My requests are open! Feel free to send requests or feedback. My messages always open.
Master List | Rules (Read before requesting)
Do not feed my writing to AI, repost my writing to other platforms, or claim my work as your own! If you're inspired by me, just tag me with credits lol
Requests are accepted, but there are no promises as to when they'll be written. However the ask box is empty, so send your ideas my way!
On that note, there is no set timeline for requests. However, I'd like to get something posted weekly.
This is a blog purely for fun, as I am an amateur writer, rediscovering my love for writing and expressing my inner creativity and daydreams without the use of AI.
I am an adult who plans on posting whatever content I want. If you are under 18, MDNI.
My master list contains my fandom list as well. Feel free to request anything from that list!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
You spend the next few days restoring the throne room, dealing with vendors and commissioners who brought in new fixtures, faelight containers and a new throne.
All of them looked at the state of the throne room, even cleaned, looking like a murder scene. Some shook their heads, others looked disgusted and you-
You didn't understand why but you felt protective of the High Lord you were cleaning up after- no. Cleaning up for. You were doing him a service. One you'd done for others in the aftermath of the war.
Why should this be any different? You often asked yourself as you look at what seemed to be puncture marks in the ceiling. As if he'd climbed up the wall and ceiling to rip the chandelier from its place. You've only been here a few days, and they've been identical apart from your cleaning and restoration.
There's still elk left in the kitchen and when Lucien came to check on his High Lord- or his friend, you suppose- he brought more food, from Summer this time.
When the artist who carved the new throne arrived, an older male, with prejudice written on his face, he looked positively revolted at the state of the room.
"Young lady," he says concernedly and presumes to take your hand. "Did- has the High Lord harmed you?"
"No." You take your hand back. "How long will it take for you to install the throne?"
"Only a few minutes." He replies. "My name is Ludwig, if you need anything at all, I live in the nearby village, and everyone there knows me. Please ask for help."
You said nothing, crossing your arms, then returned to your work. Yesterday you'd crafted a pully system to get you high enough to patch the claw marks and holes in the ceiling.
The workers left as quickly as they came and you made your work quick too. Painting and patching, sanding and painting. Humming in this broken and desecrated manor. And as you restored this most important room, it seemed to resurrect with light and weightlessness.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lucien's voice sounded from behind you, making you scoff.
"You're lucking I'm not easily spooked, my lord." You giggle. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you."
"The last time I questioned a female about whether or not she was capable she almost killed me with a look, so I'll take your word for it." He cross his arms, metal eye whirring as he takes in the almost restored room.
"I appreciate that, my lord." You roll your eyes and finish the patch you were working on.
"I'm off, the food is in the kitchen ice box," he says flatly, almost piteously. "Josephyne."
"Yes, my lord?" You grunt with the effort of the reach.
"How is he?" Lucien asks. "I couldn't find him this morning."
"The same." You sigh. Not in annoyance, though. "He destroyed the kitchen after the High Lord of Night left."
"Rhysand was here?" He sounds shocked.
"Yes," you adjust the ropes and let yourself down. You recount, almost word for word what happened with the High Lord, anger sitting deep beneath your bones, like a beast too far away to smell. "But he left the roast I made untouched. He didn't destroy anything I'd made for the two of us."
"Thank you for telling me," he sighs exasperatedly. "The room looks very good, Josephyne. This will do him some good."
Later that day, the ceiling has returned to its former glory, and you've gone the extra mile by painting dark green vines over to cool medium green underneath.
When you helped restore many of the home in Spring after the war on Hybern, the families you did this for seemed to be overjoyed to see some life in their homes again.
You were nothing if not good at your job. Next was replacing marble in the floor. This needed to be done today so it could set for a full day and night and be ready in time for the meeting the next day.
When you were done with that, which didn't take long considering there where only three tiles cracks and splintered, you started moving the new pedestals for vases around the room.
The pedestals were set up by the workers, considering they were solid stone, but they left the vases, which were different in pattern, for you to arrange by yourself.
This time of year sometimes made you melancholy. You'd always been a caregiver. A fixer of broken things. Whether people or homes or gardens, you were always the fixer. And when it had gotten too hard, he fixed you in return.
Leif. You'd only had three years together before the first war, five hundred years ago. He fought with the humans, and with the High Lord of Night's armies, and was felled. Your mate.
The agony had dulled to a pain you only felt around Solstice, when you'd accepted the bond. And even now, after five hundred years, that one day, you allowed yourself to grieve over him.
For a century you adorned yourself in only black, but when his sister Georgiah, reminded you of the sun you both loved so much. The warmth and light you often basked in together, for such a short time. You decided to be who you knew he wanted you to be.
The dreams of him, the memory of his face, had died with him a long time ago. But the sound of his voice? You'd never forget that. Never ever.
Since then, you'd taken only one other lover. He left you too, but not because he was dead, but because you still hadn't healed. And because you weren't ready to be who he needed, and he wasn't what you needed either.
"Fuck..." you muttered, trying to haul one of the porcelain vases up again. The third of ten. You leaned back to try and balance yourself against the heavy weight of the vase. "W-woah!"
You stumbled backwards and braced for the weight of the vase to crush your chest or arm, but a pair of strong arms caught you.
"Why are you," he lifts you and the vase, setting it on the floor. "Lifting these heavy vases, Josephyne?" He looks concerned, frightened and slightly angry all at the same time. Then awe crosses his face as he takes in the sight of his newly restored room.
This is your favorite part. Seeing how beautifully the room has come together, and how happy the occupant will be with it, but- his face falls.
"I can hold my own." You chuckle and brush the dust off of your apron.
You look up to see the same vacant, utterly broken expression on his face as the day Rhysand came to speak with him.
"My lord?"
"Right," he looks away and stutters. "Of course. I-I apologize, I'm sure you're quite capable. Thank you for all of your hard work Josephyne. Good day."
It's as if an old wound has been reopened. The act of helping me, possibly saving me from an injury. He swallows and quickly turns to leave.
