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giuliasnow

Not Your Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: You opened your eyes

Warning: Angst, fighting, injuries

Word Count: 2209

Inspired by this ask

“God, Y/N. I’m fine.” Rafe pulls your hand from his collar. But you click your tongue at him.

“Come on, I promise you look better with it folded properly.”

Rafe glances at his watch. “We’re running late.”

“Who cares?” You mutter as you straighten the creases of his shirt.

“I do.” He snaps before grabbing hold of your wrist and dragging you out of his room, not letting go until you are standing right next to his car. He opens the door for you and taps his foot as he waits for you to get inside but your steps are too slow with you checking your bag for necessities.

“Tylenol. Mouthwash. First aid kit.” You look up from your bag. “You still have our extra clothes in your trunk, right?”

“Yes.” He spoke impatiently, his bored stare sharpening.

When you finally get inside, he slams the door extra loud, startling you, but you shrug as you fasten your seatbelt.

•18+ Adults Only

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Sparks pt. 2 || sc87 x reader

✧ ˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖°✧

Part one here ✧ series masterlist here

Warnings: angst, awkward Sidney, nsfw content!!! MUCH longer than part one so strap in.

Summary: your ex is off winning Stanley cups and you’re back home after school for the summer. After an awkward run in at the grocery store you assume that’s the last you’ll see of him. And then Sidney comes knocking on your front door.

Important note!!! I didn’t originally intend to write a pt2 but here we are… so therefore the time line is a bit messed up and confusing. I edited some dates in pt1, but for the sake of my story, we’re pretending Sid brought the cup home early summer of 2009, not September of 09. Four years have elapsed since reader went off to school. You’ll catch on. That’s it :))

More below the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

idkyetxoxo

Six | Seen | Invisible

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 3.1k

Warnings - None

<- prev || series masterlist ||

It has always been you.

Those were the words Azriel had said on the street under the stars, his hand wrapped around mine, his voice so quiet I almost hadn't heard it.

Those were also the words he had meant.

Three weeks had passed since that night, and somewhere in those three weeks, my entire life had changed without me even realising when it happened.

Azriel had quietly, casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, moved us into a small cottage he owned on the quieter edge of Velaris.

He hadn't made a big announcement about it. He hadn't asked in some grand, dramatic way.

He had just said, "I have somewhere I think you'd like better," and the next thing I knew, we were standing in front of a small stone cottage with ivy crawling up the walls and smoke curling from the chimney.

I had loved it immediately.

shadowdaddiesclub

When the Shadowsinger loses his mind

This part takes part BEFORE When the Shadowsinger rests (can be read as solo)

Azriel x reader fluff / pre-relationship / wing sensitivity / mutual pining / teasing / hurt-comfort (Before the mating bond) Azriel returns home injured after a mission, and all you want to do is help. You just didn’t know Illyrian wings were quite that sensitive.

Rain had been falling over Velaris for most of the evening, soft and steady against the windows while the fire crackled low in the sitting room and shadows stretched lazily across the walls.

Cassian occupied one end of the couch with all the elegance of a dying warlord, boots planted shamelessly across the table despite Rhys having threatened him over it often enough that the argument had become part of the house itself by now, while you sat curled into the armchair near the fire pretending to read.

Pretending being the important word.

Because every few minutes your attention drifted back toward the front door.

Toward the threshold.

Toward the absence of shadows.

Azriel had been gone for four days now, and Rhys had offered almost no details beyond some vague mention of trouble near the border that needed handling immediately. Which, apparently, meant Azriel once again being sent directly toward danger while everyone else carried on pretending the male was indestructible.

You hated that.

Hated how easily he threw himself into risk without hesitation, how little value he seemed to place on his own wellbeing compared to everyone else’s. Sometimes it felt as though Azriel only existed in pieces for himself, while the rest of him belonged entirely to duty.

And maybe that was why fear had settled so heavily in your chest tonight.

Because you loved him.

The realization itself was no longer frightening. It had lived inside you quietly for too long now, woven into every glance that lingered a second too long, every instinct that drew you toward him before thought could intervene. Everyone around you seemed to know it too. Cassian certainly did, if the looks he gave you whenever Azriel entered a room meant anything. Feyre knew. Rhys definitely knew.

The only person who never said anything about it was Azriel himself.

Azriel, who always stood too close and never close enough.

Azriel, whose shadows curled around your wrists like they already knew you.

Azriel, who looked at you sometimes with something so restrained and aching in his eyes that your chest hurt afterward.

You had spent years circling each other like this.

And tonight, for the first time, the thought of never breaking that distance terrified you.

What if one day he simply did not come home?

What if something happened to him out there before you ever found the courage to tell him?

What if tonight—

The lock clicked.

Your entire body went still.

Shadows slipped beneath the doorway before Azriel even entered, restless and sharp-edged as they spilled silently across the floor.

Then Azriel stepped inside.

Rainwater dripped steadily from his leathers onto the hardwood floor while exhaustion clung visibly to every line of his body, but your eyes snagged instantly on the streak of blood spread across one of his wings.

Not enough to panic.

Enough that something painful twisted low in your chest anyway.

Cassian noticed too, lowering his feet from the table as he straightened slightly. “Mother above,” he muttered, staring openly at Azriel, “you look like shit.”

Azriel shut the front door behind himself with visible effort before unbuckling Truth-Teller from his side and placing it carefully onto the entry table.

“You’re bleeding,” you said immediately, already rising to your feet.

Azriel glanced once toward the injured wing as though he had forgotten it existed entirely. “It’s superficial.”

“You once said that with a knife through your shoulder,” Cassian reminded him lazily. “You were actively hallucinating at the time.”

Azriel ignored him completely.

Your feet were already carrying you across the room before you had fully decided to move. By the time you stopped directly in front of him, close enough to see the exhaustion carved beneath his eyes, concern had entirely overridden any embarrassment you might have felt at standing so near.

“Upstairs,” you told him softly.

Azriel looked at you for a long second. “I can take care of it.”

“I know you can,” you replied. “That doesn’t mean you should.”

For half a heartbeat he only stared at you, something unreadable flickering behind his exhaustion before your fingers wrapped carefully around his wrist.

His shadows stirred instantly around your hand, shadows that usually reacted to strangers with sharp suspicion now curling briefly against your skin before retreating again, not alarmed or defensive in the slightest but strangely curious, almost familiar, as though they already knew you.

Azriel noticed the movement immediately.

So did Cassian.

The grin beginning to spread slowly across Cassian’s face already made you suspicious.

“You are leaving blood on the floor,” you continued while guiding Azriel toward the stairs before either male could say anything else.

“It’s alright,” Azriel said quietly. “I’ll clean it.”

“Of course you will,” Cassian called after you both with a smirk.

You shot him a look over your shoulder.

Cassian only lifted his drink in salute.

Azriel followed you upstairs without resistance.

That worried you more than if he had argued.

Usually helping Azriel required manipulation, threats, or Feyre physically cornering him with bandages while Rhys laughed nearby. Tonight he only looked tired enough not to fight you over it, his shadows trailing sluggishly behind him as you guided him toward the bathing room adjoining his bedroom.

Steam slowly filled the room while you searched beneath the sink for salves and clean cloths. Behind you, leather hit the floor piece by piece before silence settled softly between you.

Your throat bobbed.

This should not have felt different, but somehow it did. Maybe it was the quiet of the room, or the warmth curling through the steam-filled air, or simply the intimacy of standing here alone with him while rain tapped softly against the windows beyond. Whatever the reason, when you finally turned around again, your breath caught slightly.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bathtub now, broad wings partially unfurled behind him to keep the injured one from brushing the walls. Bruises darkened his ribs beneath old scars while several shallow cuts crossed his shoulders and chest, but your attention fixed immediately on the wing.

Several thin tears split through the membrane near the base.

Not severe, but still painful.

“Oh, Azriel.”

His eyes lifted toward you immediately at the softness in your voice.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“That sentence should honestly be banned from your vocabulary.”

A faint twitch touched the corner of his mouth before vanishing again.

You stepped closer carrying the bowl of warm water carefully between your hands before crouching beside the wing.

“Let me see.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Azriel murmured quietly.

Your eyes lifted to his through the mirror above the basin. “I know.”

For one suspended moment neither of you looked away.

Then you forced yourself to focus back on the injury.

Most of the blood had dried by now, dark against the membrane, though the torn areas still looked raw enough to make something unpleasant twist inside you.

Azriel remained completely silent while you inspected the damage, though you were deeply aware of the weight of his gaze lingering on you.

After nearly a minute, he said quietly, “You should see the other male.”

The laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and something in Azriel’s expression softened immediately in response. A small smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth, tired but real enough that your breath caught slightly all over again.

“I bet he looks worse,” you said.

Azriel’s quiet hum vibrated low in his chest while his gaze lingered on you for half a heartbeat too long before finally drifting away.

You dipped the cloth into warm water before carefully pressing it against the wing.

The second your fingers brushed the membrane, Azriel went unnaturally still beneath your hands.

Your brows pinched immediately.

“Did that hurt?”

“No.”

The answer came far too quickly.

Suspicion flickered through you, but you focused on the wing instead, carefully cleaning blood from the dark membrane while candlelight flickered gold against it.

Then you noticed his hand.

Azriel’s knuckles had gone nearly white around the edge of the tub, the muscles in his forearm tightening visibly beneath scarred skin before a sharp breath slipped through his nose.

Your hands stilled instantly.

“Okay,” you murmured carefully, “that definitely hurt.”

“It didn’t.”

The answer came a little too fast.

You glanced up at him just in time to catch the tightness lingering in his jaw before he turned his attention firmly toward the opposite wall.

“You sound deeply offended by the experience,” you observed.

Another controlled breath slipped through his nose, though this time the edge of the tub creaked faintly beneath his grip.

You softened your touch instinctively anyway while cleaning another thin line of blood lower along the wing.

Azriel’s fingers tightened harder around the edge of the tub.

Your attention lifted slowly toward him.

“…Azriel.”

“Mhm.”

“You look deeply distressed right now.”

“I’m injured.”

“That is clearly not the problem.”

Something dangerously close to a groan almost escaped him then before he swallowed it back down behind another measured breath.

Azriel closed his eyes briefly before muttering a quiet, strained, “Fuck.”

Your brows lifted immediately.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That definitely sounded like something.”

“It’s fine.”

“You keep saying that while looking like you’re trying to survive an interrogation.”

Azriel tipped his head back slowly against the wall behind him and exhaled through his nose, long and controlled like he was counting through something silently inside his own head.

Then your fingers drifted slightly lower near the base of the wing.

Azriel’s entire body locked.

The rough sound that escaped him this time was unmistakably not pain, low enough that heat rushed instantly into your face while his grip tightened hard around the edge of the tub beneath your hands.

Your mouth fell open slightly.

Azriel closed his eyes harder. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Azriel.”

“Don’t.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared up at him. “You are reacting very strangely to this.”

“I’m aware.”

Another careful breath slipped through his nose.

Your gaze drifted slowly back toward the wing before lifting toward him again.

“That definitely did something.”

“It’s a wing.”

“Yes,” you replied slowly, still staring openly at him now, “but I don’t think wings are supposed to do that.”

Azriel groaned softly beneath his breath.

The sound sent unexpected warmth rushing instantly into your face.

You could only stare at him in fascinated disbelief while he sat there visibly fighting for every scrap of composure he still had left.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Carefully now, curiosity overriding common sense entirely, you brushed your fingertips lightly across the base of the wing again.

Azriel’s wing jerked violently.

His grip tightened hard enough around the edge of the tub that the wood groaned beneath his hands while another rough sound escaped him, lower this time, nearly swallowed back immediately afterward.

Your eyes widened slowly.

“Oh my gods.”

Azriel tipped his head back briefly before dragging another careful breath through his nose. “You are enjoying this far too much.”

“I have absolutely no idea what’s happening.”

“That makes one of us.”

The answer came rough enough that heat rose instantly into your face.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, but the moment your gaze lifted toward him again, the sound died somewhere in your throat.

Azriel was already looking at you.

Really looking at you now, with all the careful restraint stripped painfully thin around the edges.

Your breath caught slightly.

Then the bathroom door opened.

Cassian walked in halfway through saying, “Rhys wants to know if you’re done brooding in—”

Then he stopped.

His gaze moved slowly across the room, taking in Azriel sitting rigidly on the edge of the bathtub, the white-knuckled grip he still had on the edge of it, the wing stretched carefully across your lap, and finally your hand resting far too close to the base of the membrane.

Silence settled heavily through the bathroom.

Cassian’s expression did not change immediately.

First came confusion.

Then suspicion.

Then horrifying, dawning understanding.

His eyes snapped back toward Azriel, whose expression now carried the exhausted resignation of a male who already knew exactly what was coming next.

“…Why the fuck,” Cassian asked carefully, “is she cleaning your wing like that?”

“Cassian,” Azriel said immediately, still without opening his eyes, “leave.”

That only made Cassian more suspicious.

Then the wing beneath your fingers twitched again.

Cassian froze.

The corner of Cassian’s mouth twitched.

Then twitched again.

“Oh,” he whispered.

Azriel groaned softly beneath his breath. “Don’t.”

Cassian lasted exactly one more heartbeat before doubling over laughing.

“Oh, no.”

You looked between them in confusion. “What?”

Cassian caught himself against the doorway as another wave of laughter nearly folded him in half.

“Brother,” he choked out, “you are fighting for your fucking life right now.”

“Shut up, Cassian.”

“No, I need confirmation,” Cassian said immediately, pointing toward the wing with horrifying seriousness despite the grin still breaking across his face. “Has she been touching the base of it this entire time?”

Azriel said absolutely nothing.

Which answered the question perfectly.

Cassian made a strangled noise before dragging a hand slowly down his face.

“Oh, you poor fucking bastard.”

Your brows pinched harder. “Will someone explain what’s happening?”

Cassian pointed toward Azriel with the dramatic horror of a male witnessing divine punishment firsthand. “You’ve been stroking the base of his wing for the last twenty minutes while he sits there trying not to completely lose his damn mind.”

Your jaw dropped open.

Heat flooded your face so fast it almost hurt.

Slowly, carefully, you turned back toward Azriel.

He looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him.

“What?”

“The base of the wing?” Cassian repeated incredulously, another disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You might as well have climbed directly into his lap.”

“I was helping!”

“I know,” Cassian managed, visibly struggling to breathe normally again. “That’s what makes it so funny.”

Heat still burning across your face, you turned immediately toward Azriel. “You let me keep doing it.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes finally shifted toward yours, dark with humiliation and restraint stretched painfully thin around the edges.

“You seemed determined to continue,” he muttered.

Cassian folded against the doorway again with a strangled noise somewhere between laughter and actual pain. “She’s been innocently torturing you for twenty minutes and you just sat here suffering in silence?”

Azriel’s glare could have killed lesser males.

“Get out.”

“I knew I heard the growl of a male dying downstairs.”

Your eyes widened immediately as your gaze snapped back toward Azriel. “I thought I was hurting you.”

Azriel said nothing.

Which, honestly, felt like confirmation all on its own.

He only tipped his head back toward the ceiling again with the exhausted resignation of a male actively reconsidering every life choice that had led him here.

Cassian looked delighted.

“You really sounded feral, brother.”

You covered your burning face with both hands. “Oh my gods.”

“To be fair,” Cassian continued, still entirely too pleased with himself, “you were touching the worst possible place.”

“Cassian,” Azriel said darkly.

“What?” Cassian asked with exaggerated innocence. “I’m trying to educate her since you clearly weren’t going to.”

“You are absolutely not helping,” you muttered behind your hands.

Azriel shifted slightly like he meant to stand, but the moment the wing moved beneath your fingertips, another helpless groan escaped him before he could swallow it back down.

Silence crashed through the room.

Cassian made a strangled noise.

“Oh, Cauldron,” he whispered, staring openly at his brother now. “I cannot believe this.”

You jerked your hand back instantly. “Sorry.”

Azriel tipped his head back with the exhausted expression of a male rapidly losing the will to live.

“Please,” he muttered, dragging one hand slowly down his face. “Please stop talking.”

Cassian, unfortunately, looked physically incapable of stopping.

“You are so done,” he managed between uneven breaths, pointing toward Azriel while another wave of laughter nearly folded him in half again. “Completely done for.”

Azriel finally got to his feet with what remained of his dignity intact, though his shadows now lashed violently through the steam-filled room like they were debating whether murder was a reasonable solution.

You stepped back quickly, mortification still burning across your face. “I really didn’t know.”

Azriel paused.

Then his gaze lifted toward yours.

And just like that, some of the embarrassment softened around the edges, giving way to something quieter beneath all the restraint he had been clinging to with both hands since the moment you touched his wing.

“I know,” he said softly.

The words settled warm somewhere beneath your ribs before either of you could say anything else.

Then Cassian ruined it.

“Oh, no, don’t start looking at her like that now. I’m already traumatized enough.”

Azriel shut his eyes immediately.

You made a horrified sound.

Cassian leaned harder against the doorway, looking genuinely delighted with himself now. “This is the best night of my life.”

