Aemond looks more like a Targaryen than everyone on all three shows combined, you gotta give him that. âHe takes that shit so serious I feel like he was born with fully defined cheekbones, bruised Alicentâs pelvis on the way out and mogged the midwife instead of crying
âuh⌠why is sensei doing push-ups?â yuji asks, when he, nobara, and megumi enter the classroom.
satoruâs pushing himself up and down with one hand because, according to you, normal push-ups werenât enough. but even then, heâs barely breaking a sweat. and heâs grinning, while you stand over him, watching with your arms crossed.
his uniform jacket is folded over the back of a chair, leaving him in his compression shirt, arm bulging and back tensing with each lift and fall of his body.
âi upset my-- hah beautiful, smart-- hah strong, gorgeous, perfect wife,â he pants, âpunishment fits the crime.â
he really is right where he wants to be.
megumi doesnât even bat an eye - this was the least unusual thing that you and satoru do. he slides into a chair with a sigh.
âhow many does he have to do?â
âa hundred,â you say. satoru lifts his head to look up at you, mouth parted, little pink hearts in his eyes peering at you over the rim of his glasses. âheâs on seventy-two.â
his grin widens. âyou know, this isnât a challenge for me. why donât you sit on my back, sweetheart?â
you crouch down in front of him and his eyes light up. âi know what you want, and you donât deserve my touch.â you push his head down so heâs facing the floor again, and he grunts when you press extra weight, forcing his body down. âonly twenty-three left. you can do it, my love.â
if his heart wasnât beating fast enough before, it definitely was now. especially with the saccharine tone you used at the end of your sentence.
god, was he down bad.
â⌠call us when youâre done,â megumi says, already out of the classroom.
silly thought inspired by this video HAHA can you tell he makes me a little a lot insane
hellooo lovely ! your work is fantastic, never change ! iâd really really appreciate if you could write something where y/nâs pined openly and unashamedly for azriel for centuries and heâs always found her irritating and spurned her at every moment. but something happens where y/n loses her memory and when she wakes up she forgets about her feelings for azriel and treats him like an acquaintance. even angstier if her affections go to someone else and azriel is jealous and like âshit i kinda actually like her đâ and the roles flip and heâs pining hard? much love ! đ
A Memory He Never Earned- Azriel x fem!reader
Warnings: angst, memory loss, not proofread (yet)
A/N: This was so sad and yet so beautiful to write𼲠thank you for the request!
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For centuries, Y/N had loved Azriel without shame and never tried to hide it.
Her love for him was obvious. In the way she always found him in a crowded room, like some invisible thread pulled her gaze toward him. In the way her voice softened when she said his name, like it was something fragile. Sacred.
"Azriel," she would say, as if it meant more coming from her.
He never answered the same way and still, she tried.
She learned the rhythm of his silences long before she learned how to fill them. Learned which days his shadows curled tighter around him, which nights he disappeared for hours and returned with blood on his hands and nothing in his eyes.
She never asked questions he didn't want to answer. Instead, she stayed. Always, she stayed.
There had been a night, long ago, when he returned worse than usual. Shoulders stiff, wings slightly dragging, shadows restless and sharp as blades. No one else noticed. Or maybe they did, and knew better than to interfere.
Y/N didn't.
She followed him quietly to the balcony, a blanket draped over her arm, a cup of tea warming her hands. "You shouldn't be out here," she'd said gently, stepping into the cold beside him.
Azriel didn't look at her. "Neither should you."
But he didn't tell her to leave. So she didn't.
She set the tea beside him. Draped the blanket over the back of a chair, not touching him, never forcing closeness he hadn't given.
"I thought you might want this," she murmured.
"I didn't ask for it."
The words should've stung. They did.
But Y/N only smiled, soft and unwavering. "I know."
And that was the problem. She always knew.
Knew he wouldnât thank her. Knew he wouldnât look at her the way she looked at him. Knew that every small kindness she offered would be met with indifference at best, quiet dismissal at worst.
And still, she came back the next night.
And the next....and the next.
Centuries of quiet offerings. Of standing at his side when he allowed it, and a step behind when he didn't. Of loving him in all the ways he never asked for, never returned.
There were moments, small and fleeting, that she held onto like they were something more. A glance that lingered a second too long, a rare and tired "thank you", the absence of rejection, they were enough for her. They always had been.
Even when he turned away first, even when he chose others over her, again and again. Even when it became painfully, undeniably clear that Azriel did not love her.
And perhaps he never would.
The words had been waiting long enough. Though, Y/N didnt plan to say them at night.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this, on the edge of a war-camp clearing, the air thick with ash and lingering magic. Everything was too loud, too chaotic.
Too real.
But maybe that was why the words finally slipped free. "Azriel- "
He was already turning away and that is when something in her snapped.
"I love you."
It cut hrough everything. Through the crackling embers, through Cassian's voice, through the ringing in her own ears.
Azriel stilled. Slowly, so slowly, he looked back at her. There was no surprise on his face.
He knew and didn't care.
That was what hurt the most.
"You shouldn't," he said.
Not cruel, not loud. Just...final.
Y/N felt it like a physical blow, like the ones she took a few hours ago when they were on the battlefield. But she didn't look away, not this time.
"I know you don't feel the same," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm not asking you to. I just- I needed you to hear it once. Truly."
His hazel eyes held hers, unreadable. Distant.
Cold.
"I've heard it," Azriel replied. "For centuries."
Her breath caught.
"And it hasn't changed anything," he continued, quieter now, but no softer. "It won't."
There it was. No anger, no hesitation.
Y/N swallowed, her chest tightening, something fragile inside her finally, finally, cracking.
"Right," she whispered.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then, with a small nod, more to herself than to him, she stepped back and this time, she didn't stay.
It happened minutes later, maybe even less.
Cassian shouted something, her name, she thought, but it was drowned out by the surge of darke magic ripping through the clearing. A trap.
"Down!" Mor yelled, her shield raised up as she turned...too slow.
