#living under the shadow of their perfect sister

[thewitchqueenofharrenhal]

Okay but it actually breaks my heart that being named heir and remaining heir for Rhaenyra probably became this immense symbol in her life of the importance of her mother Aemma, the love of her father Viserys, the love between her parents, the idea that she mattered still despite losing her mother in her father’s endless pursuit of a male heir. Her father that than remarried and had an abundance of those male children Aemma didn’t. Had a new family, after she lost the only one she ever knew.

Remaining heir and becoming Queen must have meant everything to her. Did it matter if she had never wanted it begin with? What did it mean if she didn’t become Queen? then what was it all for…She was probably clutching onto her heirship so tight with bloody fingernails because of all it symbolized and still it was taken from her.

#mind you this probably applies to the green kids too #like viserys really ruined everything #I hate that man #he was an idiot #Rhaenyra was probably like this is all I have left of my family #of my mom #of proof that my father loves me #meanwhile the green kids are watching their own mother be tortured alive for nothing #living under the shadow of their perfect sister #it’s so sick #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen

[reputationmunson]

Bad Habit | Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

[3.0k]

Summary: your brother’s friend has a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom

Content: Smut (18+ ONLY), AFAB!reader, r is Steve’s adopted sister and is a year younger than him, making out, grinding, oral/fingering (f receiving), virgin!reader, some pet names, fluff, two dummies in love <3

part two

The first time Eddie climbed through your bedroom window, you thought he was just trying to scare you. You had no idea you’d end that night in Eddie Munson’s lap desperately making out and barely giving in to the need for air.

Now, it’s a part of your nightly routine. It’s pretty simple.

Step 1: Get ready for bed

Step 2: Say goodnight to your naive brother

Step 3: Triple check that your door is locked and let in the cute boy patiently waiting outside your window

Sneaking around with Eddie made you feel alive. He sees you for who you really are.

Everyone else sees you as the quiet, innocent girl that occupies the corner of a room while your eyes wander, observing the people around you. While there’s nothing wrong with those things, Eddie knew you were much more than that and he was the perfect person to help you break out of your shell.

People expect you to be just like your brother. But when you turned out to be the complete opposite, no one paid much attention to you. As much as you loved Steve, being in his shadow made you feel invisible.

You weren’t much of a partier and you weren’t… friendly like Steve was. And by friendly you meant a little slutty. It was hard to get out there and make more friends let alone date anybody.

You were so drawn to Eddie from the moment you met him and ever since that first night he snuck into your room, you felt your walls start to come down and he’s the only person that doesn’t make that scary.

——————————————————————————

Three taps on your window alert you that Eddie’s outside. You scurry over to let him in and greet him with a quick peck on the lips. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands find your waist, pulling you a step closer to him.

“Hey, gorgeous” He says with his signature smirk on his face.

“Hi’ You reply, shyly. Even though Eddie helps you out of your comfort zone, you can’t help but avert eye contact whenever he compliments you.

Every time you do, Eddie puts his hand under your chin and gently tilts your head up. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl” He loves making you bashful almost as much as he loves kissing you.

Eddie guides you to your bed, never breaking eye contact. He falls backwards and pulls you down with him, making you giggle.

“I missed you” He whispers quietly, like he’s scared you’ll hear him being vulnerable. “I missed you, too.” Usually you would make a joke like “yeah it’s been a whole twenty-four hours. How did you survive?” But you always miss him.

You can’t exactly tell him you wish you could shrink yourself to three inches tall so you can live in his pocket and never be apart, so you cover it up with humor. But right now, there’s nothing funny about the way your heart is beating because of the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only girl in the world.

Eddie likes to tease you. He thinks it’s cute that you whine when he doesn’t immediately give you what you want. He knows it's a little mean but it makes him feel wanted and being wanted by you is the best thing he’s ever experienced.

His nose brushes yours and you think he’s going to put his lips on yours, but instead he gives you a soft kiss on your cheek. Then on your forehead. And one on both corners of your mouth.

“Eddiieeee” You whine and he chuckles. “What, baby?” He asks like he has no clue what he’s doing to you. So as expected, you do your signature pouty face and he has to act like it doesn’t affect him as much as it actually does.

You decide you can’t wait anymore. You take his face in your hands and lean in to get what you’ve been waiting for all day.

His hand comes up to grab a hold of your wrist. You worry he's going to remove your hands from his face, but he just keeps his hand on your wrist, rubbing it lovingly with his thumb. His other hand goes to rest on your lower back, sliding under your shirt. The feeling of his big hand on the bare skin of your back sends shivers down your spine.

Eddie’s tongue swipes across your bottom and you open your mouth to grant him access. He brings the hand that’s holding your wrist to where his other hand rests on your lower back. Both hands begin to slide up your back, making your shirt ride up all the way to your shoulder blades.

You let out a small gasp, suddenly feeling exposed. “You okay?” Eddie asks, worried by your reaction to your shirt being halfway off. You hum in response and find his lips again.

For the past month, you and Eddie hadn’t gone further than messily making out and clothed dry humping. It’s not that you don’t want to go further. You want nothing more than to rip his clothes off and then have him do the same to you, but you worry that your lack of experience would turn him off.

It was no secret to Eddie that you were a virgin. Considering he was your first kiss since Bobby Hopkins in the third grade and how nervous you got around him, it wasn’t that hard to piece together. Of course he wants to be your first time, but doesn't want to pressure you. If things never went any further and he had to go home and jerk off after every makeout session, he would happily do so.

After a while, you pull back for air and roll off of Eddie, laying on your side to look at him. He rolls on his side to look at you. “Hi” He speaks up, scooting closer to you. “Hi” You place a kiss on the tip of his nose. His hand comes up to rest on your hip and you cover his hand with your own.

Neither of you speak a word. You just stare into each other's eyes with lovesick smiles on your faces and soak in each other's presence. These nights are your favorite. Everytime you all hang out in a group, you ache to touch him. It’s difficult to keep your hands off one another, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make if it means keeping your brother from killing Eddie.

Eddie’s about to say something but before he can, there’s a knock at your door. “y/n?’’ Steve calls out your name from the other side of your bedroom door. Your eyes widen and both of you freeze. Steve says your name again and you know he isn’t going away until you respond.

“Y-yeah?” You barely get out. Steve tries to open your door and sounds offended when it doesn’t open. “Why the hell is your door locked?” He’s still wiggling the doorknob. “Because I’m allowed to lock it. How can I help you?” Eddie snorts at this and you glare at him.

“Do you have my walkman?” You can’t help but roll your eyes at this question. “No, I don’t have your walkman. I have my own walkman that I got on the same Christmas that you got yours. I’ll help you look in the morning.” You hear Steve huff dramatically and walk away.

“I’m gonna put on some music” You say before rolling off your bed. “Play my favorite?” Eddie requests. You were going to play his favorite anyway.

Once the music starts, you turn around and see Eddie playing air guitar. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t move from where you're standing. You just stay put and watch him act like a total idiot. He’d act like an idiot for the rest of his life if it meant making you smile.

He finishes his air guitar solo and looks over at you and tilts his head. “C'mere,” He says, motioning for you to sit next to him.

Once you get to the bed, you crawl towards him and straddle his lap. Feeling hot and bothered, you place your hands on his shoulders and start to grind down on him. Eddie lets out a sigh and throws his head back to rest on your headboard.

Feeling bold, you take his chin in your hand and move his head so he’s looking at you. He puts his hands on your hips and encourages you to move faster.

You can feel him getting hard and you let out a small moan. Eddie puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you closer to him, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss.

You’re moaning into each other's mouths and it feels so good, but you need more. You pull away from him and take a second to catch your breath, thinking of how you want to word what you’re about to say.

Eddie can tell you want to tell him something. “What is it, baby?” He brings a hand to your face and rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek. Your heart swells at how well he knows you.

“I was wondering if we could take things a bit further tonight.” You respond and his smile widens. “Hell yeah we can. You sure?” You can’t nod fast enough.

“Lay on your back for me. Don’t be scared to tell me if you want me to stop, kay?”

“Okay” You smile and roll onto your back.

Eddie hovers over you and leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. Then he starts to kiss down your jaw and to your neck. He starts with light kisses and when he hits the sensitive spot on your neck, he kisses harder. He starts to suck on your sensitive spot, making you moan.

Usually, you both steer clear hickeys to avoid questionings from any of your friends and your brother, especially. But right now, you’re so turned on you can’t find it in yourself to care. You wrap your arms around his back and push his full weight onto you. He licks and kisses at the fresh mark.

“Fuck, that feels nice” You moan out. “Want me to do something even better?” He pulls back and smirks at you. “Please.”

He goes to tug at the hem of your shirt and looks at you for approval. Once you give it to him, he removes your shirt and is pleased to see that you aren’t wearing a bra. He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “What? No sane woman wears a bra to bed.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Trust me, I am not complaining.”

He goes back to kissing your neck. His kisses start moving down to your chest and he plants one on each of your breasts before taking one of your nipples in his mouth.

It feels…different, but in the best way possible. “Eddie, that feels so good” You’re trying to keep quiet but you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before.

“Say my name again”

“Do something that will make me say your name again”

You can tell he’s surprised at that.

“Challenge accepted”

He kisses down your stomach and puts his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. At a torturously slow place, he pulls your shorts down and throws them on the floor. “No panties either? Is it my birthday, sweetheart?” You laugh and roll your eyes. “Get back to it, Munson” You say in the most unserious tone ever. “Jeez, okay. Someone’s bossy”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you, uh, take your shirt off too? This feels unfair”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to take off his shirt.

“Maybe your pants too?”

“Anything for you” And he means it.

He stands up to take off his pants. Once they’re off you can see how hard he is and your jaw drops. Your clit throbs at the sight and you involuntarily whine.

Eddie sits on his knees, placing himself in between your legs. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” “Eddie, please. Need you” you mewl.

He runs a finger through your folds and groans at how wet you are. “All this for me, baby?”

You nod “Just for you. Always”

“Tell me, pretty girl. Do you ever touch yourself and think of me?” He starts to slowly rub your clit. Your eyes roll back and you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “Tell me or I’ll stop” You remove your hand from your mouth and try to keep quiet. “Yes. Every night after you leave”

He starts rubbing your clit a little faster and you start to lose composure. “What do you think about?”

“I think about you touching me. Just like this. Or going down on me. I think about your cock inside me. Fucking me until I can’t take it anymore” You admit. “Hmm. I think we could start to make some of those fantasies realities”

He removes his fingers from your clit and you feel like you’re gonna pass away if he doesn’t make you cum any time soon. “Eddie, please don’t stop. pleasepleaseplease. Touch me again” You feel desperate for begging, but lucky for you, Eddie is even more turned on than before.

He doesn’t say anything. He just lays down between your legs, admiring how wet you are. You’re about to beg some more but then he starts to run his tongue up and down your folds. “Oh my god”

He begins to suck your clit and it feels so fucking good you can’t believe it. Sure, you’ve heard your friends talk about it, but you never would’ve imagined it feeling this good.

Your eyes start to tear up and you look down at Eddie, letting out a moan when you see how much he’s enjoying it.

Your fingers thread through his hair and pull it a little, making him moan into your pussy. You swear you feel the vibrations throughout your entire body. You don’t think it can get any better until Eddie slowly inserts a finger into you. You would have expected it to feel uncomfortable, but there's nothing unpleasant about it. “More, Eds” You plead.

He thinks about teasing you for a second, but he knows how badly you want it. He obliges and inserts another finger, reaching that spot you can never reach on your own.

You can feel the tension building in your stomach and Eddie starts going faster. His fingers are pumping in and out of you and you can hear how wet you are. He’s eating you out like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Eddie can’t help rutting up against the mattress. The way your pussy feels and the noises you make are driving him fucking mad. Both of you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven.

It hits you like a fucking bus. Your back is arching off the bed and you have to cover your face with your pillow because it’s impossible to keep quiet. You’ve never been more thankful that you don’t share a wall with Steve.

Eddie works you through your orgasm and slowly takes his fingers out of you when you're finished. You look lifeless and he can’t help but chuckle at how blissed out you look. He slowly crawls next to you and lays down,

“You alright?” He whispers.

“Well, I feel like I left my body for a second so I would say I’m more than alright.”

“Good. So you had fun?” Eddie sounds insecure. You turn to look at him before you respond.

“Eddie, were you not there? I was losing my mind. I had no idea it could be that good” You give him a well-deserved ego boost and he flashes his million dollar smile. “Okay, your turn.” You say, eagerly. “Don’t worry, babe. I came in my boxer like a goddamn teenager.” His cheeks turn red and you give him a kiss on the cheek. “Next time?” you ask. “Definitely”

You lay your head on his chest and he wraps an arm around you. “Thank you” You say, snuggling as close as possible. “For what?” He starts to rub your back. “Everything. My life’s better with you in it’’ Eddie’s heart nearly bursts. He can’t believe he’s improved your life even a little bit.

“Anything for my girl” He kisses the top of your head. Your lift your head up and look at him with the biggest smile on your face “Your girl?” Eddie tries to play it cool “Yeah, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” You can’t think of anything else you’d rather be. “Only if you agree to be my boyfriend.” “Hm.. can I think about it?” You playfully smack his chest. He grabs your hand and kissed it, looking into your eyes.

“How about you agree to be my girlfriend and I’ll agree to be your boyfriend and everyone’s happy”

“Deal, boyfriend” You can’t resist the urge to kiss him any longer. He hums in appreciation and the kiss goes on longer than intended.

“I should probably get going” He sighs. “Nooooo” you protest, holding on to him tighter. “I know, but I gotta unless you want to risk your overprotective brother finding out I’m here” You know he’s right and you move allowing him to get up. He hands you the clothes thrown on the floor and you both get dressed.

“Maybe I can stay with you tomorrow night? I can tell Steve I’m staying with a friend.” You move to stand in front of Eddie. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiles and pulls you in for a hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” You nod and he gives you one last kiss.

You watch him climb out of your window and after you shut it, you stare out your window to watch him run out of your yard. He turns around to give you a wave and being the wonderful girlfriend that you are, you decide to flash him. Without hesitation, Eddie lifts his shirt up and flashes you back, causing you to laugh a little too loud.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is the man you’re going to spend your life with.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #18+ fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dashboard Confessional

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, mild angst, smut, semi public sex. Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Billy is forced to deal with past trauma when his girlfriend's car breaks down on the side of the M1, while driving home to Nottingham for Christmas. She finds the perfect way to ease his mind.

Author's note: Day four of the Smuffmas prompts - "reassurance and car sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Her hands tighten on the steering wheel, eyes flitting nervously towards the check engine light that’s just lit up on the dashboard panel. They’re only an hour outside of Nottingham, and if she was by herself she’d simply ignore it, finish the journey, and take her crappy old Skodia Fabia to a garage in the New Year. But Billy sits in the passenger seat next to her, and she knows that that little red light will look like a fiery beacon to him, a reason to panic. The best thing she can do in this situation is pull over onto the hard shoulder and call AA Breakdown Recovery.

Billy used to joke that she’d spent more on keeping her shitty little car roadworthy than she had when she’d actually bought it. He’d insist on driving them everywhere, his Vauxhall Cavalier the more reliable of the two vehicles.

That feels like a lifetime ago now though, before the Explosive Ordnance Disposal team had pulled him from it and it had exploded into a fiery ruin in the middle of Cranstead Gardens. Billy doesn’t joke at all anymore, and he’s not gotten behind the wheel of a car since.

He has spent the last four months attending weekly therapy sessions. It’s only in the last month that he’s been willing to allow her to drive him anywhere, and that’s not before they’ve done rigorous checks of the entire car to make sure it’s safe; the wheel arches, under the bonnet, the boot, beneath the seats and in the glovebox all need to be examined thoroughly before he’ll even consider getting in.

When it had come time to arrange their annual visit to Billy’s parents’ for Christmas, he had suggested they get the train. However, a return ticket would be close to one hundred pounds each for them. She had argued they would spend less than half that on fuel if she drove, and it would save them the effort of lugging gifts all the way there, only to have to take all of the ones they inevitably receive back with them the same way - everything could just be stuffed into the boot if she drove.

He had relented eventually, and she had regretted it almost as soon as they’d gotten in the car. For the last two hours of the journey his leg has bounced anxiously, and she’s been met with snappy one word answers to each of her attempts to make conversation, despite his insistence that the radio stays off.

If she were a weaker person she’d have decided that this was all too much and ended things long ago, however, Billy is her everything, he always has been. He has never thought much of himself, but she loves him enough for the both of them. Where he sees a failure, someone that lives in the shadow of his successful older sister, she sees a man with a thousand watt smile, someone that lights up the room just by entering it. That light has dulled over the last few months, but she is determined to help it shine once more.

It’s with this in mind that she clicks on the left indicator, pulling over onto the hard shoulder, and switches the hazard lights on.

“What you doing?” Billy asks, frowning slightly as he removes his thumb from his mouth, the nail of which he’s been chewing absentmindedly on for the last few miles.

She turns the engine off, turning to him with a slight smile, an attempt to appease and keep him calm. “Check engine light’s come on, I need to ring the AA.”

“Fuck’s sake!” He seethes, unclipping his seatbelt and forcefully pushing open the passenger side door.

She watches him, illuminated in the darkness by the motorway lights, rounding the car, before stepping over the crash barrier and onto the grassy verge. Sighing, she unbuckles and climbs out.

“Billy–”

“I told you we should’ve got the fucking train!” He shouts, though there is no anger in his tone, she hears it in the wobble of his voice, sees it in the barely concealed tears he’s attempting to hold back. He’s close to breaking down.

“I know, babe, and I’m sorry,” she soothes, “I should have listened to you. But I promise you it’s nothing serious. You know how this old shitheap gets when it’s damp, remember last time it rained and the electric windows stopped working?”

It’s an attempt to lightheartedly downplay his fears, but it’s obviously unsuccessful. She watches as he fishes his cigarette packet from the pocket of his jogging bottoms, pulling one out and lighting it with shaky hands.

She takes out her phone and calls the recovery service, straining to hear over the roar of the traffic that speeds past on the M1. It’s going to be a forty five minute wait for anyone to get to them, though she should consider herself lucky, bearing in mind it’s December 23rd and there are cars nationwide breaking down on their way home for Christmas.

When she ends the call and tosses her phone onto the driver’s seat, she turns back to see that Billy is three quarters of the way through his smoke, his gaze downcast as he stands there shivering. The sight makes her heart ache.

“It’s freezing,” she calls out to him, “at least come and get your hoodie.”

She opens the door to the backseat, grabbing his Adidas zip up from it and holding it out to him. His head remains bowed, though his eyes look up at her, before he crushes his cigarette beneath his trainer and slowly walks towards her.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, slipping the hoodie on and perching on the edge of the backseat, facing out of the car, long legs stretched out in front of him.

They remain in silence for a few moments, Billy simply sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, staring at the ground, as she stands before him, looking out towards the steady stream of cars, eyes narrowed at the oncoming headlights that rush by.

“How long until you get fed up?” He finally asks, looking up at her.

“Well, I’m fed up already,” she jokes, “but we’ve gotta sit tight until someone comes to get us.”

He huffs a humourless laugh through his nose, lips quirking upwards slightly as he shakes his head. “You know that’s not what I mean. How much more of me can you hack before you finally decide I’m not worth the effort?”

“Oi,” she chastises playfully, ruffling a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. “To me, you will always be worth the effort. I’m not going anywhere.”

