Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You— Series Masterlist

a/n: it’s been over a year—it’s about time I gave this series a page of its own instead of lumping all the parts on Azriel’s masterlist

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I became suddenly ill about three days ago and my brain is still quite mushy so I think this has been proofread but there might be some errors here and there I’ll try to iron out once I’m better!! Sorry for any scruples and I hope you enjoy!! 🧡💛

warnings: angst, general depression, violence (self-attempted)

word count: 16,175

-Part 14- -Part 16-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

•••

It had been nearly three centuries of friendship and Y/N was sure she would never get bored of her relaxing sessions with Azriel. For two weeks, he had been away on a mission while Y/N continued her intense training sessions with Cassian. They both were well and truly exhausted. 

Y/N’s room, which was situated right next to Azriel’s, was nearly silent as the two friends relaxed. The only noise emitting from the room were the soft sounds of the pages flipping in a book and an occasional content sigh. With her left hand, Y/N held the book up to her eye level, skilfully flipping the page with her thumb when it was needed. Her other hand occupied Azriel’s head, her fingers threading through his soft locks as his head rested on her stomach. The two were utterly content. 

Alone

Xaden Riorson x Reader

A/N: FW/IF, implied OS spoilers, just a sprinkle of angst and fluff

Word Count: 4.3k

Happy Xaden Week @empyreanevents ! Here’s is my contribution and hope y'all enjoy!

Summary: Xaden doesn't like secrets, at least not those that he isn't keeping.

Don’t Tempt Me - Xaden Riorson x female reader

Summary: Xaden finds you burnt out on the training field 

Warnings: none 

Words: 6k (somehow)

Notes: Not my fave and not proofread

have you ever tried this one?

azriel x innocent!reader

summary: azriel is very experienced in the romance department and you're not. well, that is until you're introduced to the world of nesta's favorite book genre and everything changes.

warnings: horny!az x innocent!reader!!!, shadow bondage, praise kink, PIV, mentions of smutty books, mentions of nessian’s unintentional exhibitionism, size kink/big dick az, overstimulation, orgasm denial

word count: 6.1k

Curled up on the loveseat next to the fireplace at the far end of your reading room at the House of Wind, you’re too entranced by the book in front of you to notice the two Illyrians who sneak in.

It isn’t until a shadow swirls around your wrist that you’re broken from your trance, which is quickly followed by the book in your hands being snatched up quickly. 

“Hey!” you cry out with a frown as your eyes finally come up to meet your mate’s as he stands in front of you next to Cassian, as he smirks down at the book he stole from your grasp. “I just got to the best part.”

FLIRTING NEVER GOT YOU NOWHERE

Pairing: Azriel x Day Court! Reader

Summary: You’re an archivist from Day Court visiting Velaris, what happens when you visit a nightclub and things go wrong? Or do they go oh so right? AKA you flirt with Azriel in a bar and sex ensues !

A/N: I’m lowkey tired of shy insecure self insert fics so I wanted to write a piece about a bold unapologetic bitch who gets what she wants :) This is a very self indulgent fantasy based on rude things men have said to me at bars and how I wish someone had shown up for me. Like yeah I can stand for myself but also what if Azriel stepped up. I also made her bisexual because I’m gay 💅

Content Warnings: smut, cunnilingus & oral (so like m&f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (I am not going to spend my one precious life researching faerie contraceptive methods, so just imagine you’re on magic birth control or whatever. Or don’t, if you’re into that!), female reader (w nipple piercings ooo), gross liberties taken with whatever Day court has going on, unwanted advances from a guy in a bar, uhhh minor gay slur, it’s maybee more OC than self insert cause I gave her a lot of personality, shamelessly self indulgent, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 12.4k

read on AO3

If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing big in this one. Memory loss?? Overprotectiveness?? Azriel losing it (but not that much just yet)??

a/n: Hi this is going to be a series :) thank you for reading <3

Part 2 ♡

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

As you blinked through the haziness, a dull throb echoed along the base of your skull. You sat up abruptly, feeling rocks and twigs digging into the backs of your legs, and winced as several shouts attacked your senses. You recognized none of them.

Gods, your head hurt. 

A few more blinks and the sun made an appearance, light assaulting your too-sensitive eyes. The leaves beneath your hands crunched and blew away in the balmy breeze, a few flecks of green still stuck to your palm as you brought it up to rub your head. 

“Don’t,” a feminine voice warned, and it was then that you pinpointed one of the shouts from earlier. But it was warmer now, calm. “Don’t touch your head, y/n. Azriel and Cas are getting help.”

If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Warnings: Angst, PINING, injury, references to nonconsensual situations

a/n: This series is in progress :) Thank you all for reading!!! ♡

Part 1 ♡

Part 2 ☆

Part 3 ✶

Part 4☼

Part 5 ☁

Part 6 ♡

Part 7 ☆

Part 8 ✶

Part 9☼

Part 10 ☁

Part 11 ♡

Part 12

Part 13

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 9

Summary: Y/n learns the truth about her powers. When Azriel is injured rescuing Elain, Y/n tends to his wounds.

Word count: 3.9 K.

When Y/n woke, Nesta and Elain were sitting by her side.

“What happened? Did we-”.

“We won. Barely” Nesta informed her, her voice low, her eyes flickering with the weight of recent events.

“What about the Shadowsinger and the General?” Y/n’s voice was shaky, tension creeping into her body as she leaned forward.

“Azriel is fine. Cas- Cassian is unconscious” Nesta replied, her expression hardening, though a shadow of sadness dulled her eyes.

It wasn’t like Y/n didn’t believe her sister, but she needed to see for herself. The fear gnawing at her chest wouldn’t relent until she knew Azriel had made it through.

“You should rest” Nesta suggested.

“I’ve rested enough” Y/n replied, her tone heavy with a deeper meaning that spanned far beyond this moment. Since her turning, resting had felt like a futile endeavor.

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 16

Summary: An unexpected visit from Elain triggers Y/n, leading her to push everyone away again, but Azriel sees through her defenses. She begins to gain partial control over her powers after an emotional outburst and testing a new theory.

Warnings: angst, mention of death, and despair.

WC: 4.2K

The next time Y/n trained with Cassian, her demeanor was colder than usual. She didn’t even greet him, didn’t acknowledge him, she simply resumed her position without a word.

“You’re mad at me?” Cassian asked, his brows drawing together.

“I don’t care about you enough to be mad,” she snapped, glaring at him before returning to her exercise.

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Let’s just train,” she replied curtly, shutting him down. And back to the beginning they went.

Y/n was already in a foul mood that morning, but when Elain came uninvited, it tipped her over the edge. First, she had spoken to Nesta, and that had gone as poorly as expected. Hoping for a better outcome, Elain turned to Y/n. But she was wrong. 

Smoke and Mirrors

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: smut (18+)

word count: 3.4k

Permanent taglist: @motheroffae @tele86 @demon-master-zero @thegoddessofnothingness @rosecobollway @sillyfreakfanparty @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @plants-w0rld @frietiemeloen @the-hidey-hole @dnfhascorruptedme

Azriel permanent taglist: @kathren1sky-blog @phoenix666stuff @breathingstarlight

You always knew Azriel was dominant in the bedroom.

The way he carried himself, the way his voice dropped to that low, commanding rasp when he wanted something—it was intoxicating.

He had different tastes, always keeping things interesting between the two of you, always making sure there was never a dull moment.

But at the core of it, he was an alpha male through and through.

A warrior.

A protector.

A male who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.

And you loved it.

You loved the way he could flip you onto your stomach with ease, pinning you beneath him, whispering filthy promises in your ear before making good on every single one of them.

You loved the way his hands could be both rough and reverent—how he could mark you with bruises and kisses in equal measure.

How he always made sure you felt every ounce of his power, his dominance, and yet, at the same time, you had never felt safer, never felt more cherished than you did in his arms.

Azriel pushed you to your limits, teased you mercilessly, controlled every sensation you felt until you were a shaking, desperate mess beneath him.

But he also worshipped you, adored you, loved you with a devotion that made your heart ache.

And when he growled out that you were his, when he claimed you with his hands, his mouth, his body—you felt it in every part of your soul.

You had never belonged to anyone before.

Never let any man take complete control over you, had never trusted anyone enough to fully surrender.

But with Azriel, it was effortless.

Natural.

Because he didn’t just demand your submission—he earned it.

And you gave it to him freely.

Again and again.

Because there was nothing in this world more exhilarating, more intoxicating, than being entirely at the mercy of the most powerful, most dangerous, most possessive male you had ever known.

Your mate.

Your Shadowsinger.

Your alpha.

So when he suggested taking you somewhere and trying something different, you knew it would be a night to remember.

*****

The air in the exclusive club was thick with seduction, the dim lighting casting sultry shadows along the plush, dark walls. The atmosphere was intoxicating—a blend of whispered moans, soft laughter, and the muted clink of crystal glasses. Velvet drapes hung from the ceilings, obscuring private rooms meant for those indulging in the most decadent pleasures.

Azriel’s hand was firm against the small of your back as he guided you through the club, his presence possessive, protective—yet the hunger in his hazel eyes told you he was just as intrigued as you were.

He had taken you here knowing exactly how the atmosphere would affect you both, knowing the deep-seated hunger that simmered just beneath your surface.

When you reached the private observation lounge, you were met with a wall of darkened glass. On the other side of the one-way mirror, a couple was already lost in the throes of pleasure. The woman lay back against crimson silk sheets, her body a canvas of arousal as her partner worshipped every inch of her with slow, deliberate movements.

The way he touched her—how he took his time, savoring her reactions—sent a slow burn curling in your belly.

Azriel’s breath was warm at your ear as he murmured, “You like watching, don’t you?” His voice was deep, husky, and you could hear the smirk in it.

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze.

His pupils were blown wide with desire, his lips parted slightly, and gods, the way he was looking at you—it made you feel worshipped before he had even laid a hand on you.

You swallowed, pulse hammering, as you forced yourself to focus on the scene in front of you. The woman arched against her partner, wrists pinned above her head, moaning softly as his mouth traced a path down her body. The slow, languid way he touched her—reverent, worshipful—sent a fire licking through your veins.

Azriel’s fingers ghosted up the side of your thigh, teasing, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch. “Tell me,”he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Your throat was dry, your body thrumming with need. “I—” You swallowed, eyes flicking back to the couple. “I like how he’s taking his time with her. How he’s making her feel everything.”

Azriel hummed in approval, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress. “You want me to take my time with you?” His knuckles brushed the inside of your thigh, higher, higher, but not enough. “Or do you want me to make you come so fast you can barely breathe?”

A soft whimper left you, and his answering groan sent a shiver down your spine. “You sound so pretty when you make those noises, baby,” he praised, his fingers teasing the lace covering your core. “Are you wet for me already?”

You exhaled sharply as he pressed against the fabric, feeling the slick evidence of your arousal. His other hand gripped your jaw, turning your head slightly so he could capture your lips. It was slow at first, teasing, his tongue just barely flicking against yours—but then he growled low in his throat, deep and possessive, and the kiss turned consuming.

His hand pushed aside your panties, fingers gliding through your folds as he groaned into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he rasped. “All from watching them?”

You shook your head, pressing closer to him. “No,” you breathed. “It’s from you.”

