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please no halloween posts just yet. there’s still 2 months left

"Noo, I don't have an opinion on what's going on in Palestine."

"I don't like politics so I'm neutral about all of that stuff."

"Don't send me things about the politics of Gaza or Palestine or anything like that, it just makes me really anxious and-"

Those are some real things I've seen people say before. You don't have an opinion on the literal genocide going on in Gaza and Palestine? The lives being taken? The atrocities Israel has done? You're refusing to educate yourself on all of this because it makes you anxious? (Boo hoo) That's disgusting to me. You can't be "neutral" about a literal war??

You're either with Palestine or not. I'm loud and proud about supporting Palestine, and if any of my mutuals, followers, friends or family who don't feel the same, please get away from me and this blog.

Growth is realising that every character in the ACOTAR world is problematic. It's okay for people to have their fave characters. You shouldn't think less of others for their choice and they shouldn't think less of you for your choice.

They have it so right until we find them being their authentic selves on an aeroplane 👀👀

Kids have it so right. Be weird without shame and cry about anything that so much as dares to inconvenience you

The Warrior & The Healer - Masterlist Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Author's Note: hi y'all! I'm nati and this is my very first fanfic, I'm open to suggestions but pls be kind, english is not my first language. I might be making this into a series but I'm not sure yet, I hope you like it nonetheless! also this is somewhat inspired by Heal Me by Lady Gaga heheheh

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - coming soon

dividers by @estrelinha-s

Growth is realising that every character in the ACOTAR world is problematic. It's okay for people to have their fave characters. You shouldn't think less of others for their choice and they shouldn't think less of you for your choice.

Fellas, fellas

Why on earth are you BUYING PHYSICAL BOOKBOUND COPIES OF FANFICTION????

ACTUALLY WHY ARE YOU EVEN BOOKBINDING FANFICTION TO SELL?!?!?!

IF ANY OF YOU DO EITHER OF THESE THINGS, GET OUT!! I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN.

In all seriousness though, authors on AO3 have begun to pull their works off of the site to avoid getting sued by people stealing their works to make a pretty bound book for profit. Entire accounts could be shut down as well.

Listen, I’m all for saving favorite works by printing them out and putting them in a binder, or learning how to make a bookbound copy yourself and/or assembling one with a pre-made and purchased fancy binding for a fanfic FOR YOURSELF or AS A GIFT to someone, but making bindings with and putting fanfiction in it TO SELL is where I draw the line.

Literally the entire point of AO3 is that you can read it FOR FREE.

It is DISRESPECTFUL for people to make money off of hardbound copies because guess what, the original creators of these fics get nothing. We are literally only writing fanfiction for our own pleasure.

Buying and selling book-bound fanfiction is also ILLEGAL YOU DUMB SHITS. People who are selling content while claiming to be a book binder is a misconception of their services. Book binders make the covers and all that, not the actual content of the book. Selling fanfiction is also an immediate violation of copyright law / Creative Commons licenses. The original fan work will get erased from the internet.

Fanfiction is already a legal grey zone since they are works being written about are protected by copyright. Copyright holders can in fact go after writers as well as the person who sold the fanfiction.

This also goes for people who steal fanart and, claim it as theirs, and put a price on it.

Don’t make it worse.

rest assured, we can still write our fanfics and make our art.

Buying a binding for you to assemble onto your own fanfiction or fanfiction you printed for PERSONAL USE is fine.

HOWEVER,

Bookbinding fanfiction for profit is literally ruining things for everyone. DON’T.

If I see any of them on Etsy, I swear to god-

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams

✨ pairings: eris x reader

🔮 preview: (Y/N) Vanserra was cunning, ambitious, and confident, all wrapped in a beauty that could rival Lady Autumn’s. For forty-nine years, she had been hidden away, in Autumn Court, much like a diamond, waiting for the day she could come out and shine. And so, when the threat of a Death-God loomed over Prythian and Beron slowly became a concern, (Y/N) uses her beauty and intelligence for a ploy bigger than herself — one that included sitting her husband down on the Autumn throne, Eris Vanserra.

📣 trigger warnings: Inner Circle bashing (I love the IC guys, but we’re in Autumn Court territory now)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 5.6k+

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: I thank my lovely nonnie from here for suggesting a Roxana-inspired reader from the manwha, How to Protect the Heroine’s Older Brother! I loved Roxana as a character and I found it very difficult (as many of you know, whom I’ve talked to about this story) to write a character who is cunning and intelligent as my character reference. This series was a beast to write (and I am still writing the other parts of it, so please do be patient) — I wanted it to stay canon as much as possible, but also give a story that would reveal the mysterious nature of Autumn Court. Please do give feedback about the first part of this series! I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts for the next part!

And I thank both @prythianpages & @thesunloveschips for their amazing help with this first part (I apologize to them profusely at times for bothering them)

“Be my eyes, be my ears. Be the wallflower that lurks in the breeze. Be the viper that stings all my enemies. We shall become one, to conquer our shared destiny.”

The burn of the bargain tattoo seared onto your skin, a ring of fire that surrounded your left ring finger. It took you a moment to look at it, admiring the dark ink that stained your skin before much larger hands enveloped yours. Looking up, you stared at familiar amber hues as he slipped the golden band on that finger, hiding the tattoo. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles his smirk widening slightly.

“You will be my secret, (Y/N)… My weapon within the walls of Autumn Court…”

“Do you know who she is, Az?” his High Lord’s voice echoed in his head as hazel eyes focused on the female that seemed to have garnered many lingering gazes.

“I unfortunately do not, Rhys… My shadows do not whisper anything about her. I—-” there was hesitancy in his words, “I didn’t even know she existed.”

The Spymaster was stumped, to say the least.

In his centuries of being Night Court’s Spymaster, wielding shadows to his very will, Azriel had every confidence that he knew everything that happened in Prythian. Nothing was able to pass him nor his shadows — he knew all the intel, the gossip. He knew everything that might be deemed a threat to his court and used that knowledge to his advantage.

But it seemed like something slipped, because there was something… more like someone, that passed his shadows; and that was you who was on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir.

Azriel felt like he should have known you, should have heard the whisper of your existence at least. You were accompanying the Autumn Heir to Winter Solstice, for Mother’s sake! How could someone as vital as you slip passed his shadows.

He waited, waited for those slivers of darkness to whisper something… anything about you. Even just your name, the Spymaster would have been pleased to know.

But nothing.

His shadows lazily moved underneath him, not a care in the world about the female that seemed to have warped his mind in chaos.

You had become an enigma to the Spymaster.

And it was something he would go to the ends of the world to unravel.

He continued silently observing you from his position next to his High Lord on the dias, watching as you pressed yourself close to the Heir side, your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, leading you through the throughs of people that packed themselves into the grand ballroom. He watched as your rouge dress, a stark contrast to the endless sea of black and blue, swayed around you — like a fire that danced in the darkness of the night. Even Eris stood out in his regality in a similar shade of rouge, Autumn Court colors seeping out from every inch of him.

The two of you maneuvered through the halls like flames blazing through the darkness — and Azriel was worried that you would burn his home down.

And when he watched you lean up to the Heir, whispering something into his ear before a boisterous laugh escaped the Autumn Heir, he sent his shadows across the floor, motioning them to listen in — and all the Spymaster hoped was to get a tidbit of anything relating to you; even just the sound of your voice would have been better than nothing.

However, hazel hues watched as his shadows retreated quickly as they had flocked. And it was only then did Azriel had seen it.

