y/n with its nose and y/n falls back by the force. Y/n has to smile. "Maybe dragons aren't as scary as I thought they were.", she thinks to herself.

*~*~*

Katsuki lets out a frustrated groan and rams his fist into the nearby tree. "This fucking deer is a lot faster than I thought.", he thinks to himself. He thought he could catch up to them by foot but so far he wasn't able to get close to the flock. Eventually, he figures he won't catch up to them. Actually, he could but leaving y/n alone with his dragon for too long doesn't strike him as a good idea. Thus, eventually, he turns around even though it's still quite early.

He's tired when he returns to camp. Also, he's starving. This time, he didn't catch a bunny or anything else on his way back. He found himself worrying over that stupid woman and hurried back without stopping. When he stomps onto the clearing, the smell of something hearty and spicy fills the air.

Y/n is standing in front of the fireplace and stirs in a pot. She looks over her shoulder when she hears the rustling of leaves behind her. When she spots Katsuki, she turns around and gives him a sweet smile. "Welcome back!", she tells him. Katsuki's heart skips a beat and he looks at her with a grim expression for a second. Then, he snaps out of it and angrily points at her.

"What are you doin'? What did I tell you about lighting fires?", he yells. Before being able to continue his ramble, his dragon moves his head over to him and blows some hot steam into Katsuki's face. At that, Katsuki at the dragon dumbly. Did his dragon... just defend her?

Katsuki is ripped out of his thoughts by y/n's laugh. Katsuki can't deny that it's a heartwarming sound. He scoffs. "Whatever", he mumbles to himself. Y/n walks over to him and takes his hand. She tells him something he doesn't understand and pulls him over to the fire.

Before he knows it, he is seated on the trunk and y/n hands him a bowl of stew. Y/n watches intently how Katsuki tries some of her cooking. "And? Do you like it?", she asks. Katsuki just scoffs and puts more stew in his mouth. "I guess he does", y/n thinks while taking a bowl for herself.

Katsuki doesn't eat two but three bowls of y/n's cooking. He would've preferred meat in the stew but he doesn't complain. He's actually content y/n is pulling her weight by doing something for the both of them. It doesn't go unnoticed by Katsuki that she tidied around camp, too.

After their meal, y/n and Katsuki tidy up the dishes in silence. They're working hand in hand as if they've done this already a hundred times. Afterwards, Katsuki packs away most of the stuff around camp and y/n wonders if that means he's leaving the clearing tomorrow.

Then, they sit by the fire. Y/n stares into the flames wondering what will become of her. She kind of doesn't want Katsuki to leave. Would he take her with him? Does she even want that?

Katsuki senses the woman's distress but is unsure what it's about or how he could help. Tomorrow, he would have to move camp if he wanted to catch up to that deer. He considers taking her along with him. Today, she didn't make any attempts to leave again. Maybe he could take her with him. So far, she's proven herself kind of useful and his dragon seems to like her. At least he hadn't tried to eat her while Katsuki was gone. Maybe y/n could find a place among his people. After all, every woman who becomes part of his tribe means one more chance for the next generation.

Katsuki gives her a side glance. The flickering of the fire reflects in y/n's eyes. Katsuki thinks she looks weak. Compared to the women in his tribe, she's small and there's not enough fat on her body. Living in the harsh mountains his tribe calls home, it will be hard for her to survive. Then again, she's not ugly Katsuki thinks. One of his men probably would take her on as his mate despite her obvious physical flaws.

Somehow, that thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and Katsuki shifts a bit. Y/n looks up and meets his gaze. She gives him a small smile. Then, carefully, she slides over and rests her head on his shoulder. Katsuki immediately stiffens but y/n doesn't seem to notice that. They sit in silence for a while and Katsuki doesn't dare to move a muscle. He would never admit it but he doesn't want to scare the woman away.

They stay until suddenly small drops of water hit their skin. "It's raining.", y/n says to herself. Katsuki pulls off his cape and puts it over y/n's head. He gets up and moves the bedroll towards the dragon. The rain is starting to pick up. The dragon lifts up its wing and Katsuki puts the bedroll safely under the wing. He gestures to y/n to move over and y/n rushes to get under the dragon's wing.

They sit on the bedroll together leaning against the dragon's tummy. Y/n listens to the drumming of the water on the dragon's skin. Along with the rain, came the cold. It creeps under the dragon's wing and y/n hurdles closer to the dragon and Katsuki in order to stay warm. Katsuki pulls the cape off of her and puts it over both of them. Y/n leans her head back onto his shoulder. Eventually, Katsuki moves his arm and puts it around her allowing y/n to huddle closer to him.

Y/n should probably be embarrassed to be this close to a man or at least ashamed since she's unmarried. However, these are standards the wandering folks don't submit to. While they get married for life, they are way relaxed when it comes to premarital things. In a way, y/n thinks, that marrying has a bigger meaning to them than to the rest of the kingdom. Her people getting married means they choose each other forever. They don't marry for wealth or politics or because their parents said so. Often, a couple stays unmarried until their first or even second child is born. Being out in the cold all the time, it happened quite often that women fell pregnant before marriage. However, there was little judgment among the group. They take the saying 'it takes a village to raise a child' quite seriously. It doesn't matter where a child comes from.

Thus, y/n feels no shame in huddling closer to Katsuki. She thinks his skin smells nice and that he is warmer than any other person she has cuddled up before. Katsuki however is a little embarrassed. Actually, it's been a while since he has been with a woman this close. For one, there aren't many women around and for second he's got more important stuff to do. His mother has plans to ensure their family's lineage thus Katsuki does not have to think about finding a mate, unlike most men in his tribe.

It's still early and both of them aren't tired enough to go to sleep. So for now, they just sit in silence listening to the rain and the raspy breath of the dragon. They're both lost in their own thoughts. About their people, the future and maybe also a little bit about each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

#mha #bnha #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #barbarian bakugou x y/n #barbarian bakugou x reader #barbarian bakugou imagine #fantasy au bakugou #mha fantasy au #bnha fantasy au #bakugou katuski x y/n

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boykisser4 · 5 months ago

Text

Humbled by Gojo's Heart

Warning: male reader, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative, blaming of cheating....

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Gojo manipulates the reader to marry him Gojo treats the reader like a prince, making him fall in love with him, but then one day as Gojo and reader were on a date...reader talks to another guy making Gojo jealous. So he brings him home punishing him for "cheating"

In the heart of a bustling metropolis, where steel and glass skyscrapers kissed the heavens, a young man named Gojo Satoru went about his day with an air of unshakable confidence. His eyes, the color of freshly poured whiskey, scanned the crowded street, his mind racing with thoughts and plans. A gentle smile played upon his lips, hinting at secrets he held close to his chest. Dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that whispered of wealth and power, he cut through the throng of people like a knife through warm butter. Gojo's presence was undeniable, a silent force that drew the gazes of passersby, though they couldn't quite place why.

Y/n, a male with a gentle disposition and a heart as vast as the ocean, had been swept off his feet by Gojo's charm. Their courtship had been a whirlwind of extravagant dates and passionate whispers under the moonlit sky. Every gesture, every touch, was a symphony of affection that resonated deep within the Y/n's soul. He felt like a prince in Gojo's arms, treated with a tenderness that bordered on worship. The days melded into a warm embrace, each moment a testament to the love that was growing between them.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, Gojo took Y/n to an exclusive rooftop restaurant. The ambiance was perfect: soft jazz played in the background, the scent of exotic flowers filled the air, and the city lights twinkled like a million stars at their feet. They talked, laughed, and shared stories as they sipped on their wine, the conversation flowing as freely as the river that carved through the heart of the city.

But as the night grew darker, an unexpected encounter unfolded. Y/n was approached by an acquaintance—a friendly exchange that seemed innocuous at first. Yet, as the conversation grew longer, Gojo's smile began to waver. His eyes narrowed, the warmth in them retreating like a tide receding from the shore. A storm was brewing beneath his calm exterior, a storm that would soon unleash its fury.

As Y/n turned back to Gojo, a sense of unease settled in his stomach. The handsome man's grip on his glass tightened, the veins in his hand standing out like rivers on a map. "You're flirting with him," Gojo said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You're mine." The accusation was a knife in the reader's heart, a stark contrast to the sweet nothings they had shared just moments ago.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "I wasn't—" he began, but Gojo's hand was already on his arm, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go," he said, his grip painfully firm. Y/n looked back at his friend, who had the decency to look apologetic, before allowing himself to be led away.

In the back of the sleek, black limousine, the tension was palpable. Gojo's jealousy had transformed into a raging inferno, consuming the love-soaked air around them. His fingers dug into the reader's flesh, a silent warning of the punishment to come. Y/n felt a cold shiver run down his spine, a prelude to the tempest that awaited him in their penthouse suite.

Upon arriving home, Gojo didn't bother with pleasantries. He pushed the Y/n against the wall, his body a wall of rage and possession. "You're mine," he repeated, his breath hot and heavy. "You don't talk to other men like that." His words were laced with a dangerous edge, a promise of consequences that left the reader trembling.

With a swiftness that belied his size, Gojo grabbed Y/n's wrists, pinning them above his head. His eyes searched the reader's, looking for any signs of resistance or defiance. Finding none, he leaned in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Y/n's neck. A bite, not quite hard enough to break the surface, served as a stark reminder of who was in control.

Y/n's heart raced as Gojo's free hand roamed over his body, pulling at his clothes as if they were mere obstacles in his quest for dominance. He didn't ask for permission, didn't bother with sweet nothings or gentle caresses. This was a claiming, a brutal display of ownership that left Y/n gasping for air.

In the harsh light of their apartment, Y/n could see the raw desire in Gojo's eyes, a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He knew that tonight, Gojo would take him without mercy, a punishment for his perceived infidelity. Y/n's mind swam with a mix of fear and arousal, the line between love and obsession blurring before his very eyes.

As Gojo's fingers unbuckled his belt, Y/n felt a jolt of panic. "Wait," he whispered, but Gojo ignored him, his movements driven by a primal need to assert his dominance. He yanked Y/n's pants down, exposing his trembling form to the cool air. Y/n's eyes searched Gojo's, desperately seeking understanding, but found only a fiery determination that sent shivers down his spine.

With a rough hand, Gojo turned the reader around, pushing him face-first into the plush leather couch. The scent of their combined arousal filled the room, a potent cocktail of desire and fear. He stepped closer, his breath hot against the reader's ear. "You're mine," he growled, "and I won't let anyone else have you." Y/n could feel Gojo's hardness pressing against him, a silent declaration of war on his innocence.

Without warning, Gojo's hand connected with the reader's bare skin, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

Y/n yelped, the sting of the slap burning like fire. He could feel the warmth spreading, his cheeks reddening with the force of Gojo's hand. His eyes watered, and his body trembled, but he didn't dare move. Gojo's breath was ragged, his chest heaving with the effort to contain his fury. "You will not disrespect me," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You will not look at other men."

Y/n's body was a canvas of emotions—fear, anger, and a perverse thrill that made his stomach clench. He knew this was wrong, knew that Gojo had crossed a line, but he couldn't find the strength to fight back. Instead, he whispered, "I'm sorry," his voice shaking.

The apology seemed to satisfy Gojo, if only for a moment. He leaned in closer, his whispers a mix of dominance and possession. "You will learn your place," he said, his hand moving to Y/n's waist. He yanked the reader's underwear down, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. "You will learn to obey me."

The sound of fabric tearing filled the room as Gojo ripped his own pants open. Y/n felt the tip of Gojo's erection pressing against his entrance, the heat of it a stark contrast to the cold fear that had taken root inside him. He gritted his teeth, bracing for the pain he knew was coming.

With one swift movement, Gojo pushed into him, the force making Y/n's knees buckle. He bit back a scream, his nails digging into the leather couch. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot brand searing through his body. He could feel Gojo's size, the way he filled him completely, leaving no room for anything else.