Azriel cursed, his grip on you tightening. His fingers moved in slow, torturous circles, each one making your legs tremble, making you pant against his lips. “So responsive,” he murmured, nipping at your lower lip. “I love how easily you fall apart for me.”

A soft moan escaped you as he pressed harder, faster, his fingers working you with practiced precision. The couple on the other side of the glass might as well have disappeared—there was only Azriel, only his rough breathing in your ear, his hands playing your body like he was born to touch you.

His cock strained against his pants, aching, desperate. He needed to be inside you, needed to claim you right here, where anyone could walk in and hear you cry out his name.

“Azriel,” you gasped, hips rolling against his hand.

He groaned, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. His pupils were blown wide, his expression nothing short of feral. “You want me to fuck you right here, don’t you?” His voice was dark, dangerous, and full of raw hunger. “You want me to bend you over that couch and fuck you so hard, they’ll hear you in the next room.”

You whimpered, and he growled, his free hand reaching under your thighs to lift you. Before you knew it, he had you on your back on the lounge’s plush couch, his body caging you in. His mouth found yours again, all heat and desperation, while his hands worked at the buttons of his pants.

“Gods, I need to be inside you,” he panted, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “I need to fuck you, need to claim you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, nails dragging down his back. “Then stop teasing me.”

Azriel let out a dark chuckle, and then—with one long, deep thrust—he buried himself inside you.

A low, guttural groan tore from his throat. “Fuck,” he cursed, forehead pressing against yours. “You feel so godsdamn good.”

Your head fell back against the cushions as you moaned, every inch of him stretching and filling you perfectly. He started to move, slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him, but soon his pace grew desperate, punishing.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, his hand gripping your thigh, pulling you even closer. “Love letting me fuck you like this—where anyone could walk in and see how wrecked you are for me.”

You moaned his name, hands clawing at his back as he drove into you, harder, deeper. His hips slammed against yours, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your breathless moans and his deep, broken groans.

He pulled back just enough to watch you, to see the way your lips parted in pleasure, the way your body trembled beneath him. His thumb found your clit, circling in tight, relentless movements, and you arched against him, your release hurtling toward you like a crashing wave.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his fingers slipping between you to rub tight, fast circles against your clit.

Your body shattered around him, pleasure consuming you, leaving you gasping, trembling beneath him. Azriel let out a strangled curse, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Fuck—” His voice was a raw, broken moan as he slammed into you one last time, his body shaking as he spilled inside you. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as he thrust a few more times, riding out every last pulse of pleasure.

Azriel was still panting above you, his body slick with sweat, his hands gripping your thighs as he came down from his high. But then his gaze flickered downward, and his breath hitched in his throat. His release—thick, white, and glistening—was already beginning to drip out of you, coating your inner thighs, slipping down onto the plush cushions beneath you. His pupils blew wide, his cock twitching at the sight of it.

“Mother above,” he rasped, his voice rough with renewed hunger. “Look at you.”

His large hands slid down your thighs, spreading you open further, and his shadows slithered between your legs, caressing, teasing. The sight of his seed still leaking from you, mixed with your own arousal, had his mouth practically watering.

Azriel groaned, shaking his head as if he was trying to restrain himself—but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Without another word, he lifted you and sat you on the edge of the couch, kneeling between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs possessively, spreading them wider as he lowered his head, inhaling deeply before dragging his tongue through the mess he had left inside you.

You let out a sharp cry, your hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as he licked a slow, agonizing path through your folds.

“Taste so fucking good,” he groaned against you, his voice thick with lust. “My come, mixed with yours—fuck.”

He devoured you, tongue pressing inside you, lips closing around your clit as he sucked, rolling his tongue over it again and again. Your body trembled beneath him, your thighs squeezing his head, but he just grunted and gripped your legs tighter, holding you in place.

Your head fell back against the couch as your eyes flickered open, catching a glimpse of the couple beyond the one-way mirror. They were still tangled together, moving languidly, whispering to each other between soft moans. The sight of them, combined with Azriel’s relentless mouth on you, sent another wave of heat rolling through you.

“Azriel—” you gasped, your hips arching off the couch as he fucked you with his tongue, his hands keeping you open, exposed, completely at his mercy.

He hummed, the vibrations shooting straight through you. “Scream for me, baby,” he murmured against your clit, his voice dark and teasing. “Let them hear who you belong to.”

And you did.

The pleasure slammed into you, white-hot and all-consuming, ripping through you like lightning. You screamed his name, thighs trembling, body shattering as he lapped up every last drop of your release, drinking you down like he was starving.

He kept licking, kept sucking, kept fucking you with his tongue until tears pricked your eyes from the sheer overstimulation. Your hands weakly tugged at his hair, your body twitching beneath him.

Azriel finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your combined releases, his expression dark and utterly wrecked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his golden-brown eyes locked onto yours as he smirked.

“Best fucking dessert I’ve ever had,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before climbing up your body, claiming your lips in a slow, deep kiss—letting you taste just how good you both were together.

Azriel groaned as he pulled you off the couch and down to your knees between his spread legs. His cock stood thick and hard, still slick from your earlier activities, twitching in anticipation. He reached out, gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up so he could look into your eyes—those stormy gray eyes that had completely unraveled him.

“You know what to do, baby,” he murmured, his voice husky, full of need. “Suck my cock. Make a fucking mess of it.”

Without hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his thick length, pumping him slowly as you leaned in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft. He hissed, his head tilting back slightly, his wings flaring as you licked and kissed every inch of him.

Then, you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his head and sucking gently before sinking down further.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he watched your head bob up and down over his cock. “Look at you. My good girl, taking me so well.”

Your tongue swirled around his tip as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage. You glanced up at him through your lashes, and he smirked, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Such a pretty little mouth,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Meant to be wrapped around my cock.”

He glanced over at the one-way mirror, his golden-brown eyes darkening as he watched the couple on the other side. They were completely lost in each other, the male thrusting into the female as she moaned, clinging to him desperately. Azriel’s grip in your hair tightened as he groaned.

“Look at them,” he rasped. “Fucking like they’re the only two people in the world. Just like you and me, baby.”

His words sent another pulse of heat through you, making you clench your thighs together as you sucked him harder, deeper. His hips jerked as he let out a string of filthy curses, his restraint slipping.

“Gods, you’re so fucking good at this,” he growled. “Sucking me so deep, taking all of me. Just like you take my cock in that tight little pussy of yours.”

You whimpered around him, the vibrations making him shudder. He gritted his teeth, his breathing ragged, his cock pulsing on your tongue.

But just as he was about to come, he suddenly pulled you off of him, gripping your arms and hauling you into his lap. His eyes burned as he positioned you over him, lining himself up with your dripping entrance.

“I want to come inside you,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips. “Want to fill you up while I watch them.”

With one swift movement, he slammed you down onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, clutching his shoulders as he filled you completely, stretching you wide.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his head falling against your shoulder as he gripped your ass, lifting you and slamming you back down onto him.

You started moving, riding him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you bounced in his lap. His eyes flickered between you and the couple beyond the mirror, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“Look at them,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Fucking so desperately… but you and me? We’re even filthier, aren’t we, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your nails digging into his skin as you moved faster.

His fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you as he fucked up into you, his cock hitting deep with every thrust. The pleasure built rapidly, white-hot and overwhelming.

“Come on me,” he ordered, his voice rough, desperate. “Let them hear you. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

You shattered, screaming his name as you clenched down on him, your entire body trembling as you came. The sensation of you gripping him so tightly sent him over the edge, and with a deep, guttural groan, he spilled inside you, his arms crushing you to him as he held you through it.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that—breathing hard, bodies tangled, sweat-slicked and satisfied. His lips pressed against your shoulder, then your neck, then your jaw, trailing soft kisses up to your lips.

“You’re a fucking dream, you know that?” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

You smiled breathlessly, stroking a hand through his damp hair. “And you’re the filthiest male I’ve ever met.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. “And you fucking love it.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “I do.”

Azriel lets out a deep, satisfied sigh as he leans back against the couch, his arms wrapped securely around you. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks, your head resting against his chest as you try to catch your breath. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles along your spine as he presses soft kisses to the crown of your head, his lips lingering against your skin as if savoring the taste of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs against your temple. “You are something else.”

You hum in response, pressing a soft kiss against his collarbone. He shifts beneath you, his still-sensitive cock twitching inside you, making you whimper softly. Azriel groans at the sound, his shadows curling possessively around you both.

With a soft chuckle, he gently lifts you off of him, setting you back down on shaky legs. He tugs you close, one arm bracing you against his chest while his other hand reaches for a cloth nearby. Dipping it into the cool water on the table beside the couch, he slowly, carefully cleans between your thighs, his movements gentle and reverent.

The sensation makes you shiver, your thighs clenching as he smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. He presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your knee, then another to the soft skin of your thigh before working his way up, trailing featherlight kisses across your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone.

When he finally reaches your lips, he captures them in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue teasing yours in a lazy, intoxicating rhythm. You sigh into his mouth, completely melting against him.

But then he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. “We need to leave now,” he murmurs, though he makes no move to actually do so. His hands still grip your waist, his body pressing insistently against yours. “If we don’t, I will fuck you again. And again. All night. Right here. While we watch that couple.”

You smirk, sliding your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly. “And the problem with that is…?”

Azriel groans, his grip tightening on your waist, his hips pressing forward just enough to remind you that he’s already getting hard again. His jaw clenches as his shadows snake around you, teasing over your skin like a warning.

“No,” he growls, his voice dark and commanding. “Not here. Not in this place where anyone could walk in and see what belongs to me. It was okay for a little while, but not all night.”

Your breath catches at the possessiveness in his voice, at the sheer dominance in the way he grips your waist, his thumb stroking just under your ribs in slow, deliberate circles.

“For the rest of the night, you are mine,” he continues, his voice low, thick with promise. “And I will claim you properly. Somewhere private. Somewhere no one will hear you screaming my name all night long.”

You shiver at his words, heat pooling low in your belly. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Azriel’s smirk is all wicked, all alpha male.

In one swift movement, he gathers your clothes, tossing them to you before adjusting his own pants. Then, without another word, he wraps his arms around you, his shadows swirling as he winnows you both out of the club—straight to the privacy of your home, where there would be no interruptions.

Where he could have you exactly the way he wanted.    

Forbidden Dance

pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In the gilded halls of the Autumn Court, where power is everything and love is a weakness, you are bound to a fate you never chose, promised to a High Lord who sees you as nothing more than a pawn to strengthen his rule. But when a guest from the Night Court arrives, a warrior cloaked in shadows and secrets, the ground beneath you shifts.

A dance.

A glance.

A stolen moment in the dark.

What begins as an undeniable pull soon turns into something far more dangerous - something neither of you can afford to feel. As duty wars with desire and a bond neither of you understand tightens its hold, you are forced to decide: will you risk everything for the whispers of what could be, or will you remain trapped in a future that was never truly yours?

Because in a world where loyalty is everything, a single betrayal could mean devastation. And some secrets are too dangerous to be spoken...even in the dark.

______________________________________________________________

This series is in progress.

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 15

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6k

Trigger warning; anxiety, panic attack

notes; Hey everyone, hope you had a great week ! I'm back with a new chapter hehe. This chapter is covering pretty hard topics so please be careful while reading it. I think it's something that we all expected to happened at some point... Still I hope you will enjoy it ! bisous and see you next week ;)

previous ✧

The sky was painted in hues of deep blues and soft golds as the sun barely began its ascent over Velaris. The cool morning breeze brushed against your skin as Azriel landed smoothly in front of the clinic, his arms still securely wrapped around you.

