#tw thorns

[pricklymuffinzzzzz]

Kaze to ki no uta stimboard? It's a manga surrounding two boys as they fall in love and their very turbulent romance kdkdkd perfect for Valentine's day kdkdk

Kaze to ki no uta Stimboard

I’ve never read it but now I rlly rlly want to lmao

#kaze to ki no uta #tw blood #Tw thorns #stim gifs #stimblr #stimboard #visual stim #stimmimg #stim blog #stimming

[halfawitch-willow]

Don't Feed The Plants ❁ WSoH Finale

Something dangerous has come to life behind the Garden Grove, and it's taken Willow captive. Her friends fight to save her, but will they get to her in time? After all, the hybrid needs to eat... Takes place Oct 31st 1 // What Do You Want From Me, Blood? 2 // Someone Tell Lady Luck I’m Stuck Here 3 // Long As You Don't Make A Habit Out Of It 4 // Does This Look Inanimate To You? 5 // Show A Little ‘nitiative, Work Up Some Guts Interlude // Most Innocent and Unlikely Of Places 6 // Make a Ship-Shape Showplace of Our Little Shop 7 // There's Only So Far You Can Bend @eilonwy-notjustgirl, @foreverydinger, @edward-andalasia, @blight-magic, @winndeavor, @thegcldenguard TW: blood, mild gore, injury, violence, thorns, neck trauma, hanging (not graphic but just in case), abusive dynamic with a plant, mentions past child abuse ((The finale!!! There's going to be a group epilogue down the line but for now, we've reached the conclusion! This was a huge undertaking and thank you so much to everyone who helped me bring this plot to life. You're the absolute best, I love you guys, and if I ever talk about doing a doc/thread w this many characters at once again, hit me lol))

WILLOW

Halloween was in full swing and Main Street was full of residents in costume, floating from party to party under the light of the moon. Music and revelry spilled out the door at Pixies, the bass pulsing down the whole street and flashing lights lighting up the street.

It was almost enough to obscure the way the Garden Grove seemed to be writhing.

There was a faint golden light coming through the windows at the front, and in that light shadows slithered and moved in the shop. The front door had been cracked at the knob with vines curling along the door frame. The lock was useless, now.

Most who passed just assumed the Grove was going for a Haunted House vibe for Halloween, but behind the Grove, in the smallest of three greenhouses, bigger shadows moved behind frosted glass. The few bits of light that shone out from between the vines and leaves that had grown over the glass seemed to sway, and occasionally, a figure would pass them slowly.

Under the pounding music from the party down the street, you could barely make out two male voices singing softly.

EILONWY

In her pocket, Eilonwy could still hear the faint sounds of vines slithering across the call she'd never hung up. All sounds from Willow had gone silent, and distantly she knew that she was afraid about what that meant. But she had long ago learned to let fear fuel her temper, so as she sprinted down the street with her friends behind her, she focused on one goal. 

That plant was giving Willow back. Even if she had to kill it to make it happen. 

As they got closer, she yanked up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing the bracelet there. With a twirl of her wrist, her long sword shimmered into existence. "Edward, here!" she tossed the blade to him, confident that he would catch it. 

A twirl of her right wrist summoned her Elven sword to her hand right as she reached the door of the last greenhouse where Amity had said the plant would be and she yanked open the door. Instantly, a vine shot towards her, and she reflexively swiped down at it. Inside, she heard the plant scream. 

"Give. Willow. Back. Now."

WILLOW

The scream wasn't just from the plant. Willow screamed as the sword sliced cleanly through the vine, stumbling and clutching her head. She stood across the room in the middle of the wildly overgrown greenhouse. The hybrid had spread to several of the other raised beds, smaller purple and white flowers tucked amongst the black leaves. The flowers that were being overtaken swayed and seemed to fight back weakly.

Willow looked towards the group at the door in fear, her eyes glowing green and tears tracing down her freckled cheeks. Vines were curled around her neck and arms, blood dripping down in the places where thorns bit into her skin and from where her legs had been torn up by the same vines. Her concealment stone was buried in one of the beds, and she stood before them in her bloody costume with all the parts of her she tried to hide exposed. The scars. The ears. The tail. Her.

The massive flower on the back wall shivered and twitched with vines curling in the center like rows of dark, sharp teeth. "Leave!" it snarled in Willow's voice, even though her lips didn't move. The vines tugged at her and Willow whimpered in pain as she was pulled closer to the flower. "You're hurting her!"

TONY

When Tony had seen Eilonwy make way for the exit of the party he hadn’t hesitated. There was a text message typed out, unsent, in his pocket to Ian with an explanation. Later when Ian asked he would curse that he’d simply missed hitting the send button and apologize profusely but for now he had a task at hand.

Listening to Lon’s phone had sent a chill down his spine and he hurriedly hummed the enchantment song for the blade to come magically popping into his hand. Love you, babe. I’ll see you on the other side of… whatever this goddamn plant monster is.

At least he hoped so.

Coming into the building to see a giant writing plant wasn’t the best but this was Swynlake. They got attacked by demons on a not-infrequent-timeline and magic tended to just punish them for existing in the only Magick-Friendly Community in England (a little rude but it was what it was).

“We’re hurting her?! Look what you’ve done to her!”

EDWARD

Edward, as was unfortunately often the case, had little idea what was actually happening, but his instincts tended to serve him well and Eilonwy's sudden tension was reason enough to trust her, to follow. 

He felt a bit out of sorts without his own weapon, eyes going wider an instant as that vicious green appendage lunged outward, the writhing mass of devilish bloom shrieking like a nightmare. 

Not nearly as a nightmare as Willow though, trapped and fearful, the sort of horror in her helplessness that struck Edward as solidly as the hilt of the sword Eilonwy passed to him as his fingers wrapped around it and drew the blade in a smooth, practiced, motion to his side. 

His stance changed, the relaxed edges of it melting away into proper form, his eyes narrowed and their mirth bled away with the line of his lips drawn to a thin line. 

He said nothing, he didn't need to announce his intentions; they were clear in the subtle adjustment of the hilt in his grasp and the shift of his shoulder to brace for the weight of it as his sight snapped to that rustling, leafy monstrosity. 

Edward didn't know exactly what was going on but he took that step towards the door regardless, because he didn't care where that creeping, thorny creature had spawned from; it had hold of Willow and that was all he really needed to know.

AMITY

Amity didn't come with a sword. She came with herself, and her pot of golem, and all the could have should have would haves that she'd been carrying since she and Willow were little girls. They buzzed like firebees in Amity's brain on the way to the greenhouse, torturing Amity as they had the very first day she ever saw Willow. You should have apologized then-- then this wouldn't be happening now. Or: You could have destroyed the hybrid when you saw it-- why couldn't you see it would become the monster it is?

Those things wouldn't serve her when it came to stomping on monster plant ass though. Which she planned to. 

She also planned to burn the motherfucker to the ground. 

And so when she skid into the greenhouse, Amity opened her palms-- she'd drawn with sharpie marker the runes for fire on them. Her golem slithered out of its pot and wrapped around her hands like boxing gloves, then immediately lit with eerie, supernatural purple fire. A vine went snapping toward her like a whip. Amity blocked it, grabbed it, and lit it aflame. 

"WILLOW!" she called as she yanked the screaming, burning vine, using it as a rope to try and drag herself closer. "WILLOW, WE'RE HERE!"

WINSTON

Winston, admittedly, had not been a part of the group of young adults that had come barreling into the Grove after hours. Rather, he'd been part of the night shift, and had learned what, truly, finally, had horrible control of his coworker. 

At first, he'd believed the vibes and flowers were some form of Magick, done up for Halloween. But, Winston was not a stupid man, and the screaming, the monstrous voice, it all told him one thing: Willow was in danger, as were those kids. 

Yes, they may have had swords, Magick, what have you, but he held an innate instinct to protect those people around him, especially if he cared about them. 

In his own way, he did care for Willow. She'd become like a little sister, and seeing the way vines twined about her figure, dug into her flesh, and used her voice made him seethe. 

Yet there was no trace of anger in his voice when he chose, instead, not to fight the creature, but to speak to it. Directly. 

"You say they're hurting her. How? All they want is their friend back, darling. Won't you give her to them?"

HUNTER

Hunter should've known something would happen the moment he donned his armor tonight.

One did not just wear the armor of the Golden Guard. It was a mantle, a symbol.