A barrier.

One that was so powerful and so thick that his shadows couldn’t even penetrate. He watched as the tendrils of darkness slithered away, retreating back to their master, hearing their cries of pain as they had attempted to break through the barrier.

That was the reason no one knew of your existence — why Azriel never heard of you, why his shadows never picked up your name.

You were a secret — Autumn Court’s well-kept secret.

The shimmer of the barrier caught the corner of your eye, watching it reflect different colors under the dim lighting. You raised a brow, eyes darting around before noticing the lonesome shadow retreating back to its master. You watched as that lonesome shadow slither through the crowd, slithering back to the Spymaster’s side.

“Did that bastard just —-”

You fought back a chuckle, gently squeezing Eris’ forearm — a silent confirmation about the attempted attack from the Night Court Spymaster. You felt him stiffen underneath your touch and you didn’t need to look to know that the Heir was pissed.

Beneath his mask of well-practiced composure, you felt his body thrum with rage and fire — it swirled and bubbled underneath his skin, radiating up to your palm that rested in the crook of his elbow.

Eris had always been quite overprotective over you, thus the millennial old barrier that had kept your existence a secret from all of Prythian — including from the nosy Spymaster of Night Court.

You were not surprised by the Shadowsinger’s actions — curiosity killed the cat, as many would say. And who wouldn’t be curious about you, the female that hung on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir? You had expected something similar to happen, but it seemed that the Spymaster sending his shadows to investigate you did not sit well with Eris.

No one dared to attack you while in his presence.

“Eris…”

The whisper of his name from your lips paused the rage that bubbled from the Heir — amber hues glancing your way. A delicate smile tugged onto your features, another melodic hum escaping your lips as you reached up and caressed his forearm — a gesture that showed you were perfectly unharmed — the barrier had done its job, keeping you safe. It was a gesture that always seemed to calm Eris down — especially when it came to your safety, a silent confirmation you were safe. You felt that bubble of rage and fire simmer, the Heir calming underneath your touch, and felt his hand slip on top of your own, his thumb gently caressing the gold band on your ring finger— a tall tell sign that he was holding himself back from confronting the Spymaster.

“Ah, Eris!”

Annoyance rolled off from the calm of Eris’ demeanor and you fought all urge to tease the male as you watched from the corner of your eye Keir making his way to the two of you, behind him his daughters in tow.

With a well-practiced smile, Eris gave a bow of his head towards the Steward, you mimicking his actions as surprise tugged on the Steward’s features, his steps paused to a halt at the sight of you at Eris’ side.

“Ah, Keir, pleasure to see you again. I thank you for inviting me to such festivities…” Eris greeted the male with a light smirk tugged onto his features — the normal look of arrogance from the Autumn Heir.

Keir had stiffened at the sound of his name, without any lordship from the Heir, as he bit back a reply with a strained smile, “Of course, Lord Eris. We are indeed partners… I had wanted to introduce you to my daughters—-” the male gestured to his side as his daughters gave a bow, their cheeks pink with a light rose color, evident even in the dim lighting.

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Eris to watch that smile twitch at the corner of his lips — the annoyance very evident despite his mask of pleasantry.

“Unfortunately…” The Autumn Heir had cut off the Steward, giving the ladies a bow of his head. Eris, no matter what was taught to be a gentleman, especially to females. His mother taught him that. “I do not need a partner tonight for the dance… As you can see, I do have a lovely lady on my arm, and it would be such a shame to ignore her presence… don’t you think, Keir?”

A pleased smile tugged at the edge of your lips at the quip — not only did the Steward ignore greeting you, he had ignored the fact that you… without needing to be announced, would be the one accompanying the Heir for the evening’s festivities. And yet, there he was attempting to set up partnership with one of his daughters.

Keir’s eyes shifted from the Heir to you, his hues shaking as he looked at you.

“My apologizes… my lady, I was not informed that the Autumn Heir would be bringing a partner with him tonight—-”

“—-She has been with me the whole night, Keir… and she has not stepped away from my side. I would think, with your… keen eyesight, it would make it clear that I did not need a partner tonight.”

“—- Ah, yes… I apologize…” the stutter was evident in his tone as he quietly shooed away his daughters, watching longing gazes at the Eris before moving through the crowd. Keir straightened up and gave you a formal smile, before clearing his throat, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady —- before the festivities start…” What a quick change of subject, “My High Lord would like to speak to you…. if you do not mind following me…”

And with that the Steward turned around, his cape bellowing behind him as he maneuvered his way through the crowd… towards the dias where the Inner Circle had perched themselves for the night.

You watched as Eris rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, while you let out an airy laugh, bracing yourself on his arm as you leaned up, your breath against his chin, “Tired of being the most eligible bachelor, Autumn Heir?” you teased him.

It had always amused you on how many marriage proposals Eris had throughout the time you were together, and how many he had thrown those letters into the hearth of your shared bedroom at Autumn Court. You had always teased him about it, much to his own dismay after being with you for several millennials — you always found something to tease him about.

Eris raised a brow, turning his head so that your breaths intermingled, “I had not been a bachelor for centuries, my butterfly… It pains me to pretend that I am every time I step outside Autumn Court.”

You gazed up at him, staring in those amber hues through your lush lashes, “Well… tonight we’ll make that clear, once and for all, won’t we?”

A wide smirk tugged onto his lips, as he let out a satisfied sound before straightening up and guiding you through the crowd, steps behind the Steward to the dias. The two of you were a perfect picture of Lord and Lady, graceful and regal in every way.

Pull… pull… pull…

Eyes snapped towards the dias, your body going ridged for a few moments as you felt the familiar magnetic tug — the call of the blade. Eris paused in mid-step, feeling you go still, his head snapping towards you as eyes betrayed his indifferent expression — worry pooling at its depths. No words needed to be communicated between the two of you, you had known each other for centuries… you were honed into each other’s emotions, habits, gestures… you two could read each other so easily, despite the mask you have learned to put on for centuries.

Your eyes shifted from each member of the Inner Circle, trying to find where the magic pull was coming from, landing on the velvet box that was in the lithe hands of a familiar fae — the eldest Made Archeron sister, Nesta. You felt your magic flicker underneath your skin, answering the pull from that velvet box. You knew that the blade was in that box — the whole reason why you had decided to accompany Eris to the Winter Solstice, stepping out of Autumn Court into the wider world of Prythian, risking your identity, and exposing your person to the Night Court. That box, that blade was your sole reason.

Regaining your composure, you pressed yourself against Eris’ arm, placing your hand on top of his own as you silently motioned him to continue moving forward. The Autumn Heir hesitated, but when he glanced into your eyes and saw the resolution in them, he couldn’t argue. He gently squeezed your hand and started to move forward again before leaning down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head to whisper, “Did you find it? The blade?”

You glanced up at him and just gave him a light smirk, gently squeezing his hand. Another laugh escaped him, drawing attention towards the two before he pressed another kiss on your cheek, “You are magnificent, my butterfly…”

The Autumn wind blew a chilled breeze through the large windows of the Forest House. The sky was still in orange, red, and yellow hues as the moon started to peak over the horizon — the seasonal courts never saw true nightfall, the skies still glittering with their court colors. It had just grown dark enough for sleep to fall on its inhabitants.