You had kissed him before he left, your fingers lingering on his before he took off, his powerful wings spreading wide as he ascended into the sky. You watched him until he was no more than a speck in the distance, disappearing beyond the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains.

A soft sigh left your lips. What the hell had the past few days been?

As you turned to enter the clinic, the warm scent of herbs and fresh linens greeted you. The usual quiet hum of early morning preparation filled the halls as healers moved about their duties.

And right at the front desk, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in playful accusation, stood Elira.

“Well, well,” she drawled, an eyebrow arching in amusement. “If it isn’t Y/N—or someone who just took her place because I refuse to believe that the Y/N I know suddenly started going out with someone and miraculously stopped working herself into an early grave.”

You let out a soft laugh, stepping past her and setting your satchel on the counter. “What can I say? Maybe I was kidnapped and replaced with someone new.” You smirked, shooting her a wink.

Elira gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “So, you mean to tell me that there is a version of Y/N out there still holed up in this clinic, working until collapse? And here I thought the world had ended when you left early last night.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Well, that version of me is still in here somewhere, I assure you. I just… found some balance.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Balance? More like Azriel.”

You shot her a playful glare, but before you could retort, she slid a note across the counter.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “you got a message from the High Lady this morning. Apparently, her sister is waiting for you today for an examination.”

You nodded, taking the note and scanning the brief, neat handwriting. Elain. Waiting for you at the town house today.

Elira watched your expression carefully before tilting her head. “What’s going on?”

You exhaled and leaned against the counter, tapping the note against your palm. “She had a vision last time. But unlike usual, this one caused convulsions.”

Elira’s expression shifted instantly, her usual playful demeanor replaced by concern. “Oh,” she said simply, straightening. “It’s the seer one, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Elain.”

She frowned, rubbing her temple. “Convulsions are bad.”

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s rarely a good sign.”

Elira clicked her tongue, thinking. “Did she say what the vision was about?”

You hesitated.

Yes.

But saying it aloud—admitting that the vision had been about you—felt like opening a door you weren’t ready to walk through.

“She hasn’t shared all the details yet,” you finally said, voice measured. 

Elira studied you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Just be careful.”

You gave her a reassuring smile, then glanced around the clinic, feeling that familiar pull to stay and work through the growing list of tasks. But you had a promise to keep.

You grabbed your satchel and pushed off the counter. “Let me know if anything urgent comes up. Otherwise, I’ll be back later.”

Elira smirked, crossing her arms. “Sure, sure. Go off, be a real person for once. But if you start slacking too much, I will drag you back here myself.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Duly noted.”

With that, you headed for the town house, the weight of the day settling onto your shoulders—but beneath it, beneath all the uncertainty, a quiet warmth remained.

Because somewhere above the mountains, Azriel was flying.

And tonight, he’d be coming back to you.

The town house was still. A rare, peaceful quiet settled over the space, the kind that only came when the house was nearly empty. You stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you, and let out a slow breath. The air carried the familiar scent of cedar and old books, a faint trace of lavender from the fresh-cut flowers Elain often arranged.

It felt... open. Welcoming in a way few places did.

For years, this house had been a place of gathering, of warmth, of family. And though you had never lived here, never truly claimed it as yours, it still held that same familiarity. Like a place that had always been waiting for you to step inside, to belong.

You glanced up the stairs. Nyx was still asleep, the silence thick enough to tell you that much. The others were all gone—Nesta training, the rest of the Inner Circle in Hewn City. That left only you and Elain.

You made your way through the quiet halls, the soft sound of your steps the only disturbance in the stillness. Reaching Elain’s door, you knocked gently.

A pause. Then, after a moment, her voice carried through. “Come in.”

You pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Elain was seated by the window, a book resting in her lap, her delicate fingers lightly tracing the edges of the pages. Sunlight streamed in, catching the golden hues in her hair, casting a warm glow over her soft features. She was beautiful. It was impossible to deny. No wonder Azriel had fallen for her.

You shoved that thought aside, forcing yourself to focus.

Offering her a soft smile, you spoke gently, “How are you feeling?”

She didn’t look at you immediately, her eyes still fixed on something beyond the window, something far away. But after a moment, she nodded slightly. “I’m fine.”

Not exactly convincing.

You exhaled, moving further into the room. “I’d like to take a look at you. Make sure everything’s alright after your last vision.” You gestured to the bed. “It’ll be easier if you lie down.”

Elain hesitated. Just for a second, but it was enough.

Then, she set her book aside and moved to the bed, sitting stiffly as you pulled a chair closer.

You worked in silence, your hands steady as you checked her pulse, her breathing, running your fingers lightly along the base of her skull to check for tension. She remained mostly still, barely responding, her posture rigid.

“Elain,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone patient, professional. “I need you to talk to me. Answer my questions.”

She gave a small nod but said nothing.

You sighed, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. If she didn’t want to cooperate, that was her problem. You were only trying to help.

“Did you feel anything unusual before the vision started?” you tried again.

A small shake of the head.

“Have you had any more since then?”

A pause. Then, another slight shake.

“Elain—”

“I don’t need a healer,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm.

You stilled.

Her brown eyes finally met yours, something guarded lurking beneath the softness.

You studied her for a long moment. Then, keeping your voice even, you said, “That’s not for you to decide. If your visions are causing convulsions, that’s something we need to address.”

She looked away. “It was a one-time thing.”

You held back a sigh, your patience thinning. “You don’t know that.”

Another beat of silence.

You didn’t miss the way her fingers curled slightly in the sheets, the tension in her shoulders, the way she was barely holding herself together.

And suddenly, you understood.

It wasn’t you she didn’t want here.

It was the fear. The vulnerability.

Elain Archeron, the one who had spent years trying to carve out something normal, something stable, was losing control over the one thing she had left—her own mind.

Softening your tone, you said, “I’m not here to force you into anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

For a moment, you thought she might let you in, might tell you something real. But then, she only nodded, a practiced, polite nod, and murmured, “I know.”

You watched her for another long moment before exhaling through your nose.

Fine. If she didn’t want help, you weren’t going to force it.

Something shifted in Elain’s expression. The soft, polite mask she had been wearing cracked just enough for something sharper, something venomous, to seep through.

Her brown eyes darkened as she spoke, her voice quiet but cutting.

"Do you actually think you can replace me?"

You stilled.

"For Azriel, I mean," she clarified, tilting her head slightly. "He loves me. He still does. I know that."

You didn’t move, didn’t blink.

Elain’s lips pressed together before she continued, her words deliberate. “He pulled away because of Rhysand—I know that. But you, Y/N, should remember one thing.”

The air in the room felt colder.

"You are going to die soon."

Her words were so matter-of-fact, so absolute, that they sent a chill down your spine. But you didn’t react. You kept your face carefully composed, unreadable.

Elain took your silence as permission to keep going.

"We both saw it," she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric of her dress. "The moment you will be heartless, dead. And when that happens—when you are nothing but a lifeless body—who do you think Azriel will turn to for comfort?"

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides, but still, you didn’t let it show.

"Don’t get your hopes up," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with something almost triumphant. "He’s only sticking with you until then. After that, you’ll be nothing. No one will remember you, just a forgotten memory lost to time.”

Silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

Slowly, you stood, keeping your expression blank, unreadable. You met her gaze with something colder, something far older than she could comprehend.

Your voice, when you finally spoke, was steady. Controlled.

“I don’t know what it is about your family that makes everyone treat you like a spoiled child,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “but I’m not here to do the same.”

A flicker of something crossed her face—shock, perhaps.

“I don’t know how you were raised,” you continued, stepping away from her bed, “but where I come from, people tend to show some respect to the ones who save their lives.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give her a chance to speak.

"Whatever is going on in that little head of yours," you said, voice cool, “you need to stop.”

She inhaled sharply, as if to protest, but you simply shook your head.

“Grow up, Elain.” Your tone didn’t waver. “I’m twenty times your age. I’ve seen enough girls like you to know that the only thing you sound like right now is a bitter, jealous fool.”

She flinched, but you continued.

“If you want to throw your life away, then fine. But when you collapse in your next vision, don’t expect me to be there to save you.”

You turned for the door.

Elain tried to say something, but you cut her off with one final, emotionless glance over your shoulder.

“And about Azriel?” You smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Like you said—I’ll be too dead to care.”

Then you walked out, leaving her in stunned silence.

Your mind was a battlefield, a relentless storm of thoughts crashing into each other, over and over, like waves against jagged rocks.

She was right.

Elain was right.

You were going to die.

The words echoed in your skull, bouncing off the walls of your mind, multiplying with each breath you took. The air felt heavier, the weight of inevitability pressing down on your chest until it was almost unbearable.

You are going to die soon.

Your fingers dug into the wooden surface of your desk, trying to ground yourself, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t true, that you still had time. But the more you tried to push the thought away, the louder it became.

What if it wasn’t just a vision?

What if it was fate?

What if it was the Mother herself, setting a fixed end for you?

What if—what if everything you had built, everything you had worked for, everyone you had come to care for—what if it was all leading up to nothing? To an end that no one could stop?

You will be heartless.

You shuddered, suddenly hyper-aware of your own heartbeat, the rhythmic drum inside your chest. One day, it would stop. One day, it wouldn’t be there anymore. One day, you wouldn’t be here anymore.

Your breath hitched. The edges of your vision blurred as your hands began to tremble.

You needed air.

You needed out.

Now.

You grabbed your coat with frantic fingers, barely registering Elira’s voice calling after you as you shoved past her.

“Y/N? Are you—”

You didn’t answer. You barely even heard her.

Your feet carried you through the halls, down the stairs. You crashed into one of the younger healers, mumbling an apology you couldn’t even remember seconds later.

The doors to the clinic burst open, and you ran.

You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t care.

You ran through the streets of Velaris, past familiar buildings and warm lights, past the scent of fresh bread from the bakeries, past the murmurs of lovers walking hand in hand, past the echoes of laughter spilling from taverns.

None of it reached you.

Your thoughts were screaming too loudly.

You ran until the city disappeared behind you, until the cobbled streets turned into dirt paths, until trees surrounded you on all sides.

You ran until your lungs burned, until your legs screamed for you to stop, until the weight in your chest became too much to bear.

And when you couldn’t take it anymore—when the world felt like it was closing in, when your breath came in short, desperate gasps—you fell.

Your knees hit the cold, damp earth of a clearing.

The silence of the forest swallowed you whole.

You curled forward, gripping the ground as if it could hold you together. As if it could keep the panic from swallowing you whole.

But it was still there. The truth. The inescapable reality.

You were going to die.

The moment your knees hit the ground, everything shattered.

The world twisted, spinning and turning, the trees around you bending at impossible angles, the sky shifting and warping as if reality itself was breaking apart. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps—too fast, too shallow. Your chest tightened, a crushing weight pressing down on your ribs like they would crack beneath the pressure.

You are going to die.

The words thundered in your mind, over and over again, a merciless mantra that you couldn’t escape.

You are going to die.

And it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just the knowledge of your end—it was the inevitability of it. It was the way everyone else had already started preparing for it.

