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thehighladywrites · 30 days

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— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

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thewulf · 4 days

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The Quiet Between || Azriel

Summary: Request -Hiyaaa loved your Az story. So freaking good. I had one in mind and wonder if you could write it? Maybe some deep Azriel and reader angst? I'm picturing a scene where Azriel, drowning under his duties and secrets snaps harshly at the reader, our newest healer at the Night Court when she gently suggests he talks about what’s weighing on him. His words sting, making her doubt her role at the court... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew this was challenging to write but I really love how it turned out! Please let me know how you like it below. And as always, keep sending in your requests!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Dawn Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.2k +

TW: Mean Az, Harsh Words (soft ending!)

When Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court, realized the growing demands of her duties required an apprentice she petitioned the High Lord for permission to seek out a promising candidate. Her search led her to Dawn Court where your skills and unique approach to healing caught her attention. Impressed, as she often wasn’t, she offered you the chance to study under her. A chance to take over for her in a few hundred years. It was a proposition that both excited and terrified you. Normally you were more risk-averse but something within urged you not to let this opportunity slip by. Accepting the offer might be a decision you'd regret forever if declined.

Your arrival at the Night Court was a mix of awe and overwhelming pressure. You were acutely aware of the Court’s reputation with its warriors and schemers, and its dances of politics and power. Yet, as the years unfolded you found more than just acceptance. You found a place where you felt like you just might belong. Madja was an exacting teacher and under her guidance you thrived. Your skills became indispensable to the Night Court.

Mor, your favorite social butterfly, took it upon herself to integrate you into the Court's vibrant life. She invited you out with the girls to Rita's where the music and laughter helped weave you deeper into the fabric of Night Court society. Cassian with his easy grin and boundless energy offered to train you in physical defense. He said it was essential for everyone at the Court to know how to protect themselves. And even Rhysand himself showed you how to fortify your mental shields as a necessary skill amidst the intrigues that often played out around them.

Yet despite these warm inclusions, Azriel was the only one who kept a cautious distance. The shadowy spymaster was polite but reserved. He often watched you with a contemplative gaze that suggested he was trying to figure you out from a safe distance. His reluctance to engage was not overtly hostile but it was clear he held reservations. His own shadows clinging too tightly, perhaps, to allow another close. This delicate balance of respect and curiosity marked your interactions, or lack thereof, with the spymaster. You often caught glimpses of Azriel as his presence like a whisper in the vast halls of the Court. He was always just out of reach, both physically and emotionally. His aloofness didn't hinder your duties. But it did create a space of unanswered questions in your mind.

One cool evening in the Night Court the opportunity to bridge that distance between him presented itself unexpectedly. Azriel returned from a particularly grueling mission. His arrival unannounced except for the quiet clatter of his boots in the hallway of the healer's quarters. As he pushed open the door, the grimace etched across his face spoke volumes of the pain he was enduring, both visible and hidden beneath the surface.

You ushered him in, your professional demeanor in place yet your heart beating a tad faster with the realization that this was the closest you had ever been to him. His usually guarded expression was replaced with a rare, unguarded grimace of pain. It revealed a vulnerability he typically masked beneath layers of shadows and silence making you feel a touch uneasy.

"Let me help," you offered softly while guiding him to a seat where you could better assess his injuries. The proximity to him in this moment tending to his wound felt like an unspoken permission to finally address the silent questions that had lingered between you. It was an opening to understand the man who had so thoroughly perfected the art of being untouchable.

"Let's take a look at that," you murmur while taking his hand in yours. Your hands are steady and careful as you gently peel away the fabric near his wound. The cut isn't deep, but it's laced with poison, enough to have caused significant discomfort. “I’m sorry. This is going to sting.” You whispered as you rushed off to grab the needed supplies.

As you apply a soothing salve you notice Azriel's clenched jaw and the way his muscles tighten under your touch—not just from the sting of the wound. You've seen warriors in all states, and you recognize the signs of inner turmoil as clearly as physical injuries.