"And to you, as well, my lord." He doesn't stop walking when you speak, so you leave too, and head to the garden to gather what little flowers are left to put in the vases.
The meeting, later that week goes very well. Tamlin hands me a sizable bag of gold coins and thanks for me for everything. The throne room does indeed look immaculate and sparkling. Just as I'm sure it had before.
I report to Lucien everything that I have done and seen, and he tells me that Tamlin seems, if only just a bit, lighter.
"Come on, Pose, don't hide from us, we've been gone for too long!" Mathyas chimes in.
"I'm starving what smells good?!" Andrin laughs.
You run as fast as you can to meet you brothers and then...
You wake up.
You slowly rise from your bed in the manor and make your way to the kitchen, humming a lullaby from your mother.
This is nothing new. These were the males your dreamed of often. You'd gotten so used to it, the sting, just like with Leif, had dulled to a bone deep ache, even though it had only been a few months.
When you enter the kitchen, looking for a midnight snack, Tamlin is already there, having beaten you too it, it seems. He swallows quickly and stands up straight.
You have to stop yourself from giggling as the High Lord of Spring licks cream off of his upper lip.
"I'm so sorry, my lord, I'll leave you to it." You turn to leave, but he holds up a hand.
"Eat." He slides a plate of what looks to be cherry vanilla sponge cake to me. "I assume you came down here for a midnight snack?"
There's a long awkward silence before he asks.
"Could you not sleep?"
"No, my lord." You chuckle. "I have- dreams."
"Nightmares?"
"No, not exactly. I have dreams of my brothers coming home after the war." You stare off for a moment. "They fought in the war, and never returned. So that's what I dream of. I dream of them coming home to me and my mother. In the dream it is utterly joyous, but then I wake and they are gone. Dead. Never to return."
You take a bite of cake, and before Tamlin can start to look guilty, you have the good sense to say:
"They died for me, though. For me and my parents who died long ago, and for our fathers before us. It was all they ever dreamed about. So, I consider it a good death. A death well spent. And if I could bring them back from that glorious end, I wouldn't, because that is what they'd hoped for since they were but children."
"I'm sorry." He says solemnly.
"It's quite alright," You chuckle. "Occasionally, I allow the grief to take hold, cry for a moment, and then stuff my face with food."
He laughs quietly at that, then walks to the other end of the room, opening a cabinet to retrieve a bottle of fae wine, and pours you both a glass.
"Isn't that for Calanmai?" You recognize the bottle he's pouring from.
"Who cares?" He huffs and drinks deeply from his glass. I swirl the wine around and watch as an unsettling calm washes over him.
"My lord-"
"Just Tamlin is fine." He says flatly.
"My lord," you don't correct yourself. "How do you endure it? Calanmai?"
He freezes, not in fear, but in fury. That quickly, he turned from humor to rage. And this anger inside him doesn't scare you, it annoys you, because he has no reason to be this angry at you.
"Josephyne, you become too familiar." He says softly.
"I apologize." You say softly, trying to hide your annoyance. You did become too familiar, and embarrassment of that wasn't helpful to the annoyance.
Tamlin downs his wine, takes the bottle, leaves the cake and exits the room without another word.
The next day, I don't see Tamlin as I pack my things. He does not see me off at the door, but Lucien is there with a heavy bag of gold coins.
"He," he hesitates. "Insisted on tripling your salary."
"Is there anything else I can do for you or the High Lord?" You ask, almost breathlessly as the weight of the sack rests in your hands.
"No," he tries to smile. "Thank you for working during Solstice."
"It was my pleasure. I hope the High Lord can find some peace." You smile and hesitantly walk past the son of Autumn.
You pause and turn to look back at the Spring Manor. It seems to darken as you walk away. And you feel a pull to stay, even though Tamlin was prickly. Even though you knew it was the fixer in you. Wanting to mend and heal the whole thing.
Summary: The reader has been having a hard time adjusting to her new Fae life. Mor convinces the Inner Circle to go to Ritaās, where she gets drunk. Azriel has to deal with the aftermath. Easy enough, right? Except for the fact that the reader doesnāt know about the stubborn mating bond between them.
i hate all these ai chat ads but especially the ones obviously targeting teenagers in fandoms,,, like you should not be talking to an ai!!! these blorbos exist in your head!! you should be making fanart you should be doing awkward roleplay you should be making crack fanfic,,,, why are you outsourcing fun to a robot
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
A/n: Just a short heated drabble with Rhys. Inspired by @itsaperiwinkleworldv2, and I may or may not have another Rhys work coming... anyways, I hope you like it <3
Warnings: alludes to sex, minimal editing, lmk if I miss anything.
WC: 800ish
Pairing: Rhysand x Reader (pre-established relationship)
Rhysand had followed the pull of the bond through the House of Wind, though he hadnāt needed to walk. Despite how tempted he was to winnow behind you silently as he had last time, placing strong hands on your shoulders to watch them jump and reach for the collar of your shirt while you scold him.
To hear your heart race while you swat at him before settling into the same rhythm as his own. Oh, how he loved to light a fire in you.
He slowed in the doorway of the sitting room, a shoulder resting on the hardwood framing. Violet eyes sweeping over every inch of you, savoring the simple domestic sight of his mate enjoying the space his family shared.
You sat tucked away in an arm chair by the window, the golden rays of the setting sun behind illuminated your profile. Memorizing the arch of your nose, darkened cheeks, the curve of your pretty lips curled at the corners. Hair lit like a halo around your head, several shades brighter with the sun favoring his love.
A novel in your hands as the source of focus for you, nothing he recognized, likely another new recommendation of the house or the books you and Nesta traded back and forth with knowing smiles and shared looks.
Then it hit him, a familiar thickened sweetness in your scent. Still you but held a spice to it. The very same scent he memorized after many nights of driving himself into you, hearing your gasps and pleads murmured for his ears alone. It made his breath hitch, a brow arch at the whiff of your arousal.
