Hello, fellow bookish friends and fellow readers! I hope you all are doing well. First things first before I go into details about what this blog will be about and what I will be posting here. First of all, you may call me Alora or Maria, whichever is fine with you, and my age is 22 and my birthday is 19th June, a Gemini âïž!
Now, I have a little background about my blog name. Currently, I have 2 book OCs, Alora Daxton and Lana! Alora is an oc I made with a friend of mine and she's set in the Empyrean series (Fourth Wing, Iron Flame and Onyx Storm) and she is shipped with Ridoc Gamlyn, she is a scribe in the series, hence why I created this blog with her as my inspiration.
My next OC is Lana, who is set in the ACOTAR series (A Court of Thorns and Roses, A Court of Mist and Fury, A Court of Wings and Ruin, etc etc) and she is shipped with Azriel. Lana was definitely a bit more difficult to work with due to the expansive world-building of Sarah J Maas, however, with the help of my friend (The same one who helped make Alora with me) also helped me finalise Lana as a character.
Now that we have my OCs out of the way. Let us move on to what this blog will be about and what you will see from me. I am a huge reader, as you can probably guess. I have been a reader for a good few years now, and my first few book collections are the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, the Fallen series by Lauren Kate and The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S.Lewis.
As we are now going into the new year, I wanted to do something fun for myself and my reading friends, so I have decided to create this blog as a place to be my bookish self. You will be seeing me post book reviews of the books I read in 2026 and onwards, reblogging book content, book hauls from my shopping trips, and much more book-related content. I hope you all will enjoy this place and I hope we all stay respectful in my library.
And now, onto the more fun details about myself with some smaller information.
My top 5 book boyfriends/husbands: (Note: These are not in any particular order, these are just my top 5 favourite men as of this year)
1: Azriel (ACOTAR series)
2: Xaden Riorson (The Empyrean series)
3: Ridoc Gamlyn (The Empyrean series)
4: Cayden Vales (Fear the Flames series)
5: Rhysand (ACOTAR series)
What book genres do I mainly read and what genres have I delved into:
My main go-to reading genres are dystopian (Hunger Games, Legend series, Shatter Me, etc), romantasy (ACOTAR, Empyrean, Powerless series, etc etc), romance but so far I have only read Ana Huang romance books. I have also read mysteries thanks to the Inheritance Games series by Jennifer Lynn Barnes, as well as recently getting into thrillers/crime solving by reading the first book of The Naturals series by the same author.
Well, that should be all from me and my introduction. Thank you all for reading this introduction, and I'm sorry if I added too much information, I wanted to make sure everyone who comes here knows what they're getting from this blog and from me as a whole. I hope you all enjoy your stay and look forward to seeing what I post in the coming days in 2026.
Summary: An ACOTAR universe fanfiction where the female reader is ratherâŠ. Stunted in showing vulnerability and allowing others to care for her.
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You huffed a laugh at whatever Cassian had said, before Mor took your attention.
âYouâll never guess what I heard at Ritaâs last- oh bless you, sweetheart,â the blonde practically cooed. You opened your mouth again to thank her, but your breath caught at the last second and you pitched forward into steepled hands again. âHâhtschoo!â
A chorus of âbless youâsâ filled the room, tinting your cheeks pink. You sniffled thickly and thanked them. Mor resumed her talking and it was only after that conversation finished and you reached for your wine glass that Azriel, seated next to you, leaned ever so slightly toward you in his chair.
âYou alright?â
His deep voice was enough to make your heart beat faster. Youâd had a crush on the shadow singer for as long as you could remember. Well, youâd only been in Velaris for about a year, but it had become home quickly.
You nodded. âIâm fine.â
You had watched him so closely for nearly a year that you could see the subtle scrunch in his brows, as though he didnât believe you. You blushed further under his scrutiny. You hadnât caught a cold since moving to Velaris- your new found family had practically seen you sneeze only a handful of times- and you werenât well-versed in showing vulnerability, growing up in the court of nightmares and all.