Billy bends his legs at the knees, planting his feet flat on the floor and pulls her between them as his arms wrap around her waist. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she says gently. “It’s been a rough few months, but we’ll get through it.

“God, I love you,” he tells her, stroking his palm across her cheek.

“Tell me again,” she smiles, leaning down to bump her nose against his.

“Love you,” he whispers, pressing his lips to hers.

She kisses back, expecting it to be quick and chaste, but gasps in surprise as his hand slides from her face into her hair, gripping and anchoring her to him, as his tongue slips into her mouth. He tastes faintly of tobacco, but she responds eagerly as their mouths move together, the sensation sending heat pooling between her legs.

He leans back against the backseat, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside, dragging her with him. She giggles, pulling away breathlessly.

“Billy, we’re on the side of the motorway, anyone could see us!”

“Best give them something good to look at then,” he grins lazily up at her, fingers tugging at the waistband of her leggings.

It’s been so long since he was this uninhibited and spontaneous, that that’s all the encouragement she needs. She scrambles to pull them from one leg, as Billy lifts his hips, pushing his jogging bottoms and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

As she hovers back over him, his fingers move to push her thong to one side, and she can’t help but smile into the crook of his neck. He’s not even fully hard, though his pushes against her entrance are quickly rectifying that.

There’s no time for either of them to prepare each other properly, not for a quickie on the side of the road, so when the head of him does finally breach her opening the intrusion steals her breath away.

She whines, as each slow withdrawal and thrust upwards from him pushes him deeper, her rapidly gathering slick helping to ease his passage, until he’s fully sheathed inside of her.

He pants along with her when she moans helplessly against his shoulder as he pistons up into her, holding her steady by her hips. The tight confines of the car make it so that every drag of his cockhead brushes against the sweet spot inside of her, making her involuntarily tighten around him.

His pace becomes rushed, sloppy, and the feeling of him pulsating inside of her sends her toppling over the edge, white hot sparks of pleasure shooting through her as she spasms around him. His fingers dig into the meat of her hips as he pushes up one final time, emptying himself into her with a groan.

She shifts to move off of him, but he grips tighter, keeping her where she is. “Don’t,” he whispers breathlessly, eyes closed.

“I need to put my leggings back on, babe,” she chuckles, “I don’t think the AA bloke will appreciate the sight of my bare arse.”

“We’ve got time,” he murmurs, pulling her back to him, stroking her hair. “Just stay like this for a minute.”

She squirms, the chill of the air on her naked skin and his spend leaking out of her around his softening length making her uncomfortable, but she stays where she is. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, slowly blinking open his eyes. “It’s just…this is the first time I’ve been in a car where I haven’t thought about something horrible happening.”

Her gaze softens, and she pecks him on the cheek. “That’s good. So, what were you thinking about?”

“You, just you.”

#billy washington x reader #ewan mitchell #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x you #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #billy washington imagine #billy washington trigger point #trigger point billy washington #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fan fic #trigger point #trigger point fan fiction #trigger point fanfiction #trigger point fanfic #trigger point fan fic

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - two

Pairings: Azriel x reader

Summary: part two for this.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of past abuse but no detailed descriptions gaysindistress masterlist one | three | four | five | six

“Impossible?” I hiss at the High Lord of the Night Court. “Tell me how this seems impossible when your own mate was Made as well as her sisters. Tell me how it’s inconceivable when I was stuck forever living and dying.”

He says nothing, only staring down at me with those violet eyes. I sarcastically chuckle.

“Since you drug me here and will be forcing me to stay as it seems, I would like to retire to a room now,” I snap at Rhys and he nods. He goes to place a hand on my upper back and the shadows are quick to rip it away. Rhys sighs but keeps his hand at his side and settles for just pointing to the hallway for me to follow.

He wordlessly leads me up the stairs and down a dark hallway. All the while I feel the blazing stare of the Shadowsinger on my back.

Rhys stops a door at the every end of the hall and gives it a light shove to reveal a bedroom that is cozier than I expected. Dark wood planks cover the expanse of the floor and an equally dark green shade covers the walls. Upon closer inspection, I see that there are trees of varying greens painted all around the room. Surrounded by a forest that feels like home but so foreign, my soul yearns for something I can’t give it.

“This will be your room,” Rhys explains as he walks further in and candles ignite as he passes by them, bringing with them light. “There is a bathing room here,” he explains while pointing a doorway off to his left and then points one to his right, “and there is a wardrobe. If you need anything, my wife’s and my room is to the left of the stairs, Cassian and his mate are on the right, and Mor’s are next door. Kitchen is downstairs and past the living room. I’m sure Mor will come bother you at some point but I’ll try to keep her away as best as I can. Is there anything I can get for you before I leave you for the night?”

It’s not lost on me that he didn’t mention where Azriel’s room is and he knows it too. He shifts his weight ever so slightly under my unwavering stare.

The words spill out of his perfect lips much to his surprise, “He’s across the hall but I can have him stay somewhere else for the night.”

Happy with his confession, I turn away to take in the rest of the room. “No, this is his home after all. Warn him that I will not hesitate if he comes near me.”

I don’t have to elaborate, Rhys understands my meaning. I can feel him grappling with why he told me that so I answer for him so he’ll leave.

“I take it you didn’t think my famed ‘sociability’ was more than a good personality?”

“I’d heard rumors of people telling you their darkest secrets without prompting but I figured it was because of who your mate was.”

I stopped trailing my hand over the cream knitted blanket on the simple wooden framed bed.

“And who was he? What name do they give him now?”

“He’s the King of Hybern now.”

“Of course he is,” I snort and continue my inspection of the blanket. “You may leave now.”

He’s gone in an instant and silence surrounds me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the bathroom and debate whether or not I want to truly see my current state. I’m sure I look like a complete disaster but I’m not sure Im ready to face my reflection.

A sharp pain hurts through my back and the heat of my body disappears as fear takes over me. I can hear my heartbeat pound in my ears as my breathing starts to become labored. Already weak from death, my knees buckle and I stumble forward, desperately searching for something to grip onto. I find nothing as the pain in my back becomes a searing sensation that is only amplified as my knees and hands catch on the floor. They tear into the soft skin and cause blood to leak from the cuts. The candles are blurred around me, and the silence surrounding me becomes suffocating. Water starts to envelop me from within as my breathing picks up pace even more, making it harder to swim to the surface of my emotions. Pain continues to spread from the torn skin and my back when I hear an awful tearing noise. I let out a sob as I feel the skin of my back break open and something tears itself free.

Blood drips onto the pristine wooden floors around me and there is a heavy weight at my back now but I can’t move. I don’t dare to move. I stay with my hands and knees firmly planted on the floor as sobs rack over my body.

I don’t know how long I stay on the floor but no one comes no matter how loud I scream at the agony in my back. Shadows, the persistent bastards, flood underneath the door and rush to me. I bat them away, unwilling to accept their help. They refuse to listen to me and hover with nervous energy as I crawl to the bathroom. I wince and bite back more sobs as the things that tore themselves free drag on the floor. They catch and hit furniture, ripping at them as I slowly make my way to the massive sunken bathtub. I don’t bother to pull off my clothes and instead just allow myself to fall right into the warm waters that are already waiting for me. I hiss at the feeling of warm water on my skin but it eases the ache in my body enough that I don’t wish for death.

Floating in the water beside me are membranous wings.

Ones similar to those of Cassian and Azriel. I snap my eyes shut and push myself further under the water. A deep dread sets in as I start to accept that this isn’t another nightmare created by my shattered mind.

I’ve been resurrected.

My former mate is now a king while the one I seemingly gained is a Shadowsinger and his pets are frantically tending to me.

What a shit show my life has become.

Waves of cedar, freezing mist, and olive filter through the room as my eyes flutter open. Sweat pools at the hollow of my throat and causes my skin to stick to the sheets beneath me. I brush back strands of hair that are plastered to my feverish forehead as I stare up at the ceiling above.

Shadows hover all around the room and I can only assume they’re standing guard outside of my door.

A shine from beside me catches my eye and I turn to see a blur of those creatures next to my hip. Cautiously, I shift and they awake at my movement to reveal a mess shiny black hair laying on top of muscular golden arms next to my hip. Unwanted comfort washes over me and my chest aches to be so close yet so far away from him.

He stirs for a moment and moves his head so he’s facing me. With his eyes still closed, I get a good at the face I already know by heart. The brave candle light that breaks through the shadows dances across the elegant planes of his face. Faint pale scars litter his skin and my fingers itch to trace them until my touch heals them. Scars cover the skin on his hands too but they are harsher, more jagged and deep than the others. Their angry deep brown color tells me that they’ve been inflicted many years ago and never healed properly. With how deep they go, I can practically feel the pain and damage they must have caused him. Something breaks inside of me to see that he’s been through so much but knowing that it’s similar to my own trauma is too much. I can’t fathom another ever coming close to going through what I did and I have to tear my eyes away from him.

Fate has been cruel to me and I suspect she will forever but this? Giving me a second mate and one who no doubt has the same nightmares that I do? That is a string even she wouldn’t think to weave herself. A part of me wonders if my first mate had anything to do with this. If he’s been able to take the crown, could he have been able to force the hand of Fate in his favor?

I scoff at the idea. That would be giving him too much credit to assume that he could do that or even would. He’d used me until I had nothing left to give and nourished me back to health only to restart the cycle. He’d whispered the most foul words a mate could hear as he bound my wings to my body after he found me. He’d forced me to be his own spy master and extract any and all information from his targets. It didn’t matter if it was important to his mission, he needed everything. When I proved to be too broken and weak to be of use to him, he’d left me for dead. He’d allowed his men to chase after me like hounds chasing a fox. He even demanded that they keep me alive so he could be the one to finish me off. It had my mate, the man the Cauldron said I was fated for, that put me on that island where I laid half alive, half dead for years. I don’t even know how long I’d been there but it doesn’t matter anyway.

Regardless of who Azriel is, I don’t want him. I can’t want him.

I can’t need him the way I thought needed the King of Hybern. I can’t allow myself to be in such a vulnerable position again even if I know Azriel would never do that same.

The two men have to be the same in my mind if I’m going to survive.

And I’ll do what I should have the first time; reject the bond and save myself.

It’s Feyre who does knocks at my door first. A woman who looks like a sharper and more intense version of her stands behind her. I quickly learn that her name is Nesta and she’s mated to the man child Cassian. She laughs and makes a side comment about how we’re going to get along when I tell her that. Feyre laughs as well but she stays quiet, probably in fear that I’ll say something less kind about her mate.

”We thought you might like company,” her gentle voice answers my unspoken question. She sits in the chair I assume Azriel was sleeping in earlier while Nesta makes herself comfortable on the bed next to me.

I go to push myself up but am stopped by the heavy weight at my back. My wings, I realize, as I push myself onto my forearms and watch as they emerge from under my hair. Feyre gasps and I quickly glance over to her to see that she’s also looking at them. She looks at me in wonderment. Nesta shares a similar look but keeps it isolated to her eyes and her face remains a facade of collected beauty.

“He…Rhys didn’t tell me you were Illyrian,” she mutters more to herself.

“Bold of you to assume that I am,” I say with a hint more edge than I intended. Her gaze flickers for a moment and Nesta chuckles under her breath.

Feyre goes to apologize but I stop her, “I was teasing. My father was Illyrian.

“And your mother?” Nesta asks and earns a stern look from her sister.

“Hybern.”

“Oh what a disgusting revelation.”

Once again Feyre tries to reign her back in while I feed into it.

“Yes it is quite unfortunate; however I don’t imagine the King would’ve taken me if I wasn’t from his land at all.”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, “he’s a disgusted man. He probably still would have just for the fun of it.”

“Nesta!” Feyre gasps and looks to me with apologetic eyes, “I’m so sorry. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her.”

“Do I look offended?” Both women look at me and scrutinize every inch of my face. “No, she’s fine and it’s…refreshing to be around someone with a sense of humor.”

I try to move again and my wings quack against my back from the pain.

“You’ll get used to them with time and practice,” Feyre tells me. There’s an underlying order in her words; don’t push yourself.

“I know you’ve only been here for a day but how is everything?”

I arch a brow at her, “define everything.”

Nesta snickers.

Cutting her off before she melts into her chair, I say, “everything is fine. Thank you for all of it.”

A gentle chill overcomes the room. One of those pesky shadows creeps in and slides over the back of Feyre’s chair. It plays with the ends of her hair before making its way to Nesta and halting by my foot. Nesta shivers and looks like she wants to bat at the shadow.

I clench my jaw and finally push myself further up so Im sitting against the wall. It’s painful and almost leaves me in a tears but I do it anyways. The shadow darts up to me but waits for me to invite it closer. The sisters are watching my every move as I reach my hand out with my palm up. It hesitates for a moment and then circles around my fingers. The shadow is cold but it’s not unpleasant. It crawls further up my wrist and to my arm. The ache in my chest feels content as this shadow traces my arm.

I let out a sigh. Warmth fills me and there is something akin to hope in the waves of comfort but it’s foolish. Hope cannot exist when the king still has his cold hand wrapped around my throat.

I swallow thickly despite the cold pressure on my neck and look to Feyre. “Why am I here?”

Nesta shoots her an uncharacteristically nervous look. Feyre sits straight up and clears her throat. “We need your help.”

“With?”

“The King. He’s planning a war and…”

I interrupt her, “let me guess; you’re running out of options and Rhys thinks that I’ll have some insight you haven’t found anywhere else.”

“And she’s smart,” Nesta pipes up and the shadows agree with her. They’ve made themselves comfortable on my shoulder and nestle against my neck.

“Well I can’t tell you anything you don’t know already. He isn’t the type to sip tea by a fire and spill his darkest secrets. That and I’ve been dead far longer than even your High Lord has been alive. Tell me, Feyre, how did he know about me.”

I want to feel bad about using my powers on her but I don’t think she would tell me without it.

“Az was the one who told him. I…I don’t know how he knew.”

The shadows shutter at the mention of their master and sink onto me even more. Feyre blinks in shock.

“It seems like I need to pay him a visit next.”

With that, the sisters leave. Now it’s just me with the shadows of a man who knows more about me than I would like.

#a court of thorns and roses #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #az x reader #az imagine #limits of a fae heart az x reader

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Successful Wedding (Failed proposal part 2)

Azriel x f!Reader

Part 2 of Failed proposal

Warnings; angry Nesta, swearing

Masterlist.

You asked for a part 2! Hope you enjoy it!

Clear night sky, a warm breeze and the city of starlight. You thanked the Mother for the weather and sat in front of the mirror dressed in a grey robe. You were currently in the River house getting ready for your wedding.

“No!” Nesta shouted “I told you to put stardust on the roses.” Silence “I don’t care go find some”.

She entered your room with a huff, and you glanced at Mor’s reflection who was doing your hair. Both of you started biting your cheeks to suppress the giggles.

“Those idiots!” she exclaimed.

“Calm down Ness, I don’t care about stardust. As long as Azriel and all of you are there the wedding will be perfect” you smiled.

“No! You didn’t get to enjoy the mating ceremony or the days after it and, we destroyed the proposal. This wedding will be perfect!” She huffed.

“Okay get out you will make the bride nervous” Mor waived goodbye at Nesta but sighed when Feyre burst in.

“Nesta I need you to terrorize Cassian, he is trying to steady the arch and he is destroying it.” “I’ll fucking kill him. Who let him out of the cell?” She growled and you flinched.

Poor Cassian. You thought.

“He started whining about not seeing his brother getting married and about how the thought broke his heart and Azriel fell for it.” Feyre explained and offered a tight smile.

“Illyrian idiots” Nesta mumbled before marching out. “50 bucks Cassian won’t be at the wedding” Mor shouted.

“Make that 100” Feyre responded and followed her eldest sister.

“Mor… do you think that everything will be okay? I fear that something is going to ruin the wedding too and I don’t mean the arch or the flowers… something bigger.” You sighed and stared at your friend.

“Oh sweetie no, everything will be fine. We will have the time of our lives.” She smiled reassuringly.

“I hope so” you mumbled and stared at your reflection.

  ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Call your shadows back” Rhysand scolded “Let the girls handle everything, you and y/n need to relax. It’s your day afterall.”

“I just want everything to be perfect” Azriel sighed and paced in his room.

“Don’t worry brother, Nesta can handle everything” Rhys smirked.

“That’s what worries me” Azriel frowned “She might actually kill someone and ruin the decoration with the blood.”

Both of them started laughing and Azriel felt calmer.

“No no Ness I’m sorry” Cassian’s voice boomed through the halls making them furrow their eyebrows. The door slammed open and Nesta walked in dragging Cassian by his ear.

“Lock him somewhere, put a leash on him I don’t care but if I find him again in the garden touching the decorations, I will take y/n and leave.” She stomped her foot to make a point and left with a huff. Both males stared at their brother with quirked brows.

“I’m sorry I just wanted to make sure that the arch wouldn’t drop on your heads” Cassian said sheepishly.

“Don’t make me lock you in the cell” Azriel growled and picked his suit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Time for the dress” Mor exclaimed after putting the silver circlet on your head and setting the crescent moon between your brows. It was the same color as Azriel’s siphons, and you smiled before slowly caressing it with your finger.

Mor helped you into the dress and you stared your reflection in awe.

It was a white ball gown silhouette dress with small crystals that made you look like you were floating around the stars. It had a deep V neckline that showed off your tattoos and highlighted your breasts.

“It’s perfect” you gasped.

“You are perfect” Mor smiled, and you heard two more gasps.

Feyre and Nesta were standing under the door frame wide-eyed.

“You look amazing” Nesta wiped a tear while Feyre nodded with her jaw dropped.

“Thank you” you smiled.

You took a deep breath and let the girls lead you downstairs where some priestess waited and started chanting the moment they saw you. Your friends sent you kisses and hurried off outside to take their seats.

You walked in the middle of the four priestesses and started walking outside, their chanting got louder as you moved closer to your mate. Azriel was dressed in a black suit looking more handsome than ever, the first two buttons of his shirt were undone showing off his toned torso. He looked like he was created by the night and stars, and you blushed at the thought of taking off his suit.

The shadowsinger scanned your silhouette and his breath hitched. You could see a rosy shade appearing on his cheeks and his shadows darted to you, slithering around your dress and caressing your cheek. Once you approached your mate Nyx stumbled between the two of you offering to you your wedding bouquet. You giggled at the sight of the little bat dressed in a suit and crouched taking the bouquet and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. He smiled shyly and ran back to his mom shout-whispering “I did it!”.

Azriel chuckled at the little boy and stretched his arm to you.

“You look mesmerizing” he smiled softly and kissed the back of your palm. “Likewise” you muttered coyly, and his smile grew.

Gwyn grinned and started chanting, her eyes turning white and her voice louder at each prayer.

“Cauldron strengthen this union, Mother bless their love. Bless them with happiness and fortune. Bless their bed and future seed. May all the gods be by their side new and forgotten.” She finished the prayers and picked the wedding bands giving one to Azriel and one to you.

“I vow to always love you, protect you and honor you. I vow to be gentle and understanding and make your days lighter till death do us apart.” Azriel spoke and placed the ring on your finger.

“I vow to be by your side in sickness and in health, to love and cherish you. I vow to be the light in your darkness and protect you from any harm till death do us apart.” You said and placed the ring on his finger. “Mother bless you” Gwyn shouted, and all your friends started whistling and clapping.

Azriel cupped your jaw and leaned in capturing your lips with his own and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you angel” he breathed into the kiss.

“I love you hubby” you giggled making him chuckle too.