"Azriel," you start, your voice soft but firm, "even the strongest warriors can benefit from sharing their burdens. It doesn't make you weak to speak about what's weighing on your heart." You try and sound confident in your words, but it comes out as meek.

His reaction is immediate and sharp. It cut through the air like a freshly sharpened knife. Azriel's eyes snap up to meet your with a coldness in them that freezes you in place. "You think you have the right to offer me counsel?" he says with his voice low and biting. "You, who have barely seen a fraction of the darkness I have faced. Yet you presume to understand my duties, my sacrifices?"

You open your mouth to apologize. To clarify your intentions but he doesn't give you the chance. "No, don’t," he snaps. Cutting you off as your heart begins to sink. "Don’t patronize me with platitudes and naive compassion. You know nothing of the burdens I carry. Of the secrets that consume me. You see surface wounds and think to heal a soul scarred by centuries?" It was the most you had heard him speak and unfortunately for you those words made your heart nearly twist in two. Surely that wasn’t what you were trying to do.

Your eyes begin to burn. His words slicing through any defense you might have had. You look down instead focusing on the bandage. To hide the hurt that’s welling up, threatening to spill over. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"Save your apologies," Azriel interrupts with a tone as harsh as a winter storm. "They mean nothing in the face of what I endure daily. You wish to help? Do so by not overstepping your bounds again." You drop his arm after finishing up removing the poison and sealing the cut. But he wasn’t done, no. You just wished he’d fly away instead of cutting you even deeper. You had no intention of offending him yet here he was, hurt by your very own words. You’d never truly felt like a helpless child in all your centuries until this very moment.

As he continues his words grow even colder, each one a deliberate stake right into your very own heart. "Understand this, healer. My life, my pains are not fodder for idle chatter or curious minds seeking to 'fix' what they perceive as broken. You cannot begin to comprehend the wars I fight within the shadows. Wars meant to protect you and everyone else here from horrors you should hope never to encounter." His words were final, offering you no chance at rebuttal. Not that you would have been able to find the words. Your mind was racing in horror about what had just transpired in your very own healing hall. You, the one who was meant to mend broken souls might’ve just torn his right back open.

He stands abruptly with his wound tended but the air around him colder than the stone walls of the court. His departure is swift, leaving a wake of silence so deep it echoes through the chamber. You're left alone with the sting of his rebuke more painful than any physical wound you've treated. His words replay in your mind as a harsh reminder of the chasm between his world of shadows and your desire to heal. Guilt begins to consume you as you replay the words that struck you so hardly in your mind.

The room feels overwhelmingly empty as you struggle to compose yourself. The impact of his dismissal weighing heavily on your heart. You realize that healing Azriel might be beyond your reach. Not for lack of skill, but because the wounds he carries are far deeper and more complex than you ever imagined. Perplexed and deeply hurt you find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. Confusion is the first to surface. You had approached the situation with genuine concern. Your offer to listen driven by the empathy that defines your role as a healer. His aggressive response, then, feels like an undeserved refusal. A dismissal not just of your words but of your very intent.

You replay the conversation in your mind, dissecting each exchange, each barbed word. His accusation that you, nestled in your world of herbs and healing, could never understand the scope of his darkness stings sharply. It's true though you realize. That the depths of his secrets are beyond your grasp. This acknowledgment doesn't ease the sting of rejection. If anything, it deepens the wound. You had not claimed to understand. You only wanted to listen. And yet, he had cut you off, leaving no room for reconciliation.

As the initial shock fades, a deeper, more persistent ache settles in. You're hurt. Undeniably so. Hurt by his insinuation that your attempts at comfort were trivial, naive even. Does he truly see you as just another court member? As just a healer? Naive to the true workings of his world? The thought is disheartening, and you feel a profound sense of isolation creeping in. A sense that perhaps you are out of your depth in this court of shadows and secrets. Perhaps your mother was right. You weren’t built for the Night Court. You had a wonderful, easy life in Dawn. She had even picked out a high-ranking husband for you that would’ve provided and kept you safe. Her nagging words pricked at the back of your mind as the last five years here almost fell all for nothing. Five years was no time in the world of fae, you knew this. You were still the new healer, but you had thought that maybe you were finally finding your footing here. But then again maybe you were wrong.

