#azriel acosf

[dumb-ster-fire]

Azriel x fem!reader - Just a dress

Summary: While shopping with Mor, Y/N is asked to model a beautiful wedding dress for a bridal shop in need of a last-minute replacement. She agrees, enjoying the fun of it—until Azriel, her mate, sees her. His shadows tighten, his gaze dark and intense. It’s just a dress… so why does it feel like something deeper?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N glanced at Mor, who was already grinning like she had won the lottery. “Oh, you have to do it,” Mor urged, practically bouncing on her heels.

The shop attendant clasped her hands together. “It’s a simple favor—just try on the dress, walk around a little, and in return, we’ll compensate you.” Her gaze swept over Y/N’s tall, elegant frame. “You’re perfect for it.”

Y/N tilted her head, considering. It did sound fun. And it wasn’t every day she got to play dress-up in a gown fit for royalty.

“Alright,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s do it.”

The attendant beamed and led them inside, where Y/N was soon whisked into a dressing room. The gown was decadent—intricate embroidery shimmering in the light, a full, sweeping skirt, and delicate lace detailing. When they placed the diadem on her head and finished her makeup, she barely recognized herself in the mirror. She looked… ethereal. Regal.

Mor’s gasp as she stepped out confirmed it. “Holy shit, Y/N.” Her eyes widened with something between awe and mischief. “Azriel is going to pass out when he sees you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the little flutter in her stomach at the thought.

She had agreed to walk around the boutique and outside for a bit, letting potential customers see the dress in motion. And of course, Mor was already plotting.

Y/N smirked. “Just don’t let Az see it.”

Mor’s wicked grin only widened. “Oh, no promises.”

Y/N gracefully walked alongside the shop representative as they guided her to the designated path where she’d be showcasing the dress. The streets of Velaris, always lively, now had curious onlookers pausing in their steps as she passed. Some whispered, some openly admired, and more than a few stopped in their tracks entirely.

Mor strolled beside her, looking far too pleased with herself, hands clasped behind her back like she was completely innocent.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, she had already reached out to Rhys through their mind link.

You need to get your asses down here. Now.

Rhys’s response was immediate. What did you do?

Mor barely contained her excitement as she side-eyed Y/N, who was completely unaware of the unfolding scheme. Not what I did. What Y/N did. She’s walking through Velaris in a wedding dress.

There was a moment of stunned silence before multiple voices chimed in at once.

Cassian: YOU’RE JOKING. WE’RE ON OUR WAY.

Rhysand: This I have to see.

Amren: Hah. Poor Azriel.

Azriel: …What?

Mor grinned but kept her expression neutral as she turned to Y/N, who was still elegantly making her way through the street, oblivious to the storm about to descend.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Y/N, completely unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed, continued walking with effortless grace, the luxurious wedding gown flowing around her like stardust. The diadem atop her head caught the light, making her look every bit the ethereal, untouchable bride. People on the street kept stopping to watch, whispering amongst themselves. Some even clapped in admiration.

Mor, biting her lip to keep from outright laughing, linked arms with her as they neared the end of the walk. “You know, you look obscenely good in that dress.”

Y/N smirked. “Of course I do.” Then, with mock seriousness, “It’s a shame no one I know is here to see it.”

Mor nearly snorted. If only Y/N knew.

Because right at that moment, Cassian, Rhys, Amren, and—most importantly—Azriel appeared at the edge of the street, blending into the crowd.

Rhys, hands in his pockets, took one look at Y/N and let out a low whistle. Damn.

Cassian, on the other hand, was losing his mind. “OH. MY. GODS.” He practically bounced on his feet. “I knew this was gonna be good, but this—this is better than I ever could have imagined.”

Amren crossed her arms, eyes flicking between Azriel and Y/N with amusement. “He’s going to combust.”

And Azriel—Azriel was frozen.

The moment his eyes landed on Y/N, everything else blurred into insignificance. The gown, the diadem, the way she moved with such natural confidence—it was lethal. She was breathtaking on any given day, but like this? Like this?

It took everything in him to school his expression, to keep himself from storming over, yanking her against him, and demanding when exactly she was planning to tell him she looked like that in a wedding dress.

Mor, watching all of this unfold, casually said through the mind link, Enjoying the view, Az?

His shadows curled tighter around him. You knew about this.

Obviously.

Cassian, watching Azriel’s battle for control, leaned over and whispered, “So, when’s the wedding?”

Azriel shot him a look so sharp it could have gutted a man. Cassian only grinned wider.

And then—Y/N finally noticed them.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, turned her head slightly, about to make some offhand comment to Mor—when she spotted them.

Her steps faltered for a split second as her pale green eyes locked onto the group of familiar faces. And then—she saw him.

Azriel stood slightly apart from the others, his wings half-flared, shadows coiling around him in a way that told her everything. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his hazel eyes burned hotter than the sun.

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Mor cackled.

Cassian was barely holding in his laughter, whispering something to Rhys, who was just standing there, smug as all hell. Amren, as usual, looked more entertained than anything.

And Azriel?

He stalked toward her.

Y/N straightened automatically, an instinctive reaction to the sheer force of his gaze. As he closed the distance, she could practically feel the possessiveness rolling off him in waves, feel the weight of it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his shadows swirled around his boots like they, too, were ready to drag her close and never let go.

She tilted her head, offering a smirk despite the sudden racing of her heart. “Well, hello there, shadowsinger.”

Azriel stopped right in front of her, his gaze sweeping over everything—the gown, the diadem, the way the silk hugged her curves just right.

“You didn’t think to mention this?” His voice was low, edged with something dark, something claiming.

Y/N’s smirk widened. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings twitching slightly before he reached out, fingers brushing along the delicate embroidery on her sleeve. His touch was light, reverent—dangerous.

“This,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to hers, “is unfair.”

Y/N hummed, enjoying the heat in his gaze far too much. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Azriel’s lips parted like he was about to answer, but Cassian—because of course he did—ruined the moment.

“So,” the general called, grinning like a madman, “should we just start planning the wedding now or—”

Y/N turned sharply. “Cassian.”

Cassian held up his hands. “I’m just saying! You’re already in the dress—”

“I will fight you.”

“I’d like to see you try in that gown.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you absolute menace—”

But before she could launch herself at him—before she could even move—Azriel’s hand curled around her wrist, tugging her back toward him, his chest brushing against hers.

“You do look stunning,” he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear.

Y/N blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by the softness in his voice, by the intensity in his eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For once, she didn’t have a clever response.

Azriel’s fingers skimmed up her arm, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through her. His eyes were still locked onto hers, intense, unreadable, drinking her in like she was something rare, something his.

Y/N swallowed. “You—” She cleared her throat, grasping for something smug to say, something to lighten the heat pooling in her stomach. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re planning something.”

Azriel’s lips barely twitched, his only response a slow, deliberate glance down the length of her. “I’m definitely planning something.”

Mother above.

Mor, meanwhile, was enjoying this way too much. “I have never seen you look so—” she wiggled her fingers dramatically in Azriel’s direction “—feral.”

Azriel didn’t even acknowledge her.

Rhys was still grinning, arms crossed, looking like he was storing this entire moment away for blackmail later. “I have to say, I didn’t expect this today.”

Y/N scoffed. “Neither did I, to be fair.” She gestured to the decadent gown. “It was supposed to be fun, not—” She flicked her eyes back to Azriel, whose expression hadn’t softened in the slightest. “—whatever this is.”