The blast was aimed for Azriel. Not Rhysand.
Y/N didn't think, didn't hesitate. Didn't remember the way his words had hollowed her out only moments ago. She moved.
"Y/N!" Rhysands voice cracked.
Power collided with her body like a storm unleashed. White-hot. Binding, endless.
For a second, just a second, everything went silent. Then, pain.
Agonising and consuming. She felt herself being thrown back, felt something in her mind tear, like threads snapping one by one. Distantly, she heard shouting.
"Y/N!"
This one sounded closer. Desperate.
Familiar strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.
Her vision blurred, edges darkening, the world slipping through her fingers like sand. She forced her eyes open, just once more. Azriel's face hovered above hers.
Not distant, not cold.
Something else, something she'd never seen before, fractured across his expression.
Fear.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Strangely, she couldn't remember what she wanted to say. Only that it had once meant everything.
His name lingered on the edge of her mind and then, nothing. Darkness swallowed her whole.
Azriel had seen war before.
He had stood in blood-soaked fields, heard the screams of the dying, felt the weight of lives lost settle into his bones like something permanent.
None of it compared to this. Y/N lay too still on the narrow cot inside the healerâs tent. Too pale, too quiet.
Wrong.
Azriel stood at her bedside, hands clasped behind his back so tightly his knuckles ached beneath his leathers. Not a single tremor showed in his posture. Not a flicker of panic crossed his face.
But inside...inside everything was unraveling.
You shouldn't.
The words echoed over and over, sharp as a blade driven between his ribs.
It won't.
He could still see her face when he said it. The way something in her had...given way. And then she'd still chosen him.
Still stepped in front of that magic. Still-
Azriel's jaw tightened. He didn't deserve that, he never had.
"Where the fuck did that magic come from?!"
Rhysand's voice cut through the tent, quiet, sharp, furious, edged with something dangerously close to fear. Azriel didn't look away from Y/N.
Cassian swore under his breath somewhere behind him. "Iâve never seen anything like it- just came out of nowhere- â
âIt didnât come out of nowhere,â Mor snapped, pacing. Golden power flickered faintly at her fingertips, unstable. âSomeone set that trap. Deliberately.â
Amren's voice, cool and cutting: "Then someone wanted Azriel dead."
Azriel didn't hear the rest, didn't care.
All of it, strategy, enemies, blame, it faded into nothing beneath the steady, fragile rise and fall of Y/Nâs chest.
Barely there.
His shadows hovered restlessly, brushing against her like they didnât understand why she wasnât responding. Why she wasnât smiling at them, the way she always did.
Why she wasnât-
Azriel swallowed, his gaze traced every inch of her face, as if committing it to memory. As if bracing for the possibility that--no. He forced the thought down. She wasnât gone. She couldnât be, not like this.
Not after....his throat tightened, something unfamiliar clawing its way up his chest.
Regret.
It settled heavy and suffocating. Centuries of it, all at once. Every time he'd turned away, every quiet offering he'd dismissed, every soft "Azriel" he'd ignored. And that look on her face, right before she stepped back, right before she left. His chest felt too tight. Too small.
"She took the full hit."
Mor's voice broke slightly now, closer than before. "If she hadn't, Azriel, that would've been you."
He knew. The Cauldron damn him he knew.
That knowledge sat like poison in his veins. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Because if he did, if he opened his mouth, he wasn't sure what would come out.
Rhys exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Madja, how bad is it?"
The healer didn't answer immediately.
Azriel finally shifted, just barely, as she moved closer to the bed, her magic a soft, steady glow as it hovered over Y/N.
âSheâs alive,â Madja said at last.
Alive. The word didnât ease the pressure in his chest.
âBut,â she continued, quieter now, âthe damage was not only physical.â
Azriel stilled completely.
âWhat do you mean?â Cassian demanded.
Madjaâs eyes flicked between them. âThat kind of magic⌠it didnât just strike her body. It struck her mind.â
Something cold slid down Azrielâs spine.
âShe may not wake as she was.â
Silence fell again. Heavy and final. Azrielâs gaze snapped back to Y/N. Not as she was. His stomach turned.
âNo,â he said.
The word was quiet, controlled. But it wasnât a suggestion. Madja didnât argue, didnât soften it. âI will do what I can.â
Azriel stepped closer to the bed without realizing it. Just a fraction.
Just enough that if she reached...
But she didnât, of course she didnât. Minutes stretched, or hours. He didnât know. Time had lost meaning the moment she fell. Then...a shift. So small he almost missed it. A breath, deeper this time.
Madja straightened immediately. âCareful.â
Y/N stirred. A faint sound left her lips, barely more than air.
Azrielâs entire body went still.
Her fingers twitched against the blanket.
Cassian leaned forward. âY/N?â
Her lashes fluttered, once. Twice.
The slowly, her eyes opened. Relief hit the room like a breaking wave. Mor let out a shaky laugh. "Thank the Mother."
Rhys stepped closer. "Easy, you're alright,"
Y/N's gaze moved sluggishly between them, confused and dazed.
But alive.
She looked at Cassian and gave him a faint, tired smile. At Mor, another smile.
Even Rhys and Amren, she recognized them too.
Azriel didn't breathe. Her eyes moved again, and then...they landed on him. Everything in him stilled and waited.
Her brows drew together slightly. Not in hurt or longing. In confusion. Her lips parted, voice weak, unsteady-
"Who...are you?"
The world stopped. And this time, Azriel felt it break.
The words lodged somewhere between his ribs and his lungs, sharp enough to steal breath, heavy enough to keep it from returning. Is this how she'd felt?
Rhys answered for him.
"He's...one of us, don't you remember him?" Rhys asked carefully, stepping in before the silence stretched too long. "You're safe. That's what matters right now."
Azriel didn't look at him, didn't look at anyone.
His gaze remained locked on Y/N, on the absence in her eyes, where there had once been something so constant it had felt...inevitable.
She shook her head slightly in response to the question. And then she looked away like he didn't matter enough to question further.
