#summer court acotar

[dawneternal]

Tarquin // I think it might be very easy to love you. Easier to be your friend.

[asnowfern]

Take Shelter

Summary: “Then go somewhere else.”

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

But he knew there was no other place to go.

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

~~~

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

Rating: T

WC: 6.9k

Read on AO3

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

Then go somewhere else.

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

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

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

Go

Go

Go

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

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

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

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

Go somewhere else.

***

“How do I get out of Velaris?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then go somewhere else.

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

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

***

Adriata was beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you good with numbers?”

Flummoxed, Nesta blurted out, “what for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta took the hand, “Nesta”

“Mikaela”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An order, not a request.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then go somewhere else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta smiled then, “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her throat burned.

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

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

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

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

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

Her throat burned.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“New regular customer?” Cresseida asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Destroyed an important institution building.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you so!”

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

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

Then go somewhere else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I thought we could have dinner together.”

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

He was waiting for her to snap at him.

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

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

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

“Do you trust me, Nesta?”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shook her head, “It’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sniff. “A hundred.”

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

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

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

“This isn’t from here, is it?”

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

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

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

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

Snap, the fire caught on.

She flinched.

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

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

“Nesta?”

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

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

“What do you hear from the fire?”

She said nothing.

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

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

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

And Nesta began to sob uncontrollably.

***

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

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

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

“You’re leaving,”

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

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

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

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

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

Her stomach dropped. No… it can’t be.

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

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

She dipped her chin. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

It was only hours later when she turned the silver key of the door and locked it, closing the shop for the day, that she set out to execute her next steps.

She had to look for Cresseida.

There had to be something she could do in Summer.

***

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

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

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

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

“Welcome back, Nesta.”

END

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! There’s not enough Tarquin fics so I was wondering if I could request Tarquin x reader where the mating bond snaps into place? (Doesn’t have to be at first sight but it’s up to you!)

Beach Walks

Tarquin x reader

A/n: I feel like I've seen one Tarquin fic and he's another with I'm potential bc he's such a flirt

Warnings: none

To relax after a stressful day of endless court meetings you loved to walk on the beach at sunset. You had changed into your favorite blue linen set and headed to the beach.

The sound of the waves crashing, the seagulls flying above, and the roll of the rocks and shells as the waves go back out was your favorite. It was calming. You stopped to put your feet in the water, letting the cool water rush over you.

You sensed someone walking toward you. Turning slowly to your new companion you spot Tarquin. He flashes a smile at you, stopping next to you, “Hi.” You smile back, “Hi.” You had always had a little crush on Tarquin. Your father had been one of his father's advisors during his time as High Lord. Since Tarquin became High Lord he asked your father to stay on. And during the last few years, your little crush has turned into more.

Over the last few months, his flirting with you had seemed more real. Instead of just the play flirting he'd do with other court ladies just to see them blush.

“I've noticed you've been taking these walks the last few weeks. I thought I'd join you if that's ok?” Your heart skipped a beat. Alone time with Tarquin was rare, it was always you, him, and Cresseida. Not that you were complaining, you loved them both dearly. But you cherished your one on one time with the High Lord.

He held his hand out for you and you took it. His hand felt soft in yours, and his bright blue eyes sparkled in the setting sunlight. As you walked down the beach together you talked about your days. Once you reach the end of the beach you come across the rocks you'd climb as children.

You started to walk on the flat rocks as Tarquin held your hand. The surface was still slippery from being soaked in the ocean all day. “So, y/n, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Your gaze moves from the surface of the rocks to his face. His features set in a serious yet nervous frown.

You paused walking, tilting your head, “What's on your mind?” Still holding your hand, he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. He took a deep breath, “I wanted to ask you something, and I hope that you don't think I'm overstepping.” your heart began pounding against your chest. Is he about to confess his feelings for you? Or tell you he started seeing someone? Your mind was racing.

“You can ask me anything, you know that.” He flashes you that charming smile again and looks down for a moment. “Would you want to know about the mating bond if it hadn't snapped for you yet?” you scrunched your brows together. No one's ever asked you that before. “I think I would. Especially if I know the person. Everyone dreams of finding their mate and I’d like to know mine.”

Tarquin breathes out a sigh of relief. “You'd want the whole truth from the person?” “I would. We've been faced with so much deception and uncertainty, I want to know something that's for sure.” He was smiling brightly.

“Y/n I need to tell you something.” he paused, thinking about his next words, “Do you remember a few months ago when we were in the library really late, and you fell asleep?” You nod, words failing you as tightness forms in the back of your throat. You're trying to keep tears at bay, but if this is going where you think it's going, you're going to fail soon.

“I went to put a blanket on you and the bond snapped for me. I've had feelings for you for a long time now and if you want to, I want to explore this bond with you.” Tears start to fall, and you launch yourself into Tarquins arms. He holds you and spins you around.

He plants you in the sand. Breaking apart to look up at him and confess, “I've had feelings for you too, Tarquin. And I want to explore this with you.” He leans his forehead against yours. Cupping your jaw and the back of your head in his hands, Tarquin angles your head, kissing you deeply.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[redbleedingrose]

Summer Court Mood Board

[loonylooly]

After like, waaay too long, i finally finished prythian fashion the second 🤭

Hope ya'll like them

[achaotichuman]

The thing is, Tamlin should have the ability to grow any kind of plantation. He should be able to clench his fist and cause an entire forest to shoot up from the ground. He could snap his fingers and where there was once an army is now a rich, dense wood with bodies and scattered limbs spilling out from the roots.