Azriel looked at him with lethal calm.

“Run.”

Cassian’s grin widened instantly.

Then he ran.

Silence settled through the steam-filled room almost immediately afterward.

You were still staring at the doorway in horror when Azriel exhaled slowly through his nose behind you.

“He’s never letting this go,” you muttered.

“No,” Azriel said quietly.

When you finally looked back at him, his gaze was already on you.

Not embarrassed anymore.

Just soft.

Warm enough that your chest tightened painfully beneath it.

Then his shadows curled slowly toward your wrists again, gentle this time, and Azriel glanced once toward the wing still stretched between you before dragging a tired hand down his face.

“I would appreciate,” he said carefully, “if we never spoke about this again.”

The laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

Azriel’s mouth twitched slightly in response.

And somehow, impossibly, that felt far more dangerous than the growling had. --- Main taglist : @sjejejjej @theyouthfullmoon @maplesdapperthoughts @jaziona92 @lilah-asteria @chillinini @itsraininghyunebuckets @xlosttdreamss @nyxmoretti @sunmoonsweets @spookypersondinosaur

idkyetxoxo

Five | Everything Overdue | Invisible

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.4k

Warnings - None

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

Azriel was in love with me.

The same male I thought avoided me like I was a sickness. The same male I thought barely tolerated my presence in the Townhouse. The same male who I thought only came for me because the bond forced him to.

He had watched me. Protected me. Memorised the small details of my life like they mattered.

It was overwhelming. Dizzying. Terrifying.

And the worst part was, I didn't know what to do with that information. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know how to be someone worth that kind of love.

So I said nothing.

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

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idkyetxoxo

Four | After the Silence | Invisible

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Warnings - Violence, torture, injury, fear

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

There was too much time to think when you were left alone in the dark.

Every time the door to the cold, stone room shut and the lock clicked into place, silence filled the space like something alive. Heavy. Suffocating. Endless. There were no windows, no sense of time, no way to know if it was day or night. Only darkness, stone, chains, and pain.

Dante and his "brothers," as he called them, had not lied about being my worst nightmares.

They were cruel in ways that felt practised. Comfortable. Like they had done this many times before and knew exactly how far to push before someone broke.

They liked the water the most.

Buckets of freezing water dumped over my head again and again until I was gasping and shaking and reliving the Cauldron every single time. Cold water filling my lungs, hands dragging me under, the feeling of falling into darkness and never reaching the bottom.

And they always followed the water with something worse.

lucyrose191

NOBODY ELSE | A Z R I E L

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand!sister!reader

Summary: It would only ever be you, no matter how much time had passed.

Warnings: fluff, angst, reader described to have the same eyes as Rhys.

A C O T A R M A S T E R L I S T

There had been many times over the course of being chained within the depths of this cave in which you had thought yourself to have officially gone insane but the moment you felt as though the shadows in the corners of this prison began moving was when you had accepted that insanity had taken over you but the moment you began hearing them whispering to you was truly the loss of all hope.

idkyetxoxo

Three | The Price of Secrets | Invisible

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - Emotional distress, fear, panic

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

When I awoke again, it was to pain.

Not a sharp pain. Not one single injury I could focus on and understand. It was everywhere, a deep, throbbing ache that settled into every inch of my body, like I had been beaten, dragged, dropped, and then beaten again for good measure.

My head hung forward and for a moment I couldn't open my eyes. Everything felt heavy. My arms, my legs, even my breathing felt like work.

Then cold water crashed over my head.

I gasped sharply as freezing water soaked through me, shocking my body awake, forcing my eyes open as I choked and coughed, trying to suck in air.

My vision blurred, then slowly cleared. Dark stone walls. A single dim light. Concrete floor.

I tried to move and immediately felt the pull on my arms.

writingcroissant

A Locket Through Time | Azriel x reader

Summary: When Y/N touches an ancient artifact, she finds herself falling through time.

A/N: It’s not the most thought-through story I’ve ever posted, but we’re here for a good time and not to win a Pulitzer amirite? Also, once again I have rushed the ending because who has the time lol

Word count: 5800

Warnings: mild description of injuries, language, some implications of sexy time

“I want to touch it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Y/N snickered as Rhys’ arm shot forward to slap Cassian’s hand away from the gleaming crystal.

The Lord of Bloodshed rolled his eyes. “It’s a crystal, Rhys. It won’t bite my hand off.”

It was Azriel’s calm tone that now sounded from behind Y/N’s back.

“Given that it was Devlon who discovered it, I would suggest treading carefully, brother.”

v6quewrlds

author's note⠀⁎⠀smut [you/your], includes fingering & oral (m. receiving), heavily inspired by 'soft' by flo, kind of a nothing burger.

read more⠀⁎⠀colston loveland masterlist⠀⁎⠀series masterlist.

The last two weeks had been perhaps the most peaceful stretch of time for you and Colston in over a year. There were no classes or games, no presentations or combines, no obligations except the ones owed to each other.

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality

Anya is LIVE right now

FREE

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

novahthecreative

Fate and Free Will

Azriel x gn!reader (established relationship)

Summary: After several years of marriage, the mating bond snapped between you and Azriel. The shadowsinger can't fathom why you still call him your husband in the presence of a destined connection.

Tags: fluff, smitten Azriel, mates, established marriage, non-graphic mention of sex, some of my issues with mating bonds and philosophies about love lol

Word count: 2300

_____

“And this is my husband, Azriel,” you were saying as he approached you and the Dawn Court legislator, drinks in both hands.

Azriel offered you a stemmed glass of faerie wine with as much of a smile as he wore in political appearances such as this. He preferred to cling to the facade of the stone-cold spymaster, but it was your job to make friends– friends in high places that would stand by the Night Court in the future.

But even though he maintained a surly exterior, it didn’t stop him from resting a hand on your low back. You were both on official Night Court business, but he was still your mate, and it was expected for mates to be public about their affection. That, and touching you made him feel bubbly inside like the wine he was sipping.

He exchanged brief introductions with the Dawn Court legislator and then left the rest of the talking to you. The wooing, Azriel called it, because he was quite sure that it was your smile and charm that turned enemies to allies and allies into friends. Not that your prowess as an ambassador didn’t help, but Azriel knew firsthand the effect of your pretty smile, your beautiful laughter.

Even as he stood beside you, running a scarred thumb up and down your exposed midriff, your laughter still sent pleasant warmth through him, smoothing his rough edges.

Since the mating bond had clicked into place, it had become more difficult than ever for him to appear dauntingly enigmatic when you brought out a side of him that smiled without realizing, that laughed easily when you whispered in his ear, that wanted to whisper back sweet things or dirty promises he had every intention of keeping.

It took all of his restraint to keep his shadows leashed to his wings, lest they scamper to your body as they did in private.

Though it was well known that you were mated, he liked keeping his romantic life separate from his work. Sometimes the line blurred, since you were a part of both, hence his fingers splayed on your skin.

Across the sparkling parlour, Rhys was displaying far more affection with Feyre, pressing kisses to her cheeks and lips every so often. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever be comfortable sharing that much of your relationship with other people. In the presence of others, he kept his touches to a hand on your knee, the brush of his knuckles over yours, or, when you decided to sit in his lap rather than the empty chair beside him, he would hold you steady.

But in private, he worshipped. His love for you was an artistic pursuit, a craft that he would refine until the day he died. Every kiss was a stroke of a brush, every caress a splash of color.

Azriel had zoned out for a bit because the next thing he knew, the Dawn Court legislator was mingling across the room, and you were smiling up at him, melting his heart.

“That’ll be great, won’t it?” You asked.

He didn’t know what you were talking about– something about Dawn's foreign policy, maybe– but he nodded, one corner of his lip curving up. He opened his mouth to tell you how beautiful you looked dressed in gold, a halo about you like the corona of the sun, but you were already addressing Thesan’s mate, the Peregryn general. Azriel should probably have known his name, but couldn’t seem to remember, not when you were all that he could seem to think about these days.

The mating bond was still so shiny and new in his chest, only a month old. It made tangible your delicate luminosity, magnified it into a powerful beam, and cast your light on his life.

His sun, his partner, and now his mate. How could he be expected to think about anything other than the person that lived in his very soul?

Then your eyes were on him, your hand brushing his shoulder as you smiled at the Peregryn. “I don’t believe you’ve officially been introduced to my husband, Azriel, Night Court Intelligence.”

Azriel greeted Thesan’s lover– you must have said the Peregryn general’s name twice by now, but it had completely bypassed his brain– and exchanged a few polite words with the male who still seemed rather wary of the Night Court’s reputation, even after going to war together.

