#River City Brewing

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Photography: Mama, I'm Coming Home/ICT to LGA 6/23/24

Photography: Mama, I'm Coming Home/ICT to LGA 6/23/24 @AmericanAir @LGAairport @FlyICT @DFWAirport

Caption: River City Brewing’s Stout was delicious. And yes, the passport. Again, that had to do with the REAL ID rules. The road keeps calling y’all. Times have changed and times are strangeHere I come, but I ain’t the sameMama, I’m coming home . . . Me and two other panelists had a 2:00pm shuttle to Dwight D. Eisenhower, Wichita Airport. And after going through security, we went to River City…

[azumeliablorbobracket]

Losers' Round 1 Match 2 - Cole vs. Kyoko

Vote for whoever you like better - if you know neither, voting off of appearance or something like that is fine! NO NEGATIVE PROPAGANDA, please!!

[olive-main]

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.

__

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 ~

[yestrday]

— 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.

[radiance1]

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.

[callsigns-haze]

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?

[heli-writes]

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.

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

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight

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

[boykisser4]

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.

[teecupangel]

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.

[breelandwalker]

October 2024 Newsletter - Willow Wings Witch Shop

Happy Spooky Month, witches! It’s time for pumpkins and cider and crunchy leaves and haunted houses and all the tricks and treats we can squeeze into our schedules. And for those of us doing a bit of spiritual housekeeping this October, the shop is featuring items designed to help clear unwanted visitors and disruptive energy from your home!

Whether you’re removing that which no longer serves your purposes, banishing something unwanted, fending off baneful intentions, or just trying to keep sneaky spirits from following you home, there’s something for everyone this month. And don’t forget about the Spirit Work Mini Bottle Charms for augmenting your divinations, invocations, and ancestor work while the veil is thin!

Use code CAULDRON for 20% off featured items and new arrivals all month long, and watch for a new merch drop later this month!

Happy Witching! 🎃

Upcoming Events:

First Friday Moon Market (First Friday of each month) Next Event – Friday, Oct 4 2024, 6-9pm Historic Hilton Village 10369 Warwick Blvd, Newports News VA (USA) Hosted by Styx & Stones

Samhain Witch Market Sunday, October 13 2024, 12pm-6pm Diversity Richmond 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA (USA) Hosted by River City Witch Markets

Nighttime Witches Market Saturday, October 26 2024, 6-10pm Alewerks Taproom 189 B Ewell Rd, Williamsburg VA (USA) Hosted by Alewerks Brewing

Hex Positive, Ep. 049 - Satanic Panic? In MY Witchcraft Community? with Trae Dorn Premieres October 7th

Welcome back, witches! We’re diving back into things with another classic collaboration between your friendly neighborhood Witchstorian and everyone’s favorite curmudgeon and host of BS-Free Witchcraft, Trae Dorn. Feeling the weight of our years just a LITTLE bit, we sit down to discuss the stubborn traces of Satanic Panic rhetoric that still linger in the modern witchcraft movement. Not in external gossip or talking-head suppositions, but in the internal discussions that witches maintain in live spaces and especially on social media. Tune in to hear a couple of weary elder millennials ramble about devil worship, community paranoia, and how much it irritates us when people don’t know their own history. Remember, witches - you are not immune to propaganda.

Featured Products:

[yourcarnevoreuspal]

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.

Right?

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.

________

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.

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…

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…

________

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…

[ataraxiaspainting]

Where Did The Years Go?

Yan Scaramouche x GN Reader.

Synopsis: You said you understood him. So why do you plan to leave him too?

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, Scara is in his Kabukimono era, thoughts of murdering the Reader, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

Dendrobium could only grow in areas where Celestia is blind. Kabukimono knew that, almost more than he knew anything else. The Dendrobium blooming next to a grave long since abandoned, much like the rest of this island, has no one to watch over it, no one aside from you and him. The seven red flowers sprouting in the tomb were unloved by this world, much like Kabukimono once used to be before he found a home within you, his beloved. 

