#azriel amnesia

[illyrian-dreamer]

Overwritten – Part 3

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Violence

Words: 1,384

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Part 3 ∇

Ripped from the white abyss, you gasped awake in an unfamiliar place. Had Azriel finally claimed you? Were you dead?

Clutching at your clothes – you felt the rough fabric of the tunic you had always worn. Surely you wouldn't still wear a thing like this in the afterlife? Heart pounding from the poison-fuelled hallucination, you ran a shaky hand through your hair, doing your best to calm your breathing.

“Y/N?” someone said from beside you. You froze at the sound, your stomach sinking. You knew that voice.

With wide eyes you forced yourself to look, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. There, in the flesh, was Azriel. 

His demonic wings reached high above his head, blue siphons glaring just as they did in your nightmares. He was broad, strong, with weapons strapped to his frame – a threat in every way. There was no sign of a forked tongue, hellish red eyes or the sinister smile, but the shadows were here – speaking to him, likely advising on the thousands of different ways to kill you without him having to lift a finger.

You saw the male’s mouth move, but panic was a roar in your ears, making it impossible to hear. A slow hand reached across the bed you lay in, and you watched it with a deadly glare. He was surely going to kill you. Still, you were unable to move, frozen in utter and pathetic fear.

Do it quick, you found yourself begging.

You heard him then. “Y/N? It’s me, Azriel.”

Pain sliced through your mind as a white light flashed before your eyes. That cold, unfeeling voice that had coached you for so long ringing through your ears. 

Azriel is an unmatched evil. He will kill you. The only hope you stand is to kill him first.

And as venom took over, you found yourself reverting to the animalistic instinct that protected you for so long. He would not get the chance to kill you – today was his day to die.

Spearing Azriel to the ground, you felt poison course through your veins, fuelling you with venomous strength as you pinned him down. Pushing your thumbs into the crevice of his throat, you gritted your teeth, cutting off his air supply.

Azriel’s eyes were wide with shock as he tried to pry your hands off.

“Y/N!” he gasped, his voice straining through your grip. “Stop.”

He was strong – but you had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Your freedom, control of your own mind, your life. He would not take that away.

You pushed your thumbs further, trying to close the gap in his throat and forcing his head into the ground. Blood was building in the Shadowsinger’s face, his tan skin quickly changing to a deep red. Shadows began to spasm around him.

“I d-don’t want to hurt you,” he gasped, his hands slackening against your wrists. Good, you thought – not long now.

The male threw you a final pleading look, one that you were sure was meant to disarm you. You would not let go until he had taken his last breath.

Scarred hands on your wrists tightened then, forcing your fingers to unbind from his neck. Your eyes widened, and it was then that you realised he had not been using all his strength until now. Azriel pulled your arms of him, spreading them wide while you still straddled his body to the floor. Now in an incredibly vulnerable position, you new he would try and pin you under him if he got the chance.

Swinging your legs off, you pulled your wrists flush against yourself, freeing from his grasp. You practically kicked him to scramble to your own two feet, Azriel quickly standing too, his palms open as you now faced each other, neither of you daring to move.

“Y/N,” he panted as he regained his breath, the blood now moving from his face. Fuck – you had missed your chance.

Azriel was capable of dark, demonic things, an evil magic brewed within him – it was the only truth you knew. So you also knew, you had a better chance of running than fighting. Scanning the tent for an exit, you saw the only path in or out was blocked by the tall male, his wings flared like a net that would surely trap you if you were stupid enough to try.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft. Your ground your jaw at the blatant lie, and launched for him again.

This time, he knew it was coming, and caught your arms before you could wrap them around his neck. “Y/N, please, stop fighting!”

You couldn't help the feral snarl that escaped you, your teeth bared as you kicked his stomach, sending him stumbling back. You aimed for his shoulders, pushing him into the wooden unit and knocking you both to the ground, medical supplies sprawling, glass bottles breaking around you.

You were on him again, pinning him so easily – almost as if he let you. Azriel kept his palms raised as your hands found his neck again.

“Fight me if you have to, Y/N. I will never hurt you back.”

Your vicious glare softened as you took in his words, your lips pressing to a thin line. Azriel was stronger, he had proven that. Yet here he was, lying prone beneath you, completely at your mercy. Was he residing to his fate? Would he let you kill him?

You shook your head – mind games was all this was. “Liar,” you snarled, tightening your chokehold around his neck.

And he let you. He let you press your thumbs into the crevice of his throat, let you force his head to the ground again and again, blind rage and the desperate need to kill consuming you.

I love you.

You blinked, your grip slackening ever so slightly. That voice – it was far away, but somehow from within.

I love you, Y/N.

Azriel hadn't spoken, but you had heard his voice clear as day – within your heart or stomach you didn't know. And it terrified you.

You had to finish the job, to end him now before that voice could infiltrate your mind further. Freedom beckoned at you, light and promising, and so so close. With bloodthirsty rage, you pressed the final breath out of the Shadowsinger.

That was, until you felt a blow so forceful it could be heard. Before you could turn and snarl, shadows and night had consumed your vision, and purple eyes were the last thing you saw before everything went black.

————

“That did not go well.” Rhys straightened, leaving your unconscious body on the floor as he want to help his brother stand. Azriel coughed, regaining his breath yet again as bruises were quickly forming around his neck. Rhys held out a hand, propping the Shadowsinger up as his shadows hung limp, as if they too needed to regain their strength.

“She strangled the hell out of you,” he commented.

Azriel didn't answer, his stance broken as he looked at you slumped on the ground. You looked like yourself, his beautiful, peaceful, caring mate. Whoever attacked him just now, that was not her.

“You were going to let her kill you brother?” Rhys asked, his tone confused with a hint of dismay. Rhys knew the lengths he would go to protect Feyre, but allowing one mate to kill the other was something he couldn’t comprehend.

Azriel limped over, bending down and scooping your body to his chest. His eyes darting across your slack face – such a juxtaposition from the feral, snarling female that was going to kill him just moments ago.

“She needed to know I would never hurt her,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

Rhys nodded gravely, stepping out of the way as the Shadowsinger lay you back on the bed, pulling the covers over you and brushing a tangled strand of hair from your face.

“It seems we have a lot of work to do.” Rhys noted, his tone grim.

Azriel finally looked at his brother. “What if I never get her back?” He was broken, the hope he held earlier lost in the violent sprawl with his mate. Even his shadows kept close, not daring near you.

Rhys clasped his hands on Azriel’s shoulders, levelling a look at him. “We will brother. Feyre has a plan.”

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Part 4 >>>

AN: I wish I could say writing a tonne of violence isn’t fun... but I’d be lying. I hope you liked this chapter, I would love any feedback on the story so far! Comment to join the tag list too. MWA 💕

Tags: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468  @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris @cynicalpotato95 @goldentournesol @maddithefangirl @holywolfsstuff @banasheefan56

[witchybitchy222]

Seeing TikTok’s of how much people hate the amnesia trope as I’m writing a multi-chapter fix based on amnesia… oops

[starfall-spirit]

SJM Crackship Month Prompt: Amnesia

Summary:

When Feyre and the High Lords were unable to revive Rhys after he gave his life repairing the Cauldron, the inner circle expected their High Lady to wake in grief, inconsolable as she faced a broken mating bond.

But her grief took its toll in another way, selective amnesia claiming over a year's worth of hardship, friendship, and the deepest love known to their kind. Now it's up to them to reform the huntress in the wood to the High Lady they know and love—before their standing enemies realize just how weak the court has become.

CW: Brief mention of suicidal behavior. Blink and you miss it, but I want to post it all the same.

Chapter 1: A Dangerous Game

The Archeron house had never been so quiet. The large bed had never felt quite so warm. Not in the coldest winter her village had seen in years. She was cozy enough to roll right back over, savoring the time her sisters were apparently spending out of the house for whatever reason. But then she noticed the glide of silk sheets over her shoulder, not as bony as it should have been. A soft nightgown twisting around her, made of the finest fabric she’d felt in over a decade.

She snapped her eyes open, taking in an unfamiliar bed, significantly larger than the one she squeezed into with Elain and Nesta. A standing armoire of dark wood. Slipping out of the massive bed she poked her head into an adjacent doorway, finding a disgustingly large bathing pool that seemed to spill right over the edge and out to the open air beneath it. Where the hell was she? 

“You’re awake.” She snapped around at the sound of a male voice, nearly whimpering at what she saw. A man a foot too tall with great wings tucked against his back as he pushed into the main bedroom. Not a man. A faerie. She backed further into the bathing chamber. “Feyre?”

“Stay away from me.” Her voice was raw. Why she didn’t know. She’d just been speaking the day before. “Don’t come near.”

“Feyre, I know you’re feeling a lot right now.” He took a step forward.

“I said get away!” she cried. “Stay away. Don’t touch me. Don’t—I haven't done anything to wrong your kind, now leave me be.”

He looked almost wounded. “I—Let me get Elain.”

Feyre slid to the ground, a sob tearing out of her as an emptiness started to settle in her. She and Elain, maybe Nesta too, had been kidnapped. Taken to faerie territory to be… she didn’t even know. She could guess, if the finery she wore meant anything. She’d been warned through song and rhyme about what the fae did to humans they lured or dragged over the wall. Especially the women.

She should be raging in all of this, but she didn’t have the energy. She was just too empty. Broken. Stuck. Like half of her was missing. “Feyre? Feyre, where are you?” 

Elain.

She let out another sob. “Oh, Feyre.” Elain tugged her to her feet with an impressive show of strength, despite her tenderness. “Would you like me to help you into the bath?” she asked tenderly. Feyre hugged her tightly, burying her face in her sister’s neck. When was the last time they touched like this? Like sisters.

“You aren’t hurt? Elain, why are we here?”

“Well, we assumed after all that happened the Moonstone Palace might be easier than the townhouse or the House of Wind.”

She furrowed her brows, trying to untangle what her sister seemed to be so comfortable explaining. She finally pulled out of their hug, gasping at what she found in the soft lighting. “You’re fae?” 

She cocked her head. “Of course I’m fae, Feyre. And I may not be thrilled by the change, but I know it’s better this way. We can all be together now. We’re going to need each other.” Feyre pulled away. “I know you aren’t ready to talk about Rhys, Feyre, but you will need us. All of us. Nesta, Cassian, Mor, Azriel, Amren. We’ll help you gain your footing, if you’ll let us.”

“Elain, stop.” She shook her head, ready to keep insisting Feyre let her help. “Elain!” Her sister flinched. “Elain, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know how we got here or why you’re a faerie or who any of these people are.” 

Panic filled her sister’s eyes. “Feyre, what’s the last thing you remember?”

She sighed. “Last night’s hunt in the deeper wood. Bringing the wolf hide and doe home.”

There was a sharp curse from the main doorway, then, “I'll get Madja.”

“Thank you,” Elain murmured to the man—male. “Feyre, come sit in the bed again.” She couldn’t move an inch. Not with her eyes locked on the mirror over Elain’s shoulder. Because that was her own face staring back. Her face rounded out, her bare arms and legs well toned. Pressing her hands to her ribcage she found she’d filled out there too, no longer tracing each bone, but healthy fat and muscle. She barely glanced at the twin points peeking through her hair.

“Is that part of their magic? Looking… healthy? Strong?” 

“High Lady. It’s good to see you awake and moving.”

“Who are you?” she snapped.

“I’m Madja, the family healer. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, my lady.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a lady in the slightest.”

