Moments (Azriel x Reader)
(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)
Summary: A series of moments with Azriel.
Authors Note: A continuation of my 'Moments' series, not in any particular, and based around a pre-established relationship with The Shadowsinger himself. Ugh I dream of this man constantly and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.
Morning in Velaris arrives gently.
Golden light spills across tangled sheets, warm against bare skin. The air smells faintly of cedar and night-blooming jasmine drifting in through the cracked balcony doors.
You’re roused from your sleep by a touch, slow and careful. Fingers move along your back, feather-light, tracing paths that aren’t meant to wake you.
He maps you like he’s reading a story written by raised skin. The thin line near your shoulder blade. The jagged one lower down. The faint silvery stretch of magic-burned flesh along your ribs.
His thumb pauses over that one.
You wake fully when his fingers stop.
“…Az?” Your voice thick with sleep.
He stills, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
You hum softly and turn your head on your pillow to face him, hair falling over your cheek. “What are you doing?”
He’s propped up on one elbow beside you, dark curls loose around his face, the skin of his naked chest golden, tattoos glinting slightly in the early sunlight, wings relaxed behind him. In the soft morning light the usual sharpness of him is gentle. Thoughtful.
“You have a lot of scars,” he comments, almost accusingly.
You snort into the pillow. “So do you.”
He ignores your comment and traces another scar near your shoulder blade. His brows furrow slightly — he looks suspiciously like he’s sulking.
“I should have been there for this one.”
“Azriel,” you gently warn.
He presses his lips together but continues mapping you carefully with his fingers.
"You're doing it again,” you comment after a moment of silence.
You prop yourself up on your elbow so you're facing him properly, lovingly brushing his hair back from his forehead, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips which he eagerly welcomes.
"Stop it," you mumble against his lips.
"I'm not doing anything," he protests, chasing your lips as you pull away and lie back down.
"I was just wish I could have been there," he mutters.
You sigh softly, reaching up to coax him down to lie beside you.
You can't help the laugh that escapes.
Azriel looks mildly offended.
He sits up again slightly, wings shifting behind him in irritation. "You have scars from battles, interrogations, gods know what else. Half of them happened before I even met you."
"Exactly," you say patiently.
"And I wasn't there to keep you safe.”
You reach over and poke his chest.
"And whose fault is that?"
"Well, you should've found me sooner."
Azriel stares at you like he's trying to decide whether you're being serious.
"I'm sure the Mother would've rearranged fate if you'd just asked nicely."
Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitches at your sarcasm.
But his hand drifts back to your ribs again.
"I still don't like it," he says quietly. "Knowing you were hurt."
Your heart softens immediately.
You shift closer across the mattress until you're practically draped over him.
"Well," you say thoughtfully, "good thing you're here now."
His hand settles automatically at your waist.
"That doesn't erase the rest of it."
You lean down and press a kiss to the scar along his collarbone.
"What about yours?" You murmur, brushing your lips along the mark. "Where was I when you got this one?"
He huffs softly. "That's different."
You press another kiss to the edge of the scar, then another beside it.
Azriel's wings shift restfully.
"I'm serious," he says weakly, arching his neck to give you further access.
You slide fully onto him now, resting your weight across his chest, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck.
"If you keep sulking about my scars," you warn gently, "I'm going to have to distract you."
You smile sweetly and immediately start peppering kisses to his face.
His cheek. His jaw. His eyebrow. The bridge of his nose.
Azriel startles when you press an exaggerated kiss right on the centre of his forehead with a loud smack.
"What are you doing?" He asks, trying not to laugh.
"Smothering you with love."
You kiss the corner of his mouth.
"You're ridiculous," he murmurs as you continue your assault.
You gasp dramatically and press another kiss to his lips.
Azriel finally gives up resisting and pulls you closer, one arm tightening around your back, whilst the other reaches up to tangle loosely through your hair.
"No more brooding allowed," you inform him.
"You're only allowed to admire how impressive I am."
"Good boy," you teasingly praise, nipping at his chin.
His eyes darken playfully and your laugh is smothered as he pulls you down for a hard kiss.
When he finally settles back against the pillows, he keeps you tucked close against his chest, wings curling around you both like a shield.
You feel his fingers drift across your scars once more.
But this time there's no brooding in it.
Morning sunlight spills softly through the tall windows of the River House bedroom, painting warm gold across tangled sheets.
Azriel is very much not asleep.
He's propped above you, dark hair falling forward as he kisses you slowly along your jaw, clearly in no hurry whatsoever. One of your hands is tangled in his hair while the other wanders up and down his chiseled back.
"You realise," you murmur sleepily, "we're supposed to be up soon."
Azriel hums against your neck, entirely unconcerned.
