Summary: biker!azriel decides to take you on a smooth ride to his special spot for a little special fun👀
Warnings: 18+, SMUT, MDNI, biker!az, biker!azriel, modern au, dirty talk, semi public, fingering, clit play, vibration, squirting, praising, teasing, dating app, hook up, slight dom&sub, slight marking, he owns a bike & unfortunately also your self control
This wasn’t the first date. Nor the second. It was the sixth date between you and Azriel. When you downloaded that god-awful dating app your friends had you get, you never expected to match with someone so mysterious yet gentle in unexpected ways.
A quiet blade sheathed in silk.
However, what wasn’t quiet was the rumbling motorcycle engine beneath you two as he drove toward the lookout spot.
His secret, special spot. Azriel mentioned it to you through texts and the thought of something so secretive to him enticed you. Of course, you said yes.
“Closer—“
A demanding tone. Yet it held a sense of carefulness to it. You scooted yourself closer to the male. Your arms locked around his waist tighter while he leaned into the final turn like he trusted the road itself.
The bikes roar simmered as he came to an easy stop. Placing both boots flat on the ground, turning his head to look at you. “Wow… Az, this is breathtaking…” A mere whisper fluttering through your lips as you took the scene in.
From the cliff, the city lights gleamed brightly in the distance, and the stars twinkled ever so perfectly above both of you.
“Isn’t it?”
His voice purring lowly, sending a shiver down your spine as you stared over at him. But Azriel? He was looking at you. Drinking in your beauty. The view that was simply you.
“It’s so sweet of you to bring me here…”
You felt the apples of your cheeks shade into a deep crimson. His intense gaze burning into yours. And for a moment you felt your heartbeat pick up. Perhaps the one between your legs as well.
A sly smirk twitched onto his lips as he hopped off the bike and onto the gravel road. Leaving you straddled on it. “You deserve it. A special spot for a special girl-“
Butterflies filled your belly. So sweet yet so damn smooth. You felt yourself staring at the handsome man, getting lost in those hazel eyes of his. But Azriel? He was doing the same, yet the amber specks were slowly darkening. “W-what? What is it?”
A breath. A tension growing between you both. Feeling a pull to him. That same sly smirk only seemed to spread wider across his features.
“Every time I look at you…I want to touch you…”
So smooth yet again. Warmth ran throughout your entire body as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. Fuck it. He was gentleman enough. It had been a few dates. You needed him. Fucking craved him.
“Then… touch me.”
The whisper hardly left your mouth before you felt his soft lips slam to yours. His body pressing firm and tightly against your own while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.
Heated. The kiss was instantly turning into one of seduction. Azriel repositioned you, turning you to face him as you sat on the bike. The vibration from the engine only building up that arousal between your legs more so.
“God— I’ve been waiting to taste you.” He growled, his hand snaking down from your cheek to your breast. Firmly grasping it before slipping lower to the hem of your flowy sundress.
You smiled through the kiss. “And? How do I taste?” Teasing Azriel, a small groan emitted low from his throat. “Absolutely sensational.” He husked into your mouth, his hand now massaging the inside of your thigh.
A soft little whimper slipped through your lips, only giving him that approval even more. He traced over your dampened lace panties. “Got you soaked already, hm?”
That damn domineering tone. You managed a breathy “yes—“ before he yanked your panties to the side. Taking his pointer finger and running it along your slit to tease you.
Your breath hitched as he moved his mouth down to your jaw, kissing until he got to the delicate side of your neck. “You gonna be a good girl for me, beautiful?” Again, you gave a quick and eager head nod.
With that, Azriel thrusted two fingers inside of you. The cool feeling of his silver rings only adding onto the pleasurable sensation. “F-fuck!” you cried out while he smirked against your subtle skin.
“You can’t control yourself, can you? Feels too good already?”
He chuckled under his breath before pulling his head back to stare into those submissive eyes of yours. “So good, Az— fuck. You really know what you’re doing.”
“I know I do.”
His thick fingers moved in such ways that it could only be described as otherworldly. A come here motion with both of them before he stretched his thumb out to press on your swollen little bud.
All the sensations were making you melt for the male. But what was really getting you now? When Az reached over with his free hand, twisting the throttle which only made the seat vibrate harder. The motorcycle purring along with you.
“You like feeling the bike's vibration while I finger fuck this slit?” He asked as your body jolted, a sea of moans effortlessly slipping through your now swollen lips.
Again, you nodded eagerly. Euphoric sensations only rising more so. “Y-yes. I do- god it feels— fuck!- it feels so good—“
A mess. You were slowly becoming a mess for Azriel. God did he adore this sight of you. And this was just some foreplay. Nothing crazy. But god, you couldn’t even imagine how great the sex would be with him.
“You feel how close you are to cummin’ from just my fingers? Imagine my cock-“
Azriel moved his head swiftly, dropping his lips back to the crook of your neck. Kissing, biting, and sucking as he pleased. Leaving his mark on his new beautiful conquest. You.
“God— I’m really close. Really fucking close.” Your entire body started to quiver. But the biker used that same free hand to twist the throttle yet again. The vibration from revving up the engine sending you right over the edge.
“I know, sweetheart, I know… That’s a good girl- Fuck— cummin’ on my fingers like that.”
Az talked you through an intense and pleasurable orgasm. His darkened gaze falling to watch as your juices squirted out onto his hand and rings. Drenching the saddle of his bike.
Once you started to catch your breath, you felt your eyes flicker between his. Heart racing as the tension grew. “Az, that was—“ Your words cut off when suddenly bright headlights were zooming in your direction.
“Fuckin’ Hell! Hop on, babygirl-“
Low and demanding yet again, you quickly obeyed. listening to him as you adjusted yourself. Both of you repositioned on the motorcycle before he took off.
Some random people were driving around the spot. You didn’t want them to see anything. And Az? He didn’t want anyone to see you in such a vulnerable position. Because that was only for his eyes.
Possessive and jealous already, though he wouldn’t say that aloud. Not yet at least. He craved you like no other. And even though he didn’t get to feel your walls stretch around his cock tonight, he knew he would soon. Especially hearing the little noises you made for him.
But getting this little teaser? Fuck it made his imagination run wild until the next time he’d see you…
Ahhh first biker!az fic🥹 love making au’s come to life! Hope yall enjoyed this one, plenty more to comeee
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Summary: Y/n learns new information that strains her relationship with Cassian and Azriel. While avoiding the others, she explores her powers further and slowly reconnects with Azriel.
Word Count: 3.2K.
“I don’t think I can train with you girls any longer,” Y/n grunted.
“Didn’t take you for a quitter, Y/n,” Cassian grinned, watching the females suffering through his exercises.
“I am not. I just don’t want to become a Valkyrie. Our training was different,” she reminded, panting.
“Not up to the challenge?” He folded his arms across his chest, smirking. “We can always go back to one-on-one training.”
“Y/n, you can do this. Don’t let him win,” Gwyn cheered.
“When it comes to this much physical training, he can have the win,” Y/n complained but still held the pose.
Her lungs and muscles were on fire. The others might have learned some mind-stilling techniques to fall back on, but she had nothing. No breathing exercises. No meditative calm. Just instinct.
She closed her eyes and let ice spread from her hands, crawling down to her legs and locking them into place.
Cassian pointed at the frost creeping up around her. “Y/n, that’s cheating. No powers during training.”
“On a battlefield, I would absolutely use my powers,” she insisted.
“If you were hit with an ash arrow or faebane, you wouldn’t have any powers to use. Relying on them during training makes you dependent, and that’s not the point here.”
“And what is the point? Torture? Because that’s what this feels like,” Y/n whined.
Cassian didn’t rise to the bait and shot her a look.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes before pulling the ice back.
“Time,” he called. The females collapsed to the ground.
“That took forever,” Gwyn groaned.
Cassian looked at the heap of them and scoffed, clearly entertained. “Pathetic.”
Y/n couldn’t wait until the day she wiped that grin off his face.
The others fell into conversation, while Y/n stayed on her back, staring at the sky. The sun was shining, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t wielded her other power in a long time. She raised her arm and tried to summon lightning, certain nothing would happen, but to her surprise, clouds covered the sun and thunder rumbled across the sky before rain started pouring down. She rose to her feet in shock.
Nesta shoved wet hair out of her face. “What the hell, Y/n?”
“Maybe next time, a little warning,” Cassian added.
“Sorry,” she muttered, shrugging before closing her eyes again and reaching inside herself until the thunderstorm dissolved. When she opened her eyes, the sun was out again.
“Thank you,” Cassian said, already exchanging one of his “looks” with Nesta.
Y/n caught it and grimaced. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, not here.” She glanced between them, and Nesta’s face went red before she muttered something to Emerie.
As Gwyn and Emerie took their leave, Nesta and Cassian lingered. Y/n could tell something was wrong just from the set of her sister’s shoulders. She walked over in time to hear Nesta asking how long they had all known.
“What the hell is going on?” Y/n asked, stepping up beside her.
“Cassian and the others knew that the blades I worked on when he took me to the blacksmith are imbued with the Cauldron’s powers. They’re now a part of the Dread Trove. And apparently there was even a debate about whether to tell me or not,” Nesta informed her, face tight with fury.
“What the hell is wrong with you people? So, you might have not even told her about it?” Y/n’s temper snapped.
“Who. Voted. Against. Me?” Nesta enunciated.
“Rhys and Amren,” Cassian admitted quietly, unable to meet her eyes.
Nesta said nothing. She’d expected Rhys to vote against it, but Amren? They used to be friends.
She turned and walked away without a word. Y/n knew how much that hurt her even if Nesta refused to show it.
Cassian moved to follow, but Y/n caught his arm.
“Let her go. You’ve already done enough damage.” Y/n dropped his arm and stepped back, shaking her head in disappointment. “You lot think you’re entitled to do whatever the hell you want with no consequences, don’t you?”
“You know that’s not true.”
“No? Then tell me, when your mighty High Lord does something wrong, who holds him accountable? Who does he answer to, huh?”
“Us. If he were to do something wrong, we would hold him accountable. We’d stand against him.”
“See, that's the thing. You never think he’d do something wrong, and when he does, you’re all standing right behind him anyway. You all need to be put in your place. Centuries of unlimited power and not one of you has had to face a real consequence. It’s made you blind to everything outside your own circle. It shows.”
“And who’s going to do that? You?”
“If I have to. If any of you hurt Nesta, I will do whatever it takes to hurt you back, and I don’t care what it would cost me or if I have to sell my soul for it, so you better watch out,” Y/n threatened, holding his gaze before turning away, a thunderstorm following at her heels.
—
Azriel had returned to the House of Wind that night. He hadn’t been there that morning, and for once Y/n had been glad. Nesta and Cassian were nowhere to be found. She didn’t know what happened or where Nesta was, only that she’d made it down the ten thousand steps. Y/n was still furious with how the Inner Circle kept treating her sister, and she needed to do something about it.
Azriel was eating dinner when Y/n strode into the dining room, no greetings, no pleasantries, just demanding in a flat, cold tone, “I want you to take me to a blacksmith.”
Azriel sat his spoon calmly back on the table and looked up at her. “You’ve heard about what happened?”
“I was there when your General told Nesta how your friends debated whether she deserved to know about her own powers. That you all had to take a vote on it.” Y/n crossed her arms, anger crawling up her throat as she tried (and failed) to stay calm.
“You’re upset,” he observed calmly.
“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe it. So I need you to take me to a blacksmith to release all that tension.”
“We can train,” he offered. “That would help burn off some of your tension. I know why you want to go there, Y/n.”