Slipping onto the large balcony of your shared bedroom, you pressed your hands against the cool marble railing as you watched a monarch butterfly flutter down from the skies. Magic wrapped its fragile wings as you allowed it to gently perch on your left eye, a sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes — allowing its magic to seep into you. Visions passed behind your eyes, your all-seeing gaze shifting from Autumn Court, zipping through the seasonal courts and into the depths of one particular solar court — Night Court.

A rusty hammer struck metal, sparks of light flying into the air as the loud ring echoed in your ears. You watched delicate, yet calloused fingers grip the hilt of a forged blade — a power from those very hands seeping into the metal, one that mimicked the ancient Cauldron, which was lost. The blade breathed fire, one so similar to your own that you felt it pulse, no… push against steel — calling out to you, as if it knew you were waiting, watching from afar.

Shifting your gaze from the mysterious Made blade, your eyes wandered to those fingers, traveling up their arm to their features — the eldest Made Archeron sister. You had heard of the eldest sister of the High Lady of Night, once a human, doused in Cauldron power that made her into fae. Her powers were unknown to all, and yet — here she was, creating a weapon from her unknown powers.

“It looks like she isn’t quite as lovely as the winds have whispered…” you murmured, mirth in your tone as you continued to watch the vision unfold before your eyes.

“Who isn’t as lovely?”

Arms wrapped around your middle, large sturdy hands pressing you against a much sturdier front. Another sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, breaking the connection of magic as you watched the butterfly disappear in a waft of red and orange mist. Your hand raised, swirling the colors in the air before it dissipated. Twisting your neck, you glanced up at the Autumn Heir, his features illuminated by the colorful autumn sky.

You had always thought he looked ethereal.

His complexion glowed something dark that always stirred something inside of you. How his auburn hair beautifully framed his chiseled features and how his amber hues glowed — his innate fire burning through those irises.

Those amber eyes caught your own, his brow raising as his question was left in the air. A chuckle was pulled out of you at his look, “The eldest Made Archeron…”

Eris’ brows scrunched in confusion, as your comment did little to answer his question. He knew that there was much more hidden behind your simple words about the Made fae, much more than you were willing to tell him without him prodding you more. You lifted a hand to gently smooth Eris’ brows, a feeble attempt at a distraction — for both you and him.

“What did your butterflies show you, (Y/N)?”

Eris was able to read you so easily, no matter how many walls you had put up, the Autumn Heir was able to see right through them. He had learned how to read you for centuries, ever since the two of you were children — ever since that fateful day.

You felt him grasp your hand, tugging it away from his face, giving your palm a caress, causing a sigh to escape your lips.

“She forged a blade that breathed fire, one similar to our own… I do not know the purpose of said blade, but I am quite sure it has to do with that bloody bargain you made with that High Lord…”

It was no secret to Eris that you had despised that bargain between the High Lord of Night — a bargain to help him claim the Autumn throne from his father. You understood that it was under stressful circumstances — the looming doom of war with Hybern, needing allies during the war. However, you had known that Eris didn’t need that bargain, not with anyone within the Forest House walls, especially not with pesky Night Court bats — not when he had you to help with the coup within Autumn wards.

You needed no help from overgrown bats with what you had promised Eris all those millennials ago.

“(Y/N)…” he called your name, pulling you from your thoughts. Eris held your waist and turned you in his arms, pushing you against that marble railing, forcing you to look up at him.

Raising a brow, you tilted your head up at him.

“If they made a blade for us… then we’ll use it — take advantage of it,” he asserted, “Let’s play into their little game for now. Make them think they’re on higher ground, that they have control — but when in reality, we’ve always known. And you never know…” A smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned down, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks, “That blade might be useful for our plan…”

A light, airy chuckle escaped your lips, “You’re asking me, Eris… out of all things… to act dumb in front of those bats?” amusement laced in your tone.

He chuckled as well, pressing his lips against your cheek, “I’m asking you, my butterfly… is to act dumb with me. We do better everything together, right?”

You hummed, eyes fluttering close, your lashes brushing against his cheeks. Your arms slid up his more muscular ones, hidden beneath his sleeping tunic, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him, “Then that means, Autumn Heir… you will have to bring me to that Winter Solstice ball if you want me to act with you.”

Eris froze underneath your touch at the mention of Winter Solstice. He had mentioned it a few times to you in the past several weeks — especially when Keir kept sending secret correspondence, begging him to join the festivities. The correspondences had annoyed Eris completely, any chance the Heir had was to verbalize his annoyance to you about it — and you had been very amused to hear it each time. You were to let him go on his own to the Court of Nightmares — it was something you didn’t need to be a part of. You could remain in Autumn, continue to secretly monitor his father and brothers, gain followers, and be the wallflower that you have always acted as.

But, with this newfound information and the idea of the Night Court using the bargain against Eris, you knew you couldn’t just be passive with the invitation.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at Eris who had a conflicting look — you knew why he had been so hesitant.

You had never stepped outside of Autumn Court — no one knew of your existence outside of the Court. Despite being in Autumn Court for millennials, Prythian didn't know, the other Courts didn’t know of you. And yet, you were willing to sacrifice your identity, your role in his bigger plan to gain something as simple as a blade that a Cauldron Made Fae made.

Eris didn’t like the idea, it didn’t sit well in his thoughts.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin there, “You will get wrinkles at this point, Eris…” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the skin there before catching his gaze, “I have done everything I can here, Eris…” your words were cryptic, you knew Eris would understand — you couldn’t risk it, not when the walls, trees, the winds in Autumn would listen and give away your plan.

“… I have asked you to use me, Eris. All those millennials ago, on that day… so use me. Make me the weapon I made myself into. I can't help you now if I'm in Autumn —-”

Sure, you had been the one to limit your influence solely on Autumn Court, but if Prythian called, then you are willing to step into the larger world.

Your eyes showed your determination, your willingness to devote your entirety to him as you've done for years.

A reluctant sigh escaped his lips as he forcibly pressed his lips on your forehead, “Alright. I will bring you… but you must remain by my side the whole night. No one will rip you away from me..”

An amused chuckle escaped your chest, leaning up to press your lips against his pulse, “So overprotective, Autumn Heir. It sounds like you're too fond of me…”

You felt Eris shake his head at your teasing, tugging you closer before maneuvering you back into your shared room for the night.

The bellow of Keir’s introduction pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the older male give a sweeping bow — overdramatic and with flair — his words of congratulations echoing throughout the large ballroom, the citizens echoing the same sentiments. As the elder male stepped aside, you stepped up along with the Autumn Heir, giving an elegant curtsy, while Eris gave a regal bow at his waist.

“And allow me to extend our congratulations, High Lady of Night, on behalf of my father and the entirety of Autumn Court…” Eris bellowed, his voice of regality, “A Fae child being conceived, what a miraculous announcement to give during Winter Solstice…”

You drowned out the conversation between Eris and the High Lord, barely focusing on the pageantry between them. It was rare for you to be so out of focus on the situation. Normally, you were in tune with your surroundings, focused on the now; however, all you and your magic could focus on was the call of the blade that thrummed inside that velvet box. You watched as lithe fingers grip the box tighter, and your eyes shifted to the eldest Archeron sister

“—- Before you go, Eris…” your delicate ears perked up, eyes shifting back to the High Lord who waved his hand allowing a dark wind to carry that velvet box through the air, handing it into Eris’ awaiting hand, “I offer you a gift, a solstice gift. A friendly token… between a High Lord to a future High Lord…”

Eris’ gripped the box tight in his large hand as you felt the muscles underneath regal clothes grow taunt.

