#nessian summer

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I’m not saying Nesta Archeron never did anything wrong. I’m saying she was hot and funny while she did it and debating moral relativism is ridiculous given the characters in this series.

[sadiegirl2021]

I feel like I'm waving my child off to college!

FINAL CHAPTER of HOT GIRL SUMMER is up on AO3

(Two epilogues left, so it's not the end end!)

Hope you enjoy it! 💖

[asnowfern]

Take Shelter

Summary: “Then go somewhere else.”

Her mouth formed a tight line at the challenge. “Perhaps I will.”

But he knew there was no other place to go.

Not when she had no money, no family beyond this territory.

~~~

But what if Nesta did? Armed with the little bit of money she received from Feyre, Nesta left Velaris for the one place she knew Cassian couldn’t follow — the Summer Court. Set post-ACOFAS.

Rating: T

WC: 6.9k

Read on AO3

A/N: Hello! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything long-ish! I hope you enjoy!💕

Then go somewhere else.

It was a taunt, far from the worst words they had hauled at each other. It was a taunt, spat out in vitriol knowing full well that she was trapped in this Godsforsaken fae city. But the words still followed Nesta, haunted her through the night as she made a mess of her bed, tossing and turning.

Oh, but the idea of it. To leave everyone behind, away from her sisters and the inner circle, away from him and his incessant pushing.

Like the pull of a melody, it stuck with her. Drew her in and sang in her brain. Unable to resist, she spun herself to it, round and round. A helpless doll in a musical box.

Go

Go

Go

Nesta’s eyes snapped open and her body shot up. Her thick blanket slipped down to the lousy spring mattress which creaked in protest. She rested her forehead into an open palm, willing her heart to settle. Numbly, she stared at the streams of light that filtered through crappy windows until the frosty chill finally seeped into her bones.

She waited for another emotion to hit her. Maybe a hot slash of shame or anger from last night's dinner catastrophe. Not for the first time, she wondered dimly if the rage was any better than the yawning void.

It was only when she realised that there would be none to come that she rose from her bed to retrieve one of the books Elain had gifted her. It was barely a minute later before she slid back under the layers of blankets.

The day had just started. The sun had barely settled into the sky but it was already over for Nesta. Lost in an endless chasm.

Go somewhere else.

***

“How do I get out of Velaris?”

“You’re slurring to the glass, honey. Speak up.”

Nesta lifted her chin to the bartender, grey blue eyes burned with cold clarity despite her inebriated state, “How do I get out of the Night Court from here?”

Carl was as decent as bartenders went. He kept away the more unsavoury males when he thought she was too out of it to notice. Even when she scowled at him, the fae would simply shrug it off and play big brother again when the next unruly male came along. But above all, she knew that Carl was discreet with his customers and would never rat her out to Feyre’s inner circle.

His eyebrows pinched at her question. He turned his gaze on her, narrowing those hazel eyes that were too brown to remind her of yet another set of gold flecked hazel eyes. “You’re serious?”

Her index finger idly traced the rim of her glass. “Maybe.”

He finished wiping the pint glass with the dirty rag and set it on the table, possibly dirtier than when he had first picked it up, and pinned her with a serious look. Nesta snorted and returned back to nursing her cheap liquor. “Forget I said anything.”

“There are no access points from Velaris itself. Not with the High Lord’s wards still in place. But there are transport carriers from Hewn City for lesser faes incapable of winnowing. You just need to pay a small service fee.”

She nodded before chugging down the rest of her drink. The live band was still playing but the music stopped reaching her. She pushed herself off the countertop and dropped a few coins.

“Thanks. Keep the coins and send the bill for the drink to the High Lady.”

Carl snorted gruffly. “I hope a new place would be what you need. Take care, Nesta.”

It was the most affectionate thing the bartender had ever said to her. It wasn’t until she had just about exited the establishment before Nesta’s step hitched and she said softly, “I hope so too, Carl. I hope so too.”

Out of the tavern and into the freeze of winter, Nesta bit back a shudder that threatened to pierce through her body.

Then go somewhere else.

It wasn’t an emotion. Better than that, in the vastness of the void that had become her life, it was the tiniest flickering flame.

Perhaps, she could take a chance and blow on it.

***

Adriata was beautiful.

From the sparkling turquoise waters to the cawing seagulls above head. The blast of dry summer heat swirled with the sea breeze in a playful dance on her skin. Nesta couldn’t help her lips curving upwards as her eyes shuttered close to feel the kiss of the elements.

The elder Archeron had never harboured fantasies to travel and explore, not in the way Elain did. It would be nothing more than an indulgent dream of a future she could never have as the firstborn Archeron. But now, seeing the bustle of energy around her in this completely new vibrant land, she felt one step closer to understanding this dream of her sister’s — one which she admitted to suit Elain very well.

The next thing Nesta realised was that Adriata was expensive, possibly more so than Velaris. Just a week in the inn along the city’s Main Street would burn through a third of her remaining gold marks. Even three months worth of rental money from Feyre’s banknote would not sustain her very long.

And that was how Nesta found herself living, however temporarily, in another rundown room in an inn tucked into a quiet corner of the city. But it had a clean bed, an en suite bathroom and best of all, no fireplace — an utterly useless contraception in the heart of eternal summer.

Her to-do list since leaving her room was short but essential: find a longer-term living arrangement, a job, and on the note of money, ignore any urges to enter a tavern.

There were more important, urgent tasks at hand but it also felt inevitable that Nesta found herself at the back of a quaint bookstore instead. Nestled behind a busy street was a cozy establishment, cramped with as many bookshelves as it could hold. Ceiling to floor, front to back, its atmosphere buzzed with the promise of comfort and fantasies.

Long slender fingers ran along the spines of rows of books with a smile playing on her lips. In the next moment, she tipped a book on its edge, drew it towards her chest and started reading.

“We close in ten minutes so you need to buy that or leave,” a feminine voice said flatly, startling Nesta as she tumbled clumsily out of the fictional mindscape. She tipped her head sideways in the direction of the voice.

The female in question was not high fae. Her skin was a shade of blue that reminded Nesta of the sparkling waters that surrounded the city, and it shimmered in all colours of the light spectrum under the shop’s faelights. The edge of her lips quirked, almost in amusement, as she visually assessed Nesta, moss green eyes narrowing at the book in her hands.

“Although given that you are almost halfway through the book, I would strongly emphasise that the two options are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I’d much prefer it if you buy it and leave.”

It would be stupid to buy the book. Nesta had spent enough time living in poverty to know that precious coins could not be spent on such luxuries. So she spent pitiful seconds giving the book a last regrettable glance before carefully placing it back at the shelf, turning to the shopkeeper apologetically. “Sorry, I lost track of time. I’ll leave.”

The smile from the fae dimmed and she surveyed Nesta curiously, as if Nesta’s answer surprised her.

“Are you good with numbers?”

Flummoxed, Nesta blurted out, “what for?”

She jerked a thumb at the “For Hire” sign and looked at her expectedly. “Well?”

Nesta scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

The shopkeeper barked a laugh. “I had guessed you were not from Summer Court but that response definitely sealed the assumption. Night Court perhaps? Oh, and what else?” She paused, eyebrows furrowing, “Judging by the way you handled that book, you love books. But most importantly, you look like you might just be desperate enough to accept the pisspoor pay I’m offering.”

It was Nesta’s turn to laugh, a genuine effervescence gurgling up her throat before her face split into a lopsided smile.

“So long as it pays for food and accommodation in the city.”

“A modest one, yes,” she winked, “with some extra hours here and there.”

It wouldn’t be much but it was more than what Nesta had expected, and definitely more than what she deserved. She nodded, “then yes, I’m very good with numbers.”

“Excellent,” she said briskly and extended a hand, “welcome aboard,” she trailed off.

Nesta took the hand, “Nesta”

“Mikaela”

***

There was a quiet peace in working for Mikaela at the bookstore. They minded the store together three days a week and alternated the other two, allowing both parties to have sufficient rest days. Footfall was modest, giving Nesta enough freedom to blaze through novels after novels in between managing customers, inventory management and accounting. True to her word, Mikaela took one look at Nesta’s work recording and organising cash flow figures and declared her responsible for the inane task.

The tedium of her day to day was a lifeline Nesta clinged onto. She was still a fuck up. But here, she could record transactions, she could consolidate accounts, she could shelf books and smile politely at customers.

She could be a shop assistant. Surely, that was something she couldn’t mess up.

“Why don’t you get out much?” Mikaela asked out of the blue, a week into them working together.

She didn’t skip a beat, answering as she continued from where she was perched on top of a ladder, shelving books. “No money.” Even without looking up, Nesta could feel the other’s eye roll.

“Walking along the streets and beaches doesn't cost money.”

Alarm bells rang in her head and Nesta pursed her lips. “Where are you going with this line of questioning?”

“Why so defensive?” Mikaela raised a brow, “hiding something?”

Nesta’s retort was cut off by the chiming of the bell affixed atop of the shop entrance, drawing the attention of both ladies. A female High Fae stepped in. Even dressed in a casual knee length dress, Nesta recognised her easily from the High Lords meeting—

“Princess Cresseida!” Mikaela smoothly recovered from their earlier growing tension, “Welcome, can I get you anything?”

Cresseida smiled warmly as she strolled in, clearly familiar with both the female and the bookshop. “I was just walking by and thought to pop in to check if there has been any leakages since…” the princess trailed off when sharp brown eyes fell on Nesta, her expression icing, “Mikaela, I see you have managed to hire your new assistant.”

Nesta sucked in a breath. Would this be the moment she gets unceremoniously and promptly sent back to Velaris, tail between her legs? Her brain spun furiously, finding the correct words to convince the princess otherwise.

“Emissary, what in the world are you doing here?”

Mikaela’s eyes whirled towards Nesta, “emissary?”

Cresseida’s smile was razor sharp, a triumphant predator moments from striking its prey. She answered the shopkeeper grandly, “she didn’t introduce herself? This is Nesta, the Night Court’s mortal emissary, the sister of Feyre Cursebreaker.”

Nesta tilted her chin and leveled a cool gaze at the princess. “I’m no longer a part of the Night Court. I’m just like any other person passing by.”

Cresseida was not convinced, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Whatever your role in the Night Court is or isn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re its High Lady’s sister.”

Mikaela looked slightly alarmed at the revelation, exhaling sharply. “Princess Cresseida, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble here—”

“You didn’t,” Cresseida reassured her even as she cut her off, all the while keeping her eye on Nesta. The pointed look was all too clear. You did. “Take a walk with me, Nesta.”

An order, not a request.

Nesta tempered the almost instinctive urge to retort and reined in the bubbling indignation. She carefully descended from the ladder and dipped her head in deference to the royal. “Of course.”

Finally, she turned to Mikaela, her stomach tightening when the other turned away. Taking a deep breath, she followed Cresseida out of the shop.

“Go back before you cause an inter-court incident.” The princess ordered, “I will not have Rhysand raining down misted fury on my city just because you guys had an argument.”

The thought that her sister’s mate would lift even a single finger for her — Nesta could have laughed then. “There is no love lost there. You don’t have to worry about Rhysand. I’m sure he is more than happy to see me gone.”

Cresseida cocked a brow. “Not Rhysand then who? Feyre Cursebreaker?” She paused, “The general?”

Nesta’s throat tightened at the mere mention of the Illyrian commander. The crack of broken bones, anguished hazel eyes and a fractured promise of time flashed in her mind. The images threatened to pull her back down under the frigid waters when she had barely managed to stay afloat the past week.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t let it drown her.

She opened eyes that she hadn’t even realised had closed, and hardened them. “You don’t have to worry. No one is coming, much less the general. My exit from Rhysand’s inner circle was more than mutual.”

