[ID: a digital pencil sketch of a woman holding a floating cupcake tray, her prosthetic leg extended. The leg is painted with spiderwebs, bats, and purple spirals. The woman has folded ears, golden eyes, and is wearing a purple corset with ghosts & a black tiered miniskirt with a spider pattern on the waist. The cupcakes on the tray have purple cups, black icing, and red cherries. The text around her reads (clockwise): Viola (her name), baker, goth gnome, paints them (the prosthetic leg) herself, loves spooky things; wishes there was a holiday for them. end ID]
Viola, the baker on Rosemond Street
Recall how a baker moves in at the end of A Rival Most Vial?
You'll get to meet her starting in the short story A Clash of Cakes and Charms! She'll also pop up in book 2, A Captured Cauldron. :)
(ARMV taglist after the cut, ask to be +/-):
@nikkywrites, @chayscribbles, @cecilsstorycorner, @theramwrites, @akindofmagictoo, @jadeywrites, @wizardfromthesea, @writeblrfantasy, @magic-is-something-we-create, @47crayons, @writing-with-l, @talesfromaurea, @copper-dragon-in-disguise, @lost-writer-on-the-loose, @ettawritesnstudies, @inkovert, @zmwrites, @extra-magichours, @vermontwrites, @aurieeeeeenyx, @pagesofcursive, @peonypearls-muddled-musings, @teriwrites, @diphthongsfordays, @abalonetea, @pepperdee, @afoolandathief, @bettsican, @pe-ersona, @celestepens, @thelaughingstag, @quilloftheclouds, @the-orangeauthor, @lazy-writes, @estelaiswriting, @nicola-writes, @drabbleitout, @mary-is-writing, @ink-fireplace-coffee, @athenswrites, @cynic-and-chief, @cleodalie, @somealienquill, @artcoffeecats, @sarahlizziewrites, @thatonedreamer, @poetinprose
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Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun
Summary: based on this ask - Cassian has a secret about you and Azriel, and he accidentally lets it slip to you that the two of you are mates.
Pairing: Rhysand’s sister!reader x Azriel
Warnings: none? I don’t think.
“What do you know?”
Cassian drops his container of oatmeal, grumbling as he picks it up. He closes the cabinet to find you impossibly close to him, keeping him in place.
His surprise is all over his face as you roll your eyes and tell him, “you’ve been acting weird lately around me. You know something. Tell me.”
Not a request, but a demand. You might not be high lady, but as Rhysand’s little sister, you have mastered the commanding voice he uses to force others to yield to his demands.
“I don’t know anything,” he mumbles, trying to push past you. You don’t yield to him, keeping him trapped in front of one of the kitchen cabinets.
“You know something,” you simply repeat. “Something about me.”
“Not everything revolves around you, sweetheart.”
You sigh. Cassian wasn’t a great secret keeper if the secret was about himself, but if it was about someone else, he’d protect it with his life.
“Besides, even if I did know something about you, which I don’t,” he says, pushing you out of his way, “I wouldn’t tell you.”
He gets a few steps away from you when you exclaim, “I’ll tell Rhys about what really happened when you destroyed that building in Summer!”
He balks at you, a secret you came to discover on accident because Cassian was projecting his thoughts too loudly for you not to notice. As a daemati, you tried to keep your powers to yourself as much as possible, but some people, Cassian especially, think really loudly sometimes.
“You’re not even supposed to know that! You only do because you’re nosey and have freaky mind powers.”
You scoff, crossing your arms, “I could use my freaky mind powers right now to find out what you know.”
Cassian’s quick to reply, “if you do I’ll tell Rhys and you’ll be in trouble.”
“Tattle-tell.”
“Freaky mind girl.”
You two are staring each other down, neither of you budging when you gently caress Cassian’s mind with your talon in the way you know makes him cringe.
“Fine- fine! You’re Azriel’s mate - leave my mind alone!”
Your face quickly morphs into shock at Cassian’s words. Cassian slaps his hands over his mouth as if he could bring the words back.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did.”
Cassian’s eyes roam around the room, “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Your eyebrows raise at that, crossing your arms. “Then who you were talking to?”
Cassian pauses, then softly says, “myself?”
You narrow your eyes, “you, who are already mated to Nesta, are Azriel’s mate?”
