#p: elaine may

[pinkmoonmp3]

elaine may and john cassavetes on the set of mikey and nicky via criterioncollection

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Blood Red | Azriel x Cassian’sister!Reader

Summary: After both you and Azriel are left, abandoned and replaced by those close to you, you find company with him in a night of drunken lust, only for old secrets to be unburied in the morning along with a mating bond.

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: Smut, oral f!receiving, p in v, mentions of infertility, abuse, arguing, but it all ends up okay

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: Whoever requested this (you know who you are) this was sooo fun to write and I hope it was what you wanted, hope you enjoy it<3

Requests are open!

You and Cassian have always been thick as thieves, brother and sister, close and closer, dumb and dumber. You had gotten into countless shenanigans and ridiculous situations with your older brother, and he’d dragged you out of most of them, thankfully.

You were more than thankful to the Mother for providing you with someone like him; family of your own, closer than even your adoptive family that was Rhys and Azriel.

Things had been different lately, though.

“Hey, Cass? Are we still heading to that movie tonight?”

You asked, poking your head into his room. He was sharpening his blade, a habit of his. He glanced up at you, golden eyes gleaming with apology as he shook his head.

“Can’t. Have to train the Valkyrie’s tonight. It’s their friendship-anniversary thing or whatever.”

He said with a little shrug, you raised a brow, but then left his room. Did you feel a tug in your gut about the fact that he was prioritizing Nesta and her friends over you? Maybe. Maybe a little more than just a maybe.

It only got worse as the days went on.

The night she and Cassian had planned to spend at Rita’s together? He was busy with Nesta that night.

In the afternoon they were supposed to go on a hike together, one they go on every single year? Postponed. The reason why? He was ‘busy’, and that business was with Nesta based on the hickey’s on her neck the morning after.

You were slowly and surely being replaced, and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. Every little activity you’d enjoyed with him, he was now enjoying with Nesta, and occasionally Gwyn and Emerie would join them.

Little did you know, you weren’t the only person who felt that way.

*********************************************************

Azriel didn’t know what he was doing wrong, or if what was happening was out of his control completely.

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall, but leave her alone.”

Rhys had said. They couldn’t risk making Lucien all pissy and causing a fight between the two for Elain. That would only complicate things between Court alliances, not to mention Elain was still delicate from her experiences with the Cauldron.

He had slowly but surely seen Elain drifting away from him, piece by piece.

The first occurrence had been when she tolerated Lucien at the Winter Solstice, and worse, had hugged him after his gift. What was that gift, you may ask? A set of small porcelain houses meant for storing spices, all of which she used for cooking her various recipes.

The gift had been genius, playing just into what she’d liked. And Azriel hated that.

Next, it had been when she was there to support him when he learned of his true heritage. She’d wiped his tears away and encouraged him to tell Helion. And just like that, the fiery fox bastard was the Heir of Day Court.

Azriel had certainly noticed the extra time the two had been spending together, the little walks through her garden they shared, how his hands would warm with magic and keep her toasty on cold winter nights.

It had only been a matter of time before the two of them had accepted the bond, and when they had announced it, Azriel felt as if his heart cracked in two. What only made it worse was the second announcement; Elain would be going to live in Day Court with Lucien.

He knew he should feel happy for them, he knew he should, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than anger and regret he’d let himself get so attached with no promise of a future with her.

She’d moved before he’d even had a chance to say goodbye, and maybe that was for the best. He didn’t know what words might betray him and spill out when he didn’t want them to.

He found himself sticking to himself more often than not, and he noticed something else; you.

You seemed just as lonely and isolated as him. The night he really noticed it was when the entire Inner Circle was out at Rita’s for the night.

Cassian and Nesta were dancing and drinking happily, Rhys and Feyre sipping at their drinks while talking, Mor flirting with the waitress she’d been eying for the past century, and Amren had probably snuck off to a bar bathroom with her lover.

It only left you and Azriel, sitting tensely at a table together, a booth to be exact. You sipped at your drink, not seeming to want it too much. He watched quietly, offering the silent comfort he always did.

You seemed…distracted, worried almost. He’d seen that look enough before to know what it was, you were distressed, and most likely hiding something.

“What?”

You then asked, looking up at him questioningly. For the centuries he’d known you, his mind never felt as blank as before. He’d been staring.

“Nothing, but you…”

He hesitated, before sighing and finishing his sentence.

“You look…upset.”

He finished. You gave him a dry look.

“Yeah, well, so do you. Guess everyone else gets their happily ever after with a mate except us, huh?”

He nearly winced at that. You had hit the nail on the head with that statement. Everyone was happy and mated with their lover and in couples, living out their own happily ever after, while the two of you were here, mateless, loveless, and lonely. Replaced.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Elain, though. It sucks.”

He stiffened at the mention of her. He’d just been hoping to drink himself to death and get a cheap hookup tonight. He was already halfway to drinking himself to death point, already three or four cups in. He’d counted four from you.

“Nevermind her,”

He said, shaking his head. The alcohol flowed through his veins like liquid courage as he then caught your gaze, eyes lingering a second longer than they should’ve before he offered his hand, standing up.

“Care for a dance?”

*********************************************************

You were just how you’d wanted to be tonight, too drunk to care about anything, though you supposed it backfired when you ended up in a slow, oddly romantic waltz with the shadowsinger.

It felt wrong to look at him that way, but it also felt so, so right.

His hands found your waist as you slowly danced, your chest pressing up against his until he could feel your pert nipples through your thin shirt — that was when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. And based on the heady scent of arousal coming from you, he assumed no undergarments in general.

You’d come for the same thing as him. A release.

And who was any other male to give it to you, other than himself?

*********************************************************

The night was filled with wild mistakes, heated touches, and whispers of affection that would soon probably be forgotten.

He’d whisked you away under the cover of shadows, into his dark room, cool whispered touches of shadows slipping your clothes off and dropping them to the floor as Azriel’s mouth found your own, his tongue slipping between your lips as he’d pinned you against the mattress.

And just like that, his head had slid down between your legs, tongue slipping between your folds to lap at them.

“I’ve wanted to taste this pussy for centuries,”

He growled, fingers going to slip in and pump inside of you, curling against that sweet spot while he lapped and sucked at your clit.

“Az,”

You moaned, hand tangling itself in his thick head of midnight curls, tugging him ever closer. He was eating you out like a starved man deprived of any food or water for decades.

Your back arched into him, and before your climax could wash over you, his mouth had dragged up and was against yours again, before moving to lick and suck on one of your nipples. His finger slipped out and silenced your whines by being slid into your mouth, with you obediently sucking on them and whimpering at the taste of your slick.

You felt his hard cock rub against your legs as his knees nudged your thighs apart, making you spread before he was filling you in moments, every glorious inch going deeper and deeper, tears pricked your eyes as you moaned around his fingers, before he finally removed them.

He was panting by then.

“So fucking tight, this cunt’s squeezing me so good.”

He groaned, already rutting into you like an animal in heat at that point. Your previously cut-short climax had your walls fluttering around him as it came back with a vengeance, completely overtaking you as you sobbed around his cock, body trembling and writhing beneath him.

He was utterly entranced.

He watched his half-lidded eyes as you had your orgasm, looking so beautifully wild and untamed, and it didn’t take long before he was spurting thick ropes of cum into you, painting your insides.

He collapsed onto you, panting and feeling boneless. The only thing he had the energy to do was wrap his arms around you and hold you close, wing draping over the both of you.

You shuddered, curling up against his chest, managing to pull the blankets over both of your bare bodies, too fucked out and intoxicated to notice that the glamour you had on your wings was gone.

*********************************************************

“Get up, Az, it’s time for traini-“

The both of you scrambled up, your head pounding with a headache, no doubt the alcohol for last night’s fault. Cassian stared at you wide-eyed. You assumed it was the fact that you’d just been caught naked in Azriel’s room, smothered with his scent and the scent of sex, but Azriel quickly tugged some clothes to cover his lower half on, stopping and staring at you.

Cassian’s face contorted in something of shock, betrayal, and overwhelming anger. Illyrian wing colors were usually always genetic, Cassian himself had the same dark wings as everyone else, but they were red when the light shone on the membranes, Az’s were a twilight color, and Rhys’ an amethyst color.

Your wings, however, had a shade of red through the veins, much more obvious than in any other wings. Now that the glamour wasn’t on them, they even had a tint of red to the usually black bat wings.

He recognized those wings, as did Azriel.

“You’re Devlon’s?”

Cassian’s now pissed voice boomed, and you pulled a robe on, useless tears now welling in your eyes. This was what you deserved for hiding it for so many years. You’d never been Cassian’s sister, not by blood like he believed. Your father had simply deemed you infertile and thrown you out to the streets, where his mother had claimed you as her own. You’d both been so young that neither of you remembered.

“I wanted to tell you-“

“When?”

His now booming voice demanded, eyes full of anger and pain, taking a step towards you at which Azriel snarled and intercepted him.

“Don’t.”

Azriel said, his voice low and deadly calm. It was then that you felt it, that tug towards him, the snapping. It must’ve formed for him last night, you realized. That was why he hadn’t sent you off to your room.

“She lied to me, to us for years, Az. She has his wings. She’s not even my sister.”

Cassian’s voice replied, the males both glaring at each other. His words stung more than anything, “She’s not even my sister.” Almost no one in their Inner Court was biologically related, but that felt more personal.

“Not another word.”

Azriel snapped white-hot anger in an intensity he’d never felt before welling up as he saw your eyes fill with tears.

“Why? What’s it to you? What else has she lied to us about?”

“If you say another goddamn word about my mate I will rip your throat out.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, staring in shock, before narrowing. His gaze caught with yours, watching you cry. His instinct to protect warred with knowing that you’d deceived him for years.

“Answer my question. When were you going to tell me?”

A sudden anger built up in you, your grief turning to anger.

“I was going to tell you that night at our hike, but you were too busy fucking Nesta to make time for me, like everything else.”

You snarled, and he growled at the mention of his mate. A realization sounded in his chest. He sighed.

“Fine. Fine. If you want to play like that. But don’t expect me to trust you again.”

He said, before storming out of the room judging by the sounds of commotion in the other room, you could assume that he’d gone to tell everyone else the secret you’d harbored for centuries.

Azriel looked at you, walking over to you, one hand wrapping around your waist and going to your back, pulling you into his chest. His gaze went from your red wings to your eyes, a somber look in his hazel eyes, mixed with the previous anger.

“I think it’s a wonderful color.”

He murmured, trying to be reassuring.

“You aren’t mad?”

You asked, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you nuzzled into his bare chest.

“It was your secret to share. I’m only upset we didn’t make ourselves trustworthy enough for you to feel comfortable sharing it.”

He spoke, words gentle and lacking the harsh edge Cassian’s had.

“What about the bond?”

You asked. He hesitated but spoke.

“I think it’s the best thing that’s happened to me since meeting you.”

That got a small smile and a huff of laughter out of you, which he was more than thankful for.

“If that weren’t so cute, I might call it corny.”

He chuckled lightly, the sound deep and rich, soothing to your soul.

“Let’s just get through dinner tonight. We can do that, together. I’ll slaughter Cassian if he goes too far.”

*********************************************************

He might just have to slaughter Cassian five minutes into the dinner.

It had been tense from the beginning since you’d come, red-tinted wings not glamoured or covered by any sort of magic. The conversation was dry and scarce, and Cassian was stabbing the meat on his plate with concerning force.

Eventually, Amren rolled her eyes and sighed into her glass of wine, eyes landing on you.

“Address the elephant in the room or I will, and you won’t like the latter, girl.”

Her clipped tone spoke out. You swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry. Your hand squeezed Azriel’s under the table. Everyone was now watching you closely, even Cassian, who seemed to be feeling a mixture of anger and guilt.

“I’m…sure you’ve figured out by now that I’m..his daughter.”

Your voice was shaky and unsteady, and already had every protective instinct in Azriel’s body flaring up angrily.

“I’m sorry I never told any of you, it’s a long story-“

“We have all night.”

Cassian’s voice spoke out, sharp as a knife. Rhys and Azriel both shot him a death glare. You swallowed, staring down at your plate, trying hard not to break down.

“I was labeled infertile, and he threw me out — Cassian’s mom took me in and..I never brought it up, because I thought you’d think differently of me.”

You spoke, though it slowly turned to quiet mumbles the longer you spoke. Cassian’s sharp gaze softened.

“I - we wouldn’t have thought that.”

He spoke, voice still upset, but not as harsh anymore. Azriel’s gaze moved over to him, still swimming with anger.

“Really? Because the first thing you did upon discovering it was tell her that you weren’t her sister and that you wouldn’t trust her again.”

Azriel’s voice snapped before he could stop it. Rhys and Feyre looked on between the two, clearly surprised by Azriel’s comment. He was always the patient one, never getting angry or worked up. Amren only raised a brow.

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but another sharp glare from Rhys shut him up. Rhys, ever the peacemaker for tonight, then spoke.

“I think there has been quite a lot of…misunderstandings between you two. She was not obligated to tell you that, Cassian and it wasn’t anything personal. She was scared, that was all, and your reaction to the news is not helping.”

His unamused voice spoke, clearly in High Lord mode and trying to piece everyone back together and stop the conflict. He had enough on his plate with Nyx and his duties now, he didn’t need this.

Cassian sighed, meeting your eyes.

“I’m sorry, for…saying what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just mad, you’ll always be my sister, related to that piece of shit or not. Also for letting you down to spend some time with Nesta.”

You seemed more than relieved at that, giving him a little smile. If Nesta weren't currently leading her training with the Valkyrie, she might've been offended by that.

“And I’m sorry for keeping it from you, all of you.”

You replied, but before anyone could get anything out in response to it, Mor walked in fashionably late and sat down next to Amren, pouring herself some wine.

“Can we talk about the chemistry between you and Azriel, though?”

She asked with a smirk, at which you nearly turned pink, and Azriel gave her a withering look. Rhys smirked and Cassian snickered, all the while Feyre watched the two of you with a knowing look.

“You could always borrow my cabin in Illyria, for when you both accept the bond, and based on last night, I’m assuming it’ll be soon.”

Rhys’ amused tone then rang out, at which you turned bright red, and even Azriel had a hint of a blush on his tanned cheeks, avoiding Rhys’ gaze.

“Sure. Thanks.”

He managed to choke out, everyone bursting into laughter at that. You squeezed Azriel’s hand beneath the table, and he squeezed it back. He met your gaze, a silent “I love you” in his eyes, and a whispered “I love you, too” from your own.

You might need that cabin earlier than you’d expected.

[herpsandbirds]

Amphisbaena amethysta • A New four-pored Amphisbaena (Amphisbaenia: Amphisbaenidae) from the north of Espinhaço Mountain Range, Brazil

Síria Ribeiro, Alfredo P. Santos Jr, Isabelly G. Martins, Elaine C. S. Oliveira, Roberta Graboski, Thiago Barbosa Da Silveira, Matheus H. M. Benício, Wilian Vaz-Silva

Abstract

A new species of Amphisbaena is described from the north of Espinhaço Mountain Range, municipality of Caetité, state of Bahia, Brazil.  Amphisbaena amethysta sp. nov. can be distinguished from its congeners by the following combination of characters: snout convex in profile, slightly compressed not keeled; pectoral scales arranged in regular annuli; four precloacal pores; distinct cephalic shields; 185–199 dorsal half-annuli; 13–16 caudal annuli; conspicuous autotomic site between 4th–6th caudal annuli; 16–21 dorsal and ventral segments at midbody; 3/3 supralabials; 3/3 infralabials; and smooth and rounded tail tip. The new species is the 71st species of genus with four precloacal pores, and the 22nd species from the Caatinga morphoclimatic domain. The identification of Amphisbaena amethysta sp. nov. indicates that the reptile fossorial fauna in the Espinhaço Mountain Range region is far from being completely known and that it may harbour a much greater diversity of endemic taxa.

Read more: A new four-pored Amphisbaena Linnaeus, 1758 (Amphisbaenia, Amphisbaenidae) from the north of Espinhaço Mountain Range, Brazil (pensoft.net)

[elainweekofficial]

D E A R 🌷 D R E A M E R S ,

We cannot wait to share the love of Elain Archeron on March 30th - April 5th! Continue to watch our pages throughout this week for prompts, guidelines, and a short and sweet FAQ!

Below we have an optional word search (along with a link to an interactive version) where you are able to locate our seven prompt titles! For anyone that manages to guess all seven prompts AND can place them in the correct order, you will receive a fun little treat at the start of Elain Week during our partnership with @/novelwicks! And anyone who participates at all and shares with us their results will also receive a little goodie. For those participating, we will accept submissions (via story posts on Instagram, direct messages, or posts/reblogs here on Tumblr) up until midnight EST.

We cannot wait to see you all again! ♡⋆⭒˚｡⋆🦌

I N T E R A C T I V E

E L A I N W E E K P R O M P T S

W O R D S E A R C H

For additional information, our INSTAGRAM will have extra opportunities for engagement between now and March! Beginning in December and ending the beginning of March, we will accept any Elain Archeron related post collaborations on our Instagram. For those who prefer to use Tumblr, please be sure to tag us and we will reblog to our page! We will not be engaging with any posts that have utilized AI.

And for anyone who may have missed it, be sure to check out our ELAIN DAY MASTERLIST that we hosted in September for additional Elain Archeron content that you can enjoy during the wait!

🌷🌷🌷🌷

[archeroncollection]

B A N N E R C R E D I T — lotusbubble

Welcome to the Archeron Collection! This is a blog dedicated to Feyre, Nesta, and Elain Archeron and all of the positive content associated with our favorite sisters. We plan on using a system of tags to separate content in a comprehensive way, so please be sure to check out our Blog Archive to find specific content!

We want to celebrate our content creators in this wonderful fandom, so please be sure to send us any creators, posts, or content that you feel should be appreciated!

See below for the tagging system and a small bit of rules!

T A G G I N G S Y S T E M

Content that showcases all three sisters will be tagged with #archeronsisters and whichever medium the content is (fanfiction, moodboard, etc)

All content specific to Feyre Archeron will be tagged with #feyre and #feyrearcheron and whichever medium the content is (fanfiction, moodboard, etc)

All content specific to Elain Archeron will be tagged with #elain and #elainarcheron and whichever medium the content is (fanfiction, moodboard, etc)

All content specific to Nesta Archeron will be tagged with #nesta and #nestaarcheron and whichever medium the content is (fanfiction, moodboard, etc)

F A N F I C T I O N — #(sister)fanfiction #fanfiction

M O O D B O A R D — #(sister)moodboard #moodboard

F A N A R T — #(sister)fanart #fanart

P L A Y L I S T — #(sister)playlist #playlist

H E A D C A N O N — #(sister)headcanon #headcanon

T H E O R I E S — #(sister)theory #theory

Q U O T E S — #(sister)quote #quote

M I S C E L L A N E O U S — #(sister)misc #misc

For any ship related content, we will be sure to clarify in the tags which ship is being shown and the medium in which it is being showcased. For any additional tags that we may find, we will be sure to update this post!