“This,” Azriel echoed, voice quieter now, though no less intense.

Y/N arched a brow. “You don’t like it?”

Azriel huffed a breath, stepping even closer, until she could feel his warmth, until his wings partially wrapped behind her like he was shielding her from everyone. His fingers skimmed the side of her waist, grazing the delicate fabric.

“I love it,” he admitted, so quiet only she could hear. “And I hate that everyone else can see you in it.”

Oh.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Azriel’s lips tilted up slightly. “You knew this would drive me insane.”

She grinned, regaining some of her composure. “Did I?”

His fingers flexed on her waist. “You did.”

Cassian clapped his hands. “Alright, lovebirds, before you two start making out in the middle of the street—”

Y/N threw him a glare, but he only smirked.

Amren, ever the voice of reason, just sighed. “Can we go now?”

Y/N huffed, shooting one last glance at Azriel before stepping back. He let her go—reluctantly—but his shadows still curled around her ankle as if refusing to let her slip too far away.

She smirked. “If you behave, shadowsinger, maybe I’ll wear this just for you later.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened.

Cassian whistled.

Mor lost it.

And as Y/N strode past them, chin held high, she could feel Azriel’s eyes still burning into her, still tracking her every movement, still plotting ways to make her pay for this little tease.

Maybe I should keep the dress.

Y/N felt the weight of Azriel’s gaze long after she had passed him, heat crawling up her spine as she tried—tried—to keep her composure. The gown, the diadem, the makeup… it was all just supposed to be fun, something ridiculous and lighthearted. But now?

Now she was very aware of the fact that she had just paraded down the street looking like a bride, while her mate—her dangerously possessive mate—stood there looking like he was barely restraining himself from throwing her over his shoulder and flying them straight home.

Mor, still at her side, was cackling. “You’re evil for that.”

Y/N grinned. “I know.”

Cassian strolled up beside them, shaking his head. “You do realize you just gave him about a hundred new fantasies, right?”

Y/N snorted. “As if he didn’t already have them.”

Mor hummed. “True, but now? Now it’s personal.”

A shiver trailed down her spine, but before she could hink too much about it, the bridal shop representative rushed over, delighted by all the attention Y/N had drawn. “Oh, this was perfect!” The woman beamed. “You looked exquisite—so poised, so regal. And your mate—Mother above, his reaction was exactly the kind of passion we want associated with our dresses.”

Y/N barely held in a laugh. If only they knew.

The woman clapped her hands. “Would you consider modeling for us again in the future?”

Mor lost it, clutching her stomach as she doubled over in laughter.

Y/N smirked. “I’ll… think about it.”

She could feel Azriel’s shadows still lingering near her, like they refused to let her out of their sight. Good. Let him suffer a bit.

Still, as she walked back to the shop to change, she sent a whisper through the bond.

Did you enjoy the show, shadowsinger?

A pause. Then, a voice like a dark promise.

You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Maybe she would keep the dress.

Y/N grinned wickedly as she stepped back into the bridal shop, Mor still laughing beside her. The moment the door shut behind them, she pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering as Azriel’s words lingered in her mind. You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Oh, she knew that tone.

And she absolutely planned to drag it out for as long as possible.

“Did you see his face?” Mor wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “Y/N, I swear to the Mother, I have never seen him like that before. He looked like he was this close to starting a public riot.”

Y/N smirked. “I was hoping for a reaction.” She turned, admiring herself in the massive mirror. “Didn’t expect to look this good, though.”

The gown was decadent—pure white with intricate silver embroidery that shimmered under the light. It clung to her curves, cascading in elegant folds, and the diadem in her long hair only added to the illusion of royalty. She looked like she belonged in an ancient, otherworldly court, a queen stepping out of legend.

And Azriel had seen it.

Y/N felt the heat of his gaze even now, the intensity that had burned through the crowd. Her smirk deepened.

Mor nudged her. “You have to keep this dress. I mean, come on. You look like some celestial queen.”

Y/N hummed. “You just want to see Azriel suffer more.”

“Absolutely.” Mor grinned. “And so do you.”

She didn’t even bother denying it.

After a few more minutes, Y/N reluctantly stepped back into the dressing room to change. The moment she pulled the heavy gown off, she exhaled, shaking her head at herself. She had just been playing along with the whole thing, but now, a deeper thought crept in.

Marriage.

She and Azriel hadn’t talked about it, not really. But standing out there, with the entire Inner Circle watching, with him watching, the thought had settled in a way it hadn’t before.

Would she marry him?

The answer struck her as effortlessly as breathing. Of course. She was his, just as he was hers. There was no question about it.

But still, the idea of it—the reality of a ceremony, of wearing a dress like this with intention—sent an unfamiliar feeling curling in her chest.

Excitement.

A little bit of fear.

And a lot of amusement, because she knew Azriel was still reeling.

By the time she stepped out in her normal clothes again, Mor had already sent another message through the bond link. Y/N raised a brow.

Mor just winked. “You’ll see.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but when they finally stepped out of the shop, she did see.

Or rather—she felt it.

Azriel.

Leaning against the wall just outside, shadows curling around his frame, golden skin taut with restrained tension. His hazel eyes—burning—traced over her, head to toe, like he was still seeing her in that gown.

Y/N’s breath caught, but she smirked. “Came to pick me up, shadowsinger?”

His voice was dark silk. “Had to make sure you weren’t planning to run off and get married without me.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, stepping close, just enough to taunt him with her presence. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered with something dangerous. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured,

“You will pay for that, starlight.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. Again.

Mor stifled a laugh behind them.

Y/N just tilted her chin up, meeting his smoldering gaze with a challenge. “Looking forward to it.”

[bluetimeombre]

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

[surielstea]

Undercover Affection

Based on a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, you must pretend to be a couple. During which it’s revealed that Azriel and you are mated.

Warnings: none (that I know of)

A.Note: After a month of ghosting you guys I’m finally back!! And with a fic I’m very proud of so I hope you guys enjoy!!

7.9k word count.

The instructions had been simple enough: "Blend in, gather information, and avoid getting caught." But for some reason, Rhysand had thought it necessary to throw in an extra condition—one Azriel seemed to want to claw his way out of.

"I work alone." The shadow singer gritted through his teeth, shadows billowing over his impressively sized wings.

"Not for this mission, you won't." The High Lord immediately dismisses him, not batting an eye at the male who perhaps every other fae in Prythian was terrified of.

"She's not ready, she'll be a distraction." Azriel counters. A foreign part of you panged with disappointment at that. Did he really find you so incompetent?

Rhys argues back immediately, his anger beginning to ramp up to meet Azriel's and you quickly decide you didn't want to be anywhere near when they collided. "You told me yourself just last week she's the best spy you've ever trained."

Your eyebrows lift a fraction at what Rhys had unconsciously confessed, the barest reaction but enough for the shadow singer to pick up on. His hazel eyes flicked to your own gaze, then back to Rhysand's.

They seemed to be having a conversation, one you couldn't hear. You doubted you'd ever get used to that, the way Rhys could slip into someone's mind—even someone as guarded as Azriel. A shiver went down your spine as you thought about the power of the High Lord of Night.

"You have to be out of your mind if you think I'll ever put her in that kind of danger." Azriel seethed to his brother through the mental connection, unable to even fathom the idea of you having a target on your back.

"She may be your mate but she is also your disciple, did you seriously think she'd never go out into the field?" Rhys could sense his anger, feel it ebbing against a shield that was thinning.