Azriel.

Azriel, who looked at you with that careful tenderness, with that unreadable depth. Azriel, who held you at night, who kissed you like you were his whole world.

He only pities you.

The voice slithered into your mind, venomous and cruel.

He doesn’t love you. Not like you love him.

You clutched at your chest, fingers digging into the fabric of your coat as your heart pounded against your ribs, too fast, too wild.

He will go back to her.

A choked sob left your throat.

He was always meant to be with her. He loves her. He will always love her. And when you’re gone, when your body is cold and forgotten, he will go back to her. Back to what was meant to be.

The voices were multiplying now, a cacophony of whispers, of taunts, of truths you had tried so hard to ignore.

None of them truly love you.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, gripping the damp earth beneath you.

Rhys and Feyre? They are kind, yes. But it is only pity.

Your breathing hitched, your throat tightening as your fingers curled deeper into the soil.

Cassian, Mor, Amren? You are just another friend to them. Someone temporary. Someone to mourn for a brief moment before they move on.

No one ever truly loved you.

A violent shudder wracked your body, the weight of the words pressing down on you, suffocating you.

Look at you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nails digging into your palms.

Who would ever want someone like you?

The breath you dragged in was sharp, broken, as if your own body was fighting against you.

Your parents left you.

Your stomach twisted painfully, nausea rising in your throat.

No one ever adopted you. No one ever wanted you. Not then, not now.

Your fingers dug into the ground so hard that your nails scraped against stone, the sharp pain barely registering against the flood of voices in your mind.

Even the Mother made a joke out of you.

A ragged sob tore through you.

She brought you back only to throw you away again.

Your body trembled, every breath a struggle, every thought a war you couldn’t win. You were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of it all.

Maybe… maybe it would be easier to stop fighting.

Maybe it would be better to just… let it happen.

To accept what was coming. To let go.

Because what was the point?

What was the point of clinging to a life that had already been written off?

You clutched at your chest, gasping for air, for something, for anything to pull you out of this spiral. But there was nothing.

Just you.

Just you and the knowledge that this would end.

That you would end.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The moment Azriel's arms wrapped around you, it was as if the world finally stopped crumbling.

You barely registered his presence at first, the overwhelming noise in your mind too deafening, too consuming. But his warmth—his touch—broke through.

“Hey, hey, Y/N,” his voice was urgent, but gentle, his grip firm as he held you against his chest. “Calm down, love. Just breathe.”

But you couldn’t. Nothing made sense. Your hands flew to your ears, trying to block out the voices, the relentless, merciless voices that wouldn’t stop whispering in your head.

Azriel’s hands came up to yours, gently but insistently pulling them away. “Look at me,” he urged, his golden eyes searching yours. “Just look at me, Y/N.”

You tried. Mother above, you tried. But your vision blurred with tears, your breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, and you could barely even comprehend how he was here—why he was here.

How did he find you?

Why had he come?

Your body shook violently, the last remnants of the panic attack wracking through you, but Azriel held you through it. Unmoving. Steady. His arms wound tighter around you, his warmth bleeding into your freezing skin.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your hair, his voice an anchor in the storm. “In… and out.”

He breathed in deeply, exaggerating the rise and fall of his chest. You tried to follow, but your breaths still hitched, your body still trembling.

But he didn’t let go.

He rocked you slightly, his hands running up and down your back, brushing away your tears as they continued to fall. His fingers found your face, tilting your chin up to him, his thumbs swiping the wet trails from your cheeks.

“Shhh, love,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re safe. You’re here. Just stay with me.”

The last of your ragged breaths shuddered out of you, and you finally—finally—managed to look at him.

Azriel’s face was tight with worry, his brows furrowed, his golden eyes dark and searching.

“What happened?” he murmured, his voice so soft, as if one wrong move would break you apart again. “Talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words, but they lodged in your throat, thick and unbearable. Your lips trembled, your chest still rising and falling too fast.

Azriel’s hands cupped your face again, his thumb tracing your cheek. Then, gently, he kissed you—just a soft, featherlight press of his lips against your damp skin. Another on your forehead. Then your temple.

He was showing you love.

You weren’t sure when you started crying again, but it was different this time—less panicked, more relieved.

Azriel rested his forehead against yours, his own breathing uneven, his hands still holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, his voice raw. “What’s going on?”

And this time, you could answer.

From the moment they had returned from the Court of Nightmares, Azriel felt it.

That gnawing sense of unease, like a shadow curling deep in his chest, whispering that something was wrong.

The mission had been exhausting—more so than usual. Politics with Keir and his wretched court always drained him, but today, today, all he wanted was to be with you. To bury himself in your presence, to hold you in his arms and let your voice fill the spaces in him that had long been hollow. It didn’t matter what you talked about—whether it was serious or something as mundane as the best way to brew tea. Whatever it was, you—your voice, your laughter, your warmth—felt like heaven.

Maybe that was why he had finally asked.

On the way back to Velaris, he had turned to Rhysand, voice quieter than usual. “I need a few days” he said. “Out of Velaris.”

Rhys barely reacted, his lips twitching. Knowing why Azriel wanted to leave so bad. “Do you think a few days will be enough for you two?”

Azriel had chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. A week, then.”

It felt ridiculous, almost selfish, to ask for time away when the war was looming closer by the day. But he needed it. Needed time with you, time to figure things out. To figure you out. And, if he was being honest, to figure himself out, too.

Still, the momentary ease of their conversation did nothing to quell the growing dread in his chest. The feeling only got worse as they reached Velaris, a clawing urgency building inside him.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t even wait for the others to disperse before he turned on his heel and made his way to the clinic. His steps were fast, purposeful, shadows slithering around him, restless.

Then he saw Elira.

She stood near the entrance, looking stunned—almost frozen in place. Her eyes flickered to him, and she exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath.

“If you’re looking for Y/N,” she said, still slightly breathless, “she just left. Running.”

Azriel frowned, his heart slamming once in his chest. “Running?”

“I—” Elira hesitated, glancing toward the doors as if trying to make sense of what she had just seen. “I’ve never seen her like that. She just bolted. And to be honest, she’s been off ever since she got back from her visit with the High Lady’s sister.”

Elain.

A sharp pang of something cold flashed through him.

Then—

The panic hit him like a physical force.

Not his. Yours.

His breath caught as the bond roared to life, a wave of pure, suffocating terror slamming into him.

He didn’t hesitate.

Azriel ran.

He followed the thread between you, through the streets of Velaris, through the winding paths leading out of the city. His wings flared behind him as he took to the air, scanning, searching—until he found you.

Collapsed in a clearing, shaking violently, your breaths ragged, your hands clutching at your head as if trying to silence something only you could hear.

Azriel dropped to the ground without thinking, without breathing.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice sharp with urgency. You didn’t react, barely seemed to register his presence.

Then he was there, grabbing you, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey, hey—” His voice softened, but his grip did not. He held you, firm, grounding, his heart hammering in his chest. “Y/N, look at me.”

Nothing.

Your entire body was trembling, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Your hands flew up to your ears, fingers digging in as if you were trying to block something out.

His own panic flared, but he shoved it down, focusing only on you.

He shifted, wrapping himself fully around you, cradling you against him. His hands stroked your back, firm but gentle, his head dipping close to yours.

“Shhh, love,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me.”

You barely responded, your body still shaking violently, your nails digging into his leathers.

“Breathe, Y/N.” His voice was lower now, softer. He inhaled deeply, exaggerating the movement, hoping you would follow. “In… and out. With me.”

His thumb traced slow circles against your skin, his wings curling protectively around you as he rocked you slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, trying to draw you back, trying to pull you out of whatever hell had seized you.

“Please,” he whispered, voice breaking.

And then—

A breath.

A deep, shuddering inhale.

Your body still trembled, but the suffocating tension began to ease, the shallow gasps turning into something slower, steadier.

You blinked up at him, your eyes glazed over with panic, but you were there.

Azriel exhaled shakily, his hands moving to cradle your face. He wiped away the fresh tears that streaked your cheeks, his heart aching at the sight of them.

He kissed them away, soft, reverent presses of his lips against your damp skin.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, voice raw with emotion. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumbs brushing slow, comforting strokes along your jaw.

“What’s going on?”

Your breath hitched as you tried to speak, to put words to the chaos swirling inside you. But everything—everything—felt like too much.

Your hands clenched against Azriel’s chest, your fingers curling into the familiar fabric of his leathers as if holding onto him could anchor you. Your breath came fast again, shallow.

“I—” Your voice broke, and you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Everything just… it fell too much. I couldn't breathe, I— I—”

The panic started rising again, clawing its way up from the pit of your stomach, threatening to consume you whole. The words tangled in your throat, your chest tightening all over again.

Azriel felt it before he even saw it.

Your breathing hitched, your body tensed, and his arms tightened around you immediately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice steady, soothing. “Don’t rush. You don’t have to hurry. It’s fine.”

He cupped your face gently, his scarred hands warm against your skin, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall silently.

“Breathe, love,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

And then—

Azriel kissed you.

It wasn’t desperate or frantic, but firm. A grounding touch, meant to pull you from the edge of the abyss. His lips were warm, steady, patient. He kissed you with a quiet kind of intensity, as if willing you to feel every ounce of reassurance, every piece of him holding you together.

His hands moved slowly, one slipping to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair, while the other remained firm at your waist, keeping you here. With him.

Your entire body softened against him, the tension in your limbs slowly melting away as you inhaled him. The scent of night-chilled wind, cedar, and something uniquely Azriel filled your senses, grounding you, tethering you.

You clutched at him, not out of desperation, but because his presence, his warmth, him—Azriel—was the only thing in this moment that felt real.

The moment the kiss broke, he kept you close, resting his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the crisp air.

His golden eyes searched yours, still laced with worry but filled with something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve always got you.”

Azriel brushed his thumb gently over your cheek, his gaze unwavering as he spoke, his voice calm and steady.

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” he murmured. “Not until you’re ready. And even if you never are, that’s okay too.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight.

“The past weeks have been insane for you, Y/N. It’s normal that at some point, you can’t keep hiding everything anymore.” His golden eyes softened, his expression unreadable yet filled with so much understanding it made your chest ache.

“Maybe you should take a break.” He exhaled, his hand sliding down your arm until he could lace his fingers with yours. “Maybe we should take a break.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words.

You shook your head, your heart racing. “But Az… the war, the people, the clinic— I can’t leave like that, we can’t just leave—”

Azriel squeezed your hand, cutting you off gently. “For once, Y/N, stop thinking about everyone else and think about yourself.” His voice remained calm, composed, reassuring. “Because it’s killing you. Slowly, quietly, piece by piece. And I won’t just stand by and watch it happen.”

The truth of his words hit you like a crashing wave.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t demanding.

But he was right.

You had been holding everything in for too long, carrying too much. You were exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. And yet, you had convinced yourself that if you just kept going, if you just kept working, it would all be fine.

But it wasn’t fine.

And it hadn’t been for a long time.

Azriel’s unwavering presence, his certainty, the way he was looking at you now as if he would do anything to pull you from this downward spiral—it finally made something inside of you crack.

You took a shaky breath, blinking away the last remnants of tears before meeting his gaze.

Finally, you nodded.

“Fine,” you whispered. “Let’s go. The both of us. Far away.”