Your fingers trace lazily along his shoulders and his wings shift slightly behind him as you scratch just at the base of the membrane, betraying just how much he's enjoying the moment.
The soft groan muffled against your neck also is very telling.
One his hands slowly moves to cup your thigh, lifting it to hook over his hip, giving him space to press himself hard against you.
One of his shadows zips across the room like it's been struck by lightning.
The shadow hovers above you both, seemingly agitated.
Your brain barely has time to process that before-
The bedroom door flies open.
Nyx barrels into the room like a tiny comet of excitement.
Azriel moves faster than you've ever seen him move.
One second he's leaning over you, nestled between your thighs, the next he's upright with lightning reflexes, dragging the blankets up to your shoulders while his shadows yank the loose curtain of the bed closed just enough to hide how tangled you both were moments ago.
Thank goodness you were both somewhat still clothed.
Nyx doesn't notice a thing.
He's too busy launching himself onto the mattress.
The bed bounces violently as the small Illyrian lands squarely between you.
Azriel exhales slowly through his nose.
You stay suspiciously tucked under the blankets and Azriel very deliberately shifts a pillow across his lap.
"Good morning Nyx," you greet.
Nyx beams at both of you.
"I woke up early and Mama said you were staying here and I wanted pancakes and Uncle Cass said he can't make them because he burns everything and-"
He finally pauses for breath.
Then he squints at Azriel.
"Why is your hair so messy?"
You bite your lip so hard it almost hurts.
Azriel doesn't even blink.
"Auntie, why are you so red?"
You immediately pull the covers up to just below your eyes, your snickers of amusement becoming muffled. "It's very warm in here, isn't it Az?"
Azriel clears his throat and subtly kicks you from under the blankets.
Nyx nods seriously like this is a perfectly understandable explanation.
Then he flops backward dramatically between you both.
"Are you getting up now? Mama says breakfast is soon but Uncle Cass said if we get there first we can steal the syrup."
Azriel rubs a hand over his face.
"Uncle Az! Carry me to breakfast!" Nyx demands.
Azriel blinks down at him.
"You burst into our room at dawn and now you want transportation?"
You laugh helplessly as Azriel sighs the long suffering sigh of a male, whose morning was rudely interrupted, and has completely lost control of the situation.
As Nyx continues his demands, Azriel clears his throat and shifts again and you know instantly why he's hesitated in scooping the boy up.
"Nyxie, let me carry you to breakfast," you say, drawing his attention away from the stiff male as you stand from the bed. "I'm stronger than Uncle Az anyway."
Nyx laughs in delight and immediately throws himself at you, wrapping his little arms around your neck triumphantly.
You smirk over the top of Nyx's head, shooting him a wink.
"We'll finish this later," you mouth to him.
Azriel eyes darken slightly before he schools his expression.
"I'm holding you to that," he murmurs back.
"What did you say Uncle Az?" Nyx asks.
"I said I can't wait for pancakes," he says firmly.
"Yes, I can't wait for pancakes either," you smirk.
Rhysand's office in the River House feels too small.
Azriel stands in the centre of the room like a storm barely held together. His shadows are restless, sliding along the walls and ceiling, gathering at the door like they're trying to claw their way out.
Across from him, Rhys doesn't move from behind his desk.
The word lands like a punch.
Azriel's wings twitch sharply. "She's still there."
Cassian exhales heavily from where he leans against the wall. "Az-"
"She must still in Autumn," Azriel snaps. "Beron's soldiers pinned us down and we had to split. I don't know if she made it out. I don't know if they-"
Because the alternative sits like poison in his chest.
Rhys watches him carefully.
"You know why we were there," Rhys says calmly. "If Beron realises we were gathering intel from Eris, the consequences will be catastrophic."
Azriel's jaw tightens. "I don't care."
Cassian straightens immediately, sensing the mounting tension.
The room goes very still.
Rhys's voice drops, quieter now.
"And she's my friend. But we have to give her more time."
Azriel's shadows lash violently.
"I will not sit here while she might be captured or injured."
Rhys's power flickers in the air.
"You will," he says, voice suddenly edged with the weight of a High Lord's command.
The magic of the order settles around his bones like chains.
Cassian mutters under his breath, "Shit."
Azriel's voice comes out hoarse. "You're ordering me not to go."
"Yes. You cannot just go storming back and put this fragile alliance at risk."
"What would you do if it was Feyre?"
Rhys recoiled as if Azriel had slapped him, his shoulders tensing as he slowly got to his feet, hands spread on his desk as if it pained him.
"I would trust in her abilities. Trust in the plan."
The study doors burst open.
You stumble through the doorway, breathing hard, leaves tangled in your hair and travel dust covering your leathers.
For a split second, no one moves.
Azriel stares at you like he's seeing a ghost.
