Gwynniee

(Together)🌼🦊 secret, lovely beauty 💙

[luciensdefenseattorney]

My sad headcanon is that Lucien knew to wait on the stairs listening to what would happen inside the study with Tamlin and Feyre because he use to do the same with Lady of Autumn and Beron.

[gwynniee643]

How about YOU go sit on the stairs and think about what you’ve done?

[gwynweekofficial]

" I am the rock against which the surf crashes nothing can break me" - Gwyneth Berdara ACOSF.

This scene marks the rise of the Valkyries and the iconic moment of Gwyn becoming the first Valkyrie Reborn.

Artist - @dimaarly

Commissioned by krssyreads

[gwynniee643]

You did NOT have to put Catrin back there I need like 12 days to recover

[marvel-lous-things]

tony stans be like: it’s not his fault it took him 40 years to realise weapons kill people he has anxiety

and just like that, upon reading this ask, my life begins to unravel

All the love I've held for my favourite character for the past four years begins to dissipate. I see the truth now. This one baseless statement has shown me the light.

Suddenly, I'm filled with hate for his stupid face. And yet, I see 90% of my blog covered with it.

In a fit of rage and shame, I delete every trace that I've ever stanned that homophobic bisexual, that licensed weapon manufacturing War Profiteer™, the irresponsible bastard who took responsibility for the shit he pulled, the irredeemably selfish self-sacrifice enthusiast. The lying bitch who probably isn't even made of iron.

It's clear to me now. Steve was actually referring to Thor when he said "earth just lost her best defender"

It's all gone. My posters are gone. My keychain is gone. My merch is gone.

I am a changed woman.

Congration. U done it.

[gothicbabydollz]

my god, I'm in love with your other imagine. I saw you're with the requests open and I was desperate for more cassian content.

maybe something with jealousy. cassian and the reader are having a kind of a fling but in secret and the reader talks with rhysand or azriel too much in a party, and she's like with a gorgeous dress, and cassian get jealous then fuck her senseless somewhere half public like a closet or something and she has to be quiet

pairings: cassian x f!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, angst, jealous!cassian, oral (f receiving), degradation, cass being a bit of a shit, p in v, size kink, pet names (doll, dolly, sweetheart), if i’ve missed any lemme know