Had this been why the bond led him your way, to tattle on your unspoken need? A need that was perhaps just his own bleeding into yours. Regardless, Rhys took it as his cue as he stepped forward with a smirk purring, āAh, there you are.ā
With the recognized velvet smooth voice, your head lifts to greet him, lips easing into an all too innocent smile for the words written on those pages that would make a sailor blush. Rhysand didnāt have to peek into your mind, or read those pages to know that smutty book was the reason for your wandering and splendidly vivid imagination sending sparks down the bond.
It only made his citrus and misty scent intensify when his trousers became tighter. He stepped forward to stand right in front of you, peering down over the pages. To which you only smile wider, āWhat?ā
āOh, donāt what me,ā He plucked the book from your hands to which you huff and reached up for it. Only for him to dangle it higher. āHey! I was reading that.ā A playful gleam shining in your eyes, poking him in his side to which he laughs.
āRight, just reading. Letās see exactly where you were, shall we?ā Rhys hummed, flipping open the book, to the exact page you had left off on. His blue eyes darkened when he found what he was looking for. āHere we areā¦ A shudder of pleasure pulsed through me with ever lap of his tongue-ā
He read it off in that overly dramatic way while looking all too pleased with himself. Your face warmed, standing to not only close what little space between but to cut him off, snatching it back from him.
āAs if you donāt send filthier fantasies through the bond,ā You rolled your eyes, lips pulling into a smirk, recalling the delicious vision heād sent that morning before heading off.
āIs that why you resorted to smutty fiction? Feeling needy without me?ā Rhysandās hands curl around your waist pulling you flush against him, making the bond thrum with satisfaction when your arms curl around his neck loosely.
You roll your eyes and grumble, though you both know itās him between your legs, you're thinking of each time those scenes get too vivid in the mind. Youāre a terrible tease.
He leaned in, nose brushing against your ear, breathing in deep when you shiver instinctively. Making your fingers curl into his inky hair, body pressing into his with a want that did not need to be spoken. āCouldāve just asked me to come and make it better.ā
You murmur as his hands flex, one trailing to the curve of your ass, having you gasp softly when he squeezed. āYou were busy with that ridiculous meeting.ā
āMeetings can wait,ā he grinned against your skin. Heat bloomed in your abdomen when he pressed hot kisses in the crook of your neck, up to your sensitive ears. His hands trailed down, until lifting you right back on the arm chair and he knelt to be leveled. His eyes dark with desire when having you before him all hot, bothered, and his.
āNothing is quite as important as this sight is right now.ā He pressed a kiss to the knee, a promise of more when his golden brown fingers teased the hem of your dress.Ā
Hi, I was wondering if you could write something for Azriel and a human reader? It could be angsty or fluffy your choice! Itās okay if you donāt like the idea, thank you ā¤ļø
pairing: azriel x human!reader sick-fic drabble! hope you enjoy <3
word count: 701
thank you for the request anon!
Y/n was absolutely certain Azrielās pacing footsteps must have indented the floor by now. She coughed as she turned on her other side in bed to face him.
āYou have to see a healer. If you do not trust the ones here I will take you to my city, my courtās healer is-ā
āAzriel, stopā she said softly, eyes pinned on his worried ones āThis happens to humans, Iāve told you. This is the second time Iāve caught a cold this yearā
āSecond time? Itās the second time youāre sick this way, this year?ā he abruptly stopped in the middle of the room, eyes nearly gauging out of his head.
She tried to giggle a little at his blatant display of shock, but she ended up sneezing in the middle of it. She reached for the nightstand but Azriel beat her to it, handing her a tissue as he came to a crouch in front of the bed.
He frowned as she blew her nose.
āYouāre still warmā he pressed a hand to her forehead, his frown only deepening.
āBecause I have a cold, Az. Iāll be fine, I promiseā
Shadows swarmed around the bed, caressing her and twirling through her hair, as if unsure about her wellbeing, like their master.
She reached out a finger to his forehead, trying to smooth out the lines of his frown. A pained, reluctant smile appeared on Azrielās face.
āIām worried,ā he sighed after she was done blowing her nose. He sat on the bed next to her, placing a hand on her cheek āI wouldnāt forgive myself if I let something happen to youā
Her heart clenched. A rough cough wound up in her throat.
āThere must be something I can doā he bit out, eyes heavy with emotion.
āAz, really Iāll be fine in a few days. I just need to restā
With his hand stroking so softly at her cheek, she burrowed deeper into the bed, now fully coming to feel the deep-set pain in her bones.
āThereās one thing Iād want, thoughā she mumbled with her eyes closed.
Azrielās finger stroked under her eye.
āAnything, sweetheartā
āChicken broth always helps, but-ā
āIāll go cook you someā he jumped up at the opportunity.
āAzriel, no-ā she sat up, eyes shooting open āI only said it because it always helps, but I meant that I would make myself some in the morning. You really donāt have to-ā
āI want to. I want to help youā
āBut itās- itās only a coldā another bout of coughing stopped her from speaking āYou told me earlier that you have a mission to go to. I donāt want to keep youā
āNone of that. I donāt care about any missions if youāre unwellā
āAzrielā¦ā unexpected tears gathered on her waterline. Maybe it was the gentleness and care Azriel treated her with. The love. But that answer held so many questions, so many dangers.
She told herself itās the sick-ridden exhaustion and illness that made her react like that.
Azriel only shushed her in reply and gently pushed her to lay back down.
āTry and rest, please. Iāll make you the soup and Iāll stay with you. Youāll be alrightā he murmured, as if more to himself as he pulled the covers over her.
āBut- your family will notice youāre gone, wonāt they? Your High Lord?ā she stressed āI really donāt want to keep you if it will cause problems for youā
āYou could do no such thing. Ever,ā he pressed a firm kiss to her hairline āDo not worry about me, hm? My only care right now is you getting betterā
She found that she had no strength, and will, left in her to protest. Would it be so wrong to let herself be taken care of for once? Maybe the exhaustion was truly taking over her mind.