And Eris should be able to cause decay, whatever he touches begins to wilt. He can reduce any life to rot. Wave his hand and entire Court's crops is gone. He should be able to clench his fist around an entire Kingdoms food supply and have self-proclaimed Gods wrapped around his finger.

Kallias should be able to reduce an entire land to a desolate wasteland of snow and ice with a single glance. If he raises his eyes to the sky the sun should be blotted out with darkness and the world should be reduced to freezing temperatures and sudden deadly frosts.

Tarquin should be able to entirely consume land with the sea. Taking a small puddle and turning it to a devasting flood. He should be able to drown entire Courts, and swallow islands and countries with a sweep of his arms.

Helion should be able to reduce a land to scorched earth, withering corpses. He should be capable of shining the sun down on a people and causing things to instantly turn to ash in the wind. With a single command an entire continent could be absolutely nothing but an empty corpse.

Rhysand should be able to drain the light from a kingdom, cursing them to eternal darkness. Leaving them in a kingdom wide blindness and watch as people slowly succumb to their own madness. On the battlefield, their sight is entirely taken and they die at the hands of their fellow men and weapons in blind panic.

I am not too sure about Dawn or Dusk's powers, since that is very much an inbetween. Someone figure that out for me.

But anyway, my point is, the power of the High lords should be directly tied to the magic flowing in their Courts. They should embody the very essence of their Courts, they should be raw, unstoppable power, with no one 'more powerful' than the others. They all balance each other out in some way.

[hrizantemy]

I couldn’t help but cry when Feyre arrived at the Summer Court with Rhysand, and he declared, “She’s High Lady, she can do whatever she wishes.” I mean, yes, Feyre is the High Lady, but she’s the High Lady of the Night Court, and here they are in the Summer Court. The weight of his words, while meant to be empowering, just felt a bit misplaced in that context. And then, Feyre had her moment where she tried to be all girlboss, saying something like, “Take care of your injured.” I wanted to scream, “Shut the hell up!” It felt so out of place, like she was trying too hard to command the room without really understanding the situation.

It was infuriating to think about how Feyre and Rhysand walked into the Summer Court, a court they had literally stolen from, acting as if nothing had happened. The tension was palpable. They’d taken the Book of Breathings right from under Tarquin’s nose, deceiving him in the process, and now they had the audacity to stroll in, expecting him to be okay with it all.

What made it worse was how they completely disregarded anything Tarquin said. He wasn’t just some stranger or enemy; he had once welcomed them as allies, offered them friendship, and they betrayed that trust. And yet, here they were, acting like they were above it all. Rhysand’s casual dismissal of Tarquin’s frustration—like his words didn’t matter, like their betrayal could just be swept under the rug—was a blatant show of arrogance. It was as if they expected him to forget everything, to simply move on, because they were the Night Court and they believed their agenda was more important than anyone else’s.

Even Feyre, with her attempts at diplomacy, came off as condescending. They both acted like they could just walk in, ignore the hurt they caused, and play their power games. It was a slap in the face to everything the Summer Court had stood for. Tarquin had every right to be furious.

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Nine

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, marijuana usage, sweet dirty talk and praise, fingering, oral, p in v, fluffy sex <3

if you’re uncomfortable with smut, this chapter can be skipped with no impact on the plot <3 it can also be read as a stand-alone if desired.

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist |

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was nine at night and you and Az were the only two in the house.

Rhys had made reservations for him and Feyre at an upscale restaurant half an hour away, a place where his father used to take his mother on special occasions. You'd been nosy and googled it. It was the kind of place with candlelit tables and a string quartet in the corner, where the waitstaff wore tuxedos and addressed you by title.

Mor and Cassian were out, too. The twins they’d met at Summit were staying in some house twenty minutes away and throwing a huge party. They tried to drag you and Az along, but the idea of squeezing into a crowded house with a bunch of strangers didn’t really compare to the night you had in mind. So you and Azriel had politely declined, both secretly craving something more enjoyable—smoking a fat joint and enjoying the quiet, just the two of you.

You sat on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs idly as Az finished preparing your snacks— the main thing that brought you both to the kitchen to begin with. Your mouth was still slightly dry from the joint, that earthy aftertaste still lingering in the back of your throat.

“This isn’t a conspiracy theory because it’s like, an actual thing,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “But I love the fact that so many of those sea monsters we read about were probably just whale penises.”

Azriel stilled, turning to look at you with an amused brow. “What?”

You nodded emphatically, cheeks aching from the deep smile still on your face. “People would see these giant, weird things sticking out of the water and think it was some sort of sea serpent or whatever, but it was actually just a whale showing off it’s huge dick.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment before he burst out into laughter. The sound dissipated throughout the room and you swore it made it lighter, made the kitchen glow with a sense of life it didn't have a few moments prior. You weren't sure how it was possible, but somehow your smile grew even wider.

There was something about Azriel’s laugh that felt energizing, especially when you were high. It was something far more than just a sensory experience. You watched as he shook his head, the curls on his hair moving as his eyes found yours again. Slightly puffy, bright with amusement.

“I have to show you. It’s crazy.” You moved to grab your phone from its current place face-down on the counter next to you.

Azriel reached out and covered your hand with his. “Nooo.”

“Az, you have to.”

“Later, maybe.” His expression softened as he looked at you, the laughter fading into a tender smile. “But first, taste test time.”

You sat up straighter, looking down at the plate in front of him. “They’re ready?”

You’d had a specific craving��something sweet, gooey, and crunchy. Azriel had taken it upon himself to make your dream come true. He made do with what was in the pantry, melting down marshmallows and making a pan of small home-made rice krispy bars. He’d covered them with Nutella, rolling them up like some delicacy you’d find in a high-end bakery.

