#tarquin the proud

[heirofnight]

meddling, pt. 4

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.6k - we have a lot of ground to cover with this one

summary: reader accompanies azriel to an event at the house of wind that rhys is hosting for the summer court. fluff, angst, and jealous (borderline murderous) azriel ensue.

also based around this request: would you consider writing a protective/jealous azriel? like maybe someone is getting a little too comfortable with his mate lol

a/n: so sorry for all of the slow-burn pining that has taken place thus far. i think you'll find that this part will make up for that. as always, pls leave feedback! hope you love it <3

read parts one, two, and three

rhysand was hosting a courtly event at the house of wind this evening. you weren't quite sure of the political details regarding the whole thing, but you'd deduced that tarquin would be visiting from the summer court after hearing various brief conversations that cropped up during meals.

such as the one that took place during dinner at the town house the night before.

"so, rhys, what exactly is the nature of this party we're hosting for summer?", cassian had asked, shoveling a spoonful of roasted vegetables into his mouth mid-sentence. a few droplets of the lemon & herb sauce had escaped his spoon, splattering against his bearded chin. you'd smiled at the sight, azriel hiding his own huff of laughter behind the rim of his wine glass.

rhys leveled his brother with a blank stare, shaking his head in mock disappointment at cassian's less than stellar table manners.

"it is not a party, cass," rhys drawled, sounding bored. "tarquin is visiting to discuss a few matters regarding the new treaty. however," rhys paused, taking his own sip of wine, "he's also bringing varian and cresseida," another pause, "and i believe - fifty others from his court," rhys finished, pushing his fingers into his temples.

cassian snorted, raising a dark eyebrow, "so - a party," he smirked, resting his elbows on the dark wooden table before him. "i propose we break out the expensive booze for the occasion," cass stated, attempting to use his most noble voice.

you met azriel's amused gaze from across the table, a dimpled smile spreading across his cheeks once you'd both locked eyes.

he shook his head in feigned exasperation at cassian's antics, and you'd nudged the toe of his boot with your own under the table, huffing a laugh.

"cassian, you will be on your best behavior," rhys stated, pointing a lithe finger in the war general's direction. "you're already on thin ice with summer - we need not encourage them to send more blood rubies our way," the high lord exhaled, stabbing a fork into his piece of roast.

you'd cleared your throat then, sitting up a bit straighter in your chair.

"am i allowed to join?", you'd asked. every head at the table lifted to look at you, surprised expressions on their faces. as comfortable as you'd become around the family, you still really only engaged with azriel on a consistent basis. and, as isolated as you'd been during your first few months residing at the house, no one truly expected you to willingly participate in this not-party.

your eyes darted from rhys' pleased expression over to azriel's honeyed gaze. he peered at you tenderly, with eyes that looked like hazel pools of pride.

he was, indeed, proud. proud that you'd spoken up, proud that you'd asked to join the rest of them for a gathering that would have otherwise made you feel the need to hide yourself away in your rooms only a few months ago.

"of course you can, sweet y/n," rhys said, voice oozing delight and charm.

your smile threatened to split your face in half, and you found azriel's eyes again. he nodded once, encouragingly. his own smile grew marginally, a dimple peeking through.

he tried his best to hide his budding fondness towards you around the rest of his family - especially cassian. his brother would never let him hear the end of it, otherwise. such busybodies, all of them. azriel was terrified of his family's meddling tendencies potentially spooking you in the opposite direction.

but, even with all of that being said, azriel couldn't help the words that spilled from his lips before he could stop them:

"uh -," he set his wine glass down gently - holding the stem between his fingers, swirling the liquid once, "you can accompany me, if you'd like to. if that would make you more comfortable," he said confidently, voice unwavering.

if his family had to witness him asking you to be his plus one to a formal party, the least he could do was sound like he wasn't nervous to do so. but, he was. he was very nervous.

however, the butterflies in his chest threatening to rip through his skin and flurry throughout the room only thrashed harder when he watched the way your eyes lit up at the offer.

your gaze flit around quickly, surveying everyone else's expressions - you were met with soft smiles as the family silently watched the sweet exchange. and then there was cassian, sporting a smug smirk as he pushed the food around on his plate.

you looked back to azriel, his expression soft, his fingers tapping quietly at the base of his wine glass.

"i would love to, az," you said graciously, and you sent another nudge to the toe of his boot with your own foot under the table - a 'thank you' said in a language that only the both of you spoke.

now, tonight, you were preparing for said event - having no idea what to expect. what you did know, though, was that you were attending it with azriel. a fact that definitely added a bit of pressure to the evening.

you knew that az would be a perfect gentleman, as he had been since you'd met him nearly eight months ago. but, you were developing very loud feelings for him - feelings that you were unable to shrink and contain in a quiet corner within your heart and mind any longer. they were boiling over, pushing and shoving to make themselves known.

and, honestly, if he didn't reciprocate those feelings, you weren't sure how you'd recover. this was not just some juvenile crush - azriel had helped mend together the pieces of you that were left jagged and splintered upon arriving in velaris. after your past, after the shattering pain you'd become used to, azriel had taken gentle hands and sanded away your abrasive edges.

you took a deep breath, studying your appearance in the floor-length mirror that was propped against your armoire. nuala and cerridwen had assisted you in getting ready for tonight, and honestly, you almost didn't recognize yourself.

your hair was set in long, elegant, loose curls down your back - the skin there exposed due to the gown you'd chosen. a black, silk, floor-length number that appeared as though tiny stars had been woven throughout the fabric. your makeup was beautiful - glowy and fresh. you looked happy. you looked like you belonged.

you were stunning, and you'd hoped your chosen ensemble would turn the head of the one male you couldn't stop thinking about.

little did you know, azriel hadn't been able to turn away from you since you'd arrived.

it was now half-past-seven, and you knew az would be knocking on your door soon to escort you downstairs for the party.

azriel shut his own bedroom door, waiting for the quiet click of the latch before descending down the hall to your chambers. he tugged on the left sleeve of his suit jacket, worrying over the fit of the formal clothing he'd chosen for the evening.

he stopped in front of your door, and opted to readjust his silver chain - a beautiful gift you'd given him only a month prior - to assure it laid correctly, before knocking. his wings twitched in anticipation, and he really hoped he wasn't over-dressed. he glanced down at his black dress shoes, his black slacks. he frowned, slipping a hand into his pocket to fidget with truth-teller nervously.

before his thoughts became too loud, too stifling, he heard your doorknob turn from the opposite side of the threshold.

and there you stood, in a dress that very well may have been sewn and stitched with the sole intention to bring him to his knees in front of you.

that, paired with your innocent eyes peering right up at him had azriel malfunctioning.

his mouth opened and closed several times as he took you in. open. close. open - you thought he may finally say something, but, alas, he closed it again.

while his mind was spinning, thrashing, screaming, his shadows had gone eerily still.

cauldron... boil me, was the only clear thought that he was able to translate from within the absolute stirring storm that was happening internally.

should he bow? he felt the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees and worship you like you had created him with your own hands.

speak, you fool, he commanded himself, realizing that the silence had stretched on for far too long.

"you-", he forced out, swallowing hard. "i am very lucky to have you on my arm this evening," he spoke, taking all of you in once more. you'd placed a dainty gold necklace around your neck, one that trailed right between your cleavage and down the front of your dress. azriel took that detail in now, his fingers twitching at the sight of it.

and you, well. you were struggling to keep your own composure from where you stood. this male in a suit was absolutely devastating. a suit that hugged his tall, muscular form so well, you'd wanted to personally thank the individual who tailored it.

the chain. your eyes snagged on the chain almost immediately. it sat against his bare clavicle, and that's when you'd realized that his chest was showing completely. he'd left the top three buttons of his black, silk dress shirt undone. his tan skin, marked with swirling illyrian ink, showing, and a chain?

you'd really hoped that cassian had convinced rhys to serve the expensive booze tonight. you were going to need it.

the party was progressing along, and after a few glasses of lavish wine, you'd felt loose enough to unabashedly enjoy yourself. azriel was doting, attentive. he'd provide you with a refilled glass every now and then without you even having to ask. he'd paraded you throughout the busy space with a chaste hand on your lower back - your exposed lower back. the feeling of his silver rings against your bare skin sent a bolt of lightening up your spine each time he guided you throughout the room. he'd gently check on you every now and then, asking how you were feeling, if you felt okay, if you needed anything.

and as the night further progressed, and more drinks were had, you found yourself leaning into his strong frame as you both mingled with various partygoers.

azriel had loosened up quite a bit himself - his own drinks allowing him to open up a bit more than usual. wide smiles were being thrown your way more frequently now, and his affectionate hands had found your body on several occasions as if they were acting on instinct.

he leaned into your ear, making sure his next words were only for you.

"you are stunning," he'd said in a gravelly voice, a single wing wrapping around your back as he spoke. he pulled back to take a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours in the process.

you'd blushed, face on fire. but, the alcohol had made you a bit bolder than normal, so you unabashedly placed a hand on his bare chest as you took your turn leaning into him.

"i was hoping you'd think so," you said, your voice smooth as the silk you were wearing. your eyes traveled along the expanse of his face. his long lashes, freckled nose, full lips. your gaze landed on that damned chain once again, and you trailed your tongue across your lips subconsciously.

azriel tracked the movement, his breath hitching at the sight of you. the wing wrapped around your back tugged you in a bit closer to his body, and you stumbled slightly in your heels before pressing your shoulder into his.

"i always think so," he whispered, matter-of-fact.

you paused with your wine glass halfway to your mouth, locking your clouded gaze with his own molten-honey eyes.

he stared back, unblinking. he felt as though his chest was going to cave in. you were ruining him in the best way possible. his slightly drunk mind was swimming in thoughts of you, and he did not care if he drowned right where he stood.

just then, a tendril of shadow darted to the shell of azriel's ear, whispering something that only he could hear. you watched his expression drop momentarily, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"i'll be right back, okay? rhys, he-," he started, huffing out an exhale. "just, i'll be right back," he swallowed, downing the rest of his glass in one go. he was clearly disappointed in the interruption of your intimate moment, a moment that really seemed like it may have ended with his lips on yours.

he went to turn around, his wings tucking in tight to his back in preparation of having to push through a crowd of people. he reached an arm back behind him, wrapping a scarred hand around your wrist. peering over his broad shoulder, he met your eyes.

"will you be okay?," he paused, searching your features for any sign of discomfort at the prospect of being left alone.

you smiled, nodding once, "i'll be at the refreshments table - i need a refill," you offered, nodding your chin towards the large, extravagant spread at the other end of the room.

he nodded, offering you a dimpled smile.

"i won't be long, promise," he said, squeezing your wrist gently in a reassuring gesture.

you watched as he disappeared into the crowd, only the apex of his wings peeking over the heads of party-goers.

you loosed out a breath, making your own trek to the opposite end of the room with the sole purpose of refilling your glass.

you stood next to the exorbitant spread of food and drinks placed around the massive refreshments table, taking everything in with your back to the crowd. you were lost in thought about how much effort rhys put into this entire evening, how detail-oriented he was in his planning, when you felt a warm hand on your bare shoulder.

a hand that you knew was not azriel's.

you peered over your shoulder hesitantly, immediately feeling nerves flood your chest and stomach. you knew almost no one here tonight, aside from azriel and the inner circle - the amount of guests from summer out-populated your small group in excess.

and sure enough, your eyes met those of a summer court male, his orbs twinkling as he took in your appearance appreciatively. he made no effort to hide the way that his gaze raked over your form from head-to-toe, his eyes traveling all the way down to your heeled feet before they snapped back up to your face.

"well," he crooned, "i knew rhys hid away the good liquor, but i had no idea that he was in favor of hiding beautiful females, too," he purred, stepping a fraction closer to you. you turned to face him completely now, arms crossing over your chest to hide yourself from his wondering eyes.

"what's your name?," he continued, pausing to sip his drink, "and more importantly, where have you been?", his eyes sparkled, pure male confidence oozing from every pore on his body.

you opened your mouth, eyes flitting around the room to plot a potential escape route. you were not comfortable. not at all.

az, please come back, come back, come back, you chanted silently, your eyes dancing around the room quickly in hopes of spotting the tips of his wings amongst the large crowd. he knew that you'd be here - in this general area. surely, he'd come straight here to find you. right?

the male before you tutted quietly, grasping your chin with his thumb and pointer fingers to turn your head back towards him, wanting your full attention. he was also wearing rings, but his jewelry didn't have the same gut-twisting affect on you as azriel's had. no, your gut twisted now for a completely different reason.