Feyre plopped down on the bed, if only to stop Elain’s hovering. But then it was only the strange healer taking her sister’s place. “Feyre, then. Would you mind laying back?” She swallowed, obeying. “Just try to relax. This won’t hurt a bit.”

“Why should—”

“Feyre.” Her eyes snapped to Elain. Polite Elain, who never once raised her voice despite all the squabbling the sisters had done over the years. And she hadn’t, technically. But the firmness there was certainly new. “You can trust them. All of them.”

Because another winged male had joined them. Wreathed in shadows, she hadn’t noticed his entrance, but he stood beside the first faerie she saw, equal worry in his eyes. He gave her a silent nod of acknowledgement and she quickly turned her attention away. Moments later the healer was finished with whatever she hoped to find.

“Well?” the first male demanded.

The healer ignored him, instead holding her focus to Feyre. “Your physical health is almost perfect. Excellent, seeing as you just won a war.”

“A war?”

“Against Hybern, another faerie territory. My biggest concern at this point regards your mental and emotional health.”

“I’m missing time.”

“My lady—”

“I’m not a—”

“Indeed you are a lady, Feyre. A respected one at that, holding a rank equal to a queen. You are the mate of a deceased High Lord. The High Lady of the Night Court. Whether you remember it or not doesn’t matter. What matters is teaching you all you’ve lost so you can continue your duty to this court before it falls to someone less benevolent than you and your mate. Velaris has been a city of peace and joy for generations. We can not afford to change that.”

A High Lady. Feyre had never been such a thing. Her sisters could have been married off to princes and kings once upon a time, but Feyre? The heathen child turned faerie monarch. It was a cruel twist from a forgotten fable. But if this was all a joke then the people around her would be laughing by now, wouldn’t they?

“If I’m this High Lady how could I have lost such a significant memory as leading a faerie court? Of being someone’s… what was it?”

“Your mate,” Madja repeated. “Rhysand. Humans take husbands and wives. As do faeries, but the lucky ones… the lucky ones find their soulbond. The greatest love our kind knows.”

And yet she had forgotten him.

“Is that why I feel… empty?”

“Yes, my lady. I’d say so.” She sat on the edge of the bed, taking Feyre’s hand. “Every bond is different, whole or broken. Some lose their sanity with their mate, others take their own lives the moment the bond breaks, and some can’t stand the grief long enough to go down those roads. Your grief erased itself and every memory of your love for Rhysand. It’s called selective amnesia.

“Something may trigger your memories, of course. An object the High Lord gave you, a favorite food or place in the city, but I can’t make any promises. For now, you need to focus on your duties as a monarch. You are of equal standing to the six High Lords and be they friend or foe, they will be watching your every move from now on. It will be a dangerous game. Play it carefully.”

Taglist: @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @stickyelectrons // @thesistersarcheron

[surielstea]

Hangovers & tattoos

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader wakes up in Azriel’s bed with a mysterious tattoo that eerily matches his.

Warnings: slightly suggestive, all silly fluff though

2.4k words

Sunlight streamed through the open curtains haphazardly, my brows twitching together as I groggily pulled myself from the depths of sleep.

I awake with a groan, rubbing at my eyes that had been sealed shut. As soon as I open them I'm met with a horrible pound to my head, my entire body aching with every movement I make. I rolled onto my stomach, stuffing my head in the cold pillows with a huff.

I had to make an effort to peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I settled over the fact that going back to sleep would not be an option.

I twist onto my side, staring at a winged figure with his head against my pillows, dark hair cascading over his eyes. I smile at the sight of Azriel sleeping so peacefully. Then I realize he's sleeping so peacefully, in my bed. I jolt, scrambling away from his sleeping figure and inevitably tumbling off the mattress.

I hit the ground with a hard thud, followed by my hiss of pain as the hardwood sends paralyzing shock waves throughout my entire body.

Before I can collect myself I hear an incoherent mumble that came from the Shadow Singer. I tense, bending down to avoid being caught sneaking around in my own bedroom.

"Are you alright princess?" His voice was deeper than usual, still filled with sleep. I freeze for a moment, wondering how he had managed to know it was me, even if he did see me he was still half asleep. Then I quickly void that thought and curse myself for not thinking about his shadows, the same dark tendrils that were now twining around my ankles.

"I'm fine," Is all I can manage.

"Gods, my head is pounding," He grits out and I'm unsure if I should get back up onto the bed or stay down on the ground out of his sight, where I felt much safer.

Last night... it had been a blur entirely, the only thing I can remember is Cassian handing me and Azriel our first shot of the night, followed by many, many more. I clench my eyes shut, attempting to fish anything more from the night before out but I come up blank. "We didn't uh... did we?" I murmur, the pregnant silence is heavy as he thinks over the dilemma.

"Are you sore?" He says and I roll my eyes at his arrogance.

"No," I scoff.

"Then no, we didn't," He hums.

That hadn't been good enough, so I looked down at my outfit, a sigh of relief leaving me as I realized I was still wearing the same underwear from last night.

Last night when I seemed to obtain a case of amnesia. Cassian and Azriel had invited me to go out, Mor tagged along, and then... nothing. I had no idea why Azriel was in my bed or what drunk decisions I made to get that to happen.

Slowly, I rise from the floor and rush towards my wardrobe, still dressed in the short glittery dress I had boldly picked last night.

"What are you doing?" He rubs at his eyes, staring at me as I begin to take off the straps of my dress. I froze, realizing he was still there.

This headache wasn't making our situation any better.

"Changing?" I say, looking down at my rumpled outfit.

"This is my room," He said, sitting up from the pillows, the sheets falling off of him and revealing his bare chest, toned with rippling muscle. I swallow thickly, glancing around the room that was now so obviously not mine. I nearly crumbled from embarrassment, my cheeks tinging a scarlet red.

"Right, sorry, I'll go," I sidestep towards the door and his dark brows crease.

"Wait," He calls, slipping from the warm sheets I had gotten such amazing sleep in, and follows me to the door. "I'll make you breakfast, as a thank you for... whatever took place last night," He glances back to the bed and then back to me.

"You don't have to," I shake my head, eager to get out of the ordeal entirely.

"I want to, c'mon," His hand makes contact with my lower back as he guides me from his bedroom and down the long hallway.

I had been crushing on the Shadow Singer for over a year now. It had been unbearable to watch him bring other girls to bed since simple one-night stands with no connection aside from physical, but still, I wish I had even that amount of relation with him. But now he’s got his hand on my back, about to make me breakfast just because we woke up in the same bed together. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to get over him if I tried.

I made coffee while he worked on breakfast, my head felt as if it was swelling into my skull, a painful feeling that stabbed into the most sensitive parts of my brain.

I softly groaned as I poured a heaping spoonful of sugar into my steaming cup. I left Azriel's mug unattended, knowing he preferred the bitterness of it while I simply drank it for the caffeine, wanting to get rid of the taste altogether.

A low whistle sounds from down the hall, paired with a heavy set of footsteps that were unmistakably Cassian's. "Morning you two," The male said as soon as he spotted Azriel and us silently moving through the kitchen.

"Morning," Azriel grumbles but I can't even function enough to manage a reply. Cassian's hulking figure brushes past me and toward Azriel, where he had been by the stove. "Hands off," Azriel spat, and I hadn't been watching but I could only assume Cassian was attempting to steal from the pan while Azriel swatted him away.

"Hey, I didn't know you got a new tattoo," Cassian gasps and I whirl around to look at the two males, my eyes narrowing on a sketch of ink over the Shadow Singers' fourth finger, swirling down onto the back of his palm and wrapping up his wrist. Azriel looks at it as if he's never seen it before, his brows twitching together. Cassian gasps again and we look at him with expectant expressions, waiting for him to explain.

"That's a mating ceremony tattoo," He mumbled beneath his breath. Azriel’s eyes snapped to me like he had something to confess.

"A what?" I nearly choke on my own air. Mating? If Azriel was mated already there was no way in hel I'd ever have a chance. I knew I shouldn't have waited so long for him to ask me out, knew I should’ve asked him myself and faced rejection.

"A mating tattoo, matching with your significant other, you get them during the ceremony," He explains as if we genuinely hadn’t known what a mating tattoo is.

"That's ridiculous, I think I'd remember mating with someone, I wouldn't even know where to begin to find someone like that," Azriel scoffs, eyes now avoiding me at all costs and glancing up at the ceiling, to the stove where he had been cooking.

"Well then I suppose we need to find who has the matching tattoo," Cassian hums, then dramatically gasps louder than his last two, pulling his hands from his pockets and inspecting his unmarked hands.

"Oh thank gods," Azriel sighed in relief with a heavily sarcastic tone when recognizing that Cassian's hands were bare of ink.

"Cass be serious, you'd know if it was you," I argue, rolling my eyes at his idiocracy.

"You'd be able to feel something like that," I bring up my hands to show him.

“Az would probably know himself—" I start but I quickly cut myself off when I notice a black smudge on the bottom of my ring finger.

I flip my hands around and stare at them intently. The black tattoo on my left hand embedded into my skin as if it's always been there, and now that I knew I swore it pulsed with life. I ran my finger over it, then began to frantically rub at it, wondering if it’ll come off, if this was all some sick joke. But it remained, and then all of it came crashing down on me.

Mated tattoos. Mated. Azriel and I are mated.

"You're my," I couldn't even get the word out. "My," I breathed through the word, staring down at my hand, black ink wrapping around my wrist, up the back of my palm with swirls and wisps of black until twining around my ring finger entirely. Mine was much lighter than his, more delicate, but the same pattern nonetheless.

He held his hand out towards me, palm facing mine. I tentatively met it with my own, settling my palm against his, his hand much, much larger than mine yet somehow the tattoos had matched up, each line on my skin swirling into one on his.

"Gods, how drunk were we last night?" I sigh, a line coming between my brows.

I pull my hand away from his despite the magnetic force pushing us together telling me not to. "I'm going to leave you two to it," Cassian slowly removes himself from the uncomfortable situation.

"Wait, do you remember anything?" I whirl around to face him. He looks between us, and then his eyes go wide, staring at neither of us but rather what's between us, a golden tether tying our souls, binding them beyond just connection.

"Maybe ask Mor," He rubbed at the back of his head, and I knew with the movement that his hangover had been just as horrid as mine.

"Thanks anyway Cass," I mumble and he nods before excusing himself down the hall.

I slowly turned back to my coffee which was no longer steaming.

It was an effort to even swallow, the silence between us thick with tension, filled entirely with questions that don't have answers, and answers to questions we were too afraid to ask.

"So, mates, that's pretty cool," I mumbled beneath my breath and a smile curved at his lips, attempting to suppress the grin but ultimately failing.

"This is absurd," He shakes his head with a chuckle. "Shouldn't you be taken by The Frenzy?" I wonder, glancing over to him. He swallows and I watch as his throat bobs with effort, avoiding my gaze.

"Oh, I am,"

"What do you mean?" I spin around to face him, my mug cupped in my hands as I stare at him curiously.

"I hadn't noticed it at first, it's kind of how I always feel," He confesses and my brows crease, my confusion doubling over.

"Towards you I mean, I've known we're mates for a while now," His admission nearly makes me choke on my coffee.

"You didn't— why didn't you tell me?" I stutter, placing my cup down before I drop it. He had known all this time? Hasn't he picked up on the hints I had been attempting to give him? Or had he been dragging me along in fear I'd reject the bond?

"I would've told you sooner if I knew you'd find out like this," He gestures between us, at the golden line tethering my core to his I realize. "It's unfair," He adds.

"What is?"