"I only taught her spy work so she'd know how to protect herself—never to put her in harm's way," Azriel says, his frustration making his voice sound almost pleading.

"Then you know she can protect herself. You will be beside her every step of the way, what she wants to do is entirely her decision." Rhys remarks.

"And what if the bond snaps? It could jeopardize the mission—much more, her safety." Azriel poses, the scenario would make all hell break loose in all situations.

"Are you implying you can't keep her safe?" Rhys taunts, the words finding their mark in the Spy Masters head.

You watch their expressions closely, attempting to pick up on what they were saying but the only reaction you could spot was the way Azriel's jaw feathered as he pushed off Rhysand's desk and turned to me.

"Do you think you're ready for this?" There was a certain softness in his eyes you only got rare glimpses of, the sight making you swallow hard.

Your throat felt tight, but you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. "I am." Your voice didn't waver, though the intensity of his hazel eyes made it a near thing.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed you both with a calculating air. The quiet smile tugging at his lips felt almost dangerous like he already knew the outcome of a game you hadn't even realized you were playing.

"The ball," he began, voice smooth, "is being hosted by High Fae whose loyalty to Prythian is questionable at best. Whispers suggest they're courting alliances with forces hostile to Velaris. If true, this could be the first move toward rebellion."

He slid a detailed sketch across the desk. The male's sharp features and cold, calculating eyes etched into the paper made your stomach tighten. Rhys's voice remained steady as he continued. "Kaieel is the orchestrator. We need names, allies, plans—anything we can use to dismantle his efforts before they gain traction. The masks and secrecy of the event work in our favor. You'll attend, blend in with the crowd, and leave no trace of your presence."

"And our cover?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

Rhys's lips twitched. "Newlyweds."

The single word hit you like a jolt of lightning. Your heart stumbled, catching somewhere between shock and disbelief. "A couple?" you uttered, trying to keep your voice even.

"A young pair enamored with each other and blissfully distracted. The perfect cover." Rhys's eyes sparkled with mirth, though his tone was all business. "An unattached male draws suspicion. A pair in love does not."

Azriel didn't react outwardly, but his silence spoke volumes. You risked a glance at him, finding his gaze fixed somewhere distant. Was the idea truly so unbearable to him?

"The priority," Rhys continued, "is information. If your cover is compromised, you extract yourselves immediately. But until then, you'll need to act the part—dancing, whispering... perhaps even a kiss or two, if the situation calls for it."

"Rhys," Azriel growled, low and lethal.

Rhys only smirked, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Relax, Az. You might even have fun. Any questions?"

You shook your head, pulse hammering. The mission was simple in theory, but with Azriel by your side—close enough to feel his warmth, to brush against the bond neither of you had spoken of—it felt like you were stepping into something far more dangerous than a ballroom full of enemies.

"Good," Rhys said, dismissing you both with a wave. "You leave at dusk."

Azriel turned abruptly, the tension in his wings a visible reminder of the storm brewing within him. As he stalked toward the door, you followed, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

Whatever lay ahead, one thing was clear: the mission wouldn't just test your skills as a spy—it would test every fragile boundary you and Azriel had built between the two of you.

—

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your gown, the soft, luxurious material clinging perfectly to your frame before pooling at your feet. It was a deep shade of midnight grey, almost black, designed to shimmer as if it were the color of the moon itself, glimmering silver in the right lighting. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without crossing into scandalous, and the fitted bodice accentuated every curve. The gown was a far cry from the shadowy leathers you had grown accustomed to during training.

Your fingers brushed over the mask lying on the vanity before you. It was delicate, intricate silver filigree adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light to match my dress. The sight of it alone made your stomach twist with nerves, though you refused to let the feeling take hold. You were a spy, not some jittery debutante.

Focus.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror as you adjusted the gown again, letting out a slow breath. The transformation was undeniable; the person staring back at you looked like they belonged at this kind of event. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself, and that unfamiliarity was almost reassuring. If you didn't recognize yourself, maybe no one else would either.

The soft knock at the door startled you. You turned, calling out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, closing it behind him with deliberate care.

Your breath was stolen from your lungs at the sight of the Shadow Singer.

He wore an all-black suit that looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him—and knowing the resources of the Night Court, it probably had. The sharp lines of the jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the subtle sheen of the fabric only added to the air of elegance that clung to him. His wings were glamoured away, leaving no trace of their presence—which was upsetting, but it was his eyes that made up for it—those piercing hazel eyes, framed by long lashes that truly captured your attention. They swept over you in a single, assessing glance, and you swore you caught the faintest flicker of surprise before his features smoothed into their usual calm.

"You look..." His voice trailed off, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Like I'm about to infiltrate a ball filled with potential traitors to Velaris?" you offered lightly, trying to break the tension that had settled in the room.

"I was going to say beautiful, but that works too," he said simply, his voice low and even. The words sent a strange warmth curling through your chest, though you quickly buried it.

Azriel crossed the room, the measured grace of his movements a reminder of the lethal precision he carried with him always. He stopped just in front of you, holding out his hand. "Your mask."

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing it to him. His gloved fingers brushed against yours as he took it, and you were acutely aware of how close he was as he moved behind you.

The brush of his knuckles against your temple sent a shiver down your spine as he adjusted the mask, tying the soft ribbons at the back of your head with deft fingers. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—wrapped around you, a quiet distraction that made it hard to focus.

"There," he murmured, adjusting your hair around the ribbon before stepping back just enough for you to turn and face him. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you wondered if he could sense the way your pulse quickened.

"You clean up well," you said, tilting your head slightly. "Almost didn't recognize you without all the shadows."

He raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "You'll have to forgive me for not returning the compliment."

Your lips twitched. "And why's that?"

"Because if I did, we'd be here all night," he replied smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rare, fleeting smile.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected flirtation. Azriel's humor was subtle, almost elusive, but when it surfaced, it always left you reeling.

Before you could find a response, you remembered the last detail. "Oh, wait." You turned back to the vanity, retrieving the small box you'd nearly forgotten. Inside were two rings—simple, elegant bands meant to complete your cover as a married couple.

You slipped one onto your finger, the cool metal fitting perfectly, the sapphire stone placed atop it glimmering in the sunsetting light. You hold out the other to him. "Rhys gave them to me, for authenticity," you said, keeping your tone light despite the awkwardness that had crept into the air.

Azriel's gaze dropped to the ring in your hand, his expression unreadable as he took it. For a moment, you thought he might protest, but instead, he slid it onto his finger with careful precision.

He slipped it onto his finger without breaking eye contact, the deliberate slowness of the action making your heart race. "There," he said, holding his hand up to examine the ring. "How do I look as your doting husband?"

You took a step back, pretending to assess him with a critical eye. "Hmm, you'll pass—just barely. Try smiling a little more. You're supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?"

Azriel leaned in slightly, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "If I smile too much, they'll think I've lost my mind."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Fair enough."

He reached out then, his hand brushing yours as he straightened an imaginary crease in the sleeve of your gown. The touch was fleeting but enough to send warmth creeping up your neck. When he pulled back, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, grabbing the silver clutch from the vanity and looping it over your wrist. "As I'll ever be."

Azriel extended his arm, a rare gesture that made your lips twitch in surprise. "Shall we, gorgeous?" he teased, his tone low and smooth.

You slid your hand through the crook of his arm, matching his smirk with one of your own. "Lead the way, handsome." Whatever this mission had in store, it was clear the most dangerous thing you'd face tonight wasn't Kaieel or his allies. It was Azriel—and the way he made you feel.