Azriel’s lips parted slightly, almost surprised at your agreement, but then—he smiled. A real smile, rare and breathtaking. And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t a kiss of urgency or desperation. It was a promise.

A promise of escape. A promise of time. A promise of you and him, away from everything that had been weighing you down.

As you walked back through the streets of Velaris, Azriel kept you close, his arm draped securely over your shoulders, his wing shifting subtly to shield you from the cool evening breeze. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady weight of his presence—it was grounding, calming, as if the past hour hadn’t happened at all.

Your hand remained in his, your fingers entwined as you both moved through the city in silence. No words were needed. He knew. He felt it. Just as you felt the unspoken comfort he was offering.

When you stepped back into the clinic, Elira was already waiting. The moment she saw you, relief flickered in her features, but it was quickly replaced with something softer as she stepped forward, pulling you into a tight hug.

You let out a small breath, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Elira pulled back just enough to look at you, her expression filled with something between fondness and exasperation.

Azriel, still standing beside you, spoke up before she could respond. “We’ll be gone for a week,” he informed her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Elira’s eyes flickered between the two of you, her gaze sharp yet knowing.

You exhaled, nodding. “I’m leaving the clinic in your hands, along with the paperwork. I made sure to—”

“You’re not about to list out every responsibility before you leave,” Elira cut in, placing both hands on your shoulders.

You blinked in surprise.

Her gaze softened. “Y/N, we’ve got it handled. You need this. And if there’s anything urgent, Madja is still in town. But please, just rest.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you managed a nod. “Thank you, Eli.”

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before stepping back, offering you a small smirk. “Now go before you change your mind.”

You let out a breath of laughter, hugging her quickly before stepping away, Azriel’s hand finding yours once more.

The moment you were outside, Azriel turned to you, his gaze searching. You barely had time to process before he was kissing you—slow, deep, a quiet confirmation that you were his to care for.

You melted into him, letting yourself be held, letting yourself take the comfort for once instead of offering it.

And then, before you could think too much, before your mind could try to convince you otherwise—

Wind whipped around you as Azriel pulls you against his chest before winnowing the both you out of Velaris. 

The familiar pull of winnowing faded as your feet touched solid ground, the crisp mountain air immediately wrapping around you. You shivered slightly, not from the cold but from the sheer change in atmosphere—the quiet, the stillness, the peace that settled over you the moment you arrived.

Before you, nestled between towering pine trees and overlooking a breathtaking view of the Night Court’s vast mountain ranges, stood a cabin. The structure itself was modest, but it exuded warmth, comfort—sanctuary. The soft glow of faelights flickered inside, the wooden walls standing strong against the whispering winds. Snow dusted the rooftop, the steps leading to the front door barely visible beneath the pristine white.

You exhaled, breath visible in the crisp air, and turned slowly to take it all in. The mountains stretched endlessly beyond the cabin, their peaks kissed by the last lingering hues of sunset, fading into a velvety night. The stars had begun their slow emergence, blinking awake one by one, their glow reflected on the frozen lake in the distance. It was silent here—so utterly still that it felt as if the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you behind.

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself to this moment. You looked up at him, finding his gaze already on you. Something in his expression softened as he watched you take in the sight, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your shoulders seemed to lose some of their ever-present tension.

“You like it?” His voice was low, hesitant in a way that made your heart ache.

You turned back to the cabin, then to the vast, endless sky above, to the mountains that held secrets older than time. Likewasn’t the right word.

“It’s breathtaking,” you murmured.

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, a silent understanding passing between you. No more words were needed.

This was what he had wanted for you—for both of you. A place away from the weight of war, of responsibilities, of everything that had nearly broken you. A place to breathe, to simply be.

He led you toward the cabin, his presence steady beside you. And as you stepped onto the wooden porch, a thought settled deep in your chest—

For the first time in centuries, maybe even forever, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You were finally choosing yourself.

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Illyrian Mating Season

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.3k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: smut

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬:

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

‘...Warm liquid splattered across the side of your face.

A sickening thud sounded before you and a gust of air and dirt washed over your trembling form. You held your breath, your arms still up in defense. 

Another second passed before you slowly chanced a look… only to find a tall, winged figure looming over you, deathly silent. You could see the violent glint in his eyes even from your position on the ground, the sapphire of his siphons shimmering in the moonlight. They only reflected the light from the sky, not from the use of his power—  no, he hadn’t needed to tap into that imposing, law-defying reserve— not in order to rip the ulf’s head clean off its shoulders; his brute strength had been enough for that…’

this is insanity

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

notes; hello lovely people, here is the new chapter ! A bit longer than usual but let me tell you that this one is heavy (and I did cut some of it to put it in the next chapter because I was a bit scared that it would be too much for one chapter). Anyways I tried to do a fun chapter, well ... you guys will see with your own eyes that I always need to make things a bit dramatic (only a little °°333). I think it's really the chapter I enjoyed the most writing so far so I hope that you will enjoy reading it <3. See you all next week, love you <333

thank you again @ailoda for you post it made me freaking emotional <333

previous ✧

The warm glow of the living room lights filled the townhouse, casting a cozy ambiance over the gathered Inner Circle. It was dinner day, and the entire group—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Nesta and Mor—had joined you for an evening of food and conversation. It had been a few days since you went back home after the incident and  Feyre had personally come to you that afternoon to invite you, her warm insistence leaving little room to decline. You were drowing in your work trying not to give a thought to the bond and the fact that you hadn’t seen Azriel since. 

You’d opted for a simple yet comfortable outfit: wide, high-waisted black pants paired with a loose, long-sleeved blue top with a high collar. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the cool night air.

The room was alive with chatter and laughter, and you found yourself caught up in it, smiling despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. Cassian and Mor were on either side of you, bantering animatedly about Velaris nightlife.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to Rita's?” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“I think once when I was younger, but ever since never.” you replied, shrugging. “I’m too busy saving lives to hit up bars, apparently.”

“It’s not just a bar,” Mor interjected, her hands gesturing wildly as if to emphasize her point. “It’s the bar. Best drinks, best music, best people—it’s a Velaris institution.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning. “Mor’s right. Even Amren’s been there. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, smirking.

Mor wasn’t satisfied. She nudged your shoulder, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Come on. We’ll go together when you’re better.”

You chuckled. “Alright, but I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“When?” she pressed, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Next month, probably,” you answered, trying not to laugh at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Next month?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why next month?”

“Because next week, I’m going back to Windhaven,” you began, ticking the events off on your fingers. “Then I’ve got meetings with the priestesses, and then Starfall is coming, and after that—”

“Okay, okay!” Mor interrupted, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to have to kidnap you just to get you out for one night.”

You laughed openly this time, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll pencil you in when I can.”

Feyre approached then, her soft voice cutting through the lively banter. “Y/N, do you think you could join me for a painting class on Friday afternoon? And don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy with work.”

You raised a hand, pretending to look wounded. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I can’t make it—not because of work, though.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Then why?”

“It’s my weekly tea time with Madja,” you replied simply.

Cassian immediately perked up, his brows shooting up in interest. “Tea time with Madja?” he repeated, leaning forward with an amused grin. “That’s adorable. What do you two even talk about? Healer issues? New techniques?”

You swatted his arm lightly, shaking your head. “Hey! Just because I love my job doesn’t mean that’s all I talk about. We talk about... other things.”

“Like what?” Mor asked, smirking as she sipped her wine.

You tilted your head, feigning mystery. “That’s between me and Madja.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m picturing the two of you having a serious debate over tea about how to fix my dumbass when I inevitably crash into something.”

“Cassian,” Feyre interjected, rolling her eyes, “Y/N does far more important work than managing your antics.”

“Thank you,” you said to Feyre, giving Cassian a pointed look. “And for the record, Madja and I have very enlightening conversations. You’d be surprised how insightful she is about life in general.”

The group shared a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you let yourself relax. The lively chatter continued, shifting topics seamlessly as plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around. For once, you weren’t talking about healers’ matters or politics—you were just a part of the group, laughing and enjoying the moment. 

The peaceful hum of the room shifted the moment Elain entered, Lucien trailing just behind her. You were talking to Feyre and didn’t immediately notice the change in atmosphere until Rhysand’s voice broke through the casual chatter.

“Y/N,” Rhys said smoothly, gesturing toward the two newcomers, “allow me to introduce Lucien.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Lucien’s in a moment of mutual surprise. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The corners of Lucien’s mouth twitched into a small, amused smile, and he stepped forward to give you a brief hug.

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he replied lightly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of genuine warmth.

The room’s dynamic shifted again as Elain gravitated toward Azriel, who was leaning against the back of the couch. Lucien, perhaps instinctively or perhaps by choice, found his way to your side. The juxtaposition didn’t go unnoticed, though no one commented on it—at least not aloud.

You handed Nyx back to Feyre, who smiled gently at you, her expression tinged with curiosity as she glanced between you and Lucien.

“I take it you’ve met before?” Rhys prompted, his brow lifting slightly.

You nodded, still a little thrown by Lucien’s sudden presence. “Yes, we breafly met when I was in Autumn centuries ago.” you explained. “And then again in Spring—he arrived a few weeks before I left.”

“Small world,” Lucien said with a faint grin, though his sharp gaze flickered to Rhysand, ever aware of the High Lord’s looming presence.

The conversation meandered for a while, touching on casual topics. But then Lucien turned to you, his tone shifting slightly and quietly asked you. “I heard about the healer meeting in Dawn. Did you have a chance to speak with the head healer of Autumn?”

Your expression softened, though a shadow passed over your features. “I did,” you said, your voice quieter. “She’s doing better, don’t worry. But, very honestly, Lucien... she won’t be in her best shape if she stays in Autumn. It’s slowly killing her.”

The room stilled, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation—a gentle yet deliberate tug on your mind. It was the first time Rhys had ever used his abilities on you like this, and though it was unsettling, you allowed it, letting him in.

What was that about? his voice sounded in your mind, calm but edged with concern.

The High Lady of Autumn tried to kill herself, you replied, the words laced with quiet gravity. 

The thought landed heavily in Rhysand’s consciousness, and though his face betrayed nothing, you felt the ripple of shock that coursed through him.

Shit, he muttered in your mind, his tone uncharacteristically unsettled. Does Eris know?

Yes, you replied. He’s keeping it quiet, but it’s caused even more division within Autumn. The tension between him and Beron is... palpable.

Rhysand’s silence spoke volumes as he processed the information. You could feel his thoughts flickering through the implications, his strategic mind already piecing together the broader picture.

And what do you think? he finally asked, his tone quieter now.

I think she needs to leave Autumn. Rordan their head healer told me that Day might be an option. But it’s her decision to make, not ours.

Rhysand’s agreement hummed softly through your connection. Keep me updated on her situation—and anything else from Autumn.

You nodded slightly, breaking the mental link as Lucien’s voice drew your attention back to the room. “And do you think she’ll leave?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s her choice.”

Lucien sighed, his posture stiffening slightly. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

Though the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of what had been discussed lingered in your mind—and Rhysand’s—as an unspoken reminder of the cracks forming in Prythian’s foundation.

You turned to Lucien with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, by the way, Lila says hi.”

Lucien froze mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening in a mix of panic and exasperation. “No. Not her again,” he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Why does she still talk about me?”