You walked to your friends with huge smiles on your faces. “I heard that in mortal lands you throw the bouquet and the female who catches it is the next in line?” you quirked a brow and Feyre nodded. “Oh okay. Nesta catch” you shouted and threw the bouquet at her. She caught it and stared at you wide-eyed, Cassian poked her waist, and she spun around noticing her mate on one knee.

You couldn’t hear what he said to her but suddenly she burst into tears and hugged him tightly shouting yes again and again. Cassian gave her the ring and they both smiled at you thankfully. “Congratulations” you cheered.

You spent the rest of the night drinking and dancing with your friends. At some point you were all so drunk that you ran around the streets of Velaris singing and dancing and enjoying the cheers of the passing by faeries once they noticed your wedding dress.

Azriel grabbed you by the waist once you reached the main square and pressed you against his body. “My wife” he mumbled and kissed you passionately while your friends danced around you.

“Our perfect wedding” you whispered and let the happy tears escape.

I think you needed this after Scattered vows :)

Dedicated to the people who asked for part 2;

@mulansaucey , @natashachelsea

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron #azriel fanfic #acosf #azriel x reader #acowar #acomaf #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #night court #mor #velaris #city of starlight #the night court #inner circle

[dulcesiabits]

your shadow under the illusory moon, p.2.

summary: out of everything he's done in his life, it's his relationship with you that haunts lyney.

notes: 2k words, fic, first part, childhood friends au, spoilers for lyney's backstory, the first part has the most context for this fic

Lyney has always believed in miracles.

In Sumeru, there’s a particular theory about a cat in a box. Until you open the box, the cat is caught in a state between life and death; in other words, it is both, at once. A living contradiction, a miracle of its own, as long as the box is closed and the truth is unknown. There are things in this world that require a similar layer of belief. Anything can be manipulated and falsified. Perspective can change the very nature of an object. Not everything that is as it seems.

Of course, there are patterns and rules to miracles. Like any good magician, Lyney knows all the right tricks to create the perfect stage for such a miracle to bloom. However, there’s also an element of randomness to any event, unpredictable factors that can change the course of a life.

The bouquet in his hands is one such factor. A simple collection of flowers, pink cyclamens and tender red columbines, tied together with a string. For the past few months, similar bouquets have appeared in his dressing room.

“You’re nervous,” Lynette comments.

He twirls the bouquet airily. “Why would I be? These are just… presents from a fan, after all.”

Lynette throws him an unimpressed stare. “Right. But it’s not just any fan, brother. I think it’s obvious from all of your little research that the person who sent these is–”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Lyney interrupts. His palms are clammy, and he carefully places the flowers back down on the table. “And if, and only if, they were the one to do this, I don’t think they’d be happy to see me.”

Lynnette purses her lips, but says nothing else. He knows what his sister is thinking, just from the unimpressed flick of her tail: he’s a coward. There’s nothing he can say to that when she’s right.

But how can he be brave when the person he has to face is you?

—

In rare moments alone, Lyney tumbles through his memories like a kaleidoscope, peering up at each brilliantly colored piece of halcyon days, long past. All of his most beautiful memories always involve you: his childhood friend, his first love, a fellow ragtag orphan running through the streets by his side.

You were the cleverest child on the streets, and Lyney had been honored to call you his friend. His favorite memories involve the summer, when you, he and Lynette would sneak down to the beach to roll up your pant legs and step into the surf, shrieking as it washed over your ankles. You would collect shells and set up crab traps, digging for mollusks and building elaborate castles that the tide would wash away.

On one such day, Lynette wandered off to check the crab traps, giving you and Lyney a few minutes alone. She had shoved him with her elbow, reminding him to make the most of the time she had generously allotted for him, ears twitching amusedly when he stammered and turned bright red.

Though Lynette always pushed him to make a move, at the end of the day, Lyney was delighted just to be by your side. You were his precious family, no matter the nature of your feelings.

“This is pretty,” Lyney murmured. He’s holding what looks like a drop of starlight in his palm, a smooth piece of red glass. The two of you had been digging through the surf for a little while now, searching for little trinkets and treasures. Mostly you and he would pick up shells, seaweed and odd bits and ends the water rolled in. On rare occasions, you might find a coin that someone dropped.

“It’s sea glass,” you informed him. “Broken glass bottles get worn down by the water and sand until they’re smooth like that.”

“You know so much,” he said admiringly. 

“I read about it,” you said. You beckoned him closer, then dropped another treasure in his palm, a piece of green glass. “You can have this. I thought you’d like it.”

He fingered the drops of sea glass in his hands. “We need another piece.”

“Why?”

“Because we need a third piece,” he said. “For you.”

You smiled, childish joy breaking across your face. “Really? Okay.”

“It’s like a miracle that we found these treasures today,” Lyney said. “Maybe we were meant to find them.”

You shook your head, and you have that look in your eyes: the one that made you look older than you really were. “There are no such things as miracles, Lyney. It was only a coincidence.”

You walked leisurely along the beach, your shoes in your hands, tracking footsteps across the soft sand. After a beat, Lyney hurried to keep up with you, his own footsteps like lovers next to yours. The tide would wash them away, but for now, these were proof that the two of you existed.

In hindsight, Lyney has always been a little jealous that you can look at the world in the way you do. To you, everything is neat and simple. You only believe in what you can see, and once explained to him that there are rules, patterns and calculations that govern the world. The truth is a single immovable force. There are no miracles or contradictions.

“What you see is what you get,” you had said. “You can only trust your eyes.”

But that’s where you’re wrong, he thinks. There are countless lies in the world, a bevy of facades and mirages and deceptions. Even the truth is never quite so simple. 

After Lyney was forcibly separated from you, his days dulled, colored with desperation and fear.

The noble that took him and Lynette in would never let him see you. In that house, he was kept on a tight leash. Freedom was always just out of his grasp, hindered by watching eyes and hidden threats.

“You can’t associate with orphans like that anymore. But if you do well, perhaps I can take your friend in, too,” the noble purred.

A lie, of course, but he had been young and desperate and naive. And then Lynette was stolen, and the noble murdered, and Father became their next caretaker.

“You have to let go of your past or you won’t survive,” she had warned. “The only family you have now is the House of the Hearth. I don’t want to hear talk of this friend again.”

And yet, Lyney clung to you desperately. Throughout the training. Throughout the cold, bitter nights. Throughout the distrust and the initial bullying. The memories of your time together provided warmth that he held tightly to his chest like a star. As long as he could get through this, then he could see you again. Everything would be made right with the world, and it would no longer feel as if his chest was being torn to shreds every second he was away from you.

Lyney needed leverage, a plan. No, he needed a miracle. Because only those with power had the right to do what they wanted in the world. Hadn’t he learned that, time and time again?

“Father, there’s someone I know that would be an invaluable asset to the Fatui,” he posited, once he had enough successes under his belt for Father to find him useful. “They’re clever, and skilled with their hands.”

Father smiled thinly. “And are you asking me this for my sake, or yours? Not just anyone can become a Fatuus. Could they survive here?”

He had bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

 Because how could Lyney do that to you, for his own selfish desire to keep you close? He couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering from injuries that were so common in their line of work, of never knowing whenever this would be the night you wouldn’t make it home, of you always living despised by the people around you, just for who you had to associate with to survive.

And worse. What if you were sent off to someone like Dottore, who treated his underlings like pawns and experiments? 

You had built your own life, from what little he had heard. Information about you was ferreted out in coincidences. To investigate you directly would be to put a target on your back, so he could only hear snatches of your name through association with the more important people and places around you. Last he was told, you worked at the Fontaine Research Institute, and had made a decent name for yourself as a mechanic. Could he rip you away from the tranquil life you had created, and thrust you into a place like the Fatui?

“Why don’t you just talk to them, Lyney?” Lynette had asked once. “Enough of these games.”

“And what if they don’t want to see me, Lynette?”

She sighed, and he dipped his head.

He’s a coward, but Lyney can’t touch you with his bloodstained hands. He doesn’t deserve to love you anymore, because of the things he has done– of the things he will do, for Father’s sake. You live in the sunlight, and he lives in the shadows cast by your light.

Lyney finds himself thinking of you when he wanders into a little trinket shop one day. There are rows of handmade bookmarks, and the sight of it reminds him of how you used to always have your nose buried in a book. On a whim, he buys one, keeping it tucked in his pocket like a secret, a connection that tethers the two of you together.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone so horribly wrong, he would be by your side right now. The two of you would live in a little home together, and be a real family again. 

But dreams were just that: dreams. In the end, there are some miracles even a magician can’t make true.

–

When Lyney steps into the dressing room and he comes face to face with you for the first time in years, his mind goes blank.

You watch him like a wary animal, and his breathing quickens in his chest. He can’t do this. Not now. Not ever. The years are cruel, because even though you’re older and more tired, he can still find traces of the friend he once knew more intimately than his own self. 

“Why, hello there. Are you a fan? I didn’t expect to see someone back here,” he finds himself saying. Even off the stage, Lyney finds himself slipping into a mask. He watches himself from an audience seat, performing a part for you.

Have you been okay? He wants to beg like a child. Have you been safe? Has anyone hurt you? But none of those thoughts pass his lips throughout your conversation with him.

When your attention wanders, it’s easy enough for Lyney to carefully spirit away your bag, and, with shaking hands, slide his bookmark into it. 

When you turn to go, he can’t help himself. “Did you enjoy today’s show?” Lyney asks.

“I could understand why people like your magic shows so much.”

“But do you like them?”

You tilt your head, considering his question like you would a math equation. “Well, I don’t really believe in magic. But I appreciate the effort and the logistics behind each trick.”

“I’m glad, then.” A knot of tension loosens in his chest. It’s confirmation of what he’s known, from searching for you in the crowds for the past few weeks when he first realized you had been showing up at his shows: that despite everything, you were still watching him. His first audience member, and the most precious one. “Have a nice night.”

When you’re gone, Lyney collapses onto the dressing room table, hands shaking as he grips the wood, so hard his knuckles turn white. Your bouquet remains, and he brings the petals to his face, breathing in the fading fragrance.

There are things in this world that can never be truly repaired or forgiven, like how a shattered bowl will always bear memories of its cracks, or some animals hold grudges for the rest of their lives, remembering the face of their tormentors. 

But Lyney believes in miracles. In the unexpected, in the unpredictable, in the contradictory nature of the world. And one day, maybe a miracle will bring him back to your side.

#liya writes #genshin impact #lyney #genshin impact lyney #genshin impact x reader #x reader #lyney x reader #lyney is the most conflict avoidant man in the world fr #i felt like the first fic was somewhat incomplete so!!! i figured writing about lyney's perspective (equally biased) would help that #i love tormenting him <3

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she played the violin for her Father

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst

summary: Valeria has a violin solo that doesn't end as she had hoped. ft possessive Az

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. I was able to update this so quickly because I had already written this awhile back. I probably won't be able to update again until next weekend.

**

Valeria had never been nervous to perform. Music was second nature to her, it flowed through her veins. She loved it. She lived for it.

The announcement of her solo for the Night Court’s annual concert was exciting and thrilling. She had poured her heart into her audition, dedicating countless hours to perfecting her performance. When she set her goal on something, she achieved them swiftly. The piece she performed was one composed by her grandmother. It had brought those who were in the audience during the auditions to tears and the orchestra’s conductor had recognized the tune immediately. He was the one who told her the song was an ode her grandmother composed for her beloved son, Valeria’s father. One that many struggled to interpret and perform with the same emotion her grandmother would. Doubts of favoritism nagged at her, fearing she only secured the solo due to her family name. Yet, the orchestra’s genuine love and praise for her silenced those concerns. They were overjoyed to have her join them.

As the performance date drew near, the initial thrill morphed into a relentless anxiety, all due to the daunting prospect of her father’s attendance. She had subtly reminded him a couple days prior and he had responded with a thoughtful hum–an interaction her heart clung to desperately.

 Valeria had rehearsed her grandmother’s composition countless times after the audition. Every chord was etched in her heart. She was confident in her abilities yet, she could do nothing to ease her nerves. What if she was not good enough for the only person’s opinion she cared for?

She hated how much power her father had over her, the weight of his approval was heavy.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached to clasp her beloved necklace.

“Allow me.” A voice chimed in, startling her but her body relaxed under the familiar and warm touch.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” Valeria exhaled as her gaze met Azriel’s through the reflection of her vanity’s mirror, referring to the way the dear shadowsinger had gotten into the habit of sneaking up on her.

Azriel shrugged with a smirk, his shadows swirling around him. “You left the balcony doors open.”

Valeria hummed in acknowledgement, realizing she had indeed left the doors to her balcony open. It had become an unspoken invitation between them–an open balcony meant Azriel was welcome, making his nightly visits easier with the assistance of his shadows. 

As Valeria remained uncharacteristically quiet, Azriel sensed her nerves. With a frown, he turned her around to face him. He grasped her smaller hands in his, noticing the blisters on her fingers as he gently held them. A rush of relief washed over her, prompting her gaze to meet Azriel’s.

His hazel eyes radiated warmth and reassurance. “You’re going to do great today.” 

“What if he doesn’t show up?” Her bottom lip quivered, threatening to curve down into a frown.

“He’d be a fool not to.”

Valeria sighed, releasing her hands from his. “I should get dressed.”

“Why?” Azriel teased, his eyes raking over her form, barely covered by the thin and rather short night gown she wore. “I much prefer you like this…or with nothing at all.”

Valeria shot him a look. Her playful glare was overshadowed by the frantic flutter of her heart against her chest. Judging by the smug look on Azriel’s face, she wondered if he could hear it.

Azriel’s shadows rose, the black tendrils undulating like a cat’s arching back, sensing someone’s approach.  Lady Yvaine. His eyes locked with Valeria’s curious one. His head inclined toward her door, a silent goodbye shared between them.

Before vanishing into the shadows, he tenderly peppered her face with reassuring kisses, saving her lips for last.

Valeria was left blushing and flustered as her mother entered the room.

**

Valeria stood on the grand stage, her violin poised delicately in her grasp. The spotlight enveloped her like the moon, casting an ethereal glow as she drew the bow across the strings. The first notes emerged, pure and resonant, flowing seamlessly into the room. The melody echoed a hauntingly beautiful tale, painting emotions and stories of a mother’s love in the air.

Valeria’s eyes were closed, fearing to look at the audience and choosing to let the music absorb her completely instead. Her every movement was graceful, her passion intertwining with the melody she coaxed from her violin.

As the music surged, a tide of emotions rising and falling, she carried the audience on a journey through joy and sorrow. The song whispered secrets and dreams, unveiling a world of emotions that transcended words.

When the last note faded into a hushed silence, Valeria slowly opened her eyes, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the lingering emotions. A thunderous applause erupted, reasoning throughout the room as her eyes searched the audience. She found her mother, brother, Azriel and Cassian. They, along with a couple of others, had risen to their feet.

Her eyes scanned the crowd in vain, searching for the familiar figure of her father. A wave of crushing disappointment washed over her, shattering something deep within so violently that she feared the entire audience could hear it. Her steps faltered, retreating as tears welled in her eyes.

The one person she had wanted to come was not there.

With a quick bow to the audience, she winnowed away, one singular thought echoing in her mind.

**

Worry washed over Rhysand as he witnessed the profound hurt etched across his sister’s face before she abruptly vanished from the stage. The audience around them were unaware of the shift in her face, attributing it to the emotion from her performance but Rhysand knew better.  He knew how much this performance meant to her and with each passing moment, he held onto hope that their father would eventually arrive. He turned to his mother, noting the shared look of concern.

“I need to go to her.” 

The words had slipped out of Azriel in a surge of concern that had been sparked by seeing Valeria hurt. 

Rhysand turned to Azriel, his gaze sharpening. There was something in the Shadowsinger’s tone that didn’t settle well with him. Something possessive, almost. Rhysand didn’t know what came over him next but he was stopping the Shadowsinger before he could disappear into his shadows.

“She’s my sister. My responsibility.” Rhysand firmly reiterated. “I’m going to find her.”

Azriel felt a burning sensation in his chest, causing his jaw to tense as he clutched the purple peonies he had picked for Valeria, the pressure making his knuckles turn white. Cassian, sensing the tense energy between the two, moved himself into both of their views. 

“We’re just worried too, Rhys.” Cassian said gently. “She’s like a sister to us…Right, Az?”

Azriel remained silent, though he made a conscious effort to ease his tension. He could feel Valeria’s pain and wanted nothing more than to rush and soothe her. Rhysand noted the silence but his priority was finding his sister so without another word, he winnowed away.

Azriel stilled when he felt Lady Yvaine’s hand at his shoulder. Her gaze was warm and loving as always, despite her concern over her daughter.  “Rhys will find her,” she reassured him with an ease that only a loving mother could provide.  “Do you and Cassian mind accompanying me back to the Moonstone palace?”

**

Valeria stood at the doors of her father’s office in the grand Moonstone palace. Her violin and bow were still clutched tightly in her trembling hands. She didn’t bother to knock, forcefully throwing the doors open with her powers. 

She had hoped to find him busy, drowning in his work and duties as High Lord. Her hope shattered into an overwhelming torrent of anger when she discovered him engaged in a casual round of chess with Keir. 

The words were bursting from her, charged with the weight of her dashed hopes. “Where were you?”

The High Lord remained fixated on the chessboard, seemingly uninterested in her presence, drawing a chuckle from Keir. Their indifference only fueled her simmering rage. “Can’t you see? We’re in the middle of something,” her father replied, dismissing her without a glance.

“You said you’d be there–”

“I promised nothing.” His tone cut through her like a blade.

“I practiced so much.”

Tears blurred Valeria’s vision as her hands, singed with pain from the blisters, clutched the violin and bow fiercely. Her voice shook with emotion, the words she wanted to add–”for you”--hovering on the edge of her lips. Fear and anguish held them back.

It was Keir who looked up from their chess game, casting a mocking glance her way. “As expected.”

She glared at Keir but her attention quickly turned back to her father. Though she knew she should leave before things escalated, she was too overwhelmed by her hurt to turn away.

“I spent these past six months trying to meet your high expectations. I listened. I obeyed. I kept my mouth shut. I��I did everything I could to be the perfect daughter. I thought you’d be proud…”

It was then that the High Lord, her father, lifted his gaze, finally acknowledging her presence. His cold violet eyes met hers and with his next words, he shattered the remaining pieces of her heart completely.

“Proud?” His voice was laced with an incredulous tone that mocked her. “Over you doing what is expected of you? Over you learning how to play a mere instrument?”

Both the High Lord and Keir shared a look, chuckling darkly.

“That is no reason to be proud, you child.”

 His voice was venomous as he reduced to her nothing and she recoiled back at the sting.

“Daughters,” Keir said, rolling his eyes. “Always so entitled. It’s why sons are preferred.”

“If that is all,” her father said as he returned his attention back to their game of chess. “Then you may leave before you cost me this game.”

**

Valeria ran to her place of solace within the Moonstone palace–the moon gardens. It was only once she confirmed that she was alone that she released the tears in her eyes. They ran down her heated cheeks.

Her violin and bow were still in her hands and at that moment, she hated them. All the blood, sweat and tears she had poured into her performance… She had been praised and applauded by her audience–including the ones she loved most–but she hated how the absence of her father’s presence reduced her hard work into nothing.

However, this hurt went beyond music. Valeria had exhausted herself over the past couple of six months to gain her father’s approval. When he had suggested she return to her etiquette classes, she did so with no hesitation. When she noticed he had a keen appetite for strawberries, she had baked the most delicious strawberry tarts for breakfast the following morning. When marriage had been brought up, she even humored the idea, despite her heart already having been claimed by another.