word count: around 2.5k

a/n: merry christmas <3

~~~

One moment you were standing with Azriel, laughing away at another one of his sly comments. You'll never get over how his sense of humour would blossom when it's just you and him. You were smiling up at him and Azriel even offered his own little grin in return.

However, the next moment you were being pushed through the crowd of Fae dancing and grinding to the music swirling around them, away from Azriel. The wine you'd been nursing was snatched from your hand. You knew from his scent, which male had his large hands trapped around your waist. "Cassian!" You tried twisting out of his hold, well- half tried. Another part of you wanted to know why he was leading you away. "Cassian!"

You only felt his breath meet your ear, "Don't make me put you over my shoulder." You almost stumbled over your own feet, biting your lip as you recalled the last time Cassian had flung your body over his shoulder - as if you weighed nothing. And by the time you'd been set back down, red imprints of Cassian's hand were decorating your backside.

Cassian pressed you against the wall when you both made it out into the hall, barely a few steps around the first corner. "Cassian, what the-"

Cassian's mouth was on yours before you could finish. You gasped. Cassian licked his tongue over your lips, pushing past them and into your awaiting mouth. You gave in faster than you wished to admit. Letting his tongue force yours into submission.

Sinking his teeth into your bottom lip, Cassian pulled his head back. He glared down at you, pupils blown out and nostrils flaring. You would have cowered in fear if arousal wasn't taking control of your body and pooling between your legs.

"I think you need to be reminded who you belong to, sweetheart," Cassian's hand slowly slid up from your waist, stopping only when his palm wrapped around your throat, tiny in comparison.

You regretted it before the words ever left your lips. "I don't belong to anyone." Cassian's answering grin had your cunt clenching around nothing, his hand tightened around your neck. Your jaw went slack as Cassian's head cocked to the side, "You don't?"

Cassian spat into your open mouth, landing on your tongue, the moan you intended to release getting stuck in your throat. Cassian cursed, feeling you swallow his saliva under his palm.

His free hand bunched up the skirts of your dress and slipped beneath. Cassian growled loudly when his hand met your bare, slick heat as he cupped you. You whimpered, hips subconsciously bucking against the friction. "Who made you this wet?" He asked lowly, leaning his forehead to yours, "Was it Azriel? It fucking was. He’s the reason this little cunt in so messy, huh?"

You tried to shake your head, say no. But Cassian's hand around your throat gripped harder, stopping the movement and making you lightheaded as his fingers dragged through your sopping folds, teasing the apex of your thighs ever so lightly. "Is that why you ditched the panties tonight?" You'd never seen Cassian this angry, this...cruel. "So Azriel could get his cock in you easier, is that what you want? Gods, honey if I'd known you were a whore-"

A sob wracked your throat as you shoved against Cassian's chest, hard. He took his hands off you but didn't move an inch. "What the fuck are you talking about?" You demanded, wiping the tears that threatened to fall. Cassian's shoulders rose and fell heavily with each breath he took. "It's you, you fucking prick!"

Cassian studied your face and with a clenched jaw, he shook his head, "You-"

"Don't you dare, Cassian. Piss off."

Cassian felt bad for what he'd said, he really did. Jealousy had affected him so much worse when it came to you, he realised. Understand just how much he cared about you. How it boiled his blood to see you smiling like a fool in another males company.

Without another word, Cassian, the great bulk of a male, sank to his knees before you. Hands reached for the hem of your skirts. You barely hid your sniffle, "Cassian, what're you doing?" A little gasp tore past your lips as he pushed your dress up, bunching the skirts at your waist and baring your lower half to him. And to anyone who decided to come this way.

Cassian looked up at you, his previous anger faded, "Working on my apology."

Cassian slung your leg over his shoulder, his lips connecting to the skin of your inner thigh. He kissed, licked, nipped and sucked at your tender skin, drawing closer and closer to your throbbing centre. Still dripping and needy for the male. "Cassian," Your voice dropped back to a whimper, "Someone could see." You squirmed, looking to the corner which anyone could walk around at any moment.

"Then you best keep those pretty noises down." Cassian nosed at your heat, inhaling your scent with a deep groan. His hands ran up your legs, gripping at the round flesh of your arse to tug your hips forward,  arching your back off the wall and baring more of your sex to his wandering tongue.

Cassian's lips wrapping around you clit had your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stifle your moans. You hand found purchase in his hair, pulling his locks from the up-do he'd bothered to tie.

Cassian worked every 'sorry' he couldn't put into words into the way he licked your cunt. He ate you out like he was starved on a normal day. When you weren't moments away from slapping his obnoxiously handsome face.  So, you couldn't help but keen under his tongue as he fucked your pulsing hole with the warm and wet muscle.

"Cassian,"  You ground against his face, trying and failing to contain the moans he was pulling from you. The male on his knees flicked his tongue back and forth on your swollen clit, over and over, the feeling both too much yet not enough. You released another sob of his name, broken gasps after each syllable.

"I know, doll, I know," He moaned into your pussy. He reached up, running his fingers over your lips before slipping them into your mouth. Your mewl was muffled around Cassian's fingers. You gripped his arm, nails scratching his skin while he buried his face in your cunt. Switching between long strokes up your heat to suckling your bundle of nerves, Cassian brought you closer and closer to your high.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when your climax took over your body. You trembled, thankful for Cassian's grip on you to keep you from falling. Biting down on Cassian's fingers, you whine, riding out one of the most intense orgasms you've ever experienced. Cassian lapped up your release, moaning at your taste on his tongue.

Cassian was drunk off your taste. He could spend hour after hour with his face trapped between your legs and still want more. His lips moved back to your over sensitive clit, sucking hard. With a squeal, you gripped his hair and jerked your hips away from his face. Drool spilled over his hand as you tried to tell him I can’t.

To your luck, Cassian rose from his knees. And before you could think, he tugged you across the hall, kicking the door of the closet which lay there open. You heard his heavy panting as he lead you inside, manhandling your still quivering body until your back was pressed against the hard wood of shelves. The sound of the door locking made you shiver in anticipation.