His smile widened, and without a word, he held one out for you. You eagerly accepted it, your fingers brushing against his before you brought the treat to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a moan left your lips as the sweet, rich flavors exploded on your tongue.

“How is it?”

You nodded, head bobbing as you took another gluttonous bite.

“It’s perfect,” you said, finally finding the strength to open your eyes and look at him. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He chuckled softly, watching as you took another bite. “Yeah?”

You nodded again. “You could be a chef. I would pay you to stay in the kitchen, looking all pretty and making food for me.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “So a trophy chef.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He laughed again, bringing his hands to either side of your thighs as he leaned in closer. “What happened to me being a spy, huh?”

You shrugged lightheartedly. “That too. Honestly, Az, you could be anything you wanted.”

He narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing slightly, the corners of his lips still curved in that half-smile that made your heart skip.

“Because I can make little treats?” He asked.

You cocked your head at him, running your gaze over his face. “Because you’re so good at putting yourself to the task at hand.”

Azriel blinked, and the crease between his brows softened. You watched as something crossed through his face, something wistful and warm.

“What?” you asked when he didn't speak.

“Nothing.”

You let your thoughts wander as you finished the treat in your hand. Everyone seemed to have a clear idea of what they wanted— or, at least, an idea of where their ambitions lied. But Azriel was different. He was like you. Hesitant, unsure. Back in freshman year, he’d taken a few criminology classes he loved. He had a passion then, but as the years went by you assumed he’d switched gears, choosing to focus on his general education classes instead. Azriel understood the pressure of fitting into a mold you weren't entirely sure about.

“What do you wanna do, Az?”

Azriel’s face grew thoughtful, his gaze scanning your face as if searching for something. His eyes flickered and then a smile, slow and soft, spread across his lips. He leaned in just a fraction closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You felt a rush of heat and looked down at your lap, nervously brushing your hands together. “That’s not what I meant.”

Azriel lifted your chin with a delicate finger, bringing your gaze to his. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. “No?”

His gaze flicked to somewhere below your eyes. A second later, he brought his thumb to the corners of your lips, gently wiping away what you knew was probably excess chocolate.You inhaled sharply and felt something deep in your chest – something like a wire strung tight, ready to sing with the slightest touch. You’d been craving him for so long now. You could feel that familiar sensation, that burning desire simmering low in your gut. The way those damn grey sweatpants hung on his hips didn’t help matters either.

His touch lingered on your skin, hovering just above your bottom lip. Before he could pull his hand away, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking off the remaining chocolate.

Azriel’s breath hitched, lips parting in surprise. The low groan that left his lips next invigorated you, pushing you to bring your tongue around his thumb, swirling and sucking on it. When he met your gaze, you slowly released it, and he traced it along your bottom lip as a shaky breath escaped him.

“We have the house to ourselves."

With darkened eyes, Az ran his thumb along your lips again, swallowing hard. You traced the motion down the column of his throat. Before you could fully register the loss of his touch, his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You gasped as he positioned himself between your legs, and instinctively, you wrapped them around him.

"Az.."

He closed the gap between you, lips crashing against yours as he kissed you deeply. You weren't sure if you'd ever get used to it. Perhaps it was a very strong honeymoon period, that the way Az kissed you felt magical because it had only been two weeks of this. But you felt starved, felt as if you needed more and more of him to satiate you— yet even still, you were insatiable.

You nipped at his lower lip, moved yourself to press against him further. You let him take the lead, letting out a breathy moan against his lips at the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck and you arched into him, welcomed him with a bared throat and a tug to his curls. His touch was everywhere at once—his hands roaming over your back, his lips trailing down your collarbone. Your body sang with every movement, with the feeling of his mouth on your skin.

You could feel the heat of his breath against you as he nipped and kissed his way to your ear.

“Do we want to go upstairs?”

You nodded before words could form. Nodded as you tangled your fingers further into his hair, nodded as you pulled him to your face, bringing him into another kiss. "Yes," you whispered between breaths. “Yes, please."

Azriel’s smile brushed against your skin as he kissed you back.

You made your way up the stairs, every step wobbly and uncoordinated as Az attempted to lead you both, lips still locked, his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.

"Shit." Azriel cursed as he bumped against the well, the pictures frames rattling with the impact. You pulled back, steadying yourself against the wall as your laughter bubbled up.

"Az," you playfully scolded through a breath, "You're going to knock everything down."

He only shushed you with a mischievous smile, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back into his orbit. Another frame tilted askew as he maneuvered you both along. You pulled away for a moment, your gaze falling to the framed photo in front of you, the one you'd come to love so dearly. It got better every time you saw it, from the pizza in Mor's braces to the nauseatingly sweet frame of awkward fifteen year old Azriel.

"I love this photo," you said, pointing to it with a delicate smile. "Look at you."

Azriel glanced at it, his face scrunching in mock horror. "That’s a horrendous photo," he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. He broke apart, shaking his head against yours. "Don’t look at it."

"But Az—"

"Don’t look!" He insisted, and you laughed into his kiss.

"I love hearing you laugh," Azriel murmured against your lips, "And that I'm the one causing it." He kissed you again. "But right now," he said, his voice dropping to a low, heated murmur, "I’d much rather be making you moan.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You melted into his touch, feeling your skin set alight as his hands roamed, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that tasted of deep desire, something sweet and smoky like longing. The touch of a lover craving another.

You stumbled together into your room— the nearest one to the stairs, and the door slammed shut behind you. Azriel fumbled with the strings of his waistband, fingers slipping as he struggled to undo the knot.

"Ah, fuck," he said, voice still tinged with that sense of amusement, that laugh still in his tone. A few seconds later, his sweats were halfway down his leg, tangling around his ankles as he tried to kick them off.