"eyes on me, little one," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. you bristled, internally recoiling at his touch, at the term of endearment he'd bestowed on you.

the summer male's hand went to your shoulder, his fingers grazing the skin as they traveled down your bare arm.

"be careful," you heard a familiar voice snarl from beside you. his tone was cold, rough, and left no room for discussion.

azriel.

the male before you dropped your gaze immediately, standing up straighter in az's newfound presence. he dropped his hand back to his side, his fingers twitching as he stepped back from you - curiously eyeing azriel instead.

"ah, the shadowsinger," the man said, attempting to sound far more confident and at-ease than he obviously was. "to what do i owe the pleasure?," the summer male continued, swishing the wine around in his glass.

you didn't miss the way his eyes flashed with unease, and you almost let a smirk form at the sight. you glanced over at azriel, his shadows now swirling around him in agitation. his honey eyes, normally flooded with so much soft, affectionate warmth when settled on you, were now hard, narrowed, and full of ice. this was the feared shadowsinger of the night court - a side of him you had yet to see.

"you'd be wise to walk away," azriel started, his voice sharp. his hand found your lower back, much like it had the entire evening. except this time, it felt claiming, possessive. the cold metal of his rings were a nice reprieve from how warm your skin had become due to this entire interaction.

the male faltered for a moment, but he tried his best to glom onto the last fragment of dignity he had left. "now, now, azriel. there's no need to cause a scene over a female," he spat the word as if he were disgusted by it, and you felt azriel's hand twitch against your skin.

"i've caused a scene for far less," azriel deadpanned, voice lathered in irritation, "and mind how you address her," he continued, "i'd love nothing more than to personally deliver the hand that you used to touch her right back to tarquin's front gates," azriel's deep voice was death personified, and the summer male before you was smart to heed the warning. he exhaled a clipped breath before turning on his heel - striding away into the crowd and out of sight.

azriel let a low growl rumble deep within his chest as he kept his eyes locked on the retreating male, his eyes narrowed. he only allowed his gaze to find yours once he was sure you were both safe from his lingering presence.

you turned your body toward his, azriel's hand still splayed across your lower back. you had no idea what to say, where to start. there were too many emotions to sort through, too many feelings to give names to - and the liquor circulating through your veins wasn't helping, either.

he watched your expression carefully, his eyes softening - the way they always did once he'd sought you out. he rubbed your lower back affectionately, his pointer finger tracing small shapes across your skin.

"sorry," he finally muttered, his eyes searching your own, trying to gauge how you were feeling. he'd never wanted you to see that side of him - that cruel side of him that was able to inflict unimaginable pain and suffering onto the unfortunate soul at the other end of his blade. he didn't want you to run in the opposite direction, although he wouldn't blame you if you did.

after all, as someone who was so used to being shrouded by darkness and shadows, he'd come to believe that he didn't deserve to sunbathe in the light. and that's what you were - a blinding, all-compassing, warm beam of radiance.

his reaction to the summer male was instinctual, second-nature. and that particular reaction was azriel grasping onto every ounce of restraint that he could muster. his knee-jerk urge involved putting the knife in his pocket to good use.

"sorry?," you questioned, brows furrowing. "azriel, for what?", you continued, stepping closer to him, every instinct in your body compelling you to comfort him, to smooth out the concerned lines that had formed between his brows. to wash away the ashamed look that was threatening to flood his amber eyes.

"that-," he sighed, clearing his throat, "i shouldn't have acted that way," he finished, reaching up to absentmindedly run his fingertips across the chain that hung around his neck.

you tilted your head to the side curiously, "i'm glad that you did," you confided, "he made me horribly uncomfortable," and azriel bristled once more at the notion, at the idea of another male intruding on your personal space - going as far as to touch you.

his nostrils flared, and you offered him a comforting smile, wanting so badly to calm him down. you tipped your chin towards the outdoor balcony, resting a hand on his upper arm.

"i'm in the mood for some fresh air," you spoke, stepping around the side of his body to begin leading the way to the large glass doors that led outside. "join me?", you met his gaze hopefully, and azriel wondered if you knew that he would never say no to anything that you asked of him.

he nodded once, his hand still firmly splayed across your lower back. he followed you through the crowd and took his place beside you once more as you approached the balcony railing.

you stayed silent, peering up at the twinkling stars that blanketed the night sky. azriel glanced over at you, both of his hands now taking purchase on the railing.

your mirrored his actions, resting your own hands next to his as you leaned over slightly to take in the sight of velaris below - mesmerized by the smoking chimneys, the bright lights of the rainbow, and the sidra that flowed amongst it all.

"so beautiful," you whispered to yourself, awestruck by the picturesque view spread out before the two of you. it was so extravagant, a living, breathing work of art.

azriel swallowed, his eyes boring into the side of your face. he nodded once, "beautiful," he agreed on a breath, but he wasn't referring to the same view that you were.

the starlit sky perfectly matched the dress that looked as though it was poured over your body, and azriel didn't have much composure nor restraint left in him. not after the last few months, not after he'd seen you in his clothing, not after the affectionate glances and nervous touches shared between the both of you in a room full of others that had no clue, not after sitting across from you for dinner each night - where he'd started looking forward to your little foot nudging his own beneath the table, and not when another male had just tried to sweep you away from him.

his wings flared momentarily, the action allowing him to release some tension before they settled proudly against his back once again.

he stared at you for a moment longer, before touching that chain around his neck one last time - grounding him, giving him courage.

"y/n," he whispered, his large right hand lifting from the railing momentarily - before gently placing it right on top of your much smaller, softer one.

you looked over at him then, expectantly. you were so beautiful. so soft, so elegant, so perfect.

"i'm going to kiss you. do you think that would be alright?", he asked on softly, taking a deep breath of crisp evening air.

your eyes widened, and you blinked. your cheeks turned the sweetest shade of pink as your processed his question.

you felt frozen - of course that would be alright. you'd daydreamed about this moment for months. how his lips would feel, taste, how they'd move. would he be rough, gentle, would he use his tongue to explore your mouth? where would his hands go, where would your hands go? what if you were bad at-

just kiss him already, you scolded yourself, and before you could allow your nerves to take over, you nodded eagerly, a bashful smile creeping across your rosy features.

azriel exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, had almost convinced himself that he'd been rejected. he wouldn't have been wholly surprised, but still - it would have been agonizing all the same.

he stepped closer to you, his gentle fingers splaying across the left side of your jaw. as he angled your face upwards towards his, he allowed his thumb to caress the skin of your cheek, smiling at the warmth he felt from your perpetual blush.

"i've been thinking about this for so long," he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own. he shuddered at the feeling, the contact.

finally, he thought to himself.

you nodded, placing a hand on his bare chest.

"me too," you whispered back, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. his other hand gripped your waist at the action, squeezing once.

and upon hearing your reciprocated want, azriel surged forward, his lips finding yours immediately, as if he'd done this for centuries. it wasn't rough, but it definitely wasn't gentle. you could feel months of repressed want flowing through the both of you, clashing where your lips met. exploding into fireworks and stars, creating vibrant new galaxies at the contact.

he squeezed your waist once more, feeling the fabric of your dress between his fingers. a soft groan trickled up his throat and directly into your mouth, and you almost burst into flames at the sound.

your hand slowly slid upward, caressing the bare skin of his chest before gripping his chain into your fist. and of course, this sent thoughts that were far from innocent cascading into azriel's muddled brain. he pulled back from the kiss, only a fraction, and his knees almost buckled beneath him when you chased his swollen lips with your own.

he leaned into you, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth gently, and you let out a reactive whimper at the feeling. his head was swimming, and as much as azriel prided himself on being a gentleman, you were eliciting feelings that were too overwhelming, too much. his instincts were screaming at him to lie you down, spread you across his mattress, really show you how much you made him feel.

he pulled you against him, his wings wrapping around the both of you - to shield you from sight, to keep you warm, to bring you closer.

his lips met yours again, and his hands traveled from your waist, back up to your jaw, holding your face between his hands as if he were granted the honor of holding the most precious jewel ever discovered.

he supposed, in that moment, he was.

finally, he pulled away, placing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. he brushed loose strands of your hair behind your ears, smiling fondly at you.

"gods," he whispered, catching his breath. "you are such a dream," he finished, taking all of you in hungrily. he would never be satiated enough, not now that he's finally tasted you.

you sucked your lower lip into your mouth, still tasting him there, and his pupils dilated at the action.

smiling, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the clasp of his chain, "speaking of dreams," you mused, "i've been dreaming of this for a very, very long time," you smiled, playing with the cluster of curls at the nape of his neck.

"well, i hope i didn't disappoint," he teased, his hands finding your waist once more, fingertips grazing the exposed skin of your back.

you huffed out a laugh, resting your forehead against his bare chest, "you know," you started, tone laced with mock contemplation, "i wasn't able to really tell," you glanced up at him with a smirk.

azriel cocked an eyebrow, smirking down at you knowingly.

"i think we should try again, just to be sure," you quipped.

azriel laughed, a beautiful, melodic sound.

you didn't have to tell him twice.

a/n: FINALLY. i've heard all of your pleas, ok. here is the long awaited KISS <3 i hope i did it justice. pls leave feedback! this took me so long to execute properly, and i truly hope you loved it. my heart is a puddle on the floor !!!

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun @topaz125 @mrsjna @lovegoodlunaa @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @luna9876 @kennedy-brooke @coolepowersthings @saltedcoffeescotch @99sunflower99 @nikt-wazny-y @rose-girls-world @mariacbzs @jesskidding3

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she’d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There’s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study

[scorpioriesling]

Too Hot to Handle - Episode 5

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Gwyn, Elain, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, Azriel, & Tamlin

Warning(s): …none hehe

SR’s Note: Guys — I’m SO SORRY for the delay! I had a Fourth Wing event last weekend that I was traveling for, and truly wasn’t on my phone let alone had any time to write anything. It doesn’t help that I worked every day since I’ve been back and I’m leaving for a Bachelorette trip this weekend — nonetheless, I hope you’ll enjoy this next part! Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @panther-girl-124 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @paintedbyshadows

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

$180,000.

That was how much was left in the prize fund.

Well... that's how much was left before the rule break from last night.

"Seeing as we are over halfway through the retreat," Lana drawls. "I see it fitting that those who are in etsablished couples should be allowed to go on a date tonight."

The room erupts in cheers, many of the couples in their beds hugging and whooping in delight. Lucien's warm hands pull you close, so close that you're nearly topping him, and hugs you tight around your waist. You glance to the bed across the room, noticing those beautiful, pink lips in a pout, a usually slender nose scrunched on her contorted face.

You wrap your arms around Lucien's neck, carding your fingers through his soft hair when her eyes meet yours from her rather empty bed.

Serves her right.

"However -- we have not discussed the topic of rule breaking yet." The room quiets as everyone frantically looks to one another.

"Shit, man! Who has something they want to fess up to this time?" Cassian's voice bellows. His eyes scan from bed to bed, until he lands on Feyre and Rhys. "Was it you guys this time?"

Feyre blushes, touching her fingers to her lips.

"No," Rhysand yawns, pressing a light kiss to Feyre's head. "Not us this time."

Before he can continue his reprimanding, Lana lights up again.

"There were a total of three rule breaks last night," she continues, earning a few gasps from the group. "And for that, you've lost an additional $20,000 -- leaving the prize fund at only $160,000." Cassian throws his head back onto the pillows, and Amren shakes her head from beside him.

"Who did it guys? Seriously? Three of you?" He rubs his eyes with his fingers. Lucien glances sidelong at you, but you continue looking toward Lana. Three rule breaks? That's two other groups besides you and Lucien. You didn't see anything... or hear anything... other than the one break you had done yourself.

Was Lucien being truthful about him and Elain's interaction?

You sure hoped you wouldn't have to find out the hard way.

"No need to guess, Cassian, I'm more than happy to tell you -- one rule break happened between Elain..." You glanced to her, that proud smug smile on her face. Your heart dropped. Please don't say Lucien, anyone but Lucien...

"...and Eris."

You let out a sigh of relief, noticing Eris stretching his arm out behind his head, his cunning expression earning him a few eyerolls. You glance to Lucien, but see him scowling at the bed a few diagonal from you.

"Looks like your girl was holding her breath on that one," Elain says drily. You glare in her direction, barely noticing Lucien's fingers faltering from you slightly.

"You sure didn't help that," you bit out. She opened her mouth to continue, but Lana cut in.

"The second rule break was between Y/N and Lucien." She proclaims. Amren's black bob sways with annoyance, and Lucien only shrugs. No witty comeback or attempt of making light of the situation. He surely noticed how easy it was for Elain to get under your skin, rile you up like that -- and now you only hoped his feelings weren't hurt.

