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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 2 months

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Sunflower - R. Lupin

Pairing - Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!reader

Description - He dabbled in potions, she dabbled in sewing. She needed help on a potions exam, he needed help mending his robes. He proposed a trade.

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of self harm (brief)

part one - part two

She never had the money for new clothes, would never send her mother letters asking for more, she didn’t want to be a nuisance. And so she sewed, all over her clothes, where there would be any sort of rip or tear, you would see a flower there the next day.

She didn’t think the professors minded much, they weren’t big holes. She fixed the bigger ones with spells and potions, the little ones she didn’t mind. Remus noticed the little flowers, all the small, ornate designs that popped up along her clothes, they were all along the sleeves, along the hem lines; there were some on her skirt, little black, yellow, and white flowers. They matched her house colors.

Her name was Y/n, he thought she was cute. A cute, adorable, Hufflepuff witch that he believed he was friends with.

He thought Sirius would laugh at him for what he did in the library the next day, thought for sure that the boys would make a joke out of him, stopping when they hit the limit of course, but he didn’t expect them to coo and fawn over it.

He was in the library, putting his things down on a table in a dark little corner, when he realized that he’d dropped his book.

Remus turned and started looking, shuffling around the papers and other books lying on carts. He stood from his crouched position and turned, it was then that he saw her, she had just reached down and grabbed a book, it was his book.

She turned it over, he thought she was looking for a name, and then she walked over to a table, never taking her eyes off of the book, and slid her stack of things down to the end, across from Remus’ things.

He walked over in time to see her lean against the table. She was thumbing through the pages, he coughed into his fist and she looked up.

“ That’s-“, he cleared his throat, brows furrowing, “-that��s my book.”

She looked up at him, her hand against the table, and handed him the book. “ It seems interesting, you’ll have to let me borrow it when you’re done.” Her eyes flickered to his sleeve for a moment, and then her gaze went back to his face.

She motioned her thumb to the table, “ I was just about to study for the potions exam, care to join me?”

She slid her chair out, slipping into it, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Remus nodded, dropping his gaze, and walked around the table to sit.

She was normally fine at potions, but she was absolute shite at this particular subject. They had a test on it in three days and she couldn’t get her head wrapped around the concept, she couldn’t even remember how to properly brew it either, no matter how many times she read and looked back at it.

She dropped her head into her hands and huffed, Remus thought she looked disgruntled and upset.

“ Do you want some help with that Y/n?”

Remus watched her shake her head, barely heard her murmured no thanks and he stood.

“ Don’t be silly, of course you do. You’ve been sitting there for the past thirty minutes sighing and furrowing your brows at those papers. I’ve grasped the concept, I can help.”

By the time she looked up, he had already sat down in the chair beside her. His head was propped up against his fist, his elbow on the table, and he was looking at her. It was as if he was daring her to say no. She saw why the boys liked him so much then, he had the same mischievous glint in his eye.

“ I would really like it if you would help me Remus, I really would, but I wouldn’t be able to pay you back or give you anything in exchange for the help.”

Remus leaned forward, pulling his right arm out of its sleeve. “ How about this, if you so insist on repaying me, you can just sew up my sleeve. It’s been ripped for ages and I haven’t been able to find the time to fix it myself. I figured, since you’re such an expert at mending things, maybe you could fix that too. Sort of a deal, a trade if you must.”

She nodded then, and let a little smile shine through. She reached out, and grasped his hand.

“ It’s a deal.”

Remus made an excellent teacher, she found that he was far better at making the lesson last in her memory than Professor Slughorn was. Well, it also could have had something to do with the fact that she had been tired as hell when he’d taught that lesson.

Remus had done well to fulfill his part of the deal, all Y/n had to do was make good on hers.

She was in her room when she’d made good on hers, she had had a relatively good day. Well, that was a lie, it was complete shit. But she wasn’t going to let anyone know that.

It was always when she was sad or angry when she noticed the rips, the little tears in her robes, the little rips in her curtains, the little cuts and scrapes on her skin. She would obsess over everything, every little detail and it was when she was mad or angry or pissed off that she would make the tears, make the ungodly amount of rips. Mad at herself, mad at the world. Yes, she was a clumsy girl but, there were far more rips than normal.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford to replace her torn robes, she could if she saved a little and mailed her mother, but she didn’t like admitting that she had torn them. When she got mad, she tore things, she would rip things apart, rip her leggings, would rip her cloak, her jumpers (although those holes were harder to repair), she would rip anything else to keep from ripping away at herself.

She’d tried it once, tried cutting, but it became an obsession and soon she became afraid; afraid someone would find out, would find her and lock her up, or maybe even distance her from her friends, take her away from what she loved. So she stopped, or at least tried to, she would occasionally slip up and scratch away at her arms and legs until she bled, bled, bled.

She resorted to sewing.

She would cause destruction, she would destroy her clothes, destroy her sheets, destroy everything, and she didn’t like that. She didn’t like to mess things up. It was at the age of thirteen that she took up sewing, she got mad one night, and she wrecked her stockings so terribly she couldn’t wear them the next day without getting reprimanded.

She liked putting things back together. It brought her peace. So when she sat in her bed, holding Remus’s torn cloak in her hands, sliding her fingers over the area, she couldn’t help but wonder who had torn it. She couldn’t help but want to put it back together.

Remus has given her the thing the day before, after they received the results of their potions tests. He had said that if she received a bad grade it was the teachers fault, not the students, so she wouldn’t have to mend it if she flunked.

Thankfully, she did well on it.

She wore his cloak for the remaining two hours of classes that day, not only because she didn’t have room in her bag but also because she was cold. She had a tear in her stocking and hadn’t been able to fix it and it was quite chilly that day, it didn’t help that she was normally cold throughout the day.

When she mended her stockings, she mostly just stitched them and left them alone but, on some occasions, she would sit and sew little flowers into the fabric. It was the same thing she did she her skirts, cloaks and her ties. She enjoyed adding the decorations to the clothing, it made her feel happy.

The tear in his sleeve didn’t take much time to fix.

She turned to get a sip of water, and she took a moment to observe the sunflowers on her roommates bed.

An idea had formed in her head.

“ Hey Sirius!”

Y/n grasped his shoulder, although released him soon afterwards, flushing. He jerked his head in the direction of the Great Hall, where everyone was going, dinner was already in session, and they began walking.

“ What’s up Hufflepuff?”

She bit her lip, glancing towards the floor in embarrassment, “ I was- I was just wondering, does Remus like sunflowers?”

He let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back with laughter.

Was he laughing about her?

What did she say?

“ Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, it’s sort of a stupid question anyways.” She gripped her bag tighter and went to turn down the left hall, going back towards the classes, when Sirius put his hand down on her shoulder, his still shaking from laughter.

“ Oh Y/n don’t worry about it, I just thought it was funny because- yeah, Moony is over the moon about sunflowers. Flowers in general really, he gets a kick out of seeing them all over you everyday, they really make him happy. But no, I just thought you were going to ask me something else you’re good.”

Sirius was staring at her with that half-baked grin on his face, his hand still plopped on her shoulder, when he noticed the way her hands shook. His gaze flickered down at her hands, now smoothing down the wrinkles in her sleeves. She was nodding her head absentmindedly, her chin trembling like her fingers, her lips quivered.

He raked a hand through his hair, his other propping against his hip. “ Hey uh, why don’t you come sit with us at the Gryffindor table tonight. I’m sure Remus would be pleased.”

She shook her head, moving backwards down the hall, “ I wish I could Sirius, but I’ve got something to do.”

His hands ceased their movement, and he looked at her quizzically, “ Are you sure Y/n, dinners already begun, you’ll miss it if you leave now.”

She stopped and turned around, her mouth spewing incomprehensible phrases, and he clamped his hand onto her shoulder, his brows furrowed, “ I insist.”

“ alright.”

“ Hey Y/n!”