Even in your dazed state, you saw the jealousy still staining his features. He held your chin in his grip, wet fingers from your mouth dug into your cheek. "You are mine," Cassian growled slowly, making sure you knew he meant it. "You belong to me, do you understand?" He released his hold on your jaw to allow you to nod timidly. He growled again, "I said, do you understand?"

"Yes!" You almost whined, "I belong to you, Cassian. I'm yours, no one else's." You refrained from mentioned his brothers name, fearing it may anger him further.

Cassian sighed in what seemed like relief, his forehead met yours, his eyes still gazing into yours. "I'm going to make sure you remember it, dolly." You heard Cassian undoing the strings on his pants and swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to look down. Where his large, leaking cock would be resting heavy in Cassian's hand, waiting to fill your- his little cunt.

A squeal escaped past your bitten lips as you were hoisted up in a swift movement. Your legs locked around Cassian's waist as he caged your body against the shelves. Cassian leaned in to lick a hot stripe up the side of your neck, you shuddered in his hold, wrapping your arms around his powerful shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you full of my cum, sweetheart, every night so that you'll never again be stupid enough to forget you're mine." The sincerity in his voice had you whimpering like a wounded hound.

Yet you nodded frantically, said please, begged for it, for him. You wound your hips, smearing your arousal over Cassian's cock as his length rested against your heat. "That's what you need, huh?" Cassian let you, allowed you to tug his body ever closer to your, "Dumb little doll needs to be reminded who she belongs to? Wants to be reminded."

"Yeah!"

Cassian's hand clamped over your mouth, cutting off your whine by shushing you, "Sh,sh,sh- quiet sweetheart, those pathetic little noises are for me only." 

Cassian's hand stayed covering your mouth. The head of his cock dragged up and down your slick pussy before dipping into your entrance. Cassian urged his hips forward slowly, his eyes were locked with yours as he pushed his cock into your cunt. Each thick inch was stretching you, filling you. You were struggling to keep your eyes open at the sensations of his cock wrapped within your tight heat. "Fuck, dolly, you're a mess!"

He's right. Your eyes were fluttering as you whined shamelessly into Cassian's palm, lucky he was there to muffle the sound. You felt him in your stomach, no doubt a bulge was poking against your skin as his cock filled you to the brim. Cassian ground his hips into you and you whimpered, "Can you feel me in there, sweetheart? Gods, that little cunt can barely take all of me," Cassian growled into your shoulder, one clench of your pussy around him felt like a vice grip. He'll never get used to how tight and tiny you are compared to him.

You lost all sense when Cassian started pounding your poor pussy. His cock was hitting every sensitive spot within you, your head spinning from the feeling. Cassian's hand pressed harder against your face when your mewls grew louder, making it difficult for you to breath, even through your nose. You had lost the ability to care long ago. "Shut the fuck up," He grunted into your ear, emphasising with a harsh bite to your neck.

Your legs squeezed around his waist, hugging yourself closer to Cassian's body while his hips snapped against yours. Forcing yourself to quieten your moans, Cassian praised you, "Good. Good girl."

The sound of skin slapping mixed with the smell of sex filled the small closet you occupied. Cassian moaned lowly into your skin, "Hear that, sweetheart? Can you hear how wet you are for me?" You nod as best you can. It was lewd. Filthy. The loud squelch of Cassian's skin hitting yours with each thrust rung in your ears. Though, you were too fucked out to feel embarrassed about it.

Cassian felt his balls tightening, his stomach twisting. He was close. You feel so fucking good, each thrust throwing him closer and closer. Cassian's fingertips dug into the skin of your ass, he needed you to cum. Needed to feel your cunt milking the release from his cock as he made you his. Just the thought had the large male moaning into your neck.

Tears brimmed your eyes from the pleasure running through your veins. You were gripping the muscles of Cassian's shoulders and your legs were beginning to shake. You needed Cassian's approval before you'd let yourself fall over the edge. 

“Sweetheart,” The hot pant of breath washed over your sensitive neck. Cassian’s need to fill you up and mark you as his forever urged his thrusts near feral. “Cum for me right fucking now.”

You couldn't breathe. Your climax hitting you in ground shattering waves of pleasure. Your lips had parted in a silent scream behind the hand covering your mouth and your hips bucked. Held still when Cassian pressed his body to you, his hips winding into yours as his own high rocked through him.

Cassian choked. Your cunt was squeezing him so tight, he saw stars flashing behind his eyes. Every drop of his release spilled into your inviting hole.

You'd never felt so full. So utterly his.

Cassian’s hand slipped from your face to wrap around your waist. Sucking in deep breaths, your head fell to his shoulder, whimpering quietly against him.

Cassian held you as you both slowly came down from your highs, he was still working out the way to apologise properly to you. Only when your walls ceased pulsing and the twitches wracking your body stopped did he begin to set you down.

Your feet met the ground and you almost whined in protest at the loss of him inside you. Not trusting your legs to hold you, you slumped back against the shelves. You moaned under your breath, feeling Cassian's release begin to seep from your spent cunt.

Your eyes opened when Cassian lay his palm against your cheek, "You still with me?" You gave him a noise of confirmation, dipping your chin in a nod. Looking into his eyes, you saw the words he was trying to get out.

"You don't have to say a thing, Cass, it's okay." You straightened and placed a hand on his chest, "I'm all yours." Cassian knocked his forehead to yours lovingly and he helped fix your dress.

Cassian smirked down at you when the two of you stepped out into the hallway. Only the gods know how the hell you are going to be able to stop his seed dripping down your legs.

"Are you sure you're okay, doll? We've got a party to get back to."

"But-" You stopped when Cassian's smirk simply widened. You knew him too well to know he'd make you both go back into that crowded room, stained with each other's scents.

Marking you as his and him and yours. And you were more than willing to go along with him.

[jackietaylorsghost]

FLEABAG (2016) Created by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

[sillyshadoows]

So both Cassian and Rhys tells us that Azriel keeps most things to himself and ”I don’t know. He’s Az.” and how it would be easier moving a mountain than getting Az to open up, he’ll only speak when he is ready.