—

The ballroom glittered like a scene from a dream, opulent and indulgent in every detail. Chandeliers sparkled with a thousand lights overhead, their glow casting a soft radiance across the sea of masked figures swirling on the marble floor. The air buzzed with muted conversations, laughter, and the soft strains of a symphony playing in the background.

Your arm was looped through Azriel's, his warmth bleeding into you even through the layers of your gown and his tailored suit. He guided you into the crowd with an ease that belied his tension, his hazel eyes scanning every face, every shadow, every corner.

"Stay close," he murmured, the words just for you, his breath brushing against your temple. His voice, low and commanding, sent a shiver down your spine, though you quickly disguised it as a nod of agreement.

"Hard to get closer than this," you quipped softly, unable to resist. You felt him stiffen slightly under your hand, his wings—glamoured away but somehow still present in your mind—practically bristling with restrained energy.

He didn't respond, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed him. If it weren't for the mask obscuring part of his face, you might have caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Instead, his focus shifted, scanning the room until it landed on your target.

Kaieel stood near the far edge of the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in this crowd of nobles. His mask, dark and menacing, covered much of his face, but his icy blue eyes gleamed through the filigree, sharp and calculating. A small circle of sycophants surrounded him, laughing too loudly at his every word. He raised a crystal flute to his lips, sipping lazily as though the fate of Prythian wasn't potentially hanging on his next move.

"Eyes on Kaieel," Azriel murmured, tilting his head just enough for his words to reach you. "But keep it subtle. The last thing we want is him noticing our interest too early."

"Subtlety is my specialty," you whispered back, earning a flick of his gaze, though he said nothing. His grip on your hand tightened as he steered you toward the dance floor.

Before you could question him, Azriel pivoted smoothly, releasing your arm only to catch your hand and pull you into a waltz. The sudden movement startled you, your other hand landing instinctively on his shoulder as he spun you into the rhythm of the music.

"A dance?" you asked, arching a brow as you tried to ignore the way his hand settled on your waist, firm but not overbearing.

"Blending in," he replied simply, though the set of his jaw betrayed the faintest hint of awkwardness. "Everyone else is dancing. And from here, we have a better view of Kaieel."

You followed his lead, your feet moving in time with his despite the distraction of his proximity. The bond hummed faintly at the back of your mind, an awareness you fought to suppress as you focused on the task at hand. His scent—cedar and chilled mist—wrapped around you, grounding and maddening all at once.

"So," you ventured, your voice low, "do we just stare at him all night, or do we actually have a plan?"

Azriel's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Patience. Kaieel will make his move eventually. Until then, we observe."

"Observation is all well and good," you said, your tone light despite the weight of the moment, "but what if he decides to slip away before we get what we need?"

"He won't," Azriel replied, his confidence a quiet anchor in the storm of your nerves. "He's too arrogant to think anyone here is a threat to him."

You were about to respond when Kaieel's laugh cut through the music, sharp and derisive. Your gaze flicked toward him in time to see him gesture grandly to his circle, drawing their attention—and yours. The words he spoke were lost in the distance, but the smug tilt of his head and the pointed glance he cast toward a cloaked figure in the corner sent a chill down your spine.

"Did you see that?" you murmured, tilting your head subtly toward Kaieel.

Azriel's grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. "I saw. He's signaling someone."

Your next step faltered, and Azriel steadied you instantly, his hand at your back pressing you closer. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver through you. "If you trip, they'll notice."

"Noted," you said, your cheeks warming despite yourself. You tilted your head again, pretending to focus on him as you spoke. "The cloaked figure in the corner. Could be a contact."

"Could be," Azriel agreed, his hazel eyes flicking toward the figure in question. "But we won't know for sure until we get closer."

"And how do you propose we do that without drawing attention?" you asked, trying to ignore the way his hand seemed to linger on your back, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your gown in a way that felt almost deliberate.

Azriel's lips curved into a smirk, subtle but unmistakable. "Leave that to me."

Before you could question him further, the song ended, and he stepped back, bowing slightly as he offered you his arm again. You accepted it, allowing him to guide you off the dance floor and toward the far side of the room. Kaieel's attention was still focused on his circle, oblivious to your approach.

Azriel leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "We'll circle the room, make small talk, and get close enough to overhear. Follow my lead."

"Always," you replied softly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Azriel's gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing as he led you deeper into the crowd.

The mission demanded your focus, but with Azriel at your side, his presence steady and unyielding, you couldn't help but wonder if the real danger tonight wasn't the secrets hidden in this ballroom—but the ones you carried in your heart.

You move through the ballroom like smoke, seamlessly blending with the opulent crowd. Strangers smile at you—glittering masks of civility over a sea of intentions. They don't need to know who you are; your presence, the confident tilt of your chin, and the luxury of your attire tell them enough. Wealth recognizes power, even in passing.

When you wave at a woman standing beside Kaieel, she returns the gesture, though her eyes narrow ever so slightly, a flicker of confusion betraying her effort to place you. Still, she beckons you closer with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to command.

"Lady Reven," Azriel murmurs in your ear, his voice as soft and deliberate as the shadows that cling to him. "Ex-wife of Kaieel. The hostess of tonight's spectacle."

"She invited her ex-husband?" you ask under your breath, your smile unwavering despite the furrow of your brows.

"He's funding it," Azriel replies, his golden eyes scanning the room. "This way, he and his associates can conspire without his name attached. If the plot unravels—"

"She takes the fall," you finish, your mind catching up to the threads he's weaving.

"Precisely," he says with a wry twist of his lips. Then, with a pointed glance at Lady Reven, he adds, "And she, my love, is your key to him."

Your heart stumbles at his phrasing. Your key? You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with a slight tilt of his head. "I won't be far," he assures you, his voice a soft promise. And then, as if sensing your doubt, the cool, silken pressure of shadows winds beneath your dress, curling around your thigh like an unspoken vow. The sensation is enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

"What do I even say to her?" you whisper, frowning.

Azriel chuckles, low and teasing. "Have you forgotten all your training already?" The confidence in his tone steadies you. "You'll do just fine. I'll fetch us drinks and join you shortly," he adds, leaning down to press a brief, warm kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd like mist.

You force a breath into your lungs and set your shoulders, willing confidence into your stride as you cross the ballroom. The shadows move with you, unseen but ever-present, their cool touch synchronizing with the rhythm of your steps.

As you approach a table laden with crystalline champagne flutes and decadent sweets, your ears tune in to the sharp edges of Lady Reven's voice, drifting from where she speaks to a maid.

"And make sure he leaves alone tonight," she hisses. "He's humiliated me enough in public without dragging some—other female into it."

The maid nods, scurrying off, and you let your gaze fall to the intricately carved edge of the table. The urge to fidget nearly overcomes you before Lady Reven's voice pulls you from the habit.

"I wouldn't bother with the chocolates," she says coolly, stepping closer.

You glance at her, feigning an easy smile. "Good to know." You nod. "I've never been one for sweets anyway, Lady Reven."

Her ruby-red lips curl upward in a knowing smirk. "Have we met?" she asks, her sharp eyes studying you with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Only on paper," you reply smoothly. "My husband works for Kaieel."

Recognition softens her features. "Ah, a friend of Kaieel is a friend of mine," she purrs. "Call me Valenia."

"Of course. Valenia," you echo with a nod, subtly testing the name.

