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Maybe I'll spoil you guys and talk about Gwynriel and ACOTAR5 and anything related to it overall. I recently finished my HOFAS reread and have some fresh thoughts. I'll let my thoughts guide me and some of these points I've already addressed in my insta stories yesterday. I just rather share a lengthy post here since I'll only tag under #gwynriel.

I often see arguments about how Gwyn and Azriel can't move the plot forward because the series is centered on the Archeron sisters.

First, that's not true because Sarah is following what she called "a traditional romance route". She's following the same patterns of Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and Lisa Kleypas where they publish multiple books in the same series following different couples.

This is fitting for a series like ACOTAR because it's romance-centered. And Sarah have already said that each couple is getting one book and there will likely be more books beyond ACOTAR6.

Saying that doesn't dismiss the importance of the sisters to the story, Feyre already has a trilogy centered on her. The spin-off just follows different characters including the sisters.

I won't try hard to convince people on this because I've already posted almost everything Sarah said about the spin-off series and what's it's about. So if the next book is not centered on an Archeron sister, that's for Sarah to bamboozle the fandom with.

One thing that stuck out to me is when I compared the ending of ACOSF with the scene of Bryce giving Nesta Gwydion and seeming like she left Nesta with a new quest.

First, this is what the text says, and this is Chapter 80, the very last chapter in ACOSF:

Succeeding in the Blood Rite didn't mean the training stopped. No, after she and her friends told Cassian and Azriel most of the details of their ordeal, the two commanders had compiled a long list of mistakes that the three of them had made that needed to be corrected, and the others wanted to learn from them, too. So they would keep training, until they were all well and truly Valkyries. Gwyn, despite the Rite, had returned to living in the library.

1. The Valkyries are not yet a unit.

2. SJM only and specifically highlighted that Gwyn, despite the Rite, returned to living in the library. It was like "hey, remember all the talk Gwyn did about wanting to leave the library after two years? Yeah that's on hold a bit but keep that in mind". She didnt even add Emerie or the other priestesses to that sentence.

With Nesta being left with Gwydion to find out why the 8-pointed star was tattooed on her, I don't think the next book will start with "hey Elain take this sword and deal with it". Who are Nesta's main companions now? Gwyn and Emerie.

I'll be back to the Valkyries but let's just talk about Azriel for a bit.

It is so painfully obvious to me that Azriel is being handed the Illyrian plot on a golden platter. How big or small of a plot it is depends on SJM, but it's important based on the fact that she fleshed out the Illyrian's origins and tied them to the crossover AND making Truth-teller the knife of Enalius.

That is a big deal for an Illyrian like Azriel.

And I quote my friend Lacie on this, it is very poetic for Azriel to be the owner of the knife that originally belonged to the person who freed his own people from the Daglan's clutches, perhaps because he saw his people are more than just slaves to the Daglan—how powerful would it be for Azriel, who loathes his own people, to parallel Enalius.

And for years some people were against Azriel dealing with this plot because he shouldn't make peace with his "abusers", its true his own family and some Illyrians failed him but he is condemning an entire population. Good people like Emerie and Balthazar. Even Rhys's mother, who had valid reasons to hate her people especially as a female, still made sure to make Rhysand connect with his Illyrian heritage and he even goes on to say that his mother didn't forget what they did to her but still loved her people.

If both Cassian and Rhysand (and by extension the author) continue to flag Azriel's hatred of the Illyrians as an issue—then it is a damn big issue for it to be addressed repeatedly.

Okay so to address my final point about Gwyn and Azriel and how they can move the plot forward.

Now I didn't detail out much about what the next book will deal with because that's another post (and I already have a post on that).

All of our theories and predictions are based on information that is available to us. Saying Azriel and Gwyn cannot move the plot forward does not make any sense because the central plot is tied to multiple characters, Archeron or not.

If SJM wants to make a character move the next book's plot forward, she can do it because she's in control of the story. She's in control of the narrative. She's in control of the characters.

The characters are puppets and this is an unfinished story. If some characters would add more value and make for a more interesting story before the others, she can decide on that. If she wants to make Eris the protagonist of the next book, she can easily do that whether the fandom wants it or not.

Let me give you an example of minor characters that pushed the plot forward and became main characters: Yrene Towers and the Hind. These kind of arguments could've been used for them in HOEAB or HOSAB and Pre-TOD. Before HOSAB/HOFAS and TOD, could we have predicted that they would have played a crucial role before those books? Not likely because they had minimal appearances and were not part of the main cast. This is what I'm talking about.

You can't know how a character will contribute to a story until you see how it all unfolds. We can make guesses on the information we have which is why I believe three characters are likely to join the main cast: Gwyn, Emerie, and Eris.

Why is it so easy to accept that Emerie might be sharing a book with an original character like Mor but it's hard to comprehend the fact that Gwyn could also share a book with Azriel? Because Emerie showed up in ACOFAS? To me that's not really a strong argument based on Sarah's writing and what we have in the books, she doesn't really pick based on who showed up the earliest. Here's a good example: Hypaxia, who showed up earlier, didn't even get her own chapters but the Hind did.

And there's one argument I recall about how I need to rely on Nesta to have a plot focused on Gwyn or the Valkyries in the next book. Nesta's arc is clearly not over based on HOFAS, but does that mean she's getting a POV? Not necessarily. I don't think she is. Gwyn is the perfect candidate for us to see what's going on with Nesta post-HOFAS and how they all deal with the Valkyries and whatever Sarah will set up with them.

There is this whole Valkyrie/Illyrian conflict that could be triggered as a result of the Blood Rite, with Ramiel definitely being an important location to explore in the next book, we also have the Pegasi and the Prison and the implications of the crossover. It makes sense to have an Illyrian and a Valkyrie POV to deal with some plots in the next book.

"Gwyn contributes to nothing" we can't know until the book is out. How sure are we that maybe SJM won't connect her to the crossover by making her mysterious father a Worldwalker? Or Prince of Hel? Or an Asteri? Maybe I'm right maybe I'm wrong.

"But Koschei! And the Human Queens!" Koschei will always be a background player pulling on the strings until the final book as it's obvious he is the big bad in the series, unless someone even worse is revealed. But no one is dismissing Koschei or the Human Queens messing around.

Literally what's the point of the story or the fun elements of surprises or plot twists if you need Sarah to list down everything that the next books will deal with. That's not how a story develops to me. I don't need to know everything in advance to just know how it will go. That's like knowing spoilers early on and checking off with each book what happened and what didn't happen. I feel like it's close to how a lot of readers were disappointed with not having enough ACOTAR in HOFAS, because Sarah implied half of the book would be set in Prythian. So by the time the book came out and it wasn't that, people were vocal about it.

In my opinion, SJM set a good foundation for Gwyn's arc to build up on in ACOSF and her arc is not over. We won't get mentions of her still carrying the guilt of her sister's death or not leaving the library after she said she's sick of being there for two years without us seeing resolution for that. She wouldn't be in Azriel's bonus chapter if she is not involved with him.

To conclude, my reread still affirms to me that the next book with an Azriel/Gwyn book. Azriel is clearly being set in the forefront.

Eris

hello! this is the masterlist to all my Eris works, hope you have fun reading them!

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Eris x reader

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Remember me? (ongoing)(secret pregnancy)(eventual Eris x reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

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Bloodshed (Eris week 2023)

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Not what I expected (Eris week 2023)

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Juice stains

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Grumpy

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If you want to be on my taglist, comment on this post ➡

Taglist

in today’s episode of wild things percy jackson has done but are not talked about enough, i give you:

this entire thing he did in tartarus that even annabeth was blown away by

when i say percy is a beast, i mean perseus jackson is a fucking beast

Another reason I don't like the IC is that when Lucien and Feyre returned in ACOWAR, sure Feyre should've gotten him some clothes and a shower and checked up on her sisters before fucking her husband, but Mor and Cassian, and Amren all just chilled with a dude who was visibly shaken up and filthy, dripping with his own blood and sweat, and didn't offer him shit. Like that's a whole ass person bro. Yall could've offered him a bath, a wash rag, something!

And it breaks my heart to think about how Luci was feeling in those moments. He left his home, was attacked by his brother's AGAIN, and I know poor thing was embarrassed. He always dresses himself well, and he's finally in the same building as his mate and he looks like that. And I like em a little greased up but that's not how Luci prefers to carry himself.

And even if they needed a personal reason to be halfway decent to a stranger, it doesn't take a 5 page dissertation to assume he helped Feyre leave Spring.

Lucien deserves better.

i love torturing eris in my fic by continuously mentioning just how much he looks like beron. like yes his father is the worst man alive and he has his face. yes beron’s gone and yet he’s there looking back at him every time he looks in the mirror. yes he’s now high lord and he’s wearing his father’s crown and he’s sitting on his throne and he looks just like him. he can’t escape him even in death 😄.

the ‘hair holds memories’ but instead it’s lucien refusing to cut his hair in memory of jesminda as it was the last thing she touched before she died. him over the centuries watching as it grew longer alongside him knowing that it should have been her growing older by his side instead.

i rlly need eris to get his own moment in the coming acotar books where he absolutely demolishes a bat boy sjm r u listening it’s time to bring my husband out of the background

Masterlist -

Eris Vanserra:

How Eris Likes His Tea - [Fluff]

Runaway Part I / Part II / Part III - [Angst, Smut]

Snatch - [Smut]

In Sickness and Health - [Fluff]

Fox Hunting - [Smut]

Fated Male - [Angst]

Alone Together - [Fluff]

A New Male Part I / Part II - [Pining, Smut]

The Fox & The Hound - [Fluff]

Ready to Bleed - [Nightmare, Comfort]

Bow For Your High Lady - [Smut]

Closed Until Further Notice - [Fluff, Smut]

Coming Home - [Fluff]

    Archeron Sister x Eris:

    Cauldron of Fire - [Angst]

    Bartering for a Life - [Angst]

    To The Mother - [Fluff]

Smut Blurbs: One / Two

Angst Blurbs: Shattered Soul

Cassian:

Two Sides to Every Story - Part I / Part II [Fluff, Smut]

The Throne - [Smut]

Nesting - [Fluff]

Illyrian Bloodshed - [Fluff]

Then Go - Part I / Part II [Fluff, Angst]

Azriel:

Class Is In Session - [Fluff]

Life & Death - [Angst]

You Called - [Longing]

Love You In The Dark - [Angst]

Tamlin:

Show Them - [Redemption, Angst]

Dreams Not Nightmares - [Fluff]