The Golden Guard existed to protect Emperor Belos. And Belos wasn't here, but the helmet and all that it meant still weighed heavy on Hunter's shoulders.

(Maybe too heavy -- he hadn't worn it in some time -- had it always been this heavy -- had he always struggled to bear it --)

Hunter flanked the back, polearm ready, face masked. With a grunt, he slashed down one of the vines as it snaked towards his friends. He was on high alert.

WILLOW

The moment the vine caught fire, the greenhouse shook with the hybrid and Willow's screams. Willow stumbled back, grabbing the same vine as Amity, and it withered away under her touch before Amity could get too close.

"YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!" the hybrid screamed, howling in the voices of Harvey and Gilbert Park. "She's mine, you don't deserve her!"

More vines rose from the ground, thornless, and lashed at the group.

"No one is going to hurt her ever again, I won't let you!" it cried out. "I love her! She's mine!"

EILONWY

"We aren't leaving without her." 

The light that often swirled around Eilonwy began to ignite into little sparks of lightning as her temper mounted. She didn't know the voices the plant spoke in and she didn't care. It was going to give Willow back. That was the only way this ended. 

"Tony, there's a pouch of fairy dust in the main shop. Get it for me now." He nodded and turned to race off back towards the front as the rest of the group surged in through the door of the green house. 

Mentally apologizing and promising to pay for it later, she smashed the door into the building with her sword so it couldn't be closed behind them, turning back just in time to slice through a huge vine that was aiming for her throat. 

Something sharp sliced along her ankle and she winced as she reflexively stabbed down at it.

EDWARD

The words struck a bitter chord with Edward, leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth with the sort of suffocating control those voices screamed over and painted it as love. Oh how that was a distant feeling he thought he'd never recognize again, and his worry snapped to anger swiftly over it. 

He didn't have firepower, didn't have magic; his reasoning was simply that. He wasn't as useful in a direct assault the way some of the others were. 

His eyes pivoted swiftly, across Amity, Eilonwy, to Hunter, Winston, and settled back on the gleam of gold in Hunter's motions. 

His own sword arched, steel sweeping to the thick resistance of those vibes as he stepped into the spot Eilonwy lunged from, keeping sight of Amity at his shoulder; they stood a better chance with magic if they didn't have to spend it defending themselves. 

"They would do better with a clearer path," he called to Hunter, feeling it sufficed to get the point across as he turned his attention sharply to the crowding vines and his sword flashed again to reflect their eager rustling reach towards the others.

AMITY

Amity only had one mission, really: get to Willow. She would burn a path to her. She would burn the whole greenhouse down if that's what it took. She just had to-- get there. Come through for Willow now after so many years of failing her, when Willow needed her most. 

And so although Amity winced with each screech of the plants, she couldn't stop. She sent another fiery punch into a thorny vine and then somersaulted forward, avoiding another as it tried to crash down on top of her. "CAN YOU HEAR US? WILLOW-- WE'RE COMING!" Amity called out.

HUNTER

Hunter nodded at Edward's instructions. He slashed his polearm across some of the vines, back-to-back with Edward, clearing a path for the others to get through. 

The blade of his polearm glowed slightly, his own magic pulsing through it. This gave the blade an extra sharpness, an extra reach, as the glowing gold lashed out and swiped through a thicket of vines.

Hunter may not have completed this exact mission before, but he'd had many like it. Get to a place. Destroy a thing. Clear a path. Keep people safe. It wasn't Belos, though. But that didn't make it unimportant. It was his friends. They were almost as important as Belos.

(Or were they more important? Or was that a terrible thing to think?).

WILLOW

The hybrid screamed and thrashed as they cut their way through the vines that had taken over the greenhouse. It was starting to tire as it kept having to regrow new vines, and so the vines around Willow's neck and arms tightened as the hybrid started drinking from her faster. After all, it was half vampire rose, and vampire roses were predators first.

Willow sobbed as the pain and fear cut through the control the hybrid had over her, and the light in her eyes flickered like a dying lightbulb. "C-cut me loose," she choked out, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"Stop it!" the hybrid hissed in a chorus of voices.

"Please!" Willow gasped, crying out in pain as the vines wound tighter.

"Just a little more," it soothed as the vines yanked Willow back, this time in Willow's voice. "Your blood made me, and now it's going to save us."

Willow was barely staying upright anymore, the vines doing most of the work to keep her on her feet.

EILONWY

Eilonwy surged forward into the space that Hunter and Edward were creating for her, feeling her awareness split in a dozen directions - back towards the entrance where Tony would be coming soon with the fairy dust, forward to where Amity was burning a path, to the sides where her boys were battling to protect the rest of them, off to the back where the older man she didn't know was still trying to talk the plant down and pull its attention his way. 

And forward to Willow. Always to Willow who needed them. 

Her ribs screamed at her as she suddenly lunged to the side to avoid a stabbing vine (she was not well enough for this - she didn't care), but that stabbing pain was distraction enough that she didn't see the thorny vine come around the other side and wrap around her wrist, digging in tightly enough that she reflexively opened her hand and dropped her sword - which disappeared a moment later into the mass of plant life. 

Looking at Willow, she knew she couldn't get there in time, the plants had kept her too far away. Too bad. 

Standing in between Edward and Hunter, she reached for every piece of light that she could, motes of light rushing towards her from the street lights, the gleam of Hunter's weapon, the flickering lights overhead, and even the glow of the plants themselves. Within moments she had made herself a beacon, lightning flickering around her hair and in her eyes. She shoved her hands forward and the arc of lightning lanced through the air to slice through the vine around Willow's neck, cauterizing it and igniting the plants behind her.

WILLOW

The hybrid shrieked as the vines wrapped around Willow were sliced clean through. Willow fell forward, reaching for her friends as she stumbled to her knees and failed to catch herself before hitting the ground. The severed vines around her arms and neck went slack.

"NO! NONONO MINE!" the hybrid screamed, vines rising up to try and cover Willow and drag her back.

TONY

Eilonwy had said to go get fairy dust so that's what Tony did. Besides, he wasn't magically gifted or even that good in a physical fight. Punching a necromancer came to mind at the same time he felt his phone buzzing frantically in his pocket. _Sorry, Ian!_ So retrieving something useful? Well Tony could certainly do that.

Ducking from this greenhouse under angry vines and away from the sounds of combat, he instead headed toward the bag he'd heard about. The plants in that area seemed to swell and swarm, urging him forward rather than turning him away.

"Thanks a million," he murmured as the fairy dust was literally handed to him by a very pretty flower. What kind of flower? Tony had absolutely no fucking clue but it felt rude not to say thanks. The plant responded by shoving him back out the door with the grace of, well, a very shivering flower. Now he just had to get back and hope that he wasn't too slow.

"LON! WHERE AM I PUTTING THIS?!"

EDWARD

The chaos around him registered to Edward in parts, divided in his mind by degree of urgency. With Eilonwy lit brightly and Amity a glimmer of fire and anger, Edward was held in position by the vines that swelled around them and threatened to surge from behind as they made progress forward, keeping the intruding vines at bay on the right.  

He couldn't concern himself as much with the left side, counterpoint to his own efforts, he knew Hunter was there and perfectly capable, Eilonwy and Amity advancing, Winston still a blur in the corner of his eye. 

When her sword was lost Edward drew his own to slice through the vines that burst forward eagerly while that dusty, rasp of leaves voice yowled from the plant and chilled him to the bone with the sound, uttering a hiss of his own at the drag of thorns across his shoulder, ignoring it the next second as Tony's voice reached him and he pivoted quickly, nearest to the other man as he rushed back through the door. 

Edward shoved his boot down on a thrashing vine with a wide swing of the sword to split the others that shot out towards Tony, a spill of sticky sap spreading from the ruined, thorny bits. 

"Go," Edward urged him, taking another step and leaving a thick vine falling to the floor to clear the path for him to the others.

AMITY

Amity was almost to Willow.

That was all that mattered. Not the thorns that had slashed at Amity's cheek. Not the thorns that grabbed at their black dress and tore. She kept fighting through it, burning as many plants as she could. 

Willow hit the ground. Amity cried out for her again and again. "Willow! I'm here! Willow!"

Here, how many years late? 

She hoped it wasn't too late.

WINSTON

Talking wasn't working. A pity. However, it looks as though the others had wounded it, enough so that Willow was now on the floor. 