"You were drunk, you didn't get to choose to accept it with good conscience," He explains with a sigh, my new mate clearly in distress about the events he could've avoided if he just confessed a day earlier. "And now you can't reject it, and I feel like I somehow forced it upon you," His hands fall to his sides in defeat and my heart softens. And maybe it was the power of the mating bond that gave me the confidence to take a step forward and grab his tattooed hand with my own.

"Azriel," I start, lacing his fingers through mine. "I would never have rejected you," I confess, looking into his eyes with only truth in my gaze. He stared for a moment, taking my words for what they promised.

"But we're friends," He argued, afraid we just ruined something that was already good, and I had known the feeling well for the past few years. But now I knew he felt the same way, and there were no longer any doubts I had about us being together.

"Did you only have feelings for me because you knew we were mates?" I tilt my head, taking another brave step forward.

"I uh— no, I liked you before," He stumbled over his sentence and a smile tugged at my lips at the effect I had on him when I got closer, my chest coming to press against his and he didn't move, we stand in the middle of the kitchen, not worried about the rest of the world around us.

"Good, we're even then," I nod.

"Even?" He arches a perfect brow.

"I liked you before, too," I confess and his eyes widen only a fraction, but it was a large reaction from the stoic Spymaster nonetheless.

"So, is it okay if I kiss you?" He asked quietly as if this was a forbidden act. Two mates kissing, so simple, yet held so much meaning.

"Yes Az, it's okay if you kiss me," I consent with a soft smile and he mirrors it, tentatively leaning in as he presses his lips to mine.

Something blooms in the pit of my stomach, something that's always been sprouting there but never had the nutrients to grow. Though, as he kissed me everything had felt so complete, like a puzzle piece I had been trying to solve for years slotting into place.

He pulls back and I think to follow him but instead, I allow the separation and look up at him with a bashful smile. His eyes are glazed over with something I haven't seen before, a mix of adoration and lust. He presses his lips to mine again, this time more confidently with little hesitation as he cups my jaw in one of his hands while the other wraps around my waist, pulling me into him.

"You feel The Frenzy now?" I whisper against his lips and he nods eagerly. "It's fucking, painful," He sighs, needing me closer, so much closer. "There's only one way to fix that, hm?" I taunt and his grin turns wolfish. "You're sure Princess?" He arches a brow and I now with a willing smirk. "Please," I hum, pecking up the side of his jaw.

With that, he swooped me up into his arms and practically winnowed us back to his bedroom, making me giggle in both delight and surprise as we landed hard on the bed I woke up in this morning.

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[thatacotargirl]

Hiiiii I love your writing!! May I request Azriel x Reader, where reader gets amnesia. She’s Illyrian and was hurt by Illyrian men, so she’s scared of Az because she doesn’t remember him. Then wonderful angst because he never thought she’d be afraid of him, so he avoids her and is heartbroken. Then something happens, maybe he’s forced to interact with her or he says something specific, and her memories come back, so happy ending! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write this, thank you!💙

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for reading my work and for your request! I hope you like the story! 💙

Divider is once again from @tsunami-of-tears, eternally grateful to you for your creativity!

Dazelroot Daze

An Azriel x Reader imagine

Warnings: angst, poisoning, swearing, allusions to abuse / previous SA.

"Rhys, I am not cut out for this kind of mission - why did you not send Nesta!"

You huff to yourself as you climb the uneven stairs through the prison, following closely behind Rhys. You hated coming in here, and hated having to interact with the Bone Carver even more. You patted your back pocket, checking your gifted bone for him was still there, before climbing yet another stairwell.

"Y/n, you know I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't necessary. I can't exactly send Nesta in here even if she's only early in her pregnancy, they would sense it a mile off and she'd be a target. Not to mention, I don't fancy getting pummelled by Cassian for letting his pregnant mate in here".

You knew he was right, but it didn't make this any easier. You struggled through another narrow doorframe, trying to avoid smacking your wings against the wood, and stood in front of a metal gate. You hear Rhys hum to himself.

"What's wrong?".

"I've never seen a gate here before, this should be an open walkway".

You begin to feel uneasy as you see Rhys take a step back.

"Rhys?"

Before you can get another word out, you feel a powder cover your face, filling your nose and mouth, causing you to choke. You try to call out for help, but you can't get anything out, breathing becoming harder and harder. You hear Rhys distantly calling your name but you can't respond, can't move, all you can do is drop to the floor, your legs giving out from underneath you.

"Get Madja, now!"

Rhys' voice bellowed through the River House as he winnowed in carrying your lifeless body and placed your down on the living room sofa. The rest of the Inner Circle descended on the pair of you, including Azriel. When he saw your pale body, arm hanging off the sofa, his heart sank. He grabbed Rhys by the collar.

"What the fuck happened?"

Rhys didn't have time to answer before Madja appeared in the room, pushing everyone to the side and leaning over your body. Silence descended on the room as she ran tests, took bloods, checked your vitals - all the while your eyes remained closed and your body limp.

"She has been poisoned with a plant known as Dazelroot. It is highly toxic and can only be found in some very remote parts of the Spring Court. Thankfully, it looks like this particular strain was either incorrectly handled or extremely dried out, as it hasn't taken hold quite as potently as it should have. She will be ok, in that she will live, but we won't know the consequences until she wakes up".

"The consequences?", Feyre asks.

"I have never seen a person be poisoned with Dazelroot and live to tell the tale. We won't know what it will do to her until she wakes".

Feyre sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking. Nesta joined her, the sisters holding each other through their sadness. Cassian could only watch in horror as Azriel fell to his knees next to your body and cried into your shoulder.

"Madja, what can we do?", Rhys asks, wringing his hands.

"There's nothing, Rhys. We have to let her wake, and see what happens next. I'll be on hand, as will my assistants. Call us as soon as she wakes up".

Rhys shook Madja's hand and allowed her to leave, his grief weighing down on his shoulders heavily. It was his fault that you were in the prison, that he hadn't seen the trap beforehand, that you were the one to be poisoned. He tried to reach for Azriel, but Azriel swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me", he gritted, his face still buried in your shoulder.

Rhys could do nothing but watch as his family fell apart in front of him.

It took 6 days for you to wake. 6 agonising days of your family watching your chest rise and fall, terrified that you would never again open your eyes. But you did.

Your eyes opened, and fell on Feyre's face.

"SHE'S AWAKE", Feyre called to your family, reaching out for your hand. You let her take it, but she couldn't overlook the confusion she saw in your eyes, the hesitancy of your body to let her touch you.

The room filled with your family and your eyes settled on a pair of Illyrian wings. Male Illyrian wings. Trauma racked through your body, memories of your life at the Illyrian camps, wing-clipping, assault, and you couldn't hold back your scream as you pulled your body up the bed, as close as you could get to the headboard.

"Y/n?", Azriel said gently, attempting to approach you. He froze when he realised it was him that you were trying to get away from.

Madja burst through the door at that moment, having been summoned by Rhys the moment he heard Feyre's shouts. She saw the blankness in your eyes the second she looked at you, and her eyes fell pityingly to Azriel.

"Hi y/n, I'm Madja, a healer here in the Night Court".

Your family looked at each other in pure confusion. You knew who Madja was. She'd been the family's healer for centuries. Why was she acting like you'd never met before?

Madja carried out her assessment before providing you a sleeping tonic. Once your body settled back into the pillows, looking more at peace than you had when you had woken up, she turned to Rhys.

"The Dazelroot has caused amnesia. She doesn't remember anything after her life after the Illyrian camps".

Rhys shook his head. "Ok, but when will her memory come back?".

Rhys saw the look on Madja's face and his stomach somersaulted.

"Will her memory come back?"

Madja placed a hand gentle on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Rhys, there's no way to know".

She turned to Azriel, tears falling down his cheeks. He had realised that you had forgotten him, forgotten your mateship, the love you had shared for centuries. You only remembered the trauma you had faced at the hands of Illyrian males, males that bore the same wings as him. He had realised, seeing the look on your face, that you were afraid of him.

"You can try to offer her gentle reminders. It might break through the amnesia cloud. But there's nothing more we can do".

Madja departed, leaving your family to process the news. You didn't remember any of them.

17 months later

It had been 17 months since the incident, and your memory hadn't come back.

Feyre, Nesta, Elain and Mor had made it their mission to rebuild the friendship that you had had with them - regularly taking you out for brunch, shopping, and nights out at Rita's. Over time, you developed a new bond with them, and had started to trust them.

You had also re-kindled your friendship with Rhys and Lucien, the males giving you distance but engaging with you as often as possible, mostly through Feyre and Elain.

But Azriel and Cassian, you couldn't be near. Their wings reminded you too much of the trauma you had faced in the camps. Reminded you that your own wings had been clipped. Reminded you of the males that had used you for their own entertainment. Anytime they tried to approach you, their wings pinned as tightly as possible behind their backs, your body began to involuntarily shake and your eyes would fill with tears.

It had broken Azriel. He had become a shell of the former male he was. He started to withdraw from family dinners, he gave up his morning training. Azriel had slowly started to descend into a downward spiral, feeling the mating bond cold on the other end. His family had tried their best to help, but Azriel wanted for nothing but you. He locked himself in his bedroom most days and nights, seeking solitude in the shadows.

That was why, when his family decided to visit Sevenda's restaurant that evening, Azriel had ignored the inviting knock on his door. He didn't want to make it harder for you seeing him sitting at the other end of the table. He waited for the footsteps to pad away before grabbing a bottle of Whiskey from the shelf and pouring himself a generous glass.

-

Several hours later, Azriel was sat in bed with his book when he heard commotion. It sounded like crying, but it was pained. He sat up, listening out, when he heard it again - this time closer to his door. He thought everyone was out at Sevenda's, or maybe Rita's now, but there was unmistakably someone wandering through the hallway.

Azriel cracked open his door and peered out. At the end of the hallway, gripping the window pane, he saw your small frame huddled over. The scent of blood filled the air. Azriel panicked. He knew how bad your cycles were from the centuries you had spent together, that you needed help desperately, but right now he was the only one in the house with you, and you were terrified of him.

"Y/n?", he called out gently, trying not to startle you with his presence. He watched you turn slowly, your eyes wide in alarm.

"It's ok, it's just your cycle", he whispered, raising his arms to show you that he was not going to hurt you. You whimpered slightly, clutching the window pane so hard your knuckles had gone white.

"Can I help you?", he asked, not daring to move. You looked at him, his wings, your body shaking. But you knew you were helpless, not sure you could get yourself back to your bed even if you tried with all your might. So, you took a deep breath, and gave him a timid nod.

Azriel walked slowly towards you, his hands in front of him, and when he reached you he carefully put a hand forward to touch your shoulder. You shuddered, but didn't pull away.

"I'm going to take you back to your room, ok?". You could only nod as Azriel scooped you into his arms and walked you slowly back towards your room.

He placed you down carefully at your dressing table and silently walked into your bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room. Whilst the bath ran, you watched him strip the soiled sheets from your bed and replace them with fresh ones, putting a pair of your pyjamas neatly folded at the end. He then offered you his hand and guided you to the bathroom.

"Do you need some help?".

You didn't want to admit it, but you did. You could barely stand up under your own weight.

Azriel turned away from you to allow you to undress, holding a hand behind his back for guidance as you carefully lowered yourself into the bath. Once you were in, and hidden under the bubbles, you turned to look at him. At his wings. You had never known an Illyrian male to be so gentle. So calming. Even sat here alone in a bath with him in the room, you felt comfortable. You felt safe.

"Azriel?", you whispered.