Yet, beyond the hurt and confusion there's also a glimmer of resolve. You're a healer, trained not only to mend wounds but to understand the people you treat. Azriel's outburst, though harsh, reveals more than his disdain. It highlights his immense burden. His profound isolation. Perhaps your approach was too direct. Too unguarded for someone so accustomed to concealing his emotions.

As you clean up the space a quiet resolution forms in your mind. You won't push him again, no, not without invitation. The sting of his words lingers, and you decide that perhaps the best way to handle this is to give him the space he seems to fiercely guard. He may have dismissed your concern today but it's clear that what he desires most is distance. Not the compassion you offered. In this moment of reflection, you recognize the complexity of healing. It’s not just about tending to visible wounds. It’s also about understanding when to step back. Recognizing that some scars are too deeply etched to be approached without consent. Azriel has his walls, high and fortified. And you, you decide, will no longer attempt to scale them. Instead, you resolve to avoid him, believing that distancing yourself is the kindest thing you can do for him right now.

This decision doesn't come easy. You're a healer, trained to offer solace and aid to those in pain. Yet, in this case, the healing you want to provide is not welcomed or perhaps even needed in the way you thought. You accept that sometimes healing means stepping back. It means allowing wounds to close in the solitude they were opened in. Maybe with time he will seek you out if ever he feels ready to lower his guard. Until then you'll focus on those who welcome your help carrying with you the lesson that sometimes the best way to care for someone is simply to let them be.

After the confrontation in the healing room the atmosphere at the Night Court seemed to shift becoming dense with an unspoken tension that hung heavily in the air. Azriel quickly became burdened by the discomfort of his own harshness. It wasn’t often but he felt an acute sting of regret. His words, sharper and colder than he had intended, replayed relentlessly in his mind. Each sentence an echo of a reminder of the pain he had inflicted on somebody so kind.

Late into the night he found himself wandering the quieter corridors of the court trying to clear his mind.. The stone beneath his feet was cold and unyielding much like the mask he wore so well. With each step he attempted to outpace his regret, but solitude brought no relief. The memory of the genuine shock and sadness in your eyes haunted him. A vivid image that refused to fade into the shadows where he so often retreated.

Why had he lashed out? Azriel questioned himself. His normally composed thoughts unraveling with unusual disorder. He knew the stress of his duties as the spymaster often left him on edge, a blade perpetually sharpened and ready. Yet, it was more than just the strain of his role. It was the fear of vulnerability. Of opening those darker parts of himself he fought so hard to control. Seeing your concern, so innocent and genuine, had somehow threatened the walls he had meticulously built around his emotions for centuries. He couldn’t become undone by your one simple question.

He hated himself for how he had responded to you. How his instinct to protect his inner turmoil had manifested as cruelty towards you. The more he thought about it the more he despised the part of himself that had become so adept at pushing others away, especially those who dared to care.

As Azriel continued his nocturnal wanderings the shadows around him seemed to whisper of solitude and sorrow. Yet, it was the sorrow in your eyes that lingered most prominently in his mind. He realized then that his actions might not only have hurt you but could also have damaged whatever budding respect or friendship could have grown between you. This thought tightened the already constricting band around his chest. He had messed up badly and he knew it. His shadows knew it.

Resolving to seek redemption, not just for his peace but to mend the fracture he had caused, Azriel decided he would apologize to you. He needed to explain to you. To make you understand that his outburst wasn’t a reflection of his feelings towards you but a misguided defense against his own insecurities.