R U L E S

We will not reblog any Archeron sister content that uses anti sentiment against any of the sisters, or any of the characters, books, or author.

We will not reblog ship content that uses anti sentiment against any other ships, or is used as bait.

We will not reblog any content that utilizes AI. If you believe that we have reblogged content using AI, please reach out to us!

If there is graphic content without a warning, we will not reblog it.

We will block any individual sending negativity to us, our page, or any creator that we reblog onto our page.

[writingmuses]

Love Potion 

Request: Based on a request for an IC x Reader, either a sex pollen fic or a magic potion fic (I may or may not do a sex pollen fic in the future 👀)

Elain x Reader, Nessian X Reader, Azriel x Reader, some mentions of Lucien X Reader (maybe I’ll do a prequel?) → a little bit for everyone. 

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, minors do not engage. Self-pleasure, fingering, grinding, breast play, p in v, biting, mentions of being under the influence. 100% consensual. ANGST.

Use of she/her for the reader. The reader is Rhy’s sister. 

Literal Porn with plot for the sake of porn but there is a lot of potential angst to turn this into an actual fic if anyone's interested by the end (so much drama to unpack). 

Synopsis: Reader accidentally drinks a love potion.  As desire courses through Y/Ns veins, and her inhibitions lower, she encounters the different members of the Inner Court.

Word count: 15.7K (WHOOPS)

-MOR-

“What is it?” Mor asks, gently tapping on the side of the glass pitcher. She brings her hands to her knees and lowers herself down to eye level with the fluid inside. She watches the plum-coloured liquid swirl within the glass, glimmering with tiny flecks of gold, dancing around one another to music that does not exist, suspended in infinite motion. 

She must admit that it is beautiful. That, however,  just makes her all the more suspicious. Mor blows an annoying stray curl out of her face and swivels to meet her cousin’s eyes. Rhysand’s violet gaze is clouded and dark, full of irritation. That means, Mor notes, that her dearest cousin is already aware of what’s inside the pitcher that has been gifted to her High Lady. 

“Yes, Lucien, do indulge my cousin and tell everyone about the swill you have brought into my home," Rhys voice clips. Lucien had arrived at the River House mere minutes ago, holding a large oak tray. On that tray sat the pitcher containing the mystery liquid, one ridiculously bejewelled challis, a single red rose, and, a note addressed to the High Lady:

Dearest Feyre,

I hope you are well and safe.

I apologize for my dismissal of your title as High Lady earlier this year. You are more worthy than any other female I have come across in my many centuries. 

I understand now that you would make a wondrous High Lady in any court. 

I am sending this note with Lucien along with my finest tea as a token of peace and as a toast to you in your new role. I would love for you to sample the wine and write me back letting me know how it made you feel. 

Please do not tell Rhysand of my gift to you, for I fear he would not understand this gesture between friends. 

I count the seconds to your reply.

All my love, 

Tamlin 

Lucien is quite pale. His normally bronzed skin looks ashy and his eyes are sullen. “Rhys… I-I know what you must be thinking.” The male clears his throat, worrying his bottom lip,“I’m sure he just wasn’t in his right mind - or maybe he didn’t know the properties of the liquid. Tam-” 

Darkness begins to creep out from behind Rhys, his face stony.“Do not mention that name in my house right now, Lucien. I have half a mind to winnow over to Spring and gut the coward where he stands.” Rhys holds the note in his hands and quickly crumples it into a tight ball. “Do not make excuses for that vile creature.” His eyes burn with fury as he sends the balled up note careening through the air, and right into the roaring fireplace.

Almost all of the inner court was gathered around the two males, standing tense and mystified at this interaction. Everyone is dressed in fine clothes and gathered at the River house for family dinner. “I’m confused,” Mor queries again, “Rhys, please tell us what is happening?” 

Feyre approaches her mate, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. He turns to look at her. Their eyes locked in a way only a pair of mates could. The two converse internally, and after a moment, Feyre gasps aloud. “A love potion? Rhys, truly?” 

“What the fuck?” Cassian chimes in, brows furrowed, attention turning to the ginger male. “Why the fuck would you bring this to us,” Cassian takes a lumbering step towards Lucien. Mor takes a step forward as well, gripping the General's arm, not in the mood to have dinner ruined just yet.  “Were you in on it?” Cassian barks to the son of Autumn.

“Cauldron no!” Lucien slinks back a step, eyes glued to his worn leather boots, trying to dissipate some of the tension in the room. “I brought it here to show you that Tamlin is desperate - and not above resorting to such vile means.” He clears his throat and looks up to Feyre, a small, apologetic smile on his lips. “I brought this here to warn you that Tamlin will likely try again and that you need to be on your guard.” 

It is Mor now, who takes another step forward, rage simmering beneath her skin. “Likely story you prick. I’ll-” she starts, but she is cut off by a hand on her shoulder. The High Lady had made her way over to Mor, now gripping her shoulder with a delicate hand. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Feyre concludes. She eyes Rhys, another one of their private discussions taking place within the confines of their own minds. “Lucien showed us.” 

“Feyre darling is correct," Rhys sighs, "Our dear friend Lucien here, while foolish - meant well.” the anger in his eyes disperses as Rhys nods a brief thanks to the ginger fae. “Besides,” he ponders, “ this love potion would have no ill effect on our dear High Lady.” 

“Now how’d you figure that Rhys?” Mor raises a brow at her cousin. 

“Because the High Dunce of Spring still believes I have Feyre under my evil spell.” Rhys wiggles his fingers at his mate, dry humour dancing in his eyes. “You see, the particular love potion good ol Tam picked out is called Affectus Revelare, also known as Feelings Revealed." Rhys gestures at the pitcher. "The potion itself is quite rare and rather ancient even by fae standards, which is why I'm not surprised none of you recognized it. Even you Az.” Rhys nods to the shadow singer in the corner. Azriel, who prides himself on his diverse knowledge of poisons, spells and potions, nods in thanks, upset with himself for not having been able to place the potion immediately. 

“I think I've heard of it,” Mor muses, all eyes on her now. “It works to remove inhibition. To allow those who drink it to reveal their true feelings? It is strong, and able to cut through most other potions or spells. Which is probably why Tamlin selected it." Her cousin nods in agreement. She continues, "However, to my knowledge, it went out of favour a long time ago because of the side effects.” She turns back to her cousin and he nods in agreement. 

“What side effects?” Cassian asks. 

“Think of it as a magic truth serum. However, this truth serum removes  any suppression of morals and makes its drinker uncontrollably horny.” Rhys says in a strained voice. “Unstoppably so. The only way to get the urges to dissipate is to have a way with the object of the drinker’s strongest affections.”

The jaws around the room hang low. Cassian lets out a startled cough. Azriel is the first to recover from the uncomfortable silence, his shadows flying around his head as he quickly mutters to them. Some of his shadows disappear into thin air, Mor assumes they are presumably off to keep further tabs on the High Lord of Spring.

“So Tamlin thought what? That I would drink this so-called love potion, break the “evil curse” you’ve trapped me under, again, and then come running back into his arms?” Feyre was full-on laughing now and it was contagious. She wiped her eyes as tears formed as she fought to control her deep belly laugh. 

“And right into his bed.” 

Rhys slings an arm around Feyre’s shoulder and starts to turn her away from Tamlin’s ‘gift’. He kissed the top of her head, a signature smirk returning to his face. His eyes were clear and bright once again. “All that potion would have done is make you find me even more irresistible than I already am," he coos. 

“I don’t know how that could be possible.” 

“Oh Feyre darling, please, we have company.” Rhys groans and nuzzles deeply into his High Lady’s neck, laying kiss after kiss along her pulse point. He pulls his lips from her neck with great effort, and only after poor innocent Elain clears her throat uncomfortably. “Let’s bring this up to the House of Wind for now, we can further investigate the source of this potion tomorrow. I would be very interested to find out where Tamlin was able to source such a thing.” He nods to Cassian who scoops up the tray and heads towards the door. “Everyone meet back here for dinner in 10.” 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-CASSIAN-

“I’ll drop this off, I need to pick up Nes anyways. I’ll be right back.” Cassian walks out the door and spreads his wings wide. With powerful strokes, he is up and into the air. In a few short minutes, he touches down on the stone balcony of the House of Wind. Not a single drop of the potion has spilled, and he smiles triumphantly. Nesta sits at the table, a smutty romance novel gripped in her hands. She looks up at him with a smile but worry quickly crosses her face and her eyes drift to the tray in his hands. 

“Don’t worry Nes,” he reassures her. “I didn’t get you anything. This was a gift for your sister, I wouldn’t dream of such a sweeping gesture. I know that you much prefers other methods of celebration,” Cassian says with a wink.

“Who’s it from?” Nesta closes her book, and rises from the table. 

“From Tamlin, of all males.” He sets the tray down on the tabletop, the bejewelled challis rattling against the pitcher at the sudden movements.

“A gift? From Tamlin?” 

“It’s a long story. Let’s head down to dinner, I’ll tell you on the way.” With that, Cassian scoops his beautiful mate into his arms. Her arms lock around his neck as he shoots off into the sky and back towards the River House. The love potion left on the table to be dealt with tomorrow. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Y/N-

You winnow out of the sky a number of feet above the House of Wind and begin to make the unceremonious crash down to the balcony. You quickly generate a tiny cloud of sparkling night with a single thought to slow your descent.

I am so running late. 

You had been away in the Summer Court for three weeks visiting your dear friend, Tarquin. The High Lord of Summer and you had bonded over your shared love of the ocean, gossip and fruity drinks many decades ago. He now invited you every couple of months for a visit to his vacation villa, where you would swim, eat and share the juiciest, most jaw-dropping tidbits from your respective courts. You are the only one of the inner circle ever to be invited. This, of course, made Cassian infinitely jealous. 

You loved your visits with the High Lord of Summer. The weight on your shoulders would slip away, even if it was just for a few days and you would both be free of responsibilities. However, this visit had been mostly diplomatic and unfortunately, you had found yourself roped into weeks of dinners and meetings. Working on updating trade agreements between the courts, while important, had been dreadfully boring. So much so that as you had left, Tarquin made the promise that this trip didn’t count and that you would meet up again in two months' time for a redo.

You feel dead tired. What you truly need is a hot bath and good long sleep. But tonight is family dinner and you are excited to see everyone. No work talk, that would wait until tomorrow, but it was rare to have a moment where we were all together, wine flowing and laughs ringing through the River House. You wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

You pass into the dining room and drop your large satchel on the table beside one of Nesta's books. Beside her book, sat a pitcher of tea you assumed Nesta had made for herself during her afternoon reading session. You giggle at the rose laid out next to it. Nesta truly was a romantic at heart. You scoop it up and admired the luscious red of the petals. It was just like Nes to indulge herself in the finer things, especially amidst one of her reading frenzies. 

You twirled the delicate blossom in your hand and inhale the scent deeply, when suddenly you hiccup in pain. Looking down at your hand you realize one of the thorns had sliced your finger. You quickly drop the flower and bring your finger to your mouth, sucking the coppery drops of blood. The cut is shallow and heals instantly, the tiny pink scar disappearing right under your gaze. With the flower now forgotten, you turn your attention to the tea. 

You quickly scan the room, as if Nesta would appear out of thin air at any moment and berate you for taking what wasn’t yours. The thought made you let out a nervous chuckle. If Nes is putting out fancy flowers with her drink, then the tea she selected must be simply divine. 

Don’t mind if I do!

You grasp the gaudy bejewelled challis in one hand and picked up the crystal pitcher with the other. You pour yourself a large cup. As the liquid pours from one vessel to another, you can’t help but admire the way it sparkles and shimmers, almost like stardust suspended in liquid - not unlike your own magic. 

With a little cheers in the air, you take your first taste.

A low moan erupts from the back of your throat. Never have you tasted anything so divine. Hints of rose and lavender, honeysuckle and almond, rose and hibiscus. But also something deeper, and tangier, a musk of dark earth and fresh rain. It tasted of desire and warmth, of friction and longing. The flavour overwhelms your senses, and becomes all-encompassing. 

You take a second small sip. Another groan involuntarily passes your lips. 

Then a third and fourth sip, both larger, more eager.

You take a fifth, and down the rest of your cup.

Now, in a frenzy, you refill the challis and drain it all in one gulp. 

Again. And again. And again. It is as if you are in a trance, unable to stop yourself, needing to feel the sweet nectar pass your lips, and slide down your throat. The mesmerising liquid burns deliciously as you drink and drink and drink until the pitcher is empty. 

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. With the pitcher empty, your desire to consume was gone. Your hands shake as you place the challis and pitcher back onto the tray. Your memories of what has just transpired are hazy. In one breath all memory of drinking the tea was gone. In the next breath, you remember it is family dinner. You quickly grab your bag and shuffle up to your room. Throwing the bag into the corner, you turn to the mirror to address your appearance. The dress you don is a light sea foam green, a slit running all the way up to your hip bone, and a low V neckline descending down almost to your navel. As it was currently winter in Velaris, you would need to change into some warmer clothes. As you reach around to unclasp your dress, you are suddenly hit with an intense feeling of warmth. Your face flushes and in the mirror you see sweat form at your temples. It lasts only for a second before your temperature begins to regulates, but it was enough to convince you to stay in the cooler summer garment. I must just be tired. 

You head back out to the balcony ready to go meet your family. You leap off the ledge and as you enter a free fall, you sigh in relief, letting the chilled air cool you down as you let out a blissful sigh. You catch yourself on a cloud of starlight, pulling out of your free fall and making your way towards the River House. 

You land just outside the border of the River House. As you pass through the boundary and up the front steps you are hit again with another wave of heat. This time it is stronger. You brace yourself on the handrail. Did I spend too much time in the sun? you pondered, thinking back on your time in the Summer Court. You had not spent more time than usual. 

I must just be overtired from my long trip. Right as you reach this conclusion, the heat rapidly dissipates, returning your body to normal once again.

 There was no further time for contemplation as the front door swung open and Cassian comes into view. "Oh, mighty adventurer,” he mocks with a salute, “welcome home!” He bellows loudly. You jump up the last two steps and he immediately pulls you in for a deep hug. Your face buries into the side of his neck. You had missed him dearly while you were away, but of course, you would never tell him that. 

But, what starts as a friendly welcome home, quickly changes course. 

Suddenly, the smell of sandalwood and crackling embers surrounds you, invading all of your senses. This was Cassian’s scent, something you smelt daily for 400 years, and have never thought twice about. But now all of a sudden, he is the only thing you want to smell. You huff in his scent and feel your body warm and tingle.  What the hell? you cry internally. You know you should pull away. But instead, you have the irresistible urge to lick the thick, long column of his neck, and you nearly do. That’s not the only thing that’s long and thick I want to be licking, you muse, and your core throbs. You have no idea what is happening. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian your mind repeats over and over. Lick him, bite him, claim him. You bite your lips, teeth surely drawing blood. Anything to keep your mouth from latching onto him. You need him. You take a shuddering breath, his scent dancing in your lungs as you- 

You’re pulled out of your twisted mind as Cassian adds, “Now, get the fuck inside before you catch your death.”

 You quickly pull away from the General and look down. You had forgotten that you were still in your summer attire. An outfit that while gorgeous was not equipped to handle the Velaris winter you were currently experiencing. You risk a glance back up to Cassian, he smiles gesturing inside the house. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice the massive loss of judgement you had just experienced. You do not have feelings for Cassian. That much you know to be true, at least not anymore. Right? You reassure yourself once again that you must just be tired, that your brain was playing tricks. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts as you step through the door. You failed to notice how Cassian’s nose flared as you passed him.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone greats you as you enter the dining room. Luckily, your head seems to remain on straight, as no further desire of Cassian clouds your brain. Your brother and his wife offer you both a quick hug, with the promise to debrief tomorrow, you all take your seat at the dinner table. You have strategically placed yourself as far from Cassian as possible, sandwiched in between Feyre and Mor. You hear the chair across from you slide out and you look up to meet the shadowsinger’s eyes as he slips into the chair. You had not seen him when you arrived. But now you see him - more clearly than ever before. 

He offers you a small smile. “How was your visit to Summer, Y/N?”

You don’t hear his question. You are too busy staring at his mouth. Plump lips, tinged slightly red from the cup of wine he’s been sipping out of. His tongue darts out, coating his lips in a glossy sheen. You wonder how those lips would feel against yours… against your breasts… against your core. You blink slowly, noticing his lips are still moving. Oh, the things those lips could do. Suddenly, you feel a hand squeeze your elbow. You yelp and turn to see Feyre grasping your arm. 

“Are you alright Y/N?” She frowns softly, concern dancing in her eyes. 

“P-perfectly” You mutter, blinking rapidly, looking anywhere but towards the shadowsinger. 

“Are you sure? Azriel’s been trying to talk to you for a good minute.” 

“J-just tired.” You assure them. “Think I spent too much time in the sun.” You raise your shoulders in a shrug, mumbling. 

“I’m relieved to hear you’re not intentionally ignoring me,” Azriel quips trying to meet your eye once again. 

“Never.” You say, still not meeting his eye, picking up your wine glass and drinking deeply. “Never.”

And it’s true. Normally, you would never ignore the shadowsinger. You had known him for over 400 years and loved him for 200. Being 80 years younger than your brother Rhys meant that you had grown up with the three of them as your primary moral figures. Rhys was your brother who acted like a father, Cassian your best friend, and Azriel your fiercest protector. And you loved them all for 200 years until something began to change. You had developed a crush on Cassian from an early age. With his broad and muscular chest, and his lushes locks, he sure knew how to make a female swoon. But he was your best friend, and that came first. Your bond with Azriel, now that was even more complicated. He had an uncanny way of being able to see you, to truly see all of you. You loved him as something more, something different than the infatuation you felt with Cass. You yearned for Azriel, and for a time you thought that maybe he desired you too. 

But nothing ever came of it. Maybe it was because he had watched you grow up? Or perhaps it was because you were Rhy’s little sister? You didn’t know. But you’ve been a grown female for four mortal life cycles, and both of those excuses didn’t hold any water as far as you were concerned. 

After 150 years of you pining away while he pined away for your cousin, you finally thought he was seeing you as you are, the female who could obliterate enemies with a thought, the female who held the court together while Rhys was under the mountain, the female who was not just her brother’s little sister, but an equal. 

Then the Archerons arrived. 

And you loved them all dearly. Feyre making your brother’s heart sing, Nesta having Cassian wrapped around her little finger, and Elain. Elain, who was a gentle breeze on a warm night. A breath of fresh air amidst the fog. Elain. Who was gorgeous and talented and funny. And while you may have thought those things, so did Azriel. You could only assume as he never did confide in you, but his glances lingered. Yours lingered as well, but more so in appreciation, in lust. Not in love as you suspected the shadowsinger’s did.

And there she was now, sitting beside Azriel, looking perfect as always. Hair smooth and glossy. Eyes big and bright, the richest, most delicious shade of brown you had ever seen. A long slender neck and cleavage that heaved tight against her bodice with each breath, as if her milky flesh was a moment away from bursting- 

The sound of breaking glass yanked you out of your lustful thoughts. You looked around for the source of the noise before you realize that it was you. Your wine glass once, in your hand was now in 100 pieces on the floor beside you, a small puddle of red wine at your feet. 

“Y/N/N are you alright?” Rhys had made his way towards you in the blink of an eye. He snapped his fingers and the glass, and the puddle of red disappeared. He leaned down to your height, pressing his palm to your forehead. “I think you might have a slight fever.” 

“I’m so sorry about the mess, I don’t know where my mind went!” Yes, you do. “ I think I must just be overtired.” You offer a tight smile.  “Too much sun.” you offer as an excuse. Yes, too much sun and now you’re a delirious fool. 

Rhys only nods fondly, “Maybe you should head to bed kiddo.” You’re so eager to get out of there that you don’t even snark back about him calling you a kid. 

“Good idea.” You raise from your chair, and you feel the arousal that had been unknowingly collecting at your core, begin to coat your thighs. You had to get out of there before you were scented. Family dinner nights meant everyone was staying at the River House. Luckily for you, that meant you didn’t have far to go. You turn and hightail it out of there, not noticing how the shadowsinger across from you holds his breath as you scurry away. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you are up the stairs and out of sight, you kick off your shoes and run. You run down the hallway and around the corner to your chambers. You swing open the door and slam it shut behind you. Leaning against the wooden door, you take a shuddering breath. What is wrong with me? 

You were no stranger to love and lust. But you had never had quite such a visceral reaction. For so many different fae. At the same time. You are hot all over now and it is as if there is fire in your veins. Your breath is shaky. You need to get a grip. Blinking hard, you make your way to the washroom, and fill the tub with icy cold water. 

Your fingers grapple with the claps on the dress, fighting to release yourself. You give up, snapping your fingers, the dress disappearing, leaving you bare, and still burning. You sit at the edge of the tub before quickly sliding your feet below the surface. The shock of the cold hits your brain and for a moment you stop thinking. But it is not enough as you feel another wave of arousal dripping from your core. You know you are going to regret this, but you also don’t know what will happen next if you don’t. You take a deep breath and fully submerge your body. All you feel is cold. Alll you feel is ice. The fire under your skin tames. The lustful thoughts vanish. It is just you and the cold. Relief floods your bones as your face breaks the surface. 

You lean your head against the rim of the tub, happy to be rid of your dirtiest thoughts. You lay in the cold water until the warmth of your body has rendered it tepid. You finally feel in control of yourself again. You heave your relaxed body out of the tub and wrap yourself in a fluffy white towel. Tucking the ends under your armpit, you move back into your bed chamber. The towel drops to the floor as you walk up to your wardrobe and pull on a simple silk nightgown, as dark as the night sky, dressing cool to avoid any future heat spells, hopefully. 

You hastily scramble into bed and slide under your silk sheets. Exhaustion hitting you. You lay on your back, eyes closed as you slowly drift off to sleep. With not a single thought, your mind is finally quiet.

And then it’s back. 

Heart hammering, your eyes fly open. Searing heat spreads through your entire body. Heat radiates from your core all the way to your fingertips. Your desire is bruning you from the inside. The heat wants to be fed, wants to consume. 

Wants to be consumed. 

Is it that simple? you ask yourself. Would self-pleasure finally rid you of this torment? It had been a few weeks since you had last found release, the time spent in Summer Court kept you too busy for simple pleasure. But it was not like you had not gone this long before, in fact, you had gone much longer and never with any issue. You craved the touch of another, but you suppose your body will hardly care where the pleasure comes from. Your nipples harden at the very thought. Decision made. 

 Arousal is now weeping from your core as your thighs clench together. As if with minds of their own, your hands pull the sheets off your body, exposing your skin to the night air. Your nipples pebble even harder, straining deliciously against the silk of your nightgown. You palm one of your breasts, the action causing shockwaves of pleasure to roll through your body. 

Your other hand comes up and palms the other, a strangled moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dance along your left breast and encircle your nipple over the glossy material of your nightgown.  You were still too hot. You quickly pull the straps down your arms. As your nipples meet the cold air, you could weep with joy. Your hands, finally able to touch your bare skin ghost over the sensitive flesh before your fingers are quickly clamping around your left nipple in a tight pinch. Your thighs clench again, as your core pulses, as if with a heartbeat of its own. You give your nipple another delicious twirl. 

Your other hand travels down and down and down until it reaches the hem of your nightgown. Without a moment's hesitation, you pull the material up to your waist. Your arousal coats your thighs, as your hand move closer to your core, fingers disappearing between your legs. 

The moment your fingers touch your clit, your hips buck wildly, back straining off the bed. Your fingers swirl around it again and again and again, the friction causing strangled moans to escape your throat, hips thrusting up wildly. 

Your skin gleams in the moonlight, the heat building inside of you. Your eyes screw shut in pleasure. This time as your hand swirls around your clit, your other hand, still clinging to your breast, gives your nipple a sharp torturous twist. Pleasure and pain unite and suddenly you’re shaking as release barrels through you, your orgasm so intense your whole body shakes as you ride wave after wave of pleasure. 

As you come down from your high, your body trembles with exertion. 

But it is not enough.

Breathing deeply, your hand, now coated in your juices slides back down between your legs, and this time, you slide two fingers inside. You thrust in and out sharply. Setting a torturous pace and your fingers sink deep into your cunt, curling expertly inside you. In a matter of moments, you are overcome with another orgasm. Again and again and again, you work your body to climax.

It is never enough.

Your body gives out sometime between the eighth and tenth orgasm, releasing you into a dreamless sleep. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awaken groggy, and unsure of your surroundings. The fog clears with a couple of blinks of your eyes and you realize you are in your bed at the River House. Looking down you see you are laid out, your nightgown askew and your thighs sticky.

And then it all comes flooding back. 

How you pleasured yourself over and over again, the pace never relenting, just like the hunger for release did not relent. You had fucked yourself into oblivion. 

But, it appears to have worked. Laying still you realise that your mind has returned to blissful silence once again. Finally free. No thoughts of lust or desire, just calm and slight confusion. Now more awake, you glance out the window and see that the moon is still high in the sky. It was late, but still a long way off until morning. 

Confusion still runs through your bones. The intense need you felt earlier had come on so fast and strong, a hurricane of arousal. But it appears that the skies have now cleared, feeling content and more like yourself you huff and slowly sit up. Your stomach growls painfully, starved from the exertion and the lack of dinner. You could also do with a wash. Food first, you decide. 

No one should be out and about the house at this hour, but just in case, you slip the nightgown over your head. The material is coated in your slick. Already ruined, you use the dress to clean up the arousal on your thighs. You refuse to think about how good the silken material feels against your inner thighs. You make your way to your dresser, and this time you pull out a pair of plain grey underwear and a long black t-shirt. The t-shirt fell down to your mid-thigh. 

You make your way to the door and pry it open slowly, so as not to wake anyone else. Elain also has a room in this wing, and she was a notoriously light sleeper. You begin to pad down the hallway lightly, the marble cold against your bare feet. You feel a cold breeze wafting down the hall. Someone must have forgotten to close the balcony doors, you think. But then again, who would have opened the windows in the middle of winter? Snow had yet to fall, but the cool winter air had definitely arrived. More alert, you slowly make your way towards the open balcony doors, arms close to your sides, fists clenched. 

Your arms lower immediately when you see who stands out on the balcony. You would recognize her shapely figure anywhere. 

Elain stands with her back to you. She is wearing a blush-coloured pair of wide-legged pyjama pants,a shawl embroidered with flowers covers her shoulders. Her hair is unbound and glows like individual strands of gold. You feel your stomach tighten. She looks beautiful. You shake your head, trying to rid it of any other thought beyond concern. You gently rap your knuckles on the doorframe. Elain, still not fully tuned in to her new fae senses, jumps and spins around quickly. Her hand comes up to clutch onto her heaving chest. You could see her breath slow when she sees who it is, hand falling back down to her side. 

You make eye contact with her, deep chestnut eyes meeting your own. And then her chest starts heaving again, and it takes all your strength to keep your eyes from wandering. You look up at the night sky instead.

“Elain, honey what are you doing out here, you’ll catch your death.” She looks at you nervously as you approach. Your feet tingle in protest at the cold stone beneath you. 

“Erm- nothing. I just needed some fresh air,” you reach for her hand. She laces her hand in yours, eyes squeezing shut, “and some quiet.” 

“But it is-” oh. Oh no. She had heard you. Your cheeks flush scarlett as you try to pull away. “Elain, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t realize I was so…” You trail off. Her hand tightens around yours, rooting you into place. Her fingers are frigid from being out here on the balcony for Cauldron knows how long. 

“Loud.” She finishes your sentence. “The walls are quite thin.”

“I am sorry Elain for disturbing your sleep. I’m not sure what has come over me. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Are you happy with yourself? Poor, delicate Elain was awoken by the sounds of you touching yourself. Poor, gorgeous Elain had to escape outside in order to avoid hearing the sounds you made. Poor, delicious Elain- and oh did she look delicious. She wore a thin white camisole underneath her shawl. She wore no bra underneath, her nipples rock hard from the biting winter air. Oh how much you wanted to devour her.

You freeze again and fight against your mind. Not again. Not now. But it is Elain’s next words that have your lustful thoughts winning once again. 

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Elain’s eyes met yours again, darker, more intense. “You, pleasured yourself for over 2 hours, did you know that?” Her sentence tumbled out. “Two hours without stop. Two hours of sheer pleasure.”

“Again, Elain I am so sorry but we should discuss this inside, we’ll catch our deaths out here”. You go to pull her along with you, back into the warmth of the hallway. She releases your hand.

“I never have, you know.” Her voice sounded far away now, mind far away.

“Never what Elain?”

“Never-” She trails off again. You finally catch on, and the fire within your belly reignites. 

“Never touched yourself?” She lets out a slight giggle at your question and looks down at her slipper-clad feet. 

“No, I’ve definitely tried to self-pleasure.” She shakes her head. “In fact I tried just tonight, listening to you.” It is your cheeks that burn red hot now. You swallow deeply at her confession. Did she touch herself to the sound of you? “But,” she continues, “I’ve never been able to make myself…reach completion. Never. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with me. I want to, gods do I want to. But, it just never happens.” Her voice shakes, and as she looks away again, you can see her eyes shining with tears. “I have been getting a lot closer with Lucien. I do think he is an honourable man.. Male, I mean. But I do not wish to saddle him with a mate who does not know what she is doing. He has lived centuries, and I do not even know how to please myself, never mind him.” 

“You do not owe him anything, you know? There is nothing wrong with you, and if he is truly a good male, then he will not be bothered by any experience you do or do not have. There is so much more to a relationship than sex.” She is one of the most perfect creatures in existence. That male should be so very lucky for dirt under her shoes never mind anything else. 

“I do know that. I do. But, I think this is something I have to do for myself first. Before I look towards a future with Lucien.” 

“What is it you need to do?” You lick your lips. 

“I want to feel good like you made yourself feel.” 

“Do you want me to make you feel good, Elain?” 

“I want you to make me feel alive.” 

And then she is vaulting towards you, hands grasping your shoulders, and then her lips are on yours. 

She tastes of jasmine and honey. A taste you never thought you would experience. But here she is, this perfect female, and Cauldron she was kissing you. Her plump, rosy lips are soft and firm. Her nails dig gently into your shoulders, and you can now smell her arousal, sharp and heady. Your core clenches in response. Your arms come around and encircle her waist, pulling her body tight against yours. You can feel her nipples against your own chest. She is freezing, and burning all at once. 

The kiss ends and she pulls her lips away. Foreheads pressed together she looks at you through her brows. Your eyes meet and understanding passes through you. Your heads give a little nod, and she nods her own in response. Your hand finds hers and you gently pull her over to the corner of the balcony, to a long chaise lounge, the cold forgotten. She sits gently, legs swinging up onto the chaise, head tilting back, exposing the pale tender flesh of her neck. Her shawl falls off her shoulders. You now stand at the edge of the chaise, eying her up and down. You can feel the desire within you trying to surge, to consume. But you reign it in. This is not about you. 

It is all about Elain.  ”Let me bring you back to life,” you say as you gently spread her legs, and crawl up in between them. You align yourself perfectly, foreheads touching once again. “If anything is too much El, you let me know.” She nods again and tilts her head until her lips meet yours. The second kiss is slower, and more passionate. Her lips part and your tongue slides in, dancing upon hers. 

After an eternity you separate, a thin trail of saliva connecting you. You pepper kisses to her cheek, her nose, and her chin, working your way down her throat until you arrive at the place just above her collarbone. Your lips clamp onto the sensitive flesh, and you hear Elain moan in response. It is music to your ears. As you lap at her neck, your fingers begin to trace down the length of her torso, eliciting sighs and pleasure. You run your fingertips gently down the valley between her breasts, down past her navel and along her hip bone, stopping at the hem of her camisole. Your mouth comes away and you make eye contact once again. Elain is in control, and you pause, waiting for her consent to continue. 

“Please.” Her breath is coming in quick pants as she begs. Your fingers grab the hem and Elain leans forward and lifts her arms. You make quick work of pulling it over her head, tossing it to the side. Her skin glows like the stars in the sky. Her large breasts are firm and aching to be touched.

Elain’s teeth clench at the exposure to the cold, but the moan that follows is enough to spur you on. Your mouth trails more kisses along her collarbone and down between her breasts. Elain’s hands wind into your hair, holding you close. You look up at her and wink, and then your lips enclose around one of her perfect, pert nipples. Elain lets out a breathy gasp at the sensation of your hot mouth upon her breast. Your tongue swirls around her peak, a chorus of gasps and moans spilling from Elain’s lips.

Your lips detach with a pop, and the cold air blows against the wet bud. Elain lets out another sharp gasp and she cries out “More. Cauldron please, more!” Her chest is heaving. One of your hands comes up and cups her other breast, and you slowly slink down the chaise. Your tongue trails against her skin as it follows the same path your fingers had made, down between her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Your tongue swirls around it, the thin trail of saliva igniting Elain’s skin despite the cold. You continue your path down until your lips reach the hem of her pants. You breathe deeply. “You smell so gods damned good El.” Her hands untangle from your hair and go to grab the hem of your shirt, you quickly stop her. “This isn’t for me El, this is all for you. Let me make you feel good.” Elain nods, briefly and her hands relent, moving up to cup her own breasts instead. You pull the tie on her pants gently and hook your thumbs into the waist. You see a patch of wetness on the crotch of her pants and your question is answered as you gently pull them down her legs. No panties. 

Her pants and slippers are now discarded and you take a moment to drink her in. She is exquisite. Her hair lays around her like a halo of gold. Her skin shines as bright as a star. Her hands work her supple breasts and her eyes are lidded and dark with desire. Your eyes skim lower, to her round hips, thick and shapely. And then your eyes fall to the patch of dark curls above her core, and then further still to the glistening arousal coating her thighs as she squeezes them together. 

You move up to capture her lips in yours once more before you drift lower again. Your hands grasp her thighs and you gently spread her legs. She is so beautiful. You bend her knees and they part, on either side of your head as your mouth approaches her sex. You blow a gentle breath across her clit, and you see her cunt pulse in response. “Gods, Y/N, please. Please!” 

Your hands wrap tighter around her thighs and you taste her. The salty taste of arousal pulls a groan out of your own throat. Your tongue circles her clit, and one of her hands finds your hair again, and her hips buck in response. Her thighs clamp around your head, as you suck her clit hard. You pull her even closer, your tongue travels lower, and traces around her opening, before diving in. Thrusting your tongue in and out of her core, she is moaning your name like a prayer, hips gyrating against your face, fucking your tongue deeper inside of her. She rides your tongue hard, in a state of euphoria. 

Breathless, you pull your mouth away and you move back up to her lips. “You taste divine.” You say simply and then your lips are on hers again, and she is moaning from the taste of her own slick upon your tongue. One of your hands smooths gentle circles against her cheek. “Still with me?” you ask. She nods and catches your lips again. Your hand trails down her side, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before drifting through the thick soft curls guarding her core. Your hand slips between her legs as your fingers circle her clit. A new wave of arousal drips from her cunt as your hand moves further down. You hold her gaze as your finger slowly enters her. Her teeth clamp onto her bottom lip and she groans. 

You start slow and quickly gain speed as her hips rock against your wrist. Meeting you thrust for thrust. You add a second finger and spread her deliciously. Fingers curl inside her, meeting the spongey flesh that makes Elain scream. 

“Oh, oh, gods, yes, yes,” you hear Elain gasp over and over again. You lower yourself back down as your other hand grips her pubic hair tight, your thumb goes to her clit, rubbing at a relentless pace and you watch her come undone. 

She screams in such pleasure, again and again, her core clenches around your soaked fingers. Her juices squirt and coat your t-shirt-covered chest. You continue to circle her clit, extending her orgasm as long as possible. She comes down from her high, her pants slowing, and you withdraw your hands. You lean up and capture her lips with yours once more. 

“Are you ok?” You ask. Looking into her eyes, you see they are alight with pleasure and joy. 

“What does this mean?” Elain worries her bottom lip. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything El. This was about you finding yourself through pleasure.”

“Gods, Y/N that was- that was perfect”. A smile now shines brightly upon her lips. “Thank you-” You cut off her thanks with another quick peck on her lips. 

“Do not thank me Elain Archeron. Thank yourself for deciding to put your body and your pleasure first. If anything I should be thanking you for allowing me to come along on this journey with you.” Her smile is mirrored on your own face. “Lucien is going to be a very lucky male, El. You are perfect in every way.” 

Sitting up now, she throws her arms around you, squeezing you tight. She pulls away and looks down at the dampness coating your shirt. “I was not aware women- I mean females could do such things.” She traces the dark stain slowly, running her fingers along the slopes of your breast. 