When The Night Calls - [Smut]

ok so i'm convinced that azriel is extremely sensual with his hands. and i mean touchy. and slow. and intentional. let me explain myself:

putting your hand on azriel's thigh during dinner, and he reaches down to slowly move your hand up, closer and closer to where he wants your grip the most, teasing you. all very nonchalantly too - he's doing this while also scooping a bite of food into his mouth and carrying on a conversation with the others at the table.

or

being friends with very obvious benefits, but trying your hardest to hide it from his family. sneaking around late at night to each other's rooms.

cassian knocked on the door one particular evening, right when azriel had decided to push you up against the adjacent wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands touching every part of you that he could possibly reach. he was holding you up with his hips. it was sloppy, messy, urgent.

az bit at the side of your jaw playfully before pulling away, placing a single pointer finger on top of your lips in a request for you to be completely silent. he pulled away from you, placing you back on the floor, before walking over to the door with disheveled hair. to be sure that you'd be completely silent and unheard by cass, azriel had placed his entire hand over your mouth. his arm stretched across the wall while you stood mere inches away from cassian on the other side. it was commanding, dominant, sexy.

once again, he was so nonchalant. having an entire conversation with his unknowing brother in the threshold of his doorway.

once the conversation was over, and the door was shut and locked again, he'd pulled his hand from your mouth, mumbling a deep, "my darling girl," in praise before picking up where he left off.

or

azriel sitting next to you at the dinner table, his arm draped loosely over the back of your chair. his gentle hand twirling through the ends of your hair while he debriefed with rhys and mor. letting the hair fall against the skin of your bare back before he'd scoop it up again, sensual and sultry and slow. fingers trailing up your skin and drawing shapes against the nape of your neck, his touch featherlight.

or

draping a leg over azriel's lap in a booth at rita's, the act so comfortable and familiar.

azriel grabbing your other leg too, pulling it up to join the one you'd placed there yourself. his hands resting atop both of your legs, rubbing and squeezing and lightly scratching your skin.

or

you placing a hand on az's bare chest after he bathes, his skin damp, water droplets tumbling down his torso. he stills for a moment before gently grabbing your wrist, guiding your hand all the way down his abs and lower stomach, the movement painfully slow. his breath hitching as he drops his gaze to watch the action with darkened eyes.

OR

feeding azriel from across the table, him making heated eye contact the whole time. once he takes the bite, he grabs your wrist gently and begins placing kisses all over your hands, fingers, knuckles, wrist.

ORRR

azriel perched next to you in the sitting room on a night in with the family, him reaching over and wrapping a gentle hand around your throat to pull you towards him so he can whisper something against the shell of your ear.

yeah idk. i think az is so touchy once he's comfortable with someone. and he knows what he's doing every single time.

a/n: don't mind me. i'm down bad. this is literal word vomit so just. ignore if it's shitty lmao.

between you & i

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: reader departs on a solo intel mission after ignoring azriel's warnings of danger. reader ends up captured, and guess who ends up coming to her rescue? you guessed it, a pissed off az. enemies to lovers. reader and az do not like each other. yum.

warnings: talk of injuries, being captured, abuse, minor self-deprecation.

you currently found yourself in a bit of a ... precarious situation. to say the least.

your sweat-dampened hair was matted to the sides of your cheeks, your forehead.

holy gods, was it fucking hot in here.

you pressed the back of your head against the stone wall behind you, hoping that the cool brick would offer some reprieve against the sweltering heat.

oh yeah, by the way, the stone wall that you were sat against belonged to a cell. a cell that you were definitely, undoubtedly, locked inside of.

your wrists were bound in chains, your arms bunched behind you haphazardly. this really, really fucking sucked. rhysand would be so pissed.

you huffed out a breath, eyes cast towards the ceiling that was covered in vines, weeds, and moss. you zoned out, reflecting on the happenings that consequently landed you here.

"are you absolutely sure that you'd rather travel alone, y/n?," rhysand had questioned you the evening prior, expression littered with apprehension and hesitation.

you'd rolled your eyes at his protective concern, a smirk playing on your lips.

"rhys, it's a singular little mission to the autumn court," you'd countered, "i'll be back in what - two, three days?," you'd continued, flicking strands of hair over your shoulders. you were hardly concerned - after all, you'd collected intel for rhysand countless times, and you'd always walked away unscathed.

you were a scholar, and this was a huge part of your job within the night court - the chance of running into trouble was slim-to-none. your task involved meeting eris within the outskirts of his territory, collecting confidential information on the inner-political developments occurring within the crisp autumn court for rhys. easy, peasy.

something you could have done blindfolded, hands tied.

which, now, considering your current circumstances, that part had literally come to fruition.

azriel had stood in utter stoicism next to the head of rhys' polished mahogany desk, brows cinched together, eyes hard.

"no, it's unwise," he'd uttered, voice cold and deep - the first words he'd spoken since you'd arrived for your mission debrief.

you and azriel were - well, complicated. while you didn't absolutely loathe each other, there was this very prominent undertone of thick, suffocating tension that had formed a barrier between the both of you. you'd both opted to tread lightly each other - civil when necessary, silent and aloof otherwise.

he'd never really seemed to give much of a shit about you, so this outburst was unlike him.

his words caused you to sit up infinitesimally straighter, eyes locked on his strong frame from across the room.

"and why's that?," you'd questioned, voice sounding bored, dismissive of his opinion.

"too much unrest across his lands as of late," he offered, shifting within his boots just slightly, "we aren't entirely sure who, or what, is patrolling that area. it's dangerous, i should accompany you," he'd finished, sounding as though he'd already made his mind up.

you'd scoffed at the suggestion, standing with the intention of taking your leave before azriel was able to convince rhys any differently.

"no, thank you, shadowsinger," you'd waved a hand in dismissal, waltzing towards the large, wooden double doors of the office.

"i don't need to be coddled, i think i can manage on my own just fine," you'd added, back turned to the two males.

it was azriel's turn to scoff in exasperation, and although you couldn't see him, you could hear his wings rustle in irritation. the thought made you smirk to yourself, reveling in the idea of getting a rise out of the normally impassive spy.

"now, y/n,-," rhys began, his voice laced with consideration.

"i'll see the both of you in a few days," you'd cut him off, letting the door shut behind you with a resounding thud, the sound echoing down the stone halls.

and that was that. you'd decided to depart first thing this morning, hoping to avoid either one of the busybody males just in case rhys had commanded azriel to travel with you, after all.

you rolled your eyes, shuffling slightly against the cell floor as you thought of the verbal lashing you'd receive once you got back to velaris.

azriel would probably be present while rhysand berated you for this catastrophic mistake, and if you thought hard enough, you could just picture the smug smirk that would more than likely be adorning his polished features. az would be enjoying the fact that he was correct, sunbathing himself in your downfall, your failure.

the thought filled you with so much rage, so much embarrassment. it caused your skin to flush and grow even hotter, which was a feat in itself since you didn't think it was possible for the stifling heat to get worse.

you'd been captured by a lone group of autumn court rebels, who'd just happened to be traveling along the exact same path you'd taken to meet eris. you weren't sure what their plans were for you - a night court female. they knew who you were, they knew you were employed with rhys. if you had to guess, they were holding you hostage to use as some sort of bargaining chip.

regardless, it'd been twelve hours since you'd been tossed into this cell. you had not the slightest clue where you even were in relation to the court itself. you'd been blindfolded and jostled about, and your sense of direction had been destroyed in the process.

you were so, so thirsty. your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry enough that it felt like you'd ingested hot coals each time you struggled to swallow.

you were nervous, yes. on edge. your feathers were ruffled. but you knew eris would report your absence to rhysand. it was only a matter of time before someone found you. and when they did, you'd be reprimanded endlessly. you'd probably never hear the end of it - never be allowed to depart on solo missions again. you'd probably be stuck with azriel, that self-righteous, arrogant -

your thoughts came to a screeching halt once you noticed that the cell had become dark. it was mid-afternoon, and barred holes in the wall had been allowing the afternoon light to filter into the small space. which honestly, with this heat, felt like an additional form of torture.

but now, a chill filled the darkened air. no light filtered through - not even a pin-prick of luminance could be accounted for. you couldn't see inches ahead of you. your spine straightened, your head perked up. and before you could make heads or tails of the odd infiltrating darkness, it had dissipated entirely.

you blinked several times, weary, exhausted eyes struggling to acclimate to the warm light.

but once you'd righted yourself, you saw it. saw him.

azriel stood before you, half of his body swathed in swirling shadows. his arms were folded across his chest, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in the sight of you - battered, bruised, filthy, restrained. his wings rustled several times before pulling tightly into his back, clearly agitated.

his jaw ticked in anger, and he dropped his head to avert his gaze to the cell floor at his feet. his muscles flexed with tension, and he was pissed.

and while you assumed the anger was directed at you, at your stupidity, azriel was biting back the urge to level the entire autumn court for what those males had done to you.

you swallowed hard, throat burning from the action. you opted to not speak, fully understanding how monumental this fuck-up was. you hadn't even departed velaris with a weapon strapped to your body, completely void of protection. so, so stupid.

"how could you be so foolish," azriel sneered, his arms dropping to his sides, clenched fists flexing. his voice was so low, so cold, you'd finally understood how he was able to intimidate his victims to the point of broken resolve.

you looked down, ashamed, embarrassed.

"i didn't-," you started, voice hoarse.

azriel huffed angrily at the sound of it.

"no, you didn't," he cut you off, stepping towards you with a leveled thump of his boots. "you didn't," he continued, tone laced with contempt.

"you didn't think. you didn't consider how dangerous-," he paused, having to take a deep, steady breath to compose himself.

you continued staring at the floor, anywhere but him. you definitely didn't dare look at his face, his eyes as they bore into you.

"look at me," he commanded, voice growing harsh.

you averted your gaze from the floor, choosing to stare at the bright, barred window that was cut into the upper left wall instead.

"y/n," he growled, stooping down to your level to grab your chin between his thumb and pointer fingers. his grip wasn't harsh - probably due to him being careful of exacerbating any potential injuries - but it was demanding. "look at me," he repeated.

you caved, meeting his hard hazel eyes with hesitation. you tried your damndest to look as unfazed and unwavering as possible - as though being captured and beaten hadn't taken a toll on you. but when you met his familiar face, took in his features and realized you were being saved, you faltered. relief flooded your veins, overflowing until it reached your softening eyes.

unshed tears began to well up, and you used every ounce of willpower that you had left to not allow them to fall.

azriel's expression became tender as he took you in, as he studied your expression. he saw your bruises and scrapes up close now, and he dropped his head once more, shoulders drooping slightly.