Remus waved at her when she walked in, trailing Sirius. She didn’t wave back, but from the little glint in her eye and the smile that spread across her face he knew she saw. Sirius sat down at the bench and patted the spot beside him. She sat down and instantly began to butter some toast, shoving the delicious thing down her throat before loading her plate up with five or six more.

“ Hi Remus.”

Sirius was in a conversation with James at the time, so Remus and Y/n were left to themselves.

“ What brings you to this side of the hall? I hear the walk is much longer to the Hufflepuff table than Gryffindor.” Remus smiled cheekily and she kicked him.

“ Oh hush.”

He stole one of her bread slices and took a bite out of it, leaning his arm on the table.

“ Didn’t answer my question.”

“ You prat!” She reached over and smacked his arm, eliciting a guffaw on his part.

That cheeky smile stayed on his face for the rest of the evening.

She returned his robe the night after next, it was a Saturday and she just happened to bump into his group on the way to the library.

When she turned down the hall she didn’t expect to walk into a huddle of invisible teenagers, but she did. If Remus hadn’t shoved out of the cloak to grab her she would have fallen on her arse.

That was when she noticed the two other boys, and when Remus noticed the coloring to her eyes.

He released her then, as if afraid to acknowledge the racing of his heart from moments ago. Y/n hurriedly took off the cloak she was wearing, it looked too big on her, and she handed it to Remus.

“ All finished.”

Remus look the cloak and shrugged it on, thumbing at the line of stitching where the rip was. And then he saw the little flower sewn in under the wrist, it was a sunflower.

He looked at Y/n and then he put his arms around her for a moment or two.

“ Thanks for fixing it for me, and for the little flower. I love it.” Remus’s eyes were lit up in a wonderful way, it made her heart feel good.

“ Oh it’s no problem, I put one on the sleeve of mine too so we can match.”

Remus smiled at that, a big, happy smile, and he glanced back at the boys. “ Say Y/n, would you like to go into Hogsmeade with us?”

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 2 months

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Same Time Thursday - Masterlist

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“She was only twenty one, she was too young to be this tired."

Rowaelin Single Parent AU

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Playlist / Decorative Playlist / Collaborative Playlist / Collaborative Playlist

Moodboard / Moodboard by @themoonthestarsthesuriel

Rowan's Photos / Rowan's Photos pt 2 / Rowan’s Photos pt 3

Art by @gracie-rosee / Art by @leiawritesstories / Tattoo Art by @leiawritesstories

Headcanons by @justreadertings - One / Two / Three

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Main Story

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

…

Rowan POVs

Chapters 5/6

Chapter 24

Chapter 26.5

...

Prequel Oneshots

Before

The Lullaby

...

Post-Story

Happy Mama's Day (five years later)

Elia and Eliott (by @justreadertings )

Elia and Eliott part 2 (by @justreadertings )

…

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 2 months

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Broken

Sirius Black and fem! reader

[Requested – see request here]

Summary: Sirius finds out his girlfriend is suffering from depression

Warnings: Major TW - detailed decriptions of depression and suicidal thoughts, mentions of self harm and scars, one mention of blood, swearing, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, insecure reader, one girl being a bit of a bitch

A/n: 4.5k words, Hufflepuff reader, if these topics makes you uncomfortable please don’t read, I’m not trying to glorify mental health issues in anyway, the thoughts and feelings in this story are from my own personal experience when I was at my lowest, this is a really personal piece for me and I knew if I was going to write this request I had to pull from myself so i did also change one part of request ever so slightly so I was more comfortable while writing 💛 I honestly don’t know if anyone will read this one but it was therapeutic for me to pour it all out on the page x

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

Keep reading

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 2 months

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Married (Remus Lupin x reader)

Requested by @dusk-realm

REQUEST RULES HERE

A/N: I think this is the last request before Part 20! I hope you like it and don’t forget to comment!

WARNINGS: I think none.

Thoughts, suggestions, criticism, and all sorts of comments are greatly appreciated, no matter what. Please comment. I like reading your thoughts and opinions. I’m begging you.

It hadn’t really been a secret; you were in love with Remus Lupin, he was in love with you. What everyone else didn’t know, except for James, Lily, Sirius, Peter, and McGonagall, was that you two were married. You had married literally a few months after James and Lily, though you still didn’t know how you managed to even date him, with his fear of hurting everyone and all that. The fact that you got married was astonishing.

Then, with the deaths of James and Lily a year later, along with the supposed death of Peter and Sirius’ imprisonment, it was down to two people knowing of your marriage, which you liked keeping on the down-low.

That’s why, when you went to Hogwarts with him as his teaching assistant, you decided to have fun and not tell anyone. This, of course, made everyone assume you two were best friends who were completely and utterly in love with each other but were too afraid to confess.

You used your maiden name and wore your wedding ring as a necklace, which was tucked under your shirt, Remus did the same with his. You almost cried at the sight of Harry but managed to hold yourself together by remembering why you were there: to protect him from Sirius.

This had always been the subject of many fights, seeing as you knew Sirius, though much less than Remus, and knew him enough to know he would never kill anyone. Remus thought the opposite and insisted he was dangerous and would hurt Harry, his godson. He slept on the couch once because of that.

Anyway, back to what I was saying, both of you practiced for a few days not calling each other pet names and using your given names. It was hard at first, but by the second day, you got the hang of it.

You didn’t know why you were wasting so much time on this, but go big or go home, right?

The first week was a fun one. You heard students gossiping about you two as you walked down hallways and sometimes passing notes in class about how you two should get together. You also noticed that sometimes students, mostly fifth years, tried setting you up. It never worked, or so they thought.

Sometimes he was teaching and you found yourself staring at him with heart eyes (he just looked so good while teaching), shaking your head and busying yourself with something immediately after realizing it. Students giggled each time.

The thing that was probably the most fun, was that you always fought like an old married couple. It happened the first time when Remus was avoiding letting Harry participate since he thought his boggart would be Voldemort. You, however, were more observant and noticed that he got much more scared at the Dementors than the idea of this powerful evil wizard that killed his parents.

This is why you encouraged him to step forward. Remus tried to silently stop you, but you ignored him and walked closer, smiling at Harry. “Remember, this is just a boggart, not your actual fear. Think of it as if it was wearing a mask.” You told everyone, but mostly Harry.

He stepped forward and the boggart was about to turn into a Dementor, but Remus stepped forward and in front of Harry, making it turn into the moon and exploding once he finished casting the spell, which also made the students burst into laughter once more. You grinned at them as they walked out of the staff room, talking excitedly.

The second everyone was out, you closed the door and locked it, casting a silencing charm over the place. You turned around slowly and glared at Remus. “What the hell was that?!”

“What do you mean? The boggart was about to take the form of Lord Voldemort in front of everyone! What were you doing?!” He snapped, talking as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and you were stupid, which you didn’t like, much less coming from your husband.

“No, it wasn’t! Are you really that dense?!”

“What are you talking about? Harry has every reason to fear Lord Voldemort the most!” He explained, and you glared at him harder, if possible.

“Did Lily or James ever fear Voldemort?” Was all that you asked. He looked surprised but answered nonetheless.

“No, but look where that—”

“Then Harry doesn’t have a damn reason to do so.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “He fears Dementors. He knows he fears Dementors. He also admires you, and he now thinks you don’t believe him capable of fighting off a boggart. And he’s going to go to your office and ask you why you didn’t let him participate, and you will explain and make him feel better. Maybe teach him the Patronus charm, that’d help a lot.” You were angry, and he knew it, so he simply nodded, to which you nodded, and walked out of the staff room.

What you didn’t know, was that Harry had been in the room with you, under the Invisibility Cloak. This was actually what convinced him to ask Remus a couple days later when everyone else was in Hogsmeade.

—————-

Sometimes you were almost caught kissing, whether it be in the staff room, in your private office, or sometimes in the classroom before class. The thrill was fun, though.