The flower had many names, unlike the unmarked, broken stone that hid some sort of rotting human beneath the soil. The Flower of Poison because of the stamens which are indeed poisonous to mortals unlike himself, intended to keep pests like mice away from the inner parts. The Flower of Death was another ominous title since the flowers are said to bloom only when an Inazuman is said to cross over to the other side after passing on, be it from old age, disease, or some slow and painful death they either did or did not deserve. Sometimes, when you are feeling guilty enough, you visit this grave too, and sit down to meditate, contemplating what your mother is doing in the afterlife if it even existed. Perhaps this was why you were given a Vision, the shade of that of the tea you often brewed for both Kabikumono and yourself, a bright green color that dared not dwindle. The Flower of The Other Shore is also a common label for Dendrobium because when a soul passes the river they are said to be greeted by a field of them. Kabukimono ponders for a moment, leaning down to pick out a petal, playing with it between his thumb and pointer finger, stopping when he hears you call out his name, followed by the slightly loud note of a bell. He leans back down and buries the petal within the soil of the grave, bowing before hurrying off in the direction of your home.

Today’s dinner is a combination of what you both managed to gather. Kabukimono gathered the fish and seaweed, while you cooked the rice from the small field outside your home, along with some Lavender Melon. Your meals are often like this, Kabukimono found out a few days into him becoming a resident here for the time being, that what you ate depended heavily on the weather and the harvest. He promises himself that one day he will treat you to a meal and life so grand that you will never go back to foraging all day to just be barely given enough to scrape by. 

Seven months have passed since he first arrived here, according to you. He hopes that this life will continue to get better and that he will be able to give you the life you deserve.

“Kabukimono,” The saying of your name is unusually deflated like it has been the past week or so. “I… have to tell you something, alright?”

“Absolutely! Tell me anything, anything at all.”

What comes out of your mouth is not what he wanted to hear at all. “I… I’m leaving Yashiori Island.”

“...Huh?” He looks down at the small bowls that are in the center of the two of you. His side, as usual, has more food than yours, because you keep saying you cannot bear to see him go hungry. “Why?”

“There is not enough food. Not enough… anything. The thunderstorms are getting much worse too… I can’t live here anymore.”

You think this is the first time you have been scared of Kabukimono, because that new expression he is wearing is utterly terrifying.

“I… I’m sorry, Kabukimono. I’m… leaving for Inazuma City soon.”

He smiles, and in the blink of an eye, he is standing up and then your foreheads are touching, his hands grabbing your shoulders so tightly you could feel them almost dislocate. 

“No, you’re not, because that’s awfully selfish of you! My [First] would never do such a thing, right? They wouldn’t leave me alone to starve and cry and be covered in filth.”

Being aware that you are unaware of his non-human nature, yet acknowledging your uncontainable empathy, makes employing this strategy even simpler. It works every time you want to leave.

“Here, you can have my portion for tonight, alright? Just… Just don’t leave me. Please?” After a moment of silence, along with the tears that trickle down your cheeks, he knows he has one, at least for now. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, [First].”

When you don’t answer again, looking to the side, to the bag of your essentials, Kabukimono wonders if that grave would have enough room for two and not just one.

But he dismisses it because surely, you’ll be with him forever, right?

[mushroomates]

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.

[romerona]

Stellar Veil

In which a star falls in Westeros.

Cregan Stark x reader????

Words 1.7k

The night draped Westeros in its customary shroud, stars flickering like cold diamonds against the dark tapestry of the sky. And yet, amidst this celestial dance, a singular brilliance unfolded—a comet, resplendent in its fiery tail, streaked boldly across the heavens.

In King's Landing, where ambition and conspiracy brewed as thick as the city's smog, the Red Keep stood sentinel against the cosmic display. Nobles and commoners alike were drawn to its battlements and gardens, their faces upturned in wonder and trepidation. The comet's golden glow suffused the city, casting shadows that danced across cobblestones and whispered secrets into the night.

Far to the west, where the Iron Islands gripped the tempestuous seas, sailors paused in their dance with the waves. From the deck of every longship, weathered faces turned skyward, witnessing the comet's passage mirrored in the restless waters below. Above them, the ancient castle of Pyke seemed to hold its breath, its jagged silhouette outlined against the blaze.

Across the tumultuous waters of the Narrow Sea, the comet's brilliance reflected off the prow of Braavosi merchant ships and the galleys of the Free Cities. Sailors, traders and slaves hardened by salt and sea, paused in their endless voyages to witness this divine occurrence.

In the Reach, where the verdant fields of Highgarden stretched beneath a canopy of stars, peasants and nobles alike paused. They gazed heavenward, their hearts filled with awe and mistrust, as tales danced upon their lips.

And in the North, where the night was as black as obsidian and the stars burned with an icy intensity, the comet blazed its final path. Its light pierced the veil of mist hanging over the haunted forest and the desolate lands beyond. There, amidst the sentinel trees and the solemn silence of the far North, the comet's radiance flared brightly before vanishing beyond the horizon.

South of the Wall, in the desolate expanse known as the Gift, the comet's descent shattered the silence of the frozen wilderness with fierce force. A blinding flash of light, brighter than the pale moon above, rent the night asunder. The ground trembled violently beneath the celestial impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the thick crust of snow that covered the ancient land.

As the earth ceased its violent tremors, silence descended upon the northern wilderness like a heavy cloak. The Night's Watch, vigilant guardians of the Wall and the realms of men, stood amidst the aftermath of the comet's impact, their faces etched with awe and apprehension.

Commander Ulric Rivers, a grizzled veteran of many winters, surveyed the scene with a mixture of curiosity and concern. His voice cut through the lingering echoes of the crash, commanding attention from the assembled rangers.

"Brothers," he intoned, his words carrying the weight of authority earned through years of service beyond the Wall. "Gather your gear. We must survey the impact site."

The rangers, seasoned men clad in black with weapons and fur-trimmed cloaks, exchanged glances of determination. Among them, Harald Snow, a knight of the Watch known for his keen eye and steady hand, stepped forward.

"Commander," Ser Harald spoke, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air, "We will go. We'll bring back word of what we find, true as steel."

Commander Ulric nodded in approval, his expression grim but resolute. "Go swiftly, and return with all haste. The hour is late."

With that, the rangers set forth, the horses steps crunch on the icy ground as they ventured towards the crater that marked the comet's violent descent. Behind them, the rest of the Night's Watch remained vigilant, their eyes trained upon the northern horizon where the comet's trail still lingered faintly in the night sky.

The rangers approached the crater cautiously, their breath visible in the frigid air as they navigated the transformed landscape. The snow around the impact site had melted into a steaming morass, revealing scorched earth and jagged fragments of rock still glowing faintly with residual heat. The air hummed with a strange, palpable energy, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene.

Ser Jaremy Woodbear, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, led the way with Harald Snow close behind. Their sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, taking in every detail with the precision of a seasoned watchman. Beside them, Alexio Stone, a stoic figure with weathered features and a keen intellect, knelt to examine a particularly large fragment of rock that jutted from the ground like a blackened tooth.

"Careful now," Harald Snow cautioned, his voice a low murmur that carried on the wind. "We don't know what this rock may hold. Keep your wits about you."

Ser Jaremy Woodbear, ever vigilant, was the first to notice the form inside the crater—a woman.

"Ser Harald, come, there's a woman..." Jaremy called out quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe and uncertainty.

Harald Snow hurried to his side, his eyes narrowing as he beheld the scene before him. Nestled amidst the charred remnants of the comet's impact lay a figure unlike any he had seen in his years ranging away from the Wall. A woman, an ethereal woman. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a faint glow, casting gentle reflections upon the jagged rocks that surrounded her.

"Gods be good," Harald muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. "What in the name of the Seven Kingdoms...?"

Alexio Stone slowly made his way down and knelt beside the woman, his weathered hands hovering uncertainly above her prone form. "She... she's glowing,"

The woman lay still, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that seemed out of place amidst the chaos of the impact site. Her hair, a cascade that shimmered like moonlight, framed a face that could have graced the halls of the most illustrious castles in Westeros. Despite the harshness of her surroundings, an air of tranquility radiated from her presence, as if she were untouched by the violence that had torn through the night.

"She does not seem a threat. We'll take her back to Castle Black,” Harald decided finally, his gaze lingering upon the woman's enigmatic form. "Ser Jaremy, help me carry her."

With careful hands, the ranger lifted the unconscious woman from the heart of the crater, cradling her as gently as if she were made of glass. Her ethereal glow seemed to pulse faintly in response to the touch, but as they traveled, the ethereal glow that had surrounded her began to dim, fading like the dying embers of a once brilliant fire. Her radiant presence dwindled until she appeared as any ordinary woman, though her beauty still held a haunting quality that spoke of otherworldly origins.

Harald Snow glanced at her intermittently, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "Keep an eye on her," he instructed the rangers quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of uncertainty. "We know not what we carry."

The journey back to Castle Black was fraught with quiet tension, each step echoing with the weight of their extraordinary discovery. The woman remained unconscious, her features peaceful yet arcane as if she carried secrets woven into the very fabric of her being.

As the gates of Castle Black creaked open to admit the weary party, all eyes turned towards the mysterious woman cradled in the arms of Ser Jaremy Woodbear and his fellow rangers. The men of the Night's Watch gathered in hushed clusters, their faces etched with curiosity and apprehension as they beheld the ethereal beauty now brought within their walls. Commander Ulric Rivers stepped forward to greet them, his brow furrowed in stern inquiry. His gaze locked onto the woman.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ulric Rivers demanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the assembled ranks. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, though beneath the stern exterior, there flickered a hint of curiosity and perhaps even concern.

Harald Snow, unwavering in the face of his superior's scrutiny, stepped forward with measured resolve. "We found her at the site of the comet's impact," he explained evenly, his tone betraying none of the awe he felt at the mysterious woman's presence thought he hesitated to continue. "She… appeared to be glowing.”

The courtyard fell silent as the gravity of their discovery settled over the assembled brothers. Whispers filled the air, mingling with the chill wind that swept down from the Wall, most not believing, saying it was a wildling woman, others whispering about sorcery.

Ulric Rivers approached the woman with cautious steps, his gaze assessing her with a mixture of scepticism and a begrudging acknowledgement of the inexplicable. Her ethereal beauty was undeniable—a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings of the ancient stronghold. Her hair, a shade that shimmered iridescently in the torchlight, cascaded around her like a flowing waterfall of sapphire strands. It was a hue unlike any he had seen before.

Her attire was equally unusual—a gown of fine fabric that seemed to shift and shimmer with every movement, as if woven from threads spun by the stars themselves. Its design was intricate, with patterns that hinted at craftsmanship far beyond the skills known to the realms of Westeros.

Ulric Rivers frowned, his thoughts racing with speculation. "This is no wildling," he muttered under his breath, his voice a gruff murmur that carried a note of wonder. "Nor any woman of our lands."

Beside Ulric, Harald Snow exchanged a meaningful glance with Ser Jaremy Woodbear and Alexio Stone. They had seen many things in their years on the Wall, but none quite like this.

"Should we remove her gown?" Harald asked quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. That statement earn a hum of agreement from the men around them.

However, Ulric shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the woman. "No, leave her be for now, we'll keep her under watch until we have answers. Lord Stark will need to hear of this. Prepare quarters for her," he instructed, his tone firm despite the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of his command. "And summon the Maester. We'll need his counsel."

With practiced efficiency, ser Jaremy Woodbear carried the woman to a chamber within Castle Black, where torchlight flickered against the ancient stone walls and cast long shadows across the floor. And above them, the stars continued their eternal dance, oblivious to the upheaval their celestial sibling had wrought upon the realm of men.

Part 2?????

A/N: The story is inspired by Stardust by Neil Gaiman.

I’m still unsure who is the main LI will be but Cregan is top 3.

And while it's an Xreader I will be describing the hair colour and eyes. But just that.

[fauxdette]

The Procurist pt. 1

Azriel x Elain

Summary: Nuala and Cerridwen are taking over duties in Azriel’s absence and reveal a mission for Elain.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 675 — if people are interested I’ll write more 😇

•••

“Well, what do you think?" Elain asked, biting the inside of her cheek as she observed her friends' reflections in the mirror.

Nuala and Cerridwen circled her chair, their shadowed eyes studying the back of her head.

"I love it," Cerridwen finally said, a small smile on her face. Nuala nodded in agreement. "You’ve always been beautiful, El, but this... it really suits you."

Elain rubbed the ends of her recently chopped locks before tucking what was left of her honey-coloured hair behind a pointed ear.

“Any reason for the sudden change?”

“I thought this might be more practical… for training.”

If sisters suspected the lie they didn't mention it. Instead, Nuala perched herself on the edge of Elain's bed, holding her gaze in the mirror.

“Speaking of training, we have a mission for you.”

The twins had been sending her on small assignments for a few weeks, challenges to test her ability to gather information without suspicion and report back to them; and Elain had to admit, she was getting good.

When she wanted to, she was virtually unnoticeable; stalking around the city in a gray hooded cloak, blending into the crowd and shadows as easily as the wraiths themselves. No one recognised her as the High Lady’s older sister, or that Autumn princes mate, or even the lovely high fae who restored their garden. Somehow, she had learned to be invisible.

But Elain knew her charm was what set her apart. The way that when people did notice her they immediately trusted her, even confiding in her. It had been that way before she turned fae, the additional beauty and allure bestowed by the Cauldron had only amplified it.

“What kind of mission?”

“The High Lord of Dawn is visiting tomorrow.”

Thesan— alongside her surveillance and espionage training, Elain had also been learning the intricacies of court politics.