“So, you refuse?” It was more of a statement than a question.
“It’s not a good idea,” he said carefully.
“You don’t trust me, just like they don't trust Nesta.” There was a hurt underneath the words that most people wouldn’t have caught, but not Azriel.
“That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“You’re not yourself right now,” he replied reluctantly.
“I’ve never been more myself.” She put her palms flat on the table and leaned down to his level. “If you won’t take me, I’ll find another way. And when I do, I won’t be coming back.”
“How about this? If you still want to go tomorrow, I’ll take you. But for tonight, please just calm down.” His eyes stayed on hers, pleading. There was something gentle in them, unexpected for a male built to intimidate. But with her, that look always came naturally.
If he hadn’t used that exact tone with that look in his eyes, if he’d said it any differently, she would’ve stubbornly refused and told him not to tell her what to do. But his reaction and steadiness throughout all of it made it hard to lash out at him.
She exhaled slowly. “Fine. I’m not changing my mind, though.”
“Alright.” He nodded once. “Now, are you going to sit and eat, or keep standing over me?”
Y/n loosened slightly, but didn’t sit yet. “Where are Nesta and the General?”
That was the question he’d hoped she wouldn’t ask. He’d known the question was coming, but still hoped. Once he’d told her, she’d be furious all over again, but he couldn’t lie to her either.
“Sit down first.”
“I’m not hungry,” she muttered flatly.
“Y/n, sit down. Please.” Azriel repeated, but his voice was quieter now. She recognized the seriousness in his tone and pulled out a chair.
“They’re not in Velaris.”
“Why?” she asked, immediately defensive.
“Nesta told Feyre something she shouldn’t have. For her safety it was best to get her out.”
“Feyre? Safety? What is going on, Shadowsinger?” A hint of frustration and far more confusion laced her tone.
Azriel took a deep breath. “I take it you don’t know about Feyre’s situation?”
“What situation? Stop talking in bits and pieces!” Her voice rose with frustration.
Azriel remained calm. “There’s a strong possibility Feyre won’t survive childbirth. The babe has wings.”
Y/n went very still. The anger drained out of her face and left something worse behind it. She was quiet for once. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes but didn’t fall. Her sister might die, and nobody had thought to even tell her. Azriel had expected her to lash out, to scream at him or tear into his friends, but she just sat there in silence.
“Nesta told her today. Rhys was furious, so Cassian took her away to give him time to calm down,” he continued, but still nothing from her.
After a long moment, he spoke again. “Y/n, say something. Please.”
“What do you want me to say?” She turned to face him slowly.
“Something. Anything. Just don’t keep it all to yourself.” Azriel didn’t know exactly what he wanted from her, he just knew that silence wasn’t it. The Shadowsinger who preferred the quiet was now dreading every second of it.
“It appears that’s all you do here. I just told your General the same thing this morning and here I am, proven right again. You don’t care about anyone but yourselves. Your happy little Inner Circle. Not even Feyre, really. You just keep hiding things. Vital information from all of us.” She took a slow breath, composing herself before speaking again, her tone barely audible, hurt clear in her voice. “What have we done so wrong to deserve this treatment?”
“I’m sorry.” Azriel looked at her directly, the quiet devastation on her face hitting harder than any anger would have. Her pain broke his heart. “You had a right to know about your sister’s condition. But it wasn’t my call to make.”
“It never is.” She paused, collecting herself. “It’s funny how your High Lord is furious at Nesta for telling her sister information he should’ve told her the moment he found out. If Nesta hadn’t told Feyre, I would have. It’s never right to keep something from someone when it involves them or their health.”
“I know,” Azriel replied quietly, unable to meet her eyes anymore.
“Yet you said nothing.” She paused again before standing. “I’m tired of this place, Shadowsinger. It is suffocating.”
“I’ll talk to Rhys.”
“And tell him what exactly? He’s the reason for all of this.” She looked at him for a moment, then walked out.
Azriel stayed at the table, staring at the same spot on the floor for a long time, feeling helpless and defeated while his thoughts ate at him.
The next day, Y/n didn’t leave her room for breakfast, lunch, or anything else.
Eventually, Azriel knocked on her door. When she opened it, he asked if she still wanted to go to the blacksmith, eyes not quite reaching hers.
Whether it was a bad idea or not remained to be seen. All he knew was she needed to get out of the house, let out some steam, and she wasn’t going to train with him, not after what he’d told her last night.
When they arrived at the blacksmith's shop, the owner looked surprised to see Azriel there. It was usually Cassian who stopped by. Azriel rarely came to Illyria unless he had to, let alone visited its shops. The elderly male greeted him kindly and asked what he could do for him.
“I’d like you to show Lady Y/n how to forge a blade,” Azriel requested politely.
Y/n recoiled at the title but said nothing.
“I mean you no disrespect, Shadowsinger, but after last time, I don’t want her or her sister in my shop again.”
“I only need you to show me what you showed my sister. Just a small dagger. I’ll take it with me immediately afterward and we’ll pay double for it, please,” Y/n pleaded.
The blacksmith hesitated, but with a little persuasion from Azriel, he finally agreed. He walked her through it and she followed, while Azriel stood back and watched her channel every bit of her rage and pain into the work. He didn’t know what she planned to do with the blade and wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.
They waited while the blade cooled and in the meantime Y/n managed a conversation with the blacksmith, awkward at first, then easier as the conversation continued. He was different from most Illyrian males. Kind, respectful, even if there was still a trace of wariness in the way he looked at her.
Neither she nor Azriel spoke to each other the whole time.
Once the dagger was fully forged, the blacksmith didn’t reach for it. Y/n examined the blade herself before sliding it into the leather scabbard he offered. She didn’t wrap or conceal it, instead she belted it at her waist and wore it out of the shop.
She said nothing to Azriel on the way back. Didn’t ask him to keep it from the others. That was her test for him. She wanted to see whether he’d go to Rhys, or trust her with it.
For the next week she didn’t leave her room, didn’t train with Azriel, didn’t speak to him. She went to the library once to see Gwyn, if only to breathe for a little while. Gwyn asked about her powers and Y/n told her everything she knew. Then Gwyn suggested something that hadn’t occurred to her before: what if she could manipulate air or wind enough to lift herself off the ground?
Back in her room she tried. She failed, over and over, for days. She could barely control summoning a storm on command, let alone lift herself off the ground with the wind.
The night Nesta returned, Y/n managed to stay airborne for a few seconds before dropping back on the mattress. It was a process, and she was happy about it, but there was no one to tell. At least she had Shadow, who was watching her from the foot of the bed with the expression of someone who had witnessed something deeply undignified. She scooped him up and settled him on her chest, one hand moving slowly along his back. “I guess it’s just you and me, buddy. But you’re worth more than anyone.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and fell asleep with him curled in her arms.
The next day she didn’t go to training, but once the others were done she finally went to Nesta's room. Her sister wasn’t back yet, but Y/n knew where she would be. At least things between her and Cassian were good again.
She sat on the corner of Nesta’s bed and waited. When Nesta stepped through the door, she halted at the sight of Y/n sitting there, clearly expecting to be confronted over Feyre. Instead, Y/n stood and pulled her into a hug.
Nesta reeked of sex and Y/n wanted to get the hell out of there, but first she needed to make sure her sister was alright.
“I’d ask if you were alright, but I can smell how well your night went.” Y/n stepped back after a moment.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Nesta started. “When I found out, we weren’t on speaking terms, and I forgot after–”
“It’s alright.” Y/n shook her head. “I’m not mad at you. If you’d told me, I would’ve gone straight to Feyre and ended up exactly where you did. Well, minus all the sex with the General.” She made a face at the thought. “I’ll see you around, Nes.”
“You didn’t come to training this morning,” Nesta said before she could leave.
“I’m done training with him. You two might be on good terms now, but I’m not, and it’s not just because of what happened the other day.” Y/n walked out without looking back.
—
“You’re needed in Hewn City,” Azriel said to Y/n as soon as she opened her bedroom door.
“And I’m just supposed to go when I’m told?”
“Nesta found the third Dread Trove. The Harp. We need you to ward it with her.” Azriel didn’t try to soften things. No preamble.
“Fine.” The truth was she only agreed because she hoped Feyre would be there. And she was, but so were Rhys and Cassian, and Y/n really did not want to see them. Not after everything that had happened. She didn’t speak a word to either of them the entire time.
After she and Nesta finished placing a ward around the Harp, Rhys thanked her. She didn’t acknowledge it and turned to Feyre instead.
“H– how are you feeling?” Y/n finally asked.
“I’m alright, Y/n.” A look of confusion crossed Feyre’s face.
“I heard about the baby.”
“I see.” Feyre nodded, searching for the right words. “Rhys and the others are still looking into it. But I’m alright. Really.”
Y/n was quiet for a moment. “You may come up to the house, if you want.”
Feyre’s expression shifted, somewhere between surprised and relieved. “I’d love that.” She put her hand over Y/n’s, smiling. “W– what about Elain?”
“No. Just you,” Y/n insisted firmly.
—
“What is it now, Shadowsinger?” Y/n opened the door before he’d finished knocking, already knowing who stood on the other side. He was the only one who visited her at this time of night.
“You haven’t been to training in a while,” Azriel replied in his usual calm tone.
“So? Maybe I’m done.” She crossed her arms defensively.
“What happened to defeating Cassian?” he asked, one brow raised and a subtle smirk tugging at his mouth, quietly challenging her.
“I don’t want to even look at him, let alone fight him,” she huffed.
“So you’re giving up?” he pressed lightly
“Maybe I finally am,” she answered dully.
“Are you still mad at me?” His voice dropped, more careful, like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the answer.
“Not necessarily.” She looked down at her nails, not meeting his eyes. The truth was she could never stay mad at him for more than a few days, no matter how hard she tried. And what happened wasn’t really his fault. He was loyal, so of course he hadn’t said anything Rhys told him to keep to himself.
“Come train with me then. I missed kicking your ass,” he teased, the smile not so subtle anymore.
She huffed in disbelief and slight amusement. “Haha, very funny.”
“My shadows miss you too. They told me if you don’t come up, they’ll just stay down here with you,” he tried with another approach.
“Ah, resorting to threats now, are they?” She met his eyes, and despite herself the corner of her mouth lifted.
“No, not threats. They just haven’t seen you for a while,”he murmured.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “I’ll be up in a minute. If only to shut you up.”
Summary: After your kidnapping, Azriel is hesitant to touch you
Warnings: Angst, allusion to SA
Azriel was going nuts. 2 months and 17 days have passed since that ambush they took you. He still can’t explain how they could surprise you that way, crossing your walls and getting you vulnerable against those creatures from hell. Not even Feyre dared to attack, fearing she could hurt you due to the closeness and, precisely for that reason, those monsters took advantage to take you in their deformed claws and sticky wings.
No other Court have seen those beings before. Likely a new experiment from that motherfucker who called himself a king and swear all your continent, all Prythian belonged to him. Azriel had gone through every nook looking for answers, linking ideas and legends, pushing Amren and Nesta, and finally Elain to see any clue. Finally and after lots of arguments when Rhys tried to intercede with his brother, they got the intel the were looking for: Your location.
They had a plan.
A plan that, in Azriel’s head, involved a lot of blood and suffer from those who dare to touch his mate. He had spent the whole night sharpening his arsenal, his shadows swirling around him, unrested, nervous, thirsted for revenge. They were ready. They’ll leave in two hours to somewhere in the middle of two islets gods forgot centuries ago. You were going home.