Now, whatever they did couldn't hurt her, theoretically.

"Tony!" Glancing around, Winston sees him coming through the door, through the vines. He's closest. "Grab the green bottle!" 

He would not, in fact, be yelling the word 'weed killer.' That was like telling the person you're trying to kill that you're going to kill them. 

That now done, Winston begins to wade closer, through the vines, toward Willow.

HUNTER

Hunter wasn't unfamiliar with working with a team. There were a lot of guards who worked under Belos. 

But this felt different.

For one, he only really trusted Eilonwy and Edward in battle here, since he'd fought alongside them before. Amity was a wildcard; he knew she was capable, but also, he didn't really know much else about her. But mostly, he kept an eye on Tony and on the man who worked here.

The vines recoiled at his blade, but his pulse of raw magic snapped through some of the more resistant tendrils. 

At the stranger's instructions, Hunter's eyes darted towards the green bottle.

"I'll back you up!" Hunter called to Tony.

TONY

Tony didn’t really wait for any permissions before barreling forward, though they did still come. Edward and Hunter (who he knew through the grapevine and little else, definitely gonna need to buy that guy a drink later) were covering his sides and he ducked under furious vines to help Hunter grab the bottle Win had pointed out.

“Remind me to only order delivery from the Grove, Boss!” He laughed despite the situation. He tried to keep the pixie dust as far from the bottle as he could for fear of it being knocked out of his hands. Besides, he didn’t know if herbicide mixed with pixie dust.

Reaching Willow wasn’t easy, Tony stumbled into Amity as he did, and shoved the pixie dust into her hand roughly. “Ahhhhh! Please fuckin’ fix this!”

WILLOW

When Eilonwy had cut the vines tethering her to the hybrid, Willow had felt everything at once. All the feelings that it had tried to smother with its own crashed into her, and Willow laid on the floor and just let it run over her. Fear, anger, pain - oh, Titan, pain - exhaustion, and all of the emotions from the plants the hybrid had tried to smother, shouting in her head. She was dizzy and trembling, but couldn't tell if it was from the onslaught of emotional distress or the blood loss.

Over it all, Amity's voice broke through, calling out to her. Willow rolled slowly onto her stomach and pushed herself up on shaky arms, withered bits of vines falling from around her neck and arms. She could hear the sounds of fighting, the hybrid's howls as its vines were cut down, and people yelling. Fighting to get to her.

She managed to push herself onto her knees and looked up just in time to see Tony make a break for her. The pouch in his hands was familiar, and she reached out with trembling hands to catch the pouch. Golden pixie dust spilled onto her fingers.

"NO, DON'T!" the hybrid screeched as Willow turned the bag out onto the floor and dropped both hands into the shining dust.

Thorny vines rose up and aimed for Willow and Tony, but a massive Wolfshowl shot out of the ground and snatched the vines in its maw, ripping into them with a snarl. Three more burst up around the group and began to attack the vines, each one easily the size of a real wolf.

Willow raised her hands dripping gold and Sunbursts and Lantern Lilies sprung up and filled the room with light so bright it was almost blinding.

"STOP IT!" the hybrid sobbed. It rapidly shifted between voices as it begged Willow to stop, crying out her name and begging with the tongues of the very people it fought against. Flush with magic, Willow glared over her shoulder at the monstrous plant and her tail lashed behind her.

"Shut up," Willow snarled, voice mangled through her bleeding and bruised throat, and the hybrid recoiled from the power there. Willow's vision burned green, but she could see perfectly clear.

She grabbed the bottle of weed killer from Tony as she rose to stand on shaky legs. The first Wolfshowl curled around her to keep her upright, even though the places where it touched her, it seemed to rot.

Willow popped the top of the bottle open with the help of the Wolfshowl and chucked it right into the center of the flower, and it *screamed*. All of the smaller blossoms that lined the room cried out and the vines writhed and twisted, and Willow stumbled past them all. She left a trail of pixie dust after her, the bottoms of her feet coated with potting soil and glitter. 

"You want more blood?" she bit out, grabbing the edge of the flower bed with one hand and reaching deeper into the shrub with the other until she had the stalk in her sticky, blood-soaked hand. "Take it."

Willow, covered in pixie dust and dark blood, poured all of her fear and rage into the hybrid, and it howled as it started to die and wither from the inside out. She overwhelmed it right back, letting the stress and the terror from the past month - and further, honestly - tear it apart. The entire greenhouse writhed as they all began to wilt, even the plants Willow had conjured. They defended the other people in the greenhouse even in their final moments, making sure the hybrid couldn't take any of them with it.

Within moments, the once living, writhing mass of plant life was a dry, dead husk, with Willow in the center. She pulled her hand back and took two steps away before her legs went out and she fell to her knees again. Wrapping her arms and her tail around herself, Willow just stared blankly ahead for a moment, before she took a short, shaky breath.

And started to sob.

AMITY

As soon as the pixie dust touched Willow's fingers: magic.

That's all it was. Magic, springing to life. Magic, blooming in petals. Magic, snapping, with thorn-like teeth and a carnivorous appetite. It blossomed, it bled, it blinded everyone-- Amity had to turn away and shut her eyes when the Sunbursts and Lantern Lilies did their thing. But when Amity looked back, it was still dazzling. And Willow was in the middle of it all.

Amity no longer shouted or cried or begged. She instead said her friend's name quietly all to herself. Willow. Willow, making everything grow. Saving herself. 

Then as soon as it started, it was over. The flowers shut. The hybrid died. The greenhouse was littered with its dead parts and Willow was still in the center, but now she wasn't golden with magic-- now she was alone.

Not for long though.

"Willow!" Amity reached her friend first. Maybe she shouldn't have, but her child instinct took over as Amity flung her arms around her, holding her tight. "Titan's breath, are you okay? Willow, look at me--" Amity pulled along long enough to cup her friend's wet, dirty face in her hands.

WILLOW

Willow let herself be tugged into Amity's arms, leaning against her with no care for the blood that was definitely smearing across Amity's skin and clothes. She was crying quietly, hiccuping with each little sob, and trembling like a leaf.

When Amity cupped her face, Willow leaned into the touch, looking at Amity with clear green eyes that were glassy behind her crooked glasses. Her expression crumpled into agony. "I'm so sorry," she keened, like a dying animal.

EILONWY

As Willow's light flooded the greenhouse, Eilonwy closed her eyes and reached out for every piece of it she could, the brilliant energy swirling around her before soaking into her skin. When she opened her eyes again, the sparks of lightning had faded, but she was able to stand up straighter as she ignored the dull pounding in her arm and in her side. 

But they were surrounded by devastation. 

A quick glance confirmed that Edward was already healing. Hunter seemed shaky, but unharmed. Which also seemed to be true of Tony and Winston. Her sword had been revealed by the withering of the plants, so she knew she would be able to pick it up in a moment, along with Willow's phone. The call was still going. 

But all of that could wait as she bolted the rest of the distance across the greenhouse to where Willow and Amity were standing. 

(Yes, she was vaguely aware of the ears and the tail which had definitely not been there before, but that was a side issue and she wasn't worrying about it right now.)

"Hey, Willow, it's okay, we're here for you. We're here." She slid one arm around Willow's waist and leaned against her side.

WILLOW

Willow had to lean hard on Amity as they stood, dizzy from crying and blood loss. Her legs and arms were shredded, and she could feel warm blood dripping down her chest and back from her neck.

Eilonwy rushed to her, leaning in tight, and Willow flinched. She'd put them all in danger- they should be furious with her! And she'd used her magic, let it tear through her and burn her from the inside out, and all of her lies and deceit had been laid bare before all the people she'd worried about the most.

Instead, Eilonwy murmured soft reassurances to her, and Willow sobbed. Her hand crossed her stomach to lay over Eilonwy's. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, voice rough and thick. "I-I should have- I wanted to- I'm sorry."

TONY

It was suddenly over and Tony barely understood how any of it had even begun. The truth about Tony's involvement in situations like these always tended to boil down to: Someone I care for is in danger so I shall help. Sure, he didn't know Willow as well as most everyone else standing here breathless but Tony's loyalties were still drawn in the sand anyway.

Now came the aftermath, the part Tony was not necessarily better at.