It was nothing that a few of your sweet smiles and adorable jokes couldn’t remedy. You soon had the Dawn male smiling into his wine.

But Azriel was still stuck on the word you had chosen to introduce him with. He realized that you had used the same word when you introduced him to the legislator from earlier.

Husband.

He didn’t know why it was bothering him when hearing that word from your mouth had always elated him. He had loved being your husband… but now he was your mate. That was how he referred to you in introductions and as a term of endearment.

He raked through his memories as the conversation rippled around him. Yes, now he was quite sure that he’d never heard you refer to him as your mate, except when directly acknowledging the bond. It really shouldn’t have bothered him. Of course, you felt it as intensely as he did... didn't you?

Maybe you used that term sparingly for the same reasons that he kept his affections to a minimum in public. But then again, you didn’t call him your mate in private either.

It could be a force of habit, he told himself. You’d been calling him your husband for years before the bond snapped. Sure, he never made a mistake, couldn’t with the constant reminder in his chest, but maybe it was ingrained in your mind.

Azriel chewed on it as the party burned into the early hours of the morning. While you built and maintained relationships, he tried to focus on what he was best at: sifting truth from lies. But there wasn’t much valuable information shared at a social event like this one, where the focus was camaraderie and cooperation. His shadows had little of value to report, except what they told him about you toying with your wedding band, a habit that you’d had for years. It was something you did when you were socially drained, when it became harder to have vibrant conversations with stranger after stranger, and your hands fell listlessly at your sides with fatigue.

“Time to go” is what it meant to Azriel. He excused himself from Cassian’s side, where he’d ended up after a few hours, snaking through the crowd until he made it to you. His knuckles brushed your arm, even the smallest contact sending a zing through his body.

Your smile was still bright, but he could see the limit approaching behind your seemingly endless hospitality.

“Shall we?” Azriel asked, arm out for you to take.

Relief washed over your face, and you nodded, taking his offered arm and letting him lead you through the beautiful Dawn palace to your guest lodgings. It was a wordless walk; you had used your breath making political friends, and Azriel savored the quiet times when you just existed together.

In that silence, he sank into the bond, feeling you without touching, knowing you without asking, and loving you without restraint.

And when you made it to your quarters, Azriel worshipped. He took his time in removing your jewelry piece by delicate piece and unclasping your intricate clothes as though he’d designed them. Then he loved your body as though it were his masterpiece in the making.

Only once he’d taken you to that dizzying place twice did he pull you snug against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.

Though he’d reached his own release, he couldn’t dissolve into the heady air as you did. There was still a nagging question in his mind. It was that damned word that kept getting lodged in his thoughts. Why did it bother him so much?

“Tell me,” you mumbled, half-consumed by sleep already. The afterglow of your lovemaking honeyed your voice. “I can hear you thinking.”

He was certain that you weren’t a daemati, but you still made him doubt. Somehow, you always knew when he was turning something over in his mind. His stoicism worked on everyone but you, apparently.

“It’s nothing,” he said, making your hair flutter with his breath.

You sighed. “You’re my husband, Azriel. I know when it’s something.”

There it was again. Husband.

His thumb explored the skin of your arm, as though that act would make him feel less exposed in front of you. Azriel was not an insecure male, not usually. But the thought that he might feel leagues more for you than you felt for him made his chest clench painfully.

“You still call me your husband,” he said– a question disguised like a curious observation.

He didn’t really know what he expected from you, but it wasn’t the soft “mhm” you answered with. You didn’t say anything after that, and he thought you might have fallen asleep, so he stayed silent, prepared to lie awake analyzing your little hum for hours.

Then you shifted so that you could look up at him. He could see you quite well, even in the darkness.

“Does it bother you?” You asked.

“No,” he lied. A mistake.

You lightly shoved his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t,” he lied again, then decided against digging a deeper hole. He took a deep breath, trying to configure his thoughts. “But we’re mates.”

“We are.”

He had thought he had a point, but now he wasn’t sure. Your sleepy reply was making him doubt why he was even upset. You were in his bed, in his arms, in his life– why did he care what you called him?

Azriel decided to let the issue rest. But he really should have known that you wouldn’t let it go until it was solved, even though you were teetering on sleep’s threshold.

“Would you rather me call you my mate, Az?” You asked, eyes closed.

Yes. No. He didn’t know. If you didn’t want to call him your mate, then it would be worse if you did.

“I was just curious,” he said, evading the question. “Do you dislike it when I call you my mate?”

“I love it,” you said, and everything he thought he knew was new to him again. “I love it because I know what you mean when you say it.”

Azriel didn’t know how to reply. He had no idea what you meant.

Your breathy laughter made his heart hiccup. “Az,” you purred, “You call me your mate because it means the most to you. I call you my husband because it means the most to me.”

The insecurity squeezing Azriel’s heart relaxed its grip at your words.

You nuzzled into the pillow. “Our marriage means more to me than the bond.”

“It does?” He asked.

You nodded, hair brushing his lips. “The Cauldron may have chosen you to be my mate, but I chose you to be my husband. Love– for me, anyhow– is always a choice, not something we fall into by accident.”

The silence that followed was one of perplexity. Azriel’s head was spinning. He’d never thought of it like that. In his mind, to be fated for one another was the highest form of love. But you believed that it was choice– conscious and constant. Love was something you did, rather than something that happened to you.

Azriel loved you because there was no other way to exist. He loved you because he had no choice.

You loved him because you did.

“When I call you my husband,” you continued, a mumbled chain of sleep-ridden words. “It’s because we chose each other as life partners because we believed in each other, not in a force outside of our control. And fated or not, I choose you over and over again.”

Little did you know that Azriel’s world was unraveling before his eyes. He hadn’t known love until Rhys and Cassian came into his life, and now he was realizing that, five centuries later, he’d never really understood it. Not as you did, so sure of yourself as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Did you know how profoundly you altered him as you lay there sleeping? He felt that, for the first time, he was really seeing you. For the first time, he truly knew what it was to be loved by you. And Cauldron– he didn’t have the words to describe how it felt. Your sun in his chest chased away the darkness, even in the shadowed corners of his mind.

He pressed his lips to your hair. You didn’t stir.

He couldn’t help loving you. Couldn’t even fathom the choice to do anything else. And he had thought it would destroy him if you didn’t feel the same.

And you didn’t– you had just told him that you didn’t, that for you, loving him was of your own free will, a decision you made over and over again.

And he was still breathing, still alive. Better now than ever. Your love was so vastly different than his, but not any less powerful, any less consuming. It was unique, like you, and magnificent.

Whether or not he understood it, Azriel wouldn't take your love for granted for a single moment.

He was your choice.

You were his destiny.

His forehead dipped to yours. He couldn’t wait for the next time you called him your husband.

shadowdaddiesclub

MASTERLISTS (ALL SERIES)

AZRIEL x READER SERIES

Bond and Unbound / 28 chapters / Finished

Fifty years of silence. Fifty years locked behind iron and fear. When Azriel — the Shadowsinger of the Night Court — lands on your forgotten shore, the world shifts. You were a secret buried by blood and magic, but he looks at you as if you were something worth saving. In his arms, you remember what it means to breathe. In his shadow, something ancient inside you begins to stir — a darkness that knows his name.

After the Silence / 14 chapters / Finished

After feeling the faint tug of a mating bond between you and Azriel, you panic and leave the Night Court without a word, refusing to risk trapping him in something he might not feel. Decades later you return to Velaris and step into the House of Wind to find the world has moved on without you—and Azriel looks like he has, too.

Carved from the Same Edge / 10 chapters / Finished

When the Night Court’s spymaster meets his match, the shadows themselves start to misbehave. You’re a lethal shadowsinger with feral, wild-hearted shadows and a mouth too sharp for your own good. Azriel’s shadows are calm, obedient… until you arrive in Velaris on a long-term assignment and his control starts to crack. Forced proximity. Relentless banter. A threat outside the borders. And one spymaster who can’t decide if he wants to throttle you or kiss you.

What the Shadows Want / 7 chapters / Finished

When a political mission pulls you into dangerous territory, Azriel finds himself unable to keep the careful distance he’s maintained for years. He watches too closely, lingers too long, tries to protect without ever crossing the line — until the line starts to blur, and you finally lose it.

Truths That Don't Speak / Finished / 20 chapters

Azriel returns from a long mission to find you in the House of Wind—as if you’ve always belonged there. Your power allows you to sense emotions and detect truth, but with Azriel, everything goes quiet. He’s unreadable. It’s unsettling, and strangely refreshing. You’re loud, sassy, and painfully observant; he’s reserved, restrained, and made of shadows. Azriel is absolutely terrified of you—and of how easily you fit into his home. He doesn’t know who you are or why you’re here, and that uncertainty unsettles him. But one thing is clear: you’re a mystery he’s already determined to unravel.Yet beneath the banter and unease, you begin to realize that you share far more than either of you expected.