Cassian shrugs, inching closer and closer to the door. “What can I say - the cauldron loves me?”
You give Cassian a pointed look, but continue with the lie. “Is he… is he disappointed that you’re his mate?”
Now that takes Cassian for a loop. He blinks a few times at your insecurity. You, who was just as confident as Cassian was, looking so small in this moment.
“Er- no. He’s not disappointed that I’m his mate.” Cassian steps closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up at him. “He’s excited, he just doesn’t know how to tell me.”
A smile graces your lips, searching Cassian’s eyes for any hint of a lie.
“Thanks, Cass. I hope you’re excited about it, too.”
Cassian snorts, “Nesta would be ecstatic if someone could take me off her hands every so often.”
Cassian leaves, not after giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a plan begins to take root in your mind.
A few days later, every member of the inner circle is gathered at the table for family dinner. Tonight you’re seated next to Azriel, who hasn’t acted any differently towards you.
Your plan tonight will either confirm or deny Cassian’s words with little consequence if Cassian was wrong.
“Hang on everyone, I have a surprise.”
You leave the table and come back with a white cake. You place the cake on the table, pick up a knife, and start slicing the cake.
“Well, Azriel was out on a mission for his birthday because his boss sucks,” you throw a glance to your brother while sticking your tongue out, “so I made a cake for him so we could celebrate.”
You plate the slice, put a fork on the plate, and pass it to Azriel. The color has drained from his and Cassian’s faces, as they both look at the cake in front of the shadowsinger.
“It’s your favorite,” you say, with a sugary sweet smile. “I know we’re doing something this weekend for his birthday, but I thought I’d make this for tonight.”
You’re distributing other pieces around the table, the others unaware of the meaning behind Azriel and Cassian’s faces.
“I’m not very hungry,” Azriel says, “dinner was quite filling.”
Rhys looks at Azriel as he takes a bite of your cake, “I’ve never known you to decline dessert, especially not her cakes.”
All eyes are on Azriel, his notorious sweet tooth betraying him once again. He looks to Cassian for assistance, who has already finished his plate of cake.
He looks to you, a smirk adorning your features.
Oh. He thinks. You know. He looks again towards Cassian, who is avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.
Fucking traitor.
“Fine, fine.” If you can be stubborn and pigheaded, so can he. He picks up his fork, maintaining eye contact with you as he picks up cake on his fork. You look at him, your eyes piercing his soul. He can feel your emotions through the bond, and all he can feel is excitement.
You want him. You want him to take the bite, you want him to be the one to make things real.
He maintains eye contact as he brings the fork to his mouth, a millimeter from his lips he whispers, “you want this?”
The sight of your cake a second away from his lips, everything you’ve ever felt for Azriel, all leads you to nod your head imperceptibly. He takes the bite, savoring every second of the chocolate flavor.
His favorite flavor.
His stubborn, pigheaded mate did all this to nudge him. His beautiful, headstrong mate, both so much like his brother and so distinctly herself. The scent of the mating bond fills the room, and Rhys starts asking what’s happening, when Azriel lunges for you, wrapping you in his arms as he winnows the two of you away.
Cassian told you about the bond, and now he can tell everyone else about it as you and Azriel spend the next few days in a frenzy of clothes and mouths and love.
“You little minx,” he tells you as you two appear in a secluded cabin. You laugh before taking in your surroundings.
“Where are we?”
It was a quaint cabin, probably two or three bedrooms, and the two of you landed right in it’s living room.
“Well, when the bond snapped for me, I figured the last place you’d want to undergo the frenzy at would be in your brother’s home.”
You smirk at him, “and you just assumed I’d accept it?”
He looks at you, hope in his eyes and in your chest as you feel everything he feels now. “I had hoped. Cassian told me you’d be a fool not to.”
You smile, moving closer to him, “I would have been a fool not to want you.”
He wraps his arms around you, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear. “And I’d be a fool not to try to win your affections. I had a whole plan, you know.”
You gaze up at him, his lips looking incredibly inviting, but you focus on the words coming from them. “What was your plan?”
His thumb swipes across your jaw, “I was going to make you fall in love with me.”
You push your face forward, mere inches from his own, telling him, “I already was.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise, and you laugh. “Not a great spymaster, are you?”