Then the bond slams into him.
He crosses the room in a blur of shadows.
The next thing you know, you're lifted clean off your feet as Azriel wraps both arms around you, pulling you against his chest with bone-crushing force.
You gasp as the air leaves your lungs.
His wings flare wide around you both, shielding you from the world.
For a moment he doesn't speak.
Like if he loosens his grip you might disappear again.
Your arms slide around his neck, clinging just as tightly.
"I'm okay," you whisper breathlessly.
His face presses into your hair.
"You disappeared," he murmurs roughly. "You didn't meet me at the rendezvous point."
You pull back slightly to look at him.
"It took me longer than I thought to get there. Too many eyes. I had to double back and by the time I got there, you had already gone."
Azriel swallows harshly - he should've waited longer for you. He should've-
"Don't do that," you murmur gently, seeing his thoughts flash across his eyes. "There was nothing you could've done differently."
His hands move immediately - checking your shoulders, your arms, your face, like he's cataloguing every piece of you.
Cassian lets out a long breath from across the room. "Mother above."
Rhys leans back against his desk, relief flickering through his expression even as he masks it with dry composure.
"Perfect timing," he says lightly.
You glance at him, confused. "Timing?"
Cassian snorts. "You walked in right as Az here was about to ignore a High Lord's order and march back into Autumn by himself."
You look to him, shocked. He doesn't even deny it.
His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you close again and pressing his forehead against yours like he's grounding himself.
"You scared me," he mutters.
Your heart squeezes at the rawness in his voice.
Your hand slides up to cradle his cheek.
The bond hums warmly between you.
Azriel exhales slowly, the tension finally draining from his shoulders.
Behind you, Cassian mutters, "Alright, that's enough of the emotional reunion, some of us almost died tonight."
You glance over Azriel's shoulder and grin faintly.
Azriel doesn't let you go for the rest of the night.
Not that you're complaining.
The kitchen is quiet in the late afternoon.
Sunlight spills across the marble counters, warm and golden, catching on the edges of the plates and glassware as you move around barefoot as you prepare dinner.
You're half-focused on the open recipe book on the counter as you whisk a dressing in a glass bowl.
You're not really paying attention to what you're doing, trying to calculate how much longer the chicken needed in the oven.
It shatters against the floor with a sharp crack.
You step back instinctively.
Pain shoots up your foot, sharp and sudden enough to steal your breath. You freeze, lifting your foot slightly as a sting radiates through the sole. You eye the splinters of glass now covering the floor around you.
"...That's not good," you mutter.
A shadow appears at your ankle almost instantly.
They coil there, hovering, assessing, recoiling as small splatters of blood drips onto the floor.
Azriel is in the doorway.
He takes in the scene in one sweep: shattered glass, your uneven stance, the way you're holding your foot just off the floor.
You grimace. "I dropped my favourite mixing bowl."
He walks toward you, slow and deliberate.
His shadows are already moving, brushing lightly over your foot before he even reaches you.
Then his gaze sharpens as he notes the blood.
You wince. "I gathered that, yes."
He just bends and, without warning, scoops you up into his arms.
You let out a small yelp. "Az-!"
"Stop moving," he says calmly, already turning toward the counter.
"You were about to try and walk and you would've got more glass in your foot."
He sets you down on the counter with tender gentleness, one hand braced at your hip to steady you.
You give him a look. "I'm not a dog."
"Stay," he repeats, with a hint of a smirk.
He resists patting your head, knowing it would only get him a slap.
You huff but don't argue.
Azriel crouches in front of you, lifting your injured foot carefully into his hand.
His touch is steady. Controlled.
But you can feel the tension in him.
You shift slightly, wincing as the movement pulls at the cut.
"Hold still," he murmurs.
His shadows slide over your ankle then, cool and soft, curling just firmly enough to keep your foot from twitching.
"...Did you just restrain me?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
You can't help the blush that heats your cheeks as you try not to smile.
Azriel tilts your foot slightly, his thumb brushing just below the injury as he inspects it.
A small shard of glass glints in the light.
His gaze flicks up to yours.
You press your lips together.
Satisfied, he flicks his fingers and a small tendril of shadow curls towards it.
"This may hurt," he murmurs.
He works carefully. Slowly.
The shadow catches the edge of the glass, pulling gently.
You flinch instinctively.
The shadows curled around your foot tighten instantly, steadying you.
"I've got you, baby”, Azriel murmurs, voice softer now.
You focus on him instead of the pain - the way his brows are drawn in concentration, the precision in every movement, how handsome he looks with his eyebrows furrowed like that.
You exhale. "Oh thank the Mother."
Azriel sets the glass aside, immediately reaching for a cloth to clean the wound.
His hands linger for a moment longer than necessary.