"you could have gotten yourself killed," he croaked, anger still lacing his words.

"so, what," you deadpanned, voice rasping, "then you would have been right, about me - about this mission. about how foolishly incapable i am," you said solemnly, jerking your chin from his unfaltering grip.

he snapped his head upward, meeting your eyes immediately. his brows cinched, and you momentarily observed the splattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose - you'd never noticed them before, had never been this close to him.

he blinked once, twice - his long, thick lashes whispering across his skin as he did so.

"that's what you think this is about?," he questioned, voice breathless in disbelief.

you scoffed weakly, pushing yourself up further against the damp wall behind you.

"please, azriel. you've never been subtle about how incompetent you find me," your voice coated in disdain.

he let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he absorbed your words.

"no, y/n," he grunted, his hands moving forward to begin working at the cuffs around your wrists. you'd both needed to get the hell out of here, urgently. it had been hours since you'd last seen your captors, and you were both painfully aware of the likelihood that they'd return.

could azriel singlehandedly fight off an entire hoard of rebels? absolutely. did he want to dismember and mutilate the males that did this to you? abso-fucking-lutely. but more than that, he wanted to get you home, safe, and with madra.

you hissed as he began to work his deft hands around the harsh chains. they'd been pulled so tightly to your skin, that you'd already come to terms with the possibility of losing circulation to the limbs.

his eyes flickered up to your face at the sound of your discomfort, and he winced at the realization of causing you further pain.

"i've never thought that you were incompetent," he continued as he worked, using his words to distract you from the pain he was inflicting, "hotheaded? yes, confident to a fault? sometimes," he continued, and you scoffed at his jabs.

"azriel, just shut the fu-," you blurted, his words bristling your already raw skin.

"but," he cut you off, continuing on with his tangent, "you are also strong, brave - obviously. loyal to your court, to rhys," he went on, pausing for a moment, "and i've always admired you," he finished, voice lowering.

you went silent, considering his words. you became painfully aware of his close proximity, of his hands against your swollen wrists as he fought to free you.

his eyes flitted to your softening expression, gauging your reaction to his words.

and internally, you were realizing for the first time, that maybe you and azriel were more alike than you'd initially thought.

he finally freed your hands, and you groaned at the relief, at the blood rushing down to the stiff limbs.

he helped you gently, bringing your arms back to the front of your exhausted frame. you closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep, even breaths at the feeling of being free, being saved. by azriel.

"how did you know where to find me?," you croaked, peeking one eye open to look up at the male before you. he was crouched closer to you now, poised to catch you if you careened over.

"eris relayed the information to rhys - the general whereabouts of your planned meeting location," he began, eyes flicking over your entire body to scan for any other injuries.

"and rhysand sent you to track me down?," you questioned, assuming that it was a command from his high lord - a decision he didn't make.

"i didn't give him the chance to," he offered, swallowing thickly, "i was at autumn's border before eris finished his report," he cleared his throat, cheeks tinting the slightest shade of pink.

there was a slight pause.

"he didn't have a choice," he spoke, voice deep and gravelly. he met your eyes with that last statement, as if to make a point.

you sat up slightly, reeling with the words azriel had spoken. they blanketed the both of you, sitting heavy against your chest.

azriel had chosen to track you down, to save you? not only that, but it seemed like it was almost second nature for him. to seek you out, to rescue you.

you opened and closed your mouth several times, looking for the right words. nothing you'd come up with was good enough.

"let's get you home," he said softly, reaching under your limp frame to hoist you into his strong arms. you whined quietly, your body rebuking the movement.

"i know," he soothed, bracing you against his chest.

and then you were both wrapped in endless shadows and night.

cradled against your tall, strong salvation.

things had irrevocably changed between you and azriel after that. you'd both known it.

and sure enough, from that day onward, he was your chosen partner on every mission you'd decide to embark on. and azriel had insisted the same.

choosing each other, time and time again.

and sometimes, when you'd both inevitably need to stop for the evening - finding reprieve in a shoddy inn after a grueling travel day, azriel would request a room with just one bed.

and what happened under the covers on those evenings - when your body would melt into his, his forehead pressed against yours, explorative hands learning each other -

well, that was just between the both of you.

a/n: another one shot that just demanded to be written immediately. brought on by scrolling on tiktok lmao. hope u loved it! let me know your thoughts <3

Lessons in Care

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: A small injury

a/n: Consider this a small gift to make up for me disappearing for a month <3 This is part of the line cook au, but as I've mentioned, nothing is really in order so read however you want :) The rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Like this?” You shook the pan a little harder, the handle's weight tweaking your wrist at an odd angle. 

“Almost. Try not to hold your elbow so close to your body. It won’t flip right.” 

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes. “This is so hard.” 

“I believe in you,” Azriel teased, an amused upturn of his eyes as he watched you struggle. 

“Why is this pan so heavy? It’s literally like 40 pounds.” 

“It’s cast iron, baby.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

Azriel barked out a laugh, red tinting his cheeks as if he hadn’t expected the sound to leave his lips. Your mouth quirked up in a small smile despite your struggle. You shot your gaze to the side to try and catch the sweet expression that still lingered on Azriel’s face.

“Would you like me to do it?” Azriel posed after clearing his throat. 

“Of course not. I came early so you could teach me.” 

“I could teach you another time. You have class soon.” 

“Why do you want me to fail?” 

“I don’t—” 

“You totally do. You want me unable to cook for myself so I’ll always have to rely on you, and then I’ll never be able to leave you.” 

Azriel laughed again, a quiet, rumbling sound. “You caught me. Now hand that over before you hurt yourself.” 

You groaned and turned slightly to evade your boyfriend’s reach. “Az, I’m serious. Teach me how to flip these stupid eggs right now.” 

“Okay, okay. Just let me help.” 

The feel of Azriel’s hand lightly sliding over yours startled you. You jumped and your fingers twitched, the sudden motion sending the tips of your fingers too far forward until a simmering pain shot through your skin. You flung the pan back on the burner instantly, its contents splattering along the stove and into the open flame. It burned a bright orange and then settled as you held your hand close to your chest. 

You hissed a breath through your teeth and Azriel’s hands were on you. 

“Shit, baby, let me see, yeah?” he stressed, mindlessly turning the burner off without taking his eyes off you. He tugged your hand at your chest with gentle fingers. “Let me see.” 

You released the tight grip on your fingers and rested them in Azriel’s open palm. “I was just surprised. I don’t think it’s that bad.” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he examined your burn. He tsked, pulling you gently by your wrist over to the sink. “It’s going to blister.” 

Cool water rushed from the pipes and soothed your skin. Azriel held your wrist in a soft grip and turned your hand slowly, back and forth in a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t think so, Az. It’s not that bad.” 

Azriel shook his head. “That pan was pretty hot—I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You offered a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t scare me.” You raised your brow playfully. “You just made me nervous. A cute guy like you holding my hand—reaching over to help me to cook. Made me all jumpy.” 

Azriel breathed out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve done far worse than just hold your hand.” 

“Scandalous!” you proclaimed, affronted. “How can you say such things at work, Azriel? You’ll be fired.” 

“I can only hope,” Azriel grumbled. 

Azriel directed you to keep your hand under the water as he dug through a cabinet for the first-aid kit despite your protests. You truly felt that you were fine and didn’t even need a bandaid, but it was easy to forget the multitude of scars that littered Azriel’s hands and how they contrasted with your completely unmarred skin. 

That was purposeful, meaningful—Azriel worked hard so you wouldn't have to. Azriel found peace in keeping you safe and happy. 

So you let him fuss. 

“Okay, let me see again, baby,” Azriel requested, flipping the water off and reaching for your hand. Your skin stung as it met the air beyond the sink, but Azriel’s caring touch was like a balm. 

He dried your fingers with a towel and uncapped a spray bottle, coating your burn with too much of the medication before grabbing a set of gauze and tape. You stared at the materials in exasperation. Azriel didn’t notice the expression and continued to admisinister care as if you’d been in a fire.

“Az, I love you so much, but I don’t need all of that. It’s a small burn. I’ve probably done worse with my curling iron.” 

Your boyfriend only hummed and continued his work. “I don’t want it to scar. It blistered already.” 

“Yes, but—” 

“Almost done.”

You let him work. A few moments of silence passed. Azriel kept his gaze hard and his brow set in a harsh line. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Once your finger was fully wrapped and protected from everything Azriel could fear, you puckered your lips in contemplation and shook your head. 

“Still hurts really bad,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. Azriel followed your movements, leaving little space between you. 

“What?” he questioned, a tinge of panic in his tone. “That should’ve numbed it. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Really, really bad. Like my whole hand is on fire, actually.”

Azriel—who had yet to release your fingers—stared down at them in startled befuddlement. He turned them one way and then another as if that would answer his questioning gaze, and then looked back up to meet your eyes in a way that was almost pleading. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I should—”

“You have to kiss it,” you revealed, not wanting the sad expression to linger on his face any longer. “Duh.” 

Azriel let out a breath that bordered on relief, but most of it seemed founded in exasperation. He shook his head and brought your fingers up to his lips all the same, smiling to himself as he began to kiss each of your fingertips. Even the ones that clearly weren’t burnt. He flipped your hand over and kissed the knuckles, too, capturing your eyes as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. 

“‘M sorry you got hurt,” he mumbled with his lips against the back of your hand. “Told you you shouldn’t try cooking, baby.” 

The warm feeling that had begun to seep into your chest paled in comparison to the offended scoff that echoed in the empty kitchen. Azriel’s poorly concealed, devious smile was hidden in the kisses he started pressing into your palm, and although it would have fit the sound you let out, you didn’t pull away. 

“Azriel, you are just asking for me to—” 

“The hell is going on in here?” The kitchen door smacked against the frame as Cassian made his entrance. “Someone get hurt?” 

Azriel dropped your hand just as soon as Cassian had spotted him pressed against you, clearing his throat and turning to the disheveled first-aid kit on the counter. You brought your knuckles up to your mouth to hide your laugh at Azriel’s expense, his face flushing in vulnerability. 

“Oh, I see what was going on. You were romancing your girl, weren’t you, Az? Well, don’t let me interrupt. You came in early and everything,” Cassian teased, his hands raised in surrender. 

“We were just finishing up,” you countered, a laugh trickling through. “I have to get to class, Cass. You can start your shift.” 

