#a court of thorns and roses fan fiction

[k-daydreams]

The pursuit of Feeling Alive: I. Intro

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader, PLATONIC!IC x reader

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Warnings: trauma, swearing, pining, angst?

Word Count: 4.8k

Author note: this is my first acotar fic! It was originally going to be a singular self indulgent azriel fic, but I can’t ever get to the point and I got too many ideas. Definitely not very canon with the timeline of series I think lol, just going to throw that out there. I’ve already rough drafted another chapter and thought I’d share the work on here. Feel free to share your thoughts! If you’d like to be added to a tag list let me know!

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Internally, you teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown, ready to tear yourself apart from within. Externally, you wore a mask of cold calculation, hoping no one could detect your distress and near senility. Earlier in the day, your cousin Mor had mentioned that her high lord and your other dear cousin, Rhysand, had matters to discuss with your high lord, Helion. The reason for their meeting was of no concern to Mor to bother filling you in.

Your heart thumped against your chest, unsure of what to expect. It had been over fifty years since the Day Court and Night Court had engaged in official business since the end of Amarantha's reign of terror. You had seen Rhysand during the time under the mountain, where you spent nearly half a century with him until Feyre saved Prythian. Still holding visits with him after to report to him along with Mor, thanks to her frequent visits to Helion. However, the rest of the court, especially those you hadn't met since after Amarantha and Hybern, remained a mystery, with only Mor's updates for context.

Following your time under the mountain, you chose to reside in the Day Court under Helion's rule as an emissary between the two Solar Courts. It served as a means to shield yourself from feeling too deeply, allowing you to focus on healing from the traumatic events you endured during those fifty years. There were other matters you had yet to confront and come to terms with, voluntarily choosing to ignore them. By hiding away and conducting your business mainly with Mor and Rhys, you could maintain a sense of avoidance of your once home.

Now, in the dining hall of the palace where Helion and his inner court resided—including yourself—you found yourself on edge. Regardless of the pressing matters at hand, your high lord insisted on hosting a dinner for his court and other high fae to publicly display the alliance between the Night Court and the Day Court. Standing next to Helion's chair in the center of the room, you observed the lively chatter among the gathered individuals.

Your hands were clasped tightly in front of you, nervously inspecting your gown for nonexistent dirt, attempting to conceal your jitters. The gown itself could remind anyone of the place you resided and wanted to consider your new home. It was an off-the-shoulder nude gown with gossamer sleeves cascading around your arms. The bodice, nearly transparent, accentuated your bust, adorned with soft gold crystals intricately arranged over your body. The long skirts consisted of layers of gossamer, featuring two long slits up the front that revealed your legs. You appeared ethereal and angelic.

"You seem on edge," Helion called out to you, pulling you out of your internal thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, observing every movement, before turning your attention to the main entrance. He gently traced his finger beneath the dainty black diamond bracelet adorning your wrist, bringing your attention back. This bracelet, along with matching pieces around your neck and ears, showed your affiliation with the visiting court. You wore them out of respect for your older cousins, never daring to show your true affection openly—a facade to conceal your true self. You knew they would appreciate it if they noticed.

"The Night Court was your home, was it not?" He questioned, his tone casual, as he glanced over his shoulder at the other members of the inner court to make sure they weren’t listening. Adjusting his shirt cuffs to his well-matched button-down very similar color to yours, he exuded regality from head to toe.

You mumbled stoically, "Was." Clearing your throat tentatively, your eyes returned to the main doors. "This is my home now, serving under your rule. I can't afford to be anything but cautious when the Night Court wishes to discuss an unknown matter."

You didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled. "Always playing this game, aren't you?" Helion scolded playfully. “There's no need to keep up the act. Rhys's actions beneath the mountain spoke volumes for our court."

You thought to yourself, 'But my actions don't, and I'd rather keep it that way.' Aloud, you replied smoothly, "One can't appear too soft when the Night Court steps through that door." The lie slipped easily from your lips.

"Are we referring to the whole court now or the spymaster we both have eyes for?" Helion hummed, reclining slightly in his chair as he took a sip of fae wine from his chalice-like glass. Damn him.

"I have no eyes for any man, particularly not a brute Illyrian man. And especially not one I've been watching wrestle with my cousin since we were young children," you retorted, feeling a surge of unease and clenching your jaw at the assumption.

"That's a match I would give up all my powers to witness," the handsome, dark-skinned lord purred, his words aimed at you.

You wanted to snap at him, your patience wearing thin at the mere mention of the tall Illyrian warrior. However, you managed to keep your composure in check. "It's hardly a match; Rhys won every time."

As if on cue, you felt the energy of several individuals entering the palace. Rhysand always loved a dramatic entrance. "Excellent, our guests have arrived," you murmured, straightening your shoulders as best as you could.

Helion followed suit, sitting more upright in his chair at the center of the hall. The rest of the inner court took their positions standing.

The sentries opened the doors for the guests. Morrigan was the first to enter, her golden hair elegantly curled, and she delightedly took you in before blinking a few times, returning to her sultry expression. Her red gown fitted her perfectly: a strapless piece that flowed around her as she walked. Following her was a sight you hadn't expected since hearing the gossip from Mor—Lucien Vanserra, adorned in deep autumnal colors that complemented his complexion and long, tidy red hair. He was an old confidant of yours when you had stayed in the spring court. You couldn't help but find it amusing, but you maintained a composed demeanor, concealing your bemusement at how out of place in the night court he seemed.

After Lucien came two beautiful high fae women. The younger one on the left wore a flowing champagne pink gown that accentuated her slim waist and showcased her porcelain fair skin. Her light brown hair was adorned with crystals and flowers, and she wore dainty opal teardrop earrings that complimented her brown eyes. On the right stood another woman in a form-fitting navy dress that subtly shimmered with every movement. The gown highlighted her curves and bust, while a sapphire-like sciphon necklace adorned her neck. Her darker brown hair was elegantly pinned up with a silver circlet. These must have been the High Lady's sisters, Elain and Nesta, whom you had heard so much about. Nesta's eyes had a hint of danger and coldness, while Elain's were filled with awe as they observed the dining hall.

Cassian followed the two women, and you discreetly coughed to suppress a snort. He appeared cleaned up, wearing a navy tunic and dark linen pants, with his hair slicked back and neatly tied. This was a different version of him from the rugged general you were accustomed to, not dressed in his usual fighting leathers to a formal affair. His siphons were cleverly disguised as jewelry pieces, and he had politely tucked back his larger wings. He seemed out of place as much as Lucien, but his mischievous eyes locked with yours, indicating he might have had similar thoughts about you.

Before you could even see her, you sensed Amren's piercing gaze from behind Cassian's towering figure. Her glowing silver eyes held an inscrutable expression, and her lips formed a slight grimace. She wore her usual grey color in a slip gown that elegantly draped down in the front. Though not dressed as extravagantly as the others, her presence demanded attention. A touch of red lipstick and a slightly tousled hairstyle were enough to enhance her beauty. You could see the rest of Helion’s inner court murmur from your peripheral, the usual whispers about the millennia’s old creature stalking towards them.

Rhysand made his entrance with the high lady from beside him, exuding confidence and power. He wore his customary dark attire that accentuated his commanding presence. His violet eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention to Helion. Feyre held her head high, a diadem hanging on the crown of her head, and her hair half up half down in loose waves. Her dress off the shoulder shone in sapphire crystals making it look like stars had been entwined on the gown. She was gorgeous as a mortal even when she was malnourished when you saw her under the mountain, but as a high fae she was even more devastating.

Last of the group, you spotted Azriel, his shadows swirling subtly around him, and your breath caught in your throat. His shadows slinked up his dark tunic clad shoulder seeming to whisper in his ear. He looked over at you making eye contact discreetly. His features were hard but something unreadable in his eyes as he observed you. You didn’t miss the slight bob of his throat as he looked quickly away to a distant corner in the room acting stoic. His hair was pushed back showing his sharp jawline, and you could see his tattoos peeking out his shirt. His silent and brooding presence always managed to unnerve you, unable to get a good read on what could’ve been going through his head. You refused to let your guard down, not wanting to think about the shadowsinger that stood mere feet away. This had been the first time you have seen each other in person since you were able to leave under the mountain.

The Night Court all stood in front of Helion, and he bowed his head in greeting. You did the same along with the rest of the inner court. The introductions began, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Helion gracefully welcomed his guests, exchanging pleasantries and acknowledging the significance of the meeting. You observed the interactions, keeping a blank face despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. It felt like you were looking into your old life from the outside watching the inner circle, and your heart ached for a second.

Eventually, it was time for you to step forward and join the introductions. As you approached Rhysand, his gaze never wavered from yours. His lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the past. You stood before him, your heart pounding, but your expression remained composed.

"High Lord Rhysand," you greeted him, keeping your tone neutral and titles formal. "It has been a while."

His voice was smooth as he responded, “Y/n, always a pleasure. Allow me to introduce my wife and High Lady, Feyre.”

You bowed respectfully to the High Lady. “I am in awe, Feyre Cursebreaker. What an honor to have you grace the Day Court with your presence.”

A smile graced her lips in response. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I have heard so much about you, Y/n.” She took your hands in hers, and you were taken aback by the warm informal gesture. Your gaze fell upon the intricate tattoo adorning her hand and forearm, and in that moment, your heart swelled with joy for your cousin, and you dared to steal a glance at Rhys. His eyes were already fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle hints of tenderness and anticipation shining within them. You were so happy for him.

The formalities continued, and you exchanged polite words with Lucien, Elain, and Nesta. You longed for a chance to sit down and talk with them, to hear about their experiences since being freed from the cauldron. Your gaze wandered momentarily to Lucien, who stood near Morrigan, his amber eyes briefly glancing in your direction. A flicker of recognition passed between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of shared history. You had both suffered under the rule of the Spring Court, and it was a trauma you preferred to keep buried for now. But you couldn’t deny that you treasured the moments the young emissary had kept you sane within the trauma.

You stood next to Helion along with another Day Court emissary as Rhys, Amren, and Helion discussed some political topics. Deep down, you yearned for a moment alone with the inner circle, away from the prying eyes and expectations. But for now, you had to focus on the diplomatic matters at hand and navigate the complexities of the gathering. As the conversations flowed around you, you remained attentive, gathering information and assessing the dynamics between the courts.

Throughout the evening, conversations flowed, alliances were strengthened, and unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You played your part, engaging in polite conversation and maintaining the facade of an emissary, all the while battling the internal storm raging within you. It was beginning to wear on you though. Watching from afar at how Mor mingled with Nesta and Cassian. The Illyrian man had his arm around the oldest Archeon sister as they nodded and chuckled at Mor, and you wanted to smile. You had never expected Cassian finding a mate before you, but here you were.

A lot has changed since you had left indeed, and the longing you felt came back.

“You’re not my prisoner, you know. Feel free to mingle,” Helion’s voice chimed from behind, breaking through your thoughts.

“Isn’t that a bit informal?” you responded, sipping your glass of wine.