"You're alright, Willow," Tony crooned in what he hoped was a smooth tone. He kept his distance, however, not wanting to crowd her too much. He stood at a point between Eilonwy and Winston, assessing.

EDWARD

Edward had found himself occupied with a particularly angry vine thrashing to and fro, but the vicious floral appendage had shuddered and tensed when the area lit up, his eyes jerking from the sword he plunged into it to pin the writhing monstrosity to the ground and to Willow, a gleam of light everywhere but dancing around Willow at its center. 

He felt the sword nearly jerked from his hand when the other plants surrounding him snagged the vine and jerked it away, twisting and rendering it broken. 

Edward watched, eyes a bit wider at the magic, then troubled as Willow folded in on herself after, the wild rustling, dying thing falling to ruin.

The sword was already tucked to his side, a few steps taken towards her, but he slowed as Amity and Eilonwy caught hold of her, his attention making a quick sweep to be certain everyone else was sound and accounted for; Hunter and Winston looked well enough, the small group clustered around Willow as well. 

Edward exhaled, a twinge of relief in the breath. 

He looked to Hunter and Winston again then, thinking of the blood, the shakiness in Willow's stance. "She will require something to hold warmth with that much blood lost," he pointed out quietly, shock was already evident, but he wasn't certain where to locate a blanket or something of that sort for her to wrap up.

AMITY

Part of Amity wanted to whisk Willow away-- sequester her off in a room all their own. Amity would wipe the blood from her face and hands. Amity would tend her wounds and wrap them. Amity would draw a blanket over her shoulders and talk to her in a low, calming voice, until Willow stopped crying, until Willow stopped apologizing. And she'd tell her, when Willow was ready to hear it, you were brilliant. She'd repeat it until Willow believed it.

But Amity couldn't do any of that. It was selfish. Willow hadn't belonged to Amity in a very long time.

And so Amity reluctantly shifted off to the side to let everyone come closer, biting her tongue so she didn't bark at Tony or Edward to stop crowding her already. Edward at least had a good suggestion though.

"Right, um--" Amity traced the runes she'd drawn into her hand, but changed them just slightly so her hands just grew warm insteads of catching on fire. She put them around Willow again. "We should get you back to the dorms too."

WILLOW

"No!" Willow blurted out, looking at Amity with wide, panicked eyes. "Please, no, not the dorms. I-I have stuff here. I have some of Papa's potions-"

She attempted to turn and walk towards the corner where she had her rolled up sleeping bag and some other items she wanted to have at work that she didn't want anyone to find, but her legs were much weaker than she thought and she stumbled upon her first step and barely caught herself. Her tail lashed under her heavy skirts and Willow felt more tears roll down her cheeks.

What a mess she'd made.

WINSTON

Willow stumbles and Winston jerks toward her side, one stride then two, and he's got her steadied, bends and then lifts, and she's cradled carefully in his arms. 

Winston didn't care about what she'd done. She hadn't done anything. "Hush, Willow, darling," he says, voice gentle as he adjusts his hold, careful, ever so careful. "We've got you." 

Her costume was heavy, sure, but none of the others save, perhaps, the one in armor could have lifted her. Winston didn't mind. He'd done very little as it was, hadn't known what to do, really, save to make sure none of them got themselves killed. 

That had succeeded, so now. Here they were. 

"Where are the potions? Or," he glances up, over, to the group. "If any of you have an idea?"

HUNTER

In the calm after the battle, Hunter counted his heartbeats.

They were precious, he'd learned, and as each one bubbled in his chest, he grew a bit terrified, convinced it was going to be the last. But the next came. Then the next. Then the next. 

He took a deep breath.

Right -- he oriented himself. There was no time to waste on silly matters.

"I'll look," he offered, and started going through Willow's things and the surrounding area. If he was looking at the potions, then he was not looking at Willow, and how small and battered she looked and how that made his heartbeat scatter even more.

WILLOW

Willow could not remember the last time she had been picked up. It must have been ages ago, back when she was small enough for her Papa to lift. She went mute in Winston's arms, feeling young and small and scared. She sniffled pathetically, and wanted to curl up under the dried up remains of that stupid plant and sleep forever.

"Blue liquid, copper wax," she called out once she could form the words, voice raw. Willow cautiously leaned her head against Winston's shoulder and after a moment, let herself sink into his hold.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to his collarbones, tears still rolling down her cheeks and stinging the cuts along her neck.

EILONWY

"We're going back to my place," Eilonwy said decisively. She certainly wasn't going to leave Willow alone, and it would be more comfortable for the group of them anyway, however many of them there were. 

"Laurel will be out at the Court for a few more hours anyway which means we'll have the place to ourselves. Edward, could you help gather Willow's things? Hunter, you're the best one to take care of the potions once you find the one that Willow needs for now, so if you could carry the rest of those. Amity, if you could keep using your magic to help her stay warm and Winston if you can keep her steady, the journey isn't far. Tony, if you could get back to the house first, get the door open, get the kettle on, and get out any of the food we have in there. I have a feeling we'll need a lot." 

She spoke with the confidence that she would be obeyed in this, already primed to steamroll anyone who might argue with her and yet certain that at least the majority of the group would know better. 

Turning, she scooped up Willow's phone and finally ended the call that had been running the entire fight and picked up her own sword as well, giving the small twirl that sent it back into the bracelet so she had her hands free again. She didn't worry about if anyone was watching as she did so. 

Then she marched over to the ruined door and stood nearby, ready to fix a shield of light into place over it until the morning came and they could get a real replacement in.

TONY

Tony felt like he stood at the edge of this group, his brain buzzing at each word that was shared by the others. It made sense, he had the least connections here within the walls of the Grove, but it was a bit disorienting to try and keep up with everything people were saying.

Eilonwy’s voice cut through the chaos and his eyes snapped to her face as she gave him instructions as it had before. He could do those things, they were very simple but he knew how much food and tea would make a difference.

“On it, Lon.” He nodded and started for the door, finally pulling his phone out to check on the constant buzzing. “Fuck!” He’d never hit send on his text to Ian. His boyfriend was clearly worried sick.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” He answered the ringing as he darted across the town to get the Lightfoot place ready for the rest of their arrival. “I typed out a text and meant to send it! I can’t, um, I don’t know how to explain it all but meet me at your mum’s house ASAP. We’ll explain everything there. I’m sorry and I love you!”

I’m in the doghouse for sure.

EDWARD

Edward was already in motion, so his attention shifted fluidly to the task at hand while Tony darted past. He paused himself to return the sword to Eilonwy to return to its magical holding spot and joined Hunter where he was still searching. 

Once Hunter had sorted through things and removed what was needed Edward gathered up the rest, careful to tuck everything together carefully just in case as he rose from where he had knelt to pick up the items. 

He cast another glance towards Willow, a pang of worry striking him, even though the danger had passed, because she was such a gentle soul, and the worry of the horrors of that night settling on her gripped at him. 

She had friends though, they would see her through, he would see her through it with the rest, and just hope the monsters faded. 

He glanced at Tony, a blur of motion and anxious energy, not the first time they'd faced trouble together and come out of it, and Hunter looking steady but so very silent and grave, and even Amity who he barely knew but admired her bravery now and Winston's compassion. When his eyes fell on Eilonwy he smiled, seeing her shine as she led always amazed him.  

The monsters would fade. 

Edward nodded, mostly to himself, and allowed a moment to catch his breath, as everyone else gathered themselves.

AMITY

Amity had said the wrong thing.

Amity didn't really have time to dwell on this, though later, definitely, she would. She'd wonder why she reacted so strongly. What was at the dorms that was so horrible? Were more people bullying Willow? The thought would set Amity's brain on fire, and she'd keep herself up for hours sketching out new, gruesome abominations to punish any of the made-up villains in Amity's head. She'd make them scream and cry and bleed. To make up for not doing so before-- with Boscha and the rest. 

But right now, she just wanted Willow to be okay. So Amity's eyes darted to the ground, and she nodded stiffly at Eilonwy's orders. 

She stepped to Willow's side, then, hesitating just once, gently put a hand on Willow's shoulder. "We got you," she murmured.

WINSTON

Willow curls up into his shoulder after a moment, sniffling, crying, and Winston’s chest aches for her. He makes a soothing noise, a hand running soft fingers over her hip, her side, just the part where he can reach. If they'd been sitting, he'd have rocked her, too, but they weren't so he didn't. "It's alright, Willow. We'll fix it," he murmurs, before diverting just attention back to the people around him. 