“Uh huh,” Cassian smiled, raising his brows and then lowering them when he caught your hand reaching for your backpack. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Azriel interrupted. He took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, pressing a nonchalant kiss to your head that you knew was actually not nonchalant. “I’m going to take her to school. Cover for me for 20?” 

“Sure, man.” 

“Az, I was going to take the bus you don’t have to—” 

“C’mon, baby.” 

“But I don’t even have my helmet for your bike.”

“I always bring your helmet.”

⠀(୨୧) 💭 ׄ ︵͡ HOW SWEET | L. VALDEZ

﹙💐﹚ in which：𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. ── masterlist

leo shushed you from behind the tree, his fingers brushing softly over your lips as his mischievous grin widened. the campfire flickered and danced under his control, flames twisting into patterns that should be impossible—stars, pictures, and even soft bursts of color that swirled together into pretty gradients.

you couldn’t help it—your giggle escaped, muffled into his shoulder as you both watched the campers from behind your hiding spot. their faces were a mix of awe and confusion, eyes wide, trying to make sense of the fire’s playful shifts. leo’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, his breath warm as it ruffled your hair.

"how are they not catching on?" you whispered, barely holding back your laughter.

leo’s brown eyes softened, the firelight catching in them like tiny sparks. "maybe i’m just that good," he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he bit down on his lip to hide a smile.

you nestled closer, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. his arm slipped around your waist, fingers brushing lightly against your side as he tried to suppress a smile.

the flames shifted again, this time into a glowing heart that flickered just a little brighter than the rest. you stared at it for a second, eyes softening at the sight. leo’s fingers intertwined with yours, his grip warm. “think they’ll catch on now?” you asked, voice softer.

"maybe," he said, his tone softer too now, the teasing fading into something warmer, more intimate. "but I kinda like it just being our secret."

you nodded, your heart catching into your throat as you glanced up at him. "yeah, me too."

leo tilted his head down to meet your eyes, the fire reflecting in them as he asked softly, "feelin' a bit better now?"

you smiled, knowing he had brought you out here just to make you laugh, to distract you from life's current events. "mhm," you mumble, feeling the lightness return.

suddenly, an idea popped into your head, and you whispered it to leo. he snorted, raising an eyebrow at you but grinning all the same.

"you're ridiculous," he muttered, but the way he narrowed his eyes in concentration meant he was definitely up for it. the fire flickered and shifted again, but this time the flames twisted into a series of bold, glowing words—words that had no business being anywhere near a campfire.

the two of you couldn’t hold it in anymore. your laughter spilled out, loud and carefree as the campers stared in shock.

"LEO VALDEZ!" one of them shouted, eyes wide in disbelief.

leo let out a low chuckle, pressing closer to your side. "well, they caught us," he said with a grin, completely unbothered.

©valsverse— do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

A day in the life of Azriel: 6 am: wake up, reach for Truth Teller under the pillow. 7 am: eat breakfast with Nesta and Cassian, gang up on Cassian with Nesta. 8 am: Valkyrie training, laugh twice and smile three times at something Gwyn says. Admire how far she's come. 9 am: Be concerned about how much emotion you showed. Must be some kind of acid reflux. Take 4 tums. 10 am - 2 pm: Brood. 3 pm: Dagger training with Gwyn. Chide shadows for playing with her hair. Admit her hair does look pretty, but now isn't the time. Is distracted and disarmed by Gwyn repeatedly. 4 pm - 6 pm: Research new sparring movements to show Gwyn. 7 pm: silent dinner. 8 pm: read reports, ignore Cassian. 9 pm - 11 pm: night training with Gwyn. Face hurts from emoting, say goodnight. Midnight to 4 am: think about training with Gw- the Valkyries tomorrow. Grind teeth to dust, avoid thinking about teal eyes sparkling. 5 am: Sleep, dream about copper hair. Repeat.

Inspired by this TikTok! I thought it would be fun to make a Gwynriel version.

Masterlist

Requests - Open

send them via my ask me anything! button

I've only written for Azriel, but am willing to try writing for other ACOTAR males

I don't write explicit content, so I recommend sending those requests elsewhere :)

submitting a request is not a guarantee it will be written

~ ~ ~

Azriel

Fics

anything for you

Fae menstrual cycles are notoriously terrible to endure, but yours seem to be especially torturous. Mor normally helps you through your cycles, but when yours comes early and Mor is away, a certain Shadowsinger steps in to help.

never doubt

You thought the worst part of your week would be trekking through the grotesque bogs of the Dawn Court alongside a Shadowsinger that had royally pissed you off. If only. At least the worst situations can sometimes bring about the best revelations.

you're safe

After enduring weeks of torture in the Illyrian Steppes, you are left staring at the pieces of who you were before. You should be healing, but instead your anxiety and fear sink further in with every day that passes. You tell no one of your struggles, of your sleepless nights and lingering scars, until Azriel finds you alone in the library at an ungodly hour of night, and everything comes pouring out.

was it really a mistake?

Drinks at Cassian's birthday party land you in Azriel's arms, which then lands you in his bed. Your poor heart doesn't know what to think.

pure love

You were in love with Azriel. It was inevitable, really. Who could blame you for falling for the kind and gentle male? OR A series of moments that show your blooming love for Azriel, who was too busy cultivating his own love for you to notice.

Series

my heart has wings (complete)

You and Azriel long for the love your family members have found. That longing can easily turn into an isolating loneliness, so what if you rely on each other to numb that sickly feeling? What if your chance at love has been by your side for nearly a century?

Pure Love

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: soft!azriel (this is toothrotting fluff, so yes it's a warning), language, tending to minor wounds

word count: 6.8k

synopsis: You were in love with Azriel. It was inevitable, really. Who could blame you for falling for the kind and gentle male?

or

A series of moments that show your blooming love for Azriel, who was too busy cultivating his own love for you to notice.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

I love you.

The words swam in your head as you stared at the beautiful male across the training room. His wings were tucked in tight behind him and his shadows were out of sight as he gently coached a tentative priestess. She was the newest recruit from the library, and she was a skittish little thing. It had taken Gwyn months to convince her to join you all for training.

Emerie and Gwyn had balked when Nesta suggested she start her training with Azriel, but you knew there was no one better to coax confidence into the nervous female. You understood Gywn and Emerie’s bewilderment. Really, you couldn’t blame them after watching Azriel and Cassian push them past their limits every day in training. It wasn’t too long ago, though, that you had been in that priestesses shoes, and the very same shadowsinger had helped you grow into yourself. He recognized your strength long before you learned to see it in yourself.

You felt like a fool the first day of training. A naive, fumbling fawn that had wandered into a lion’s den. You were an Illyrian female with no money or skills to your name, and you felt so stupid for thinking you could be like Emerie. Emerie, the Illyrian female from your own camp that had won the Blood Rite, alongside the two other females you admired. She had found you cornered by a group of males just a block from your home, somehow scaring them off. Something inside of you snapped then, and you knew you would do whatever you could to get out of that hell hole.

You begged her to take you with her to Velaris. To ask the General to train you alongside them. You really didn’t need to do much to convince her, for she understood your struggles and desperation better than anyone. Cassian was convinced easily enough as well, and hope had bloomed in your chest at the prospect of training with Valkyries. That hope withered that first day, when you couldn’t even muster the strength to hold a wooden sword, or find the coordination to follow the intricate footwork of sparring.

You had slid out of the training room while everyone was chatting during a water break, and walked blindly until you found a long, dark stairwell that seemed to stretch down for miles. You numbly walked down the stairs until you stopped to slide down against the stone wall, sitting dejectedly on the step. Tears silently slid down your cheeks as your heart pounded and you thought about going back to that gods forsaken camp with those bastard males. 

The door to the stairwell had slowly creaked open, and the sound was followed by slow and heavy footsteps that made your back straighten and skin prickle with nerves. Your stomach twisted once you made out the silhouette of the large winged-male a few steps above you, and your mind fell back to the last time you were alone with an Illyrian male. As if he could read your thoughts, he stayed back, not daring to come any closer, and slowly sat on his own step. Moments of tense silence passed between you, before he finally asked, voice quiet and gentle, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to answer him. You weren’t okay, but you didn’t know if you wanted to admit that to the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel kept speaking, his tone hushed, “I didn’t know how to fly until I was eleven.”

You couldn’t help the shock that roiled through you. Eleven? How could it be possible for an Illyrian boy to go so long without giving into his instincts to fly? You had been able to fly since the age of three, until the males in your camp stole that joy from you a decade later.

“It’s a long story,” he said, his quiet voice bouncing off the stone around you. “But I learned eventually, and now I’m here.”

You still said nothing, prompting Azriel to keep talking. “No one here is going to judge you for trying,” he murmured. “For learning to defend yourself. Everyone starts somewhere, and we all understand that. Better than most.”

“I don’t want to go back to that camp,” you croaked.

A beat passed that seemed to crackle with a new tension, and you wondered if you had managed to say the wrong thing, until Azriel swore, voice hard, “You don’t have to.”

“But if I can’t—”

“You are welcome here in Velaris for as long as you wish,” he cut you off. “You can stay here in the House of Wind however long you need. Emerie is about to move in as well.”

You mulled over his words, and your chest tightened as you thought about training again. “I’m nothing like those females in the training room,” you whispered.

“How so?”

You floundered. “They are all so magnificent. They are brave, and strong, and courageous. They are confident, steady. I am none of those things.”

“You are a female who has survived the horrid treatment of Illyria,” Azriel argued, voice resolute. “You endured that wretched culture and are still here, still wanting to fight. That alone makes you brave. It makes you strong. Don’t let your mind trick you into thinking otherwise.”

You couldn’t believe he spoke of Illyria with such disdain. This fearsome Ilryian male that sat on the High Lord’s court with swirls of Illryian ink snaking up his neck and down his arms spoke of his culture with such hatred you nearly recoiled, and you wondered what happened to make him despise his own culture so much. 

He let out a breath. “I will help you train,” he murmured softly. “We can meet for extra sessions if you would like.”

You had known that you really would be a fool if you passed on his offer, if you jeopardized the freedom he was offering you on a silver platter. You jumped at the opportunity, and that’s how you ended up spending the next five months training with Azriel. He was kind and gentle and respectful with every word he spoke, with every direction he gave to you. He pushed you to your limit every night, limbs wobbly with exhaustion by the time you crawled into bed, but he never asked you for more than you were capable of.

He taught you how to trust yourself. To be sure of your movements and your thoughts. To rely on your instincts in every situation. You carried yourself with confidence now, head held high and back straight when you walked into a room or down the bustling streets of Velaris. He would argue with you, but you knew you owed it all to Azriel.