Everything she did was delicately crafted to ensure that she was worthy of being his daughter. Although her father was still not aware of her secret training sessions with the Valkyries, her practice became lacking as she shifted to activities that might please her father instead. The only sliver of happiness she allowed herself was her secret relationship with Azriel. She was not happy with all these changes, but she did so for the High Lord, her father. She had desperately clung to their shared love for music–hoping that it would be the last piece of the puzzle to appeal to her father.

Valeria threw her bow to the floor and stomped on it with her foot until it was nothing but broken pieces of wood and string. She felt as if she wasted her time with the instrument. Her violin went next. She raised it with both hands before slamming it down against the floor. It broke into jagged halves at the impact. She directed her hands toward the pieces, using her powers to destroy it further. She didn’t stop until her violin was completely just as shattered as her heart was.

She didn’t even register the presence of another until she felt hands on her face.

Valeria blinked the tears away, finding a worried Rhysand right in front of her. Her breaths were heavy and jagged as the pieces of wood beneath her feet. Rhysand kept his hands on her face, his eyes searching her face and body in search of any injury. 

“Nothing I do is ever good for him.” She sniffled. “It is literally impossible to please him.”

“Val, I’m so sorry.” Rhysand’s voice was soft and full of compassion and when he confirmed that there were no physical injuries, he let out a small exhale and pulled Valeria into his arms.

“I don’t know why I care so much anymore.” She admitted, burying her head into her brother’s chest. “But it hurts, Rhys. I hate and fear him at the same time.”

And then the tears were falling again as she began to sob uncontrollably. Her tears drenched his shirt as his hold on her tightened. He rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, uncertain of the words to console her.

Rhysand held her until her cries and sobs gradually came to a stop. He pulled away, leading her to sit at the edge of a grand fountain in the heart of the gardens. After a deep exhale, Valeria spoke.

“You can light a candle and he’d be proud of you.” 

 There was envy in her tone but no trace of anger or resentment directed toward him

 “I can light a candle and he’d scold me for my candle being too dim.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “Even though it would be just as bright as yours.”

Rhysand frowned and said nothing, acknowledging her words. He hated the truth of the situation as much as she did. She turned her body to face forward. Her violet eyes were distant as she continued.

“I excel in everything I set my mind to but somehow, it’s never enough. I have to reach out and find my place as the High Lord’s daughter but never forget my place as an Illyrian woman. I have to always be grateful for keeping my wings unclipped but never forget how quickly they can be taken away. I have to be strong but I cannot train. I can never be rude, never be selfish, never show fear.”

Valeria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and Rhysand’s heart broke. He knew his sister had been hurting for a while but he failed to realize the depth of her suffering all these years.

“I am always doing something wrong and somehow, it’s always my fault. I’ve been a failure since birth for something I had no control over. I should’ve just not been bor–”

“Oh, my sweet child.” Her mother’s voice interrupted, refusing to let her finish that sentence. She approached her children, kneeling before Valeria and coaxing her gaze to meet hers. “You’ve been nothing but a treasure and joy since birth.”

“I almost killed you.” Valeria spoke in a soft, subdued tone, her eyes reflecting a flicker of guilt. She had caused her mother so much pain at birth–something her father never failed to remind her of. “And the reason you can’t bear him another son.”

Lady Yvaine was shaking her head in protest, frowning slightly. She wiped the tears from Valeria’s face. “I give thanks to the Mother and Cauldron for your existence every day.”

She grasped both Rhysand’s and Valeria’s hands into her own, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of them. Warmth emanated from her brown eyes, filled with deep admiration for the children she had brought into this world. Her wings unfurled behind her, enveloping them in a motherly embrace as a radiant smile graced her face. 

“You two are enough for me. You mean everything to me and I love you both so much. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“We never will.” Rhysand finally spoke. “We love you so much.”

Valeria felt a flooding warmth in her heart. Her father may not love her as she yearned for but she was not alone. She had her doting mother and brother. They were enough.

She would no longer live beholden to her father’s expectations. She decided she was going to follow her own path to happiness, where she would live life for herself.

**

tag list:  @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

A/N: sorry this one didn't have much of Az and Val but this is a pivotal point in Val's life. The last couple of imagines are building up to the storyline I have planned. But you got to see a glimpse of possessive Az and a suspicious Rhys lol.

idk if y'all are DPR Ian fans but he just released a song called "violet crazy" and I feel like it's a song that matches Val and Az so well. I added it to the playlist I made here. I listened to Billie Eilish's "what was I made for?" a lot while writing this as this imagine was inspired by the monologue in the Barbie movie.

#azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #rhysand's sister #acotar #azriel x rhysand's sister #acosm

[cafeinthemoon]

Ever Dream (Apollo x reader)

Chapter 1/1

Wordcount 7,3k

Title Ever Dream

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Symbols ✔ . 1️⃣ . 💛

Warnings: Apollo is extremely inconvenient in the beginning; angst with a soft, bittersweet ending

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A. Finally I can fulfill my promise and post this little story with Apollo!

At first, he wasn't appealing to me at all, but as his character was developed, I found myself liking him (I basically understood that my lack of interest in him and his fight was due to me not moving on from Hades' loss, since snv doesn't feel the same for me anymore) Also his personality is a bit weird in this one bc I've started to write it before his flashback came out, and since I've wrote so much it would be a waste to restart my work to adjust his depiction to something more "pleasing", so I just kept things this way. But I hope you have fun with it :)

“Come out, come out

Wherever you are [...]

Give in, give in for my touch

For my taste

For my lust”

(Nightwish, Ever Dream)

Summer days might be the favorites among the mortals, for they were long and favorable to the body and the heart, as a good presage for the ones who needed it, but that didn’t apply to you. Yes, as many, you appreciated cheerful encounters of friends under the shadow of a tree on a warmth afternoon, as well as playing games in the city’s lake with your sisters, but none of these small delights were enough to make you enjoy Summer above the other seasons. Honestly, you would be happier during Spring, when the beauty of the flowers would be in its apex, or during Winter, when you would stay long periods at home, in front of a good fire, with warm food and crafting to occupy your hands; even Autumn had a special place in your heart, with its meadows of red leaves and winds whispering mysterious tunes.

The thing is that you used to work as a gardener during Spring and Summer, and this latter was always the most difficult one, for the land where you lived was always too hot for any activity to be possible under midday sun, so you would adjust your routine to work at early morning or when the sunset approached.

It was a hard work: the plants would suffer with the heat, and you must know the right moment of the day to pour water in them, in order to not burn their roots; some of them would even become dusty with the lack of rain, only to be harmed after sudden, summer storms, and it would take an entire day for you to clean the fallen leaves, broken branches and garbage brought by the wind – not to speak about the mud; and, as if none of this wasn’t enough, you would have to fight against seasonal infestations.

It was a lonely work, also: there would be days when you would stay in silence for so long that hearing your own voice after going back home or speaking to yourself during work brought a sensation of strangeness. But you enjoyed the solitude, using it to perfect your abilities and organize your thoughts.

Some would say that you should start thinking seriously about your situation, that is, that you couldn’t live only for the plants and that you were already in the age of considering marriage, but you would just escape from their demands inside the labyrinths of the garden. Not that you would get angry with them, though. You understood their preoccupations, but you were aware of where they came from: they didn’t understand that happiness could have many sources in human life beyond building a family.

And, as long as your own happiness came from the garden, you would stay inside it.

***

If the humans who knew you were the only ones watching your steps with what you’d call an abnormal interest, you could deal with it. But fate wanted things to be complicated for you, so your peculiar, solitary routine hasn’t caught only the mortals’ attention.

It happened that, close to your garden’s location, upon a greenish hill, a temple was built centuries ago. A temple to honor the deity whose powers were always strong across those lands – Apollo, Son of Zeus and Guardian of the Sun, Master of Poetry and Music, and owner of more titles than you could remember. You’ve never seen him in person, though it was said that he used that building as his temporary residence on summer days, which explained the intense temperatures during that time of the year; it also explained why the lights of the temple would be fed until late hours and why there would be sound of chords, drums and high voices all day. You respected the work of the people living there, of course, but you’d appreciate a bit of silence during a period that was so difficult for you, and there you had another reason to show up only when the sun wasn’t shinning in all its splendor.

Little you knew that, from the highest spot of the temple, upon a parapet only accessible to himself, the Lord of that house, to whom all those honors were directed, has been observing that lonely, little mortal who would come every day to take care of her flowers with the same dedication as Heracles by the time he had to fulfill his twelve tasks.

He couldn’t remember when was the first time he saw you: the only thing he knew was that, while he stood at that temple, he couldn’t spend one day without seeing you. Every morning, before his worshipers woke up, Apollo would walk up the stairs that led to the private space where the highest balcony of the temple was, and he would sit at it, with his back leaning on a column, to witness the girl’s arrival and her preparations before work; he would stay there, watching in ecstatic silence as she separated her tools, touched each plant with those delicate fingers of hers, examined each spot of them and gave them the necessary treatment, smiling and, sometimes, mumbling to herself.

Not only he noticed your diligence and dedication, but it didn’t escape him how much you were beautiful. Yes, you were surrounded by appealing fruit trees, flowers of the most interesting shapes and shades, all of them between intricate green walls that only added in majesty, yet your figure caught the man’s eyes above all of them – eyes that were trained to not miss anything that could be pleasing to one’s sight.

The god would cheer at himself with the fact that you were oblivious to this, while he, at that height, was completely out of your sight. It was like in the old days, where he would observe the mortal realm from his spot at the Olympus, except that this time there would be no difficulties in reaching you: as one of the city’s inhabitants, you were basically his neighbor, and knowing that building like the palm of his hand, he knew the secret shortcuts that would lead him to your garden’s gates.

At first, Apollo would state that his morning observations were just a hobby, and that with all the work to keep him occupied at the temple and the attentions he would get from the worshipers – particularly from the priestesses – he would soon forget about you and your flowers. However, he wasn’t fool to the point of lying to himself for too long, and soon he would admit that he was interested in you. Well, he was already desiring you, in a way that didn’t happen since… a few centuries ago, maybe by the time of that temple’s inauguration, when he would lure some of the city’s mortals into it. And now, there he was, leaving the comfort of his bed every morning, sometimes even before the sun came up to greet him, for anything but to catch the exact moment when your feet stepped into that garden, wondering how your voice would send shivers all over his body in case you whispered in his ears with the same docility you did to the flowers, how soft your skin would feel if he caught your frail form between his arms, and the heat he would sense once his lips touched yours.

This extended for days, until he finally had enough.

That morning, he watched you as always, but this time something inside him awakened, and he just let his body move away from the parapet and reach for his private chambers, where he caught his best garments and a pair of golden sandals, and then wandered to outside the temple, to the narrow path behind the hill, covered in stones and sand, only known by himself, and in one minute or two, he was standing at the garden’s entry.

Today is the day. The day when I shall make you mine.

***

It should be a pacific, ordinary morning of work at the garden.

You arrived at the usual hour, reached for the spot of the garden where you started working the day before, separated your tools and went to take care of your tasks.

You’ve spent one hour, maybe two like this, so concentrated in what your were doing that the sudden rustling between the leaves somewhere behind you made you startle and drop your garden shears. You turned around…

And found quite a spectacle for that time of the day.

Coming out of a narrow space between two green walls, you saw a young man dressed in garments that you supposed to be only appropriate for the Summer Festivities, not so far in the land’s calendar: he had a white toga around his body, which hems and details appeared to be sewn with golden threads; golden were also the strappy sandals he had on his feet, as well as the laurel wreath on his head. The first rays of the sun reached the space between you at that hour, and the golden light poured itself over the man’s figure as the hug of a beloved one, revealing that the metallic ornaments he carried were, in fact, gold, and conceding a singular glimmer to his eyes, which you thought to be of the same shade. But that wasn’t the only peculiarity seen in his appearance: his hair, falling on straight strands to his waist, were of a soft pink that reminded you of some of the flowers in your garden, but a comparison wasn’t possible, since they were out of sight at that moment.

Yes, the visitor was a beautiful man, though eccentric, so your first thought was that he was the son of a noble family that came to the city to honor the god of the Sun at the temple beside your garden.

He’s probably thinking that the garden is part of the temple’s territory. I must clarify this mistake and lead him back through the right path.

And you were going to do that very thing, but he was faster.

Without waiting for an invitation or at least a question about his presence there, the man approached your spot and stopped in front of you, observing your tiny person surrounded by flowers and tools with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief: was this girl really engaging in physical work this early?, his eyes seemed to ask.

You stepped behind, closer to a bush of wild roses, but glanced over your shoulder before touching the thorns – something that made the stranger giggle. You didn’t like that at all.

The first words said between you were his.

– I’ve always said that wild roses were not my favorites, but the truth is that they’ve scared me and charmed me at the same time, and I just couldn’t deal with it – he stretched an arm to touch a spot above and behind you; not disguising the feeling that he was closer than a stranger should be, your eyes followed his movement and found his fingers reaching for a flower of the bush – A ridiculous mistake from an arrogant heart… – and, turning his golden eyes to you, – Don’t you think, my flower?

Your eyes widened, but you managed to control your mouth to not scoff at those words: you’ve been working at that garden for too long now, and from time to time there would be one and other man who would come to celebrate the Summer Festivities at Apollo’s temple, many of them from privileged houses… and about whom you’ve already had a clear opinion.

Let me see… Extravagant clothing at this time of the day, bad sense of direction, abnormally elevated self-confidence and no regard for personal space. Of course, another womanizer who relies on cheap flirting to win innocent hearts. He knows that this type of chatting only works when the speaker is young and beautiful like him, but things would be very different if we had an old, naughty man in his place.

You knew that, if you didn’t do anything to get rid of him, he would bother you for the rest of the morning, and you wouldn’t be able to complete the works of the day, but fortunately you also knew how to deal with this kind of situation, so you decided to act right now...

By moving aside and bending down to grab the garden shears that he made you drop. You stood up again and started removing the small, green leaves from its blades as you spoke.

– My Lord, I suppose you entered here by accident – you started; and, looking into his eyes, still with the shears’ blades up – Because, you see, despite the proximity, this garden doesn’t belong to Apollo’s temple. No festivities will happen here.

It was with a bit of diversion that you observed the bright smile fading from his pretty face, but you remained impassible, for you were aware that this one was an experienced gentleman and wouldn’t give up so easily.

And he didn’t.

– I must be indelicate and disagree with you, Miss – he moved his hand away from the flower, but, with an eye on your shears, he hid both hands behind his back – For a garden is a never-ending festivity itself, and the one that is going on right here owes all its beauty to the work of your hands.

You swallowed. He did have a way with words, then. But not even this would be enough for you to allow delays in your routine, and you made that very clear.

– If this is the case, my Lord, I must make use of the same indelicacy and interrupt our conversation here – in a swift move of your hands, the shears closed and opened twice with a metallic whisper – And keep working on the garden’s beauty.

And, without waiting for a response, you turned your back on the man and restarted to prune the bush with the roses, just as you were doing when he arrived.

Not even this was able to shake the young man’s confidence, for he just stepped aside and continued to talk, caressing the flowers at the same time. No irritation or offense was sensed in his tone.

– Then I must leave you to complete your mission – and, after a pause, – But I’m trapped here, and you’re the only one who can release me... by letting me know your name.

Your hands stopped and you turned to him again. You weren’t willing to reveal it to him, but if that was going to make him go away, you would do it.

– Y/n s/n.

The young man opened a satisfied smile. But, instead of saying his own name in return, he just stepped back and nodded.

– For this I will be forever grateful, my y/n. I will make sure that Apollo’s blessing falls over you and your work concerning this celebration of beauty.

And without waiting for a response, he turned away and left.

***

If only the Festivities in honor of the Lord of the Sun were shorter, or if your garden was located in somewhere else, the strange events of yesterday involving that extravagant individual would be just a funny story to remember in an encounter between your friends, or even something you would forget after a week.

But, unfortunately, things don’t always go as we plan, so to your surprise – and exasperation – the situation happened again in the next day.

You were pouring water on the soil, in a spot of the garden not so far from the one where your first encounter happened, having only the sounds of the water falling from the can and the early birds singing on the trees as your company, when the rustling noise of indiscreet steps upon the grass caught your attention.

You turned around… and found the shinning figure of the young man smiling at you, his right hand leaning on the tree at his side, his golden eyes upon you with the same enthusiasm of the last day.

You bit your lip.

I can’t believe it. Did he forget everything that happened yesterday?

If he noticed your displease or if he chosen to ignore it, you didn’t know, but he started a casual conversation without waiting for an invitation.

– Good morning, dear y/n! – he left his spot beside the tree and walked toward you with no sign of embarrassment – As I can see, the festivities continue today.

You just gave him a silent nod in reply. The man’s smile widened in contentment.

– That’s good to hear, for today I bring you something that you might appreciate…

Only then you noticed the object he was carrying on his left hand: a bracelet made of gold, in the shape of a vine and with a white gem in its center, with rays surrounding it as an imitation of the sun. You looked at the object and hesitated.

– My Lord, it is not…

But when the words were still crossing your lips, you felt a strong hand holding your wrist and pulling it forward, making you drop the watering can; before you did anything, the man put the bracelet around your wrist and spent a moment admiring it, with your tiny hand between his.

You even tried to pull it back, but the he held you in place. You swallowed.

Heavens, his appearance is the most deceiving thing I’ve ever seen! I don’t know many soldiers who possess this strength!

Because of this, you understood that you might have been in danger since the other day, so that time you kept your mouth shut and waited to see what his next step would be.

And you didn’t know if you should feel relieved or shocked when you found it out.

– Now you were granted the necessary permission, my dear – he spoke with softness; and, pulling you closer to whisper in your ear, – The way to the Summer Festivities has opened to you at the Temple of the Great Apollo.

You had no time to respond, to move away or to show any form of refusal. The man, still holding your hand, pulled you with him and started running between the green walls and trees, rushing toward the depths of the garden and not allowing you to stop.

You glanced behind and your heart ached when you saw your work unfinished and the watering can forgotten on the spot it fell, the remaining water leaking and soaking the soil.

***

The path through which he led you, as well as the environment you found when you entered the temple was what you would sense in a dream: in one moment, he was carrying you by the hand through the green labyrinth, in a pace that defied time; in the next one, you were inside high walls of white, imposing columns with marble flowers surrounding them from their highest to their lowest spot, and countless tables of gold with goblets, jars and trays full of fruits, sweets and other tempting treats that were taken by uninhibited, joyful people dressed in flowing fabrics and barefoot, running, hopping and dancing between themselves to the frenetic sound of chords, flutes and drums. The place was a mixture of sounds, colors and smells that confused and numbed your senses, in a way that you were only able to stand thanks to the strong hold of the young man.

Despite that, you still noticed how strange was that those people seemed to move to the music as if they were just one, yet they acted like they weren’t seeing each other, lost in their particular world, to the point you wondered if they knew what they were doing or if they were just caught under a spell.

Are they really happy, or are they forced into this? It’s unsettling...

The people only showed a believable reaction when you arrived… Well, actually, when they put their eyes on the young man, and started reaching for him with no regard for your presence, pushing, bumping and even stepping upon your feet.

In a way you couldn’t understand, he opened his arms wide to receive them without letting go of your hand, with a satisfied smile on his face that seemed to light up when the first rays of sunshine entered the place, embracing him with the same passion as the people around.

It was when a thought crossed your mind as fast as those rays, and you stared at him with a knot in your stomach.

Could it be that he…?

