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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 @itsraininghyunebuckets @xlosttdreamss @nyxmoretti

#azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #shadowsinger x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acosaf #azriel fic #pro azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader

•18+ Adults Only

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@elriel-month | Gardens

Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once.

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.

✨Art by aurithemoon

✨Commissioned by me

✨Please do not repost without permission. Likes and shares are appreciated.

#acotar #acotar fanart #elriel #pro elriel #elriel fanart #elain archeron #pro elain #elain archeron fanart #azriel #pro azriel #azriel fanart #elrielmonth #elrielmonth2026

Azriel and Cassian

#azriel #cassian #acotar #acotar azriel #acotar cassian #acotar fan art #pro azriel #pro cassian

❀࿐ "can't keep still" azriel x f!reader x rhysand

synopsis: you and your mates are on a mission in the autumn court, camping out on the battlegrounds. unfortunately, horniness calls, and you need your mates who warn you not to test their patience…

warnings: smut, threesome, degradation/humiliation, restraints/bdsm, dirty talk, f!receiving + giving

word count: 3,966

a/n: okay so when i mention ‘the tent’ in this smut, i mean like the one in harry potter and the goblet of fire (fuck j.k. rowling though) where the tent is magical and looks ordinary on the outside but is HUGE on the inside and looks like a little house with big beds and tables and such <3 also, first time writing a threesome! lmk what you think!

tags: @high-lady-of-autum @pageezy45

Azriel and Elain's Secret Wedding

𝔽𝕠𝕣 @elriel-month 𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕤 10 & 11 - 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪 & 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕖

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Piece name: 𝑨𝒛𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒔 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑡ℎ, 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐹𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑘𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡. 𝐴𝑛 𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑐 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑑.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

This incredibly beautiful art was created by an amazing and talented artist @iinnevvitable(in). She took my feverish musings, headcanons, and inspiration scene and turned it into this ethereal masterpiece. To me Elriel = Anidala in another universe, but with a happier ending 😉

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I'm new to your site and have only read a few of your stories so far, but I liked them all. You write really beautifully and portray the characters very well. So I just have to make a request. About Azriel (love your latest Az fic 😍) My idea is that Azriel has given up on finding someone and doesn't want to get involved with anyone anymore because he's afraid she'll eventually get a mate. But then he finally found her, his mate. and also the Inner Circle is so happy for him (they noticed how alone Azriel was sometimes) and are also totally enthusiastic about her. the request would be a good mix of angsty and fluffy. And maybe some spice in the end where she shows him her dark side and what shows the IC that they will not have peace any time soon. because they are kinky🤭

His to Lose

Pairing: Azriel x Mate f!reader

Summary: Azriel has long accepted solitude as his constant, letting shadows guide him instead of hope. A routine mission, meant to be simple, becomes anything but when an unexpected encounter challenges everything he thought he knew about control, connection, and himself. As lines blur and the bond deepens, he finds himself slipping into the role of being a mate before either of them are ready to claim it.

Warnings: nsfw, smut, teasing, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, emotional vulnerability, slow burn romance, gentle angst (focus on self-worth), jealousy, flirty flighting, touch-starved Azreil

Word count: 11,440

Author’s Note: One word: Obsessed. I spent two full days writing, rewriting, and rereading this nonstop until my brain turned to mush. I truly hope I captured your request the way you imagined, because I completely fell in love with this piece. There’s still a part of me that thinks I could’ve done it better, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved creating it!

Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 2

Azriel had long given up on finding his mate, the one soul destined by fate to match his own.

He had spent centuries praying to the Mother, to gods and forgotten goddesses, pleading for his other half. For a sign. For something.

He searched. He waited. He hoped.

After Morrigan, after Elain, after Gwyn, all of whom had found their paths, their peace, their purpose without him, he ceased hoping.

He couldn’t keep doing it.

Now, all he had were shame-tinted memories. A blur of encounters, mouths, hands, eyes that never looked past the surface. Fleeting touches that felt wrong. Distractions he couldn’t even pretend brought comfort.

False hope, dressed in sweat and shadow.

Broken softness

Pairing: Azriel x Female! Reader

Summary: You think you misunderstood Azriel so you try to get over him. Until one day you come back with a bruised cheek and Azriel cannot hold himself any longer. He tells you the truth.

Words: 4, 913

Warnings: Angst, misunderstanding, mention of sexual assault, mention of violence and bruises, kinda fluff ending. My English as it’s not my first language.

Night settled over Velaris. The city glowed, warm light spilling from windows, laughter drifting faintly through the streets below, the Sidra catching starlight in long, shimmering ribbons.

A candle flickered at the edge of the table, its flame bending slightly each time you shifted, casting long, wavering shadows across the parchment before you. The map beneath your hands was more complicated than the others, layered with notes, corrections, careful reworkings of terrain that had shifted over time.

It demanded your full attention but your focus had begun to blur.

You leaned back slightly, pressing your fingers to your temple, exhaling a quiet breath. Ink stained the side of your hand again. You hadn’t even noticed when it happened.

“You’re mapping blind.”

The voice came from behind you. Low, warm and familiar.

You didn’t startle this time. A small smile touched your lips as you turned your head just enough to glance over your shoulder.

“I was wondering when you’d appear.”

Azriel paused just inside the doorway.