Yes, he truly was the perfect person to coach the new and timid priestess. You knew of the terrifying reputation he held across Prythian. You had known of it long before you ever met him, but he quickly proved to you that he was nothing like the rumors painted him as. He could be ruthless, yes, and you were sure he was terrifying to whoever ended up on the other side of his dagger, but he never held that persona around you or his loved ones. Never around the citizens of Velaris. Azriel was sweet and gentle, patient and understanding, and could anyone really fault you for falling in love with the male after spending so much time with him?

His hazel eyes locked with yours across the room. Your face flushed at being caught watching him, but you offered a small, sheepish smile, to which he returned. Your heart fluttered, and you dragged your attention back to the females around you, avoiding Nesta’s curious gaze.

~ ~ ~

I love you.

You watched from afar as Azriel crouched down in front of a small girl on the bustling streets of Velaris, his wings creating a pocket of safety around the teary eyed child. She had a scrape on her knee that she was cradling to her little chest, and her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared up at Azriel. You inched closer, hoping he knew you were there if he needed you. If she wanted a female’s help.

He didn’t need your help, of course. You watched him hold his palms out for the little girl, and she slowly placed both of her tiny hands in his scarred ones. You saw her eye his hands curiously as he helped her rise to her feet, but her attention was quickly diverted by the new trail of blood trickling down her shin. Her lip started to wobble, and Azriel looked around frantically. You quickly pulled out the handkerchief you kept in your pocket and held it out to him.

His eyes clung to the embroidered cloth dangling in front of him before they snapped up to you. “Use this,” you murmured quietly. He gently took the cloth from you, dragging his eyes away to look back at the little girl.

He cooed softly, the girl clinging tight to the fingers of one of his hands. He softly told her not to worry, that they would get her all cleaned up in no time as he gently wiped the blood from her pale blue skin. Her cheeks were wet as she watched Azriel in awe, her tiny hand still gripping his fingers.

He stuck the cloth in his pocket, hiding the blood from her sight as he told her softly, “There. Like it never even happened.” He grinned at the little girl, whose cheeks turned a darker shade of blue. He squeezed the hand she still had wrapped around his. “Is your mother around, honey?”

Your insides melted at the sweet term of endearment that he cooed to the little girl. Falling in love with such a kind and gentle male, beautiful inside and out, was inevitable, really.

She shook her head, dark curly hair disheveled from her fall bouncing around. “I lost her back there.” She pointed in the direction of the Sidra, where shops and cafés lined the bustling boardwalk.

Azriel slowly stood up, keeping his hand in hers. He hummed softly, “Let's see if we can find her.”

He briefly glanced at you, and you took that as your cue to follow. Azriel and the girl walked hand in hand down the busy cobblestone street, with you trailing closely behind. “My name is Az,” he told the girl, then he pointed over his shoulder to you. Her eyes followed his motion so that they landed on you curiously. “This is my friend Y/N.”

The girl took you in with wide eyes, and you smiled softly. “You’re pretty,” she said in awe.

Your face flushed, and you caught Azriel’s smirk before you cleared your throat. “Why thank you,” you said animatedly, forcing yourself to accept the young faerie’s compliment. “You are beautiful,” you returned. “You glimmer like the brightest star.”

The little girl bashfully looked away, stepping closer to Azriel to hide behind his arm. Azriel chuckled softly. “Can you tell us your name?” he asked.

Before the girl could respond, commotion in the street made you and Azriel halt. He tugged the girl close to him as you flanked her other side. A female was yelling in the street, frantically moving from person to person. Her eyes were wild and frantic as she scanned the bodies on the street, her pale blue skin glimmering in the sunlight. You looked down at the little girl. “Is that your mother?”

She twisted to look around the towering bodies surrounding her, but Azriel quickly scooped her up in his arms so she could see. She giggled at the dramatic change in height for her, resting her little hand on his broad shoulder. He pointed to the female up ahead, and the girl nodded excitedly, wiggling in his hold.

“Hang on a second, love,” he murmured, holding her in place. The three of you moved closer to the female, the crowd of bodies parting easily around you at the sight of Azriel.

Once you neared closer, the distraught female’s eyes snagged on the Illyrian male carrying her tiny daughter. Her face visibly crumpled with relief as she hurtled to meet the three of you. “Molly!” she cried with her arms outstretched, the girl easily leaping from Azriel to her mother.

The girl stuffed her face in her mother’s neck. “You can’t run away from me like that,” she chided, voice wobbly with fear and relief.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” the little girl whined into her mother. Her mother sighed and ran a gentle hand over her head before her eyes drifted back to Azriel. They went wide.

Azriel shifted on his feet, his arm brushing against yours. You glanced at him out of your periphery and noticed the faint pink hue that coated his cheeks. The female sputtered before stammering out, “Thank you, Spymaster.”

Azriel moved his hands behind his back. “Not necessary,” he said softly. The female was at a loss for words as she stared at him. Her eyes briefly passed over you, and you smiled softly.

“She has a bit of a scrape on her knee,” you told the female after Azriel had grown stiff beside you. “Azriel cleaned her up, but it should probably be washed.”

The female nodded, holding her daughter tight. “Thank you,” she said again, clearly still intimidated by the male beside you. “I’m sorry for the trouble,” she added, and then hastily moved away and disappeared into the busy street.

Your gaze lingered on where she vanished for a moment before you returned your attention to Azriel, who was still thrumming with tension beside you. “Azriel?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?”

His throat bobbed and he blinked a few times before glancing at you. He tilted his head in the direction of the Sidra. “Let’s go,” he said, voice cold. You frowned. “We’re going to be late.”

He stalked off in the direction of the River House, and you had to hurry to match his pace. You watched him closely for a moment, taking in the twitching of his jaw and the agitated shadows that pulsed around him. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and when you reached for his wrist his whole body locked up.

You quickly dropped your hand, and tried to suppress the flare of hurt that erupted at his reaction to your touch. He stopped on the street, looking at you expectantly. You wetted your lips, searching for the words that you had wanted to say. “What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

He clenched his jaw and started walking away again. Your nostrils flared as you followed him, irritation replacing your hurt. “Azriel,” you snapped, voice demanding his attention.

He halted again, and turned to look at you. His eyes were cold and sharp, and you frowned at the absence of his usual warmth around you. “Tell me why you’re upset,” you prodded, voice more gentle.

His eyes bounced between yours, and you braced yourself for his rejection, for him to tell you to fuck off and mind your own business. Instead he shocked you by gritting out, “She was afraid of me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Who? The little girl?”

He nodded tersely. “And her mother.”

“Az,” you said in disbelief, the nickname slipping from your lips. “Of course the girl was scared of you, at first. You’re an Illyrian warrior. You’re naturally intimidating.”

He scowled at your words and you hurried to continue. “But as soon as you showed her kindness, she trusted you. She practically clung to you, Azriel. You made her feel safe.”

He looked down at his hands, at the scarred tissue covering them. “She held onto your hand for dear life, because she knew you were good. She knew you would take care of her.”

His face softened slightly and his shoulders dropped. “Her mother was distraught and frantic looking for her little girl, and then she found her in the arms of a member of her High Lord’s court,” you continued softly, taking a step closer. His hazel eyes locked with yours. “She was shocked, and intimidated, yes, but she wasn’t afraid you would hurt her or her daughter. I guarantee it.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as you took another step closer, only inches separating you. You swallowed your nerves, needing him to hear this, to understand. “You are a good male, Azriel.” Your voice was whisper soft and laced with reverence.

A shadow brushed your hand as his chest moved with his heavy breaths. He looked at you like you were a puzzle, an enigma he couldn’t figure out. He pulled his gaze away, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” Then he turned and started walking in the direction of the River House again.

Your shoulders deflated and you let out a disappointed sigh. You trailed behind him, the words I love you swimming in your head, begging to reach the sullen male just a few feet in front of you.

~ ~ ~

A generous slice of chocolate cake appeared in front of you. Your eyes trailed from the cake to the scarred hand that held the plate up the eyes of the male offering it to you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you took the cake nonetheless. You glanced from the cake to Azriel again, who folded his hands behind himself as he towered over where you sat in the oversized armchair.

“Thank you?” You smiled softly. “Was my lust for some cake that obvious?”

Pink tinged his cheeks, and your heart fluttered in your chest. Your friends were all chattering loudly throughout the living room of Rhys and Feyre’s house, but it all faded to a dull buzz as you stared at Azriel.

“I may have caught you looking once or twice,” was his quiet response.

You grinned, then picked up the fork he had rested on the plate for you. You stuffed a too large bite in your mouth, relishing in the taste of the chocolate on your tongue. “I also wanted to apologize,” Azriel said quietly, and his voice made you rush to swallow your food.

“Apologize?”

“For yesterday.”

You frowned. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is,” he argued. “I was rude to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Hardly,” you scoffed. Yes, your feelings had been hurt by his cool demeanor and his aversion to your touch, but that was hardly an offense to hold over his head. “You were upset, Azriel. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But—”

“Nope,” you cut him off before taking another bite of your cake. You gestured to the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. “Sit down and share this cake with me.”

Azriel hesitated, but he relented when you cut him a pointed look. He moved to the other side of the chair, sitting precariously on the arm. He shifted around a bit to get comfortable, and in the process his wing brushed against your own, the feeling sending a shiver up your spine. The two of you froze, and he looked at you with alarm before he stood up hastily, “I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel,” you sighed, feigning nonchalance when your entire body felt like it was on fire. “Just sit down. It’s okay.”

His throat bobbed, his wide eyes staring at you before returning to his perch on the arm rest. His wing brushed your arm this time, and he went rigid. “It’s okay,” you said again softly, his eyes locking with yours. 

His mouth opened and closed, and his cheeks were flushed. “I don’t want to make you—”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you assured him. The tension melted away from his body, but you still added, “You don’t have to sit here if you’re uncomfortable, though.”

“I’m not,” he was quick to say, and he settled in a bit more until he was comfortable enough on the plush armrest. He was tall enough that his feet rested flat on the floor, and you knew it probably wasn’t the most comfortable position, but at least he wasn’t just standing and watching you and his family from the side. His wings relaxed slightly, and they brushed yours again lightly.

He watched you carefully, and you forced your face to stay neutral, to not reveal that there was a torrent of butterflies fluttering in your chest. He reached for the fork in your hand, his fingers brushing yours, and your mind was fuzzy from all the physical contact. Even during your training sessions Azriel did his best to refrain from touching you. You knew it was to make you comfortable, to make you feel safe after coming from the Illyrian camps, but sometimes you longed for his touch. Now you were sitting here sharing a piece of cake with him while his wings gently brushed against you.