âItâs selective.â
Azriel stood rigid as Madja spoke, her voice calm in a way that grated against something raw inside him.
âThe magic did not erase her entire memory. It disrupted⌠connections. Emotional imprints, most likely.â
âMeaning?â Cassian demanded.
Madja glanced toward Azriel, just for a second.
âMeaning she remembers what happened. She remembers all of you.â A pause. âBut whatever tied her to him⌠is gone.â
Gone. Not buried, not hidden. Gone. Azrielâs shadows recoiled as if the word itself burned.
âCan it be fixed?â Mor asked, softer now.
Madja didnât answer immediately. âPerhaps,â she said at last. âOr perhaps her mind has simply⌠let go of something it deemed too painful to keep.â
Azriel flinched barely, but it was there.
Velaris welcomed them home like it always did--golden, untouched, too peaceful for what they carried back with them. Y/N walked beside Mor through the streets, wrapped in fresh clothes, hair clean, skin no longer pale with blood loss.
She smiled at everything.
At the Sidra, at the lights, at the people.
At them.
Cassian got a grin. Mor got her arm hooked through hers. Even Amren earned Y/N's usual curious questions.
Azriel...Azriel got nothing. Or worse, he got civility.
"Thank you," she said once, when he handed her something Mor had asked for. Her fingers brushed his and there was no spark, no lingering, no softening in her gaze. Just a brief, genuine and courteous smile. The kind one gives a stranger. Azriel pulled his hand back like it burned.
He tried, The Cauldron help him, he tried.
First attempt came with a small, safe cup of tea. The same blend she'd always brought him--over and over, for years. He set it on the small table in the balcony, exactly where she used to place it.
"You like this," he said, voice low, controlled.
Y/N glanced at the cup, then back at him. A polite tilt of her head. "Do I? How do you know?"
Something in his chest twisted. "You used to," he said.
A mistake.
He saw it the moment the words left his mouth. Her expression shifted, just slightly. Not recognition, but discomfort.
"I'm sorry," she said gently, like he was the one being inconvenienced. "I wish I could understand what you mean. I don't remember ever meeting you before, let alone telling you about what I like."
Azriel forced himself to nod. "It's nothing. We had only ever crossed paths few times anyway. You mentioned it in passing."
She smiled again. Small, kind and distant.
And then she left the tea untouched.
"You're going about this wrong."
Azriel didn't look up from the blade he was cleaning. "Then enlighten me."
Rhys leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "You're trying to make her remember."
Azriel's jaw tightened. "Shouldn't she?"
Rhys's voice softened, just slightly. "No. Why would you think that?"
That made him look up. "Because it's the truth."
"And the truth," Rhys said carefully, "is that you spent centuries pushing her away."
The words landed clean, precise. Unavoidable.
Azriel said nothing. Rhys stepped further into the room.
âIf she remembers everything exactly as it was, Az, she remembers the rejection too. Over and over again. Why hurt her again?"
Azrielâs grip on the blade tightened.
âShe deserves the choice,â Rhys continued. âNot a return to something that only hurt her.â
Silence stretched.
Then, quieter, âYou could start over.â
Azriel let out a humorless breath. âWith someone who doesnât even know me?â
Rhys held his gaze. âMaybe thatâs the only way she ever will.â
Time did not heal this, it sharpened it. Every interaction was a reminder, every glance that didnât linger. Every moment she chose someone else to stand beside. She laughed more with Cassian. Walked often with Mor, listened when Amren spoke.
With Azriel, She was careful, respectful, distant.
She never sought him out. Never said his name like it meant something, never looked at him like she was waiting. And that...that was what broke him the most. Because he saw it now. All the things she used to do, all the ways she had loved him, they were gone. Not dulled, not hidden. Gone.
He found her in the training ring alone this time.
Moving carefully, still recovering, but stubborn as ever.
Azriel stepped forward. âYouâre not supposed to be training yet.â
She glanced at him, slightly breathless. A small smile. âI donât like sitting still.â
He almost said I know. Stopped himself.
Instead: âYouâll reopen the injury.â
âIâll be careful.â
Always that politeness, that distance.
Azriel hesitated. âI can help you.â
She paused and studied him. For a moment, something flickered in her expression. Not recognition. Something⌠assessing.
âAlright,â she said finally.
Not warm, not cold. Just⌠neutral. Azriel stepped closer, positioning himself behind her. Careful not to touch.
âYour stance,â he said, voice low. âYouâre putting too much weight forward.â
She adjusted slightly. âLike this?â
âNot quite.â He reached out, slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didnât.
His hand hovered at her waist, barely brushing, guiding her back a fraction. Her body went still. Not tense, just aware. Like she would be with anyone.
Azrielâs chest tightened. âBetter,â he murmured.
She nodded. âThank you.â
Two words. So simple, so empty.
It wasn't just that she didn't remember him. It was that she had no reason to choose him. Not anymore, at least.
No history, no devotion.
No years of quiet, unwavering love tipping the scales in his favor. Azriel stood at the edge of the training ring long after she'd left, shadows restless around him. For the first time, he understood.
What it feels like to want someone that didn't want you back. To stand close to her, to reach and have nothing in return.
And the worst part?
He would do it. All of it.
Again and again and again. If it meant one day she might look at him like she used to.
It started small. So small Azriel almost missed it.
"Azriel,"
His name, from her mouth. He froze.
Not because she said it--she'd said it before, in that same polite and detached way.
But this time, it sounded different.
Softer.
He turned slowly.
Y/N stood a few steps away, fingers loosely clasped in front of her. There was no urgency in her posture, no expectation, but her gaze lingered just a second longer than usual.
"Yes?" he asked, voice quieter than he intended.
She hesitated.
âI- â A faint crease appeared between her brows. âI had a question about something Rhys mentioned. About⌠shadows.â
Azrielâs shadows stilled around him, as if they, too, were listening.
âYou came to me?â he asked before he could stop himself.
A flicker of something crossed her face. Not offense, not confusion. Something almost amused.