“The High Lord and Lady don’t want the particulars of this meeting to be made public,” Nuala explained. “So we are keeping a close eye on the Court of Nightmares while our guest is here.”

"You want me to go to Hewn City?"

She tried not to sound afraid. These were her friends, but if she wanted to be taken seriously and earn her place in this court like her sisters had, she couldn't show fear.

"No, no, Nuala and I will be taking care of that," Cerridwen quickly added. "You will be taking our place at the River House, helping to put the visiting High Lord at ease while also keeping your eyes and ears open for anything unusual."

Elain exhaled. This sounded like something she could do, and do well. But as the thought settled in her mind, a small realisation dawned on her.

"I'm taking your place at the house because… because you're taking—"

"—the spymaster is occupied,” Nuala interrupted, although her tone held no trace of secrecy or scoulding. If anything Elain thought her eyes softened slightly.

She knew Azriel had been "occupied" for a while now, and she didn’t need anyone to confirm it for her. She could tell by the way Cassian still complained about having to brew his own coffee in the morning, the constant disarray of the training ring when she visited her older sister and the Valkyries, and the fact their outdoor furniture was now abandoned in the lawn.

If she had to guess, Azriel hadn’t been back to Velaris since Nyx's birth.

Not that she could blame him.

Elain squared her shoulders, shoving the memory and sadness that came along with it, deep inside herself. Then she looked at the sisters, still waiting for her answer, and grinned.

“Count me in then.”

Read part 2

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. SPOILERS for other SJM series. Mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, feelings. Not proof read.

Author’s note: Merry Christmas everyone! It took me MONTHS but is finally here, hope you like it. Sorry for making you wait for so long, life has been nothing short of chaotic. I'd like to thank @crazylokonugget , I read your comment. It was the rush of inspiration I needed to get back into writing 🫶🏻

CHAPTER SIX 

The moon was shining big and bright above the night sky in the city, there was music being played by the river despite the chilling winds of the winter and laughter filled the air around The Rainbow. It all seemed so livid, so peaceful and merry in contrast with the emotional turmoil brewing in your insides. 

You were feeling everything at once, every single thing you had tried to keep concealed for centuries now was ready to combust. You felt confused, and angry, resentful, wary…and underneath it all naively hopeful. It would be a lie to say you had successfully gotten rid of your feelings towards Azriel, if anything all the awful things you've done to each other hurted all the more because of that. He was a friend once, and a good one. Gentle, caring, protective, used to actually enjoy the other's presence, go on walks during the nights when the world felt too heavy, just silently supporting each other. Shared laughs at stupid jokes played at Cass and Rhys, sneaking around while in other courts just for the fun of it, knowing no one would ever find you. You were a team. Until one day you weren’t, he just decided it wasn’t worthy and that was it.  

How were you supposed to open up to this person, when he hadn’t even seen the worst in you and deemed you unworthy? How could you ever trust him again? Yet, here you were, walking side by side next to the Sidra like the old times. You could punch yourself in the face just for considering this, every anxious trait screamed at you to leave, you didn’t owe him a single thing, didn’t have to explain anything. So why did you keep walking alongside him? 

“So…uhm,” He started, nervously scratching at his nape. Trying. He was trying to be open, didn’t hold up that mask of coldness to conceal his emotions, not once. “You and Lucien..?”

“None of your business.” you snapped out of instinct. 

He avoided looking directly at you, focusing on some distant light across the bridge. 

You let out a deep breath, this wasn’t going to work. 

“Just talk to him.” Amren’s voice rang in your head. Try. You had to try, you didn’t have to let him know much just…let the conversation flow, right?

“It was a long time ago, even before Amarantha..” you started, casting a sidelong glance at him.

He turned to you, features soft under the moonlight. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful when he wasn’t an ass. You fixed your sight on the river, if only to keep on track. “Nothing really happened, we were young and drunk at one of Tamlin’s masquerades, we made out and that was it.” 

He nodded slowly and cleared his throat, “And now?”

“Is this what you really want to talk about? He’s my friend, not that I owe you any explanation. Or is this your way to ask if Elain is available now?”

You couldn’t help it, the audacity of this male prying into your private life as if he hadn’t been lusting after Lucien’s mate of all people. Hypocrite doesn’t begin to cut it. 

“I don’t care about Elain, I care about you.” 

You wanted to laugh. “Since when? If I recall correctly you despised me until a week ago, you were either insulting me or just blatantly ignoring me in favor of her, or anyone else really. Then all goes to hell and suddenly I’m worth living for?!” 

