Pain in His Ass | Azriel Shadowsinger x reader
Summary: You just loveeeeee being a pain in Azriel's well-shaped behind.
Warnings: none!
Azriel’s POV:
I’m sitting in a beautiful garden, wings lazily draped over the oversized armchair I’m sitting in, made especially for Illyrians. The lovely female smiled as she placed my plate down in front of me: creme brulee tarts, something I had been craving since I returned from my mission. I hungrily eyed the golden layer of hardened caramel on top, looking forward to the satisfaction of breaking through the crunchy layer and into the delicious vanilla custard underneath.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile to the kind server, and watched as she walked away before picking up one of the tarts. I brought it up to my lips, an almost painful anticipation filling my chest. I was just about to bite into the tart when all of a sudden, I heard this agitating, grating voice, and I was smacked in the face with something soft.
I peek one eye open with a gasp, only to spot a vicious, hangry monster readying itself for another attack on my face with the soft object.
Your POV:
“Azriel!” You smacked him in the face with a pillow for what felt like the millionth time now, and still this overgrown bat wouldn’t wake up. A part of you knew he was doing it on purpose to piss you off, though. His shadows immediately scattered as you smacked him again, going to settle in different corners of the room.
Clearly, Azriel was going to get no support from them in dealing with you. One of them hung around you, though, curling around your fingers despite its master's obvious suffering.
You finally let up and tossed the pillow aside. “Azriel~” you whined, plopping your torso down on him, feet still firmly planted on the ground by the edge of his bed. He lay on his back, “sleeping,” but peeked an eye open when you lay on him. A small smirk appeared on his face, seeing that he was getting to you. “Wake up, Azzie,” you droned. “I wanna go out for breakfast, and everyone else is doing something else.”
That seemed to get a response. Without opening his eyes, he tsked. “Wow, so I’m just your backup?” he asked, offended, voice still groggy from sleep.
You gasped in mock offence. “No, I’m justifying why I can’t go with anybody else before you try to suggest it.” You stood up straight again and took a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.
He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, and cleared his throat before talking. “What are the others doing?” He dragged a hand down his face tiredly.
You began counting your family. “Well, Rhys and Feyre are busy with Nyx, and I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t have slept last night because Nyx was getting fussy yesterday, Mor is out with some female she met at the bar, Cassian and Nesta are definitely fucking, though they’re trying to be quiet. It's not working. And Elain isn’t great company. She doesn't talk much, and I get bored.” You ended with a laboured exhale, turning to the Shadowsinger with pleading eyes to understand your predicament.
Azriel chuckled, patted your leg sympathetically and laid back down. “Sounds rough.”
“Plus,” you said in a tone that suggested you’re sucking up to him now. “You’re my bestie!”
He narrowed his eyes at you as if questioning your claim. However, the Spymaster of the Night Court stood no chance against your pleading puppy eyes. He grumbled, “I hate you so much,” as he sat up once again.
You beamed, throwing your arms around his neck. “I love you, Grumpy McGrumperson,” you declared, then got off the bed. “I’m going to wait outside. Be ready in five!” you announced before you started walking towards the door.
Azriel dragged a hand down his face, sighing deeply.
“By the way,” you continued from the doorway. “You’re paying.”
Azirel groaned loudly, plopping backwards till his head hit the pillow.
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