***
As expected, it was a slaughter. Azriel attacked more like a wild animal than the trained warrior he was. Without mercy, he crossed all the barriers between him, Rhysand and Cassian. Feyre and More covered the back and made sure no room, no cell was left without a check trying to find you.
They found you in the darkest and most humid cell in the dungeon. Mor couldn’t help getting sick and Azriel would have thrown up too if his heart and brain had remembered how to work.
Half unconscious, secured only for the chains in your wrists, your clothes ragged and your long and healthy hair cut irregularly to the length of your shoulders. Under you, a puddle of blood, sweat and urine.
Azriel swore whomever did that to you, will pay for it.
The following hours were blurry. Feyre broke the iron and Azriel took you out in his arms, but actually no one remembers clearly. Nesta and Elain recalled you all arrived hysterical to the River House but they helped you with anything: they called Madja and prepared a bath, ointments and gauzes for the ulcers around your wrists. Azriel took you in his arms somehow, trying to control the trembling in his own body. I think the shadows helped him stand.
They got you in the bathtub to clean the blood and dirty and Azriel, inside the bathtub with you, still with the armour and all his syphons, saw the scars in your back. You were whipped and they didn’t let you heal completely. Fuck, this was the origin of all that blood?
Azriel left his best spies at the dungeon and, when they give the complete report to Azriel, he will cut whomever did that into tiny pieces. What else did they do?
Madja arrived. Dark circles around her eyes when she inspected you, now laid in the bed and more conscious than before. She gave orders to not dress you, so she could see, not only with her magic, the importance of your wounds: broken ribs, ulcers around your wrist that would heal with the ointment, scars in your back and a few punches in your face. Ok, that was the visible part.
Madja looked at Azriel. The warrior had took part of enough rescues and had helped Rhysand with the priestess enough to know how to read the look of the healer. She was asking for permission. He took a deep breath and nod once, feeling how his heart ached more and more.
Madja looked away from Azriel and opened your legs. She put one hand on top of your abdomen and the other one under the sheet that was covering you. One second, two seconds, three seconds that felt ages for the ShadowSinger until the shoulders of the Healer loosed, her breath got deeper and told the Spy with a little bit of relief in her voice: nothing.
Azriel almost cried. They haven’t done what he most feared. But…
- Her period was 15 days ago. - Madja said, answering the reason why the bath was tinted in red.
Madja left, she informed the rest and they let you rest. However, no one could sleet that night.
Your conscience was on and off, every part of your body hurted and the only relief was staying in Azriel’s arms. You turned to look at him, those intense eyes, that perfect face, the dark circles under his eyes and his beard. His arms felt like a caress on your skin, as if he was afraid of touching you. Of hurting you.
You put one hand in his cheek. He lend towards your touch. His breath steadied.
- I never told you how in love I am with you. - You whispered. That was one of the few things I thought about during your kidnapping. How your mating bond was settled but you have never said the words you know he needed to hear. - I’m sorry. - You finished. You weren’t very sure what you were apologizing for: Not telling him how much you love him every day, being in that situation, let him feel that anxiety, push that much your investigation it became dangerous…
You though you heard him saying something back to you, but it was mumbled sound just before you closed you eyes again and felt a sleepy again.
- I love you. - He said, almost crying.
***
Two weeks.
You were overprotected two weeks. And in stress.
At home, everyone worked their asses off to finish the person who did this to you. Azriel received a detailed report after some threats that talked about an old king, apparently expelled, and his more that probable revenge.
If you think Rhys is obsessed with Feyre’s security, Azriel had surpassed him. He had someone looking at you when he was away, he had skipped his training sessions despite you had offered to be in the patio with him. He didn’t let you pour your own coffee and it seemed like he had completed an express Healer Course in relation to your wounds.
Your wrists, face and ribs did heal thanks to far abilities. You hair… well, hair grows, right? You had survived to hell and you wouldn’t let short hair annoy you, but it could help you feel better.
The scars… actually you do not remember exactly how did you get them. You remember the pain, the infection, a slightly heal and then everything once again. As if it was a bad dream. Azriel helped you clean them twice a week. Madja had told him they won’t probably fade completely but with the cream she made, perhaps you could hide the pink lacerations.
That was all Azriel touched you in these days. You need to feel him again, tho. Feel him physically, apart from all the love and shows of affection.
At night, you were all together to have dinner. Elain and Nesta were chatting next to the dinning table and Feyre was joking with Cassian next to the fire. Amren and Mor were from here to there trying to put the table, all of them wearing beautiful and fine dresses. You saw them, cuddling into Azriel in the sofa. His arm and one of his wings shielding you and protecting you from the cold. Of course, the Shadowsinger had banned you to move a finger and help the rest of the Inner Circle. Except the rest of them, your outfit was more informal, with some leggings and a wool jumper, being out of tune comparing to them. It was already time to lead your life and leave Az’s refuge. You stood up and looked at him:
- Love, I think I’m going to change clothes.
- Why? You are fine like this. - He replied nonchalantly.
- I’d like to wear a dress. - You told him with a smile. - I’ll come back in 10 minutes.
Those 10 minutes became 30. Thank’s to the twins, you could braid your hair and conceal the marks in your back. The result was incredible. It felt so good to be you again and, definitely, the others could feel it too when you came back to the salon. As before. As always. You had even caught some eyes at you and that made you smile.
***
Now in the room, you were ready to finish your plan towards Azriel. After closing the door, you took his hand and drew him towards you to kiss him. Due to muscle memory, he put one hand in your hip and the other one in your nape, returning you with a slow and sensual kiss that sent electric sparks all over your body.
But, suddenly, you felt his grip loosen and he tried to push back. You looked at him because of the interruption.
- What’s going on, Azriel? - He simple turned back and resumed his task undressing himself just to get to bed. - Do you not desire me anymore?
As a response to his silence, you got closer to him. You felt him trembling. After a few seconds you felt like a century, he looked at you. In fact, he checked your body from head to toe because you had already begun to remove your dress.
- It’s not that. - He said simply.
- Touch me, then. - You said as the dress puddled at your feet. Before your mate, you only wore a pair or lace tong.
Azriel took a step forward to you, staring deeply. He was so close you could feel his body heat against yours. Once again, he raised his hands to your hips, then to your waist and then once again downwards, stroking you sweetly, feeling how smooth you were. Finally, you closed the small space between you two, taking his face and kissing him with passion. You surrendered against his body, same his own body was giving up against yours.
It looked like Azriel was yielding, getting both of you to the bed and putting you on top of him. For a second, he got tense and stopped, making you frown and look at his face.
- I haven’t told you to stop. - You told him sweetly. You noticed his eyes had changed, turning from intense to worried.
- I don’t want to hurt you. - He replied insecure, still with his hands in your hips. His thumbs drawing circles
You took Azriel’s scarred hands, putting your own hands on top of his, reassuring him.
- You are not hurting me. - You moved his hands along your body, your abdomen, your breasts… you sighed to the feeling of his hands against your nipples, against the curve of your tits. You kissed him, moaning when you moved against him and felt his erection. In response, he moved his hands towards your back and he traced lines up and down, following the coarser forms from your scars. - It’s been months since you last touched my back. - You said, happy to finally overcome this problem.
- I know. - He said smiling. He didn’t know how he had survived all this time avoiding your touch, your skin, your heat.
- Do you want to stop? - You asked him. You needed to confirm Azriel was ok to continue. He agreed with this.
- No. - He denied with a smile and kissed you. You couldn’t stop your reply.
Summary: Only ten years since Rhysand was locked under the mountain, Azriel was losing himself… Especially in women. And when he sees you? The shadowsinger had to have you.
Warnings: 18+, SMUT, MDNI, dom!azriel, praising, hookup, creampie, semi-public, dirty talk, teasing, PIV, spanking, hair pulling, dom&sub, slight degrading, drinking, Az filling us tf up
Velaris. The city of starlight. You had grown up here. Lived within the twinkling mountains and unaware of what was going on in Prythian. The destruction. The torture. The blight. Your life had been nothing short of extraordinary if you were honest. Even if extraordinary meant running your father’s bar since his passing.
But it had been five— No. Ten years since the high lord of the night court waltzed within these walls. Ages that felt like mere seconds. Gods. But your heart— your soul- it knew that something cruel was happening. But you couldn’t figure out exactly what that feeling was.
The one that dug a deep pit in your stomach. Especially when the stars in the sky above that used to twinkle and dance so brightly, now seemed dull. Even they couldn’t fathom the dread of what was happening. Mother help us all. But you weren’t anything special. No. You were simply ordinary. Just the way you liked it.
However, what wasn’t ordinary was the spymaster sauntering into the pub. His shadows slithering and wrapping around him. The few regulars who lounged around instantly felt the zap of tension. Just from the presence of the shadowsinger alone.
You hadn’t seen him much. Granted you hardly saw him as it was. Unusual. Very unusual. Wiping away spilt liquor off the bar counter, your gaze watched him from under your lashes. Feeling the way your breathing hitched just the tiniest bit. Little did you know, he noticed.
He always noticed. Noticed everything. Noticed everyone.
That was the thing about Azriel. Spymaster, of course. All-seeing. Almost all knowing. Like the Cauldron itself knew exactly what it was doing when it crafted him from the gods themselves.
Azriel’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a devilish smirk. Not something that would even be picked up on if you weren’t paying close attention. But you were. Especially to his lips as he sat across from you. Leather wings flared out, glorious.
“Whatever you have that’s the strongest.”
The tone was ice cold, damn near slashing through the air between you two like a dagger. Blinking, you went to respond to the shadow singer, but not quickly enough. “-Neat.” He added on, his dark golden stare latching onto yours.
“Of course- Coming right up.” You were trying not to make a fool of yourself. Don’t look like a damned idiot. Your hand grazed against a bottle along the shelf, grabbing it and pouring it out just as he requested.
Feeling his eyes burning into your back, you instantly felt yourself straighten out. Not even sure why. Was it the authority? The power? Clearing your throat, you handed Azriel his drink. “Thanks.”
Little did you know. Little did you fucking know— Azriel was holding onto an immense amount of information. Information that destroyed him knowing his brother, his high lord, his best friend, was enslaved. Abused under Amarantha. And right now? There wasn’t much he could do about it.
Well…
He could forget. Or try to. And that meant drinking.
And…
Getting lost in the body of a gem as yourself. You. You’d help him forget. At least for a sliver of a second. And he needed that at this moment.
“Haven’t seen you in a while—“
That damned broody tone of his. Why was it enough to make your stomach flip? Your eyes squinted, a confused yet complimentary smile danced on your lips. “You’ve… seen me before?” Such a stupid question. You could’ve face-palmed right then. “Of course I have. A delectable creature as yourself? Hard to miss-“
The shadow singer's voice was low, hinting at something of seduction. Your beating heart wanted to implode. A deep shade of crimson splashing across your cheeks, shaking your head.
“Not sure if I would call myself a… delectable creature.”
One of his brows rose, almost amused in a sense. “Are you questioning my taste in women?” He asked while swirling around the dark liquid in his glass before throwing it back. Down the hatch. “I…No? I mean- I don’t know.” You laughed nervously, his intense stare of wanting, never leaving yours.
“Then don’t berate yourself.”
A domineering tone escaped in a rasp through his lips. His dark locks slightly hanging over the tip of his lashes. Something was happening here. So much so you hadn’t noticed that most of the customers had left the bar.
Closing. Right— get it together. You don’t cower for men.
“I apologize—“ Before you could even finish your sentence, his shadows whispered into his ears. Smoothly and dangerously. That wicked smirk from earlier only growing wider. “Don’t.”