She didnāt notice as a stray shadow winded itself around her pillow. A guard in Azrielās absence.
She felt another lingering kiss press to her hairline.
āPlease, try and rest now. If not for yours then for my sake, at leastā
She mustāve been dreaming when she heard him whisper three more words before leaving the room.
I have over 5k followers. If we consider half of them are dead or bots, we could assume I have around 2.5k followers. Maybe not all of them read fics, maybe some follow me for horny posts and giggles. But still, if at least half of those remaining reblogged my fics, my notes on a fucking 6k fic from over two months ago wouldn't look like this:
At this point it's not only frustration with people, but a settling conviction that my stories simply suck and that's why people don't reblog them.
Why shouldn't I think I'm a bad writer and my fics aren't interesting, if from thousands of followers I get merely 76 reblogs?
And I know I'm not alone in those feelings. So many wonderful, talented writers on here suffer the same doubts and disappointments.
Yes, it has changed. Years ago it looked different. Years ago the notes were blowing up, reblogs were massive, interaction flowing. It boosted the motivation to write more, to write faster, to keep it a living connection between writers and readers.
Now you're passing the enchanted wish-fountain without tossing in a coin and later complaining it didn't work for you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
Summary:Ā Sheās the teacher Nyx canāt stop talking about, and when Rhysand and Feyre leave for a three-week trip, Cassian is put in charge of drop-offs and pick-ups, but she quickly becomes more than just Nyxās favourite.
Warnings:Ā mentions of past emotional trauma, mild language, jealousy, slow-burn tension, eventual smut
Word count: 3,400
Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 2
I already felt a headache forming as I watched eleven children scream and run in every possible direction like tiny feral creatures.
I let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
I straightened, forcing a warm, welcoming smile onto my face as I turned toward the entrance.
The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court stood there, looking far too put together and cheerful for this early in the morning.
I waved them inside and walked over.
āGood morning, Nyx,ā I said, bending down to his height. His eyes sparkled like starlight, full of excitement. āGo put your things away, sweetheart. Weāve got some exciting things planned today.ā
He smiled up at me before quickly joining the group of kids gathered around the bookshelf. As soon as he joined them, the noise increased: laughter, squeals, and tiny feet running across the floor.
Rhys chuckled under his breath.
āHas it been a long morning already?ā he asked, his hand resting gently on Feyreās back.
I nodded and glanced back at the children.
āOn days like this, I have to remind myself that I do, in fact, love my job,ā I whispered, earning two sympathetic looks.
āNyx talks about you nonstop,ā Feyre said, her expression soft as she watched her son. āYouāre the only teacher he actually likes.ā
I smiled at them, and pride swelled in my chest. āNyx is amazing. Iām thankful to be part of his life.ā
Rhys smiled and said, āWe wanted to inform you that we will be away for a few weeks. Nyxās uncle will come to pick him up.ā
Rhys glanced at Feyre, who rolled her eyes with a soft laugh.
āCassian. Heās about seven feet tall, and when he speaksā¦ā Feyre sighed, leaning into Rhys. āYouāll see what I mean.ā
I let out a soft laugh, nodding. āThank you for letting me know.ā
Rhys suddenly glanced over my shoulder, eyes widening. āUmā¦ā
I turned and found three children happily emptying the entire bookshelf onto the floor.
I gave Rhys and Feyre a tired smile and a wave. āIāll see you both when you get back.ā
I clapped my hands twice, loud and sharp. The kids instantly clapped back, wide-eyed and waiting for whatever I was about to say next.
By the afternoon, I was exhausted. A whole day of screaming, crying, and keeping small children alive.Ā
On top of that, Nyxās uncle was late.Ā
Nyx, bless him, spent the last hour helping me clean the classroom and set up tomorrowās activities, humming happily as if this were the worldās best after-school club.
I opened my mouth to ask him to put the papers on my desk when the door opened, and a man walked in.
His shoulders almost touched the doorframe, with his wings tucked tightly behind him.
Cassian.
It had to be.
God, Feyre really hadnāt been exaggerating about the size of him.
Our eyes met. His lips parted slightly, his eyes went wide, and his hand shot out to the doorframe, as if to brace himself.
Nyx screamed, āUncle Cass!ā
He dropped his stack of papers and launched himself across the room. Cassian caught him with one arm, his eyes still locked on mine.
āYouāre late,ā I said, crouching to gather the papers scattered across the floor.
āLet me help,ā Cassian said immediately, bending down, still holding Nyx in his arms.
āIāve got it,ā I snapped, snatching the papers out of his hands.Ā
Cassian gathered the last few sheets, holding them out to me.
āIām sorry,ā he said, eyes flicking over my face. āTraining ran longāā
āI expect parents and caretakers to be punctual,ā I cut in, holding the papers against my chest. āSince this is your first time picking him up, Iāll let it slide this time. But, if it happens again, I will have to charge a late pickup fee to Rhys and Feyreās account.ā
Cassian let out a rough laugh that sent tingles down my spine. āYou canāt be serious; I was only a few minutes late!ā
I turned, narrowing my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest.
āYou were more than an hour late, Cassian. Do you think I donāt have a life outside of this classroom?ā
The humour in his eyes had disappeared. He shook his head. āNo, your time is important. I didnāt meanāā
āWeāre done here,ā I said, cutting him off. āDrop off and pickup need to be on time. If thatās too much, there are other relatives listed on Nyxās file. Maybe they can manage to get here on time.ā
He shook his head again. āIāll be on time.ā
I ignored him and smiled down at Nyx instead.
āIāll see you in the morning, sweetheart,ā I said.
Nyx looked between us with wide, confused eyes, then smiled and nodded.
āBye, Miss.ā
Cassian turned to leave. At the door, he glanced back, our eyes met for a moment, unreadable and tense, before he stepped out into the hallway.
I spent another few hours organising and finishing my work before starting the journey home.Ā
My apartment was on the river and wasnāt far from the school, but far enough to give me the separation I desperately needed.