"Careful," you warned, trying to stifle your laughter. Azriel then watched, amused, as you struggled to pull off your shirt, the fabric snagging on your earrings. And when you'd managed to free yourself, your hands were on him, slipping under his shirt, curious fingers skimming over the hard planes of his stomach. You tugged the fabric over his head, taking in the grin that played on his lips.

The shirt sailed through the air, landing haphazardly on your bedside lamp. You and Az laughed, a shared sound that he swallowed as he pulled you into another kiss. His hands were on you, guiding you back, and you were both still laughing as you fell back onto your bed in a tangle of limbs, all clothes besides his underwear long removed and thrown in a corner. Azriel leaned over you, face flushed, eyes filled with warmth.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You laughed, biting your lip as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your noses almost touched. "Hey," you repeated, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"I really like you."

Azriel's voice was soft, a whisper that felt as soulful as a Sunday confession. It caressed your skin, made your heart flutter and core clench.

"Good to know," you said with a dainty smile. "I like you too."

A smile broke out across Az's face and you brought a trailing hand to feel the dimples on his cheeks, tracing the smile lines etched into his skin. You were completely naked below him now. Strangely, you'd never felt this comfortable, never felt so at ease. Your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the chain necklace hanging around his neck. You played with it absentmindedly, feeling the smooth links sliding between your fingers.

You tugged at it lightly as you murmured, "And I also like this."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, still running your fingers along the chain, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath it. You weren't sure how it was possible for a piece of jewelry to be so attractive, for simple metal to make you picture the dirtiest of images. But it was. And you had been. You weren't ashamed to admit that you'd imagined how it would feel dangling in your face as Az pounded into you. You finally met his eyes and nodded, breathless despite having done nothing but trace the cool metal around his neck. "Yeah."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, the playful warmth in them shifting into something deeper, hungrier. His smile curved into a smirk. "Good," he rasped, and your breath hitched at the intensity in his voice.

His lips were on yours again. Gone was the soft, teasing rhythm from before. Now, his mouth was hot and demanding, as if he were starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. The sudden switch from sweet to searing made your heart race. You tugged on the chain again, more forcefully this time, and he growled in response, fingers eagerly tracing the outline of your body. You shivered with each touch, with each drag of his hands across your skin.

His hand found your breast, exposed to the cool air, and you shuddered as his ridged fingers tweaked your nipple. You arched beneath him and he paused for a moment, lips hovering just above yours.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered.

Your mind raced, the words catching in your throat as you tried to form a coherent thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him to explore you for hours, to ruin you for the touch of anyone else. You shook your head, breathing heavily, trying with all your might to summon an answer.

"I-I don't know."

He shook his head, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in invitation. He said something else, something quieter and alluring, a sentence probing you to answer, to think.

"Please just touch me," you managed to breathe as your gaze bounced between his eyes. "I just want you to touch me."

Azriel's lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Like this?” he asked, beginning to move down as his hand slid down your exposed stomach.

“Yes,” you said, your body reacting to his touch. “And kiss me."

"Kiss you where?"

He was beneath your navel now, the trail of his path wet with the open kisses he'd left. You took a shaky breath. "Everywhere."

He chuckled softly against the bare skin of your leg. “Everywhere, huh?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much you wanted him. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls as he continued to explore. He leaned, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the very top of your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, where your body ached for him. But just as you thought he might give you what you were silently begging for, he pulled back. His lips began a slow journey upward, leaving you yearning, the frustration building with each inch he traveled.

He paused just above your mouth, sharing a breath as he looked down at you. "I've thought about this for so long," he murmured, "How I wanted to touch you first, the ways I wanted you to fall apart."

You released a sound in response, needy and pleading. You’d spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to be with Azriel, to see the side of him he reserved for only a few. You’d wondered how his touch might feel—gentle, reverent, like a lover tracing sacred ground. You'd thought of him worshiping your body like a saint, his hands gliding over your bare skin, fantasized about the way his fingers might curl inside you, delicate yet purposeful, stroking the most intimate parts of you until you unraveled beneath him.

“I want to hear all those pretty noises I know you can make,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Can you do that for me?”

But you hadn’t imagined this. You hadn’t expected him to be so talkative, to render you speechless with a single look. The hunger in his eyes made you feel divine, as though he was starving for you, for the taste of you, for the sound of your voice.

You nodded. It was all you could do— barely able to breathe, let alone speak. He smiled like the sun and kissed you again, one hand curving along your shoulder, sliding down your body with painful slowness, a detour around the curve of your breast, a whimper into his mouth.

It felt like hours before his palm slid down the rise of your belly, torturous and tentative. Then finally, his hand slipped between your thighs. He traced the slickness of your core and you gasped in relief, felt as he greedily accepted the sound with his tongue.

There was something profoundly intimate about the way Azriel's eyes locked with yours as he worked his fingers inside you, something about how your foreheads rested against each other as he groaned. Az was watching you, observing every reaction to the movements he made. He kissed you throughout it, rotating between staring at you, molding your lips to his, and sucking on that sensitive area of your ear lobe; kissing alongside your neck as he praised you.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured against your ear. "Does this feel good?"

He added another finger, thumb circling your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut, a desperate moan escaping your lips as the pleasure mounted. Then he was moving, pulling away from you as he descended down your body, following the trail of kisses and marks he'd left before. Azriel shifted his body, positioning himself right before your core, pushing your legs further apart to nestle between them. Your gaze fell to his hands, slick and glistening with your desire. For a moment he stilled, focused gaze as he watched his fingers disappear inside you.

And when he pulled them out, he spread the wetness further across your folds, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown with need. He was saying your name, praising you, watching as you squirmed at his touch.