And it really felt like the start of a cold.
Conversation continued, wine glasses were refilled, and Cassian had just spewed his wine across the table at whatever joke Azriel had made when your breath caught again. Everyone in the room was annoyingly observant, and eyes flickered in your direction. They all politely looked away, though you knew even as conversation restarted that everyone was paying attention to you.
âHuh.. hâtschioo! Hâtsch!â
âBless, darling,â Rhys drawled.
âCauldron, sweetheart. Bless you,â Mor murmured.
âBless,â Amren and Cassian muttered at the same time.
âBless you,â Azriel nearly whispered.
âThank you,â you replied, clearing your throat a touch.
âYou okay?â Feyre asked. You nodded, picking up your wine glass.
Conversation restarted, though eyes occasionally glanced your way. You were just hoping no one noticed you were catching a cold.
Once the last plate was cleared, Cassian stood and made his way to the living room, claiming he was going to get the cards out and a bottle of âRhysâs finest.â Feyre followed, rolling her eyes and grabbing some fresh glasses. Rhys and Azriel werenât quite ready to leave yet, finishing their drinks and discussing a possible threat from the south. Amren had already disappeared to find a new book from the library.
âCome on,â you begged Mor, âit has literally the prettiest things ever.â
âWeâve been there three times this week,â Mor huffed, standing and unceremoniously pushing her chair back. âIâm all for shopping but even Iâm tired of that place.â
You whined, standing as well. âBut this time they gotâŠ. Hâhtssh. Hâtsxd!â You stifled the rather harsh sneezes against your shoulder, swaying ever so slightly. Mor immediately steadied you, her brows raised delicately.
âBless you, Y/N.â She emphasized the words, as if to make them stick harder.
Azriel and Rhysand offered their own blessings, each one adding to the faint tinge of pink at your cheeks.
You muttered your thanks and followed your blonde friend to the living room, her eyes watching you a bit closer. You settled onto one of the couches, leaning against the armrest and pulling a blanket onto your lap. Conversation resumed with Mor and eventually everyone else settled down. Amren had chosen the spot next to you on the couch, Mor sitting at your feet, Cassian sprawled on the ground in front of the fireplace, Feyre and Rhysand in armchairs near the fire, and Azriel choosing to remain standing near the edge of the room.
âOkay,â Cassian clapped. âThe rules of the game are simple and are as follows-â
âWe already know the rules. We play this weekly,â Rhys interrupted.
âAnd yet somehow, the rules are never followed,â Amren added, without looking up from her book. You sniffled, not noticing the way Amrenâs eyes did shift your direction at that.
âLetâs just play,â Mor whined at your feet, her back leaning to press against your legs. You briefly ran your fingers through her hair, the gesture beyond comfortable for you. You loved your new family more than anything. You knew they loved you just as much, you just werenât as comfortable with the idea of that love being shown. You were too scared to be loved.
Which is probably why Azriel and you had tip toed around⊠whatever it was the two of you had. And while you typically loved spending these evenings teasing him and maybe even flirting, tonight was definitely not the night for it. You could barely go two seconds without the annoying itch settling into your sinuses, taking all of your attention to hold it at bay. Unfortunately, that only worked up to a point, and by then, the itch had amplified so much that it seemed like you were incapable of sneezing just once⊠or even twice for that matter.
Your breath hitched again. You knew it was quiet, but Amren most definitely felt it given that she was seated next to you, her arm lightly brushing yours.
You buried your face into the crook of your elbow and let out four quick sneezes, barely half a breath in between. It left you utterly exhausted and out of breath.
âBless,â Amren muttered, quirking a single brow at you. She was the first.
The rest chimed in. It was impossible to ignore Morâs gaze, her eyes lit with concern. She opened her mouth to say something, and then seemingly thought better of it, turning back around. She squeezed your ankle lightly once she was settled. You blushed, more than aware that your⊠outbursts were unable to be ignored.