He listens to the blonde, Eilonwy, and decides he rather likes her, her attitude and her sword notwithstanding. She has a jut to her chin that said she didn't give a shit what anyone else said; that was what they were going to do. Luckily, all Winston cared about right now was getting Willow somewhere safe and warm, the other kids too. 

He does wince in sympathy, however, when he hears Tony's frantic phone call. If he needed help, uh, getting something to fix that later, might be a good idea. 

When Amity comes in close, Winston shifts so she can be closer to the girl in his arms, knowing she may need it, and offering her a warm, kind smile. He doesn't know her, doesn't know anyone really except Tony and Willow (and Eilonwy and Ian, through some stories Tony has shared of them at work), but he could be the kindness they needed, the steadiness. 

Once he was sure they were ready, they moved toward Tony, Hunter, Edward, and the door out.

HUNTER

Hunter looked for the potions.

It was a job he could do. He knew his potions well. He could focus on that and not the fact that his heart was still racing. (Or the fact that Amity Blight was here, and he didn't know what to make of that, except he didn't want to seem like a failure in front of her, which was a silly feeling, but a feeling nonetheless).

He clung onto Eilonwy's words, her voice really, confident and sparkling through the chaos. When he retrieved the potions and stood up tall, he nodded to Edward, and then followed the group out the door.

He trailed behind, glancing briefly over his shoulder as he clutched the potion bottles, making sure that no tendril stirred, no vine curled, and nothing lurked in the shadows.

WILLOW

Willow might have fought against Eilonwy's directions if she was still standing, though she wasn't sure what else she could do. She didn't want to go back to the dorms and walk through the party bleeding and broken and scared, and she definitely couldn't stay in the greenhouse like she had been. But curled up in Winston's arms with Amity's hand on her shoulder and Eilonwy, Edward, and Hunter in front, Willow couldn't find it in herself to protest.

She wanted to let them hold her up. She wanted to trust them.

So she curled her tail so it was hidden under her skirt and covered her exposed ear and face with her hair so at least those wouldn't be obvious as they walked through the busy streets. She couldn't do anything about the bloody lines gouged into her skin, or the dirt and pixie dust that clung to her fingers and feet. 

As they left the greenhouse, Willow reached out once more to see if anything was left alive. Any of the Gazing Narcissus, or the Wolfhowls, or the Sunbursts. Even the Whisperers or Vampire Roses that the hybrid had smothered and choked out of the bed. But nothing responded to her call, no happy greeting or cry for attention, no all-encompassing adoration. Her magic had burnt it all down to the root, leaving nothing to save, and all Willow could do was tuck her face against Winston's shoulder and quietly weep.

#willow shop of horrors #c. eilonwy llyr #c. tony rydinger #c. edward andalasia #c. amity blight #c. winston deavor #c. hunter belos #p. sunflower #p. plight #p. winlow #tw blood #tw gore #tw violence #tw injury #tw thorns #tw neck trauma #tw mentions of child abuse #//hOLY SHIT YALL #p. daylily

[flowerbloom-arts]

Change is a two-way street.

(Is my favoritism towards the Damsel obvious enough, or?)

note: TLQ [aka my sona Bloombird] is a butch sapphic and this is yuri

#slay the princess #stp fanart #stp narrator #stp protagonist #the long quiet #the damsel #stp princess #stp damsel #swearing tw #blood tw #tw sui attempt #ask to tag #I'm pretty sure it's canon that the Princess gets to outlive Birdman atleast for a short bit before the construct resets #and that oftentimes they BOTH have to die for it to reset. So.... I imagine pre-Damsel Princess was pretty devastated #I read a really beautiful comment on an stp soundtrack video about the parallel between Damsel and Witch/Thorn #and how Damsel so felt guilty she wanted to give up her entire personhood and desires just to make Birdman happy #so this is very much inspired by that

[leah-jeffries]

bonus gif+

#thorn princess #yor forger #yor briar #spy x family #sxfedit #spyxfamily #anime #animeedit #sxf #* #gifs #sxf 1.33 #tw blood #flashing gif

[thehighladywrites]

- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

#talkswithamara #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acowar #azriel acomaf #azriel acotar #azriel x female!reader #azriel x fem reader #acotar fanfic #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #tw dark themes #stalker #perv!az

[3zethe3zr]

Briar Girl and I against the world

#fridge draws #slay the princess #stp #stp princess #stp thorn #thorn stp #blood tw #slay the princess the thorn #the thorn

[vampirtulpe]

Chapter 3

#Slay the Princess #tw body horror #slp apotheosis #slp moment of clarity #slp den #slp fury #slp grey (burned) #slp grey (drowned) #slp eye of the needle #slp razor #slp no way out #slp thorn #slp wild #slp wraith #love chapter 3 so much its so interesting!

[dee-writes-smut]

SPRING

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY on a mission to discuss peace negotiations with the Illyrians, you find yourself in a tricky spot without your best friend. (part two is up)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, depression, and misogyny. This one is dark, please ensure you are feeling comfortable and safe.

AUTHORS NOTE today I woke up and chose violence apparently. This fic is unbelievably long and It's been a while, so I thought I would appease you while I continue to work on the second part of the mark fic. I hope you all enjoy. <3

In the gentle embrace of spring, as nature stirred from its winter slumber, the world seemed to come alive in a symphony of sights and sounds. The air grew lively with vibrant colors of blossoming trees, their delicate leaves unfurling, whispering hope upon the wind. Each leaf and flower, each insect and animal all seeming to dance in the sunlight and bask in new chances of growth. It was truly a testament to beauty and resilience, to life.

But, amidst the beauty of renewal, there lingered a sense of sorrow, a deep heaviness that hung in the air like a dark cloud just breaching above the horizon. Spring had brough not only the promise of new beginnings, but a painful reminder for all that had been lost and forgotten. And as rain fell softly upon the earth, calling to mother nature to gift the soil with fertility, memories of pain consumed you. The gentle patter of raindrops against the earth did not serve to remind you of new beginnings, but set a somber soundtrack in your thoughts, a melancholy melody that echoed the ache you felt in your heart.

As pollen filled the air, coloring the wind and triggering allergies that left you sneezing and sniffling, you couldn't help but feel trapped within the confines of your own sorrow, isolated from the prospering world around you. Vibrant colors and sweet scents did nothing to comfort, rather building a prison of sorts, confining you to the memories of the person you once were, of the life you used to lead.

(Springtime, The Illyrian Mountains)

As you and Azriel ventured into the heart of the Illyrian steeps on a mission, the harsh terrain mirrored the cold, hardened demeanor of its inhabitants. The people of this unforgiving land, with their anger and hostility, were the only semblance of family you had ever known. Yet, their begrudging tolerance of your existence only fueled the resentment that simmered within you. How could you ever understand a people who would dare to strip you of your wings, your very essence of freedom, as a cruel display of dominance and worthlessness?

"Interesting how Rhys sends the two of us, who would sooner see the Illyrians burn, for peace negotiations," you remarked with a bitter chuckle, nudging Azriel to draw him from his thoughts. Azriel, your closest friend for three centuries, had become a steadfast companion since that fateful night when you first crossed paths with Mor at Rita's. Though the details of that encounter remained a blur, the bond forged between you and Azriel stood firm.

"Cass is stuck with Nesta. She’s been feeling off lately, she senses something stirring, but isn’t sure what. Elain shared her sentiments," Azriel grumbled, his countenance slipping into the stoic mask of the shadowsinger, overshadowing his gentle and kind-hearted nature that was generally reserved for you and the rest of your chosen family.

"So, Rhys sent the only other two Illyrians he knows. How convenient for us," you retorted, your wings instinctively folding in close as you navigated the lifeless streets of the Illyrian camp. By now, they had learned better than to challenge your presence for too long.

"Just stick close," Azriel advised, his voice tinged with caution. “There are still many men who wish to see you wingless and under their influence.”

You rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated huff but nodded in agreement. "Stubborn bastards," you muttered under your breath.

In hindsight, perhaps openly disparaging them while walking through their camp wasn't the wisest choice. But they were well aware of your disdain for them, just as you knew the depths of their animosity towards you. They had cast you out like prey when you were just a child, and you had since made it your life's mission to rise above them in every way possible. The mere thought of your superiority grated on them to no end, and you reveled in it.