“Some do,” you confirm, “if encouraged enough. Everyone is different, and I know that if you decide to, Lucien will worship everything about you.” She smiles again and pulls you in for another hug. You knew that this was not the start of a fling or romance with Elain. But instead, it had been a self-awakening, and she had allowed you to lead her through it. You were beyond honoured to help. 

“But how do you know that he- Lucien will like it. Like me.” 

“I have a confession of my own El.” You clear your throat, praying to the cauldron you weren’t about to say the wrong thing. “Lucien and I are about the same age. When we were growing up, we met on occasion at different events, and quickly developed a rapport.”  Elain quirked a brow. “We, well, we fucked. A lot.” Elain’s jaw drops. Your core clenches at the memories. Lucien’s mouth on yours, on your cunt. His member thrusting in and out of you, sloppiness and uncertainty turned to precision and strength as the years went on. You fight to tamper the flames of arousal within yourself. This is not the time or place. “We were each other's firsts and we experimented over the years. But that was well over three and a half centuries before you were born. It was so long ago that I don’t want you to think anything of it! We are friends now, have been for the last 300 years, nothing more, I promise.” And it was true.. The memories you had made together, were definitely special, cherished, and enough to turn your crank some days, but the actual male, was your friend and was now mated to another. “What I am trying to say, is that I can guarantee that you are everything he will ever desire.”

“Me and Lucien both lost our virginity to the same female?” she questions finally. You nod, eying Elain again. Hoping beyond hope that she does not take the news badly. To your surprise, she begins to chuckle, which turns into a cackle, which turns into a full-body fit of laughter, and you find yourself joining in. You both laugh and laugh while holding each other close. Eventually the fit winds down and with a few last giggles, Elain sighs, “I’m not sure why, but it seems very fitting.” You hum in agreement.

Elain’s eyes drooped in relaxation and exhaustion and she lays her head on your shoulder. 

The next moments happen in a blur. You help her to her feet, gather her clothes and you both make the quick, and risky walk back into the hall and into her chambers. Luckily the hallway is empty. 

You sit her on the bed and start a fire. Heading to her bathing chamber, you wet a cloth with warm water. Returning to find Elain still perched on the edge of her bed, you gesture for her to lean back. She obliges and you begin to cleanse her skin gently. Nothing save for respect and adoration floats between you now. You tuck her naked body gently under the covers and kiss her forehead.  Swiping your thumb against her cheek you whisper softly, “Good night El. Sweet dreams.”

Her eyes crack open and you hear her mumble, “Are you sure you don’t want me to try-” 

 You shush her. “This was a big moment for you El. I expect nothing in return.” She smiles again deeply. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for helping me find myself.” With that, Elain drifts off to sleep and you head out the door and back to your own chambers. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back behind the closed door of your room, you stand frozen. The last few hours of your night running through your head. From the moment you arrived at the River House, something was different. You were different. Less… restricted. You’d felt no such feelings while away in the Summer Court. Your mind races, searching for an answer but coming up short. 

It was then that your stomach let out a loud growl. You missed dinner. You had been on your way to the kitchen when you encountered Elain. You scoff at yourself and your forgetfulness. You pull the shirt stained with Elain’s juices over your head, letting it join your previously discarded nightgown on the floor. Your panties were damp, but with the way the evening was progressing, you figured you’d end up just soaking another pair later, and opted to keep them on. Strolling over to your wardrobe for the third time tonight, not bothering with another shirt or nightdress, you pull on a simple grey robe. The material is thin but warm, enough to reheat your body after your outdoor escapade. 

Feet still bare, you head back out into the hallway and slowly pad down the empty corridor. You make it halfway down the stairs before you hear it. 

“Are you going to be a good boy, for me?” a female’s voice floats from the kitchen. You grip the railing and take a fractured breath. 

“Yes, my Lady. I promise I’ll be such a good boy.” Your core clenches as you recognize the low gravelly voice. For Cauldon’s sake. You should turn away, head back upstairs and forget the words you had just heard coming from the kitchen. But some unknown force, the same force that had emboldened you all night, urges you forward. Each step has your stomach clenching in anticipation. 

Eventually, you arrive at the threshold to the kitchen and your jaw drops. 

In the centre of the room sits Cassian, arms tied behind him to the back of his chair. His wings flare lightly to the sides. He is dressed in nothing but a pair of black undershorts. His bare back is to you, muscles rippling as he squirms, testing the limits of his bindings. 

On the counter is Nesta. You take in her figure and decide that they do indeed call her the Lady Death for a reason. Nesta lays atop the counter, body barely covered by a tight blood-red nightgown, garters on her thighs and red stilettos on her feet. Her hair is twisted into a crown of braids. She lays on her side, head propped up on her hand. In from of her sits a bowl of strawberries. Her hand dances above the bowl before plucking a strawberry from the pile. She brings it to her lips, tongue darting out to taste the berry. Staring into Cassian’s eyes she takes a bite. You and Cassian gasp in unison. 

Nesta’s head jerks in your direction and her steely eyes lock on yours. Caught in your act of voyeurism, you want to look away, look anywhere but at the female, shame should be bubbling through your veins. But it isn’t. You feel no shame. Only desire. Desire spreads through your body, a familiar feeling over the last few hours. Your cunt pulses with every second you stand there, rooted in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of you.

“Who is it Nes?” Cassian questions, trying to gauge his mate’s response to their intruder. You know he could break his binds easily if necessary. Something glimmers in the eldest Archeron’s eyes. Her nostrils flair and her lips quirk in a smirk.

“I’m surprised you can’t smell her yet.” Nesta answers, pushing herself up and into a seated position. You can see Cassian’s back shift as he takes in a deep breath. 

“Y/N.” 

Fuck. They can smell your arousal. 

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” you have no idea where the sudden confidence has come from and you surprise yourself as you continue, “I seem to have interrupted a late-night snack.” 

The two mates lock eyes again, a whole conversation happening without words. Nesta eventually breaks the stare and returns her eyes to yours. “You’re looking a bit peckish yourself Y/N. You’re welcome to join us.” Mother above. “Come,” Nesta holds her half-eaten strawberry out towards you, “come have a bite.” Your gut tightens.

Your feet move before your brain can fully process what you are doing. It takes you 10 steps to pass Cassian, still tied to the chair, and another 3 to reach Nesta’s outstretched fingers. She parts her thighs so that your body can slide in between them. You gasp as her hand comes up to grasp your chin. Your legs tremble as Nesta leans in and whispers, “you are hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starved.” You manage to choke out. 

The tension is palpable as Nesta brings her strawberry up to your mouth. She traces the bow of your lips with the strawberries dripping flesh. “Open.” She commands. You do as you’re told and you take a bite of the tender fruit, its juice dancing on your tongue. It is Cassian now who lets out a low groan. In a moment you are flooded with sandalwood and lust as Cassian’s arousal hits your nose, and surges throughout the room, mixing with your own. You finally look over to the Illyrian, and what you see makes you hold your breath. A male who normally exudes strength, the General and Commander of your brother’s armies, Lord of Bloodshed, reduced to a squirming mess. Lust glows in his eyes and he looks from Nesta to you. 

“What do you think General?” Cassian squirms again at the use of his title. “I think she is still hungry, don’t you agree?” He lets out a low whine and his hazel eyes lock back on yours, both a reflection of lust and desire. 

“What do you say, Y/N?” he asks, voice low. The innuendos vanish as he probes you for further confirmation. He is making sure you are truly consenting to join in on whatever this was. You lied to yourself when you were shocked by your lust for Cassian earlier this evening, as you did in fact find him incredibly attractive, only more so now that he was entirely whipped by the bewitching Lady Death. It took you less than a second to answer him, the desire you had walked hand in hand with all evening flaring within you.

 “Yes,” you say. 

Nesta’s hand curls more firmly against your chin, turning your head back to hers. “Delectable,” she says. And then her lips are ghosting yours, breath mingling as your eyes flutter shut. You feel her tongue trace the same path of the strawberry, up and around the bow of your lips, and sweeping across the small gape of your mouth. 

Your hands instinctively come up to encircle her waist. 

Nesta’s lips leave you immediately, and you feel her arm reach down and give you a sharp smack on your ass. The sounds reverberate through the kitchen. You let out a hiss and your eyes fly open. “Unh unh kitten, no touching,” Nesta says, as she pulls your arms back down to your sides “don’t make me punish you.” 

You’re pretty sure your eyes roll into the back of your head at her words, and your thighs clench as wave after wave of desire crashes in you. “Yes, my Lady,” you murmur back. You hear Cassian let out another low groan as he shifts in his chair. 

“There’s a good kitten,” Nesta smiles, “now why don’t we give the General a little treat.” You hum in response. Nesta spins you around so that your back now falls against her. Your head falls into the crook of her neck as you eye Cassian once again. He looks up at the two of you through hooded eyes. You tilt your head slightly to the side and inhale Nesta’s scent of steel and pomegranate. “I want you to ride his thigh,” she says and the world stops for a moment. You stop breathing and you’re sure that Cassian does the same. Are you really about to do this with your best friend? The step forward you take is answer enough. You’re only another foot away from the Illyrian when Nesta’s voice rings out from behind you again, “Oh, and kitten,” you can hear the smirk in her voice, “drop your panties.” 

“Yes, Lady.” You reach under your robe and slowly slide your panties down your legs. You can see the dark patch made by the arousal now coating your thighs. Panties on the floor, the room is awash with a new wave of your potent arousal. Another low growl tears through Cassian’s lips. 

Cassian sits with his legs spread. His thighs are thick and muscular, the tanned skin shifting as you approach. Now standing in front of him, you quickly shift so that one of your legs is on either side of his left leg. Using his shoulders for leverage, you slowly lower yourself down onto the General’s thigh. The heat of his leg causes your breath to hitch. Cassian whimpers as the juices from your bare cunt weep onto his leg. You begin to move then, slow torturous gyrations as you get a feel for the large corded muscle beneath you. As your core soaks the General’s leg, you begin to pick up speed, rocking back and forth as the pleasure builds. 

“Good girl.” Nesta approaches you from behind. “Isn’t she being such a good Kitten, General?” 

“Mhm,” Cassian grunts, “so good.” His breath is coming out in pants, just as forceful as your own. 

“And Kitten, isn’t the General being such a good boy?” 

“Such a good boy,” you squeak out, your clit rubbing against his muscle. 

“I think he deserves a little treat.” From behind you, Nesta reaches between you and Cassian and palms his engorged member, straining painfully in his underwear. Cassian bellows in relief at the touch. Nesta’s fingers dip below the hem of his shorts and pull them down. Cassian’s cock springs free, slapping his stomach. His cock is massive and rock-hard. Long, and girthy with thick veins running along his shaft, his tip a dusky pink. It pulses in time with your ruts against his leg. Your nails dig into the soft flesh of his shoulders as your pupils blow wide with lust. Nesta pumps his shaft once, then again in rapid succession before her hand releases her mate's member. The General whines at the loss of contact, rutting up into the air, desperate for friction, precum gathering at his tip. You don’t dare indulge him without permission from your Lady Death, but your cunt throbs at the thought of punishment.

Nesta’s hands now travel to your body. Her nails graze up your thighs, against your curved hips, and up to your shoulders. She squeezes them gently before her hands travel further, up your neck and into your hair, brushing it all to one side. Her mouth lowers to your neck and she licks a long strip up your sweat-soaked flesh. She hums in delight at the taste, nuzzling the crook of your neck as she whispers into your ear. “Do you like looking at your best friend’s cock, kitten?” 

You let out a breathy moan, not able to form any words as you ride the General’s thigh into oblivion.  Nesta tuts and her hands grip your hips painfully, stopping the delicious friction. It was your turn to whine in protest, core aching at the loss. “Use your words kitten.” 

“Yes.” you whine, as you try to regain momentum. Nesta squeezes your hips harder.

“Yes, what.” Her tone is sharp. 

“Yes, Lady.” And then you are free again, hips moving wildly as you chant Yes, Yes, Yes. 

“Good kitten.” Lady Death places a kiss at the corner of your mouth. “You’ve seen his. Now it’s your turn to show us yours.” With that, her hands descend between you and the General once again, travelling to the tie at your waist. With a sharp tug, the rope comes loose, and your robe opens. Your nipples harden at the exposure. 

Cassian groans and the tip of his cock weeps at the sight. Your breasts rock back and forth in time with your thrusts. Cassian pulls on his restraints, desperate to touch them, to touch you. “Please.” He moans. The General bucks into the air again and again, “Please, Please Lady, Please”. 

Your hips gyrate faster, and you feel your release approaching. Nesta, still behind you, leans down and bites the lobe of your ear. “Come for me, kitten.” 

And then you are toppling over the edge. Your orgasm rips through you and you scream in delight. The General is right behind you, wings flaring and release thundering as he cums all over your chest. Your hips do not slow as you ride out every wave of pleasure. The three of you were so lost in the moment you had not heard the approaching footsteps.

“What the Fuck is this?” 

Your hips still, and from your position on Cassian’s lap, you open your eyes gaze dragging over the tips of his wings and to the doorway. 

And there stands Azriel, shadows swarming around him in a frenzy. 

“Az.” you croak, voice horse from screaming. The look of astonishment and anger in his eyes have you trying to stand up, to go to him and try to explain, but Nesta keeps a firm pressure on your shoulders, keeping you astride her mate. Confusion runs through you as you look up to meet her eyes, and youquickly understand her actions.

Cassian’s wings currently shielded your naked body, now dripping in his cum from Azriel’s view. As if in understanding, Cassian’s wings flare a little wider, ensuring full coverage of his mate and yourself.

“Brother,” Cassian replies, trying to keep the fucked out tone from his voice, “I do believe you’ve caught us at a bad time.” 

“Y/N? What sort of sick-, Why would you-, You know I-, Y/N, really Cass?” Azriel tries to form a coherent sentence. 

It’s Nesta that responds. “She is not your property, shadowsinger. You do not own her.”

“You took advantage of h-” Azriel roars. 

You roar right back. 

“I wanted this Azriel! I wanted this with every fibre of my being. All three of us chose to be here. Nesta is right, you do not own me. We are three consenting adults. The only one who has no right to be here right now is you.”  Your gaze pierces his, and you can see the hurt on his face. “Now, get out,” you spit, and he disappears into his shadows without another word. 

With the shadowsinger gone, Cassian’s wings lower, and your head falls to rest on his sweaty chest. "Well, fuck me." Cassian grunts, his nose burying into your hair. You feel his chest rise and fall, the powerful thumps of his heart slowing with your own. 

“I believe she just did, my dear mate.” Nesta muses, she slinks around the pair of you, coming up behind Cassian, and resting her head on his other shoulder. Your mixed arousal hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of the dalliance that had played out in the kitchen of the River House. 

You want more. You want to feel Cass’s lips upon your own. You want to lick the sweat down his pectorals and taste the cum that was now pooling between your breasts. You wanted to feast upon Lady Death herself, and to have her feast upon you, to feel her sharp tongue against your cunt. This new development in your relationship felt natural. It felt right.  You wanted to spend hours exploring the line between pleasure and pain, exhilaration and humiliation, domination and submission. You want more, and you can see in their eyes that they want more too. 

But the tone has shifted, and you have Azriel to thank for that. 

You sit up straight and push your wobbly legs up into a standing position. Cassian hisses as the air blows across the cooling slick left behind on his thigh. “Y/N,” he mumbles, “that was-”

“Incredible,” you finish for him, “that was pretty damn incredible.” You pull your robe closed and retie the stay at your waist. Nesta leans down and unties the bindings on her mate's wrists, he too rises to a standing position, retucking his spent cock into his underwear. Nesta slides her arm through his and the mates regard you appreciatively. 

“I hope you don’t-”, Nesta trails off, words like glue in her mouth, “have any regrets?” 

“Never,” you confirm. “My only regret is that we were interrupted.” You stare at the small smile that replaces the concern on Nesta’s features. You lean up and give them both a kiss on the cheek. “Good night my Lady. Good night General”. You stand back and give them a wink, “Let’s do this again soon, yeah?” 

Come daylight, there would likely be some serious conversations to be had. But that could wait. For now, you turn on your heels and make your way back to the stairs. 

“We’ll see you soon, kitten.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Azriel-

Azriel winnows himself out into the estate gardens. His mind races and his shadows swarm, blocking out the light of the moon. His scarred hands are shaking, and with horror, rage or sadness he is unsure. 

Cassian and Nesta… and Y/N? 

He is baffled by what he saw transpiring in the kitchen. 

He had been out on an after-dinner patrol and had arrived late into the night. He was used to the carnal activities of his brother and his mate and was keen on ignoring their sounds of pleasure when an unfamiliar cry of indulgence had piqued his interest. A third? he had wondered. But as his morbid curiosity had propelled him forward, he had realized that the new voice was not unfamiliar in the slightest. It was the voice of all his desire. The voice that had lived in his mind and in his dreams for the last 250 years. He reached the threshold to the kitchen and his worst nightmare was confirmed. 

There had sat Cassian with his back to him, hands tied to the chair behind him. Nesta stood in front of him, a devilish grin on her face as she watched the events unfold. And there, saddled between the two, was Y/N. Her eyes closed, she violently rocked back and forth atop Cassian. He could not see what was happening in its entirety from behind his brother’s wings, but he could smell the heady scent of arousal oozing from every pore of the trios' bodies. 

Azriel had watched Nesta lean over and whisper something in Y/N’s ear. 

And then Y/N and Cassian were coming undone. Azriel stood, unable to move as he watched the female he loved, cum atop his brother. He couldn’t take it.

“What the Fuck is this?” The question tore out of his throat before he could stop it. 

And then you had opened your eyes and whispered his name, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine what it would have been like to be in Cassian’s place. To have felt you come undone for him…on him…with him. 

But she hadn’t been with him. Y/N had chosen his brother and his brother’s mate of all the Fae in the Gods damned Court. He could not recollect the words he had spoken after that, anger and despair had blinded him. He was going to be sick. 

He shoots up into the sky and heads to the House of Wind. He needs to be away from them all so that he doesn’t do anything else he would regret. His wings flap hard and fast, the cold air slicing against their membranes painfully. Good, he thinks to himself. He lands on the balcony at the House of Wind too soon, and he drops hard onto the marble floor. He needs to hit something so that he doesn’t hit his brother in the face. 