Cresseida returned a crystalised gaze of her own. “Bonds forged by blood and soul are not so easily severed, so you are either lying to me or yourself.”

Then go somewhere else.

Her jaw tightened. How could the Princess of Adriata even begin to understand how much of a screw up she is? That anything tied to her rot and festers.

“First sign of trouble and you will leave. I will not risk my city for another court’s personal matters.”

Perhaps it was the tightened jaw muscle but Nesta choked at the unexpected response. “I—,” she shook her head, “of course. I understand completely.”

Turning on her heel, Cresseida walked back where they came back from, back to Mikaela’s shop.

“Are you going to inform them I’m here?” Nesta blurted out as they had reached the entrance of the bookshop, her voice too small for her liking.

Cresseida’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. She shook her head, “You live here and work here, just as any Adriata resident does. And I take care of my own.” She wagged a finger, “Just don’t make me regret this.”

Nesta smiled then, “I won’t.”

The store was awkwardly silent after Cresseida had announced that Nesta was permitted to continue living in Adriata, and closed the door with a final jingle of the bell. Nesta worried at her bottom lip for a brief moment before apologising, “I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier but I didn’t.”

The other fae gave her a long look before sighing. “I mean, it was not what I was expecting but everyone has secrets right? I knew it when you came in here looking all too fancy and starved, and squirreled away at the back of the store speeding through half a romance novel. I knew there would be secrets but I still offered you the job.”

With a lighter heart, Nesta asked, “Fancy? Really?”

Mikaela gesticulated with her hand, waving it in circles at Nesta, “It’s not what you were wearing. There’s just something about you and it’s not just that you’re High Fae—“

“I was Made by the Cauldron.” Nesta cuts her off, feeling like she owed the other fae a truth. Not all but at least some. “I was human. The King of Hybern used my sister and I as baits for Feyre and used the Cauldron turned us. That’s probably what you were feeling.”

“It’s not that,” She frowned as if she was still trying to figure Nesta out. She shook her head, “but thank you for telling me. I’m sorry that it happened. I can’t even imagine...”

Moss green eyes pierced into grey blue, conveying a soft sincerity that caused an uncomfortable lump to form in Nesta’s throat.

“Thank you.”

***

The sun blasted at full power as it always did in the heart of Summer, in rays of prickling heat and blinding white light. Nesta adjusted her hat, a comically large piece that shielded her from the sun. She looked down at her bag and did a mental count of the week’s groceries, already craving the feel of bare feet against the cool floors of her apartment.

And then she felt it, deep beneath the guitar of her rib cage. He was here. She knew it with an impossible certainty.

Cursing under her breath, she hurried to leave, only to be thwarted by the fates blowing a gust of seabreeze her way and upending her hat. Her eyes traced its path towards tattooed brown skin and a large wingspan.

Cassian’s head snapped towards her at once. Stormy blue eyes clashed with hazel, and he landed in front of her in a boom of wings.

His eyes were round as he took her in, his mouth opened slack jawed as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His finger tips white from the tight grip on her windswept hat.

“What are you doing here?” She snapped. She had to make the first move, had to make him leave. “I hear they don’t allow brutes like you in the city.”

The wonderment in hazel eyes faded. The muscle in his jaw ticked as his lips curled in displeasure. “Is that why you are here? Because you thought I wouldn’t be able to follow you? That it would be so easy to get rid of me, sweetheart?”

She scoffed. She had hoped, of course. But she should have known better, really. “Get over yourself and while you’re at it, why don’t you fly yourself back to Velaris.”

His eyes flashed dangerously but he drawled, all too smug, “I can’t leave. I’m here to make reparations to the Summer Court, as a brute would.”

It was then that Nesta realised belatedly the Illyrian was not dressed in his usual leathers. Instead, he was wearing the same white tunic and pants as the other workers at the construction building site, one of the last of the damaged buildings from Hybern’s attack.

A fool’s errand. This was nothing but a fool’s errand for the both of them. For her to have thought being in Summer could have deterred him. For him to have thought he could so simply haul her out of here like nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

She made a show of doing a last check on her basket of shopping before saying loftily, “Fine. We can be in agreement then. You have your business here, I have mine. I do not see any reason why our time herehh has to intersect.”

The general asked icily, “And what exactly is your business here? Ran out of taverns or warm beds in Velaris?”

Her throat burned.

It was good, a good burn. A simmering rage she could use.

“I do not see how any of this is your business. In fact, why don’t you leave the spying to Azriel and report back to Rhysand that I’m not doing anything to embarrass him and his perfect little inner circle.”

Cassian’s eyes darkened, his crimson siphons flickering in warning. He asked lowly, “Why do you always have to do that? Why do you have to keep pushing us away?”

Nesta released a hollow laugh. “You ever thought the problem lies with you and whatever the hell you and the rest of your little circle thinks is best for me? Stop pretending you care! I am done being your pity project. I am done with you,” She snatched the hat out of his hands, “Just leave me alone.”

An Illyrian always kept their wings high, proud and strong. But as Nesta turned to walk away from Cassian, the clicking of the heel of her boots echoing loudly, all she could see was how his wings drooped, its lower claw practically scraping the floor.

Her throat burned.

Maybe this time, this time she had driven him away for good.

***

Nesta did not see Cassian again after their run-in at the town square. But his presence could be felt and heard wherever she went. A constant chafing in her bones. A shadow in the sky. A bolsterious presence lugging about stones and cement at construction sites. The never ending need to snap at mothers warning their children of the dangerous lowly Illyrian, the hero who protected them and their city, reduced to nothing more than a boogeyman. It tore at her, the need to rip into these bigoted ignorant high fae and put them in their place.

If Mikaela noticed the change in Nesta’s mood, she didn’t say anything. Not until one day when said Illyrian casually walked through the entrance, somehow barely setting the bell off despite his large size.

“What,” she seethed from behind the counter, “are you doing here?”

Hazel eyes were bright, his shit eating from back on full display. His countenance was relaxed as he surveyed the store. He replied in mock innocence, brow cocked, “I’m here to get books. That’s what people usually do in bookstores, isn’t it?”

Fully aware of the curious stare Mikaela was giving the both of them, Nesta squashed the growing annoyance and put on a saccharine smile. “Yes, they do. Can I help you find anything?”

“Just looking around,” he winked, inciting the need in Nesta to hit him. He strolled deliberately slowly around the shop, only stopping to browse through the military history and strategies section.

Cassian stayed at the section for nearly thirty minutes, his countenance relaxing with each passing tick of the clock. Nesta spied on him over the top of her book under the guise of being a good shop assistant. Watched as he raised his hand to easily reach for a book in the top shelf, his tunic hiking along to reveal well-defined obliques and a tantalising trail of dark hair leading into his pants. And then his face relaxed and he smiled at the book title.

Not a shit-eating grin or the forced lightness he adopted with her. A genuine smile that brightened his face. All for a book.

It took her breath away and she scrambled to bury her face back into her book, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t look over the edge of her paperback anymore. Her eyes staring at the lines of words while her mind still fixated on that smile.

Knuckles knocking lightly on the wooden countertop demanded her attention. Nesta schooled her face into neutrality before putting her book down. Her arms moved mechanically to gather the stack of books nearer to her so she could record the sale.

“Anything else?” She asked, her eyes wholly concentrated on the book of accounts, not quite trusting herself to look back up without reminding herself of that smile.

“Yes actually,” he replied, unfortunately drawing her gaze to him where a laugh danced behind captivating irises. “Any recommendations for romance novels? One of the smutty ones.”

She choked, coughing as her saliva went down the wrong way. She glared at him throughout.

“First shelf on the right,” she managed to say after the coughing fit subsided.

“Any recommendations?” He asked, not moving a step as she had suggested.

“Anything by Sellyn Drake is good,” she begrudgingly said.

Cassian hummed before randomly picking out a book and dumping it on the table. Nesta took one look at it and exhaled exasperatedly. With Cassian unwittingly blocking her path out, she hitched herself up to sit on the counter and swing her legs over, a move that drew raised brows.

Nesta quickly switched out the book with another, explaining, “That was the fifth book in a series. You can start with this.”

“Perfect.” He said, flashing her another grin, “ring me up.”

***

Nesta stared at the melting dessert in the bowl Cresseida held up to her. She asked, confusion marring perfect skin between her brows, “Ice cream?”

Cresseida gave her an amused look, “Flavoured that has been frozen while being churned like butter? It gives you the most delightful creamy texture. This is chocolate. Try it.”

Not wanting to come off silly and overly paranoid, Nesta took the bowl from her. “So sweetened cold cream?” That actually sounded quite good.

Cresseida rolled her eyes and insisted, “Try it!”

Nesta felt like her world had changed the minute she placed the spoon in her mouth and the delicious confectionery melted on her tongue. She moaned in appreciation.

“Right???” Mikaela grinned from the opposing seat, “Oh, please please tell me Night Court does not have ice-cream, the business opportunity there!” She nudged Cresseida with her elbow, “You’ll invest right?”

Nesta found herself smiling at the easy friendship between the store owner and the Summer royal. There were no strings attached or politics. Just two people for two very different lives coming together to extend warmth and kindness to the other.

“I said that I haven’t had any ice cream, not that it didn’t exist in the Night Court. You might want to do your research before starting anything.” She corrected the fae before groaning as she ate another mouthful, “This is so dangerously good!”

Mikaela looked thoughtful before the edge of her lip quirked into a smirk, “You’re right. Perhaps I should ask our most recent regular customer.”

Nesta kept her face impassive, shrugging, “He would know.”

“New regular customer?” Cresseida asked.

“Cassian” Mikaela chirped happily into her own ice cream, “he has been to the store every other day for the past three weeks. I wonder how many books he is going to bring back with him by the end of his service.”

“Ahhhh,” Cresseida nodded in understanding and turned to Nesta, her dark eyes narrowing with smugness, “and you said no one is coming after you.”

“Don’t,” Nesta ordered, “you’ll ruin my very first ice cream experience.”

Cresseida laughed and leaned back into the cushions, and looked at her teasingly. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

Nesta groaned again, this time was not the blissful one from earlier. “Could we save on the ‘I told you so’s?”

“Nope,” Cresseida said, popping the ‘p’, “well, at least he’s contributing to the city.”

Nesta sighed. “Why was he allowed in anyway?” She stuffed another spoonful in her mouth.

Cresseida shrugged, “He wrote to Tarquin directly. A ban from entry into the entire court is above even my authority.”

“But what did he do?” Mikaela piped up.

“Destroyed an important institution building.”

Mikaela nodded, not probing further. She fixed Nesta a stare, giving Nesta a bad feeling, “and what did he do?”

She shrugged, feigning ignorance, all too keen to avoid this topic. No matter how futile the effort. “I don’t know. This was before I knew him.”

Mikaela gave a dramatic eye roll. “Don’t play dumb. What did he do to you?”

Nesta opened her mouth to spew out more words of diversion, then her brain caught up to Mikaela’s words. She asked curiously, “Why do you think he was the one who wronged me?”

The moss green eyes of her boss softened. “He throws you sorrowful and regretful glances when you’re not looking. I mean, yeah, that’s heck a lot of yearning in there too. But it just felt like he was trying to make up for something.”

“He’s not,” Nesta said quickly, “he didn’t do anything. It was me.”

Nesta and her wicked tongue. Capable of nothing but spreading unhappiness.

“I told you so!”

Nesta’s head whipped to Cresseida, surprised at the words clearly meant to draw her out of her spiraling thoughts. The princess simply tilted her head, gesturing at the empty bowl in her hands, and repeated, “I told you so. That male would follow you anywhere.”

“Doesn’t mean that he should have. The last time we spoke,” the elder Archeron trailed off and thought back to the awful night at the Town House and her conversation with Cassian after.