The chorus around you, chanting the same words in delight, was the confirmation for it.

– Apollo! Apollo-sama! You finally arrived, Apollo-sama! Please don’t make us wait this long for you again, Apollo-sama!

His face brightened up with the call of the humans, as if it absorbed their joy and turned it into vital force, returning it to them with the warmth of the sun; to them, he was god, father, husband and master, and he was more than happy in taking all those roles for himself, in what you saw as a hungry, even predatory way. Though you still found it a beautiful thing to observe, you no longer saw any resemblance with a man in his figure.

He was something else.

Feeding himself with their energies and keeping them gravitating around him is like a diversion to him. How scary.

And with the same diversion, he pulled you to a tight embrace, giving you no choice to walk away, for many people came to him and were no dismissed, so that you were trapped between him and them, and you didn’t know for how long you would be able to breathe.

Somehow, he managed to walk among his worshipers and take you with him before you in fact were smothered, and without decreasing in enthusiasm, he looked around and chanted:

– My children, my flowers! Another day of Summer came to bless you! Enjoy it, cherish it like it’s your last!

Immediately, the people obeyed him and, as if slowly forgetting about his very presence, restarted the celebration, dancing and jumping around and opening the way for you two at the same time, not really realizing what they were doing.

Not wanting to join them and not being able to release yourself from Apollo’s grip, you had no choice but to follow him.

***

You walked up spiral, white stairs with golden banisters, ran through a corridor and ended up in front of an enormous pair of doors, which he opened with a slight touch of his hand.

They revealed a wide room that, even in your lack of experience in these matters, you knew to be worthy of a god: everywhere you looked, you saw comfortable chairs and couches, covered with satin sheets and surrounded by trays of sweets and fruits, and countless jars of wine; there was also a small fountain pouring water, with a jar and cups around it. You also saw books, parchments and musical instruments ready to be used. Everything there was arranged to display beauty and pleasure, as expected from its owner.

Once you stepped inside, you heard the sound of the keys turning to lock the doors from inside and shivered.

– My y/n, will you follow me to the balcony? – Apollo passed to your side – There’s something I need to reveal to you, but it has to be in an appropriate place!

And, without waiting for your response, he tightened his grip around your wrist and pulled you across the room, to reach the said balcony.

You passed under an arc with a pair of curtains of a peach shade and found yourself in a place that could serve as a common room of a human house by its largeness, except for the fact that it was uncovered; on it, there was wine, fod and water as well, and a couch twice the size of the ones inside the room, yet none of those objects interfered while you walked among them.

Apollo stopped at the parapet with you by his side. With his arm stretched over it, he indicated the entire view.

– Let your pretty eyes enjoy what’s in front of them with no shame, my dear – he laughed – Trust me, the view of your lands from the Olympus is no match for this!

And you were, in fact, impressed with what you saw.

From there, you were able to spot various things, from the mountains that surrounded the city, passing through the town itself, with its marketplace and daily movement, to nearer places… such as your garden, its open fields and the very spot where you were working this morning when Apollo arrived and abducted you.

Your face burned with the thought.

He has been spying on me from here? Since when…?

You never had the opportunity to inquire him on this, because he had no shame in telling you the whole story.

– Since this Summer started, though I cannot precise the day, I’ve been trapped in this balcony, just as I am now – he turned to you with a strange glimmer in his eyes; you sensed his hand letting go of your wrist and wrapping itself around your waist, bringing you closer as he spoke – I’ve been trapped by you, my flower, for I couldn’t spent one morning without seeing you from here, cherishing with your whole figure, your steps, the work of your hands, all for your precious garden…

You put your hands between you and him, in an attempt to prevent him from approaching even more.

– My Lord, with all the respect, this is my work – you managed to speak – I would never be able to properly take care of a garden if I refused to pour my heart into it…

The god’s response was to widen his already present smile, giving to it a hint of something that would be called presumption if he was a mortal man.

– I know it! I know well how these things work, and for this I am jealous – he caressed your face for an instant, his eyes swallowing each traits of yours with greed – I am jealous of your flowers, of your trees, and everything that has been blessed by the touch of your hands…

You gasped.

– My Lord, I think this is going too fa…

Your words were cut off by his next act, which consisted in wrapping his arms around you and lifting you from the floor, taking you to the couch you saw before, not so far from your spot on the parapet. There he sat you down, then knelt to take off your sandals – of course, without missing the chance to let his fingertips wander through your feet and legs. With no visible ways to escape this situation, you could only observe the scene in silence.

The door is locked, I don’t think I could open it as fast as he closed it, he’s too strong for me to put a physical fight and is too lost in his own fantasies to hear a word I say. I see no solution besides climbing up the parapet and jump.

While this thought was still crossing your mind (and your eyes glancing at the parapet), Apollo was already climbing the couch. You tried to move away, but he was faster: holding your jawline, he pulled you close to him, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

– I beg you, my little flower… stop making me jealous… pour your heart to me… be mine…

You opened your mouth to speak, to reply, to try and reason with him one last time, to ask for his divine favor and beg him to let you go, but Apollo didn’t even give you the time to breathe: convinced that actions would teach you better than words, he covered your mouth with hungry kisses, his tongue reaching for yours in a hurry, his hands grabbing your body with voracity. With the lack of air, your lungs started to burn and your eyes got filled with tears.

Your hands, still free, pulled him away by his chin; he stared at you in incredulity.

– Please… my Lord… – you forced your words out, alternating them with gasps – Please… reconsider…

For the first time, Apollo seemed to have his patience tested, and the slight twist in the color of his eyes instilled fear in your heart like you’ve never felt before.

– Too late to think, my y/n… It’s time to act.

He pushed himself upon you on the couch and a second kiss happened, longer and hotter. Now that your attempt to stop him failed, desperation was taking over you, leaving you with two choices: letting him continue or dying for opposing to a god’s will.

The latter seemed less painful for you, so you opted for it.

Beside the couch, just like the other seats at that room, there was a small table with a metallic jar on it; you glanced at it when Apollo let go of your mouth and brought his kisses to your neck, and supposed that it was full. An idea came to you, but you had to be careful.

If I fail at this, it’s over for me.

With slow movements, you managed to bring your body closer to the table’s side, taking the god with you, leaving him too occupied in his caresses to notice anything around. You even reciprocated some of his touches to disguise your nervousness, and waited until you were sure that your hand would reach the jar’s wing.

When the moment came, you stretched your left arm… and your fingers closed around its wing, lifting it from the table with all the strength you could find.

Everything happened too fast for your eyes to follow: catching him in a surprise was your only and greatest advantage, and you managed to do it. The jar flew from the table and hit Apollo’s head, forcing him away from you and dropping the laurel wreath from his hair; confirming your prediction, the jar was full, and the water spread all over the place as the metal clanged against the floor.

You wasted no time: you dragged your body out of the couch and fled the balcony, leaving your sandals and a paralyzed, dismayed Apollo behind. You crossed the room like a ray and somehow unlocked the door easily despite your shaking hands; not only this, but you had the nerve to take the key with you and lock the door from outside to slow the man who would certainly come after you.

***

Your feet barely touched the stairs while you walked down. Behind your back, there was still silence, but you knew it wouldn’t take long until Apollo reached the door and found a way to open it, so you wouldn’t stay to see what was going to happen.

You soon were back to the wide room where his worshipers were celebrating, and it was with no surprise that you found them as happy as before, and that, as you joined the crowd to reach the exit, they barely remembered you. Still, you couldn’t help finding it scary to be squeezed and pushed to all sides by those strangers, who screamed, sang and danced with no regard for each other and for themselves, as victims of a sinister spell.

***

The image of you running away from him was the most terrifying of the nightmares.

Apollo could have ran after you, grabbed you and pulled you back to the balcony. He could have also stretched his hand toward you and used his golden threads to wrap your body and force you to stay, to submit to him. He even managed to raise his hand while you turned your back to him and moved away, passing under the arc that separated the balcony to the rest of the room… but he didn’t do anything.

He just stood there, paralyzed by the surprise with your reaction and the resulting dizziness in his head, his vision darkening as he came to the shameful conclusion.

What I did… there was nothing beautiful about it.

***

The sun was higher in the sky when he regained his consciousness and left the balcony. It must have been one hour or two, judging by its position now – long enough for the effects of the strike to diminish. His head hurt so much that he was sure he would be dead if he was human.

He left the balcony and passed by a mirror, not so far from its entry. He spotted the bruise on his forehead and flinched: it was darker, deeper than he first imagined. Not that he should be worried about having a permanent scar, of course, but it would ache for days.

The god crossed the silent room and stopped by the doors. One look to the lock and he noticed the absence of the key; the shadow of a smile came to his lips.

Clever girl. Trying to slow me down.

He raised his left hand and, working with his golden threads, he involved the doors and pushed them out of their hinges, destroying both with a thunderous sound. He walked out of the room in firm steps, the wreckage cracking under his golden sandals as he approached the stairs and walked them down.

In a minute, he has reached the first floor, where his worshipers continued to celebrate, yet this time a wave of uneasiness has spread silently among them, clearly provoked by the sound of wrecking materials upon there.

Of course, he was eager to leave and start chasing after you, but he was empathetic with the ones who were there just to love him, and made sure they were all calmed down by his words; with this, they were free to go back to their worshiping, knowing that their Lord would be back in a few moments.

He left the temple and rushed to the garden, as his feet were led by instinct to the place that first connected you, but it was with no surprise that he saw you weren’t there; you didn’t even use the garden as escape route. Still, his heart didn’t ache less with the sight of your tools on the soil, and your flowers abandoned, for they meant only one thing.

Not only you were gone, but you weren’t coming back.

***

Autumn came sooner to those lands that year.

The Temple of the Sun closed its gates long before the last week of Summer, and the worshipers returned to their homes with a strange weight in their hearts; it was clear that their god wasn’t content, but the reason was only known by himself, and perhaps as an act of mercy, he protected them from his wrath by sending them away, assuring them of their innocence and promising a warmer season of festivities for the next year.

The days quickly became short, and the winds of the new season were colder than they were in the previous years; the city’s inhabitants were caught in a surprise, and even feared what Winter has reserved for them. The streets were empty, the markets saw their clientele grow thin, the richest traveled to distant lands and the common people were hidden inside their houses. In the wild, the beasts and the small creatures were sharing the same difficulties, and just as it happened with the humans, there was no guarantee that they would make it through the longer period of cold.

Apollo, on his turn, stood in that house alone, instead of traveling back to his place and his divine fellows at the Olympus: he missed their company, but had no strength to face them after the ugliness he created; it has been a monstrosity and a shame, and this was something he must endure all by himself. And so he did it, spending his days and nights wandering among the cold walls of marble, inside which the sound of chords, voices of adoration and the wine being poured in the goblets wouldn’t be heard, and the echo of his own steps were his only partner; the fires lightened by his followers stopped making him warm even before they turned into smoke and cinders, the sweetness of their incense made him sick and the golden altars and objects of devotion turned gray to his eyes.

All because of what he did to you. Because in his eagerness to make you stay, he ended up scaring you away, and the sun that should have kept you content and safe almost burned you to death. How, he asked himself, how did he deprive love from its natural beauty, he who lived to exalt the beautiful? But silence was the only thing to reply.

***

Apollo visited your garden every morning, staying there for a while before returning to his temple and to his dark meditations. Protecting his physical form from the cold with a gray cloak, he wandered through the natural walls that were once green, but now had only brown and red to offer to his sight; the grass was now a shadow of what they were, just dried vegetation that would crack and whiter under his feet, and the flowers came undone to the touch of his fingers.

Many times he passed by the spot where he abducted you, and tears would fill his eyes as he looked at the watering can and the tools rotten on the cold soil, useless after so long time without executing their functions. One morning, he even considered touching them, but when he approached his hand no remnants of your spirit could be sensed in them, and he moved away.

Well, your presence just vanished from the garden itself, and even from the town: sometimes, he would disguise himself among the mortals and seek for your face in the corners of the streets, but he knew the search was worthless. You were long gone.

Actually, you left and hid on the other side of the land, and even your acquaintances haven’t heard about you since Autumn began. But even you couldn’t deny that the season was less merciful that year… and it didn’t take long for you to realize it had something to do with the episode at Apollo’s House. Maybe he couldn’t accept that a mortal woman defied him, and decided to punish her entire land in return; or maybe he just decided to leave sooner, and with him Summer has left. It was hard to be sure when it came to the gods.

However, as much as you weren’t willing to try and seek for his favor against your will in order to save the people of the city, innocent and defenseless against Nature, your heart has been yearning for your garden, your true house, where your happiness and strength and life purpose were. You’ve been struggling to stay in your hideout and wait until the god’s wrath was over, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

One morning, despite the cold and the adversities, you dressed up and traveled back there. You had no idea of what you were going to find once you stepped into your beloved garden, and a thousand nightmares haunted you while you were on your way, and the times when you thought of giving up and return to the hideout weren’t few…

But all of this noise disappeared when you found yourself, in fact, standing before the garden’s gates. A breeze passed by you at that moment, coming from inside the garden, and sent a chill through your body – a chill that reached your heart.

You forced your feet to move ahead.

As you walked, farther from the entry and closer to the depths of the garden, you noticed that the sensation of loneliness that you were anticipating didn’t come. Yes, the flowers were dead, the grass was dry and the birds disappeared from the trees, but you had this strange feeling telling you that you weren’t the only living being wandering among the reddish vegetation.

A sudden instinct led your feet to the very place where your watering can and shears were left the day you were taken away by Apollo. Were they in the same place, still waiting for your return? You’d only know if you reached there.

And you did. And they were there. Covered in dirt, dead leaves and ivy.

But they weren’t alone. Someone was watching them in silence, standing among the desolation as if they were just a part of it that was waiting for you to come back as well.

And, perhaps, they were, for when they turned to you, your heart dropped.

It was him. It was him, there was no way for you to be mistaken.

The golden bright in his eyes has faded away, and so was his smile. The pink of his hair was no longer glowing, and the paleness on his skin was unsettling. He was still the god of the Sun, but the Sun just settled.

Suddenly, you were scared. What if he was there waiting to cease your existence in revenge? What if that was just a vision to deceive you, and you were now in a new trap, from which you had no chance to escape like the first one?

You tried to move your feet, but they wouldn’t obey you. Your heart ached inside you, and your eyes were getting filled with tears.

Is this how I’m going to die, then?

Apollo left his spot and walked toward you. He was still silent, but no sign of his intentions could be sensed, and you were too scared to try and guess them. Still, something wasn’t right – and when you finally had the courage to look straight to his face, you understood what it was.

From his eyes you saw tears rolling. And in his expression there was only room for incredulity and pain. It was when you knew: it wasn’t a vision; it was really him. And he couldn’t believe you were there.

Apollo stopped before you and you flinched, not knowing what to expect. You shut your eyes tight… and no touch, no extravagances nor punishment came.

You opened them again and found the proud god kneeling on the dirt soil, taking his cloak from his shoulders and leaving it beside him on the ground, his eyes glued on you all the time, as if you could disappear at the slightest distraction.

You didn’t know how long you stood like this, having only the winds to voice your anguish, but the silence became unbearable, and you opened your mouth to speak – but, as always, he was faster.

– Forgive me.

Two words only, but enough to shake your spirit and think of how strange reality could become. A god apologizing? When would you imagine such a thing?

– Forgive me, my flower – he repeated, since you stood quiet – For those things I’ve done weren’t but terrifying.

He stretched his hand to touch your clothes, but gave up on the gesture as to prove his feeling of shame.

Again, your heart ached, and your mouth dried out. You couldn’t just stand there with no reaction, no word, after traveling for so long to reunite with your beloved garden. But you didn’t know what to do or what would be right, so you just let your body decide.

You knelt on the soil too, before the astonished god, and didn’t try to stop yourself when you saw your arms throwing themselves around him, your head resting on his shoulder, and your skin shivering to the warmth of that embrace. You should be scared, you should be aware of any spell working at that very moment, you should be disgusted to see him there – but you weren’t.

– Yes, Apollo-sama – you murmured, not recognizing your own voice – They were terrifying. But I’m no longer scared.

And that was true. All your fear was leaving. And with the first signs that the Autumn was going away with it, you were strangely in peace.

#snv x reader #ror x reader #apollo x reader #ror apollo #snv apollo #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie apollo #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok apollo

[theerurishipper]

Zuko Did Not Abuse Azula in the Comics.

I'm gonna do it. After a lifetime of never posting any of my own posts in the ATLA fandom, I am gonna talk about this. "This" is the arguments sprung forth that Zuko abused Azula in the comics, more specifically The Search. Now, I don't think the comics are well-written, but what they don't do in any capacity is paint a picture of Zuko abusing Azula. And despite this, I've seen several claims about how Zuko did in fact, treat Azula cruelly and horribly and let the Gaang abuse her happily. And I might not like the comics, but that's just flat out wrong. So, I'm writing a rebuttal to all the arguments I've seen on the topic, at least, as many as I can remember. What I'll do is quote an argument and use evidence from the comic to rebut it, and hopefully people will stop claiming that the abuse victim treated his abusive sister the way she treated him all their lives. So yeah.

To be clear, I'm not making this post to hate on Azula's character or something. I'm not making this to start a fight, or to make people angry. I mostly made this to express my own frustrations about some things I've seen.

And it's probably a bit too late for this, but if you think Zuko did abuse Azula or whatever, you're entitled to your opinion, but please don't interact with this post. I've tagged the anti tags and placed my text under a read more, so y'all don't have to read it.

This gets long, so under the cut it is. Let's go.

Argument: "Azula is protesting being treated cruelly and Ty Lee chi-blocks her for no reason at all! And Zuko doesn't protest this cruel treatment of his sister! He's abusing her!"

Ty Lee chi-blocked Azula after Azula attacked Zuko and displayed violent behavior. On top of being Zuko's bodyguard and therefor responsible for protecting him, Ty Lee also has a great fear of Azula because of how Azula treated her in their past. Zuko tries to be kind to his sister by bringing her tea and she attacks him. Furthermore, Zuko also protests her being chi-blocked even after she does so. He tries to treat her with dignity and be kind to her but Azula herself is the one to sneer at his efforts.

Argument: "Zuko is awful for leaving Azula alone with her abuser! He doesn't care about her well-being!"

I agree that Azula shouldn't be allowed to talk to Ozai. Ozai abused Azula as well, and contact with him would only cause her more problems. However, Zuko doesn't know this. He himself is an abuse victim, and all he's seen his whole life is that Ozai favored Azula over him. And Azula used this to place herself in a position of power over him. She's always tried to drive it into his head that their father liked her better than him and that he was worthless in Ozai's eyes. Naturally, Zuko assumes (incorrectly) that Azula has some kind of special relationship with Ozai that he doesn't. He knows Azula has not had a perfect and healthy life, but he is not privy to the details. He doesn't know what's going on in her head. This is because he is not a mind reader, and she refuses to let herself be vulnerable in front of him because she believes she is better than him and that vulnerability is a weakness.

Even in the comic, she expresses no hatred or fear of her father, and doesn't indicate to Zuko that she does not want to be alone with him. She shouldn't have contact with him, of course, but she refuses to admit that her father is responsible for how she is now and that he has hurt her. She blames her mother, she blames Zuko and his friends, she blames Mai and Ty Lee, but she refuses to blame herself and most importantly, she refuses to blame Ozai. She's still behaving the way he wants, attacking Zuko and, if I may bring up Smoke and Shadow even if it pains me, she's trying to get Zuko to be like Ozai. She herself expresses the desire to speak with Ozai in the panels above, so if she herself hasn't acknowledged the way Ozai has hurt her or how he has abused her, and if she is still under the belief that he loves her, how is Zuko supposed to know any better? He's not doing anything he thinks might hurt her because she hasn't expressed that it hurts her, because she herself doesn't believe it does. And yes, it does hurt her, but it's not Zuko's fault for not being able to magically comprehend that, especially since she has spent her life driving the opposite message into his head, that Ozai favors her and not him.