The Day The Spymaster Broke / Finished

You were never meant to be theirs.But they kept you anyway.Raised by the Night Court. Secretly loved by the Shadowsinger. Bound to a darkness older than Prythian itself. When the gate opens and the world begins to fall, you make the ultimate sacrifice — stepping into oblivion to save Velaris.But the darkness was never meant to destroy the city.It was meant to bring you home.

Unraveling the Shadowsinger / Finished / 18 chapters

enemies to lovers / slow burn / banter / forced proximity

Your power was never meant to exist.And yet—it’s the only thing that can silence the Shadowsinger.

AZRIEL X READER ONE SHOTS - What the Shadows Know : Winter Solstice one-shot (angst + comfort, slow burn, emotionally intense)

Word count : 5.8K

She’s always felt him watching from the edges. He’s always left before she could ask him to stay. On Winter Solstice, the shadows stop listening.

- Snowlight and Shadow : Winter Solstice one-shot (fluff + comfort)

Word count : 5K

Solstice morning turns flour-dusted and dangerous when Azriel finds you in his shirt—and by nightfall, the River House reminds you what family truly feels like.

- Not a Damsel in Distress : Action, protective Az, reckless intimacy Part 1 / Part 2

Reader goes solo on a mission she shouldn’t have. Azriel finds her before she can make it worse. Even with enemies watching, they can’t keep their hands off each other. Fire and shadows turning danger into background noise.

- What Settles between Us : soft angst / hurt comfort

Decades into a quiet, loving bond, you and Azriel have settled into something safe—routine, familiar, unquestioned. But when his missions stretch longer and his presence grows thinner, the silence between you starts to ache. Watching others be chosen loudly forces you to confront what’s been missing. Sometimes love doesn’t disappear—it just needs to be seen again.

- Blinfolded : banter / mates Part 1 / Part 2

Azriel has been watching you train for weeks, and when he finally steps into the ring, things get a lot more intense.

If you have any request, drop it in my ask ! 🌟 MAIN TAGLIST : @sjejejjej @theyouthfullmoon @maplesdapperthoughts @jaziona92 @lilah-asteria @chillinini @spookypersondinosaur

shadowdaddiesclub

When the Shadowsinger rests

Azriel x reader fluff / domestic intimacy / teasing / hurt-comfort Tired of watching Azriel run himself into the ground, you storm into Rhys’s office and emotionally blackmail the High Lord into giving your mate a week off. Azriel returns home exhausted, suspicious, and entirely too amused by the chaos you caused for him.

Rhysand was already annoyed before you even slammed the office doors open.

The sound cracked through the river house loudly enough that Cassian glanced up from the couch with immediate interest, the sharpening stone stilling against the dagger in his hand while Amren sighed over her book like your entrance had personally ruined her morning.

Rhys merely leaned back in his chair with the slow patience of a male who already knew he was about to lose an argument.

“No,” you said immediately.

“Good morning to you too,” Rhys replied dryly.

“No,” you repeated, striding across the office. “You are not sending Azriel back out again.”

Cassian’s mouth twitched.

Rhys folded his hands atop the desk. “There are problems at the Illyrian camps that need handling.”

“That’s not true.”

One dark brow lifted.

“You just want to send your best warrior to glare at everyone until they remember how to behave.”

Amren snorted softly into her wineglass.

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is, unfortunately, part of handling the problem.”

“He’s exhausted.”

The amusement faded from his face then, if only slightly, because he knew it too.

Azriel had spent weeks flying between camps and borders and meetings, carrying half the Night Court on his shoulders with that same quiet endurance he carried everything else. He came home later now. Spoke less. Slept less. Even Cassian had started looking concerned.

And Azriel, of course, had said absolutely nothing about it.

“He would never ask for a break,” you continued, crossing your arms. “So I’m asking for him.”

Rhys exhaled slowly. “You know the timing is difficult.”

“Oh, spare me,” you said, throwing your arms in the air.

Cassian outright grinned now.

You pointed accusingly at Rhys. “You’ve worked him into the ground.”

“I have not—”

“You absolutely have.”

Rhys opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Cassian coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.

“So,” you said sweetly, “you are giving him a week off.”

“A week,” Rhys repeated flatly.

“A full week.”

Rhys stared at you. “Do you know how much work he handles in a single day?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. “That’s exactly why I’m asking for seven of them.”

Amren smirked over the rim of her glass.

Rhys drummed his fingers once against the desk. “Do you realize the amount of chaos you’re asking me to deal with while you two disappear into domestic bliss?”

You leaned closer across the desk, crossing your arms with all the confidence of someone about to make a truly unreasonable offer.

“I’ll babysit Nyx for a week.”

For a moment, the entire room went silent before Cassian burst into laughter loud enough to echo off the walls.

Rhys blinked once at you. “You want to keep my son during your vacation?”

“No,” you said immediately, sounding genuinely horrified. “After.”

Cassian nearly slid off the couch laughing.

Rhys looked at you for another long second, like he genuinely could not decide whether to be offended or impressed. “You’re trying to barter childcare for my spymaster.”

“Yes.”

For a heartbeat, he simply blinked at you. Then laughter finally broke from him too, rich and disbelieving enough that even Amren looked mildly entertained now.

“You are unbelievable.”

You smiled sweetly. “And yet deeply persuasive.”

“You’re manipulative,” he informed you, though there was no real irritation left in his voice anymore.

“You raised me.”

“That is not remotely true.”

You waved a dismissive hand. “Close enough.”

Rhys shook his head slowly, still laughing under his breath as he leaned back into his chair. “Five days.”

“Seven.”

His eyes narrowed immediately. “You’re impossible.”

“You owe me.”

That finally made him pause.

Cassian’s grin sharpened instantly.

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “What favor?”

Your own smile turned positively wicked.

“Oh, don’t pretend you forgot.”

Rhys already looked wary enough that Cassian immediately sat up straighter, clearly sensing entertainment.

“You were sixteen,” you said casually, “and you broke one of your father’s study windows sneaking back in at night—”

Cassian barked a laugh.

“—so I told your father it was me.”

Rhys groaned loudly enough to throw his head back against the chair. “Mother save me.”

“You said you owed me.”

“I was a child!” Rhys snapped.

“And now you’re High Lord,” you replied smoothly. “Look how beautifully things worked out.”

Amren was openly smirking now.

Rhys threw up a hand in outrage. “You’ve been waiting years to use this against me.”

“Absolutely.”

“I should have let Uncle kill you for that window.”

“You cried. Like a big baby,” you snorted.

Cassian made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and choking.

Rhys looked deeply offended. “I was emotional.”

“You were throwing up from fear,” you said through a laugh.

Cassian collapsed back against the couch laughing hard enough that even Amren muttered, “Pathetic,” into her wineglass.

Rhys glared at all of you with the exhausted suffering of a male betrayed by his own court.

“You are all cruel.”

You smiled brightly. “I want Azriel home by tomorrow morning.”

Rhys held your gaze for another long moment before finally waving a hand in surrender.

“Fine.”

Victory surged through you so fast you nearly laughed.

“You’re the best cousin anyone’s ever had,” you declared proudly.

Rhys stared at you over the edge of his desk with the exhausted expression of a male who had ruled an entire court for centuries only to somehow still lose arguments to you specifically.

“I regret every moment of your existence.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No,” he admitted dryly after a beat, waving a dismissive hand toward the door. “Unfortunately.”

—

Snow drifted softly beyond the balcony the next morning while pale winter light spilled across the river house in silver ribbons.

You were halfway through making tea when shadows curled suddenly across the balcony doors.

Your heart leapt instantly.

Azriel had barely landed before you were moving toward him.

He only had enough time to straighten before you collided into him hard enough to rock him back a step, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck while cold air and cedar and night clung to him.

A soft laugh escaped him the moment you collided into him, warmer than you had heard in weeks.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you tightly against him like he could not quite get close enough fast enough.

Gods, you had missed him.

You clung tighter as his arms slid around you automatically, warm and solid and achingly familiar. His wings tucked close behind him while he buried his face briefly against your hair like merely breathing you in eased something inside him.

Then he kissed you.

Slowly at first, his mouth brushing yours softly before he did it again, deeper this time, exhaustion and relief and quiet longing all tangled together.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, one hand firm against your waist while his thumb traced absent circles there.

“What have you done this time?”