Azriel stalks his way through the dining room with the intent of heading up to the sparring ring, when a shadow curls around his ear. Stop, it whispers, not right. The table. Azriel whirls back around and surveys his surroundings. His eyes narrow in on the table. On the table sits a book, likely left by Nesta, and the tray Lucien brought. The tray that holds the love potion. Correction, the tray that held the love potion. Azriel seizes the pitcher off of the tray. Empty. His mind races once again. Who would have taken it? Why not take the whole tray, the pitcher at the very least? Maybe, Cerrdiwen or Nuala dumped it out? No, they haven’t been up here today. Azriel has no idea what is going on.

His nose twitches as it perceives a faint scent. He turns back to the tray inspecting it closely. The jug and challis were bone dry, with not a drop of the elixir left. The note was long gone, burned to ash by his brother upon Lucien’s arrival earlier this evening. He turns his eyes then to the rose. The rose, which upon further inspection housed thorns coated in a thin layer of dried blood. 

Y/N’s blood. 

Y/N who was been at the Summer Court until right before dinner, 

Y/N who had missed the discussion about the contents of the pitcher, 

Y/N who had likely stopped by the House of Wind to drop off her bags before joining the family at dinner. 

Y/N, who he had just been riding Cassian into oblivion. 

“Fuck.” 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Y/N-

You once again find yourself leaning against your bedroom door. 

“What the glorious fuck was that?” you ask aloud, letting out a nervous chuckle. You had just participated in a three-sum with your best friend and his mate. Your best friend and his mate. Cassian and Nesta. The General and his Lady Death. 

The names alone make you shiver. 

The memory of your core ground against Cassian’s well-muscled thigh, Nesta whispering sin in your ear makes you clench your teeth, and your thighs. You let out a frustrated moan. This lustful hunger just won’t LEAVE, and the chance of further ministrations was halted by that winged fuck, Azriel. Azriel, whose eyes you had held as you road out your climax. Azriel, who had looked devastated as he saw you astride his brother. Had he been devastated? You wondered, or disappointed. 

He has no right to be disappointed in anything that you do. He held no claim to your body, or to your heart. Well, he held no claim to your body and if he had known about the space he occupied in your heart, after all this time, and still had not acted upon it, well then he did not deserve even a sliver of the adoration you felt. Let him be disappointed, it was none of your concern. 

He was none of your concern. Not his thoughts of your activities, nor his distaste for your actions. His glowing eyes did not deserve to behold you. His plush lips did not deserve to taste you. His rough fingers did not deserve to slip below the waistline of your panties, and- 

Another frustrated groan tears through your throat as your knees quake, thighs snapping together, desperate for friction. You push off the door with a huff, walking towards your bathroom. You need to wash Cassian’s seed off of your body. You undo the tie at your waist and allow the now cum stained garment to join the others on the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember that you had had panties on when you entered the kitchen. You can only hope that Nes and Cass had grabbed them during clean-up. 

You draw yourself another ice-cold bath and submerge yourself fully. The cold water distracts your mind as you scrub your body and hair. Once you are thoroughly cleansed, you step out of the tub, wrap yourself in a fresh towel and you make your way back to your damn wardrobe. You pray to the Cauldron that this is your last outfit change of the night. You pull out a blue pyjama set with tight but pliant shorts and a cropped camisole. Not bothering with undergarments you quickly pull your clothes on and flop onto the bed. 

You pull the covers up to your chin, mind blissfully blank from the cold bath… Until those glowing hazel eyes and sensuous lips hurtle around the walls of your mind. You think of his toned chest, glistening with sweat in the sparring ring, the curve of his wings as he holds himself with deadly precision. His intoxicating scent of night-chilled mist and cedar is almost upon your tongue as you imagine what it would be like for the shadowsinger to interrogate you like one of his prisoners. Cauldron boil me. Your hand travels to the hem of your shorts, and then lower still to your already slick slit. Your fingers easily find your swollen clit, and begin to swirl around it delectably. Your other hand comes up to palm your breast, when suddenly you hear a knock at your door. 

Your fingers still.

You don’t answer, hoping that the nuisance will get the hint. You hear another sharp knock at the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Y/N, please let me in. It’s important.” The slight rise in his tone, has you muttering a quick ‘enter’. The door swings open and the shadowsinger slinks in, a fae light bobbing behind him.

His nose is immediately overwhelmed with scent. The heady scent of your arousal was emanating from every surface in the room. It was intoxicating the spymaster, your scent driving him to the edge of his wits.

An edge he is quickly pulled back from as he smells his brother’s scent intermingling, as well as the scent of another, Elain. He eyes the pile of soiled clothing on the floor, the evidence that confirms his suspicions. “Gods, Y/N.” He clears his throat. “I know you were not feeling yourself tonight, but-” he starts. Your eyes widen in surprise. 

“Incorrect shadowsinger,” you stare at him, “I feel more myself than I ever have. Just more-”

“Free of inhibition?” he supplies. 

“Suppose I was. What concern is it of yours?” Your lips purse.

“I figured you deserve to know what was happening.” Azriel moves to your bed, sitting on the edge. He reaches into the pocket of his leathers and produces a single crumpled red rose. All of a sudden forgotten memory floods your mind. A pitcher full of plum-coloured starlight. The burn of it on your lips, down your throat. You remember drinking and drinking until there was nothing left. The urge you felt to drink, warped and resurged as the desire for Elain, for Cassian and Nesta, and for Azriel. Your hand twitches at the thought, fingers still primed over your clit. 

“So what was that mystery beverage, you all so lovingly forgot to label?” 

Azriel snorts before replying, “Affectus Revelare.”

“No shit?” Bewilderment shines in your eyes.

“It’s a love potion of sorts-” 

“I’m well aware of its side effects.” And you were, having heard stories of its potency from your brother. “I had just never seen it in person.” 

Azriel huffs, trying hard to keep his face void of emotion. “I’d assume then that you know that any intense feelings of pleasure you acted upon while under its influence, were no fault of your own.” 

“Let me make one thing absolutely clear, Azriel.” Your voice cut like glass, eyes as sharp as steel. “Anything I did tonight, I did because I wanted to. The bullshit spell does nothing but bring to the surface feelings I already have. I have no regrets about what I have done or will do tonight.” Azriel looks as though he is swallowing a mouthful of marbles. 

“Right,” he hastily stands, “I suppose now that you are feeling…better, I should probably let you get some sleep.” He treads to the door, head low, shadows tight against his silhouette. 

You should let him go, let you both stew overnight, and then try talking again. It is the smart thing to do. In spite of that, you curse your horny mouth as it opens and words fly out, “Who says I’m feeling better?” 

He freezes two paces from the door. Whipping around to face you again, his eyes are alight with panic. You pull your stilled hand out of your shorts and sit up. The blanket pools at your waist, your puckered nipples on full display from underneath your shirt. Your hand, still coated in your slick shines under the fae light. He looks from your face to your chest, to your sex-slicked hand and back again. He blinks and his nostrils flare, likely scenting the new wave of arousal that was coursing through your veins. 

In a flash he is back at your bedside, the back of his hand coming up and resting on your forehead. He is mumbling to himself. Cauldron, he’s having more mood swings than I am. “Care to share what the Hell you’re doing Azriel?” 

“It must have been laced with something else,” he grimaces, “another tonic or elixir maybe. Something to increase potency,” he swallows. “Did you… finish when you were in the kitchen?”

“You were there, Az… You saw me… You know I did.”

“Well, it’s not a matter of your partner reaching completion. If Elain and Cassian both-”

You were unnerved that he knew about Elain as well. “Az, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Maybe you need to, erm, try again? Or perhaps, it is Nesta and not Cassian you truly desire? Perhaps if you-” 

“Azriel. Stop with your nonsense ramblings.”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand! Something must be wrong. Your desires should be satiated by now. Once you bedded the true object of your affection, the potion was supposed to wear off.” His eyes met yours, and you could see that his mind was running a mile a minute. He was still upset, but now concern sat at the front of his mind. 

“I assume you tried with Elain first, and when that didn’t relieve your symptoms, you finally gave in to your basal instincts and realized it was Cassian, not Elain you truly desired.” Anger clouded your vision as he continues to spew utter garbage. “But you should be feeling better after your session in the kitchen. I should wake Rhys, perhaps he-”

You vault up to a kneeling position, shoving him with both hands. He staggers back a step.

“The hell you will! Do. Not. Wake my brother. What would be your plan for that anyways? ‘Oh Rhys, wake up! Your sister can’t stop fucking the other members of your Court! Oh please Rhys, come and get your little sister under control before she gets her horny over us all’ Ya, great plan Az.” Your eyes are burning with rage now, and your cunt  pulses with a heartbeat of its own. You were yelling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. “Even so, everything I did tonight was something everyone involved consented to. There was no primal urge forcing me to finger fuck myself for hours, to fuck Elain, to ride Cassian. It was me. I wanted those things, and they wanted them too. And it was beautiful and passionate, and intense. I desired them all, hell I still do.” You take a deep breath. “But, did you, even for one second use your tiny brain to think that maybe Elain or Cassian or Nesta aren’t the dominant object of my affection? You stupid Illyrian brute.” 

“Who’s left Y/N? Who? Who could it possibly be? Amren? Lucien?” Azriel’s hands fist into the blankets on your bed, his shadows flying, his words disjointed as his mind can’t stop racing. He doesn't notice that he too is now yelling. “Oh, it’s Lucien, isn’t it? I know you used to fuck but come on-”

“IT'S YOU, YOU INSOLENT ASSHOLE.” 

Time stops as you watch the shadowsinger’s mask crack. You see a hundred different emotions ripple across his face, joy, wonder, thrill and love? But then you also see, confusion, anger, jealousy, betrayal, sorrow, and disgust. “Y/N,” he whispers, voice horse and cracked, “Y/N, you don’t want me- you can’t want me.” 

“For Cauldron’s sake Azriel, I have loved you for the last two centuries! I wept and pined for you as you obsessed over Mor, and then I agonized over you as your affection turned to Elain. Not that I can blame you-”

“I have no interest in Elain.” He declares, eyes locked on yours. “I never did.”

“Bullshit.” You snort, “I’ve seen the way you stare at her, the way you follow her around-” 

“I stared because you stared, Y/N. I followed because you followed. Elain is lovely, but it was you, not I, who obviously fell for her charms.”  

You are at a loss for words now. Your jaw twitches. What does this mean? He wasn’t watching Elain. He doesn’t love Elain. Your entire body felt aflame. Sweat was gathering at the base of your neck leaving your hair damp. You wanted to combust, thigh trembling at this admission. Your nipples are taut, pressing tightly against your top. Your breath is shaky, “What are you telling me Azriel?” 

“I-I, okay look,” Azriel grinds his teeth, “It doesn’t matter. What I’m telling you is that you are mistaken. It is not me you want.” He takes a step closer to you, his knees grazing the edge of your bed.

“Oh, I’m mistaken?” You lift yourself higher on your knees, edging closer to the Illyrian in front of you.

“Yes.” 

You can feel his breath on your face. 

“Then prove it.” 

His lips crash down onto yours. The kiss is hard and rough, but his lips are as soft as velvet. His hands are at your waist, and he is pulling you up until you are flush with his chest. You gasp, and Azriel’s tongue surges forward into your open mouth, dominating your tongue with his own. Your hands snake up to his hair and pull hard at his black curls, bringing his body even closer to yours.

You pull both of your bodies back towards the bed, lips never separating. You work to unfasten his leathers, as you do. Agile fingers make quick work, and soon his chest is bare and heaving, his tattoos stark against his skin under the fae light. Tiny scars dance across his torso as his muscles ripple, and he pulls you to the head of the bed. He kneels above you now, one knee between your legs, hands resting on either side of your head as he braces himself. He begins to pull away from the kiss, so you nip his lip, a shrill whine leaving your throat. A bead of bright red blood wells on his lip. His eyes open, and you see that his pupils are blown wide. He watches your tongue dart out to lick the crimson ichor. His mouth clashes with yours once again, his body pinning you to the bed, as the coppery tang of blood mixes in your mouths. The elixir in your veins sings at the taste of his blood. Him. The very taste you craved. 

You roll your hips against him and you can feel the bulge in his pants. Azriel growls, and he brings a hand down to your hips to halt your movements. His hand then travels up your body, leaving a burning trail up to the edge of your shirt. His hand stills for but a moment and you lift your back off of the bed in answer. Your lips separate once more as his hands pull the thin material up and over your head. He beholds your naked flesh as if he were a male damned to the gallows. As if you would be the last sight he sees. You hear him mutter under his breath, a plea or a prayer, but you can’t quite make it out. 

“Az.” 

He unleashes himself on you. 

His lips devour yours, a battle of teeth and tongues. His mouth moves down your neck, leaving hard wet kisses in his wake. He reaches the crook of your neck, mouth suckling your skin. His teeth brush the bruise that is forming there. And then he is clamping his teeth into your flesh. The force of the bite makes your body tremble. The sharp pain causes a scream to rip through your lungs, your hands fly up to grasp his shoulder blades, your nails shredding against his skin. The pain fades to a deep throb, pulsing in time with your needy cunt. 

Your neck stings as his mouth pulls away. He offers you a smirk and you can see your blood in his mouth. He’s on you again, lips trailing down your collarbone to the valley between your breasts. His tongue trails lazy strokes against your dewy flesh before his lips clamp around one of your pert nipples. He groans at the taste of your flesh, his tongue flicking against it. You let out a shriek of ecstasy, your hips bucking up against his groin. You thrust against him, desperate for friction. His hand gives your other breast a rough squeeze in response. 

“Please Az. I need you.” You were gasping the words, stuttering with every hard suck, “I need you inside me. Now.” 

 His lips leave your breast with a diabolical pop. “Patience, little one.” A small smile graces his lips, “Not until I’ve tasted your sweet cunt.” 

The weight of his body leaves you, but before you can question him, you feel two strong hands clamp around your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Azriel’s thumbs hook into the waistband of your shorts, and they quickly join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. 

You lay completely bare before him. He spreads your legs, and he falls to his knees, eyes in line with your dripping cunt. Your arousal has seeped down your thighs and to the bedsheets below. He utters your name in worship as he lowers his mouth to your core. 

He feasts like a man starved, drowning in your arousal as your thighs clamp around his head, your core pulsing with the need to be filled. His tongue flicks against your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through you. His scarred hands clamp around your thighs as he pulls you impossibly closer. His tongue thrusts into your hole and you see white. You are so close to the edge, so close to climax.

“Az-. Az! Please, Please Cauldron, please. I’m close.” You’re moaning, pulling at his hair to make him look up at you.  “Please, I want to cum with your inside me.” 

His fingers lessen their grip, and his mouth leave your sex. His lips are glistening with your juices, as his hands travel to the buckles at his thigh, removing the sheath containing Truth-Teller, next he works the ties of his boots and pants, both are quickly discarded. With a tug of his undershorts, the Spymaster of the Night Court stands before you in all of his glory, and he is magnificent. 

His cock throbs against his stomach as he watches you watch him. He fists his rock-hard length and he looks at you with a question burning in his eyes, giving you a chance to turn him away. But you need him, you burn for him. 

“I need you inside of me Azriel.” You can feel the head of his cock brush against your folds, your head falling back and you whine at the contact, “Fuck me. Gods fuck me.” His cock rubs against your sex a few more times, your slick lubricating his length, and then he is slowly pushing inside of you. 

Your cunt stretches, and you’re not sure if you’re moaning in pain or in rapturous pleasure. He stills for a moment, halfway inside you, letting your body acclimate to his thick member. He leans down and leaves a chaste kiss against your lips. 

“Ready?” he asks, voice low, strained with the effort to remain still. 

“Yes.”

He pulls his cock out all the way out, and with a buck of his hips, completely sheaths himself inside of you. Again and again, his hips slam against yours, cock pistoning in and out of you. His cock fills you completely, your cunt stretched as far as it can, and each vein along his shaft rubs deliciously against you. The tip of his cock brushes against your spongey tissue and you whail in bliss. 

“Harder.”

He complies, his hips fracturing against your pelvis, driving him further inside of you. Your hands reach around and grab his ass, driving him even deeper. The fae lights are flickering in and out, the bed is shaking, cracking against the wall, and you are screaming, and screaming, insane from the pleasure.

You plummet over the edge, wailing his name as your orgasm cleaves you in two. 

Azriel follows you over the cliff, his wings flare wide, and he lets out a roar as his thick cum paints your insides. His pace begins to slow as he continues to thrust in and out, prolonging your pleasure. He stills inside of you but doesn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to fully unsheath himself, savouring the feeling of you around him. 

“Y/N…” his voice is hoarse. He starts to pull away, but you just lean in and capture his lips with another kiss. 

“Let’s talk about what this means later Az. For now,” your eyes shine bright in the moonlight and it takes his breath away, “for now, can you just hold me?” He nods and swallows hard. Shimming up to the head of the bed, you both slide under your covers, he tucks you into his side, arm draped around your waist. Your head rests on his chest, and you breathe in the scent of his sweat and musk. 

You can feel his come slowly trickle down your leg. 

You feel complete and satiated. The roar in your veins from the potion has gone, left in its place was love. Your eyes feel heavy and you begin to drift off to sleep. “Told you so,” you mumble. You’re fast asleep now, and miss the look of regret that crosses the Shadowsingers face.

.

.

.

Hours later you awaken to an empty bed. 

[acourtofthought]

THE ERA OF VANSERRA

I'm starting to think the Night Court is setting themselves up for problems by their lack of respect for the Vanserra's 😂

Nesta lifted her chin, smirking at last. “I suppose once we have the Crown in our hands, the Night Court won’t need you after all. Neither will I.” She could have sworn Cassian was repressing a laugh, but she kept her gaze on Eris, who went rigid, rippling with rage. “I do not appreciate being toyed with, Nesta Archeron. My offer was sincere. Stay with the Night Court and you risk your ruin.”

So Cassian said, “I grew up surrounded by monsters. I’ve spent my existence fighting them. And I see you, Eris. You’re not one of them. Not even close. I think you might even be a good male.” Cassian opened the door, turning from Eris’s curled lip. “You’re just too much of a coward to act like one.”

Rhys said at last, “I can stomach being around him.” “I’m sure he’d love to hear that thrilling endorsement.”

“Am I not doing that now?” He arched a brow. “Am I not sending twice-weekly reports to your spymaster?”

Not feeling very festive at all, I said sharply, “That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—” “I’m not.” “It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.” Lucien stared at me, long and hard. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.”

But I asked, “And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?” Lucien’s metal eye clicked faintly and narrowed. “You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?”

Mor took another bite from her pastry. “Lucien can’t be entirely trusted anymore.” Cassian started. “What?” “Even with Elain here, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa. He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend.”

“And?” Cassian bit out. Lucien threw him a withering look. “I’m not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.” Cassian gave him a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Who says it’s an act?” Lucien let out a long sigh. “Very well, then.”