And you mean to tell me that Azriel himself telling us not a lot of people take him by surprise, and yet Gwyn manages to do just that, and she is the one to get him to reveal he does in fact sing and he is laughing, smiling and joking, feels calm and settled. He is a shadowsinger and she makes his shadows sing…

AND THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE NOT SHIPPING?!? Insane.

[gwynniee643]

Literally anyone who has ever known Az: he’s immovable. He’s an emotionless, rigid son of a bitch

Gwyn: hold my ribbon

[miseryreads]

✨ 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 ✨

Happy Day Two of @nestaarcheronweek !! The best scene in the series is Nesta killing the Kelpie then coming out of the Bog wearing the Dread Trove Mask, commanding the dead, all while two of the greatest warriors in Prythian bow before her. Lady Death. Queen of Queens. You’ll always be famous!

No reposts without permission and do not use this art for anti content.

Characters belong to SJM.

Artist: GracerStudios

Commissioner: Misery.Reads

IG post can be found here.

[way-toomanyfandoms]

lucien vanserra

stunning art by one of my favourite artists atm @jemlin_c via instagram

from the acotar series by @sjmaas

[gwynniee643]

I know it’s Elain week but I NEED to have her man so bad

[melphss]

@elainweekofficial | Day 05: Family and Friends

For this day I've commissioned an art of a cute moment between Feyre, Nesta, Elain and baby Nyx. Thank you so much @_inkye for delivering once again another amazing piece of artwork!

Art by: @_inkye

Commissioned by: @melphss

Characters belongs to: Sarah J. Maas

[gwynniee643]

Everytime I remember that moment in HOFAS when saying Nyx’s name was the only way Azriel could get Nesta out of the hold of the Mask I shed a few tears

[cassenador]

Gwyn isn’t the MC of the Gwynriel/Azwyn book… she’s the supporting love interest, like Cassian, like Rhsyand. Azriel is the main character.

I hope that helps.

[gwynniee643]

Just like Yrene in ToD. God I can’t believe this needs to be spelled out

[luneserene]

Elain Archeron (Daylight) // Gwyneth Berdara (Moonlight)

[gwynniee643]

BACK ON GWYNLAIN TUMBLR WE LOVE TO SEE IT

[mahalachives]

The Truth Serum Incident

pairing: azriel x fem!reader

summary: Mor, ever the troublemaker, accidentally spills a powerful truth serum into Azriel’s drink at a casual dinner with the Inner Circle. At first, it’s hilarious—Azriel openly admitting he once caught Cassian flexing in the mirror and cried laughing. But then, things get interesting when he starts blurting out the cheesiest, most romantic things about you.

genre: fluff, cute

Dinner at the River House had been normal—until Mor happened.

"You accidentally spilled it?" Feyre repeated, rubbing her temples as she glared at Mor, who looked suspiciously unbothered.

"It was one tiny drop," Mor said, swirling her wine.

"A drop of truth serum," Rhys deadpanned.

Cassian, meanwhile, was losing his entire will to live as he clutched the table, gasping for air. Because Azriel—broody, secretive, terrifying Shadowsinger Azriel—had just said, with the most serious expression:

"I once caught Cassian flexing in the mirror for four whole minutes, and I had to leave the room because I was laughing so hard I almost passed out."

Cassian choked. "YOU—YOU WHAT?!"

Azriel blinked, his face completely blank. "You made finger guns at yourself. Twice."

Cassian screamed. Nesta looked like she was about to frame this moment and hang it above their bed.

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mor, exactly how strong was this serum?"

Mor grinned. "Oh, you know… regular strength."

"You are lying," Feyre accused.

And then—disaster.

Because Azriel, under the influence of the truth serum, turned his head.

To you.

His mate. His beloved. His greatest weakness.

And then—**in the deepest, most emotion-filled voice ever—**he said.

"I am so in love with you."

Silence.

Cassian choked on his drink. Mor slammed her hands on the table.

You?

You blacked out for a second.

"Az—" you started.

"You smell like summer and sugar and everything good in this world." His voice was deadly serious.

Cassian fell out of his chair. Nesta cackled like a damn witch.

"I—" You opened your mouth, panicking.

"Your hands," Azriel continued, completely lost to the serum, "are so perfect I could write odes about them."

Nesta wheezed.

Cassian, from the floor, screamed into the void. "Odes?! MOTHER ABOVE, THIS IS GOLD!"

"Mor," Rhys hissed, dragging his hands down his face. "Fix this. Now."

"Why would I fix this?" Mor said, grinning like a lunatic. "This is the best thing to ever happen to me."

Meanwhile, you were still struggling to breathe because Azriel—the most secretive male in existence—was looking at you like you were the stars themselves.

And then—your vision blurred.

Your head spun.

You gripped the table.

And in that moment, realization hit you like a drunk Illyrian at a tavern fight.

"Wait," you whispered. "I think I drank some too."

Rhys and Feyre's heads snapped toward you.

Cassian gasped. "Oh, this just got better."

And then—you felt it happen.

That horrifying pull of the serum forcing your deepest secrets out.

You tried to fight it.

You failed spectacularly.

"I sniff your leathers when you’re gone."

Silence.

PURE. DEAD. SILENCE.

Then—

Cassian detonated. He literally collapsed.

Mor was screaming. Rhys looked like he was debating whether to exile you from Velaris. Nesta was taking mental notes.

Azriel?

Azriel froze.

His hazel eyes blinked. His lips parted.

"You—" His voice was so soft. So utterly bewildered. "You do what?"

You slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified.

Nesta leaned forward, gleeful. "Oh, this is good."

But it was too late.

You couldn’t stop.

"I stole one of your shirts and hid it in my closet because it smelled like you."

Cassian WHEEZED.

Azriel, staring at you like you’d just told him he was High Lord, whispered, "Which one?"

And yet—you weren’t done.

The serum wouldn’t LET you be done.

"I—" You tried to fight it. You really did.

"I also—uh—kissed your pillow once."

Cassian SCREAMED SO LOUD that an actual plate fell off the table.

Nesta was wiping tears from her eyes. Mor was face down, dying.

Azriel, watching you combust in real time, slowly smirked.

SMIRKED.

It was over for you.

"You like my scent that much?" he murmured, voice pure sin.

"I—"

The serum refused to let you live.

"YES," you blurted. "IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU SMELL LIKE NIGHT AND SAFETY AND—"

You slapped both hands over your mouth.

Cassian, on the floor, WHEEZED.

Azriel, grinning like he’d won a war, tilted his head. "Huh."

You prayed for the Cauldron to take you.

Rhys, waving his hands wildly, stood up. "Alright, that’s it! Dinner’s over!"

Cassian rolled on the floor. "No, wait—this is the best night of my life—"

Azriel, smug as hell, leaned in.

"So…" he whispered, right in your ear.

"Which shirt did you steal?"

You made an undignified noise and YEETED YOURSELF OUT OF THE ROOM.

Cassian?

Absolutely lost it.

Mor?

Tears. Actual tears.

Nesta?

Taking notes for future blackmail.

Azriel?

Azriel just sat back, looking insufferably pleased, and took another sip of his wine.