I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders as I stepped into the streets. A shiver ran down my spine as the breeze came off the Sidra.Ā
As I walked past the restaurants that lined the streets, my stomach growled at the scent of warm spices drifting through the air.
It had been a long day, too long, my mind tangled with work and thoughts of my family back home.
Sometimes, I still find it hard to believe everything I left behind.
I had been a scholar, an academic at the top of my field, and now I was teaching high-ranking Night Court children.
It felt bittersweet.
I truly loved my job; the kids were far more entertaining than the fae I used to debate endlessly back home. I was an advisor to a high lord who pretended to listen but never actually did.
My thoughts were interrupted by laughter echoing across the street.
I scanned the crowd, and of course, there he was.
Cassian.
His massive form was impossible to miss. He sat with a group of fae, a glass of whiskey in hand, and his wings were tucked neatly behind him. Nyx sat on the knee of the blonde next to him.
Nyxās voice echoed through the air.
āMiss is teaching us about Starfall!ā
āIs she? Are you having fun?ā the blonde asked, smiling down at him.
āSheās the best!ā Nyx said, bouncing on her knee.
My heart twisted, warm and aching at the same time.
I looked back at Cassian. His eyes were already on me, his glass paused midway to his lips, his body completely still. He looked like he was about to speak, maybe even call me over.
I lifted the hood of my cloak and turned away, continuing down the street before he could say a word.
By the time I reached my apartment, my head hurt, and my feet ached.Ā
I pushed open the door and stepped into my tiny space, filled with more books and scrolls than actual furniture. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. The fire crackled to life, and I lay there thinking about my day.
The chaos the kids always brought, especially sweet Nyx with his endless energy, and his painfully irritating uncle.
Cassian.Ā
The handsome man who somehow managed to get under my skin faster than anyone I had ever met.Ā
I groaned and buried my face in a pillow, questioning what I was doing with my life.
By morning, after a long and overflowing bubble bath with the expensive bath salts my new coworker had gifted me, I found myself running late.
I shoved my feet into my boots, grabbed my satchel, and slammed the door behind me.Ā
The weather had turned; the sky was a dull grey, and the wind bit. It was going to rain, of course, but I had forgotten everything.
No umbrella.Ā
No coat.Ā
My skirt got tangled around my legs as I hurried down the cobblestone street.
By the time I arrived at the school, I was out of breath, clutching my skirt in one hand while trying to push my wind-tossed hair from my face with the other.
I had just placed my bag down when there was a knock at the door.
My head snapped up.
Cassian stood silently. Nyx held his hand while he carried a paper bag in his other hand.
āGood morning,ā Cassian said.
Nyx bounced into the classroom, waved at me, put away his things and immediately sat at the art table.
āRunning late?ā Cassian asked, stepping further into the room, a smirk forming on his lips.
āIt was only a few minutes, and youāre the first one here,ā I said defensively, leaning against my desk as I tried to tame my hair with my fingers.
āOh?ā he hummed. āSo does that mean I get to charge you a late fee?ā
I rolled my eyes and said, āThatās funny.ā
His smirk widened as he stepped closer, close enough for me to smell pine and a hint of cinnamon.
He set the paper bag down on my desk.
āHereās an apology,ā Cassian said, gesturing toward it. āIām sorry for being late yesterday.ā
I looked down, crossing my arms as a breeze seeped in from the hallway.
āThank you,ā I said quietly, glancing back at him.
God, he was handsome. His hazel eyes softened as they met mine.
āNyx told us staying after school yesterday was the best part of his day,ā he said, a slow smile forming.
I hummed in response. āIām glad he had a good day.ā
I glanced over his shoulder at the clock by the door.
āThank you once again for the treats,ā I said. āThe other parents will arrive soon.ā
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window, wind-tangled hair, goosebumps along my arms.Ā
I looked like a disaster.
āWell, Iāll see you this afternoon,ā Cassian said as he stepped back.
His eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer before he turned and called to Nyx.
Nyx waved at him with a wide grin.
The door closed behind them, and I exhaled, bracing myself against my desk.
āUncle Cassian asked about you last night,ā Nyx said suddenly.
My spine straightened as I looked at him, but before I could say a word, another pair of parents knocked on the door.
I smiled, greeting them warmly. Despite my thoughts, however, they were absolutely not where they shouldāve been.
Cassian.
The paper bag of treats still sitting on my desk.
That look in his eyes.
By the time the day ended, my mind felt like it had been twisted into knots.
āPlease place your artwork on my desk before you leave,ā I instructed the class. āIāll hang them up tonight. Tomorrow, we will learn about constellations.ā
The children packed their things while their parents waited at the door. All I could think about was Cassian and that stupid face of his.
My back was turned to the door as one by one the children and parents left.
āHow was your day?ā a voice asked behind me.
I jumped, clutching my chest as I spun around. Without thinking, I shoved at the person, or at least I tried to. My hands met a solid, unyielding chest.
Cassian.
āGod, you scared me.ā My heart was pounding as I looked up at him, his eyes far too amused.
I narrowed my gaze, glaring as his eyes flicked from mine to my lips, then down to where my hands were still pressed against him.
āMy apologies,ā he said, a smirk growing on his face. āI thought you heard me come in.ā
I immediately stepped back, turning away and pretending to organise the stack of papers on my desk.
āNyx,ā I called, my voice tight, āget your things, please.ā
āYou donāt like cinnamon?ā Cassian asked.
I glanced over my shoulder. He was still behind me, his eyes focused on the paper bag I had left untouched.
āNo, I do,ā I said quickly. āI just havenāt had time to sit.ā
āI heard you say that you still needed to hang the solstice drawings,ā he said. āI can drop Nyx off with his aunties and come back to help.ā
I shook my head and said, āItās fine.ā
He said nothing. Nyx was already by his side, waiting.
āIāll see you soon,ā Cassian said as he tossed Nyx over his shoulder.
The boy shrieked with laughter as Cassian strode out.