"Finally, the last rule broken was between Azriel," Your gaze met his as he sheepishly ran a hand throurgh his hair. The redhead he'd chosen to share a bed with looked down at their comforter, her embarassment evident on her pale cheeks. Surely he hadn't literally taken her to bed on the first night?

"...and yet again, Elain."

The room is silent, save for a few hushed gasps and murmurs between bedmates. Azriel looks around frantically, as if trying to find the words to explain.

"I didn't... I, uh... I was just deciding who to share a bed with," he rushes out. The pink on Gwyn's cheeks deepens at the statement, and she continues to keep her eyes lowered. "I swear it wasn't... I wasn't trying to cost us money-"

"Every thing we do here costs us money," Cassian grits out. "You all need to be on a damn leash the way you're at it -- especially you." He looks to Elain, who only proudly smirks once more.

"Cassian, you're just mad you haven't gotten any yet," Elain winks. Cassian grumbles, laying back in his bed and running a hand over his face. You turn to Lucien again, who seems zoned out.

"She's a real piece of work, huh?" You say jokingly. He doesn't break from his trance, and you silently bite your lip at the lack of response. What could he possibly be thinking about right now?

"For these rule breaks -- I am offerring a deal to one group," Lana continues on.

"Y/N and Lucien," he perks up at the mention of his name.

"I am granting you a chance to win back the $5,000 your kiss cost the group tonight, by sending you on a rather exciting evening," Mor meets your eye, wiggling her brows at you.

"The two of you will go on your date, much like the others -- however, for your date, you'll be taken to a private villa where you'll spend the night together, alone. No rule breaks allowed." You raise your eyebrows. This would be impossible! Alone all night, with Lucien? You weren't sure if you could contain yourself. Though, it looked like Lucien could -- he wouldn't even meet your gaze.

"As the others will rejoin the group from their dates tonight -- I have two guests that seem like they're here for the wrong reasons." Your eyes flick to Elain, who is now brushing out her long, honey-blonde hair.

"For that, one will be sent home this morning." Everyone looks around wide-eyed. Elain was surely one contender -- but whom else?

"Elain, and Eris." Eris's brows rise slightly.

"One of you will be leaving the villa, effective immediately. The other needs to show improvement, or else they will be resigned to end their retreat early as well." Elain sighs boredly.

"Elain..." She perks up.

"Mhm, Lana?"

"Seeing as you've participated in many rule breaks, bed-hopping, and created more drama than forming real bonds with others," Lana says. Elain only rolls her eyes.

"You will be the guest leaving my retreat. Effective immediately."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Honestly, I’m just happy we don’t have to deal with her anymore,” Helion murmurs to Tamlin in line in front of you. “She cost us so much money.” You’re all in the kitchen, gathering plates for lunch this afternoon and it seems though she’s departed, Elain is still the topic of every conversation.

“She didn’t quite seem to be here for the right reasons anyway,” Tamlin answers, spooning chunks of papaya onto his plate.

You couldn’t agree more.

Reguardless, Lucien has seemed rather guarded since her departure this morning, giving more of a silent treatment than the rejoicing reaction you’d been hoping for. First, he went to the gym (per usual). Then, he couldn’t join you in the pool because he needed to shower. Now, apparently he was at the beach. What was going on with him?

“Ayo, Y/N,” Tarquin called from across the buffet. Your eyes met his icy blue ones. “Where’s ya boy?”

You only shrug. “Maybe down by the beach?” You answer. You notice Tamlin’s lingering stare from the corner of your eye.

“I’ll walk you down there, if you want?”

You smile, Tarquin has been nothing but kind to everyone since the group’s arrival.

“Sure thing, uh… thank you.”

You pad along the white sand, small tendrils of it brushing your calves from Tarquin’s treading beside you. He held your elbow, helping you along as you decided to bring two plates with you — one for you, and one for Lucien of course. A rather good idea on your behalf, as you spotted his dark red mane blowing wildly with every twist and turn he made on his surfboard. He’d surely be hungry.

As you approached, you watched as Emerie joined the coastline as well, smiling broadly at Tarquin as she approached. Lucien rode his last wave in, jogging up the beach and running a hand through his hair. Water fell in tiny rivlets across the expanse of muscle on his chest…

Your mouth practically watered at the sight.

“You… got it from here, yeah?” You nod to your friend, still holding your elbow. Lucien is only a few feet before you, his jaw muscle flickering as his eyes move from you, to Tarquin, to the hand he is now removing from your arm.

“‘Sup, man,” Tarquin nods.

“Yeah. ‘Sup.” Lucien says, his eyes roaming over your face. Your cheeks heat as you try so desperately to not allow your gaze to travel lower…

“I… uh, brought you this.” You thrust out one of the paper plates, and Lucien lays his board flat atop the sand.

“Thanks,” he says, sitting atop his surfboard and patting the spot next to him. You giddily take it, crossing your legs and readjusting the crochet coverup you donned. You didn’t see it, but Lucien’s eyes roved hungrily over you.

“How’d you know I liked star fruit?” He asks. You smile, happy with your choice of what to load up his plate with.

“Lucky guess,” you answered. You watched as he popped a yellow piece into his mouth, the way his lips moved. Gods, how you wished you could kiss him again. The passion, the fire from last night-

“So… I think we should address the elephant in the room,” he says, swallowing his bite. You glance to him, watching as he bites another.

“The… elephant?” You ask, feigning ignorance.

He swallows. “Elain.”

Gods, you didn’t even like hearing her name on his lips.

“Oh.”

He swallows again, bracing his for arms on his knees. “I saw you, this morning. How the mere sight of her was getting under your skin.” His fingertips delicately tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you roll your eyes.

“She doesn’t get-“

“Y/N, I at least know you well enough by now that I can see what makes you anxious,” he says. You sigh. He was right, and you knew you shouldn’t be playing around with something as sensitive as this.

“Well…”

“What about her gets you so… riled up? You said you trusted me when I explained nothing happened.” Lucien questions gently. You bite the inside of your cheek, gazing out at the crashing waves.

“I… do, trust you. I just…” you huff. “I don’t know, Luc. I just get maybe… nervous.” You glance to him, and he raises a brow.

“Nervous.” He repeats.

You shake your head. “It’s just… I haven’t had, this,” you gesture between the two of you. “In a long time, ok? You’re confident, and smart, and… handsome… I just get worried.” You look down at your lap. He chuckles beside you.

“You think I’m handsome?” He says. You swat his shoulder, and he catches your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“Nothing. No one. Is going to take me from you.” He says, his lips mere inches from yours. You suck in a breath — every freckle on his tanned skin, every hue in his irises — it’s all so beautiful.

“Lucien…”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. When he pulls back, you scoot even closer, snuggling into the arm he’s draped around you.

“No one could take me from you either…. and yes I find you handsome, isn’t it obvious?”

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*

By 6 pm, all of the couples have gathered with the rest of the group beneath the cabana. Of course, Lana has called a meeting right before you’re supposed to go on your dates — well, in your case, you’re headed toward a night of immense restraint.

“I want to applaud the remaining individuals for not breaking my rules today,” she starts. Feyre shifts beside you, her glimmering black gown sparkling in the moonlight. She looks truly ethereal, like a queen of the night. “…and I’m happy to see you’re all ready for your dates.”

You glance up at Lucien as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

“However,” she begins, and the group groans in sync. “I do want to let the group know that there will be a new arrival to the villa, and this certain someone will be joining one of you on a date tonight.”

A few shared eyebrow raises and Lucien is pulling you even closer to him.

“This arrival may choose an individual that is either in a relationship or single this time,” she continues. “Unlike before where only given the options of those in couples.”

Eris whoops from the end of the couch, earning a few giggles from the single girls. Your eyes wander to Azriel, who seems rather attached to the redhead from his bed last night. Perhaps she’s forgiven him for his tryst with Elain.

Ugh. Elain. Gods.

“However, this arrival will be joining someone after the couples dates,” Lana explains. “So, with that, please head to your designated date locations. Y/N and Lucien, please make your way to the private villa.”

Lucien’s fingers slide down your arm, grasping yours as he makes way for the private villa.

“You excited?” He whispers huskily. You laugh nervously.

“Ugh… to not touch you all night? Thrilled.” He chuckles, his hand sliding to hold around your waist.

“Well, I’m excited.” You approach the front door, his hand not-so-subtly tracing over your bum. You suck your lip between your teeth. “Even if all I can touch is your sticky fingers.”

He winks at you, and you sigh, swinging the door open.

Oh. My.

“Fuck,” Lucien breathes. You can only stare — the enormous bed, laden with rose petals.

The chains, tools, leather paraphernalia lining the walls.

The bathtub, steaming with warm water and bubbles.

The champagne flutes.

This was so much worse than you thought. It was practically a room for a sex-crazed being, all the ready to practically film a porno.

All for you and Lucien… to not indulge in. All. Night.

What if the new arrival chose to come here with him after you?

“….fuck.” You echo.

This was going to be a long night.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Feyre: "I wondered, if I had just asked, if Tarquin would just give the book to me."

Me: great idea girly, using your head I am proud of you he seems like a rational guy

Feyre: "but Rhys said no"

Me:

[yennas-stuff]

As a huge Percy Jackson fan, I decided (totally unprompted and unasked) to devide Acotar characters into their cabins.

Acotar characters as demigods:

Cabin 1 - Zeus, the god of the sky, lightning, and thunder

Zeus' children are known to be natural leaders because their father is the king of the gods. They are extremely ambitious, persistent, intelligent, and goal-oriented. They are often labeled as "control-freaks" because they like to be in control of every situation. They are friendly most of the time, but when angered, they erupt like a storm. Children of Zeus are often drawn to storms, finding comfort in the sounds of lightning and thunder, and the intense emotions they evoke.

Demigods: Rhysand, Nesta

Cabin 2 - Hera, the goddess of marriage, family, and birth

As the goddess of marriage, Hera upholds her union with Zeus, which prevents her from having any demigod offspring.

Demigods: none

Cabin 3 - Poseidon, the god of the Sea, Storms, Earthquakes, Droughts, and Horses.

Poseidon’s children are known for having a deep passion for water. They usually love the ocean and anything that involves being close to water. They tend to not like following rules or obeying just because they are told to, just as the ocean does not like to be contained. They are friendly, loyal, and usually have a good sense of humor. Poseidon's children can also experience mood swings and be unpredictable, just like the sea. They also tend to have an outgoing and welcoming personality, but hey, do not try to irritate them: testing their patience is ill-advised, for it is not inexhaustible, and the consequences may be regrettable.

Demigods: Gwyn, Tarquin

Cabin 4 - Demeter, the goddess of harvest and agriculture

Demeter’s children are known for loving nature. They are free-spirited, kind, patient, competent, nurturing, and loving. They usually have a shy personality, but they can be fiercely protective when their loved ones are threatened. Their connection to nature infuses them with a sense of peace and harmony, and they often find solace and joy in the beauty of the natural world. They are usually seen as motherly figures, people usually seek comfort in Demeter’s children. 

While their generosity, patience, and kindness are admirable traits, it is wise to avoid intentionally provoking them. Otherwise, you may wake up to find poison ivy flourishing in your sleeping bag.

Demigods: Elain

Cabin 5 - Ares, the god of war

It is easy to recognize a son or daughter of Ares. They tend to exude bravery, power, and confidence wherever they are. The children of Ares are known for their immense courage and strong temper, and they are typically assertive, energetic, and independent, with a natural inclination towards impulsiveness and courage. They thrive on competition, displaying honesty and passion in their pursuits, but may struggle with patience and impulsivity. Adventurous by nature, they eagerly embrace new experiences and challenges. They tend to think they are naturally better than others. Children of Ares can be hot-headed, arrogant and stubborn. They don't take things lying down, they aren't afraid of practically anything, they hate taking orders and tend to start fights for silly reasons. Still, they are very protective of those they love and would do anything to keep them well. Ironically, since their personality is usually quite the opposite, they tend to get along very well with children of Aphrodite.

If you want advice, try to stay in a good position with these demigods, or you might end up with a spear pointed at your face.

Demigods: Cassian, Feyre

Cabin 6 - Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war

Athena's children are known for their intelligence, strategic skills, creativity and courage. They tend to be trustworthy, like to lead groups, and have good ideas. They are also proud people and do not like to admit to their mistakes. If they do not excel at something right away, they get frustrated and give up on what they are doing. They can be messy at times, but they accept the mess they have created and can function well in it. While they may seem distant from society at times, it is not because they lack social skills. Rather, Athena's children are just selective about their interactions and prefer meaningful companions for their life. In fact, if they are called upon to discuss a subject they like/understand, an endless discourse on the subject will ensue.These people also tend to work well under pressure, they hate being ignored, they always want to show their responsibility (even unconsciously), and some people may have the impression of them being stuck up.