His journey through the night didn’t erase his regrets, but it solidified his resolve. He would try to bridge the gap his words had created hoping that you would understand and perhaps forgive. In the quiet before dawn Azriel finally stopped walking, the decision firm in his mind. Tomorrow, he would face you again, not as the Night Court's daunting spymaster, but simply as Azriel… imperfect and remorseful.

As he moved silently past the gardens the moonlight cast a serene glow over the night-blooming flowers illuminating the path with a ghostly light. Drawn by the soft, muffled sounds of distress his shadows unconsciously steered him towards a secluded alcove hidden by tendrils of ivy and the long shadows of the towering trees. It was unmistakably you. His heart tightened as he approached. Driven by a mix of concern and a need to understand the impact of his earlier harshness.

There in the dim light, he found you seated on a small bench. You were not alone, but with one of the younger assistants from the healer's quarters he had recognized. The assistant, whom you often mentored, sat beside you with a hand on your shoulder. Her presence meant to support you as you struggled with a flood of emotions.

"I don’t know any more Helena. Maybe I just don't belong here," you whispered between sobs. Your voice shaky with uncertainty. Tears streamed down your cheeks unrestrained after holding them back for so long. Azriel's words had not just stung. They had acted as a dam break, releasing all the pent-up doubts and fears you had about your place in this illustrious court. "I keep thinking maybe I should just go back to Dawn. My very own mother always said I was chasing a fantasy coming here. Maybe she's right. Maybe a quieter life away from all this would be better for me. Maybe I’m not cut out for the Night Court."

The young assistant, Helena, looked up to you not only for your healing skills but also for your kindness and leadership. She listened intently. Her expression one of deep empathy and concern. "You can't think that way," she responded softly. Her voice earnest. "Everyone here, especially Madja, respects you so much. Cassian, Mor, even Rhysand—they all see how much you bring to our home. It's not just you’re healing. It's your spirit. You're meant to be here with us. Please don’t think like that. I’ve learned more than I ever thought possible from you. We need you here."

Her comforting words were meant to bolster your spirits, but the reassurance felt hollow against the backdrop of your raw emotions. Despite her encouraging tone, the doubts seeded by Azriel's harsh outburst lingered. They tainted your thoughts with shadows of uncertainty about your place in this world you had grown to love yet still sometimes felt alien in.

Azriel was hidden just out of sight. He felt a deep pang of regret as he listened. The raw pain in your voice and the sight of your tears struck him more profoundly than he had ever expected. He realized then that his careless words had cut far deeper than he had intended, not just challenging your confidence but piercing the very core of your sense of belonging. Knowing that an apology would be necessary but not sufficient, Azriel resolved to actively show that you were valued and essential. Not just as a healer but as a vital member of their community. His thoughts solidified in the quiet of the night. He would make amends, starting with a heartfelt apology and followed by actions that would hopefully restore your faith in your place at the Night Court.

It was an ordinary yet busy day in the healer's quarters of the Night Court. You were deeply focused on tending to a young fae warrior who had sustained a minor but painful injury during training. As you carefully applied a healing salve the sound of urgent voices and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"He needs help now!" Azriel's voice carried a tone of dire urgency as he burst into the room. He was supporting a limping Cassian whose leg was bleeding profusely from a deep gash surely laced with poison. These damn Illyrians always coming back with some form of poisoned injury. The sight of such an injury would normally have you on your feet and rushing over. But the presence of Azriel, the harbinger of your recent heartache, gave you pause.

For a split second your gaze met Azriel's and the memory of his harsh words and cold dismissal surged through your mind. You looked away as quickly as you could. Your chest immediately tightened with anxiety at the thought of what to do. It wasn’t fair to Cassian to ignore him, but you didn’t think you could face Azriel right now. Terrified of another confrontation and still raw from the last you quickly turned your attention back to the young fae before you.

"This one's in a critical state, I need to focus here. Helena, please attend to the General." you called out your voice slightly louder than necessary. The lie laid bitter on your tongue. It wasn't entirely untrue. His injury did need attention, but it certainly wasn't as dire as Cassian's condition.