You burst out laughing at his visible distress, the kind of laughter that left you breathless. The others turned their attention to you, curiosity lighting up their faces. Cassian raised a brow, leaning forward. “What’s so funny?”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just... let’s say that during the healer meeting at least the nights we spent talking with the girls, Lucien was a very… popular topic. Let’s just say Lila is quite taken with Lucien.”

“Taken?” Lucien interjected sharply, lifting his head to glare at you. “No, Y/N. Let’s call it what it is—obsessed. I am terrified of her.”

Rhysand, clearly amused, leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “What does she look like?”

You smirked, ready for the volley of descriptions. “Well, she looks like Tamlin—”

“But with boobs,” Lucien interjected, deadpan, cutting you off.

“And she’s short, like Amren,” you added, grinning as you gestured downward.

Lucien groaned again. “Short, running everywhere, and screaming.  Always screaming.”

You burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s an incredible healer. Honestly, one of my best students. But... she’s something, that’s for sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his temples. “Do you know about the closet incident?”

“Oh gods, yes!” You exclaimed, grinning wide. “That was hilarious when she told us about it. The way we had to make her drink for her to be able to admit it, but don’t dramatise everything Lucien it was just her way to show her affection right?” you looked at him amused.

“She tried to lock me in a closet to stop me from leaving the Spring Court Y/N?” 

"Well that sounds oddly familiar?” said Feyre looking at the booth of you. 

Cassian’s laugh echoed through the room. “What is it with Spring Court and locking people ? First Tamlin, now this?”

You nodded, struggling to suppress your laughter. “Apparently, she thought it was the only way to get him to ‘listen.’”

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Rhysand leaned back, still chuckling. “So, to sum it up: she’s like Tamlin, but with boobs, short like Amren, runs everywhere, and... locks people in closets.”

Cassian doubled over with laughter. “You’ve got to introduce me to this Lila. She sounds like a riot.”

Lucien glared at him. “You can take my place if you’re so curious, I’m sure she would love you.”

The room burst into laughter again, the lighthearted banter a welcome reprieve from the tensions that had been looming. Even Lucien couldn’t help but laugh, though his mortified expression lingered.

On the other side of the room, Azriel leaned against the couch, his shadows curling restlessly around him like dark, living whispers. His gaze lingered on you and Lucien, watching the way you laughed with an ease that felt almost foreign to him. You looked carefree, radiant even, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders. Lucien’s animated gestures and your bright laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease growing in Azriel’s chest.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t feel this way.

Azriel shifted slightly, trying to quiet the tumult within him. Elain was seated beside him, her delicate fingers brushing against his thigh in a silent question. He turned to her, her soft gaze meeting his, and he forced a small nod. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue.

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He had wanted to cross the room, to come and sit beside you, to feel that inexplicable comfort that always seemed to radiate from you when you were near. Now that he knew about the bond, everything felt more tangled, more painful. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, suffocating in its clarity. How could you sit there, so normal, so composed, when you had known about this bond for longer than he had?

The thought ate away at him. How had you managed to keep it hidden? How had you endured the ache of it, the pull, without letting it show?

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Elain briefly, guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He shifted subtly away from her, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Out of respect for Lucien, yes. Not that he’d cared before—but now, now he understood. He understood the quiet agony of seeing someone he cared about so deeply sitting with another. It twisted his insides in a way he hadn’t expected.

But it wasn’t just about respect. It was about you.

His shadows coiled tighter around him, reflecting the storm in his mind. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions that had overtaken him since discovering the bond. And the hardest part was the longing—to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel that connection that had only deepened with the knowledge of what you truly were to him.

You were laughing again, the sound clear and unguarded. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he craved until now, and it only added to his torment. The way you leaned slightly toward Lucien, your smile bright, as if there was no weight of a bond tethering you to him. As if he didn’t even exist.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting slightly as he glanced at the floor. He needed a moment, a reprieve from the chaos in his chest. From the knowledge that while you laughed with Lucien, he was the one standing in the shadows, lost and unsure.

You had barely met Azriel’s gaze when Lucien raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Right, let’s not talk about the Spring Court, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“How much time did the two of you spend in the Spring Court together?” Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued.

Without missing a beat, you and Lucien answered in unison, “Three weeks.”

The synchronization caught everyone off guard, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and added, “And that was far enough, if you want my opinion.”

Lucien smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, far enough after nearly killing Tamlin, burning part of his estate, and getting proposed to by his last general.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You stared at Lucien in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing for a moment before crossing your legs and taking a deliberate sip of your wine. “That’s so fake,” you said finally, your tone nonchalant. “I didn’t light the fire. I was just there when it happened.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he leaned forward slightly. “And tell me, Y/N, just how many people have proposed to you?”

You nearly choked on your wine. “What do you mean, Rhysand? Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone’s attention shifted to you, eyes wide with intrigue. You glanced at Azriel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, and asked accusingly, “Did you tell him?”

Azriel shook his head immediately, his voice steady. “No, of course not.”

Cassian and Mor, ever the instigators, leaned closer. “Wait, wait,” Cassian said, grinning. “Who else proposed to her? Go on, Rhys. I feel like this is going to be good.”

Rhysand’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he began, drawing the word out dramatically, “our sweet head healer of the Night Court could have become the Lady of Dawn, if she had wanted to.”

The reaction was immediate. Mor screamed, her voice full of scandalized delight. “You were with Thesan? Y/N!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Yes,” you admitted reluctantly, “and that’s all you’re going to get to know. End of discussion.” You shot Rhysand a black look, though he only laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Well,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject, “it’s not to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure dinner is ready, right?”

Feyre crossed her arms, a knowing look on her face. “If you think you’re going to escape this conversation, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if to appeal to the Mother above. “Oh, for the love of the mother,” you muttered, but the room erupted into laughter, the tension giving way to warmth and camaraderie once more.

During dinner, to everyone’s surprise, you found yourself seated next to Azriel. He had deliberately taken the seat beside you, leaving Lucien to sit next to Elain. The shift in seating arrangements caught more than a few curious glances. Elain’s worried look flickered toward Azriel, while Lucien, seated on her other side, raised an eyebrow at the change.

You tried to ignore the questions bubbling in your mind, though it was hard to brush aside the unexpected energy between you and Azriel. While you had resigned yourself to the fact that Azriel cared deeply for Elain, perhaps even loved her, this sudden change left you puzzled.

Amren’s sharp voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this a new table, Rhysand?” she asked, gesturing to the elegant woodwork beneath her plate.

Rhysand smirked, barely looking up from his plate. “Yes, it is. Y/N and Azriel broke the last one.”

You choked on your wine, coughing violently as heat crept up your neck. The room went silent for a heartbeat before Cassian burst out laughing, followed closely by Mor’s cackling. You covered your mouth, trying to recover as all eyes turned to you.

Amren’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. “Well, girl, a High Lord, a General, and now a Spymaster. You’re going for all of them, aren’t you?”

Your jaw dropped as laughter erupted around the table. “Oh, please shut up,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t even dare to glance at Azriel, though you could feel the heat of his gaze lingering. The sharpness of Elain’s eyes, however, was impossible to miss. Her displeasure radiated from her in waves, her expression tightening as she glanced between you and Azriel.

“I’d like to point out,” Cassian added with a grin, “that I wasn’t the one who broke a table for once.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Cassian,” Nesta muttered beside him, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The table settled back into a hum of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing your way, his expression unreadable. And while you tried to keep your focus on the food in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

The flow of the dinner had been pleasant enough, though Azriel sitting beside you brought an odd energy you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not entirely—but it was different. When it was just the two of you—working, talking, sharing quieter moments—it felt natural, even easy. But tonight, the dynamic felt... forced. Questions swirled in your mind: Did he sit next to you to make her jealous? Why let her mate sit next to her, then? You brushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the lively conversations around you.

Dessert was served, and you were half-listening to Feyre and Nesta talk about some shared anecdote when Elain stood abruptly, excusing herself. The movement caught your attention. Lucien’s worried gaze followed her, and when you glanced at Azriel, you noticed the same concern etched into his features. That expression.

The unease it stirred in you was compounded when Elain began moving around the table. Her steps faltered slightly, her balance uneven. You frowned, your healer’s instincts kicking in.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice held a note of alarm as her sister stumbled closer to where you were seated.

You turned in your chair just in time to see Elain falter entirely. Without thinking, you shot up and caught her as she collapsed, her weight sudden but manageable in your arms. Her head lolled against your shoulder, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. All conversation ceased.

“Elain!” Feyre and Nesta rushed to her side, their faces pale with worry. Lucien moved swiftly to her other side, his hand hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to touch her. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows curling protectively around him, his expression a mix of alarm and dread.

“Elain, can you hear me?” Feyre’s voice was tight with fear as she knelt beside her sister.

And then it happened. Elain’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the soft brown you were accustomed to. They were white—bright, glowing, and unseeing. The sight knocked the breath from your lungs, your grip tightening reflexively as the unnatural glow emanated from her.

“Elain,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as she grasped her sister’s hand.

“What’s happening to her?” Lucien demanded, his tone panicked.

You steadied Elain in your arms, trying to process what was happening. Your mind raced as you scanned her for any immediate signs of injury or distress. There was none—nothing physical, at least—but the way her body trembled, her unfocused eyes, sent chills down your spine.

“She’s having a vision,” Azriel said, his voice low and tight. 

Feyre nodded grimly at your question about Elain’s visions. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “But... she’s never reacted like this before.”

Elain’s body began trembling more violently, her breathing escalating into rapid, shallow gasps. You quickly moved, lowering her to the ground into a safer position, your movements precise and practiced. “Everyone step back,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the panic in the room. “Give me space.”

The others obeyed, though their worry was palpable. Feyre knelt near but didn’t interfere, her face pale with fear. Lucien and Azriel hovered nearby, their expressions equally stricken. Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

Elain’s trembling worsened, transitioning into full-body spasms. You glanced sharply at Feyre. “Does she usually react like this?”

Feyre shook her head quickly. “No—this has never happened before.”

Your jaw tightened as you assessed her condition. “Alright,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. With a swift motion, you opened Elain’s mouth and carefully inserted two fingers to hold her tongue down, ensuring she wouldn’t swallow it during the convulsions. Then, your free hand hovered just above her head.

You closed your eyes, focusing your power as it began to flow from you. A faint glow radiated from your hand, and your hair lifted as if caught in an unseen breeze. A hush fell over the room, everyone holding their breath as the air grew heavy under the weight of your power. Azriel’s sharp gaze was fixed on you, his shadows coiling around him in tension.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled. But as the connection between you and her held firm, something shifted—a thread of her vision snagged onto your mind.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to prepare. One moment you were guiding her back to reality, and the next, you were pulled into the recesses of her mind. Shadows enveloped you, thick and suffocating, until the world reshaped itself into the fragments of her vision.

The ground beneath you was barren, cracked, and lifeless. The air smelled of ash and decay, and the sky above was a swirling void of darkness. There were no stars, no moon—only an oppressive, smothering emptiness. Fires burned in the distance, their flickering light revealing the skeletal remains of a once-thriving land. This place had been wiped clean of life, erased by a force too terrible to comprehend.

You turned, searching for Elain in the chaos. And then you saw her. She stood just ahead, motionless, her expression vacant and unseeing as if she were a mere observer in this apocalyptic scene. You tried to call out to her, to reach her, but your voice was swallowed by the void. She didn’t seem to register your presence, her eyes fixed on the horror unfolding around her.