The game continued on, though you werenât quite sure how much longer youâd last without one of your family saying something. Amren most definitely knew you were sick, if her slight roll of the eyes after you attempted to silence yet another sneeze into oblivion was any indication.
Thankfully, Cassian roaring with laughter took the room by storm and saved you from feeling more exposed. You settled further back against the couch, pulling at the blanket without disturbing Mor. You accidentally pushed against Amren, apologizing softly. She hummed thoughtfully, though the sound brought you slight comfort as much as it spiked your nerves.
Your eyes got heavier the more comfortable you became. Your sniffles became a bit more pronounced, congestion harder to ignore. Five relatively peaceful minutes went by, the lull of the conversation pushing you toward sleep.
âYou have a cold.â Amren snapped her book shut.
That jolted you right up, your back ramrod straight against the couch, blanket falling. The room went quiet, Mor turning so that her side rested up against your legs as she raised a brow at the female sitting next to you.
âAmren,â Rhysand drawled, though there was a warning in his tone.
âRhysand,â Amren threw right back. âThe girl is sick and afraid sheâll look weak in front of her family. So though everyone with a hint of eyesight can detect she is ill, she thinks sheâs fooling someone.â
âI donât-â you began to protest. The female held up a finger.
âRather, she hopes sheâs fooling someone.â
You couldnât disagree with any part of what she said. It was all perfectly true. Your already pink cheeks flushed.
âSweetheart, is this true?â Mor asked softly. You refused to meet her gaze. You found a thread on the blanket very interesting. In fact, you wish the world would swallow you whole right about now.
âThis is not the Court of Nightmares,â Rhys said quietly. His words felt like a punch to the gut.
But he was right. It wasnât. The horrid place you were raised left no room for weakness. People typically thought of love, sadness, grief, or happiness, maybe even injuries. No one ever thought of sickness. How one cough or sneeze had people looking for a way to extort you, how being unable to control your body made others scoff. Any form of sickness was an opportunity for powers to rise, people to die, or for changes in social standing.
That form of trauma was proving very difficult to ignore.
The room became entirely too much, all at once. You needed out. Immediately.
âIâm tired,â you responded hoarsely, moving to rise. Mor immediately shifted, helping to pull the blanket off of you. You didnât risk a glance at anyone, least of all Azriel, as you made your way out of the room, throughout the foyer, and up the stairs. It was still dead silent downstairs by the time you shut your door.
au where thereâs no hybern, no war, just normal court beef and rich people shenanigans (idk if that makes sense). this kinda goes with my prev fic of them btw đ€đœ consider this an origin story of sorts (teehee)
(azriel x vanserra!reader) formal events suckâ especially when youâd rather be in your room reading romance novels you sneak from your momâs personal library. until one day, at a dinner party, you see a prince
Eris slips on his coat and tucks a dagger into a hidden pocket as you watch from where youâre sitting on his bed. Youâre in a dress that makes you look like a cupcake (even though youâd begged your mom to let you wear something more mature). Your twin, Lucien, had laughed at you from his seat by the mirror as a maid combed through his hair when you walked out of the closet.
âYou look pretty,â Eris murmurs, bringing you back to the present, tucking yet another dagger into a hidden pocket of his pants.
âI look like a child,â You grumble, picking at a loose thread on your dress.
â___, youâre eight. You are a child.â You gasp, offended, and he rolls his eyes. âI mean you are young.â He corrects himself and shoots you a playful smile.
âMother says I am a young woman. Perhaps today I will meet my prince.â You said that every single time you were forced to attend any formal eventâ a ball, a dinner with some High Lord or other, even at a âcasualâ tea-time visit once (though nothing was every actually casual in this court). Youâd heard the High Lord of summer would bring his nephewâ around your age, you hopedâ but nothing came of it.