Helena, who had followed in behind Azriel and Cassian, quickly stepped forward to assist, sensing the tension. "I've got him, don't worry," she spoke as she moved to tend to Cassian with a swift efficiency that you were grateful for.

As you focused intently on the young fae's injury with your back turned to the drama unfolding behind you, you heard every strained whisper and shuffling footstep echoed ominously. Despite your efforts to concentrate your mind spun with anxiety and dread. You knew your actions were a protective shield guarding you from a confrontation you felt unprepared to handle.

Behind you, Azriel's concern for Cassian was palpable. His usual stoic demeanor was pierced by urgency. His voice a low, constant murmur as he assisted your assistant. Yet, his mind was partly on you. He was troubled by the palpable tension and the rigid set of your shoulders. The memory of his previous harshness towards you weighed heavily on him, mixing regret with a newfound caution. He wondered if his actions had broken something essential. Perhaps fearing that your trust in him might be irreparably damaged.

Cassian, despite his pain noticed the strained dynamics as well. As your assistant worked on his wound his eyes flicked towards you, then back to Azriel. "What happened between you two?" he hissed under his breath not missing the unusual distance you kept. Azriel's silence was an answer in itself. It was filled with remorse and resignation. Cassian's frown deepened. Concern for his friends overshadowing his physical discomfort. "You need to fix this, Az," he muttered, firm yet worried. "She’s not just any healer. She’s part of this family now. She’s going to replace Madja someday."

Once the immediate crisis was handled and Cassian was stable Azriel made his way towards you. His steps were hesitant, each one heavy with regret. When he paused by your side his presence felt like a cold shadow. His usual warmth for his family became obscured by the barrier that had formed between you.

"Thank you," he said softly. His voice low and perhaps understanding more than you wanted him to. "For all that you do here." You sucked in a breath at his words. Was he apologizing? Was he sorry? Were you completely misreading the situation yet again?

You didn't turn to face him. Fear of what you might see in his eyes—anger, disappointment, or worse, indifference—kept you fixed in place. "Of course," you managed to whisper. The words barely escaping your lips. He sensed that this wasn’t the time nor place to dig deeper so he resolved to keep his words simple. He would find you later when you weren’t busy working. He truly needed to apologize to you.

After he left the weight of the encounter settled heavily upon you. You felt a mix of relief at having avoided direct confrontation and a deep-seated guilt for your evasion. You knew this wasn't just about professional duties. It was about the fractures within a team, a family you had grown to cherish.

Later, as the healer’s quarters quieted and the evening settled in, Cassian found you in the gardens, where the night’s cool air seemed to echo the chill in your own thoughts. It was your favorite place to relax and unwind. Your sanctuary in the chaos that was the Night Court. He approached with a confident stride despite his recent injury and his expression was serious.

"Hey," he started. His voice carrying a hint of his usual directness mixed with concern. "Things were off between you and Az today. He’s worried, and frankly, so am I. We’ve all had our rough patches, but we don’t let that drive a wedge between us. Yeah?"

You paused, looking down at your growing herbs rather than meeting his gaze. You let out a soft sigh before answering him. "I’m just scared, Cass. I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing again. It’s like... I’m tiptoeing around landmines with him. How do I even start to fix that?"

Cassian nodded. His features softening slightly. "Az can be intense. I won’t argue with that. But he’s also one of the most upright guys I know. Just be honest with him. Tell him you’re trying to avoid making things worse. He respects straightforwardness. Always has." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "And remember, it’s not just about avoiding the landmines. It’s about clearing the field. Start with the truth. It’s always been the best foundation for us here, no matter how hard it might be."

You nodded appreciating his words. He was right. The truth got you so much further. "Thanks, Cass," you replied feeling a resolve begin to form. "I think I’ll talk to him. Just lay everything out."