Your chest tightened, and you were about to take a step toward her when something else caught your attention. Movement in the periphery—a figure in the shadows. It was... you.

At first, you thought it might be a trick of the vision, a warped reflection, but the figure stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking it. It was you, yet not. This version of you was eerily calm, detached. You looked the same, but your expression held an unsettling stillness.

Then the change began. Blood trickled from your nose, then your ears, your eyes, and your mouth. The crimson streaks contrasted sharply against your pale skin, but you didn’t flinch or react. Instead, a faint smile curved your lips, haunting in its serenity.

Elain, still oblivious to your presence, stood frozen, her hand lifting to her mouth in silent horror as she watched the scene unfold.

And then, the darkness took shape. A hand, inky and unnatural, emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers reaching toward the chest of the vision-you. The smile on your face remained as the hand struck in one swift motion, plunging into where your heart should have been.

You felt it. The phantom pain. The void. The absence.

You crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the darkness seeped into the cracks of the earth, spreading like a disease. Elain whimpered softly in the vision, her form trembling as she stared at your fallen figure. 

The pull of the vision began to loosen, dragging you back to the present. You blinked, gasping for breath as you returned to your body, the sensation of your heart still pounding in your chest grounding you. Elain stirred beneath you, her breathing shaky as her eyes fluttered open.

Your mind reeled, the memory of what you had seen burning fresh in your mind. You didn’t know what the vision meant, but the chilling image of yourself—bleeding, smiling, heartless—was not something you would soon forget.

You exhaled, opening your eyes to see Elain staring up at you. Relief flickered in the room—until, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped you hard across the face.

The shock reverberated through the room as everyone froze. You blinked, stunned by the sharp sting on your cheek. Slowly, you stood up, gripping the back of the chair nearest to you as if to steady yourself, your knuckles tightening against the wood. But your face remained calm, your expression carefully composed.

“Well,” you said dryly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, “that’s a new one.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately moved to Elain’s side, helping her sit up as she began to regain full awareness. “Elain, are you okay?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but worried.

Lucien stepped forward, his golden eye flashing with unease. “What happened? Why did she—”

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” you interrupted, your tone calm and measured, giving nothing away. You flexed your fingers subtly against the chair, grounding yourself as you continued. “It’s normal for someone to act unpredictably when coming out of a vision that strong.”

Feyre and Nesta gently guided Elain toward the stairs, murmuring reassurances as they helped her to her room. Lucien followed close behind, his expression tight with worry. Azriel, however, didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you, golden eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity.

Slowly, you let go of the chair, shaking out the tension in your fingers. Your cheek still stung faintly, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing heavily against your chest.

You sighed softly, glancing at the mess of plates and half-eaten desserts left on the table. It felt like the room itself had absorbed the tension of the evening, the air heavy and stifling.

Mother above, what a night. You straightened, smoothing down your sleeves as you regained your composure. 

Azriel crossed the room in a few swift strides, his shadows curling low around his feet. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for the briefest of moments before his fingers brushed against your arm—light as a whisper but enough to make your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, his thumb grazing your sleeve in a subtle, grounding motion.

You blinked, surprised by the question, by the weight in his tone. “I’m—” Your words faltered, the concern in his eyes throwing you off balance. “I’m fine.”

Cassian, ever the mood breaker, smirked. “Great catch, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, casting Cassian a sharp side-eye that practically dripped with unspoken warning. His shadows flared briefly, wrapping tighter around his boots. Cassian raised a brow, but wisely said nothing more.

You tried to smile at Cassian, though it barely reached your eyes. “Thanks, Cassian” you said softly.

Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly on your arm before releasing you. His touch lingered like a ghost, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. His golden gaze remained locked on yours, searching, as though trying to read something written just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, softer this time, more for him than for anyone else.

He studied you for a second longer, his shadows curling and unfurling around him. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a fleeting gesture that felt more like a promise than a reassurance.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Let me know if… you need anything.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the air between you charged and warm. Then Azriel stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before turning toward the others.

You turned to Rhysand, your voice calm but serious. “How do her visions usually go?”

Rhysand leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Not like that,” he admitted. “She usually comes back to herself without shaking or... whatever that was tonight.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “You’ll need to monitor her closely if this keeps happening. What happened tonight—especially the shaking—is essentially her brain short-circuiting, going on and off repeatedly. I stuck my fingers in her mouth not for pleasure but to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.”

Cassian let out a startled laugh at your bluntness, but you continued without pause. “I helped her out of the vision, but it could be the content of this particular one was too violent, causing her to react that way.”

Lucien, standing stiffly in the doorway, finally spoke. “And if it’s not controlled next time? What happens then?”

You met his gaze evenly, your tone steady but grave. “Asking me that is like asking what would happen if you put a soldier in a war field. There are options, but death is one of them. She could stay in the shaking state without being able to come back to herself or choke—but those are worst-case scenarios.”

The room was quiet as you continued, your voice calm but firm. “It could also completely be a one-time thing. But this is why it has to be monitored carefully.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes on you. “Well, at least that was clear.”

You smirked faintly at her dry remark. “Clarity is what I aim for.”

Azriel’s eyes lingered on you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he listened intently.

“I could examine her further,” you added after a moment, “to see if there’s anything else that might explain what happened tonight. But I’d wait until she’s less shaken by it all. Right now, forcing her into anything might make things worse.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll keep an eye on her and call for you if it happens again. For now, let’s give her some space to recover.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that plan, though Lucien still looked troubled. The room slowly eased out of its earlier tension, though the weight of what had just occurred lingered in the back of everyone’s minds.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his golden eyes dark with worry. As the room shifted its attention to Feyre and Nesta returning, he leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Are you sure you are okay?” His voice was low, barely audible over the quiet murmurs of the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his tone. Was Azriel truly worried about you?

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head lightly. “Don’t worry. A little slap isn’t going to kill me,” you said, throwing in a wink to lighten the mood.

Azriel’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease entirely.

Feyre’s voice broke through the moment. “Elain’s sleeping now,” she said, her tone carrying both relief and exhaustion.

Lucien exhaled audibly, a wave of relief washing over his features. Feyre turned to you, her expression warm with gratitude. “Thank you for your help, Y/N. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

You nodded, brushing it off lightly. “I’m just glad I was here when it happened.”

Rhysand’s eyes flicked between Feyre and Nesta, his expression sharpening. “Did she tell you anything about her vision?”

The two sisters exchanged a weighted look, Feyre biting her lip before she finally spoke. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Nesta for confirmation.

“It’s not good,” Nesta added, her voice steadier but no less grim.

The room fell silent again, everyone waiting for Feyre or Nesta to elaborate. The weight of whatever Elain had seen hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the knot of tension coiling tighter in your chest. Azriel’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled it away, his expression hardening as he braced for whatever was coming next. 

Feyre exchanged a tense glance with Nesta, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, with a heavy sigh, Feyre began to explain, her voice trembling slightly.

“She told us about what she saw… about death, war, and darkness sweeping over everything. But the most terrifying part was…” Feyre’s voice broke, and she looked at Nesta to continue.

Nesta, ever composed, took over. “She saw you, Y/N. In the middle of it all. And…” She hesitated, her steel facade cracking for just a moment before she forced herself to say it. “She saw you...”

The room fell deathly silent, everyone frozen in place. Azriel, standing beside you, visibly tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words.

You straightened, your expression unreadable. The weight of their words wasn’t new to you. You had already seen it yourself in Elain’s vision, and now, hearing it spoken aloud, it only cemented what you had felt.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice steady but filled with an edge of resignation.

Every head in the room turned to you, confusion and shock flashing across their faces.

“You know?” Feyre asked, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded slowly. “I saw it too. I’m not sure how, but when I guided Elain out of her vision, pieces of it came to me. I saw what she saw.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and filled with tension. “Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

You turned to face him, your gaze unwavering, though the effort to maintain your composure was immense. “I saw the moment I die, Azriel.”

The breath seemed to leave the room all at once. Even Amren, ever-unflappable, looked taken aback. Cassian, wide-eyed, shifted uneasily in his seat. Feyre and Nesta exchanged another tense glance, while Rhysand’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

“What do you mean, you saw yourself die?” Azriel pressed, his voice low and strained, his shadows coiling around him like a living entity. His hand hovered near your arm again, as though he wanted to hold on to you, to ground himself in your presence.

You gave a bitter smile, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. “Exactly what it sounds like. She saw me die, and so did I. What do you want me to say? It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and the raw emotion in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “You can’t just… accept that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an edge of desperation. “There has to be something we can do. We can stop it—”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” you interrupted, your tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, fate has its way.”

Rhysand’s voice broke through, calm but commanding. “What exactly did you see, Y/N?”

You hesitated, the image flashing in your mind. The darkness, the war, and that final moment when everything stopped, and you fell. “I saw the world in chaos—death everywhere. And then I saw myself... my blood, my heart—gone. I felt it as much as I saw it.”

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows curling protectively around him. His golden eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t accept that,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way to stop it. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, everyone digesting the gravity of the revelation. Then Amren, leaning back in her chair, spoke up, her voice cool but filled with an edge of challenge. “If fate has marked you, Y/N, then the question is not if we can stop it, but what it will cost.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the uncertain path ahead. You swallowed hard, the weight of the vision and its implications pressing down on you. But even as the room seemed to drown in its tension, you squared your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “it doesn’t change what I need to do now. We have time—maybe not much, but enough to prepare.”

As the heavy silence settled in the room, you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Rhysand’s sharp violet eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of unease. “Y/N,” he began, “would you allow me to see it? The vision?”

You hesitated, the thought of someone else witnessing what you had seen unsettling, but you nodded nonetheless. “Go ahead,” you said softly, standing your ground. Rhysand approached you carefully, his movements deliberate, as though he didn’t want to startle you.

His mental touch was gentle, like a soft whisper brushing against your thoughts. You let him in, showing him the fractured, haunting glimpses of the vision—darkness, war, your bloodied form crumbling to the ground.

When he pulled back, his expression was tight, his jaw clenched. A faint twitch betrayed his composed demeanor.

“Don’t pity me, Rhysand,” you said, your tone firm, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “I died once. I’ve been blessed by the Mother, and I’ve accepted that one day, that favor will need to be returned.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Azriel’s golden eyes locked onto you, his shadows coiling tightly around him. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was a mix of disbelief, worry, and something else you couldn’t quite place—something that made your chest tighten.

The tension in the room shifted, the atmosphere changing as people slowly began to disperse, their expressions ranging from solemn to thoughtful. Conversations were hushed, and one by one, the Inner Circle left to retreat to their rooms or find solace in other parts of the house.

You needed air. The weight of the vision, the discussions, and the gazes filled with unspoken questions were too much. Slipping out quietly, you made your way to the garden of the townhouse. The cool night air brushed against your skin, soothing in its simplicity. The stars above were bright, scattered across the inky sky like a promise of something eternal.

You found a bench near the center of the garden and sank onto it, tilting your head back to take in the view. The stars twinkled softly, distant and untouchable, yet strangely comforting. For a moment, you let yourself breathe, the crisp air filling your lungs as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

The quiet of the garden wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. After some time, you felt a presence approach—a familiar one—and moments later, a warmer jacket was draped over your shoulders. You turned your head slightly to see Azriel sitting down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence, and instead, he leaned back to look up at the sky, mirroring your own posture.