He grimaced, “You– you remember that?”

You sighed tiredly and sat down on a bench overlooking the Sidra. “Yes, I remember. I just…I don’t understand you.” 

Azriel just stood there beside you, shifting his weight uncomfortably, not being quite sure what to do.  When he didn’t move or say anything you continued, “I want to believe you,” you swallowed around a lump “but do you hear how it sounds? After all we’ve been through. I trusted you and you threw that in my face, how do you expect me to believe that you care about me?” 

This wasn’t going as he was hoping for, but at least it was something. You were speaking to him more than two sentences, which was a lot more than he deserved to be honest. You could yell at him, curse him, punch him in the face if you wished and he would take it. No complaints. Anything if it meant you’d show him how you truly felt, he wasn’t sure he could endure your silence again, knowing how much he had hurt you. He needed you to let it all out, so he could do something to fix it. 

“I don’t expect you to believe me right away, of course not. I know that I have to earn your forgiveness and one day if I’m one lucky bastard I might earn your trust back once more. But I also know that even when I try to make things right you may not forgive me at all, and I’ll accept that too. Honestly? I just want to know how you feel with all that has happened. The only thing that matters now is you.”

You let out a shaky breath, turning away from him. “I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, everything is a mess.” 

He moved then, crouching in front of you and grasping both your hands on his own, making you look at him. The earnest way he was looking at you, the desperate feeling swimming in his eyes that traveled all the way through the bond. It made you gasp, with all that’s been going on you forgot to put a shield up. Now you could feel him, all of him, which meant  he could feel you. 

“I have no damn right to demand such mercy from you, but if for a single moment you find in your heart a spec of doubt, a small sign of will to forgive this coward for wronging you so unfairly, I just want you to know how sorry I am, for everything. I regret it all, I wish I could take it all back. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, until the day I part from this earth I will fight for you.” 

You were quite sure your bottom lip was trembling as much as his hands were, trying miserably to contain the unwelcomed tears pooling in your eyes. Those were such nice words, the silly part of you that always longed for his recognition wanted so desperately to believe, but there were still too many unresolved things, too many questions still running frantically through your head. And one recurrent thought…

“Did I really have to die for you to notice?”  Your words hung heavy in the air, with a mix of accusation and vulnerability.

Azriel, gaze intense and haunted, looked as if you had just punched a hole through his chest. In that moment, the shadows that bound him seemed to soften, and he confessed the truth that had long eluded you both. It wasn't the brush with death that made him take notice; it was the fear of losing you that shattered the carefully constructed barriers around his heart.

"No, it's not about noticing, it's about realizing what it means to lose you," he admitted, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. Azriel's jaw tightened, a small sign that betrayed the internal struggle within him. "It's not so simple. The thought of a world without your laughter, your presence....Losing you was the worst of my nightmares coming true. I've always cared, but I let my past dictate my actions, and I was cruel to you because I couldn't bear the thought of history repeating itself. But I was wrong, and I almost lost you because of it."

“What do you mean?”

You had unconsciously leaned in closer to him and he swallowed audibly at the intensity in your eyes —obsidian black that sometimes showed swirls of violet and blue. Like lightning striking the midnight sky. They were a rare sight, a beautiful one, he knew that only happened when you felt too much. The telltale sign of the emotions you were so desperately trying to hold back from reaching him.  

“I will tell you everything you want to know, in time. I will lay my heart down for you to step on if you wish. But I believe that is a conversation on its own, I wish to explain everything to you and I don’t think I can do it tonight.” He looked almost pleading. “There’s nothing that can excuse the way I treated you, I’ve been a coward, and an asshole and you have every damn right to be angry with me, to hate me. That much I understand. I just hope you’d be willing to listen when the time’s right.” 

You supposed it was fair. It still made you uneasy and you pulled back a little, ignoring the hurt that flashed through his eyes. Given how strained your relationship was, you guessed it was normal he was still doubtful about sharing too much too soon. You weren’t that willing to particularly share much of yourself yet, if ever. 

Gods, you wished you could rage about everything that has happened, and hated the way his words had soothe an ache in your heart you were making an effort not to acknowledge. 

Time. It would take time to heal, and trust, and effort on both sides to make this work. Whatever this white flag he had weaved tonight meant. You knew it was the right call to make, for the sake of everyone, to try and make amends. That didn’t mean it was going to be easy, some things were too deeply engraved in your heart to let go. 