You also were vaguely aware that there were bets going around the school, not just amongst students, but sometimes teachers, too. They tried to guess when you’d confess and who would do it first. Once, you caught some students passing around a note and you took it from them, reading it silently, though pleasantly surprised when you noticed it was written in paper and with a pen. It talked about who would confess first.

It had clearly been passed around between classrooms and houses because there weren’t that many kids in your classroom, but you were mostly proud that most people thought you would confess first. You smiled, gave the note back to the student after warning not to do that in class, and winked. The class went wild at that.

From time to time, students also liked to socialize with you, sometimes even convincing you to play Gobstones or Exploding Snap with them, which was fun. Once though, a seventh-year student convinced you to play truth or dare with them, though you had mostly agreed because it was during your break and you were bored.

You sat down in the courtyard with a few other students, varying in houses and ages. You played harmlessly for a while until one of the students dared you to follow Remus around and cling to him for the rest of the day, without explaining to anyone. You grinned and accepted, shaking hands with all of them and walking off, remembering you had a class to teach.

At least one student from that group was always following you around, too, making sure you followed through with the dare. You found Remus eating in the Great Hall and sat next to him, pulling your chairs together and starting a conversation with him, he gave you a weird look, but didn’t question it.

He started to question it, though, when you followed him around everywhere, once to the point you convinced him to give you a piggyback ride to the DADA classroom. It was incredibly amusing for everyone watching, mostly to the students, who had caught on and were laughing, spreading the word that you were dared to stick to Remus like you had been glued together.

Whenever he asked about it, you would just reply with: “Don’t question it, I’m just having fun.”

As the hours passed, he got used to it, to the point of not moving while teaching so you could cling to him without having to move back and forth and follow him around the classroom as he checked up on students.

When the day ended and it was curfew, you followed Remus to his room and laid down with him, cuddling. “What was all that about?” He asked softly after a while.

“I was dared to follow you around and cling to you until the day ended.” You shrugged, then grinned. “It was tiring, but that piggyback was great.”

“Ha, ha.” He rolled his eyes, then kissed your forehead. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Sure.” You kissed him softly and you both got up to change into your sleepwear, then went to sleep cuddling.

———-

The best part of it all was probably when the whole school found out.

It was the last dinner at the Great Hall before the students had to go back home until September, and it was filled with chatter, both excited and sad, and you were enjoying your last moments at Hogwarts, knowing you wouldn’t come back next year, and were thinking about what had happened during the year. You were also wearing your wedding ring, your hand under the table to make sure no one noticed.

You finally got to reunite with Sirius, got to say ‘I told you so!’ to Remus after he was proven innocent, and hugged the fugitive tightly, crying a bit. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Severus also found out about your marriage, seeing as Sirius didn’t know about your little game and casually mentioned it during his whole monologue. You asked all of them not to say anything, wanting to see how long your secret would last. Severus only agreed because he tolerated your presence enough.

It was nice, your thoughts being drowned out by the excited chatter in the Great Hall, until a Slytherin seventh year, stood up on the table, making everybody quiet, wanting to know what he was about to say.

“PROFESSOR Y/N, WILL YOU MARRY ME?!” Echoed through the whole room. Everyone stayed silent, curious as to what you would answer.

You grinned, then told him from the staff table, loud enough for everyone to hear, but not screaming. “Tempting offer, but I’m already happily married!” And you lifted your hand to show the ring.

Gasps were heard everywhere around you, and you grinned. You also heard Remus start choking on his coffee, not expecting you to say that. Muttering then burst out, everyone dying to know who you had married. A Ravenclaw was the one brave enough to ask, loud and clear, making the Great Hall fall silent once more.

Right then, as if you had planned this out, Remus wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, to which you tilted your head and gave him a sweet kiss on the lips, making the whole school burst into cheers.

A Hufflepuff stood up and shouted. “HOW LONG?! WE NEED TO KNOW!”

You both grinned as, for the third time, the room went silent. You looked at each other and then back at the students. Remus was the one who answered. “Fourteen years and counting.”

Everyone cheered again.

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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my best friend, love of my life, who lives seven states away from me, just met a girl who gave him her number and invited him to her writing club

im supposed to be his writing friend

im supposed to feel happy for him, happy he’s establishing a new friend group and community and all I can feel is hate and jealousy and pain, deep heartbroken pain

im such a terrible person

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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Queer whore

thx for the compliment bestie 🫶🫶

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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I want someone who knows, cares for and loves me enough to be able to tell when I’ve had a migraine.

I’ve got almost 24/7 migraines and my school receptionist can always tell how long I’ve had it for just by looking at me.

I want someone to love me and know me well enough to be able to tell like that.

#migraine #chronic migraine #love #pls someone #alex

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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I think some people don’t completely understand what foreshadowing is, so here’s a lesson.

Foreshadowing is how Rhysand and Feyre are talking about rejected mates and then we learn of the story of Helion and Lady of the Autumn Court.

Foreshadowing is reading how Rhysand killed the twin ravens from Hybern with his bare hands and then later we learn that Helion did the same thing when he met Lady of the Autumn Court.

Foreshadowing is how Elain said what she needed most was sunshine. Then later in that book we learn that Lucien is the heir to the Day Court.

Foreshadowing is when Feyre goes inside Elain’s head to find the Suriel and she comments on how her mental shield was full of flowers ready to bloom. In the same book she said she needed Sunshine.

Foreshadowing is when Madja said only a mate can tell what’s wrong with another mate, then later Nesta can tell Cassian’s wrist is sprained.

Foreshadowing is reading how Azriel knows to always keep at least 2 enemy soldiers alive but slaughtered every Hybern solider on sight when he saw Gwyn.

Foreshadowing is Lucien using his spell wielding powers to free himself of Hybern’s chains to get to his mate.

Foreshadowing is Feyre commenting on how good Azriel and Elain look as a couple and then later says his Illyrian armor looked so at odds with her sister sitting in the garden.

Foreshadowing is when Feyre says that Truth Teller is the only bridge of connection for them (Azriel and Elain) and Elain gives it right back to him without so much as glancing back.

Foreshadowing is when Azriel talks about being comfortable spying and watching and then later we learn Gwyn was doing just that in the Blood Rite

Foreshadowing is NOT two characters sitting in a garden while one talks about her garden plans.

Foreshadowing is NOT potato steam looking like Azriel’s shadows.

Foreshadowing is NOT Elain meeting Azriel in a cobalt dress. (Which has been disproven many times. Graysen’s house color is cobalt. Feyre wears cobalt in the same book. Eris wears the color in ACOWAR. The color cobalt is a favorite of SJM’s)

Foreshadowing is NOT bread and roses.

And that’s what you missed on Glee!

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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Reversal

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, angst, some self-deprecation

a/n: This is loosely based off of this request <3 thank you for sending it!! I hope you enjoy and I also love comments!! ♡

Masterlist ♡

In the heat of battle, there was kindness.

That was a ludicrous sentiment, and Azriel had reminded you of that many times, but it was something you believed in.

War was hot flames and blood and the clashing of metal, but it was also reassurance and soft hands and wisps of healing light. If war was cruel and it stole, you were kind and you gave.

The first war had been a teacher, guiding you to your role. The second war had been reinforcement, showing you what it meant to be the Night Court’s healer. And then you thought you were done—done with attempting the impossible.

But then Beron took a stance that no one could foresee, and you were not done.

With the soldiers of Autumn Court came an impenetrable heat, and it was your job to quell the scars that plagued Rhysand’s frontlines. You were the one set to heal the broken and save the damned, and you were the one set to protect the court with kindness.

It was awful work.

Azriel was always quick to agree.

Your mate hated these wars more than you did, and that was an almost impossible feat. Azriel was never close to you in the throes of battle. There was always a cluster of shadows on your trail, but he could never be there himself. You knew it ate away at him, distracting him when he was supposed to be zeroed in on the enemies.

But, you had reminded him as he held you close in the tent the night before, you hadn’t died yet, and maybe you’d never die from a war. Maybe you weren’t destined to.