âWell,â she said lightly, âyou are the one with them, arenât you?â
Not my shadowsinger, not anything that belonged to her. Still, she had chosen him.
Azriel inclined his head. âAsk.â
She stepped a little closer. Not close enough. Never close enough, but closer than before.
And as she spoke--curious, thoughtful, engaged--Azriel found himself watching her in a way he hadnât allowed himself to in centuries.
Not dismissing, not avoiding. Watching, memorizing.
There were moments, brief and fleeting, where her expression would shift. Where her gaze would linger just a heartbeat too long, like something in her was trying to reach for a memory that refused to come.
Each time, something in his chest tightened with fragile, dangerous hope. Maybe...maybe it wasnât all gone.
The second time, it was quieter. More accidental.
She laughed at something he said.
Azriel hadnât even meant it to be funny.
But the sound left her--soft, surprised, real--and it struck him harder than any blade ever had.
For a split second, it felt like before. Like maybe...maybe he could build something new from this. Something...his. Not born from her endless giving. But chosen, earned.
"You're different with her,"
Azriel didn't look away from the window. "Am I?"
Amren leaned beside him, following his line of sight to see where Y/N stood across the riverbank.
"She's different with you too," Amren said.
Azriel's gaze sharpened. Y/N was speaking, animated now, her hands moving slightly as she explained something to someone.
She glanced up, and for a fraction of a second, her eyes met his across the distance. She didn't look away immediately. Azriel's breath caught.
Then, she smiled. A real smile. Something in his chest lifted.
"See?" Amren murmured. Azriel didn't answer, he couldn't.
Because for the first time since she woke, hope didn't feel like a mistake.
And then, everything shifted.
The day Helion arrived per Rhysands request, the air in Velaris felt differen.
Brighter. Warmer. Annoyingly so.
Everyone knew of him, of course. The most effortlessly harismatic High Lord. Charming and powerful.
The kind of male who walked into a room and owned it without trying. The kind of male Y/N would have once-
Azriel's jaw tightened. Would have once ignored, because of him.
He saw it the moment they met. Y/N had been standing beside Mor, listening politely as Rhysand was speaking with him.
And then, Helion's golden gaze landed on her, and sharpened with interest. Not subtle, not restrained, interested.
"Well," Helion drawled, a slow smile forming, "you sure have changed for the better since the last time I saw you, Y/N. You're practically glowing!"
Y/N blinked, caught slightly off guard. Then, she smiled. Not polite, not distant. Genuine. Azriel felt something cold settle in his chest.
It started harmless. Conversations, longer than necessary. Helion asking questions, not surface-level, but deeper, engaging ones.
Y/N answered. Easily, freely. She laughed again, more often now.
And Azriel...Azriel watched. From across rooms, from shadows, from distances he had once chosen. Now forced upon him.
"You're staring." Azriel didn't bother denying it.
Cassian followed his gaze and winced slightly. "Oof."
He leaned closer to Y/N, saying something low enough that only she could hear. She huffed out a laugh, nudging his arm lightly. Lightly.
Like she was comfortable, like she spent years with him.
Azriel's shadows coiled tighter.
"That's new," Cassian muttered.
Azriel's voice was quiet, controlled. "She is happy with him."
Cassian glanced at him sideways. "You never gave her much to be happy about, brother."
The words landed hard.
The worst part wasnât Helion. It wasnât the way he looked at her or how easily he drew her in.
It was the way she didnât look for Azriel anymore.
Not even out of politeness, not even out of habit. The fragile thread that had begun to form between them snapped clean and effortless. Like it had never been there at all.
Azriel found her alone once. Rare occurrence, these days.
She stood on the balcony, overlooking the city, the wind tugging gently at her hair. For a moment, he just watched. Memorized.
Then, quietly, "Y/N."
She turned. And for a heartbeat, just one, something flickered. Recognition?
No.
Not quite.
"Azriel," she said softly.
Almost like before but with less feelings.
He stepped closer. "I haven't seen you much, thanks to Helion."
A mistake.
Her expression shifted, subtle.
Distance slipped back into place.
"Helion has been quite the good company. Rhysand says he is the one that called him to discuss some trade issues in person but it seems like Helion is prolonging his stay for me."
Azriel's anger slowly started sipping in. "What?"
She shrugged, lips turning up in a small smile as she looked back at the city. "I know, that's a crazy assumption. I told Rhys that it's not possible. There is probably some other things he must do before he goes back into Day Court."
Azriel's heart plummeted. Rhysand is a good observer. One that doesn't just throw out random assumptions.
And Y/N knows it too.
Azriel nodded once. "Do you..." he stopped.
Started again, quieter. "Do you enjoy his company?"
Her lips curved slightly. "Yes."
One word. It shouldn't have meant anything.
But it meant everything.
Azriel inclined his head and stepped back. "Good."
It was the right thing to say, the only thing to say. Even as something in his chest quietly, finally, broke.
The garden was everything Y/N had hoped it would be.
Sunlight spilled over the neatly trimmed hedges, catching the petals of the early blooms like scattered gold. She had found a small spot near the fountain, canvas balanced on her knees, paints spread around her like an open rainbow. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and wet earth, the breeze brushing her hair across her face in gentle waves.
For the first time in⌠she didnât know how long, she felt light. Free. Happy. Unburdened. No weight pressed down on her shoulders.
She dipped her brush into soft lavender, sweeping it across the canvas. The strokes were confident, playful, unthinking, each one landing exactly where she wanted it. Her mind was quiet, peaceful.
A shadow fell across her work.
She looked up.
Azriel.
He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders tight, eyes dark and sharp. The sunlight caught the angles of his face, but there was no softness. No casual calm like everyone else.
She blinked. âOh. Hello.â
He didnât answer immediately. He didnât smile. He just watched.
Y/N tilted her head. âDo you⌠like gardens?â she asked lightly, because that seemed safe. Neutral.