He raised the fork to his mouth and then handed it back to you, his eyes crinkling slightly in a smile while he chewed his cake. I love you, you thought, and the words sent a strange warmth through you that seemed to settle in your chest. The feeling was strange, and you stared at Azriel a bit awestruck. Home. It felt like you finally were home after searching for one for half a century.

~ ~ ~

“We know you’re in love with Azriel.”

The words clanged through your intoxicated mind as you stared at Nesta and Feyre in the booth across from you. Feyre glared at Nesta, who was looking at you expectantly.

You stammered out a pitiful, “What?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and Feyre’s soft ones landed on you. “By ‘we’ she means her and me. No one else knows.”

Nesta hummed, “That we know of. But if we figured it out…”

You blanched, and Feyre swatted Nesta’s shoulder. “Ignore her,” she told you. Her eyes were soft as they looked over your slightly swaying form in the wooden booth. The music pounding through Rita’s was making you a little nauseous at this point. The throbbing at your back and the alcohol you had downed also wasn’t doing you any favors. You suddenly wished you could winnow.

“Do you really love him?” Feyre asked softly.

Your hands were clammy as you stuffed them beneath your thighs. Your gaze bounced nervously around the tavern, desperate to escape this situation.

“Y/N,” Feyre said softly, dragging your attention back to her. “We’re not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Nesta’s eyes had considerably softened as she said, “We just want you to talk to us. We’re your friends.”

You bit your lip, anxiety thrumming through you at the thought of admitting your feelings for the Illyrian male aloud. You blamed the alcohol coursing through your veins for answering with, “I’m so in love with him.”

Their eyes widened, then slow smiles broke out across their faces.

The slightly slurred words tumbled out of you. “It’s pathetic how much I love him. But how could I not?” Your eyes were wide as you flung your arms out in exasperation. “How could I possibly be expected to not fall in love with the kind and thoughtful male that took time out his night to train me for months?” you exclaimed. “He’s so beautiful, and intelligent, and gentle.”

Feyre and Nesta were grinning with amusement as you unleashed the torrent of thoughts you had kept pent up about the male for the last six months. “I love him so much it hurts,” you whined, clutching your chest dramatically.

The two sisters shared a glance before Feyre asked slowly, “Have you thought about sharing this with Azriel?”

Your mouth fell open. “Of course not!” you exclaimed.

Nesta frowned. “Why not?”

You faltered. “Why the hell would I?”

Her frown shifted into a scowl. “Maybe he feels the same, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “As if he would ever love me.”

“Why would you say that?” Feyre asked, bewildered.

“Because I’m me! I’m just a poor Illyrian female that he took pity on because he’s kind.”

Nesta’s glare was icy. “You are far more than that to him, to all of us for that matter. You’re our friend, Y/N,” she snapped. You flinched slightly. “If you don’t recognize that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

A tense silence fell on your table. Feyre eventually decided to break it. “Azriel is a good male who loves his family fiercely,” she said softly. “But I’ve never seen him…soften the way he does around you.” 

Nesta nodded her agreement. “He practically glows when he sees you, Y/N.” Then she added with a pointed look, “And vice versa.”

You flushed. You were done with this mortifying conversation for tonight. You had said far too much in far too little time, and it was time for you to go. You might have to sleep on the stairs to the House of Wind if you left without one of your Illyrian male chauffeurs, but we all had to make sacrifices.

You stood up from the booth, a bit unsteady on your feet. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

They both protested as you turned and made a beeline for the door. The cool night air was refreshing on your flushed cheeks, and you giggled to yourself as you walked on unsteady feet down the stone street. Gods, you were really drunk.

In some part of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be walking by yourself in the middle of the night, especially drunk. You were pretty sure any self defense tactics Azriel had taught you had fallen right out of your head tonight. You would be lucky if you could run in a straight line.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of Azriel. He was so beautiful. You missed him. You loved him. That’s what you had told Nesta and Feyre tonight. The reminder turned your stomach sour.

“Y/N.”

You spun around at the sound of your name, wobbling slightly. Your eyes widened and a grin spread across your face at the sight of the male in front of you. “I was just thinking about you!”

Azriel’s eyebrows went up, and an amused smirk stretched his lips. You bet they were soft. “Sweetheart,” Azriel murmured, taking a step closer. “How much did you drink?”

You shrugged, the motion making you sway a little. Azriel quickly reached to stabilize you. His hand on your waist felt electric.

“You were supposed to wait for me to take you home,” he said softly. “Feyre was a bit frantic that you just walked out.”

You blinked. His eyes were so bright under the light of the moon and stars. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Did something happen?” he asked, voice gentle. “Why did you just leave?”

You thought about Feyre and Nesta’s interrogation and the word vomit that spewed from your mouth. Even drunk you knew not to tell Azriel that, so you simply shrugged again. You leaned a bit closer to him, exhaustion creeping in. “I’m tired, Az,” you whined.

He chuckled, and you smiled at the sound. “Let’s go,” he said, tucking you into his side. You leaned heavily on him, and you barely noticed your wing touching his. Azriel didn’t mention it either. “I think we should go to the Town House,” he said. “I’m not sure flying or winnowing is the best idea right now.”

You nodded, mumbling out an agreement. Your eyes caught on the bright blue cobalt of his siphon that adorned the hand on your waist. You perked up a bit, grinning. “Hey!” you yelled, startling Azriel a bit. “Your siphon matches my skirt!” You pointed to the cobalt satin that draped down your legs.

Azriel laughed as he continued pulling you along toward the house. “It’s my favorite color,” you babbled. “I’ve always liked blue, but then I saw your blue, and I knew it had to be mine too.”

Azriel squeezed your hip gently. “I’m flattered,” he teased. You knew you were likely talking nonsense, but you grinned at his indulgence.

You continued rambling about anything and everything, with Azriel nodding or humming his acknowledgment. Eventually you reached the Town House, and Azriel guided you through the gate and up the stairs slowly, holding onto you tight. You fell into him a bit once you stood in front of the door. He managed to open it without letting go of you, and then shut it behind him.

The house was warm and smelled like cedar. “I’ve never been here,” you mumbled.

“We usually go to the River House, now” he explained, guiding you to a staircase that made your head swim. “But I still stay here a lot, to get some peace.”

Azriel. It smelled like Azriel. You clumsily stepped for the first stair, missing it completely. You would have collided with the floor if not for Azriel hanging on to you. “I think I’ll just stay here,” you murmured, moving to slide out of his hold, but he held you up firmly.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he grumbled. “Let me carry you up?”

You certainly had no protests. Azriel scooped you up effortlessly then started climbing up the stairs. You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat. I love you, you thought, then, remembering Nesta and Feyre’s claims, Do you love me?

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you nuzzled into his neck. He pushed open a door that led to a bedroom that smelled even more like him. He sat you down on the edge of the massive bed. “Is this your room?” you asked.

He nodded. “You can sleep in here. The other guest rooms don’t have beds as big. I’ll sleep in Rhys’s old room.”

You nodded, a bit dazed. You winced as a particularly sharp pain shot from the middle of your back and through your wing.

“What is it?” Azriel asked worriedly.

Your eyes burned a bit as you started to recognize the pain again. “I think I hurt my wing,” you whimpered.

“What?” he asked, alarm clear in his voice. “When?”

“Today,” you whispered. “I went to the beach and fell down some rocks.”

“Did you clean them?”

You shook your head. “Couldn’t reach.”

“Well then did you go to a healer?” he asked, exasperated.

You grimaced, shaking your head again. “I don’t like healers.” You didn’t like anyone touching your wings. 

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath. A beat passed. “I know healers in Illyria can be…inconsiderate,” he settled on, voice dripping with disdain. His voice softened then, “But Madja, our family healer, is incredibly kind and gentle. Everyone in her practice is. She’s worked on all of our wings many times.”

You were trembling, the idea of him making you go see a healer right now, when you were drunk and vulnerable—you couldn’t. “Please,” you rasped, “please don’t make me.”

His eyes were so soft as he said, “They need cleaned, sweetheart.”

“You can clean them,” you rushed out. His eyes went wide, but you continued on, “Please? I trust you, more than anyone. I just, I can’t—”

He shushed you softly as he reached to wipe a tear from your cheek. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll do my best.”

You relaxed instantly, sinking into the bed. “Lay down for me,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

You did as he said, laying down on your stomach with your head resting on Azriel’s pillows that wrapped you in his comforting scent. He returned quickly, the bed sinking as he sat down beside you. “Can I,” he paused, “Can I touch?”

You nodded against the pillows, a mumbled yes escaping your lips. Azriel gently undid the slats of your sweater, his fingertips brushing your sensitive skin at the base of your wings. You shivered, and he stilled. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you rasped.

He continued his examination, then said, “I think it’s just the right one. The left looks fine.”

He gently prodded the base of the left and then did the same to the right, the motion making you hiss. He apologized, then told you, “These scrapes are still raw, Y/N.”

“Ever since they clipped my wings,” you murmured, “They don’t heal as fast as they should. I don’t know why.”

Azriel’s silence was loud. He rustled around with whatever supplies he collected, and you heard the light sloshing of water. “I’m going to clean them now,” he murmured softly. “Okay?”

You nodded, and he gently ran a warm, damp cloth over the wounds. You tensed from the burning that spread through your wing, but his gentle movements made it bearable. He then unscrewed a cap from a small tin, and told you, “This is a healing balm Madja gave me. It should speed up the healing and dull the pain.”

You nodded and closed your eyes as his gentle fingers spread the salve over your wounds. You let out a sigh of relief as the salve seeped in, quickly taking effect. “Do you have pain anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” you mumbled, mind still swimming from the alcohol and now the relief of your pain.

“Can I check?”

“Be my guest,” you said, voice muffled into the pillow.

Azriel gently skimmed his fingers up and along the ridge of your wing, following it all the way to the talon at the tip. Goosebumps littered your skin and you held your breath as he made his careful ministrations. Never had you let anyone touch your wings like this. The sensations were glorious and vulnerable all at once, and you thought you would stay there forever if you could, with Azriel gently stroking your wing in the comfort of his bed.

His fingers brushed against an especially sensitive area of the inner membrane, and a soft moan escaped you. Azriel froze, and you tensed once you realized what you did. “Did that hurt?” he asked worriedly.

You bit your lip, cheeks hot with mortification. “No,” you choked out.