A quip, from the High Lord. A disguised reminder of the bargain between the two of them.

Gently squeezing Eris’ forearm, you urged him to open the box, to ignore the jab from the older male. You felt those muscles relax underneath your squeeze, his mask of indifference returning onto his features as he opened the velvet box.

Inside that box, laid on plush pillows, was an ornate dagger — it was roughly the size of the Heir’s forearm, its handle weaved from iron as if it was cloth, an intricate design of wood and fire etched onto the metal.

One that was similar to the vision that you had seen weeks ago.

Eris picked up the blade by its serpentine handle, raising it, and watched the silver and jewels shine in the dim lighting. It was a beautiful blade — much more than you had seen in that vision. From the corner of your eye, the two of you locked gazes a light smirk tugging on his lips before the air around him flickers.

Eris’ magic throbbed in the air, as you watched flames appear around the blade — surprised screams echoed around you, as all eyes were on the pair of you — the center of attention. Eyes glanced at the Inner Circle, watching the guard dogs step in front of their masters to protect them, your keen gaze watching how the Captain pulled the eldest sister in his arms. A curious brow raised before you gazed back at Eris as he poured his power into that blade, disappearing into the silver in a flash of bright light.

A groan escaped the Autumn Heir, his head tilting back, a long breath escaping grinning lips. It took a moment’s breath before he regained his composure, rolling his shoulders back before his gaze returned to the blade, turning the blade in his hand as the metal changed, the color from a simple silver to a dark black — an obsidian color that swallowed up the light. A mixture of auburn and saffron tinted the onyx-colored blade, changing the way the light hit it — a blade mimicked a dark fire, swirling underneath the dim light.

Eris flipped the blade, holding it by the blade as he turned his body, facing you and staring at you with those brightly colored hues — flame and light within those irises — handling the blade to you, a nudge of his chin, gesturing you to take the blade.

A light chuckle escaped your lips, fighting the urge for your knees to buckle at the look on the Heir’s features — it was an alluring look on him, the power that raged in his eyes, in his veins — as your gaze shifted down the column of his throat and followed the patterns of his auburn suit to the blade in his hand. With lithe fingers, you grasped the hilt and you felt a shiver run up your spine — the mix of Eris’ power along with the power that already surged through the metal, Nesta’s power — no… the Cauldron’s power — was intoxicating. The call and pull of the magic that pulsed in the blade was strong and you felt your own magic answer the call, causing you to tilt your head slightly as you stared down at the blade, your magic pulsing underneath your skin.

What a dangerous weapon… You thought as you shifted slightly out of Eris’ hold to move the slit on your skirt, where an empty sheath was strapped onto your leg, sliding the blade into its new home — a perfect fit.

“I had been meaning to ask…” The High Lord’s voice reached your delicate ears as you glanced up, fingers trailing up your thigh before pressing yourself close to the Autumn Heir again.

“Who are you?”

Eris gently squeezed your waist, as you stepped out of his hold and you gave a sweeping curtsy, one as dramatic as Kier’s earlier.

“Late introductions, I apologize, High Lord of Night…” your tone had mirth and sarcasm tied underneath a layer of elegance and regality, “My name is (Y/N)… (Y/N) Vanserra.”

You glanced up at the High Lord through your lashes, watching his façade of arrogance and boredom shift into surprise — his face showing his thoughts:

Vanserra? Beron does not have any daughters.

Nor did he take up a second wife.

Vanserra? On the arm of the Autumn Heir…

Bright violet hues glanced between you and the Autumn Heir that stood behind you, before locking onto your gaze — your colored hues staring into violet hues. In defiance, you tilted your head up, as you straightened from your curtsy.

And that’s when you felt it — those tendrils of his powers creep near your mind, you couldn’t help but frown, your body stiffening, your hand gripping your gown tighter.

In your entire lifespan, you have never encountered a Daemati — especially one as strong as the High Lord; you had thought that the barrier would protect you from such intrusion of your mind, but it seemed, even that was futile against the power of a High Lord Daemanti.

Not breaking your eye connection with the High Lord, your eyes glowed an eerie ruby hue as you focused on that tether, that connection that he forged between your minds, to those coils of darkness that invaded your mind.

How. Dare. He.

And with a flick of your wrist, your mind grew walls of flame, surrounded by fire hounds who growled and attacked those shadows — successfully pushing him out of your mind. You heard a faint yell from the High Lord, and you saw his hands sear with flames, his hands combusting as he frantically tried to pat it down on his leathers. However, the feeling of lightheadedness started to cloud your mind, and you teetered on your heels before you felt Eris’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. Eyes pinched close, panting, fighting off the heaviness you felt throughout your body.

It had been simple enough, you had thought, to push the High Lord’s power from your mind — but it seemed you had used too much power, in such a quick second that your delicate stature was giving up. Your mind grew hazy, spots of darkness appeared in your vision and you fought every urge to just pass out right there that you barely noticed the commotion that surrounded you.

Feeling Eris’ grip on you tighten as you heard him growl, “Did you just try to get into my wife’s head, Rhysand?! How fucking dare you!”

That had fully ticked off the Autumn Heir. Not only did the Spymaster attempt to attack you from afar, but now the High Lord tried to invade your mind. Two attempts at your life were too much for one night for Eris — and he threw his well-practiced self-control out the window.

Shrieks from the onlookers reached your ears as you peeked an eye open, noticing a bright light that illuminated the dark room. Heat radiated onto your skin, feeling Eris bring you closer to him, protecting you from the ring of fire that surrounded the both of you, separating the two of you from the Inner Circle. Blinking the haziness from your mind, you watched through the flames as the General and Shadowsinger stood in front of the High Lord and Lady, weapons drawn against the two of you.

“Eris…” you breathed out, grasping his Autumn colored suit, “Calm down…”

His head whipped towards you, that fiery gaze staring down at you, “But he tried to invade your mind, (Y/N)…”

A confirmed hum escaped your throat, straightening yourself in his hold, “I know… But I got him out. That’s all that mattered… And don’t blame the barrier,” you panted, blinking away the spots at the corner of your eyes, “His power is immune to it I guess…”

You stared up at him, your scarlet hues dimming back to your normal colored ones. Amber hues stared into them, assessing your condition, hesitation marred his features.

“Bring down the flames, Eris….” you softly commanded him.

His eyes flickered between you and the Inner Circle before he followed that command, the ring of fire flickering until it had gone out. You did not bother to appear composed — you could appear fragile — play into the heartstrings of the citizens of Hewn City.

The High Lord of Night Court attempted to invade the mind of Autumn Court Heir’s wife.

Word would spread throughout all of Prythian — sympathy and pity would be whispered your way while scrutinizing words would be thrown towards the High Lord.

Even if you despise showing such vulnerability to anyone let alone the Inner Circle, you can use it to your advantage.

You pressed yourself closer to Eris, playing the soft wife that just got attacked by a High Lord. Eris’ arms wrapped around you, as he bared his teeth against the Inner Circle.

“You attempt to attack my wife in your Court, Rhysand, and yet you have your dogs try to protect you? We have not laid a finger against you nor your Court, and you have weapons drawn against us,” anger vibrated in Eris’ tone. He knew how to play your games, he knew exactly how to play them with you — and yet the anger, the fury that lurked in his features were genuine, “You have no damn right to try to lurk in our heads, even if you are a High Lord.”