"Would you like me to leave you be?" he asked, his back still turned to give you privacy.

"No".

You saw Azriel's shoulders sag slightly with relief, but he still kept his back to you.

"Please could you pass me that bottle over there, the green one?"

Azriel walked over to the counter to pick up the shampoo bottle and attempted to hand it to you behind his back, still not facing you. You giggled as he offered the bottle out to the empty end of the bath.

"It's ok, I'm hidden in the bubbles".

Azriel turned, his eyes not leaving your face, as he handed the bottle to you. You took it, pouring some into your hand, and he watched you wince as you raised your arms above your body to your hair, stretching your stomach.

"May I?", he asked quietly. You nodded, handing the bottle to him. Azriel knelt down behind your head, pouring the shampoo into his hands and massaging it into your hair. The moment his hands touched you, you felt a calming peace descend over you, and you closed your eyes to bask in it. You were about to ask him to rub it into the nape of your neck, your favourite place, when you felt his hands move there instinctively. A jolt went through your body, and Azriel jumped backwards.

"Are you ok?"

You turned to face him, his leathers covered in water, bubbles and shampoo suds, and looked down at his scarred hands. Visions flew through your mind of his hands in your hair, his hands offering to feed you grapes on your honeymoon to the Summer Court, his hands touching your body, his hands placing a ring on yours at your mating ceremony, his hands holding out your cup of coffee to you every morning - black, just how you liked it.

You reached out to take them, feeling every emotion come flooding back to you. A tug at your chest made you look up, as Azriel's filled with tears.

"My mate", you whispered.

"My mate", he replied, his head moving to rest on your forehead.

You held each other, the bath water turning cold and the bubbles melting away, allowing all your love and devotion to flow to each other through the bond. Forgotten, but never gone.

[7seas-of-ryy]

The Bet | Part 2

Author’s Note: I really wanted to make a Part 2 for this!! I have MANY wips right now so hopefully I'll have more for you guys soon :) also I absolutely LOVE all of your comments and will reply to them as soon as I can! <3

Summary: You won the bet but exactly how funny are you??

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none, let me know if I need to add any :)

---

The bet you made with Cass and Rhys was the best thing to ever happen to you. A few days after you won, the entire inner circle went out for a night at Rita’s. Rhys and Cass had stayed true to their word and bought your drinks the entire night but the best part was Az had admitted his feelings to you.

The two of you went on a couple dates and eventually he asked you to be his. It was the happiest you had ever been.

You were currently sitting with the shadowsinger, each reading your books in silence when you spoke up.

“Ya know…I once heard a joke about amnesia… but I forgot how it goes!” You told the male with a grin on your face.

He gave you a loud laugh and pulled you closer, kissing the side of your head.

“When did you come up with that one?” He asked with a grin still on his face.

“Oh I just thought of it.” You said with a smirk, satisfied you made him laugh.

“You’ll have to tell Feyre that one, I think she’ll like it.” Az told you.

You nodded your head in agreement and you both went back to reading your books.

---

You were currently in the Summer Court with the rest of the inner circle for some business. You were all looking out at the sea, enjoying the view when you spoke up.

“What did the ocean say to the beach? ...Nothing, it just waved!" You said, stifling a laugh.

Az began to laugh immediately, Feyre joined him soon after. What you didn’t see was Feyre elbowing Rhys and Cass, forcing them to laugh at your joke. Mor just chuckled, seeing everything go down.

The spymaster pulled you in close to his side, resting his hand on your hip. He gave his brothers a quick glare over your head when you weren’t looking and they held up their hands in defense.

---

You were sitting with Cass and Rhys, waiting for a chance to tell them the new joke you learned.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda??” You asked them, feigning a look of concern.

“What, oh no! Is he ok??” Rhys questioned.

“Yeah, he was lucky it was a soft drink!” You told them with excited eyes.

The two males sat across from you with blank faces, not budging even a tiny bit.

“C’mon you guys!! That was funny! Az would’ve laughed.” You huffed a breath.

“He only laughs because he’s getting some from you!” Cass stated, causing Rhys to hit his shoulder.

You gasped and placed a hand on your chest in offense.

"I'll have you know, Az loves my humor!! You're just upset because he thinks I'm funnier than you!" You smirked at Cass.

"She's got you there, she is waaayyy funnier than you." Rhys added, also smirking at the male.

"I hate both of you." Cass deadpanned.

---

A few days had passed and you were walking through the house trying to find the spymaster. You were passing by Rhys’ office when you heard him speak.

“It’s not that serious.” Rhys spoke.

“Yeah, just relax.” Cass added.

“It is that serious, I will not relax, and I will hurt you if you don’t listen to me.” Az threatened.

You gasped, not sure of what they could be discussing that was so serious. He sounded so upset with Rhys and Cass, you were about to burst through the door to figure out what was going on when you heard Cass speak again.

“I won’t laugh at Y/N’s jokes if they’re not funny!” Cass whisper shouted.

“It's really just the puns, they're awful!! I can’t fake laugh at those.” Rhys said in the same tone.

There were a few beats of silence before you heard Az sigh.

“Listen I know how bad the jokes are, but she loves them. You guys know how much I hate puns but do you see how happy she gets when she tells us a new joke? So I don’t care how hard you have to try, you will laugh at her jokes and tell her you like them.” He told his brothers.

You left to go to your room and didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. You felt conflicted. On one hand, you were hurt that he never actually liked your jokes but on the other, your heart melted at the lengths he was going to for you. But if he was lying about something as simple as liking your puns then what else was he lying about? Before you could continue to spiral, the male in question walked in.

“Hello my love, what’re you up to?” He asked you with a sweet smile, pulling you in for a kiss.

You turned your head last minute so his lips landed on your cheek. He gave you a confused look and tried again. This time, you put your finger on his lips to stop him, looking up into his face.

“What’re you doing?” His voice muffled by your finger.

“You don’t like my puns.” You stated simply and pulled your finger away.

“What?! Of course I do! They make me laugh so hard!” His voice got higher the longer the sentence went on.

“Az, stop. I heard you threatening Cass and Rhys.” You admitted.

His face dropped, shoulders slumped, and he looked genuinely devastated.

“Let me explain-” He started but you were quick to cut him off.

“Don’t…I’m not mad. Maybe a little sad that you don’t think I’m funny but when I heard you saying all of that…I think I fell even more in love with you.” You told him as your cheeks reddened.

“Really?” His eyes brightened instantly.

“Yeah, no one has ever gone through that much trouble just to make me happy.” You beamed.

“I really do love you so much… Also I do think you’re funny. I just really hate puns.” He told you.

“I love you too,” You spoke as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “And just so you know, you are o-fish-ally off the hook for pretending to like my puns.”

Genuine laughter came out of the male in front of you this time. He pulled you in closer and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Alright that one actually got me.” He whispered as he laid his forehead on yours.

He slowly leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, a soft exhale leaving him. A few blissful moments passed before he began to whisper.

“Just so you know, I would’ve endured and laughed at your puns for eternity.” Az confessed.

“Would’ve? No you definitely will be doing that.” You retorted.

Az just let out another laugh and pulled you back down for more kisses. A lifetime of puns didn’t sound so bad, as long as they were coming from you.

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[sarahs-library]

Forgotten: Part Two

Azriel wakes to find himself with everything he'd never allowed himself to wish for. Now, faced with the reality of all he thought he wanted, he must come to terms with his desires and the unexpected direction his life had taken.

Word count - 3564

A/N - Thank you all so much for reading the first part of my little story and for all the lovely comments and words of encouragement. I'm still learning how to post and interact on here, a few people asked to be added to a taglist which I've tried to create but I'm not sure if it actually works.

Part One ☪ Part Three

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

Azriel was still under Madja’s knurled fingers as they palpated his temples, the soothing chill of her healing magic drifted over tender, swollen skin. Her copper eyes assessed his face closely and he schooled his features into a blank mask. His gaze drifted over the curve of her shoulder to meet Rhys as he lingered by the open doors of the balcony. The bland smile, the loose set of his shoulders, and the hands that hung casually in the pockets of his trousers irked Azriel. After so many years it wasn’t difficult to read this feigned nonchalance, the worry it masked beneath.

“A lingering effect of the head injury, exacerbated by the bloodsbane.” Madja’s fingers continued to probe as Azriel returned his attention to her. Thickness lingered on his tongue; left over from the medication she’d administered on her arrival to reign in his fever. His head felt clearer now, where his shadows had been silent before they sang again, murmuring of the almost imperceptible anxious shift of Rhys’ weight on the floorboards. Elsewhere the House of Wind was quiet and empty, Elain having fled into Rhys’ arms with a demand to be winnowed home without sparing a glance in his direction. Azriel had been left to stew in solitude until his brother had returned with the ancient healer tucked in his arms, greying spindrift hair windswept, her face lined with wrinkles and kind concern.

“Some amnesia isn’t uncommon with an injury like this,” Madja continued finally pulling her hands away from his face. “Though to ascertain its true extent you must tell us what you remember shadow-singer.” She retreated from him into the chair Elain had occupied earlier, righted by Rhys, and slowly lowered herself on creaking joints. Azriel balked a little under the attention as he tried to force himself to recollect. Pain brewed between his eyes. He remembered the visit to Hewn City, the scheming; the gifting of Nesta’s made blade to Eris. He remembered the solstice party, the disaster of his foray with Elain afterward, and his brother’s wrath. The ensuing weeks had been busy, his mornings occupied with training the Valkyries and concocting obstacle courses modeled after the Blood Rite qualifier. The afternoons and evenings spent keeping tabs on Eris and following up on the dead leads from whispers and fables of high-fae women bearing winged babes. Everything after was hazy, difficult to hold, and worsened the pain in his head if he tried to focus for too long.

“Feyre,” he said, and Rhys cocked an eyebrow, his face encouraging him to continue. “We were following leads on the delivery of winged babes.” The darkening of Rhys’ features filled Azriel with a sense of foreboding. “Feyre,” he continued, “is she…Is the babe...” He trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic. Rhys’ features softened, understanding his brother had misinterpreted the emotion to be driven by his grief and loss and not for the male before him. Shoulders pulled forward in a rare display of vulnerability, scarred fingers clasping his knees for stability, Rhys struggled to recall a recent memory of seeing his brother so open, so vulnerable. He hadn’t seen him this lost since their youth in the war camps.

“Feyre,” Rhy drawled, fixing Azriel with what he hoped was an abating expression. “And the babe, we named him Nyx, they’re both well. Perfect.” Rhys watched his brother process the information, the small twitch of the corner of his mouth the only sign of his surprise. Watched as Azriel came to terms with the missing months in the timeline, Feyre still had half of her pregnancy to go during the solstice. How would he even begin to broach the missing years? “You don’t remember anything about the attack?” Rhys probed, Azriel bristled under the line of questioning.

“No.” His fingers danced over his injured abdomen and trailed the bandages before climbing up to rub over the empty feeling in his chest, worse than any wound he’d ever gotten. It left him feeling cold and empty. The glint of his rings caught his eye. The signet on his little finger embossed with the Night Court symbol, a gift from Rhys centuries ago declaring him part of his found family, rubbed against an unfamiliar band of gold.

Feyre

Feyre locked eyes with Nuala as she crouched over Nyx playing with his toys on the carpet. The shadow-wraith stepped silently over to them and greeted the young heir to the Night Court with a small smile, producing a plate of homemade biscuits warm from the oven and smelling of cinnamon. Nyx fixed her with his cerulean eyes and toothy smile, cheeks chubby from the lingering fat of youth. Reaching out to fist the crumbling treat in one hand he thanked her, proceeding to get more crumbs in the creases of his clothes than he did in his mouth. Feyre’s heart swelled.