“Oh.” You swore there was a faint shift in his scent, but your muddled mind couldn’t decipher it. “I think the rest of your wing is okay,” he said, voice strangled. “We’ll check your wounds tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your embarrassment quickly being overcome with exhaustion.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said softly. “Do you want to change your clothes?”

You shook your head, nestling into the silk covered pillows. You were so comfortable. Your pain was gone, you were surrounded by the scent of the male you loved, and sleep was quickly beckoning to you.

You heard him chuckle softly, and then felt him gently remove your shoes from your feet. He draped a blanket over you, and you thought you might be dreaming as he tenderly brushed your hair behind your ear. “Get some sleep, my love.”

You were definitely dreaming.

~ ~ ~

I love you.

“I love you.”

You went still as death, yanking Azriel to a halt. The music from downstairs continued to flow around you, and your one hand was still resting in his while your other was on his shoulder. “What did you just say?” you asked breathlessly.

He gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinting an adorable pink. He lowered your hands, but didn’t let go, his other staying put on your waist. His hazel eyes reflected the glowing spirits that shot across the sky as he looked at you reverently. “I love you,” he said again.

You shook your head, baffled. “You can’t—”

He lifted your hand to his chest, holding your palm over his heart. “Listen to me,” he said gently. “I love you. This—” He squeezed your hand. “This is yours. My heart is yours.”

Your eyes started to sting as tears pooled in them. You were still shaking your head when he squeezed your hand again, and a familiar warmth flooded your chest. “I need you to listen to me,” he cooed. His breath gently danced across your face as his shadows stroked against your neck. “I need you to feel me,” he begged. Your eyes widened at what he was implying, and he smiled slightly.

His own eyes shined as he continued talking, “A couple weeks ago, I went to Nesta for advice.” He swallowed and took a breath. “I told her I found my mate.” Your head was spinning. The world was tilting. “And that I was in love with her. I asked her–” He let out a shaky breath. “I asked her how to get my mate to fall in love with me.”

Your lip was wobbling as you listened intently, and he lifted his hand from your waist to wipe your tears from your cheeks. He chuckled softly. “She laughed at me. I was baffled, really. I couldn’t fathom what she thought was so funny about my turmoil, until she assured me that my mate was already in love with me.”

His hand drifted back to your waist before slowly curling around your lower back. You leaned in closer, unaware you were even doing it. He leaned down so that his cheek brushed against yours, and he was talking softly into your ear. He started gently swaying the two of you to the music again, as he said, “I didn’t believe her, not at first. I didn’t understand how she could possibly know who my mate was, let alone know that she was in love with me.” You let out a shaky breath. “But last week, when I took you home from Rita’s, and I carried you up the stairs? You were practically shouting your thoughts at me across the bond, and I felt it. I felt your love, and I felt your doubt of mine, and it nearly crippled me.”

Nesta’s little intervention that night made more sense now. Your lingering irritation over that whole ordeal withered away with Azriel’s confession, and it was replaced with gratitude for the meddling female. Azriel’s voice drew you back to him, “I knew I couldn’t say anything then, but I tried to push my love for you down the bond, to ease your doubts and anxieties. Then you let me…you trusted me to take care of you, and I knew I had to tell you how I felt, that I wanted you in my bed, letting me take care of you for the rest of my life.”

A soft sob broke free from your lips, and you leaned back to meet Azriel’s own silver-lined eyes. “I love you,” you whispered. The words you had been thinking for months finally out in the open. Azriel smiled at you in awe. “I love you so much. I never thought—not once did I think you could ever love me—”

He pulled you in close, leaning his forehead against yours. “Please don’t say that,” he pleaded, voice anguished. “You are the most beautiful person, inside and out, that I have ever met in my five centuries on this planet. You make me feel warm, and you make me feel safe. You make me feel at peace, and I’ve never had that.”

“Neither have I,” you admitted shakily. “Until I met you.”

Azriel gazed at you adoringly before his hands came up to cup your face. His eyes flicked down to your lips before returning to your eyes, and you gave the tiniest nod before he pressed his lips to yours. All of the love you felt for each other was put into the kiss, the two of you savoring the taste and feel of each other. Your lips moved slowly against his, relishing in this moment, in the warmth that filled your body. You finally recognized that warmth for what it was, the mating bond tying your two souls together, the glow of your love for each other a living, breathing thing.

You broke apart, chests heaving. You stared into his warm honey gaze, your insides melting at the vision of this beautiful male, your beautiful mate. “I love you,” you breathed.

Azriel brushed his nose against yours, his hands still cupping your face. “I know,” he whispered back, and then pressed another tender kiss to your lips. “And I love you.”

You glanced at the crowd of people dancing down below, then looked back at him. Heat flooded you, and his darkening eyes said the feeling was mutual. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” you asked quietly, a bit nervous.

He pressed a kiss to the skin below your ear, and you shivered at the delightful sensation. “I plan to keep you to myself for weeks,” he growled into your ear. The next thing you knew, he scooped you up in his arms, flying up and out of the House’s wards, and then winnowed the two of you far, far away from the prying eyes and ears of Velaris.

~ ~ ~

a/n: thank you to everyone who has been supporting my writing and sharing such kind words. I know I don't do well at answering comments, but I do see them, and they mean so much.

I've decided to try taking requests, so if you have an idea for a fic, feel free to send it along. I'm fairly busy and writing is my way to decompress, so I can't promise that I will write it nor that I will write it quickly, but please don't hesitate to send me your ideas.

(I've also been working on another series. It will be mer!reader x Azriel, and it's purely a self-indulgent fic, but if that's something that interests you, be on the look out in the next month)

Don’t mind me just having my weekly cry thinking about Lucien wrapping Solstice gifts for everyone when he knows he won’t get one in return.

Like just imagine him sitting on the floor with scissors and tape making sure the creases are perfect and tying little bows on top 😭

For all the things said about Azriel's private life, freak or no, BDSM Dom or Rope bunny subby boy himself, I think we can all agree that love or hate him, we wouldn't say no to an Azriel hug.

Warm leathers and that cool, chilled, night mist scent? Shivers.

So, sooo tall and well muscled, but with that slutty little waist you can wrap your hands around as he holds your head to his heart? Sigh.

Cacooned in shadows so no busybody eyes are looking at JUST how long he holds you? Yes please.

Silent, gentle breaths from him- he just needs this hug and is unrushed in letting you go? A firm grip- it's a needy hug that lets you know you're not going anywhere anytime soon, so just deal with it? I Surrender.

NESSIAN WEEK DAY 3: Symphony

Summary: Plagued by the Nightmares from the war, leaving Nesta in a state of panic; Cassian does the only thing he can think of to calm her down...sing.

A/N: Happy @nessianweek! I'm super excited to partake in this as Nessian is one of my favorite ships! And note I will add story tags later!

Happy Reading!

Divders by @tsunami-of-tears

"I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta."

Nesta's sobs caused her body to uncontrollably shake as she gripped the General of the Night Court's armies' hand. The carnage of battle widdled down to background noise to the overwhelming grief she was feeling. Cassian's hand lossenrd slightly, and her silver eyes darted toward his undeniable handsome face that was quickly losing color. His eyes once vibrant morphed into muted color of Hazel, lips dried as he tried cracking her a smile. "Nesta, I..." He coughed blood, trickling down his mouth, his siphons were beginning to dim.

Panic crept into the eldest Archeron's system as she furiously shook her head. Her heart rate began to quicken as she gripped his large calloused hand tighter, as if she could will the life back into his body. "No! I forbid you to die." He sputtered once more as he reached out with his free hand, cupping her cheek, lightly catching tears she didn't know were falling. "Please. Don't go. I want to do things differently.

"I will find you in the next life, Nes. We'll do things differently. We'll get that time." He pressed his lips to hers, and she clung to him, hoping the air from her lungs could keep his from stopping.

Cassian's grip on her loosened completely, and as she pushed away, he was falling back to the ground his eyelids remained shut, never to show Nesta the vibrant Honey color she had grown to yearn for. His chest was no longer rising, and the realization settled into her bones.

Cassian, The Lord of Bloodshed, General of the Night Court's Armies, Her Friend was dead.

The scream Nesta unleashed rattled the ground before her, and she continued until her voice was raw. She laid down upon his chest as the grief threatened to pull her under. She shut her eyes, ready to succumb to the darkness.

"Nesta!" The low timbre of his voice rattled in her skull, and she squeezed her already shut eyes tighter. "Nesta, wake up!" His voice proceeded to get louder and more panicked. She refused to obey his command, afraid of what she would see.

Then she felt it, the sharp tug against her chest. She dared to peek to see she was in a dark void alone. However, the gold string emerging from her chest was glowing brightly, leading her away from the darkness and into the light. Finally, Cassian called out once more, "Sweetheart! Come back to me! Wake. UP!"

The Archeron sister awoke with a jolt, no longer was on the bloody battlefield of Hybern or the dark void that plagued her mind. She was in her room face to face with the one person she thought she lost forever.

"Cassian." Nesta whispered as she took in her mates face. The General's face had a look of concern, but his eyes held that beautiful color of Hazel she had grown to find comfort and love. Stubble covered the lower half of his face as his lips help a firm tight line. His hair was up in a bun, and a few strands framed his face. Panic was still racing through Nesta's body as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the side of his neck.

Cassian was quick to grip her hips the cool silk of her night gown now warm by Nesta's rising temperature. He instinctively wrapped his wings around the two of them like a partition. "Nes, talk to me, Sweetheart."

Her voice was muffled between the sobs. But the words "You" and "Died" could be made out with his fae hearing.

Rubbing soothing circles in her back, he began to rock her. "I'm right here. It was a bad dream." He attempted to pull away to look at her, but she gripped his night shirt tightly. Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Nesta's anguish flooded him through the bond. He hadn't seen her this rattled in a decade. He couldn't recall the last time she had a night terror like this.

An idea formed in his head. Adjusting his grip on his wife, he hoisted her in his arms and moved from their shared bed to the chair that faced the window. He began to hum as he took a seat, placing her back gently on his lap. Her sobs slowed for a moment so Cassian continued.

After a moment, the words poured out of him, a sweet melody in his voice. The song discussed being safe in his arms, that he would be her shield in the face of the dangers of the world. That his life is better because she was in it. That what she gave him was enough and would always be enough for him.

Nesta's sobs had stopped, and she slowly began to lift her head to listen to him better. She never known him to be a singer, but there was a comfort in his voice that instantly soothed her. Made her feel less afraid, no longer alone.

Cassian continued to sing as Nesta laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes beginning to flutter shut as her mate lulled her into a peaceful slumber. Dreaming of the life they would share together and the safety of being in his arms.