Did it make you a weak, spineless female to want to give in to him? What was the cost of it? 

“Alright,” you muttered, standing to your feet, Azriel followed you. “If I agree to do this, I’ll need you to be patient. I’m not ready yet to let you in, I still have my doubts about this. I think you understand why. But I want to try to be friends again, that’s as much as I can offer you right now.” 

Friends. That was a lot more than he had dared to ask for, even if in his heart he desired more. It wasn’t about him, nor his desires, it was about you and giving you what you need. So if what you needed from him was friendship, he’ll take it. Make the most of it. 

Azriel nodded, something sparkling to life in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The bond thrummed quietly with emotion. Hope. 

“One step at a time?” you offered, extending your hand to him. 

“One step at a time.” He repeated, taking your hand. 

It was awkward but welcomed, the feeling of something settling within your chest. The mating bond had been neglected for so long that the weight of it felt weird now, as if a missing limb had been spoken into existence. Azriel seemed to notice too, absentmindedly reaching his hand up to rub at his chest. 

You tried not to shudder when he gently tugged at it and opened your mouth to suggest keeping the ends closed for the time being. Unless until you were more comfortable with each other. It was way too intimate and overwhelming otherwise, and that you were not ready for yet. 

“Maybe we should–” you stopped as you felt something warm and thick dripping to your lips. Pressing two fingers to the spot and watching them stained red. Blood. 

Azriel quickly caught up to the movement, body stilling in alert.

“What's wrong?” he asked, stepping closer. 

“I don't know,” A strong pang shot too fast to your head making you gasp and causing you to fall forwards. Azriel’s arms instantly wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to him. His shadows were in a frenzy, surrounding you both while he inspected your face for any signs of injury. 

“Y/N? Talk to me, where does it hurt?” He sounded agitated. 

You could hear Azriel’s voice being muffled and muffled by the second, could feel his warmth and the firm press of his body against yours, but everything was quickly becoming a blurry image. Like some distant dream everything started to fade from sight, the whole scenery changing, twisting and re-adapting. 

Velaris had been replaced for a cold, dark room, the air thick and musty. The sound of crashing waves filling the otherwise silent space. Rusty chains hung wicked and ancient from the stone walls, an iron coffin sitting vacant across from you, open and expectantly waiting for its occupier. You couldn’t move a single muscle, only stare through eyes that were not yours, scent with a foreign nose, the smell of fear, and blood, and immense sadness. 

You blinked twice — or rather this…person whose mind seemed blending with yours did— and gazed down to gauntlet-covered hands. Iron, yet again. There was a slight tremble to this other body, a female’s body, from pain so deep from within her guts and the fire blazing underneath, it rose and rose and rose, flaring until it was pushed down and forced to remain still.

She looked up again, to the lone white wolf lying a few feet away, already watching her. The animal tilted his head to the side as if in contemplation and blinked three times. 

“Are you okay?”

—----------------------------------------------

Sound was the first thing to return to you, hurried, hissing voices coming from somewhere around you. 

“I swear on the Cauldron I'll have their heads on spikes as ornamentations for your throne.”  A low, deep growl laced with intent. You recognized Azriel’s baritone voice from beside you. 

Violet and blue-ish gray greeted you when you finally opened your eyes, immediately recognizing the Town’s House living room.

What in hell had that been? It occurred to you that you had dreamed about her before, the female, recognized the same lemon verbena and crackling embers scent from previous dreams, although never catching a full look at her. Who was she? Was she in danger? Was this a warning? 

Frowning you propped up to your elbows to sit, back resting against the couch’s armrest. Feyre gave you a soft smile, sitting down next to your legs. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, worry staining her features. 

“I'm fine, just a little dizzy.” You craned your neck back to look at the male standing behind the couch, one of his shadows slipping away to caress your cheek before returning to his master. “What happened?” 

Azriel's honey gaze settled upon you, shoulders sagging a bit from relief at the sight of you awake. “You were unconscious for a few minutes, I flew us back here and called Rhys. I didn't know what to do. Are you sure you're ok?” 

“Yeah, I'm alright. Thank you.” You tried to smile softly but barely managed to slightly lift the corners of your mouth. He nodded, unconvinced. After a moment to cringe, you added, “Whose head are we having on spikes?” 

Silence. 

Rhys cleared his throat. “Your brother’s and Damien’s.” Suddenly the room’s temperature dropped. Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her place. We hadn’t openly discussed the situation yet. “If this is a side effect of whatever they did to you, we need to find the–” 

“It 's not.” you interrupted him. 

