Acotar Drabble - Tumblr Posts

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.

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.”

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.

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

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 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 😄.

Altered self-image (established relationship, Cassian’s mate)

You sat at the dining table, poking at the food on your plate with little interest. It had been like this for weeks—your appetite dwindling as your thoughts spiraled into darker places. Every time you looked in the mirror, all you saw were the imperfections: the rolls on the side of your back, the softness of your stomach when you sat, the marks on your thighs. You compared yourself endlessly to Feyre, Elain, and Nesta—how effortlessly thin they seemed, how perfectly their bodies fit into the image of what you thought you should look like.

But you weren’t them. You had curves, and while once they had made you feel powerful, now all you could see were the parts of yourself you wished would disappear. And then there was Cassian—so fit, so muscled, and not an ounce of fat. The warrior everyone admired, the embodiment of strength. How could you stand beside him and feel worthy when you didn’t even feel comfortable in your own skin?

You hadn’t noticed him watching you as you sat there, barely touching your food. But Cassian had been paying attention. He had noticed the way your appetite had waned, the way you pulled back when he tried to wrap his arms around your waist, the way you would avoid looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Are you going to eat that?" His voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his gaze serious.

You forced a smile, pushing the food around your plate. "I’m just not that hungry."

Cassian narrowed his eyes, the soft concern on his face quickly shifting into something more determined. "That’s not true," he said, crossing the room in a few strides. "You haven’t been eating, and I want to know why."

You felt the knot of guilt tighten in your chest as he stood in front of you, arms crossed. His presence was imposing, but the worry in his eyes softened the sharpness of his stance.

"I... I just don’t feel like it," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s nothing."

Cassian crouched down in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don’t lie to me, love," he said, his voice low but filled with a quiet intensity. "I’ve noticed. You haven’t been eating right for weeks. You’re not yourself."

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You didn’t want to have this conversation. How could you explain that you felt inadequate, that every time you looked at him—this strong, perfect warrior—you felt like you didn’t measure up?

"I don’t look like them," you blurted out, unable to stop the words from spilling out. "I don’t look like Feyre, or Elain, or Nesta. I’m not thin, Cass. I have fat on my stomach, and marks on my thighs, and when I sit, there are rolls on my back. I don’t look like you—fit, strong. And I... I just feel like I shouldn’t eat if I want to be better."

Cassian’s face softened immediately, and without hesitation, he reached for your hands, gently pulling them into his grasp. "Don’t ever say that," he said firmly, his eyes burning with emotion. "Don’t you dare compare yourself to them. You are *you*. You are my mate, and I love every inch of you, just as you are."

You blinked, the tears finally spilling over as the weight of your insecurities came crashing down. "But I don’t look like you," you choked out. "You’re so perfect, and strong, and I’m just... not."

Cassian’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I am not perfect," he said, his voice soft but steady. "And I don’t want you to be, either. I love you for who you are, not for what you think you should look like. Your body is yours, and it’s beautiful. Those curves, the softness of your skin, the marks on your thighs—they’re all part of you, and I wouldn’t change a single thing."

You sobbed, the weight of his words sinking in as you buried your face in his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"I don’t care what anyone else looks like," he murmured against your hair. "I care about you. And I need you to take care of yourself, not because of how you look, but because I want you to be healthy. You deserve to feel good, to feel strong in your own way."

He pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so you could see the sincerity in his gaze. "You are not meant to be Feyre, or Elain, or Nesta. You are *you*, and I fell in love with every single part of you. I wouldn’t want you any other way."

You sniffled, the warmth of his words finally starting to settle in. "I just... I don’t know how to stop feeling like this."

Cassian kissed your forehead, his hands never leaving yours. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But we’re going to work on this, together. You’re not alone, and I’ll be here every step of the way. And for now," he added with a soft smile, "you’re going to eat. Not because you have to, but because you deserve to treat yourself with the same love I have for you."

With trembling hands, you nodded and picked up the fork, taking a bite of the food in front of you. Cassian stayed by your side, his hand gently resting on your back, comforting you as you took the first steps toward healing.

And in that moment, you knew that with him, you would learn to see yourself as he did—worthy, beautiful, and loved.

I have thoughts about the pleasuredomaz and switchforgwyn agenda. 

I think he’s eager to please and borderline obsessed with it, but still wants total control of the situation. He always goes the extra mile to make his partners feel good, but he’s never given control over to them.

Until Gwyn comes along.

And Gwyn is curious and thorough and intent on drawing a reaction out of him, as she is in everything she does. The control does feel good, and she still feels safe and secure and aware. 

Every spot she discovers that makes him restless, she hones in on. Azriel is so used to exploiting others weaknesses against them (in both the hottest and cruelest way) and he’s never had someone else exploit his so slowly and irresistibly. 

It’s a first for both of them in different ways. 

And even though Azriel is tied up (with the ribbon, obvi) the shadows are up to their own mischief with Gwyn. They adore her and don’t want to be left out. They just want her to have the attention she deserves.

It’s a competition to see who breaks first, but really, neither of them want to win when the race feels so good and needs to be drawn out.