"Azriel." You moaned out.

"Yeah, beautiful?"

You couldn't respond, weren't sure what you wanted to say.

“Jesus. Look at you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “So fucking pretty. Your body is perfect.”

You were torn between begging him to keep talking, to speak more and let his words roll over you, and begging him to touch you more, to feel him inside you, to fuck you.

With his eyes still locked on yours, he brought his mouth to your cunt, groaning in approval the moment he drew your essence into his mouth. His fingers slipped back inside you, finding a deep, aching spot, and your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Each tug on his hair elicited a low, approving groan from him, and you stored that information away, tucked it safely for a later time.

Your eyes fell shut as you neared the edge, body tensing with the imminent release. No, your mind echoed. Not yet. You let out a ragged breath, pulling at the curls on Az's head and pushing him away from your cunt. Azriel immediately loosened his hold on you, eyes shooting up to yours, brows furrowing with a growing concern.

“Not yet,” you managed, your voice breathy and urgent. “With you. On you. Please.”

The crease softened and his eyes grew dark again, hungry and blown wide. He grinned, hair tousled, lips glistening and swollen, and nodded in understanding. Az rid himself of the last piece of clothing he had, shedding his underwear as you drank in the sight of him before you. His naked form pressed against yours as he lay over you. You reached between you, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him slowly, tentatively. His answering groans were low and guttural, brows furrowing with each movement of your hand.

“Do you have—?”

He nodded toward your bedside table. “You should. Rhys’s mom was very serious about safe sex.”

His voice was rough like gravel, octaves below what he normally spoke. If you weren't already drenched by now, you would've been pooling at the sound alone. You let out a breathless laugh and Azriel managed to lean over to your left drawer— the one you’d never really used, never even bothered to check what might be in it. His fingers fumbled briefly before he pulled out a small foil packet. He ripped it open with still glistening hands, and you took it from him, rolling it over his length with careful precision. Pumping him once, twice. Savoring the sinful sounds leaving his lips.

He was bigger than you had anticipated and your mouth watered at the sight, at the fact that beyond just its size, it was pretty. You'd get your mouth on it soon, you told yourself, taste him just as he tasted you. You'd wrap your lips around his head, let him fuck your mouth the way he wanted, and taste his release with a greedy tongue. But not now.

Az maneuvered himself, a forearm near your head to hold himself as his other hand went in between you, replacing your hand with his own. You ran your freed palm along his chest, bringing it up to his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Az asked, eyes focused on you.

You almost laughed at the question, a smile forming on your face as you nodded. "For the love of god, please," you said, and you were sure it was the hundredth time you'd muttered the word. "I want you. I-I need you."

Az’s growl reverberated through you, a primal sound you’d never heard from him before. It sent waves of need crashing over your body. Your legs instinctively locked around his back, drawing him in as his cock pressed firmly inside you, an intense surge of pleasure that made you both gasp for air. You clenched around him, welcoming him and the stretch he provided, the sensation of him as he rolled his hips, as he bottomed out with another sinful groan. Azriel kissed you again and again as he moved, as he picked up the pace and you clawed at his back— nails digging into the ink that adorned his golden skin.

His mouth explored every inch of you—your nipples, your throat, your ear—before he covered your mouth to muffle your moans once more. You dug your heels into his back, fingers tangled in his hair as he pressed you firmly into the mattress with the snap of his hips. You were lost in the rising waves of sensation—his quick, sharp thrusts, the heat and sweat of your bodies moving together.

Faintly, you heard a soft whining, a mewl of pleasure. You realized, seconds later, it had come from your own throat; desperate and babbling, repeating Az's name like a prayer. He was everything now, every thought in your mind, filling every sense, his hands, his tongue, his cock.

You were so close, on the edge of something monumental, ready to fall and fall and fall. Azriel must have seen the desperation in your eyes as he started whispering in your ear, murmuring things that you knew would later make you blush and squirm, turn red and pink and every color between.

“Holy shit, yes,” he growled, “You feel incredible, Y/n.”

You clung to him, your breath mingling with his, praying that, somehow, through this shared rhythm, you could bind him to you forever. That this moment would make him truly yours, beyond just the physical, blending every part of him with every part of you.

"Talk to me, beautiful." He nipped at your bottom lip. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes, god, yes." You moaned and pulled him closer to you. As you separated from another hungry kiss, you reveled in the way his chain dangled over your face, in the way it swung as he fucked you. It was even better than you imagined, even hotter in every way. You clenched around him, shivered at the sound he made.

He looked beautiful. Face flushed and glistening with sweat, tousled hair falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with a look of pure adoration, a look you felt too soft to be reserved for you. It was a look meant for those that did great, praise-worthy things, a look for a lover and a soulmate. You stared at him, breathing heavily, taking in all that he was, and he looked at you back, took you in just as carefully. Then he smiled, reaching up and gripping your hands in his. He pressed gentle kisses along your cheeks and entwined your fingers with his, held them above your head.

"I'm so close,” you murmured, “So close.”

Azriel's eyes darkened. He brought his bottom lip between his teeth and his cock surged into you with such force that the bed groaned beneath you. You gasped, body going slack as he drove into you with relentless speed, each thrust so intense that you were left completely immobilized. His movements grew uneven, body trembling as he strained to hold back, his fingers pressing deeply into yours.

“Azriel.” His name was all you had. “Az. Az.”

He was buried deep inside you, trembling with the force of his release. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed heavily. "Come with me, baby."

You clenched at the name, at the way his words caressed your skin. Azriel cried out against your shoulder, his moan wavering like he was descending from a high. You felt his entire body shudder and you pressed kisses to his ear, cheek, and neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, maybe a little too roughly, but he only whimpered and slumped against you, his full weight pressing you into the bed.