For in the Lord of Bloodshed's Arms, his Lady Death would always be Safe and Sound.

I have a headcanon that Feyre’s feet hurt from dancing at Starfall so Rhys just holds her instead

Sarah J Maas has wrecked my heart all summer now, there is no recovery from this book hangover, you guys were right. I can’t stop drawing these two omggg

Check out my other ACOMAF Starfall drawing here! :)

—

Available here on Redbubble

Azriel’s shadows ship Gwynriel.

✷ Day Two Round-Up: Yearning ✷

Fics:

My Hand Was The One You Reached For by @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk

Home to You by @fieldofdaisiies

Home Is Not A Place (It Is A Feeling) by @unhealthyfanobsession

A Fool’s Errand, Rewarded by @kale-theteaqueen

dumb love (I love being stupid) by @moodymelanist

I’m Addicted to the ‘If Only’ by @underneath-the-sidras

Is this it? by @wishcamper

When We Howl, The Moon Will Cower Chapter 6 by @c-e-d-dreamer

Fanart:

Nessian fanart by @climbthemountain2020

Nessian fanart commissioned by @oristian, drawn by @/tasbaqaart

Nessian fanart commissioned by @melphss, drawn by @/ruisfree

Nessian fanart commissioned by @separatist-apologist, drawn by @velidewrites

Nessian fanart commissioned by @norabraveseeker, @gwynrieldefenseatty, & @/kryssa_reads; drawn by @/Jessi.Brasilart

Nessian fanart by @jmoonjones

Nessian blob fanart by @bonecarversbestie

Nessian fanart by @greenleaf777

Nessian fanart by @dudakka

Nessian fanart commissioned by @podemechamardek, drawn by @/lumie.art

Suprising Theodore Nott (your boyfriend) with your skill in his native language, Italian

It's a quiet afternoon in the Slytherin common room, sunlight streaming through the tall, narrow windows. Theodore is sitting beside you on the green velvet couch, one hand idly tracing patterns on your leg while the other flips through a book. The room is calm, a few of his friends lounging around nearby, but none of them are really paying attention to you two. Draco is reading the Daily Prophet, Mattheo is deep in conversation with Lorenzo about something that sounds like mischief.

You glance up at Theodore, his sharp features softened by the warm light, and a small smile tugs at your lips. You've been practicing for this moment all week, and now feels like the perfect time.

With a deep breath, you lean toward him, your voice gentle as you ask, “Theo... che cosa stai leggendo?” (Theo, what are you reading?)

He freezes for a second, surprised, before his eyes widen slightly in delight. His gaze shifts from the book to you, a proud smirk appearing on his lips. “Che cosa ho sentito?” he murmurs, a teasing note in his voice. (What did I just hear?)

You feel a little shy under his intense gaze, but you press on. “Ho detto... che cosa stai leggendo?” you repeat, your accent not perfect, but you manage well enough. (I said... what are you reading?)

He laughs softly, the sound low and warm, before leaning in a little closer to you. “Sto leggendo un vecchio libro sulla magia antica.” (I’m reading an old book on ancient magic.) His fingers continue their lazy movements on your leg, but now there's a glint of pride in his eyes. “Sei stata fantastica, amore,” he adds quietly, his voice full of admiration. (You were amazing, love.)

You bite your lip, a little embarrassed but mostly pleased that he noticed how hard you’ve been trying. You glance around quickly—none of his friends seem to be paying attention, too absorbed in their own conversations. You lean into him, whispering, “Volevo sorprenderti.” (I wanted to surprise you.)

Theodore chuckles, his hand slipping up to cup your cheek. “E ci sei riuscita,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your skin. (And you succeeded.)

Feeling more confident now, you decide to keep going, asking, “Ti piace che sto imparando?” (Do you like that I’m learning?)

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back to look into your eyes. “Mi rende così orgoglioso di te,” he says softly, his voice thick with affection. (It makes me so proud of you.) He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he adds, “Non c'è nessuno che preferirei insegnare.” (There’s no one I’d rather teach.)

Your heart flutters at his words, the warmth in his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling content and proud of yourself. “Grazie, Theo,” you say quietly. (Thank you, Theo.)

He smiles down at you, his fingers now threading gently through your curls. “Prego, amore mio,” he replies, his voice soft and full of love. (You’re welcome, my love.)

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, your little bubble of Italian secret conversations and soft touches. None of his friends can understand what you’re saying, and that only makes it more special. Theodore’s gaze stays fixed on you, pride and admiration clear in his eyes. He tilts your chin up gently, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before murmuring, “Sei perfetta.” (You’re perfect.)

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sound of his praise. “Solo perché ho un bravo insegnante,” you tease, your voice playful. (Only because I have a good teacher.)

He chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer. “Allora dobbiamo continuare le lezioni,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. (Then we must continue the lessons.)

You laugh softly, nodding as you settle into his arms. “Sì, voglio imparare di più,” you whisper back. (Yes, I want to learn more.)

He grins, clearly pleased, and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Bene,” he whispers. (Good.) And as the day stretches on, you stay wrapped up in each other, speaking softly in a language that only the two of you can share.

what do you think about azriel x reader that has daddy issues, like she does small things to try to make him proud and at first he thinks she’s just being cute but he realizes the depth and her need for praise and what’s going on and just reassures her. like he immediately knew why reader was so attached to him when they first met, and he just took on the role as her provider and protector🧎‍♀️i’m just literally projecting😀

reader with daddy issues in a relationship with az

azriel x reader

a/n: this is not exactly what you ask for, but my mind clang to this scene very fiercely. maybe not entirely daddy issues, but definitely issues ig. ps; i plan to write a headcanons burb about this.

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You and Azriel had been seeing each other for a while now. Though he was falling more and more in love with you with every passing day, and so were you, deep down, you felt like you were also growing attached to him in a very particular way.

You tried not to look too deeply into your heart, to avoid understanding the needs that only your partner seemed able to satisfy.

Things like the constant reassurance of his touch—whether it was holding hands, tracing patterns on your back lovingly, or caressing your thigh when you were at dinner. Anything that involved his familiar, scarred hands touching your skin—you needed it.

You guessed it was because what you truly needed was to know he was there with you. Azriel, the male who protected you as if it were his sole duty—you needed to be certain he was with you.

Because of this, you had grown accustomed to his words of love. You always had a voice in your head asking, “Why does he take such good care of you? Why would he choose to love and protect you?” And that voice could only be silenced by his sweet words.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much, I don’t even know who I’d be without you. I wouldn’t even want to be someone, I think,” he’d tell you as he hugged you tight.

“That was impressive, Y/N. How did I ever get so lucky that the best Valkyrie noticed me?” he’d ask.

“You are doing great, love.”

“You are so talented.”

“What did I even do to deserve you?”

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

Those words he would say, you repeated in your mind like a mantra, rejoicing in the memory of him saying them.

But the joy of his love wasn’t enough to make your worry disappear. And so, you kept growing more concerned about him noticing your neediness.

And your biggest fear finally came true one night at dinner...

“Hello? Y/N?” you heard Azriel’s voice from the kitchen, where you were cooking a special dinner for him.

“Here!” You heard his tired footsteps follow your voice. “Hi, Azzie, how was the mission?” you asked sweetly when he leaned in to peck your cheek.

“Good, I guess,” he said weakly, but then he peeked from where he rested his head on your shoulder at what you were cooking. “That’s my favorite,” he mumbled, as if talking to himself.

You smiled sweetly and stopped stirring the soup to turn to your mate. “It is.”

He returned your smile, but there was a genuine sweetness that could only be found in an innocent child. “I love you,” he whispered.

You flushed, looking down at your feet at the sound of those words.

But he went on, pulling your chin up so you met his eyes. “You are too good to me. Too good for me.”

No, you were not.

“I love you,” he concluded.

I love you.

He didn’t. He didn’t. You just made soup. It probably wasn’t even good. He’d probably hate it. But he was too kind to tell you it was terrible. Just like he was too kind to tell you he didn’t actually love you. He didn’t. The soup was terrible.

“Y/N,” he whispered, wiping something wet from your cheek. “My love, what did I say? Why are you crying?”

Oh.

You were crying. “What?” you blurted. “Nothing. It’s probably the onions.”

He didn’t buy it one bit. And though to be loved was to be known, you only found fear in your mate knowing every bit of your soul just by looking at you the way he was watching you now.

“Y/N. You... Is this because of what I said? What I say?” You didn’t dare reply, so he continued. “I see your face change every time I tell you I love you or praise you. Or when I…” He sighed and brushed his hair back. “I don’t know.”

More tears were running down your cheeks. You hated seeing him so defeated and knowing it was your fault. “I’m sorry.”

He met your crying eyes in an instant. “Don’t. Love, don’t be sorry. I’m not mad, and you did nothing wrong. It’s just—I want to understand you.” He put his hand back on your cheek as if he knew how much you needed it there. You immediately leaned into the warm touch and saw how his eyes registered your reaction.

He knew. By the way he assessed you, you knew he had already figured you out. And to your surprise, the thought made you feel free.

So free that before you could think about it, your mouth was speaking of its own accord. “It’s the way I need to feel love. It’s rare,” you said, embarrassed. “You surely must have noticed it already. The way I need certain things from you…”

“Touch,” he said softly, and you weren’t sure if he was asking or simply reflecting on memories that proved what you were saying.

“Yes. Or having you around the house most of the time. Or… words of affirmation.” You were sure your face was wholly red, but, on the contrary, Azriel was all ears, no trace of judgment in his honest eyes. “I can't help but balk at your confessions, but—I… I love them deep down. Most of the time, I need to hear them. It’s... It’s terrible. I’m just very… needy.”

You wanted to run out of the room.

“I understand,” he said tenderly. “And this is nothing to be embarrassed about. Everybody has different ways they want to be loved.”

Oh.

“It’s a relief you actually like when I tell you those things. And that you love to be near me so much. Because I want to give you that, Y/N. I want to do everything you need to feel my love for you,” he explained gently.

You were left speechless.

“But know one thing—I love you no matter what, and despite everything. If you don’t have my hand to hold someday, I want you to still be certain I love you. If I don’t praise you someday, I want you to know you are brilliant. And if someday I don’t tell you how much I love you—Gods forbid that happens—know my feelings for you are just as strong.”

You were a sea of tears at that point. “Please promise me,” he asked.

“Promise you what?” you mumbled weakly.

“Promise me that, at every turn, you’ll know I love you. Promise me, Y/N.”

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

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