Argument: "Zuko threw his little sister in an institution! He didn't care for her or for what became of her! He just left her in there to rot!"

What should he have done then? How should he have dealt with her? Azula may be traumatized and in need of help, but Zuko isn't the one to give that to her. He doesn't owe that to her after everything she's done to him, and he doesn't have the capability to help her himself. Azula has always expressed hatred for her brother and has been very clear about the fact that she considers him weak. He tries to help her and she rebuffs him continuously, choosing to attack him instead. She still wants him dead, and she has still not expressed any opposition to the things she learnt from Ozai. She still considers her brother a failure, she still hasn't mentioned that she thinks genocide is wrong, and she certainly doesn't think she's to blame for anything.

Given free reign, she attacks Zuko and manipulates him, and she is obviously too dangerous to let loose. The most Zuko can do is get her the help she needs, which is what he tried to do. I find the whole way these comics deal with mental health distasteful, especially with regard to Azula, but that's a flaw in the writing, not the characters. Zuko could have thrown her in prison like Ozai, since she was complicit in his war efforts. But he recognized that she needed help and tried to provide it for her. I wonder what anyone who criticizes Zuko for this would suggest he should do instead. Keep in mind that Azula is an imperialist and staunch supporter of Ozai's quest to take over the world. She also attempted to kill Zuko multiple times and has expressed no remorse for it.

And also, there is the argument that the institution is abusive and that Azula was mistreated in there. And where is the evidence of that? No, seriously, I went and looked through the comics, and I didn't see any evidence that Azula was abused in there. It seems to be a headcanon. Of course Azula resents being put in an institution, especially when she believes nothing is wrong with her and since she so adamantly refuses to let anyone help her. But nowhere does she mention that she hates it because the people there hurt her or something. And where else could she get help for her problems? Should Zuko take on a second job as her therapist? Should Iroh leave his life in Ba Sing Se behind to come and help a niece who has only ever hated him and wanted him dead? People say that the straitjacket is proof of her being abused, and I don't really like it either, but considering that she is eagerly awaiting the opportunity to attack Zuko, the straitjacket is probably a precaution to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone. Not that it stops her.

And when Zuko does try to help her some other way by offering for her to stay in the palace instead to make her more comfortable, she attacks him. So.

Also, these comics totally forgot how lightning-bending works.

Argument: "Zuko violently coerced his mentally ill sister to come with him on a mission to find his mother!"

She's also Azula's mother, actually. And he didn't coerce her. She blackmailed him and forced herself onto the trip. It was entirely her own decision to come with them and it was not Zuko who forced her to do anything.

Argument: "The Gaang attack Azula for no reason! They're threatening her violently!"

I mean, considering everything she's done to them and still hasn't given up on wanting to do, it's expected that they would be wary of her and perceive her as a threat. Remember when the Gaang pulled their weapons on Zuko, and only didn't attack him because he tried talking to them? Azula here is still antagonizing them and is still calling them derogatory terms like "peasant," so she still hasn't given up her beliefs of superiority. Which obviously doesn't give them a very positive impression.

Argument: "Iroh always expresses ill will and hatred towards Azula and thinks she's a lost cause! He encourages Zuko to hurt her because he thinks she's irredeemable!"

Iroh expresses the wish for Azula to find peace the way he believes Zuko will.

Argument: "The Gaang treated Azula cruelly and threatened her for no reason! They started abusing her the moment they got the chance to, when Azula was defenseless and unable to protect herself at all!"

Here we have exhibit A, where Aang cruelly laughs in Azula's face and greets her mockingly, while Azula is respectful of the people she has hurt many times over.

Oh wait. He greets her cheerfully and kindly, and she starts ordering the Gaang around like they're her servants.

Argument: "Sokka threatened Azula violently for no reason and Azula was just defending herself!"

Sokka didn't even do anything to her. He waves his boomerang near her and tells her not to try anything. And yet the way some people will use this scene is to suggest that he was outright attacking her when she was vulnerable or something. And yet she is well off enough to shoot lightning at him unprovoked. Considering all of Azula's actions, they are well within their rights to keep her in control. Would you say Katara was unjustified for threatening Zuko with death right after he joined them? Was she abusing Zuko then? The answer is no.

Azula has been well known for committing many acts of violence against them, including but not limited to pursuing them relentlessly, attacking them, taking over Ba Sing Se, trying to kill them, actually killing Aang, almost killing Zuko, and she is complicit in the crimes of the Fire Nation. She has done nothing to prove that she's changed her ways and that she is now not interested in killing them, and we later learn that she still does want to attack them. Sokka is well within his rights to threaten her since she has inflicted so much harm on his friends and might still do so. But Azula has no such right. The only reason she has so much free reign is because of Zuko's compassion. The Gaang are right to be suspicious and wary of her after everything she's done and she has no right to be disdainful about that. Do you think if Zuko showed up to join the Gaang and shot sparks at them when he got irritated, that they would not be in the right for perceiving it as a threat? Would you say that Zuko should be allowed to act violently with the Gaang in that situation?

She is here because she manipulated her brother and the fact that she is being allowed on this trip unbound is much more than what she realistically deserves. And she proves Sokka right by attacking him. Sokka merely waved a boomerang in her face (he wasn't even that close to her, actually, and he certainly wasn't in her face) and warned her not to try anything, and she tried something instantly. Just before this when Zuko was with her, she attacked him. No matter her mental state or her age, Azula is dangerous and deadly, and she has not changed. They have no reason to trust her. They have the right to be distrustful of her and to warn her not to step out of line. I know people like to ignore the fact that Azula is still an Ozai sympathizer and an imperialist who partook gleefully in the war efforts and like to only see her as a mentally ill 14-year-old girl, but that's not what the show says, and neither do the comics, so.

I'm guessing it's wrong of the Gaang to react when someone who has previously proved to be more than ready to hurt them and kill them tries to hurt one of their friends. Sure, Azula wasn't going to hurt him severely, but she sure did hurt him enough for him to yell out and fall down. And considering everything else, the Gaang are right to try to protect themselves from someone they perceive as a threat. Sokka wasn't even close to her, damn it. Azula has no right at all to be making demands of the Gaang, and they don't have an obligation to treat her the way she wants to be, like they are her servants and like they are inferior to her.

Argument: "Zuko threatens Azula for no reason and abuses her!"

Azula is someone who has proven to be a threat time and again, and here she is yelling strange things and inching closer with an angry look in her eye. For people like Zuko, it is understandable that this looks like a threatening situation. We know what Azula is talking about, but all they can see is her behaving in a way that could be threatening.

She yells accusatory things and looks angry, and she is moving closer to the rest of the Gaang, almost like she is ready to attack them for something. And so Zuko tells her that that's enough. And he releases some... steam, I guess? He doesn't even bend a flame. And yet he's abusing her somehow. And then she makes it sound like he's overreacting. If someone you knew was dangerous started coming closer to you while yelling with a strange look in their eyes, would you try to wonder why exactly they're behaving like this and if they're alright, or would you prepare to defend yourself?

And here we also see Azula blaming the Gaang for ruining her life and not, you know, her abuser Ozai. So sure, of course she'd accept Zuko's help when she thinks he's to blame for her misfortune and not her own actions and Ozai's abuse.

I too wish Toph was here.

Argument: "The Gaang abused a defenseless Azula, Part 2."

Defenseless Azula breaks the deal she forced Zuko to make with her and jumps off Appa when they're too high.

Aang saves her and she blasts him.

Now, we know in this scene that Azula is having visions of her mother and that she's hearing things. We know that she's not exactly of sound mind when she goes on rampages. But the Gaang doesn't know that. Zuko doesn't know that, and he has no way of knowing because she won't tell him. Even when he asks her who she is talking to, she just yells at him and rebuffs him.

Look at Zuko, saying that he doesn't want to fight Azula with a sad expression. How abusive!

Azula throws the first blow here. She isn't seeing things when she attacks Zuko, she just used him to get here and now she wants to get rid of him. And Zuko is doing what he said he'd do, keeping her in line. And don't say he should have just let Azula go. He wouldn't be a very good Fire Lord if he let the lightning bending imperialist go off on her own.

And then the Gaang takes her down after she attacked them first. So if that's abuse, then I don't know what to say.

Argument: "Zuko abusing his sister, Part 3."

Very abusive, yes.

Oh, and he finds a secret she's been keeping from him! That's so abusive!

Argument: "Zuko abusing his mentally ill sister, Part 4."

She attacks him first. You could make the argument that it's because she's having visions of her mother, and yeah, she is. But Zuko doesn't know all this because she won't tell him. And also, as it should be obvious to everyone, that's not an excuse.

Then there's a fight scene.

Argument: "Zuko cruelly held Azula off a cliff to threaten her and hurt her! He's abusing her while she is clearly not well!"

Ah, this infamous scene. Where Zuko holds his weak and defenseless sister off a cliff and laughs maniacally at her suffering while she pleads with him to spare her- oh wait.

Obviously, he dragged her to a cliff just so he could hold her off it. It's not like they were fighting in that environment. It's not like she just fell near the cliff's edge and he picked her up.

I honestly don't see anything wrong with what he did. He's clearly defending himself from her, and holds her over the cliff so that she won't attack him again, and so that he can make her listen to him after she has acted out again and again in a violent and dangerous way. She was attacking him, and this was the only way he could get her to listen to him. If you think he was considering dropping her, you don't know Zuko at all.

Anyway, this is actually one of the few scenes from any of these comics that actually made me feel something. It's an expression of the tragedy of their relationship from Zuko, and also him standing up to another abuser in his life. Yes, Azula abused Zuko, that much is not up for debate. Here, Zuko is finally confronting Azula on the horrible was she's treated him their whole life. I don't begrudge him that. And him saying "since the day you were born," is obviously not literal. Like, I can't believe I have to say this unironically. If people say "I must have walked a thousand miles," do we take it literally or do we understand that it is an exaggerated way of expressing that someone has walked a long way? It's the same thing here. Just because Zuko exaggerates his speech does not mean that the sentiment he is expressing is untrue. This is such a stupid line to get hung up over, but gotta take every inch you get when the whole text is against you, I guess.

Argument: "The Gaang abusing Azula, Part 5."

Where the Gaang verbally abuse Azula who is clearly hurt by their cruel words- hold on.

Ah, yes. Call the people who are somehow still putting up with you "louts," Azula. I am sure that is a very good and proper way to treat people who have every right to throw you back in jail and be on their way. They don't even say anything back to her. The Gaang has the patience of saints, honestly.

Thank you Sokka for being the one with common sense. I suppose he's also a villain now for saying "she's tried to kill us twelve times" when that's not true, it was only about two times. Which clearly makes it better.

Argument: "Zuko abusing Azula, Part 6."

Azula antagonizes a child, Zuko tells her to knock it off.

He's being so cruel to her.

Argument: "The Gaang abusing Azula, Part 7."

She attacked them. They defended themselves. It doesn't matter if she saw her mother in a vision. That's not an excuse and it's not the Gaang's problem. It's not Zuko's obligation to help his abuser, especially since she doesn't want his help anyway.

Gee, all these arguments are starting to sound awfully similar. It's almost like Azula always instigates fights and the Gaang defend themselves. Hmm.

Argument: "Zuko abusing Azula, Part 8."

She attacked first. Again.

This time she even attacked two actually defenseless people.

Argument: "Zuko gave the Gaang permission to attack Azula for no reason at all! The used their position to abuse her!"

No, he gave them permission to take her down because she went too far and attacked innocent people who did nothing to her.

Honestly, Zuko should have done this a lot sooner. She's tried to kill them four times already. She hasn't listened to them when they tell her not to do something and she's endangered all of them many times. She's being granted more than she deserves by the Gaang, and yet she goes on to do things they explicitly tell her not to do because it might hurt the forest or other people. She's proven that she is not concerned about who she hurts as long as she gets what she wants, and it took until she attacked people who weren't the Gaang for Zuko to suggest taking her down. The fact that he didn't give the okay for this the first time she tried to kill them is honestly a testament to his character.

Azula had this coming. No amount of the excuse of mental illness is enough to justify her actions. Even if she has a mental illness, it doesn't give her the right to attack others. And Zuko has all the right to defend himself and realize that working with Azula is impossible. He doesn't look happy to be doing this. He looks quite sad, in fact. I joked around a little in this post but seriously, anyone who says Zuko is the one abusing Azula is interpreting the text in very bad faith. I know people like it when Azula is a victim so that they can justify her hurting others, but Zuko and the Gaang had every right to retaliate throughout this comic whenever Azula attacked them or hurt someone else. These two siblings aren't even the last non-Gaang people Azula hurts in this comic.

Argument: "Zuko abusing Azula, Part 9."

Wherein Azula attacks her mother who doesn't remember her and her defenseless family with the intent to kill.

Now I'm not heartless. I feel for Azula here, I really do. That panel of her with tears in her eyes truly makes me feel sad. She definitely didn't deserve what happened to her throughout her life at Ozai's hands. She didn't deserve to feel unloved and feel like her mother thought she was a monster. She didn't deserve to be abused by Ozai. Azula deserves to heal, she deserves to be loved, she deserves to be treated well and she deserves better.

None of this gives her the right to hurt other people. Innocent people. She may feel her mother has wronged her, but it's not true. And she doesn't get to attack her mother, who doesn't even remember her, out of hatred and anger. She doesn't get to kill this innocent woman and attack her family. And Zuko is not in the wrong for stopping her. Zuko is not the wrong for protecting his mother and her family. Zuko is not abusive for defending other people and himself from Azula. Because even if Azula is hurt, she is taking it out on other people who have done nothing to deserve it.

Zuko redirecting her lightning back at her doesn't kill her, and I'm sure Zuko knows that it wouldn't. He doesn't want her dead. He doesn't want to hurt her. He wouldn't have thrown her over the cliff for that very reason. Despite everything, Zuko loves Azula. He cares about her. He wants to have a good relationship with her. He's very affected by the knowledge that their relationship is so bad. He truly wants to help her. But it is Azula who is resistant to that help. It is Azula who thinks her brother is weak and deserves to be hurt. It is Azula who despite wanting love, chooses to push people away and hurt them over and over again.

He's saddened at her running away, he chases her and pleads with her to let him help. But it is Azula who refuses him, who rebuffs him and attacks him at every turn. It is Azula who is always the aggressor, it is Azula who is at fault in their relationship, all because she believes that everyone is to blame for her mistakes but herself. And the only way she can heal is if she realizes who the blame truly lies with, Ozai, and rejects everything he's taught her, that love is weakness and to rule with fear. She needs help, but Zuko is not obligated to provide it to her. And yet he does, out of the kindness and compassion in his heart, and the love he has for his sister.

Argument: "He abused her in the show, then! Since this post only talks about the comics!"

That's because it should be obvious to anyone watching that Zuko didn't abuse Azula. If anyone thinks Zuko abused Azula, I invite them to watch a show called Avatar: The Last Airbender. It's really quite good.

So I feel like I've covered most arguments I've seen. But I do want to talk some more about why exactly I wrote all this, why I wasted two hours of my life on this.

Anyone who goes through the ATLA tag on my blog will probably reach the correct conclusion that Zuko is my favorite character, and that he and his arc mean a lot to me. And so, it's honestly not great to see people undermine all of the suffering Zuko has gone through in his life, all to justify Azula's abusive behaviors. It's not wrong to like Azula and love her character. She's a complex character that many find relatable, and that's not wrong. But to accuse another character, her actual victim in the series and one whom many can relate to as well, of being her abuser and denying her abuse of him... it's not a great look. It reeks of victim blaming and abuse apologism. And it's not true. Azula is an example of how victims of abuse can become abusers themselves. This is what she represents in the show. And it is not wrong for people to call out Azula and not Zuko, because Zuko got called out in universe, called himself out and he changed. Zuko redeemed himself and became a good person.

Azula has not done that. She hasn't changed, she hasn't acknowledged that she is wrong, and therefore people are allowed to criticize her and dislike her, and they are allowed to call out her abuse and her other actions. People call out Zuko for his bad actions as well, but the fact of the matter is that he changed, and people don't feel the need to call him out anymore because he's done it himself. Zuko doesn't need the same criticism Azula does because he grew and she didn't, that's it. So all the talking points about how people don't call out Zuko as much as Azula or that they don't criticize his bad actions are moot because of his very widely acknowledged and celebrated redemption arc. Because he realized his mistakes and worked hard to fix them. So, there is really no point in criticizing him anymore the way there is for Azula, since she hasn't changed. And it is not "hate" for people to understand that despite Azula's abuse at Ozai's hands, she dealt the same thing to her brother for years. And it is not wrong for people to criticize her for it.

All this talk about how Azula is always being hurt and betrayed by everyone, and all this talk about how Zuko is weak unlike Azula is the exact same reasoning Azula uses that enables her to abuse others within the story, the reasoning that Ozai instilled in her. It is quite literally the parroting of Ozai's beliefs, that Zuko is weak and soft, and that Azula is strong and powerful and yet she's a victim of everybody. She believes that others deserve to be hurt because they are too weak or because they are responsible for her suffering, and not her or Ozai. In the end, it wasn't Zuko who drove away her friends Mai and Ty Lee, and Mai and Ty Lee did not "betray" her. It was Azula's cruel treatment of them because she controlled them through fear that drove them away from her, and when push came to shove they stood up for the people the loved and for themselves. It wasn't Zuko who drove away their mother, it was Ozai. It wasn't Iroh who hated Azula and wanted her dead, it was Azula who hated Iroh and wanted him dead, and these are all things she learnt from Ozai. She can only ever grow if she realizes her mistakes and accepts the blame for her own actions, and if she stops blaming her victims for her suffering and starts blaming her abuser.

Blaming Zuko for defending himself from her and calling that abuse is victim blaming. Whether you like it or not, Azula did abuse Zuko. She had power over him, she targeted his insecurities constantly, she lied to him multiple times and made him doubt his own perceptions, she manipulated and gaslit him and made him feel unsafe in his home. She supported Ozai's abuse of Zuko and participated in it and took pleasure in it. Zuko never did anything of the sort to her. He reacted to her abuse in a way he never did with Ozai until the end, but that does not mean he wasn't affected by it or that it didn't happen, because it did, and even though he fought back with her, he was often defeated and Azula always managed to manipulate and terrify him. For fuck's sake, he literally had a chant, "Azula always lies," so that he could comfort himself after she terrorized him, something that he's been saying to himself for years according to Zuko Alone. People will point to Zuko challenging Azula as him abusing her back, but what defines abuse is the power dynamics. There is no such thing as mutual abuse. Abuse is all about one party having power over the other, and in Azula and Zuko's relationship, she had all the power over him because she was the favored child. Of course, this was also damaging for her, very much so, but it means that she had power over him, and he didn't.

Azula is a tragic character and her life is a sad one. But that doesn't make her any less of a bad person, and it doesn't mean she is not a toxic individual. Her actions have hurt other in many ways, and she does not feel remorse. She finds pleasure in the pain of others, especially her brother, at whom she smiled in glee when he was being maimed by their father. She took over a city and killed someone and did it with a smile on her face. She tried to kill her brother and laughed about it. She gleefully suggested genocide, and wanted to take part in it. And she hasn't changed, so people are allowed to dislike her and call her out for it. Personally, I believe that Azula has the capacity to change and to redeem herself. I don't think she's too far gone or is irredeemable. She is not as bad as Ozai, and it's not too late for her.