He took deep breaths and you laughed as he blew your hair out of his face. A few moments later you loosened your hold on him, bodies reluctantly untangled, condom disposed, and you both shifted onto your sides. You leaned in to kiss him. His response was tender and unhurried, his lips moving against yours with a reverent slowness. His hands roamed over your back, your hip, and the curve of your ass.

Long after you cleaned up, as you laid against Az's bare chest and he played with your hair, that feeling of falling was still there, something exciting and equally terrifying. It filled your stomach, flowed through your veins.

You looked at Az, took in his contented smile, his eyes closed and peaceful as he held you, and you wondered if you truly knew what love felt like, wondered when it was too soon to decide you could never let someone go.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹  

authors note: your honor i do believe theyre falling in love. i also, do believe, that they boutta be fuckin like rabbits

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As always, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[rainingriversofyou]

Amren x Varian - Artist: @madschofield 🧡

[my-acotar-thoughts]

High King and High Queen…

I don’t understand why people think this is a good idea no matter who you want in the throne… You will not get all 7 Court to agree to give up all their power to one ruler. You’re asking for war. You’re asking for most likely genocide. You’re asking for tyranny cause that’s the only way a High King and High Queen can come into power again. Also, for those who want Rhys and Feyre on the throne… one good city inherited by generations before who built it in a giant court that is double the size of most other courts is not enough to prove you’re good rulers. Seriously, ONE. SINGLE. CITY.

The road to High King and High Queen is paved in blood. You know who also wanted to take all of Prythian? Amarantha. And look what happened there. No one. Not a single court will ever want to live remotely like that again. Especially not under the rule of the court that has a city Amarantha’s court under the mountain was modeled after.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

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

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Tarquin: I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy!

Tarquin: Unless of course, we're talking about my enemy, Cassian. Fuck you Cassian, you know what you did.

[ginya-writes]

Feyre testing out her new powers in the Summer Court

[airiruriru]

Nesta enjoying the beach at Summer Court ☀️

[olenvasynyt]

Here's some Prythian lesser fae world-building headcanons because I am so bored of human-looking hot guys with semi-pointy ears and literally nothing else.

Spring has several races of lesser fae that have wings like butterflies. They are the main farmers and bouquet makers for the Spring Court but they were targeted by Tamlin's father before his death.

Spring also has a lesser fae race that are a bit like fawns / satyrs but resemble sheep instead of goats or horses. They have fluffy white wool and ram horns for the males

Many lesser fae races migrate between the seasonal courts based on the season. There are the monarch fae, who migrate between Spring, Summer, and Autumn.

There are also the Kontio fae, who are bear-like lesser fae who travel between courts based on the season. They hibernate in Winter during the winter months, travel through Summer and Autumn on the Spring Equinox to settle in the Spring Court, then they travel to Summer and Autumn perspectively until it's time to hibernate again. They are one of the main lesser fae races in my Lucien backstory fic A Court of Embers and Sunlight :)

Sprites are common in all of the courts, but each court has their own unique variety based on the elements / main features of the Court. Spring has sprites that resemple petals and sleep in flowers; Autumn has sprites that glow like embers and hide in the colorful leaves; Summer has wood sprites and water sprites. Winter has snow sprites with frosty skin. Dawn has fae that only come out during the sunrise and camouflage with the clouds. Day has sun sprites that are completely gold and shine in the sun like jewels. And Night has star sprites that hide in the mountains and shoot across the sky like comets.

Winter has ice giants that hide out in the mountains. These became almost extinct after the Human War, and many believe they no longer exist.

Winter also has snow leopard fae with tails, spots on their white skin, and and fluffy ears that peek out from their soft white hair.

Summer has the Áfruvvá fae, which is a mermaid race that lives on the coast

Night has the Aranrot fae, which is a fae race with beautiful silver skin that glows and sparkles like a star. The race is all female, very stern and independent, and live proud sexual lives.  Believed a virgin was an independent female who was answerable only unto herself. Associated with the galaxy.

Autumn and Winter have lesser fae that resemble wood lemmings. They are covered in soft fur, and have small paws with a flattened claw as their index finger. They have terrible eyesight but their sense of smell and hearing are 10 times better than the High Fae. They're called Sopuli Fae in my fanfic :) 

These are a small precentage of my lesser fae headcanons and it's one of my favorite things to write. Like come on, it's so fun! Give me more, SJM 😩

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 5

I Want Crazy

Azriel Eris x Reader

After a promotion to an emissary position by a meddling Tarquin, Y/N and Eris get much, much closer.

A/n: There will likely only be a couple more chapters of this fic. For those of you concerned by the previous chapter, please continue to trust the process. Our girl is intelligent.

Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: Language, brief mention of fertility struggles

Our first date, the seasons changed. It got washed away in a summer rain

He wasn’t what I expected, Eris Vanserra. Not that I ever fathomed what to expect or even considered it. In fact there was only a very short list of things I knew prior to the day we met:

-He was a High Lord.

-He’d been a secretive ally of the Night Court prior to his father’s demise.

-Azriel fucking hated him.

And after that day I knew everything I needed to:

-He was warm beyond the fire in his veins

-He was a just ruler

-He had a dry wit that sat well with my soul.

-I wanted to see him again.

After dancing that night, we ran back to Tarquin’s palace in the rain. It was the first time I’d been unable to contain my joy in far too long. I laughed, and skipped, and spun in circles the whole way back. Eris grumbled the entire way but I could see the amusement lit in his eyes. The next morning he met me for breakfast and found me again before he left for the Autumn Court.

He began finding reasons to visit the Summer Court more frequently and sought me out every time. It was no time before Eris became a close friend.