He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “To talk at a party?” He snatched your wine from your hand.

You turned to face him, reaching for your half-filled glass that he held teasingly away from you. “Ah, don’t you think it’s a bit informal for an emissary to get drunk?” He added a playful spark in his eyes.

“To drink at a party?” You volleyed back, grinning mischievously as you continued your playful struggle for the glass.

“Why don’t you practice the talking part with Rhysand?” Helion suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It seems like he’s eager to have a word with his dear cousin.” He gestured subtly behind you, and amidst the revelry and banter, Rhysand and Feyre made their way toward you both. However, before you could react, your gaze caught Azriel’s intense hazel eyes from their table behind the approaching couple, where he sat next to Elain. His massive wings appeared tense and uncomfortably confined by the chair. Elain chatted with him, but it seemed his attention was elsewhere, fixated on you. His shadows still whispered in his ear as one crept across the table.You resisted the urge to shudder, maintaining your composure, and quickly turned your attention back to Helion, whose grin remained firmly in place.

“Helion, may we borrow Y/n for a moment?” Rhysand inquired, one eyebrow raised, his gaze flickering between you and Helion.

Helion practically pushed you into Feyre’s arms. “Go ahead, I was just informing her that she’s free from her duties until later!” he announced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as you realized his intent to encourage your mingling.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you replied, bowing your head with a touch of sarcasm. Rhysand extended his arm, and you looped yours through it, allowing him to guide you towards their table. A nervous gulp betrayed your anticipation.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone gentle and caring.

“May we speak on the balcony?” you requested, your voice filled with meekness.

“Of course, it’s getting a bit warm in here,” Rhysand agreed, leading the three of you towards the balcony bathed in soft faelight.

You all leaned casually against the balcony railing, observing the lively feast taking place inside.

"How's the Day Court treating you?" he asked in a relaxed tone, as if to put you at ease. Away from prying eyes, you felt your shoulders relax. It felt good to be with your cousin where you both didn’t have to wear a mask.

"Well," you replied, "the Day Court doesn't quite compare to the beauty of the Night Court, but the days are undeniably bright." You struggled to find a suitable comparison for the Day Court's allure to the Night Court.

Rhys and Feyre almost snorted out their wine, their amusement evident. "I wonder why," Rhys sarcastically murmured.

Choosing to ignore your cousin's comment, you continued, "I've been making progress translating some texts for the court, and delving into a lot of reading.”

It seemed as though the High Lord and Lady expected to hear more and urged you to continue, but they realized you had nothing more to share.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Wow, that sounds like quite a lot," he remarked. You could tell he wanted to throw a snide remark, but a warning look from his mate kept him at bay. Where was Feyre centuries ago when you always found to be the butt of your cousin's jokes?

You shrugged. "Keeps me distracted." From your vantage point, you had a perfect view of the inner circle's table. Mor, Amren, Azriel, Lucien, Nesta, and Cassian were all seated there, drinking and picking at their food. Helion even made sure Amren had a chalice of beast's blood. You missed being a part of that group, laughing and sharing moments with them. The only person in the Day Court you truly felt comfortable with was Helion, and even that remained behind closed doors.

"Come home," the words made your shoulders tense. It wasn't your cousin who had spoken, but Feyre. You looked at her, finding understanding in her eyes, as if she knew what you were going through.

Your gaze wandered back to the inner circle. Your eyes fell on Azriel, who was listening with a ghost of a smile on his lips, as Cassian animatedly spoke, his wings flaring about and nearly knocking over Lucien's wine glass. The group tried to hide their laughter while Amren scolded them. Azriel's shadows discreetly moved the glass out of Cassian's wingspan, hiding his amusement.

"They miss you," Rhys genuinely expressed. "I miss you, and even the House misses you." Tears welled up, tightening your throat. "He won’t say it out loud, but he misses you too."

You didn't need to be told who he was. You knew.

"I didn't even say goodbye," you spoke with a heavy heart, guilt washing over you.

"That was over fifty years ago, Y/n," Rhys reminded you gently.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We have texts for you to translate if it’s a means to keep you busy, we could even have you train with Madja. Want an apartment on the opposite side of town from the House of Wind? Consider it done. Desire a cottage in the middle of nowhere? It's yours. Just please, stop running away," Rhys pleaded.

You felt tears welling up, but you willed them away. "I... I just can't leave," you stammered. You could feel your heart torn.

"You can," Feyre said sympathetically, holding your hands. "Helion asked us to come and talk to you."

"We won't force you, but he mentioned that you've changed in the last few years," Rhys added. Feyre's grip on your hands tightened.

"Please talk to them maybe and think about it?" she requested. You knew she meant the inner circle.

Biting your lip, you contemplated. "I'll find you in a bit. I need some time alone."

With a nod, Rhysand and Feyre understood your need for solitude. They exchanged a brief glance before making their way back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Leaning against the railing, you let the cool evening breeze brush against your skin, smell of wildflower and honey in the air, the quietness of the moment allowing your thoughts to swirl. Images of your past, the friendships you had forged and the bonds you had left behind, filled your mind. The longing in your heart grew stronger with each passing second your family stood in the same room as you. A longing you pushed deep down when you were still under the mountain, uncertain of seeing your loved ones again.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to not let tears slip. It was true that you had changed over the years, that the weight of your experiences had shaped you into someone different. But running away had only prolonged the pain, and you knew it was time to confront it. If your cousins had endured the pain, you were sure you could too.

Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the railing, determination igniting within you. You couldn't stay on the sidelines any longer. The inner circle had always been your family, even if circumstances had driven you apart. And now, as you stood on the cusp of a decision, you realized that it was time to bridge that gap.

Stepping back inside, you navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar faces you had missed dearly. You found them at their table, still engaged in their playful banter, laughter filling the air. Taking a deep breath, you approached, your footsteps faltering only slightly.

As you reached the table, a hush fell over the group, their gazes turning towards you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and the shadows around him seemed to ripple, as though mirroring the tumultuous emotions within you.

"Can I join you?" you asked softly, your voice carrying a blend of trepidation and hope.

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Cassian's boisterous laughter echoed as he clapped you on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of you. Nesta's sharp gaze softened for a brief moment, Elain offered a warm but wary smile, and Lucien's amber eyes held surprise. Morrigan's voice was a welcoming melody as she pulled out a chair for you, and Amren, in her own enigmatic way, nodded approvingly.

Taking your seat among them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of homecoming. And as you settled into the comfort of their presence, you could feel your frozen heart just dethaw slightly.

“Y/n, I knew you were always shy, but around us?” Mor teased you endearingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You look so beautiful tonight!” She gushed, her words filled with genuine admiration as she played with a strand of your hair. “The dress would be better in a darker color though.” She whispered the last part so only you and the inner circle could hear, her voice laced with a conspiratorial tone.

“The gown color does wash you out,” Amren chimed in, her bored expression not fully hiding a hint of amusement.

A laugh bubbled out of your chest, surprising even yourself. "Not the first thing I thought I would hear from you in years," you quipped, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Amren raise her glass to you before taking a sip of the thick liquid in the cup.

“Better than that raggedy spring court piece you came back in, though," Rhysand interjected, his voice filled with playful banter as he and Feyre settled into the extra seats at the table. The original inner circle chuckled at the memory.

Despite that being one of the worst days of your life, you couldn't help but smile too. The shared laughter brought a warmth to the air, softening the edges of past wounds.

“You should’ve seen the dress I came to the Night Court in," Feyre chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Another monstrosity by Ianthe," Lucien muttered into his glass before taking a sip, his voice tinged with a touch of disdain. Your eyes widened at the snide comment, but the group erupted into laughter, momentarily forgetting the weight of your burdens.

As the night wore on, Helion raised his glass, signaling a toast to the alliance between the two courts. The hall fell silent, and you raised your glass as well, a faint smile playing at the corner of your lips. The toast created a joyous noise as everyone in attendance drank, and the music started playing. Mor instantly beamed and grabbed Feyre’s hand, followed by Elain, leading them to the dance floor. Rhysand and Lucien joined them, their steps filled with a carefree grace. Cassian took Nesta’s hand, and they followed suit. Amren excused herself to converse with the emissary from the Day Court with a request of Azriel to accompany her.

You turned to Mor, insisting you would join them shortly, as you wished to find Helion. She nodded understandingly, giving you a knowing smile as she disappeared into the swirling crowd. You made your way toward Helion, feeling the warmth of the night and the drinks starting to loosen your tongue and heart.

“Do you wish to get rid of me so easily?” you feigned offense, walking up to his side. The merriment of the evening had given you a newfound boldness. Your body hadn’t felt this light in ages. Your gaze met his, and a flicker of understanding passed between you.

Helion shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his features. “No, darling, never. I just think your heart belongs somewhere else.” His words were filled with gentle encouragement. He patted the arm of his chair, offering you a seat upon the rest. With an eye roll and a smile, you accepted, settling into the plush chair arm.

"Your presence is lovely, your duty is commendable, but I couldn't sit here watching you turn to stone any longer," Helion continued, his voice filled with genuine concern. His finger absentmindedly found the wrist under your bracelet, his touch a feather-light brush against your skin. A wave of warmth washed over you, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifted through the air.

"Besides, maybe it's time you face a certain Illyrian man," he whispered discreetly, his words carrying a hint of suggestion.

You looked at him, confusion swirling within you. His eyes subtly glanced over to the corner, and you followed his gaze. Azriel stood behind Amren, his intense gaze fixed on Helion and you. His jaw was clenched, and his wings were taut with tension, as if holding back an impending storm. The sight of him sent a jolt of both excitement and apprehension through your veins.

"I can't ignore those ravenous stares, knowing he wants to rip me to shreds, and not in the way I like," he added, teasingly toying with your bracelet as if oblivious to Azriel's presence. The Day Court High Lord knew exactly what he was doing it seemed. Azriel couldn’t have been glaring at Helion; it had to be you. Memories of your past argument with Azriel flashed through your mind, the intensity of the argument still fresh. You had both nearly destroyed each other. You hadn’t ever heard you two speak so many volatile and vulgar things— especially at each other.

"I could never forgive him for what he said," you sighed. "What's even worse is that I can't forgive myself for what I did, not only to him, but to my family. I feel responsible for my ex-husband's actions towards them." You admitted, realizing that you had never spoken those words aloud before.

Beside you, the lord sucked his teeth in retort. "You can't blame yourself for what your father put you through by selling you to that pretty little beast." He sat up straighter and looked at you earnestly. "Nobody blames you, Y/n." You found yourself unabashedly staring back at Azriel as he was still looking at the interaction between you and the high lord.

“We all carry burdens from our past, but we mustn't let them define our future," he said gently. "You were caught in a web spun by others, but you have the strength to break free. It's time to forgive yourself and embrace the healing you deserve."

You nodded nimbly, biting your lip in contemplation. You would always hold gratitude for Helion. His kindness you’ve experienced for the last several years was more than what you deserved and needed, but he still provided it. If you returned to the night court you wouldn’t have known where you stood in the court. What your rank would be, what your friends thought of you, and where to even pick back up in your life. You just knew you haven’t felt this alive in awhile, and you craved the feeling.