Then go somewhere else.

She shook her head, “Anyway, I left and he shouldn’t have followed. Everyone would be happier that way.”

Mikaela looked sadly at Nesta. She sat forward to reach for Nesta’s hands and wrapped them in her warmth. “You are a good person, Nesta. Anyone would be lucky to have you around. You should give them the chance to try. You deserve happiness too.”

No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t think so if she knew the full extent of Nesta’s failures and toxicity. But damn if the back of her eyes didn’t prick when Cresseida too, nodded in agreement.

The words followed Nesta over the next few weeks. A constant companion as she went through her days in that continued quiet peace. Even with Cassian still dropping by every other day, amusing her as he actually gave comments about each romance book she tossed his way.

If she would be a luckier person, she would say it was a small quiet happiness. One she had not known even as a human.

One she wasn’t quite sure she deserved but would sneakily and selfishly enjoy for herself. Even if the opportunity terrified her.

***

“We are closing in ten minutes,” Nesta warned the hulking winged form entering the store.

Cassian, dressed in his usual work attire and gleaming with sweat, flashed her an unrepentant grin and drifted over to the bestsellers display near the counter.

It was the first of Mikaela’s two fixed off-days for the week so Nesta was left minding the store by herself. More than used to the closing process, Nesta finished up counting the coins in the register and narrowed her eyes at him, who seemed to still be idly browsing through covers as if he hadn’t seen them all for the umteenth already.

“I’m closing the counter,” she warned again when she noticed the slight ticking jumps of his fingers and the tense hold of his jaw. Was he, nervous about something?

“I’m here to walk you back,” he announced.

Bells rang in her head, a metaphorical finger hovering over the fight or flight response. Nesta took a breath to calm herself, and turned the key to lock the money away with a loud jangle. “Why?” She demanded.

“Because I thought we could have dinner together.”

The Made fae stared at him incredulously. Cassian’s tone and facial expression was light, neutral but within those hazel eyes was a hint of nervousness and dread.

He was waiting for her to snap at him.

And she almost did, except for the memory of a familiar pair of sincere moss green eyes and glittering hands, quietly encouraging her to do otherwise. She heaved a breath before tilting her head up at him, “okay.”

Eyes rounded into marbles and a smile so wide it split his face. Cassian’s face lit up like a little boy who was given his favourite candy. “That’s great!”

He practically bounced as he waited for Nesta to grab her belongings and locked up the shop. She asked expectedly, “So where exactly are we going?”

“Do you trust me, Nesta?”

Nesta, not Nes, not sweetheart. Nesta, said in the gentlest of manners. As Nesta looked deep into those gold flaked hazel eyes, she knew he would never intentionally hurt her. Even if it meant going through the depths of hell himself.

“Yes.”

Carefully, Cassian wrapped his arms around hers and lifted her off the ground. His wings spread behind him as he secured her firmly against her chest. Something fluttered in her chest at the contact, squirming like a tiny chick.

“Let’s go,” he whispered excitedly, eliciting a small smile from her in response.

They soared in the sky, scaring away all nearby seagulls. But Nesta’s attention was preoccupied by the expanding view of the Summer city beneath them. Tiny dots of people and a vast endless turquoise sea below, the vibrant blue sky spread above. It was breathtaking.

They soon landed smoothly on a dilapidated platform floating a distance away from the shore, her stomach as calm as the waters around them. The wooden wall panels were peeling and there was a huge hole that punched through the hull. Evidently kept afloat through magic, the barge also hosted a picnic blanket with a full dinner set-up on its deck.

“This seems awfully well planned,” Nesta commented, eyes narrowed to slits.

Cassian laughed, a shimmer of red revealed a couple of bottles of wine lined up in a neat row, “I was also prepared to drink my evening away if you rejected me.” He reached for the one nearest to him, “but I think just the best bottle would be needed tonight.”

Nesta eyed the bottle warily. It was the first alcoholic drink she had laid eyes on since coming to Summer — a blessed necessity borne out of limited funding. Cassian clocked her reaction immediately and told her, “We don’t need wine to have a good time,” he placed it back with its friends, “unless you want to?”

She shook her head, “It’s fine.”

Cassian nodded, moving to unveil the numerous dishes that had been prepared. Nesta gave the bottles a further glance. They remained an arms length away, the lack of action a signal of trust from her dinner companion. And that in itself was enough for Nesta.

She refocused her attention on the picnic setup, turning her head upwards to the turning sky — baby pink and lilac infiltrating cerulean. It was a perfect view of the sunset.

“Where are we?” She asked, slightly bewildered at the rundown condition of the barge.

His eyes crinkled, lips upturned into another shit eating grin, “The previous Pleasure Barge and the reason I got banned from entering the court.”

Nesta’s eyes were immediately pulled to the large gaping hole in the middle of the platform and the pieces clicked. She burst into laughter, “This is the important institution building you destroyed???”

He sniffed. “A little bit of an overreaction for a lifelong ban, don’t you think? Rhys and Mor were equally responsible but I got all the blame.”

“I’m sure it was your fault,” She wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. “And how many buildings do you need to rebuild for Summer as reparation?”

Another sniff. “A hundred.”

It sent her into another fit of giggles. One that bulldozed the affectionate look that Cassian was giving her.

The laughter tapered off after a few more minutes, allowing the couple to dig into the spread the Night Court native had prepared. Most of the food looked to be sourced from the coastal city itself, deep dishes of curried stews and fritters. Nesta was about to reach for the flat bread to dip into the curry when her heightened fae senses picked up on a familiar buttery chocolate scent. She followed it, brightening up when she spotted a chocolate tart.

She picked it up and bit into it instantly. Rich buttery pastry and luxurious chocolate ganache flooded her taste buds. She sighed happily, much to Cassian’s amusement.

“This isn’t from here, is it?”

“It’s from Velaris. I, um,” his cheeks flushed slightly, “I remember you liked them.”

It was shortly after Nesta was turned. When she raged against the world, for her loss of humanity, for Elain’s loss of everything. She was drowning then too, barely keeping afloat for Elain’s sake. One of the petty bright spots then was snitching bits of chocolate pastries that sat around the House of Wind. Back then, Cassian too was hurting, recovering from his wings being ripped to shreds by the King of Hybern, and yet, he noticed, remembered.

“Well, don’t eat too many,” he teased, affixing the largest dish on a makeshift wooden fire stove and starting the fire, “the main star is yet to come.”

Colour leached from Nesta’s face. Her body seized up in anticipation of the crackling wood.

Snap, the fire caught on.

She flinched.

“Nesta?” Cassian’s face came swimming into view, his expression heavy with concern.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Not needing to manage her fears had lured her to complacency, impeding her ability to manage her reaction.

“Nesta?”

She swallowed audibly and turned back to Cassian. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. Another wooden log chose to crack in that moment and Nesta recoiled.

The fire was smothered by a curtain of red in an instant. Relief flooded her. Even as she pointedly avoided eye contact with Cassian.

“What do you hear from the fire?”

She said nothing.

“Nesta?” He asked again. He retreated his arms back to his sides and sat unmoving. He would wait however long it took for an answer.

“Bones cracking,” she whispered, staring unblinkingly at the smothered logs. “Just like my father’s neck did. When he died for my sisters and I, still thinking that I hated him. Because I was so angry for so many years.” The words tumbled out of her. They crashed down the hill like a boulder released, unstoppable once it started rolling. “He was useless when we were rich and even worse than that when we were broke. Then he died for us.” She laughed bitterly, “He named the ships full of armada after the three of us and I just stood there while he was murdered. Did no—“

Her face crashed downwards into a firm chest. Tears she didn’t realise she had shed seeped into the white tunic. A large hand cupped the back of her neck while the other rubbed soothingly on her back. “I’m here for you, Nesta. Just let it out.”

And Nesta began to sob uncontrollably.

***

The bell chimed as the door opened, announcing its entrant. Nesta popped up from behind her counter, ready to welcome the customer, when she spotted Cassian.

She thought back to the night before where he held her for hours as she cried and rambled her confessions. The steadfast hold still lingering on her in a comforting warmth. She set out an apology but her eyes were faster than her mouth.

He was wearing his Illyrian leathers, weapons strapped, crimson siphons gleaming in perfect contrast to the Night Court black.

“You’re leaving,”

He nodded, the hand at his side closed on a missive, crumbling the paper with the familiar elegant scrawl of Rhysand.

“It’s Feyre,” the hand now balled into a fist, his forearm trembling. “She’s pregnant.”

Nesta’s brow furrowed. This was good news, joyous news. But why did the male in front of her look anything but happy? Suspicion boiled and sputtered at the back of her mind.

She asked sharply, “What are you not telling me?”

“The baby has wings, Illyrian wings.” He whispered, still trembling, “A High Fae’s body isn’t meant to birth Illyrians. The hard structure of the wings will…”

Her stomach dropped. No… it can’t be.

“Feyre can shapeshift.” She demanded, toes tapping, arms crossed. A fae with Feyre’s powers couldn’t be so vulnerable at something so mundane like giving birth — an action all females were capable of, let alone one as powerful as the High Lady.

He shook his head, “Not in her pregnant state. It’s too risky,” he faltered, conflicted, “I need to be there for Rhys.”

She dipped her chin. “Of course.”

“I’ll still be around,” he told her firmly, “I’ll just need to postpone the reparation services but Tarquin… Tarquin will understand.”

She should go back. Be there for her sister, because no matter how estranged they were. How furious they were. Feyre was Nesta’s baby sister and even if Velaris terrified her, representing everything she sought to escape from—

“You don’t have to come with me,” Cassian’s baritone voice interceded her thoughts. Stricken stormy blue eyes locked with hazel. He cupped her face, grasping it with both hands as if it was the most precious object. “This place has been good for you. You should stay, heal. We wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Feyre. There are other winged faes. Feyre can’t be the only one.”

He said it as reassuring as he could but Nesta could tell that it was something that not even Cassian himself believed. Nesta stood numbly as soft lips brushed her forehead and mumbled half-promises. Frozen to the spot even as she looked out of the window at the diminishing black spot in the sky.

It was only hours later when she turned the silver key of the door and locked it, closing the shop for the day.

She had to look for Cresseida.

There had to be something she could do in Summer.

***

Nesta waited alone after Cresseida winnowed away in a swirl of teal vapours, her hand clutching tightly onto a small book filled to the brim with handwritten notes. The product of weeks spent digging through tomes and tomes from the Summer Court temple, hunched over a table.

It was a longshot but no matter how faint, it was a chance Nesta was sure as hell going to take.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, shivering when a particular chilly breeze of spring brushed over her. Still clothed in her light summer dress, she was completely underdressed for the cooler weather that apparently still plagued Velaris. She contemplated through chattering teeth if she should bang on the doors when shadows swarmed before her and retreated to reveal the two familiar Illyrian forms of Azriel and Cassian.

Silver lined Cassian’s eyes and his lips quivered even as it curled upwards.

“Welcome back, Nesta.”

END

[honeybeefae]

In honor of me being at the beach I made these

[goddessofwisdom18]

In my dreams Nesta and Cresseida become besties and talk shit on everyone together <3

[acomaflove]

Summer + Night Court

Tarquin, finally visiting the Night Court: Huh.

Rhysand: What?

Tarquin: Oh, it’s just not what I had expected.

Rhysand: In what way?

Tarquin: Well… first off, where are all the skeletons?

Rhysand: *grins* You’re standing on them. We just bury them well.

[vulpes-fennec]

Why Did It Have To Be Me?

Summary:  19-year old Nesta is stuck working with 21-year old Cassian as camp counselors for Windhaven Wilderness Explorers, a summer program that immerses tweens into the Illyrian forests. Will she find a way to address the sizzling tension between them before summer ends?