A quick response, leaning back in his seat as he crossed his arms over his chest. The muscles flexing naturally. So much so you couldn’t stop yourself from getting a look, yet Azriel noticed. Oh did he notice. “You’re closed, hm?”
His tone came out lazy. But in a way that caused your thighs to brush together. A way that made you feel a second pulse between your legs. A giggle slipped between your lips as you nodded. “Yes. Yes we are- just you and—“
Again cut off, however this time by the chimes at the entrance. The last customer other than the spymaster, gone. Leaving both of you alone in the dimly lit pub.
“Well- now it’s just you.”
A heavy wisp of tension seemed to shift in the air around you both. He leaned closer, hazel eyes darkening to a shade of night. “I think I like it that way-“ Speaking smoothly, he reached up to lower the strap of your dress. You swallowed, throat bobbing as your gaze flickered between his.
“You do?” Glancing down to his lips yet again, you both leaned in. Azriel’s scarred hand snaking behind your head, pushing you into him. The kiss was electric. Heated. Needy. He didn’t waste time letting his tongue explore your mouth.
“Gods…you taste incredible-“
His groan alone could’ve made you soak your already dampened panties. This wasn’t expected in the least but— gods you weren’t complaining at all. Your hands danced in his hair, feeling the tickle of his shadows graze against your skin, as if even they were teasing you.
With a swift movement, the spymaster lifted you up and over the bar. “Azriel—“ you breathed onto his lips. His hands inching down your body, to the hem of your dress. So rough yet so gentle those hands. “Fuck- I need you…” He growled into your mouth. You managed to squeak out a little “mhmm”
Before you knew it, he had you bent over the thick oak bar, lifting your short dress, and the sight of your panties? Fuck. Azriel's cock was throbbing under his gear. He quickly unbuttoned his trousers, pulling out his length. “Such a good fucking girl…”—Slap slap- his hand hit hard and heavy across your ass cheeks.
“…And this fucking body of yours- gods— I’m going to ruin every single inch.”
You turned your head to the side, your gaze meeting his, needy and eager for what was coming. “Please… Please do-“
The last words you purred out before the spymaster of the night court slammed his massive length inside of you. But you kept that stare locked on his. That doe-eyed stare. The one that was driving him up a fucking wall.
Your moans grew louder, bouncing off the stone walls within the pub- the shadows danced near his ears, a low chuckle from under his breath erupting before he growled down at you. “My shadows are watching you… they like when you look at me like that- fuck”
Azriel’s hand landed on your bottom yet again, surely reddened with his print by now. The other? Wrapped within your locks as he shoved your cheek against the bar. Drilling into your wet pussy. “Don’t stop- please don’t fucking stop—“ you cried out, eyes squeezing shut.
“I wouldn’t dare stop fucking a living goddess that walks amongst me.”
The tone of his voice was domineering, your legs practically felt like jello. You felt the rush of heat that ran through your entire body. But Azriel didn’t stop. No. Your slick walls were something of the heavens.
Juices ran down your legs, puddling between your boots. Causing the shadow singer to groan with pleasure. “That’s it, god look at the mess you made. Dirty girl-“
A mess indeed. You. You were a mess. His grip tightened on your head. Another loud smack to your ass. “I’m going to fill up that pretty little cunt of yours- every last drop. Something to remember the spymaster of the night court by.” The excitement rushed within you as you gave a submissive yes.
The thrusts started going, harder, faster. Surely your cervix would be bruised after this. But in the best way possible. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. You felt too good. Too damn good. His shadows danced, as if they were a flame of darkness behind him.
And as that flame crackled within the night, you felt his cock throb and pulsate between your walls. His groans like a melodic rumble as his seed shot deep inside of you. Warmth.
Both of you stayed like that for what felt like a minute. Catching your breath when he finally pulled out his member. But not before he placed three gentle kisses along the back of your shoulder. “You’re sensational…” he whispered.
Azriel wasn’t a dick. Not fully at least. He helped you get cleaned up, his strong hands holding onto your waist to keep you steady. “Are you alright?” You nodded, a simple close-mouth smile twitching on your lips.
“More than alright, spymaster.”
That was said at a damn near whisper. A whisper of fucking disbelief. Did I really just have sex with the spymaster of the night court?! He returned a lazy smile of his own.
“I’ll be back soon, if you’ll have me-“
Teasing. It was the slightest effort of a tease but it brought a laugh out of you. With that, his shadows swirled around him while he stepped out of the pub. Leaving you alone in disbelief. Did that really just happen?
But you? You would never forget the night you spent together with the shadowsinger. And honestly? Azriel wouldn’t forget it either.
Ahhh first Azriel fic posted! I’ve been wanting to do this for so long and it feels so refreshing— I have so many more coming and I hope you guys enjoy it!🥹 Also not to worry I will not be deleting any of my SB stuff-
Dividers linked in my masterlist🌙
Love you to the stars and back, my naughty nymphs✨
The kind of man who stands too close on purpose… low voice, slow movements. A hunter. and you? His prey.
Doesn’t really flirt in a traditional way. He studies you and notices everything. He doesn’t just sell… he controls. Protective in a quiet and possessive way.
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Summary: Y/n shares an almost normal breakfast with Azriel, Cassian and Nesta. In Hewn City, Helion teaches them how ward the mask. Y/n uncovers what’s really going on between Nesta and Cassian.
A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long while… but I’m back.
My Master’s thesis completely took over my life for the past few months, but now I'm finally done and have some time again. I’ll try to update more regularly from now on.
Word Count: 2.9K.
Recap: A tense breakfast turns lighter with Cassian’s antics. Later, Azriel gives Y/n a kitten, revealing a softer side of her. During a heated sparring session, Y/n deliberately steps into his blade, injuring herself, prompting Azriel to end the training. By morning, she joins the Valkyries’ training, though not without a hint of jealousy.
“Where did you get that? Cassian asked, brows lifting as Y/n entered the dining room with Shadow tucked securely against her chest.
“He was a gift,” Y/n replied, sliding into the seat beside Nesta, one hand absentmindedly stroking the kitten’s soft fur.
Cassian noticed the difference immediately. She’d been lighter these past few days, quicker to smile, less sharp around the edges. He just hadn’t known why. But one look at the small creature curled contentedly against her made everything clear.
“And who might that gift be from?” Cassian’s gaze flicked between her and Azriel, who sat across the table, posture relaxed but attention unmistakably fixed on her.
Y/n parted her lips to answer, but Azriel spoke first. “I did. I found him alone on the street while doing my rotation through Velaris. Thought he could use some company.”
It was only half the truth. Yes, the kitten may have been from the streets, but Azriel had chosen him deliberately, picking him from a shelter.
“I see,” Cassian said, clearly trying and failing to hide his smile.
“What’s his name?” Nesta asked, leaning forward, curiosity softening her usual composure.
“Shadow,” Y/n answered, glancing down at him before looking back up. “Do you want to hold him?”
Cassian choked on his drink, coughing into his hand. “Shadow? Is that the shortened version of Shadowsinger?”
“It is not,” Y/n shot back. “Also while your Shadowsinger commands shadows, my Shadow commands attention.”
Nesta let out a quiet laugh, reaching out as her expression softened further when Y/n passed the kitten over. “He’s adorable,” she murmured, settling him carefully in her arms. “And I think I prefer this Shadow more. Less brooding, more cuddly.”
Y/n and Azriel exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them. Cassian rolled his eyes, though his grin lingered. “He’s got quite the big name to live up to.”
“Oh, he does,” Y/n said, leaning back in her chair. “He’s fearless. Always pouncing on anything that moves. One second he’s there, the next he’s gone, blending into the dark. He’s the true king of shadows in this household.” She didn’t miss the way Azriel looked up at that, meeting her gaze, which had been on him as she spoke.
Cassian barked a laugh. “Well, as long as he doesn’t start spying on us and reporting back, I think we’re safe.”
“Relax, General.” An amused smile tugged at Y/n’s lips. “Whatever he sees or hears stays with me.”
Shadow’s purring deepened, a soft rumble as he curled further into Nesta’s arms. Y/n watched him for a moment, warmth settling in her chest. The room felt lighter for it, easy, almost normal.
“Will we be seeing more of you around?” Nesta finally asked, glancing between Y/n and Azriel.
“Probably,” Azriel replied, tone calm as always. “As long as I’m training the new recruits.”
—
As Y/n stepped into the fighting ring, Azriel tossed her a sword. She caught it on instinct, but damn, it was still heavy.
“We should go back to hand-to-hand combat,” she said, adjusting her grip and testing the weight.
“Why? Finally tired of getting your ass kicked?” he teased.
She shot him a flat look. “It has nothing to do with that. But sword training is more–” she paused, searching for the ‘right phrasing’, “if things get…difficult, injuries would be visible.”
“I’m not putting my blade near your neck again.” His jaw set, the memory cutting through him. Her defiance. The moment she leaned into the edge, the line of red that followed. He shut it down before it showed. “I learned my lesson.”
“You won’t,” she countered. “But who’s to say I wouldn’t? I get carried away sometimes.”
His attention dropped briefly to her throat. “I remember. You cut me once.”
“Exactly.” She shifted her stance, rolling her shoulders. “Which is why we should stick to something less…sharp.”
“I don’t think I can do that anymore.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why not?”
“You’re… too distracting.”
She stared at him for a beat, then scoffed. “Thank you?” Then she tipped her head, considering him as she drawled, “So...are you afraid I’ll kick your ass?”
“That is one possible outcome,” he admitted, lips twitching faintly, like he wouldn’t mind seeing her try. “However, since I’m training the other recruits now, I need to conserve energy.”
She pressed her lips together, failing to fully hide the hint of a smile. “And swordplay doesn’t drain you?”
“No. It's less movement for me.” He said it deadpan, taking in her stance. “All I have to do is block your attacks.”
“Asshole.”
His lips curved into an actual smile this time. “If you’re going to challenge Cassian to a duel, how will you train?”
She let out a quiet breath. “That’s a fair point.”
“How about this? We train with wooden swords. That way no one accidentally leaves a mark on the other, and you still get your training,” Azriel offered.
“Alright.”
“I see you’re in a better mood. You look happier.”
“I am,” she nodded, grip loosening around the hilt.
“Is this because of a certain mischievous male?”
She arched a brow. “Is this how you’re going to be referring to my little baby?”
“Baby?” His head titled, brows drawing together.
“He is a kitten, after all. And he’ll always be my baby, no matter how much he grows.” She huffed under her breath. “And to answer your question, yes, he’s been a great joy.”
“I’m glad he could help you in ways I can’t.”
She stilled for a moment. “Such as?”
“For starters, cuddles.”
Y/n laughed, and his eyes lit at the sound, his heartbeat faltering for a brief moment. “...And you now have someone to talk to when you’re feeling lonely. Or when you need a comforting presence when you let your emotions out.”
“Who says I need to do that?” she shot back, though there was less bite to it than usual.
“Everyone does, from time to time.”
“And who do you talk to about your emotions?” She narrowed her eyes at him slightly.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Now I’m curious,” she said, stepping closer, studying him. “Since you believe everyone needs someone to rely on.”
“My shadows are good listeners.”
“You don’t talk to the General or your High Lord when something is bothering you?”
“Not always. They have enough on their plate to worry about.”
“They wouldn’t want you to keep to yourself,” she pointed out.
“I could say the same to you.”
She held his gaze for a moment before speaking quietly, “well, if you ever need someone to listen, I’m here.”
“Only if you’re willing to accept a shoulder to lean on in return.”
“Tempting,” she said, stepping back again, resetting her stance. “But I’ll pass for now.”
—
“You’re getting much stronger,” Y/n complimented Nesta as she drove her fist into the padded wood.
“I would hope so, I’ve been training for months now.”
Y/n’s smile vanished when she noticed a certain ginger male standing in the archway to the training area, speaking with Cassian. She stepped out of the ring and headed straight for him.
“What are you doing here? And if you’re looking for Elain, she’s not here.” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, nostrils flaring with irritation.
“As I said to your friend, not everything I do is about Elain.”
“Then why the hell are you here? And he’s not my friend.” She didn’t slow as she closed the distance between them, eyes shooting daggers his way.
“Feyre said I should come here.” He didn’t rise to it, his tone staying level.
“And you listen to everything my sister tells you to do?” Her arms tightened further across her chest.
Lucien exhaled slowly before answering, his voice calm but tired, “Y/n, I’m not the enemy here.”
“You sure looked like it when you stood next to the King of Hybern as he threw us into the Cauldron, or have you forgotten? Because I certainly haven’t,” Y/n spat, heat rising under her skin despite her attempts to stay composed.
“Y/n! Play nice,” Cassian cut in, trying to defuse the situation.
“Whatever! Tell Feyre if she values her friends, she shouldn’t send them up my way, unless she was trying to get rid of them.” Y/n huffed and turned on her heel before stalking back into the house.
—
The next day they had flown to Hewn City, Helion was to teach Nesta how to ward the Mask, and she wanted Y/n with her. Maybe double reinforcement would be better, they thought.
“I don’t like this, Nes. It’s too powerful. How are you able to resist it?” Y/n muttered, feeling the Mask’s call from where it lay on the table before them.
“Just ignore its call. Focus on something else,” Nesta replied, not looking up from the romance novel in her hands.
“Like one of these books?” Y/n tipped her chin toward the book.
“You can try one if you’d like. I have many I could lend you. Even Gwyn and Emerie have started reading them.” Nesta turned a page, unfazed.
“Ah, you’re starting your own book club? Good for you. I have no interest in romance or that kind of delusion.” Y/n’s mouth curved, but there was no warmth in it.
“No, you prefer adventures with nonexistent monsters, like vampires.” Nesta finally glanced up.
“Hey, they’re not monsters. And now that you mention it, those books did have romance in them. They just had a tragic ending, that’s all.”
“You and I have a different definition of romance, Y/n.”
Then a voice cut in from the doorway.
“Lady Y/n, Lady Nesta.” Helion bowed as he stepped inside, and Nesta rose into a curtsy.
Y/n, on the other hand, snorted. “I’m sorry, Y/n will do just fine… you have a beautiful winged horse.”
“Thank you,” Helion returned easily, looking her over without subtlety. “But you’re even more beautiful.”
Azriel tensed at Helion’s words while Y/n didn’t react to the compliment as she replied, “I believe you and my sister have some things to do.”
“Is that the Mask?” he asked, pointing at the velvet cloth wrapped around it.
“It is,” Y/n pressed, “Can we do this quickly? It has a tremendous amount of power.”
Although everyone felt its pull, no one was as affected as Y/n.
Helion showed Nesta some warding techniques and insisted Y/n remained with them, for if they didn’t want to access it, both of them had to draw a shield around it. By the end, they had created strong wards that would not even allow either of them to enter without the other’s blood.
Afterwards, the conversation shifted.
They discussed telling Eris about the soldiers still locked in the dungeon. Rhys suggested Nesta go with Cassian to inform him.
Azriel wanted to go to the human lands to confirm Briallyn had the second Dead Trove; the Crown, which would grant whoever wore it control over others, just as it had with the Autumn Court soldiers. Feyre and Rhys objected, unwilling to take the risk but Azriel argued and didn't back down. Y/n was glad to see he didn't just blindly follow his High Lord and Lady and would, at times, push back. And while she didn't often agree with them, this time, she did.
The thought of Briallyn getting her hands on him was not one she wanted to entertain.
Before the tension could build further, Helion cut in, redirecting the conversation by asking Rhys and Feyre to show him the palace.
Cassian and Nesta left shortly after, discussing whatever book she was reading. Azriel and Y/n remained. She could clearly see how upset he was.
“I know they can be ‘difficult’ sometimes, but… they’re right,” Y/n admitted reluctantly.
“You’re taking their side now?” His brows drew together, her words catching him off guard, he hadn’t expected that from her.
“No. Never. But we cannot lose you, Shadowsinger.” She said it plainly, exhaustion replacing her usual defenses, her expression stripped for once. She heard how it sounded but didn’t pull back. “If that queen got her hands on you–”
“Why is everyone certain she would?” It came out rougher than anything he’d said before.
“I didn’t say that. But it is a possibility. And I have no doubt that you are the best spy there is and that you are more than capable of handling yourself.” She let out a slow breath before continuing, “Look, I understand how you’re feeling. I know it all too well. And unfortunately, I have no advice for you. I still struggle with their orders.”
He went quiet, the tension from before easing just enough as he looked at her properly this time. “Is that why you’re angry all the time?” he asked, softer this time, like something had just clicked into place.
“That is one of the many reasons, yes.” She didn’t look at him when she said it. “Let’s go home, I miss Shadow.” For the first time, she called the House of Wind home. And not because of the place itself.
“You’ve been gone less than ten hours and you already miss him?” He chuckled lightly, the sound escaped him before he could stop it.
“I started missing him the minute I left.”
“If you told me I’d hear you say something like that a few months ago, I’d have thought you’d lost your mind.”
—
The next morning, Y/n sat picking at her breakfast. Across from her, Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel were engaged in quiet conversation.
Y/n glanced up from her plate, catching the subtle exchange of glances between Nesta and Cassian. Something about it felt off, there was a shift between them this morning that she couldn’t quite pin down.
As she leaned in to take a sip of her coffee, another sharp scent cut through it, wrong and out of place. It was the unmistakable scent of sex.
She paused, her eyes flicked to Nesta and Cassian, who were still at it, thinking they were subtle. Y/n's stomach tightened as it clicked, shock first, then irritation, a tiny hint of rage, and finally something close to amusement. She glanced at Azriel, who seemed to notice what she’d just realized. From the looks of it, he already knew.
"General?" she asked, setting her cup down with deliberate care. "Are you fucking my sister?" She didn’t raise her voice, not a trace of her internal emotions reaching her face.
The table went quiet. Nesta froze, heat rising to her face as she reached for her cup, suddenly far too interested in it. Cassian blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to pure discomfort in the span of a heartbeat under Y/n's scrutiny.
Azriel, ever the quiet observer, watched the exchange between the three of them with a mix of amusement and a touch of bemusement at her bluntness, though he wisely chose to remain silent.
Cassian cleared his throat, giving her a sheepish look as he searched for the right words. "Y/n, it's not–" he started.
Y/n lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Oh, you fucking bastard, you couldn’t resist, could you?” She crossed her arms, huffing through her nose. A crooked, incredulous pull touched one corner of her mouth.
Nesta's grip tightened on her cup as she stared at the pattern of the tablecloth. Cassian scratched the back of his neck, letting out a strained chuckle and mumbling something that might have been an apology.
“And you?” she went on, turning toward Azriel and fixing him with a look. “Where the fuck were you? As a chaperone, you’re doing a terrible job at it.”
It wasn’t anger in her voice, but rather discomfort and a trace of disgust at what she’d just realized. She did not want to think about her sister and Cassian getting it on in the same house she was staying in.
“Well,” she continued before anyone else could answer, “I can't really tell you what to do. You’re both responsible adults, I hope. Just try to be a bit more discreet next time. And take a long bath to get that stench off you while you’re at it. Try to keep it out of the dining room, would you? Or any other place that isn’t your bedroom.”
When she mentioned the dining room, the three of them exchanged certain looks, which was a mistake, because Y/n noticed.
“Oh, come on, seriously? Here? Some of us fucking eat here. And you knew all along and still chose to eat here?” She directed the last part at Azriel, turning that on him, but he remained silent, sipping his tea.
“I’m never eating here again, thank you for that.” Y/n sighed, pushing her breakfast away with a resigned shake of her head. "I swear, I'm surrounded by children," she muttered under her breath, sounding more amused than she intended.
She grabbed her mug and moved to the chair in the living area, just a few feet away from them.
“We’ll miss you at breakfast,” Cassian threw in, and she leveled him a look.
“Lovely, now two of my sisters are fucking two arrogant Illyrian fae. It couldn’t get any better,” she muttered, a thin smile forming at her mouth that didn’t reach her eyes.
“If you’re jealous, Y/n, I strongly believe Az would be ready to oblige,” Cassian taunted.
Azriel choked on his tea, and Y/n blinked. “You disgust me.”
But… to say she never thought of him that way would be a lie.
Summary: Azriel gives Y/n an unexpected gift and glimpses a different side of her for the first time. Y/n is somewhat jealous during their next sparring, and by morning she joins the Valkyries’ training.
A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a while since the last update. My Master’s project has kept me so busy that I haven’t had time to edit this chapter until now. Hopefully, I’ll be able to update the next chapter soon.
Word Count: 3.6K.
Mornings in the House of Wind were rarely quiet. Usually, Cassian’s loud laughter carried down the hall, Nesta’s sharp retorts following close behind, the scrape of chairs and clatter of plates filling the dining room with noise.
But not this morning.
This morning it was only Y/n and Azriel.
She sat at one end of the long table, coffee steaming between her hands, her eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the rim of the cup.
Azriel entered soundlessly, as he always did, wings folding neatly against his back. He paused when he saw her already seated, then crossed the room with measured steps. His greeting was soft, polite, almost careful. “Good morning.”
Her gaze lifted briefly, enough to acknowledge him. “Morning.” The words slipped out cool, automatic, before she returned her attention to her cup.
And that was it.
They ate in silence, the scrape of cutlery on porcelain the only sound between them. It wasn’t hostile, just heavy. A silence too thick to be comfortable, too practiced not to be deliberate.
Azriel kept his expression schooled into stillness, though his shadows shifted faintly, restless in the absence of noise. Out of the corner of his eye, he found himself watching the way she sipped her coffee, the faint tightening of her knuckles as if the heat grounded her. But she didn’t look at him again.
He didn’t push. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them.
The silence shattered when Cassian barged in, loud as ever.
“Good morning, Y/n, Az,” he announced, striding across the room like he owned it. Without hesitation, he plucked the toast straight from Y/n’s hand and shoved it into his mouth.
“Ugh! I hope you choke on it.” Y/n glare could’ve cut grass.
“Cassian.” Azriel gave his brother a small nod of acknowledgement, tone even, though inwardly he exhaled. He had never in his life been more relieved to see his brother of all people. At least now, the awkward silence and tension were gone.
He went on eating quietly, watching the familiar rhythm between Y/n and Cassian, their easy bickering and sharp-edged teasing.
Cassian scraped out a chair and dropped into it beside Y/n just as she reached for some fruit. His grin was impossible to ignore as he picked up an apple, bit into it with exaggerated slowness, and stared at her far too intently. Even Azriel found himself wondering what mischief he was up to.
“What’s with you today?” Y/n narrowed her eyes at him.
“Nothing. I’m just happy.”
“What did you do, General?” Her tone sharpened, suspicion clear.
The question was really: who did he do?
“Nothing important.” Oh, the second she found out, all hell would break loose. Not only had he slept with her sister, but he had the audacity to call it– or her– ‘not important’.
Azriel stilled at that. He knew when Casian was poking a hornet’s nest, and this– this was going to blow up the moment Y/n pieced it together.