"I'm talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see you, including her mate".

"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her"

"I'll defeat him with little effort".

These two brothers are extremely connected and well informed and they've been going out of their way to share information with the NC. And while the NC is occasionally forthcoming and at times decent to Lucien and Eris, there's always an underlying lack of disdain, disrespect or lack of trust the IC has towards them.

Lucien is known as "the fox" and we know Autumn is a cutthroat Court. Is it possible they'll start working together after being put down one too many times by the IC? That they'll make a plan to head to the continent (with Jurian) to free Vassa and deal with Koschei and Beron but will conveniently "forget" to reveal their plans to Rhys and Feyre? Eris has grown increasingly concerned with Berons activities, and I don't think he's all that fond of the IC after they played him at the ball so it might be a natural breaking off point for Eris to begin distance himself and offering up less information.

We know Eris’s (and Lucien's) fire will probably not be a match for Koschei's lake:

"His fire wouldn’t have withstood Koschei’s lake, I don’t think.”

But know he now has a made dagger which he tried to trade for Nesta though Rhys said he might need it yet:

Keep the dagger, though. You might need it.”

And Lucien has Day Court powers. Both things possible weapons against a Death Lord (after first finding the box where he possibly keeps his soul which Elain may be able to lead them too) AND Beron.

There have been hints that Eris would like to make ammends with Lucien:

But as Eris strode by … I could have sworn there was something like sadness—like regret, as he glanced to Lucien.

Or has possibly been in contact with Lucien:

Eris’s face filled with cool amusement. “I wanted to feel out Vassa and Jurian.” He didn’t mention his brother, oddly enough. “But they clearly know little about this.”

I'd actually love to see them reconnecting and working together in Lucien's book. I have no doubt Jurian will remain Lucien's found family but also having his blood brother as found family sets up an even better core group of people for Lucien.

I wonder if the IC will find out their plans to travel through Azriel's spies (without having all the details), then send Elain to travel with them as their own "spy" to see what they're up to using Mor as her cover, claiming they've been unable to reach her.

Feyre winced. “Mor left for Vallahan this morning and is out of our daemati magic’s range.

Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed.

"Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way"

Also, SJM has been hinting at revealing the truth between he and Mor since ACOWAR and beyond. Having Lucien, Elain, Eris AND Mor (as well as Jurian and Vassa) all in the continent together makes a lot of sense when tying up loose threads:

“I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”

“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.

“There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

Eris nodded to where Mor watched them from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. “She knows the truth but has never revealed it.” “Why?” “Because she is afraid of it.”

“Give me a damn answer.” Eris crossed his arms, then winced. As if whatever injuries lay beneath his immaculate clothes ached. “You’re not the person I want to explain myself to.” “I doubt Mor will want to listen.” “Maybe not.” Eris shifted on his feet, and grimaced again. “But you and yours have more important things to think about than ancient history. My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too. I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash.”

As both Elain and Mor were absent from the crossover scene in CC2, it's another piece of the puzzle that seems to fit.

And while this line doesn't necessarily go with the above, I kind of love thinking about the Elain / Eris interactions we might get:

Nesta barely glanced to Eris, who pulled his assessing gaze from Elain to stare at the eldest Archeron sister with a mix of wariness and intent that set Cassian’s jaw grinding

[onihcinimkcin]

Whatever Happened to Elaine May? by Thomas Thompson. LIFE, July 28, 1967 (p. 54-59).

Transcript (as reprinted in Nichols and May: Interviews) available with Project Muse access.

[pinkposies]

01 . intoxicate

not proofread :P This is a poly!mikaelsons. I crosspost on wattpad and ao3.

wc - 2113

There aren't any real warnings but some may think the habits Elaine does come off as a form of self-harm.

The Kallos court consists only of women, it existed since the beginning of time by women who were endowed with natural magic and immortality by a divine entity. It was prophesied that Elaine Moon was the reincarnation of the being that gave the faeires their magical abilities. Elaine Moon was born to be the leader of the Kallos court; she was pure power.

                                              જ⁀➴

The sun basked on Elaine as she laid her head on Alana's lap. The newly cut grass felt soft against her bare legs. Elaine sighed as she felt Alana's fingers rake through her hair, she insisted on braiding Elaine's hair. As she did so she hummed a soft tune, which Elaine could barely hear over the laughter.

She turned her head just enough to watch as Lacey and Daphne ran around trying to catch butterflies. She couldn't help but giggle when Daphne tripped over her feet.

"Are you prepared for the festival?" Alana said. Elaine feels her fingers leave her hair, allowing her to turn onto her stomach.

She rested her head on Alana's thigh, staring up at her, "Of course, I'm prepared, it's all my mothers speak of." She sighed.

"You'll think that having an entire month dedicated to you, you'll be more happy about it." She mumbled as she brushed a stray hair that fell from Elaine's braid behind her ear.

Elaine nuzzled her cheek against Alana's thigh, and she sighed. "I know, but the festivals just remind me of the expectations I'm meant to meet."

She did feel somewhat bad for seeming ungrateful. The other faes go through so much trouble with decorating, cooking, and finding the right gift for her, but the constant pressure of becoming the leader of the court brings her down.

"We could trade places anytime because having a month where everyone practically worships me sounds amazing," Alana joked which seemed to have some undertones of seriousness.

Elaine sat up on her bottom, brushing the grass off her stomach. She reached down and entwined Alana's hand with hers, "You don't understand, how draining it could be, I barely get any free time to myself," she exclaimed, bringing the back side of Alana's hand to rub against her cheek.

Alana sighed and shook her head as she squeezed Elaine's hand. She goes to speak but is interrupted when yelling is heard in the distance. All the girls freeze in panic as the voice comes closer, they simultaneously look towards where the voice is coming from to see Sara running to them as she waves her arms.

Sara falls to her hands and knees when she comes to a fast halt in front of the girls. She grasped at the grass, and she was panting from running.

"Sara, are you okay? Is something going on!" Lacey shrieked, as she crawled over to Sara, placing her hand on the exhausted girl.

She finally caught her breath and squealed, "There's a man here!"

"A man!" Daphne gasped out, sounding almost horrified, "Why would the Elders let it into the dimension?"

Alana whipped her head towards Elaine, "Have any of the Elders mentioned to you about the man?" sputtered Alana. Her eyebrows scrunched up at the mere thought of Elaine keeping such news from her.

"No. No. I was told nothing!" She blurted out, attempting to divert the attention away.

from her.

"That doesn't matter," Sara began, standing up and offering her hand to Lacey. "We need to go to the weeping hall to see the man!" She exclaimed, then started running, dragging Lacey along with her.

The remaining girls jumped up and started running as well. Elaine knew that there was an opposite sex, but none of the faeries had seen a man before, not even the elders.

She couldn't think of any reasoning as to why the elders would disobey the previous elder's wish for a no-men world. Elaine felt a surge of excitement and fear as the girls got closer to the weeping hell.

Throughout her adolescence, she's only been taught about the evil doings of men. Elaine never thought there'd be a day she'd see the opposite sex, as long as she was in the Kallos dimension. Even the animals in the dimension are all female.

The girls came to a halt when they saw the weeping hall was crowded. Many other faeries came to see the man too; the hall was filled with loud chatter, some expressing their confusion and others complaining.

Elaine dropped Alana's hand and walked towards the crowd. She lightly pushed the other faeries out of the way. When she finally got to the front, her eyes widened as she saw the man she stood in front of her.

From what she learned as a child, she envisioned that all men would look more beast-like or goblin-like. Yet the man who stood in front of her was far from a beast. He was confident, with a small smirk on his face, showing that he was enjoying the faeries fawning over him.

He was slim yet muscular at the same time. With somewhat curly blond hair and blue or green eyes, Elaine couldn't tell being so far away. He wore a slim-fit black shirt that enhanced his muscles and dark blue jeans.

"Gyne! Clam down this instant!" Lady Belina's demanding voice silenced the faeries. She was the eyes and ears of the Elders, and she assisted them with their decisions. The faeries stopped their conversation with each other and waited for Lady Belina to speak.

Belina walked up to the podium and said, "I know everyone has concerns as to what's going on, but rest assured your questions will be answered," She sighed, "The elders are busy currently, and they sent me to make this announcement."

"We've made an alliance with the man who stands before Kalus Mikaelson. The elders have been withholding this information from everyone to not cause an uproar, but the vampire species has found out about our existence and is attempting to find a way to enter our dimension. It is no longer safe for any faerie to leave the dimension with this target on our backs. With this alliance, it hopefully guarantees peace with the vampires."

The loud chatter begins again, the faeries fearing for their safety. All they know is peace; they've been trained to use their powers to progress the community and help themselves. There has never been a situation where the young faeries had to use their powers for defense.

"Would any of you volunteer to assist Klaus Mikaelson on a tour of the Kallos world?" Lady Belina interrupted the chatter, and many faeries quickly raised their hands, shouting to be chosen.

Yet, Belina's eyes fell on Elaine; she smiled gracefully, motioning for Elaine to step onto the podium. The curly haired girl rapidly shook her head at the older woman, slowly backing up into the crowd.

"Elaine Moon! There isn't anyone who should make acquaintance with our guest other than the future leader. Come up here, Elaine!"

Elaine silently cried inside as she felt everyone's eyes on her. Her shaky legs walked towards the man, her nails digging into her palm.

"Everyone, clear out and continue with your daily activities. Please do not bother our guest unless approached. Thank you for your time!"

Elaine watched as the faeries reluctantly left the hall. Lady Belina waved goodbye to her, mouthing good luck. Her eyes continued to follow Belina, fearing to look towards the man who she felt was staring her down.

"You don't seem pleased to be the one to assist me." He stated matter of factly.

Her eyes widened at the notion of making him feel unwanted, "No, I'm just in shock, is all," Elaine spoke uneasily, scratching at her wrist as a nervous habit. "Nothing to do with you though! Well, it's everything to do with you."

"There's no need to be nervous, love; I don't bite." Klaus teased her, his words having a double meaning that she didn't quite get.

She giggled, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach. "I guess you're right, but you're nothing like the man I imagined," Elaine admitted while walking towards the exit to begin the tour.

As he walked beside her, she couldn't help but be dumbstruck by the noticeable height difference. Most of the faeries are around the same height.

She felt her cheeks warm up as she heard his deep, rich laugh, "And what do you think a man would look like?" Klaus sounded amused by her behavior.

"I don't know, maybe overwhelming tall, a mix of man and beast, scars all over and-" Elaine was cut off by Klaus laughing.

"I'm sorry, love, I don't mean to laugh." He somewhat offered an apology, even though he didn't sound all that sorry.

"It's okay, but I am kind of disappointed that you're not as monster-like or evil." Elaine joked, attempting to match his energy.

"Trust me, love, I'm as bad as it gets." Klaus insisted, awhile charming her with his gleaming smile.

Elaine laughs, not fully thinking about his words. "This is Celaedon Hollow, you'll find everything you need in here," She explained, stopping in front of the huge shopping center, "We use crystals as our currency, but depending on the owner, she'll trade something of yours as a payment."

As they walked through the shopping center, Elaine watched as Klaus admired the scenery and architecture. He looked almost like a kid, she giggled to herself, every newcomer that came before him had the same reaction.

"If you think this is beautiful, wait until I show our worship area!"

"I wasn't aware that faeries follow a religion."

Elaine tuned out the whispers and stares the other faeries gave the two, "Well, we don't follow any human religions if that's what you're thinking. We simply pay thanks to the divine entity who created the faerie species."

Klaus hummed, "If you don't mind me prying, but what exactly is the Palingenesis Festival?"

Elaine sighed, hoping that he wouldn't notice the flyers and banners hanging around the shopping center, "Well, it's a celebration of me."

"Please explain further," Klaus asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

"Palingenesis means rebirth, and the divine entity I was speaking of," Elaine sighed, "simply put, everyone believes I'm the reincarnation of the entity."

Klaus suddenly seemed more invested in their conversation than before, "So, that's why Belina said you were the soon to be leader." He acknowledged, putting the pieces together.

"Yes, the days leading up to the day I was born, are celebrated with foods, activities, and gifts."

"That sounds rather enjoyable."

"It is, but it does get exhausting tuning into the other world and blessing the faeries with a prophecy."

"You have the gift of precognition and clairvoyance." Klaus mused, finding himself becoming more interested in the girl's abilities.

"In a way, it's not all that exciting, though. Sometimes it's more of a burden than a gift." She mumbled, beginning to feel discomfort as they continued the conversation, "But can we change the topic, please?"

"It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable." He reassured her, there was still more time for him to learn more about the faerie.

"There's no need to apologize." Elaine smiled, wanting to lighten the mood, "But anyways, this is the Marigold Village, the older faeries live here."

They continued exploring Philia's Keep. She showed him the different attractions and neighborhoods that the land could offer. Throughout the tour, Elaine and Klaus continued to make small talk about whatever she was showing him, "I'm sorry to cut this trip short, but if I show you the entirety of Kallos, we'll be walking for days." She joked.

"That's quite alright, it is getting late." He offered, staring down at Elaine as they stopped walking.

He watched as she continuously avoided making eye contact. Which he found amusing considering she didn't make eye contact with him this entire time. Klaus felt somewhat satisfied that he had such an effect on her.

"Did Belina tell you where you're supposed to stay?" She questioned him, taking a small step backward because she was starting to feel consumed by his aura.

"I believe Melos Village, cottege 11."

Elaine gasped, her mood noticeably changing, "I live in Melos Village, isn't that ironic?" She pointed it out. She kind of enjoyed her conversation with Klaus, she couldn't explain why she felt surprisingly comfortable making small talk with him.

Klaus chuckled at her excitement, "I guess we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

"Come on, let's go." She smiled.

                                                       જ⁀➴

They walk into the village together, silence engulfing them as the other faeries return home, "The number of your house should be on the mailbox, I can still take you there if you want." Elaine offered.

"I'd rather walk you home."

"Oh, that's not necess-" She started to say, but was quickly interrupted.

"I insist." He pressed.

Elaine's eyebrows furrowed, and she hesitated, "Okay." She began to walk towards her cottage. The silence once again engulfed them as they made the short trip.

Stopping in front of number 15, "This is me," she said, slightly bouncing on her toes.

Klaus tilted his head enough to make eye contact with her, "I'll see you later, Elaine." He assured, walking away before she could respond.

She stood at her door in a state of allure, and once again, she couldn't understand why.

[vote-democrat-president-congress]

"In any election, it’s hard to know whose word to trust. And in a polarized country, many Americans distrust any information that comes from the other side of the political divide. That’s why the criticism of Donald Trump by those who served with him in the White House and by members of his own party is so striking. Dozens of people who know him well, including the 91 listed here, have raised alarms about his character and fitness for office — his family and friends, world leaders and business associates, his fellow conservatives and his political appointees — even though they had nothing to gain from doing so. Some have even spoken out at the expense of their own careers or political interests.

The New York Times editorial board has made its case that Mr. Trump is unfit to lead. But the strongest case against him may come from his own people. For those Americans who are still tempted to return him to the presidency or to not vote in November, it is worth considering the assessment of Mr. Trump by those who have seen him up close.

Administration insiders:

He will always put his own interests and gratifying his own ego ahead …”

Bill Barr

He was extremely vulnerable to manipulation.”

Fiona Hill

… he was getting input from people who were calling him up, I don’t know who ...”

Anthony Fauci

… undermined American democracy baselessly …”

Thomas P. Bossert

He doesn’t take responsibility for the bad news …”

David Lapan

… says a whole lot more about him than it will ever say about Asian Americans.”

Elaine Chao

… equality and freedom can never be equated with white supremacists …”

Gary Cohn

His behavior had grown increasingly erratic and unnerving.”

Betsy DeVos

The F.B.I. is under attack by the president of the United States.”

Andrew McCabe

A person who admires autocrats and murderous dictators.”

John Kelly

Sometimes it’s just better to steer clear of him.”

Anthony Scaramucci

… I do regard him as a threat to democracy …”

Mark Esper

Trump’s temperament wasn’t rational …”

Cassidy Hutchinson

… doesn’t know the difference between the truth and a lie …”

Dan Coats

… he tries to divide us.”

James Mattis

… loyalty was mostly a one-way street.”

Cliff Sims

… I think he’s a terrible human being.”

Mick Mulvaney

… caused direct harm …”

Deborah Birx

… very little understanding of what it means to be in the military …”

Richard Spencer

… the most reckless and deadly piece of information I have ever heard.”

Rick Bright

Literally everything I’ve tried to do on cutting drug costs, you have killed it.”

Alex Azar

… played to Trump’s ego and insecurities with flattery.”

H.R. McMaster

… flashbacks to my earlier career as a prosecutor against the Mob.”

James Comey

The turnover suggested instability and disorganization to our adversaries …”

Mike Pompeo

… renders coherent foreign policy almost unattainable.”

John Bolton

He is wholly unfit to be in office.”

Alyssa Farah Griffin

… a huge violation of your most important oath …”

Marc Short

He has built up a DNA of defensiveness.”

Sean Spicer

You are using the military to create fear in the minds of the people …”

Mark Milley

… Anyone that puts themselves over the Constitution should never be president …”

Mike Pence

… not consistent with our national security objectives.”

Rex Tillerson

Trump relentlessly … puts forth claims that simply are not true.”

Ty Cobb

The root of the problem is the president’s amorality …”

Miles Taylor

Do you think Trump wants a guy to win after him?”

Steve Bannon

… He’s saying some crazy shit.”

Don McGahn

… They are loyal to no one.”

Stephanie Grisham

The Trumps & Trump Inc.

You can’t trust him.”

Maryanne Trump Barry

… a cheat, a liar, a fraud, a bully …”

Michael Cohen

‘I wanna do what I wanna do’ … ”

Fred Trump III

Trump does not have the temperament …”

Kwame Jackson

He pushed me up against the wall …”

Jill Harth

…actually a racist.”

Omarosa Manigault Newman

Honest work was never demanded of him …”

Mary L. Trump

… the competition reality show set about an American fraud …”

Bill Pruitt

… the hint of menace beneath the surface …”

Gwenda Blair

Our job was to make him look legitimate …”

Jonathon Braun

If you disagreed with Donald, he put you out of his inner circle.”

Randal Pinkett

Republican politicians

He is a coward.”

Dick Cheney

This man is a pathological liar.”

Ted Cruz

He's a race-baiting, xenophobic, religious bigot.”

Lindsey Graham

There is nothing ‘conservative’ about Donald Trump.”

Adam Kinzinger

The cheapest S.O.B. I’ve ever met in my life.”