He had only pulled you closer at that, pressed his lips to your head as his wings hid you from the camp that made far too much noise. He held you so tightly you felt his pulse on the skin of your cheek and you pretended you were back at home.

Because although you were the kindness within the war, you wanted to go home.

Gods, did you want to go home.

Flames raced along the outskirts of the blue shield that had enveloped you the moment your knees hit the ground beside the unconscious Illyrian soldier. They pushed and pried, trying to force their way past your mate’s protection as you trained your attention on the wound marring the soldier’s skin.

Azriel would protect you.

He always did, even when he couldn’t be beside you.

“I’m… going to die,” the male beneath your hands huffed out, a line of sweat at his brow.

“No,” you assured. “No, you’re going to be okay. I just need a few more moments.”

You couldn’t see what was making him so assuredly pessimistic—couldn’t see the way the flames were creating cracks in the shimmering blue light. They were covering every inch of the shield, making the air in the circle red with heat and promised death.

You noticed a moment too late.

It was unbearable, the suffocating fire. You threw your body over the soldier as if that would make a difference, arms and shoulders wrapping over his head as your leathers scorched and your lungs burned. The male screamed, his legs thrashing. You wanted to replicate the sound, but you were kindness. Kindness did not scream.

It ended as abruptly as it began, flames dissipating into blackened embers. You felt a crack in the bond during the disappearance, Azriel’s fear and rage embedding itself into the golden thread connecting you. That, too, ended as abruptly as it began; Azriel shut his side down, saving you from the ravaging emotions.

You whipped around to search for him, eyes up towards the sky. You found him quickly, with a practiced eye. You’d looked for him in every room you’d entered for almost your entire life. It was easy to find Azriel. As easy as breathing.

That breath was stolen from you the moment your gaze locked on his form.

He was falling.

He had charged—alone—into the group that was to blame for your injuries, for the flames that had almost consumed you, and now he was falling.

He was falling and he wasn’t conscious.

You think you screamed, but that couldn’t be right. Screaming led to panicked patients, and panicked patients led to worse outcomes. Your screams were not welcomed in war.

You tugged at the bond, desperate to rouse him into saving himself. But it was no use; he was plummeting to the ground and there was nothing you could do.

When you looked back on it later—when it fizzled as dim memories within your dreams—your actions would become more clear. You’d remember that you stood up, and then the ground shook. That the years of training required to be a field healer included so much more than twisting bursts of soothing light.

And something within you had awoken that day, the moment you saw wakefulness leave Azriel’s being… something that was not kindness or giving or calm.

It was rage.

A piece of you recognized that Azriel had been caught. Cassian’s wings had most likely ached from the speed with which he dove to catch his brother, but both members of your family were safe. Harmed, but safe. Not dead.

Your rage didn’t care.

Something deep within you snapped, and light was pouring from the tips of your fingers. It wasn’t the same hue that healed. It was darker; a hungry red.

The enemies from the sky fell.

When those on the ground saw the damage you had inflicted, you became their target. And fine, let them, because this power coursing through you had no sense of who was to blame for your mate’s injuries. To you, everyone was a threat. Everyone was to blame.

With a practiced grace, tainted by years of disuse, you attacked. The scene was cloaked in a red hue. Fae after fae charged at you, but it was all fruitless. You felt pain, injuries covering your skin, but it was all muted by the overwhelming desire to end this. To somehow soothe the ache you felt from watching your mate fall.

Time became obsolete.

Morals became blurred.

You were a machine, a complete reversal from the position you had assumed all those years ago.

“Y/n!”

Through the fog, a scream.

“Y/n, stop!”

Another far away call.

“It’s done. It’s over. Stop. Look at me and stop.”

Something was pressing against your cheeks. It was firm and grounding and the focus returned to your gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me, y/n.”

Cassian. When all was righted, Cassian stood in front of you, his posture hunched as he leaned down to catch your eyes. He was dirty and his leathers were torn, but all you could focus on was the panicked frenzy marring his face.

When he spoke next, the words were no longer accompanied by the incessant buzzing that had invaded your ears. “You with me, sweetheart?”

Your lips felt numb.

“Give me a nod or something. Az will kill me if you go catatonic on us.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice rough. “Azriel, he—”

“He’s here.” Cassian turned your head in his hands, showing you the shadowsinger propped up against a dirt bank. “That self-sacrificing idiot is fine.”

He wasn't fine, not really. His breaths were labored and his hand clutched at his side with a shaky grip. You wanted to move towards him, to try and take away some of his pain, but your legs were stuck. Everything was stuck and you couldn't move.

It didn’t matter, anyway. When your eyes trailed up from his body, the look on his face would have deterred you from even speaking to him. He looked… horrified. Hazy eyes blinked across the battlefield—the one you decimated—and they shut just as fast. They squeezed shut, clamping down so tightly it looked like it hurt. Azriel seemed to shiver at the carnage.

When your chest heaved at the realization, your body seemed to shut down. You felt your legs give out first, heard the curse shot out by Cassian, and felt the hands pressing to your back as your mind gave way to unconsciousness.

When you woke, the heaviness in your body was not entirely physical.

There were, of course, a few broken bones. You could feel the aches and pains from battle and knew that you hadn’t gotten away unscathed, but that was all manageable. Fae healing was fast-acting and you would be fine within a few days.

But it wasn’t the physical pain keeping you from opening your eyes.

It was the reminder of Azriel’s face.

The disgust written into his features.

You were supposed to be his antithesis.

When Azriel came home at the end of a day, he was supposed to be comforted by your warmth and softness. You were kindness and light and graceful silence. You were a healer, granting life, and he was an angel of death.

Before you had met him, that had not been the truth. You were a healer, yes, but you were a field healer. The continent you hailed from prided themselves in being both the saviors of life and the bringers of death. You were to be the judgment—deciding who received which fate.

But then you met Azriel, and with him came balance. With him came the need to be only one part of you.

So you hid away the side of you meant to be cruel. You trained softly in self-defense only and you shied away from the instinct to protect with fists and power.

And you loved the way he looked at you because of it.

You loved the soft eyes and silent laughs; the tender way he held you and the sweet way he brushed his lips to your innocent skin. He coveted you, protected you, and you were the one he sought comfort in.

You were his mate, his equal, his mirror.

You wished your eyes could remain shut forever.

“Will she wake up soon?”

Mor, you could deduce.

“The healers said there was no way to know. She… Gods, Mor, you should have seen her out there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Cassian.

“I wish I had been there. It sounds like she kicked some ass,” Mor smugly replied.

Cassian huffed out a laugh. “That’s an understatement.” A pause. “It was more than just that though. It was like she was using her healing in a different way. She cleared the field in front of her. There’s no way that just… came out of her.”

“You know what the mating bond does to people. What it can unleash.”

“I get that. But it looked natural for her. It looked practiced.”

You heard Mor sigh. A hand brushed against the top of yours, taking it into a soft grip.

“I just hope she's alright,” Mor murmured.

“She has to be.”

When you awoke next, it was alone. You had been fighting sleep for what you assumed to be the better part of a day and decided that was enough. Eventually, you had to face the consequences of your actions.

You swung your feet over the side of the cot, feeling surprisingly rested and well despite the few pains shooting along your limbs. You took hesitant steps towards the mouth of the tent, propping open the canvas billowing in the wind before taking a more confident step onto dirt and rocks.

“Good, you’re up.” It was Rhysand who spotted you first. “Just in time for our debrief.”

The casualness with which he spoke left you disoriented. The High Lord only blinked at you, a small, impassive smile on his face as he waited for you to take the arm he had outstretched. Your mouth parted as if to speak, but nothing was coming out.

“I know you’re recovering, y/n, but I need my best at this meeting,” he encouraged, elbow jutting towards you. “Come. We’ll speak and then we’ll return to Velaris. We will go home.”

Your reservations were odd when you compared them to the understanding on Rhys’s face. He wasn’t upset or disgusted or angry; the High Lord’s smile turned up at the corner of his mouth and his expression spoke of sympathy, as if he already knew about the turmoil raging within you.