“You smell weird,” Y/n remarked, nose wrinkling.
Cassian and Azriel exchanged a quick sidelong glance. Both knew exactly what that smell was.
Before Cassian could fire back, Nesta walked in. Y/n had checked on her after their return; she’d been bruised, exhausted, but fine. Today, though, she was glowing. Instead of sitting beside her sister, Nesta slid into the center seat, neatly between Y/n and Azriel, who occupied either end of the table.
“Good morning,” she greeted.
“Morning.” Y/n tilted her head, studying Nesta with narrowed eyes. “You seem different.”
“Do I? It’s probably the bruises.”
“Hmmm… is it? Because despite the bruises, you look amazing.”
“Thank you.” Nesta said nothing more, but Cassian almost choked on his apple at that.
Y/n took a sip of her coffee, catching the way Cassian looked at her sister, and the way Nesta stole glances back at him. She turned to Azriel for a hint of anything, but his face was unreadable, a mask carved of stone. Oh, he knew something. That much was clear in the way he remained perfectly still.
“Tell me, Y/n, how was your night?” Cassian asked, taking another loud bite of his apple.
“It was alright. Why do you ask?” Y/n frowned. Something was definitely off.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my night was?”
Azriel and Nesta both shot him identical warning glares.
“Do I even want to know how your night was?”
“I’m glad you asked. I had a great night. One of the best, actually.”
“What the fuck has gotten into you? Are you sick?” Y/n turned to him fully now, suspicion sharp.
“Only time will tell.” He smirked, maddeningly smug.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to her coffee.
“Are we going back today?” She asked no one in particular.
“We’ll leave after breakfast. I’ll drop you off, then I have somewhere else to be,” Azriel replied.
“More torture?” Y/n questioned, eyeing him. He was oddly vague this morning.
“Not today.” And that was all he was going to say.
—-
As Y/n was getting ready for bed, a knock sounded on her door. She hadn’t gone to training tonight, and neither had Azriel.
When she opened the door, she found the Shadowsinger standing there with a small box or cage cradled in his scarred hands.
“I don’t think I have the energy to train tonight,” she said with a slight exhale, leaning against the frame.
“I’m not here for that.” His mouth twitched in something like a smile.
“Then–?”
“I brought you something.”
“What? Why?” Her suspicion was immediate, reflexive as she straightened.
Azriel lifted the lid, and when his hand emerged, a tiny black kitten curled there in his big palm. It looked absurdly small against the span of his fingers. It made her heart and stomach clench in a weird way.
“It’s the closest thing I could find to a wild animal with claws and somewhat fangs, one that wouldn’t be too dangerous.”
“This is.. for me?” she asked, slow, the disbelief clear in her voice as she looked at the kitten then back at him.
“Yes.” He handed the kitten to her, careful, the way someone would pass a fragile relic. She immediately pressed it to her chest. Tiny paws flexed and kneaded against her shirt, claws pricking the fabric as if already claiming her as its own.
Azriel watched her face change in a way he rarely saw: the hard line at her mouth softened, the alertness around her eyes thawed. In her eyes, he saw a kind of love and care he’d never witnessed before. Yes, she loved her sisters dearly, but the way she showed it was different– indirect, fierce, protective. If anyone harmed them, they’d suffer the consequences.
With this kitten, whom she’d just met, she was immediately soft. Gentle. Careful. Unarmored. The sight made something in his chest ache, wishing for a fleeting, ridiculous moment that he was the creature in her arms.
“What is the occasion for this magnificent gift?” she asked, eyes never leaving the tiny animal now.
“There’s no occasion. I thought you might appreciate some company. Someone– or something– to talk to in this house, since you don’t feel comfortable opening up to people.”
“I– I don’t know what to say other than thank you.” She finally looked up at him.
“That is enough.” His mouth curved into a small, honest smile.
“I am truly grateful. Thank you, Shadowsinger.” She rose onto her toes, and hugged him with one arm, careful not to crush the kitten still nestled against her chest. Then she pressed a soft, unexpected kiss to his cheek.
Azriel went still, caught off guard. Though her skin was cold, he couldn’t help but feel the warmth of her embrace, and the ghost of her lips left a faint burn that made him ache more. It was a small thing, ridiculous and intimate, but it left him wanting more without him wanting to admit it.
Who knew it would take one small creature to bring this side of her to the surface?
“I hope he makes you happy,” he said at last, eyes pinned to hers though she was already lost in the kitten, like he was her whole world.
“He already has.” She booped its nose lightly. “Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?”
“So what are you going to call him?”
“Hmm, I don’t know yet…Maybe Shadow?”
Azriel chuckled. “Really?”
“Oh, come on- it has nothing to do with you. He’s black and he’ll probably vanish into the dark. Hopefully he’ll follow me around, like a shadow… Wait,” she laughed, bright and surprised at herself. “That actually does sound like you.”
“I’m definitely not a cat.”
“No, you’re a bat. Oh, that rhymes.” She looked up at him, grin still wide.
He laughed in spite of himself. “So between us, who would you choose?”
“Obviously, my little Shadow.”
“Ugh. I could easily take him back, you know,” he teased.
“Don’t you even dare try it. I’ll murder you. It’s too late now, he’s mine, and he has my whole heart, don’t you, you little cute thing?”
“I can see that. And I can sense he’s going to be a troublemaker.”
“What can I say? He takes after his mother.” Y/n shrugged, a smug little tilt to her lips. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to cuddle with my baby.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Azriel shook his head, eyes lifting upward as if to appeal to the Mother herself.
“Good night, Shadowsinger, and thank you for the best gift I’ve ever received.”
“Goodnight, troublemaker. And don’t stay up too late.”
Azriel found himself smiling the entire way back to his room. When he finally rested his head on the pillow, all he could think about was how happy Y/n had looked. The way her eyes had sparkled with joy, the way her heart had been so obviously full of love. Tonight, he’d finally seen the part of her that he knew existed all along, but had never been allowed to see.
—-
“How was your trip?” Gwyn asked as she spotted Y/n tucked into a chair in the library. It had been a while since they’d last spoken.
“It was alright. I got to see two new places.”
“I heard the Bog of Oorid is terrifying, and Hewn City is where nightmares live.”
“People tend to exaggerate,” Y/n said with a shrug, leaning back in her chair. “They’re not that bad. But…” she lifted a brow. “I did get stabbed, so there’s that.”
Gwyn gaped. “Wait– what? Tell me everything.”
And so Y/n did. Strangely, she didn’t feel the need to push Gwyn away, even though she was genuinely enjoying her company.
When Y/n finished, Gwyn leaned in, eyes alight. “Now that you and Nesta are talking to each other again, you should come train with us.”
“I’ve heard about the Illyrian training.” Y/n wrinkled her nose. “I’m not interested in becoming a warrior or doing all that exercise.”
“If you don’t want to train that hard, then maybe you could join the other priestesses. Some came to training yesterday, and now they’re training with Azriel. He’s taking it slow with them.”
That caught Y/n off guard. Her brows rose. “The Shadowsinger is training priestesses? And he’s going easy on them?” There was no hiding the thread of jealousy that slipped into her voice.
“Yes.” Gwyn grinned. “It’s really great. But he’s very quiet and reserved.”
—
That night, Y/n went to the training ring to burn off some restless energy, though part of her hoped she’d find Azriel there.
And she did.
He was already mid-exercise, his body moving with effortless precision, shadows curling faintly at his back. Sweat traced slow trails down his temples, glinting in the moonlight.
“Are we training tonight?” she cleared her throat, stepping into the light.
“If that’s what you wish.” He didn’t pause, didn’t look at her for more than a second.
“I just thought you’d be exhausted. I heard you’re training new novices. I hope they’re not giving you trouble.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to sound casual, but the sharpness in her tone betrayed her.
“No one is as troublesome as you. Don't worry.” he let out a quiet chuckle, sensing her jealousy.
“Mm hm.” She crossed her arms, posture stiffening just enough for him to notice.
Azriel slowed, before turning to study her. “Y/n Archeron,” he said slowly, “are you jealous?”
“Why would I be?” she scoffed, a little too quick.
“Because I’m training other females.”
“I get to have you all to myself at night, while they all get an hour or two.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her eyes widened the second she realized how it sounded.
Azriel’s laugh was low, genuine, and wholly unguarded. He knew exactly what she’d meant, but her horrified expression was too much to resist. The Shadowsinger who rarely smiled had been laughing more and more in her presence. It was a sight to behold.
“It’s not that funny,” she muttered, glaring at him with a pout that only made it worse.
“Seeing the horror on your face is.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with the General lately, I see.”
“You wanna chit-chat all night, or actually spar?”
“Asshole,” she whispered under her breath.
“I won’t be going easy on you tonight,” he warned, tone slightly darkening.
“Is it because you found other people to go easy on?” she shot back, chin lifting in challenge.
“Careful.” His voice dropped lower, his mouth curving into a dangerous half-smile. “Your jealousy is showing again.”
She rolled her eyes, though the faint twitch of a smirk betrayed her. “That’s actually better. I told you from the beginning not to go easy on me.”
“By the end of the night, you’ll be begging me to.”
“I never beg.” She mock-glared at him, pulse quickening.
His shadows stirred like they’d caught the spark between them, restless and charged. “We’ll see.”
Their sparring session was heated from the first strike– less training, more an outlet for whatever tension simmered between them. Both of them had energy, and other things beneath the surface that needed to be released. Azriel moved like shadow and steel incarnate, relentless and precise. She had heard stories of his ruthlessness in training, but the stories never did him justice.
If she had a heart of ice when it came to emotions, then his was forged from the same frost when it came to combat. Every strike cut closer. Every feint sought to dismantle her defenses.
By the end of the session, her chest heaved, sweat dripping down her spine, lungs burning. Still, she refused to give him the satisfaction of quitting…of begging.
Whatever had made him decide not to hold back tonight, Y/n couldn’t tell. He was like another person entirely– merciless, relentless. And she would meet him strike for strike, even if it drained her entirely.
“How are you feeling, Archeron?” His smirk was infuriating, somehow making him look hotter than usual. And she hated that she noticed.
“I’m great,” she rasped, bracing her hands on her knees to steady her breath.
“Come on, you’re getting sloppy. Your enemies won’t wait for you on the battlefield.” His voice was all bite, no softness.
“I’ll leave the battlefield to you,” she shot back without looking up.
“Are you giving up?” He circled her slowly, his sword dangling loose in his grip, eyes sharp and predatory. The growing cockiness in his tone only made her boil with frustration.
“Not in your wildest dreams.” She panted, pausing between words. “I’m…just…saying…I…wouldn’t…be…in this…situation…in…real…life.”
“And this is not real life?” His voice was provokingly calm, as though this were nothing more than a casual exchange over tea.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” His tone dipped lower, cruel in its composure. “You seem to be having trouble speaking. Come on, pick up the sword.”
She barely managed to lift it before he lunged. The impact rattled through her arms as she stumbled back, blocking at the last second.
“If you’re tired, we can just stop.”
“No. Go again.” She gathered what strength she had left.
“You’re as stubborn as a mule,” he sighed, then twisted sharply. Her blade went clattering to the floor.
The tip of his sword hovered at her throat, the faint scrape of steel against her delicate skin. “It’s over, Y/n. Do you surrender?”
“If you think I’m going to beg, you’re mistaken.” She looked up at him, eyes blazing with defiance, fire burning through the ice of her heart.
“You’d rather die?” His brow arched.
“You’re not going to kill me. And I’m not afraid of death.”
Then she stepped forward. Just enough for the blade to bite. A thin line of red bloomed across her neck.