Chris Christie

He’s not loyal.”

Justin Amash

He sought a coup by misleading people with lies.”

Arnold Schwarzenegger

… Power, revenge and retribution is his real motivation …”

Denver Riggleman

Reckless, outrageous and undignified behavior …”

Jeff Flake

The healing of the Republican Party cannot begin with Trump as president …”

Geoff Duncan

… taking advantage of the trust placed in him by his supporters …”

John Boehner

He is a con artist.”

Marco Rubio

… a weakening of our shared American values …”

John Kasich

I think he’s toxic for the Republican Party and for the country.”

Larry Hogan

He’s willing to significantly undermine them …”

Bob Corker

There has never been a greater betrayal by a president …”

Liz Cheney

… an intensifying crescendo of conspiracy theories …”

Mitch McConnell

He should have immediately denounced the mob …”

Kevin McCarthy

… the most expensive and least effective way to do border security …”

Will Hurd

… not decency, not truth, not character, not integrity …”

Bill Weld

He tried to violently overthrow our government.”

Joe Walsh

… We shouldn’t have listened to him.”

Nikki Haley

… bitterness, combativeness and self-interest.”

Charlie Baker

Donald Trump is a phony, a fraud.”

Mitt Romney

… will spend the entire campaign whining about his legal troubles …”

Chris Sununu

… requires the kind of character he just doesn’t have.”

Paul Ryan

Conservative voices

He built a wall of lies …”

Charlie Sykes

If someone says something nice about him, they are our friend …”

Henry Kissinger

He wasn’t motivated by what he didn’t know.”

Hugh Hewitt

… corroded and corrupted American democracy …”

J. Michael Luttig

This is not leadership our country needs.”

Bob Vander Plaats

… We need a new standard-bearer.”

Erick Erickson

Lying is Trump’s toxic superpower.”

Rich Logis

… a floundering, inarticulate jumble of gnawing insecurities …”

George Will

Trump might be the greatest charlatan of them all.”

L. Brent Bozell III

World leaders

… I can't understand how Donald Trump can be on the side of Putin.”

Volodymyr Zelensky

A frightened dog barks louder.”

Kim Jong-un

… stands for a great division in the country.”

Olaf Scholz

… If there is a second time, it won’t be easy …”

Justin Trudeau

I deeply regret that President Trump has not conceded defeat …”

Angela Merkel

Where has our role model for democracy gone?”

Kazuyoshi Akaba

… clearly a threat.”

Christine Lagarde

… President Trump radiates insecurity.”

Kim Darroch

He’s a show-off.”

Mauricio Macri

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Eating Out Elain Archeron HC

Pairing: Elain Archeron x HighFae!Reader

Warnings: femxfem, oral (female receiving), elain getting absolutely drunk from orgasm after orgasm, may be ooc!elain, this is my first time writing for her, first time elain getting her p ate 😂😂

Definitely will be her first sexual experience after the Cauldron changed her into that of a high fae(and also her first experience with a female)

feel like Elain would be a bit of a prude since she’s only ever been with Graysen (who didn’t bother with her pleasure). She’d think faces did not belong anywhere near her crotch or she’d die of embarrassment

"But it's. . . it's so. . ." Her plump, pink lips fumble for words. "Gross."

Proving her absolutely fucking wrong

She's actually pretty vocal, her soft whimpers and little cries of overwhelming pleasure are puffed out in quiet breaths. She's practically incoherent, babbling nonsensically.

The smear of arousal against her glistening pussy lips smelled strongly of honey that you made a bit of a glutton out of yourself. Your face is an absolute mess of saliva and Elain.

And let us not bypass her perfect pussy that she shamefully had hidden away this entire time. A tulip. That's what it resembled. Her outer pussy lips were pink with the light brown pubic hair on the crown of it.

The squeal she let out when your mouth first made contact with her pussy was loud enough that surely someone could hear

Her thighs all but suffocate you as she wraps her legs around your head.

You wish you could paint like Feyre just so you could capture this moment in time. Elain's face was a bright beam of red, her lips parted to reveal the softness of her tongue and her teeth, her toes curling inward, eyes rolling back into her skull so that all you saw were the whites. The bloom of her blush even spread across her freckled, sun kissed, chest.

The cry she gave out as her mind explodes has you moaning against her pussy, the vibrations of it shoot through her and heighten her pleasure

And from that first time, Elain becomes (for like of a better term) pussy whipped. She can't get enough of your tongue writing pure poetry across her slick pussy. Sometimes she'll zone out while gardening or helping Nuala and Cerridwen when she starts to catch her mind drifting off to the thought of you lasciviously eating her pussy

She's still shy about it but will give you little hints when she's in the mood for you to go down on her. She's coy about requesting it from you. That would probably take longer for Elain to do but you were happy about this success.

[pinkmoonmp3]

elaine may via criterioncollection

[nerdygaymormon]

I'm excited for this!! Coming in May 2024 is the Book of Queer Mormon Joy!!!!!

I love the cover!!!!!

I have a short story in the book about a moment of queer joy with my friend Kris Irvin.

I haven't read any of the other stories, but I do know who some of the authors are, including Jaclyn Foster, Andi Elaine Ybarra, Erran Speaker, Laurie Lee Hall, Blaire Ostler, Emmett Preciado!

[xtinyslip]

cecilia had known that this was bullshit. she had known. people who claimed to be her family like elaine had, they turned out to be pieces of shit. of course, paul had gotten information on who had leaked this and although he may not have gotten as much as a name. he had gotten the description, and the job title of this so called V-I-FUCKING-P. she was seething. this had the potential to ruin paul's life and as he was actual family to her, she wasn't going to sit back and watch it happen with a smile. as soon as the door opened, and cecilia saw it wasn't parker. she swung, and she swung her fist hard into elaine's face. making sure to step through the door so the little bitch couldn't close it on her. oh, with how cecilia felt right now? she was ready to kill her. she really was. did she even care that parker might be home? that he was about to witness and hear this? no, she didn't and good luck to him trying to pull her off this woman after what she had done. she had been the one to spread these lies? she was the reason her husband refused to come home to her? and she was the one acting as though she would be doing cee the favor by letting her run the hospital with her? the hospital that was cecilia's to begin with? fuck this. she was about to be put in her place and as no on else was willing? well, cecilia would happily do the honors. "that was for me," reaching forward to attempt to grab her hair, hopefully use it to smash her face into something. perhaps that lovely counter that she and parker had almost christened the other day. "and for paul. do you think this is the first time someone's tried to be clever with me? you stupid, little bitch! this ends now!" @fcrafcrtnight

[vulpes-fennec]

Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 2)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

For @elucienweekofficial Day 7: AU (Princess and the Frog)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Elain screamed, stumbling backwards. The frog on the bannister had just spoken to her.

“Princess!” Oh, she wasn’t hallucinating; that definitely came from the frog. Elain fled into Vassa’s bedroom.

“Stay away from me!” she shrieked. Elain’s hand was on Vassa’s door when the frog called out to her again.

“I’m sorry, princess! It’s me, Prince Lucien of Autumn!” Prince Lucien? Elain paused.

The frog clumsily hopped onto Vassa’s bed, peering up at her. It was about the size of Elain’s two hands put together, with mossy green skin. Indeed, it was a frog with mismatched eyes—one russet brown the other golden—and a scar running down its face. She supposed he did resemble Prince Lucien in that aspect.

“What? How? Why are you a frog?” Elain sputtered.

“I do not know,” the creature confessed. The frog had the prince’s voice as well, silky smooth and low. “One minute, I am a handsome, charming prince enjoying the party. The next thing I know, I eat a beignet and I become a frog with webbed hands and feet!” He flopped onto his back and lifted a webbed foot.

“Get that away from me!” Elain tried to flick the frog—no, Lucien—away. “You must have been cursed.”

“And you can break that curse.” The frog prince stared up meaningfully at Elain, his large eyes insistent.

“How?”

“With a kiss,” Lucien replied matter-of-factly, as if the answer was plain as day. “According to the Autumn Kingdom’s folk tales, that’s what transforms animals back into the Fae.”

Elain blanched. “Kiss you?”

“Oh, but you will enjoy it, I assure you,” Lucien winked his russet eye. “All females enjoy kissing me. Many of them beg for more.” He frowned when Elain made a gagging sound. “Alright, if kissing an autumn prince is not enough, I may be inclined to offer you…ah…some reward, if you help break this curse.”

Elain perked up. This was it: a chance to get her dream back!

“Give me the riverfront pavilion you just bought today.”

“Pfft, that old thing?” Lucien waved a webbed hand.

“It’s not just any old thing!” Elain bristled. “Of course, to a rich prince like you, dropping hundreds of gold marks must be a daily occurrence.”

Lucien folded his arms across his chest. “It is,” he deadpanned.

Elain glared at the tiny creature. The gall of Lucien to assume she would enjoy kissing him! Yet a small part of Elain knew that she wouldn’t have minded kissing Lucien if he was in his Fae form. She shoved that thought away, for it was at odds with the fact that he was pampered and arrogant. In fact, the frog’s flippant attitude towards money only made her furious.

“Well, I don’t actually need to help you,” she hissed. “I can walk away, let you live the rest of your life as a frog.”

Lucien threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Princess, you are quite good at haggling. And because I am a generous prince, I will offer you the value of the building in cash as well. Hmm? How does that sound?”

“Just one kiss,” Elain whispered, more to herself. A shimmering gold tattoo suddenly appeared, the delicate swirls wrapping around her upper left arm like a golden armband.

“Just one kiss,” Lucien agreed, puffing his chest as he stood up on his hind legs. A miniature version of Elain’s gold tattoo sparkled into existence on his right upper arm.

Elain grimaced at the sight of Lucien’s puckered frog lips. Gods, this is so humiliating. Do it for the restaurant, Elain, she told herself. You can give a pesky frog prince a quick kiss for it. Elain knelt in front of Vassa’s bed and leaned in. She closed her eyes, forcing down the urge to gag again…and kissed Prince Lucien.

Kissing a frog was cold. And slimy.

Elain pulled back as fast as she could, but not before something sharp as a knife cut through her body. The sensation stripped her down layer by layer, pooling bile under her tongue. Elain’s legs buckled underneath her, the gown slipping off her shoulders as if it had suddenly enlarged in size.

“Princess?” Lucien’s voice was muffled, and sounded very far away. Elain opened her eyes and gasped. She was enveloped by fabric that was the exact shade of purple as her ballgown. Damn it all, the sheer weight of it on top of her was suffocating. Elain made to push the fabric off, but froze.

Her hands had been replaced by sticky webbed fingers.

“Oh, what did you do to me?” she cried, stumbling out of the dress on unsteady frog feet. Gone were her soft curves, her golden skin. Staring down, all Elain could see was a slightly pudgy belly and pale green skin, every inch of it moist with slime. “I’m a frog!”

Lucien hopped down from the bed, blinking slowly. “You’re a frog,” he repeated.

Elain began to tremble with panic. Her eyes were positively massive, practically bulging out of her head. She could feel her mouth stretching across her entire face, she had the tremendous urge to sit back on her haunches like a dog.

“It’s all your fault!” she cried. “I am now an ugly, slimy frog!”

“It is not slime, it is mucus,” Lucien corrected her. “And what do I know? The Autumn folk tales say curses are resolved by kissing princesses.”

“I’m not a princess,” Elain replied, confusion rising in her voice.

“You’re not?” Lucien was stunned. “Are you not Vassa La Bouff?”

“You attend Vassa’s party and you don’t even know what she looks like? I am Vassa’s friend, Elain Archeron!”

Lucien’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Elain Archeron. A pleasure to finally meet—” the frog prince stumbled, falling flat on his face. “—You.”

“Are you drunk?” she cried, hauling Lucien to his feet. The prince shrugged her off and mumbled something unintelligible. Something about red wine. “Gods, you are impossible.”

Elain was so busy trying to reacquaint herself with her new body that she did not realize Lucien had stumbled off to the balcony until he was leaning precariously between the bannister’s wooden slats.

“Get back here!” Elain tried to run, but promptly tripped over her massive feet. It turned out hopping was significantly more effective than running. She reached the Prince and grabbed him by the arm, but gravity was already doing its work.

“Aaaahhhh!” Elain and Lucien screamed as they fell from the second floor.

“Aaaahhhh!” The La Bouff servant screamed when two green frogs plummeted into the bowl of punch being wheeled out to the ball.

Pineapple. Mango. And premium white rum. These were the notes of flavor that surrounded her as Elain swam towards the surface, finding a still-tipsy Lucien paddling around.

“Can you get a hold of yourself?” Elain exasperatingly grabbed Lucien, who was inhaling large gulps of punch, and dragged him out of the bowl.

“Get those frogs!” A familiar shrill tone grated on Elain’s nerves. She would know that voice anywhere. Briallyn. Sure enough, the beady-eyed female was hurtling straight towards her, large jar in hand.

What the hell? Elain knew that Vassa would rather eat dirt than invite Briallyn to a Mardi Gras ball…which meant Briallyn had snuck in. And was likely up to no good.

Elain shoved Lucien off the table just in time. Briallyn swiped for empty air, and let out a frustrated screech. The witch dove for them again, faster this time. In that moment, Elain knew frog hopping would be futile compared to the Fae’s agility and strength. She needed to find a better way to escape.

Briallyn colliding head-first into the bowl of punch bought Elain enough time to half-hop, half-drag Lucien into the shadows.

“Where’s Jurian,” Lucien slurred as Elain pulled him into a bush. “Ooh, pulling me into a secret location, are you? Maybe if we kiss again—”

“Shut up,” Elain hissed. “You slimy frog.” Peeking through the leaves, she could see Briallyn whirling around, looking for two runaway frogs. It was only a matter of time before she pinpointed their location. Her tiny frog heart was pounding so hard, Elain was sure it would burst. She had never been in such a predicament before. Being hunted…her existence had suddenly become a life or death scenario.

“This is what you’re going to do.” Elain swiveled Lucien’s head towards the colored faelight lanterns hanging from the trees. Real flame was used in the absence of faelight, so Elain was confident the lantern cloth was fireproof. “See those lanterns up there? You’re going to use your fire powers to turn that into a hot air balloon.” She glanced at Lucien, who was still swaying on his feet with a glazed expression. “You still have your fire powers, don’t you?”

“Of course, princess,” Lucien mumbled. The frog prince steadied himself on a branch, took a deep breath, and snapped his fingers.

The entire bush promptly burst into an inferno. Elain cried out, dropping low to the ground as hot flames licked the air where her head had been seconds ago. Attendees screamed, alerting Briallyn to the flaming bush.

“Move, move, move!” Elain and Lucien stumbled out of the bush, coughing madly. Gods, did her skin feel uncomfortably parched. “You idiot! Why did you have to set the whole damn bush on fire?”

“I am drunk! You wanted confirmation, well now you have it!”

“Hurry up!” Elain urged. She snagged one of the beaded necklaces off the ground, laying it across her body like a shoulder bag. The gold beads weighed heavily as she scaled the tree, rough bark scraping her soft skin.

Miraculously, Lucien managed to balance on a branch and dislodge the lantern from the string it hung on. Elain laced the beaded necklace through the wires criss-crossing at the lantern’s base.

She glanced down to gauge Briallyn’s distance, which was a mistake. They were a terrifying distance from the ground—a fall would mean imminent death. Elain looped the beaded necklace around her waist twice for added measure, and repeated the action with Lucien. The frog prince was leaning precariously against the lantern, so drunk that he did not bother putting up a fight when Elain commanded, “fly, now!”

Thankfully, Lucien’s flame was smaller this time, a gentle, luminous light that buoyed the lantern with its heat. Elain closed her eyes and let out a noise of fear when they lifted higher and higher.

“It’s alright, you can hold on tighter to me if you are scared,” Lucien whispered in her ear when they drifted beyond the La Bouff mansion grounds.

“Suddenly, I am no longer scared,” Elain retorted, squirming where the sides of their bodies touched. “Besides, you should be holding on more than me. You’re the one who’s drunk.” Golden lights from numerous Mardi Gras celebrations passed below them, as their little contraption swiftly journeyed across Colibri’s busy streets. The celebratory Fae below paid little heed to a floating lantern above them, with two small frogs clinging onto the contraption. Elain wished she was part of the celebratory crowd, rather than…well, whatever this was.

“Can we land?” Elain asked anxiously, gripping onto the necklace for dear life. The wind had gusted them past Colibri’s outskirts, straight into the Bog of Oorid’s blanket of darkness.

“No, we go where the wind takes us.” Lucien threw an arm out into the open air. “Onto the next adventure!” The prince crowed drunkenly.

Elain gritted her teeth. “Can we please land?” she pressed again. “The bog is not safe for frogs like us.” The winds picked up, making the lights of Colibri grow farther and farther away.

“Frogs like us,” Lucien chuckled, more to himself. “Us like frogs. Frog, bog. Froggy boggy.”

The flame above them flickered, dropping them several inches in elevation. “Shit, shit, shit,” Elucien muttered. She had not anticipated the prince passing out, taking his power with him. “Get back up!” she screamed, gripping onto Lucien’s slippery shoulders. “Wake up! Lucien, wake up!”

It was no use. Lucien slumped backwards, long pink tongue lolling out. The flame flickered one last time, then guttered completely. Wind whistled in her ears as Elain began to free fall. This is the end, Elain feared, squeezing her eyes shut. I am going to die as a frog.

They crashed through trees, the process of getting banged up slowing the splat impact they made with brackish bog water. The frog’s third eyelid slipped down reflexively, allowing Elain to free herself from the necklace with several expert twists. At least the water woke Lucien up. The prince flailed, coughing and sputtering as Elain dragged him to shore by the necklace.

“I’m awake,” Lucien announced, fumbling the necklace off his waist. “What the hell just happened?”

“What the hell just happened, indeed,” Elain grumbled. From the looks of it, they were on a small delta, the beach sandy with silt and the area flourishing with plant matter. Predators were nowhere to be found, but being so small, Elain was not taking any chances.

“Look—shelter!” Lucien pointed to a hollowed stump at the water’s edge, the vertical structure and root system all that was left of a once-massive tree. “Let’s go check it out.” Elain watched the prince closely as he staggered towards the stump, gripping onto a tendril of vine to haul himself up the bark. If he was eaten by a large rodent, so be it.

“All clear!” Lucien called out through the gaping hole.

It was dry inside, but a tad too cramped. Elain huddled on a patch of moss, missing the soft blankets of her cot dearly. While there was no comfortable way to sleep as a frog, Elain did the best she could: tucking her gangly legs underneath and cushioning her head between webbed hands. Even then, Elain was mere inches from Lucien Vanserra. This was not how she expected her day to end.