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[x] next chapter

Let me know your thoughts, and feel free to like and reblog! I might change the title but that’s tbd.

[mellowmusings]

death bed | coffee for your head

Azriel x sick reader part. 2

A/N- I had the idea for this when I heard the song and instead of sick Azriel I made a sick reader, please don't kill me and let me know if you wanna be tagged. Enjoy :). Warning- Angst, reader is depressed and sick, Azzie baby is depressed too. Mainly a really sad fic (mentions of death due to illness). Summary- You had been sick for sometime now and upon visiting a healer you find out the reason, unsure how much time you have left, you wish to spend every second of it preparing Azriel for the moment you leave.

'Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed'

You were tired to say the least, for the past few nights you hadn't been able to sleep at all, and your sweet mate was worried sick for you, and so you had to change your plans for the day, ditching shopping for a visit to Madja instead.

A bell rang as you step into the healer's shop, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and incense, instantly calming your nerves. Soft light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on shelves cluttered with jars, vials, and bundles of plants you didn't recognize. The space felt ancient, yet welcoming, as if it held the quiet weight of countless healing rituals. A small wooden counter sat at the back, covered with bottles and unmarked potions. The faint sound of wind chimes hung in the air, but it’s the stillness that stood out—everything in this room felt intentional, designed to soothe, to listen. There attending to a small plant with the smallest flowers you had ever seen stood Madja.

Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep I don't wanna pass away I've been thinking of our future 'Cause I'll never see those days I don't know why this has happened, but I probably deserve it I tried to do my best, but you know that I'm not perfect

You felt like throwing up, surely this was a joke? it had to be a joke, no she was lying or maybe you had misheard her, it had to be that way, right? "I know this can be shocking news y/n but like I said it's also a very rare illness" "No,no you're lying please tell me you're lying". She begged. Her voice broke on the last word, she couldn't breathe she felt choked, she wanted to throw up but instead she just fell to her knees and cried her heart out.

I've been praying for forgiveness, you've been praying for my health When I leave this earth, hoping you'll find someone else 'Cause, yeah, we're still young, there's so much we haven't done Getting married, start a family, watch your husband with his son

She didn't know how long she spent crying there with Madja comforting her and stroking her back, she was in shock but more than that she was worried for Azriel, if something happened to her then- No, no she wasn't going to think about that right now but for some reason her thoughts kept circling back to Azriel, to the quiet that would fill the room when she was gone. He’d wake up, reach for her, and feel nothing but emptiness. The bed would be cold, the silence too heavy. He’d feel it in the small things—no more shared glances, no more soft words in the dark.

Would he be okay without her? She couldn’t shake the fear that the grief would swallow him, that the shadows he kept so tightly contained would consume him without her there to pull him back. Would the memories be enough, or would they slip through his fingers? The thought of him unraveling, of him breaking, made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t ignore. She wouldn’t be there to catch him, and that terrified her.

Her gaze caught on a lovely family in the park, children being chased by their dad, their mom laughing at the scene and smiling lovingly at her partner, right, she would never be able to have that with Azriel either. Maybe, one day he'll find someone else, who'd love him just as much as she did, someone who'd start a family with him, give him heirs as lovely as he is. She hoped so because if Madja was right then-

I wish it could be me, but I won't make it off this bed I hope I go to heaven, so I see you once again My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed, yeah

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Yeah, I'm happy that you're here with me I'm sorry if I tear up When me and you were younger, you would always make me cheer up Taking goofy videos while walking through the park You would jump into my arms every time you heard a bark

You lay back against the pillows, your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. Azriel sat beside you, his fingers gently brushing over your hand, but the tension in the air was thick, suffocating. You could feel the worry in his touch, in the way he kept glancing at you, like he was afraid to miss something, afraid to lose you before he could even understand what was happening.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice trembling as you gathered the courage to finally say the words. "I’m sick." You tried to keep your tone calm, but it cracked as soon as the words left your lips. "The healer said it’s a rare heart condition. Something... incurable."

His face froze, eyes widening with disbelief, and he leaned forward, as if to pull you into him, to somehow shield you from the world. But you didn’t want his protection right now. You wanted him to hear this. To know the truth, even if it shattered him.

"I wish it could be me," you continued softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I wish I could take it all. The pain. The time. But I—" You faltered, and the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. "I won’t make it off this bed, Azriel."

His hand tightened around yours, his breath shaky, but he said nothing, his eyes begging you to take it back, to tell him it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

"I hope I go to heaven," you murmured, forcing a small smile through your tears. "So I can see you again. One day, after this... after all of this."

Azriel’s face crumpled with pain, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He reached for you, pulling you close as if he could somehow hold you together, like he could make everything right if he just tried hard enough. "No," he whispered, his voice raw. "No, please. Don’t say that. Don’t leave me." It hurt to see the brave and stoic shadow singer crumble infront of you over such a small matter, he had faced death time and time again, but never had you seen him so broken.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of him holding you, but there was no denying it now. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep fighting against what you knew in your bones was coming.

"I’m not ready," you whispered, voice barely audible, "but I think... I think you need to be. This is the reality now, Love. I won’t have much time left."

Azriel held you tighter, but it was clear that he was barely holding on himself. You could feel his heart racing against yours, the fear, the love, the desperation. But you knew, deep down, there was no way to stop it.

"I just need you to be ready," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "Because I won’t be here for long. I need you to promise me something, Az."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face a mask of agony, but he nodded, clinging to your every word.

"Promise me you won’t forget me," you said, the ache in your chest growing, but you didn’t want him to carry this burden forever. "Promise me you’ll live, not survive, but live, even if I’m not there."

He pressed his forehead to yours, and for a moment, it was like the world stopped moving. "I’ll never forget you," he said hoarsely. "And I’ll never stop loving you, not even after…"

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek, but you could feel the finality of it, the quiet acceptance in your soul that you had already said goodbye. "I know. But you have to promise me, Love. Please. Live, for both of us."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy, inevitable. And in that moment, you let go. You accepted what was coming, not with peace, but with a sorrow that was too vast to express.

Azriel didn’t say anything after that. He just held you, and in the silence of the room, you both faced what you knew was coming, as painful and unbearable as it was.

Cuddle in your sheets, sang me sound asleep And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03 Sundays went to church, on Mondays watched a movie Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me

You were curled up against Azriel, the quiet crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. He held you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world. The memories flowed easily now, the ones you both cherished, the ones you were trying so hard to relive, to hold on to.

"Cuddle in your sheets," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "like we used to, like we did so many times. You’d sing me to sleep, your voice soft, your hand in my hair."

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your skin as if committing the sensation of this moment to memory, the feeling of your body pressed against his. "I’ll sing you to sleep forever if I can," he replied, voice thick with emotion. "But you know... I think the best part was sneaking out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03. I used to look at the clock, and I knew you’d be there. We’d laugh, sneak away like we didn’t have a care in the world."

You chuckled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek at the thought. "Sundays, we went to church together. Mondays, we’d watch a movie, get lost in each other’s company. Simple, sweet. And it was ours." You pulled back slightly to look up at him, a small, sad smile on your lips. "I wish we had more of those Mondays."

Azriel's eyes softened with the weight of your words, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. "We still have now," he said, but even he knew the truth in the heaviness of his words. Time was running out.

You closed your eyes, trying to soak in every moment, every detail. You could feel the pain of the inevitable, but for tonight, for this brief moment, you clung to the idea that you could still make new memories. "But soon you'll be alone," you whispered, a sob escaping before you could stop it. "I’m sorry that you have to lose me."

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his face pressing into your hair. "Don’t say that," he murmured, though his voice was thick with sorrow. "I’ll never lose you. Not really. Not in my heart."

You nodded, your body trembling in his arms. "I hope so," you whispered, holding him tighter. "But I’ll always love you. Every memory, every laugh, every quiet Sunday. I’ll carry those with me, even when I’m gone."

And for a moment, time felt still, like the universe had paused just long enough for you both to hold on to each other a little tighter, to try and make every second count before it was all gone.

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your own, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to constantly settle in your bones. Your breathing was shallow, weak, each rise and fall of your chest an effort, and yet, despite it all, you smiled up at him. It was the kind of smile that told him you were fighting, even when it seemed like there was no fight left in you.

"I don't want you to stay awake for too long," you whispered, your voice thin, but still full of the love you carried for him. "I know you watch over me, but you need sleep too, Azriel." Your hand squeezed his, the action small but intentional.

He looked at you, eyes filled with an ache that ran deeper than the shadows that normally clung to him. His gaze searched your face, searching for something, anything that might bring you back to him, but there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming. His grip tightened, but he didn't speak. What could he say? Every word felt like a lie in the face of what you both knew was inevitable.

"You've been so strong," he finally whispered, voice hoarse. "Please, don’t give up on me now." His thumb stroked over your knuckles, as if grounding himself in the reality that, in his heart, he knew you were slipping away.

You let out a soft, raspy laugh, and though it was faint, it made him want to smile, even though the pain was consuming him. "I’m not giving up," you said, each word a battle, but the light in your eyes still bright enough to pierce through the darkness. "I’m just… trying to make the most of the time we have left."

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tightening, but you gently cupped his cheek, urging him to look at you. "Don’t stay awake for too long," you repeated softly, your hand slipping into his as you pressed it over your heart. "Don’t go to bed, not yet. I’m still here. I’m still with you."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. You felt his warm breath on your skin, a small reminder of how much he loved you. How much he needed you.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Let me make you coffee in the morning, just like we used to. I’ll get you out of bed. I’ll help you find your strength again, just like before."

You smiled at him, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision. "I’ll make the coffee," you whispered, "when I can. I’ll make sure you get through it, even after I’m gone. I wrote you letters. Letters for the years to come, so you’ll know I’m still with you. So you’ll know that I’ll always love you, even when I’m not there."

Azriel’s heart shattered. "No," he said hoarsely, "No, you can’t leave me." His voice broke at the end, the rawness of his fear leaking through. You were fighting so hard, so fiercely, for him, but he couldn’t stop the truth from settling in his chest.

"You’ve always been my strength, Azriel," you whispered, your voice so soft, but so full of love. "And I’ll be yours, even when I’m not here to hold you. I need you to live. To keep fighting. And when the days feel long, when the nights feel too empty, I want you to read those letters. They’re for you. I’ll make sure you find your way."

Azriel couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He leaned down, kissing your forehead, his lips trembling against your skin. "I’m going to keep you here with me, in my heart. Forever. I promise. I won’t forget, I swear it."

You smiled through the tears, despite the weariness that clung to your body. "I’m not leaving you, Azriel," you whispered, "not really. Not ever."

But the truth, unspoken between you both, was that you didn’t have much longer. And still, you fought, not for yourself but for him, so he could have something to hold on to after you were gone.

"Please," he begged softly, his voice breaking, "don’t leave me."

You brushed a tear from his cheek, as your voice trembled, "I’ll never really leave you, Azriel. I’ll always be with you. In every letter, in every thought."

You paused, a soft, warm breath escaping your lips. "I’ll get you out of bed, Azriel," you whispered, a hint of a smile on your face, "I’ll get you going again. Even if I’m not there to see it."

His tears fell freely now, but there was a quiet peace in the way he held you—knowing, with an ache so deep it felt like it might swallow him whole, that he would carry you forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

A few weeks had passed, and the weight of each day was beginning to take its toll. The glow in your eyes had dimmed, and your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. Azriel stayed by your side every moment, his presence constant, like a shadow you never wanted to be without.

He had been trying to hold on to the last threads of you, keeping the hope alive that maybe, somehow, you would pull through. But he knew. He knew with every soft breath you took, with every fleeting smile you gave him, that time was slipping away from both of you.

Today, though… today it felt like everything was slower. The air in the room was thick with an aching kind of quiet, the kind where even the heartbeats that echoed in the space between you seemed too loud.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, his arms around you, pulling you close like you’d always been. His fingers lightly traced the line of your jaw, like he could imprint your face into his soul if he touched you long enough. His lips pressed to your forehead, trying to pour every ounce of love and comfort he could into you, but it felt like it was never enough.

You had grown weaker. Your skin was pale, your breathing labored, but you still smiled at him when your eyes fluttered open.

"I’m still here," you whispered softly, your voice raspy but filled with the love you had for him. "I’m still here, Azriel."

He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, his throat tight. "You don’t have to fight anymore," he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. "I’ve got you. I’ll never let you go."

You smiled faintly, your hand reaching for his, weak but determined. "I know," you whispered. "I know… but I have to tell you something, something important."

Azriel leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Anything," he breathed. "Tell me anything, love. I’m listening."

"I wrote letters," you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open. "For the years to come… For you. So you know I’ll always be with you, even when I’m not." He silently promised himself would read every letter you left behind, each one a piece of your love, keeping him alive in a world where you no longer were.

Azriel’s chest tightened, a sob breaking free from deep inside him. "You don’t have to go," he said, his voice raw, breaking with the weight of everything he wished he could say, everything he wished he could change. "I can’t… I can’t lose you."

A tear slipped down your cheek, but your smile didn’t fade. You reached up with trembling fingers, tracing the line of his jaw, as if trying to memorize him the way he had memorized you. "You’ll be okay, Azriel. You’re so strong. You’ve always been strong. Just—just remember that I love you. I always will."

His breath caught in his throat as he kissed your hand gently, his voice cracking. "I love you," he whispered, "I love you more than I could ever put into words."

You closed your eyes, your hand slipping from his, but he caught it again instantly, holding on as if it would keep you tethered to him, keep you from slipping away.

Your breathing grew even more shallow, each one taking more effort than the last. Azriel could feel the tremor in your body, the slow, inevitable shift that told him everything he feared was coming. But he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

"I’m not ready to let you go," Azriel murmured, his voice hoarse, tears streaming down his face as he held you in his arms. "I’ve never been ready to let you go. Not now, not ever."

You gave him one last, gentle smile, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. "You’ll always have me," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "In every letter, in every thought, in every coffee you make. You’ll find me again, in the quiet moments. I’ll always be with you."

And then, as if your body had finally found peace, your chest stilled. Your breathing slowed, and for the first time in weeks, there was complete silence. Azriel’s heart shattered, his breath caught in his throat, and for a long moment, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

"No," he choked out, his voice breaking, his chest heaving with the weight of loss. "No, please…"

But there was no response. Only the soft, quiet sound of his heartbeat echoing through the silence, as if trying to fill the emptiness you left behind. His arms tightened around you one last time, as if holding you could bring you back, as if love could defy death.

For a long while, Azriel stayed there, clutching you to him, his tears falling onto your skin. He couldn’t let go. Not yet. He needed to hold you, to feel you close, to believe, for just a little longer, that you weren’t truly gone.

And in the stillness of the room, as the shadows of night stretched across the floor, Azriel whispered the only thing left in his broken heart.

"I’ll always love you. Always."

The room was silent. Still. But his words lingered in the air, a promise he would carry with him forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel stood at the edge of the balcony, staring into the endless void of night. The stars above seemed to mock him, distant and cold, twinkling as though the universe was still moving forward, as though life was continuing. But for him, everything had stopped.

The wind swept through the courtyard, its icy fingers clawing at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold that had settled deep in his chest, in his soul. He had not moved from that spot since… since that moment. The moment she had slipped away from him, her final breath trembling in his arms, leaving nothing but an echo of the love they had shared. The world felt like a hollow, silent place, and he was drowning in its emptiness.

He could still smell her, faintly. Her scent lingered in the air, in the folds of the blanket she had used to curl up in, in the spaces between the letters she had written him, all the things that were now gone—faded into the dust of the world she had left behind.

Her letters. He had read them, over and over, each one a tear-streaked page of her love for him, a love he could no longer feel against his skin, in her touch, in her smile. He had read her last words, over and over, searching for some kind of comfort. But the comfort never came. The words she had left behind—I’ll always be with you, Azriel—only left him feeling more alone. Her absence was a shadow that consumed everything.

"I’ll always be with you," he muttered bitterly to the darkened sky, as if the universe owed him something. "Where the hell are you now?"

He wanted to scream. To shout into the abyss that had taken her from him, to demand it give her back. But what was the point? The universe didn’t care. Time didn’t care. And now, all that was left was his hollow existence.

The days blurred together, the ache of her absence cutting deeper with every passing hour. He had stopped sleeping, stopped eating. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but exist, moving through each day as if in a fog. The shadows whispered her name—her voice, her laughter, the warmth of her skin against his—and all he could do was shut his eyes and pretend he didn’t hear them.

But the silence… the silence was the worst.

Everywhere he went, there were reminders. The empty corner of the room where her chair used to sit, the books she had loved scattered across the table, the coffee mug she had left on the counter—his mug now, though it meant nothing. All of it was just a reminder that she was gone, and he was left alone, trapped in a world where nothing made sense without her. Without her laughter, without the way she’d tease him in the mornings, the soft way she’d press her face to his chest when she needed comfort.

She had been everything to him. His light, his warmth, his reason to fight. And now…

The darkness pressed in on him, a crushing weight on his chest. His wings, once majestic and powerful, now felt like an anchor. He had no use for them anymore. They had carried him through battles, through pain, through moments of glory. But now they felt like a reminder of how empty he was. How much of a shell he had become.

The weight of the silence was unbearable. He could feel the crushing loneliness clawing at him, desperate to consume him whole. And as he stood there, staring out into the endless night, he almost wished for it to. He almost wished for the silence to swallow him, to take him with her, because what was the point of living in a world where she wasn’t there?

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered to the darkness, his voice cracking. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, each one a reminder that he was still alive—still breathing, even though every part of him screamed to be gone. To be where she was, wherever that was, because life without her felt like a slow, torturous death.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as if the physical pain would distract him from the ache in his chest. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

The weight of everything pressed on him—the guilt, the anger, the regret. He had promised her, promised her, that he would take care of her, that he wouldn’t let her go. But in the end, he had failed. He hadn’t been enough to save her. And now, she was gone, and all he had left were the memories. The hollow echoes of her voice, her laughter, her touch.

“I wasn’t enough for you,” he whispered, a raw, broken sob escaping him. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, his wings folding around him like an armor of despair. “I couldn’t save you. And now… now I have nothing.”

He curled into himself, his arms wrapping around his knees, his head pressed against them as the tears came in waves. His body trembled with the force of it. Every sob was like a shard of glass digging deeper into his heart, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The world had moved on. The stars had continued to shine. The wind had continued to blow. But for Azriel, it had all stopped. Because she was gone, and no matter how many times he whispered her name into the darkness, no matter how many times he begged for her to come back, he knew the truth.

She was gone. And he was broken beyond repair.

Time would pass, the seasons would change, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered without her.

And as the silence closed in around him, Azriel made a vow to the shadows, to the darkness that now felt like home.

He would never forgive himself. He would never forget the way she had died in his arms, the way he couldn’t save her. And as the cold night wrapped itself around him, he whispered through clenched teeth, “I’ll make the world pay. I’ll make everything pay for taking you from me.”

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they wouldn’t bring her back.

And he would have to live with that.

Taglist: @anarchiii @er1023 @siriuslystyle1989 @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @starlightazriel

[assriels]

lose control | prologue

pairing: azriel x day court!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: allusions to sex/one night stand but nothing explicit (yet)

summary: the humble beginnings of your complicated relationship with azriel

series masterlist

The first time you and Azriel slept together was an act of convenience, fraught by mutual attraction. It was a flurry of heady seduction, hands and teeth and tongues colliding sloppily — though pleasurably — as you pulled him by the collar of his shirt over the threshold of your bedroom in the late hours of the night of one of Helion’s overindulgent parties.

It wasn’t the first time you two had met, but it was the first time you had any meaningful interaction past polite greetings at the meetings between your respective High Lords.

You’d been watching him all night, tracking his movements and the way he carried himself with an air of such confident nonchalance. Truthfully, you were supposed to be observing everyone at the party — a lesson in networking, Helion had told you — but you couldn’t help your gaze from straying to the Night Court’s spymaster more and more as the night progressed.

At the time, you had been relatively new to your role as Helion’s second in command — a position you rightfully earned with your grit and blood, despite the rumors of your appointment being the product of nepotism. They were rumors you abhorred, insulted by the insinuation of Helion’s favoritism and that you had not earned your keep. But they were rumors you could understand; had you taken an outsider’s perspective, you might have thought the same thing.

When your father — one of Helion’s top generals — met his untimely and gruesome end on a mission gone wrong, Helion himself saw to it that you, a mere adolescent at the time, were well taken care of. Having lost your mother before you could exhale your first cry, and having lost your father on the cusp of your adulthood, your orphanage pulled at Helion’s heartstrings; he always liked your family. So, Helion took on the task of your parentage, providing lessons in a plethora of subjects from fine art to the sciences, and offered advice about the many trials you’d faced in your late adolescence and early adulthood.

Notwithstanding your enjoyment of the challenge of living and learning, nothing compared to your inherent skill in war strategy; you truly were the child of your father. When Helion caught wind of your exceptional prowess in strategy, he’d helped you hone your skill, challenging you year by year with more difficult tasks, pleased in every way a fatherly figure would be.

Though suspicions of Helion’s soft spot for you were true, it played no role in your acquisition of the warmaster — and subsequent second in command — title you now bore. You’d proved yourself time and time again, besting some of the Day Court’s most renowned soldiers in games of wit and combat. You were an indisputable prodigy.

But even still, even after a decade of proving your competence as Helion’s rightful second hand, some still questioned your ability. And — looking back on it now — you supposed you had let their skepticism of you get to your head, planting seeds of insecurity deep in the recesses of your mind. And maybe it was because of this burgeoning insecurity that you were so wildly drawn to Azriel, a beautiful challenge with dark lashes and hazel eyes.

It was a ridiculous notion borne of the naivety of youth to think that bedding a beautiful half-stranger would prove your worth and erase your uncertainty in yourself, as if somehow your skill on the battlefield could be corroborated by your skills of seduction. But you bought into it, determined to use your charm and wit to coax him to your room.

It worked, though you imagined that Azriel had his own reasoning for following you down Helions’s estate’s hallways.

And he most certainly did. At the time, he had still been deep in his unreciprocated pining for Mor, and watching her flirt with the patrons at Helion’s party sent his chest lurching in pain and longing. So when you sidled up next to him with a spare flute of faerie wine in your hands, he allowed himself to indulge in your beauty, allowed himself to crack open the door to his heart just a little to let you in. For just a moment, just a night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the rush of fondness and joy that flung that door to his heart wide open, filling his chest with a light he hadn’t experienced before. Maybe it was the faerie wine, or maybe it was the way your lips curved in a stunning arc that had him leaning in closer to you, whispering risqué promises in your ear as you laughed with heat blooming on your cheeks. He knew what would happen next, and the thrill of anticipation coursed through his veins in a persistent pulse; he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to want and be wanted back.

Azriel couldn’t remember who invited who to “talk somewhere quieter” first, but in hindsight it didn’t matter. You had come like a thief in the night and stolen all of his attention, erasing any thoughts of any other female before you. Just one night, he had told himself before he indulged in you. Just one night and he’d go back to his reality, back to the darkness of his longing.

Though Azriel’s night with you ended with the early morning sun peeking through your curtains, he never truly returned to the reality of his life before you. The longing he felt for Mor — though still present and pervasive — had eased somewhat by the gentleness of your touch, and he found his thoughts shifting gradually.

It happened slowly at first, a fleeting image of the curve of your spine, a brief flash of the glow upon your cheeks when you smiled. And then as the mental pictures of you grew more insistent in his consciousness, he sought you out, taking more missions in the Day Court and spending one night longer every time to keep you company.

He had told himself he had it under control, would most likely be overtaken by his affections for Mor at some point once again like he always was. But every night he spent warming your bed pulled him deeper and deeper into a space he was unsure how to navigate. You were…a friend, maybe. And though he knew friends did not sleep with one another on a relatively regular basis, Azriel intentionally ignored the complicated maze of his feelings, opting instead to lose himself in your magnetism for fear that if he allowed himself more time to think, to ponder about what his desire for you meant, he’d be sent into another painful spiral of unreciprocated affections.

So he kept whatever unexplored feelings he did or did not have for you locked away, enjoying the strange limbo and relative detachedness of your relationship. He was allowed to have fun, and you were both consenting 500-something-year-olds; where was the harm in a little messiness?

He had this under control.

Oh, poor misguided Shadowsinger. How wrong you are.

chapter i

a/n: here is the prologue!! honestly this was an impulse post, but i’m just so excited for this series, i couldn’t help it! come talk to me about your theories and ideas of what will/should happen ;-)

[shittalkingwiththesuriel]

Me when my fictional husband ends up with nobody and is sad and unloved: 👿😣😡

Me when my fictional husband ends up happy but is with someone who isn’t me: 😭🤷‍♀️😭

[herrinarte]

Returning To The Roots

A Tamlin x Lucien Fanfic

A hint of lavender wafted through the first subtle spring breeze Lucien had felt against his skin in years. He’d missed this, the clean air, the honey coloured sunshine, the smell of fresh life bursting from the ground in the form of flower buds and fresh fruit.

Velaris was the city of stars, and yet, the stars couldn’t detract from all that darkness. Never had it made him feel like this, like he was home.

Admittedly, home looked a lot more empty than he remembered. Lucien walked through the castle gardens without passing a single soul. Weeds had invaded and settled their roots everywhere, and all the other plants had gone wild in his absence, growing in angry tangles and clawing at the stone walls like caged animals.

Dread crept in as Lucien clutched his frantic heart. Tamlin had always maintained his garden meticulously, whether it meant hiring more help or getting down in the dirt on his knees wielding a spade. He’d never let it get like this. Never. Lucien couldn’t even begin to count how many days he had sat and watched Tamlin toil in the mud with a glass of something bubbly in his hands, mocking the high lord for doing servant’s work. At least he claimed it was for the sake of mockery. Truthfully, he enjoyed watching him. If he closed his eyes he could see Tamlin crouched, his soft mouth upturned ever so slightly as he pruned a rose bush. His nectar blonde hair falling from his forehead into the path of his eyes. His thorn pricked fingers would brush back the strands, a wave of want would flush away Lucien’s every other thought. The urge to kiss his work worn hands was unmatched. Back then he would force his drink back, hide his warming cheeks with an errant move of his hand. He’d never meant to feel this way about anyone other than his lost love Jesminda, and yet… the feeling lingered. Even now, as he raced up the stairs to Tamlin’s chambers, after everything he still wanted to hold those calloused fingers in his own. For his lips to brush away the bruises, for his teeth to pluck the thorns out.

“Tamlin!” He called out, the door denting the wall as he flung it open. “Tamlin, are you here?”

The room was like a jungle. Vines slithered up the walls and danced around the bedposts. All the furniture looked like a bear had used it as a chew toy, bitten down and clawed at. The curtains were torn, the windows cast a stream of sunlight onto a lump of blankets on the bed. No, not a lump of blankets. Tamlin.

Lucien approached him with caution. For a while he could have sworn he forgot to breathe, then the blankets shivered. Plucking up the courage, he pulled back the blankets. He could have wept at the sight.

Tamlin’s beautiful hair cascaded down his back and chest, it had become overgrown and knotted. His eyes were darkly lined, the bags so prominent it looked like he had been punched. His usually plush mouth was cracked and dry, his nails bitten down to the quick. Lucien would have thought him a dead male if it weren’t for the subtle rise of his chest.

“Tamlin?” Lucien chanced a touch, though could only bring himself to grasp at a ribbon of Tamlin’s hair, left unwashed for weeks, he would guess.

His eyes flickered open. Just the flutter of his eyelashes was enough to make Lucien’s pulse race.

Tamlin grumbled and rolled over, curling into a ball. “Another dream,” he mumbled to himself. “Why can’t empty sleep find me.”

Lucien could only chuckle at that. He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sunk in so much he thought he might fall straight through, he’d make Tamlin buy a new one. “I’m glad you see my face in your dreams, but I assure you this is not one.”

“Liar,” Tamlin snarled weakly, the beast had left him, he sounded more like a puppy playing at being a wolf. “Lucien is happy and far, far away from here. As he should.”

“I don’t know what to say to convince you, but take my word.” Lucien grabbed Tamlin’s shoulders and made him roll over so they were face to face. Tamlin’s eyes widened in disbelief, making Lucien grin. He’d missed that face. “I’m as real as they get.”

His smile dropped when Tamlin’s hand found his cheek. His shaking fingers stroking the river lines of Lucien’s scared skin.

“You came back.” His every word was taught with disbelief. Lucien felt his heart ache. Was it really so unbelievable that he’d return? Surely, despite it all, Tamlin must have known that Lucien could never truly close the door on their friendship. Tamlin could act as beastly as he liked but Lucien would always leave a crack in the door.

“Of course I did.” Lucien coiled a strand of Tamlin’s hair around his finger and tugged. Tamlin didn’t even flinch. “Someone has to tame this mane of yours. A beast, indeed. You know you can cut it yourself without my help.”

“I didn’t see any reason to maintain my appearance. I’m sure you noticed how empty it is here.” He let the silence hang as if to prove his point. Nothing filled it but a distant bird song. It had always been peaceful here, but never silent like this. “Besides, even if I still had people to impress, I’d struggle to find the will power to even brush my hair. Laugh if you want, but I see no reason to do anything these days. Just moving to get food is a thing to be dreaded.”

Lucien did not laugh. There wasn’t anything funny about his friend’s sorry state. He noted Tamlin’s usually toned arms had become willowy, his skin even paler than snow. He’d be surprised if Tamlin had even eaten in days, let alone been outside his chambers. Guilt loomed over Lucien’s shoulders. How could he let his High Lord succumb to the monster that was depression?

“Sit up.” Lucien commanded, steeling himself for the challenge. It could take years to get Tamlin back to some kind of normalcy, but he’d do it. He’d do whatever it took to see Tamlin in the garden again.

Tamlin looked lazily at him. It took Lucien sternly crossing his arms for him to ruefully sit up, the sheets draped over his lap so he wasn’t completely exposed.

Lucien walked to Tamlin’s chest of drawers and rifled around for scissors and a comb. When he found them he returned to Tamlin’s bedside to attack the bush.

“So when did you last wash it?” Lucien asked, as he began gingerly trying to comb through a tangle that looked suspiciously like a bird’s nest. “Be honest.”

Tamlin’s head bobbed as Lucien tugged through his hair. No matter how gentle Lucien tried to be, it must hurt, and yet Tamlin didn’t once complain. “I…” he scrunched his face, before letting out a heavy hearted sigh. “I can’t remember. Maybe two weeks ago, maybe… it could be longer. The days all look so similar I can’t tell the difference anymore. Time is hard to grasp right now.”

Lucien grumbled at the knotted hair. “I’m going to have to cut it. Shoulder length, I think. Then we’ll wash it. I can braid it too if you like?” Tamlin used to like it when he did that, Lucien hoped he still did because he had always loved doing it.

When Tamlin didn’t reply, Lucien added cautiously, “Do you think you can wash it yourself?”

Tamlin shrugged, an uncertain look on his face. “I suppose. I’ll pour a bath in a bit.”

Lucien began chopping away at Tamlin’s hair. It was a shame for all of it to go to waste, if Tamlin had taken care of it he’d look quite majestic with such a long mane of golden hair. Lucien shook away the thought. Now wasn’t the time for fantasy. “I think I’ll sort that bath out. Not that I think you’re incompetent, but I have a feeling that if I leave things to you this hair of yours will still be smelling next week.”

He stepped back to admire his work. Tamlin rubbed his shoulder, the weight of his hair missing.

“How does it look?” Tamlin asked shyly.

“I thought you didn’t care how you looked?” Lucien said, busying himself with tidying up all the hair on the floor. The task helped to stop him from staring. Even like this, his gaze was still drawn to Tamlin. He wanted to smooth out the worried lines of his forehead, he wanted to take care of him, as silly as that sounded.

“I’ve got someone to impress now.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “That is, if you’re going to stay? I’d understand if you don’t want to, you have people to go back to in the Night Court.”

“No, I don’t.” Lucien didn’t explain further. He smiled, uncertainly, “I’ll got sort out that bath for you.”

. . .

The bathroom air was thick with steam when Tamlin finally wandered in like a ghost.

“Your bath awaits you my lord.” Lucien chuckled playfully as he bowed beside the tub.

Tamlin walked closer and waded his hand through the water, catching some tickled pink petals.

“A bit much, don’t you think?” The smallest of smiles crept onto his lips. The small action was enough to make Lucien’s skin prickle with goosebumps.

“A bit much?” Lucien scoffed. “You are a High Lord, a little flourish should be added to every mundane task.”

Tamlin raised a dubious brow but settled into the tub nonetheless. “I don’t feel like much of a High Lord.”

“You will when I’m done with you.” Lucien assured, his eager fingers plunging into Tamlin’s wet hair to massage in scented oils. “You will.”

Tamlin eased back into Lucien’s touch, his eyes falling sleepily shut. “Elain will surely miss you if you are to stay.”

Lucien had to stop himself from flinching at the name of his supposed mate. “She’ll be fine. We don’t speak much anyway. We just don’t— I think the Cauldron was wrong, if that’s possible.”

Tamlin thoughtful bit his lip. “Perhaps. Don’t ask me about romance and fate. There was a time that I thought Feyre might be my—“ his words came out thickly. “Obviously I was wrong.”

Lucien remembered the way Tamlin had looked at Feyre back then. How his bottle green eyes lit up every time she entered the room with a grim face. How he’d told Tamlin how pleased he was that she seemed like a promising contender to break the curse. How he’d lied. Lied because a small part of him wished Tamlin might have at least tried to break the curse with him, even if it was a useless endeavour. He knew he didn’t meet the criteria. But how could he have confessed this to his friend when he had never seemed so happy? He had no choice but to let the jealousy fester, to be as civil as he could muster, for Tamlin. “I thought so too. We were both wrong.”

Tamlin chuckled bitterly to himself as he watched the pink petals in the water stick the his bare chest. “I bet I looked like a proper fool, didn’t I? I still do.”

“You were a sorry sap in love. No one would ever mock you for that, not even me.” Lucien had finished washing Tamlin’s hair, while it was still wet he combed through any remaining stubborn tangles.

Tamlin was quiet for a moment. “What’s it like?” He said finally, “To have a mate, that is.”

Lucien hesitate, comb in hand. “Ah, well, um, I suppose it’s kind of nice, but not what I expected really.”

“How so?”

“I feel a pull, in a way, but when I actually am near her… I don’t know. It feels like a bond forged rather than a bond grown from carefully planted roots. I thought it would feel more natural.”

“Do you think it is because you still miss Jesminda?”

“No, it’s not about her. I’ll always love her but I know I’m ready to move on, I just can’t help but feel like Elain isn’t the one. I don’t think she wants me either. She’s made that quite clear.”

The water rippled as Tamlin turned to lean on the edge of the tub, he squinted at Lucien. “I won’t pretend to know Elain well, but she seems to have a good pair of eyes and a level head. How could she deny you? She must be in love already, I can’t believe anyone could be around you for all that time and feel nothing.”

Lucien cleared his throat to distract from his cheeks heating. “Yes, well, I suppose even I can’t be everyone’s type. Though that may be hard to believe.”

“It is.” Tamlin agreed. “She’ll come around though. She’s your mate. You are destined to love her, and you will, because you are kind and loyal, and then I will be alone, again, because I am destined to.” Lucien frowned and went to speak but Tamlin cut in first. “—and no, this isn’t me being negative. I’ve accepted my lot in life. I’m happy for you. The Cauldron knows you deserve a good life after everything you’ve been through. I look forward to seeing you succeed. Selfishly I’m glad I get to have you here with me though, for now at least.” Tamlin ran his hand over his jaw, a thin layer of prickly stubble was growing in. “I admit, I’ve missed your company greatly.”

“Even my jibes and mockery?” Lucien couldn’t deny his heart was finally beginning to feel settled. Slowly, Tamlin was brightening up, not in any obvious ways but his eyes looked more lively and his lips seemed less prone to frown.

“Especially that.” Tamlin rose from the bath and stepped out. He did an exaggerated stretch like a tired dog, before shaking like one, spraying water everywhere.

“Ew, ew, ew!” Lucien scrambled for a towel to wipe down his sodden face. “Bad dog, terrible dog. By the Cauldron, must you do that every time?”

Tamlin laughed, really laughed. He doubled over and wiped at his watering eyes. How could Feyre give up this? The thought flickered into Lucien’s mind without meaning to, making his throat feel course and dry.

“That,” Tamlin smirked. “I’ve very much missed that.”

Lucien handed him a towel, chuckling too. “I have not.” He lied and they both knew it. “Right, let me dry your hair and then I’ll braid it.”

Tamlin took the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “Fine. Just don’t put any ribbons in it.”

Lucien was definitely going to put ribbons in it.

~

Thank you for reading :)

I haven’t written fan fiction for years so apologies if I’m a bit rusty. Critique is welcome! I’ll probably be writing a continuation of this sometime soon because Tamlin deserves some love and who better to do it than Lucien? I know this ship isn’t for everyone but please be respectful in the comments.

All notes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you want to know when the next chapter is out I’m happy to tag you next time <3

[splendsay]

ACOTAR FF // Azriel x F!Reader // Shade Cerulean

HAPPY SUNDAAYYYY

hope u enjoy lovelies

..................................................................

Shade Cerulean // Chapter 2: Cerulean

!!MDNI!!

Chapters: 2/? Content Warnings: Explicit language (a/o Ch.2) Pairing: Azriel (ACOTAR) x Reader (You) Work Summary:

You're what's known as a Navigator in your home world, able to teleport great distances with the power in your veins. One day, while escaping a dire situation in desperate search for help, you jump too far, and land in Prythian -- Velaris. Guess who finds you?

..................................................................... Links to:

Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[vacant--body]

stay with me pt 5

<azriel x ofc>

warnings: angst. lots of it. SH kinda, mentions of suîćîdë

part one, part two, part three, part four

✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖°

Azriel couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe. The overwhelming tightness was strangling his lungs, crushing his already broken heart. And someone was screaming, he couldn’t hear anything over the screaming.

Where was he, anyway?

He tried to take in his surroundings, to see where and what was going on. But his vision was so fucking blurry he couldn’t make out anything other than the outline of people. They were standing over him, trying to haul him up. Apparently he was laying on the ground, clutching something wet and warm to his chest. But the pain, which radiated over his entire body, wouldn’t let him move, even if he wanted to. It hurt too much.

“Azriel!” Someone screamed.

He felt the sting of a slap land across his face, and suddenly the whole world came back into focus.

It was Azriel that was screaming, voice raw. His vision cleared, of what he realized were tears, and the grief stricken faces of his family appeared. And he also realized he was speaking, repeating the same words over and over again.

“No, no, no!”

“Stay with me!”

All consuming anguish slammed into him. Ophelia was dead. Ophelia, his mate. His fucking mate, was dead. Azriel couldn’t feel her on the other side of the bond anymore. Couldn’t feel her chest rise with life-saving air, he just couldn’t feel her. Her beautiful eyes would never open, her mouth would never tip to the side with a cheeky smile, and he wouldn’t ever get to hear his name on his lips again.

Dead.

He held onto her tighter, how he should have all those nights ago. He should have told her everything when he had the chance, should have beared his fucking soul to her. Even if she had rejected him, he still should have told her.

“Madja is on her way.” Azriel heard someone say. He was so lost in his agony he had no idea who was speaking. “Azriel, we need you to let her go”

A primal snarl tore from his lips, and they backed away, hands up in a placating gesture.

“You’re going to have to knock him out.” Another said.

“I know. I’m just afraid of what he’ll do when he wakes.”

Cool hands grabbed onto his temple and Azriel thrashed, trying to throw whoever that was off of him. He was like a raging wild animal, like something out of the Middle. He was no longer the calm and collected male like everyone knew. It was pure carnal rage.

Long, razor sharp claws tore their way through his minds shield, destroying them to get inside. Azriel screamed louder, blood trickling from his nose. The sounds of his family faded away, so all that was left was the sound of soft spoken voices, cooing and hushing him. Lulling him to sleep. He fought, pushing back against those claws. But they only held on tighter.

Slowly, he slumped to the ground, arms falling away from Ophelia’s bleeding body.

And sleep consumed him.

✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖°

Azriel woke with a start, like something had scared him out of his deep slumber. That hadn’t been a normal sleep, it was only darkness with him floating forever in the nothingness. But he still felt pain raging all over his body. The pain of the mating bond breaking, slowly fading away into nothing.

Would that be all that’s left? Nothing?

He sat up sluggishly, the joints in his body popping and cracking. He was no longer out in that cursed field, but tucked into his room in the House of Wind. His bloody leathers had been stripped from his body, replaced with leisure clothes. Someone had changed and bathed him, as he saw no signs of her blood anywhere on his body. How long had he been out?

Getting to his feet, he walked towards the door. But he stopped as he passed the mirror, seeing his ghastly reflection. Azriel studied himself, hating what stared back. His wings now dragged behind him, the talons scraping the floor. There were deep purple marks under his bloodshot eyes, like he had been crying while he slept. And he looked incredibly pale, skin taking on a sickly pallor.

The look of someone with an utterly shattered heart. That’s what he looked like now.

A messy knot of emotions rose up his throat and Azriel stumbled, grasping the wood of the dressing table. His shoulders shook with each deep inhale he took, but it just seemed like he couldn’t catch his breath. His fingers gripped the wood so tightly that they turned white. He just couldn’t get his head clear, couldn’t stop hearing her broken cries.

Whimpering with frustration, he lashed out, his closed fist connecting with the mirror. It exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, small shards embedding themselves in his knuckles. Thick red blood seeped out of his wounds, but already his Illyrian healing was trying to take control. He watched numbly as his cuts turned pink with new skin, but was instantly shredded back open by the glass.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Cassian rushed in. He halted in his tracks, taking in the scene of his brother standing there with a shattered mirror and blood running down his hand.

“You’re awake.” He croaked, eyes misty with unshed tears.

Azriel didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up a scrap of linen and wrapped it around his knuckles to staunch the bleeding.

“You’ll need that cleaned out, there’s glass-”

“No.” Azriel snarled.

“Az…” Cassian tried, taking small steps in his direction.

“I said no!” His teeth flashed. “Fuck the glass, fuck everything! There is nothing left for me here, my mate is fucking dead. DEAD. And I might as well join her!”

They both stood there in deafening silence, just staring at each other. The realization of what Azriel had just admitted struck Cassian like a slap. His breath hitched in his chest, and Cassians mouth opened and closed, as if he were a fish out of water, trying to think of something to say. But there was nothing he could say that would take away this hurt.

“But she lives.”

Except that.

Azriels head snapped towards his brother, eyes going so wide that they almost popped straight out of his head.

“What?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Madja brought her back. She’ still unconscious but-”

Azriel didn’t stick around to hear the rest of what he said, because he burst past Cassian, sprinting towards her room. Alive? She was alive? He couldn’t wrap his destroyed thoughts around it. He had felt the bond break, and watched her take her last breath, how could she be alive? This had to be some type of cruel joke his brothers were playing on him, there was no way-

He opened Ophelia’s bedroom door so hard that it bounced off the wall, hinges rattling with the force. He took a step, and then another, before his knees gave out. But Rhys was there, catching him under his arm, and kept him upright.

“Easy, brother.” His voice was soft, softer than he had ever heard it.

What Azriel saw confused him. Ophelia was there, laying on her bed as if she was sleeping. She had been washed and changed just as Azriel had, no traces of blood remaining on her. Feyre and Madja stood on the other side of the bed, and the two stared at him, unsure of what his next move would be.

“How?” Azriel’s voice broke, and for the millionth time that day, tears rushed to his eyes.

“We got to her just in time.” Madja was there, putting various medical supplies back into a bag. The old female turned to Feyre and said something under her breath. But his shadows heard her.

Watch him. The bond hasn’t returned, and I’m afraid he’ll do something…something I can’t heal.

Feyre nodded and thanked the healer before dismissing her.

“How are you feeling, Az?” Feyre asked, and just then Rhys released the grip he had on Azriels arm.

But he didn’t hear her. Instead, he slowly crept towards the edge of Ophelia’s bed. She looked so incredibly peaceful, like the events of the past week hadn't happened at all.

He took her slender hand in his, and it was so cold. He supposed that was normal considering how much blood she had lost. They had been laying in a puddle of it. And still, it just didn’t seem possible that she was alive.

“Why hasn’t the bond returned?” Azriel whispered, scared that if spoke too loud it would wake her.

“Madja said it would take time.” Rhys said, coming to his side.

Time. If there was anything Azriel knew how to do was wait. He had waited his entire life for Ophelia, he could wait just a little bit longer. So, he grabbed a reclining chair and dragged it to the side of her bed, and plopped down in it.

“What are you doing?” Feyre asked softly.

“Waiting.”

✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖°

Three things were clear to Ophelia as she laid in the eternal darkness.

One, her mother was Lady of the Autumn Court and her father was Lord of the Day Court, and Lucien was her brother.

Two, her entire body was screaming in pain. It was a never ending barrage, it felt she was being set on fire over and over again. It felt like she was being stripped of her flesh, and someone was sticking needles in the exposed skin.

Three, Azriel was her mate.

Mate.

The cauldron had blessed and cursed her with a mate. And out of everyone, in the entirety of Prythian, it was him. Azriel.

His name on her tongue felt like taking a cold, refreshing gulp of water. It felt like life, death, and everything in between. Something as big as ruling the world seemed possible with him by her side, or even just getting out of bed for the day. Knowing that he was there, waiting for her. She could do it all.

But where was he?

He wasn’t here with her, in this endless pit of dark nothingness. But she could sense him, his scent lingering on the tip of her nose. It was smokey and sweet, the boldness of each taste coming together each time, it was intoxicating. Like she could drown in him, but he would be there to keep her afloat.

Ophelia could feel him now. He was so close but yet so far away. It felt like she could reach out and touch him, but when she tried, her body screamed in protest. Everything hurt. Every miniscule movement that was made had her already exhausted mind slip farther and farther into the darkness.

So she laid there, feeling nothing and everything. Waiting for her mate.

Azriel.

[shallyne]

The Sun and the Moon

Words: 500

“Do you think the moon and the sun are friends?” Feyre asked and with that question, she climbed on Nesta's bed without invitation, wriggling her too short legs until she fully managed to climb up.

“No,” Nesta simply replied, turning a page in her book. She didn't pay Feyre much mind, her little sister always asked endless questions, if they made sense or not. Today it seemed to not make any sense, except maybe in Feyre's curious mind.

Feyre slumped down right beside her, her childish gaze boring into Nesta as she asked, “Why not?”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta put a bookmark between the yellowed pages of her book and closed it. “They are polar opposites, they can't be friends.”

That seemed to make Feyre think, her small finger tapping against her chin until her focus was back on Nesta. “But why can't they be friends? Maybe it's the difference that makes them friends! They might complete each other, like two puzzle pieces.”

Fully annoyed now by Feyre's antics, Nesta stood and ushered her little sister to the door. “Shouldn't you be playing with your dolls instead of musing like a poet?”

“What dolls?”

Not even further contemplating what Feyre said, Nesta grabbed an old doll of hers and pushed it into Feyre's hands. Her door was closed before her little sister could utter another word.

Nesta opened Feyre's drawer of their old dresser, the one she had painted with the night sky. In hindsight, she was always meant to end up in the Night Court, ruling at Rhysand's side.

It's been over a year since Nesta went back to their little cottage that they had cramped in when they lost their fortune and it was hard, to say the least. All the memories, more bad than good, seem to press on her. Everything in here was as just as they left it, but more overgrown. There was also a hole in the roof now, making the ground underneath her feet brittle.

All of Feyre's clothes were still in her drawer, just as she left it before the beast, Tamlin, took her what felt like a lifetime ago. She didn't know why she pushed the few clothes to the side, maybe it was some kind of instinct to what she found there in the farthest corner, cramped far into the back.

A doll. Not just a doll, the doll Nesta has given her sister to leave. She didn't know that Feyre haf kept this doll, thought she had thrown it into some corner after returning to her room.

“What dolls?” echoed in Nesta's mind, in her sister's baby voice. Looking back, she never saw Feyre with any kind of dolls, or toys in general. She always made do with stuff she found outside, rocks, sticks, dirt. And just then it dawned on her that Nesta's doll was the only real toy Feyre ever had, before the circumstances took their childhood. And still Feyre had taken the doll with her.

Footsteps sounded behind Nesta and she looked back, finding Cassian in the doorway. He was so big that the cottage seemed even smaller around them, especially with the wings.

Pressing the doll to her chest, Nesta asked him, “Do you think the moon and the sun are friends?”

Confusion was written all over Cassian’s stupidly handsome face but he replied nonetheless, “I like to believe they are.”

[zenithofstories]

so i know a lot of you followed me for the maasterlist of bonus chapters, and i gotta apologise for not doing much else in this fandom. i tend to do a lot of my fandom stuff on pinterest, and not a huge amount here.

however, i do write fanfiction. and i haven't actually told you guys about that. i was waiting to get past a planning stage, because i thought that would take a while, but it turns out it did not. so ahh, on a random tuesday (🤣), i'm writing an acotar fanfic. it's called A Court of Blades and Brushes, and it's an exploration of how the story would have been different if feyre had married tamlin at the start of mist and fury. if rhys and mor and cass and az hadn't been around to save feyre, would she have saved herself.

(it's on ao3, and currently restricted to users cause of all the ai bullshit and people making apps and who knows what else. if we get some actual rules for the internet we call home i'll unlock them again, but unfortunately that's not realistic right now)

it's gonna be long, and i'm a slow writer, but i have so many ideas and i am really enjoying it. this is a passion project and one i am going to be writing for years to come. so if you're interested, come check it out!

i'm planing to start announcing new chapters here, along with a changelog, because i am posting this fic as i write it and sometimes notice mistakes, or add details, or change something slightly from the chapters i've already posted. so i think i'm going to start doing that *shrugs*

if you want actual notifications, the best method is probably subscribing on ao3, to either the work itself, the series or just to me if you want emails about all my stuff (i've also written fics for The Medoran Chronicles by Lynette Noni, and some stuff for Harry Potter but i'm on hiatus from that atm. i'll get back to it someday. i promise. and a few other smaller fandoms. and i have more ideas. of course)

[olive-main]

Masterlist

A/N: I FINALLY updated my masterlist - I won’t be listing specific characters since most of them have so many. Of course, I write for the more popular/well-known characters but if you’re unsure don’t be afraid to ask :) As always my DMs are open. (Not just for requests, but to talk about anything related to the fandoms listed!)

Requests: Sometimes I may take a while to answer or post requests. I’m a college student, and work full time. So please bare with me…😔

Key: Fluff (🧸) Smut (💋) Angst (🪦)

☆———————————————☆——————————————☆

ACOTAR (SJM Universe)

Azriel -

To Love and Let Go (🪦)

Between Us Alone (🪦,🧸)

No Damsels Here (🧸)

Eris Vanserra -

Treasured Yearning (🪦, 🧸)

Fourth Wing

Xaden Riorson -

Healing Through Hurt (🪦, 🧸)

Baldurs Gate 3

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Bucky Barnes -

Two Heads of Hydra (🪦?)

Scars and All (🪦, 🧸)

☆———————————————☆——————————————☆

Any toxicity or hate towards characters will result in being blocked. Criticism and discussions are welcome, disrespect is not. They’re fictional, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

[mellowmusings]

death bed | coffee for your head part two. coffee part.1 part 3

Azriel x reader A/N- I had posted a poll earlier but I just couldn't really view Azriel finding his reborn mate, maybe an alternative ending if I ever want to but i thought that after all that loss, finding love again would be so beautiful for them. let me know if you wanna be tagged <33

Warning- Mentions of dead mate, Azriel is depressed and lonely and just.....broken. HURT COMFORTTT Summary- After loosing his mate Azriel falls into severe depression barely living and eating at all, hi entire life had fallen apart and even after a century of grieving he still couldn't pull himself up to the surface, but in his hole of self pity a ladder reaches down to him.

Azriel x Reader Fanfiction - Part Two: "A Cup of Coffee"

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed And I promise that one day I'll feel fine And I promise that one day I'll feel alright

(*a century later*)

The weight of silence pressed down on Azriel, a constant companion he hadn’t asked for. He was perched at the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the walls of his chambers. His shadows flickered restlessly, their whispers unsettling him, as though they could feel the heavy grief that consumed him from the inside out.

It had been over a century since she died, yet every day felt as fresh as the moment he’d lost her. His mate. The one who had been the light to his dark. The one who had made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he was worth something.

But now, there was only this—this crushing emptiness, the echo of her absence filling every corner of his world.

"I’ll make a cup of coffee for your head…" Azriel murmured, his voice thick with sorrow. The words were a faint memory, a fragile trace of what had once been. He hadn’t been able to drink coffee since. Not the way she had liked it, sweet and comforting, like the love they’d shared.

He dragged a hand through his hair and stood. He was so tired. Tired of the pain. Tired of the memories. Tired of the never-ending ache. He reached for the mug on his nightstand, the one he had used for so many years when they would drink together in the mornings, the one that had belonged to her.

And I'll make a cup of coffee with the right amount of sugar How you like it And I'll make a cup of coffee with the right amount of sugar How you like it How you like it

Don't know how long I'd stay for It's okay, I'll knock on your door Won't you come down and get me? I like it when you hold me tight You make me feel nice The green in your eyes Makes me feel warm inside

But as his fingers brushed over the handle, a knock on his door cut through the silence.

His heart stuttered for a moment, unsure if he should even answer. The world had felt so much quieter without her, and now, with each knock, each voice, it felt like the universe was pushing him to move forward, but he wasn’t sure how.

The knock came again, a little more urgent this time.

"Azriel," a soft voice called from the other side of the door. You. The one who had been nothing but kind to him since the day you met. The one who had never asked for anything, never expected anything in return.

He hesitated. What did you want? He wasn’t sure he could handle company right now, especially not when he was still drowning in the remnants of his own sorrow. But the sincerity in your voice, the way it resonated with something deep within him, made his resolve falter.

He stood and opened the door.

There you were, standing in the hallway with a cup of steaming coffee in your hands, your eyes warm with understanding. Your green eyes, bright and unburdened by the shadows that had claimed his own.

"I thought you might need this," you said softly, offering the cup to him. "I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I brought it just the way you used to make it."

Azriel froze. He stared at the cup, the steam curling upward in the air, and for a moment, he was caught in the delicate sweetness of the memory. The way his mate had smiled when he made it for her, her laughter ringing through their shared mornings.

He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here, standing in front of you, accepting the warmth you offered. It was too soon. Too much.

But then you spoke again, your voice quiet, gentle. "I’m not asking you to forget her, Azriel. I just… I just wanted to bring you something. Something small. Something to help."

He could hear the unspoken weight of your words—how you understood him more than anyone could. More than he wanted you to.

The silence stretched between you, and then, reluctantly, Azriel reached out and took the cup. His fingers brushed against yours, a fleeting touch that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. And I'll make a cup of coffee with the right amount of sugar How you like it And I'll make a cup of coffee with the right amount of sugar How you like it How you like it

Yeah "Just like she liked it," he murmured, his voice rough with the rawness of the memories that rose to the surface.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. Instead, you smiled softly, as if you had been waiting for him to say that. "It’s okay, Azriel. You don’t have to forget her. I know you’ll carry her with you forever. But… it’s okay to live again, too."

He felt his chest tighten, the words sinking into him like a soothing balm, even though the pain was still so fresh, so raw. "I don’t know if I can," he whispered, almost to himself.

"I’m not asking you to forget," you repeated, your voice gentle but insistent. "I’m asking you to feel again. Even just a little. It’s okay to take small steps. It’s okay to feel something that isn’t pain. Something that isn’t guilt."

Azriel closed his eyes, the warmth of the coffee in his hands grounding him, keeping him tethered to the present. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe—deep, slow breaths that filled his lungs with something other than grief.

He glanced up at you, your face soft with compassion, and felt something shift deep within him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A thread of connection that wasn’t rooted in the past, but in the now.

"You remind me of her," Azriel said before he could stop himself. His voice cracked on the words, and he quickly looked away, ashamed of how vulnerable he felt.

You nodded, as though you had expected it. "I know," you said simply. "But I’m not her, Azriel. I’m me. I’m just someone who cares about you. And I think… maybe you deserve to feel something more than sorrow."

His breath hitched. The urge to pull away, to retreat into the shadows of his heart, was strong. But something about the way you stood there, unwavering, calm in the face of his brokenness, made it harder to do so.

"I don’t know how," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

"You don’t have to figure it out all at once," you said softly. "One step at a time. One moment at a time."

Azriel stared down at the coffee in his hands, his chest tight. He didn’t know if he was ready. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But in this small, fleeting moment, he felt something stir inside him—a cautious flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Maybe… just maybe… he could try again. Try to feel something other than the weight of his grief.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice thick with the emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to express in so long. "For this. For being here."

You smiled softly, your gaze steady, and for the first time in a long while, Azriel felt a sense of peace. Not a peace that would erase the past, but a peace that might just help him survive the future.

"You don’t have to thank me," you said gently. "Just take the next step, Azriel. You don’t have to do it alone." *time jump*

Azriel often found himself lost in memories of her—memories so vivid, so real, it was as if she was still there with him. The laughter they’d shared in the quiet moments, the soft whispers exchanged beneath the stars. But it wasn’t the memories that haunted him now. It was the absence of them—the empty spaces where she had once been, where her warmth had filled the cold, dark corners of his life.

He could still remember the way her eyes had glowed when they first found each other, that sense of quiet understanding between them. She’d been so full of life, so vibrant, so unapologetically herself. Even now, Azriel could hear her laughter echoing in his mind, feel the warmth of her touch against his skin as if it had been just yesterday. He could recall the way she would rest her head on his chest, the rhythm of her breathing a comfort against the cold silence of his world.

Those were the memories he cherished the most, the ones that still hurt so deeply. The first time they’d kissed, so soft and hesitant, like the first fragile bloom of spring after a long winter. The way she’d looked at him, as if he were the only person in the world, as if he were more than the shadows that he had become. She’d loved him for who he was, the dark and the light, the pain and the strength. She had accepted all of him in a way that no one else ever had, and it was that unconditional love that had shattered him when she was taken from him.

And it was her that he thought of now, even as he found himself starting to heal, slowly, with you.

One particular memory always found its way to the surface, no matter how much time had passed. It was their first morning together after they had officially become mates. Azriel had been nervous, despite all the years he’d lived, despite the countless battles he’d fought, there had been something about being with her that made him feel raw, vulnerable. They’d woken up early, the first rays of dawn barely peeking over the horizon.

He’d made her coffee—the way she liked it, sweet and rich, just like the way she made him feel. She’d grinned at him, her eyes full of warmth and affection, and kissed him softly on the lips, her fingers trailing down his arm. “I’ve never had anyone make coffee for me like this,” she had teased, her voice full of playful warmth.

Azriel had smiled, unsure if it was the perfect moment or if he was just falling into the sensation of being loved, something he wasn’t sure he deserved. “I want to make it right. For you,” he’d said quietly, his eyes a little more vulnerable than usual.

Her laugh had filled the room, light and effortless. “You do,” she’d murmured. “You always do.”

He remembered how she’d leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as they sat there in the quiet, sipping their coffee together. It had been the most peaceful moment of his life, one he had never imagined he’d be lucky enough to experience. It had been perfect, even in its simplicity.

And then… she was gone.

It had been years since that day, and yet Azriel couldn’t let go of the ache, the overwhelming weight of the loss. It wasn’t just that she was gone—it was that he had let her go. He had failed to protect her, failed to keep the promise he had made to himself to never let anything happen to her. It was a mistake he couldn’t undo, and the nightmares were a constant reminder of that failure.

Even now, as he sat with you, trying to piece together the shattered remnants of his life, his mind would drift back to her. He would catch himself noticing things about you—little things that made his heart ache in ways he hadn’t expected. He hadn’t meant to compare you to her. He hadn’t wanted to, but sometimes it was impossible not to. The way you smiled softly at him, the way you made him feel like he mattered even when he didn’t believe it himself, it reminded him of those fleeting moments with her. But then, when he let himself feel that brief flicker of warmth, the guilt would crawl back into his chest, a reminder of all he had lost and all he still couldn’t let go of. *a few months later*

Once again,after another particularly painfully vivid nightmare, Azriel found himself sitting in the same spot by the window, staring out into the vast, starry sky. His hands were clenched, his mind a whirlwind of fractured memories. The shadows that surrounded him flickered restlessly, as if they could feel the unrest gnawing at his soul.

The door creaked open, and there you were again, your presence a quiet comfort. Your eyes, always so gentle, met his with understanding, but also with something else. Something Azriel couldn’t name.

“You’re still here,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

For a long while, the two of you stood there, silent, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He could feel the pull of the memories again, and this time, he let them flood over him. He allowed himself to remember her—the way she had looked at him when they first kissed, the way she had touched his cheek so gently, as if she knew how broken he was, even before he did.

“You remind me of her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t recoil. You didn’t pull away, even though Azriel could see the way his words had affected you. Instead, you nodded slowly, your gaze soft, patient. “I know,” you said quietly. “But I’m not her, Azriel. I’m me.” she softly whispered, gently yet firmly.

He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening a pang of guilt went through him at her tone. It wasn’t that he didn’t see the difference between you—it was that the pain of the past was so much easier to cling to. Her memory was still so fresh in his mind, so vivid. But he couldn’t ignore the way his heart shifted when he was with you, the way he felt something like peace when he wasn’t thinking about the weight of his past. He wanted to heal, for you. He wanted to be better for you. But the road forward felt so long, and the nightmares so unrelenting.

And yet, when he looked at you now, standing beside him, offering him the same gentle presence, something changed. The quiet ache in his chest didn’t disappear, but it softened. Just a little. Maybe, just maybe, he could take the next step.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed, the words heavy in the air between you.

“You don’t have to know all at once,” you said, your voice steady, full of the same quiet determination that had always been there. “One step at a time, Azriel. One moment at a time. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Azriel closed his eyes, feeling the pull of the past, and yet, for the first time, he allowed himself to focus on the present. On you. He didn’t know if he could ever fully heal, but he wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t have to carry it all by himself.

The darkness still lingered in the corners of his mind, the pain still fresh and raw, but he could see a flicker of light now, a new path—one that didn’t ask him to forget, but to live again.

Slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you squeezed his hand softly, a gesture that said everything Azriel needed to hear: You’re not alone. Not anymore.

And for the first time in a long while, Azriel let himself believe it and just then he felt a heavy burden he had been since long carrying lessen.

End of Part Two

Taglist- @anarchiii @inkedinshadows @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1

[assriels]

lose control series masterlist

trope: friends(?) with benefits to lovers(?)

pairing: azriel x day court!reader

summary: for the past one hundred years, your relationship with azriel has been stuck in a purgatory between lovers and strangers, floating in the limbo between the night and day your respective courts cherished. your position as the warmaster of the day court — and helion’s second in command — forces an alliance closer than you’ve ever been to azriel and his inner circle as the threat of a war with hybern looms heavy in the distance. century’s old complicated feelings bubble to the surface, and confrontation is inevitable. the delicate balance of the life and world you know are bound towards disruption.

prologue

chapter i

chapter ii (coming soon!)

a/n: hello friends! this is a series that i’ve been planing for ages now & i hope you enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing and brainstorming it

[seeyalaterinnovator]

I am thinking of writing again… specifically for the acotar/tog/cc realm. Anyone have any ideas or requests? Or any interest in reading?

[arson-09]

i find this concept of “winning” so funny cause its a book series. Like yeah I realize that how the author views her own character is different than mine so hes probably not going to get treated the way i want him too but that doesn’t mean anything. Genuinely what happens in that series is so inconsequential to me cause no matter what I like tamlins character and find him interesting, theres no way to ‘lose’ 😭 Ill just make fun of canon and live my best life yapping about the characters i like and dislike !!

saw this anti-tamlin post and it struck me just how tragic tamlin's character is. is he truly so evil that he deserves to die? with no friends, no family, no dignity? literally nothing? sjm failed to make me hate him. all I feel for him is pity and sympathy. he made some mistakes, yes, but enough to deserve death? I don't even see people hate on the actual villains this hard.

[splendsay]

ACOTAR FF // Azriel x F!Reader // Shade Cerulean

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Shade Cerulean // Chapter 1: What of the Moon?

!!MDNI!!

Content Warnings: Explicit language (a/o Ch.1) Pairing: Azriel (ACOTAR) x Reader (You) Work Summary:

You're what's known as a Navigator in your home world, able to teleport great distances with the power in your veins. One day, while escaping a dire situation in desperate search for help, you jump too far, and land in Prythian -- Velaris. Guess who finds you?

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