You blinked up at him innocently. “Nothing.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “Sweetheart, that face usually means Rhys is about to develop a headache.”

You gasped softly. “You wound me.”

“I know you,” he replied, warmth threading through his voice in a way that only made your grin worse.

“Rhys said you weren’t needed at the camps anymore,” you said quickly before he could continue interrogating you.

Azriel went still for half a second before one brow lifted slowly. “Oh, did he?”

The amusement in his voice deepened immediately, smooth and deeply skeptical now, but you ignored it completely and grabbed his hand before he could start asking dangerous questions.

“You have a week off.”

That finally made him stop moving altogether.

“A week,” he repeated carefully.

“A full week.”

Now he was openly suspicious, his shadows curling around your shoulders like they too were waiting for an explanation while he studied you with growing amusement.

“You managed to convince Rhysand to give me a full week off,” he said slowly, sounding like he was piecing together evidence at a crime scene, “and I’m supposed to believe you did absolutely nothing.”

“Yes.”

Azriel held your gaze for another long moment before the corner of his mouth finally curved.

“That’s deeply concerning.”

Rhys strode past moments later with a cup of coffee in hand, looking entirely too composed for someone who had been emotionally blackmailed less than twenty-four hours earlier.

“Good to see you home, brother,” he said smoothly as he passed. “Please enjoy your time off with your mate.”

You immediately shot him a warning look that very clearly said shut up.

Rhys’s mouth twitched.

“You’ve been working so hard,” he continued innocently to Azriel, entirely ignoring you now, “I wouldn’t want her to feel neglected.”

Azriel looked between the two of you slowly, suspicion giving way to realization piece by piece.

Then he laughed.

The sound was low and warm and rare enough that your chest tightened painfully at hearing it again, especially when genuine amusement finally softened the exhaustion lingering beneath it.

“You threatened the High Lord for me?”

“I negotiated.”

Rhys snorted loudly into his coffee.

Azriel’s eyes gleamed as he pulled you closer against him, his hand settling more firmly at your waist while his shadows curled lazily around your shoulders like they were just as entertained as he was.

“Remind me,” he murmured near your mouth, “to thank you properly later.”

Behind you, Rhys gagged dramatically.

You didn’t even bother turning around. “Go away.”

Rhys left laughing under his breath, though not before throwing you one deeply entertained look over his shoulder.

The moment Rhys disappeared down the hallway, silence settled softly around the house again, broken only by the crackle of the fireplace and the distant murmur of Velaris waking beyond the windows.

Azriel was still watching you.

He didn’t look suspicious exactly. If anything, the quiet amusement lingering in his eyes was somehow worse, because it meant he already knew you had absolutely caused problems and was simply waiting for you to admit to them voluntarily.

You moved back toward the kitchen with deliberate innocence and reached for the kettle again, though you only got as far as touching the handle before shadows curled around your wrist, gentle and insistent.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Azriel stood a few feet away, snow still dusting the dark shoulders of his leathers while exhaustion lingered beneath the gold and green of his eyes despite the growing amusement there.

“What did Rhys bargain away?” he asked.

You snorted softly. “His dignity, mostly.”

That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he kept watching you in that steady, patient way that made lying to him feel almost impossible.

Almost.

You sighed dramatically before turning fully toward him. “Fine. I may have reminded him that he owed me a favor.”

Azriel’s brows lifted slightly. “A dangerous thing.”

“Very.”

“And what favor exactly did you use to convince the High Lord of the Night Court to part with his spymaster for an entire week?”

You grinned. “Classified.”

His shadows drifted curiously toward you, brushing around your ankles like smoke.

Azriel stepped closer then, slowly enough that you could have moved away if you wanted to.

You never did.

“How angry were you?” he asked quietly.

The humor faded from your face at the softness of the question.

You looked down briefly, fingers tugging absently at the sleeve of your sweater before muttering, “Pretty angry.”

Azriel said nothing after that, and you hated when he did this—this quiet patience, this unbearable way he simply waited until you gave him the truth willingly because he knew eventually you would.

“I know there are actual problems,” you admitted after a moment. “I know your job matters.”

“It does.”

“But Rhys keeps sending you because everyone listens when Azriel shadowsinger walks into a room looking murderous.”

A quiet exhale left him, not quite a laugh.

“And?”

“And I’m tired of everyone acting like you can endlessly carry things just because you don’t complain.”

The room fell quiet after that.

Outside, wind rattled softly against the balcony railings while Velaris carried on below, distant and glowing beneath the snow.

“You shouldn’t have spent your favor on me,” Azriel said at last, the quietness of his voice making your chest ache instantly.

There it was again.

Not embarrassment. Not annoyance.

Something far worse hidden carefully beneath restraint, wrapped so tightly into his composure most people mistook it for strength.

You crossed the remaining distance between you without hesitation.

“I’d spend worse things for you,” you replied softly.

Azriel’s hand tightened around yours so suddenly it almost hurt.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He simply looked at you with that terrible quiet intensity of his, like he still never quite knew what to do with being cared for so openly.

Then Azriel looked away first.

Your heart ached at the sight.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you whispered.

Something flickered across his face, quick enough most people would have missed it entirely.

Not you.

Never you.

“I’m alright,” he said automatically.

You stared at him flatly. “You fell asleep standing up last week.”

“That happened one time.”

“Azriel.”

A pause stretched between you before he finally sighed.

“…Maybe twice.”

“You walked into the bedroom door yesterday.”

“It was dark,” he replied with complete seriousness.

“You are literally made of shadows.”

Another pause.

“...It was very dark.”

Despite yourself, you laughed, and the corner of Azriel’s mouth curved faintly at the sound.

Now that he was home, now that the constant tension of duty had loosened even slightly, you could finally see how exhausted he really was. His shoulders remained stiff beneath the leather of his clothes, his wings slower to settle behind him than usual while even his shadows drifted lazily around the room with a strange sluggish softness, like they were tired too.

When your fingers brushed his hair back from his forehead, his eyes closed immediately, his body reacting before his mind could stop it, like gentleness itself had become permission to finally stop holding himself upright through sheer force of will.

That hurt more than anything else.

“You need food before you pass out,” you said quietly.

One eye opened slowly. “I’m not going to pass out.”

“You nearly fell asleep while kissing me on the balcony.”

“That could have been very romantic, my love.”

“It would have been if you weren’t swaying.”

A quiet laugh escaped him then, warm enough to make your chest tighten all over again.

Before he could argue further, you grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the dining room.

Azriel followed immediately, not even pretending to resist.

Halfway down the hall, you stopped suddenly to grab a blanket abandoned over the back of a chair, and Azriel nearly walked directly into you before catching himself at the last second.

You turned slowly toward him.

“…Are you aware you’re following me around like a particularly dangerous housecat?”

“No,” he replied far too quickly.

“Liar.”

The corner of his mouth twitched while one of his shadows curled smugly around your wrist like it agreed with you entirely.

The dining room was already occupied when you entered, warm light spilling across the long table where Cassian lounged with enough food for six people spread before him, Nesta seated beside him with her coffee while Feyre bounced Nyx lightly on her knee near the far end of the table.

Rhys looked up first, and the moment his gaze landed on the two of you, a deeply entertained smirk spread across his face.

“Oh, this is fascinating.”

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “Shut up.”

Cassian glanced between you and Azriel once before his own grin widened into something outright dangerous.

Azriel had stopped directly behind your chair, close enough that the front of his chest brushed your back when you pulled the seat out for yourself, one hand still loosely holding yours while the other rested absentmindedly against your waist.

He did not seem remotely aware he was doing it.

Cassian absolutely did.

“Did the bond break his survival instincts,” he mused aloud, “or has he always followed you around like that?”

Azriel gave him a flat stare.

Cassian only grinned wider. “You know she’s not going to disappear if you stop touching her for five minutes.”

As though realizing it only because it had been pointed out, Azriel’s hand shifted slightly against your waist, though he still didn’t move away.

You bit the inside of your cheek so you would not smile.

Rhys looked delighted by the entire thing. “Oh, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

“Rhys,” you warned.

Feyre was openly laughing now while Nesta hid a smirk behind the rim of her coffee mug.

Cassian leaned farther back in his chair, looking genuinely fascinated. “This is unbelievable. The terrifying shadowsinger returns from weeks of missions only to become—”

“If you finish that sentence,” Azriel interrupted calmly, “I’ll throw you into the Sidra.”

Cassian pointed triumphantly across the table. “See? He means it now because she’s here.”

Nyx giggled loudly at absolutely nothing.

Traitor.

Before the conversation could devolve further, you shoved a plate toward Azriel. “Eat.”

“I can serve myself,” he replied automatically.