The General and the Spymaster shifted in their stance, their eyes foggy before stepping aside to reveal Rhysand, cradling his now scarred hands — that was what he got for trying to attack you in front of his people.

“…I…”

“I do not accept your apology if you ever were to have one, High Lord…” surprise tugging onto his features at your declaration, “Myself and my husband arrived on Night Court soil as guests, and yet we are treated as enemies. I have done nothing to you to cause you to try to invade my mind.”

Whispers surrounded you, words of ill-intent for their High Lord reaching your sensitive ears.

She’s right. They have done nothing to them, and yet he tried to hurt her.

The Autumn Heir had every right to act the way he did. It was to protect his wife from Rhysand.

I never did like him… He has trapped us here in the Mountain while he and his people live in Valeris.

He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He says that he welcomes all, but he hurts others as he sees fit.

You fought back a smirk, staring at the High Lord as his features flickered — his mind racing on trying how to turn the situation back to his favor. But you knew, both of you knew, it was too late for him to do anything.

Things have turned in your favor, much like you had hoped.

“I have no need to stay for the festivities any longer, Rhysand. You have attacked my wife twice in one night, your Shadowsinger earlier tonight and now you. I do not feel safe within the walls of your Court and I do not feel safe for my wife’s safety either…”

With a growl escaping his throat, he gently maneuvered you into his arms, lifting you bridal style, turning on his heels as he stepped out of the Court of Nightmares, the crowd parting to make way for him as flames surrounded the both of you. You felt him pause mid-step, and you glanced up at him with a raise of your brow. Eris looked down at you, his face contemplating for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, back at Rhysand.

“—-And the bargain between us is over High Lord… Especially after tonight. No one dares to hurt my wife in my presence.”

The Autumn Heir winnowed the both of you out of Night Court in a flash of fire and light.

And back into the depths of Autumn Court.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms @assriels @kiarathace

accidentally made my nyx x tamlin’s daughter fic political because the lack of character development/growth in Rhysand actually pisses me off and I have no doubt in my mind that he’d stay that way for decades.

I’m truly not even trying to write a hit piece on the guy, because I don’t think he’s inherently bad. We know he’d do anything & everything for his family which is amazing, but he does not put that same care into 2/3’s of his court. I think Rhysand will go a bit insane in the future trying to keep his family and Velaris safe while simultaneously letting the Illyrian camps & CoN continue to fend for themselves. And he will ultimately pay the price for it.

Tamlin, on the other hand, has lost EVERYTHING. He knows what it’s like to go insane trying to protect your loved ones and how easily a court can fall if not handled with the utmost care. He knows how you can’t hold on too tightly to things & that you don’t have the power to control the outcome of everything. In my fic, he’s spent years healing and restoring his court, and regaining the trust of his civilians and actually listening to them. And he’s found his mate 🤭

Idk if I’m making sense but I’m so insanely excited to explore the politics of both the Night Court & the Spring Court and how the High Lords have grown (or haven’t) in the twenty years since ACOSF ended.

If you’re interested in a story that explores these themes, you can find the first five chapters of “When Night Bloomed” on AO3 under the user “ennadoes”. It’s a dual POV fic of Nyx and Tamlin’s daughter (Saria), and it will follow the two as they navigate life as children of two High Lords. There will be disrupt, things from the past being unveiled, and lots of cute little moments between the two.

It’s a lot of world building right now, but I have big, big things planned ;)

A Love Letter to Palestine

Oh Falestine,

Home of the martyrs, home of the most brave and powerful, I am sorry. I am so sorry that we continue to fail you.

I promise that there are people in this world who hear you. Who hear your cries for help, for food, for clean water, for mercy from the incessant war crimes committed against you.

We hear you. And I am sorry we haven't been able to do more. Oh my heart, my falestine, the system is built against us, but I promise we are fighting against it for you and will continue to fight for you.

Oh falestine, the sacrifices your doctors and medical professionals have made, risking their lives, are an inspiration to the physicians in training all over the world. Your duty to your patients is what can only aspire to have.

Oh falestine, the loss your mothers and fathers have experienced, break the hearts of mothers and fathers everywhere. We can only imagine the suffering of losing your child, your children in such a horrific way. We cry with you. Your children will drag you to Heaven, God willing.

Oh falestine, the absolute terror your children go through. The trauma they experience just for being born. Their childhood and dreams stolen by greed and evil, we are appalled.

We love you dear Falestine. We have not given up on your peace and freedom. I promise you, we will never, ever give up.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the day. I marveled at it, actually—that those years of poverty hadn’t stripped away that light from Elain. Perhaps buried it a bit, but she was generous, loving, and kind—a woman I found myself proud to know, to call sister. -ACOTAR, Chapter 29.

Feyre's habit of only seeing and over hyping the good in people she loves is her best and worst trait. It's a flaw I wish Feyre was allowed to grow out of instead of the narrative forcing her into a mother figure to everyone because of it.

Her family only just now started treating her nicely, after becoming rich thanks to her once again and she's like "my sister is soo nice and generous and kind 🥹" when just a few months ago the same sister wouldn't keep her hand near her because her fingers were too "dirty". This is exactly the thing that led her into such self-destructive relationship with Tamlin.

Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord

Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord

Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord

Rhysand appreciation week is coming soon, September 24th-30th. Can't wait to see you there!

[artist credit: davidjbrunson]

🌸SAKURA TEA🌸

Bringing some springtime cheer to your feed with this playful artwork🌸🌸🌸 It may be the brightest and most uplifting ambiance of any of my previous works.

I got this comment on a story from my Other AO3 Account this morning.

(Info redacted because I prefer keeping these accounts separate but no one follows me on the side blog I have for that account.)

The story was posted almost a year ago and is relatively “popular” by my average statistics even though it has tropes and themes that are big turnoffs for a lot of people (hence separate accounts). This popularity is undoubtedly because it’s a Marvel Loki story and that fandom is massive.

So there is obviously an algorithm or a bot scrubbing ao3 statistics and leaving this comment on fics that meet a certain metric with the main character of the fic inserted into the comment.

I had a little time to kill this morning so I decided to investigate further. And y’all this is so predatory. Come on this journey with me. It made me mad. It may make you mad.

First, if you go to Webnovel’s website, you HAVE to choose between male lead or female lead stories before you can go any further. WTF?

And that’s weird, but this gets so much worse. This is basically a pay-to-read site that has different subscription models. Which… okay BUT! The authors don’t get paid! Look at that comment again. They’re promising a supportive and nurturing community, but zero monetary compensation. It’s basically, “post your stuff here so we can get paid and you can get… nice vibes?” I mean look at this Orwellian writing:

Using the phrase “pay-to-read model” in the same sentence as “qualitative changes in lifestyles for authors” deliberately makes you think that you can get paid and maybe even make a living on this website. But that’s not actually what it says and authors will not receive one red cent.

Oh but wait, the worst is still to come. In case this breaks containment (which I kind of hope it does) this is where I mention that I’m a lawyer in the US.

I don’t do intellectual property or copyright law but I do read and write contracts for a living. So I went to look at their terms of service. It was fun!

Highlights the first, in which Webnovel gets a license to do basically whatever they want with content you post on their site. This is how they get to be paid for people reading authors’ writing without paying them anything.

Highlights the second, in which Webnovel takes no responsibility for illegally profiting off of fan fic. This all says that the writer is 100% responsible for everything the writer posts (even though only Webnovel is making money from it).