My first contribution for ACOTAR Writing Circle! Stay tuned with @azrielshadowssing to see who writes part 2 and 3! Also, that is an ABBA song reference in the title :)

Read: AO3 | 2.7k words | Mature | Modern AU

Being a Windhaven Wilderness Explorer counselor for the summer had been a way to make money. Nesta didn’t mind working with tweens; they had a wicked sense of humor, were old enough to take care of themselves to some extent, and were generally excited to be away from home. She liked being outdoors, liked exhausting her body so that sleep came deeply in the hot summer night. 

What Nesta didn’t like was having to deal with her coworkers. Well, only one coworker in particular. Camp director Devlon had paired them up as counselor partners. The first week had just wrapped up, but Nesta didn’t know how she’d make it through the next three. 

21-year old Cassian grated on her nerves from the moment she laid eyes on him in ways Nesta could not quite describe. Maybe it was because he was mind-bogglingly good at everything.  

Foraging for wild herbs? Cassian knew the trails like the back of his hand. “You’re going the wrong way, Nes!” he had called out yesterday. Nes. That awfully grating nickname he’d given her the day they’d met. 

Catching fish? The stupid fish seemed to flock to Cassian’s fish hook, while Nesta was left standing knee deep in the stream for half an hour without a single tug on the line. “Come over here!” Cassian had beckoned her over. And when she still failed to snag anything, he teased her, saying, “maybe they’re scared of your feet.” 

“Says the one with hairy toes,” Nesta had bit back. 

Starting fires? Nesta was still trying to strike a flint by the time Cassian had a toasty blaze going, rubbing it in her face by toasting marshmallows on a stick. “Ladies first,” he had said with a grin, offering her the first s’more. 

Maybe it was because he was infuriatingly endearing with the kids. 

They clamored for his campfire stories, always sought him out for wilderness advice, and wanted to be his buddy for the day. It made sense, given the number of jokes Cassian cracked and the broad smile he wore on his face 24/7. 

Maybe it was because he was attractive, and Nesta knew she couldn’t have him.

With his roughly chiseled features, piercing hazel eyes, chestnut-browned skin, tall and muscled build, Cassian looked every bit the rugged wilderness ranger. Nesta preferred guys with shorter hair, but there was something about Cassian’s shoulder length black waves that had her imagining what it would feel like to run her hands through it. 

Of course Nesta couldn’t have him. First off, hooking up with a colleague would be a HR dumpster fire and drama waiting to happen. Second off, as the ambitious and career-driven first-born of the Archeron family, Nesta didn’t need the tattered remnants of a summer fling weighing her down during the school year. 

Whatever it was, being around Cassian put Nesta on edge, as if she was a vibrating violin string that had been stretched taut and plucked. His teasing eye contact often lingered a second too long, electrifying the air with newfound tension. Their scathing repartee had the kids giggling and whispering. And his winning smiles and smirks stripped her bare at every interaction, which was why Nesta preferred to keep her distance. 

Nature hikes were an easy way to avoid Cassian, since he took the lead while Nesta was positioned at the rear. Their troop had stopped for lunch in a small clearing. Dappled sunlight filtered past the tree canopy, and a small stream gurgled nearby. Nesta bit into her slightly squished sandwich and munched on a crisp apple.

Cassian sat across from her, smiling and chatting with the kids. She had to admit, the way he listened attentively to their stories and chatter softened her stubborn heart. 

After some time, a kid asked, “who’s your favorite person in this group, Cassian? Can I be your favorite?” 

“Aw, I don’t pick favorites,” Cassian said, but he gave Nesta a crooked grin that made her stomach flip-flop. 

“Do you go to school, Cassian?” one of the kids asked. 

“I do go to school,” he smiled, and it was begrudgingly endearing. “Just like you.”

“Where?” 

“Velaris University, with Nes.” Cassian jerked his chin in her direction. Nesta blinked. Cassian didn’t have social media (she’d checked the first day) so she didn’t know much about his personal life. But how could she have missed his swaggering persona on campus? 

“You do?” she asked, surprised. “What do you study?” 

“Environmental science,” Cassian replied, hazel eyes level with her blue-gray ones. As if he was conveying they’d met before. Environmental science, environmental science. Nesta wracked her brains for any possibility of class overlap with political science, but found none. 

She realized she was staring at him a tad too intensely when their group of kids began giggling. “What’s so funny?” Nesta asked. 

“Nessian,” a girl supplied. The kids’ eyes gleamed with mischief as they made little hearts with their hands. “It’s what we’ve been calling you two.” 

“Nessian, huh?” Cassian smirked at her. “It does have a nice ring to it.”

***

The next day, Nesta sought out Emerie for a post-lunch walk because she was feeling especially vexed. The mosquitos would be having a field day with her nylon shorts and t-shirt, but she was too hot to care. Nesta hurled an acorn as hard as she could against a tree. 

“Well, what did the tree ever do to you?” Emerie sighed audibly. “Or is it Cassian again?” 

“Did you hear how he annoyingly picked out which birds were singing during the dawn chorus this morning?” Nesta demanded, throwing another acorn. Bird watching was—yet another—one of Cassian’s specialties. The man could identify the species, whether it was male or female, adult or juvenile, with a simple glance. No binoculars needed.

“Um, Nesta…I think he was just being helpful and answering questions,” Emerie gently suggested. “The kids were asking him, after all.”

Nesta gritted her teeth, not wanting to admit that fine, maybe she was a bit biased. “I’m trying to listen to the birds, not his loud ass voice,” she ranted. “I swear, if Devlon pairs us together for the second camp session in July I’m going to pitch a fit.” 

Emerie was silent. 

“And have you heard what the kids are calling us? Nessian. Nessian?” 

“I mean…they do ship the two of you,” Emerie pointed out. “Let’s be honest, Nesta. You and Cassian would make a great pair.” 

“Insanity. Can you imagine me with someone who is so damn cheerful all the time?” Nesta protested. “Like what is there to smile about at five in the morning? If I have to see his stupidly perfect mouth again—”

Emerie grabbed Nesta’s arm, squeezing it forcefully. In the midst of her complaining, Nesta failed to hear Cassian come up behind them. 

She recognized him by his rounded muscles and toned abdomen, shown off by his blank tank top tucked into tan cargo pants. His standard backwards baseball hat, that kept his wild black hair in place. But the devastation in his expression—that was something new. Nesta’s stomach plummeted. Oh fuck, he definitely heard her shit-talking him. 

“You left this in the mess hall,” Cassian said, his words sounding far away, as if Nesta was underwater. He held up her crimson fanny pack. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but stare at how his trademark openness faded by the second.

“Oh, thank you Cassian!” Emerie chirped with forced levity. She quickly bounded over to take the pack from Cassian. 

Cassian’s hazel eyes were still fixed on Nesta, though his mouth even tightened with a forced, awkward smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you both later.” Nesta could only watch in silence as he turned and walked away, unable to stop him.

***

Out of all the social faux-pas…Nesta may have committed the worst one yet. Well, technically there were worse things out there. Like maybe talking smack about a manager in an email sent to everybody in the company. Or accidentally having a NSFW tab open on her phone browser. Still, Nesta felt like sinking into the ground and disappearing forever whenever she replayed Cassian’s hurt expression.

It was the weekend, so they didn’t have any scheduled activities with the kids. Still the camp was small enough that Cassian had to have been purposefully avoiding her for the rest of the day. She hadn’t seen him at all. Nesta tossed and turned in her bed, fretting. If he continued to avoid her, how would she find the dignity to face him on Monday? 

“Where are you going?” Emerie asked when Nesta got up. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I need to make things right with Cassian,” Nesta grumbled. “I can’t sleep. Where is his cabin?”

“Cabin 23,” Emerie replied, engrossed with the videos she was watching on her phone. “He shares it with Tarquin.” 

Fireflies drifted lazily along the edge of the forest, crickets chirped into the hot night air. The summer constellations glimmered up above, keeping watch over all the earth’s inhabitants. But Nesta barely noticed the beauty of the night as she stalked across camp, trying to think of what to say. 

She found Cassian’s cabin rather easily and regretted wearing a thin white tank top and sleep shorts. Not because she was self-conscious of her full curves. If any mischievous kids were sneaking out, they would assume she was there to hook up with Cassian. 

The prospect of hooking up with him still made Nesta zone out for a good five seconds. She did describe his mouth as “stupidly perfect” earlier. Hopefully Cassian was too caught up with her calling him annoying to remember her saying such things about his mouth.

She hesitated. What if Cassian was hooking up with someone else? The thought of him tangling with some amorphous other counselor added a shot of unreasonable jealousy to the mixture of nerves bubbling in her stomach. 

“Nes.”  

She jumped. “Fucking hell, Cassian, you scared me.” Cassian stepped out of the shadow, his arms crossed. 

“What are you doing here? Coming to sing praises about me, or see what my stupidly perfect mouth can do?” His voice was bland, almost cold. Ah, shit. So he did hear every single word she said. 

“Don’t be crude,” Nesta snapped, then softened her face. Not a good start to their conversation. “I came here to talk.” 

Cassian glanced at the door. “Tarquin’s asleep,” he replied. “If you want to talk, follow me.” 

Nesta jogged to catch up to him as he stalked towards the edge of the forest. “Emerie knows I went to find you, you know. So if you plan on murdering me, you won’t get away so easily,” she reminded him.

Cassian chuckled darkly. “Believe me, I wouldn’t try to mess with you, Nes. Those elbows of yours look pretty lethal to me.” He walked several yards into the woods and stopped. It was now or never, and Nesta could only pray to the Mother that she didn’t butcher her delivery. 

Nesta folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a tree, trying to decipher Cassian’s neutral expression. He stood roughly three feet away from her, holding himself with a tense stillness as moonlight shimmered on his dark, wavy hair. “About what happened this afternoon. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

Cassian tilted his head to the side. Assessing her in a closed off manner. “I’d rather you just tell me what you really think of me, than hearing you apologize and keep your feelings bottled up.” 

“I don’t need a therapist, thank you very much,” Nesta said dismissively. 

“Let’s see…you don’t like it when I ID the birds,” Cassian held up his hand, counting off on his fingers. “You think I smile too much. If you needed me to be grumpier in the morning, all you had to do was ask. What else?”

“Gods, why do you care so much about what I think?” Nesta sniped back. She took a step forward, close enough to touch his chiseled body if she wanted to. “You have enough swaggering confidence for the whole camp and then some.” 

“Because I like you,” Cassian replied with a simple shrug, not missing a beat. 

Nesta was taken aback. Impossible, she wanted to say. But looking back, Cassian had always gone out of his way to greet her, to be around her, to help her out. And she’d interpreted it as him being annoying and patronizing. Because she didn’t want to deal with a summer romance, and feared humiliation if Cassian didn’t like her back.

Cassian’s shoulders and arms were now relaxed, but Nesta noticed the still-guarded look in his eyes. And the faint glimmer of hope, as if her sharp words and baleful stares could not squash out that small spark. This was a man who wouldn’t be cowed by her prickly exterior, who held her in high regard for some unfathomable reason, she realized.

“Why?” Cassian leaned closer, his eyes distractedly focused on her lips. Nesta self-consciously licked them. 

“Why would I tell you that, when you don’t even like me?” He smirked, scanning her moon-washed face. 

Heat seemed to bloom on Nesta’s cheeks and in the space between their bodies. Seemingly realizing just how close he was to her, Cassian took a step back, the desire in his eyes cooling away. But Nesta wouldn’t have it. Not when he was so close, touching her already. 

She grasped his stubbled jaw in her hands and brought him down for a kiss. 

Why didn’t I do this earlier, was the first realization that came to mind. The second realization was of how warm and surprisingly gentle his mouth was as it pressed against hers. Fire stirred in Nesta’s heart, flooding her body with burning desire.