“I’ll be back soon,” she reached out to stroke his midnight hair as his arms waved, one brandishing a small wooden figure and the other his half-eaten treat.

“Okay, mama.” His eyes were drawn to her briefly before he returned to his imaginary world, moving his wooden figure into position to conquer the high ground of his drawing table, covered in drying paint and charcoal pencils.

“You’ll behave for Nuala won’t you?” Nyx nodded eagerly in agreement and proceeded to clash the figurine in his hand against a triangle formation of his enemies with a sound of delight. Feyre rose, leaning close to thank the shadow-wraith on her way to the door. After taking an indulgent glance backward she stepped into the breach, winnowing to a familiar path on the outskirts of Velaris.

Well-manicured grass thick with morning dew poked through the paving stones Feyre stepped between on the way up to the front door. The lower level was in darkness, the windows blending into the dark stone and winding vines. The second level blazed, fae light seeping out of the floor-to-ceiling windows though Feyre saw no movement.

The dark wood of the door opened on a wind under her fist, poised to knock, and Feyre took the invitation to enter. The foyer offset the chill of the early morning air and she made a beeline towards the dark staircase. The open door allowed a beam of sunlight into the sitting area, dark with the curtains drawn, illuminating the comfortable leather chairs perched around the large fireplace.

Feyre eyed the portrait hanging above the mantle, a solstice gift to Azriel the year after his mating ceremony, her heart ached. Depicting the moment after the vows had been said and the food exchanged, hands clasped between them bound by thick dark ribbon, Feyre remembered agonizing for days over how to properly encapsulate onto the canvas the shared look of love and adoration. Feyre couldn’t imagine how you had coped over the last few days, in the last months of pregnancy sitting vigil at Azriel’s bedside wondering if he would wake up. Presumably elated to hear he had awake, only to find him in the arms of another woman, one with whom he shared such history.

Continuing up the stairs to the second floor Feyre followed the fae lights towards the front of the house. The door to the nursery was ajar and she stopped short of the threshold. Your back was to her, one hand tracing the soft carved wood of the bassinet Azriel had spent every spare moment painstakingly crafting. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, leftover from a few weeks ago when the pair of you decorated the walls with murals of snow-capped mountains, lush forest greenery, and frolicking animals.

Suspended over the bassinet in a sea of miniature stars hung multicolored globes, each spinning on their invisible axis. The spiraling constellation, you’d called it a galaxy, held all the planets known to your people. Feyre wondered how many you’d seen in your trips across the stars as you reached up into the field of magic closest to you to trace your fingers over a small planet of russet brown cratered with darker swirls.

“Rhys told me what happened.” Feyre watched as you continued to agitate the floating sphere. You didn’t turn. She crept closer into the room, torn between giving you space and reaching out in comfort. She waited with bated breath to see if you would respond before continuing. “It’s the head injury, he doesn’t remember.”

“He had no idea who I was.” The hand that hung in the stars moved to cradle your abdomen. “He would’ve…” You trailed off. The posturing, the aggression, there was no doubt at that moment Azriel viewed you only as a threat, a stranger, someone who had invaded his home. That was not the male who had doted on you only a week before, hands cradling you gently as his lips brushed your soft skin singing low lullabies to your unborn babe.

“Elain was at the River House earlier,” Rhys had dropped her there with a rushed explanation before disappearing again. “She feels awful, she wanted to come and apologise.” Feyre wasn’t sure why she brought up Elain, as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised she’d made a grave miscalculation.

“I don’t care what Elain wants right now Feyre.” The temperature in the room plummeted as you finally turned to look at her. For a moment the air in the room thinned and Feyre struggled against the pressure of the vacuum that forced her to exhale. As quickly as it came the atmosphere in the room returned to normal and she sucked in a shaky breath through her teeth.

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Feyre tried to keep her voice low and soothing, pinned under your gaze as she edged closer, reaching out to place an open palm on your arm. “Madja’s with him now, she says that all this is to be expected. When Rhys spoke to her earlier she said these things usually resolve themselves with time.” Your thumb traced gentle circles on your swollen belly.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little short on that right now.” The anger in your tone was undermined by the tears threatening to spill. Realising there wasn’t anything she could say Feyre moved to pull your body against her own. Arms encircling you in a comforting embrace, she rubbed her fingers between your shoulder blades. You moved to hold her back, resting your face in the space where her neck met her shoulder as you let the tears fall. “What am I going to do?” Your voice was thin and watery, in the time Feyre had known you she’d never heard you speak with so little conviction.

“We’re going to figure this out.” She pulled away slightly and clasped your face between her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. “I promise. You have all of us, you’re not alone in this. We’ll do everything we can for you, both of you.” Nodding you sniffed, pulling away. Feyre let you go as you turned your attention back out to the window, eying the gilded disc of the sun as it rose across the Valaris skyline.

“I’m heading to the House of Wind,” Feyre continued to observe you as you tracked the ascent. “Would you like to come?” You moved closer to the window. On the opposite side of the city you could see the grand mountain range and it’s carved residence. Through the morning mist blanketing the base a large, winged figure rose, angling to land on one of the balconies.

“I don’t think I can look at him right now.” Feyre acquiesced her desire to push you to come with her.

Azriel

After Madja had left Rhys with strict instructions regarding Azriel’s rehabilitation over the next couple of days, he’d supported his brother’s weight while they made slow progress to the bathroom. Azriel’s limbs felt stiff, uncharacteristically uncoordinated and he concentrated on remaining upright and shuffling one foot in front of the other.

Steam rose from the bath the House had prepared, swirling to meet the shadows that seeped down his arm as Azriel braced one hand on the edge of the tub. Using the other he edged the loose cotton trousers down over his thighs until they pooled at his feet. Fingers tugged at the cotton on his abdomen to find purchase, loosening and unwinding until the bandaging fell away to reveal an angry pink scar, jagged and stark against tanned skin.

“Want me to wash your back?” Rhys shot him a cheeky grin, but the mirth in his voice didn’t reach his eyes. Azriel appreciated the effort, this small attempt at normalcy. He shot his brother an obscene gesture before raising one leg to step into the tub, thigh muscles twitching as he shifted into the hot water. Using his arms to brace his weight he started to lower himself in, descending too quickly they struggled to hold him up causing a wave of bathwater to soak the floor. Azriel sunk under the warmth of the water, allowing it to soothe him.

“We’ll be in the dining room, come down when you’re ready.” His shadows had already informed him of Cassian and Nesta’s arrival, he assumed the rest of his family wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel nodded, avoiding Rhys’ gaze, pretending to study the shadows roiling over the water. In the mirror on the opposite wall, Azriel watched Rhys’ reflection as he opened his mouth as if to speak, no sound coming out as he considered, before closing it again and disappearing through the doorway.

Dressing had been an arduous process, though no longer stiff and painful his muscles had a weakness that he wasn’t used to. After struggling into the tight second skin of his fighting leathers he felt more himself. Finding truth-teller laid out in its holster on the dresser he strapped it to his thigh. His shadows, now a fuller cohort with the effects of the bloodbane leaving his system, were a thick tangle of moving darkness, sour and agitated in solidarity with their master.

Despite his interrogation, they hadn’t offered him any useful information, it caused Azriel great frustration when they took the stance of purposeful vagueness or outright ignored him. He sent them ahead down the corridor to scout out the dining room only to be turned around by a shield of impenetrable night. Whatever conversations were going on in that room, Rhys did not want him privy to them. His own family, keeping secrets. It left a bad taste in Azriel’s mouth, a sense of betrayal in his chest that sat next to the empty feeling he was growing accustomed to, a limb he didn’t know he had until it was missing.

Azriel reached the closed door, the thick night dissipating as he progressed, the sound from beyond the door returned but he heard no voices. Just the sound of breathing and the clink of porcelain as someone set a cup on a saucer. Rhys must have informed them of his impending arrival. He pushed the door open and took in his family.

Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre and Amren all sat at the table which had been used for family dinners before the River House was built. Their faces were carefully blank as he assessed them all. Mor was notably absent, information Azriel tucked away, either her efforts across the continent were still ongoing or some other manner of business had her attention. He hadn’t expected to see Elain, not after her spectacular display of anger, but he couldn’t help the feeling of unease and disappointment it left in his gut.

“Finally, the invalid graces us with his presence. Took you long enough,” Cassian sent him an easy grin, arms folded across his stomach as he lounged in his chair. Azriel scowled in response which only made his brother’s smile wider. This had always been Cassian’s modus operadi, an invitation to be provoked into a physical outlet if that’s what was needed, thinly veiled under jibes he rarely meant at heart. For a moment, Azriel considered taking up the unspoken offer, if only to delay what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable conversation.    

“Azriel,” it was Feyre who spoke, offering him a small smile, “Why don’t you join us?” Azriel understood that it wasn’t an invitation and slid into the seat next to Amren. His eyes met Nesta’s who sat across from him. They’d reached a tentative understanding, perhaps it could be considered a friendship, in the months he could recall. He remembered her joy at receiving the solstice gift he’d gotten for her, the resulting rare display of physical affection.

Looking at her now, face resolute and stony with blazing anger behind her eyes, barely contained, he had the sense that something had damaged the dynamic between them. He purposely looked away, instead fixing his eyes on Rhys; then Feyre. He waited for someone to speak, break the almost oppressive silence. He half-expected it to be Cassian again, with some throwaway comment or badly timed joke, but it was Rhys who cleared his throat.

“Azriel, thank you for joining us.” Azriel raised an eyebrow at the formality but stayed silent. “There are some matters we need to discuss.”

“Clearly.” He trailed his eyes over his family again, they all seemed uncomfortable to be here, to be around him. As if they knew he was going to react badly to whatever they were going to say. Rhys let his remark go, seeming resolute to power ahead with the conversation.

“What you showed me of your recent memories,” he continued, eyes drifting to Feyre who gave him an encouraging smile. “Lead us to believe that the memory loss is more extensive than we originally feared. Azriel, what you showed me – it was more than five years ago.” Azriel barely seemed to move under the scrutiny of their gazes. He’d lost years of his life. In the grand scheme of his immortality it felt like nothing, but looking at his family and realising that they lived in a future he didn’t remember left him feeling sick.

Azriel tried to find some rational thought to hold onto as he spiralled. He fell back onto the only thing he could rely on, his role as the Night Court’s spymaster. “Was it the work of the Queens? The attack?”

“The debacle on the continent has been resolved, for the most part. It was only supposed to be a routine investigation, nothing too strenuous or time-consuming given your current…” Rhys paused. “Situation. You were gathering information on some remaining rebellious factions, we didn’t anticipate that you would meet that kind of resistance, that they would have the resources. We’re sorry Az, we never meant for any of this to happen.”

“And what exactly is my current situation, Rhysand? What do you have to apologise for?” Azriel’s voice was low and dangerous. Amren snorted at the display, reaching for her wine glass. He expected a scathing remark, but it never came as Rhys shot her a look, and in a rare moment of deference she adhered as he implored her to remain silent.

“The female that was in the house earlier-“

“The thief.” Azriel interrupted.

“No,” Feyre cut in before Rhys could continue. “Her name is Y/N, and she’s your mate Az. The situation,” Feyre seemed to find describing it as such distasteful, but she continued. “Is that she is pregnant, with your child. That’s why we’re sorry, if we knew how dangerous it would be we never would have asked you to go alone.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Three brothers for three sisters, that was what Azriel had always thought about, always dreamed. The cauldron blessing him with undeniable proof that, though not blood-related, he and his brothers were three equal parts in the eyes of fate. He’d wanted that, seeing how happy they were in their relationships filled him with bone-deep envy. Observing from the sidelines as Rhys and Feyre prepared for the new addition to their family with vigour, as Cassian and Nesta had danced around each other in slowly shrinking circles. The other halves of their souls. That should have been him and Elain, never mind the mockery of the bond Vanserra thought they had. Azriel knew it was a mistake, a sick joke that would all work out in the end because there was no other way it could be. Three brothers for three sisters.

He wanted it all. A house on the outskirts of the city, filled with the sweet scent of Elain’s baking and made beautiful by the flowers she cultivated in their gardens. Filled with sunlight and happiness, somewhere to retreat from the darkest corners of his life. He’d dreamed of that life in the secret hours of the dawn, of a future where the issues of Feyre’s pregnancy had been resolved and perhaps their home was filled with the noise of children.

Now he had awoken in a future where he had those things, a mate, an unborn babe on the way, only to find it wasn’t with whom he desired. Elain, whom he had woken in this world for, who had been so tender in his first moments of consciousness, who had kissed him back. Azriel couldn’t imagine choosing to build that life with anyone else.   

A/N - Phew! I know, the angst was real. I promise it will get better, but there's definitely a long way to go here! Part three is in the works, not sure when it will be finished but hopefully it won't be too long.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite

[throneofsapphics]

Hello, can I please have a honey hazelnut marshmallow cappuccino with cinnamon and cold foam? Iced, please. 😈

summary: feysandriel, amnesia, dark, with spice 

warnings: dark!feysandriel, injury, amnesia, light smut, foreplay, dubcon

a/n: this was foul bestie. I loved it. I hope you enjoy <3

coffee bar celebration

Something must have knocked you in the temple, that was the only reasonable explanation for the pounding headache currently splitting you in two.

Eyes fluttering beneath your lids, you tried to take in your surroundings without sight, the additional sense would only serve to drive your headache further. Soft sheets, high thread count, a comfortable quilt, a breeze hitting your cheeks. Open window? The scent of snow, freshly fallen, and hot chocolate somewhere. No other signs of life you could detect. The entire ritual took you several minutes to complete.

“We know you're awake,” a rough, hard, male voice said. An angry voice. “You might as well open your eyes.” You'd missed that very important detail somehow. He must've been shielding himself. Heart pounding in your chest, sensation ricocheting through your body, you listened to the voice and blinked your eyes open.

You were greeted by the most beautiful male you'd ever seen, leaning against the wall next to a half-open window, his arms crossed, eyes dark with fury. A beautiful nightmare. The second after the thought registered, his expression changed.

-

Rhys knew the moment you blinked those pretty, traitorous eyes open that you had no idea where you were. Your thoughts practically screamed at him, he didn't need to slip into your mind.

'Play along,' he spoke wordlessly to Azriel and Feyre, receiving different forms of agreement and caution coming back. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he crossed the few feet separating the wall from the bed.

“That was quite the fall you took,” he changed the tone in his voice to something softer, something a lover might take.

Sitting next to you on the bed, he bent over to inspect the wound, perfectly shaped like truth tellers pommel.

Barely ghosting his finger over it, you still winced away from him, covering it with your own hand, shoving yourself up to sit. He caught your shoulder, hand warm against your cool skin, steadying you as you swayed.

“Who are you?”

“Rhys.”

“Who are you to me?” You added, voice sharp and suspicious. That wouldn't do, if this last minute change of plans was to work.

“We're your partners,” Feyre said, expression perfectly sweet and melancholy. You blinked, eyes tracking from her to Azriel who assessed from the back of the room, his shadows swirling around his wrists and neck, nearly corporeal.

“I need a nap,” you slid yourself back down, curling onto your side. Rhys had an idea on how he could fill your dreams. It wasn't too early to start planting you back into your new reality.

-

The woman, from earlier, was at your side. Her name popped into your mind, Feyre. It rolled perfectly off your tongue, would sound even better if you were - you cut off your line of thinking, she might know you but you hardly knew her. Still, you couldn't deny she was absolutely gorgeous.

Her hands ghosted down your sides, stopping to grip your hips, pushing them down into the bed as she climbed in between them, her mouth pressing kisses over the fabric of your clothing, nipping in some areas. You gasped with each new sensation, each new press of her fingers.

Other hands joined, Rhys's slipping up your shirt, cool to your skin. Pleasure built and built as he idly, lazily, circled the peak of your breast.

Rough hands, the other male. The name, like magic, popped into your mind - Azriel. He rolled one nipple between two fingers, before leaning down over your to take it in his mouth. His soft hair brushed against your skin as his teeth tugged. Tightness coiled in your belly, Feyre's hands gripped your waist band. You gasped.

And woke.

Alone.

[delulustateofmind]

Forged in Fire: A New World pt2

A/n: this can be read by itself but here is the link to part one in case you would like more context. It is loosely inspired by 'I stole the male lead's first night' I wrote this because I could not for the life of me sleep, so if there's errors then I apologize, also my requests are open!

Summary: You wake up in a strange place :) Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Mostly crack, Angry!Azriel, lots of cursing

WC: 3.1k

Taglist: @kksbookstuff

*****

You had failed to realize some rather... critical things that had led up to this moment.

For one, you couldn’t read the Prythian language, though you could speak it. Then there was your complete lack of understanding regarding the social caste system and etiquette. And, of course, visiting that suspicious fortune teller at the Renaissance fair three weeks ago—an absolute steal at five dollars—had somehow landed you in this otherworldly situation.

It was your third day in the Night Court. You sat by the garden, surrounded by beautiful flowers and basking in the sunshine. But the serene setting did nothing to calm the storm of your thoughts, especially with the absolutely terrifying shadowsinger sitting next to you. You tried not to lust over him, but Azriel was a sight to behold. The book did not do him justice, nor did the fanart. In person, this male was an absolute lethal god—lean muscles, absolute slut hips, and an ass that could stop traffic. You tried not to drool as you sipped your tea at the table, attempting to focus on the floral beauty around you. Azriel was reading reports, occasionally sending glares your way.

You knew he hated the Vanserras, and he probably didn’t enjoy this babysitting duty when he could be spending time with Elain or doing spy things. Until he finally spoke.

“What the actual fuck, Y/n?” His cold tone sent a shiver down your spine. You gulped the sip of tea you’d just taken, staring into his golden eyes that seemed like shards of ice. What did you do?

You just stared at him. How could you respond to that? How could you respond to the cold, golden gaze he was sending your way, or the way he kept playing with the ring on his... wedding finger?

Fae don’t do human weddings.

“Wait, you’re married?” you stuttered out, looking at him with wide eyes. He scoffed, smirking at your shock.

“Yeah, to you. We got married right before the war, in a private ceremony. We’re mates, for fuck’s sake.” Azriel was furious. He stood up, his wings flaring out in anger. His shadows twirled around your wrists, locking you onto the chair as he moved closer to you.

“How utterly convenient you lost your memory, you have a heart condition that you never told me about, and I don’t know the fact that you visited a witch right before our ceremony?” His tone was dangerously low, like the calm before a storm. He wasn’t yelling—no, that would draw attention. His words were like shards of ice, cutting through the air with a menacing chill.

“How come you didn’t say anything? I mean, I arrived like three days ago,” you said, trying to sound casual. Maybe you could play this off. Everyone here thinks you have amnesia, that you are definitely not from another world and have entered the world of a popular fae smut series. You got this.

Okay, maybe you don’t got this, as Azriel moved closer to you, tilting your chin up to look at him as he gazed down at you. You were honestly surprised you hadn’t pissed yourself yet. They don’t call him the spymaster for no reason. “What was I supposed to say?” he started, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I haven’t told my family that I was mated to a maid for the Vanserra family, who now turns out to be their sister.” Whoever’s body you had just taken over, can have their body back and deal with this mess.

You pleaded to yourself mentally as he continued. “You’re just so full of surprises. Honestly, it’s really my fault, to begin with,” Azriel said with a bitter laugh. “I mean, I should have investigated my mate, but I figured, no, my mate wouldn’t lie to me and then after the war not talk to me for three weeks because she nearly died at Autumn’s camp, which I didn’t even know you were there.” Oh, he was mad. Heated. The absolute rambling this male was doing—fuck, you should pay for his therapy for all of this.

“I’m sorry that I don’t remember you,” you began, feeling a strange tug in your heart—was that the mating bond? Perhaps mentioning it would make the lethal predator before you less mad. “I still feel the bond, though,” you whispered, pulling Azriel from his heated rage fit.

Azriel’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, a mixture of anger and pain. “I just wish... you would have told me all of these things, that you would have prepared me for all of this,” he began, waving his hands as if showcasing the whole mess. “Rhysand knows we’re mates. I told him when you arrived.” Azriel scoffed, his bitterness evident. “I was surprised when it was you, standing there looking so shy, the way you bowed your head towards us. A Vanserra would never do that. That was the first sign that I knew you actually had lost your memories. That you were different.”

The rambling seemed to continue.

Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in every movement. “You think I haven’t been trying to figure this out? Trying to understand why my mate would forget me? Why she would hide things from me? This isn’t just about the past three days. This is about trust. About knowing that my mate, my partner, would keep secrets that could get her killed.”

“I never wanted to hide anything from you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of his words. “I don’t know why this happened, but I’m here now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, the anger in his eyes dimming but not disappearing. “You have no idea how much I want to believe you,” he said, his voice low and filled with an emotion that made your heart ache. “But it’s going to take more than words. We’ll start with that witch, and we’ll go from there. But until then, no more secrets. No more lies. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you replied, feeling the gravity of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders. You were in over your head, if you had to the chance to talk to whoever’s body you took over. You were going to scream and shout at them for this. 

Azriel’s wings folded back slightly, and he released your wrists from the shadows, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “We need to talk to that witch, one of the spies said they found the location” 

You nodded as he took your hand in his, his wedding ring brushing against you. A reminder that you were not the one he fell in love with. Within moments shadows surrounded the two of you, as you appeared in front of a shop with a cauldron shaped sign and an old oak door. A sign that said ‘Come in: We can change your life! No Refunds!” hung on the door. 

Azriel gave you a look that said ‘Really? You went here of all places for magic’ he pushed open the door for you, you trailed behind. What was peculiar was that the lady looked exactly like the lady from the renaissance festival. 

The witch’s eyes flicked up as you entered, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Ah, welcome back, dear,” she said, her voice smooth, like an eerie melody. “I see my spell worked.” 

Azriel gave you a confused look as you pulled him outside with you. “We will be right back,” you said to the witch before bringing Azriel outside. “Okay, you said no secrets, right?” The male simply nodded with a confused expression. You continued, your voice hesitant as you looked around to make sure nobody was walking the empty street. “I am not from this world. I am from a modern world where you and your family are a part of a hit faerie smut series.” You said it so bluntly that you didn’t notice the way his face looked. The look was unreadable.

“You’re saying that I am a book character?” he stated. You knew you sounded crazy and were praying that Azriel was not going to send you straight to the dungeons.

You nodded, feeling a sense of desperation. “Yes, and I don’t know how I got here. I visited a fortune teller at a Renaissance fair, and the next thing I knew, I was here, in this body, with no memories of this world.”

Azriel's expression shifted from confusion to something more guarded. “And you expect me to believe this? That my entire life, my family, everything I know is just... fiction in your world?”