Highlights the third which say that by posting, the author is representing that they have the legal right to use and to let Webnovel use the content according to these terms. So if a writer posts fan fiction and Webnovel makes money from people reading the fan fiction, and the House of the Mouse catches wise, these sections say that that’s ALL on the writer.

So that’s a little skeevy to start off with but the thing that is seriously shitty and made me make this post was that these assholes are coming to ao3. They are actively recruiting people in comments on their fan fiction. And they are saying they are big fans of the character you’re writing about and that they share your interests.

They are recruiting fan fiction writers and giving every impression that you can make money from posting fan fiction on their site and hiding the fact that you absolutely cannot but they can make money off of you while you try, deep in their terms of service which no one but a lawyer who writes fan fic and has some time to kill will read.

I see posts on here regularly from people who don’t understand how this stuff works, don’t understand that they (and others) can not legally make a financial profit from fan fiction. And there are tons of people who will not take the time to dig into the details.

Don’t deal with these bastards. Fuck Webnovel.

I have never sobbed so hard 😭 this was so beautiful ❤️

Waiting on a Ghost

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 9k. lmao 

Synopsis: Reader moves to Windhaven before the Great War against slavery begins to help the cause. A fleeting romance blossoms unexpectedly between her and Azriel as attraction pulls them together, as they tiptoe around a bond that grows in their chests. They seek each other, and she waits to reunite with him through the war, through silence and sound, through hope and home. Inspired by the Odyssey. 

Song inspo: Yebba’s Heartbreak by Drake

Warnings: Smut. Canon typical violence. This one hurt a fkn lot lol. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s nothing unique about the out-of-place feeling that comes with moving. You knew there would be a sense of uprooting upon changing homes. What you didn’t know was that your new home wouldn’t be a place. It would be him.

Rumours about a war breaking out had initially seemed like conspiracies. Enslaved mortals revolting, Human Queens leading an uprising. It quickly became a reality check when the King of Hybern massacred his slaves. The threat of war lurked like a storm on its way to claim fathers, neighbours, sons, to make widows out of wives, exchanging loneliness like a transaction for its violent means.

Your father knew he would be more useful to the cause closer to the fray, which is how you wound up packing your belongings and moving to a war camp called Windhaven. Home to the aerial cavalry of the Night Court, your father explained.

Settling in was as fast-paced as the war preparations. Warriors of legendary might walked the grounds, and you quickly acclimated to the sight of an Illyrian warrior shooting down from the sky in a landing. As your father worked tirelessly with weapon making, you’d found the nearest female and offered to do anything useful. “Please.” 

She’d turned out to be a seamstress, noting your flustered state, unused to the casual prowl of the inked warriors that called this place home. She’d told you her name was Rhiannon as she directed you to meal preparations.

You did your best to ignore the stares you received during the communal dinners; the male hunger.

Rhiannon would laugh in passing at your flushed cheeks. “They’re not used to seeing refined ladies,” she’d tease. “I fear for the health of my sons when they see you.” You would rush back to work to the sound of her laughter.

Keep reading

I hate when people are like:

"Feyre is illiterate so it means shes dumb lol"

"her paintings are probably awful"

"house wife"

And when you call them out they're like "it's just jokes, relax"

Why is it fun to put down women? Why is it fun to joke around by putting their intelligence, their talent down?

You call yourself a feminist but then put down main female lead of a series for no reason at all, just because you're trying to be different?

Being a bully doesn't make you interesting or funny. It just makes you a bully.

And before anyone goes "it's just a fictional character"

But how many readers read Feyre's story and associated with her? Listened to audiobooks of her struggling while reading and associated with it because they have poor vision and reading makes them tired, because they have dyslexia and reading is impossibly hard, because they have ADHD and sometimes the lines blur together and you forgot what you were reading?

How many young artists who are scared of putting time into their "silly little hobby" read about Feyre coming alive while painting and loving it and exploring it, and people praising her for it and found strength in it?

How many women who dream of having family feel put down because you think the only way to be a feminist and a strong woman is to not have any family, any kids, just because you put down any women who choose that lives for themselves?

You're not iconic. You're just like any misogynistic men who will read this kind of shit and agree, not because it's "funny" because they believe it's the truth.

I'm so glad you liked it! ☺️

Cooking with love - A Cassian X reader story

You heard the door open but didn't look away from the pile of papers scattered on the dining room table. You had recently come back from visiting your family in the Summer Court when Rhysand requested your presence at his townhouse. He needed a house to be built. A gift for Feyre. A home that would house his mate and his newborn son Nyx. Hopefully, become a home to any other children they may decide to have together. Those words went unspoken but the both of us heard it loud and clear. That was why you were hunched over the dining table that was pushed up against the window, trying to make Rhysand's dreams into reality.

"An architects dream is an engineers nightmare," you muttered under your breath. "Cauldron Rhysand" you continued, "this is structurally impossible to accomplish. Thank the cauldron you came to your Head Engineer to build you your house. Maybe I can knock some sense into you with a brick whilst I'm at it". You shook your head and let out an exasperated breath.

You heard a deep, rasping chuckle just behind your ear. The sound made your skin prickle and tingle with warmth, but didn't quite curb the irritation you felt towards your High Lord.

"What's Rhysand done now?", Cassian laughed in your ear as he banded his arms around you to hold you against his warm body. His chest pressed up against your back whilst his chin gently rested on the top of your head. He tucked his head in, the tip of his nose grazing your hair to drop a single kiss to your head. He took a deep breath in, your floral scent calming his soul and turned his head to the left to lay his cheek on top of your head.

You hummed and enjoyed the feeling of his secure arms. He was feared and revered by the people of the Night Court. Earning his title of the Lord of Bloodshed whilst he fought battles as a young Illyrian warrior alongside his two brothers. He had become hardened, both mentally and physically, from a young age to withstand all kinds of evil this world harboured. Yet, this fearsome and frightening warrior had a warmth inside him that drew you in. A steady ember that glowed brighter than his Siphons. A glow that was powered by friendship, loyalty and love. You had never believed that glow inside his chest would consume and encompass your heart too, for you loved him with all your soul. You weren't his mate, but, you fell in love with him anyways. He had fallen in love with you too. A friendship that grew into a mature love, rooted in mutual respect.

You pursed your lips. "He's got some pretty solid ideas which in theory should work but," you trailed off with a deep sigh, "it just needs a little bit more thinking from me. I can't seem to figure out how to execute this so that the staircase can actually hold the weight of his big head," you finished your sentence with agitation.

"Well, if there's anyone who can help Rhysand not fall flat on his face in his own home then it's my beautiful, accomplished wife." Cassian stated with determination. You tilted your head back to peer up at him through your lashes. Your eyes, squinted with suspicion, locked onto his honey coloured orbs, "Mhmm and it exactly why are you buttering me up, oh Lord of Bloodshed?"

"No reason", he uttered, "I just love you and know for a fact that you've likely spent your entire day trying to perfect this house for Rhysand and Feyre. I'm also 99.9% sure that you haven't eaten anything today." He was right. You hadn't eaten. Too stressed in trying to design a home for your two friends and their baby boy. They had gone through so much together and had done so much for Prythian that you wanted to create a home where they could feel cherished and loved. A place where they could create new memories together. Memories that one day could heal their broken selves and give them hope for the future.

Cassian stared down at you, a soft smile painted his lips and a glimmer twinkled in his eyes which told you that he knew exactly where your mind had gone. Letting go of your body, he grabbed your hand in his and tugged you away from the table towards the kitchen. "You", he said whilst pushing you down into a seat "sit here whilst I, Chef Cassian, cook you something delicious".

You chuckled watching Cassian flounce around the kitchen. He grabbed an apron from the top drawer to tie around his waist and then placed his hand on his hips, determined to create something delicious for you. You looked at him, eyes glazed with love and thanked the Cauldron for gifting you with a wonderful husband.

"This reminds me of our first date." you spoke, your words dripped in nostalgia.

"Yeah" he murmured back, " I remember it turning out to be a disaster and Rhysand having to put out a fire". You laughed at the memory. You weren't fond of going out and loved to spend most of your days inside your flat. Cassian had finally built-up the courage to ask you out and although you were giddy at the prospect of going out on a date with Cassian, you were still weary that this step may ruin your long lasting friendship. Cassian proposed that he cook for you in your flat, that way you would be somewhere comfortable and could relax. He was always so thoughtful about your feelings and his suggestion only made you feel more secure about going into a romantic relationship with him.

Turns out Cassian had never cooked anything in his life until that moment, always relying on Rhysand or the magic of the Windhaven house to feed him. Thankfully no-one got hurt after that date night fire fisaco, only Cassians pride. It resulted in you both deciding on taking cooking classes together for your dates. Leading to the both of you falling head over heels in love with each other and learning to cook different Court cusuines.

"Well, I loved that date night no matter how much of a disaster it was. It opened my eyes to you and how serious you were about me, about us," you spoke softly, eyes welling up with tears. " I think I started to fall in love with you then. You didn't even know how to cook back then but wanted to do something sweet and romantic just so I didn't feel uncomfortable out in public. And here you are today, feeding me because I forgot".

"You're my love. Looking after you is my privelege and joy" he replied. His words were short and sweet but I could feel every fibre of his love in those words. He plated up the food and placed it in front of me. "Eat up sweetheart", he said, tilting my face up to place a firm kiss on my lips. "Can't have the Night Court's Head Engineer low on fuel. Cauldron knows these houses won't stay up without you," he winked and walked away to wash the dishes. You smiled into your food and thanked the Cauldron one last time.

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! This is my first time writing fanfic. I hope I did a good enough write up and you all like it. I'm so nervous. I'm not a writer by nature so there's probably loads of spelling and grammar mistakea but I just wanted to give it a go and be part of a community that gives joy to readers like meee.

With love,

theduskyprincess

Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!

Cooking with love - A Cassian X reader story

You heard the door open but didn't look away from the pile of papers scattered on the dining room table. You had recently come back from visiting your family in the Summer Court when Rhysand requested your presence at his townhouse. He needed a house to be built. A gift for Feyre. A home that would house his mate and his newborn son Nyx. Hopefully, become a home to any other children they may decide to have together. Those words went unspoken but the both of us heard it loud and clear. That was why you were hunched over the dining table that was pushed up against the window, trying to make Rhysand's dreams into reality.

"An architects dream is an engineers nightmare," you muttered under your breath. "Cauldron Rhysand" you continued, "this is structurally impossible to accomplish. Thank the cauldron you came to your Head Engineer to build you your house. Maybe I can knock some sense into you with a brick whilst I'm at it". You shook your head and let out an exasperated breath.

You heard a deep, rasping chuckle just behind your ear. The sound made your skin prickle and tingle with warmth, but didn't quite curb the irritation you felt towards your High Lord.

"What's Rhysand done now?", Cassian laughed in your ear as he banded his arms around you to hold you against his warm body. His chest pressed up against your back whilst his chin gently rested on the top of your head. He tucked his head in, the tip of his nose grazing your hair to drop a single kiss to your head. He took a deep breath in, your floral scent calming his soul and turned his head to the left to lay his cheek on top of your head.

You hummed and enjoyed the feeling of his secure arms. He was feared and revered by the people of the Night Court. Earning his title of the Lord of Bloodshed whilst he fought battles as a young Illyrian warrior alongside his two brothers. He had become hardened, both mentally and physically, from a young age to withstand all kinds of evil this world harboured. Yet, this fearsome and frightening warrior had a warmth inside him that drew you in. A steady ember that glowed brighter than his Siphons. A glow that was powered by friendship, loyalty and love. You had never believed that glow inside his chest would consume and encompass your heart too, for you loved him with all your soul. You weren't his mate, but, you fell in love with him anyways. He had fallen in love with you too. A friendship that grew into a mature love, rooted in mutual respect.

You pursed your lips. "He's got some pretty solid ideas which in theory should work but," you trailed off with a deep sigh, "it just needs a little bit more thinking from me. I can't seem to figure out how to execute this so that the staircase can actually hold the weight of his big head," you finished your sentence with agitation.

"Well, if there's anyone who can help Rhysand not fall flat on his face in his own home then it's my beautiful, accomplished wife." Cassian stated with determination. You tilted your head back to peer up at him through your lashes. Your eyes, squinted with suspicion, locked onto his honey coloured orbs, "Mhmm and it exactly why are you buttering me up, oh Lord of Bloodshed?"

"No reason", he uttered, "I just love you and know for a fact that you've likely spent your entire day trying to perfect this house for Rhysand and Feyre. I'm also 99.9% sure that you haven't eaten anything today." He was right. You hadn't eaten. Too stressed in trying to design a home for your two friends and their baby boy. They had gone through so much together and had done so much for Prythian that you wanted to create a home where they could feel cherished and loved. A place where they could create new memories together. Memories that one day could heal their broken selves and give them hope for the future.

Cassian stared down at you, a soft smile painted his lips and a glimmer twinkled in his eyes which told you that he knew exactly where your mind had gone. Letting go of your body, he grabbed your hand in his and tugged you away from the table towards the kitchen. "You", he said whilst pushing you down into a seat "sit here whilst I, Chef Cassian, cook you something delicious".

You chuckled watching Cassian flounce around the kitchen. He grabbed an apron from the top drawer to tie around his waist and then placed his hand on his hips, determined to create something delicious for you. You looked at him, eyes glazed with love and thanked the Cauldron for gifting you with a wonderful husband.

"This reminds me of our first date." you spoke, your words dripped in nostalgia.

"Yeah" he murmured back, " I remember it turning out to be a disaster and Rhysand having to put out a fire". You laughed at the memory. You weren't fond of going out and loved to spend most of your days inside your flat. Cassian had finally built-up the courage to ask you out and although you were giddy at the prospect of going out on a date with Cassian, you were still weary that this step may ruin your long lasting friendship. Cassian proposed that he cook for you in your flat, that way you would be somewhere comfortable and could relax. He was always so thoughtful about your feelings and his suggestion only made you feel more secure about going into a romantic relationship with him.

Turns out Cassian had never cooked anything in his life until that moment, always relying on Rhysand or the magic of the Windhaven house to feed him. Thankfully no-one got hurt after that date night fire fisaco, only Cassians pride. It resulted in you both deciding on taking cooking classes together for your dates. Leading to the both of you falling head over heels in love with each other and learning to cook different Court cusuines.

"Well, I loved that date night no matter how much of a disaster it was. It opened my eyes to you and how serious you were about me, about us," you spoke softly, eyes welling up with tears. " I think I started to fall in love with you then. You didn't even know how to cook back then but wanted to do something sweet and romantic just so I didn't feel uncomfortable out in public. And here you are today, feeding me because I forgot".