“And yet you aren’t.”

Azriel looked down at the plate for a moment before glancing back at you, and then, to the visible horror of everyone at the table, obediently started eating.

The entire room went silent.

Cassian looked genuinely alarmed.

“Who are you,” he demanded, “and what have you done with our Azriel?”

You smirked quietly into your tea while Rhys leaned back in his chair with the air of someone suddenly remembering far too much childhood blackmail material.

“You know,” he mused lazily, “when we were children, she once chased me through the entire house with a fork because I made fun of her braid.”

“It was a very hurtful comment,” you replied.

“You chased me for twenty minutes.”

“And I’d do it again.” You threatened him with your fork.

Azriel glanced toward Rhys thoughtfully. “I believe that.”

Cassian barked a laugh while Rhys looked scandalized all over again.

“You’re encouraging her.”

“Oh, she doesn't need me at all,” Azriel replied smoothly.

You smiled sweetly at him.

Azriel’s hand settled absently against your thigh beneath the table. Not possessive, not deliberate, just there, like some instinct in him needed the reassurance of contact now that he was finally home.

Your heart softened at the feeling.

The conversation drifted around the table after that, easy and warm and mostly filled with Cassian complaining dramatically about training recruits while Nesta ignored him with the patience of a female who had heard this exact speech twenty times before.

Azriel barely spoke after that.

At first, you assumed he was simply listening while the conversation carried on around him, but then you started noticing the smaller things: the slight delay before he answered whenever someone spoke directly to him, the way his eyes kept drifting half shut whenever the conversation moved away from him for more than a minute, the way his thumb had gone completely still against your leg beneath the table.

Rhys noticed a second later, and you saw it happen in the subtle sharpening of his expression as amusement quietly gave way to assessment while he studied his brother more carefully.

Azriel blinked slowly once, then again, exhaustion finally beginning to win its battle against sheer stubbornness.

Without really thinking about it, your fingers slid gently into his hair and brushed the dark strands back from his forehead.

The reaction was immediate.

Azriel’s eyes closed completely beneath your touch, his body softening for the briefest moment like instinct had overtaken awareness before he could stop it.

Silence settled around the table.

Not awkward silence. Not dramatic silence. Just the sudden stillness of everyone realizing at the same moment how exhausted he truly was, because Azriel never relaxed like that around people and certainly never let himself look tired enough for anyone else to notice it.

Your fingers continued slowly through his hair while his breathing deepened almost imperceptibly beside you, his head tipping the slightest bit toward your touch before realization finally caught up to him.

His eyes opened immediately.

Embarrassment flickered briefly across his face, subtle enough most people would have missed it entirely.

You did not.

And judging by the expressions around the table, neither had anyone else.

Cassian was staring openly now while even Nesta’s expression had softened slightly. Rhys looked like someone had quietly punched him in the ribs.

“He’s exhausted,” you said flatly before anyone could speak, your tone making it very clear that you were not inviting commentary from anyone at this table.

Cassian’s expression lost all humor immediately.

Rhys leaned back slowly in his chair, guilt flickering briefly across his face before he masked it again, while Azriel looked vaguely like he wanted the floor beneath him to split open entirely.

So you squeezed his hand once beneath the table before saying with complete casualness, “Anyway. Bath.”

Feyre immediately choked on her tea.

Cassian looked delighted again within seconds.

Azriel blinked at you slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Rhys actually laughed into his coffee while Cassian pointed dramatically across the table.

“See? Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.”

“You’re all exhausting,” Azriel muttered, though the faint color still lingering high on his cheeks ruined any real intimidation.

Feyre smiled brightly. “You love us.”

Azriel looked at her for a long moment before replying in a perfectly deadpan voice, “…Debatable.”

Nyx giggled loudly from Feyre’s lap like he personally found Azriel hilarious.

You stood, taking Azriel’s hand before he could decide to pretend he was fine for another hour. He followed you from the dining room with very little resistance, though Cassian’s voice immediately trailed after you both.

“If she throws you in the bath fully clothed, blink twice.”

Azriel didn’t even bother turning around. “If she decides to kill me, no one here is stopping her anyway.”

“Noted,” Cassian called back. “I’ll start planning your funeral.”

You rolled your eyes, though Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly around yours, faint amusement flickering down the bond before fading again by the time you reached the sitting room.

Without another word, you reached for the siphons strapped across his chest.

Azriel glanced down at you, one brow lifting slightly as your fingers immediately started working at the leather buckles. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Disarming you.”

“I’m not a threat.”

“You are, the second someone mentions work.”

That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he stayed perfectly still while you unbuckled the straps one by one. After a moment, Azriel finally let his arms loosen fully at his sides in silent permission, watching you quietly the entire time.

The siphons glimmered softly as you placed them onto the nearby table beside Truth-Teller.

The second your fingers wrapped around the dagger, his shadows recoiled dramatically like you had personally offended every single one of them.

“Don’t start,” you warned.

One immediately curled possessively around the hilt anyway.

You narrowed your eyes at it. “Oh, so now you care about workplace safety.”

Azriel huffed a tired laugh, low and warm enough that your chest tightened at hearing it again.

You carried the dagger toward the mantel and placed it high enough that he would actually have to make an effort to retrieve it later before turning back toward him with narrowed eyes.

“Upstairs.”

Azriel immediately looked suspicious. “Why do I feel like I should be concerned?”

“Because you should be.”

One of his shadows vanished down the hallway ahead of you both without hesitation, like it had already decided whatever you were planning was an excellent idea.

You pointed after it triumphantly. “See? Even they agree with me.”

A dangerous glint entered Azriel’s tired eyes then, low and warm enough to send heat curling through your stomach despite yourself.

“If your plan involves getting me out of these leathers,” Azriel murmured as he stepped closer, his voice dropping lower while his gaze dragged slowly over your face, “you could have simply climbed into my lap and asked, sweetheart.”

The look in his eyes nearly undid you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much that voice affected you.

So you rolled your eyes with as much dignity as possible while pushing firmly at his chest toward the staircase.

“Move,” you ordered, even as your face betrayed you completely.

Azriel barely resisted, which honestly worried you more than if he had.

Usually, he would at least pretend to argue.

Instead, he only shot you a slow, lazy grin that said he knew exactly what kind of effect he’d just had on you before allowing you to shove him toward the staircase without further complaint.

His shadows curled lazily around your ankles as you led him upstairs, one occasionally nudging against your heel like it wanted you to hurry up and put their ridiculous male to bed already.

The bathroom slowly filled with steam while you rummaged through cabinets gathering oils, salves, and clean cloths. Behind you, leather hit the floor piece by piece until the room finally fell quiet.

When you turned around, your chest tightened.

Bruises mottled his ribs in deep violet and yellow while thin cuts crossed his shoulders and abdomen, half-healed already thanks to fae healing but still fresh enough to tell their story clearly. His wings hung lower than usual too, not badly injured, only overused in the way muscles looked after being pushed far beyond exhaustion.

Azriel noticed your expression immediately.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said.

“That sentence should be carved onto your grave someday.”

A quiet snort escaped him, though his eyes stayed fixed on you as you crossed the room again, watching the anger flicker briefly across your face before gentleness replaced it entirely.

Your fingers brushed lightly across one of the cuts near his shoulder, the touch so careful it almost hurt to look at.

Azriel inhaled softly at once, his eyes lowering to your face while that familiar look crossed his expression again, the one that always seemed caught somewhere between tenderness and disbelief, as though he knew your softness by heart by now and still could not quite understand how it belonged to him.

You guided him toward the bath with surprising ease for someone handling the Night Court’s deadliest male, and the second he sank into the steaming water, a low exhale escaped him so involuntarily it almost sounded startled, like relief itself had caught him off guard.

“There he is,” you murmured softly.

Azriel opened one eye slightly. “Who?”

“The male I threatened a High Lord for.”

A tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he let his head fall back against the edge of the bath again.

You knelt beside the tub and began gently washing blood from his skin while silence settled comfortably around you, warm and intimate beneath drifting steam and candlelight.

Azriel watched you the entire time, not speaking, just looking at you with that same quiet intensity that always made your chest ache, like some part of him still could not fully understand how someone could love him this gently and mean it.

Your fingers eventually slid through his damp hair, combing the dark strands back from his forehead while tension slowly left him piece by piece beneath your touch.

“You know,” you said quietly, “you’re allowed to rest before you collapse.”

“Mmm.”

A small smile tugged at your mouth. “Use your words, sweetheart,” you teased softly, stealing one of his own favorite lines.

Even exhausted, Azriel cracked one eye open just enough to give you a knowing look, desire flickered low beneath your ribs.