Azriel chuckled softly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. He nudged you back in the side as you approached Lord Devlon’s home, the both of you sharing a sullen look of understanding before Azriel knocked.

The response was immediate, Lord Devlon swinging the door open with a scowl that mirrored Azriel's own grim expression. "I don't care that you force us to let our women keep their wings," he spat, his tone dripping with disdain, "but I will not negotiate with one. Especially her."

Azriel's growl rumbled deep in his chest, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "I don’t give a fuck about your preferences," he snapped, his voice laced with barely restrained anger.

You sighed, your wings flaring behind you in agitation as you shot a withering glare at Devlon. Barely missing Azriel's own, which mirrored your movements, his solidarity unwavering.

Turning to Azriel, you spoke with a sense of resignation. "Go on. I'll catch up with Emerie and a few others."

Though reluctant to part ways, Azriel relented, “Fine,” he growled, knocking his forehead gently against yours. It was a gesture you both shared, a silent reassurance that you were never truly alone in the face of adversity. With a nod of encouragement, you turned and walked off Devlon’s steps, making your way back into town to seek solace in the company of the only Illyrian, aside from your bat boys, whom you found more than tolerable.

After sharing a drink with Emerie and catching up for a few hours, you felt a tug of responsibility urging you to check in on Devlon and Azriel. Yet, deep down, a part of you secretly hoped that Azriel had taken matters into his own hands and dealt with the pompous leader once and for all, though you dared not voice such thoughts aloud.

As you stepped outside, the tranquility of spring in the mountains enveloped you like a comforting embrace. The harsh winds of winter had given way to a gentle, cool breeze that whispered through the trees, carrying with it the promise of warmer days ahead. It was a peaceful scene, if one could ignore the harsh realities of life in this unforgiving land, and the unspeakable horrors inflicted upon its women.

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the crisp, cool air, a stark contrast to the warmer weather of Velaris. But before you could fully immerse yourself in the tranquility of the moment, they struck.

It happened so quickly, the ambush catching you off guard. Before you could react, a blow to the back of your head sent you reeling, darkness descending upon you like a heavy shroud. In the blink of an eye, consciousness slipped away, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless against the unknown assailants. If you had had the chance to process the situation, perhaps embarrassment would have crept in at being caught off guard so easily. But the darkness of unconsciousness claimed you swiftly, dragging you down into its depths before you could even muster a response.

"Wake up, whore," a voice hissed in your ear, jolting you from the haze of unconsciousness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of your surroundings, the harshness of the voice sending a shiver down your spine. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped you, you felt a heavy weight pressing down upon your head—a bag, thick and suffocating, that obscured your vision and when you moved—thrashed— against the seat you were in, you quickly realized that you were bound.

Shit.

The bag over your head muffled your senses, leaving you completely disoriented and vulnerable to your captors. Panic surged through you at this revelation, causing a sudden spark of energy to send you thrashing against your restraints, deep realization sinking in your stomach with sickening dread.

The voice that had startled you awake, one that sounded awfully familiar, chuckled darkly, a deep, cruel sound that sent shivers cascading down your spine. “No need to struggle, sweetheart,” he mocked, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart hammered against your chest as you strained to make sense of your surroundings, to recognize even the slightest detail, but all you could make out was the stench of damp earth and mildew. Fear clawed its way down your throat, leaving deep gauges as you tried to keep your composure, to get out of this place, this nightmare, before it was too late.

“Where am I?” You growled, your voice heavy with defiance as you demanded your location, only a slight lilt of fear made its way past your throat.

“You're not the one making demands here,” he sneered, tone dripping with pure malice. He must have been an Illyrian. No one else would have the gall to try something like this, either too afraid of you, or too afraid of Azriel’s wrath. Just the thought of him filled you with a desperate longing, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you.

As you struggled to piece together your next move, the sound of footsteps approached, echoing ominously in the darkness. You braced yourself for what was to come, steeling your resolve to survive whatever horrors awaited you.

The bag was roughly pulled from your head, and you blinked against the sudden onslaught of light, squinting to make out the figure before you. As your vision cleared, you found yourself face to face with your captor, Lyris, who you used to train with as a kid, his eyes cold and calculating as he loomed over you with a wicked grin.

As the realization of your fate settled like a heavy stone in your chest, Lyris approached, his steps deliberate and purposeful. He wielded a gleaming dagger in his hand, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the chamber. Your heart hammered in your chest as fear gripped you like a vice, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to flee, but the chains binding you rendered you helpless.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris loomed over you, his eyes alight with sadistic delight. "Time to finally take what's mine, what those bastard whoresons took from me so many years ago," he sneered, the dagger poised menacingly in his grasp.

Your breath caught in your throat as the blade descended, slicing through the air with a sickening sound that made your blood run cold. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the searing pain that was sure to follow.

The first cut came swift and merciless, a sharp agony tearing through your being as the blade bit into your flesh. A strangled cry tore from your lips, the sound echoing off the walls of the chamber as your world exploded into a whirlwind of pain and terror.

“Look at these pretty wings,” Lyris hummed, his voice filled with the rasp of adrenaline. “I cannot wait to hang them on the wall of our home. To keep you quiet, pliant, and filled with my children; as you should have been from the start.” His voice, one you used to cherish, one that reminded you of the little boy who would sneak away to help you, to train you against the backs of his mentors, was now torture.

But the torment did not end there. With ruthless precision, Lyris continued to wield his blade, each stroke bringing fresh waves of agony that threatened to consume you whole. You writhed and thrashed against your restraints; your cries of anguish lost in the darkness of the chamber. Through tear-blurred vision, you caught a glimpse of your wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, now mangled, bloodied and broken beyond recognition. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you watched helplessly, the realization of your loss hitting you like a physical blow.

And as the last remnants of your wings fell away, severed and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh, a hollow emptiness settled in the pit of your stomach. You were no longer whole, no longer the person you once were. You had been robbed of your identity, your essence, and in their place remained only the cruel scars of your torment.

In the oppressive darkness of your captivity, each passing moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of your mutilation a relentless burden threatening to crush not just your body, but your very spirit. Bound and helpless, you lay upon the cold stone floor, every breath a labored struggle against the suffocating silence that surrounded you. The air itself felt heavy with despair, pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for air, for relief, for any semblance of hope.

Your limbs, once strong and nimble, now felt heavy and leaden, shackled by chains that dug into your flesh with cruel insistence, leaving angry welts in their wake. Each movement sent a jolt of searing pain shooting through your battered body, a constant reminder of the brutality you had endured.

Amidst the shadows that danced like malevolent phantoms in the night, a soft rustle of wings broke through the oppressive stillness, the whisper of shadows weaving through the air like an ancient, mournful melody. Your heart surged in your chest as a familiar presence enveloped the room, a warmth that banished the icy chill that had settled deep within your bones, offering a glimmer of solace in the midst of the suffocating darkness.

Azriel.

With a grace honed by centuries of training, Azriel moved with silent determination, his movements a symphony of lethal precision and raw emotion. Each step he took seemed to reverberate through the chamber, echoing the pounding of your heart as he closed in on your captors, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that bordered on desperation.

The sound of steel meeting flesh rang out like a mournful dirge, punctuated by the anguished cries of your assailants as they fell before Azriel's relentless onslaught, their tormentors becoming the tormented. The room erupted into chaos, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat as Azriel moved with a fluidity that bordered on otherworldly, his wings unfurling like a dark, protective cloak as he danced amidst the shadows. It was a sight to behold, a dance of death performed with a grace and precision that belied the brutality of its execution, a testament to the depth of his devotion and the strength of his love.

Through the haze of pain and fear, a surge of gratitude washed over you, a profound sense of relief that threatened to overwhelm your senses. As Azriel approached, his hand outstretched in silent invitation, you reached out to him, your fingers trembling with exhaustion and relief, your heart overflowing with a love and gratitude that defied words. In that moment, as his steady presence enveloped you, you knew that you were not alone in the darkness.

“Gods, what did they do to you,” Azriel breathed, his own hands shaking as he helped you to your feet, the weight of your brokenness heavy in his arms. You swayed unsteadily, a marionette with severed strings, before collapsing against him, the pain of your loss too great to bear alone.