āNo, Cassian, please donātāā
The door shut with a loud bang.
I groaned at the chaos of the room, the dozens of drawings still needing to be hung, and the stupid paper bag waiting on my desk.
As I sank into my chair, I reached for it.Ā
I hadnāt even looked inside.
I slid the bag open.
A cinnamon scroll.
Perfectly glazed.
Exactly the kind I loved.
My mouth watered.
God, I hated him.
I hated that I warmed the pastry with my magic.
I hated that when I took a bite, it was sweet, soft, melt-on-the-tongue perfect.
I hated that I groaned, slumping in my chair.
I hated that I was excited about him coming back.
I brushed crumbs off my dress as the door slowly opened, and a voice called out.
Mira was leaning against the doorframe, holding an armful of papers.
āHowās the larger class going?ā
āItāsā¦ fine,ā I said, straightening in my seat.
āI keep telling the director that just because families request you doesnāt mean you can take them all,ā she sighed.
āIām honoured they like me so much, butā¦ Itās a lot. Managing the kids and the parents.ā
That wasnāt a lie: the kids were lovely. The parents, who had more money than I could ever dream of, were the ones who were exhausting.
āWe really need to get drinks sometime,ā she said with a smile. āYou need a life outside of work.ā
I shook my head. āIām fine, reallyāā
āYou stay late every day, come in early most mornings, work through weekends, or spend your time advising some diplomat. Come on! Join me for a night out. I even have a friend youād like.ā Mira said, rolling her eyes.
I groaned. āIām not looking to date. Iāve had enough bad relationships to last a lifetime.ā
āCome on,ā Mira whined. āHeās great. Smart, just like you.ā
My lips parted to argue, but then Cassianās broad frame appeared behind her.
My mouth snapped shut.
Mira turned, following my gaze, just in time to see him smile.
He murmured a polite āexcuse meā and stepped around her, placing a coat on my desk, as he belonged here.
Her eyes widened as Cassian looked between us.
āYou didnāt tell me you had a boyfriend,ā she whispered.
āHeās not my boyfriend,ā I growled, glaring at Cassian, whose smile only widened as he winked at me.
He didnāt say a word, just settled on the edge of my desk, crossing his arms as a smug, infuriating smirk tugged at his lips.
My face turned red, and Miraās eyebrows shot up in surprise.
āWell,ā she said cheerfully, āIāll leave you and not-your-boyfriend alone.ā
She pointed directly at Cassian, smiling widely and mouthing,Ā Heās hot,Ā before slipping out the door.
āDid she just call me hot?ā Cassian said, glancing at the door before looking back at me.
āSheās single and definitely your type,ā I snapped, jealousy flaring deep within me.
I grabbed the stack of drawings from my desk and walked toward the empty wall.
āAnd what is my type?ā Cassian asked, his voice low as he followed.
āIām going to guess a petite, skinny High Fae,ā I said sharply, not looking at him. āLike the blonde you were with last night or one of the golden-haired girls who had to be Feyreās sisters.ā
My hands trembled as I picked up the next artwork, fury burning under my skin.
I rose onto my toes, struggling to reach the top of the wall.
āMira is incredible,ā I continued, my voice strained. āSheās funny, loud, and bright.ā
āYou sound jealous,ā Cassian said calmly.
His warmth pressed against my back as he reached over me, taking the paper from my hand. Pinning it easily to the highest spot.
āI am not jealous,ā I snapped, spinning to face him, only to be pressed against the wall as Cassian caged me in.
āNo?ā he murmured, bracing his hands on either side of my head, leaning down until he filled every inch of my vision. āThen why do you sound jealous?ā
āBecause youāre a self-obsessed bat, thatās why.ā
I glared up at him.
He stepped back just enough to grab another drawing.
āKeep talking, sweetheart,ā he said, voice dropping. āYou look good when youāre jealous.ā
A shiver ran down my spine.
āYouāre such an ass,ā I hissed, planting my hands on his chest to push him, but he didnāt budge.Ā
He just chuckled, reaching easily above me to hang the next drawing.
āWhat else am I?ā Cassian teased, glancing down at me with that stupid grin of his.
āInfuriating,ā I muttered.
āMhm.ā His eyes dropped to my mouth again. āWhat else?ā
āOverconfident.ā
He took a half-step closer.Ā
I let out a sharp exhale and turned away to grab the next drawing, but Cassian reached for it first. His fingers brushed against mine as he took the paper, and sparks shot up my arm when I pulled away, as if he had burned me.
āYou know,ā he said, pinning another drawing onto the wall. āFor someone who insists she doesnāt care, you have a lot of opinions about who Iām with.ā
āI donāt care,ā I said flatly.
He made a low sound in his throat, disbelief, amusement, something warm.
āSure you donāt.ā
I glared at him. āI donāt.ā
āThen look me in the eye and say it.ā
I opened my mouth and froze because he wasnāt smirking anymore.
He was just looking at me, hazel eyes softened in a way that made my chest ache.
The air shifted between us, thickening, pulling tight.
I forced my gaze away, heat crawling up my neck.
āThatās what I thought,ā he murmured.
āIām not jealous. I just know your type.ā
Cassian let out a warm, deep chuckle.
āMy type,ā he said, his wings rustling as he stepped even closer, my back pressed against the wall, āis not some tiny, little High Fae.ā
He kept going, voice dropping.
āAnd itās definitely not someone who giggles and bats her eyelashes because she thinks it looks cute.ā
He was so close I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
āMy type,ā he said softly, āis you.ā
My breath caught.
āA woman,ā he went on, his gaze sweeping down my body slowly, deliberately. āWith curves. Soft skin. Hips made to grab and hold.ā
My face burned.
āAnd a mouth,ā he added, eyes flicking to mine, āas sharp as her mind.ā
My heart pounded so hard my body began to tremble.
āA smartass,ā he said. āSomeone who doesnāt melt when I walk into a room. Someone whoāll argue with me, push me, challenge meā¦ā
He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek.