Azriel’s eyes snapped wide. He ripped his sword back instantly, his entire demeanor shifting. All the smugness drained, leaving only hard, sharp concern.
“You’re crazy.”
“So I’ve been told.” She smirked, though her breath hitched faintly at the sting.
“Tonight’s session is over.” He sheathed the blade at his back, turning as if to leave, then paused. His head tilted slightly, shadows coiling tighter around him “And Y/n?” His voice dropped, cold and commanding. “Don’t do something reckless like that again.”
“Come on, it’s just a little cut–”
“That little cut was caused by my sword,” he said flatly. No trace of teasing now, no hint of pride. Only ice. “It might not matter to you, but it means a great deal to me.”
Something in his tone cut deeper than his blade had. She relented with a sigh. “Alright. I’m sorry.”
He gave a short nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
—
“Good morning Nesta. Berdara. General,” Y/n drawled as she stepped into the fighting ring, her tone casual, the kind that always earned a smirk from Cassian.
“Ah, Y/n, how nice of you to join us.” Cassian arched a brow, his grin spreading slow and wide. “But what’s with the sudden change?”
“Berdara told me you’ve moved on to swords, so I came to have a look.” She strolled closer, hands loose at her sides. “I figured I’d spare you some time in training me.”
That was definitely the reason she was here. Not because a certain Shadowsinger was only a few feet away, drilling a group of females, shadows curling lazily around him, while she kept sneaking glances his way. No, that was absolutely not the reason.
“How considerate of you. Is your heart turning soft for me?” Cassian teased, eyes glittering with mischief.
“Keep dreaming, General. Just don’t try to boss me around.” Y/n pointed a warning finger at him, her glare promising pain if he pushed it.
“As you wish, your highness.” He gave her a mocking bow, earning a snort from Gwyn.
“Are they always like this?” Gwyn whispered to Nesta, amusement tugging at her lips.
“It seems so,” Nesta replied dryly. “But only when Y/n is in a good mood.”
Cassian’s grin faltered as his gaze caught her neck. “What happened there?” He gestured toward the faint cut that Azriel’s blade had left.
“I accidentally cut myself,” Y/n said smoothly, but the lie was laughable even to her own ears.
Cassian blinked. “You cut yourself? On your neck? How the hell do you manage to accidentally cut your neck? If you said your hand or finger, maybe I’d have believed it.”
From the corner of her vision, Y/n caught Azriel’s head turn, his gaze flickering briefly to the mark. Then it was gone before anyone else noticed.
“Maybe I just tripped over something,” she added airily with a shrug. “And there happened to be something sharp where I landed.”
Cassian narrowed his eyes. “Whatever you say, Y/n. But I’m not buying it.”
The lesson went on without incident, and surprisingly, Y/n didn’t stir up any trouble this time.
When they wrapped up, she crossed to the third female. “Hey, we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Y/n, Nesta’s older sister. You might have heard that I’m a bitch or something, and all of it is true.”
The female chuckled, offering her hand. “You don’t make a lot of friends, do you? I’m Emerie.”
Y/n eyed her hand for a beat before reluctantly shaking it. “No, not really.”
“I could tell,” Emerie smiled.
“I need to find a nickname for you,” Y/n remarked.
“Why?”
“She has a habit of calling people by anything but their names,” Nesta supplied without looking up.
“She’s called yours and Gwyn’s,’” Emerie said with a laugh.
“The only exceptions are my sisters,” Y/n added quickly. “I called Berdara by her last name. That’s different.”
“How so?”
“It’s more… formal.”
Emerie grinned. “And now I know why you don’t make friends. But don’t worry, I’m gonna make you say my name.”
“Confident. I like you.” Y/n tilted her head, a subtle smirk playing at her lips. “You’re Illyrian, right?”
Emerie frowned slightly, caught off guard. “Yes, why?”
“Hey, Shadowsinger?” Y/n called across the ring. Azriel glanced over, and she jerked her chin toward Emerie. “She’s Illyrian. You don’t hate her, right? Only the males?”
Azriel didn’t dignify that with an answer. He just shook his head and went back to the novices.
“Are you always this…chill?” Emerie asked.
Nesta scoffed.
“I’m far from being chill. Ask anyone who knows me.”
“She’s right.” Nesta added wryly. “You should see her when she’s arguing with Cassian, or when she’s really pissed at someone.”
She didn’t bother replying, only let her gaze sneak toward the far end of the ring. Azriel’s shadows stirred as his eyes found hers. He inclined his head once, and she answered with a small, subtle smile before slipping away.
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.
When Y/n entered her room and found Elain seated in her armchair, her mood soured further.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice sharp. There were no greetings, no pleasantries, no trace of affection for her younger sister. Y/n saw Elain’s actions when she packed her belongings as a betrayal.
“I came to see you,” Elain said softly.
“Bold of you to assume I want anything to do with you,” Y/n shot back, her tone cutting.
“Y/n, don’t be like that.”
“You’re a traitorous bitch,” Y/n spat. “Nesta and I sat by your side for weeks while you refused to eat or drink. We didn’t interfere. We let you grieve. Gave you all the time you needed. No one seemed to have a problem with that.”
“You and Nesta were indulging in dangerous activities,” Elain argued, her tone hesitant but firm.
“Not eating and drinking are dangerous too,” Y/n retorted. “I just can’t believe you of all people would turn out to be a treacherous snake. All for what? So you can join Feyre’s little circle of clowns who think themselves better than everyone else?”
“You know that’s not true,” Elain protested, tears welling in her eyes.
“Isn’t it? Because the way I see it, the minute you got the opportunity to switch sides, you took it.”
“There are no sides, Y/n. You’re my sister, and I love you.”
“My sister died a long time ago,” Y/n said coldly, her voice barely above a whisper. “She was killed by the King of Hybern when he threw her into that damned Cauldron.” Angry words, full of hurt. Whether she meant them or not, it didn't matter, they already struck their target.
“I-” Elain’s sucked in a sharp breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. “If you thought so, why did you stay by my side after?”
“Because I thought there was a part of my sister left in you. But I was wrong,” Y/n said, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “You’re just like the rest of them now. A High Fae, the very kind I despise.” More poisoned arrows, her tone dripping with hatred. If Elain didn’t leave soon, she didn’t know if she could stop herself.
“You don’t mean that,” Elain whispered, her voice breaking.
“I.mean.every.word,” Y/n enunciated harshly.
“You and Nesta are the same.”
“I’m worse,” Y/n said darkly. “Now leave, I don’t want to see you again.”
Cassian had barely managed to calm Rhys down after Elain stormed out, tears streaming down her face, telling him her sisters weren’t improving, weren’t even trying. She’d spent less than five minutes with either of them and had concluded that. After Rhys and Elain left, Cassian didn’t know where to start and who to talk to first.
From her room, Y/n heard the heated argument between Cassian and Nesta. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they broke the skin. Tiny beads of blood welled up, leaving faint red streaks on her hands.
Unable to stand the confines of her room any longer, she headed to the roof for fresh air. Minutes later, Cassian followed her, his steps heavy with frustration.
“What the fuck happened with Elain?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he crossed his arms.
Y/n didn’t even turn to look at him. “You couldn’t get an answer from Nesta, so now you’re coming after me?”
“They think neither of you are improving.”
“Ah,” Y/n said bitterly, her tone dripping with mockery. “So this was an evaluation of our progress?”
“That’s not what I meant-“
“It’s true, though, isn’t it? And the best part? I don't care. I don’t care what Elain thinks of me, what Feyre, your High Lord, or anyone else does.”
Cassian frowned, his hands dropping to his sides. “You used to go head-to-head with anyone who dared look at your sisters the wrong way. And now this?”
“Things change,” she said coolly. “People change. And it’s not always for the better.”
“Not you,” he insisted, his voice softening. “Not this. There was nothing that could make you turn your back on your sisters.”
“They made their choice. And I made mine.”
“So, what?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Now you’re just going to push everyone away like Nesta? Pretend you don’t care?”
“I SAID STOP COMPARING ME TO HER!” Y/n’s voice thundered, and with it, the sky answered. Lightning rippled through the clouds, illuminating the roof as rain began to fall.
Cassian’s eyes widened a bit, his shoulders stiffening. “So you still have your powers?”
“Get out of here, General,” she muttered, her voice eerily calm. “Before I hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” she warned, her eyes glowing faintly as the storm above intensified. “I’m barely containing myself. I need you to leave before I lose control.”
Cassian studied her for a moment longer, his expression torn between concern and reluctant understanding. He realized she wasn’t threatening him but trying to contain the rest of her powers so she wouldn’t hurt him. She was holding back, but the effort wouldn’t last. If she continued suppressing it, she would explode, and he’d be caught in the aftermath. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and left, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the house.
Once he was gone, Y/n exhaled shakily, her fists still clenched at her sides. The storm above rumbled, the rain coming down harder now. She tilted her head back, letting the cold drops hit her face. And then, she let go.
The sky erupted. Lightning flashed across the dark clouds in jagged streaks, illuminating the heavens as thunder cracked violently around her. Y/n stood still, unflinching, as the tempest mirrored the chaos within. For the first time, she didn’t fight it, didn’t try to rein it in. She let her powers surge outward, merging with the storm above.
The release was almost euphoric. The rage, the pain, the frustration, it all poured out of her, feeding the storm. For once, she didn’t fear her power. She embraced it- owned it. She felt untouchable, invincible, as the rain drenched her to the bone, her heart pounding in her chest and her breaths coming fast and shallow.
This power- it was something she had never viewed this way before. No longer something to be restrained or feared, it was a force to wield, to command. It was freeing, exhilarating. Now she finally understood- it was something to die for, and it was all hers.
When the tempest began to wane, her breaths steadied, and the rain slowed, turning into delicate snowflakes.
This time, she did not faint. She had braced herself. She exhaled deeply, the last of her energy ebbing away, leaving her drained but at peace.
That night, as she prepared to sleep, a knock sounded at her door. She groaned softly, tugging her robe tighter around her as she moved to answer. To her surprise, Azriel stood on the other side, his wings tucked neatly behind him.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone neutral. Her long braid was half undone, and her transparent robe revealed the nightgown beneath it.
Azriel’s eyes flicked downward for the briefest moment before meeting hers again. “May I come in?”
She hesitated, her hand tightening on the door. After a moment, she sighed and stepped aside, allowing him in. Once he was inside, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find him standing closer than she expected. She took an instinctive step back as his breath brushed her skin, her pulse quickening despite herself.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice quieter now, unsure.
“I heard about what happened today,” he said, his tone soft.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not in the mood to argue.”
“I haven’t come to argue with you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I came to check on you,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “See how you were feeling.”
Her lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “Magnificent.”
“I’m serious,” Azriel said, his voice dropping a notch.
“So am I,” she countered. “I no longer fear my powers. I fully embraced them today, and it felt amazing. Freeing.”
A faint line appeared on his forehead as his eyebrows pinched. “So the thunderstorm was all you?”
She raised a brow. “Do you have them here often?”
He shook his head.
“Then you have your answer.”
“Do you know what triggered it?” he asked, his tone careful, measured.
Y/n’s expression shifted, “Rage, I think. This time it was rage. The other time- times, it was a mix of different emotions. The first time, it was fear. The second, pain. And now, rage.” She paused, meeting his gaze. “But every time, it happened when my emotions were…amplified.”
She hesitated before continuing. “Today, after I let go, I felt in control. At first, I couldn’t stop it, but as it poured out of me, I realized I didn’t want it to stop. The power, it was alluring.”
