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?
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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.”