Tarquin - ever the cheeky, wonderful bastard - only gave me knowing smiles when he’d catch us walking the palace grounds. According to Cresseida, The High Lord of the Summer Court was quite the romantic and had a knack for playing matchmaker. I was inclined to agree considering that after a month of spotting Eris and I around the grounds, Tarquin made a proposition to me. I could still teach my classes but he needed a temporary emissary to the Autumn court as they negotiated border, trade, and tariff agreements. Given my recent closeness with the High Lord of Autumn and overall wonderful (debatable) disposition, he found me to be the perfect candidate. With that, I found myself on official court business in the Autumn Court.

Who cares if you’re all I think about?

I was nervous on the first visit to Autumn. I knew things were different under Eris’ reign but the stories of Beron’s cruelty within his own keep were enough to warrant a bit of caution.

My worries were quickly cast aside when Eris personally escorted me from the border and to his keep. The Autumn Court was stunning. The leaves on the trees were brighter than I’d ever seen. The hues ranging from gold to red absolutely stunning. I’d love to have Feyre one day paint it for me.

Smells of roasting chestnuts, hickory smoke, crisp leaves, apple cider, and autumn air filled my nose. On the way, Eris stopped by a small farm where the owner allowed us to pick what Eris called the finest Honeycrisp apples in all of Prythian. I’d never had that variety before and though I had nothing to compare them against, the apples had the perfect crunch and just the right ratio of tart and sweet. He paid the farmer handsomely for a bucket of them and several pie pumpkins for his kitchens.

The Autumn Keep was far from the drab stone castle that I’d pictured. Eris clearly went to great strides to ensure the ghost of Beron Vanserra had no hold here. The grand rooms were filled with maple accents, rugs and tapestries with hues greens, golds, oranges and reds. Fires roared in massive fireplaces and autumnal spices filled the air.

And despite the beauty of the keep. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of the tall, handsome redhead walking alongside me.

Once I was settled for the stay, we did meet to discuss political matters which took countless hours, but I was rather impressed with the ease of our negotiations. He and Tarquin had similar visions for the economic future within their courts.

We enjoyed dinner together, indulged in autumnal wines, including a hot mulled wine that flushed my cheeks. Or so I told Eris that was the reason for the blush on my features, and certainly not the way way he’d refer to me as “my lady” or “little fox.”

We’d stayed up late, sitting by a bon fire outside beneath the Autumn Skies. There was music and dancing, spiked ciders, and caramel apples. I could see why Eris loves his court.

We, of course, kept respectful distance from eachother as not to spark any gossip of anything more than friendship between he and I. Yet somehow, hours later, we found ourselves in a private courtyard - a small fire burning as we lay back on a blanket together. I began to shiver as the evening chill grew cooler. As I went to bid Eris goodnight and head for the warmth within Castle Walls, he halted me.

“Come here” he spoke. His voice low.

I scooted a bit closer.

“Come closer, little fox. I won’t bite.”

He refrained from adding “unless you ask me to” but that was readable enough in his heavy lidded gaze.

So I laid beside him, my head nestled between his chest and shoulder as his heat warmed my body. I showed him various constellations that I’d learned of during my time in the Night Court and he did a terrible job of visualizing them. He tried though. He told me how he used to wish on shooting stars, how he still found himself occasionally wishing upon them. I teared up when he told me of the wishes he’d made back then for his mother and Lucien, for himself, to one day escape Beron’s cruelty. For a better life. A better Court.

When we saw a shooting star later, he made a wish and told me it was bad luck to tell someone else the wish.

And I, despite everything that had turned upside down in life, found myself struggling to ask for anything more than what I had in that moment.

When we finally said goodnight I realized his own suite was right next to the one he had set me up in.

I woke in a sweat sometime hours before dawn. Pain ripping through my chest. Azriel once again pulling on the fucking bond with no regard for the feelings of despair he was shoving to me. This time was worse than usual, the waves of grief continuing to grow stronger and stronger all the time. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve this. This was a bed of his own making and yet I still had to suffer beyond what I’d already been through. Sleeping through it was futile and the room’s darkness began to suffocate me.

I padded from my room to a common area outside of the suites, sat before the fireplace and worked on breathing through it.

Though I tried my best to remain quiet, Eris apparently had a sharp sense of hearing as he wandered into the room, seating himself on the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, perhaps I would have noticed the low slung gray sweatpants and broad muscled chest of the half-naked High Lord- no, friend - beside me.

He took my hand. “Hey, fox, look at me.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve got this. Breathe for me.” I took a shallow breath. “Can you breathe deeper for me, little one?” He placed a hand on my shoulder while the other remained on my hand. I took a deeper breath and let it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

Eris sat with me in silence on a plush couch once my breathing steadied. Still too worked up to fall back asleep, I nestled myself against Eris’ chest while his fingers ran through my hair in soothing, repetitive strokes.

It was hours later that I awoke, finding that I’d fallen asleep on him. I tried shifting away slowly but a sleeping Eris only held his arm around me tighter as I pulled. We slept like that a while longer.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully. We discussed further trade options and Eris spent the evenings working with me on how to close off the bond to Azriel’s feelings. While I was already excellent at shutting down sending my feelings down the bond, cutting off his feelings was what I needed help with. By the end of the stay I could only feel his emotions slightly.

I expressed my gratitude to Eris who only waived off my thanks. “Anyone would have done it.” Yet he was the only one who tried. What I didn’t tell Eris was that as Azriel’s end of the bond silenced and the depths of my soul went from overflowing to filled with contentment, my thoughts began drifting to happier things, drifted to him.

Front porch and one more kiss. It doesn't make sense to anybody else.

The fifth month after I left, my grandparents held an outdoor feast for our family and friends in celebration of a holiday of one of the lesser Summer gods they worshipped.