And somewhere in the distance, you could already hear Cassian yelling, "I NEED A POEM ABOUT THE HANDS! GIVE ME THE HAND ODES!"

MORAL OF THE STORY: NEVER. TRUST. MOR.

[mahalachives]

The Neglected Mate Tragedy

pairing: azriel x reader (brat, dramatic mate)

summary: In which you resort to other ways in trying to get azriel's attention

genre: humor, fluff

Azriel knew you were up to something the moment his shadows alerted him to a disturbance outside the meeting room. He didn't even need to look—your energy alone could be felt from across Velaris, brewing something ridiculous.

Then, the doors slammed open.

A collective pause fell over the Inner Circle as you strode in, draped in a flowing black veil, your gown so dark it looked like you’d walked straight out of a Gothic mourning portrait. Your arms were crossed, your chin tilted in exquisite dramatics, and Azriel—poor, patient Azriel—only sighed as you swept into the room like a tragic widow.

Rhys was already biting back laughter, but it was Cassian—traitorous, useless Cassian—who immediately stood from his seat and clutched his chest.

“My lady,” Cassian gasped. “Why do you wear such sorrow?”

Azriel closed his eyes briefly, willing himself not to throw his dagger at his so-called brother.

You exhaled dramatically, clutching your own heart as you swayed.

"My husband," you lamented, voice thick with suffering, "the mighty Spymaster of this court, has abandoned me—left me to wither and perish in loneliness, forgotten, unloved—forsaken for nothing but endless, cold, unfeeling paperwork.”

Azriel, deadpan: “…I saw you ten minutes ago.”

You turned to him with theatrical devastation, as if his words had physically wounded you.

"Ten minutes," you sniffled, your veil fluttering, "is a lifetime in neglected mate years, Azriel."

Rhys choked on his wine.

Feyre, whispering to Mor. "Do you think she rehearsed this?"

Mor, whispering back. "One hundred percent."

Amren just stared, unimpressed.

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a slow, measured breath.

"What do you want?" he asked, already knowing this was your favorite game—annoying him until he snapped, only to bask in his attention.

"What I want?" you repeated, aghast, stepping closer as if the very question pained you. "What I want is for my husband to remember that he has a wife. A wife who suffers, alone and unattended—"

"You were literally in my lap this morning," Azriel reminded you.

"And look at me now!" you cried, gesturing to yourself in despair. "I had to take drastic measures!"

Cassian looked like he was about to fall off his chair laughing. Rhys was now openly grinning, and Feyre covered her smile behind her hand.

Azriel knew exactly how this was going to end. He had two options: humor you, or suffer further.

He sighed. Stood up.

And in a single, swift motion, shadow-stepped directly in front of you.

Before you could utter another over-the-top monologue, Azriel scooped you up, veil and all, into his arms.

"Oh!" you gasped, clutching his shoulders in faux shock. "Has the mighty Spymaster finally come to his senses?"

Azriel looked at his brothers and deadpanned, "You're all insufferable." Then, without another word, he vanished you both out of the room.

The last thing he heard before shadows carried you away was Cassian’s gleeful, “LONG LIVE THE NEGLECTED MATE!”

Epilogue: Five Minutes Later

When you landed in your bedroom, Azriel dropped you onto the bed unceremoniously.

You laughed delightedly, pushing back your veil.

"Did you miss me?" you teased, batting your lashes.

Azriel leaned over you, pinning your hands above your head, his voice low and lethal.

"No," he murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against your neck, "but you’re about to wish I had.”

Your smirk immediately vanished.

And for the first time that day, you had no comeback.

End.

[mahalachives]

How Not to Survive an Illyrian Winter

Pairing: Azriel x Human Mate (reader)

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Summary: When a blizzard rolls through Windhaven, you learn firsthand just how brutal Illyrian winters can be—and how soft Azriel can be when it comes to you. Cold fingers, warm jackets, grumpy shadows, and one very flustered spymaster.

You'd always heard that Illyrian winters were brutal. What you hadn't realized was that "brutal" was a massive understatement.

Standing outside the war camp's central meeting hall, you hugged yourself tighter as another gust of snow-laden wind cut through your woefully inadequate cloak. When Azriel had mentioned bringing you along to Windhaven, you'd packed what you thought was appropriate winter attire.

Apparently, "winter attire" in Velaris and "winter attire" in the Illyrian Mountains were two entirely different concepts.

"It'll just be a quick meeting," he'd said with that rare, small smile that still made your heart flutter. "Wait for me outside. The camp lords get tetchy when outsiders sit in."

That was two hours ago.

Your teeth chattered so violently you worried they might crack. You'd long since lost feeling in your toes, and your fingers had progressed from painful to alarmingly numb. The snow had begun falling harder, creating white walls of wind that obscured everything beyond ten feet.

"This is f-f-fine," you muttered to yourself, stamping your feet in a futile attempt to generate warmth. "T-totally f-fine."

A passing Illyrian warrior, bundled in thick furs and leathers, shot you an incredulous look that clearly said. No, you idiot, this is not fine.

You glared back, though the effect was probably ruined by how pathetically you were shivering.

Just as you were contemplating whether it would be worse to interrupt Azriel's important meeting or to slowly freeze into a human popsicle, the door to the hall slammed open.

Azriel stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from irritation (presumably at whatever had transpired in the meeting) to absolute horror when he spotted you.

"What in the name of the Mother—" He was across the space between you in three long strides, shadows writhing agitatedly around him.

You attempted a smile. "H-hi."

"Are you—" He reached for you, then hissed when his fingers touched your cheek. "You're freezing!"

"C-curious observation, s-s-shadowsinger," you managed through chattering teeth.

The shadows around his hands seemed to darken and multiply, whispering what sounded like curses in languages you didn't recognize. For a moment, you swore they formed tiny, angry little faces that scolded the wind.

"Why didn't you go inside somewhere? Any building would have been better than standing out in this!" His voice was gentle but firm as he rapidly unfastened his heavy leather jacket.

"Y-you said wait outside the m-meeting hall."

Azriel paused in the middle of removing his jacket, those hazel eyes widening. "I meant wait outside the meeting, not outside in a blizzard!"

You blinked snowflakes from your lashes. "Oh."

With a noise that was half exasperation and half concern, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around you. Instantly, delicious warmth enveloped you – the leather practically radiated heat, the blue siphons embedded in the shoulders glowing subtly.

"You enchanted your jacket?" you asked, already feeling the painful tingle of circulation returning to your extremities.

"Of course I did. It's the Illyrian Mountains in winter," he said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. His shadows continued their angry whispers, now seemingly directed at you.

"Are your shadows... lecturing me?"

A hint of color touched his cheeks. "They're concerned."

"They sound cranky."

"They hate seeing you in distress," he muttered, the admission clearly costing him something. Before you could tease him further, he bent and swept you into his arms as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

You squeaked in surprise. "Azriel! Put me down! I can walk!"

"Your lips are blue, your clothes are soaked through, and you've probably lost feeling in your feet," he countered, already striding through the snow. His massive wings unfurled partially to shield you from the worst of the wind. "So no, you cannot walk."

The few Illyrians out braving the storm quickly stepped aside, their expressions ranging from amusement to outright shock at seeing their intimidating spymaster carrying a shivering human through camp.

One brave warrior called out something in their native tongue that made Azriel's ears redden.

"What did he say?" you asked, snuggling deeper into the wonderful warmth of his jacket.

"Nothing important," Azriel replied too quickly.

You poked his chest. "Liar."

His lips twitched. "He said I've gone soft."

"Well, your jacket is very soft," you agreed, deliberately misunderstanding. "The big bad shadowsinger has a comfortable jacket. Shocking."

That earned you a rare chuckle as he pushed open the door to a small cabin with his foot. Inside was blessedly warm, a fire already crackling in the hearth.

He set you down gently on a chair near the fire, kneeling to remove your soaked boots. "You need to get out of these wet clothes."

When you waggled your eyebrows suggestively, he gave you a flat look. "Not like that."

"Spoilsport," you teased, but your attempt at humor was ruined by another violent shiver.

His expression sobered instantly. "You could have gotten seriously ill." His scarred hands cradled your frozen ones with infinite gentleness. "Why didn't you find shelter?"

"You told me to wait," you said simply. "I didn't want to miss you."

Something in his expression softened, and the shadows around him stilled their frantic movement. "Next time, assume that 'don't freeze to death' is implied in all of my instructions."

"I'll make a note of that," you promised, your lips curving into a smile as feeling returned to your face.

He disappeared into another room, returning with a pile of blankets and dry clothes that would clearly swallow you whole. "These will be too big, but they're warm."

As he helped you change – turning his back with endearing propriety when necessary – you couldn't help but observe, "Your shadows are still grumbling."

"They're saying I should have checked on you sooner." His voice was quiet, laced with guilt. "They sensed your discomfort but couldn't reach me through the wards in the meeting hall."

"Well, tell them I'm fine now. Just a bit chilly."

He raised an eyebrow. "'A bit chilly' doesn't turn someone's lips blue."

Once you were bundled in dry clothes and wrapped in multiple blankets, he sat beside you, hesitating only briefly before putting an arm around you.

"Your shadows are still muttering," you pointed out, leaning into his solid warmth.

"They're arguing about whether to tell Cassian."

You straightened in alarm. "Don't you dare. He'll never let me live it down."

The corner of Azriel's mouth lifted. "I think they're more concerned with whether he'll let me live it down for leaving my... for leaving you in a blizzard."

You caught that little slip, that unfinished word that hung between you, and tucked it away to examine later. "Your what, exactly?"

His wings shifted behind him – a nervous tell you'd begun to recognize. "My responsibility," he said finally.

"Hmm." You settled more comfortably against him. "Well, tell your shadows that if they snitch to Cassian, I'll find a way to make them regret it."

To your delight, the shadows actually seemed to recoil slightly, curling back toward Azriel's hands.

"They're suddenly reconsidering," he said, and you swore you could hear amusement in his voice.

"Good." You yawned, the warmth and safety making your eyelids heavy. "I'm very intimidating, you know."

"Terrifying," he agreed, his arm tightening around you. "Especially when you're blue with cold and buried under every blanket I own."

"Exactly," you mumbled, sleep beginning to claim you. "The most fearsome creature in all of Prythian."

As you drifted off, you felt the gentle press of lips against your temple and heard him whisper, "To me, you certainly are."

Outside, the wind howled, but you were warm, safe, and held by an Illyrian warrior whose shadows had finally stopped scolding the weather and started singing you to sleep instead. End.

Author's Note: Just a little snowy slice of fluff starring everyone's favorite brooding shadowsinger and a very cold (but very stubborn) you. May the shadows always bring you blankets. 💙❄️

[mahalachives]

The Spymaster's Greatest Mission

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: In which you report something urgent to Azriel.

genre: fluff, humor

Azriel was in his study when he felt it.

A disturbance.

His shadows, ever faithful, ever vigilant, curled around his ears in silent alarm.

Something was coming.

Something… dangerous.

His instincts sharpened as he sat back in his chair, muscles taut. The last time his mate had approached him with this much chaotic intent, he had ended up as an unwilling participant in a surprise tea party hosted by Mor and Amren—which had involved more alcohol than tea.

Azriel exhaled. Braced himself.

Then, the door creaked open.

You stepped inside with the grace of a warrior about to deliver critical intelligence. Your expression was grave, your hands clasped behind your back, shoulders squared.

Azriel straightened in his chair, instantly alert. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, closing the door behind you.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you said, voice low.

Azriel was already scanning you for injuries, for any sign of distress, for—

“It’s inside me.”

Azriel’s heart stopped.

Shadows exploded outward, surging toward you as his eyes snapped to yours in sheer, lethal panic. “What’s inside you?”

You hesitated. “I—I don’t know how to explain it. It’s growing. It’s—”

Azriel was already on his feet, scanning you for signs of an attack. Had something poisoned you? A curse? A dark spell? Had you been marked by something foul?

“Where?” he demanded, voice clipped, shadows slithering over you in search of the threat. “Where do you feel it?”

You bit your lip. Looked down.

And gently patted your stomach.

Azriel’s blood ran cold.

His mind ran through every possible scenario at breakneck speed.

A parasite?

A foreign spell?

An assassin’s curse?

Had someone done this to you? Was there a remedy?

His hand went to Truth-Teller.

“We’ll fix this,” he vowed. “Whatever it is—”

You lifted a tiny pair of fabric Illyrian wings onto his desk.

Azriel stared at them.