"And where is your husband tonight?" she asks, gesturing vaguely to the glittering crowd.

You tilt your head with a small laugh. "Fetching me something stronger than this champagne," you quip, gesturing towards the burbling fountain of sparkling wine in the center. The honesty surprises her into a laugh of her own.

"Well, I'll have to apologize for the watered-down drinks," she says lightly, her tone dripping with feigned humility.

"No need. This is a stunning event," you counter, gesturing to the ballroom.

A flicker of satisfaction crosses her face. "I think we're alike, you and I," she muses, before looping her arm through yours. "Come. I'll introduce you to Kaieel."

Your pulse quickens as she steers you across the room. You catch Azriel's golden gaze from where he's threading through the crowd, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

"I really should wait for my husband," you try, a nervous laugh slipping out. "We've been recently married, couldn't keep him away if I tried." You attempt to excuse.

"Then it'll be easy for him to find us, hm?" Valenia dismisses with a wink, tugging you forward until you're standing before Kaieel himself.

Kaieel was sprawled on a chaise lounge, maids bringing him drinks, butlers feeding him by hand like he was some kind of king. Even Rhys wasn't this ostentatious. His turquoise eyes fell on you as Lady Raven guided you towards him, dragging his gaze across every inch of your figure. You did your best to ignore it, giving him a bashful smile.

"What have I done to deserve the company of two such radiant creatures?" Kaieel drawls, his grin wide and smug as he leans back in his seat.

"Kai," Valenia greets, her tone deceptively warm, intimacy still flowing between them. "This is—oh, dear, I fear I never got your name."

Before you can answer, an arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into the familiar scent of cedar and night mist, the warmth of his hold makes your tense shoulders relax.

"Mrs. Lawmore," Azriel announces smoothly, answering for you as he gives Kaieel a grin, his smile disarming as he shields you beneath his presence.

"Lawmore?" Kaieel's eyes narrow with interest. "Lysan Lawmore, is that you under that mask?"

Azriel bows his head slightly, keeping his eyes down in fear of being caught. "It's been some time, apology for my absence but my beautiful wife here needed to be spoiled after our wedding night." You didn't want to know what happened to the real Lysan, neither did you want to know what Azriel did to him to get this information out of him.

"And how exactly did you win over such a lovely companion?" Kaieel continues, taking your hand with practiced charm, his lips brushing lightly over the sapphire on your ring finger.

You smile, tilting your head bashfully. "I believe I was the one winning him over," you say, cutting in before Azriel can.

Azriel's fingers trail from your shoulder down your arm, taking your hand from Kaieel's grasp and threading his fingers with yours. His touch is possessive but gentle, a silent claim.

"How sweet," Kaieel remarks, raising his glass in mock toast. "Remember when we were like that, darling?"

Valenia's eyes flash, her smirk tightening as she looks away. "They're newlyweds, Kai. Still in the honeymoon phase."

"Newlyweds, you say? Well, then," Kaieel says with a devilish grin. "We must celebrate. Let's toast!" He stood, raising his glass. He didn't have to so much as say a word for the entire ballroom to halt and turn to him.

"So kind of all of you to join us on this fine evening, not only are we celebrating this beautiful gathering the lovely Valenia put together," He pauses for a moment to gesture towards the woman who gave a practiced smile and an elegant wave of her hand. "But we are also celebrating the recently pronounced Mr. And Mrs. Lawmore!" He raises his glass, and even if none of these people so much as knew your name, they cheered anyway. Like puppets on a string, controlled by Kaieel himself.

"Go on," Kaieel presses, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. "Kiss the bride."

The demand sends a shiver down your spine. Even the shadows twining around your legs seem to still, waiting.

Azriel was already staring at you, his eyes searching yours. His lips quirk into a soft, almost shy smile, and the question in his gaze is unmistakable.

You nod, barely perceptibly.

"Come here, love," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, tender.

Your lips met, fitting together with startling, unspoken precision—like the final piece of a puzzle you never realized was incomplete until it clicked into place. The kiss lasted only a heartbeat, but in that fleeting moment, everything shifted. The air between the two of you thickened, buzzing with a quiet intensity, as if the universe itself had paused to watch.

Something deep inside you stirred, a part of yourself you'd long buried or perhaps never even known. It unfurled like a blossom in the first light of dawn, warm and aching, a golden thread spinning itself between you. It twined tighter with every second, binding not just your bodies but something deeper, something elemental.

For that brief, infinite instant, there was no ballroom, no crowd, no mission. Just the two of you—two souls suspended in the gravity of a pull you couldn't name but could feel down to your very bones.

And then, like the breathless silence before a storm, realization hit you with shattering clarity. This wasn't just a kiss. It was him. Azriel.

Your mate.

The kiss ended as gently as it began, your eyes wide and searching but he remained calm and steady, you whisper, "You've known?"

Azriel's gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he was going to kiss you again, and again, and again until the gods themselves had to rip him from you. But before he can answer, the room erupts into applause, Kaieel's voice booming with praise.

Even as the crowd cheers and music resumes, you hear nothing but the pounding of your heart, feel nothing but the truth that thrums in your blood.

Mate.

And he knew.

You don't have time to process the truth searing through your veins. Mate. The word echoes in your mind like a thunderclap, threatening to drown out everything else. But Azriel's hand tightens around yours, steady and grounding. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable—a mix of reassurance and warning—and you understand: you can't falter. Not here. Not now.

Kaieel's voice cuts through the applause, smug and commanding. "Come now, don't let the celebration stop the night's festivities. Dance, drink, enjoy yourselves!" His hand sweeps over the crowd, his charisma intoxicating, pulling their attention away from you. For now.

"You're too kind, Kaieel," Azriel says. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with my wife."

Azriel tugs gently on your hand, guiding you away from the center of the ballroom. You follow, trying to shake the weight of the bond snapping into place. But even as he leads you, the golden thread between you hums with a new, undeniable awareness, the shadows brushing against you like a silent promise.

He doesn't speak until you've reached the edge of the room, tucked into the shadowy recess of a grand marble column. His lips are close to your ear, his voice low and smooth. "Are you with me?"

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

"Good," he murmurs. "We need to move fast. Valenia is the key to his plans. Now that you become acquainted we can use her."

You blink, willing yourself to focus. "How?"

"She's vulnerable," Azriel says, his tone edged with calculation. "Kaieel still holds power over her, and it's clear she despises him for it. We can exploit that. Learn who his allies are, how he's funding this rebellion. If we play her right, she'll give us everything."

You glance toward the center of the room, where Valenia stands at Kaieel's side, her posture poised but her eyes cold as she watches him bask in the attention of the crowd. Her mask of indifference is expertly crafted, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten around her champagne flute.

"She definitely hates him," you say quietly. "But will she betray him?"

Azriel's shadows curl against your skin, cold and steady. "She already has. Hosting this event on his behalf, exposing him to scrutiny. She's more desperate than she lets on." He tilts his head toward you, his voice softer now. "We just need to give her the final push."

You swallow hard, nodding. "And if she doesn't break?"

Azriel's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll find another way. We always do."

Before you can reply, a servant approaches with a silver tray bearing two glasses of dark red wine. Azriel accepts both, handing one to you with an easy smile that belies the sharpness of his focus.

"Drink," he murmurs. "And dance with me. They're watching."

"Again?" You ask, your heart stuttering, but you take the glass, letting him guide you back toward the dance floor.