It wasn't like you didn't want to find them and finish what had started two centuries ago. But it was your fight, you didn't wish to trouble your family with it. Didn't want Rhys particularly involved out of anyone, he was the reason they came back. Albeit unbeknownst to him. They still lusted after his crown, his throne, they wanted vengeance. Your blood as well as his. 

Azriel stared at you, contemplative. You could sense he wanted to ask more but was debating whether it was pushing a boundary or not. It was all new to the two of you, too fresh to know what was appropriate. 

Fidgeting with your entwined fingers on your lap, you decided to offer some truth. Even if they didn't believe you, even if it sounded crazy. 

“This has happened to me my whole life. It doesn't always knock me unconscious, most of the time it's just dreams.” 

Rhys frowned but it was Azriel who asked, “What sort of dreams are those?” 

“I can't fully explain because most of the time I don't understand them. But it is almost like my mind goes somewhere else, like I share one consciousness with another. A female. Though I haven’t figured that out until tonight. I've seen scraps of her mind, and the places She's been, but I don't know her face.” 

You could practically see the engines in Feyre’s mind working.  She had stayed silent for most of the interaction, paying careful attention to each word. 

“And what happened in this…dream? What did you see?” asked Rhys this time. 

“Not much, she seemed to be in some sort of mausoleum? It was barely lit, few candles here and there. It had to be some isolated place next to the sea, I could hear waves crashing against rock. The air was thick and musty. There was a wolf with her.” 

“Do you think it is possible you're dreaming about someone in the Summer Court?” Azriel caught your attention once more. 

“I don't know, could be. But it feels off. There were chains on the walls…and an iron coffin. But she was alive, I think. Maybe she’s a prisoner?” You turned to Feyre then. “You’ve been there when stealing the Book of Breathings, does this sound familiar? Some place you may have seen?” 

She shook her head. “No it doesn't. That doesn't mean it does not exist, I didn't get to see much of the Summer Court. But why would Tarquin keep an iron coffin?” 

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don't know, it doesn't make sense. Why would I be dreaming of a female in the Summer Court? How do I relate to that?” 

“What if they're not dreams, per say, but visions? Like Elain's…” she pursed her lips, deep in thought. 

Azriel tensed beside me, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. I hadn't seen Elain around that much after Solstice night, coming to think of it. Does he think it's my fault? 

“Hadn't thought of it that way. Honestly, I read too much, since I was a kid. I was convinced my mind made it all up until it started to happen during day time. But either way, I don't think this is the case. I mean, nothing that I dreamt of has happened, and if it did, it didn't involve any of us. So we have no way of knowing about it.” 

“It still bugs me. There has to be some explanation to it. It clearly affects you, I don't believe it's normal that these dreams cause you nosebleeds and make you pass out. What if it gets worse?” Rhys pointed out. 

“Beats me. I know as much as you do.” 

“We’ll have to look into it. Whatever this is, and whoever that person may be. Is there something else you remember?” Azriel's brows were pulled together tightly, but his eyes were gentle when he settled them upon me. 

“I just…one time I recall feeling her, here in Velaris. I — she— saw you two.” You pointed to your high lord and lady. Rhys stilled. “But it was like she was falling from the sky, or rather falling through. You were pregnant with little Nyx.” You told Feyre and turned your head to look at Azriel. “I don't remember much about it. I must have passed out, you found me in the hallway shortly after.” 

Azriel gave a tense nod. “I remember you lying face down on the top of the stairs, your books thrown all over the place. Your nose wasn't bleeding though, I thought you were drunk.” he said apologetically.  

I shrugged. “You didn't know, and I couldn't explain either.” 

“If this is a person that's been here without us knowing, then we must start to investigate immediately.” Rhys cut in. 

“But where do we start?” I asked. 

“I'll see if the wards of Velaris had been tampered with, for starters. Maybe we can find some imprint of magic. In the meantime I’d say you learn about bonds and connections, how they work, check your mental shields. If you have access to her mind then there's a possibility she has access to yours, there has to be a link somewhere.” 

“Alright, I'll start to look into it right away. There has to be something in the library about mental connections.” 

“You should rest now.” Azriel placed a hand on my shoulder. “I'll help with the research tomorrow. We can go to the library after training the Valkyries. If that's okay with you.” 

You nodded and relaxed a little. Ignoring the warmth that his touch had spread across your back. 

“Yeah, it's fine. Tomorrow then.” 

—---------------------------------------------------

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