āā¦someone who isnāt afraid to put me in my place.ā
My stomach twisted.Ā
Hard.
āAnd you,ā he murmured, āare exactly my type.ā
I opened my lips, but nothing came out.
He smiled, slow and triumphant.Ā
āThatās the first time all day you havenāt had something snarky to say.ā
āShut up,ā I managed, shoving at his chest.
He stumbled back, only because he let me.
His grin widened, bright and devastating.
āSee? Sharp tongue.ā
I turned towards the wall, my back to him, but Cassianās voice dropped to a purr behind me.
āWant me to tell you what else I like?āĀ
āNo.ā
He chuckled. āYouāre cute when you lie.ā
āIām going to drown you in the Sidra,ā I muttered.
āYouāll have to catch me first.ā
He leaned in, his mouth warm against my ear, and my pulse stuttered.
āAnd sweetheart?ā he whispered. āYouāve been staring at my mouth for the last two minutes.ā
A soft huff escaped me, my skin prickling. His coat brushed against my back as I drew a sharp breath.
My eyes fluttered shut as I felt his hand slide toward my waist. Just as his fingers brushed the fabric of my dress, I slipped out from beneath his arms.
I moved to my desk, grabbed my satchel, left the coat he had brought, which was clearly meant for me, and walked out.
āWait,ā I heard him call as I pushed open the doors.
I didnāt.
I moved fast, his voice echoing after me, but the moment my feet hit the street, I disappeared into the afternoon light.
Ooooo okay you know how in your latest fic abt being Azriels mate you mention his wings being extra sensitive in areas where heād been injured before and only trusts his mate with them? Can you please write a fic about that? Like someone maybe offering to help w his wings but heās like nope. Iām gonna wait for y/n and sheās out or at work or smt so he has to sit w his wings being dirty for a while but heād rather than that let anyone else touch them
Thank you so so so much and I loved that fic and the way it was written <3333
A/n: I absolutely had so much fun writing this. It's my first go at a drabble/oneshot in a while. Thank YOU for your support, I hope you enjoy it :)
Warning: Mentions of blood and injuries.
WC: 1.3k
Pairing: Azriel x Mate! Reader
"Oh, Az," Mor murmurs, looking at the dried blood and smeared dirt on Azriel's slumped wings. Honey brown eyes, trying not to grimace openly in view of his watchful eyes. Even so, they didnāt miss the furrow in her brows. The shadows flickering in and out with each wave of pain, tucked in close by his side, as if to hold him together.Ā
He curled on his side with a quiet grunt once Madja had finished healing the worst parts, leaving him tender and aching- in more than just pain. For his light, you, who could brighten up any room by meeting his eyes. Even in this state, he couldnāt bring himself to linger on the comfort of rest that threatened to lull him away. Not when he was focused on his mate, the sole source of any warmth he accepted without question. Waiting for her.
The tug of panic on the other end of the bond, his mate, kept him alert. Worried out of your mind, racing to get to him, despite his weakened reassurances through the searing pain. His attackers had been dealt with after heād been forced to land after a direct hit of an arrow tore through. It wasnāt dire anymore, but that was not sufficient proof for you.Ā
Mor wrung out a damp cloth in the bowl of clean, warm water by Azriel's cot. Reaching to clear the drying blood left behind, as she had time and time again, but a golden-brown hand swatted her away, just as he had waved off Madja when she offered.
Admitting a huff from Mor at his stubborn antics now of all times, "It needs to be cleaned, like it or not-"Ā
"Leave it." He exhaled roughly with finality to it, "She's almost here."Ā
The blonde doesn't need to push him on it further, letting the cloth back into the water with a plop as she spins on her heel. "I'll let her lecture your stubborn ass then."
(Y/n) was the only one he listened to when it came to his wellbeing. No one was blind to it, the way they both saw each other with a single shared glance. The same knowing looks all mates gave each other when sharing an unspoken conversation meant for them alone.
No one missed it, the way Azriel seemed to watch you as if waiting for each breath before he would allow himself to move. The silent pining when you were already his. Even now, waiting before he would let his wounds be cleaned.
You nearly made Mor tumble into the wall from the impact of your shoulder bumping hers, rushing through the halls impatiently towards the infirmary to reach him. Her hand shot out, steadying you both as she took in the near wild look in your eyes, the breathlessness when you spoke, āWhere is he?ā
āHeās okay, just had a run in with-ā Pushing past her without letting her finish, entering the dimly lit room to find him sprawled on his stomach over the cot. His head of blue-black turned towards the door already, hazel eyes darker than usual softened.
Stopping in your tracks, for a beat, taking him in, breath hitching. Hating the sight of blood on the sensitive membrane of his mighty wings, the shadows flickering in excitement at your presence, feeling relief wash through him.
An exhale breaks the tense air, feet shuffling forward until you drop to your knees by his bedside. To be at his level, as always, his equal. Shadows curling around your shoulders to warm you, knowing he couldnāt hold you himself stung.
āYou were supposed to come right back,ā you murmur, lips pressed together, not quite a frown. Unable to hold a pout when he was safe and back where he belonged. Tense shoulders only unwinding when Azrielās fingers thread through yours with a squeeze.
āI know, I was headed back, a guild spotted me while flying.ā It was supposed to be a straightforward routine run to the outskirts of Hewn City and back, collecting a few documents passed along from informants.
Heād been too damn distracted by his duties, by his focus on getting back home as quickly as possible. He had no idea it was coming until a burning pain had seared through his right wing, sending him diving into the trees below.
You had felt it and knew immediately he was in danger, the way his heart picked up suddenly as fight or flight kicked in. It had made your heart drop from miles away when the ache of pain was sent through like a stab to the back.
Mor had been in the area and winnowed him back, thank the stars. Youād be sure to supply āthank youā wine later.
āAnd the ones who shot you?ā You canāt help but ask, fire burning in your eyes that ensured they wouldnāt be free of consequence. āWhy do you think Rhys isnāt here?ā He replied with a tug of his lips.