Cassian pulled away, his face dumbstruck, his chest heaving hard. Nesta felt like a ball had gotten stuck in her throat, for she was equally speechless, unsure of what to say and how to proceed. 

I kissed Cassian, she thought. Holy shit, I kissed Cassian. 

“Interpret that as you wish,” she forced out, lips still tingling with the phantom imprint of his full mouth. 

To Nesta’s surprise, Cassian placed a hand at the curve of her hip, pulling her closer. “I’ve never seen your hair down like this,” he murmured distractedly, tucking a strand of honey-brown hair behind her ear. His hazel eyes darkened as Nesta placed a hand on his chest, not to push him away, but to rove over his chiseled body. She raised her head in silent affirmation. 

Half a second later, Cassian had his mouth on hers again, pushing her up against the tree. His lips fit hers perfectly, and his breath tasted like minty toothpaste when her tongue ran along his teeth. Rough bark scraped along Nesta’s back, but she could hardly care about the risk of a splinter when Cassian’s entire body was slanted against hers.

“Nesta,” he groaned, and she relished the shape of her full name falling from his lips. “Nesta, you’re perfect.” 

His rough hands traced the hem of her tank top, sparking electricity under Nesta’s skin. She moaned in encouragement when his fingers slipped under the fabric, then higher, and higher. Nesta arched her back as they broke apart. Her hands fisted in his hair, and it was soft and silky like she’d imagined. Cassian dipped his head down, peppering kisses along her collarbone, his stubble sending the most delicious sensations down her spine. 

Gods, maybe she shouldn’t have worn a bra under her tank top. Not when she wanted Cassian to knead her full breasts, assuaging the sensitive ache that grew with each kiss he pressed against her neck. 

Nesta needed more. The fire within her didn’t have to be quelled, as she had been trying to do for the past two weeks, it needed to be embraced. And Cassian’s attention was kindling. She was incandescent. She was weightless. She was—

“Shit,” Nesta gasped, pulling away. What the hell was she doing? “We can’t be doing this.”

Cassian loosened his grip on her, but his eyes still simmered with desire. “Why?” he rasped. 

“Because! We’re coworkers. And someone could see us.”

[itsswritten]

finally.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, Nessian (platonic) x reader, fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, mentions of infertility/struggles falling pregnant, symptoms of pregnancy.

Summary: After years of trying and learning to let go, you are finally gifted your beautiful baby miracle miracles.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

“Gods you really are looking radiant today, Flower!” Elodie beamed, nudging you gently with her shoulder. 

The sun was bright among the wild blossoms, sunlight filtering down to touch your skin with a feverish kiss. The season was slowly shifting from Spring to Summer. Plants were growing larger, petals spreading wider, the pollen in the air stronger. There was a buzz among the land of the Night Court, as nature geared itself for this transformation. You had felt the change in temperature, noticed how the rays licked your skin. Leaving yourself and your friends glowing, sunkissed, glimmering from working in the meadows all day. 

But radiant? That was not the word you would use.

Elodie’s compliment had your brows furrowing gently, bringing your dirt covered hand to wipe the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down your cheek. You weren’t sure how to take the compliment. It described the opposite of everything you were feeling.

Perhaps bloated, and sluggish was more accurate. Out of sorts? You couldn’t quite figure out why, there had been no changes to your routine. Yet everything about you felt, well, just different.

Even Azriel had noticed some subtle changes. Ever the Spymaster noticed everything, especially about his precious mate. Or so he thought. He had mentioned the other day that your scent was sweeter than usual. The typical tones of vanilla and honey were weaved in with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite decipher. Azriel had taken it upon himself to touch every inch of your skin to uncover what, only to come to no answer. 

That had been a long night. A night of caresses and grazes. Not that you were complaining.

Glancing down at your fingers spread within the cool damp soil of the meadows, they flexed under the sponginess of the dirt. You could feel the vitality pulse beneath your fingertips before pulling them out. Glancing upon the skin that hadn’t been touched by dirt yet. Radiant? Perhaps. You always had a glow to you, all fairies did. That unexplainable aura that lit up any room. But maybe just maybe, you had been shining a little brighter. 

Maybe.

Casting a fertilising charm within the ground had been today’s task. Along with your usual working group you had headed to the meadows and woodlands on the outskirts of the Night Court. This particular part of your job, the more physical aspect, was one you usually relished in. The ache of your muscles and bones at the end of a hard day of graft, usually, gave you some kind of instant gratification. But fatigue was plaguing you.

You had been sleeping more than usual. Being a Fairy meant you were always rose with that hot shining beacon in the sky, but there had been numerous mornings recently where Azriel had to coax you from your slumber. The sunshine no longer acting as your alarm. Azriel would rouse you with whispered compliments and gentle kisses. Sometimes, his shadows would stir you too, brushing your skin with their cooling touch.

There had even been times when Azriel had let you sleep in. Never a working day of course. Gods be damned, Azriel knew better than that. A day missed at the meadow was the end of the world. Or at least your world. Azriel learnt in the early years of friendship that you took your duty very seriously. So on the days where he knew you had nowhere to be– nowhere other than his arms. He let you sleep.

“Honestly y/n you have this glow about you…” Elodie continued, turning fully to you now her own hands pulling out of the soil. She gently brushed them down her honey coloured dress, her apron picking up the soil as she wiped them. The sun cast a gentle glow across her deep skin, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. A curiosity you wanted to question but before you could, the call for lunch was bellowed across the meadow. 

Food wrapped in little gingham cloths were passed round, a parcel finding its way to your lap. You were starving you realised, as your tummy made a small groaning noise. Hastily you unravelled the packed lunch, the sweet recognisable scent filling the air around you, a smile spreading on your plump lips at today’s choice.

Cake and jam. Your favourite.

The little parcel was packed with nuts, berries, and veggies. But your sweet tooth had your fingers itching to pick up the sponge cake. Licking your lips gently, you brought the sweet slice, covered in a slab of strawberry jam to your lips. Taking a bite of your favourite sweet treat. 

Only it wasn’t sweet.

Instantly you gagged.

The chewed up cake quickly came rolling out of your mouth as you discreetly caught it in your hand.

“Is the food off?” Elodie hushed quietly, turning to you as she inspected your lunch. 

Your group always took turns bringing in food for the day. And you truly couldn’t knock your friends baking. Perhaps a little stereotypical, but fairies were very domestic. Not only great with plants and gardening, but also sewing, crafting, and of course baking. Gus in particular, whose cake you had just spat out was probably the best baker of all the Hollow. 

Shaking your head quickly, you secretly hid the chewed up cake underneath your berries. Your tongue swilling the metallic taste the cake had filled your mouth with. You couldn’t bear Gus finding out you’d spat out his food. The poor male would be heartbroken. 

“No, no it isn’t. It’s fine I promise. I don’t know what came over me,” you hurried out a whisper. “I’ve been feeling a little off recently. Maybe I’m under the weather.”

Placing her lunch to the side, your friend looked at you with her deep warm eyes, concerned etched into her brows as she gently pressed the back of her hand on your forehead.

Chewing your lip you let your friend examine you. “You don’t have a temperature…” she muttered, more to herself than to you as she began to fuss.

Leaning closer then, her hands clasped around your cheeks. Her grip was slightly firm as your lips were squished into a pout. She didn’t notice though, not as her eyes began to quickly flicker over every line and curve of your face. Her meticulous scrutiny not letting up. A glimmer of something winked across her face, catching her off guard if only for a second before her brows furrowed.

Then she began to sniff you.

“El, what are you doing?” You asked, tone annoyed and bashful, as you swatted her looming face away lightly. She was naturally quite a tactile fairy, but even this was a bit much for her. 

Elodie had sat back now, her eyes widening. It was as though you could see in her eyes the pieces falling into place, but for a puzzle you weren't aware of.

“Thank the Mother,” she whispered, her lips stretching to a smile, before she clasped your hand pulling you away from the group.

“El?” You were annoyed now. Your fingers were flexing at your sides, as she had pulled you into a field filled with tulips. The pink and orange hues swayed gently in the breeze, as an uneasiness began to roll over you. 

“It all makes sense now. How you were so emotional when you saw those baby hedgehogs the other day–”

Shaking your head, you lifted your hands in confusion. You didn’t understand.

“Your scent, your glow…your wings!”

There was an uncomfortable rising feeling under your skin at the signs your friend began to mention, the symptoms you knew all too well that were rolling off her tongue. You knew them so well because for a period of time you had analysed every part of yourself hoping to see these aspects, only to not ever see a glimmer.

It couldn’t be?

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you squinted to take a hard look at your wings. Furling the iridescent membranes closer to you, as you examined the very appendages your friend was peering so intently at.

There was nothing really different…except maybe there was. You squinted harder.

The tips. 

They’d turned a darker pink.

Your heart was in your throat, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you turned to get a closer look. Spinning in a circle, round and round. Only to find the exact thing Elodie had noticed.

“Wait, Elodie. No, it can’t be?” your lip quivered as realisation began to sink in.

You and Azriel had decided two years ago that you wanted to expand your family. Especially seeing your loved ones with their own growing families. Feyre and Rhys had Nyx and Selene. And of course, Nesta and Cassian recently had their little Athena.

Over the years you had tried everything, taking tonics, eating certain foods, you had even scheduled a very meticulous conceiving plan. But nothing worked. There had been numerous appointments with Madja, and even the healers and midwives of the Hollow. But everything you did was futile. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall pregnant.

There was a period of time your mind tore you apart. Speculating and obsessively analysing the possibilities of why you couldn’t conceive. That perhaps it was you and Azriel that weren’t compatible. Biologically. That the Mother had made a mistake with you. That maybe things would have been different if you were Illyrian, not ‘lesser’ fae. That your own body was not strong enough to nurture his offspring. Defective somehow.

That duration of your life had been hard, and even harder to move on from. But with time, and endless love and support from your mate you eventually let go of that dream.

But now, that slither of hope was growing brighter than the summer sun beaming down on you.

Eloide, your longest friend. Had her hands clasped around yours. Her own eyes filled with a watery brim, mirroring your own.

She nodded with a smile.

You were pregnant.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel stood darkly behind his High Lord who was seated casually at the head of the meeting. Azriel was positioned on the left, Cassian on the right. The perfect guards to the Night Court. The large obsidian table stretched across the room. High Lords littered down the long ornate slab, all wearing the colours of their respective court. A few of Rhys’ closest alliances had joined for this gathering, discussing borders and peace treaties.

The meeting had begun in the morning, and by the stacks of documents officials were passing round it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Azriel was focused, stood clad in his Illyrian leathers, blue syphons gleaming as the muscles in his jaw flexed. Despite this being an era of peace, with so many High Lord’s and emissaires in the room he was on high alert. His shadows gently grazed along the floor of the room as Azriel stayed attuned to the room's conversation.

One of his shadows seemed restless though, vibrating slightly behind his wing before curling up to his ear. Revealing nothing but nervous energy. 

With a subtle jolt, Azriels wings unfurled slightly as he felt a small ripple down the bond. It was skittish and nervous, unease seeping from you down the thread.

Cassian gave Azriel a sideways glance, an unspoken question if everything was okay. But Azriel only stood straighter for his answer, reclaiming his composure as he sent a gentle vibration down the warm glowing bond.

Is everything okay, my love?

You were quite a passionate soul, an empath. Oftentimes, involuntarily, Azriel would feel all types of emotion spill down the bond. It was one of the reasons he loved you, a quality he found endearing. How open to love you were, how you felt the sorrow and joy of others wholeheartedly. But this uneasiness left him unsettled.

Azriel was only met with silence on your end. Spurring him to send another ripple. His shadows started to become more restless, spreading and striking behind his wings subtly, as if displaying the uneasiness of their master or perhaps they were twitching out of eagerness for something else– for someone else.