"You're my love. Looking after you is my privelege and joy" he replied. His words were short and sweet but I could feel every fibre of his love in those words. He plated up the food and placed it in front of me. "Eat up sweetheart", he said, tilting my face up to place a firm kiss on my lips. "Can't have the Night Court's Head Engineer low on fuel. Cauldron knows these houses won't stay up without you," he winked and walked away to wash the dishes. You smiled into your food and thanked the Cauldron one last time.

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! This is my first time writing fanfic. I hope I did a good enough write up and you all like it. I'm so nervous. I'm not a writer by nature so there's probably loads of spelling and grammar mistakea but I just wanted to give it a go and be part of a community that gives joy to readers like meee.

With love,

theduskyprincess

Cooking with love - A Cassian X reader story

You heard the door open but didn't look away from the pile of papers scattered on the dining room table. You had recently come back from visiting your family in the Summer Court when Rhysand requested your presence at his townhouse. He needed a house to be built. A gift for Feyre. A home that would house his mate and his newborn son Nyx. Hopefully, become a home to any other children they may decide to have together. Those words went unspoken but the both of us heard it loud and clear. That was why you were hunched over the dining table that was pushed up against the window, trying to make Rhysand's dreams into reality.

"An architects dream is an engineers nightmare," you muttered under your breath. "Cauldron Rhysand" you continued, "this is structurally impossible to accomplish. Thank the cauldron you came to your Head Engineer to build you your house. Maybe I can knock some sense into you with a brick whilst I'm at it". You shook your head and let out an exasperated breath.

You heard a deep, rasping chuckle just behind your ear. The sound made your skin prickle and tingle with warmth, but didn't quite curb the irritation you felt towards your High Lord.

"What's Rhysand done now?", Cassian laughed in your ear as he banded his arms around you to hold you against his warm body. His chest pressed up against your back whilst his chin gently rested on the top of your head. He tucked his head in, the tip of his nose grazing your hair to drop a single kiss to your head. He took a deep breath in, your floral scent calming his soul and turned his head to the left to lay his cheek on top of your head.

You hummed and enjoyed the feeling of his secure arms. He was feared and revered by the people of the Night Court. Earning his title of the Lord of Bloodshed whilst he fought battles as a young Illyrian warrior alongside his two brothers. He had become hardened, both mentally and physically, from a young age to withstand all kinds of evil this world harboured. Yet, this fearsome and frightening warrior had a warmth inside him that drew you in. A steady ember that glowed brighter than his Siphons. A glow that was powered by friendship, loyalty and love. You had never believed that glow inside his chest would consume and encompass your heart too, for you loved him with all your soul. You weren't his mate, but, you fell in love with him anyways. He had fallen in love with you too. A friendship that grew into a mature love, rooted in mutual respect.

You pursed your lips. "He's got some pretty solid ideas which in theory should work but," you trailed off with a deep sigh, "it just needs a little bit more thinking from me. I can't seem to figure out how to execute this so that the staircase can actually hold the weight of his big head," you finished your sentence with agitation.

"Well, if there's anyone who can help Rhysand not fall flat on his face in his own home then it's my beautiful, accomplished wife." Cassian stated with determination. You tilted your head back to peer up at him through your lashes. Your eyes, squinted with suspicion, locked onto his honey coloured orbs, "Mhmm and it exactly why are you buttering me up, oh Lord of Bloodshed?"

"No reason", he uttered, "I just love you and know for a fact that you've likely spent your entire day trying to perfect this house for Rhysand and Feyre. I'm also 99.9% sure that you haven't eaten anything today." He was right. You hadn't eaten. Too stressed in trying to design a home for your two friends and their baby boy. They had gone through so much together and had done so much for Prythian that you wanted to create a home where they could feel cherished and loved. A place where they could create new memories together. Memories that one day could heal their broken selves and give them hope for the future.

Cassian stared down at you, a soft smile painted his lips and a glimmer twinkled in his eyes which told you that he knew exactly where your mind had gone. Letting go of your body, he grabbed your hand in his and tugged you away from the table towards the kitchen. "You", he said whilst pushing you down into a seat "sit here whilst I, Chef Cassian, cook you something delicious".

You chuckled watching Cassian flounce around the kitchen. He grabbed an apron from the top drawer to tie around his waist and then placed his hand on his hips, determined to create something delicious for you. You looked at him, eyes glazed with love and thanked the Cauldron for gifting you with a wonderful husband.

"This reminds me of our first date." you spoke, your words dripped in nostalgia.

"Yeah" he murmured back, " I remember it turning out to be a disaster and Rhysand having to put out a fire". You laughed at the memory. You weren't fond of going out and loved to spend most of your days inside your flat. Cassian had finally built-up the courage to ask you out and although you were giddy at the prospect of going out on a date with Cassian, you were still weary that this step may ruin your long lasting friendship. Cassian proposed that he cook for you in your flat, that way you would be somewhere comfortable and could relax. He was always so thoughtful about your feelings and his suggestion only made you feel more secure about going into a romantic relationship with him.

Turns out Cassian had never cooked anything in his life until that moment, always relying on Rhysand or the magic of the Windhaven house to feed him. Thankfully no-one got hurt after that date night fire fisaco, only Cassians pride. It resulted in you both deciding on taking cooking classes together for your dates. Leading to the both of you falling head over heels in love with each other and learning to cook different Court cusuines.

"Well, I loved that date night no matter how much of a disaster it was. It opened my eyes to you and how serious you were about me, about us," you spoke softly, eyes welling up with tears. " I think I started to fall in love with you then. You didn't even know how to cook back then but wanted to do something sweet and romantic just so I didn't feel uncomfortable out in public. And here you are today, feeding me because I forgot".

"You're my love. Looking after you is my privelege and joy" he replied. His words were short and sweet but I could feel every fibre of his love in those words. He plated up the food and placed it in front of me. "Eat up sweetheart", he said, tilting my face up to place a firm kiss on my lips. "Can't have the Night Court's Head Engineer low on fuel. Cauldron knows these houses won't stay up without you," he winked and walked away to wash the dishes. You smiled into your food and thanked the Cauldron one last time.

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! This is my first time writing fanfic. I hope I did a good enough write up and you all like it. I'm so nervous. I'm not a writer by nature so there's probably loads of spelling and grammar mistakea but I just wanted to give it a go and be part of a community that gives joy to readers like meee.

With love,

theduskyprincess

Newbie on the block who's trying to navigate through the Tumblr maze and minefield

The Embers Never Fade - Black Rose Part 5

Summary: Rhysand and Niamh turn a spark into a flame.

Pairings: Rhysand x OC (Niamh, no physical description but AFAB parts are mentioned)

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUTTY SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! A hint of pining, use of mind powers for dirty talk, mention of past SA (not descriptive), fingering/handjob, mild choking, a little cumplay, begging, P in V sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), feelings talk, mentions of complex relationship dynamics. Plus Rhysand is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 3223

A/N: This is my first time posting smut that I’ve written, only my second time writing it so please be gentle! Rhys sure isn’t ;) 

All joking aside, since this is a new subject for me I appreciate feedback more than usual! Likes, Comments, Reblogs, Notes, anything! 

Title is from “Tonight, Tonight” by The Smashing Pumpkins, Banner made by me. 

Enjoy!! 

Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

It didn’t take long for Niamh to crave Rhysand in all the ways she used to. Fifty years of absence, then nearly three months of avoiding him had indeed made her heart — among other parts — grow fonder. 

The High Lord certainly didn’t help matters. 

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