Gojo didn't give him time to adjust, didn't bother with pretense. He fucked Y/n hard and fast, his hips slamming into the reader's ass with a brutal rhythm that mirrored the pounding of his heart. The couch squeaked in protest, a cacophony of sounds that seemed to echo the tumult in Y/n's soul.

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking out from the corners. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and pain, but his body responded despite his fear. He could feel his own arousal growing, his body betraying him in the most primal way. The pleasure mixed with the pain, creating a toxic cocktail that had him moaning into the cushions.

Gojo's grip on his hips tightened, his breath hot against Y/n's neck. "You're mine," he repeated, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. "You will always be mine."

Y/n could only nod, his voice lost to the sobs that tore from his throat. He didn't know if he could ever love Gojo again after this, didn't know if he could ever trust him. But as Gojo reached around to stroke his cock, he found himself responding, his body arching back to meet each thrust.

The climax was explosive, tearing through him like a tornado. Gojo's roar of release filled his ears, the warmth of his semen a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled in his heart.

As Gojo pulled out, Y/n slumped against the couch, his body aching. He could feel the stickiness between his legs, a stark reminder of what had just transpired.

The silence that followed was deafening, a testament to the shattered trust that lay scattered around them like broken glass. Gojo didn't bother to clean him up, didn't offer a gentle touch or a soft word. He simply zipped up his pants and walked away, leaving Y/n to deal with the aftermath alone.

Y/n pulled up his underwear and pants, his body feeling foreign and violated. He knew he had to get out, had to find a way to escape the clutches of Gojo's obsessive love before it consumed him completely. But for now, he was trapped—trapped in a prison of his own making, with no clear path to freedom in sight.

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th3mrskory · 22 days ago

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Chapter 2: A New Begining

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

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Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan

Warning: none. Just a slow burn (I promise it will be worth)

Word count: 7.6k

The first night in the cottage passed in a haze. She didn’t unpack much—just a quilt and a pillow to make the lumpy couch tolerable. Exhaustion clung to her, but sleep came in fits and starts. Every creak of the old house startled her awake, and the unfamiliar quiet wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. There were no city sounds to fill the space, no neighbors talking through paper-thin walls. Just her and the whispers of the forest beyond the cracked windows.

When morning came, it brought light that crept hesitantly through the dirt-streaked glass, casting long shadows across the floorboards. She sat up slowly, her body stiff from the couch, and stared at the room around her.

It was a mess. Dust coated every surface, cobwebs clung stubbornly to the corners, and the air smelled faintly of mildew. But this was her mess, and for the first time, that didn’t feel so bad.

The first thing she did was clean. There was no ceremony to it, no grand plan—just an overwhelming need to make this space livable. Scrubbing the windows became her first priority. The grime that clouded the glass blurred her view of the outside world, and with every stroke of the cloth, the light grew brighter, sharper. It felt like wiping away the fog that had settled over her life.

Next came the floors, their creaks and groans a constant reminder of the cottage’s age. She swept and scrubbed until her arms ached, until the scent of lavender soap replaced the stale air that had lingered when she first arrived. The work was hard, and every movement sent protests through muscles she hadn’t used in months, but it grounded her. Each small accomplishment—the gleam of the newly cleaned kitchen counters, the way the sunlight finally warmed the floorboards—felt like a step forward.

As the day stretched on, her thoughts wandered to the life she had left behind. The ache of betrayal still lingered, but here, in this little cottage tucked away from everything, it didn’t seem quite so sharp. The solitude wasn’t something to fear. It was space. Room to breathe.

By the time the sun began to set, she was covered in sweat and dust, her body demanding rest. She sank onto the couch again, this time with a mug of tea she had brewed on the cottage’s ancient stovetop. The sound of the river beyond the woods whispered faintly through the open window, a soothing backdrop to the crackling of the fire she had started in the hearth.

The cottage was still far from perfect. There was so much left to do—repairs she didn’t know how to make, corners she hadn’t yet touched. But as she sat there, wrapped in her quilt, staring into the flickering flames, she felt something she hadn’t in weeks: peace.

This house wasn’t a clean slate, not yet. It was a work in progress. And maybe, just maybe, so was she.

Sunday arrived with the chime of the church bell echoing through the quiet streets of Clearwater. It wasn’t the kind of morning she would’ve imagined for herself a few weeks ago—no hurried rush to get ready, no busy streets filled with strangers. Here, the world seemed to move slower, and for once, she didn’t mind.

She had planned to keep to herself, but the church bulletin board was how she’d found the cottage, and Pastor Edwards had been kind enough to help her settle in. Attending Sunday service felt like the least she could do.

The little white church stood proudly at the center of town, its steeple rising against the pale blue sky. Inside, the wooden pews were worn but polished, and the air smelled faintly of aged hymnals and lavender sachets tucked into the corners. She slipped into a seat near the back, hoping to remain unnoticed, but her presence didn’t go unnoticed for long.

After the service, Pastor Edwards approached her with a warm smile. “Good to see you here, Evelyn. How’s the cottage treating you so far?”

She returned his smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s... a work in progress. I’ve got the cleaning under control, but there are a few things I’m going to need help with. The porch, the plumbing…” She trailed off, feeling a little self-conscious about airing her problems.

The pastor nodded knowingly. “It’s an old place. Built to last, but it’s seen its fair share of years. I’ll ask around for you. See if anyone’s willing to lend a hand.”

A group of townsfolk lingered by the doors, chatting and casting curious glances her way. Pastor Edwards noticed and gestured toward them. “Why don’t I introduce you? Best way to feel at home here is to get to know the people.”

Before she could protest, he led her over, his booming voice breaking through their chatter. “Everyone, this is Evelyn. She just moved into the old cottage by the river.”

The townsfolk greeted her warmly, their curiosity softened by genuine kindness. She exchanged pleasantries, learned a few names, and politely answered their questions about where she came from and why she’d chosen Clearwater.

“You’ll love it here,” one older woman assured her. “Quiet, peaceful, and we’re a helpful bunch when you need us.”

“Actually,” Evelyn said hesitantly, glancing back at Pastor Edwards. “I could use a bit of help. The cottage needs some repairs—the kind of work I can’t do myself. Do you know of any handymen in town?”

The pastor’s expression shifted slightly, his smile turning a touch more cautious. “There’s Logan,” he said after a moment. “He works with the logging company, but he’s good with tools. Knows his way around repairs.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, relief washing over her. “Do you think he’d be willing to help?”

Pastor Edwards hesitated. “He’s not... much of a people person,” he admitted carefully. “Keeps to himself, mostly. But if anyone can convince him, it’d be me. I’ll ask him next time I see him.”

She nodded, grateful for his kindness but curious about the man the pastor spoke of. A handyman who wasn’t good with people? It was an odd description, but for now, it was enough. She’d take whatever help she could get.

The drive back from church was quiet, the kind of silence that was more a companion than an intruder. The dirt road curved through the woods, the sunlight filtering through the branches in fleeting patterns that played across the windshield. It was peaceful, but her thoughts weren’t.

The brief conversation with Pastor Edwards lingered in her mind. “He’s not... much of a people person,” the pastor had said. It was a strange way to describe someone. Most people were either kind or curt, polite or brusque. Logan, apparently, was none of those things—or maybe all of them at once.

She was so lost in thought that the sudden jolt of her truck made her gasp. The vehicle lurched, its engine coughing out a metallic groan before it stuttered and died. She gripped the wheel tightly, guiding it to the side of the road as it rolled to a stubborn halt.

“No, no, no.”Climbing out, she inspected the vehicle with a growing sense of frustration.With a resigned sigh, she sitted on the dirt road.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the road, and the forest seemed to close in around her.

The sound of an approaching engine broke the stillness, a low rumble growing louder as a pickup truck rounded the bend. She glanced up, squinting against the glare of the headlights as the vehicle slowed to a stop just behind hers.

The man who stepped out moved with a quiet confidence, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached. Broad shoulders filled out a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms streaked with sawdust. His face was sharp, framed by dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, and his eyes—sharp and unreadable—held hers for just a moment longer than she expected.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice rough, carrying an edge of concern that didn’t quite match his guarded demeanor.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Just a little setback.”

“Looks like more than a little setback.”

She bit back a retort, her pride bristling under the weight of his assessment. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Right,” he said dryly, crouching down to inspect the damage anyway. His movements were deliberate, his hands steady as he examined the undercarriage. After a moment, he straightened, brushing his palms against his jeans. “Your axle’s shot. You’re not driving this anywhere.”

Her shoulders sagged, the weight of the day settling heavier on her. “Great,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Just what I needed.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment. “You live nearby?”

She hesitated, reluctant to share too much. But then she remembered Pastor Edwards’ words: He keeps to himself. “The cottage by the river,” she said finally, gesturing vaguely down the road.

Recognition flickered across his face, subtle but undeniable. “Figured you were the new tenant,” he said. “The pastor mentioned you.”

“Of course he did,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Small town, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied. He nodded toward her truck. “Grab what you need. I’ll give you a lift.”

She hesitated again, her pride and practicality at war. Finally, practicality won. “Thanks,” she said, retrieving her bag before climbing into the passenger seat of his truck.

As he started the engine, he glanced at her. “Logan,” he said simply, offering his name without ceremony.

“Evelyn,” she replied, studying his profile as they pulled back onto the road.

The drive was quiet, save for the low rumble of the truck and the occasional creak of its suspension. She couldn’t help but steal glances at him, her curiosity growing with every passing second. There was something about him—an intensity that seemed to vibrate just beneath the surface, like a tightly coiled spring.

When they reached the cottage, Logan parked the truck at the edge of the driveway, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as the engine idled. She climbed out, pausing to sling her bag over one shoulder before turning back to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

He gave a slight nod, his expression steady and unreadable. “I can take a look at your truck,” he said after a beat, his tone straightforward but not unkind.

She hesitated, unsure if the offer was out of convenience or obligation. “You don’t have to,” she replied carefully, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I know,” he said simply, his gaze meeting hers for a moment before shifting back to the windshield. “But it’ll save you a trip into town. Up to you.”

His words were practical, but something about the way he said them—low and even, without any trace of expectation—made her relent. “Alright,” she said softly. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll call my buddy that has a tow.” he replied, his tone final.

“Okay. Tomorrow morning,” she echoed, stepping back from the truck.

He nodded once more, putting the truck in drive. “See you then,” he said, his voice carrying just enough weight to linger as he pulled away.

She watched the taillights disappear into the woods, the sound of the truck fading into the quiet of the evening. There was something about him—something steady and solid, yet distant—that stayed with her as she turned toward the cottage.

For now, she told herself, it didn’t matter. But as she pushed the door open and stepped inside, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it did.

The next morning arrived with a chill in the air and a pale haze of dawn spreading through the trees. She pulled a cardigan over her shoulders as the hum of an engine broke through the quiet. Logan’s truck rolled up her driveway, followed closely by a rusty tow truck that looked as worn as her own.

Logan stepped out, his movements deliberate, the crunch of gravel under his boots louder than the low rumble of the trucks. He gave her a nod, his face unreadable as usual. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, her voice soft against the brisk air.

The tow truck driver climbed out and gave a brief wave before getting to work. Logan stood back, arms crossed, watching the process with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

“Thanks for arranging this,” she said, her fingers tightening on the mug of coffee she held.

“Needed to get it off the road,” he said simply. “Truck like that needs careful handling. Old axles don’t forgive mistakes.”

His words felt practical, not critical, but something in the way he said them made her feel exposed—like he saw more than she was ready to share.

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s mine,” she replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone.

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting hers before shifting back to the truck. “That’s what counts.”

The tow truck driver had the vehicle secured in her driveway with a few well-practiced moves, stepping back to dust off his hands. Logan approached her then, his expression as steady as his voice.

“She’s old, but it’s not hopeless,” he said, jerking his head toward the truck. “I’ll need to get under the chassis tomorrow, but the axle can be salvaged.”

A small surge of relief lightened her chest. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his confidence simple and unassuming. He turned to the driver, exchanged a few quiet words, and handed the man a couple of bills. The driver tipped his cap before climbing into his own truck and pulling away, leaving the two of them alone.

Logan stepped closer to the truck, crouching down again to check the undercarriage. His hands moved with an ease that spoke of long familiarity with this kind of work. “It’s seen better days, but it’s solid,” he said, more to himself than to her. “This kind of thing doesn’t give up easily.”

She didn’t know if he was talking about the truck or something else, but the words settled over her in a way she didn’t expect.

He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans, and looked at her again. “I’ll bring the tools by tomorrow morning. Don’t try driving it until then.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” she replied, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. “Good.”

As he turned to leave, she found herself hesitating, unsure if she should say something more. “Logan,” she called after him.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Really,” she said, the words carrying more weight than she intended.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, unreadable but steady. “You don’t owe me a thanks,” he said simply before climbing into his truck.

The engine rumbled to life, and she watched as he drove away, the sound fading into the quiet of the woods. Left alone in the stillness, she looked back at her cottage, her truck, and the faint trail of dust left by Logan’s departure.

Something about the moment—about him—stuck with her, like the faint imprint of his voice still hung in the air. There was a steadiness to him, a quiet strength she hadn’t realized she needed until now.

She stepped back inside, her coffee mug still cold in her hands, and let herself wonder for a moment what it was about this town—and the people in it—that already felt so different.

The next day came quietly, the morning sky painted in soft hues of blue and gray. She spent most of it tidying the kitchen, organizing what few things she had unpacked. The routine was calming, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had promised to return.

True to his word, Logan’s truck rolled into her driveway just as the clock struck ten. She stepped outside to greet him, brushing her hands on her jeans, trying not to seem too eager.

“Morning,” he said, pulling a heavy toolbox from the bed of his truck. His tone was as steady as ever, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” she replied, offering a small smile.

Without wasting any time, Logan set the toolbox down beside her truck and crouched to get to work, his movements precise and methodical. She lingered nearby, unsure if she should offer help or leave him to it.

“You don’t have to stand there,” Logan said after a few minutes, his voice calm but direct. “This might take a while.”

She crossed her arms, the hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “I don’t mind. Besides, I might learn something.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smirk, before he returned his focus to the truck. “Suit yourself.”

For a while, the only sounds were the faint clink of tools and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. She watched him work, noticing the quiet confidence in his movements. His hands were sure and practiced, every action purposeful.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Long enough,” he replied without looking up.

“Do you like it?”

He paused, wiping his hands on a rag, and glanced at her. “It’s quiet. That’s all I need.”

She tilted her head, intrigued by the simplicity of his answer. “I guess I can see the appeal,” she said softly. “It’s a lot quieter than what I’m used to.”

Logan glanced up again, his gaze lingering this time. “City girl?”

She gave a small nod. “Born and raised. This is the first time I’ve lived somewhere like this.”

“Why’d you come here?” he asked, his voice even but not prying.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the hem of her sweater. “I needed a change,” she said after a pause, her tone guarded. “Something different.”

Logan didn’t press her. Instead, he nodded and returned to his work. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it felt more like a truce, an agreement to leave certain things unsaid for now.

An hour later, Logan stood and dusted off his hands. “Your axle’s patched for now,” he said, his tone practical. “Should hold up, but you’ll need a proper replacement soon.”

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, stepping closer. “Really, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

He shrugged, already packing up his tools. “Not a problem.”

“No, I mean it,” she insisted, brushing her hair out of her face. “I’d feel better if I paid you for your time. You’ve already done so much.”

Logan paused, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he said, “You’ll pay me when I’m done.”

Her brow furrowed. “When you’re done?”

He nodded toward the cottage. “Place like this? You’ve got more than a truck that needs fixing. If I’m coming back to work on it, might as well settle it all at once.”

She blinked, surprised by the offer. “Are you sure? That sounds like a lot of trouble.”

Logan’s expression didn’t change. “Trouble’s part of the job.”

A small laugh escaped her, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Alright. I guess I’ll owe you, then.”

“You will,” he replied simply, closing his toolbox.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice softer now.

Logan gave her a slight nod, his gaze lingering just long enough to make her heart stumble before he climbed into his truck. “I’ll be by tomorrow to check out the porch,” he called through the open window.

Before she could respond, the engine roared to life, and he was gone, the sound of his truck fading into the woods.

Left standing in her driveway, she looked at the now-functional truck and then at her cottage. For the first time since moving here, she felt a flicker of something more than just survival—a tentative hope that maybe, with a little help, she could start building a life again.

The next day, she decided to head into town for groceries. Her cupboards were mostly bare, and while the cottage’s solitude was soothing, it lacked the essentials to make it feel like home. The small grocery store sat on the corner of Clearwater’s main street, its weathered sign swaying gently in the breeze.

Inside, the aisles were narrow and crowded with goods that seemed frozen in another decade. A bell chimed as she stepped through the door, drawing the attention of the clerk behind the counter—a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a kind smile.

“Well, you must be the newcomer everyone’s been talking about,” the woman behind the counter said warmly.

“I guess word travels fast here,” Evelyn replied, grabbing a basket.

“It does,” the clerk said with a chuckle. “I’m Nancy. How’re you settling in?”

Evelyn smiled politely, picking up a basket. “It’s been... a change, but a good one. The town’s been welcoming so far.”

A few other customers—older women browsing the shelves and a man flipping through a newspaper near the counter—turned their attention to her. One of the women spoke up. “Oh, you’re the one fixing up the old cottage by the river, aren’t you? Brave thing, taking on a place like that all by yourself.”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a work in progress, but it’s starting to feel like home. Had a little trouble with my truck the other day, though. Luckily, Logan stopped to help me out.”

At that, the room seemed to pause. The man with the newspaper lowered it, the clerk straightened, and one of the women in the aisle actually turned to face her fully.

“Logan?” the Nancy echoed, her tone edged with disbelief.

“Logan Howlett?” added the woman in the aisle, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, Logan,” she replied, glancing between their surprised faces. “He patched up my truck and even offered to help with some repairs around the cottage. Why?”

The clerk exchanged a look with the man at the counter before leaning forward again and letting out a low whisle. “Are you sure it was Logan who helped you? Tall fella? Always looks like he’s in a bad mood?”

“That’s him,” she confirmed, starting to feel self-conscious under their scrutiny.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man muttered, folding his newspaper. “Doesn’t sound like the Logan I know.”,the man said, his tone edged with curiosity.

“I’d say,” the woman in the aisle chimed in, shaking her head. “He keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much. Not the type to go out of his way for anyone.”

“He didn’t seem unfriendly,” she said carefully, setting a loaf of bread into her basket. “Just... reserved. He was kind, in his own way.”

Nancy leaned over the counter, her curiosity evident. “Reserved is one way to put it. Man’s been in this town for years, and he barely speaks to anyone. You must’ve caught him on a good day.”

Sensing the conversation turning into speculation, she smiled politely and changed the subject. “The cottage is keeping me busy. Between cleaning and figuring out repairs, I haven’t had much time for anything else.”

“Good for you, dear,” the woman in the aisle said, though her curiosity lingered. “It’s a nice town. Quiet. You’ll find your rhythm soon enough.”

“That’s all I want,” she admitted, her tone softening. “Just peace and quiet. I’m not looking for anything more than that.”

“That’s probably for the best,” the older woman said kindly. “You’ll love it here. It’s a quiet town. Peaceful.”

Nancy handed her the receipt, her curiosity fading into a smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right place for that. Folks’ll let you be, though they might talk your ear off first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evelyn said with a small laugh.

As she stepped out of the store, the cool air wrapped around her. As Evelyn loaded the items into the passenger seat, her mind lingered on their reactions to Logan. They’d spoken about him as though he were an enigma—someone unknowable, even to the people who’d lived here for years.

Driving back to the cottage, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Logan really was. Reserved, yes, but there had been no malice in his quiet demeanor.

The next morning came with a crisp chill that seeped through the windows of the cottage. Evelyn had spent the early hours tidying up, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to make the place look presentable. It wasn’t like Logan would care about the half-unpacked boxes or the persistent layer of dust clinging to the baseboards. Still, there was something about the prospect of having him around that made her want to at least look like she had things under control.

True to his word, Logan’s truck rolled into the driveway just after nine. She stepped outside as he climbed out, toolbox in hand and the same calm, unreadable expression on his face.

“Morning,” he said, nodding briefly as he approached.

“Morning,” she replied, crossing her arms to keep the chill at bay. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gestured vaguely toward the road. “Don’t you have work? At the logging company, I mean. Or do you make house calls full-time now?”

It was meant to be playful, but the corners of his mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to take her seriously.

“Not due there ‘til later,” he said simply, crouching down to inspect the porch steps. “Figured I’d get this done first.”

“Efficient,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

He glanced up, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Something like that.”

The faint exchange felt oddly satisfying, like breaking through the first layer of ice. She lingered on the porch as he worked, watching the way his hands moved with practiced precision. The hammer in his grip looked like an extension of himself, every strike deliberate, every movement efficient.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Like what?” he replied without looking up.

“The logging company. The work.”

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as he considered her question. “It’s a job,” he said finally, his tone neutral.

She tilted her head. “That’s not exactly a glowing review.”

Logan’s mouth twitched again, but this time, it was closer to a smirk. “Pays the bills. That’s all that matters.”

“Fair enough,” she said, leaning against the railing. “You’re good at this, though,” she added, nodding toward the step he’d just finished reinforcing.

He shrugged, already moving on to the next. “Picked it up over the years. Comes in handy.”

“I can see that,” she replied, watching him work for a moment longer. “Still, I feel a little bad. Seems like you’ve got better things to do than fix up my mess of a house.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling as he glanced up at her. “If I had better things to do, I wouldn’t be here,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

The bluntness of his answer caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words.

“Well,” she said finally, clearing her throat, “I appreciate it. Really.”

He gave a small nod, returning to his work without another word.

As the morning wore on, she brought him a glass of water, which he accepted with a quiet “Thanks” before drinking it in a few quick gulps and setting the empty glass on the railing. She noticed how little space he seemed to take up, despite his broad frame and commanding presence. Logan moved like someone who was careful not to disturb the air around him.

“You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you with this place,” he remarked after a while, stepping back to assess the repairs.

“Tell me about it,” she said with a dry laugh. “You should’ve seen the kitchen before I attacked it with a bottle of bleach.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the door. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she said with a grin.

Logan didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—an almost-smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You didn’t have to take it on,” he said after a moment, his gaze briefly flicking toward her.

She shrugged, resting a hand on the railing. “Felt like the right thing to do. A new place, a fresh start... or something like that.”

“Fresh starts don’t come easy,” he said, returning to his work. His tone wasn’t dismissive, but there was a weight to his words that made her wonder if he was speaking from experience.

“They never do,” she replied softly.

By the time Logan packed up his tools, the porch looked sturdier than it had in years. He stood, brushing sawdust off his jeans, and nodded toward her.

“That’ll hold for now. You need anything else, let me know.”

“Do you always offer your handyman services, or am I just lucky?” she teased lightly, though there was genuine gratitude in her tone.

“Depends who’s asking,” he replied, his tone even but not unkind.

Her brows lifted slightly at his response, but she chose not to push further. Instead, she smiled and said, “Well, thanks again. Seriously.”

He nodded once more, then headed back to his truck. As the engine roared to life and he drove away, she found herself standing on the newly-repaired porch, her thoughts trailing after him.