“I know it sounds insane,” you pleaded, “but it's the truth. I’m not trying to deceive you. I just want to figure out how to fix this, how to make things right.”

He took a deep breath, his golden eyes searching your face for any sign of deceit. “If what you're saying is true, then this witch is our best chance at getting answers. But if you’re lying...”

“I’m not,” you interrupted. “I swear, Azriel. I want to find out what happened just as much as you do.”

He held your gaze for a long moment before nodding curtly. “Fine. Let’s see what she has to say.”

You both re-entered the shop, the witch’s eyes gleaming with interest. “Had to have a little chat, did you?” she asked, amusement in her tone.

“Yes,” Azriel said, his voice cold and authoritative. “And now we need answers. She claims she’s from another world, one where our lives are just stories. Can you confirm this?”

The witch’s smile widened. “Ah, yes. A classic case of cross-reality displacement. Rare, but not unheard of. The spell I cast was meant to fulfill her old self’s deepest desire, and it seems that desire was to escape her mundane life and find herself in a world of magic and adventure.”

“Old self?” you asked, your voice tinged with urgency.

The witch shrugged delicately. “The actual Vanserra. When I spoke to you, she had already set the spell in motion. It was only a matter of time for you both to flip-flop.” She said this in an amused tone, showcasing with her hands. “Your souls were swapped. Thankfully, you both existed in two different universes. At least you still look like yourself!” She laughed and muttered under her breath, “That’s not always the case.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, his expression darkening. “So you’re saying the Vanserra soul is now in another world?”

“Precisely, a human world to be exact,” the witch replied, still smiling. “Two souls, two worlds. It’s a perfect balance, really.”

You felt a wave of panic rising. “How do we reverse it?”

The witch’s eyes gleamed with a mix of pity and amusement. She moved to a back room behind a tacky purple curtain. “Now let’s check on the actual Vanserra using this doll.” She returned, holding up a rather awful sewing job of a cat with two buttons of separate sizes for eyes. “Ah, just as I thought, the Vanserra accepted the swap. You see, when she came in here, she would claim she was bored of this life. Bored of the mundane. She wanted a life of change, so I gave her your world. It’s more human, so of course, a shorter life span, but your world is rather peaceful.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean she accepted the swap? And what does that mean for Y/n?”

The witch shrugged delicately. “It means that once one soul accepts the swap, the other must accept as well. The balance must be maintained. The Vanserra is content in your world, living a new life, free from the burdens she faced here. She has accepted her new reality.”

The witch handed you the poorly sewn cat doll. “You could always communicate with her via your dreams. Given the situation, she hasn't reached out, perhaps hoping you would accept this world. To do this, you must sleep with this cat.” She gave you a look that said, 'You want my help or not, kid?' You stayed silent as you accepted the creepy, poorly sewn cat doll.

Azriel eyed the doll skeptically, then asked, “So she can talk to her in this dream state, but if the other has accepted, what does that do?”

The witch shrugged. “Provides closure, knowing that you are stuck in this world. You said you wanted adventure, right, kid? Well, here it is.” She gestured grandly with her hands.

You began, your tone edged with annoyance. “I wanted adventure as in, I don’t know, changing my degree or winning the lottery. Not my soul being transported to another world.” You gestured to Azriel. “Let’s say I do accept this role. What do I have to do?”

The witch hummed thoughtfully. “You must do five cartwheels, a handstand while saying ‘I choose this life,’ and then your soul will be sealed, and both eyes on the cat will match.”

Azriel gave her a look of utter disbelief before turning to you. “Can you even do a cartwheel?”

You nodded confidently, flexing your non-existent muscles at him. “Absolutely. I’m practically a gymnast,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

The witch clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Now, if you’re ready, you can begin. The sooner you accept, the sooner you can start living your new life fully.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed but resigned. After the witch had swindled the two of you out of two hundred gold, he kept your hand in his as he winnowed you both to the Healer’s cottage.

“We’re going to bed and getting this whole thing situated,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you down the hallway to your bedroom.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” you began, but he interrupted, “I am going to sleep next to you to make sure that you are safe and sound.” The look he gave you was one of ‘Don’t test my patience.’

As you both lay in bed, you stared at the ceiling, trying your best to sleep but unable to quiet your mind. The song lyrics of Kendrick Lamar’s "Certified Lover Boy, Certified Pedophile" played on repeat in your head. Azriel, too, was wide awake, his presence a mixture of comfort and tension.

Slowly, sleep began to take you. You found yourself being led by a black cat into the dreamscape.

In the dreamscape, you met someone who could have been your twin, except she had the most perfect posture known to man, the exclusive Vanserra glare, and was wearing a ballgown.

“So, you’re the one who took my spot?” she said, looking you up and down. Surprisingly, you were wearing modern clothes in the dreamscape.

You nodded. She continued, “Your world is... perfect. I mean, I don’t have to worry about beasts or my abusive father. I have my own apartment, music that can play at my fingertips. Your world may not have magic, but it is... magical.” She sounded amazed by your everyday life, one that now seemed mundane to you, having always wished for fantasy and adventure.

“But you hurt your mate,” you stated angrily, remembering the pained look on Azriel’s face when he learned that the real Vanserra had accepted her life in a human world, that this world was not enough for her.

The Vanserra’s eyes softened with a hint of regret. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I was just so desperate to escape. My life here was a constant battle, a fight for survival. I didn’t realize how much pain I would cause him... or you.”

“You could have at least tried to work things out,” you countered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Azriel is suffering because of this. He loves you—loved you—and now he’s trying to figure out what to do with me, someone who’s not even from his world.”

She looked away, guilt evident in her expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the consequences. I was selfish. But I can’t go back now. I don’t want to go back. Your world is everything I dreamed of.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” you asked, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness. “I’m stuck here, in a world I don’t understand, with a mate who’s heartbroken and confused.”

The Vanserra met your gaze, a newfound determination in her eyes. “You have to make this life your own. Embrace it, as hard as it may be. Azriel deserves happiness, and if I can’t give it to him, then maybe you can.”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the ritual. “I guess this is it,” you said, looking around the dreamscape one last time before focusing on the task at hand.

One cartwheel. You felt the shift in the air, the magic beginning to weave around you.

Two cartwheels. Your movements became more confident, your resolve strengthening.

Three cartwheels. The world around you seemed to blur, the dreamscape fading into the background.

Four cartwheels. The energy of the ritual thrummed through you, a pulsing beat that matched the rhythm of your heart.

Five cartwheels. As you landed, you transitioned into a handstand, your voice steady as you declared, “I choose this life.”

The Vanserra twin gave you a smile, a mixture of relief and encouragement in her eyes. “Good luck, Y/n,” she said softly, her form beginning to dissolve as the dreamscape faded completely.

When you woke up, you surprisingly had tears in your eyes. Azriel was already awake, gently stroking the hair out of your face. The poorly sewn cat doll was clutched in your hands, and its once mismatched eyes now both gleamed evenly.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, his voice soft and filled with concern. His touch was tender, a stark contrast to the intimidating persona he often projected.

You nodded, still processing the weight of what had happened. “I... I talked to her. The real Vanserra. She’s happy in my world. She’s not coming back.”

Azriel’s expression was a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, and something else you couldn’t quite place. “So, this is really happening,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re here to stay.”

You nodded again, feeling the truth of it settle deep within you. “Yes. I’ve accepted this life. I’m going to try and make it work. For both of us.”

He sighed, a sound that was half-resignation, half-hope. “Then we’ll figure this out together.”

You looked into his eyes, feeling the bond between you grow stronger with every passing moment. “We will,” you agreed, a sense of determination filling you.

Azriel pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Welcome home, Y/n,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

[yazthebookish]

I'm waiting for someone in the fandom to start theorizing that Gwyn is actually Azriel's mother, but he had a case of amnesia—however that could explain the motherly spark he felt in his chest and why his shadows like her.

And someone will follow it up with "omg that makes so much sense! That's why we never saw her!! SJM you mastermind"

[fieldofdaisiies]

Hello, I’m trying to find an azriel x reader fic I read a while ago (like last most or in October) and I was wondering if anyone could help.

The plot is that he has a mate who is pregnant but he get amnesia? And he doesn’t remember her but remembers Elaine.

I think there’s 2 or 3 parts.

Thank you in advance❤️❤️❤️

ugh I am so sorry, but I really have no idea which fic you are talking about :(

I hope someone can help you find it!!💛

[illyrian-dreamer]

Overwritten – Part 2

 Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel. 

Warnings: Violence, torture, injuries

Words: 1,472

--------

Part 2 ∇

“Oh my word!” Feyre ran towards the Spymaster while he waded through the grass of the camp ground, your unconscious body still close to his chest. “Is she alright?” 

Azriel didn't answer as he stalked past, his eyes focused forward as he geared for his tent – your tent. Rhys caressed his mate’s face, catching her up mind to mind.

As promised, Madja was already inside, preparing the cot and supplies she may need. She hurried over to the Shadowsinger as soon as he burst through the entrance, not waiting for him to set you down to make her initial observations. While you were limp in his arms, Madja pressed her fingers to your wrist and placed the back of her palm against your clammy forehead, tutting under her breath.

While he didnt dare speak, Azriel’s golden eyes swirled with desperation, his gaze begging her for good news. His shadows hovered around you, doing their best to keep away as Madja assessed you. Drawing her hands back across her chest, she let out a quick breath.

“She’ll live,” she said plainly, Azriel’s figure sagging in relief for the third time that night. “She’s severely malnourished, dehydrated, and she’s fighting an infection. There’s also something else I can't quite place.”

“It’s poison.” Rhys spoke from behind Azriel, he and Feyre having entered the tent. “I can see how it plagues her mind.”

Azriel couldn't help the twang of jealousy he felt at his brother’s deamati abilities. To be able see into your mind and ease your pain, to help you sleep – these were things he would sell his soul to provide for you.

“I can feel it too, through the bond,” Azriel added gruffly. “And smell it in her scent.”

Madja nodded. “We’ll need to find the exact source for the right antidote.”

“We’ll arrange for Cassian to search the prison,” Feyre said calmly, her eyes distant as she reached the General through his mind.

Madja ushered Azriel towards the cot, directing him to place you down. It took a quiet moment to fight his own instinct to ever let you go, but your mate set you down gently, bringing a soft hand to caress your cheek. Your skin was greyish, lacking sunlight, blood, life… Azriel hoped the pain he felt at the sight of your disheveled state couldn't be sensed down the bond.

“What of her pain?” he asked helplessly, crouching at your side. Rhys’s hand rested on his shoulder, Azriel refusing to turn from you.

“I’ve blocked her pain and willed a dreamless sleep,” Rhys reassured him.

“Good,” said Madja. “Keep it that way. She needs to fight the infection.” Rhys nodded tightly and Azriel sighed, noting the beads of sweat that formed on your face. Reaching for a nearby cloth, he dotted the sweat away.

Madja shooed Azriel away from your cot, working to clean the visible cuts and aid the bruises that spotted your body. Rhys took the opportunity to pull his brother to the side – his shadows lingering back, soothing you while you slept.

“Az, you need to prepare yourself for when she wakes.”

Azriel frowned, folding his arms over his chest, blue siphons flaring. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Feyre looked between the two males before placing a gentle hand on Azriel’s forearm. “Y/N was not herself when Rhys and Cass found her,” she said softly, her eyes full of sympathy for the Shadowinger.

“What are you saying?” Azriel's jaw ticked, his usual stoic demeanour replaced with irritated impatience and concern.