âYou need to stop living in between the pages of books, sweetheart. Live in the real world, at least sometimes.â Eris kisses your forehead and then walks out of his room and you are left looking at yourself in the mirror over his dresser.
Your fiery hair is tamed into perfect curls, your cheeks lightly dusted with shimmer (at your request), and the puffed sleeves of your dress are so large they almost touch your face. You frown and jump off the bed to make your way back to your room before your mother chastises you for being late (again).
X
You tug on your sleeves, trying to make them appear less puffy but your mother just comes around and fluffs them back up, almost absentmindedly. She is always worried things arenât perfectâ father says thatâs her âonly jobâ. And when things are not perfect father gets very angry, with everyone but especially with mother.
With that final thought, you leave your sleeves alone and accept the fact that youâll be looking like a baby at this party too. Your only consolation is that there seems to be nobody around whose opinion you really care for. You pass by a table and catch a pair of swift little hands as they snatch two small cakes from a platter. Gritting your teeth you peek under the table and catch Lucien there with the cakes and you frown.
âDonât make that face,â he whispers, âI got you one too.â He shows you a strawberry cake and you canât help it, you grin, crawling under the table with him.
You sit there together for several minutes, eating your cakes and watching people walk by, before Lucien licks his fingers and crawls out.
âLucien! Look at you,â You hear your motherâs voice as she chastises himâ halfheartedly, though, she has always had a soft spot for the two of youâ and wipes at his face with a napkin. âWhere is your sister?â
Lucien shrugs and walks away and your mother huffs before walking off in a different direction. You wait for several moments before you peek left and right to make sure nobody is coming. As you gather your skirts to go, though, you notice a strange shadowâ itâs out of place and when you spot it, itâs almost like it disappears right in front of you. Weird. You crawl out from under the table and try to appear as nonchalant as possible as you walk towards where your mother is now talking to Eris.
He turns and sees you, gesturing with his hand in your direction and your mother makes her way to you. When she does, the napkin makes a reappearance as she wipes your face. âI should have known he was lying,â she murmured, putting away the napkin and fluffing up your sleeves and your curls before ushering you towards another table where Lucien is sitting. âNow try to stay out of trouble will you?â
She walks away, already charming guests as she makes her way back to your father, offering smiles and delicate waves of her hand to people she passes as she goes. Youâre about to turn to your twin and ask him to steal another cake for you when you spot him.
He is a bit older than youâ eleven maybe?â and he is⊠dreamy. Your heart pounds in your chest and in your ears as you watch him intently. Itâs a moment before you notice the wings. Large (well, large for his size) black wings like those of a bat rise above his shoulders and his black hair curls around his ears and forehead in a kind of messy but intentional style that makes him appear older.
âClose your mouth or a sprite will come and pull your tongue out.â Lucienâs words pull you out of your thoughts (daydreams of you and the boy riding a horse together at the beach in summer court, maybe; or flying, him holding you in his arms). âSeriously, what are you staring at?â Lucien seems almost annoyed that youâve managed to slip back into your daydreams.
âWho is that boy?â You ask, unable to pull your eyes away from him long enough to look at your twin.
âWho? Rhysand? Did you seriously forget what he looks like?â
âNo, the other boy. With the wings.â You are mesmerized, dazzled, as the boy lifts up a glass and drinks from itâ oh to be a sip of water sliding down his throat.
Lucien grabs your shoulders and shakes you. âWhat is wrong with you?â
Finally released from the spell, you look into Lucienâs russet eyes and blink. âWho did you say he was?â Your voice comes out a sigh, and Lucien rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.
âThere are two boys with wings, ___. And they are Rhysandâs petsâ thatâs what Eris said. Some wild little things he picked up from a trip to the mountains. Honestly I have no idea.â
His grip is tight on your shoulders so you canât turn your body, but you turn your head to look at the boy once more.
This time you find that he is staring back at you, his eyes like warm, melted honey, and, even at such a young age, you know youâre in trouble.