No one deserves a redemption. It has to be something you actively work for, something you do and it is something that you have to work for. Azula can change if she truly wants to. She has people who are willing to help her if she so chooses, like Zuko for better or worse for him. But that means admitting to her mistakes, acknowledging that she is wrong and has hurt people, and making the effort to change, which so far she has not done. And Zuko is not obligated to forgive her or help her in any way, and neither are the Gaang or Iroh.

You can like a villainous character. You can like a character who is a bad person. It's not wrong. What is wrong is to paint another character in a bad light, in a false light, to justify your love for another character. And especially in this case since Azula is Zuko's abuser, turning the tables and calling him her abuser for defending himself against her all because you want to excuse Azula's actions and want her to be a victim is really not great. Accusing Iroh and Ursa of being responsible for her downfall is not great. All this is directing blame away from the real abuser, Ozai. And it veers into victim blaming and abuse apologism, like I said.

Being a fan of Azula doesn't mean you can handwave away her less than savory traits or cherry-pick the ones you like. She is a victim, but she's also an abuser. And it is not "bashing" or misogyny for people to call her out. Calling out Zuko is also okay and allowed, but it is honestly less productive since he changed himself already. I understand that people don't like when their favorite characters are criticized or hated, but that doesn't mean characters who do bad things are exempt from being called out. And it doesn't give anyone the excuse to start misrepresenting other characters and hating on them to prop up their fave. Fans of characters who are villainous should understand that. And in this case, anyone who is a fan of Azula should understand that.

#ATLA #Avatar The Last Airbender #Zuko #Aang #Katara #Sokka #Ty Lee #Iroh #Prince Zuko #ATLA Zuko #ATLA Aang #ATLA Iroh #ATLA Katara #The Search #ATLA Comics #Meta #My meta #Anti Azula #Azula critical #Azula negative #Pro Zuko #Abuse cw #Abuse tw

[asha-mage]

Robert Jordan finished WoT AU 😈

[Send me a potential AU and I'll answer with five things from that story!]

ahahaahahaha, you bait me so zorpi! This is more a 'things I reasonably can guess from my many read through the series' more then anything else, but-

Based on Perrin's portion of the Jordan written ending their was clearly meant to be a moment where Perrin had to choose between Faile's safety and the fulfillment of his duty- and choose his duty, trusting in Faile to protect herself and make her own choices. This is also pretty clearly what Malden and the battle with the Shaido was meant to set up: Perrin realizing that his obsessive desire to protect/love Faile was as much flaw as virtue, and that true love would be trusting her strength and courage. In Jordan's ending I would guess that this would likely have manifested having a choice between leaving the Two Rivers force at the front lines to go rescue Faile, who is carrying the Horn to Mat, or else stay with the Two Rivers Forces and trust Faile- choosing the later. Thus his racing through the battlefield in the aftermath, and finding Faile still alive in the carnage, would be his arc reaching it's conclusions, being rewarded for his trust and faith in her.

Mat was, I suspect, supposed to play a much larger role in the negotiations to get the Seanchan into the coalition against the Shadow, serving as leverage and pressure to get Tuon to the table and to agree to the terms- I also suspect based on his reticence regarding the Empire from when he and Tuon part in KoD, he was supposed to be a lot more reluctant/put off on the idea of commanding the Seanchan forces, and it was originally supposed to be Tuon's idea and/or part of her compromise- she'll join, but her army will follow Mat, not the Dragon appointed supreme commander.

I think we would have gotten a lot more Gabrelle, Toveine, and Logain as our Black Tower PoVs/the counter coup against Taim- Toveine was already being set up in this role in KoD and prior, and it would make sense as a means for her to 'redeem' herself of the Vileness, and it fits with Jordan's usual 'closing of the circle' that one of the Red Sister who helped with the slaughter of the men who could channel, would be one of the first and strongest converts to the Black Tower's cause.

I think we where supposed to also a get bit more thematic conflict/contrast between Graendal and Rand in Arad Doman. In general the political situatuion in Arad Doman feels very....off from how Jordan normally works politics. I think the broad beats (destruction of Natrin's Barrow, failure to stabilize the region, Rand abandoning Bandar Ebon to starve at his lowest moment) would be the same, but it feels very strange things like the merchant council politics and Graendal's broader parallels to Rand (especially in that moment- as she /also/ crumpled under impossible standards and failure to live up to perfection as Rand is currently inthe process of doing) would be far more dug into.

Finally, I think we would have had a least one major reunion scene with the original Emond's Field 5- I know this is something Sanderson wanted to do and tried very hard to manage but didn't quite fit in, which I think is sad. It really feels like their is a missing moment in there, where Mat, Perrin, Rand, Egwene and Nynaeve where all supposed to sit down and reflect on how far they've come and how before the final battle. It especially feels like something that would have been appropriate from either Nynaeve and Rand's perspective.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Book Spoilers #aMOL Spoilers #rand al'thor #perrin aybara #faile bashere #mat cauthon #tuon athaem kore paendrag #logain ablar #gabrelle brawley #toveine gazal #Graendal #nynaeve al'meara #egwene al'vere

[imagines--galore]

||Homecoming||

Summary: The brothers finally come home.

Pairing: Edward Elric x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Family.

A/N: @infj08pellizzari​ This is for you! Hope you enjoy it!!!

You liked to believe you were born under an unlucky star. It had to be that and no other explanation.

Granny Pinako had told you the story. Of how your mother had stumbled to the Rockbell’s door, in labor and with no one else with her. Being doctors as well as the kind people that they were, Yuriy and Sarah Rockbell had rushed to help her. That labor had been long and hard, but in the end they were able to deliver you safe and sound. 

However, the same could not be said about your mother.

She died due to complications during birth and was buried in a nearby cemetery. You still visited her from time to time and left flowers there, wandering what kind of woman she had been.

Seeing as you had no one to claim you, and with the Ishvalan War ravaging the country, the Rockbells didn’t want you to get lost in the system by the government. So, they decided to adopt you and raise you alongside their biological daughter Winry, who was only a year older then you were.

You were treated and loved the same as Winry, who was excited about the prospect of a baby sister. You grew up healthy and strong, and from an early age showed an interest in your adopted parent’s profession.

While Winry was the automail lover in the family, you were fascinated by the human body and how you could help to fix it. Under your parents tutelage, you showed great promise in becoming a doctor, or even a surgeon if you wanted.

Life was happy and carefree. Full of love, laughter, friends and family.

But a dark cloud was looming over the horizon. And it would cast a shadow over you that would effect you your entire life.

The first sign of trouble came in the form of your best friends, Edward and Alphonse’s father leaving them. 

Within the same year, they lost their mother to the plague. You were devastated for both boys, whom you had known since you were able to walk. It hurt to see them so sad. You and Winry made a pact to look after them as best as you could.

But the tragedy did not stop there.

You were eight years old and Winry was nine when the news came about your parents demise.

How they had been killed in cold blood while helping a few Ishvalan citizens who were injured. Winry had hugged you and cried and cried, then again you were no better. You were lucky enough to have Granny with you, but that still didn’t help ease the pain that you had been orphaned a second time in your life.

It had to be some cruel trick no?

The both of you copped in different ways.

Winry threw herself into perfecting her automail craft and becoming a brilliant automail engineer for miles around. You on the other hand, took to studying your parents books for long long hours. Devouring every text in their small library, before ordering for more book via mail.

This was your way of being close to them, of keeping their memories alive. At times you could almost feel them standing behind you guiding your hands as you tended to a sick or injured individual who came to your home. It didn’t take long for you and Winry to gain a reputation. Granny was extremely proud saying that your parents legacies of helping people would live on in both of you.

And when Edward and Alphonse returned from their alchemy training, the little hole in your heart began to mend. The four of you, plus Granny and later Den your dog, were like a family. You would all eat together and play together. 

Though you were the third oldest of your group, with Alphonse being the youngest by a few months, that didn’t stop you from stepping up and taking charge when the situation asked for it.

You would be there to take care of Winry when she would work through the nights to create an automail. Ready with food and water or whatever else she needed. She was your sister, your best friend and the both of you loved each other like anything. For Alphonse you always helped him wherever you could. Given his kind nature, you were always ready to defend him should he get into a fight at school. On more then once occasion you had returned from school from a fight after having punched a bully who was making fun of Alphonse. He was your little brother and you protected him fiercely. 

And as for Edward?

The both of you shared the same protective streak when it came to your siblings. So it was no surprise that the both of you bonded over that. But it was more then that at times. You tried your best to be strong for Winry. She had always been kind and sensitive and allowed her emotions to rule her, just as Alphonse did. There was a certain innocence about her that needed to be protected. And you stood as a wall in front of your sister to protect her from it. You tended to hide your real feelings most of the time.

But when you were with Edward? Even at nine years old, you would share everything with him. From the smallest of thought that occurred to you during the day, to your most recent book of surgery. Edward was the same with you. He would share his own findings about alchemy and everything that was on his mind. It was no surprise that the both of you were best friends.

You told each other everything.

                                         ————————–

So when he and Alphonse performed human transmutation to try and bring their mother back, you were shocked to say the least.

But that part came later.

The part that shocked you the most was finding a suit of armor standing at your door and carrying a bloodied Edward.

An Edward who was missing an arm and leg.

You spent the entire night with Granny, tending to Edward and making sure his wounds did not get infected and were closed properly. Not to mention he had lost so much blood that he had to be monitored.

Once he was stable, Alphonse had told you what had happened. What they had tried to do.

And all you could do, was stare at the near comatose state of your best friend and wander where had you failed him?

Where had you failed as a best friend to have not picked up on something so important.

                                         ————————–

The question stayed with you for a long time. Years almost.

In those years, Edward began to use automail for his missing arm and leg. He also became a State Alchemist. And though you were proud of his accomplishment, and of his new mission of gaining back his and Al’s body, the question continued to haunt you.

Where there had been closeness, there was now always a gap between the both of you since that fateful day.

It was only ever picked up on when the both of you were in one another’s company. And since the brothers traveled so much no one really picked up on it. Or so you thought.

                                         ————————–

After the whole fiasco up North, you and Winry had to be smuggled away to be kept safe. It wasn’t easy, wandering around the countryside to keep out of the hands of the enemy. Enemy you still had no idea about since the brothers refused to tell both you and Winry much.

All you knew was that they were extremely dangerous. And if either Winry or you fell into their hands, they would use you both to draw out the two brothers. 

One of them, Kimblee, had already held you hostage, to try and get Edward to cooperate. Luckily you had been saved, but the haunting look in Edward’s eyes, the utter fear in his features lingered in your mind day and night.

You had been passing by Resembool when the urge to return home had risen within you. So, you had done the smart thing. You had left your sister with a note before sneaking out into the night and made your way towards home.

Of course you hadn’t been expecting Edward to be there. Along with some new people. But you didn’t care about them. Edward was your main concern.

And considering the last you had heard of him had been rumors about him falling to his death you had all but tackled him in a hug that had him nearly turning blue. One of the Edward’s friends, Ling or Greed or was it Greedling?, had called you Edward’s girlfriend, and how he never stopped talking about you.

The accidental confession had you blushing slightly, though it was nothing compared to the amount of blood that rushed to Edward’s face. You were almost afraid he would faint, or punch the man in the face. But he did neither.

Instead he took your hand and led you out of the house to get a little privacy.

Once the both of you were at a safe distance to avoid being overheard he finally turned to you.

And he did not look happy.

“What’re you doing here without any guards, Y/n? You know how dangerous it is for you to be alone. And where’s Winry?” You sighed, knowing this was going to be a long conversation. “Winry is fine, she’s with the guards. They’ll probably get here in a day or so and well.....” You suddenly felt a little unsure of your decision to come here. “I came back early because I-I missed home.” You finally admitted, raising your head to glance in the direction of the house from where you had just come from.

Though there were hardly any lights on, the house still looked open and welcoming. Because it was home.

Tears stung your eyes and you tried your best to wipe them away not wanting Edward to see but he did anyway. A feeling of guilt bubbled in his chest as he watched you. “I’m sorry. I know its because of me that you, Winry and Granny had to leave and go into hiding.” He said, to which you quickly shook your head. “No, Ed! Its not your fault. Its whoever is looking to hurt you through us. Its their fault.” You proclaimed passionately. Though that simmered down rather quickly as you turned your gaze towards the heavens to look at the stars that twinkled down at the both of you.

“Sometimes, I just wish that things could go back to what they were.” You admitted. “You. Me. Winry. Alphonse. Granny. My parents. Your mother. Life was so simple back then. None of us knew just how much we would appreciate it.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “If I could go back I would do it in a heartbeat. You were so happy. We were all so happy.” Even with Edward standing right behind you, you couldn’t help but feel.....alone.

So alone.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear or feel when Edward moved towards you. His arms came up to wrap around your torso, trapping your arms in the process. A startled gasp fell from your lips. You felt him lean his forehead against the back of your head. There was a momentary pause, where your brain seemed to wander when he had gotten so tall. But that was completely lost in the haze of feelings that took over your very soul as you shifted your own arms to wrap around his, squeezing them closer as you drew comfort from his embrace.

“I promise life will be happy again Y/n.” He whispered softly, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “We will all be happy.”

Despite the crushing weight of despair that had threatened you a few moments ago, in Edward’s arms, you felt at peace.

                                         ————————–

Since that night under the stars, you had begun to harbor a warmth within you. A warmth that only seemed to grow each time you thought about Edward. He had to leave soon afterwards, but not before promising, once more, to come back safe and sound.

It had been months since you had seen him or Alphonse, or even heard from them. Normally it would alarm you, but you had faith in your boys. Winry certainly did. 

On the plus side the both of you had shifted back to Resembool. Granny too. But with protection. The two guards were still around to make sure no stranger came along, but it proved to be a little difficult since your home served as your base of operations as an automail workshop and a makeshift hospital.

You had gotten rather good at treating people. And were even thinking of giving the exam that would have you earning the license you needed to become a professional doctor.

Which was exactly what you were doing that day. You had gone out early to post your application, and would probably hear back from them in a week or so. During your walk back, you marveled the countryside as it bloomed in the spring. The wind played with your hair and you could hear Den barking in the distance, probably playing.

A smile pulled at your lips as home came into view. There were three figures outside, something you could make out form the distance. One of them was Winry and the other two? 

As you drew closer, as your vision cleared, your eyes widened. Where you had been walking you slowly began to hasten your steps. One after the other. Until you were running.

Running

Running.

Running.

Before crashing straight into the arms of both Edward and Alphonse Elric.

You were sobbing tears of joy as you held the brothers close, as you kissed the top of Alphonse’s head and held his face in your hands to look at him closely. “Its you! Its really you! Oh! Alphonse! You’re back little brother!” You wiped at your tears before hugging him once more. Alphonse returned the hug just as fiercely as it was given.

“Hey he’s not the only one who got his body back!”

So maybe Ed was feeling a little left out.

You turned from Alphonse to look at Ed flexing his very human hand. With one arm around Alphonse, you reached out with your other to grasp Edward’s human hand and smiled at him. So full of hope and joy that Edward returned the smile with a tender one of his own. And as he intertwined your fingers together, Winry moved to throw her other arm around Alphonse and smiled through her own tears as they all simply sat there and basked in one another’s presence.

                                         ————————–

The house was quiet. Everyone had gone to bed. You stood in the doorway of Alphonse’s room, your gaze gentle as you watched the younger boy sleep. He was truly there. Well and truly there and your heart felt as if it would burst with happiness.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A voice from behind made you look up at Edward and give a small shrug. He too came to stand beside you. Your gaze flitted to his newly restored hand and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to hold it again. “I feel like I’m dreaming. That any moment I’ll wake up.” You admitted, not looking away from where your hand held his.

His grip around your palm tightened, but only slightly. “You and me both.” Edward admitted with a soft laugh. “But if this is a dream.” He turned to look at you the same time you did. Your eyes met, and you felt that warmth within you surge to a roaring flame.

“I don’t want to wake up.”

#edward elric x reader #edward x reader #edward x y/n #edward elric x y/n #edward elric #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist

[nburkhardt]

Enjoy this tiny thing based on my life:

There’s a large age gap between Steve and his older sister, about twenty years difference. With that said, he has nieces that are tiny and young that he loves with all his heart. He sees them even more than he sees anyone else, since they all live together.

He doesn’t mind tagging along on adventures with them or having to have a little shadow when he goes out. It makes life a little more fun with them around.

Something he didn’t realize he’d get used to is losing personal space.

He’s clingy and nosy but it’s nothing on his nieces. They’ll all be in the living room where there’s a number of spaces available to sit and he’ll be sitting down relaxing when all of a sudden a tiny body is climbing up on him and decides he’s the perfect spot to watch tv at, instead of any other spot.

They do move around, getting comfortable sitting either on top of his legs or moving to his shoulders, sometimes even jumping off him only to hop back on and elbowing him all over. Steve’s learn to brace himself for when it happens, sometimes he still flinches completely.

(It doesn’t come to a surprise when he’s ready for Robin’s clinginess; welcomes it actually. Eventually, he’ll also welcome it and he’ll get clingier when he gets together with Eddie)

~

I didn’t want to name Steve’s family or even write dialogue. Just wanted to write something since I’ve been out of it for a bit now. Anyway, this is based on true events. As in, my sister really is twenty years older than me and she has two young daughters that absolutely have no sense of personal space whatsoever. I got picture proof under the cut hahaha (also under the cut is the taglist)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @strangersteddierthings

This is one of my nieces using my legs to lay on instead of you know, anything else hahaha.

#Steve Harrington #platonic stobin #implied steddie #nburkhardt writes #projecting onto fictional characters #no but seriously these girls are obsessed with using me as a jungle gym and a piece of furniture #also yes I do get called their mom half the time too since I’m old enough to have kids their age 😵‍💫

[highladyjane]

I don't want another warrior training like we've already had in the former books, but aside from training her Seer abilities, I can also see Elain having some basic and necessary training both for self-defence and to become a spy disguised as an emissary of the NC (because she can definitely be both at the same time). And I definitely see Nuala and Cerridwen + Az, and maybe even her sisters, teaching her a thing or two about how to properly wield a knife outside the kitchen - on her own terms and choice ofc.

Feyre was the bow and arrow, Nesta is the sword, and Elain is definitely the "knife in the dark" (just like Azriel).

I can totally see her carrying a knife/dagger as her weapon of choice under all her beautiful dresses like...

I don't think Elain, nor any other female character (especially in the Maasverse tbh) will lose her "soft femininity" just because she learns how to wield a blade. I think what they choose to do with that blade is what makes the difference.

None of them likes violence itself (except for probably mostly the Illyrians), but they sometimes have to resort to it because they need to. Knowing how to handle a blade doesn't necessarily mean it's for violence or to kill - but to defend, protect and save lives just like she did with Nessian vs Hybern.

She may have some lingering trauma from that incident to process, but I think Elain will see that having a dagger around at times is actually useful and easy enough to hide - and the perfect weapon of spies.

Maybe not even just for self-defence but for random pruning, carving, and slicing things in her garden and kitchen lol... It can be subtle and unexpected, but useful and sharp enough when needed - just like her.

No matter what happens to Truth-teller after HOFAS, I still think daggers and knives will come to play for both Az and Elain.