Demigods: Amren, Eris, Jurian

Cabin 7 - Apollo, the god of archery, art, medicine and the Sun and light

Apollo's children are known for their aptitude for art, especially music and poetry. They also tend to be quite sociable and communicative. Furthermore, they love helping and advising their friends, always indirectly bringing insights from their own lives. Apollo children tend to act on emotion rather than reason. They are extremely emotional people. Apollo kids always use sarcasm in all dialogues. They also have a special connection with sunrises and sunsets because they resemble a beautiful painting and obviously, showcases the sun (they take pictures of it whenever they can). They also love quality time with their friends and value nature around them. Children of Apollo tend to get along with children of Hermes, as Hermes was the inventor of Apollo's precious lyre.

Apollo: Tamlin

Cabin 8 - Artemis, the goddess of hunting and wildlife

Artemis has made a vow to eternally remain a maiden, which means she has no children. Generally, her cabin at the camp remains unoccupied. However, the goddess is accompanied by a group of gifted followers with excellent ranged capabilities and hunting skills called the Hunters of Artemis, and occasionally these young women visit Camp Half-Blood. Whenever this visit occurs, there is a traditional, not-so-friendly capture the flag game. The Hunters are currently leading the Campers roughly 47-0 in the capture the flag game (ouch!).

If you're a girl, of course, and you think your destiny is to become a hunter of Artemis, it is important to keep a few things in mind as you seek her out for recruitment. Huntresses must show bravery and a good heart. Furthermore, you have to promise eternal loyalty to Artemis, which means no boys. Ever. Additionally, you gain immortality upon being recruited.

Demigods: Emerie

Cabin 9 - Hephestus, the god of blacksmiths and fire

The children of Hephaestus have a natural gift for building things; they are true mechanics. They have a more reserved personality and prefer to be alone, or in the company of a machine. If they could choose to be alone for all their school work, they would. Despite this, they have a friendly side. They are good listeners and can be very funny, but only the people closest to them tend to know this. They are also friends for life, who can always be counted on. Hephaestus' children are truly passionate about robotics or architecture, and since they were children they liked building toys and more complex things. They also always feel out of place, as if they do not belong. Hesphaestus' children are quite peaceful and do not like violence.

Demigods: Nuan

Cabin 10 - Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty

For the children of the goddess of love, socializing is essential. They usually take a long time to get ready and they value beauty and love more than anything. They often fall in love quickly and enjoy being the center of attention or “the hot topic in other people's conversations.” They are sometimes considered “frivolous” because they care a lot about their appearance and love to gossip about who is dating who, but many have admirable characteristics, such as a good heart that genuinely helps to increase the confidence and self-esteem of those around them. they. Aphrodite's children are often underserved or underestimated, but be careful, Aphrodite started the Trojan war and her children have a strong power of persuasion. They usually get what they want.

Demigods: Mor

Cabin 11 - Hermes, the god of trade, wealth, thieves, and travel

The children of Hermes are known for loving to travel. They are true explorers of the world and are very extroverted. They like to play pranks on others and tell jokes to brighten up the atmosphere. These people are usually more “street-smart” and have a mischievous personality; they see no problem in lying a little, but sometimes they end up abusing this philosophy. The children of Hermes believe that the more friends the better.

Important advice: Hold your belongings tightly around them, after all they are children of the god of thieves. And, if you spend a night with them, do not be surprised if you wake up with a face full of shaving foam.

Demigods: Lucien

Cabin 12 - Dionysius, the god of wine and parties

Dionysus' children are known for being the life of the party and great extroverts. They are extremely communicative and persuasive, due to their father being the God of the Theater. These demigods tend to get along well with the cat family---after all, their father is also the god of big cats. Dionisio's children are also seen as "drama queens and kings”, as they often exaggerate all situations in their daily lives and are often sarcastic. These people appreciate all products made from grapes.

Demigods: Helion

Cabin 13 - Hades, the god of the dead and the king of the underworld

The children of Hades tend to be introverted and some even prefer to completely isolate themselves. They do not know how to deal with their own feelings properly nor are they very communicative, but are exceptional listeners. Furthermore, they are loyal and like animals. They often use dry sarcasm in dialogue, hate being the center of attention and get very nervous about it. The children of Hades also have their greedy and ambitious side, being particularly intelligent and resourceful. It is not always easy to unveil a son of Hades: they are discreet and don't let their deepest emotions show easily. Furthermore, they are overthinkers by nature and usually do not have a regulated sleep schedule. These demigods are also very stubborn and hate admitting they are wrong. Lastly, they do not fear their own death.

Demigods: Azriel

[tsunami-of-tears]

Peace

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Your cousin passes away abruptly and Cassian is there to help pick up the pieces. 

A/N: Another self-insert fic because writing is so ✨healing✨ ~ apologies, this one is super sad

Wordcount: 1K

Warnings: hurt/comfort, death of a relative, chronic illness, dealing with grief/loss

Time stands still as your father’s words echo in your mind. 

“She didn’t make it.”

Your cousin and the Princess of Adriata, Cresseida, had at last succumbed to her devastating illness. She’d suffered a lot, but you selfishly thought you’d have more time. There was still so much you wanted to ask her. She had so much wisdom that you’d never get to hear. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her about your mate, Cassian. 

Your mate. Your rock. 

Though your heart aches at the loss, you are grateful to have Cassian to help you through it. Together you were an unbreakable force. 

However, not unbreakable enough to grant him entrance to the Summer Court for Cresseida’s funeral. 

That ban was still firmly in place as the bond was new. With all that had happened, you hadn’t had the chance to mention it. Your father, Tarquin, was grieving profusely - so you didn’t think it was appropriate. 

I’ll tell him after the funeral, we can wait a little bit longer. 

Though Cassian wanted to be there for you in person, he supported your decision to keep things quiet.

Cresseida was like an auntie to you. As the eldest of Tarquin’s six children, you had the honour of saying a few words at the funeral ceremony. 

The weeks leading up to the funeral went by in a blur. You went about your days feeling numb to the world. You hadn’t shared a single tear over your cousin. It didn’t feel real. 

You’d put off writing your eulogy until the last minute for that very reason. You still struggled to wrap your head around the fact that she was gone. Just. Like. That. 

Never again would you hear her laugh or see her smile. You’d never again get to hear the stories about her childhood with your father, not in the way she could tell them.

“It’s all wrong,” you sigh, exasperated over your eulogy. Your desk was littered with scrunched-up papers, your hands were covered in smears of ink. 

A warm hand gently strokes your back, attempting to soothe you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re overthinking it,” Cassian says.

You slump forward, head in your hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. I’m not good at this sort of thing,” you groan.

“We both know you’re the best person for the job. She loved you, I know she’d be proud of you, just like I am.” Cassian moves his hand to hold your face, tilting your face to look up at him.

You nod and press your cheek into his palm. Cassian leans down and plants his lips on yours. His love and encouragement flood down the bond. “You can do it, you’ve got this,” he says against your mouth. 

You lean into him again, kissing with more heat and raw need. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangle in his hair as he grabs your hips and effortlessly lifts you onto the desk. 

For a moment, you get lost in passion with your mate. Until the loud crash of books falling from the desk gets your attention. 

Cassian pants heavily as he pulls away, you groan as you rest your forehead against his broad chest. “I really need to finish this and head to Summer. I can’t right now.”

Cassian kisses you, softly and sweetly. “Of course, sweetheart,” he says.

————

The following morning, you stand outside the temple with one of your sisters, watching everyone file in. There are so many people you don’t recognise. 

Your eyes brim with tears.

This is it. She’s really gone.

You look at your sister and the floodgates burst open. 

Tears pour and pour and pour. You feel like you’re drowning in devastation. You can barely take in enough air to breathe.

Your sister pulls you into a tight hug as you let out choked sobs. She rubs your back and you manage to calm your breaths. In, and out.

You sigh into the embrace and wish you hadn’t opted to wear makeup. You attempt to wipe the smears from under your eyes to no avail - the tears just keep falling. 

It’s time to go inside and begin, so you walk down the middle aisle to your seats in the front row, avoiding making eye contact with everyone. 

As you settle into the chair, the organ starts to play a soft song. The High Priestess steps to the front of the dais and begins the ceremony.

You continue to cry through most of it, as your father and other relatives speak. 

You somehow manage to compose yourself to deliver your own eulogy. You only choke on the final line.

“I love you. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace now.”

————

You have a dark cloud over your head for the rest of the day. 

So many strangers come up to compliment you on your beautiful words. You thank them all for their kindness, offering handshakes and hugs, but it feels shallow. 

A trace of bitterness sets in, they don't understand. They didn’t know her like you did.

You endure the wake for your father’s sake. He’s really hurting, and he needs you here. It’s the time to be with family, you just feel at a loss without all of yours. 

————

After the longest day of your life, you finally get to return home. 

You open your front door to Cassian plating up dinner. Nothing too crazy, just your favourite comfort meal - mac and cheese. It’s then that your stomach rumbles and you remember that you’ve barely eaten all day.

Cassian looks up as you enter, putting down the saucepan and opening his arms to embrace you. “Come here my love, I’m so proud of you. Cres would be too. I wish I could have got to know her better.”

You nod in response. Words are too hard right now.

“I made your favourite, come and eat. You’ll feel better.” You give Cassian a small smile as you sit and tuck into the cheesy pasta. He knows you need some extra help today.

After dinner, Cassian carries you to the bathroom, runs your bath and helps you wash.

Wrapped in a towel, you sit at the vanity as he brushes your hair, all while whispering sweet nothings. 

Once you’re dressed, Cassian carries you to bed where you snuggle up on his chest as he reads your favourite book to you. You fall asleep wrapped in his arms, you’re at peace too.

[sieclesetcieux]

Saint-Just's letter to Camille Desmoulins in (May?) 1790

He mentions the Assemblée de Chauny, which took place in May 1790 according to this site.

ORIGINAL FRENCH

Monsieur,

Si vous étiez moins occupé, j'entrerais dans quelques détails sur l'Assemblée de Chauny, où se sont trouvés des hommes de toutes trempes et de tout calibre. Malgré ma minorité, j'ai été reçu. Le sieur Gellé, notre confrère au bailliage de Vermandois, m'avait dénoncé. On l'a chassé par les épaules. Nous avons vu là vos compatriotes MM. Saulce, Violette et autres, dont j'ai reçu beaucoup de politesse. Il est inutile de vous dire (car vous n'aimez pas la sotte louange) que votre pays s'enorgueillit de vous.

Vous avez su avant moi que le département était définitivement à Laon. Est-ce un bien, est-ce un mal pour l'une ou l'autre ville ? Il me semble que ce n'est qu'un point d'honneur entre les deux villes, et les points d'honneur sont très peu de chose presqu'en tout genre.

Je suis monté à la tribune, j'ai travaillé dans le dessein de porter le jour dans la question du chef-lieu : mais je ne suivis rien ; je suis parti chargé de compliments comme l'âne de reliques, ayant cependant cette confiance qu'à la prochaine législature je pourrai être des vôtres à l'Assemblée nationale.

Vous m'aviez promis de m'écrire, mais je prévois bien que vous n'en aurez pas eu le loisir. Je suis libre à l'heure qu’il est. Retournerai-je auprès de vous ou resterai-je parmi les sots aristocrates de ce pays-ci ?

Les paysans de mon canton étaient venus, alors de mon retour de Chauny, me chercher à Manicamp. Le comte de Lauraguais fut fort étonné de cette cérémonie rusti-patriotique. Je les conduisis tous chez lui pour le visiter. On nous dit qu'il est aux champs et moi cependant je fis comme Tarquin ; j'avais une baguette avec laquelle je coupai la tête à une fougère qui se trouva près de moi, sous les fenêtres du château, et sans mot dire nous fines volte-face.

Adieu, mon cher Desmoulins. Si vous avez besoin de moi, écrivez-moi. Vos derniers numéros sont pleins d'excellentes choses. Apollon et Minerve ne vous ont point encore abandonné, ne vous en déplaise. Si vous avez quelque chose à faire dire à vos gens de Guise, je les reverrai dans les huit jours à Laon où j'irai faire un tour pour affaires particulières.

Adieu encore, gloire, paix, et rage patriotique. Saint-Just.

Je vous lirai ce soir, car je ne vous parle de vos derniers numéros que par ouï-dire.

ENGLISH TRANSLATION

I found a translation here, which I used as a basis for mine, but there are some mistakes I corrected and I made some stylistic changes.

Monsieur,

If you were less busy, I would give you more details about the Assembly of Chauny, where one can find men of considerable calibre and quality. I was received in spite of my minority. Sieur Gellé, our compatriot from the bailliage of Vermandois had denounced me. He was grabbed by the shoulders and thrown out. We saw your compatriots, M. Saulce, M. Violette and others, by whom I was received with great courtesy. There is no point telling you (because you don't like foolish praise) that your region is proud of you.

You have known before I did that the département is definitely fixed at Laon. Is that good or is that bad for one or other of the towns? It seems to me that it is no more than a point of honour between the two towns and points of honour are of little importance.

I took the tribune; I worked with the intention of carrying the [order of the] day on the question of the chef-lieu: but I did not follow on; I left, weighed down with compliments like the donkey burdened with relics (1), having however the confidence that at the next legislature I could be among you at the National Assembly.

You had promised to write to me, but I can well anticipate that you had no such leisure. I am free as of now. Should I return to you or remain amongst the foolish aristocrats in this part of the country?

The peasants from my canton came, when I returned from Chauny, to look for me at Manicamp. The Comte de Lauraguais was greatly astonished by this rustico-patriotic ceremony. I led them all to his home for a visit. They said that he was out in the fields and I, however, did like Tarquin, I had a cane [baguette (2)] with which I cut off the head of a nearby fern, beneath the windows of the castle, and without a word we left and returned.

Farewell, my dear Desmoulins. If you have need of me, write to me. Your latest issues are full of excellent things. Apollo and Minerva have not yet abandoned you, whether you like it or not. If you have anything to say to your people in Guise, I will be seeing them again within the next eight days in Laon where I will be going for particular matters.

Farewell again, glory, peace and patriotic rage.

Saint-Just

I will read you this evening, since I only tell you about your recent issues from hearsay.

(1) This is a reference to a fable by La Fontaine.

(2) The baguette (direct translation: stick - the word existed before the bread style!) was a very thin cane, very fashionable to carry at the time. You can see some examples here. I'm not sure how he managed to cut a plant with it though... I've never tried to do that lol. So I don't know if it implies it was a sword-cane or if it was thin enough to do it on its own.

He compares his gesture to that of Lucius Tarquinius Superbus who, according to Livy, silently cut off the heads of the tallest poppies as a demonstration to what his son had to do.

(This is, by the way, the scene we see reproduced at the beginning of Saint-Just et la force des choses, and why they changed the fern to poppies - so the allusion would be clearer.)

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Can you tell me the story of the relationship between saint-just and desmoulins? . ..

Because I couldn't understand it properly so yeah ...

The first connection between Desmoulins and Saint-Just is from 2 January 1790, when the former publishes an annonce for the latter’s recently published Organt in number 6 of Révolutions de France et de Brabant:

Organt, poem in twenty verses, with this epigraph: Vous, jeune homme, au bon sens avez-vous dit adieu ? And this preface: J’ai vingt ans, j’ai mal fait, he pourrai faire mieux. 

A few months later, we find the following letter from Saint-Just to Desmoulins. It is undated, but can be traced to May 1790. The letter makes Desmoulins, alongside Robespierre, who he wrote a letter to the following year, the only revolutionaries Saint-Just is confirmed to have contacted prior to heading to Paris in 1792. Unlike in the case of Robespierre however, the letter to Desmoulins implies a correspondence was actually picked up between the two:

Monsieur, If you were not so busy I would tell you some more details about the Chauni assembly where one can find men of considerable calibre and quality. I was received in spite of my youth. Sieur Gelli, your compatriot from Vermandois had denounced me. He was thrown out bodily. We saw your compatriots, M. Saulce, M. Violette and others, by whom I was received with great courtesy. There is no point telling you (because you are not fond of foolish praise) that your region is proud of you. You will have known before I did that the department is fixed at Laon. Is that good or is that bad for one or other of the towns? It seems to me that it is no more than a point of honour between the two towns and points of honour are of little importance. I took the tribune; I worked with the intention of carrying the day on the question of the chief place but I did not follow on, I left, weighed down with compliments like a donkey burdened with relics, having, however, the assurance that at the next legislature I could be with you in the national assembly. You had promised to write to me, but I see clearly that you will not have the time. I am free as of now. Should I return to you or remain amongst the foolish aristocrats in this part of the world. At the time of my return from Chauni the peasants from my region came to look for me at Manicamp. The Comte de Lauraguais was greatly astonished by this rustic-patriotic ceremony. I led them all to his house for a visit. They said that he was out in the fields, however, like Tarquin, I had a rod with which I cut off the head of a nearby fern beneath the window of the castle and without a word we made a volte face. Farewell my dear Desmoulins. Write to me if you have need of me. Your latest issues are full of excellent things. Apollo and Minerva are still with you and are not displeased. If you have anything to say to your people in Guise I will be seeing them again in eight days’ time from Laon where I will be going on specific business. Goodbye again: glory, peace and patriotic rage. Saint-Just I will read you this evening since I have only spoken to you of your recent issues by saying yes.

Different feelings can however be found a year later, in a letter Saint-Just adressed to Villain Daubigny on July 20 1791 (it is dated 1792 in Oeuvres complètes de Saint-Just, but Saint-Just’s biographer Bernard Vinot points out that this is most likely an error, since all the events it makes allusions to took place the previous year):

…Go and see Desmoulins, embrace him for me, and tell him that he will never see me again, that I esteem his patriotism, but that I despise him, because I have penetrated his soul, and because he fears that I will betray him. Tell him to not abandon the good cause, and recommend it to him, because he does not yet possess the audacity of magnanimous virtue.

What exactly had happened between the two for Saint-Just to write this about Desmoulins is unknown. The same can be said about the question regarding where and when the meeting between them he alludes to here played out, since neither of them is confirmed to have left their respective towns in 1791.

Yet another year later, in September 1792, both Saint-Just and Desmoulins were elected deputies for the National Convention, meaning the former came to settle in Paris on Rue de Gaillon 7, around 2,5 km from the latter’s home on Rue du Théâtre 1 (today Rue de l’Odeon 28). Aside from the fact both were fervent montagnards, I have not been able to find any connection between them until the second half of the following year, with the release of Desmoulins’ Lettre de Camille Desmoulins, député de Paris à la Convention, August général Dillon en prison aux Madelonettes. In it, Saint-Just, who had accused Dillon of having been asked to lead an uprising to put the dauphin on the throne and declare Marie-Antoinette regent on June 2 1793, got described the following way in a footnote:

After Legendre, the member of the Convention who has the highest opinion of himself is Saint-Just. One can see by his gait and bearing that he looks upon his own head as the corner-stone of the Revolution, for he carries it upon his shoulders with as much respect and as if it was the Sacred Host. But what makes his vanity killing is, that some years ago he published an epic poem in twenty-four cantos entitled Argant [sic]. Rivarol and Champcenetz, from whose microscope, used in the interests of the Almanach des grands hommes, not a single verse, not a single hemistich in France has ever escaped, have in vain gone searching for this; they who have hunted up even the least little scrap of literature have not seen Saint-Just’s epic poem in twenty-four cantos. After such a misadventure, how can he show himself?

According to some sources, the ”he carries his head like the Sacret Host” comment was a reply to something Saint-Just had himself said about Desmoulins. Marcellin Matton published in 1834 an anecdote (which it is presumed he obtained from Desmoulins’ mother- or sister-in-law) in which Guillaume Brune has tea with the Desmoulins couple at the time of the numbers of the Vieux Cordelier being released. The following conversation would then have played out:

”…You [Brune said] are also read by Barère who recognizes himself; by Saint-Just, who promised to make you carry your head like Saint Denis.” ”That’s true,” [Desmoulins] replied, ”I remember it: it was a very bad joke, and my answer was much better. Have you seen my letter to Dillon? In the approach and posture of Saint-Just, we see that he regards his head as the cornerstone of the republic, and that he carries it on his shoulders with respect like a holy sacrament. Was I wrong, and do you think that for such a good joke he would want to kill me? I only ask him for one favor, and that is to wait until he has given a valid response.”

In 1851, the historian Nicolas Villiaume similarly claimed to have had the same story told to him multiple times by Desmoulins’ mother-in-law. Interestingly though, the ”I will make him carry his head like Saint Denis” comment already appeared in works dated 1816 and 1825 (in both cases without any source cited). There, it is instead portrayed as a response to Desmoulins having written ”Saint-Just carries his head like the Sacred Host” and not as the cause of it. In light of this, I think the idea of Saint-Just having actually said it is something that must be taken with a big grain of salt.

The things more reliable sources can tell us about Saint-Just’s attitude towards Desmoulins at the time are less overwhelming. He was away from Paris during much of the period where Desmoulins released and got in trouble for the Vieux Cordelier (from October 17 to December 4, December 10 to December 30, and finally January 22 to February 13), and when he was there during said period, I cannot find him recorded to have spoken about Desmoulins or his journal a single time. Saint-Just also went unmentioned in all of the six numbers of the Vieux Cordelier that were released during the time they were both alive.

When the Committee of Public Safety decided to strike down Desmoulins and the other ”dantonists,” it was however Saint-Just who, like in the previous case with the hébertists, got tasked with writing a report against them. Here he obtained the help of Robespierre, who prepared around 65 notes for him to use as material against them. In said notes, Robespierre presented Desmoulins as less guilty than Danton and Fabre, having instead been more of their minion, a version of the story Saint-Just then stuck to when finishing his Rapport sur la conjuration ourdie pour obtenir un changement de dynastie; et contre Fabre d’Églantine, Danton, Philippeaux, Lacroix et Camille Desmoulins:

Bad citizen (speaking of Danton), you have conspired, you said, two days ago, bad things about Desmoulins, an instrument that you have lost, and you attributed to him shameful vices. […] For six months, a plan of palpitation and anxiety has been hatched within the government. Every day we were sent a report on Paris; we were flexibly insinuated, sometimes imprudent advice, sometimes misplaced fears; the tables were calculated on the feelings that it was important to arouse in us, so that the government would move in the direction that suited criminal plots; Danton was praised there, Hébert and Camille Desmoulins were accredited, and all their projects were assumed to be sanctioned by public opinion, to discourage us. […] What shall I say of those who claimed to be exclusively the old Cordeliers? They were precisely Danton, Fabre, Camille Desmoulins, and the ministry, author of the reports on Paris, where Danton, Fabre, Camille and Philippeanx are praised, where everything is directed in their direction and in the direction of Hébert. Danton had directed the last writings of Desmoulins and Philippeaux. […] Camille Desmoulins, who was initially duped and ended up being an accomplice, was, like Philippeaux, an instrument of Fabre and Danton. It was said, as proof of Fabre's good nature, that when he was at Desmoulins' house at the time when he read to someone a writing in which he requested a committee of clemency for the aristocracy and called the Convention the court of Tiberius, Fabre started to cry. The crocodile cries too. As Camille Desmoulins lacked character, his pride was used. As a rhetorician, he attacked the revolutionary government in all its forms; he spoke brazenly in favor of the enemies of the Revolution, proposed a committee of clemency for them; showed himself to be very inclement towards the popular party; attacked, like Hébert and Vincent, the representatives of the people in the armies; like Hébert, Vincent and Buzot, he himself treated them as proconsuls. He had been the defender of the infamous Dillon, with the same audacity that Dillon himself showed, when at Maubeuge he ordered his army to march on Paris, and take an oath of loyalty to the king. He fought the law against the English; he received thanks in England, in the newspapers of that time. Have you noticed that all those who were praised in England have betrayed their fatherland here?

According to an anecdote published in the pamphlet À Maximilien Robespierre aux enfers (1795), released a few months after thermidor by Taschereau de Fargues and Paul-Auguste-Jacques, Saint-Just and Robespierre had wanted to denounce Desmoulins and the other dantonists before arresting them, but been downvoted by their colleagues:

Why should I not say that [the dantonist purge] was a meditated assassination, prepared for a long time, when two days after this session where the crime was taking place, the representative Vadier told me that Saint-Just, through his stubbornness, had almost caused the downfall of the members of the two committees, because he had wanted that the accused to be present when he read the report at the National Convention; and such was his obstinacy that, seeing our formal opposition, he threw his hat into the fire in rage, and left us there. Robespierre was also of this opinion; he believed that by having these deputies arrested beforehand, this approach would sooner or later be reprehensible; but, as fear was an irresistible argument with him, I used this weapon to fight him: You can take the chance of being guillotined, if that is what you want; For my part, I want to avoid this danger by having them arrested immediately, because we must not have any illusions about the course we must take; everything is reduced to these bits: If we do not have them guillotined, we will be that ourselves. 

Regardless of whether this be true or not, on March 30, Saint-Just was one of eighteen men to sign the by Amar drafted arrest warrant for Danton, Delacroix, Philippeaux and Desmoulins, who were all arrested in the night. The next day at the Convention, Robespierre shut down Legendre when he suggested the accused be allowed to come and defend themselves before the Convention, after which Saint-Just entered the hall, mounted the rostrum and read out the act of accusation the two of them had worked out.

Receiving a copy of Saint-Just’s report in his cell at the Luxembourg prison, Desmoulins got around to preparing a defence. In it, he claimed the author of the report had personal reasons for wanting him dead. He also referred to him as ”Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint-Just,” a nicknamed previously used by the girondin Salle:

If I had gotten the chance to print in turn, if one hadn’t put me in isolation, if one had lifted the seals and if I had the paper neccesary to establish my defense, if one gave me only two days to make a number seven, imagine how I would confront M. the chevalier Saint-Just! Imagiene how I would convince him of the most atrocious slander ! But Saint-Just writes leisurely in his bath, in his bathtub, he plots my murder during fifteen days, while I have no place to put my writing desk and only a few hours to defend my life. What is this if not the the duel of the Emperor Commodus, who, armed with an excellent blade, forced his enemy to fight with a simple foil garnished with cork? […] I arrive at the part of the report which concerns me. In living memory, there is no example of such atrocious slander as this piece. And yet there is not a single person in the Convention that doesn’t know that Monsieur the former chevalier Saint-Just holds for me an implacable hatred for a slight joke that I allowed myself five months ago in one of my numbers. Bourdaloue said: Molière puts me in his comedy, I will put him in my sermon. I put Saint-Just in a giggly number, and he puts me in a guillotine report where there isn’t a single true word in my regard. When Saint-Just accuses me of being an accomplice of Orléans and Dumouriez, he shows well that he is a patriot of yesterday. Who denounced Dumouriez first of all, and before Marat and more vigorously than anyone else? Certainly one cannot deny that it was me? My Tribune des Patriotes exists, let Saint-Just read the portrait I there painted of Dumouriez six months before his treason in Belgium, he will see that I have never since added anything to this portrait. And Orléans who he makes me the accomplice of, who doesn’t know that I was the first to denounce him? That the only writings on this faction that the Jacobins have printed and distributed were written by me? Does Saint-Just no longer remember my Histoire des Brissotins? […] There are witnesses to the fact that the great republican Saint-Just, at the beginning of the Convention, said: Oh! They want a republic, she shall cost them dearly! There are witnesses to the fact the ambitious Saint-Just said: I know where I go. 

In an unfinished and unsent letter written to Robespierre around the same time, Lucile Desmoulins too held Saint-Just as the main culprit behind her husband’s fate, arguing that he had misled their friend:

…As far from the insensibility of your Saint-Just as from his base jealousies, [Camille] recoiled in front if the idea of accusing a college comrade, a companion in arms. […] Robespierre, can you really complete the fatal projects which the vile souls that surround you no doubt have inspired you to? […] Had I been Saint-Just’s wife I would tell him this: the sake of Camille is yours, it’s the sake of all the friends of Robespierre!  

A rumor claiming that Lucile had been sent money from the imprisoned Arthur Dillon conveniently arrived around the same time the trial against the indulgents started getting off the rails. In the afternoon of April 4, after the proceedings had been closed for the day, Saint-Just again mounted the rostrum at the Convention and revealed the discovery of this new conspiracy:

The public prosecutor of the revolutionary tribunal reported that the revolt of the guilty had caused the court proceedings to be suspended until the Convention had taken measures. You have escaped the greatest danger that ever threatened freedom: now all the accomplices are discovered, and the revolt of the criminals at the foot of justice itself. Intimidated by the law, the secret of their conscience; their despair, their fury, everything announces that the good nature they presented was the most hypocritical trap that had been set for the revolution. What innocent person has ever rebelled before the law? There is no need for any other proof of their attacks than their audacity. What! those whom we accused of having been the accomplices of Dumouriez and Orléans, those who only made a revolution in favor of a new dynasty, those who conspired for the misfortune and slavery of the people are at the height of their infamy! If there are men here who are truly friends of liberty, if the energy that suits those who have undertaken to liberate their country is in their hearts, you will see that there are no longer any conspirators on the front line, who, counting on the aristocracy with whom they have marched for several years, call upon the people the vengeance of the crime. No, liberty shall not recoil in front of her enemies; their coalition has been revealed. Dillon, who ordered his army to march upon Paris, has declared that the wife of Desmoulins had received money in order to promote a movement to assassinate the patriots and the Revolutionary Tribunal. We thank you for placing us in the position of honor; like you, we will cover the fatherland with our bodies. Dying is nothing, provided that the revolution triumphs; here is the day of glory; this is the day when the Roman senate fought against Catiline; This is the day to consolidate public liberty forever. Your committees respond to you with heroic surveillance. Who can refuse you his veneration in this terrible moment when you fight for the last time against the faction which was lenient towards your enemies, and which today finds fury to fight liberty?

After having heard Saint-Just’s report, the Convention used this new discovery to order ”that the Revolutionary Tribunal shall proceed with the instruction relating to the conspiracy of Lacroix, Danton, Chabot and others. The President shall make use of every means which the law permits to cause his authority and that of the Revolutionary Tribunal to be respected, and to repress every attempt on the part of the accused to trouble public tranquillity and to hinder the course of justice. It is decreed that all persons accused of conspiracy who shall resist or insult the national justice shall be outlawed and receive judgment on the spot.” This order became essential for getting the dantonists condemned to death the following day.

Saint-Just had however nothing to do with the actual arrest warrant for Lucile, signed the same day by Robespierre, Billaud-Varennes, C-A Prieur, Carnot, Couthon, Barère, Du Barran and Voulland, which would lead to her ending up on the scaffold as well nine days later.

I’m currently blanking when it comes to contemporaries who had anything to say regarding the relationship between Saint-Just and Desmoulins.

[danikamariewrites]

Beach Vacation headcanons with Rhys and Cass? I read Az's and loved it, your writing is wonderful, if you did it with our other boys I would glow with joy

Beach Vacation headcanon Cass & Rhys

A/n: thank you anon! I’m doing these two in one bc I feel like they we’re too short on their own but I’m still in love with this

Warnings: some smutty thoughts so 18+ please

Cassian

He’d want to talk you to the Summer Court bc he loved the beaches there but Tarquin said no

You didn’t mind not going you’d been to Summer a bunch of times with your parents

So you head to the Day Court instead, the beaches there are lovely

Like with Az, you and Cass rent a little house on the ocean

He would be so fun on vacation

He would be down for anything you want to do

Shopping? Yes absolutely! Just want to relax at the house? No problem! Sit on the beach at sunset with ice cream? Hell yes!

If you just wanted to lay and tan on the beach you would give Cass a shovel (like that TikTok I mentioned in the Az one)

He would spend hours digging on the beach. When you got up you couldn’t find him

You noticed the giant pile of sand which led you to see the hole which was about seven feet deep (he was very proud of himself)

Your favorite thing to do together was swim

Cassian would fly you a little above the water and either drop you or would hold you to him as he fell, tucking his wings in

You guys would stay in the water for hours just floating and playing games

He would play mermaids with you

Made sure you had sunblock on but would hate putting it on himself

You had to fight him to put it on, especially on his wings

“No! It’s cold! Please I’ll just sit in the shade!” “No Cass, because if your wings burn you’re going to complain you big Illyrian baby.”

He would also cover you with his wings so you wouldn’t burn

He helped you pick out your outfits everyday

Cassian is a sundress man, he loves seeing you in a cute lil sundress

It’s a huge turn in for him he literally can’t keep his hands off you when you’re in one

NSFW from here

If you guys were on the beach late after sunset you would absolutely have sex on the beach

He would have you on your hands and knees on your towel

He’d move your bikini bottoms to the side

“You gotta be quiet for me baby, or the whole court is gonna know who makes you feel this good.”

Cass would be such a little shit about it too

Like he’d want to end every beach day like that

Rhys

Unlike Cass, Rhys is allowed back into the Summer Court

He’d ask Tarquin if he could use his personal vacation house which he kindly lets you

Rhys would spoil you with all the latest Summer Court fashions

There wasn’t even a point in you packing bc you didn’t even wear what you brought

He’d take you shopping for everything under the sun

You guys would go to dinner at the fancy small restaurant in town

You’d sit outside to have a view of the ocean. It was a very romantic dinner

You spent most of your time on the beach

You never get to do anything like this in the Night Court so you take full advantage of the sand and sea

Rhys would only go in the water when you did

He’d hold on to you, occasionally kissing you and spinning you around in the water

Always made sure you were hydrated and had a fresh coat of sunblock on

Rhys is a tanning oil guy, you can’t convince me otherwise

He liked soaking in the sun. feeling the sun on his face was a feeling he didn’t take for granted after under the mountain

If you wanted a quick beach nap you’d hand him a beach shovel

At first he was confused but before he could ask you were fast asleep

He started moving sand around with it and then started to dig. By the time you woke up he dug a 5 foot deep hole and a little fort around it

NSFW from here

Since the beach you were at was Tarquin’s private beach he wasn’t worried about being seen or heard

The beach chairs you had were sturdy so you weren’t afraid to climb on him and ride him

As you bounce on him he’d untie your bikini top

He throws it to the side and grasp at your tits and pull at your nipples

“So fucking perfect baby.”

He’d winnow you back to the house and would fuck you on the closest surface and then in the shower

[persieee-yoohoo]

Easy to Love, Easier to Betray (Part 2)

Pair: Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: maybe ooc?, smut (I attempted gender neutral stuff), language

Summary: You had never been to the Summer Court before, but Rhysand finally gave in to your incessant bothering and brought you along with Amren and Feyre. Unaware of the real reason behind the Night Court's visit, you played your unknown role well and got along with Tarquin a little too easily. When the truth is revealed and people are betrayed, will anything be enough to bring two people back together? (Sort-of retelling of the Summer Court visit for half of the Book of Breathings and several events that followed.)

Note: this is my first time writing smut, so sorry it if it is complete ass, ;D

Also available: ao3

Read Part 1: Here

You kept your promise the following day, not wanting to disappoint Tarquin or even yourself. The liquid courage from the bottle of wine you'd consumed the night before had long-since faded, but the phantom heat of Tarquin's breath on your neck kept you from backing down from the opportunity to get to know the High Lord more. Your nerves caused you to take a few extra minutes that morning to get ready, which meant you missed the spread of breakfast that was most likely getting picked over by your Night Court company, but you wanted to look perfect.

There was no doubt that Tarquin seemed to want you as much as you wanted him, from the heated stares that seared your body and the desperate words that he'd scribbled on paper the previous night, but still you worried. He was a High Lord, despite how much he was teased for his age, and you were a spy. So many things could go wrong, but a sensual voice in the back of your mind reminded you that so many things could go right too.

“Going on a date?” Rhysand practically pounced on you the minute you stepped out of your room, his teasing mood overly compensating for the flash of disappointment that darkened his purple eyes for just a moment. He was dressed in his statement black with a feline smirk adorning his face as he sent a wink your way. “I knew something like this would happen.”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I don't have a date. I—” You gulped, knowing that any effort to lie would just be lost on your High Lord. He knew you long enough to see right past the bullshit, and you'd given him access to your mind too many times to think that this instance would be any different. “Tarquin requested my company for the day after our meeting. Is that a crime?”

“No,” Rhysand's grin only seemed to widen at your confession, “of course it isn't a crime. I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Besides, it'll give me a chance to get back in dear Feyre's good graces. She's upset with me, if you didn't know.” Well, that explains the disappointment.

As if she'd been listening in, a loud crash was heard from the room Feyre was still hiding in, and you both quickly found yourselves heading to the meeting room.

“Feyre was right.”

Tarquin quickly took notice of the gold jewelry adorning your body, the many rings, the layered body chains, and guided you to one of his court's treasure troves. The tour had been meant for Feyre, but Rhysand had whisked her away before she could even politely deny the offer once their talk of armadas and sailing had concluded. With your plan to already be Tarquin's for the day, you easily stepped in her place. The fae seemed so proud of himself at discerning an interest of yours that you didn't have to heart to explain that you only stepped out of your room that day dripping in jewelry for his enjoyment rather than your own.

As you stood in the center of the room, full of valuables beyond your belief, facing Tarquin while you held a box containing a necklace of black diamonds, you could almost swear that you felt a light tug deep within your chest. It was subtle, and you almost ignored it if the male opposite you hadn't twitched as if he himself also felt it. Tarquin wasn't facing you, but he looked over his broad shoulder to where you stood and assessed what you were holding. If Tarquin didn't deem the faint feeling as something worth talking about, then you wouldn't mention it either.

“What was Feyre right about? We've spoken about a great deal of things,” the male spoke as if Feyre was the last thing on his mind while in your presence, especially as he made his way to you. The closer Tarquin got, the smaller the room felt around you. You suddenly felt crowded by all the jewels and treasures, with nowhere to escape as Tarquin's broad body loomed over you. His height and stature made you scoff, but your breath hitched as a warm chuckle escaped Tarquin's lips. “Have I rendered you speechless already?”

Exhaling a long breath, you met his gaze before you spoke, “she told you that it would be easy to fall in love with you.”

“And you agree?” His fingers teased the ends of your hair, pulling at the strands only slightly enough to earn a gasp from you.

You didn't know if you wanted to respond. It would be so easy to give in, almost effortless, but that just meant it would be near impossible to pull yourself back.

Tarquin took your silence in and brought your focus back to him as his thumb and forefinger captured your chin. He kept you there, searching your eyes for what you truly wanted. “Y/N, answer me. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

Relief caused Tarquin's shoulders to sag, but he was still standing strong as he thought out his next move. Slowly slotting his lips against yours, Tarquin gave one final chance to back away, to stop yourself from regretting this— him. His lips were as warm as the heated air of his court, and you didn't mind getting burned by them as you deepened the kiss. You both continued your sensuous dance of lips and teeth, and it was clear who was leading and who was following.

Tarquin could kiss you however he wanted to if it meant he continued to hold you up by the strong hands that had sneaked around your waist after they abandoned their gentle hold at your face. You never wanted to drown in the sea, but there in that moment with him trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder, you wanted to drown in the ocean of power that lurked beneath the heated skin of the Summer High Lord. Tarquin had bewitched you with his kisses, surrendered you with his gentle nips, and commanded you with his soothing licks across the marks he made on your exposed skin.

His presence surrounded you, blocking out any thoughts you had about the pricelessness of the objects that were scattered around you and filling your head only with thoughts of him. “Pick anything here, and it's yours.”

Tarquin had only pulled away from your skin for a moment, long enough to say his peace before he continued his exploration across your upper body. It was maddening, and it took tremendous strength to form together a proper response that wasn't just moans and gasps from your enjoyment.

“Are you trying to buy my affections with jewelry?” Your voice was breathy as you scanned whatever part of the room you could from where you stood with your arms clinging to Tarquin's back and your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. “I have no need for more jewelry, but you might win the affections of my female friends with what you have hoarded here.” Always working, always scheming, Rhysand would be proud.

“Just the females? What would Rhysand fall for?” As your High Lord's name fell from Tarquin's lips, you gently pushed him away. Your lips were bruised and your body was buzzing with remnant electricity from your shared heated moment, but Rhysand's name and the change in topics tampered your needy mood.

“If you give in to Feyre's fancies, he'll be sure to follow.” Even a small distance between you had your thoughts becoming your own again. You no longer ached to be one with Tarquin, but a tether deep within you longed for something similar as it continued to grow taught. “The Cursebreaker has sway over him, but I'm sure you were already aware.”

“Fine,” Tarquin huffed, coming down from the desirous high that was building between you and playing the part of a High Lord once again. “I'll let you humor me. What should I gift Rhys' emissary?”

“This,” You drop the necklace of black diamonds that you had picked up again after being dropped onto the floor in the heat of the moment into his grasp, and cross your arms over your chest. You looked at his chin rather than his eyes as you continued, “she'll love it, and it might be enough to have her lobby for an alliance with you.”

“You wouldn't lobby one for me? Even after the intimate moment we've just shared?” Once more, Tarquin's free hand found your chin and pulled your focus to his own eyes. “That doesn't seem like the rumors I've heard about the Night Court. I thought seduction was how you lot found the higher ground to get what you want?”

“I don't mix business with pleasure, Tarquin. If one is what you want, then you'll forfeit the other.” You couldn't help but think that this is what Rhysand wanted from your presence on the trip. A distraction for the untested High Lord of the Sumer Court so his plot could unfurl without a hitch. It was never as simple as your old friend giving into your desire to visit a new court, and you were a fool to believe that for even a second. “Tarquin—”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I pick pleasure.” Tarquin would have begged if that would've been what you needed to desire him the way he desired you. He would've dropped to his knees, which was quite a feat for the strong High Lord he needed everyone to believe he was. “I want pleasure, if you want it as well.”

It killed you not to let Tarquin in on your thoughts about why this budding relationship played right into Rhysand's hands, but you couldn't be bothered to as Tarquin guided you into another kiss and pulled you to the ground right in the middle of the treasure trove.

“I do.”

Tarquin took his time undressing you, first following your body from head to toe with his eyes, and then using his hands to strip you bare at an agonizingly slow pace. With the careful touches and gentle glances he gave you as more fabric came off, it was hard not to let your sighs come across as impatient rather than blissful. You needed him, and it was getting harder to ignore the heat pooling deep in your belly or the way your lower body visibly reacted to Tarquin.

Where other lovers might have teased you for your eagerness to be pressed against the cool floor under the weight of another's body, Tarquin only smiled. He enjoyed watching you squirm for more, for him to stop wasting precious time and just fuck you already.

“Tar—” His name was lost on the tip of your tongue as a whine ripped from somewhere deep in your throat. The frustration you were feeling, and hoping to warn the High Lord about, was replaced by immediate pleasure when Tarquin pressed a hand between your thighs.

You struggled to buck your hips against his hand for more friction, but Tarquin was already pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you flushed with the ground. He was in control, and you couldn't even arch your back off the ground to slide your chest against his.

This was torture, you thought.

“I'm not going to rush this, my little pearl.” Nudging your legs apart, Tarquin settled himself lower on your body between your thighs. His hands remained where they were, one pressed against your belly and the other cupping your aching sex. The parts of his skin that you could see stretched over his muscle enticingly and you tried again to buck up against him.

“I'm the only one naked. It puts me at a disadvantage.” You spoke around another whine as Tarquin slowly dragged his tongue against the aching spot that you needed him the most. With his head dipped to hover just above your hips, you reached with your fingers just enough to thread them through the high lord's white hair. With the long tresses of his hair caught between your fingers, you pulled against his roots to get him to reach your stare.

Tarquin obeyed your summons, moaning deeply as his half-lidded eyes lazily met yours. His tongue was still resting against your body in a sinful way, but he paused his ministrations to give you the attention you had pointedly called for.

“Strip,” Your demand began as a whisper, the noise almost caught in your throat at the sight of him, but you persevered. “I want to see you like how you see me.”

“Say please, pearl.”

“Please.”

Even though you asked for it, even though it was what you wanted, you hated every moment that Tarquin was disconnected from your body as he leaned back into a kneeling position on the floor. With the room lit by warm faelight, Tarquin had a golden halo of light casted around his body's silhouette. The sight was godly, especially as he shrugged off his clothes and bared his naked body to you. Tarquin was beautiful, and you would've told it to him over and over if he didn't take your breath away by reaching one of his strong hands down his body to stroke himself several times before crawling back over you.

“Are we even now?” His voice was like a caress and you shivered beneath him. You still had no words, so you only nodded as your cheeks flamed beneath his gaze.

Rather than going back to your waiting sex, Tarquin settled for pressing his body flush with yours. His wicked mouth was curved in a smirk and he was no longer the same High Lord you met the other day. Gone was the look of unease that had tried to hide behind a mask of shaken confidence, replaced by utter cockiness.

“I can feel you practically dripping against me. Tell me what you want. Beg for it.”

With no unnecessary fabric separating your warm bodies, you intimately felt every inch of skin that pressed against you. Still though, it wasn't enough for you. You need friction, you needed movement.

And if Tarquin wasn't going to give it to you, then you would take it for yourself.

You weren't Azriel's spy for nothing, you had the necessary skillset that the job demanded from you. With a brief moment to rally your strength, you forced Tarquin to the ground as you followed his movements by rolling on top of him. The look of surprise that had his eyes widening and mouth slightly agape was quickly replaced by a look of failing restraint as your ass began grinding against his stiff erection beneath you.

“I'm not in the mood for games, either you fuck me or I'll go find someone that will.” It was an empty threat. You wouldn't go find someone else. If anything, you'd just retreat to your own temporary room and take care of the dull ache between your legs yourself, but Tarquin didn't need to know that.

“Oh, is that right? I better do something about that then.” Tarquin brought his ebony fingers to your pouting lips and coaxed you into taking two digits into the warmth of your mouth with teasing coos. “That's it…good pet.”

Once his fingers were sufficiently covered in your spit, he pulled them from your mouth and trailed them down your body until he got to your waiting entrance.

Tarquin worked one finger into you, making quick work of opening you up little by little before he added another. He needed you to be ready to take him, to handle that pleasurable stretch that would slingshot you to ecstasy. To silence the moans that were being dragged from your throat as he scissored his digits deep within you, you leaned down and lost yourself in a heated kiss with the High Lord. You'd barely even begun, and you were already beginning to come undone around his experienced fingers. “Tarquin, I'm ready…just hurry up already.”

A dark laugh struck you right in the core as he leaned back on his supporting arm to look you over as you sat above him, riding his hand, desperate for more.

“Just remember, pearl, you asked for this.” Tarquin guided you off of his fingers and lap just so he could reposition you on the floor. You felt the bite of the cool floor beneath your naked body as your lover laid you out on your elbows and knees.

Your knees were kept spread apart by his own positioned between you, and your upper body arched as you felt light kisses trail from your neck down to the lower dip of your back. The brief intimacy was the only gentleness you were allowed before Tarquin thrusted back into you, picking an unforgiving pace that had you reaching for anything to steady you on the ground but coming up empty.

A strong hand found purchase on your fleshy hip, digging into the soft, glistening skin as another pressed your back into a deeper arch that gave him a better angle to drive into you from behind. His deep groans and your gasping breaths were the only noises that filled the treasure trove, and the smell of your sins mixed together amongst the jewels and other riches.

The two of you created a symphony, an orchestra made from two people, an untested High Lord and a gullible spy. Every time Tarquin's body snapped against yours, a moan was drawn from your slack mouth, and every time you clenched around Tarquin's cock, a quiver passed over his tense body. It was a game of call and response, and every response increased in intensity and volume the closer you both got to finding a tandem release. The lewd echoing of skin against skin was drowned by the guttural noises being pulled from one another.

“Tarquin— I'm..ah fuck.. I'm so close.” You tried reaching beneath your body to reach the point between your thighs that ached almost painfully, but Tarquin beat you there. The hand that had stabilized his frantic movements as he was pounding away into you snaked around to your front where he knew he would be able to drive you over the edge almost immediately.

“Come with me. Say my name, let your dirty fucking mouth scream my name for everyone to hear.” Though he whispered his words quietly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, you heard every word. Tarquin's pacing seemed erratic now, no clear pattern being followed as he rutted against you.

You screamed out Tarquin's name as you splintered around his dick, his swift fingers relentlessly elongating the high that made you drunk on him. His release quickly followed your own, his hips slamming into you once more before stilling completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was hoarse and he collapsed against your back to recover from the intensity of the orgasm you coaxed out of him.

Even as he stayed seated within you, his hilt flush against your rear, evidence of both of your releases trailed down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. The two of you may have to take a few minutes to recover from that blinding high, but then you'd have to wear about cleaning the mess beneath you to erase any trace of your animalistic actions from the treasure trove.

And after that, you'd have to somehow face the members of both his inner court and your own, and deal with the consequences of your actions, whatever they may be.

[daycourtofficial]

Rhys ( ' ) ( ' )

Azriel (. )( .)

Helion \ . /\ . / and/or ( . )( . )

Tarquin ( * ) ( * )

Varian (.) (.)

(I had too much time to kill)

I like the first option for Helion tbh

Varian’s a proud member of the itty bitty titty committee 🫡

[shadowqueenjude]

Hi, this is a lot of the stuff I have (completely) written; probably not all of it and I don't feel like searching through to find all of it but I'm trying to be organized be proud of me everyone. I suck at naming shit so I'm just writing the main ship and a general description of what it's about (click on ship name and there's a link attached).