"This is a ball, love." The music swells as he pulls you into his arms, his movements are fluid and natural as though you've danced together a hundred times. "You didn't think I'd be satiated with one dance, did you?"

The bond thrums again, golden and electric, and you can't ignore it any longer. "You knew, Az," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the violins.

Azriel's gaze flicks to yours, soft but unyielding. "Not here," he murmurs.

"But—"

"Later," he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. "Focus."

This is why he didn't want you coming, you realize. You force yourself to breathe, to move with him, to match the rhythm of the music. Around you, the crowd swirls, their laughter and chatter a muted backdrop. Kaieel and Valenia are watching from the edge of the room, their expressions unreadable.

"Valenia's looking for an ally," Azriel murmurs as he twirls you gracefully. "She doesn't trust him to win against Rhys. We offer her a way out, and she'll talk."

"How do we approach her without raising suspicion?"

Azriel's lips curve into a faint smirk. "Snead your way into her inner circle. Let her think it was her idea. I'll shadow you, gather what I can from Kaieel's other guests."

"And if something goes wrong?"

His hand slides up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your collarbone—a fleeting, deliberate touch. "It won't."

The music slows, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And even if it did, I'd slaughter everyone in this room to get you out."

You shiver, both from fear and something you didn't have time to familiarize yourself with.

The song ends, and Azriel steps back, his mask of calm once again firmly in place. He presses a light kiss to your hand, his lips brushing your knuckles as his golden eyes lock onto yours.

"I'll be watching," he murmurs. Then he's gone, slipping into the crowd as if he were never there.

You take a steadying breath, turning your gaze toward Valenia. She's speaking with a pair of aristocrats now, her laughter light and airy, but her eyes remain calculating. You approach slowly, your steps measured and deliberate.

"Lady Valenia," you say with a soft smile as you reach her side. "I must thank you again for this incredible event."

She turns to you, her lips curling into a practiced smile. "Ah, Mrs. Lawmore. Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Very much," you reply smoothly. "Though I must admit, I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you more privately. Your reputation precedes you."

Her brows lift slightly, intrigue flickering in her eyes. "Does it now? And what exactly have you heard?"

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to draw her closer. "That you're the true power behind Kaieel's successes. A woman of vision and cunning."

She laughs softly, but there's a sharpness to it. "And what would you want with a woman like that, my dear?"

You smile, your gaze steady. "To learn from you, of course. I imagine there's much you could teach me."

Her eyes narrow slightly, studying you. Then, with a sly smile, she links her arm with yours. "Come, let's talk. Away from prying eyes."

As she leads you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, you catch a glimpse of Azriel in the crowd. He's watching, his expression unreadable but his presence a constant reassurance.

The game has begun.

———

The ball had stretched into the long hours of the night. Most guests had already taken their leave, yet a few lingered—drunkards, their fingers greedily grasping for what remained of the free wine. You had spent the evening carefully cultivating a list of names, all while trying not to let the thought of your mate—a word that still felt foreign in your mind—distract you.

Valenia, meanwhile, had rattled on endlessly, weaving a tapestry of grand schemes to dismantle Kaieel's empire and seize it for herself. Such a fool. The way she outlined every step was invaluable, her unwitting admissions offering a clear view of both her vulnerabilities and Kaieel's. For someone who fancied herself clever, she didn't understand the dangers of oversharing. Perhaps conspiring alone for so long had driven her to some invisible line of insanity, one she'd now crossed with aplomb.

She was smarter than Kaieel, no doubt, but she wasn't as sharp as she thought herself to be. The rich rarely were. They plotted in circles, their plans frayed with assumptions that gold could patch any hole. A society built on corruption and greed was a society destined to crumble.

A knock on the door shattered the air between you, halting Valenia mid-sentence. Both of you froze as the door creaked open, revealing familiar black hair and molten golden eyes.

"Lysan," you said smoothly, forcing an easy smile.

Valenia hiccuped, swaying slightly as she glanced between you. The liquor had loosened her tongue and dulled her senses—a poor, unsuspecting thing. You'd kept her glass full all night, though yours had remained barely touched.

"You two are lucky," she murmured, her words slurred but still carrying a bite of jealousy.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping closer with his hand outstretched. You met him halfway, your fingers intertwining as if it were second nature.

"So in love," Valenia sighed wistfully. She swirled the deep red liquid in her glass. "Kaieel never looked at me the way he looks at you."

Azriel didn't miss a beat. "I am lucky, aren't I?" His voice was low as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. The touch sent a tremor down your spine, though you leaned into him all the same, your composure unwavering.

"You two lovebirds get out of here," Valenia hummed, waving you off with a glass in hand. "I'll see you soon, Mrs. Lawmore."

You smiled at the title she so easily handed over, bowing your head alongside Azriel as you both slipped out of the room. Moments later, you left the ballroom entirely, leaving behind the clinking of glasses and murmurs of deceit.

———

Once you winnowed into The Cabin, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a thread drawn too tight and ready to snap. You released Azriel's arm but remained close, your breath steady, your gaze piercing.

He shifted, glancing at you with that careful, measured expression of his, but you saw through it. His wings flared slightly before tucking back, as if the space were already too confined for what lay between you.

"We need to debrief with Rhys—" he began, but the words barely escaped before you cut him off, your voice sharp.

"No." You held up a hand, stepping back. "We're not ignoring this."

Azriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He reached up, removing the mask with a deliberate slowness that felt like deflection. "Can I at least get comfortable first?"

"Seriously?" you snapped, your arms crossing over your chest.

But he ignored your tone, unbuttoning his shirt with maddening ease. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing smooth, tan skin and the faint lines of tattoos curling down his forearms. Then came his wings—massive, stretching wide as the glamour faded, their dark beauty filling the room like a storm rolling in.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to look away as he folded them neatly behind him.

“Go on," he said, leaning back against the couch, his tattooed arms crossing over his chest, the sight terribly distracting. "I'm listening."

You glared at him, your voice tight. "You knew," you state.

He nodded slightly, but he said nothing, his golden eyes fixed on you with unnerving calm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts. "The bond—it's not something you just don't mention. Did you think I couldn't handle it?"

He exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it?" you shot back, your frustration spilling over. "You knew this whole time. Azriel, do you have any idea what it feels like to find out this way? To realize you've been keeping something this—this huge from me?"

His jaw tightened, but his expression softened just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to force it on you."

You barked out a bitter laugh. "Force it on me? What does that even mean? Did you think I'd reject it?"

Azriel stiffened, his wings flexing behind him as if to shield himself. "It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple," you snapped. "Because right now, it feels like you didn't tell me because you were planning to reject the bond. That you didn't want me—"

His voice cut through yours, low and rough like gravel. "Don't."

The single word silenced you, but only for a moment.

"Then tell me the truth, Azriel," you demanded, your tone breaking under the weight of the words. "Tell me why you didn't say anything. Was it because you didn't want me, or because you thought I didn't want you?"

That hit its mark. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his wings shifting behind him as though he could fly away from the conversation. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step closer, the heat of his body suffocating.

"Love, please," he said, his voice tight with something raw and unspoken. "Do you know what it's like to see your mate and think, this is it—this is everything I've ever wanted—and to know they don't feel the same? To be terrified that if you tell them, they'll look at you like you're nothing?"

Your breath caught, the weight of his words crashing into you.

"Az."

"I didn't tell you," he continued, his voice quieter now, "because I didn't want to lose you before I even had you. I thought if I told you, it would scare you off. You'd think it was some obligation instead of a choice. And I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk, us."