Azriel studied her carefully, his shadows swirling faintly at his shoulders. “You weren’t scared?”
“Not one bit.”
“Can you summon it now?” he asked after a pause.
She blinked, taken aback by the question. “I…I don’t know.”
“Could you try?” he pressed.
“Why?”
“Don’t you want to know if you can harness it any time you want?” he countered.
Y/n’s expression darkened, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features. “Is that all? Or do you want to see if I am a danger to the people around me?”
“If you were, I wouldn’t ask you to try,” he replied calmly.
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered almost bitterly. “You have your shields and shadows.”
His gaze softened. “I know you wouldn’t hurt the people you care about.”
“That’s not true,” she mumbled sourly.
“Physically, I mean,” he clarified. “Now, could you please show me?”
“But I’m not feeling anything right now,” she admitted, her voice softer.
“Does it matter which emotion it is?”
“I don’t know. So far, it’s been different each time.”
“May I try something?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Like what?” she asked warily, eyeing him.
“Close your eyes,” Azriel instructed and she raised a skeptical brow.
“Just trust me on this,” he said, his gaze fixed on her.
Y/n sighed but complied, closing her eyes reluctantly.
He moved closer, his hand brushing hers before taking it gently in his grasp. She flinched at the contact, but he tightened his hold just enough to stop her from pulling away.
“What are you doing?” she asked, opening her eyes.
“Just trust me,” he repeated, his voice a murmur. “Close your eyes.”
She huffed, her skepticism plain. “I don’t think I can do that while you're holding my hand hostage.”
He snorted at her choice of words, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t bite, I promise.”
She rolled her eyes but closed them again, letting out a resigned sigh. “Alright, you have one chance.” Why she agreed and listened to his instructions, she couldn’t quite explain.
His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over the back of her hand as he stepped behind her. His other hand gently lifted the braid that rested over her neck, letting it fall to one side. The soft brush of his fingers against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.
“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. She tried to glance over her shoulder, but he stilled her with a quiet word.
“Now,” he said gently, “picture the most beautiful place you can think of.”
She frowned mildly but followed his instruction. “Alright. Now what?”
“Think of someone you love,” he said quietly.
Her brows knitted together, her expression tightening. “You’re aiming for the wrong emotion,” she said bluntly. “My feelings are… very complicated right now. I don’t even know if I’m capable of love anymore.”
“You are,” he replied firmly, his grip on her hand steady. “I’ve seen it– in the way you love your sisters, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now.”
Y/n said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Azriel’s tone softened as he added, “But that’s not what I was aiming for. I meant something- someone… more intimate.”
“Like a lover?” she asked dryly.
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t?”
“You’re asking me to think about someone I love,” she began, frowning again, “but if I presumably loved someone in the past and we’re not together anymore, it means I don’t love them anymore. So this doesn’t make sense.”
She opened her eyes and turned to face him, her brows furrowing as she questioned his logic. The motion brought their faces closer than she’d realized, the tip of her nose brushing against his. The unintended closeness startled her, her breath hitching as a rush of heat surged through her. Her heart skipped a beat, the scent of cedar and night-chilled mist filling the small space between them. Her pulse quickened, and she struggled to ignore the pull she felt, the way her body seemed to react on its own.
In that fleeting moment, a jolt of energy sparked between them, crackling at her fingertips and sending a faint shiver up her spine.
Azriel’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable as the faint crackle of electricity escaped from her fingertips. A flicker of lightning danced across the sky outside, its glow briefly illuminating the room.
“There,” he murmured as he gestured toward the window behind her.
Y/n blinked, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. Her heart raced as she turned her face away from him to check. He hadn’t let go of her hand, not that either of them seemed to notice in the moment.
“What did you think of just now?” he asked, his tone careful, though his gaze remained fixed on her.
Y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry. A simple question, yet it felt impossible to answer. What could she say? That it had been him? That the proximity, his presence, had been enough to shatter her defenses and ignite her power? Her pulse roared in her ears, she couldn’t lie to him, but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. So she settled on deflection.
She closed her eyes again, forcing her focus on that feeling, that ripple of power coursing through her. No storm this time, but lightning struck and struck, sharp and controlled. Azriel watched intently as she concentrated, her face set with determination. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably, an eerie calm settling over them.
“Congratulations,” he said quietly. “You seem to be able to summon it at will.” He let out a condensed breath, his shadows flickering subtly around him.
She finally opened her eyes, and the lightning ceased. “I might be able to control it once it’s started,” she admitted, her voice edged with a trace of frustration, “but I didn’t summon it. It just… happened and that’s the part I need to master.”
“Well I am no expert, but I know someone who could help you,” he offered carefully.
“No.” Her reply was immediate and sharp. She stepped back from him, her hand slipping out of his grasp as she put distance between them. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”
“How do you even know who I was going to suggest?” Azriel asked, his tone even but curious.
“You were going to say your High Lord’s second-in-command,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I won’t see her or anyone from your little circle of friends. It’s enough that I’m training with your brother. Don’t push my limits.”
Azriel sighed, the corners of his mouth tightening. “I wasn’t going to. It was just a suggestion.”
“One you knew I’d never agree to,” she countered, her voice thick with irritation. “Yet you still brought it up… you should leave.”
His expression tightened, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. “Are you always so easily irritable?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I am trying my best to be civil, but you lot don’t make it easy.”
“Is that why you surrounded yourself with all those drug addicts?” Azriel blurted. “Because they couldn’t form two sentences? Couldn’t get to know you?”
Her eyes flashed with anger as she met his gaze. “I surrounded myself with them because they’re as miserable as I am,” she snapped. “We understood each other. And we didn’t need to talk about our feelings. There’s a bliss in forgetting, and all you lot want to do is shove me into a world where everyone is happy and perfect, I despise it- despise them.”
Azriel didn’t interrupt, his face still unreadable as she continued.
“At least with them,” she went on, her voice taut with frustration, ”being around those people you so disapprove of did not make me feel like shit. They didn’t judge me or force me to do anything I didn’t want to. I cannot say the same about your friends.” Her gaze narrowed, anger and vulnerability flashing in equal measure. “And don’t tell me what you’re doing is because you care about me, and that I’m going down the wrong path, and that it’s for my best, blah, blah, blah. I’m not stupid, Shadowsinger. I know what I’m doing.” Her voice broke a bit as she finished, barely above a whisper. “I just don’t have the will to live anymore.”
The room fell into an oppressive silence. Y/n’s chest heaved with the weight of her confession, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. She refused to meet his gaze, hating how her voice had betrayed her, as her carefully constructed walls crumbled under his quiet presence. She hated it all, every part of it- the way he seemed to see through her, the way he refused to leave, the way he always managed to slip past the barriers she worked so hard to maintain. The way he made her heart soften at times, despite her best efforts. The way, even after she’d pushed him away, he always found a way back it
This day had been long and horrible. She’d just shown Azriel a side of herself that she’d never shown anyone, confessed something she hadn’t even dared to voice aloud before.
“That’s a lie,” Azriel said softly. His tone wasn’t mocking, but firm, yet gentle. “If that were true, you would’ve ended your life.”
Y/n’s shoulders sagged, a long, broken sigh escaping her lips. “That’s where you’re wrong. If I did, everything would stop. I don’t deserve a quick and painless ending.” Her voice cracked once again, and she hated herself for it.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she push him away this time? Why was she confessing all of this? Stop- she needed to stop.
Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, his shadows tightening around him. “So you’re punishing yourself?”
She drew in a shuddering breath, then exhaled slowly. “I said enough,” she whispered, a faint tremor in her tone.
Azriel didn’t push further, sensing the thin thread of control she clung to. Instead, he shifted the subject suddenly. “Your theory was right.”
“What?” She blinked in confusion.
“Your powers,” he explained, gesturing toward the window where another crack of lightning lit up the sky. “They’re connected to how you feel. When your emotions are heightened, they manifest.” Her eyes followed his gesture for a moment, her expression hardening slightly as the realization sank in. She hadn’t even noticed this time as the storm raged outside.
She turned her glare on him, her frustration mounting once more. “You did all of this just to test a theory?”
“Not intentionally,” he admitted. “But when I mentioned Amren and saw how irritable you became, I noticed how your powers responded almost immediately. How your body reacted. How your powers slipped past you so easily.”
Her glare sharpened. “So you let me ramble just to see what might happen?”
“No,” he replied immediately, his voice resolute. “You needed to let all of that out. I hope you feel better now.”
“Well, I don’t,” she snapped.
“I’m not your enemy, Y/n,” he spoke softly, his tone unshaken, almost gentle, as he let out a faint exhale.
“You’re not my friend either,” She shot back, the words biting.
“You’re upset,” Azriel acknowledged calmly. “I’ll take my leave, then.” With his hands buried in his pockets and his head dipping slightly, he took a couple of tentative steps backward before turning toward the door.
“So you’re just going to run away?” she demanded, her voice rising.
Azriel stilled mid-step, then turned back to face her. “I’m not... Do- do you want me to stay? If you need someone to yell at, to vent to, I’ll stay.”
“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair as she began pacing the room. Her frustration was growing with every passing second.
He watched her carefully, his sharp gaze noticing every subtle shift- the way her body tensed, the reluctance to let him in, the struggle within between pushing him away and letting him in, the confusion, and the exhaustion.
“Take a deep breath, Y/n,” he instructed calmly.
He considered reaching out to her but held back, knowing that in her current state, she likely wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. Even though what she probably needed most at that moment was a hug.
She spun on her heel to glare at him again. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she barked.
“Alright,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll just sit here till you’ve calmed down.”
“You’re going to be sitting there a long time,” she hissed, each answer like a snake spitting venom on its prey, her eyes burning with barely contained fury as he nails dug into her palms.
But Azriel did not flinch. He did not move, did not budge. His calm presence was infuriating, steady against the storm she tried to unleash on him, as if daring her to throw everything she had his way.
“That’s fine,” he replied evenly, settling himself in a chair.
Y/n stared at him, her breathing uneven. She wanted to scream at him, shove him out, anything to make him leave. But the fight drained out of her with every breath. “No it’s not. I need you to leave.”
“Why?” he pressed.
“Because I don’t want you here.” She tried to keep herself composed, but the crack in her voice deepened.
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I don’t care,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her as it broke entirely.
“You do.”
“Stop- please just leave.” Her words were softer now, her pacing slowing, her body sagging under the weight of her emotions. She was tired. Too tired to fight, to talk, to pretend. Too tired to do anything.
“I will, once I make sure you’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though even she didn’t believe the words.
“You’re far from it, but that’s alright,” Azriel said gently.
Y/n let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she finally stilled. “I don’t have the energy to fight you anymore,” she admitted, her tone weary, defeated.
“Then don’t,” Azriel said simply. “Just get some rest.”
How could he be so composed, so calm? She did not let herself think about anything- she could not. Too drained to argue, too exhausted to pretend any longer, Y/n climbed into her bed. Her body felt heavy as she closed her eyes, hoping all of this was just a bad dream.
Azriel stayed, his shadows curling protectively around her as he watched her, almost as if they’re trying to soothe or comfort her. He waited until her breathing evened out and the tension in her features melted away as she slipped into sleep.
The temperature in the room had dropped drastically, the cold biting at his skin. Moving quietly, he crossed to the windows and closed them. Luckily, the house responded, lighting a fire in her room.
“Sweet dreams, Stormbringer,” he murmured, pulling her blanket up to tuck her in with gentle care.
For a moment, he lingered, his gaze fixed on her now-peaceful form. A hint of a smile crossed his face. Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned and slipped out of the room, his shadows following in his wake.