Star Wars:

Anidala —> I saw a post about how Padme was way too calm in ROTS on Mustafar considering how stressful her pregnancy was and the added stress of all the hiding and I thought hey Ima write the Mustafar scene but with Padme’s pregnancy hormones kicking in!

Leia and Anakin —> I just think Leia deserved closure with Anakin too…

Throne of Glass Elorcan --> Elide brings home a cat, oneshot Elorcan --> Elide gets reading lessons, oneshot Elorcan --> Elide learns to fight, oneshot Lorcan's Backstory (NO ROMANCE) --> his life before the TOG events The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes/The Hunger Games Snowbaird --> What if Lucy hadn't run away into the forest? Coriolanus Snow x OC --> OC goes back in time to try and prevent the second war by ending the hunger games decades earlier. Snowbaird --> Faerie AU, Lucy returns from the forest a decade after she ran away, one shot Coriolanus Snow --> Murderous Coriolanus, post-Tbosas, canon compliant (Part 1) (Part 2)

Love Mockingjay, Sincerely Jabberjay —> Lucy Gray has returned from the forest and she is dying. Given the mayor who still hunted her, she had no choice but to reach out to the very person who had tried to kill her: Coriolanus Snow. One shot

The Snow Family Curse —> There’s some things all Snows have in common, including a phenomenon destined to repeat itself in every generation: disastrous love. One shot.

The Folk of the Air:

Madoc x reader

Madoc x reader

A Court of Thorns and Roses Completed Fics: Tamsand --> What if Tamlin had shapeshifted to take Feyre's place in the bargain in ACOMAF? Neris, Elucien, Feyre x OC --> Has ships but is mainly just Nesta destroying the Inner Circle because I find this amusing Neris, Elucien --> Has ships but is mainly just Lucien wrecking havoc and destroying the Inner Circle because I find this amusing Tamlin/Tarquin, Elucien --> Has ships but is mainly just Tamlin destroying the Inner Circle because I find this amusing Tamlin's Life Story (some angsty Feylin, tragic doomed Tamcien) --> basically I wrote Tamlin into a Greek tragedy. Canon compliant...mostly. Lady of Spring (NO ROMANCE) --> What if Tamlin's mother had left her husband? Exploration of a rejected mating bond. Neris --> After her terrible experience with mating bonds, Nesta is determined to stop her sister's wedding to her mate, Lucien Vanserra. Unfortunately for her, Lucien's brother Eris is equally determined to ensure the wedding happens. Eltamcien --> Super angsty, horny, gorey shit. I will probably never write anything remotely like it again but it's good...if you can handle it. Feytamsand --> What if when Rhys sacrificed his life for the Cauldron, he lost his High Lord powers? (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) One-shot/two-shots:

Elucien --> Lucien meets Elain when she's still human Lucien x Nesta (NOT ROMANTIC), Neris --> Lucien befriends Nesta and introduces Emerie to his mechanic friend Nuan Lucien and Gwyn (NOT ROMANTIC) --> Just Lucien and Gwyn being chaotic and pranking the bats because that's what they deserve That Calanmai scene --> Lucien's POV of his trauma with Ianthe Uncle Eris and Auntie Gwyn (NOT ROMANTIC): Gwyn and Eris babysitting Nyx, two-shot (Part 1) (Part 2) Baby bro Lucien and Big bro Eris --> exactly what it sounds like Elucien --> Elain speaks to Lucien about his scars Elucien --> Elain and Lucien discuss Ianthe Elain and Nesta (sisterly bonding) --> Elain is finally fed up with the Inner Circle. Nessian --> Post Hybern's death, Nesta fulfills a vow she made long ago. Azris --> When Eris caught Azriel snooping (link) When Azriel choked Eris HL meeting (link)

Eltamcien? --> Tamlin gives Lucien what he wants, but that's not him...

Rhysta —> That scene where Feyre and the IC visit the Archeron house in ACOMAF but with a twist.

Eris Vanserra —> Eris makes a deal with Keir, ACOSF, Eris POV

Tamlin —> Tamlin dragging Beron’s ass to battle

Crescent City

Ruhnlidia --> pregnancy AU post-CC3

[florence-end]

Hi! About the fluff story maybe you could write a one where the reader faints because of heat and Helion takes care of her? Thank you!

Summer loving

Helion x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You decide to accompany your mate to the Summer Court to build diplomatic relations with their new high lord, but perhaps you should have stuck to your roots.

“Well those are all my favourite spots in the city, I hope you enjoyed the tour! I apologise for keeping you out in the sun all day but the rebuild has been such a chore and I’m so proud of the work my people have done that I simply have to show it off to all who visit,” gushed Tarquin as you reached the bottom of the stone steps that lead back up to his palace by the water.

“No apologies necessary my friend, we are no strangers to the sun back home in the Day Court,” responded Helion, idly stroking a hand along your back. You hoped your dress was flowy enough that your mate couldn’t feel quite how sweaty your skin was beneath your clothes.

You see, Helion was correct that members of the Day Court were very used to the shining sun and would have no issue with the blistering heat of Adriata.

You, however, grew up in the Winter Court, used to frost and snowball fights and ice skating on the frozen lakes. The climate surrounding your new home with Helion was tolerable as the spell cleaver kept a fresh breeze rustling around the grounds and you always made sure to avoid being outside during the middle of the day. The stifling humidity of the Summer Court was an entirely different beast.

“I will leave you here to return to your accommodations, I have a meeting with the fishermen down by the docks. Please make yourselves at home and I will see you for dinner this evening,” Tarquin bade his farewell and disappeared into the crowds of the city once more.

“Come darling, let’s go back up to the palace, you must be warm,” your mate said, moving towards the steps.

You were barely 20 steps into your ascent when your vision began to tunnel. You felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead and gasped for breath as you lost feeling in your arms and legs. Thank goodness for your mate’s quick reflexes as he immediately swooped to take your weight.

“Varian! Cresseida!” Helion yelled as he sprinted up the remaining stairs with you in his arms.

The Summer Court inner circle met you both at the top, looking increasingly concerned as they took in your sickly appearance.

“It’ll be the heat, quickly get her to your rooms where it’s cooler,” Varian declared.

Helion wasted no time winnowing you straight to the bedroom that had been allocated to you both for the duration of your stay. You began to come round almost immediately now that you were out of the direct sunlight.

“Are you feeling cooler my sweet? You gave me quite the scare,” Helion spoke quietly as he rested you on the bed.

“Much better now I’m inside, thank you. Although perhaps our next Court visit could be to somewhere a little less tropical,” you joked. “Could you run me a cool bath please my love?”

As you returned to your usual complexion, Helion relaxed back to usual self. “I think you mean could I run us a bath. And the answer to that is always yes,” he winked and disappeared into the bathing room.

Thank you for the request!

[whencyclopedia]

Lucius Tarquinius Superbus

Lucius Tarquinius Superbus ('Tarquin the Proud') was traditionally the seventh and last king of ancient Rome before it became a republic. He belonged to the Etruscan Tarquinii clan, reigned from 534 to 510 BCE, and was infamous for his tyrannical rule, although Rome did enlarge its territory in that time. Following his exile after the infamous rape of Lucretia by his son Sextus, he joined forces with the Etruscan king Lars Porsenna who besieged Rome c. 508 BCE. Porsenna did not restore Tarquinius to the throne, though, and the ex-king fled to Cumae where he died in 495 BCE.

Accession

As with much of Rome's early history, where legend replaces actual facts, the chronology and events of Lucius Tarquinius' life are often confused and irreconcilable. Some ancient sources have Lucius Tarquinius the son of Lucius Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth king of Rome (r. 616 - 579 BCE) who was originally from the Etruscan city of Tarquinia, some 90 km north of Rome. However, these dates do not match, and so they are either wrong or Lucius Tarquinius Superbus was the grandson of Priscus.

Lucius Tarquinius Superbus' wife was Tullia, the younger daughter of Servius Tullius, Rome's 6th king. Together they arranged, first to kill Tullia's husband, Arruns Tarquinius, and then murder the king, allowing Lucius Tarquinius to seize the throne. Shockingly, Tullia was said to have run over her father's corpse in her chariot splattering blood all over her clothes (even a woman riding a chariot was unthinkable to the Romans, nevermind the lack of family respect). Again according to the Roman historian Livy, the new king swiftly removed all dissenting senators and established himself as the dictator of Rome, modelling his reign on the Greek tyrants of that period. Such colourful descriptions by a Roman author writing five centuries after the events are likely tinged with a bias eager to display the difference between virtuous republic-loving Romans and dastardly foreign kings from immoral Etruria.

Continue reading...

[venus-celestial]

Pushing my Nesquin agenda with the prompt for day 3 of @nestaarcheronweek Self-care

So I hope you all enjoy it

Sweet Sea

Nesta's breath catches in her throat and she clutches harder to the male at her side and she stares with deadly fear she can't do this no way

"Your alright it's alright Nesta breath" Tarquin says one hand coming up to stroke the back of her head the other gently holding her arm

"You've been doing so wonderful and I'm so proud of you Little Pearl" He says gently still stroking her head "I'll be right here holding onto you as usual I promise" Nesta shakes her head a little frantic

"I can't i- I can't" She says her voice almost a whisper as she clings more tightly to him Tarquin wraps his arm around her back and gently pulls her into him

"Oh my darling brave girl I promise I won't let go" he starts"you are so strong and so brave I know you can do It I'll be right here and I won't let anything happen" he promises

Nesta looks out into the pool it would only up to half her chest and her feet would still touch the ground but gods was she terrified

"I won't let you go sweet girl" Tarquin said hands gripping her firmly as if to prove his words true "I swear it on my life I won't let anything bad happen to you" be promised

Nesta took a deep breath and held on tighter to him "Ok" She said voice soft with a hint of determination "Let's go" She looked at Tarquin and he nodded

Slowly they started making their into the water Nesta holding on to Tarquin the deeper they got as promised he didn't let her go

As they got deeper Nesta held unto Tarquin tighter to the point she had to wonder how she hadn't ripped his shirt at all

Once they made it to the deepest part of the pool Nesta had to remind herself to breathe the water was warm this wasn't the cauldron she was alive

Tarquin started pulling away slowly and Nesta panicked gripping his shirt tight and crying out in prue Alarm "No please" She cried

Tarquin Started stroking her hair again gently shushing her 'It's alright lovely it's alright I'm going anywhere" he said "I'm just putting a little space between us so you can look at me but I'm not letting go" He soothed

Nesta took a few deep breaths and took both her hands in his and gently backed away not to much but just enough that should could look up at him without hurting her neck

"Hi" She breathed softly Still taking deep breaths to clam herself he chuckled lightly "Hi Pretty" he said back gently letting go of one of her hands so he could stroke her head lovingly

Nesta Leaned into the soft touch enjoying the way his fingers played the honey- Brown locks They strayed like that for a few minutes before Nesta pulled herself into his chest

"I want out now please" She murmured Tarquin let out a soft laugh at the adorableness his lady displayed "Alright Lovely let's get you out" he said as gently hoisted her up into his arms and Bridal carrying her

Nesta buries her head into his neck and closes her eyes as he makes his way through the palace and towards their bedroom

it doesn't take him long to reach it using his magic he opens the door stepping inside and then closing it with his foot as he makes his way over to the bed

He sets her down gently before summoning an attendant and whispering something to them eyes still closed Nesta listens to the sounds being made around her

Nesta only opens her eyes again when she feels Tarquin pull her into lap and putting her head on chest when her eyes slowly open she takes in her surroundings

Their in the middle of their bed pillows and blankets surround them the balcony doors open letting in the nice summer air and their canop has been tied open

Nesta Has just finished looking around when Tarquin holds a spoon up to her lips

"Here" He says "Eat lovely" Nesta does without hesitation taking the spoon in her mouth

the coolness am flavor of chocolate and strawberries has her delighted immediately Tarquin chuckles and removes the spoon quickly replacing it with another spoonful of ice cream

He keeps feeding her until the bowl has been emptied and then proceeds to wrap his arms around her and lay them both down onto the bed

"I love you my lovely girl" He says pulling a blanket over the two of them "I'm so proud of you and how far you've gotten and I'm so lucky you're mine" He finishes beginning to stroke Nesta's hair

Nesta let's out a sigh of contentment as he gently messages her scalp She feels so loved and cherished and she knows as long as they both live he won't let her forget that feeling

That's all folks hope you liked it

God I need more content for Nesquin they are so cute and I just love them anyway as always please forgive any spelling mistakes

[catos-wound]

lucius tarquinus SUPERBASS (by nicki minaj). maybe if he shaked ass rome would have remained a kingdom. tarquin the PROUD ❤️