Azriel was usually quite a composed male, cool and collected was the blueprint of his facade. Yet, when it came to you and your welfare, any patience went quickly out the window.

He was about to send one of his shadowy tendrils to look for you, to check you were okay in the meadows. Also on the verge of sending another question down the bond. Only for the large oak doors to swing open with a force that flushed the room with a gust of wind.

You.

It was you, his beautiful shining mate. 

A very beautiful dishevelled mate, however.

You were flushed, cheeks hot and rosy as you stumbled into the large meeting room. Your lovely pink dress was covered in soil, the lacy strap hanging off your shoulder. The flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning were hanging limp only by a few strands. Pink hues of light flickered across the room, as it became obvious to everyone your beautiful wings were unfurled behind you.

There had been no stopping you once you’d got your confirmation, you had flown urgently to River House. Storming through the hallways with a haste one wouldn’t usually associated with such a delicate fairy.

But you needed him. You needed your mate.

You needed Azriel, and no meeting, no court officials or High Lords were going to stop you.

Your eyes instantly found those hazel beacons, eyes locked in on your handsome shadow of a lover. If you weren’t so encaptured by him, you may have noticed the panicked scrape of Rhys’ chair as he stood in concern, or how Cassian left his post towards you. Hand twitching by his sword, ready to strike at any recognition of the danger that must have caused this display by you.

If you’d been listening you might have noticed how the room had fallen quickly into a silence, all heads snapping to you. Momentarily, eyes glazing over the iridescent lights that were now reflecting off your wings.

A very rare sight.

“What a beauty…” someone purred, although you didn’t hear them.

Azriel was beside you in mere seconds, his shadows consuming you protectively moving you slightly into the pocket realm. The tendrils coiled on the corners of your vision so you could only see Azriel, who tenderly had a hand pressed against your jaw, thumb gently grazing the dirt spread on your face. His other arm protectively wrapped around you pulling you close.

Something must have happened Azriel concluded. Fear seeped into his mind as he began to imagine the worst.

Your energy, the vulnerable look in your eyes and tousled appearance had Azriel reeling. Itching to figure out what had caused this. Had a danger broken into the court? Had his shadows missed something? Were you hurt?

“My love, what is it? What’s wrong?” there was an urgency in his tone.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. Azriel was confused. You were in a state of disarray, but he could feel nothing of the sort through the bond. Instead there was an overwhelming feeling of joy and love rippling through.

“There is nothing wrong, love…finally everything is right,” you cried through your smile.

These were not Azriel’s choice of words, but later on when Cassian and Rhys relayed the scenario to the rest of the family they said you looked a little mad. Deranged even. Your tangled appearance and abrupt entrance was unlike anything they’d seen from you.

Azriel was quick to move you from here, his shadows engulfing you both as they transported you to a small lounge in the house. He wanted you away from prying eyes, and needed to check you were safe. That you weren’t hurt. His hands were still cupped around your face as he began to inspect you carefully. His eyes analysing your expression, shadows circling around your ankles to check for anything that might explain your distress– no it wasn’t distress, it wasn’t madness, it was joy.

“Breathe my little butterfly, what’s got you so worked up that you barged into a High Lord’s meeting?” Azriel cooed, his expression softening as he recognised the vulnerability in your eyes. Large scarred hands lightly brushed your unrurly hair, his fingers delicately bringing the dress strap back over your shoulder as he tried to soothe you with his touch.

“Everything is finally right Azriel,'' you whispered, repeating the words from earlier. For a moment Azriel couldn’t understand. The disarray, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. How could everything finally be right?

But then he felt it, the rippling down the bond. That unconditional love again, joy, delight…but also relief. Relief that something had finally happened. Something you had both been waiting, praying and dreaming of.

The Shadowsinger tilted his head, his hands dropping from your face, not daring to breathe the words himself as the emotions he felt began to paint a vivid picture.

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment Azriel crashed down onto his knees, an overwhelming sensation consuming him as he digested the truth you spoke. It was as if at that moment, everything slowly slotted into place. The clues he hadn’t even known were clues sung to him. Your scent, your temperament and emotions, your wings. Everything he had acknowledged subconsciously, had been tucked away in his mind because he couldn’t phantom the possibility– the possibility of being wrong. Getting your hopes up.

His hands softly came to your hips, drawing you closer as he rested his forehead against your stomach.

“We’re having a baby?” Azriel’s voice broke, the words barely audible.

“Babies.” You whispered back.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian had been pacing back and forth outside the lounge for well over an hour now. He’d desperately called down the bond to Nesta, who had arrived in a hurry with their little Athena in her arms. His reaction may have been slightly over dramatic. But Cassian assured her that if Nesta had seen the state you’d run into the meeting room earlier, she would be behaving the same way.

Nesta didn’t really believe him, her mate had a way of being quite theatrical in situations.

There had been no danger, Azriel had spoken into Rhys mind and it had been passed onto Cassian. So Cassian spent the time speculating on what could have brought such an uncharacteristically reaction from you. He’d seen you when things didn’t go the plan in the meadows and assumed something at work must have gone array.

Nesta sat lazily in a chair outside the lounge, book in hand. Every now and then, glancing up at her mate who was wearing a mark in the stone floor from his pacing. Cassian held his little baby while he patrolled outside the room, whispering theories on what possibly could have happened to Auntie y/n.

“I don’t know Thena…maybe the ladybirds lost their spots again?” He mused, recalling a previous drama you had shared with him once, that had sent you a little haywire last year.

“All spots are accounted for,” your voice sang. Cassian hadn’t even noticed you and Azriel had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry brother I didn’t know you were waiting for us” Azriel smiled softly, giving his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cassian’s expression softened, as Nesta came to his side. Her arm looping around his free side while she kissed her little babe on the head. “Is everything okay though?” Cassian asked, concern still lingering.

“More than okay,” you beamed, tears quickly filling your eyes again.

Cassian and Nesta glanced between you both. Their expressions desperately trying to figure out what was happening. The penny dropped for Nesta first. Her own lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Thank the Mother” she grinned, stepping forward to embrace you tightly.

The tears were spilling then, as you hugged your friend back. Little sobs racking through your body. You thought you’d cried it all out in Azriel’s arms, that there were no more tears left to give. But now, in the embrace of your friends– your family. Reality sunk in much deeper.

It only took Cassian a few moments and a glance at Azriel’s overjoyed but emotional expression to understand what was happening.

“Truly brother?” He beamed. Azriel nodded, a small tear running down his face as Cassian bear-hugged his friend, making sure Athena wasn’t squished between the giant Illyrians. 

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start shouting it from the rooftops, bellowing down the halls of River house that two baby Shadowsingers were on their way. And of course, naturally, the day turned into a celebration, a gathering with your loved ones to toast your beautiful miracle babies. 

Later that night, after Rhys and Cassian had drowned themselves in whiskey with a competition of who would be the favourite uncle.

Azriel joined you in bed, you were propped up by plush pillows against the large headboard, night dress adorned as you gazed down at your tummy. Your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“Finally” you whispered, as Azriel laid beside you, his own hand covering both of yours as he nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

He breathed deeply against your throat, relief and joy rippling through every inch of his skin, “Finally.”

a/n: Here is is!!! So sorry this took so long, I've been so busy with lots of interviews and prepping, which has eaten into a lot of my energy recently. But I hope this was worth the wait! I think the next scene that was voted for was the truth or dare/drinking games which would be set pre bond snapping/in the friendship era! So I'll try write that next unless there's something else first you'd like? Anyway I love writing about these two, their my little fluff couple <3 - Lottie x

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[throneofsapphics]

taking a vacation with feysand and/or nessian

poly!feysand x reader & poly!nessian x reader

summary: for poly!acotar week day 4, adventure

warnings: none, very brief suggestiveness

a/n: look ... I messed up the dates and it might be barely but I still made it. here's some drabbles/ headcannons!

poly!Nessian x Reader

Perhaps surprisingly, Cassian insisted on planning it all as well as keeping it a surprise. Normally, he’d give in to either of you with enough pestering, but this time he was an iron wall, not a single clue or hint given to either of you. 

He pinched his thumb and forefinger together before drawing them across his lips, even miming tossing a key over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes, but a fond smile crept on to your lips.  “What if I promise not to tell Nes?” He snorted, and you lifted and dropped your shoulders. It was worth a try - but they both knew you were terrible at keeping secrets from either of them.  "It was worth a shot," you mumbled, redirecting your attention to the book on your lap. A shadow covered you, two fingers tilting your chin up. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, chapped lips lingering for a few seconds. "It'll be worth the wait," he reassured, confidence flowing through every word, not a hint of bullshit. Your eyes narrowed, but you gave a nod. Seemingly content, Cassian placed a too-brief kiss to your lips before making his way out of the room.

Nesta was a tad anxious over how his planning would turn out 

“It’s not if it’ll be a disaster, it’s how much of a disaster.”  “Have a little more faith in him,” you chastised, quickly looking away as she turned her glare on you.  “We don’t get much … time free together,” Nesta sighed, and you carefully covered her hand with your own. “I want everything to go well.”  “We’ll be together,” you insisted. “That’s good enough for me.”  Her mouth curved at one corner, a grateful look shot your way, her hand turning up so your palms met, her fingers wrapping around yours and squeezing. 

Cassian was impressed with himself, and firmly believed he had every right to be. He hoped both of you would as well. Mother above, he’d sworn an oath to Tarquin for this. 

“The blindfold is a little extreme,” you grumbled, fidgeting with the cloth knot at the back of your head. Cassian gently swatted your hand down.  “We’re almost there.”  Nesta was quiet next to you, her hand steady in yours, but you could nearly taste the anxious energy rolling from her. You gave her what you hoped was a comforting squeeze.  Salt, and sea, and sand hit you at once, along with a scent distinct to one place …  The knot loosened at the back of your head and you tore the cloth off, rapidly taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in Adriata, but it was unmistakably the summer court.  “Cassian,” you hissed, “you’re banned, for life.”  “I promise we’re fine,” he grinned, and produced a paper from his pocket, holding it out to you with a flourish. Nesta peered over your shoulder as you carefully unraveled it. A letter - attesting Cassian and company were allowed to access this beach and a rental vacation home for the next seven days, signed by Tarquin himself. 

poly!Feysand x Reader

Feyre and Rhys argued over where to take you - in their minds, of course. It seemed the only thing they could agree on was to keep it a surprise. You watched them, eyes glazed, but lips pursed - obviously in some kind of mental argument with each other. A crease formed between Feyre's brow, Rhys's lips pressing into a tight line. You didn't like that. Especially considering you were nearly certain it was related to you somehow, otherwise they would've spoken aloud. Clearing your throat, you tried your best to get their attention. Nothing. "Right, I'm heading out," you finally called. Still no response. The sting and small sense of hurt came naturally, and you let the door slam behind you a little louder than you usually would. Rhys's muffled voice came after the slam but you were already out the door. "I'll make it up to you later, darling," Rhys's voice slid into your mind, smooth and full of promise. "I'll look forward to it," you didn't know if it was possible for your voice to be breathy in your own head, but you certainly gave your best impression of it.

Feyre packed for you, of course.

You perched on the edge of the bed as Feyre started rummaging through the drawers. First, she picked up a sundress with thin straps and flowing fabric that would just brush the middle of your thighs - ideal for hot weather. Next came a thick woolen cloak. You tilted your head, catching her eye in the mirror. "How many places are we going?" "Oh," she carefully folded a long sleeved shirt, "just one." Your mouth parted, but she answered the next question for you. "We can't have you spoiling the surprise." A laugh bubbled from your chest. Their secrecy had only made you more determined in turn, and it turned into something of a game for you over the last week.

Rhys had scouted the location no less than six times in the week before, Feyre accompanying him for a few of the trips. He knew it was safe, but with you he had to be certain.