“She didn't recognise who we were,” Rhys said. Azriel’s eyes darted between his High Lord and Lady, now panicked. Rhys spoke quickly. “It’s likely the poison had caused her delirium, but she was violent Az, completely feral if I may speak plainly.”

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I can feel her down the bond. She’s still there, she’ll remember.”

“Good,” Feyre said with a broken smile. “That’s good. Keep reaching out, keep her grounded.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm now, attempting to soothe him.

Azriel nodded, looking past the couple as your limp state. Overwhelmed by relief, regret, and fear of the unknown, tears began to sting at the Shadowsinger’s eyes. Burying his face in one hand, he tried to hide the evidence of his emotions, but his friends were too perceptive.

‘It’ll be ok, Az,” Feyre soothed.

“She’s here now brother, try not to fret,” Rhys added.

Now that he had found you, Azriel finally allowed the shame he had been burying for all those months to surface. “She’s my mate,” he said quietly, his husky voice breaking as his tears flowed freely. “She’s my mate, and I let this happen to her.”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged a pained look, agreeing down their own bond that if it had been the other, they would likely blame themselves too.

Ever so thoughtfully, Feyre guided Azriel to a seat next to your cot. Azriel slumped into the chair, his face buried in his hands as he tried to control his emotions. His shadows found him again, building around his frame – hiding, concealing.

“Stay with her brother,” Rhys patted Azriel on the shoulder. “Help her find her way back.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, mumbling a thanks to his High Lord and Lady as they left you to sleep, and him to agonise in privacy.

————

You stumbled through never ending void of complete white. No sound could be heard, and the air was still. Your heart pounded as you looked around you – sensing danger was near, but you just couldn't see it.

This wasn't a dream, no, it was far too painful, but it wasn't reality either. It was a trance of types – one meant as a message or warning. One you would be sure to adhere.

You whirled, searching for any signs of life. Walking was becoming more difficult, your limbs heavy as if something plagued you, dragging you down.

Finally, you reached the edge. The edge of nothingness. Peering down, you could only see depth. One more step would send you careening into the white abyss, falling forever into nothingness, never to be found again. Your head ached as you tried to remember anything beyond this place. A world, a face, even a sound. The pain was blinding, even just to think.

It was then that you saw the shadows, the unmistakable peaks of wings blocking whatever light and warmth as they cast over you. Gasping, you spun, your stance instinctively defensive.

The male grinned down at you, his wicked smile lethal as his hazel eyes swirled. A long, serpent-like tongue glided over his teeth – no, fangs. You didn't know what he was – a devil, a demon, perhaps an angel of death. Every part of your screamed at you to take that jump of the edge, begging you to choose the infinite free fall than to be surely killed by this thing.

His figure grew then, elongating and towering over you as his eyes changed from honey gold to a vicious red. Shadows swarmed you, pinning you to the ground. It was too late to run.

“Leave me alone!” you managed to scream, fighting against the shadows. It was hard to hear your voice over the roar of panic in your ears. Little light remained as darkness filled your vision, the creature lowering his gaze, preparing to attack. Hands turned to talons before a snarl ripped from him, his bright eyes fixed on your throat.

The snarl grew to a roar as he launched, a piercing sound escaping you as you screamed for your life.

————

Azriel jumped as you jolted awake, flying upwards as you clung to your chest, gasping. With frantic eyes you scanned the room, clutching at your filthy tunic and running a shaky hand through your hair. Azriel’s heart broke at your panic, before quickly pounding in anticipation. This was the moment he had ached, dreamt and killed for – the moment he got his mate back.

“Y/N?” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper. Frantic eyes found him then, widening, then darkening as they fixed on his face.

He slowly raised a hand to his chest, the other extending to your cot. “Y/N, my love, I’m so sorry.” Azriel’s eyes swelled with despair, his guilt consuming as he reached for you. You remained unmoving, your gaze shifting to where his hand now rested, almost touching you.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” he said in attempt to reassure you. Your chest moved up and down with breathy pants, your eyes trailing his strong arm back to his face as you studied him. 

There was a beat of silence between you, just the sound of your breathing filling the tent. Your expression was unreadable as you stared at him blankly.

“Y/N, it’s me, Azriel.”

Despite Rhys’s warning, Azriel was unprepared when you launched for him, knocking him to the floor. 

Eyes wide, he clawed at your hands that were tightly wrapped around his neck, your own eyes dark as you slowly choked the air out of the Shadowsinger.

--------

Part 3 >>>

AN: 👀 I hope you liked Part 2!!! 💕

Comment if you’d like to join the series or general tag list, and thank you always for reading!

Tags: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris​

[pellucid-constellations]

ughhhhh you never do miss huh?

(just thinking about reader’s first tentative step back to try and figure out themselves — their old life — and almost immediately one of the first people they feel comfortable with shoves up from the dining table and says that he “can’t do this” and then just. leaves.

his mate can’t remember him — can’t remember anything, not even the life that they shared or the space in the court that they occupied. so i get why he “can’t do this,” but…

what would be worse for az? (how can we make this worse for az?) because he’s the one who pushed away first. he’s the one who put distance in between him and the reader first. but what will he do if he’s misinterpreted? what if reader thinks that he just doesn’t like them — or worse, doesn’t like them like this? despite how they try, despite what they do to remember. amidst the pain that throbs in their temples as they try to fight to remember. amidst the fear of being in an unknown place as a complete blank slate. and what will he do if he starts noticing them putting distance between the two of them — mindful of his seeming discomfort — against the tug in their chest that tells them this is wrong? what will az do when reader starts retreating from him in earnest?

sorry — i have many thoughts about this. i could write an essay on this (i might write an essay on this).)

— “as a treat” anon <3

Omfg we share the same brain anon 😭😭 I love your thoughts on this and can tell you I have some of the same ones! This dynamic is definitely going to be so complex and it’s going to be a ride for azriel (he will be going through it for the foreseeable future) and the reader.

This is why I love the amnesia trope so much!! So much to explore and think about!! Thank you for your thoughts and alwaysss send me more if you want to :)

[ae-neon]

“And sjm loves to use Feyre to make these worldbuilding assessments when Feyre doesn't know anything about the world to back this up” SHE DOES. Why oh why did Sarah make Feyre so damn annoying?

And it's so easily fixed too?

Just have someone else say or prove it? Have Feyre learn about the armies in the Spring Court then the armies in the Night Court and make a guess.

But she doesn't, she runs around saying X is more powerful than Y, Rhys suffered more than anyone, Illyrians are brute savages, Tarquin is arrogant for considering himself Rhys and Amren's equal?? Wonder if she applied that logic to herself?? Things she literally just doesn't know

And the funniest thing of all is that sjm and the canon will turn around and prove Feyre wrong but she never learns???

She thought she knew Nesta in acotar, was proven wrong but by acomaf Feyre has amnesia

Literally in the time she (and the audience) spends with Tarquin, it's easy to see he's probably the morally best HL and that if Rhys approached him for an alliance, he would agree. They might not get the book that instance or without agreeing to take someone like Varian or Cresseida with, but that's fair?!

And she still chooses to steal for a man and a court it's, at that point, obvious MAKES themselves untrustworthy - earns their own reputation and then doesn't understand why people don't like them???

But Rhysand is all about trust when it comes to the mortal queens he has no intel on. What a fucking buffoon. He's Boris Johnson with hair dye.

I think Nesta even pointed this out when she refused to sell her story to the HLs, the Night Court puts itself in the shit then complains it stinks and that other people say they smell

THEY called the HL meeting then acted like they were too cool to be there?? And were the only ones who couldn't keep the inevitable clash verbal??

GOD THESE FUCKING CLOWNS ARE 500 YEARS OLD ELON WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING

Whyyyyyyyy were Cassian and Azriel even in the fucking roooooom????? THEY ARE IRRELEVANT NOBODIES. your friends don't get to sit in on UN council meetings

Lemme stop cause I can feel myself getting actually angry lol

[guerramecanica123]

Key Figures

Mr. WD: A brilliant but ruthless scientist with dreams of dominance over the underground, aiming to dismantle the royal family’s power and lead the monsters to war against humanity. He is a strict father to Sans and Papyrus, the former his assistant and the latter a trainee in the Royal Guard.

Sans: Sharp and resilient, he works under his father’s demanding expectations, but harbors a strategic patience, planning to one day oppose Mr. WD. He becomes crucial in uncovering his father’s dangerous ambitions.

Papyrus: Trained as a warrior in brutal conditions, Papyrus is initially loyal but begins to question Mr. WD after being injured in a sadistic test. He is a sympathetic figure, caught in a struggle between loyalty and survival.

Alphys: As the underground’s chief scientist, Alphys is obsessed with experiments to "enhance" monsters through cybernetic modifications, though often with horrifying results. A fan of manga and superhero culture, she dreams of marriage equality and eventually allies with Sans to expose Mr. WD’s ambitions.

Frisk: A young girl from a troubled past, marked by trauma and resilience. Left with partial amnesia due to an attack by a corrupt politician, she is determined to uncover the truth about her parents’ murder, despite the emotional and physical scars left by her past.

The Royal Family:

Queen Toriel: Compassionate but weighed down by grief, Toriel is a motherly figure who still mourns her adopted daughter, Chara.

Prince Azriel (The Flower): Vengeful and manipulative, Azriel is fierce in his convictions and quick to anger, though he retains a soft spot for his deceased sibling, Chara.

King Asgore: A complex figure with a powerful temper and cold demeanor, Asgore sees humanity as the root of his people's suffering but wrestles with his conflicting feelings toward Chara, who humanizes him in a way that few others do.

[achaotichuman]

We back at it again with this fic. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary-

She had eyes like starlight and a grin that could outshine the moon, "We'll rule the world."

"What if we fail?"

"Then we'll burn it all down."

In hindsight maybe it could only have ever ended like this. Making a man who was never made to rule, High lord. This was all inevitable.

With his Court in ruins and everyone gone, Tamlin lives amongst the broken pieces of his Court and has no intentions of changing that. Lucien, however, will not stand to leave his oldest friend alone.

When Lucien takes Tamlin back to the human lands, they discover a darkness coming for Prythian. If something does not stop it, it will completely rewrite the way Faeries and humans alike live as they know it.

Fandom- A Court of Thorns and Roses.

Relationships-

Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra, Azriel/Eris Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Tamlin & Lucien Vanserra, Tamlin & Eris Vanserra, Past Tamlin/Feyre Archeron, Past Lucien Vanserra/Jesminda

Characters-

Original Female Character(s), Andras (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Original Male Character(s), Lucien Vanserra, Tamlin (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Elain Archeron, Eris Vanserra, Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Death-God Kosechi, Morrigan (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Cassian (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Nesta Archeron, Tarquin (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Tamlin's Brothers (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Amren (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Band of Exiles (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Tags-Tamlin Redemption (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Secret Relationships, Mating Bonds, Flashbacks, Self-Harm, Found Family, Abandonment Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Grief/Mourning, Dissociative Amnesia, Forced Marriage, repressed trauma, Panic Attacks, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Demisexuality, Overthinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Horror, Body Horror, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, Hewn City Rebellion, Illyrian Rebellion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies With Benefits, Deep Dive Into Elain's Past, Deep Dive Into Tamlin's Past, Bisexuality, Anxiety Attacks, Elain Archeron Character Arc, Heavy Angst, Necromancy, Smut, Psychological Torture, idiots to lovers, dumbasses in love, Fluff

Part one of A Court of Outcasts, Thieves and Assassins.