Azrielâs jaw tightened. âNot particularly.â
She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. âMe neither, really. I just like painting them.â
He shifted slightly, closer--but not close enough to invade her space. "You're...good at it," he said, finally, voice low.
Her brush paused mid-stroke. "Thank you," she replied politely, wondering why he was suddenly so...intense.
The silence stretched and he didn't leave. She felt no threat, only that strange pull of attention, heavy and charged, that she had no context for.
"I...I need to tell you something, I just can't go on like this." he said finally.
She lifted her head, curious. "Oh?"
His shadows flickered around him, restless, taut with something she didnât recognize. âYou⌠you need to know. About me. About⌠us.â
âNo,â he snapped, suddenly losing the careful control heâd kept all this time. âYou need to hear this. I canât- Gods, I canât stand seeing you act like Iâm just some stranger whenâŚâ His voice cracked for the briefest second, and then steel returned. âWhen Iâve spent centuries, centuries watching you. Letting you love me. Ignoring you. Rejecting you. And now⌠now youâre safe, alive, and you donât even remember it!â
Y/N flinched. The words hit her like a slap. Her hands tightened around her brush.
âI- I donât understand,â she whispered. âI⌠I donât rememberâŚ?â
âOf course you donât!â His shadow flickered sharply, dark as storm clouds. âBecause you were hurt by me. Because I was too blind to care about what you felt! Because I- â He stopped himself, breathing hard, his eyes on her. âBecause I loveyou! Iâve loved you for centuries, not even realizing it, not daring to accept it, and you⌠you donât even know me!â
The words tumbled out faster now, unrestrained, desperate. Every confession, every regret, every guilt-ridden truth spilled over her, crashing into her mind like a storm she couldnât weather.
Y/N stumbled backward instinctively, eyes wide. Her chest tightened. She coughed, short, panicked breaths filling her lungs.
âAzriel⌠I- what- â she tried to say, but her voice faltered.
âYou have to know! You have to understand!â he shouted, stepping closer, shadows flaring, the edge of desperation sharp in his movements. âI was an idiot! I was blind! I didnât- gods, I didnât realize I- â
Her hands flew to her head. The world tilted. Her stomach lurched. The sun and the garden, the canvas, the paint, everything spun.
Azriel froze, his heart lurching in tandem with hers.
âY/N?â His voice softened, but the panic still rang through it. âStay with me. Look at me.â
But she couldnât. She couldnât process it. Centuries of memories she didnât have, of emotions she couldnât feel yet, came crashing all at once.
Her knees buckled. She gasped, gripping the edge of the fountain. The air wouldnât fill her lungs properly. Her vision blurred, dark spots crawling at the edges.
Azriel dropped to one knee, hands hovering, trembling as he reached for her without touching. âY/N, please. Donât- breathe. Look at me. Stay with me.â
She shook her head, panic rising, body trembling, tears welling unbidden. âI- I donât- I canât- â
He cursed under his breath, shadows hissing around him. He had done exactly what he feared.
Not gentle. Not slow. Not patient. Too much, too fast. Too desperate.
She stumbled backward again, pressing her hands to her ears, gasping, utterly unmoored.
Azriel froze. Every fiber of him screamed. Stop. Stop. Youâre hurting her.
But he couldnât. Not yet. Not when he could see the faintest flicker of recognition, a heartbeat of something buried deep beneath the chaos in her mind.
âY/N⌠please,â he whispered, quieter now, shadows retracting slightly. âI just⌠I love you. Thatâs all. Iâve always, always loved you. I was just too much of a coward, an idiot to accept it. Iâm here. Iâm here.â
Her body shuddered violently, and the panic overtook her. She sank to the ground near the fountain, gasping, clutching herself, tears streaking her cheeks.
Azriel dropped beside her, careful now, silent but close enough she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
Heâd broken the rules. He knew it.
But he couldnât stop himself. Not when seeing her alive and safe, yet terrified because of him, felt like a blade through his chest.
He wrapped his arms loosely around her trembling form, not forcing anything, not saying more, just letting her know he was there, he wouldnât leave.
Even if she didnât remember.
Even if she hated him for a moment. Even if he had just nearly destroyed her calm, happy world. Because for the first time in centuries, he couldnât hold it in.
Azrielâs chest tightened as she shrank from him, trembling but sharp, like a cornered storm. He had been holding her, wrapping her in what he thought was safety, what he thought was comfort, but it wasnât.
âY/NâŚâ he breathed, voice low, calm, desperate.
She pushed him away. Hard. One sharp shove that made him stumble back a step.
âGet away from me!â she shouted, voice cracking with fury and fear both.
Azriel froze, eyes wide. âWhat?â
âGet away from me!â she repeated, louder, more frantic. Her palms pressed against his chest, forcing him to step back further.
He did, slowly, carefully, taking in the sight of her face. Tears streaked her cheeks, but her eyes burned with anger, sharp as flint.
âHow dare you!â she spat. âHow dare you?â
Azrielâs heart stopped. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Nothing seemed enough.
âWho do you think you are?â she continued, voice shaking with heat and pain. âI said I donât know you! I donât remember anything about you! And here you come, spewing all these⌠these lies, these made-up fantasies about me that are never going to be true! They⌠they were never true!â
Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling, and her shoulders shook with the force of her emotions. Azriel swallowed, trying to process her words, to think of anything to say that could fix this--anything--but there was nothing.
The shouting drew attention.
Voices. Footsteps.
âAzriel? What in theâŚâ Rhysand and Helion emerged into the garden, both looking shocked, assessing instantly the situation. Mor and Cassian followed, eyes wide.
Y/Nâs gaze didnât soften. It swept past Azriel as she turned to Helion. âHelion.â
The black-haired High Lord looked slightly startled, but intrigued. âYes?â
âTake me with you when you go to the Day Court. Please,â she said, her voice steady, deliberate.
Azrielâs shadow coiled, tight, restless. His chest felt like it was breaking.
âWhy would you want to go with him?â His voice was low, sharp, rigid with disbelief.