Your back pressed against his chest, his hand covering your eyes, you winnowed - holding your breath at the sensation that never quite felt comfortable. As soon as you hit solid ground, you attempted to peel his fingers away from your eyes, but his grip was firm. "Rhys," you hissed, and he laughed but released you. Jaw dropping, you spun in a circle. Feyre stood with her hands clasped in front of her, shifting back and forth. An island. "Where," you cleared your throat, "where are we?" "An island not far off the coast," Rhys wrapped an arm around your waist, slowly turning you. You felt Feyre smooth fingers grasp your other hand, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. Rhys was still speaking, you realized and focused back in. "You can see Velaris," his voice was laced with a touch of amusement that told you he was well aware your attention wandered. Sure enough, there was a cluster of lights, but appearing barely larger than your fingertip. Twisting your head over a shoulder, you spotted the ... cabin was an understatement. Mini-palace waiting for you. Shrugging away from Rhys's grip, switching to grasp his hand instead, you tugged them both forward, their laughter trailing behind you.

[danikamariewrites]

Relax and Unwind

Nessian x reader

A/n: @polyacotarweek day 4! We’re halfway through besties. Enjoy reader and Nessian off on their first vacation together.

Warnings: slight angst and comfort

You have checked all the bags four times now along with the beach bag and the very detailed itinerary you wrote out. Going away always makes you nervous. You just want to make sure everyone has a good time. Especially since this is Cassian’s first time back in Summer after the…incident.

He and Nesta didn’t seem too worried about it. Then again, Cassian never seemed worried about these things. You were the only one on edge.

Everything just had to be perfect. Dumping out the contents of the beach bag on the bed you start to sort through everything for the hundredth time. “Sun cream, hats, glasses,” you murmur to yourself as you gently place the items back in the bag. “Wait,” you pause looking around wildly. Your and Nesta’s matching cover-ups were missing. They weren’t in your personal bags. You’d know, you checked.

You began to panic as you searched the bed and bag once more. Where were the damn cover-ups? Consumed with your search you didn’t hear Nesta come into the bedroom. She gently grasps your shoulders, turning you to face her. Nesta gave you a soft, concerned look.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths you say, “I was going through the bags again and I couldn’t find our cover-ups. They were in the beach bag and I swear I didn’t move them.” Nesta shushed you softly as she rubbed up and down your arms. “I moved them. I’m sorry I thought you wouldn’t mind, I put them in the smaller duffle.” You breathed out a small oh and relaxed in her touch.

After giving her a half hug you went back to repacking the beach bag. Nesta gave you a sad look, projecting her worry and sadness about you to Cassian. He reached back through the bond urging Nes to talk to you until he got home. She sits on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in both of her slender ones, lightly squeezing. “We’ve noticed you’ve been a little on edge, lovely. Talk to me,” Nesta softly pleads.

Still holding her hands in yours you flop on to the bed. Letting out a deep sigh you let all your pent up thoughts and feelings out. “I’m just nervous about vacation. I just want everyone to have a good time and I want everything to go well. It’s our first time going away together romantically and I know the whole thing with Cass,” Nesta laid down facing you, resting a finger to your lips. “Y/n, everything is going to be fine. Cassian is fine. We are going to have a great time.” You smile at her, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Cassian’s voice has you and Nesta sitting up in time to avoid his large body landing on the bed. He settles against the pillows, pulling you and Nesta to his chest placing a kiss on each of your heads. “We are going to have the best time. Relaxing in the sand, soaking up the sun and playing in the waves.” Cassian made the sound of crashing waves earning a giggle from you two. Maybe Cassian’s go with the flow attitude will rub off on you.

[sadiegirl2021]

Hot Girl Summer has gone back to its roots - being horny!

Another NSFW chapter is up on Ao3 😆

And there are a lot of sweet moments too! I have some control...

[acotar-taylorsversion]

Thoughts and Takes As I Re-Read the ACOTAR Series

This is extremely long and I have been typing it for weeks now. These are just my thoughts and I am typing them as I go. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it and maybe we can agree on most things. I would really love to hear everyone else's thoughts, too! 🙂

I don't feel like people blame papa archeron nearly as much as they should. It should not have been any of the sisters' responsibility to do what Feyre did. And after reading Nesta's POV, I don't blame Nesta for being so cold and hateful towards her father.

Lucien annoyed me so much in ACOTAR so much so that it was hard to like him in ACOMAF but I really tried to like him and give him a chance when Sarah made him Elain's mate and I realized that he could have a big role in ACOWAR.

I believe Tamlin had his redemption arc in ACOWAR when he saved Feyre and Az when they were rescuing Elain and then again when he saved Rhys. But I don't think Sarah will explore his story and she might be keeping him alive right now so that he can die at the right time.

After what Tamlin did to her and then allying with Hybern, I don't blame Feyre for ruining his court. He deserved it.

I don't think Ianthe suffered enough and I think that Nesta or Elain should have been the ones to have killed her.

Elain and Az were obvious to me in ACOMAF, just like Nesta and Cassian were and I was truly truly shocked when sarah made Lucien Elain's mate. I believe that there is so much more to that night than we know about and we'll learn about it when we get to Elain & Az's POVs. I believe that the bloodbane in Az's blood was killing him and nullified any bond that could have been there even before Elain was turned. Az was shot with the arrow before they went up to the throne room and that is why Lucien showed signs of mate behavior once Elain showed up. I believe the cauldron was wrong.

That being said, I tried to give Lucien a chance in ACOWAR and he just gave me the ick when talking about Elain. It didn't feel right to hear him say that he wanted to "see if she was worth it." Like she should already be worth it. Don't hesitate. I just did not see it at all.

I think that LoA will be the one to kill Beron. Don't know why, but I just feel that she will lose it and run to Helion.

Sarah had every opportunity to set Elucien up and she didn't. I believe she set them up for failure from the get-go. She instead focused on Elain and Az. I could do an entirely separate post about Elain, Lucien, and Az.

I believe Mor and Eris are mates, especially after what was said in ACOSF. I believe that he knows that she prefers females and wanted to save her from a loveless, unsatisfying marriage. I do think that he handled it wrong. Like that whole situation could have been handled so much better.

I think the whole Mor, Az, and Cassian situation was extremely weird. And now that Cassian is with Nesta and Az could possibly be with Elain, maybe Mor can finally move on and be free and not hide anything anymore. I wish that Mor would have talked to Nesta in ACOSF and explained and apologized for everything. Maybe she'll sit both the sisters down and talk about it one day.

I think Amren and Varian are cute together, but I think Amren should have stayed dead. Sarah is notorious for killing and then unkilling her characters and I think that gets old. I believe that sarah brought her back as a way to keep the summer court involved with the night court and to have a "know it all" character.

I think that Feyre and Rhys have a true, soul mate, true love, fairytale mating bond and I think Nesta and Cassian have a more realistic one. Feyre and Rhys fell in love before the bond was accepted and Nesta and Cassian were just beginning to fall in love before the bond was accepted. Lust and attraction and the pull of the bond is what truly brought them together but they quickly fell in love with each other.

I hate all the hate that Nessian is getting. People who say that Nesta should get with Eris literally make me sick and I want to throw ACOSF at them. They obviously need a to read it again. People need to realize that Nesta was in the wrong in HOFAS and Rhys had every right to freak out like he did and Nesta needed to be yelled at for that. I don't blame Cassian for not stepping in. And people forget how sarcastic Nesta is and they actually take her seriously when she said that Rhys debated executing her. Like do yall really think Cassian and Feyre would allow that or that Rhys would do that to his brother and his mate?? Like come on now.

Speaking of Rhys, I don't think he was wrong for keeping the danger of feyre's pregnancy from her. As a mother of 3 myself, I would be terrified every single day if I knew that my pregnancy could end with the death of myself and/or my baby. Like I would not want to know. Pregnancy is stressful enough as it is, even with healthy ones. And this is why I don't think he was wrong for freaking out on Nesta. I mean, he almost lost his mate, his son, and his life like what, 6 months before that? Like I can't imagine how scared Rhys is every day knowing that he almost lost everything and then Nesta gave a STRANGER a MADE OBJECT from the trove and could have LOST IT to the ASTERI who could have come to their world and DESTROYED them all. GIVE RHYS A BREAK YOU GUYS!!!!! I love Nesta, love her to death, but she was wrong for that.

I have my thoughts on Gwyn. I think she's a lightsinger. I think that is what Az's shadows react to, just like Nesta reacts to her. I don't think her and Az are mates. I don't think she's attracted to Az at all. I think she wants to prove herself to him because he did see her on the most traumatic night of her life. I think she wants to prove to him and everyone around her that she is and can be strong. That's it. There is nothing more to her and Az other than trainer and trainee. I also think that Merrill is the one manipulating everything and everyone, including Gwyn who might not know that she's a lightsinger. I think Merrill is working with Koschei.

Even after all the books, I still believe that Elriel will happen. There's just too many canon moments for me to ignore to see the possibility of Elucien. I only say elucien because gwynriel isn't a canon couple. They are not canon at all. The only thing that elucien has going for them is their bond.

I think Lucien will reject the bond for Elain. Lucien isn't a bad guy. I don't think he'll fight for Elain when he knows that she does not want him or their bond. He won't let Elain become his mother. I think he will find happiness with Vassa and they will be like Elide and Lorcan.

I believe people who support elucien only care about Lucien. I mean, how could you think that Elain wants to be with him after reading the books?

Based on the story of Koschei, it's not crazy to assume it will be 3 sisters and 3 brothers. Sarah is a very predictable writer and this is what most of the fandom has expected since ACOMAF and Koschei being the last big bad confirms that. Especially when you add in Vassa and Lucien into the mix. Just read the story of Koschei and tell me I'm wrong.

I believe that Az is experiencing the effects of a mating bond with Elain. He acts more like her mate than Lucien does and there's canon proof of this.

I believe the only reason Rhys stopped Az and Elain that night was because 1. he was convinced he would die with Feyre when she gave birth and didn't want his court to be in this war with the autumn court and 2. he is a political figure and he is using elain's bond as leverage with lucien. I believe that if Elain expresses to him how she wants to reject the bond, he would support it and accept Elain and Az.

I hate how everyone focuses on Gwyn and forgets about Emerie. I don't understand why people think Gwyn would be involved with the Illyrians. She is not Ilyrian and even though she finished the blood rite, she has said she does not want that illyrian warrior title. After what she went through during the rite, I don't see her being involved with them in any way. I do believe we will hear about Emerie doing something more like that. She could be an inspiration to Ilyrian females. Speaking of the Valkyries, I don't think they should have won the blood rite. It was very unbelievable. It would have been more believable if they had hid the entire time and waited for Cassian to come find them when the week was over.

Speaking Gwyn again, I think most of her fans overhype her too much. I like Gwyn and I'm glad that Nesta has her as a friend because she needed that. But I don't think we'll ever get her POV. I mean, we heard her story. We know what happened to her and we know pretty much everything about her. We know that she doesn't want that warrior title and she went back to the library not even sure about going to Nesta's mating ceremony. I think her fans forget this. I think they see her as a self insert character. I think they over sexualize her way too much. I'm not saying that SA survivors can't have a sex life so don't come at me. I just don't think she's going to want to be tied up with ribbons while Az holds her down and "ravages" her. The same male who seen what she went through that night. That just makes me uncomfortable. I think Gwyn would be embarrassed by the majority of her fans.

I will another post about that bonus chapter because there is so much to discuss.

I hate the amount of hate Elain gets and the side of the fandom that hates her does not deserve her. There is so much to learn about her and her powers and what goes on in her mind and I can't wait for her book.

I also think that papa archeron unknowingly traded Elain and/or Feyre and Nesta in his deal with Koschei for Vassa's temporary release.

I don't understand how people could hate feysand or any other members of the inner circle. In my opinion, if you hate them then why are you reading the series?? Why are you still here?