Then at you.

Then back at them.

Silence.

More silence.

A painfully long silence.

And then—

Azriel, voice flat, dead serious: “Is this a hostage situation?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Did someone implant something in you?” he demanded. “Is this a warning? Are we under attack?”

You gaped at him. “Azriel—”

His eyes snapped back to the tiny wings, his brain working in rapid-fire calculations. They looked real. But how? Had someone—had someone cloned him? Was this some new experimental dark magic?

You groaned. Dragged a hand down your face. “You idiot.”

Azriel finally—finally—met your eyes again.

And that’s when it clicked.

Everything.

The way you were holding back laughter, your lips twitching. The way Mor had been suspiciously giggling all morning. The way Cassian had been avoiding eye contact with him as if he knew something Azriel didn’t.

Azriel slowly sat back down. Stared at the tiny wings. Then at you.

Then, very, very slowly—

“…Are you saying,” he said carefully, “that you are growing this… inside you?”

You exhaled so hard, your entire body sagged. “Yes, Azriel.”

Azriel just… blinked.

You squinted at him. “Are you processing?”

“I am.”

“Do I need to say it out loud?”

Azriel’s shadows curled around him, reeling. His wings tensed. His mind flooded with realization, with understanding, with—

“You’re—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “You’re pregnant.”

You grinned. “Yes, my love.”

Silence.

More silence.

Azriel’s shadows shivered.

And then—he stood up and walked out.

You stared. “Azriel?”

Nothing.

Just the door swinging shut behind him.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Then Cassian’s raucous, violent laughter erupted from the hallway.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What are the chances he’s having a full-blown Spymaster breakdown right now?”

Mor peeked inside, grinning like a menace. “I give him five minutes before he goes full battle-strategy mode.”

“Three,” Rhys countered, strolling in behind her. “He’s already pacing outside.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

And sure enough, two minutes later, Azriel stormed back in—wild-eyed, shadows whipping around him in full-blown panic mode.

“We need a plan.”

You smirked. “For what?”

“For everything.” Azriel started pacing again. “A safety protocol. A healer. A strategy for the next eighteen years.” He ran a hand through his hair, stressed. “We need to ward the townhouse. Feyre needs to teach you shielding magic. Cassian—” He turned sharply. “You are banned from speaking to our child unsupervised.”

Cassian, clutching his stomach from laughter: “Too late, I already called dibs on being their favorite uncle.”

Azriel ignored him. “Mor, you’ll help train them when they’re older. And Rhys—”

Rhys held up a hand, amused. “You want me to start drafting their first diplomatic treaty?”

Azriel did not laugh. “Actually, yes.”

You finally took pity on your mate. You walked up, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against him. His shadows immediately curled around you like they could shield you from the entire world.

Azriel looked down at you, brows drawn. “Are you alright?”

Your heart melted. “Of course I am.”

“You’re not scared?”

You grinned up at him. “Azriel, I once ate a two-day-old Velaris street kebab on a dare—I fear nothing.”

Azriel exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Then, without another word, he crushed you against him, arms tightening, wings flaring, as if he could anchor himself to you and never let go.

His lips pressed against your temple, lingering, warm, reverent. “You’re carrying our child.”

Your throat tightened at the sheer wonder in his voice.

“I am,” you whispered.

Azriel let out a long, slow breath, his hands pressing over your stomach like a vow. Like a promise.

Then—

Cassian, ever the menace, clapped his hands together. “So! Who wants to tell him that he’s probably going to get peed on within the first week?”

Azriel’s eyes snapped open.

His shadows lunged.

Cassian ran for his life.

[pellucid-constellations]

The Occurrence

Pairing: Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Based on the ask: "okay period fics are my guilty pleasure but az finding out mortal women get them every month would make him spiral LMAOO"

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Some angst but it's mostly Az freaking out lol, periods

a/n: Thank you thank youuu for this ask this was so fun to write!! Enjoy <3

More Az x human!reader

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

The first thing Azriel noticed was the tang of iron in the air—subtle, but impossible to miss with his training. He was used to this indistinct undertone in the human lands, but not this close to your house, and never so closely tied to you.

The second thing Azriel noticed was that the minimal expanse of your quaint house was actually not very minimal at all. After picking up on the scent and feeling his limbs vibrate with panic, he slammed your front door open and bounded down the hall. His wings clashed harshly against the walls, the space too narrow for his broad stature, but Azriel didn’t care. He needed to get to you.

Azriel played through every possible horror in his mind. You were dead, hurt beyond imaginable, sick internally with no cure—the shadowsinger had to calm his rampant worries most days, but with your blood so obviously near, he let them consume his every thought.

He hadn’t had enough time with you. It had only been a year at most, and that wasn’t enough time. Azriel had considered bringing you to Velaris on multiple occasions, desperate to keep you safe, but he talked himself out of it each time. He had seen the hardships Feyre’s sisters experienced in their transition to Pyrithian, and they had been fae then. He couldn’t put you through that. He couldn’t lock you up in the House of Wind over his fear.

As Azriel pried open your bedroom door with a damp palm, he regretted that kindness.

He braced himself for the worst, prepping his wings to grab you and take off to find a healer, but you were… sitting up in bed and looking at him strangely. You had been sleeping, expression still pressed under fatigue, and that offered him some semblance of relief. It was short-lived—the scent of your blood was even more prevalent now.

Azriel pressed forward, swiping your blankets back and scouring his eyes over your body. There was no visible sign of harm and that only worried him more. You let out a disgruntled sound of surprise that Azriel only vaguely registered. He pressed your shirt up and then ran his hands over both of your arms. When nothing came up, he moved to your head, kneeling beside your bed and taking your face into his palms.

You blinked at him blearily as he examined your eyes, pressing his fingers around your hairline and along the back of your head. Nothing there—not even a lump or a patch of misplaced hair.

Azriel was spiralling.

“What—” you began, stopping for a moment when Azriel brought you to his chest, his hands coming around your back. You spoke into the juncture of his shoulder. “—are you doing? Azriel, why—”