âI need time away,â she said, unwavering. Her gaze snapped back to him, anger still blazing. âIâve had enough with you. Now I understand why you constantly try to get into my good graces, why you hover, why you push⌠itâs because youâve done nothing but try to control me. I donât⌠I canât. Not like this. Not ever again.â
Azrielâs throat went dry. He turned slightly to Rhys, desperation in his eyes. Donât allow this. Donât allow this to happen.
Rhysand exhaled, calm, patient, almost tenderly. âVery well, Y/N. You may leave and come whenever you please.â
Azriel froze. The words landed like a dagger.
Helionâs smile widened, warm and genuine. âWell,â he said softly, stepping closer, âif thatâs what you want, Iâd be honored to take you with me."
Y/N nodded, eyes bright, fierce, but steady. âLet me go pack my things,â she said, voice calm now, resolute.
Azrielâs chest felt impossibly tight. The world had shifted under his feet in seconds.
He looked at her, at Helion, at Rhysand, and for the first time in centuries, he felt utterly powerless.
The shadows around him stirred, restless, coiling, mirroring the turmoil inside him. He wanted to speak, to stop her, to make her see, but every rational thought, every instinct, every ounce of restraint screamed: she doesnât remember. She doesnât know. Anything he says now risks breaking her further.
He swallowed.
She was leaving with Helion.
And there was nothing he could do.
Azrielâs fists clenched at his sides. Shadows flickered with rage, guilt, and despair. He wanted to reach out, to call her back, to scream at the injustice of it all.
But he didnât.
He could only watch her go.
Step by determined step.
And with every one, the weight of centuries of unspoken love, of rejected devotion, of pain he had buried in silence, pressed down on him like a stone he could never lift.
She looked back once, just briefly, but her expression was resolute. No longing. No hesitation. Azriel exhaled slowly, shadows curling tighter around him. The garden seemed impossibly quiet.
And for the first time, he realized something heâd never faced before:Â he had lost her. Not to magic, not to fate, not to war, he had lost her to himself. And there was nothing left but to watch as she walked away into a life that no longer had him in it.
Another late night visit, in usual Santa fashionđđ This is the visual art portion of my gift to the fabulous @illyrianbitch for the 2025 @acotargiftexchange !
On eerily quiet feet, the Illyrian approached from across the room. He finally stopped when there was only a pace between them, his wings flaring enough to block some of the nearby lamplight out, deepening the shadows that crossed his devastatingly perfect face. Lucien dared not blink, refusing to let Azriel cow him into an averted gaze.
[âŚ]
With that persistent, unsettling grace, Azriel brought up the full glass, holding it aloft the small space between himself and Lucien.
âLush,â he murmured, so quiet that Lucien would have thought it was supposed to go unheard, if Azriel weren't making unwavering eye contact.
[âŚ]
âTop me off and I'll let you call me that again.â
- Let the Sunshine In
Azriel x Lucien Vanserra, 9.7k words, 1/1 chapters, Rated M
Thanks so much for waiting, queen!! I had a wicked fun time working on both of these pieces for you, getting to know a writer from different circles than the ones i frequent (albeit anonymously), and breaking into a new ship in this fandom! This has been such an exciting, stimulating gift exchange experience, and I really felt like I was able to sink my teeth into both drawing and writing these characters, so thank you for being my introduction into this ship! Youâre a super formidable, articulate writer, so you kinda gave me a run for my money for a sec, but once I got into the groove I was FEELINâ it. So thank you for being an amazing recipient, and have a Merry Christmas! đđ Ho Ho Ho! đ đź
Iâve got some close-ups, ramblings, and my taglist below the cut ;P
This is my first time drawing Lucien fully rendered in an actual drawing app, and I might be addicted. His skin tone was something I was definitely going back and forth on for a while while working on this, a lot of the times Iâve sketched or doodled him in the past heâs been visibly a POC, but for this ultimately I stuck with the notion that he is passable as Beronâs son (while still trying to give him kind of a golden tone). I also went for a slightly different Azriel design than what I usually go with (though he changes basically every time I draw him), here I gave him straighter hair and an upturned nose, which is closer to how I imagined him when I first read the series. I also gave him mad dark eye circles cause the fic is set at like 2:30 am and also it almost doubles as natural eye shadowđ
if anyone has any questions or anything about the fic or the fanart, feel free to ask!
Tag List (lmk if you want on or off! Or if you just wanna be tagged with certain ships!)
i got this from a tik tok i saw!! credits to them :)
leon w annoying rookie!reader
LEON KENNEDY x fem!reader
â sfw content
Summary: leon never treated a rookie differently than he would treat an equal. that is.. until you come along.
warnings; just fluff so far! i might make more parts thatâll lead into smut. mentions previous games, no major spoilers about requiem either, just a brief mention of the plot.
Leonâs never held anything personal against any of the rookies at the DSO. He knows how tough the job is, how anxious they must be. They reminded him of himself 30 years ago, before everything. Before Raccoon City, Spain, China. Before life decided to fuck him in the ass a hundred times over.
Heâs not one to be mean to newbies or to be rude or intimidating. He tries his best to make sure they feel comfortable; he didnât want them to feel how he felt when he first joined. How suffocated, small, and uneasy he felt walking down these halls, knowing heâd get a bullet to the head if he tried to leave. He knows he was just a special case, and the DSO doesnât do that anymore, but the memories still haunt him. He made himself a promise to make sure no one ever feels like that again.
But then you started last week. Fresh out of university, you still had a shine to your eyes. You were also very easy on the eyes, which he hated to admit. He didnât like even considering his co-workers as people he could date; he keeps it a strict rule in his head. But you were absolutely gorgeous, with big pretty eyes and soft lips he would catch himself staring at.
But one thing kept him from actively flirting with you. There's nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? And he knows how to take no as an answer, if he saw you were uncomfortable, heâd immediately stop. Heâs not flat-out weird.
The problem?
You were the most annoying person he had ever met.