#azriel fluff #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #acotar #azriel angst #pro azriel #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

tw: size kink, bit of dacryphilia, overall this is nastyyy

something about having you under him, squirming and helpless, makes azriel go feral.

it's the way you look so small compared to him, the way you are incapable of doing anything because he's just too strong and you can't fight back even if you want to.

the fact is, that no matter what size you are, he is big. all those hours passed in the illyrian camps training pay off. his hand alone could cover a good part of your back. and his cock... it's a struggle everytime, but oh man if he doesn't take pleasure in seeing you struggling.

the first time you two fucked, he had to strech you out with his fingers first. and when he saw how much you struggled with just one of his fingers, he knew it was going to be a tight fit. your walls barely capable of fitting one single finger, he couldn’t imagine how you could have taken his cock, but you did. you take it like a good girl every time.

"you can take it, baby. yeah..." he groans. "you can fucking take it. just like that..." the room is filled with the thick smell of sex, your little cries overpower the sound of skin against skin. you might almost feel embarrassed by the sounds coming out of your lips, but azriel's cock is fucking you so well it sends your brain to mush. zero thoughts behind your pretty eyes.

and azriel loves fucking you. loves watching as your face scrunches in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his cock stretching you out, breaking you in an half. he mutters praises under his breath, his eyes fixated on your tummy that bulges with every thrust, the line of his cock visible through your skin. "look at us, baby. fuck... look at us." he moans, forcing you to look at where your bodies meet. pretty tears stream down your eyes, overstimulation kicking in. you're so full you can feel him in your stomach.

he watches in wonder, completely intoxicated by you and amazed by how much of him you can take.

azriel is addicted to the power he has over you, too. the way he could throw you around like a toy, holding you in place just how he likes.

"c'mon baby, just a little more..." he whispers, supporting you with those strong arms. your back touches his chest, you can feel the wild rhythm of his heart against your back. your legs tremble, exhausted. "give me one more, just one more... i promise."

every time he says something, even tho your head is disconnected, your body can somehow still register his words, your walls clenching automatically around his girth, making him groan.

his hand presses against your tummy, feeling the bulge makes him twitch inside of you. the pressure causes his cock the hit even deeper, hitting spots that make you see stars. "keep clenching around my cock, sweet girl." you sniff, little incoherent prayers fall from your lips. you don't even know what you're begging for. "gods, gonna ruin you for everyone else. you're fucking mine."

main masterlist - azriel masterlist

When the Shadowsinger rests

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

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.

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.

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.

“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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Your heart softened at the feeling.

Azriel barely spoke after that.

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.

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.

“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.”

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

“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.

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

“You love it.”

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

Beautiful male.

Your heart nearly stopped.

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

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

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 @itsraininghyunebuckets @xlosttdreamss @nyxmoretti

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@elriel-month | Gardens

✨Art by aurithemoon

✨Commissioned by me

✨Please do not repost without permission. Likes and shares are appreciated.

#acotar #acotar fanart #elriel #pro elriel #elriel fanart #elain archeron #pro elain #elain archeron fanart #azriel #pro azriel #azriel fanart #elrielmonth #elrielmonth2026

Azriel and Cassian

#azriel #cassian #acotar #acotar azriel #acotar cassian #acotar fan art #pro azriel #pro cassian

❀࿐ "can't keep still" azriel x f!reader x rhysand

synopsis: you and your mates are on a mission in the autumn court, camping out on the battlegrounds. unfortunately, horniness calls, and you need your mates who warn you not to test their patience…

warnings: smut, threesome, degradation/humiliation, restraints/bdsm, dirty talk, f!receiving + giving

word count: 3,966

tags: @high-lady-of-autum @pageezy45

Azriel and Elain's Secret Wedding

𝔽𝕠𝕣 @elriel-month 𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕤 10 & 11 - 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪 & 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕖

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Piece name: 𝑨𝒛𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒔 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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His to Lose

Pairing: Azriel x Mate f!reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, teasing, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, emotional vulnerability, slow burn romance, gentle angst (focus on self-worth), jealousy, flirty flighting, touch-starved Azreil

Word count: 11,440

Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 2

Azriel had long given up on finding his mate, the one soul destined by fate to match his own.

He had spent centuries praying to the Mother, to gods and forgotten goddesses, pleading for his other half. For a sign. For something.

He searched. He waited. He hoped.

After Morrigan, after Elain, after Gwyn, all of whom had found their paths, their peace, their purpose without him, he ceased hoping.

He couldn’t keep doing it.

False hope, dressed in sweat and shadow.

Broken softness

Pairing: Azriel x Female! Reader

Summary: You think you misunderstood Azriel so you try to get over him. Until one day you come back with a bruised cheek and Azriel cannot hold himself any longer. He tells you the truth.

Words: 4, 913

Warnings: Angst, misunderstanding, mention of sexual assault, mention of violence and bruises, kinda fluff ending. My English as it’s not my first language.

Night settled over Velaris. The city glowed, warm light spilling from windows, laughter drifting faintly through the streets below, the Sidra catching starlight in long, shimmering ribbons.

It demanded your full attention but your focus had begun to blur.

You leaned back slightly, pressing your fingers to your temple, exhaling a quiet breath. Ink stained the side of your hand again. You hadn’t even noticed when it happened.

“You’re mapping blind.”

The voice came from behind you. Low, warm and familiar.

You didn’t startle this time. A small smile touched your lips as you turned your head just enough to glance over your shoulder.

“I was wondering when you’d appear.”

Azriel paused just inside the doorway.

tw: size kink, bit of dacryphilia, overall this is nastyyy

something about having you under him, squirming and helpless, makes azriel go feral.

it's the way you look so small compared to him, the way you are incapable of doing anything because he's just too strong and you can't fight back even if you want to.

he watches in wonder, completely intoxicated by you and amazed by how much of him you can take.

azriel is addicted to the power he has over you, too. the way he could throw you around like a toy, holding you in place just how he likes.

every time he says something, even tho your head is disconnected, your body can somehow still register his words, your walls clenching automatically around his girth, making him groan.

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