Maybe he'll even gift her a secret, lovely dagger of her own next Solstice... 😏

So that she can...

... in front of Az so he can momentarily forget the existence of air and have something new to fantasize and be tormented about at night 🤭 Like "Call me a mistake one more time, you jackAz" 😏 loljk

Yes, I'm getting carried away.

I can see so many possibilities and potentials for Elain.

She has repeatedly shown the will of becoming more useful and not like how she herself realised and admitted to being like in the first book (because character development, duh). And since she's starting to "show some claws" I think she'll also want to learn how to really fend for herself and not always have to rely on others, especially not Az (not after that Solstice incident) nor her sisters to always come and save her.

She likes domestic things and is the only one among her sisters who is actually good and useful at it, she's a Cauldron-blessed Seer (and now likely also Koschei's next target), but she also has hinted unexplored potential for something besides all that - the stealth, shadows, and secret-keeping = spywork.

She's the perfect housewife-spy like those in WW2 that SJM herself referred to.

Introverts like Elain are always underestimated observers and always so easily dismissed as boring just because their mouths aren't as open as their minds.

Elain knows how to surprise and I think she definitely will again in her book.

Especially with something sharp at your throat the next time you call her boring and useless.

She's the perfect knife in the dark. A beautiful rose with thorns. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. 🌹🗡✨😌

#Can you tell I just watched this film and still somehow thought of Elriel and then got carried away lol #I also want Elain in more blue dresses to drive Az nutts #elain is NOT useless nor boring #spy elain #pro elain archeron #my elain #hi i wrote this at 1 am #elain archeron #elain archeron coded

[whispering-radiance]

| Rc9gn AU : The Glow of Amber |

Hello everyone! I finally have some time to sit down and write about AU that’s been cooking in my mind for some time now. It’s a bit OC focused but I will walk you through it— Now, I invite you bellow : D

| Before we start |

I want to thank everyone for the engagement under my posts— I really appreciate all the love you’ve given to my drawings 🥹

I’ve created many stories before, but this is the first time I’m actually writing one down — I hope you can give me a chance 👉👈

I would kindly ask for not reposting my drawings or texts without crediting me ♥️

| What happened 800 years ago |

We should start with the past before we get to the present.

Our story begins with first Ninja. His life wasn’t easy— he learned how to hold the blade before he learned how to write. He and his clan fought with evil plaguing the land — Many have lost their lives, but the biggest tragedy was yet to come. They decided to rest in a small, mountainside city. It was a terrible choice.

That nigh, an enraged Tengu demon descended from its Mountain and rained fire on the town. In the morning, First Ninja was the only alive member of his clan.

He swore to avenge his fallen brothers and sisters. He was determined to slay the beast.

However, this duel almost became his last. The Tengu wounded him and threw him off the mountain peak.

He was sure that he was about to meet his end, but fortunately, someone had found him just in time.

Once he woke up from his injuries, his savior presented herself to him as Lady of Amber — She didn’t save him out of pity — But just so he would be able to apologize for making a mess on her sacred ground. Yet, there was something that made her curious about him. She couldn’t understand why he would fight with a Tengu demon—he was armed only with a sword and determination— what was the outcome that he expected?

While it was hard for her to understand this peculiar human — She decided to lend a hand.

They’ve faced the demon together— but this time Ninja had a plan, and a secret weapon.

Just before they ventured up the mountain, the Lady created an amber stone so perfect, and so powerful, that it was capable of trapping a spirit of a demon inside— and ninja enhanced his suit with some of the Tengu feathers that he happened to get from the first battle.

Tengu still had to be defeated, and that part of the job lied in Ninja’s hands

That day, the Tengu was killed, and his spirit was imprisoned inside the stone — Which gained the name “Eye of eternity”

It was hard for them to decide what to do next. But there was one thing they could agree on — The land needed a hero, and soon more evil would emerge.

The ninja suit was crafted and the stone secured— it was time to train and prepare for another battles.

Following the death of the Tengu — many other powerful spirits emerged from the shadows to avenge their fallen friend. Everything wanted the Ninja dead

Eventually a peace was achieved. The spirits were defeated, and Sorcerer was sealed away by the magic of the sacred stone — Though Amber lady stood by Ninja’s side during every battle— He couldn’t find her after their final battle together. Her fate is unknown.

| Silence before the storm |

Thought the fate of the Amber lady is unknown— Before she disappeared, she and first ninja managed to start a family. They were blessed (or cursed) with twins. A girl, whom they named Eiko, and a boy, Nomi (I apologize for lack of creativity, but I don’t want to make it more confusing by coming up with a new name for him)

They grew and did everything together — But eventually they’ve went their own ways— Nomi stayed with their father— he dedicated himself to writing down the ninja history and details about the ninja arts. He also became the master of the sword, he could replicate almost every move of his father.

Eiko on the other hand, traveled across the land, mastering the art of exorcism, learning from the spirits, and climbing the ranks until she reached the title of the best exorcist in the land.

The time for first ninja to step down finally came. He entrusted Nomi with the task of choosing the next ninja.

Not only was he tasked, he was also warned — That he shouldn’t, under any circumstances, be the next one to wear the mask.

Nomi was a good son. He always listened to his father’s request— but this one — He was sure that he would bring his father honor if he took his place. After he put the mask on — It took control over him and forced him to go on a rampage

Why? The material from which the suit was crafted —Before the tengu took his final breath, he cursed his feathers so that First Ninja's bloodline couldn't have all this power to themselves

Eiko was called to town to get rid of the rampaging beast— She didn’t know who she was fighting— Until she struck the final blow— She gazed in horror at the body of her dear brother— Wishing to save him, she sealed his soul in the book he wrote— The ninja Nomicon — This was the day that tome became magical

She saved the village and it’s people but the act of killing her own brother angered the gods she worked so closely with — They cursed her to suffer the eternal life until the Nomicon was destroyed or until the Heavenly forgave her sin.

Eiko travells the land, choosing the next Ninja and protecting the book in which her brother now resides. | The Present aka The season 3 |

The sacred stone went through a lot throughout the years — and finally, it reached its breaking point and snapped in half, loosing all its magical properties— The Tengu was given freedom again, but this time he chose not to possess any of the Ninja’s friends— Instead he flew high, away from the city, with a goal of recovering his past strength.

It’s summer vacation, and the last thing Randy wants to think about is upcoming doom.

The Nomicon is clueless on what to do about the broken sacred stone. Even Eiko was shocked by the situation. She doesn’t have any powers that would make stone magical again— For her it looked like a case of severely broken wine glass — you can fix it, but there’s no way it would ever hold wine again.

A new stone or other seal must be made— and it has to be done fast — With a Tengu roaming free, other formidable spirits might join him— if something isn’t done about this situation, the Norrisville might face a very possible destruction.

Eiko decides that all of them must go to the Old Norrisville, a very traditional, and a very old town located few miles outside the main city. There’s a chance that this ancient city might hold answers to their present problems.

—————————

#au #my au #rc9gn #randy cunnigham #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn au #rc9gn first ninja #rc9gn tengu #rc9gn oc #cartoon #artwork #artist on tumblr #drawing #digital #fanart #long post #ninja nomicon #nomicon #digital arwork #digital doodle #digital fanart #sketch #doodles #doodle #my art

[redheadspark]

Could you do #1 with Azriel?

A/N - Perfect! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Glance

Summary - First glances are always lifechanging

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“Thanks again for coming out!  I’m do glad you got to meet some of my friends, and sorry if they were a bit…intimidating,”

“They weren’t,”

“Now I beg to differ.  Especially Az!  II can’t believe he acted that way!”

You gave a small blush from the mention of the Spymaster.  Mor was still getting her jacket on and moving her long blond hair out of her face, her rare beauty was clearly seen under the lights of Ritas as you two were the last to leave in your dinner party.  You lived right down the street from Mor, so you two walked together to the dinner she was throwing with some of her closest friends.  She wanted you to come on since you two were close over the centuries, and you knew she was working for High Lord Rhysand and their Inner Circle.  You were part of it, which was never a problem since they were literally in charge of running not just Velaris but Night Court.  Mor never told you anything about the Inner Circle, or about the people who were in it. The only thing that you knew was that those who were in the Inner Circle were powerful and were highly important.  

Including Azriel.  The Spymaster for Night Court and a Shadowsinger.

You heard plenty of him through Mor, they were close as friends.  You knew she kept certain friends away from you for good reason, especially for Azriel since he was a spy and beyond mysterious.  There were stories about him, how he was one with the shadows and he knew how to bring even the fiercest soldiers to their knees with the simplest stare or his knives, which were affectionally called Truth Tellers.  Rumors of his power and his mysterious nature spread like wildfire, there was barely anything to know about him since it was mostly under wraps.  

All you knew about Azriel was what Mor was allowed to tell you, which was not a whole lot.  But when she invented you out to dinner with Cassian, High Lord Rhsyand and his mate and wife Feyre, Armen, and Eyre’s two sisters Elaine and Nesta.  You never met any of them and you were excited, even more so since you were going to be at the same table as The High Lord and High Lady.

The dinner itself was lovely, all but Azriel was there when you and Mor arrived with linked arms.  She introduced you to everyone, whom looked happy to meet Mor’s old friend that was kept out of arms reach from them.

“That’s for good reason, you’re an unruly lot,” Mor joked as she ordered a glass of wine and leaned back in her chair.  You ordered your drink, the others were chatting away and asking you enough questions about yourself as the dinner was just about to start. They were all civl and kind enough, Cassian was a jokester and playful with Nesta next to him almost smirking from trying not to show it as much.  Elaine was more of an angel at the table, plate table manner and a sense of naiveness about her that was infectious.  Armed mostly kept to herself, tough her eyes were beyond intimidating and yet cool and calm.  Rhysand and Feyre were kind to you, Feyre was asking you plenty of questions about your past time and her mate hanging on her eveyr word while chiming in every once in awhile.  All in all, they were a nice crowd and group of friends that you made, and you figured this dinner was not too bad.

Up until Azriel arrived.

“Ah!  We wondered when you would come,” Rhysand said the new guest, who had bright hazel eyes and his short brown hair pushed away from his vision.  You saw the intricate markings along his tan skin near his arms and under his collarbone, hidden away with a dress shirt and some dress pants.  His wings were tucked tightly behind his back, maybe he was afraid to hitting someone as he walked pass as he locked eyes with everyone as a sign of acknowledgement.  But when he looked at you, he almost froze for a solid second.

You didn’t know what to do, and why you were lost in breath from seeing his bright eyes.

“How did the mission go?” Cassian asked casually as he took a long drink from his whiskey.  Azriel looked away from you for a brief moment, clearing his throat as he took to the last open chair that was near Elaine and Arden.

“That’s classified, Cas.  You know that,” He replied, his voice low and almost thick and laced with mystery.  You felt a bit off from how fast that interaction was, Mor leaning over next to you to whisper in your ear.

“Don’t mind Az he keeps to himself. But he’s a good friend, I promise,” She said in a wink to you as the conversation was now going on about neighboring Courts and upcoming plans.  You mostly listened, knowing that you weren’t  going to say anything outside of the dinner or give any input.  It felt as if they didn’t care you were listening in too on the information that was going around, maybe because you were friends with Mor and she trusted you with this kind of confidentiality.  

Yet you felt as though you were being watched.  And you were, by Azriel.

He was watching you every once in awhile as you were chatting lightly with the others, you knew he was since you could see it out of the corner of your eye.  His gaze on you was no intimidating or scary, which was odd since this was not what you heard from others.  No, he seemed more…soft when he was gazing at you.  Of course you didn’t want to say anything, not just to make him feel embarrassed but to also call him out in front of the others at the table.  At the same time, you didn’t feel uneasy with how he was watching you from across the table.  Was he trying to read your mind?  Could he?  Was he trying to read my energy and see me as a good person?  You were figuring it out in your own mind, but when you would look in his direction to catch his glance, he would look away a bit abruptly.

Almost as if he was the one who was shy, and you were the alluring and scary spot.

This happened throughout dinner, you were trying not to think about too much as the topic of conversation was changing almost every few minutes.  Finally, as everyone was getting their plates of food, Rhysand finally spoke up in your direction.

“Mor tells us that you do some great work at our Medical Center, under Madja I presume?” He asked, the others were watching you now as you cleared your throat and nodded your head.

“She was my teacher for some time, I learned plenty from her in hopes to being a Master Healer like her.  Though I’m not sure If I can live up to par with her—“ You explained as Mor tapped your hand affectionately.

“She’s being modest, Rhys.  She’s amazing at the craft, and I think she would be a great apprentice to the Inner Circle as a Healer and our Medical Advisor,” she explained casually, you looking at her in shock from what she said as Elaine clasped her hands together.

“That sounds lovely!  I think we are in need of someone like that for us,” She agreed

“Doesn’t hurt to have someone in the circle who knows how to dress your wounds, regrettably it’s not the same with your egos,” Nesta replied in a low drawl, though her smirk never left.  Rhsyand was still thinking about what Mor said, pondering himself as he was holding his own small glass of whiskey and Feyre was going him a knowing look.  Maybe they were speaking together within the mind as a voice finally spoke up in your direction.

“Are you the fae under Madja’s tutelage that knew how to use those poisonous herbs as an antidote?” Azriel asked you, his eyes locking with yours as you were frozen for a moment.  The others were silent, waiting for your answer as you took in a long breath, Azrie’s gaze never leaving yours.  

“Yeah, yeah I am,” You replied, he hummed, slightly smiling and making his face glow from the simple lift of his lips.

“She mentioned it to me two months ago, saying it was one of the most impressive things she’s never seen from a apprentice,” He explained, your heart warming from both the compliment and Azriel talking to you.  Mor saw that flicker too, her smile was beyond massive, her glass of wine at her lips in hopes of hiding it as Rhysand clears his throat to get your attention.  Tearing your eyes away from Azriel, whom kept his stare at you, The High Lord genuinely grinned.

“I think we can take into consideration adding another member to our Circle,” He hummed.  You looked from him to Azriel, who was smiling now at you.  You were now part of their family, and you were damn happy about.  

And you would be happier a few years later when you and Azriel would get married and have your mating ceremony, with Mor as your Maid of Honor. 

The End

June Summer Prompts

#azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #ariel x reader #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #acotar fluff #acomaf fanfiction #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar #fanfiction #writing #acomaf #acosf #acofas

[captain-mj]

PLEASE write the character analysis for graves, i’m so invested in this

a little late but I really wanted to make this!

Graves was born in Texas to a not so well off family. They were poor in the way most people were at the time. One missed paycheck or too big emergency and everything would crumble. His family consisted of three kids. Graves being the youngest.

His mom didn't hide that he was not her favorite child. Due to her status, there was a ton of praise, but it came with a double edged sword of cutting remarks when people wouldn't notice. Everything was scrutinized. His actions ripped to shreds and put under a microscope. Always searching for something wrong.

She used religion as a weapon. He had to be godly. Holy. Never commit a sin. Never want for more. Greed, even for something as free as affectionate, was punished. Resting his aching body was sloth. He never made a fool enough of himself to look at men with lust. His hide had been tanned more times than he ever wanted to think about and the concept of privacy was non existent most of his life.

Graves saw it as her trying to make him a better man. Clearly that's what she wanted. His father was distant. Always finding excuses to not be around any of his kids. He looked at him with something just a step above disdain.

Grave had tried to emulate that with his Shadows when he started. It's how his father garnered his respect, clearly that's how he could too. Instead, it made them look at him like he'd scream at them. Not fearful. No. More... annoyed. As if he was a dog that would bark and snap and snarl for no reason but wouldn't bite them.

He started to act more like his older sister. Only with them. Friendlier. It felt clumsy from disuse.

In high school, he had been popular. He had charm, personality, looks. Maybe not so much height as he stopped firmly at 5'7 until senior year when he got the last two inches before stopping permanently. People liked him. He was smart, always willing to tutor, always trying to be better. His father always looked at him the same. HIs mom showed pride when she could show it off.

Graves made sure when someone did anything, he told them he was proud. That he was happy for them. Truly. He loved people most of the time.

His door had a double lock on it at all times. One with a key and a deadbolt. No one entered his room.

His parents didn't fight. Not truly. His father would have to engage for that.

Graves remembered the one day he did. He screamed at her. Something about his sister. He wasn't sure.

Traditional values were important. So important. Always stand by family. God comes first. Men are the heads of the household and women were homemakers.

Graves tried once. The lady was nice enough. Wanted four kids and to stay home. Everything he needed for his mom's life plan for him.

She was perfect honestly. Men told Graves constantly how lucky he was. And they were great friends. But when they kissed, when they held hands or when they touched, there was so clearly something missing. Graves refused acknowledge that his eyes lingered on men. That sharing a drink with one of his guy's did something for him that she just couldn't seem to.

First time they had sex, he couldn't look her in the eye. He still remembered the conversation they had afterwards. She was a good woman. Everything a christian should be. Graves found religion slipping from him day by day, but he'd always remember the way her cross necklace had glittered at him.

She had asked him gently what he was thinking about.

Graves wanted to tell her he felt ashamed of the sin they committed or that he just had trouble getting it up. Instead, he sobbed, the second time he could ever remember crying in front of someone, and admitted he was thinking of a friend of his from the church. One of his guy ones.

She had pet his hair and let him get it all out before telling him it was over between them. They lived together as roommates for six more months. Their dynamic barely changed. They still watched movies and still split the chores the same way because Graves had never felt comfortable being idle.

His father had sat on his chair every night. The kids rushing around him to clean everything. Always at risk of being screamed at by their moms if their chores weren't done fast enough.

Personally, he could never stomach just sitting there. If he ever had kids, a thought that felt more and more foreign, he would never just let his wife handle everything. He'd never call his daughter a slut or interrogate his son for being a faggot.

Graves started going by Graves instead of his actual last name in high school. One day, right after he turned 18, he changed his last name. He never told his family. Why should he?

When he told them he wanted to go into the military, his father looked proud of him. It drove him for years before one day, he looked around and it hit him. He was right back where he was as a child. With people yelling at him and forcing him to do things and at some point, he grew up in a way no one else did.

Graves was tired of that. He left. He started his own company. He picked his Shadows carefully. And it was going to be better.

It was. Then he dealt with death for the first time.

The Shadow's name was Dillon and he was from his hometown. Graves cried at his funeral. His mother told him to man up. His father hadn't talked to him since he left the military.

Graves didn't go to any funerals in that area again.

His mother called him to let him know his father died. He didn't cry.

Graves didn't cry when his mother went into the ground either.

He cried for each of his Shadows. He cried when he realized God was a foreign concept to him.

The aftermath of Los Almas was the worst few weeks of his life. Yes, he wanted to blame the 141. But he understood it. Survival was important. He couldn't seem to get the wrath in his soul to stay.

So he let it go. He became friends with Farah and Alex. Met Price. He refused to apologize for what he did, but Price seemed to accept it the same way he did. It just wasn't worth staying angry at some point.

Maybe it wasn't healthy.

Graves had been.... not quite out. No one asked so no one knew. Mila said he was in a glass closet but that didn't feel quite right. It implied everyone could tell.

Graves didn't like that. Not out of shame. Just... he was a private person. His room had three locks.

At some point, he gave the key to Price. It was more symbolic than anything. Until Graves kept the other locks unlocked so it actually worked. Anyone could knock at any point, but only Price could just walk in. Not that he ever did. He always knocked.

Graves and Price split the chores in the house. Neither wanted kids. It was nothing like his mother's life plan. It was perfect.

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