“Azriel—”

“Is there already. Unhappy, but there.”

Unhappy.

Of course.

Who would want a mate that ravaged battlefields?

Your lip quivered, but you bit it to stop the emotion from showing. “Right,” you nodded, and you let Rhys guide you to the large tent in the middle of the camp.

It was full; you had to push your way in to meet the rest of your court. Azriel was the only one seated amongst them, and you could tell by the twitch of his wings that he had been placed in that chair begrudgingly.

Your eyes skated across his for a fleeting moment. You were quick to turn away, focusing on the material of Rhys’s jacket as he stopped in the corner of the tent.

There was a faint tug on the bond, muted by the wall you had erected. You thought about letting it down, but you were scared of what you’d feel. Azriel was a good male; good enough to attempt to hide the revulsion he was feeling.

But you’d be able to parse it out the second you dropped your mental shield.

You kept your eyes forward as the high lords spoke around the tent. The large table in the center was covered in maps and wooden pegs and you flowed in and out of focus as treaties and strategies and plans all mingled in the space.

Another tug at the bond.

Another shield placed around your mind.

“And what of her?”

Rhys took a step in front of you, covering half of your body from view. “What of her?” he countered, a calmness in his tone as he replied to the High Lord of Spring.

Tamlin raised a brow. “Are we just supposed to ignore that your ‘healer’ is a danger to all of our courts?”

“You are a fool,” Feyre spat out, hands splayed on the table.

“She is a weapon,” Tamlin seethed, finger jutting out towards you.

You flinched, and the room exploded in shadows.

You heard several gasps, a few weapons being unsheathed, but over everything was the low rumble of Azriel’s voice.

“Don’t speak of her as if she is an object,” he threatened. “Don’t speak of my mate at all.”

“Reign in your dog,” Tamlin spat, but that only spurred on the hostility in the room.

A chair screeched back, crashing against wood as loud, reverberating footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent tent. No one made a sound. Some of the shadows gave way, retreating to wind around your body, and you were met with the scene across the table.

“I will show you a weapon, High Lord,” Azriel promised, chest-to-chest with Tamlin.

The sight made you sick.

Azriel was a protector. You were used to that truth. But before, things were different. Before, he was protecting you while you were still pure, still innocent in his eyes.

Now, it was after. After you had killed and killed for him. After he had hurtled to the ground and awoken to find the death his mate had caused. And he was still protecting you, defending you, despite it all.

Were you really worth this?

You were worth it before.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

On shaking legs, you shouldered your way out of the tent, breath caught in your lungs. The ringing from the battlefield returned to your ears, blocking out the conversations starting in your absence. The shadows stayed with you, twirling with alarm and flowing through your hair in an attempt to gain your attention.

A weapon. That explained you well—the ability to save lives and take them away. If they all considered you a weapon, where would you go? By Tamlin’s logic, being locked away would be best.

Maybe that was best.

You wondered what Azriel would think was best—where his weapon of a mate belonged. Because it was certainly no longer in the calmness of the home you shared.

Your shaking continued as you brought your hand up to your forehead. Azriel did that sometimes, when you were panicked or anxious or scared. He’d place his scarred touch on your forehead and lean your head up to grant you more air. He’d follow with his lips and then pull you into his arms, but you knew none of that was coming.

So you leaned forward and felt the sobs creeping up your chest to take the place of air. Your knees fell to the dirt and you collapsed into the feeling of your family, love, life changing forever.

Until the shadows retreated.

You glanced up when their swishing stopped and found another pair of knees pressing to yours in the dirt. The leathers covering them were fresher than yours, cleaner, but they were also wrapped in bandages and stabilizers that matched the ones along their ribs and stomach.

Another crane of your neck and Azriel was leaning down to catch your gaze, mouth parted. Maybe he’d been speaking for a while; the buzzing made it impossible to know.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, low and so, so concerned. Much more concerned than you deserved. Much more gentle than he had spoken in the tent.

And all you could think to say was, “I’m sorry,” and you sobbed out the words with gut-wrenching sincerity.

“I’m sorry, Azriel. I’m so sorry. I never meant—I never wanted this—“

Azriel shushed you, his fingers working to guide your hair away from your face. You felt selfish for needing that from him as his body was bandaged and his wings were wrapped.

“I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was. That I’m a monster. You were just falling so fast and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn't stop it,” you gasped out, giving in to your instincts as you grappled at the material of Azriel’s shirt. “I wanted to protect you and there was nothing I could do. You’re supposed to feel safe with me and I’ve ruined everything.”

With each word came more tears and more heaving breaths. Azriel held you through each of them, his hands firm at your elbows, his head shaking as you laid everything before him. Occasionally, your name fell from his lips in a soft whisper, but he never interrupted you.

“I’m not supposed to be this person to you. I’m supposed to be all of the good parts, and now I’m—now I’m someone else and you can’t—you’re not going to love all of the parts and—”

“Look at me, angel,” Azriel softly interrupted, sliding his fingers along your hairline, his eyes searching every inch of your face. When your gaze snapped to his, a bittersweet smile graced his pretty features. “There she is.”

A hysterical laugh left you, your emotions mingling with his as the bond flowed freely between you. You didn’t have the energy or willpower to block him out anymore. A rush of relief was sent through you as Azriel realized the opening.

“You are not a monster.” Azriel’s whisper was so clear, so close. “And I love every part of you, y/n. Especially the part I saw on that field. You saved me—protected our court and family. How could I not love that?”

“I saw your face,” you whispered back, the words brushing Azriel’s lips as your foreheads met. “You looked—”

“I looked disappointed in myself.”

“In yourself?”

Azriel brought both hands to your cheeks. “I lead you to that carnage. Y/n, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to take that load for you… to shoulder that burden.”

“You aren’t… disgusted by me?”

“My love, I love you more. What you did for me… you’re so strong. Cassian told me how amazing you were. Why have you never told me?”

You shifted back on your knees, blinking under Azriel’s adoring, forgiving gaze. The shadowsinger didn’t let you get far, however, sliding his hands down your jaw, your shoulders, and settling on the tops of your thighs.

Touching you, it seemed, was imperative.

“When we were mated,” you began, tears still lingering in your throat. “I was new to Prythian—new to having a family. Everyone kept telling me that we were equals in opposite. They said I was a blessing from the cauldron to be so different from you but so in love. And then you… you called me things like peace and safety and calm. I saw the work you did and I knew I couldn’t tell you what I was trained for. Being a healer was enough.”

The hands on your thighs tense. Azriel’s shadows pooled beneath you, swirling like a puddle of darkness.

“I never meant for you to hide,” he murmured.

“Azriel—”

“Never, angel. You could burn down the world and you’d still be my peace. You could be a weapon and I’d find my safety in you.”

He sighed out a disbelieving laugh.

“I love you,” he affirmed, eyes so sure. “I love you when you heal the broken and I love you when you decimate battlefields.” A small smirk. “I wish I had known about the second half a little sooner. I might not have teased you about your book choices as often.”

You scoffed, a watery smile finally lighting up your face. “Don’t start.”

“Should I tell you all the other times I should have been wary? Or maybe all of the reasons Cassian should be afraid now? It seems that’s the only way to get you to smile, and seeing as you are the reason we won the war, you should be doing far more of it.”

The bond shone within you, bursting with joy as a laugh escaped your lips—a real laugh. The sound was soon smothered by Azriel’s kiss, and you knew things were changing.

And that was okay.

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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aww

ACOSM | The Night she met Azriel

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: fluff/angst

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on it, you can find the masterlist for it here. The song I pictured Valeria playing was Snowfall by Oneheart x Reidenshi. Also, I think Azriel is older than Rhys and Cass but for the sake of this fic, they are all the same age. They're all young kids in this imagine.