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, the stars above a quiet audience to the unspoken words lingering between you. Eventually, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Still gazing upward, Azriel’s voice was low, steady. “Once, someone told me that sometimes no words need to be spoken. But if you want to talk…” Finally, he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the faint moonlight. “I’m here.”

A small laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Are you actually quoting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

Your laughter faded into the cool night air, replaced by a quieter moment as the gravity of everything settled back in. After a moment, Azriel’s voice broke through the stillness, softer this time. “How?”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “How what?”

“How can you accept what you saw so easily?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the ground as though the question was too heavy to lift.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer, then sighed. “I don’t know, Azriel. I really don’t.”

He exhaled softly, the sound tinged with frustration, and his voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “Don’t behave like your death won’t affect other people.”

Your breath caught at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Like it won’t affect me,” he added, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words settled heavily between you.

Your eyes widened slightly, your heart stumbling over itself as you processed the raw honesty in his voice. You turned your gaze back to the sky, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. After a long pause, you found the courage to ask, “When did you figure it out?”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you. “Figure what out?” he asked, his tone cautious, even though you both knew exactly what you meant.

The bond hummed faintly between you, a quiet rhythm you’d learned to live with but had never fully embraced. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze directly, and whispered, “That I’m your mate.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with emotions you had never allowed yourself to fully feel. Azriel's words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft but resolute.

"The moment we nearly died on our way back from Dawn," he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “And you? When did you know?”

Your throat tightened as you glanced away, searching for the courage to speak the truth. “When I saved your life at the House of Wind,” you admitted softly.

He was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Oh,” was his only response.

And then the question you had been dreading fell from his lips. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

You turned sharply, your face a mask of incredulity. “Are you seriously asking me this now, Azriel? Look at you—with Elain.” Your voice broke slightly, but you steadied yourself. “I barely knew you at the time. What would you have wanted from me then? You loved her—or at least you thought you did. What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I don’t love her,” he said firmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You shot him a sidelong glance, disbelief clouding your features. “Azriel, this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want this to be forced.” You took a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “You deserve someone better, much better than me. And definitely not someone who’s... who’s destined to die soon.”

He tried to interrupt, his expression pained, but you raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. You’re one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You’ve dedicated your life to protecting others, to doing what’s right. And I—I just can’t, Azriel. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You turned fully to him now, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The heaviness in your chest felt unbearable, as if the weight of your fears and regrets were finally demanding release. “I work with death every day,” you began, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “Every single day, I watch it take and take and take. I’ve seen families shattered into pieces—mothers begging me to save their children, lovers screaming for someone to bring their person back.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the storm of emotions pouring from you, his golden eyes following every movement as you began to pace. “I’ve had fathers collapse in my arms because I couldn’t save their wives. Sisters sobbing, clutching me like I was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world. And I...” You paused, pressing a trembling hand to your chest, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. “I can’t—I won’t—be the reason someone else ends up in that position because of me.”

The words tumbled from you, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. “Do you know what that’s like? To carry that? Every mistake, every failure—it haunts you. It lives inside you. And knowing that one day, I’ll be the one taken... that I could leave someone behind, someone I care about... I can’t do that to anyone, Azriel. I just can’t.”

Your steps faltered as the rawness of your confession left you breathless, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together through sheer will. Azriel remained silent, his eyes following you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His shadows stirred softly at his feet, as though they wanted to reach out to you but were unsure how.

“Why do you think I’ve always left?” you demanded, turning toward him suddenly, your voice rising. “Why do you think I’ve never stayed anywhere for long? Why do you think I’ve never let anyone get close, too close to me? Why do you think I’ve never been able to have something... someone real?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel yourself unraveling. “I’m terrified, Azriel. I’m terrified of death—of what it takes, of what it leaves behind. It’s not just the pain or the loss... it’s the emptiness it leaves in its wake. And I can’t bear the thought of someone else feeling that emptiness because of me.”

Snow began to fall softly around you, the first flakes catching in your hair and melting against your flushed cheeks. You barely noticed, your heart hammering in your chest as the emotions you’d kept buried for so long spilled out in a torrent. The cold air stung your lungs, but you welcomed it, letting it ground you.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground as though the weight of your confession had finally crushed you. The snow gathered in the folds of your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat burning behind your eyes. “And I’m just so, so sorry that I’m your mate,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears spilled freely down your face.

Azriel knelt beside you without hesitation, his movements slow and deliberate as though he were approaching something fragile. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth and steadiness of his chest as your sobs wracked your body. You clung to him, the snowfall around you a quiet witness to the storm raging inside you.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m your mate. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve. I’m sorry for... for all of it.”

His arms tightened around you, his shadows curling protectively, almost soothingly. His voice was low and soft when he finally spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of your own broken breathing. “Don’t you dare apologize for being you,” he murmured, his tone steady, even as his own emotions threatened to break through.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in a quiet stillness that seemed to echo the rawness of the moment. Azriel’s warmth surrounded you, his presence grounding you even as the storm inside you raged on.

Azriel froze for a moment, his golden eyes locking onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name—something that made your chest tighten. Slowly, almost reverently, his hands rose to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. The tenderness in his touch made your breath catch, your heart thundering in your chest.

He tilted your head up, his shadows curling softly around your shoulders, as though they were trying to reassure you in their own way. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion. The words were both a command and a plea, grounding you in the storm of your thoughts. “Just... look at me.”

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—the snow, the cold, the pain. It was just him, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees tremble even though you were already on the ground.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline. Gentle at first, as if he were afraid you’d shatter under his touch, but then deeper, insistent, grounding. A warmth spread through you, chasing away the chill of the snow, as if his very being was pulling you back from the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the bond between you pulsed like a drumbeat in your veins, you melted into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if letting go would undo you completely.

The bond roared to life, the connection between you blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt it in every fiber of your being—a tether that had always been there, humming quietly in the background, now surging forward with undeniable force. His shadows wrapped around you, cocooning you in their embrace, a silent promise of safety and devotion.

The kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs still brushing against your skin, as though anchoring you to the moment. The bond pulsed between you, vibrant and alive, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in time with yours.

Azriel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, trembling with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you done?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Because it’s my turn to talk now.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than fear—hope.

Azriel’s gaze pierced through you, deep and unwavering, as though he was stripping away every wall you had ever built, leaving you bare before him. The snow continued to fall around you, cold and relentless, yet you barely noticed it. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, kneeling in the snow, your breaths mingling in the frosty air.

“Y/N,” Azriel began, his voice low but filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You are the person who’s made me see the world differently.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt... something. It was like I was drawn to you, like there was this force pulling me toward you, even though I didn’t understand it.”

His words were heavy, laden with emotion. You couldn’t look away, caught in the raw honesty of his confession.

“It took me months to figure out why,” he continued, his shadows curling faintly around him as though reflecting his inner turmoil. “Why I felt like I could tell you things I’ve never even told my brothers. Why, when I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to hide the parts of me I’ve spent centuries locking away. It was as if you could see me—truly see me—and not turn away.”

Your heart ached at his words, your chest tightening with the weight of his emotions.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, his voice softening. “Why I ended up at the clinic that night of the solstice. Why I fell asleep so easily in your space, a place that felt more like home than anywhere else has in years. Why, in Dawn, every moment I spent away from you felt wrong, like I was missing something vital. And then...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “When I saw you with Thesan, I felt this rage, this jealousy that I couldn’t explain. And that night, when the storm came, I accepted that I would die—because being with you in that moment, even if it was the end, felt right.”

His voice cracked, and you felt your breath hitch as his words pressed against the tender parts of your heart.

“And then you saved us,” Azriel whispered, his shadows curling around you both now, a silent embrace. “And the bond snapped into place, and everything suddenly made sense. And gods, I’ve hated myself every day since for talking to you about Elain—for putting you through that pain without even knowing it.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, and you reached up, placing your hand on his face. His golden eyes closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your palm as though it grounded him.

“And tonight,” he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, “when I saw you with Lucien, I felt it again. That jealousy. The way you smiled, the way you laughed with him... I wanted to be in his place so badly it hurt.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. “And I know I don’t deserve you. Gods, I’ve been the worst to you. But, Y/N, you are everything I didn’t know I needed. You are smart, strong, considerate. You light up the room just by being in it. You make everyone around you better, just by existing. It is so, so easy to fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words wrapping around you like a balm to your battered soul.

“And even if it’s for a year, or a month, or a single day,” Azriel said, his voice breaking, “I want to spend it with you. I want to be close to you, to be by your side, for however long we have.”

He reached out then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His gaze burned into yours, his bond thrumming with a quiet, steady pulse that matched your own. “Please, Y/N. Let me be with you.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound soft and almost disbelieving as it fell between your lips. Your head dropped forward, resting gently against Azriel’s chest, his shirt dampening slightly with your tears. The both of you had shifted completely onto the ground, no longer kneeling but sitting in the snow. You were nearly in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer as though he feared you might disappear.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened tonight,” you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling. “I don’t want this to be out of pity.”

Azriel stilled for a moment, and then his hands cupped your face with such gentleness it made your breath hitch. He tilted your head upward, his golden eyes meeting yours, before leaning down and kissing you again—deeper this time, the connection searing into your very soul. It wasn’t hurried or desperate but deliberate, a kiss that held every unspoken word, every ounce of feeling he hadn’t yet been able to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and his hand moved to your shoulder, grounding himself in your presence as his scent wrapped around you. His shadows curled around the both of you like a protective cocoon, their touch faint and reassuring.

“Never, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Never out of pity. I’ve long made up my mind about how I feel about you. Even if everything feels like a mess—if everything is wrong—I will never fall in love with you out of pity.”

The last words were so quiet, they were almost inaudible, but you heard them. And they wrapped around your heart, filling the cracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Your hands moved on instinct, slipping inside his jacket as you hugged him closer, seeking his warmth and steadiness. Your palm pressed gently against his back, and your fingers began tracing soft circles at the base of his wings. Whether it was to reassure yourself that this moment was real or to offer him comfort, you didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly against your head as he held you. The snow continued to fall around you, the icy flakes melting against the shared heat between you. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence filled with the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint pulse of the bond humming quietly between you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: safe. And in Azriel’s arms, with his shadows weaving around you, it felt like you’d finally found the place where you belonged.

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

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Over Ice (Part 9)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3178

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Notes: ughhhh. i don't like this part. fml

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Annoyance courses through your veins when Rhys’ phone buzzes against the tabletop again. The devilish device has been blowing up with messages since before your tutoring session had even begun, as soon as Rhys walked into the room with a mumbled greeting, fully immersed in the device.

Each vibration has slowly chipped away at your feeble concentration. You quickly lost focus on studying, and you’ve had to re-read the same paragraph three times over, restarting every single time he received a new message. Not a single fact has clicked in your head, and the urge to collapse in defeat is all too tempting right now.

i’d been waiting for an update for so long, and this was so good!! the banter is always soooo good!! rhys is such a flirt, i know i probably couldn’t handle it if i was in readers position. if mor ever finds out that somethings going on between them (which will absolutely happen) it will be an absolute nightmare. AHHHHH!! i love themmmm, and i can’t wait for more of them!!! i live this AU!!!! <333