Logan was an enigma, no doubt about it. Reserved, distant even. But there was something about his quiet presence that felt grounding in a way she hadn’t expected. It was as though he carried a steady gravity that made the world around him feel less chaotic.

She leaned against the railing, watching the horizon where his truck had disappeared. For now, she told herself, she didn’t need to figure him out.

She had enough to rebuild already.

The day passed quietly after Logan left, the cottage settling back into its usual rhythm of creaks and whispers. Evelyn spent the afternoon unpacking more boxes, though her mind kept wandering back to their conversation. His words had been sparse but weighty, each one carrying a subtle truth she hadn’t expected.

By early evening, her curiosity won out, and she decided to take a walk by the river. The air was cooler now, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows across the forest floor. She followed the worn trail that wound behind her cottage, the faint rush of water growing louder with each step.

When she reached the riverbank, she stopped, taking in the sight of the glassy water reflecting the gold and orange hues of the setting sun. It was peaceful, almost otherworldly in its stillness.

But even here, Logan lingered in her thoughts. The way he’d paused when she’d asked about the logging company. The almost-smile that had flickered across his face when she’d mentioned the kitchen. And the way he’d said, “If I had better things to do, I wouldn’t be here.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration—far from it. But the simplicity of his words had stayed with her, as though they meant more than he’d let on.

She crouched near the water’s edge, picking up a smooth stone and running her thumb over its surface. The town’s reactions to him echoed in her mind, too—the disbelief that he’d helped her, the quiet curiosity when she’d mentioned his name.

They didn’t know him, not really.

And neither did she.

The next morning, Evelyn made another trip into town. She needed groceries, but more than that, she wanted to get a better sense of the place—the people, the rhythm of life here.

The grocery store was small, its aisles narrow and cluttered but charming in their own way. She moved slowly through them, taking her time as she filled her basket with the essentials.

“You’re back,” Nancy, the clerk, said warmly when she approached the counter.

Evelyn smiled. “Looks like I’ll be a regular here.”

“Good,” Nancy replied, ringing up her items. “We like having new faces around here. How’s the cottage coming along?”

“It’s getting there,” Evelyn replied. “I’ve still got a lot to do, but I’m making progress.”

Nancy nodded approvingly. “I saw Logan’s truck heading that way yesterday. He helping you out?”

“Yeah, he fixed up my porch,” Evelyn said, her tone casual.

Nancy’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did he now?”

“Is that surprising?”

“A little,” Nancy admitted. “He’s not exactly the helpful type, if you know what I mean. Keeps to himself, mostly.”

“That seems to be the consensus around here,” Evelyn said, her curiosity piqued.

Nancy leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s a good man. Just… guarded. Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t say much.”

“I won’t,” Evelyn said with a small smile.

As she loaded the groceries into her truck, her mind lingered on Nancy’s words. Guarded. It was a fitting description, though it didn’t explain the flashes of kindness she’d seen in him. The quiet patience in the way he’d fixed her porch. The faint trace of amusement in his voice when she’d joked with him.

Driving back to the cottage, she glanced at the road ahead, wondering how long it would take for the mystery of Logan Howlett to unravel—or if it ever would.

When she pulled into the driveway, her gaze landed on something unexpected. Neatly stacked against the side of the house was a pile of freshly chopped firewood. She frowned, stepping out of the truck and approaching the stack.

It hadn’t been there that morning, she was sure of it.

Her first thought was Logan, though the idea surprised her. He hadn’t mentioned anything about firewood. He hadn’t said much of anything, really. But who else could it have been?

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she ran her fingers over the rough surface of the logs. It was a simple gesture, but it felt... deliberate.

Inside the cottage, she lit a fire in the hearth, the warmth spreading slowly through the room. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, she watched the flames flicker and crackle, her thoughts drifting back to him.

She wasn’t looking for love, or even connection. Not here. Not now. But Logan’s quiet presence had a way of grounding her, pulling her focus from the chaos of her past and planting it firmly in the present.

For now, that was enough.

The third morning after their encounter, Evelyn had settled into the rhythm of the cottage—cleaning, organizing, and slowly shaping the space into something livable. The day was crisp, the air sharp with the scent of pine when a steady knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened it to find Logan standing on the porch, toolbox in hand, his familiar unreadable expression in place.

“Morning,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“Morning,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Logan stepped inside, glancing around briefly before setting his toolbox down near the kitchen. “Figured I’d get the cabinets done,” he said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a hint of amusement. “You know, for someone who doesn’t seem to like people all that much, you sure go out of your way to help.”

He paused, turning his head slightly toward her, though his hands stayed busy unpacking his tools. “You saying you don’t need the help?”

“No,” she admitted, her voice softening. “I’m just saying it’s unexpected.”

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he crouched to inspect the cabinets, his broad shoulders filling the small space beneath the sink. “Unexpected doesn’t mean unwelcome,” he said finally, his tone low but even.

She blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words. He didn’t say them like they were meant to be comforting, but they landed that way regardless.

As Logan worked, Evelyn busied herself around the kitchen, though her eyes often wandered back to him. There was a certain ease to the way he moved—calculated, deliberate, as though every motion had purpose.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” she asked after a while, her voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Logan didn’t look up. “Do what?”

“Fix things for strangers.”

He paused briefly, his hand tightening a bolt on the cabinet door. “You’re not a stranger,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “I’m not?”

“You’re part of this town now,” he replied, moving to the next cabinet without looking at her. “That makes you not a stranger.”

The corners of her lips twitched into a faint smile. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

“It’s just the way it is,” Logan said, his voice steady.

She watched him for a moment, her curiosity growing. “Well, either way, I feel like I owe you. For the cabinets, the porch, the firewood...”

Logan glanced at her briefly, his eyes sharp but unreadable. “You’ll pay me when I finish everything that needs fixing.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, and something about it made her decide not to push further.

By midday, Logan had made significant progress, the cabinets now sturdy and functional. The kitchen felt less like a relic of the past and more like a space she could actually use.

“Lunch?” she offered, gesturing to the small table where she’d set out sandwiches and coffee.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, wiping his hands on a rag before sitting across from her.

The silence between them was comfortable, the soft hum of the radio filling the space as they ate. Logan’s gaze drifted briefly to the stack of boxes in the corner, but he didn’t comment.

“Moving in isn’t as glamorous as it looks,” she said, following his gaze.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re in a rush,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.

“I’m not,” she admitted. “After everything that happened... I think I just need to take my time.”

He nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful but guarded. “Makes sense.”

She hesitated, then asked, “You ever feel like that? Like you need to step away from everything for a while?”

Logan’s gaze met hers for a brief moment before he looked down at his mug. “More than you’d think.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning she didn’t press him to explain.

By the time Logan packed up his tools, the kitchen looked sturdier than it had in years. He stood by the doorway, his toolbox in hand, and gave her a brief nod.

“That should hold for now. I’ll check the roof next time,” he said.

“Next time, huh?” she said with a faint smile. “Do I need to schedule you in, or should I just leave the door unlocked?”

“Depends,” he replied, his tone carrying the faintest hint of humor. “You planning on giving me more work?”

Her smile widened slightly. “I’m sure I can find something.”

Logan’s lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smirk, but he didn’t let it settle. “See you around,” he said, heading to his truck.

As the engine roared to life and he drove away, Evelyn lingered on the porch, watching until the truck disappeared from view.

For someone who claimed not to like people, Logan Howlett seemed to go out of his way to help her. And for someone who claimed not to need help, she was beginning to realize how much his presence steadied her.

The thought stayed with her as she turned back toward the house, the faint smell of sawdust lingering in the air.

The following days passed quietly, the steady rhythm of her routine broken only by the occasional creak of the cottage or the distant sound of the river. Though the repairs Logan had done made a world of difference, there was still so much left to tackle.

True to his word, Logan returned a few days later, his truck pulling into the driveway with the same low rumble she was beginning to recognize. This time, he was inspecting the roof—a task she was more than happy to leave entirely in his hands.

From the safety of the porch, she watched as he climbed the ladder, his movements deliberate and practiced.

“Find anything up there?” she called up, shading her eyes from the midday sun.

“Leaky spots,” he replied, his voice carrying easily over the breeze. “Couple shingles need replacing.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Could be worse,” he said, crouching to examine the roofline. “At least it’s not caving in.”

“Well, there’s a silver lining,” she said dryly, though her tone carried a hint of humor.

Logan glanced down at her briefly, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement before he returned to his work.

As the afternoon wore on, Evelyn busied herself in the garden—if it could even be called that. Overgrown weeds and tangled ivy spilled over the edges of a weathered stone path, and she’d decided it was time to tame at least part of it.

She was crouched near the base of an old oak tree, pulling stubborn roots from the soil, when Logan’s voice startled her.

“You planning to fix that up too?”

She looked up, brushing her hair out of her face to see him standing a few feet away, his toolbox in hand.

“Eventually,” she said, gesturing to the mess around her. “It’s on the very long list of things to do.”

He nodded, setting the toolbox down near the porch. “Looks like it’s been a while since anyone’s touched it.”

“More like decades,” she replied, straightening and wiping her hands on her jeans. “But I guess that’s what I signed up for.”

“Not many people would,” Logan said, his tone matter-of-fact.

She tilted her head, studying him. “What about you? Ever think about fixing up a place like this?”

He shrugged, leaning against the railing. “Not really. I’m not much for settling down.”

The words lingered between them, heavy with a meaning she couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” she said finally, forcing a small smile, “good thing I’m not asking you to move in.”

Logan huffed softly, a sound that might have been a laugh, before picking up his toolbox again.

By the time the sun began to set, Logan had finished patching up the roof, and Evelyn had managed to clear a small patch of the garden. The quiet hum of the forest filled the air as they stood on the porch, the fading light casting long shadows across the yard.

“Thanks again,” she said, her voice softer now. “I know I keep saying it, but... I really mean it. This place would probably collapse around me if it weren’t for you.”

Logan shrugged, his expression as steady as ever. “You’re doing most of the work. I’m just keeping it from falling apart.”

“Still,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I appreciate it.”

He nodded once, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than usual before he turned toward his truck.

“Logan,” she called after him, her voice stopping him mid-step.

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“You said you’re not much for settling down,” she said, her tone careful. “But... why stick around Clearwater, then? What keeps you here?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, his gaze shifting to the treeline in the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more thoughtful.

“Sometimes it’s easier to stay where people already expect you to be alone.”

Her breath hitched at the weight of his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Before she could find the right thing to say, Logan nodded again and climbed into his truck. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, he was gone, leaving her standing on the porch, the quiet settling around her like a heavy blanket.

That night, as the fire crackled softly in the hearth, Evelyn sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap. The cottage was quiet now, save for the occasional groan of its old frame and the faint murmur of the river beyond the trees.

Logan’s words echoed in her mind. Sometimes it’s easier to stay where people already expect you to be alone.

She hadn’t known what to say to him then, and even now, hours later, she wasn’t sure she had an answer. But his honesty had left a mark, stirring something deep within her—a recognition of the weight they both seemed to carry in silence.

Her gaze drifted to the stack of firewood by the hearth. She hadn’t mentioned it to him, hadn’t asked if it was his doing. Somehow, she didn’t need to. The gesture felt like an extension of who he was—quiet, steady, always keeping his distance but still leaving something behind.

The faint glow of the fire bathed the room in warmth, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of contentment. It wasn’t happiness, not yet. But it was something close to it—a fragile sense of being grounded, of starting to rebuild.

As she sipped the last of her tea, her eyes grew heavy, the day’s work and lingering emotions finally catching up to her. She let herself sink into the cushions, the blanket pulled tighter around her shoulders.

Tomorrow would bring more work, more repairs, and, if she was lucky, another visit from Logan. Not that she’d admit she was looking forward to it—not even to herself.

For now, the fire burned steadily, the cottage standing strong around her, and the quiet of the night felt more like peace than loneliness.

With that thought, she let her eyes close, the rhythm of the river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 3

_______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

Taglist

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library

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teecupangel · 5 months ago

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I've had some thoughts on what elements(not really ATLA) fit Ezio, Altaïr, Desmond, Basim and Ratonhnhaké:ton(just a curiousity thing). And i think Fire fits Ezio alot. It burns fiercly and destroys things in it's path, but the aftermath leaves nurishing, lifebringing ash. It burns down forests, leaving it clear for new growth.

For Desmond it's definetly Water. He bends around the rock in the river, but also violently crushes into obstacles. If we include ice into water(which i often do, it just makes sense imo), it also fits with a slow, but guaranteed death. It can also cut and freezeburn anyone who touches it, who doesn't know it's dangers.

Altaïr is a bit trickier. He also fits Fire, but i also like the idea of him being Lightning. Violent, quick destruction, easily seen and recognised, often turning on it's wielder if improperly handled. But with the right amount, it leads to incredible technology, life altering in it's wonders.

Ratonhnhaké:ton i think is Earth or Wind. Earth is steady, lifegiving, solid. But it can also be devastating in it's power, shaking the very foundation of cities, tearing everything apart. Wind is similiar. Gentle, cooling breeze on a summers day or a warm wind in autumn, but it can also bring devestation. Storms, hurricanes and tornadoes. Tearing things apart, leaving destruction in it's wake, terrifyingly unstoppable.

Basim i think fits with Wind. He is very stubborn and willful in Mirage, like an incoming storm. And with the hallucinations, nightmares and the memories of Loki, he can probably go from a mild breeze to a hurricane in an instant, unstable in it's strength.

Idk about the others protaganists, i still haven't played most of the games(procrastenation is a bitch XD), but feel free to suggest your own ideas of other elements that could fit and how the elements can fit the other characters. ^^

So, before we get to the others, I feel like we should only focus on 5 main elements: Water, Fire, Earth, Wind and Lightning since that’s the elements you suggested.

I agree with their elements and I kinda like the idea of Ratonhnhaké:ton being Wind more than Earth because I want to suggest that we mess with Edward.

He gets the Earth element. Of course, the Water element is right there and it would certainly make sense for him to have a Water element as well but just imagine how funny it would be for Edward to have Earth element and he’s still a pirate. He’s gonna have to be creative and maybe bring a pouch of dirt with him. Or Jackdaw’s captain quarters have a minigarden. Edward having Earth element could work. Earth and plants in general can be stubborn sons of bitches that won’t die even when they’re out of their natural habitat (take dandelion growing on concrete for example). But Earth is also adaptable and steadfast.

I would also like to add, Basim is also like a fog (which is Wind adjacent) because of the secrets he hides in the ‘illusion’ called Basim (as someone who don’t even know it or as Loki who actively uses that facade)

Now, for the other protagonists:

Bayek would be Fire. He brings warmth and safety to those he loves and suffering and death to those against him. The rage and desire for vengeance burns inside him but, at the same time, it is that warmth that helped him move on and create a path forward.

Shay would be Lightning as well, his name as an Assassin hunter similar to the thunderous roar that warns those of his presence but not of where he would strike.

Arno is Wind. At the start, he is carefree summer breeze, just fleeting around and enjoying the life he has. Later on, he becomes a mist, present but not the center of attention, satisfied of being of service to the woman he loves. After her death, he becomes a brewing storm that could just as easily be destructive to himself and others.

Evie and Jacob. Now, these two… they would be Earth but of ‘different kinds’. Jacob would be more of a plant-based Earth elemental wielder, a symbol of his desire to make his own path, away from their father’s legacy. Evie, on the other hand, is more of a stone-based Earth elemental wielder, signifying the fortitude of her loyalty to their father’s legacy. Both of them are Earth because they both hold their grounds on the belief they have.

Kassandra is Fire, mainly because a lot of her abilities in the game had a fiery effect. Her destructive capabilities coincide with the destructive force of flames devouring everything it touches but it’s also those powers that could provide saftey and warmth to the people she loves.

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breelandwalker · 2 months ago

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Upcoming Events, December 2024

Nevermore Witch Market Sunday, December 1 2024, 12pm-5pm Diversity Richmond 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA (USA) Hosted by River City Witch Markets

The Witches Table Discussion Group, Williamsburg Chapter Wednesday, December 4 2024, 6pm-8pm Alewerks Taproom (Williamsburg Outlets) 5715 Richmond Rd, Williamsburg VA (USA) Hosted by The Witches Table

Krampusnacht in the Village Saturday, December 7 2024, 4pm-9pm Historic Hilton Village Warwick & Main, Newport News VA (USA) Hosted by Styx & Stones

Alewerks Yule & Krampus Market Saturday, December 21 2024, 12pm-9pm Alewerks Main Taproom 189 B Ewell Rd, Williamsburg VA (USA) Hosted by Alewerks Brewing

Yule Witch Market Sunday, December 22 2024, 12pm-5pm Diversity Richmond 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA (USA) Hosted by River City Witch Markets

#witchblr #witch community #pagan #holidays #witchy things #witch market #holiday shopping #williamsburg #rva

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mushroomates · 2 years ago

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some boromir headcanons

he likes to eat spicy food. he cannot handle the spice, but keeps eating it anyways.

he stays up during merry and pippin’s watches during the night. half because he wants to keep them awake and give them company, half because he’s pretty sure they wont be paying attention.

best hugs. he will kind of pick u up while he hugs u.

would wear a fanny pack.

his favorite food is chicken. he likes any kind of chicken. also likes apples.

decent story teller. can recall gondor’s history easy. when he starts talking about it, he becomes very passionate and has been known to yell or cry while retelling events.

carries around a packet of dirt from gondor around with him for good luck.

tried to make his own brew. went blind for a little bit after trying it. gimli fuckin loves it tho, tried it at gondor and brought a batch with him.

has dogs. took in a stray while patrolling the city, named him Minas. Minas lived a long and happy life, and afterwards Faramir brought him a puppy who he named Ithil.

he is also allergic to dogs. insists otherwise.

his men call him “big brother boromir” behind his back. he pretends not to know.

once pippin called him dad and he coasted on that high for weeks

afraid of heights. will not admit it.

great with babies. would carry faramir around. his dad let him even though boromir was only five at the time, and faramir would try and wiggle out of his arms.

he whittles!!! or carves. works with wood. he made little trinkets for the hobbits in his spare time during the journey. he made pippin a little wooden dog and merry a rabbit because merrys kinda afraid of dogs. he made a bill the pony for sam after moria and was working on a cat for frodo before he passed away. it was in his pocket, half made. the didn’t spot it before he sailed away.

made faramir toys when they were younger- whole barnyard full of animals and some important gondor land marks. also a mini version of their family. faramir passed this down to pippin, who passed it down to his kids. it’s now a family heirloom.

dyslexic. faramir would read to him while he carved trinkets and such.

the fellowship goes out of their way to visit this shrine. he also has one in gondor, rivendell, and just outside of lorien.

boromir tried to teach merry and pippin wood carving once. pippins carving tools were quickly confiscated but merry learned how to make a boat.

merry officially took up wood carving after his death. he makes little boats for the hobbitlings and they have a race every summer down stream.

he also taught the hobbits how to make said boats, so when they’re older they hold the race themself. afterwards, they take the winning boat down to the graveyard.

boromir has a grave in the shire that the hobbits put gifts on, including said boats. it’s on the edge of the forest by the river. the fellowship all come to visit. some things left include: flowers, hot sauce, wooden toys, notes, homemade jam, pretty rocks, and some of farmer maggot’s produce. farmer maggot does not know of this.

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yourcarnevoreuspal · 6 months ago

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I decided to put all the parts of the Farmer pred story together so it's easier to read. Enjoy~

Hm, something odd about that farmer boy who just moved to town. I swear it seems like his appearance changes sometimes. Like he's bigger, sharper, he's always... off.

I happened to see him from my window - certainly not spying or anything - he was fishing, and he'd just caught one of some kind, not something I would be able to identify. It was one of those times where he looked different, I can never place what it is exactly. With his other catches, he dropped them into a cooler, but this one he hesitated, eyeing his surroundings. I don't know what he was looking for, but no one else was outside - only I would witness what he did next.

With an urgent swiftness, he had that fish halfway past his lips, and mind you, this was no mere mackerel, but some other large aquatic inhabitant. I could only stare in shock, with some other unknowable emotions brewing in my chest, while I watched that fish disappear into the farmer.

Since then, I can't help but notice his odd glances towards my fellow villagers. He doesn't know I saw him that day, but I'm not sure there's reason to fear if he did. The farmer is strange but kind - I have hope that he won't harm anyone despite his growing agitation. His efforts in the town speak not of a monster.

Growing closer to the farmer wouldn't cloud my judgment - surely I began this friendship in order to investigate his oddness, but he reciprocated in turn. There's no harm in befriending this creature that the farmer is, often I find myself drinking into the night with him as company, surely there is nothing to fear from him.

Right?

________

Drunkenly, I push myself up from the bar, stupidly grinning as I watch my friend take his leave. Stumbling to take a look around, I'm surprised to see only one other patron left in the bar, he who's been standing in the corner all night. A tipsy blush paints his face as he looks up to the tender, who informs him it's late. My drunken mind manages to agree with this, and I head out the door into the chilled night.

The cold is sobering, and something in the night brings my instincts to attention. They’re reminding me of my hunger. My attempts to ease my appetite have been thwarted, no tuna nor slime seems to quell that ache anymore. No, it craves something more.

Stepping behind a tree, I watch the dark river pass and listen to the soft trickle of water... Until I hear a gradual sound of shuffling steps come following up the stone path. A sound I've grown familiar with. Peaking around the tree, I see the lone patron from the bar, stumbling towards his home- a sight I see practically every night.

My hunger always brings me here, watching the potential prey who would be oh so easy to snatch. So far, I've been resistant, but I feel it will soon be inevitable. Flexing my claws, my hunger begs me to stalk, to pounce from behind. It's all I can do but to keep myself back, only watching as he slowly disappears up the path.

One of these days, I'm not going to be able to stop myself…

________

Hauling the cooler up over my shoulder, I start a slow jog headed off the beach. It's late, the cold night air telling of autumn. The cooler sloshes with It's contents- today's catch swimming around the meager water within.

Crossing the bridge and rounding the corner, my jog slows to a halt. There he is again, taking his sweet, drunken time with his night walk home. Lowering the cooler from my shoulder, a clawed hand comes to grasp my aching middle. It's been months now since I've had a taste, moving here from the city, that was the main motivator. Less prey to agitate my hunger. It seems I can't hold it off forever, though.

The cooler slips from my hand, falling to the dirt path with a thud. My prey is alerted to the sound, turning to see only the cooler lying in the road. My body moves on its own accord, sick of the hunger plaguing it. Before the cooler had reached the ground, I was slinking behind the bushes, hidden in their shadows. My prey, too drunk to realize the danger of his situation, continues towards his home while I stalk him from the brush.

It isn't until reaching the edge of his land that I make my move. Sneaking from the shadows, my visage now that of a monster's, I crawl towards him, closing the gap between us until…

The front door opens, light washing the landscape in its pale yellowness. At the first click of the door, I had already slunk back into the shadows, watching as my prey's relative scolds him for being so late. With the scene unfolding in front of me, my sense gradually return, and I sink back into the shadows to retrieve my forgotten cooler…

________

I've been finding myself here, nearly every night since I followed him. Staring into the dark room, so close to the glass, I can feel it's chill. He's clueless, the drunk, sleeping away in his messy bed. I doubt he'd notice my shadow darkening the moonlight if I were to stand, and if I were to open his window, would he notice the wind flying into his room?

My cravings have only gotten worse, yet I've managed to keep myself contained thus far. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. Desperately, I've been trying to come up with an alternative- slime nor fish have helped, so I thought to try my hand at hunting a larger animal, but unfortunately my instincts are less interested in helping me catch such prey. No, they only hunger for that which lies sleeping inside the room, the creature I can't tear my eyes from: a human.

The only option I've turned up is to simply eat. But I dare not bring harm to anyone in my new home; not only would such a disappearance be devastatingly obvious, I care for my fellows who live here. I don't know if it's the hunger plaguing my mind, but the idea that I can 'just have a taste' and not actually hurt him seems to have wormed into my skull. Even if I eat him, then release him later, would that do anything to ease my cravings?

Unsure if I'm in control anymore, my claws reach towards the window…

______

With ease, the latch lifts, and the breeze blows open the window, sending the autumnal air into the room. Testing my earlier questions, I stand to full height, my deformed shadow darkening the room like a storm. No change comes from the room's owner, his snores still quiet and steady. Squeezing in through the opening isn't easy, I doubt it would be simple even if I weren't in this monstrous form. Despite my desperate struggles to enter the room, my movements are near silent, hardly a disturbance as I pull myself from the narrow opening.

Staring down at the sleeping drunkard, looming over his bed, my hunger draws me nearer with every moment, mouth watering at the promise of flesh. I only stop once I'm hovering just above his face, so close his gentle breaths cause sway to my bangs. The scent of prey surrounds me, drool trails from my lip, and my tongue caresses a fang. My claws demanding action spring onto his shoulders, maw widening over his head as he's jolted from slumber.

He's left with no time to process as I clamp jaws around his neck, his head engulfed by flesh. Delight courses through me, urging me to continue my meal, telling me how foolish I was to think I'd get away with only a taste.

I've clambered onto the bed to sit over my prey, with height advantage I grasp hold of his arms to swallow more of him down, greedily consuming as much as I can at once. Hardly stopping to adjust, I hoist him from his covers, his boozy flavors hazing my mind. Swallowing around his middle, his light, rotund, pudge melting on my tongue, some part of me manages to acknowledge the curious lack of struggle from my prey, yet it is swept away by the need to devour.

Lifting him high as I can, I push more of him into my throat, gulping down his meatier parts and leaving the thinner part of his legs still outside. By now, he has begun to enter my stomach, simultaneously quelling and fueling my hunger as the weight of being prey-filled grows. The last few swallows are bliss as my mouth clears, prey traveling down my throat to my bulging center.

Left kneeling on the bed, stomach distended and warm, mind fuzzy from fullness, my attention focuses to the orb in my lap. Running a hand over it incites a few small movements from within, yet nothing like the struggles of fear ridden prey I've had before. Something about it greatly disappoints my predatory side. Still, I huff with pleasure, the growing ache that's been in my center for months finally at an end…

#male pred #vore talk #male vore #tw vore #soft vore #willing pred #half size vore #unwilling prey #willing prey #samesize vore #unwilling vore #unwilling pred #vore fic #vore story

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baka-bakeneko · 9 months ago

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Breaking It In - River Ward x Female! V

tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, Dominant River Ward, teasing, moving in together, breaking in the new place, kitchen/shower/stairway/pool table/couch/desk/window/chair sex, multiple orgasms, ruined/forced orgasm, sensitivity, foreplay,spanking, aftercare a little, creampie delivery, wrap it before you tap it psa, oral sex, fingering, is it dry humping if you're wet?, all day/ marathoning

wc: 6.96k

synopsis: You've convinced River to move into the Glen with you.

a/n: actively gnawing, frothing at the mouth, banging against the steel bars of my enclosure thinking of this man, i need a mold of him; also sorry Wade, I think River beats you with the marathon (also also mentioning @originalshaynotfound for this idea, it's fantastic)

The Glen apartment; It took an extra bit of working your ass off, but it was worth it. You now had the two sweetest views in all of Night City.

Obviously, the first was River in your bed. With a short amount of convincing, and a little bit of pouting though, you were on your way to have both at once.

River was a bit hesitant to leave Joss behind, especially after Randy, but she was adamant in pushing her brother out of his comfort.

"You gotta change to grow, Riv. Don't pass up a girl like V for mine and the kids' sake. We'll all be here."

River was moving in and, though you wanted to play it totally chill, you were beyond excited. The two of you, Night City's most dangerous couple. In looks and skills, now living under one roof.

You'd cleared half of your shit to the side already: dresser, bathroom counter, bookshelf, desk. It was time for River to make his mark in the new place.

You barely contained your excitement with helping River pack up his things and load them in his truck.

"One more night here then I'm all yours, babe." River said, puckering his lips for a goodnight kiss.

You lifted on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, catching his lips as if you'd missed him for months.

"One more night," you repeated, carelessly drawing your legs up to curl around River's waist.

He chuckled against your lips, caressing your hips with his thumbs while cupping your ass.

"Slow down. Otherwise you won't go home," he teased, kissing you again.

You smiled, tilting your hips in his hold to nudge the front of his pants. Still, you coiled yourself tighter against your boyfriend and he held you closer.

Having your fill, you dropped down to your feet and uncurled your arms, parting from his lips last. River bent, following after your lips before standing upright with a groan.

He leaned against the front of his truck, holding his temple as he folded his other hand to adjust his pants. You bit your bottom lip, stashing your pride in a blushing smirk.

"V," River tried, reached a hand out to caress your jaw.

You backed away an inch. "Uh-uh, Riv. I'll see you tomorrow."

River's nose flared, taking a step towards you.

"You can't just tease me like that." He said with a jesting smirk. "I'll see you first thing in the morning."

Your smile grew. "I look forward to it."

You were shocked awake by the whirring noise of the elevator. Bolting upright in bed, you saw the pinkish dust over the horizon of Night City; the sun barely peeking over the lowest buildings of the Metro.

Your heart fluttered, tossing your bedsheet away and scurrying out of bed. You took the steps two at a time, picking up your dirty clothes as you went before dropping them at the foot of the steps.

You went to the kitchen to brew some coffee, grabbed a scoop of food for Nibbles then attempted to perch yourself casually on the counter in wait.

The elevator doors slid open with River carrying two boxes in his arms, a worn-down duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Honey, I'm home," River called out, his grin slowly falling to awe as he took in his new living situation. "Whoa. Baby, how'd you get this?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. He set down the boxes next to the couch, slung his bag down next to them. The elevator doors remained open, with his other boxes still stacked inside.

You stretched out your arms as River approached; he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to the edge of the counter. His eyes raked down your body, taking in your choice of pajamas.

"Mmm, Good morning," River soothed, pressing his body to yours before pecking your lips. "You just wake up?"

You blushed, resting your forehead to his. "When I heard the elevator."

River grinned, his hands caressing the curves of your waist. "We can leave unpacking for later. Why not go back to bed?"

You shook your head, caving into his chest and kissing up his neck to. his jaw. "No, I want you all over this place as soon as possible."

River's grin tweaked suggestively, his brow curling just the same. "You do? All over the place?"

You felt his wave of thought deep in your chest, your hands curling at the nape of his neck.

"Alllll over. As soon as possible." You drew out, and River seemed to catch your drift.

His hold tightened on you, opening your legs to feel the growing hardness in his pants. "I missed you all night, couldn't stay asleep."

You rolled your hips forward, grinding against the seam of River's pants. "Me either. I wish you just came home last night."

River grinned, his hand kneading at your thighs. "Or you could've stayed one more night with me at Joss's."

Leaning in, you nipped at his ear, "But here we can be as loud as we want, baby."

Saying that, you took the straps of your tank and shrugged them off of your shoulders, revealing your breasts. River gulped, looking down at your skin.

He hummed, dragging a hand up your side before taking a handful of your breast. River met your gaze, leaning in to bite a kiss at you. His cybernetic hand dipped between your hips, casually petting at your pussy over your panties.

River's thumb rolled at your nipple, making you lift your hips and arch further into him. He smirked against your lips, releasing a shameless moan from deep in his throat.

You mewled in response, bending further into his whim; River carefully braced the counter with the heel of his metal palm, climbing onto the counter and flattening you against it.

With an expert finger, he hooked into the seat of your panties and tore them down to your knees, actively groaning at your wet pussy.

Your hands at River's neck went for the back of his shirt, actively attempting to tear it over his head. River caught on, grabbing mindlessly at the back of his shirt and ripping it over his head before dropping it to the kitchen floor.

You licked your lips, raising up on your elbows as River fumbled with his belt buckle next. He bent, at the same time, to kiss between your breasts and down to your navel. Hips raising, you moaned at the warm stamps of his lips to your skin.

River nosed at your tank-turned-belt and slid further down to kiss your pussy, but you raised a knee in frustration. He met your gaze, brows quirked in question.

"I need your cock, now," you urged, reaching for the back of River's neck for a starved kiss. So urgent, your tongue darted into his mouth while your legs couldn't help but plant themselves on his waist; your ankles crossed at the small of his back, rolling against him.

River managed to push his pants down, worming his hands between your thighs to grab them. His cock sprang free against your pussy, making you emote into his mouth.

He was captivated by your kiss, pausing in his movements by the way your tongue massaged against his. River angled his tip against your pussy, readying himself to thrust but you took over. Engulfing his length into your pussy, you parted from his kiss with a loud moan, your toes instantly curling.

River followed suit, knowing himself to be utterly whipped by your pussy. He dropped his forehead to your chin, relishing in your throbbing, almost-feverish walls.

He returned to your lips, hands reaching to tangle into your hair. River thrust further into you, making your eyes roll as your lips slipped away from his lock.

He didn't stop, licking at your neck before suckling at your skin. Your hands clutched hard at the back of his neck and shoulders, wanting River to melt over you like butter.

Pulling out an inch, River thrust shortly into you, barely jostling you but causing the friction you craved. You didn't hold back in your appreciation of River giving what you wanted.

"River, River," you moaned in succession, praising him.

You begged for his kiss again by nudging his nose, your face scrunching in ecstasy. River panted against your lips, growling into your kiss and easing back his hips.

Stroking into you again, you broke; breaking away from his kiss as your hips raised in begging want. River's hands gripped at your hips, squeezing at your thighs as he angled himself further into you.

The noises that escaped from you rattled between you two; your hands mindlessly clutched at River's chest, admiring his smattering of chest hair.

That was until River's cock rang that sweet spot within you. You whined, your ankles tightening and cumming through River's thrusts.

River's hips stuttered, slowing to stop himself from cumming. Your walls massaged at his length, practically begging for him to explode inside. A sweat broke out across his shoulders, planting a hand beside your head while he pursed soft breaths before gripping his base and pulling out.

You whimpered, your knees drawing up River's sides as his hot skin dragged out of you. Rolling onto your side, you caught yourself and reveled in the ecstatic wake left behind from your orgasm.

River managed to get off the counter, stepping out of his boots and pants before curling his arm around your waist. "One place down, everywhere else to go, baby."

He held onto you, moving you from the kitchen counter to the pool table. When he set you down, you bent your chest down, presenting while batting away the pool balls into the pockets.

River took that moment to peel your tank top over your ass and legs before discarding it behind him. He smacked at the apple of your ass, letting it reverb through your body before nosing at your pussy.

He stuck his tongue into you, earning a silent moan from you. Your hand mindlessly went for the top of his head, wanting to push his lavish, warm wet tongue further into you. You could feel yourself ready to explode because of it.

Your eyes lolled, River lapping into you with his nose tickling at your ass. You panted, rolling your hips back against his mouth. Your nipples perked against the green felt of the table, wiggling into River to chase after the feeling he'd just given you.

"Fuck me, please, fuck," you begged, dropping your hand from his head and opening your knees.

River chuckled, smacking away from your wet pussy; your juices decorated down his chin as he circled his hands around your hips and pulled you to the edge of the table. You braced the edge, bent directly over it and gasping as River pushed into you again.

Your eyes rolled, the wake from which he'd made you cum reinvigorating. His cock paved into you again, ringing the same places that'd made you cum the first time. Your noises came out pitchy, whining and jostling by his thrusts.

Your hand went out to brace his waist but River took grip of your wrist and held it to your side. He was slow, metering out his strokes to not cum so quickly inside you.

Mewling, you held your face to the table breathing out of your mouth with each pump. "Fuck, Riv."

River growled, circling his hand around your waist to strum at your clit. You squeaked, attempting to squirm away from the extra sensitivity before your boyfriend bent to nip at the skin of your shoulder.

"Come on, Val. Cum on my cock again," he grunted, backing your ass further into his waist.

Your back arched, unable to fight off the increased level of stimulation. Free hand reaching for his waist, you ground into River's cock and found yourself cumming again.

This time, your wet dribbled down your ass and between your thighs, gasping and chest sobbing from overstimulation. River thrusted deep into you, finding the right spot to cum.

He held your hips tight against him, not leaving a single wall inside you unclaimed. River's eyes rolled, heaving to the high ceiling, while savoring your pulsating cunt.

You recovered, slack-jawed, feeling River's cum pool into you. Eyes fluttering at the heat, you imagined him just knocking you up then and there.

"That's two," River whispered, kissing up your back. You grinned back at him, meeting his lips at your shoulder and rolling your hips into him again.

"D-do we take a break?" you asked softly, feeling the need to cool down.

River grinned against your shoulder, shaking his head softly. You gulped, brows raised in question. He slowly pulled out of you, watching with fascination as your pussy produced a trail of his cum.

He licked his lips at the sight, gathering his cum on his middle finger and swirling it between your pussy lips. Your toes curled, the act starting a full body shiver.

When he was done, River raised you over his shoulder and carried you to his next location: your workdesk, which with some modifying, would soon become River's.

He sat you on the edge of the desk, sitting before you in the chair. Leaning back, River took grip of his cock already hardening again.

"Open your legs," he ordered, eyes leveling with yours.

You did as you were told, holding your legs open on the desk and glancing down to see his cum oozing out of you. His warmth puddled around your ass, leaving you decorated and gulping.

"Spread it for me, V." His words pierced through you, catching your heart on your ribs.

Your pussy clenched in response, still following his orders by opening your lips. River's grin was sinful, parting his eyes from yours to envelop the sight of your spent cunt.

He wheeled himself closer, kissing at your clit and earning your twitching knees almost clamped around his head. River lapped down your pussy, gathering his cum to loll on his tongue before spitting back into you.

You gasped, staring down at River sink his cyber middle and ring finger into your pussy while flicking his tongue at your clit. At the same time, he slowly stroked his cock in his other hand.

Your bare chest rose and fell unevenly, fighting the urge to close your knees. River stared up at you from the helm of your pussy, watching your face contort in pleasure.

Brows furrowed, bottom lip quivering as you wiggled in and away from River's mouth and fingers. Your free hand cradled at the base of River's neck, imagining kissing him back just as sloppy as he was eating you.

River seethed into your clit, stroking slower as he got painfully hard. You threw your head back in a spew of moans, no longer able to keep his glare.

Pulling back, River folded his thumb to your clit and growled at you. "Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you cum."

You crooned, leaking more onto the desk as you straightened your head to hold his gaze. Doing so, your toes instantly curled and with River clamping onto your clit again, you came with a new ferocity.

Your pussy clenched with a newer sensation, splashing River's chin with your juices. Petting at the back of his shaved head, you rode against his nose and fingers until his eyes fluttered in response and came in his hand.

"Oh, holy fuck," you gasped, exasperated, dropping your legs off the edge of the desk. "River, goddamn."

River hunched his shoulders forward, catching his breath again and staring up at you from under his brow. "Was that good?"

He stood up slowly, looming over you with a light glean of sweat on his chest.

"Better than," you huffed, grabbing his hips and guiding his still-hard cock into you. You cried into his chest, leaning back to pull him into you.

River's hands cradled your face, watching your face scrunch on a whole new level of pleased. His hips rolled into you, mapping every minute reaction on your face.

Goosebumps grew on your body with River planting himself deep into you again. A new film of sweat decorated your forehead, your hair fully sweated through.

"Can you cum again for me?" River asked against your lips.

Your lips parted to breathe his air, your hands holding his waist and following his languid thrusts. Every movement had your body reacting with new vulnerability.

You pulled River impossibly close, begging silently for his kiss. "I-I don't know if I-I can," you simpered, following River's slow thrusts.

River nudged your nose on both sides, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "Be my good girl, cum again."

Your knees caught onto River's hips, your hands circling to knead his ass. "S-stay just like that."

He seethed, kissing your cupid's bow then bottom lip individually before catching your mouth. River picked up his thrusts, pistoning his hips seamlessly and making you break into a whimper.

You leaned against River's chest, ready to batter him off of you but finding your edge quickly, cumming a fourth time on your boyfriend's wonder cock.

Your pussy throbbed uncontrollably, leaking more onto River's waist and the floor.

"My very, very good girl," River praised, pulling from your kiss and shutting his eyes to relish in your extra-wet cunt.

He hummed at you, nosing your cheeks, hairline and kissing softly at your forehead. River dropped his hands and curled them around your waist, keeping himself balls-deep inside of you.

You sniveled against his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside of your pussy. "Call me that again."

River smirked at you, moving around to sit on the couch, you in his lap. "My very, very good girl." He rolled your hips on his cock, making you croon.

"I love that look on your face, V, when my cock hits deep," River confided, kneading at your thighs.

Your hands braced River's thick shoulders, then hugged him close while crying against his mouth.

"It's so good, Riv. Oh god, oh fuck," you simpered, your spent cunt gripping tighter at River's cock.

It almost felt like another orgasm growing, your knees gelatinous and unable to stabilize yourself.

River's hands skirted up your body before finally holding your face again. "Maybe you need a break."

Your eyes fluttered, moaning into his mouth but nodding. River pulled you off of his cock then threw you over his shoulder to carry upstairs.

Your knees clenched together, the jostling making your pussy react. River playfully spanked your ass, rounding the stairs to the landing then further to the bedroom.

He tossed you onto the bed, watching your body bounce. Your legs splaying open, breasts jiggling, River grunted affirmatively and climbed onto the bed after you.

"I can barely keep my hands off you, V," River muttered, grabbing you and curling you into him.

He cuddled you close, working his shoulders into the mattress to get comfortable. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, your body weighing down from ecstasy.

River brushed your sweaty hair away from your forehead, bending to peck your hairline. "We'll pick up when you have the energy."

You hummed in agreement, curling your leg around his waist. River ran his hand down your back, holding your ass closer to him.

You woke up, barely half an hour later, nuzzling your face against River. Your arms draped around him, you raised your chin to look down at him. He grinned, tilting his head up.

His hands cupped at your ass, your legs straddled over his waist. "Even in your sleep, you can't keep your hands off of me."

You flopped your forehead against his chest. "Shut up."

River squeezed at your body appreciatively, laughing with you. "It's cute, at least I know you like me."

"More than that," you responded, raising up to peck his skin.

River hummed, bending his neck to sniff the top of your head. He kissed there, shifting you to acknowledge his stiffened cock rested just beneath your waist. "How 'bout round two?"

You crooned, sitting up on River's chest, unable to hide your deviant grin. "Let's break it all in."

River's brows leveled, his eyes lighting with something salacious. You lifted your knee, grabbing his throbbing length and angling it up to your pussy.

Upon grazing his tip against you, your nipples perked and a new shudder went through your body. Your pussy reacted with a flutter, holding your lips open to sink down on him.

An errant cry escaped you with taking in River's full length. His hands ghosted down your hips, cradling your thighs before slipping to the backs of your knees.

He garnered the look on your face, the minute pleasure that wracked through your body upon insertion. He licked at his top lip then folded his bottom lip between his teeth.

River couldn't help his own reaction, a groan escaping from behind his lips. Your hands braced his stomach, admiring the divots of his muscle before readying your knees.

You raised up, the slow drag of River leaving you making you gasp in awe. When you reached the tip, you reversed back down to him, driving both of you to whine.

Bracing your knees, you picked up your pace a bit, riding your boyfriend into the mattress. River's cyber hand offered a spank to the fleshiest part of your ass, growling intently at the jiggle that followed.

He thought of devouring you again, mouth readily watering to sink his nose in your pussy again. Lifting his hips, he met your meter and fucked you harder.

Your hand at his stomach went up to his chest, your face scrunched. It was way too soon, but the warmth grew from your pussy and up your back before blooming through your stomach. Folding against River, you moaned and mewed against his skin as you came.

Your hand reached back to keep River's cock angled into you, pumping through your orgasm. Your pussy pulsed around his hot cock, wiggling and groaning in its euphoric wake.

"Keep going," you grizzled against River's chest, trying to pull yourself upright again.

River fought through the heated core of your pussy, now a whole new level of inviting. He ran his hand up your side, catching your wrist at his chest and kissing the meat of your palm.

Still he fucked into you, already a broken mess, and stuttered his hips to cum. He stilled, holding his hips into you and emptying his balls into your begging cunt.

You gasped at the sensation, the heated gush into you making you break into a sweat. Chin rested in the middle of River's ribs, you met his gaze and flashed a lazy smile.

He narrowed his eye at you, sitting up and cradling you against him. River barely basked in the warm afterglow, only carried you to the bathroom.

Your arms curled around his neck, you writhed on his still-hard cock and readily waited for the next destination. River stepped into the golden shower stall, carefully letting you off of him.

His cum leaked from your pussy, slathering down your ass and between your thighs as he slammed the shower button with his cyber hand.

River held onto his cock at the base, leaning back into the spray to wet his head and shoulders. You stood by, the off-spray hitting you while you watched, mesmerized, the rivulets that trailed down your boyfriend's sculpted body.

Leaning in, you raised up and slurped some of the water from River's clavicle while your hands roamed around his slickened body. River looked down at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze before kissing him.

Parting from him, you mapped soft kisses down his neck and chest then further to his stomach and waist before kneeling before his cock.

With his hand grasped at his base, you kissed his tip. River stared down at you, reacting with heavy exhale. Staring up at him, you opened your mouth to take him in.

Your tongue rolled out of your mouth, you edged River's twitching cock in and his tip rang at the back of your throat. Taking a moment to adjust, you readily exhaled through your nose.

At the same time, your free hand roamed down to your pussy and sank two fingers in. River watched you take him in, fingering yourself, his chest puffing.

You moaned against his cock, the vibrations making him groan. The two at the same time, you felt your pussy aching for River again.

River snarled, already sensitive from cumming once. He measured his breathing, trying to not explode in your mouth no matter how hard you tried.

You worked on his cock, bobbing in and pulling off of him to swirl your tongue around his tip; Pulling a whine from River's throat, you felt yourself get wetter from the sound as you pumped your fingers.

River's shoulders shuddered, finally giving in to your efforts and cumming deep in your throat. He groaned, his noises echoing against the gold stall of the shower.

Your nipples hardened at the sound that escaped your boyfriend, driving you to want to mount him again. His cum shot in the back of your throat, hot and gooey, the faint salt of him making you thirsty.

You gulped at the tip of his cock, milking the last of his essence dry before River scoffed in disbelief and playfully pushed you off of him.

You giggled against his palm, leaning back to grin at him with your mouth still full of cum. River looked down at you, ready to pounce, but helped you back to your feet and ran his thumb over your mouth to clean his cum off of you.

"You are so fucking sexy," River praised, his thumb dragging your bottom lip down as you swallowed his essence.

You hummed, leaning into his slick body as he spun you two around. The two of you shared the spray of the water while River caught your lips in a deep kiss; he reached for your thigh, pulling your knee up to brace his waist.

He pushed into you, pressing your back to the cool slate of the shower. You sighed into his mouth, the tang of your essence still on his taste. Biting away in slight disgust of yourself, River made up for your distance ready to scour your dirty mouth with his tongue.

His hand traced up and down your thigh, silently appreciating the sculpt of your body, how you fit into his hands. His cyber hand clasped your jaw, captivating as much of you in his hold at once.

"I love you, baby," River parted from your mouth to catch his breath.

He stood in the spray, letting his bottom lip catch the water as it traveled down his face. There was never going to be a moment you'd tire of looking at him.

You circled your arms around his neck and jumped onto his waist, crossing your legs around him. "I love you more. Missed you still."

River blushed at you, unable to help the healthy grin he offered. "Not anymore, I'm right here with you."

His arms braced your thighs, easily holding you up. Your hands smushed at his cheeks, pecking his pouty lips before begging his kiss again.

He obliged you, carrying you out of the shower and to the bathroom counter. You sat your ass on the counter, sliding back down to your feet; River took that moment to spin you by your waist and bend you over the sink.

You giggled amorously, feeling his shaft stiffen between your thighs. "Don't want to miss a spot, huh?"

River heartily laughed, bending to pepper your back with kisses. He licked the drops of water from your skin before nudging your ear with his nose. "You know me, V. I'm thorough."

That made your pussy tense again, eyes rolling at the thought of being used again. River spared no time working your wetness with his middle and ring finger before parting your lips and sinking into you.

You moaned against the clouded glass of the mirror, the condensation building with the steam of your shower. River braced his cyber hand on your waist, backing you rhythmically into him; while his other hand reached out and touched the mirror glass, revealing the sight of him stood aggressively behind you.

Your eyes caught onto his reflection, staring at his focus on your ass; the water on his skin dewing with his building sweat. You pulled your bottom lip in and shivered at the sound fucking he was giving.

River's eyes glanced up from under his brow, catching your eyes on him. He thrusted a bit harder into you, earning your knees buckling, then winked and continued.

You bowed your head down, already close again but River's hand smacked your ass; his fingers found their way into your hair, combing up from the nape before tugging gently and making you whimper in delight.

"Eyes on me, baby," River ordered, his voice a sultry rasp.

You did as you were told, licking your lips and meeting his eyes in the mirror. His feather necklace decorated just along his clavicle swiveled with his thrusts, swinging in the area of his gorgeous chest hair.

Your lovestruck eyes met with River's, your body melting at his piercing gaze. You forced your knees together, a hand going out to brace his waist for pause as you came undone again.

His cock felt thicker with pulsing around it, your pussy dribbling onto his waist and between your thighs. You kept your eyes on him, mouth agape as you moaned incoherent praise for his undoing.

River's hand in your hair tightened a tad, slowing his pace to not overdo himself. He seethed between his teeth, admiring the muscled throb of your pussy on his length. If it were up to him, he'd make your pussy his new home.

He practically was.

After shutting off the shower, River carried you out of the bathroom and downstairs. Thankfully, he understood that your legs would be useless for a bit.

Your knees were magnetized together, riding out the last of your orgasm with your still-spasming pussy. Hands bracing his bare back, you teasingly spanked him just as he had to you.

He laughed, looking over his shoulder in the direction of you before jostling you on his shoulder.

"That's cute, V," he said, rounding the landing and walking down to the first floor.

You beamed cheekily, offering a pinch to his tanned ass cheek as he surveyed the apartment. Crossing the living room, he set you on your feet before the window by the extra large television.

"Hands on the glass," he said, bending over you to force your hands to the glass. River pressed into you in a way that pressed your breasts to the tepid glass, your pert nipples greeted with a chill. "Don't look down."

He tenderly bit your earlobe then disappeared behind you. You half-expected his cock to pave into you again, the throb of your pussy almost second nature at this point with him.

But it was his tongue that lined down your lips, curling to tickle your clit.

"Ohh." You pressed your forehead to the glass, shutting your eyes from staring out at the mid-morning skyline of Night City.

You weren't going to look down, not that you had a thing for heights, but just as River told you not to. His nose swiped between your lips, earning your foot raising. It almost tickled, but way deep in your core.

His tongue backtracked, lining up to your entrance before sinking in. River's lips moved in effort with his tongue, having you squirming against his muscle embedded deep in you.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," you muttered against the glass, tilting your hips out to earn more of the heavy, hot, warm, wet feeling of your boyfriend's mouth.

At the same time, River's cyber hand pressed to your clit with his middle finger tapping at such a speed to meet his tongue lapping your walls.

You decided to ready yourself with God, if he was there, because you were about to see a whole new light. River's cock took you there every time, but his mouth almost kept you there.

You broke into a pant against the glass, nipples almost hard enough to cut through the glass of your bird's eye apartment. Trying to last just for the sensation almost wasn't worth the euphoria that would tear through you.

Your hands stood on your fingertips, wanting to pull away to shove River's poor face further into your ass so you could have more of his fucking tongue.

River noised while clamped to your pussy and involuntarily earned your orgasm. Your knees forced together, moaning against the glass and close to crumbling though River held you up.

He felt your cunt gush into his mouth, a new wave of wetness to paint his chin with your juices. River could barely contain his smile, slowly pulling his tongue back and earning more of your whimpers from doing so.

You slid down the window glass, your knees finally bracing the floor as you hid your face in your forearm to catch yourself. It was still too good, wracking with the last remnants of your other orgasm and actively making your brain melt.

Why no sex all time? If sex this good, why work? If River cock make see stars, why leave bed?

You were trying to regain some sense of sanity. This was just breaking it in together. There would be so many more instances like this. Your excited, yet utterly spent, pussy was fluttering with excitement.

River would be here everyday, and God knows you two never tired of each other.

River sat back on his knees, watching you writhe and shiver from this one; he grabbed your ankle and pulled you across the floor to him.

"V, you okay?"

Rolling onto your back, you stared at the ceiling; taking in the fresh air, you grinned lazily and nodded. "Better than. Fucking hell, that's so not fair."

River smirked, pulling your legs to drape over his lap; he ignored his cock already raising again from your beautiful noises, only ran his hands up and down your thighs comfortingly. "What's not?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your face. Your chest held a butterfly-light flutter, as if now ready for the next orgasm you'd rip through.

You thought about how many times you'd come in the last two hours. Seven times. The thought alone made you start spinning.

Thinking about how many times River came in that same span made your stomach feel oily inside. Even with a quick recovery, you were slacking on making him cum so hard he saw stars.

River waited for your answer, bending over you to peel your arms away from your face. He hovered just above you, an absolute angel and delight. "What's not, babe?"

Your brows furrowed, wanting to be upset but only appreciating his beautiful voice, how soft he could be. "I want to make you cum again."

River showed his teeth, laughing down at you. "I'm good, you're already right on track."

You shook your head, determined; pulling him a little closer to you, you narrowed your eyes. "No, I will make you cum again."

"I bet on it," River offered in response, still not gleaning your idea of fair share. "You're doing great so far."

You tittered, caressing his face while your other hand reached down for his cock. "I can make it better."

Your grip caused River to jolt above you, his eye widening. Before he could say anything, you started stroking his twitching length.

He huffed against your lips, keeping your gaze while you worked your hand in steady, long stroked around his cock. You felt yourself getting worked up again at the thought, but bit it back.

This was River appreciation right now. You parted your lips to match his, offering your mouth for his kiss if he wanted. Your hand was a mediocre impasse, seeing as your pussy was mere inches away weeping to be used again.

But this was just to focus on him. You wanted his pleasure, you wanted to see it wash over his handsome face and for you to bask in it.

And you kinda wanted his cum to splatter on your pussy, effectively claiming it as his even though it wasn't necessary.

River bowed into you, his stomach bracing yours as his forearms planted on either side of your face. "V."

"I know, baby. I want you to cum on me," you pleaded, puffing your chest to press your breasts against him. "I want you to sign your name in it. Make me all yours, Riv."

River's puffed air from his open mouth onto yours. He bit back a snarl, crashing into your lips and moaning into you. Your fingers played at his hot tip then worked back down, feeling the veins in his cock roll and tense until he finally came.

He exploded against your clit, your wrist, and into your navel. His body shivered in pleasure, his noises traveling down your throat and making your chest feel even lighter.

It felt good, bringing him to ecstasy. No, it felt euphoric itself; you could've cum from experiencing it.

He bit at your bottom lip while pulling away, gathering his cum from your stomach and clit then fingering it back into you. "Only you make me do that. It's always gonna be you. I'm all yours."

You playfully chomped your teeth in the direction of his nose. You thought of having this man for every meal, especially dessert. You'd have a slice of him with coffee for breakfast, twice in bed before you'd go to sleep.

The possibilities were endless. You acknowleged him by bringing him in and shoving your tongue in his mouth, rolling on top of him on the white fur rug of the living room.

Now you were realizing what was missing from this apartment. A fireplace.

That would've been the next place you'd have had River fuck you. Maybe turning on a video of a fireplace would suffice, but maybe later. You needed him again, even though he was right under you, caressing and squeezing your body as if you'd evaporate into thin air.

"Fuck me in the library," you breathed out, parting from his delectable lips.

River nodded, as if receiving work orders, then sprung into action to carry you there.

The very last place to christen, River sat in the book nook chair and pulled you into his lap. "Let me try something with you."

You followed his silent lead, bringing your knees up to brace the chair as River lined you up to sit on his cock; one of his hands crossed to your breast, already playing with your nipple as his cyber hand went to hold your pussy open.

He curled your arm around the back of his neck to suction his mouth to your nipple at the same time you sank onto his cock.

A new whimper escaped you, leaning into River to moan at the ceiling. All of it at once felt too overstimulating, you were sure you were going to explode upon insertion.

You were a withering mess on River's lap, rolling your hips as his fingers rubbed in soft circles. His tongue softly rounded your nipple, pinching your other between his fingers.

"River," you curled your hand to brace his temple, staring at him suckling your breast into his mouth.

His length twitched inside of you, meeting with your throbbing walls and earning a few moans between the two of you. Your eyes shut, attempting to breathe easily though your body was gaining in heat.

River's body under you, his warmth bringing a new film of sweat. It was almost instantaneous, unfair, cumming on his cock and writhing over him.

His fingers pinched a bit harder at your pert nipple, his teeth lining around your other. Scrubbing your clit, River kept going as it cut through your orgasm. It was short-lived, bringing on a new wake of heat and making you writhe further.

Your body broke into goosebumps, toes curling as a whole new sensation rushed through you on the back end of your orgasm. Your pussy clenched harder around River's cock, finding it throb outward as you wet your boyfriend's lap and the insides of your thighs.

You collapsed against River, the new rush drawing more energy from you. Chest light and full of flutter, you begged River to let you go at least.

RIver obliged with your nipple, leaving a few soft teeth indents on your breast before finally stilling his cock inside of you just enjoying the massage of your pussy.

He ducked his face behind your shoulder, pulling you further into his hold to ease you from the heightened sensitivity. "Anywhere else, baby?"

You laughed dryly, turning on his shoulder to kiss his cheek. "I'm sure we'll find a new place soon enough."

River grinned against your skin, opting to check the time from the clock on the book shelf. "Wanna get some lunch?"

"Order in? I don't think I'll be walking for a minute," you winced, feeling your knees reduced to gelatin.

"Sounds great to me, I want you glued to my side in that bed. It's calling my name." River nudged your nose then pecked your lips.

"Good, because that's all I was thinking about. Carry me?"

River shifted in his seat, pulling you off of him then shifting you over his shoulder. "Already there."

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