“Did-” You are cut off by a hiss of pain, the sharp intake of breath a dagger through your chest. You took a moment to collect yourself, the darkness at the edges of your vision threatening to engulf you. Azriel, a bastion of strength in the storm, gently guided you to the cold stone floor, his touch a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. “Did you kill him?” you managed to choke out, the words heavy with desperation and fear, each syllable a struggle against the encroaching oblivion.

“Who?” Azriel's voice was a low rumble, his grip on your hand grounding you in the present moment, a beacon of stability amidst the chaos that threatened to consume you both. Outside the confines of your enclosure, the sounds of chaos echoed in the air, a symphony of violence and retribution made in your honor.

“Lyris. Did you kill him?” Your voice wavered, the weight of your words a burden too heavy to bear alone. You felt lightheaded, the loss of blood draining your strength with each passing moment.

“Lyris? He was here?” Azirel's growl reverberated in the cavernous space, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. He was the only one you confided in about your history with the Illyrian male, the scars of your past laid bare before him.

You sniffled and sobbed, the floodgates of grief finally breaking as you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of your wings in the safety of Azriel’s presence. His arms wrapped around you, a shield against the storm raging within you, offering solace in the face of unspeakable loss.

“My wings?” you asked through sobs, the words a whisper against the backdrop of your anguish.

“Not here.” He whispered mournfully, his voice a lament for all that had been taken from you. You felt yourself deflate further, the realization settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. Your once friend, now tormentor, had escaped with the remnants of your shattered dreams, leaving you broken and bereft in his wake.

In the aftermath of your rescue, the pain that gnawed at your soul was not just physical but a deep, unrelenting ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of your being. With each labored breath, you felt the absence of your wings like a gaping wound, a constant reminder of the brutality inflicted upon you.

As Azriel guided you through the darkness, his presence a flickering candle in the void, you stumbled and faltered, your body racked with tremors of agony. Each step sent shards of pain shooting through your mutilated form, a relentless onslaught that threatened to consume you whole.

The absence of your wings was not just a physical loss but a spiritual one, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. Once a symbol of freedom and strength, they were now nothing more than cruel stumps, a mockery of what once was. With each beat of your heart, the pain pulsed like a funeral dirge, a haunting melody that echoed through the caverns of your soul. You longed to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but the darkness of your despair swallowed your cries before they could escape your lips.

And through it all, Azriel remained by your side, his presence a silent witness to your suffering. But even his steady presence could not chase away the shadows that threatened to consume you, leaving you adrift in a sea of despair.

As you emerged into the cool embrace of freedom, blinking against the harsh light of day, you felt a sense of emptiness wash over you—a hollow void that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The road ahead loomed dark and uncertain, a twisting labyrinth of pain and sorrow that threatened to swallow you whole.

[NEXT]

#acourtofthornsandroses #acomaf #acowar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel x you #tw torture #illyrian #wings #angst #seriously what is wrong with me #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #cassian #a court of silver flames #acotar fanart #fanfic #fantasy #fandom

[bubblybloob]

Opposites attract.

Lefty.

Righty.

#slay the princess #stp the princess #stp the thorn #stp the long quiet #art #my art #Thorn: He’s a doofus #Thorn: But he’s my doofus #first time drawing Thorn believe it or not #got the idea from a post pointing out she’s left handed #tw mild blood #I FORGOT THE WARNING AGAIN #apologies

[halfawitch-willow]

There's Only So Far You Can Bend ❁ WSoH 7 (Pre-Finale)

Willow gets ready in the restricted greenhouse for Emira and Kleo's Halloween party, but the hybrid is determined to keep her there and keep her safe... Takes place Oct 31st 1 // What Do You Want From Me, Blood? 2 // Someone Tell Lady Luck I’m Stuck Here 3 // Long As You Don't Make A Habit Out Of It 4 // Does This Look Inanimate To You? 5 // Show A Little ‘nitiative, Work Up Some Guts Interlude // Most Innocent and Unlikely Of Places 6 // Make a Ship-Shape Showplace of Our Little Shop ft. dialogue by @eilonwy-notjustgirl TW: blood, mild gore, injury, violence, thorns, panic attack, neck trauma, hanging (not graphic but just in case), abusive dynamic with a plant again But Worse ((This is,,,, rough, y'all. Also, welcome to the horror show~))

“Where are you going, little bloom?”

The voice and the words were her Dad’s, but it was the hybrid that spoke. Willow was used to it by now; how it would hop between impersonating all of the people she knew, borrowing their voices to speak to her. It was getting really smart, which under regular circumstances would have made her frightfully nervous. It had, originally. It was why she’d gone to Amity for help.

But now, it felt like she couldn’t feel panic at all. Any negative emotion, really. Every time she felt them welling up, the flowers and plants around her would wash it away with a flood of warm emotions, leaving Willow to just float along. When she went back to the dorms, the world felt so much bigger and scarier. All of her worries threatened to crush her. She felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack all the time at Pride U and the Court.

All of that to say she was spending a lot of time at the Garden Grove. Not tonight, however.

Willow smiled to herself, digging through her bag to grab the pieces of her costume. “There’s a Halloween party tonight at the dorms,” she explained happily. “It’s a big costume party, and I’m prepared this time!”

A couple of people had asked Willow if she was going to the party, which made her feel bubbly and warm. They actually wanted her there! The fact that the party was being thrown by Emira Blight made her a little nervous, but she had survived Edric’s party and had learned a couple of very important lessons: stay on theme and only two jello shots allowed.

She’d gotten the last piece of her costume while on her lunch break, and now she was ready! It was actually kind of similar to what she used to wear on the Boiling Isles, only dialed up to really emphasize the costume-yness of it all. And the color scheme was far from the old grays and purples she’d worn then.

“A party? With whom?” the hybrid asked, this time using her Papa’s voice.

“My friends from uni,” Willow said easily, before stopping. The word had passed her lips so easily, for all she had done to avoid it for so long, but she really couldn’t deny it. She’d made friends! Willow’s tail was practically wagging as she beamed at her costume. Yeah. She was going out with her friends.

The flowers in the greenhouse all opened up beautifully with her excitement, chattering over each other and wanting to see her costume. The hybrid was oddly quiet as Willow ducked into a corner and conjured a curtain of leaves to change behind. When she walked out, she was dressed in creams and greens, silver accessories shimmering in the rising moonlight. The skirts flared out away from her as she spun for all the flowers, the layered skirt rippling like long grass in a breeze. The Gazing Narcissus matched the shifting hues of green and Willow applauded them.

“Will it be safe?” The hybrid was using Jessica’s voice now. Willow walked to the table to put her day clothes in her bag. She’d drop them off in her dorm before heading to the party. Hopefully the illusions Emira had been setting up this afternoon when Willow left wouldn’t obscure the door.

“Yeah, of course it’ll be safe,” Willow reassured. She picked up her phone and smiled at the picture that Eilonwy had sent of her and the rest of her costume group. Willow wasn’t a big comic books fan, but Eilonwy had explained all of the characters to her so she knew basically who they were supposed to be. Willow had opted out of the group because she didn’t want to risk being off-theme and upsetting another Blight sibling. “Eilonwy and Edward will be there, plus the rest of our friends.” There were a few people Willow wouldn’t exactly call friends, but more so acquaintances, that she knew would be there too. Phineas seemed to like her well enough from their conversation at the concert-turned-debate (and ooooh, she was still grumpy about being blindsided there) and both Mim and Riley had been nice to her, though they didn’t really interact outside of big groups.

“I mean, worse comes to worse I hide behind Hunter again,” she said with a shrug. The mention of him made her stomach twist. She really needed to talk to him, especially after she failed to over those brownies. Not tonight, a party really wasn’t conducive to that kind of conversation, but soon. After midterms, maybe? They could make pancakes and then she’d rip off the bandage. And then… maybe Eilonwy and Edward? She could trust them. Like she trusted Amity.

Her stomach twisted more.

“You’re scared,” the hybrid whispered with Flower’s voice, petals twitching in agitation. It had gotten so big, taking up nearly half the wall with the shrub of black leaves spilling over onto the floor and across the entire wall. Willow honestly didn’t know where it was getting all the nutrients from.

She balked. “No I’m not,” she lied.

“Of them.” The hybrid spoke in four-part harmony with itself; Amity, Eilonwy, Edward, and Hunter.