“Come on now, dear. It’s much too cold outside to stay out here.” Lady Yvaine said to the young boy behind her. She placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder and offered the boy a smile as she ushered him inside her house, making a note to buy him a proper coat for this bitter winter first thing tomorrow morning.

“Make yourself at home. I was just finishing up dinner before you arrived.” Lady Yvaine gave him a soft pat on the shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

The boy stood in the foyer for a moment.

A beautiful sound –one he’d never heard before, resonated from somewhere in the house. The sound drew his curiosity in and he found himself stepping forward into what appeared to be the living room. His steps were slow and quiet, afraid that his intrusion would waver the music. His shadows were pressed against his back–some hiding behind his wings and others curiously peeking over his shoulders. Beautiful, they whispered into his ears.

That’s when he saw her.

The girl in the dark blue dress who was one with the music. Her back was straight but wings relaxed, eyes closed and legs crossed as they dangled over her seat. Her fingers glided easily over the keys of the grand piano before her, bringing each note to life with such care and tenderness.He remained silent, watching the scene before him in awe.

A sense of tranquil beauty and wistful nostalgia filled the room. The song was a perfect embodiment of the serenity and purity of the snow falling outside. It painted a picture of a peaceful winter landscape– a deep contrast to the dark and harsh camp outside.

When the song came to a gradual end, the girl finally opened her eyes. Her body grew still for a brief moment and the shadows wrapped around his shoulders tensed in nervous excitement. She could sense him.

And then the girl was looking at him with blue eyes so deep they were violet. Breathtakingly beautiful. A quick sudden widening of her eyes occurred and he silently ordered his curious shadows to stay put, worry and fear washing over him. She was frightened–

He didn’t get to finish his thoughts as his shadows swarmed over to her, defiant against his orders and she giggled. He watched with pure shock etched onto his face as his shadows caressed her arms, eliciting another giggle. His shadows had never rushed toward someone else like this before.

And then the girl was smiling. At him.

“You must be the Shadowsinger.” She said.

“The Shadowsinger has a name, dear.” Lady Yvaine’s voice corrected the girl from the kitchen. “Azriel.”

“Azriel.” The girl repeated.

Azriel did not think he could hear anything prettier than the song she just played but at the sound of his name coming from her lips, he was proven wrong again.

Everything happened in a blur next. One moment he was standing alone at the entrance of the living room and the next, she was right in front of him with a wide smile. Her hand found his and he found himself holding his breath. Her hand was soft and gentle. His hand was rough and harsh, permanently scarred by the cruelty of his own brothers. He worried as he held his breath if she would find his hands repulsive as most people did. But she paid no mind to it, happily dragging him toward her piano.

It was only once they were seated that he allowed himself to breathe again.

Friend, his shadows whispered in the same excitement as before as they returned to him.

Distracted by his shadows, he hadn’t realized she’d been staring at him the whole time, even as she began to play another song. A more joyful tune this time–one he recognized instantly as it was a popular tune of the Night Court. His gaze met her expectant one. His eyebrows knitted together. Why was she staring at him like that?

“Why aren’t you singing?” The girl asked.

Azriel blinked back at her. “I don’t sing.”

Now, it was her turn for her eyebrows to knit in confusion. “But you’re a shadowsinger.”

Laughter was quick to follow the awkward silence.

As he heard footsteps, Azriel looked up toward the stairs of the house. Two young boys, similar in age to him, ran down the steps. They both had dark hair, sun kissed skin and wings like his but their similarities ended there. One had short and neatly combed hair with eyes similar to the girl beside Azriel. The other had longer hair–barely past his chin–and it was messier than the boy’s in front of him. His eyes were also darker.

“By the Cauldron, Valeria!” The boy with similar eyes to the girl chuckled. They must be related, he thought. “Just because he is a shadowsinger doesn’t mean he sings.”

Valeria, Azriel repeated to himself in his head. What a pretty name.

Valeria sent the boy a vulgar gesture as she stood from her seat beside Azriel. Heat rose up to her cheeks as she turned to him again. “Perhaps, it’s your shadows that sing?”

Azriel couldn’t bring himself to reply. He did not want to lie to her but he also did not want to disappoint her. Sensing this, one of his shadows flew to one of the keys of the piano and pressed it randomly. Valeria’s face blushed deeper at the realization while the other two boys erupted into laughter.

“I’m sorry.” Azriel said.

“Don’t apologize for my sister’s stupidity.” The boy said in a playful warning tone. “You’ll quickly grow tired of it as unfortunately, she is always this embarrassing.”

“No, I must apologize.” Valeria said as she glared daggers at her brother. “Because my dear brother here is infuriating and you’ll quickly grow annoyed by the sight of him. His head is so big because it’s full of shi–”

“Children!” Lady Yvaine yelled at them. Her voice sounded closer this time. So that was their mother, Azriel confirmed to himself.

“Bed-wetter.”

Valeria gasped, sparing Azriel and the boy beside her brother a mortified look. He had promised not to tell anyone. “It was only one time! You–you, lint-licker!”

Azriel watched with wide eyes as the siblings continued to throw insults at each other, the distance decreasing between them with each one. The other boy came to stand next to Azriel and turned to him with an amused grin. “Don’t worry. The best part is yet to come.”

“I’m Cassian by the way,” the boy finally introduced himself.

“The best part?” Azriel couldn’t help but repeat in disbelief as he recalled the times he and his brothers would fight. Nothing good would come out of this…

Instead of answering Azriel, Cassian pointed toward the doorway that led to the kitchen and began to countdown. “3..2..1…”

“That is enough, you two!” A voice, Lady Yvaine’s, exclaimed in anger as she finally appeared with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Bonding time!”

The siblings let out a sound of protest.

“Now.”

Azriel watched as fear flashed in both of the sibling’s eyes at their mother’s tone. Without further protest, the two sat themselves on the floor, across from each other with their knees touching. Cassian seated himself on the piano bench next to Azriel, adjusting himself so their wings wouldn’t be touching.

“Rhysand,” their mother spoke. “You may begin.”

Rhysand let out a huff. He reluctantly reached out to grab for his sister’s hand. “Your eyes are pretty.”

Valeria rolled her “pretty” eyes. They were identical to Rhysand’s in shape but differed slightly in color. Valeria’s eyes were a deeper violet, appearing more purple than blue. Judging by the flicker of amusement that flashed within his violet orbs, she knew he was merely complimenting himself.

“I guess your hair is nice...today.”

Lady Yvaine shot them both a glare and if looks could kill, Valeria and Rhysand might’ve found themselves six feet under.

Valeria sighed. “While your head is big, I do not think it’s full of shit.”

Cassian snorted and Lady Yvaine winced at the curse word.

“I’m sure it’s filled with the burden of being the firstborn.” Valeria continued. “I know it’s not easy, which is why I admire your strength and perseverance. No matter how many times you get your as--butt kicked."

“Thank you, my dear sister.” Rhysand replied with a smile. Although there was a certain wittiness and mischief to her words, he recognized there was also truth and sincerity in them. A fine line Valeria walked. So he decided to continue in the sly banter to match his sister’s level, not daring to cross the line either–just enough as to not upset their mother further but also enough to leave her satisfied.

“I’m afraid I misspoke earlier.” Rhysand apologized. “You’re not embarrassing–at least not always. I do find myself admiring your curiosity. You’re really brave.”

Valeria’s lips curved upwards to mirror her brother’s smile. They turned to their mother, who gave them an approving nod after some moments of hesitance and contemplation. Exchanging a brief hug, the two got up to their feet.

Lady Yvaine chose to ignore Cassian’s protest of letting them get off the hook so easily. She was already embarrassed at the scene they caused in front of their guest.

“Alright, now before we have dinner, I want to formally introduce our new guest.” Lady Yvaine announced as she walked over to the piano bench. Her hands rested upon Azriel’s shoulders. “This is Azriel. His mother is a close friend of mine. She’s unable to be here at the moment so he will be staying with us for as long as he needs to.”