“Where are you hurt?” he demanded. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him last and those were the first words he’d spoken.

You clutched at his leathers as he pulled you back. “Hurt? Az, I’m not—”

Azriel felt like he was choking. If you weren’t even aware that you were injured there were so many possibilities for what could be wrong. Would he be able to smell internal bleeding? Azriel had never wished for a bond more than he did in this moment, because if you were his mate, he was sure he would understand how to help you.

You searched his expression fervently, gaze catching on the deep furrow of his brow. You brought your thumb up to soften the twist but to no avail. “What’s happened, Azriel?”

The gentleness of your tone broke him. He began gathering you to his chest, his movements rushed, uncoordinated. “I’m taking you to Velaris.”

“What? Azriel, slow down. Slow down and—Azriel, I’m not making a suggestion. Stop,” you ordered, and like a dutiful soldier, he paused with you in his arms, his feet just steps from your front door. You huffed in a deep breath. “Thank you. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. His eyes looked forward because he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He would start moving again the second he saw your face. “You are bleeding. Something is wrong with you.”

A pause, and then you laughed.

Azriel considered disbelief at first. And then shock. And then delirium. The source didn’t matter; Azriel was sure now that you must be on the verge of death. He tightened his grip on you and took another step.

“Put me down.”

“No,” he refuted. “You need—”

“I will tell you what I need, Azriel, and it’s not to be paraded in front of your family and then embarrassed for the rest of my menial human life.”

At the laughter in your voice, Azriel shot his gaze down to you. He always hated it when you spoke of the shortness of your life, and he hated it even more now as he felt panic stealing the space in his chest.

“They would not—”

“Azriel, my love, I am just on my cycle. I am not going to die.”

The sentiment should have comforted Azriel. It did not. “You are wrong,” he softly spoke, though his arms around you shook. “You were on your cycle two months ago—when I visited from the camps. This is not your cycle.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, it does happen to be a monthly occurrence.”

“Monthly?”

“Like clockwork.”

“And—that… is supposed to happen?”

“Yes—Azriel, how often do fae women experience their cycle?” you asked, perplexed by his disbelief.

“Twice a year, if they’re lucky,” Azriel answered. He still hadn’t let you go and you weren’t about to part from him with the wild look lingering in his eye.

“Lucky,” you muttered under your breath with a scoff.

Azriel caught it anyway. “Children are rare. Many women pray for their cycles due to that fact alone. But I know that it’s painful.”

“Yes, it’s not the most comfortable experience.”

At that, Azriel let some of the tension melt from his shoulders. He sighed, and then pressed a kiss to the side of your head, eyes closing as he tried to soften the sharp gaze he knew was lingering. You weren’t dying. You weren’t comfortable, but you weren’t dying. He could handle that.

“Allow me to make it more comfortable then,” he said at your ear, his lips pressing to your skin once more.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. This probably isn’t the best time to visit. Last time you came at the end of my cycle so I had more energy and—”

Azriel was already walking you back to the bedroom. The thought of leaving you here alone—despite the fact that you were unharmed and safe—felt unfathomable. Something bit into his peace deep inside, urging him to stay, to protect you when you were vulnerable. He knew that you were fine and didn’t need his help, as you would continue to insist, but the scent of your blood was still in his nose and he couldn’t leave.

“I will stay,” Azriel simply replied, gently placing you back on the bed and drawing the blankets up. “Unless you will me away.”

You hummed. “I would only will you to stay.”

So Azriel stripped himself of his leathers and laid beside you, pulling you close with low, disgruntled murmurs about the absurdity of monthly cycles.

[mahalachives]

The Night Court’s Tiny Protector

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: Azriel discovers that his fiercest protector isn’t his shadows—but his own child, who takes their job far too seriously.

genre: fluff

Azriel was feared across Prythian. He was the Shadowsinger, the spymaster, the silent specter that haunted the nightmares of his enemies.

But today?

Today, he was the father of a menace.

And that menace was currently threatening a fully grown male in the middle of the Velaris market.

Azriel watched, horrified yet vaguely impressed, as his son—no taller than his thigh—stood before a merchant with his tiny arms crossed, his wings flared, and his brows scrunched in utter defiance.

The crime?

Apparently, the male had looked at you for too long.

"You better step back, mister!" your son snapped, voice far too bold for someone who still needed help tying his boots. "My dad is the deadliest Illyrian alive, and he will DESTROY YOU."

Azriel nearly choked.

The merchant—a poor, confused older male who was just handing you some fruit—blinked rapidly, looking between you, Azriel, and the tiny ball of righteous fury that had just challenged his entire existence.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, clearly struggling.

Azriel? He was malfunctioning.

"Sweetheart," you said, voice trembling with amusement, "he's just selling peaches."

Your child, unconvinced, narrowed his eyes at the merchant. "He was staring."

Azriel, for once in his life, had no idea what to do.

He had trained armies. He had interrogated traitors. He had survived Cassian’s cooking.

But this?

This was a new level of warfare.

"Uh…" Azriel cleared his throat, stepping forward. "He's, uh…very protective of his mother."

The merchant nervously laughed, handing you your fruit before making the fastest exit of his life.

Your son huffed in victory, brushing his hands off like he had just saved the entire Night Court from certain doom.

Azriel slowly turned to them. "Where did you learn to threaten people like that?"

His child beamed. "Uncle Cassian!"

Azriel closed his eyes.

Of course.

"Alright," he sighed. "New rule—no threatening people in the market. Or anywhere. Ever."

Your child pouted. "Even if they’re looking at Mommy weird?"

Azriel almost caved.

But then he glanced at you, watching as you fought back laughter, and he knew he needed to shut this down immediately.

"Especially then," he said firmly.

Your child grumbled but relented. "Fine."

Azriel exhaled in relief—too soon.

Because the second he turned away, his son muttered under his breath, "But if anyone looks at Daddy weird, I’m punching them."

Azriel groaned.

You, meanwhile, burst into laughter, finally losing your composure.

The rest of Velaris?

Well, they had no idea that the Night Court’s most feared spymaster now had his own tiny, overprotective bodyguard.

The End.

I hope this made you laugh! Let me know if you want another one—your little menace has so much more chaos to unleash!