"That’s the way," Cassian said with a brief nod. "We’re all here together, and we keep no secrets... save Azriel,” He smirked knowing that’s likely what got the two of you in the situation in the first place. “At least not the kind that hurt. If you're honest, he’ll listen. And if there’s anyone who can understand the value of facing hard truths, it’s Azriel."

As Cassian left you to your thoughts the weight on your shoulders didn't lift entirely but you felt more prepared to face the challenge ahead. Honesty would be your approach; you would share your fears with Azriel, hoping that it would bridge the gap between you. After all, in the Night Court, even the darkest shadows were faced together, not alone.

The next night you found yourself back in the serene confines of your herb garden where the evening light softened the edges of each leaf and petal. You were deeply absorbed in tending to a cluster of chamomile. The quiet focus on your plants provided a necessary reprieve from the swirling anxieties that had occupied your thoughts lately. However, your calm shattered when a shadow loomed unexpectedly over you. Azriel.

Startled, you looked up, only to find him standing there watching you with a curiosity you’d never seen from him before. His sudden presence was imposing and unexpectedly close and sent a rush of panic through you. His height and the intensity in his eyes seemed to fill the space making the air around you feel thinner.

"Oh! Azriel, you surprised me! I didn’t hear you walk over," you blurted out. A nervous chuckle escaping you as you hastily tried to gather your scattered wits. "I was just, um, focusing here, and—you know, plants don’t really talk back, so I guess I wasn't expecting any company."

He paused after noting your discomfort. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you," he said gently. His voice a soothing rumble. "I came to apologize. For the last time we spoke. I was too harsh. It was unfair to you."

Your response tumbled out in a rush. Your words tripping over each other. "No, no, it’s fine, really. I mean, not fine fine, but you know… I should’ve been more aware or something. I’m usually not this jumpy, I swear. Maybe a little—actually, maybe a lot right now because, well, you're kind of, um, imposing? And this wasn’t how I imagined our next conversation going..."

Azriel’s slight smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it did appear to carry a hint of amusement at your rambling. "I appreciate you saying that, but truly, I am the one who should be apologizing. I’ve thought a lot about what I said... and I regret it deeply. You didn’t deserve that." He took another step toward you as you stood.

You swallowed hard trying to steady your racing heart. "Why are you apologizing now?" you managed to ask feeling suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. The question felt bold, but your voice was anything but confident.

He took a slight step back giving you a bit more space. "Because I realized I might have made you feel unwelcome or undervalued here and that’s… that’s the last thing I want. We all need to support each other, and I failed in that moment. I want to make it right if you’ll let me."

Your mind raced with every thought, but you nodded feeling a mix of apprehension and relief. "I... yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been feeling a bit lost here. Like maybe I don’t belong. It’s been tough, and, well, your words stung. But maybe, I don’t know, maybe we can start over? Try to understand each other a bit more?" As you offered him a tentative smile the garden seemed to return to its peaceful state. The earlier tension dissipating slightly.

Azriel’s gaze softened with a rare flicker of amusement lighting his eyes as he noticed your unease. "You handle the complexities of healing with such ease," he commented with a slight tease in his voice, "yet you seem quite disarmed by a rather simple conversation."

You gave a small self-conscious laugh appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, it's one thing to deal with herbs and potions. They tend not to talk back. It's another to navigate apologies and emotions. Especially with someone who usually keeps his cards so close to his chest."

He smiled and it transformed his face, softening the usual stern lines. "Fair enough," he conceded. Then, his expression turned more serious. The playful glint replaced by a depth of sincerity. "I really am sorry, though. For everything. I know I keep saying it, but it’s because I mean it. I’ve been... difficult towards you these last few years. And I don’t want to burden you with the things I’ve carried. Of the decisions I've had to make. It’s not your weight to bear."