I don't think that sarah will make Nesta or Elain an actual queen or high lady. I think that Rhys and Feyre will always be more powerful than them and I think they will be High King and High Queen when the series is over. I can't see sarah making the sisters having the same amount of power or say as much as Feyre. She has always been above them. That has been obvious since the beginning because she's always protected them and taken care of them.

If you guys remember my other posts, then you will know my thoughts on how I think the rest of the series will go. Like elriel, vassien, koschei, the queens, the prison, the dusk court, the trove, all that. Elain and Nesta are the keys and Vassa should be the one to destroy Koschei. Rhys and Feyre will be High King and High Queen with nessian and elriel at their sides and everyone lives happily ever after.

What do you guys think?

[wishcamper]

Cassian Appreciation Week Day Two: Hair

Happy @cassianappreciationweek! Here is my first offering for Day Two: Hair. You can read it here or on ao3.

Enjoy!

My Sweetest Downfall

A Nessian re-telling of the biblical story of Samson and Delilah, set during the first war for human liberation.

CW: consensual sexual content, reference to sex trafficking

Art by Terry Strickland

Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down Yeah, we couldn't destroy a single one And the history books forgot about us And the Bible didn't mention us, not even once "Samson”, Regina Spektor

She was the most beautiful female Cassian had ever seen.

Woman, rather - the rounded edge of her ear had been what caught his eye, entranced by the freshness of her face, the self-possession of this human woman weaving through the sea of fae in the lower markets of Adriata. All visions of using his shore leave to drown himself in wine, blow all his wages at the tables, and bed as many females as possible vacated his mind the moment her blue-gray eyes met his over the heads of the crowd, the exact color of an Illyrian sunrise.

She belonged to one of the pleasure houses, as evidenced by the copper bands at her wrists and throat, likely one of the more expensive ones gives the fine silk of her gown, the glint of her golden brown hair braided about her head like a crown. He searched for days until he found the right one, coming across her at last at the Golden Thread. He wasn’t even really sure what he wanted, just to be near her, to feel the heat of her body, the thrum of mortality under her skin.

More than anything, he wanted to understand that tug in his chest, the pull that urged him to crash himself to the ground for her, even if it reduced him to rubble.

—

He was a force of nature, wild as a winter wind yet gentle as the crush of petals under bare feet, a mountain of a male whose waters ran deep and smooth.

And in spite of it all, she still had to break him.

She pushed down her guilt, her disgust at the task before her. They’d been all over each other for a week, stealing moments in hidden coves, remote beaches, even once behind a corner stall in the market when the vendor was away. Despite having paid for her, and handsomely, he seemed to want only what she gave freely of her time, her body. What he wanted lay beneath, he said, a chance to listen to the symphony of her human heart for however long she’d allow.

That same human heart condemned her, left her helpless to the forces of power and control that bound her tighter than any ropes ever could.

The stories of him in battle had spread across Prythian long before his arrival in the great Summer city, of the Illyrian foot soldier who razed armies with his deadly dance, blessed by the Mother herself. Enalius reborn, they called him, and the Lord of Spring wanted him eliminated in neutral territory if they were to have a chance at winning the war. Ten thousand gold marks they'd promised to her if she could find the source of his power.

She knew she condemned herself with this cursed bargain, much less her people, but there was no way around it. She’d never make enough with her body to free her family, to protect them from the ravages of the fae without the riches they dangled in front of her.

And so when he slipped through the lavender curtains of the Golden Thread, she hoped to hate him. Prayed he’d be despicable, possessive and brutish like the other males, head swollen large enough so just a single pinprick could deflate it. Instead, that first night he came to her plush, dark chambers she found a tenderness that stunned her and knew this would be so much more damning than she’d ever imagined.

He was willing to sacrifice everything for human freedom, he told her in the wake of their joining, dark curls clinging to his brow. The shame consumed her knowing he’d fulfill that promise, even if his martyrdom would come not on the daybright battlefield as he imagined, but rather with the breathless gasp of a knife in the night.

For the next week he worshiped her body in their beachside bungalow, ran his fingers over and under the copper cuffs as if he’d rip them off with his bare hands.

“And how would one shackle you, Lord of Bloodshed?”

“No bonds can hold me, sweetheart, save for those given by the Mother.”

He promised to smuggle her out between presses of his lips against her skin, or else to buy her freedom, to win the whole damn war by himself if that’s what it took. She only smiled and called them beautiful words, nothing less, nothing more. At night when he slept, she lay awake tracing the fresh scar cleaving his eyebrow, the lines of tattoos swirling over his chest and arms.

Make a bargain with me, he said, hazel eyes sparkling with something too painful to look at for more than a moment, like staring into the sun. Tell me what makes you so strong, she said, tell me what gives you the power of ten males, a hundred. She watched her warrior spar with his own heart, and though he denied her in the end she felt a relief in it, that they could have one more day, one more night with none to witness what bloomed save for the stars, the moonlit sea.

She’d ask him twice more, she told him, and he grinned in a way that broke something in her, something she could never repair.

In the cradle of seclusion, long-buried hurts began to emerge, the throes of pleasure giving way to tears that flowed like wine. He held her pain like a bird in his hand, stroking her jagged edges gently. Unafraid of what lay within her, the blink of her mortal life.

Why do you touch me so?, she asked, and he ran a hand up her thigh to the crook of her waist, following the path his mouth had blazed before they’d collapsed in satiety. 

She asked him the second time in the cove off the beach, the one he’d flown her to on those resplendent wings. The white sand floor glowed under turquoise water, casting his body in an unearthly light, their echoing moans giving way to laughter that ricocheted off the rock, through her chest. He told her of his days training, the foolish arrogance of his youth before it was shattered by the war. She shared a memory of stealing sweets from a shop when she was a child, the rush of her first taste of sugar, of the successful con.

“And is victory always sweet for you, siren?”

Mostly not, she told him, and a challenge sparkled in his eyes, one that made her blood go hot. She forgot for a moment why she was there, the trap at the center of the maze, and let him fly the long way home, skimming the waves with her fingertips as they chased a pod of dolphins playing in the surf.

When they returned, he disappeared for a short time while she bathed, stepping back through the leaning door frame as she was toweling off, arms laden with gifts from the market. That night she claimed her victory in all the ways she wanted to, the Lord of Bloodshed under command of his interim queen.

“Please,” she begged the Spring lord through the mirror he’d given her, the forget-me-nots in his golden hair either a cruel jest or devastating providence. “Please spare him. Take his power but do not take his life.”

The High Lord laughed in answer, and the guilt stretched her to the point of breaking, her skin a dull hide drying in the sun. “It seems the hearts of human sluts are as open as their legs.”

She knew he felt her sadness, her fear when he returned from a swim in the ocean, salt glittering on his wings like diamonds in the sunset glow. He lifted her into his arms and retreated to the bathing chamber, showed her where to touch them to bring him to his knees, to make him fall apart with her name on his lips.

Ask me, he said, ask me once more.

“No.”

“Why not? Have you given up on me, sweetheart?”

He couldn’t want everything that came with her, she told him, wouldn’t desire her if he knew the wickedness of her heart, the crumbling ruins of her soul.

“How can I prove it to you?”

Her fingers clutched at his shirtfront, begging him to stay, to run, to see the deception at her core.

“Tell me the source of your strength. Tell me what gives you the power of ten males, of a hundred. Show me your weakness and I shall show you mine.”

Her faithful lover brought his forehead down to hers, resting it lightly, drew her hand up to bury it in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“If my hair is cut, I lose my strength. I am as weak as any other until it grows long again.”

She grabbed a handful of it in her fist, pulling his head back sharply. But he only looked at her with that sun-bright devotion, the passages of his heart open to her to walk through as she pleased. She decided to leave a footprint there, the barest trace. Hoped it was enough for him to remember.

“I have a daughter to the south. She does not know what I am. All I do is for her.”

Something like understanding passed through him then, but she didn’t get the chance to question it for he captured her mouth with his own, sinking her down into the deep waters where only they lived, borne along by the current.

Moonlight glinted off the shears where she hovered over him hours later, praying for him to wake. To grab her wrists and throw her against the wall, or else to kiss her desperately and fly her as far as those wings could take them, past the edge of the world.

But he did not wake, and instead she cut each lock from his head, the thread in her chest ripping violently with each traitorous snip.

—

They paraded him through the temple in chains, the jeers and taunts hitting his back like a volley of arrows. The warrior god shackled like the slaves he so foolishly defended, reduced to the bastard-born nobody he feared lived at his core.

He found her at once among the crowd assembled, her beautiful face broken with agony, and even though he knew he should hate her the space where his anger lived felt hollow. The absence of her was more devastating than any of the whips that lashed at his back, the blunt blows to his chest, his legs.

His power gone, the feeble call of it sluggish in his veins, he could only watch as they brought the ropes forth. They lashed him to the great column at the center that held up the ceiling, painted with scenes of resplendent High Fae, their faces cold and cruel. He tried to tell her to go, to run, but he was too weak to speak, knew from the way she clutched the collar at her throat she’d never leave while he was still alive. He only hoped she’d be far enough away to miss the worst of it.

I’m sorry, he said as best he could, feeling the imprint of her body on his skin, in his bones. I’m sorry I couldn’t save us from this. I’m sorry I didn’t know until it was too late.

Hazel eyes lifted skyward, a prayer to the Mother on his dry, cracked lips. With a great heave he twisted, rammed his bound fists into the pillar he leaned against, ripping apart the world.

Stone rained down and there was screaming everywhere, thick dust pouring into his lungs and he waited for the crush, the flash of pain before it all went quiet and still. In the long tunnel of time he hoped to return as a tree somewhere in a quiet wood, to feel her sit in his shade, or else to be a clear pool she drank from, the splash of him over her face washing her clean.

And all at once he was shoved aside, a great boom echoing somewhere overhead, soft hair tickling his face, soothing his heated cheeks.

He opened his eyes to find her body splayed over him, taking the blow of the stone that would’ve been his death. A shimmer of gold disappeared into the dust engulfing the ruined temple, and he felt the pull in his chest begin to break, ever-reaching and grasping at the building darkness.

“Don’t go, sweetheart. I didn’t get enough. I want more. We should’ve had more.”

This brave human woman, his mate, her body broken and bleeding, reached a hand up and touched his face lightly, pain and love in her dawn-colored eyes.

“I’ll find you in the next world, the next life. I promise. And we will have time.”

A fierce, burning pain seared along his scalp. He heard someone shouting, felt a wave of night-dark power sweep over him before oblivion dragged him under, stealing the only thing he wanted, one last memory of her face.

But all he was left with were the spikes of an eight-pointed star on the crown of his head, the only remnant of her final words, his failures. Their future snatched away by the greed of death, the indifference of fate.

Five hundred years passed, and Cassian searched every face for hers, heart leaping at every flash of golden brown hair, every knowing grin in a crowded market. He’d almost given up the day he stepped into the Archeron manor when he saw her glaring across the room at him, when that thread in his chest yanked so violently he thought he’d been shot by an arrow, straight through. She didn’t remember him, of course, but he could’ve sworn a flicker of recognition passed through her, the past lingering in the core of their bones, woven into their skin.

And he knew in that moment, more than he’d ever known anything, that he’d rip every hair from his head for her. That no matter what war he had to win or building he had to shatter, he’d free her from the shackles of the world, from those in her heart, her mind. 

That they would have time.

---

Thank you if you got this far! I'm pretty proud of this one so I hope you enjoyed aka it didn't hurt too much. Shoutout to all the other awesome creators putting out amazing work this week. There is so much more to come!

[goddessofwisdom18]

I ship Amren and Merrill 🤭 Just two bitches who love history. They definitely already know each other and had a fling a couple centuries ago. Or they hate each other (and there’s sexual tension underneath that). I’m betting on it.