1 Week Ago
The new rookie started today, and he was on his way to the DSO to introduce himself. You were his rookie to train, after all. He hadnât been assigned to someone in a while; he had requested some alone time after the whole âgoing back to Raccoon Cityâ thing. He needed a well-deserved vacation, so he went to the Bahamas and tanned on the beach. He also got his eyebrows done, they were starting to grow out of shape.
But now he was back, and when he saw the notification on his phone about a new trainee, he had sighed internally. He really didnât want to, but it's not like he had a choice. So here he is, parking the Porsche and climbing out, fixing his sleeves. He had thrown on a navy blue sweatshirt that was a little too tight, because apparently all his clothes had grown a size too small in the past few months, and he was too lazy to buy new ones. At least he knew the gym had been working.
A navy blue sweatshirt paired with dark jeans, boots, his hair pushed back, and his watch (which cost more than his rent) on his wrist. Casual, but still formal enough for a good first impression.
Before entering the office, he checks if he has anything in his teeth. And then he walks in, waving to the usual receptionist and blinking awkwardly when they force him into conversation.
âHey Leon,â The lady at the desk smiles, leaning forward with giddiness. He smiles respectfully, and decides wasting a minute or two talking with the desk lady wouldnât hurt anyone.
âHey Sarah. Havenât seen you in a minute,â He hums, scanning over her appearance. âYou look different. Did you dye your hair?â A toothy grin tugs at his lips. Sarah laughs loudly, shaking her head.
âOh, youâre so funny, Leon! I havenât touched my hair one bit! What, does it look different?â
It actually looks like a raccoon's nest, but he wasnât going to say that.
"Just... Different. Ah, Sarah, maybe we can catch up later? I have to meet with a rookie to train. Hey, you wanna grab dinner?â He blinks. He was really hungry, and he hated going to restaurants alone. Made him look depressingly alone.
..Which he was.
Of course, Sarah quickly agrees and slips a note with her number on it, which he takes with a smile and a nod, before going along his way down the hall.
He can hear chatter in his office, and he recognizes one of the voices as Sherry. She had been his new radio operator on his mission for the past few months and has been doing an excellent job. He had missed her as well, he was glad he was back in day-to-day contact with her.
As he enters his office, his gaze immediately snaps to yours. Jesus Christ, youâre gorgeous. Breathtaking, even. Remind him to cancel his plans with Sarah ASAP.
âSherry?â He speaks up with a soft smile, motioning towards you. Sherry straightens her posture and pats your back, making you face him more straightforwardly.
âThis is your new trainee, Leon,â Sherry starts, saying your name afterward. Leon repeats your name before extending his hand.
âIm Leon, Leon Kennedy. It's great to meet you.â His eyes slowly look you over, taking in your appearance fully. You were sickeningly cute, with a bright smile and long lashes. A rookie with movie-star looksâ this was going to be a problem for him.
âThe Leon Kennedy.â You repeat slowly, biting your lower lip to repress the enthusiastic smile threatening to slip. He raises a single brow, adjusting his posture. Heâs not shy of his reputation; he knows how his name exceeds the building. Of course youâd know who he was.
âThe one.â He nods.
âI read about you! Actually, I've been meaning to ask you about Spain. Remember 2005? Well, I read that you went headfirst without much strategy. That wasnât too smart of you, know? Almost reckless, may I say?" You chirp. He stares at you, perplexed.
He hasnât even known you for five minutes and youâre already criticizing one of the worst weeks of his life. God damn, he never knew you could lose feelings this fast.
âWell, kid, that was.. a while ago.â He starts hesitantly, glancing at Sherry. Sherry shrugs casually and exits the office, leaving him alone with you. God damn it, Sherry.
âYeah, well, statistically speakingââ
âYou like statistics?â He cuts you off, stepping closer to loom over you. He rarely uses his size to his advantage, but tough times call for desperate measures.
âYeah, why? I took AP Stats in high school, actually.â You blabber, subconsciously shrinking back.
âGood. Organize my files statistically.â He grabs a large pile of papers and drops them into your hands, ignoring your little âoofââ of surprise. You adjust your stance, frowning down at the dozens of papers. This was going to take a long few hours.
"That's⌠not a thing.â
âIt is now.â He exits the room quickly, leaving you alone.
Five minutes.
It took you five minutes to make one of the kindest men in this building loathe your guts.
The Present
Unfortunately, he was trapped with you.
It had been a week so far, and every day was somehow worse than the last. Several interactions that left him questioning his career choice. He even considered just handing you back over to Sherry, telling her that she would have to deal with you by herself, but of course Sherry decides to go on vacation.
Currently, he was standing beside you in a shooting range, reloading a pistol.
âGround rules about handling fire arms. Always treat it like it's loaded and off safety, even if you know it isnât. One mistake, someoneâs dead. Got that?â He narrows his eyes at you, voice sharp. Heâs usually never this harsh with rookies.. But youâre different.
You nod, and he continues.
âWhen you run out of ammo, you hear a click. You grab a fresh mag, line it up, push it in andââ
âLeon.â
His lips twitch in annoyance and he slowly turns to you, a blank look on his handsome face.
âYes?â He says slowly, exasperated already.
âI know how a gun works. I went through training.â
A minute of silence passes, and Leon stares at you like he wishes he could rip your head off. He grunts and turns back to the gun, dropping it into your hands lightly.
âOkay. Right. Yeah, youâre right. Forgot about that. You, uh, give off a different impression.â He mutters lowly before motioning towards the range. âGo ahead then.â
You hum, getting in position and aligning your barrel with the target. The target all the way in the back.
Leon hesitates, stepping forward. âHey, maybe you should wait to do that one later once youâve got more experience. That one's a little tough.â
âHush.â
Leon blinks slowly at you before scoffing and stepping back.
âRight, my bad. Go ahead, princess.â He whispers bitterly.
Bang. Bang. Bang. The metallic clink of shell casings hitting the floor beside your feet echoes throughout the room.