You exhaled, letting go of the worry and need for revenge for now. If not Rhys, then Cassian would wreak havoc upon them.
āIām here, itās okay.ā He sent it through, seeing the storm in your eyes. The storm he adored. You shake your head with a quiet laugh. āIām the one who should be saying that.ā
Eyes roving over his slumped wings, in a rare state of complete slack. The crimson-staining thin membrane makes the room smell faintly of rust and salt even as the worst is healed over.
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, āMadja didnāt clean-?ā He answered before you could finish, āI told her it could wait.ā
āAz,ā You push up to your feet with a near scolding tone, though it holds no bite. He frowns at the loss of your warmth. āIt cannot wait, youāre covered in dirt. What if it got infected?ā
Padding over to the table where the bowl of warm water waited, wringing out a cloth, and you returned to his side. A silent question to your eyes, to which he answered wordlessly with a nod, no hesitation. You didnāt need it, truly, with the countless times youād caressed his strong wings but feared hurting him more.
His shadows tickle your skin as they curl like curious serpents up your arm, watching you work.
āIt canāt get infected anymore, and you were on your way,ā Azriel offered his excuse. To which you canāt argue much when Madja healed the worst, the leftover scrapes would heal with salve and rest. āYou know how to handle them.ā
Suppressing a groan when your hands gently press the cloth to his wings, wiping at the gritty feel of dirt and blood on the usually smooth tissue. Unable to hide the gooseflesh creeping up his inked arms.
Sighing at his stubbornness, āYouāre lucky they are still intact,ā you mutter, affectionate in the careful nature of your touch. Knowing this area in particular is especially tender. Before getting an all too familiar gleam in your eyes, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin of his shoulder.
Making him melt beneath you, he had already been fighting exhaustion from the adrenaline of the attack. Your loving touches soothe the aches of pain, for once allowing himself to be cared for in this worshipful way. āI was scared I almost lost you.ā Your words are like a whisper of silk against his skin.
āYou havenāt,ā he says, gently. āIām not going anywhere. Not anytime soon-ā Cutting him short, you say firmly, āNot ever.ā Him gone from your life... It wasnāt a possibility you even entertained.
The corner of his lips curled the bond purring what little space between you two as you continued with reverent cleaning. He doesnāt argue about not being able to keep that promise, however true.
āNot ever.ā
First post in a while! Good to be back. Alsoā¦ alludes to the nasty(kinda) so MDNI.
Means your safety, your choice, your happiness comes first always. His number one priority is you, from the moment that bond snapped tautā taking his breath away.
He wouldnāt tell you at first, not if you didnāt notice or realize. Not completely out of fear of rejection, but to give you the choice. The choice to love him on your own accord.
The other reason would be fear. after years of waiting, wanting someone to love him back in that unwavering way, he canāt bear the thought. It might drive him mad.
Azriel is scary patient. He spent centuries waiting for this, a chance at true happiness, he wonāt let it slip by without trying his damned best to show you heās worth it.
regardless of a rejection heād watch from the shadows as he always has and will, he is nothing if not your protector.
He is there in his own odd ways, until learning what you need. Through silent support. His love language of mix of service and quality time.
Quality time sat alongside you in the library pretending not to notice your reading smut feet from him. Are you trying to drive him mad?
Flights at night over Velaris, a perfect excuse to hold you close and watch your face light up.
Bringing various small gifts that remind him of you, his not so subtle way of courting you is no different to that of a raven.
Confesses when he canāt hide it anymore, or the second you feel itā with apologies plenty to make up for it.
The shadow singer isnāt above getting on his knees for his mate.
Cannot keep his hands off after that. Breathing you in like a drug, touching you reverently like a divine being. Mother above, to him you are. Heād do anything for a taste.
Not one for PDA, but trust heāll have a hand placed at the small of your back, or at the base of your hips. A wing tucked around you in private, to cocoon you in the warmth of him and his misty scent.
His shadows adore you, even before you knew. Always tickling the skin, playing in the ends of your hair, lurking in corners even when you think you might alone.
Flaunting the wings, fluttering them for attention like a peacock baiting for attention. Melting into any touchā theyāre extra sensitive in spots from past injuries. So he only trusts you with them.
Pretty self-explanatory, a rundown of basic rules before you request something. I'll delete your request if it does not respect the rules.
I'm a multifandom blog, which means I'll take requests for multiple fandoms tagged on my master list/blog. I currently don't have a set list, but check the tags on my blog.
Basics:
This is an 18+ blog, MDNI.
I don't write character x character or character x OC content, only character x reader.
No more than four characters per request! Please, don't just send two requests at once to cover missing characters.
I have the right to delete or ignore requests as I see fit, whether because lack of motivation or because of breaking the rules.
Helpful criticism is welcome, my inbox is always open to it!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
Hiii! Are your able to take my request? Itās actually really simple I suppose- if you still do stardew valley, could I please get Sebastian (sdv) x fem!reader who has tattoos all over them?
(Bonus if you want to add: we are the sweetest person ever but have the craziest and almost darkest tattoos ever)
his first thought is 'Wait a minute... who is that?' because boy is it rare for someone to boldly show off their alternative-styled tattoos in Pelican Town.
Secondly, because he thought it was hot. Not that he would admit it at first
and so, he'll find some way to ask you about them. Probably only after encountering you a few times... per his antisocial ways
he shows off his own of course, he has a nice collection hidden under that hoodie you can't convince me otherwise.
needs to visit your artist after because why do your tattoos look so smooth and perfect on you? maybe it also had something to do with the fact that he liked the sweetest and cutest person wearing them...
Once you're actually together, he can't keep his hands off of them. your skin is so soft and smooth and it's so satisfying to soak in your warmth through his fingertips as he traces the skull on your arm.
is so down for matching tattoos, spends so long looking for the perfect design for both of you. to match your relationship and style.
yes... I have risen from the dead. My apologies because I'm sure it's been over a over a two year-long wait lmao. enjoy :)