“Goodnight, princess.” He sounded tipsy still, from the delayed syllables of his words.

“No thanks to you,” Elain bit out, turning away.

It was officially the worst day of her life, thanks to Prince Lucien Vanserra. Ousted from the jambalaya contest podium, losing her future cafe, then being turned into a gods damned frog… Elain yawned. Her resentment towards the prince had driven her adrenaline rush even higher, but now that she was on a patch of moss, she was tired. And crashing hard. Drowsiness settled over her like a blanket, inviting her to sleep. Oh, delicious sleep…

A loud retching sound jolted her awake. Elain opened one froggy eye irritably. Lucien was leaning out the little “window” of the tree trunk and vomiting. Elain groaned and closed her eyes again. Perhaps this would all be one bad dream when she woke up…

***Jurian***

“Aaughh,” Jurian groaned. A hundred sledgehammers pounded his head when he cracked open his eyes. He was definitely hungover…and still at the La Bouff mansion. In a bed, apparently.

Whose bed was he in? A glance to the left revealed a mop of vibrant orange hair, three shades more yellow than Lucien’s red, splayed across a pink pillow. A Fae female, with a button nose, full lips, smooth brown shoulders—smooth shoulders?!?

A simple shift of his legs under fluffy blankets reminded Jurian that he was naked, too.

Cauldron, how the hell did I end up here?

The memories of the night prior began trickling in: eating, drinking, and dancing with various females whose names he could not remember. A female had challenged Jurian to a dance-off, her brilliant sapphire eyes drawing him in. The events between the competition and the bedroom were hazy—he didn’t even remember who won. But Jurian definitely remembered the way she pushed him against the wall, devouring his mouth. And the way he pulled her down onto the bed, a tangle of clothes and limbs that devolved into passionate fucking.

While this sort of debauchery was a common occurrence whenever he went out with Lucien, Jurian was—shit. Where was Lucien?

Just then, the female’s eyes blinked open, revealing the same brilliant sapphire shade from last night. Jurian’s mouth went a little dry.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her morning voice low and seductive.

“Who are you?” Jurian blurted out. He cringed internally, kicking himself at his lack of smoothness.

“Vassa La Bouff, of course.” The female tucked her hand under her cheek and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

How the hell did I end up sleeping with Vassa La Bouff? Jurian’s brain worked slowly, the bet he made with Lucien coming back in bits and pieces. Right, Lucien had turned into a frog. If Lucien did not end up finding Vassa last night…then where the hell did he go? And, more concerningly, what happened to him?

“Shit,” Jurian muttered, getting up. He slipped out of bed, fumbling for his pants.

“Well, that’s a reaction I’ve never gotten from a male before.” Vassa sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her lips pressed into a disappointed frown.

“Do you remember speaking to Prince Lucien last night?” Jurian asked, his shift already half buttoned up. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Nope. Why?”

“I’m his friend, Jurian. I need to find him right now.”

“Oh, shit.” Vassa now jumped out of bed, and Jurian tried to avert his eyes at her naked, curving form. Vassa donned a silk robe and fluffy pink slippers. “That reminds me, I was looking for my friend, Elain Archeron.”

“Fine, we’ll look for them together.” Jurian finished buckling his pants and strode out the door. The La Bouff mansion was a grand, sweeping thing, filled with stately portraits and exquisite furniture. Nevermind the eye-boggling stares from Vassa’s house staff as he did a semi-walk of shame out into the garden.

The remnants of the ball last night littered the lawn: clothed tables, crumbs and dried puddles of wine everywhere, and lanterns still hanging from the trees. “Lucien,” Jurian whispered loudly. No frog came hopping into view. “Lucien!” Jurian wandered around the back, looking for any sign of the prince.

“Elain!” Vassa’s voice rang out as she hurried out, still dressed in her robe. “Elain, where are you?”

“Lucien!” Jurian got down on his knees and scoured under the tables. Nothing.

“I can’t find her.” Vassa’s voice was pitched with concern. “The servants just gave me a telegram from Nesta this morning, saying Elain hadn’t returned home.”

Gods, where could Lucien possibly be? Jurian’s stomach sank with each passing second. Wretched guilt was crowding out any rational thought, the sun was too bright, he was parched. He shouldn’t have left Lucien alone, shouldn’t have been sleeping with Vassa La Bouff while his friend was being actively pursued by some crazy female.

Vassa was still talking, “...she has golden brown hair, brown eyes, and is taller than me. I had left her in my room to get ready for the ball and—”

“Wait. She was in your room while you were at the ball?”

“Yes?”

“Purple ball gown. Purple slippers. Rose gold tiara.” Fuck. The bet he made with Lucien last night was coming back to Jurian in bits and pieces. And as far-fetched it may be, he had a slight idea of what might have happened.

“You know something, don’t you?” Vassa murmured, going still. “What happened to Elain?” Jurian looked around furtively before grasping Vassa by the wrist and pulling her behind the garden shed.

“Alright, what I’m going to tell you, you are sworn to secrecy.” Vassa nodded, her mouth slightly open. Jurian took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to say it.

“Lucien was turned into a frog last night, shortly after eating a beignet. According to him, a waitress with pale skin, black hair, and black eyes had given him the beignet. She was trying to catch him. He had gone to find you, to see if you could reverse the curse with a spell or with a kiss.”

“A kiss? Why would a kiss reverse a curse?” Surprisingly, Vassa did not bat an eye at the news of Lucien being turned into a frog. Perhaps turning into animals was a normal part of her witch academics.

“Isn’t that how the old legends go? Kissing a princess?”

“Yes, because they’re legends,” Vassa sighed. “And a Mardi Gras princess? Puh-leeze. The waitress you described sounds like Briallyn, but she’s definitely not part of my household staff.” Her eyes flashed angrily.

“I take it you two know each other,” Jurian replied dryly.

“Yes, we hate each other, actually. School rivals, you know how it goes. She’s a real piece of work.” Vassa clenched her fists and ground her teeth. “I wouldn’t put it past her to intentionally fuck up my life.”

“Alright, alright. But Briallyn is not the end of it. Since you said Elain was in your bedroom, wearing a tiara, it’s possible that Lucien tried to kiss her.”

Vassa stared at Jurian blankly for a half second before she began to laugh. “As if!” the female wheezed. “Elain does not like Lucien, and I doubt she would go around kissing frogs, especially frogs who claim to be Prince Lucien.”

“Alright but hypothetically speaking…could a curse have a double effect and turn a second individual into a frog?” The laughter died from Vassa’s eyes.

“Now that you’re saying that…it is possible. And I recall there was a commotion last night, when we lost one of our lanterns because two frogs were clinging onto it.” Her eyes grew wide. “But there’s no way Elain would have kissed Lucien. Unless…”

“Where did the lantern go?” Jurian demanded. “Do you remember?”

“In the direction of the Bog of Oorid…” Vassa murmured, concern edging her voice. She stared off into the distance, before snapping out of her thoughts and staring Jurian down. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Go where? With you?” Jurian sputtered. Vassa glanced at him, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her pointed hair with a wry grin.

“To look for our friends! Aren’t two heads better than one?”

***Vassa***

The male—Jurian—did not seem to hail from nobility, from the way he consumed the croissant she handed him like a starving dog, yet he claimed to be Prince Lucien’s friend. He towered a good head-and-a-half above her, broad shoulders and all, and she had to hurry to match his urgent pace.

Bored of waiting around for Prince Lucien to find her, Vassa had taken one look at Jurian’s brooding expression and decided he needed to lighten up. Taking him to her bedroom so brazenly in front of her parents was a drunken decision for sure, but she would deal with the embarrassment later.

The servant’s uniform he borrowed—a canvas shirt, black vest, and loose brown pants—snug fitted his muscled body. A muscled body…perhaps Jurian was Lucien’s bodyguard. Must be a shit bodyguard, Vassa snickered internally, if Prince Lucien was turned into a frog and lost on his watch.

Vassa’s chuckle morphed into a sinking feeling of guilt—how was she any better? Gods, she should have been making sure Elain had the best Mardi Gras ball of her life, yet she was off canoodling with Jurian instead. At least I’m looking for her now, Vassa told herself.

Catching a steamboat upriver would be the fastest way into the smaller bayou towns, she had claimed. But when Vassa and Jurian arrived at the docks, they were greeted with chaos. Barges were being stocked with weapons and supplies. There was an increased presence of Summer Kingdom warriors patrolling the area, keeping a sharp eye on Colibri’s citizens.

What will King Nostrus do, given his alliance with the Seasonal Kingdoms? I heard the western seas are most unideal for warships this time of year…Have you not heard? Vanserra is marching on Rhodes from land. A group of elderly fae gossiped in a corner while young children scurried furtively around the Summer warriors.

“King Beron Vanserra has declared war on King Helion Spellcleaver?” Jurian squinted at the stack of newspapers on the stand.

“According to sources close to Autumn and Day’s courts, Queen Daphne Vanserra had an affair with King Helion Spellcleaver decades ago. It is alleged that King Spellcleaver is the true father of Prince Lucien Vanserra,” Vassa read aloud. She whipped her head towards Jurian. “Did you know about this?”

Jurian had gone white as a sheet. “No,” he replied, snatching up an issue and scanning it furiously. “Lucien doesn’t even know. He has always thought Beron was his father.”

“Let me see.” Vassa squeezed under his arm and scanned the pages herself. The brush of her bare shoulder against his body made her feel a bit light-headed. “King Spellcleaver is reportedly unaware he had an heir all this time.”By the Mother…Lucien is a prince of Day, not Autumn.”

“The Autumn Queen has sought refuge in the Day Kingdom, citing abusive behavior from her husband. Prince Lucien was last seen in the Summer Kingdom city of Colibri.”

Suddenly, the increased presence of warriors and shoring up of supplies made more sense. Who knew what King Vanserra would do? The Autumn King was cold and ruthless…perhaps he would send his army into Colibri to kill his rival’s only heir.

“I think Lucien being turned into a frog is related to this,” Jurian muttered darkly. The steamboat’s deafening horn blared over the hubbub. “Come on, the boat is leaving soon.”

***Lucien***

The winter morning came bright, early, and warm. Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree stump, the air filled with trills and chirps of marsh birds. Lucien awoke feeling groggy, his skin dehydrated. Right. He had thrown up at least three times last night. Who knew frogs would have such a low alcohol tolerance?

Lucien crawled out of the tree stump on much more steadier feet. The colored lantern was a sodden mess in the water from where they landed. Several hops away, Elain Archeron had fashioned a raft from sticks and pliable reeds.

Lucien remembered she was a smaller frog, with delicate limbs and agile reflexes. But in the daylight, Elain’s skin was clearly a paler green shade than Lucien’s rich mint green. Her sandy brown stomach and the dark green speckles running down the sides of her body were also more noticeable. And her eyes retained their brown, doe-like aura even in frog form.

Those wide eyes narrowed with disdain once she spotted him. “Finally awake?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. Lucien stood up on his hind feet—the habit was hard to break—to perform an exaggerated yawn and stretch.

“Good morning, princess,” he replied sarcastically. “Don’t you know a prince like me needs his beauty sleep?” Lucien hopped down onto the raft.

“We need to get back to Colibri and find Vassa.” Elain picked up a long stick and began to push the raft, albeit a bit clumsily. “And stop calling me princess.”

Lucien plopped down on his back, tucking his hands behind his head and savoring the morning sun. Winter was only a name in the Summer Kingdom—every day was warm here. “What’s wrong with being called princess?”

“First of all, you’re saying that with sarcasm. Secondly, I don’t want to be associated with spoiled, rich princes like you.”

“Spoiled?” Lucien was flabbergasted. Rich, yes, but he did not consider himself spoiled. Beron was tough on his four sons, type of parent who doled out punishment rather than gifts. “Most females would love to spend a day out on the water with me.”

“We aren’t relaxing ‘out on the water’, Lucien,” Elain hissed. “We’ve been turned into frogs, all because of you!”

“Lucien? Not even Your Highness or Prince Lucien?” The prince placed a webbed hand on his chest with mock aghast. “Oh, the disrespect.”

“Oh, and you’re arrogant too. Did you scorn Briallyn as a lover? Perhaps this is her revenge.”

Lucien scoffed, “I assure you, I have never seen that female before in my life! I have no idea why she would decide to turn me into a frog.”

“Maybe it’s because you are a spoiled, arrogant, rich, party prince,” he heard Elain mutter under her breath.

Lucien raised a nonexistent brow. “Ah, so do you have a prejudice against all princes? I’ll have to have a word with Prince Tarquin the next time we hang out. He had such kind words to say about you…such a shame it was not reciprocated.”

“Not all princes…just you,” Elain replied coldly. She began rowing with renewed vigor, splashing water into Lucien’s face.

Lucien sighed, choosing to stand up. This female—a frog—had a bit of fire in her spirit. He stopped Elain’s rowing with a firm grip on the stick.

“At this rate, you’ll be attracting all the predators in the bayou.” He offered her a smile that was sure to irritate her. “Allow me.”

Elain handed him the stick and stomped off to the edge of the raft, as far away from him as possible.

“Are you going to tell me why you don’t like me, or are you going to be sulking the rest of the way back to Colibri?” Lucien asked. Elain folded her gangly green arms across her chest.

“I was third place at the jambalaya contest until you showed up last minute.”

“Oh.” Just as he had suspected.

“And then you bought the property that I’ve been eyeing for the last six months,” Elain continued. “It’s where I wanted to open my cafe and you just took it from me. Like the prize money I so desperately needed to purchase the property.”

“I see.” Well, that was new. Tarquin made it sound like Elain Archeron’s first restaurant was bound to open any day, but it seemed like that wasn’t the case anymore. Lucien frowned slightly: what happened, to cause Elain such a setback?

“And then you turned me into a frog. Before I could dance at Vassa’s ball, too! And I’m supposed to participate in more Mardi Gras cooking contests today, to win more money, but I can’t do that now, can I?” Elain sighed.

It all made sense then, why Elain felt so adamant in calling him spoiled and rich. He had taken two things from her—three, if they included the fact that she now existed as a frog.

“I’m sorry about the jambalaya contest,” was all Lucien could say. He meant it, too. “It was not done intentionally. I…I only wanted to participate in the Mardi Gras festivities.” Elain’s expression softened, her big brown eyes blinking with surprise. Lucien bet she didn’t expect “spoiled rich” princes like him to apologize—ever.

“I…accept your apology,” she responded, looking away quickly.

“I’ll give you the prize money,” Lucien added. For a moment, he wondered if she would take offense, since it was the second time he offered to give her money. But Elain sat up straighter, more alert.

“And the riverfront pavilion?” Lucien was silent for a moment. He’d purchased the property in hopes of renovating it for his mother. Beron’s abusive tendencies had ramped up in the last few months to the point where a new bruise or scratch would appear on his mother’s pale white skin every other day.

Eris had initially raged against Beron for those transgressions, and was promptly given ten lashes on the back. The Vanserra princes were powerless against Beron within the Forest House, but…perhaps a secret residence in another kingdom would grant his mother some safety should she ever decide to break her marriage vows. That was what Lucien had hoped, and his mother’s fondness for sunny days and bustling scenes was what drove him to select the riverfront pavilion.

“We’re still frogs, are we not?”

“But I kissed you!” Elain’s brown eyes turned towards him in disbelief.

“My precise words were: if you help break this curse, I will give you the riverfront pavilion. And the cash value of it on top.” Elain glared sullenly at him. Lucien pointed to the golden, swirling band around his upper arm. “The curse is still intact, yes?”

“I take back my acceptance of your apology.”

“Hmm…I don’t think that’s how it works, princess. Hey!” Elain had flicked water onto his ass. She flicked out a long, pink tongue at him in response. “Can’t have you waltzing off on me, Elain, when I don’t know my way back to Colibri.”

“I don’t know my way around the bayou either.”

“Well. I suppose we’re stuck in this together, princess,” Lucien crooned. Another handful of water smacked onto his backside. “And stop splashing me!”

[softpine]

@bb-enablefreebuild LITERALLYYYYYYY i even have this exact image saved in my asa & finn web weaving folder jfksjds it's so them, even the hands 😭

@forgotten-pixels oh yeah he definitely has a wikipedia page!! his first single was a pretty big hit and even though his other work hasn't been as mainstream, he's contributed to a bunch of other artists' work so he's still well known in certain circles. i also think he's JUST famous enough to get those weird AI generated articles written about him, like "remember the guy who sang [song title from 15 years ago]? this is him now!!" because he's not well known enough for people to realize it's false / clickbait lmao. (btw you never have to apologize for asking questions!! i love them at any time 🥺)

asa has a regular phone but he may as well not have one at all because he quite literally never charges it or brings it anywhere fjkjsds stevie is the one who's always switching out her phone case & never gets around to putting a screen protector on so her screen is definitely cracked, i think elaine probably loses her phone the most on accident, and jada will say she lost her phone even when it's ringing in her hand because she just doesn't want to answer. if we still had texting limits stevie would use that shit up in half an hour, if that!!

his intentions were good...... his execution however..... leaves a lot to be desired

i'm so sorry my brain cannot even think about april fools right now without the dan and phil brainrot fully taking over 😭😭😭 no other pranks exist in my brain at the moment i can't even think of any sjksjd i could definitely see mikaela & danny pranking each other though

HELPPP this is so funny but i'm gonna have to say casper, there is no way he knows what that is

thank you for the idea!! i'm trying to avoid sending people a patreon link for written work; even if it's free (and it would be), there's still a connotation that it would cost money and i'm afraid no one would even click the link to read it (plus i've already used my patreon for cc so i'm afraid i would annoy the people who followed me for that content). ughhhh but thank you for trying :(

i'm really bummed about substack because it looked like the easiest way to accomplish what i want to accomplish but i'm sure i'll find something eventually. thanks for the interest 🥺

i would love to, but tumblr has a 30 pic limit and also i need to cut myself off at some point because otherwise i could literally spend months on 1 single post lmao 😭

you were right :P :P

i forgot about that too!! iirc wasn't it just dependent on the number of sims you have & their ages? asa bounces between caroline's and danny's houses so he would change the difficulty, but the mayfields would always have the highest rating because they also have sadie & the farm animals to take care of!

yes definitely!! just please credit the original mesh creator if applicable (i always list them) 💝

i forgot to answer this when you sent it, but i did read it right away and it made me smile, so thank you 💖💖

it really is the most attractive trait a person can have to me fjkjsds did you ever hear from that guy btw?? 💕

THANK YOUUU kisses you back one thousand times 💖💖💖

@minamill ILYYY 💞

@morrigan-sims thank you!!!! 🥺