You listened, understanding dawning as you saw the heavy cloak of responsibility he wore. Something that was so integral to his identity yet so isolating. "Maybe not," you replied softly, "but sharing those burdens doesn’t mean you're passing them on. It just means you’re not alone with them anymore. We can share without it being a burden. Sometimes, sharing is how we heal."

Azriel looked at you with something like wonder flickering in his gaze. "I suppose you’re right," he admitted. "It’s just not easy for me. I’ve always thought keeping my troubles to myself was a way to protect others. But maybe... maybe I’ve been wrong about that." The conversation deepened as each of you explored the nuances of forgiveness and the strength found in mutual understanding and empathy. Azriel learned about the power of vulnerability. Not as a spymaster but as a man. And he saw how your empathy and gentle nature enriched the court in ways that strategy and strength could not.

"I've kept many secrets," Azriel confessed. His voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of rustling leaves. "Not because I enjoy the solitude but because I fear the consequences of those secrets unraveling."

"You don’t have to tell me everything," you assured him. "Just knowing that you trust me enough to admit you have these secrets is a step. We all have secrets Azriel. What matters is how we face them and who stands with us when we do."

Azriel nodded. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you for understanding."

You nodded but still felt a nagging question at the bottom of your heart. The gardens around you seemed to hold their breath as you voiced a concern that had been shadowing your thoughts. "Azriel, back when you... when you were upset. You called me 'healer.' Is that… is that all you see me as?" Your insecurity got the better of you. The question sounded so much more childish as you asked it aloud, but you needed to know the answer.

Azriel’s expression changed instantly. The regret in his eyes unmistakable. "Gods, I am so sorry, Y/N. I was angry and overwhelmed and I unfairly took it out on you." His voice was thick with remorse. His usual stoicism giving way to a rare openness. "You are so much more than just a healer to us, to me. I should never have made you feel otherwise." Seeing the sincerity in his gaze you felt a complex knot of emotions begin to untangle. Yet, there was still a shadow of sadness in your eyes. A remnant of the hurt his words had caused.

Noticing this, Azriel did something completely unexpected. He stepped closer. His presence enveloping you whole, and hesitantly, almost awkwardly he opened his arms. "May I?" he asked softly giving you the choice.

With a small nod you stepped into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It was a rare gesture from him as he was known for his guarded nature. It spoke volumes of his regret and his desire to make amends. His shadows ever a part of him, seemed to curl around the both of you gently. A comforting whisper against your skin.

As you stood there held in his careful embrace Azriel spoke again, his voice gentler than you had ever heard. "I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. I let my anger and frustrations dictate my actions and you bore the brunt of that. I promise you this, I will do better. You deserve better."

Pulling back slightly he looked down into your eyes, ensuring you could see the truth in his. "Thank you for giving me the chance to apologize, to make things right. I don’t take your forgiveness lightly."

Your heart that was once heavy with doubt and hurt now fluttered with a burgeoning sense of renewed connection. "Thank you, Azriel, for understanding, for this," you said, your voice steady despite the emotions brimming within.

This conversation that was once a tentative path to reconciliation had blossomed into something deeper. A genuine connection fostered by understanding and shared vulnerabilities. Azriel's willingness to show his softer side, to bridge the gap with both an apology and a hug, marked a new chapter in your relationship. One filled with potential for even greater understanding and closeness. Together in the quiet of the herb garden you both began to navigate a path toward healing. Your relationship strengthened by the honesty and empathy of your exchange. It was a tentative step forward. One filled with potential for deeper understanding and a strengthened connection.

As the weeks turned into months, the atmosphere between you and Azriel visibly shifted. You both continued with your roles at the Night Court—Azriel, cloaked in shadows as the spymaster, and you, weaving magic and medicine as a healer. The sharp edges of earlier interactions softened replaced by a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding that grew with each passing day.

One evening during a relaxed gathering at the Night Court, the air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the warm laughter of friends and allies. Under the gentle glow of twilight you found yourself beside Azriel discussing something that excited you greatly—a plan for a new herb garden specifically designed for healing and restorative properties.