Of course Azriel will still take control occasionally. The feeling of his palms pressed firmly against her body, scars dragging on her sensitive skin, being completely pinned and covered by him but still feeling safe in the shadow of his embrace, his hips pressing hers firmly into the mattress, is too addictive for Gwyn to resist. 

Rhys about Azriel in ACOWAR

Nesta about Gwyn ACOSF

There are a three things to note here ....

One - Both Gwyn and Az are characters who are known to have the ability to be hopeful even at their lowest . I love how that is a quality that's highlighted about them both.

Two - anyone who thinks Rhys would truly be in the way of his brother's happiness is crazy.

Three - emphasis on the love they have for their chosen family

I love these two so much and their character parallels 🤗🤗.... Its not just hope ... its the ability to hope when the world around you tells you to despair . Please can I get their book 📖 please ... I hope their book is worth the wait .

i'm soooo normal about what could've been

Why Feyre Shouldn't Have Been High Lady of the Night Court (and Why Lucien & Elain Shouldn’t Lead the Day Court Without Putting in the Work)

Alright, let’s get one thing straight: being the High Lady or High Lord of a court isn’t about looking pretty, having magical powers, or being able to swing a sword. It’s not some fantasy crown you can just plop on your head and suddenly you’re ruling a kingdom. No, being a leader is about more than just political power—it’s about knowing the people, their culture, their traditions. It’s about being part of the community, not just ruling it from a fancy chair.

And that’s where we run into a problem with Feyre. I mean, bless her heart, but let’s be real: three months in the Night Court, and boom, she’s High Lady? It’s like showing up to a new job, sitting in a few meetings, and then declaring yourself CEO. Girl, you haven’t even figured out where the coffee machine is yet!

The Night Court has centuries of history, deep-rooted traditions, festivals, and customs that Feyre couldn’t possibly know in just a few months. She was still figuring out the whole “Inner Circle” dynamic and hadn’t really gotten to know the people or the intricacies of the court’s culture. And yet, she’s handed the title of High Lady like it’s a participation trophy. Sure, she may have bonded with Rhys and the gang, but knowing a few people in power isn’t the same as understanding the heart and soul of an entire court.

Leading isn’t just about power and politics—it’s about making people feel seen and heard. It’s about knowing what makes them tick, what they value, and how they celebrate. How can you guide people if you don’t even understand what they’re all about? How do you unite a court when you don’t know what unites them? Leadership isn’t just about making decisions; it’s about connecting with the people you’re leading. And let’s be real, if you don’t know the culture, you’re going to end up making some pretty awkward blunders along the way.

Now, let’s talk about Lucien and Elain, because if they become High Lord and High Lady of the Day Court without putting in some serious time there, I’m holding them to the same standard. I love Lucien, don’t get me wrong—he’s my cutey patootie—but leading a court isn’t just about showing up and throwing your weight around. Lucien hasn’t been a part of the Day Court as an adult, and Elain… well, let’s just say her resume in court politics is a little thin.

If Lucien and Elain waltz into the Day Court and start calling the shots without first understanding the history, the culture, and the people, it’s going to be a disaster. They need to spend some serious time under Helion’s wing, learning about the traditions and festivals, understanding what makes the Day Court tick. Otherwise, they’re just going to look like tourists trying to lead a country they don’t understand. It’s like trying to host a party in a house you’ve never been in before—you’re bound to knock over a few vases and spill some drinks.

And don’t even get me started on the whole "High Lady of the Night Court" situation again. Leading isn’t just about making political decisions or winning battles. It’s about fostering a sense of community. It’s about celebrating the court’s culture and traditions, making sure people feel united. If you don’t even know what those traditions are, how can you possibly lead? Feyre got the title before she had the chance to immerse herself in the Night Court’s customs, and that’s a problem. Imagine if she accidentally trampled over centuries-old traditions because she didn’t know any better? Awkward.

At the end of the day, leadership is earned, not handed out like candy at a parade. Feyre, Lucien, Elain—they all need to put in the time to really know the courts they’re leading. It’s not enough to just have power. You have to understand the people, the culture, the history. Otherwise, you’re just a figurehead with no real connection to the court. And let’s be real, nobody wants that.

So, no shade to my guy Lucien, but if he and Elain take the reins of the Day Court, they better put in some work. And Feyre? Well, maybe next time she could spend a few years learning the ropes before jumping straight to the top. It’s not like we’re in a rush or anything, right?

Ty @ae-neon for letting me take inspo of your idea💞❤️

“cassian never said i love you to nesta so obviously he doesn’t”

Cassian is not a words man, rhys is, but cassian SHOWS his love for nesta. he literally chooses to try and kill himself rather than harm her

AND here are things he did say !

“I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world the next life. And we will have that time. I promise”

“Your power is a song I’ve waited a very long time to hear.”

“You can throw anything at me and I won’t break”

“There’s nothing broken to be fixed”

just a few quotes off the top of my head, these sound like i love yous to me but sure. he didn’t specifically say those three words so obviously it doesn’t count.