You blinked, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. He hadn't been withholding it because he didn't want you—he'd been scared. Scared of rejection. Scared of you walking away.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "To see you every day, to stand beside you, and know I couldn't tell you? That I had to act like you were just someone I trained?"

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his words, but the anger lingered, sharp and cutting.

"You still should've told me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You should've given me the choice. You didn't get to decide that for me."

"I know." He looked at you then, and the regret in his eyes made your chest ache. "I know I should've told you. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But don't think, not even for a second, that I didn't want you."

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. He took a step closer, his golden eyes searching yours.

"You can hate me for not telling you," he said, his voice low and rough. "You can hate me for being a coward. But don't ever think I didn't want this. Don't think I didn't want you. Please."

You stood there, his words reverberating in your chest, threatening to undo the last thread of your composure. His golden eyes never left yours, the air between you charged with too much to name. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breathing even as emotions warred within you.

Finally, you broke the silence. "You should've told me," you said softly, the edge in your voice dulling. "Because for all your talk of not forcing it, you didn't even consider that I might have wanted it too."

His eyes widened slightly, and you took a half-step closer, the tension between you pulling tight.

"I've felt, something," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper now. "For a while. I just figured it was a stupid crush, that I was imagining the lingering glances and the all too long touches." You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "But now I know."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, Azriel looked truly shaken. Vulnerable. Like he didn't know what to do with your words.

So you took the choice away and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, your lips brushing his with a softness that belied the storm building inside you. He froze for a heartbeat, and you thought maybe you'd miscalculated—but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled back, your lips tingling, you raised a brow at the stunned expression on his face. "Kiss me like that again and I might just have to accept the bond," you teased, your tone light but laced with meaning.

"Oh, I'll do more than that." He replied with an easy smirk on his face and before you could muster a flustered reply he connected your lips again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands slid up your back, his wings stretching slightly as though the emotions were too much for him to contain. You gasped into him, his shadows curling around your legs as his lips claimed you fully, unapologetically.

The kiss stretched, time losing meaning as you melted into him. His tongue brushed against yours, his grip on you firm yet reverent, as if he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or keep himself in check.

He kisses you like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the world like you're the air he needs to breathe. His lips press against yours with fervent urgency, soft yet commanding, leaving no space for hesitation.

The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver racing down your spine, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him—silken and deliberate, coaxing, drawing you in until everything else fades. His hands tighten at your waist, his fingers digging into your dress that rivaled the intensity of his kiss.

The world tilts, time seems to stall, and all you can feel is him—the taste of him, the way his body leans into yours as though he can't bear to be apart. Every brush of his lips, every slight tilt of his head, feels like an unspoken confession as if through this kiss alone, he's telling you everything he can't put into words.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His lips were slightly swollen, his golden eyes darkened with something almost primal.

"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "It means," you said, brushing a finger against his chest, "you're going to sit right there." You push him slightly, and he falls back onto the couch as if you struck him with an unrecoverable blow.

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the abrupt shift in your tone. "What?"

"Sit right there," you repeated, gesturing toward the couch. Then, turning on your heel, you made your way toward the kitchen without a backward glance.

He stared after you, confused as to where you were going during a moment like this.

The sound of pans clinking and spices mingling in the air brought him back to reality, though he still couldn't fully grasp what was happening. He'd faced centuries of war, unflinching in the face of death, yet now he sat there—utterly flustered.

An agonizing twenty minutes later, you returned with a tray, setting it down on the small table in front of him. The aroma was rich and comforting, a simple yet meaningful meal that made his chest tighten.

You placed the tray in front of him, your expression softer now, though the playful glint in your eye hadn't dimmed. "Eat, Azriel," you said, settling beside him. "You've earned it after all these years."

He stared at the plate for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Then he looked at you, his voice unsteady. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

You smiled, leaning down, pressing a kiss onto the corner of his lips just because you couch. "What do you think?"

Azriel didn't answer, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips as he picked up the fork. You watched as he took the first bite, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

The bond hummed between you, a quiet, unspoken promise. And as Azriel sat there, eating the food you'd prepared with shadows still swirling around your feet, you realized that this—this quiet moment—was the most eventful part of the night.

And for once, Azriel looked at ease. Flustered, yes. But undeniably yours. And soon, the frenzy would set in, and he'd show you exactly how much of him was yours, body and soul, mates.

Continued drabble here!

Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

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[yourlittlebunnyy]

azriel's cock is pretty<3

azriel's cock is pretty, like very pretty. now, this might sound weird.

you never thought a cock could be pretty, you never thought something like that could even come out of your lips. but that's simply the truth.

the first time you saw it, you nearly drooled all over it like a common whore. the sight alone made you drip between your legs, your mouth salivated. you wanted it deep in your throat.

now, azriel had no objection, of course. he finds it almost funny how addicted you are to sucking his cock, but you just can't help it. his tip is the prettiest shade of pink, his veins a deep mix between red and purple, after all it's not your fault that it's so perfect!

"you just love this cock too much, huh, baby?" his tone is mocking, but you're to focused between his legs to care. you suck on his tip like your life depends on it, the salty taste of precum makes your eyes roll back. you can't get enough. "yeah... don't fucking stop, love."

where you can't reach with your mouth, you use a hand to give him pleasure. his cock is so girthy that you almost can't hold it all, your fingertips barely touching. the sight makes azriel feral.

usually, it doesn't take long before he takes control. his hands hold your hair, guiding you. or more like fucking into you, using you as toy for his pleasure. "you're such a perfect little whore, babe. look at how good you take this cock..."

tears stream down your eyes, you moan with your mouth full, incapable of doing anything else. the vibrations only add to his pleasure, his thrusts hit deeper and deeper each time, the back of your throat hurts, but you couldn't care less. "you like when i use you as a fleshlight, huh? yeah... you sure do, love. look at how you're drooling."

his chuckle is dark, his rhythm unforgiving as some shadows swirl around your little bundle of nerves. you can't breathe, too overwhelmed by the stimulation and the lack of oxygen. "don't worry, love, just a little more..." his voice is sinful, and the scene is just too erotic for you. you can feel your own orgasm grow, a quick knot forming at the base of your belly. "you want my cum down your throat, don't you? dirty little thing."

you nod, at least you try. shadows swirl around your body, gifting you little caress on the most sensitive parts. you clench around nothing, and you almost complain about your little hole being empty but azriel is quicker, he takes control of your actions, his hands hold your hair so tight that it hurts, but it only adds to the pleasure your feeling.

"just a little more... just a little more, love."

and seconds after, strings of cum paint your throat white and you drink from his cock, sucking him with the little energy you have left and milking him until he begs you to stop, and suddenly his hands try to push you away, but you can't help it, especially when he tastes so good<3

main masterlist

azriel masterlist

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Another one thank you.

Azriel and Nyxie

[cateyesinlove]

✨𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚💫

Art by the talented @zolyna_

Commissioned by me!

Thank you so much to Zoe for bringing to life this wonderful piece! It was original intended for @elriel-month but I missed the prompt date but it's okay because we had more than enough pieces for that prompt

I just love the interact that guilty as sin represents and how it's just so them, this two people who cannot be together but just the touch of each other is enough to make them keep going!!! Elriel book come home the kids miss you

Anyways! Let me know your theories of what the Elriel book will be about de

[dumb-ster-fire]

Inner Circle Banter x fem!reader — Part 1

Azriel x mate!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N tilted her head against Azriel’s shoulder, her fingers tracing along his forearm with lazy affection. Then, in a voice that dropped into something dark, something near-predatory, she whispered,

“You are mine.”