It’s his turn to move forward, your lips a whisper apart. You can feel his breath as he tells you, “I couldn’t bear to know, one way or another, how you felt. So I pretended to love Mor, I knew she’d never return my affections, and I thought I’d be safe from the heartbreak.”
“But one day I woke up, and I decided that that was no way to live. So I dropped the act, and pretty soon afterwards the bond snapped.”
His smile falters for a second, before continuing. “I think - I think I had to feel deserving of you before the bond would snap. Not that I deserve you,” he corrects himself, his thumb trailing over your cheek, “but that I could be. That I could be enough for you.”
Doubt and insecurity swims in your chest, and you lightly tug the bond for the first time. It jolts him from his stupor, his grip on you tightening momentarily.
You look up at him, sending love and adoration down the bond. “Having you as a mate is enough for me. You are enough for me.”
He surges forward, his lips meeting yours. The kiss is warm, inviting, like coming home after a hard day. His hands on you feel right. He presses into you, both of you shoving love down the bond toward each other.
You’d have a nightmare to return home to, everyone already freaking out over Cassian’s news to them all. Their excitement for you two clashing with the absurdity of it all.
But that is for another time. Right now, you are enjoying learning everything about your mate’s body and teaching him about yours.
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oh heart, and then it falls
in which theodore nott is actually nice to you?
gn reader but it's mentioned that they wear lip gloss !!
"ow, fuck!" you cried out as your potion bubbled over the edge of the cauldron, oozing onto your hand. tears of pain sprung to your eyes, and you could already feel the burns forming underneath the thick sludge sitting on your skin.
"nott, you were supposed to be watching the potion while i wrote notes!" embarrassingly, your voice broke, and you could feel a tear dripping down your face. your notes were ruined, your hand was burnt, you were crying in front of the boy who was most likely to make fun of you for it, and your potion was completely unsalvageable. you may have been hallucinating, but you could have sworn that you could smell burnt flesh.
"huh?" theodore's head jolted up from his conversation with draco. his eyes glanced from your hand to your face, and then back down again. "merlin...we've got to get you to the hospital wing..."
you walked in silence as he led you out of the hospital wing, staring down at where he was applying bandages to your hand. he had poured a numbing potion over the wound, but memories of your previous pain echoed around your body.
"why are you doing this, nott?" your mouth was dry as you stared down at his gentle movements. what happened to the boy who practically fed off of your despair?
"i mean...i'm not a total monster. i don't like you, but it's not like i want you to be hurt." he let out a little scoff, his eyes darting to the side.
"could've fooled me," you rolled your eyes. "remember that time when you pushed my head into the cake on my birthday?" a little smirk was starting to cross your lips.
"that was 9 years ago, and i apologized!" he protested, a matching grin growing on his face.
"only after your mother forced you to," you retorted, rolling your eyes.
"at least i still apologized, right?" he shrugged, giving you a charming, well-practiced smile.
"shame, i still don't accept your apology," you mused.
the two of you sat in silence for a moment, letting him fully concentrate on fixing your hand.
"why are you doing this, nott?" you asked again, the question still weighing on your mind. for some reason, his previous answer didn't feel like the full truth. your eyes bore into his, your gaze so beseeching that it makes him divert his attention back to your bandaged hands.
"you know why." he said simply. quietly. his eyes were dark as they flit back to yours.
you inhaled sharply. if he was saying what you think he's saying... "no, i don't." your voice came out trembly and embarrassingly weak, and you kicked yourself mentally.
"i don't really have to spell it out for you, do i?" he was moving closer and closer. "stop me if you don't want this--and you should probably do it now, because i've waited so long for this moment, i think this might be your only opportunity."
his breath was fanning your lips now, his gaze stuck on your parted lips. you leaned in, and that was all it took for him to dive into you. his lips seared into yours, the kiss fervent. his hands were everywhere, cupping your jaw, pulling your waist to bring you closer to him, wrapping in your hair.
your eyes were wide as he pulled back, a smug smirk on his face as he licked his lips. "what is that, cherry flavored lip gloss?"
"nott-" you managed to stutter out.
"come on, darling. after what we just did, i'd expect us to be past the last-name basis." he snickered, leaning down to capture your lips with his once again.
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