“Welcome, Azriel.” Rhysand said with a nod of his head.

“I hope we didn’t frighten you.” Valeria said with a timid smile, her shoulder bumping into Rhysand, who returned the gesture, with a gentle smile of his own.

“Come along now, children. It’s time for dinner.”

Cassian was the first to follow, falling into step with Lady Yvaine, eager to find what was for dinner tonight. Azriel watched in silence as Lady Yvaine patted Cassian’s head, chiding him over his messy, tangled hair. He groaned in protest, claiming that he had in fact brushed his hair this morning.

Rhysand and Valeria fell into step behind them, still shoving each other lightly and mumbling things to each other. Their laughter echoed the joy of their restored sibling bond, their playful interactions a testament to their resilience. The ability to forgive and let go and the profound understanding that no matter what, their bond would always remain unbreakable.

Something that Azriel didn’t have. It struck something in him, bringing back to surface a familiar ache. An ache residing so deep within the core of his being. It was an emptiness that yearned to be filled. The same emptiness that provided a constant reminder of the absence of love and support in his life. He told himself he would be okay, that the emptiness was a cruel friend of his.

But as he found himself captivated by Valeria’s laughter, he couldn’t help but play out what happened moments ago in his head again. From Valeria’s instant kindness, the way her eyes lit up at his presence, Lady Yvaine’s warmth and generosity, Cassian and Rhysand welcoming him to the way they had all accepted his shadows with no fear of them.

Rhysand looked back to Azriel, pulling him out of his thoughts with a knowing smile as he gestured for Azriel to follow them to the dining table.

There was the slightest curve to Azriel’s lips as he followed them. The first time he dared to smile in months–years, even. The ache still lingered deep in his chest but the emptiness was threatened. While there was still a tinge of sadness in his heart, there was now a shimmer of hope.

Family? His shadows dared to whisper to him.

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 months

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ACOSM | The Night she met Cassian

azriel x rhy's sis (oc)

*Azriel is not in this particular imagine as this was before he met Rhys, Cass and Val.

warnings: fluff/mild angst

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. This is when Cassian gets introduced to their life. You can find the masterlist for the collection of imagines here.

Windhaven was cold, dark and uninviting. It lacked the warmth and joy Velaris exuded. Still, Valeria preferred to be here as she found a strange comfort in the seemingly desolate place. Home was wherever her family was and for the time being, it was necessary for Rhysand to spend his adolescent years here.

It was a huge adjustment for her as the Illyrians in the camp did not take kindly to her free-spirited nature. How dare a young girl act like the child she is? It became abundantly clear to her that she had to tread carefully, being mindful not to transgress the rigid boundaries set by the Illyrians. The boundaries that were interlaced with the toxic threads of misogyny and patriarchy in the disguise of tradition.

Days slipped away swiftly within Windhaven's clutches. Valeria's mother had taken it upon herself to oversee her daughter's education, a responsibility she gladly accepted. Lessons would commence after breakfast, right after bidding Rhysand farewell for his long day of training. Instead of delving into the teachings of “noble lady” etiquette, Valeria's days concluded with a needle and thread, her mother, a revered seamstress, guiding her through.

On days when tasks were few and far between, Valeria would dedicate her time to music. The violin, a gift from her mother, allowed her to lose herself in the gentle melodies. She did not expect to fall in love with music the way she did.

Her mother was overjoyed with this newfound passion. She continued to fuel it with more musical instruments. First, a harp and then finally, a piano. Valeria had been initially drawn to the allure of the violin, hoping to capture her father’s attention and follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. However, she found an unexpected sanctuary in the gentle embrace of the piano’s keys and preferred it to her other instruments.

Valeria gently set her violin down as her gaze wandered toward the window in her room, tracing the silhouette of her brother. Her brows knitted into deep furrows and she rushed to the window for a better look. The signs of a grueling training session were etched on Rhysand's features—bruised jaw and a cut lip with caked blood. It was not uncommon to find bruises on her brother’s face but as her eyes raked over his form, she also noticed the wince in his walk and the absence of the coat he had been wearing this morning before he left.

The winds outside were chilling yet Rhysand looked unfazed by the cold. If anything, Valeria couldn’t help but sense a touch of smugness in his demeanor. Strange, she thought before rushing down the stairs to greet him. She itched to ask about his day, as she always did.

“Rhysand!” Their mother called out as she met her children in the foyer with wide eyes. “What happened to your sweet face?”

Rhysand shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You should see the other boy.”

Valeria rolled her eyes at his arrogance. A trait of his that grew more and more apparent every day. A part of her secretly hoped that the other boy’s injuries were less and not as severe. While their mother scolded him for braving the cold without a coat, Valeria shifted her gaze towards the window in time to spot as a young boy passed by.

He appeared to be the same age as Rhysand and recognition dawned on her. She had seen him before. Multiple times, actually, as it was a daily sighting after training hours. Although she did not know his name, she was aware of his identity. A bastard, as the camp referred to him as. He was the bastard son of another camp’s warrior. He was separated from his mother at a young age and forced to fend for himself and train here. Val couldn't fathom a life devoid of warmth, safety, or care, but she imagined it to be a dreadful existence. Nobody should endure such hardships.

A nasty bruise adorned his eye and there was also a wince in his walk. She wondered if both Rhysand and this boy received lashings on their backs as punishment for any mayhem that may have caused in training. Unlike all the other days, the boy was appropriately dressed for the weather this cold day. Realization flashed within her eyes as she saw it was thanks to her brother’s coat.

Driven by curiosity, Valeria ventured outside, ignoring her mother’s scolding for leaving without her coat. She found herself eager to engage with the boy. She had been itching for an excuse to do so when she had learned why the camp shunned him. "Hey!" she called out as she approached him.

The boy paused and met her gaze.

"That’s my brother’s coat," she pointed out, the cold wind nipping at her cheeks.

The boy responded with a defensive glare, his long wavy hair whirling in the wind, but Valeria remained undeterred.

"Would you like to eat dinner with us?"

"I kicked your brother’s ass," the boy stated with a raise of his brow. A flicker of amusement flashed in his hazel eyes.

"I know," Valeria said, a smile playing on her lips.

"Valeria, it’s dinner time!" her mother's voice called out from the doorway. “Invite your friend!”

The boy weighed his options. He could go home, where there would be no dinner, but at least he’d be in the comfort of his own space. As tiny and humble the tent may be. Or he could accept the girl’s invitation and enjoy a warm dinner in her company, even if it meant entertaining whatever intentions she had. It couldn’t be that bad, right? And as the aroma of dinner made its way to him, his decision was clear.

As the evening sun painted the sky with hues of orange and gold, Valeria and the boy headed inside into the tranquility of her family’s home. The flickering candlelight casted shadows across the room and the scent of a hearty dinner filled the air.

Rhysand furrowed his brow, glancing at Valeria as both her and the boy approached the dining table. Rhysand made a motion and with a sigh, she followed her brother who led her back to the hallway. He leaned in close to whisper, encouraging her to keep her voice low too while their mother introduced herself to their guest and happily set another place at the table for him.

"Why is he here?”

“He has nowhere to go.” She whispered back.

“He has his tent!”

Valeria shot him a look. “It’s cold outside.”

“He has my coat.” Rhysand replied as he motioned to the injuries on his face.

“It’s cruel for him to be left on his own.”

Rhysand sighed as he leaned back, understanding dawning in his eyes. He recognized the gravity of the boy’s situation and although he couldn’t deny the ache to his injuries or the lashings they received as punishment for their brawl earlier, he was not mad about them. He would’ve done the same, if he were in the other boy’s shoes.

Just then, a voice chimed in from the kitchen, where the boy had remained seated at the dining table.

"I can hear you, you know," The boy interjected, a hint of pride in his tone. He had heard the entirety of their conversation.

Rhysand flicked Valeria’s forehead.

“Ow!” Valeria blinked, her hand flying to her forehead. “What was that for?”

“For not knowing how to whisper, you fool!”