Then, after a small pause, he finally muttered, “I know.”

Something in your chest twisted painfully at the admission.

You moved behind him then, carefully lifting one wing enough to inspect it properly, and Azriel tensed instantly beneath your hands with pure instinct.

Your fingers stilled immediately.

“It’s okay,” you whispered softly.

The tension slowly eased.

Wing membranes shimmered darkly beneath the candlelight, tiny tears and strain visible along the strongest parts from too many hours spent flying without proper rest. Your fingers moved gently while you spread healing salve carefully across the damaged skin, and Azriel’s head tipped back against the edge of the bath, eyes sliding shut again.

The sound that escaped him when your nails lightly scratched near the base of his wing was dangerously close to a groan.

You froze instantly.

Azriel’s eyes opened at once, heat flashing there despite the exhaustion weighing them down.

“That,” he said hoarsely, “is unfair.”

A slow smile curved across your mouth. “Oh? The terrifying shadowsinger finally has a weakness?”

Azriel narrowed his eyes slightly, though the effect was ruined entirely by the way his wings had twitched beneath your hands.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Maybe,” you admitted lightly before dragging your nails along the sensitive spot again just to watch his breathing hitch.

Azriel swore softly under his breath.

Your smile widened immediately. “Gods, you’re easy.”

His shadows stirred restlessly around the room while Azriel looked back at you over his shoulder, his expression equal parts exhausted and heated.

“You are enjoying this far too much.”

“You make it very enjoyable.”

A rough laugh escaped him then, low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You’re cruel.”

“And yet,” you murmured while smoothing more salve carefully across his wing, “you’re still sitting very still for me.”

That earned you another one of those dangerous looks, slower this time, heavier somehow despite how tired he clearly was.

“Love,” Azriel warned softly, “if I wasn’t half asleep already, this conversation would be going very differently.”

Heat climbed immediately into your face, which only seemed to amuse him more.

Barely.

Because a moment later his eyes drifted shut again almost helplessly, exhaustion finally dragging him under faster than he could fight it.

Your heart cracked quietly at the sight.

So you kept tending his wings while snow drifted softly beyond the windows and the rest of the world faded farther and farther away.

At some point, your wrist began to ache from holding his wing at the careful angle you needed, and you shifted your grip so slightly you barely noticed it yourself.

Azriel noticed anyway.

His eyes opened halfway, heavy and unfocused, but his hand still found your wrist beneath the steam. He drew it gently away from his wing and pressed his mouth to the inside of it, a slow, absent kiss that felt more instinct than thought.

“You’re straining your wrist baby” he murmured.

You blinked at him. “Azriel.”

His eyes were already drifting shut again.

“I’m allowed to take care of you too.”

“You’re barely conscious.”

A faint hum escaped him. “Didn’t stop me noticing.”

The words were so soft, so entirely him, that you had to swallow around the ache rising in your throat before carefully returning your hand to his wing.

“Ridiculous male,” you whispered.

His mouth curved faintly, but a breath later he was gone again, sinking deeper beneath exhaustion as your fingers continued their slow, careful work.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Eventually, you realized Azriel had gone completely still.

You leaned slightly around his shoulder and found him asleep.

Actually asleep.

Your throat tightened instantly.

Even then, even unconscious, his brows faintly furrowed when you shifted beside him, like some stubborn part of him still resisted rest on instinct alone.

Gently, you brushed damp hair from his forehead.

“Finally,” you whispered.

Azriel slept through drying off only halfway gracefully and absolutely refused to fully wake when you guided him toward bed afterward. He leaned heavily into you the entire time, one arm wrapped loosely around your waist while his wings dragged tiredly behind him.

“You’re bossy,” he murmured sleepily against your shoulder.

“You love it.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, eyes still closed. “Unfortunately.”

You laughed softly as he collapsed face-first onto the mattress moments later, wings spreading across nearly half the bed while one arm immediately reached toward where you stood beside him, like even half asleep he was still searching for you automatically.

Beautiful male.

You only meant to grab an extra blanket from the nearby chair, but the second you stepped away, Azriel made a quiet dissatisfied sound in his sleep and reached blindly across the bed after you, brows pulling together faintly when he found empty sheets instead.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Alright, alright,” you whispered, climbing back beside him immediately.

The moment you settled beneath the blankets, instinct took over completely.

Azriel moved toward you at once, one powerful arm wrapping tightly around your waist before dragging you flush against his chest with surprising strength for someone barely awake. His face buried automatically against your throat while his hand spread across your back, fingertips flexing once against your spine like he needed to physically reassure himself you were there.

Even asleep, he kept pulling you closer.

One leg tangled with yours beneath the blankets while his wings shifted instinctively around the bed, curling slightly toward your side like they, too, were trying to keep you near.

The bond between you pulsed warm and drowsy beneath your skin while snow drifted quietly beyond the windows.

Then, already half asleep again, Azriel pressed a slow kiss against the sensitive spot beneath your jaw before murmuring softly against your throat, “You make me forget I’m tired.”

The words hit like a bruise straight to the heart.

You turned carefully within his arms just enough to press a kiss against his temple.

“Good,” you whispered.

A sleepy hum vibrated against your skin while his fingers slowly traced once along your spine, more instinct than conscious movement now.

Then, voice low and rough with exhaustion, Azriel brushed his mouth slowly against your throat before murmuring against your skin—

“Tomorrow,” he promised softly, “I’m going to pin you beneath me and remind you what happens when you spend an entire evening teasing my wings, sweetheart.”

---

a/n : this piece was so fucking funny to write because i’ve had this exact vision of exhausted azriel for MONTHS 🤭

i don’t know if they’ll become a full series necessarily, but i definitely want to keep writing little glimpses of them because their dynamic has completely taken over my brain at this point.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA JOIN THE TAGLIST 💙

Main taglist : @sjejejjej @theyouthfullmoon @maplesdapperthoughts @jaziona92 @lilah-asteria @chillinini

idkyetxoxo

Five | Something Sweet | Crash Course in Love

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - None

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

Azriel's POV -

I shouldn't have been this gone.

I shouldn't have been lying awake at night thinking about the way she said my name—soft, careful, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to.

I shouldn't have been replaying the warmth of her arms around my waist on the bike, the way her cheek rested against my back like she trusted me not to break her.

I shouldn't have been imagining what it would feel like to kiss her. Or what she looked like first thing in the morning. Or how beautiful she'd be holding a bouquet she'd arranged herself.

But I was. And I couldn't stop.

Every damn time I closed my eyes, she was there. Her shy smiles. Her bright, hopeful eyes. Her voice, gentle, sweet, impossibly kind in a world that rarely deserved that kind of softness.

It was intoxicating. Dizzying. A little maddening.

loveforloveland

chapter 1 part 2: nobodies son

background: you've always had a crush on colston in high school, but with a 2 year age difference, you being a sophomore and colston being a senior, it never worked out, boys never looked at you because you were 'ugly' but someone has always had a secret crush on you, and it shows in college. series linked here

word count: 9.6K

notes: this will be split up into 2 parts. this is the SECOND part, the first part is linked here.. i apologize but tumblr is acting like a b!

warning: this is a alternative universe, keep this in mind! angst, depiction of medical emergency, potental fighting

•18+ Adults Only

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idkyetxoxo

Four | Gold Light and Fast Rides | Crash Course in Love

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Warnings - None

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

Morning arrived like it was trying to tiptoe around me.

Thin gold light spilt between my curtains, brushing gently across my pillow, my cheek, the mess of tissues still scattered on the floor beside my bed. My head pounded dully, the kind of ache that comes after crying harder than you meant to, longer than you should have.

God. Last night. I exhaled shakily, rubbing my eyes before reaching blindly for my phone. The screen blinked awake.

A text. From him.

Azriel: Hey good morning. I was just wondering if you're awake and how you're feeling? Maybe if you're up for it, we could go for a ride on my bike and talk a little?

I sat straight up so fast my blankets tangled around my legs. I reread it once. Twice. Three times.

Azriel. Checking on me. Inviting me... somewhere.

idkyetxoxo

Woven | Azriel | Series Masterlist

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Summary - A rare discovery changes everything—another shadowsinger, her. Found young and frightened, she's brought to Azriel, and the moment their shadows touch, something soul-deep sparks between them.

As she grows into her power, their connection deepens—shadows entwining, protective, playful, and increasingly intimate.

What begins as mentorship, becomes undeniable affection, desire, and love. They find home in each other and in the shadows that first brought them together.

Azriel softens for her. She finds safety in him. Their bond isn't just shadow-deep—it's fate.

Tags - friends turned lovers, healing through love, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, "it was always you" realisations

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