The room went silent.

Azriel arched a brow, barely holding back a smirk as he glanced down at her. Cassian’s eyes widened slightly. Mor stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Then—Y/N giggled. Bright, sweet, utterly unbothered, as if she hadn’t just sounded like a vengeful spirit claiming its next victim.

Cassian groaned, running a hand down his face. “I knew it. She’s finally lost it.”

Y/N turned her mischievous grin on him. “Finally?”

Azriel just exhaled, shaking his head as he pulled her closer. “You’re a menace.”

“You love it,” she sang, snuggling into him.

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, his arm tightening around her waist as she nestled into him. “That’s debatable.”

Y/N gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as if he’d just delivered a mortal wound. “Debatable?!”

Cassian, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a grin. “I mean, he’s not wrong. You are kind of terrifying.”

Y/N turned her head slowly to him, her eyes gleaming. “Good. That means you know better than to cross me.”

Cassian raised his hands in surrender. “See? Terrifying.”

Mor, fully enjoying the chaos, snickered. “Honestly, I don’t know who’s worse. You or Az.”

Azriel just shook his head, his fingers idly stroking along Y/N’s back. “It’s definitely her.”

Y/N gasped again, but this time, a sly smile followed. She lifted herself just enough to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing against his skin as she purred, “And yet, you adore me.”

Azriel stilled. His shadows curled subtly around her, betraying him before he could even open his mouth.

Rhys chuckled from across the room. “He’s doomed, and we all know it.”

Y/N smirked, eyes bright with victory as she nuzzled against Azriel’s shoulder again. “Damn right he is.”

Azriel sighed, but there was no real exasperation in it—just quiet, resigned affection. His fingers continued tracing small, absentminded patterns on Y/N’s back as she lounged against him, entirely too pleased with herself.

Cassian, still grinning, leaned back in his chair. “You know, I think we should take bets on how long it takes before Az fully accepts his fate as a whipped male.”

Y/N lifted a hand, lazily flipping him off without even bothering to sit up. “We both know he already has.”

Azriel didn’t argue. He simply took Y/N’s hand, lowering it from its obscene gesture and kissing her knuckles like the smug bastard he was.

Mor whistled. “Damn, that was smooth.”

Y/N groaned dramatically, tossing her head back. “Ugh, I hate that he’s smooth.”

Azriel smirked, shadows curling playfully around her wrist before dissipating. “No, you don’t.”

Y/N grumbled under her breath, refusing to dignify that with a response.

Amren, who had been silently sipping her wine the entire time, finally chimed in. “If I have to endure one more minute of you two making heart eyes at each other, I’m going to start throwing furniture.”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to peer at Amren. “Bold of you to assume Rhys wouldn’t just shield everything before you even got a chance.”

Rhys, sprawled lazily in his chair, merely shrugged. “I mean, I would, but I’d let her throw Cassian first.”

Cassian let out an offended squawk. “Excuse me?!”

Feyre sighed, rubbing her temples. “Can we go one night without devolving into chaos?”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to think. “No.”

Azriel’s quiet laugh vibrated against her, and that alone made the entire exchange worth it.

[silverflameataraxia]

This is just one reason why I don't take what Feyre says at face value.

Feyre: Nesta is so selfish!

Nesta:

*Spent her entire childhood protecting Elain and Feyre from being beat and verbally abused by their grandmother*

*Spent her entire childhood protecting Feyre from being groomed by their mother*

*Spent her entire life protecting Elain*

*Did the cooking that kept her family alive during their years in poverty*

*Chopped the wood that kept her family warm during their years in poverty*

*Did the household chores during their years in poverty*

*Had Feyre try to teach her how to hunt*

*Reached out to family members for financial assistance*

*Was willing to marry into an abusive family to keep Elain fed and to not be a burden on Feyre*

*Was willing to sell her body on the streets to keep Elain fed*

*Had Feyre teach her how to paint so they could spend some time together, doing what Feyre loved*

*Hired a mercenary to help her try to rescue Feyre from Prythian*

*Was willing to get her family out of the human lands if war broke out*

*Told Feyre to go back to Tamlin instead of being burdened by her family*

*Allowed Feyre and the IC to meet with the human queens in her home, knowing she would be killed if discovered*

*Urged the human queens to help the humans beneath the wall and to give their Book of Breathings to Feyre and the IC*

*Calculated how many ships it would take to get out every human beneath the wall*

*Pushed aside her own trauma to spend weeks taking care of Elain when she was in a comatose state*

*Worked with Amren to try to figure out how to repair the wall*

*Told Cassian to go protect Feyre when they were attacked by Hybern's Ravens*

*Went to the High Lord's meetings to convince them to help the humans*

*Went to Greyson's Manor to protect Elain and try to encourage them to protect the humans*

*Went with the IC from war camp to war camp to be a warning bell for when the Cauldron was in use*

*Scried for the Cauldron*

*Used herself as bait for the King of Hybern so Feyre and Amren could reach the Cauldron*

*Baited the King of Hybern away from Cassian so he wouldn't kill him*

*Was willing to take the full brunt of the King of Hybern's power so Cassian wouldn't*

*Was willing to die for Feyre, for Cassian, and for all of Prythian*

*Used Feysand's money to support local, small businesses after the war*

*Encouraged Gwyn, Emerie, and the other priestesses to come to training to help them with their trauma*

*Scried for the Dread Trove*

*Had Cassian drop her in a tree so he could go help Az in the Bog of Oorid*

*Left the safety of the tree to make sure Cass and Az were alright*

*Wanted to discard or destroy the Dread Trove to keep it from falling in the wrong hands rather than using its power for her own gain*

*Helped Gwyn by finding and switching books and sticking up for her when Merrill caught wind of it*

*Made Cassian come first and never demanded he reciprocate*

*Gave Cassian a blowjob as comfort when he was in a bad mood*

*Gave Emerie salt and spices*

*Told Feyre the truth about her pregnancy*

*Saved Cassian's life by killing Lanthys*

*Went up to talk to Az when he was more aloof than usual during Winter Solstice*

*Tried to get Az to smile when he was in a mood after Winter Solstice*

*Accepted the darkness of the HoW without judgment*

*Brought her symphonia to morning training so everyone could listen to music*

*Got Emerie hot chocolate as a gift*

*Found and protected Emerie during the Blood Rite*

*Found, protected, and saved Gwyn's life during the Blood Rite*

*Carried Gwyn up a good portion of Ramiel*

*Stayed behind and was willing to sacrifice her life so Gwyn and Emerie would win the Blood Rite*

*Willing to let Cassian kill her so Briallyn wouldn't get her hands on the Dread Trove*

*Sacrificed her powers to save Feyre, Nyx, and Rhysand's lives*

*Wanted an ornate mating ceremony, but was willing to do whatever Cassian wanted instead*

*Said 'I love you' to Cassian without him returning the sentiment*

*Came to help with Bryce when the IC asked*

*Agreed to chase after Bryce and see where her eight-pointed star led*

*Killed the Middengard Wyrm to protect Az, Bryce, and their world*

*Gave Bryce the Mask to defeat the Asteri, free Midgard, and save all worlds even though she was almost executed for it*

*Offered protection to Ember and Randall*

Yet Nesta antis still go around saying she's oh-so-selfish.