“You’re the one who wanted an explanation.” Valeria shot back in defense, scowling at her brother.

“I don’t need your pity.”

The siblings turned to the boy, who now stood under the doorway and glowered at them. Valeria smiled warmly at the boy, extending an understanding gesture towards him. "Of course. We were just discussing that everyone deserves a warm meal and a place to call home."

The boy’s expression softened at her kindness but he was wary of the pity that often accompanied such gestures. He disliked being seen as someone in need, even though that was the cruel reality of his life.

Their mother, sensing the need to ease the situation, spoke up. “Let’s hurry and eat dinner before it grows cold. Then, off to a warm bath and bed. For everyone.” She said, extending a genuine invitation to the boy with torn shoes. “We don’t have an extra room but we have an extra bed. You’re more than welcome to stay with us.”

The boy hesitated, battling with his pride. The prospect of a warm bath and a comfortable bed was enticing. After moments of contemplation, he managed a grateful bow of his head and accepted the offer.

As they gathered around the table, Cassian–as the boy had later introduced himself–, found himself grateful for the warmth and acceptance of Valeria and her mother. He could not say the same for Rhysand, their animosity toward each other after their earlier brawl still strong and evident. He chose to ignore him, opting to exchange casual conversation with their mother and finding humor in the looks Valeria kept sending her brother instead.

There were only three bedrooms upstairs. One for Lady Yvaine, one for Valeria and one for Rhysand. Valeria had offered to move into her mother’s room but her instruments took up too much space and their mother also used her room as storage for her seamstress work so the idea was shot down. Much to both of their dismay, this resulted in Cassian and Rhysand reluctantly sharing a room. They had agreed, with a hint of humor, not to let their animosity reach murderous levels during their sleep.

Valeria thought that perhaps, Rhysand and Cassian would grow tired of their constant bickering and viciousness toward each other but it appeared it would take much longer than a couple of weeks for their animosity to resolve. Rhysand seemed to enjoy honing his newfound daemati skills at Cassian’s expense, taunting and teasing his mind. The tension often escalated into heated wrestling matches on the living room floor.

Their mother decided to intervene. Initially, she denied them supper when their fights escalated, hoping hunger would put an end to their quarrels. When that method no longer seemed to work, she devised a new approach. Bonding time, she called it. It involved the two boys sitting face-to-face, forced to give each other genuine compliments. Even Valeria found herself subject to this discipline when her bickering with Rhysand escalated.

Though Rhysand and Cassian no longer resorted to physical fighting–at least not in the confinements of their home–a new form of subtle passive aggression emerged. When Rhysand learned that Cassian loved peas, he made it a point to consume the majority of them, despite his personal distaste for them. In turn, Cassian became aware of Rhysand’s preference for chicken thighs and on nights they’d have roasted chicken, he would slyly ensure he secured the first pick of chicken thigh, despite his own preference for wings.

A month had passed since Cassian had moved into their home, and the dynamic between him and Rhysand remained a complex work in progress. However, his bond with Valeria had blossomed into a relationship akin to that of a brother and sister. Initially born out of gratitude for her dinner invitation, Cassian's kindness toward Valeria had deepened as they spent more time together. On nights he wasn’t so tired from training, he’d join her in the living room. Sometimes, they’d sing or draw together. Their drawings were often at Rhysand’s expense. Valeria had even moved her piano to the living room so that she could show him new songs she’d come up with. He couldn't help but notice Rhysand's subtle pouts whenever their conversations ventured into inside jokes, exclusive to their newfound companionship. Cassian was sincere in his intent of friendship with Valeria. It was an added bonus that his growing closeness with her seemed to needle Rhysand.

As the night enveloped the household in a cozy embrace, Rhysand found himself wrestling with a whirlwind of emotions. He had always been close to Valeria, their bond unbreakable, but now seeing her befriend Cassian stirred something inside him—an unfamiliar pang of jealousy.

He found himself approaching his mother later that evening in the dimly lit kitchen. Valeria had gone to wash up and Cassian had already excused himself to bed. Rhysand’s steps were heavy and as he loudly dragged one of the dining chairs to sit on it, he let out a loud sigh.

His mother, who had been cleaning the dishes, paused. A knowing smile touched her lips as she turned to lean against the sink and observe her son’s turmoil.

“What troubles my little star?”

Rhysand fidgeted with his hands on the table. He was hesitant to open up, so his mother approached him. Her gentle hand reached out for his, offering comfort through her warm touch.

"I... I don't understand why Valeria is becoming so close to Cassian. You saw how she let him have the last lemon cake slice! She never offers me the last slice.”

"Rhysand," His mother said tenderly, "Valeria has a big heart. She is capable of forming many meaningful bonds and at the moment, Cassian is someone who needs a friend. He could use another one, you know.”

"But what about us?" Rhysand's voice quivered with insecurity.

"No new friendship can replace the bond you two share,” his mother assured him. “Valeria cherishes you deeply. You are, and always will be, her best brother."

Rhysand leaned into his mother’s embrace as her words sinked in, calming the storm of doubts and jealousy that raged within his heart earlier.

Valeria stepped out of the bathroom and hummed quietly to herself. As she passed the room Rhysand and Cassian shared, she noticed the door slightly ajar. Rhysand was still downstairs with their mother but she caught a glimpse of Cassian, who was alone, gazing out the window with tears glistening in his eyes. She recognized the look in his eyes– it was a glimpse into his vulnerable heart, a moment of yearning and longing.

Deciding she had to do something about her friend’s sadness, Valeria made her way to her room to retrieve something precious to her. It was a figurine her mother had given her before first leaving for Windhaven. The obsidian figure depicted an Illyrian mother cradling her child, a symbol of protection and love. It had brought her immense comfort in the absence of her mother's physical presence.

Approaching Cassian's room with delicate steps, she caught the sight of him hastily wiping at his eyes, trying to hide that he had been crying. He turned as he heard her footsteps, meeting her gentle gaze.

Valeria held out the figurine, her voice soft and comforting. “My mother gave this to me when she had to leave. Although she was not with me, she said this mother would take care of me.”

Cassian hesitantly took the figure made of pure obsidian into his hands and studied it intently. The craftsmanship was exquisite, capturing the essence of a mother's love and protection.

“The Mother watches over everyone,” Valeria added, her violet eyes conveying empathy and understanding.

“I hope it can bring you comfort like it did for me.”

A quiet and heartfelt “thanks” escaped Cassian’s lips. He was touched by Valeria's understanding. It was a subtle reassurance that he wasn't alone in this new journey.

Valeria found herself calling after Cassian the next morning. “Cassian, your coat!” she exclaimed in concern, hastening her steps to catch up to him. “You don’t want to be cold!”

Rhysand let out an exaggerated sigh as he followed after the two. “Cassian this. Cassian that. Does she not know she has a brother??”

Their mother, standing nearby and having overheard the banter, couldn't help but laugh at Rhysand's playful exasperation. She walked over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Of course she does, Rhys.” His mother replied, reminding him of their conversation the night before with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. “You’re still the best big bruder,” she added, using the endearing term for “brother” Valeria had used for him when she was younger.

Oblivious to the conversation between her mother and Rhysand, Valeria ran back up to Rhysand. She grinned as she dug into the pocket of her coat and extended her hand out to Rhysand. “I saved you some for your walk to training.”

Rhysand’s lips curled into a grin of his own as he saw her hold out the leftover blueberries from the muffins she and her mother had baked earlier. She had carefully wrapped them in a cloth for him. Blueberries were his favorite.

“Go on, now. You don’t want to be late,” his mother said as she gave him a gentle push.

Rhysand took the blueberries from Valeria with a quick thanks and ran to catch up with Cassian. His grin grew wider. The warmth of his mother's reassurance and the small treat in his hand thawed any lingering traces of jealousy or insecurity he might have felt. He knew that despite the newfound bond Valeria had with Cassian, their sibling relationship remained strong and unshakable.

***

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