He looks up from his phone, expecting three holes in the target nowhere near the head. He can't wait to scold you and tell you youâre way over your head, to feel satisfied when you sulk and agree reluctantly. But when he looks at the target, there are three perfectly aimed holes at the head.
What the fuck.
âWhereâd you learn that?â
âYour files. I read them a hundred times, actually. In your case study for Spainââ
âStop calling them case studies.â He inhales, the scent of gunpowder filling his nose.
You frown. âBut that's what they were called in my textbook.â You retort, as if you actually think your words mean more than his. The one you were literally reading about.
âPeople were trying to eat me.â He corrects not-so-politely.
"Yeah, it happens to everyone at one point. Get over it.â You roll your eyes, looking back up at him as you reload your pistol in your hands, fiddling with the mag. You reload it perfectly, which only pisses him off even more. You knew exactly how to handle a gun, how to shoot, and you did it perfectly.
Leon exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his eyes drag over you lazily.
"Training's over,â He says suddenly, pulling back to grab his coat. His footsteps echo loudly as he exits the room, leaving you alone. He didnât trust himself to be alone with you for any longer.
Flashback, Two Weeks Ago â Debrief Room in DSO Building.
Leon is standing in the front of the room, next to a whiteboard thatâs covered in papers and notes. Half the team was to be deployed tomorrow into a zombie-infested area, to save citizens and hopefully take down as many zombies as possible.
Heâs been doing this job for a while, so he knows how to do it well. He hoped one day you could do it too, but so far, he wasnât too convinced.
âTomorrow isnât a joke. One wrong move, someoneâs dead.â He says firmly, nudging a photo of a dead body laying in the debris of the city, taped in the center of the whiteboard.
Someone speaks up, and when he looks towards the origin of the voice, he locks eyes with you. He sighs internally, already preparing himself.
âYes?â
âI guess you could say.. Itâs a dead serious situation.â
A small snort is heard from the other side of the table, and Leonâs head snaps towards them. They immediately shut up.
Leon slowly turns back to you and scowls. He points towards the door. âOut.â
I think this is such a good way for capcom to wrap up Leonâs love story without angering any shippers honestly.
If we are talking about who he married though, In my personal opinion, I donât think Leon married someone in the same field as him. And I definitely donât think he married Ada. Itâs very unlikely that he ever actually even saw her again after re6.
Ada is a very free spirit and sheâs always danced to the beat of her own drum. She has a soft spot for Leon, a very big soft spot for him, but that doesnât mean sheâll tie herself down for a man.
We saw in re4r how willing she was a get a piece of Wesker.
Letâs all be honest with ourselves here, Ada initially pitied Leon. This innocent, bright eyed rookie cop. She found him adorable and thus, easy to manipulate. As soon as he found out about her real intentions, she pulled a gun on him, no hesitation. She got shot first though before she could lower that gun or pull that trigger then she fell to what Leon assumed was her death. Coming to re4r however, Leon knew she was alive, âyou donât seem surprisedâŚâ yet the whole game through he seems to be quite annoyed with her. Like sheâs scratched open a wound that was already near healed. âThis is where we go our separate ways.â Like please stop causing chaos in my brain so nonchalantly.
Remake Leon doesnât pine and yearn for Ada like og Leon. Capcom also got a crapton of hate for how they wrote Leon and Ada in 6 so I highly doubt they went down that route.
Claire is a very viable option for a spouse for him however that would make a lot of sense after Leon and Chris got closer after vendetta, even sporting matching watches in DI. It was stated somewhere that Claire and Leon made up after ID with a matter regarding Sherry if Iâm not mistaken, and seeing as how Sherry is in 9, that makes a lot of sense. Leon was also bummed that Claire didnât want to catch dinner with him, which shows he was down for a date.
But I digress.
If you ask me, I think Leon got with someone out of the BOW loop. Someone so drastically different from the life heâs lived up till that point and I think they met after vendetta. Leon is really happy in death island. Heâs well groomed, put together and conveniently, wears gloves. His whole vibe in that movie is very⌠âfatherly?â Like happy old married man who likes to sit on the porch and watch the sunset vibes. Even in the scene where he has one glove off, itâs very conveniently his right hand. He also wasnât very âwomen đâ like his previous og entries. He was like âWomen đŤśâ
The man is old. It would be so sad if he was still playing cat and mouse as a 51 year old man with a woman heâs only canonically only seen for 24 hours total and only slept with once over decades. Leon is exhausted of his life and desperately needs that peace. Capcom gave that to him in a spouse. And they are trying to keep everyone happy by not mentioning who that spouse is.
Yes the directors did mention that they are also very interested in the connection between Leon and Ada but they also told the actress of remake Claire that the two of them were supposed pretend they had crushes on one another in their interactions in the making of re2r.
Claire makes Leon feel like an equal when we watch them, Ada makes Leon seem like a fool.
I hope he got married to a random person with a boring ol job and they live in a woodland mansion where they do nothing all day but talk and do crossword puzzles â¤ď¸ because thatâs the calm that he deserves.
BUT LET ME SAY SOMETHING CRAZY HERE.
What if itâs not a wedding ring?
Because you know what so hilarious, SHERRY HAS A SIMILAR RING TOO. But itâs on her pinky.
How did we get to looking at the concept art anyway?
âBut Lamp, itâs just concept art, it could have been removed in the final version.â
YOU SEE.
There is a challenge⌠that forces you to look at the concept artâŚâŚâŚ.. the devs also said in a Q&A after being asked âis Leon singleâ THEY GIGGLEDâŚ. And saidâŚ. âWe donât think we should tell you guys, letâs let the fans find out for themselves.â
AHA!
now we are hereâŚ. And we are all a bit tender in the heartâŚ. BecauseâŚ. We all love Leon.
I truly believe they did him right guys, our man is happy and MARRIEDâŚ. I thinkâŚ.
TO A GOOD AND NICE PERSON.
But I donât think that woman is ada Iâm so sorry Aeon fans but Leon deserves a stable relationship.
Okay bye bye ăž(°â°*)
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