As you outlined your ideas your enthusiasm was palpable. "I’ve been researching some rare herbs that could thrive here under the Night’s eternal stars," you explained with your hands gesturing animatedly. "There’s this one flower, Lumina Blossom, known for its potent healing capabilities with poison but incredibly rare. I think with the right care, we could cultivate it here."

Azriel watched you with a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened intently. The usual shadows that clung to him seemed to lift slightly instead replaced by a light of curiosity sparked by your passion. It was a stark contrast to the brooding intensity he was known for. His gaze was fixed on you, clearly fascinated by your knowledge and the excitement that lit up your features.

"Have you considered adding Dawnlight Belle to your garden?" he suggested. His tone encouraging but slightly hesitant, as if he were treading on unfamiliar ground. "I've heard it's a good one. Especially for salves used in treating deep wounds, which unfortunately, we encounter often here."

You paused, your expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Azriel, I'm impressed you’ve heard of Dawnlight Belle," you said while nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, it's remarkably effective for healing deep wounds and incorporating it here would indeed be incredibly beneficial. It's also a bit of home but with a practical use for the Night Court."

Azriel’s smile widened slightly. His usual reserve melting away in the warmth of the conversation. "I thought it might be useful," he said softly. "It’s important to have pieces of home with us. And you’ve done so much to find your place here. It’s only fitting your garden does the same."

The conversation flowed easily between you as it slowly had come to. And as you spoke more about your plans Azriel's responses were thoughtful, showing his deep respect for your work. It was clear that he was not only listening but also truly engaged in what you were sharing.

As the evening wore on you found yourself more relaxed and open to discussing your hopes and dreams for the garden. Azriel's attentiveness and the sincere interest he showed in your passions brought a new depth to your interaction. A sense that something meaningful was blossoming between you, rooted in mutual respect and a shared sense of purpose.

Together you sketched out potential layouts for the garden. His strategic mind complementing your creative vision. The project that was born from a casual conversation was shaping up to be a beautiful symbol of regeneration and unity. It was a confirmation to the growing relationship forming between you as you both discovered the joy of collaboration and mutual understanding.

From across the way Cassian caught Rhysand and Feyre’s attention, nodding subtly towards you and Azriel with a wide grin. "Look at that," he chuckled. "Seems our resident shadowsinger has found a bit of light. Never thought I’d see the day."

Rhys, with a sly grin and a sparkle in his eye that matched the mischief in his voice, glanced over at you two. "Oh, I’d say there’s a bit more than just gardening going on there," he quipped as he leaned back with an air of casual intrigue. "Wouldn’t you agree, Cass? Feyre? It seems our spymaster might just be more enchanted with our lovely healer than he lets on."

Cassian laughed. His loud voice booming across the room. "You're one to talk, Rhys. Just don’t start planning their mating ceremony yet. Let them at least decide if they like each other first."

Feyre, who had been quietly observing the exchange from her place next to Rhysand, chuckled and shook her head. "She seems so good for him I must admit. But don't you dare meddle, Rhysand. We know how that turns out," she teased. Her eyes gleaming with humor. "Remember the Great Cake Incident of '49?"

The group erupted into laughter, including Rhys, who rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright, no meddling," he conceded. His voice still laced with laughter. "But for the record, that cake deserved better and meddling here would only help them."

The evening continued with the stars twinkling above as conversations flowed around the room. Your interaction with Azriel, now less guarded and more genuine, did not go unnoticed by those who knew him best. As the night deepened, the easy banter and shared smiles between you and Azriel spoke of something that was quietly strengthening. It was clear to everyone, even without Rhysand’s playful meddling, that something significant was blossoming. Something that went beyond the professional respect of two court members.

Together, you and Azriel discovered that even in a place as mystical and imposing as the Night Court, the true magic lay not just in ancient spells or hidden power but in the connections forged through vulnerability, trust, and perhaps, the beginnings of something deeper.

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