“Stop it,” Willow said firmly. “I’m not scared of them. I just… I’ve lied to them. For a while. They might not be okay with that,” she whispered. She hadn’t lied to Amity, technically, but the history there was enough that she felt like a wild card to Willow. And that wasn’t even touching on the whole half-fairy business. Edward was the only non-sorcerer of the bunch, but he would likely follow Eilonwy’s lead- good or bad. 

She wanted so badly to trust in their kindness. In their acceptance. But if she was wrong, as she often was…

There was nowhere else to run.

“I’m not worrying about it right now,” Willow said firmly, shaking her head as if she could shake her worries right out of her head. She should have asked her Papa for a potion for that. She could feel the flowers start to push calming emotions towards her, and she pushed back a little. It made her head hazy, and she knew she could end up missing the party entirely if she gave in. 

She went to grab her concealment stone, but a vine got there first and yanked it into the air. “Hey!” she cried out, turning to glare at the hybrid. “Come on, I need that!”

“Don’t go,” it countered in her Dad’s voice. “Stay here. Safe.”

“I want to go!”

Willow’s phone chirped and she picked it up to look at the text from Eilonwy. She was checking to see if Willow had left yet, and Willow sent back a quick ‘Leaving soon’ before looking back at the hybrid. The petals were rippling as the flower opened and closed repeatedly, and Willow felt a prick of dread go down her spine.

“Please give me my necklace” Willow asked gently, holding out her hand. 

“They won’t keep you safe,” it hissed in Amity’s voice.

“Yes they will. They have.”

“Even once you tell them?” Hunter’s voice asked, and Willow winced. “Would they want to?” Head Witch Clawthorne’s voice snarled.

“Stop, you’re being cruel,” Willow bit back. “I will put you to sleep if I have to.”

The hybrid keened, a tangle of voices all warbling in distress, before it started to howl. It made Willow flinch and cover her ears, stumbling away from the flower.

“NonononONONO! Stay! STAY! MINEMINEMINE-” the hybrid howled, and Willow cried out in pain as the rest of the flowers in the greenhouse all writhed and screamed in her head. There was no floating, unaware bliss when the flowers washed their emotions over hers this time. There was just possessive rage and jealousy. She would leave them!? To be with people who didn’t know her!? Who didn’t want her!?

Willow turned for the door, ready to run out without her concealment stone if it meant getting away from the hybrid, but she only made it halfway across the greenhouse before a vine wrapped around her ankle. The thorns bit into her leg like fangs and Willow went to the ground with a scream. Her phone skittered across the stone.

“YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME! STAYSTAYSTAY-” the hybrid screamed in her dads’ voices.

“Let me go!” Willow snarled, her magic lashing across the room. Some of the smaller flowers wilted and bent to her, caught up in her sway, but the hybrid just sobbed.

“Nonononono!”

More purple vines slithered towards her, and Willow knew that if they got her, she was a goner. She thrust her hand out at her ankle and the vine that was holding her down withered until she could kick herself free and scramble for her phone. She kicked one foot into the air as she dove for it, droplets of dark blood splattering across the nearest raised bed, and a thick shrub grew over her.

If she ran for the door, she’d get caught by the vines in no time. Willow unlocked her phone with trembling fingers, pressing the call button at the top of her conversation with Eilonwy. No time to be picky, her secrets wouldn’t matter if she was dead.

(Part of her still screamed, howling at her own stupidity. She didn't want this.)

"Come on,” she hissed, voice nearly lost under the sobbing from the hybrid. “Lony, please pick up!”

The phone picked up after only two rings. “Hey Willow! Are you almost here?” 

“I’m trapped in the greenhouse behind the Grove!” Willow said quickly, fear and panic thick in her voice. “You need to find Amity and tell her the hybrid went mad!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL!” the hybrid howled in a chorus of voices, and Willow screamed as a vine shot through the branches of the shrub she was hiding behind. She withered it to dust with the hand that wasn’t clutching onto her phone for dear life.

“Willow? Willow! Just hold on, we’ll be right there, okay? We’re coming for you! I promise!” Slightly softer as if she had turned away from the phone, “Edward, can you see Amity, I need her now.”

Willow was crying now, her vision going fuzzy and green on the edges. She could feel herself slipping into the same state of panicked survival mode that she had discovered during the demon attack, and pulled on it as much as she could. There wasn’t as much pixie dust in the restricted greenhouse as the main ones, and Willow knew it wouldn’t be enough. 

“I’m so sorry,” Willow sobbed. “Flower left some pixie dust behind the register, grab it if you can!”

The hybrid howled, and Willow dropped her phone to cover her ears with a cry. Vines covered in thorns shredded her shrub before launching at her, and Willow screamed as they wrapped around her calves and waist. Her bodice protected her torso, but her legs felt like they’d been shredded. They yanked on her, and Willow slid across the floor.

“No! Nonono! LONY!” Willow screamed, scrambling for purchase against the stone floor.

“WILLOW!” On the other end of the phone, the sound of panting could be heard like the person on the other end had started to run. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I promise, I’m right here.” 

More vines wrapped around Willow’s arms and neck, and she grabbed onto them and tried to yank them off. They withered away where she touched them but more quickly replaced them, and Willow could feel the lifeforce of the flower that was dragging her back. It was thick with demonic and fairy magic, as well as the magic from Swynlake, and she could feel the roots that had broken through the bottom of the greenhouse and spread wide under the ground.

“Mine,” the hybrid practically cooed in young Amity’s voice, tinged with hysteria. “I’ll keep you safe, Willow.” 

“Let me go!” Willow sobbed as it yanked her into the air. She scrambled for anything, any help at all, and some of the flowers still under her control tried to follow her into the air. The Wolfshowls were tearing at any of the hybrid’s vines that were close enough and the Sunbursts were burning hot enough that Willow could feel sweat beading on her forehead. 

In the actual shop, at the edge of Willow’s perception, the plants were practically rioting, shaking and writhing with fear and fury. The hanging vines that had curled around Willow when Eilonwy had visited her wrapped around the pouch of emergency pixie dust and lifted it into the air, clearly visible to anyone who came into the shop.

"They can't hurt you," the hybrid promised in its sweet, husky Willow voice. "I won't let them."

Willow screamed as the hybrid flooded her brain with its emotions- possession, jealousy, rage, fear. Most of all, love. Love for the half-fairy that created it. Love for the girl that had trusted it. Love so great it made every other thought go quiet.

Green crawled over Willow's vision, and she felt nothing else.

#willow shop of horrors #drabble #ft eilonwy the loml #tw blood #tw gore #tw violence #tw injury #tw thorns #tw neck trauma #tw panic attack #//just so many trigger warnings on this one yall

[ghostbutaliveidk]

HOUSE PET

Pairing - Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel x reader

plot/summary - You accidentally find yourself in front of the three most dangerous men in the world, and they decide to take you and keep you as a house pet.

Warnings - NONCON, BDSM elements but it's not actual bdsm because it's noncon. Spanking. Petplay. Anal. Degradation. Humiliation. Dacryphilia. Face slapping. Forced marriage.

Chapter specific warnings will be added to the chapters.

Chapter 1

#rhys #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #dark fic #tw noncon #tw degradation #tw humiliation #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[bellamybellamyblake]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #acomaf #acowar #acofas #rhysand #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #acotar angst #tw: sa #tw: sa mention

[aestheticfroggy]

#spy x family #loid forger #yor briar #anya forger #anime manga #sxf thorn princess #anime #jokes #funny memes #relatable memes #gun tw #this belong to the artist

[c-rose2081]

“…I’ll meet you wherever you are…”

—

Angsty, lazy Bribelle? Probably won’t ever finish it cause my mental health has taken a steep decline. But you know, gotta draw the lesbians 😜👌

#ever after high #bribelle #digital art #ever after high fanart #briar beauty #faybelle thorn #concept art #character art #fanart #illustration #character design #art #angst #tw blood #ship art #otp

[peanutseagle]

TW FOR BL00D!! (only drawn but still)

#THERES A BLOOD TYPE U??? #this idea popped up randomly in my head and just. YEAH ITS THEM #yor foger #yor briar #twiyor #agent twilight #thorn princess #loid forger #sxf #spy x family #loidyor #loid x yor #sxf comic #my art #tw blood

[agnes-draws]

someone help poor alastair

#listen. #i had to. #thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #tlh #the last hours #chain of iron #chain of thorns #the shadowhunter chronicles #my art🌷 #tw: slight nudity