"Next time," he says, "you call me before you try to fight broken glass barefoot."
You tilt your head. "I think I won."
His mouth twitches despite himself.
Carefully, he lowers your foot, but keeps one hand at your ankle.
His thumb rubs your skin tenderly.
"Don't put weight on it yet."
He narrows his eyes slightly at your tone.
A second later, he straightens - and before you can react, he lifts you again.
"You're not hopping either."
You loop your arms around his neck.
"Overprotective," he corrects.
His shadows curl smugly around you both as he carries you out of the kitchen.
And this time, you don't argue at all.
It started in the morning.
You pause as you pull the covers back, preparing to swing your legs out of bed.
"...I'm coming to training with you."
Azriel doesn't even look up from strapping the last buckles of his leathers into place. "You can't."
"I'm training with just Rhys and Cassian today."
You cross your arms. "So?"
He finally glances at you. And makes a fatal mistake.
"You'll distract me too much if you come."
You stare at him, slowly narrowing your eyes.
Azriel hums in agreement and unfortunately, he doesn't notice the shift or the way your face drops slightly.
He just leans down, presses a quick, absent-minded kiss to your forehead - like the conversation is completely over - and heads for the door.
"Go back to bed, baby. I'll see you later," he says.
You sit there. Forehead still warm. Eyes narrowing slowly.
He doesn't realise anything is wrong.
Not when he comes back hours later, still flushed and sweaty from training and in an annoyingly good mood from managing to put both Cassian and Rhys on their backs in the training ring.
He finds you in the library.
"Hey," he says easily, already leaning down for a kiss.
His lips land on your cheek.
Azriel pauses, but doesn't think much of it.
You don't look up from your book. "It's for Nesta's bookclub. You know, girl things."
He frowns slightly, noting your tone. His suspicion flickers, but it doesn't fully land.
His suspicion starts to raise however, in the kitchen.
He corners you lightly, one hand braced on the counter, the other brushing your waist as he leans in.
"Careful," you saw sweetly. "You wouldn't want to distract me whilst I'm making lunch, would you?"
You pour yourself a drink like nothing happened.
Realisation begins to dawn.
By dinner, he's very aware that something’s wrong.
You're perfectly pleasant.
Chatty. Relaxed. Smiling.
You allow his hand to rest on your thigh.
To anyone watching the two of you, you seemed content and happy.
Every attempt is expertly dodged.
Sensing his growing distress, his shadows try to help at one point.
You gently pat them away.
Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning closer and lowering his voice.
"I'm not," you repeat, sipping your drink.
He leans closer. "This is about this morning."
You smile brightly. "What about this morning?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
You tilt your head. "No I don't think I do."
Cassian snorts into his drink across from you both. "Did Az say something that's got him into trouble?"
Azriel shoots him a look.
But you’re already engaged in another conversation with Feyre.
Azriel huffs impatiently.
By the time you're getting into bed, Azriel is done.
You slip under the covers like everything is perfectly normal.
He stands at the edge of the bed, staring at you.
"You haven't kissed me all day."
You fluff your pillow. "Have I not?"
You finally look at him, expression innocent.
Azriel exhales, running a hand through his hair.
"I said you'd distract me because I can't focus when you're there. Not because you're incapable of behaving or that I didn't want you there with me."
He softens slightly. "I'm always aware when you're close by. I love it, maybe a little too much.”
"I didn't realise I upset you," he admits.
That takes a tiny bit of the wind out of your sails.
"...You didn't, well not really."
"Then why haven't you kissed me all day?" He practically whines.
You sigh dramatically. "You kissed my forehead like I was dismissed."
His brows lift. "I always kiss your forehead."
He considers it, thinking back to how he cut you off with the kiss before leaving.
He steps closer, bracing a hand on the mattress beside you.
"...Can I fix it?" He asks quietly.
Just for a second, as you appear to consider his request. You tap on your chin in playful thought.
Truthfully, not kissing your mate had been just as torturous for you too.
You grab the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss.
You pour everything into it that you'd had to hold back all day.
Azriel makes a soft, startled sound before immediately kissing you back, one hand coming to your jaw, the other bracing himself as he leans into it fully.
Relief hits him instantly.
When you finally pull back, he's looking at you like the world has righted itself.
"There you are," he murmurs.
You try to look unimpressed.
"Don't be smug,” you warn.
You huff, but he's already leaning in again, slower this time, softer, like he's making up for every missed moment.
A second later he climbs into bed, pulling you against him with quiet insistence.
His wings shift around you both.
"You're not allowed to do that again," he mutters into your hair.
You smile against his chest.
"I’ll just have to come up with other ways to punish you then, next time.”
You can practically hear Azriel’s smile.
“We could always try that thing with my shadows again…“
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