It was far from a religious event. There was always wine, dancing, and lively conversation at these celebrations with none of the boring sermons that typically came with such events.

I invited Eris, and to my delight he came. My drunken sister made plenty of comments over how pretty of a pair of “friends” we made, with overemphasis on the word. My sweet, protective nephew took to Eris right away, deciding that after what Azriel put me through, anyone was better than him. He had no tolerance for cheating or sympathy for adulterers from the time he was old enough to understand what it meant and that his father had cheated on my sister during her pregnancy (real stand up guy) though my sister was so far out of his league that he’d have to reach the stars to find someone better. Obviously she’d left him immediately and she and my nephew were better off for it.

My family tried their best and failed miserably to act normal with the High Lord of the Autumn Court in their presence. Fortunately, Eris paid no mind and had won everyone over by the end of the night.

Despite his aversion to the sand, Eris accepted my invitation to camp on the beach so we could enjoy my favorite part of the night, the fireworks shooting off over the bay.

As the finale approached, I pouted.

“I hate when they end.”

Gesturing toward himself, Eris replied. “It’s a good thing you have a High Lord at your disposal to light up the night any time you wish.”

Before I could reprimand him for the crude comment, he began shooting small orbs of fire toward the water in a rainbow of colors.

My eyes sparkled watching the vibrant flares. Soon enough the orbs into butterflies of fire flying through the air, some circling around me. One brushed my cheek and there was no pain, just a gentle flutter.

“That’s… Just wow, that’s incredible, Eris!”

He gave a shrug of nonchalance in return.

“I bet you do that for all the ladies, don’t you?”

Eris looked me in the eyes, something unreadable in them.

“Only the ones I want to kiss.”

A moment passed before I realized that he was entirely serious.

And that I WANTED to kiss him.

So I did.

We kissed under the stars. It was a hard, passionate kiss, our shared breaths riddled with desperation, a profession of the unspoken words between us, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

And when we eventually pulled apart, I looked into his eyes with a smile, genuine, full of adoration, and Eris gently grasped the back of my head, pulling me into another searing kiss.

We shared many more before dawn.

You can’t undo a fall like this.

When Eris returned to the Autumn Court, I tried feeling any remorse for what we’d done. I was technically still a mated female, though I’d left and due to Azriel’s infidelity nobody expected me to honor the bond.

The guilt never came.

Eris had to travel so I wasn’t able to see him for the next couple weeks but we wrote back and forth often through enchanted notes. Curiosity or concern must have gotten the best of him because eventually he asked:

“Do you regret it?”

I knew exactly what he referred to.

“I regret many things, Eris. None of which pertain to you.”

I sent the letter to him with confidence. I did not regret a single thing about the night our lips collided on the beach.

“Thank the Mother, because I need to kiss you again.”

Heat radiated through me at his admission.

But then reality struck. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court. I was the - separated, yes, but still - the mate of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Eris, I love spending time with you and will never regret it. You’ve helped me heal in ways I will never be able to repay you for. But this… how can this work? It’s messy.”

I sent the letter. My own heart crushing at the words. I didn’t want this to end but I couldn’t risk it going further just for reality to come crashing down on us.

Some time passed, the unease in my gut growing when his response appeared.

“If I wanted easy, I’d have married the daughter of some Autumn Lord. Nothing about my past has been easy and despite what some may believe, nothing worth having has come easily to me. Every second spent with you is worth it. Do not, Y/N, doubt that for one single moment. And perhaps this is crazy, but I would not want it any other way.”

It was that moment that I knew I wanted, I needed Eris as more than a friend.

“Then let’s be crazy, Eris Vanserra.”

I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

The thing about immortality is that six months can bring more change than six decades or even centuries.

Six months ago I would have never dreamed that my mate would take the life we’d built over the years and tear it into shreds with those once sacred, beautiful scarred hands that I held reverently. The hands that placed the lovely mating band crafted from one of his own siphons on my finger after he’d made his vows, the hands that lovingly caressed my bare thighs through restless nights until sleep took me, hands that held me pressed to his chest and wiped away the tears of grief after yet another failed fertility cycle.

Those hands that held another and damned it all, the hands that came home and stroked my hair as pretty lies fell from his mouth, the hands that took my glass heart and dropped it.

I especially wouldn’t have dreamed that six months later I would be laying in the bed of the High Lord of the Autumn Court with his strong, warm hands holding me like this heart of mine that he’d forged anew was the most delicate, precious possession in his keep.

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

We’d spent the night together making love. The kind of love making that shifts something intrinsic within a person, the type where no matter what happens, a piece of you is forever changed. It was more than just giving my body to him, it was a claiming of the soul.

We lay in bed all morning, his long fingers tracing along the arch of my bare back as he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder and neck. Between kisses, his low voice whispered quiet hopes and dreams for the future.

I was just about to speak those three words that I’d only ever spoken to one other male when a loud knock came on the chamber door.

“For fuck’s sake” Eris muttered before shouting “Come back later!”

“We apologize, High Lord but this is urgent.” a muffled male voice replied through the closed door.

Eris growled, shifting out of bed and throwing on his sweatpants not bothering with a shirt. I enjoyed the view.

“This better be worth my while, lads.” Eris hissed in a tone that conveyed “I’m very fucking inconvenienced right now but understand that you are doing your duty as my sentries.”

“Apologies again, High Lord, but we’ve….”

The male outside the door cleared his throat in attempt to communicate that the matter should be discussed privately.

“It’s fine.” Eris grumbled. “Just get on with it.”

“We, well, High Lord, we’ve apprehended the Shadowsinger. He was making an attempt to infiltrate the keep.”

———————————

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious