#acitg

[empressriye]

Chapter 1: Let The World Know

Of an overflowing chest of treasures with golden trinkets and coins mortals would tear at one another to obtain, the extended hand merely plucked out a singular band. A silver ring, engraved with an amethyst gemstone that glittered whenever a stream of light hit it’s epicenter. A simple novelty any of her status could’ve obtained at a flicker of their wrist and yet, here she was, out and about on the land of hubris-ridden mortals to obtain a trinket not worthy of even her glimpse.

“Do you intend to disclose to me why you’ve brought me along with you to visit a cave? And over some silly jewelry no less. I didn’t take you for the materialistic type Riri.”

“I’m not.”

“Not willing to justify our reason for being here or not temporal? Which is it?”

“Whichever you conclude,” The Empress hummed, tucking away the jewelry into her pocket and returning up the muddied stone stairway.

Vines coiled around the cobblestone walls, treading from the gaping circular entryway above down to the floor of the enclosed igloo of stone. Water trickled in from a coursing mother-river somewhere farther below ground with its only indication of presence: the echo of running water.

“Nevs will mutilate you for tarnishing the hem of that gown you know? Since it’s woven from silk and gold.”

“I’d almost forgotten.”

The General heaved a sigh, agitated with the childish conduct of her elder sibling whose persona was meant to be that of a regal lady. Even so, the sophomoric behavior was a breath of fresh air in comparison to the usual constraining atmosphere Riye carried.

“From speculation, you’re not the type to value anything material for the mere action of doing so. That must mean that that ring must have some sentimental value for you. It’s amethyst so perhaps an ancient gift-“

“Rei -please- not now.” Pleading whimper exuded from haughty lips brought forth upturned brows from following companion. To see once regal presence allow mundane sentiments to be brought forth gave her enough sense of conscience to understand the subject was not one that needed further prying despite conjuring curiosity. Assumptions as to the trinkets maker however, continued to cross her train of thought: perhaps her late spouse, maybe her lost love, or simply a gift from some mortal suitor. Whichever the case, the jewel was a treasure the Empress would jeopardize her reputation for.

“Nevs wished for me to ask if it would be alright for her to host a luncheon for Zion’s birthday. The boy wanted to see how his ‘Lady Aunt’ was fairing.” Swift to alter the topic in attempt to continue the bit of time they’d have to speak, Rei proceeded to announce the doings of their family. Her continuous visits to the mortal realm didn’t allow much time to spend with her elder sibling who remained confined to her workroom despite incessant nagging.

“Of course she can. It would be nice to see how Zion and Adelaide are doing considering their magic must’ve finally appeared. Nevs was fretful they would be mortals due to their birth there. I’m glad she no longer needs to worry so much.” Tender sweet care only extended to those who her protection had brought; a calm kindness she’d endow to all those who regarded her with love.

Reaching the heart of the oasis, hanging palm trees overhead providing shade whilst rumbling cicadas sang choruses about blistering heat, one could never tell why such a high-standing woman would trudge down for a trinket. Stray rays of sunlight peeked through cracks in the palms craving blessed skin, wishing to allow its golden lure to shimmer amidst plain world. Finding the forgotten antiquated sigil carved upon a stone doorway, miniature chips and cracks over the material from long disuse, dainty tan digits brushed the imprint of the first rune. Magic seeped into the carvings, light protruding from the sigil in moments; a click sounding to signal the door was open.

“When we return to the palace, do me a favor and be polite.” Stricken with confusion, Rei spun to barrage her sister with questions but received a face full of clamoring guards instead. Questions were spewed like blasting canons, hardly leaving an impact for all the sound meshed into one another to create a horrendous choir.

“Please settle down! One at a time!” The General ordered, the walls rumbling in response. Silence soon followed and one by one, the fiddling guards regaled their General with the knowledge that a procession was on its way to the palace doors. From what had been observed it appeared to be quite a festive group with several performers dazzling the crowds, only a single soldier following.

“I see. Return to your posts. I'll inform the Empress we have guests.” Odd acts meant to create endearing sentiments often went dismissed for her sister was known as the Empress of Stone, whose heart never seemed to be pierced by wayward admirers. Thus, the General strolled back to the stuffy pistachio painted workplace of her sibling where mountains of paper and books dominated the scene.

“Hey, someone sent a fancy shmancy parade to appease you. I’ll alert Gabriel to send them-”

“Let them in. I wish to greet them personally.” Tilting her head and narrowing her gaze upon unfazed sibling, the General could hardly conjure up syllables that would explain her sudden bewilderment at such a reply. This wasn’t ordinary. It would have been considered miracle enough if the Empress had simply contemplated their entrance, but for her approval: something was off.

“Whose representatives are they? What use will you get from hearing what they have to say? Just who-”

“I cannot answer all your questions at this moment but what I can say is that they are here to deliver an invitation with their most ‘attentive’ efforts. From what shadows have told me, their king wishes me to attend this gala of his to speak on a special offer he wishes to present.”

“Offer?” Rei pressed.

“Nothing is certain though, I already have the topic in mind. Even so, it’s nothing you need concern yourself with my dear nita.” Waving her hand in the air, dismissal certain, the General retreated with a bow to her superior. A storm was brewing and the deity of chaos felt it fester in the air. Blood would be spilt soon and the mere thought of it riled her senses. But she'd sworn to leave those things be. An oath made long ago to cease needless destruction kept her bonded to sanity she’d easily cast away for a taste of forbidden fruit.

“Another dismissal I presume?” Gabriel came sighing.

“No. Allow them passage. The Empress will greet them in the Throne Room as the guests they are. However, station the first squadron overhead and the second around the doorways. Inform them to remain out of sight. If I spot one, they’ll be dealt swift punishment for disobedience.” Command given, adjacent baffled sibling nodded, and set off to welcome unforeseen visitors. Abandoned in her silence, fiery goddess sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, brewed unease fluttering away like butterflies off her skin.

Thundering horn signaled the entrance of blessed vessel to the throne room, appointed second hurrying over on obsidian coated wings, landing behind her superior. Regal statue leisurely sat upon glorified seat, raising two fingers to then tilt down; a signal to open the doors. A rambunctious crowd trailed in, several performers beginning their acts so that frigid exterior would feign a smile. Men and women pranced around the painted circle on the floor, flashing smiles and raising hope they’d accomplish their paid mission.

But carved stone could not be altered, piercing silver glare landing upon the final enterer to her domain, a small man whose demeanor appeared haughty even in the presence of a Goddess. Truly, this was Senju’s subject: egotistical to a default.

“State your business with the Empress of the Heavens,” Designated monster sneered from appointed station behind frigid enchantress.

“At ease Lady Rei. We must greet our guests with respect for they have traveled far to see us. Be at ease honored guests, please, tell me the purpose of your visit.” Opposing characters fit their roles well to present long told stories of the imperial family: ruthless avenger Rei, and merciful ruler Riye.

“We’ve come to present an invitation from his Highness of ƧЦП DIΛᄂ to her Majesty. He wishes for Her Majesty’s attendance at the upcoming gala where her honor shall be celebrated.”

The Empress of Stone wished to burst out into fits of giggles like a plebeian at the deception intended to lure her. Senju, whose hubris ridden soul allowed not a single person respect, would never honor another god in his own lands. The mere thought was laughable.

“Tell your King that he may expect my presence at his Gala but to cease any attempts of flattery. I’d rather greet him as the sibling I’ve always regarded him as, not another colleague.” With request stated, the Empress offered the traveling troupe a night’s stay, having maids lead them the way to the guest rooms.

Once prying eyes had been cut off by closing doors, the goddess sunk in her seat, sighing heavily with a hand to her temple. Shadows had sent whispers to which she’d already prepared fitting punishment yet, her heart couldn’t stand the thought. This boy she’d seen grow from a sprout had become a weed in his own garden and now dared to expand his roots.

“So you didn’t even consider discussing with your council beforehand? You’re simply going to do as you fucking please without a single regard for your safety?” Rei barked, palms curled into fists and quivering at her sides. Habitual fury from known spitfire had been an anticipated rejection.

“I’ve already taken precautionary measures and no matter what trials I cannot die. My body is indestructible even if I were to be blasted by all the stars in the sky. Believe me, I’ve done all I can nita, but for this to work: I need your faith in me.” Weary mass stood from her seat to stand before her dear sister, resting a palm on her cheek and shoulder. Blazing purple irises stared directly into twinkling murky skies that often seemed like they’d spill rain at a seconds notice and yet remained clear. Rei despised this about her sister; the ability to conceal all her falsehoods with a confidant gaze.

“I’ll trust you IF you reveal your plan to me. Knowing you, you’ve already concocted every step that follows this so tell me. Just what are you intending to do?” Truth had never been given by scheming tongue who’s plans were worth much more than gold. To ask for truth was as if asking her sibling to catch her a falling star.

“Alright then. If you must know, I don’t intend much. I wish to see the true state of his kingdom and decide if he merely deserves a tongue lashing or a physical punishment. His kingdom is a sight to behold from what I’ve seen through the Eye but…,” Riye paused, nipping the inner of her own cheek before continuing, “something feels amiss and I wish to see it with my own eyes.” Merciful, mortal soul encased within immortal carcass held the ability to wish no ill towards another, not even when they were in the wrong. Meaningless hope maintained belief that this brute she’d once seen as a boy had not become demanding Zeus.

“If that is what you command sire, I shall heed your orders,” Diligent decree began only to halt and return to crude tongue, “But who will accompany you?”

“You as my right hand and Nev-“

“What, why!? Not even you can conclude what that monster will do! If he were to take Nevs-“

“I would never allow it to come to that. If Senju so much as lays a hand on a strand of her hair I’ll have magma swallow his palace whole only to then suffocate his soul within a cauldron of mortal misery far worse than the ones we lived.” Vitriolic solemness sung from tongue fed only honey, a truth to her threat that often never came. For an Empress whose goal remained peace, she was never one to shy away from the atrocities of war or whatever punishment came with what she desired. All that mattered was the goal; not the means.

“But what if he proves harsher to deal with?” Apprehensive bloom flowered in the depths of the General's bosom, not a lack of faith but an anxiousness that rationality may not be the only driving force in her sister’s cause.

Riye grinned, ducking her head that tittered from laughter. Truly such an amusing statement to utmost divinity. Senju was a deity of innumerable strength - that she would admit - but he did not have the power to defeat her. No, Senju lacked a crucial piece to his divinity much like all those he claimed below him.

“An amusing notion really but, he never will. I long ago proved my ability to all and that was not simply for show. I am the utmost divinity and that will remain for quite a while,” she ceased to speak, gazing back to the golden carvings surrounding her throne, “Hopefully, I shan’t have to teach Senju that lesson myself.”

[wheresmytardis]

ACITG Chapter 13

Come hang out with us on the TMS Stellison Discord!

It wasn’t until she turned around, however, that Cory also noticed the tattoo on her left hip-a bright blue star, surrounded by several tiny black ones. Somehow, despite the fact that they had rolled around all over her bed the other night and his mouth had been everywhere (well, almost everywhere-they hadn’t made it that far before passing out, and that was certainly not something that Cory would forget, ever) he had somehow missed that little detail.

“Ready,” she told him, reaching down tucking her phone into her bag.

“I like your tattoo,” he said, still staring at it.

Stella looked down at her leg. “Thanks,” she said. “I got it years ago. At the time I thought it would be cool to get a star tattoo because, you know, Stella.”

Cory Ellison had never been one to believe in coincidences, luck, or just plain chance. His brain liked numbers and statistics, and every move that he made in his life-with the exception of a few-were carefully calculated, intended to give him the best possible outcome. But the fact that he had just had a conversation with Catgirl about her star tattoo, however-a tattoo which happened to be in the same location-absolutely had to be nothing less than a coincidence. There were billions of people in the world, and the idea that his best online friend might be Stella Bak, of all people, was absolutely laughable. It was completely, absolutely, nothing more than a coincidence.

[feyrhycien]

A Change in the Game - Part 33

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As it turned out, Feyre’s nausea and vomiting were caused by a stomach ulcer, which again had been caused by an overuse of ibuprofen. The continuous stress and tension of the last weeks had resulted in almost constant headaches, which Feyre had tried to chase away with a pill or two each day, not considering the number of drugs she was swallowing. And the delay in her period? Well, her go-to excuse of blaming it on the stress had actually been point on−she was late due stress.

Rhys’ very calm and patient doctor had assured her, that her ulcer was a mild case that could easily be treated with the right medication and some bed rest, and had then released Feyre into the care of a brooding Lucien and a very freaked-out Rhys, who bundled her up and hauled ass back to their place, where they kept their girlfriend confined to the couch in the living room.

Feyre was under strict orders not to move even her little finger. She had rolled her eyes so hard her head hurt and asked, if she was at least allowed to use the bathroom of her own, which had earned her a nasty glare from both men and Rhys informing her, that he had no qualms about forcing her to use a bedpan.

Forced to remain still, Feyre was gimlet-eyed with envy, as her boyfriends carefully sipped whiskey out of fancy crystal tumblers while watching her like hawks.

“Can I just have a little si−”

“Don’t you even dare finishing that sentence!” Lucien growled.

“The doctor was very clear about what you can and cannot have,” Rhys drawled, taking another sip. “And I can’t have you being sick, darling, so no whiskey for you!”

Feyre scowled, but Rhys and Lucien didn’t waver. Sighing, she gave up and allowed herself to relax.

“I guess I’m not allowed to work either.”

“Damn right you aren’t!” both Lucien and Rhys exclaimed at the same time. They exchanged a surprised look and then grinned, bumping their fists.

Annoyed, Feyre rolled her eyes. “Chill daddies, I’ll stay put!”

The way her boyfriends froze made her realize what she’d said. Regretting her thoughtlessness, Feyre bit down on her lip. She had gotten out of answering their question about future children by being violently sick, but she couldn’t not give them an answer.

Lucien gave her a stiff smile and downed the rest of his drink, looking clearly rattled. Rhys however, studied her closely. He had always been able to read her better than Lucien, so he knew something was coming. But instead of pestering her, he waited patiently for her to come forward. So Feyre sucked in a breath, steeling herself.

“About what you said earlier about having kids,” Feyre began hesitantly. “Right now, I can’t see myself as a mother. I mean, we haven’t been dating that long. And there is so much happening already… If we were to have a child, I’m pretty sure, I’d die of stress or exhaustion or something like that.”

Lucien and Rhys nodded, but they couldn’t hide the slight disappointment that crept into their features.

“Right,” Rhys amended, “Not to mention, with all the media attention still on us, the gossip papers would go batshit crazy, if they spotted Feyre with a baby bump.”

“But maybe,” Feyre proposed tentatively and both men perked up, “we could try for kids in a few years?”

A choked sob escaped Lucien and he stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

Feyre felt her lips stretch into a wide smile as she nodded and looked to Rhys, finding him mirroring her smile. The radiant joy she saw in his eyes made her heart flutter and strengthened her decision. “Yes, I am sure.”

Lucien stood and came over, flopping down on the couch next to her. Cupping her face between his hands, he forced her to look at him.

“Feyre, are you for real? You’re willing to have babies with me? With us?”

“Eventually? Yes!”

“Like, really? Babies? Ours?”

Feyre laughed, unable to hold back her joy. “Yes, Lucien. I’m very willing to have babies with you and Rhys. But not right now. In a few years,” she reminded him, raising her pointer finger to drive home her point.

“Now, later, what does it matter. We’re making babies.” Lucien swallowed her happy grin with a hungry kiss before he jumped up and began pacing, suddenly filled with an excitement he couldn’t contain.

“We’re going to start a family!” he hollered like a maniac.

“In a few years, fox!”

“A huge family!” Lucien continued, completely dismissing Feyre’s objection. “A whole dynasty!”

“Geez, I already regret agreeing to it!”

Undeterred, Lucien stormed out of the room, only to turn back in the hallway and come back immediately.

“We need a bigger place to live! There is not enough room for all the kids I want,” he declared. “I mean, the guest room can function as a nursery the first two can share, but after that, we need more space.”

“The first two? Cauldron, would you please relax, Luce?” Feyre sighed. “I think 8 pregnancy tests have made it clear that I’m not pregnant yet!”

The couch next to her dipped under Rhys’ weight as he sat down next to her and drew her in his arms, dropping a soft kiss to her head. “Let him be excited, darling. You just made his dream come true!”

Feyre shook her head with a soft laugh and then pulled Rhys’ head down to her, fusing their mouths in a passionate kiss.

“And yours? Did I make your dream come true too?” Feyre asked breathily when she pulled away.

Rhys bend forward to steal another quick kiss. “Children or not, my dream already came true the moment you and Lucien decided to be mine.”

Feyre’s chest constricted and for the tiniest moment, her heart stopped beating, only to resume it’s beat harder and faster than before.

“You’re such a smooth talker,” she mumbled, blushing heavily.

“So they say,” Rhys replied with a smirk. “Which is actually convenient, because I’m planning to smooth-talk you into finally moving in with us.”

“Do you now?”

“I do. Think about it. All the money you’ll save by not having to pay rent. Not to mention, that you’ve been practically living here anyways, when you’re not actively avoiding us.” Rhys whispered a tender kiss over Feyre’s cheekbone. “This apartment here comes fully furnished, including two very handsome and sexy boyfriends / housekeepers / sex slaves. All for the price of your love and nothing else.”

Feyre giggled and turned her head, brushing her lips with Rhys’. “I’m not a fan of slavery, but housekeepers? Does that include laundry service?”

“Laundry service, cooking, orgasms on demand−whatever you need from us, darling,” Rhys purred and deepened the kiss, until Feyre was left breathless.

“Well then, I guess I better move in!”

A heavy weight suddenly settled on Feyre’s back when Lucien joined them on the couch, effectively sandwiching her between her two men.

“I love you!” Lucien announced, alternating between pressing sweet kisses onto Rhys’ and Feyre’s faces and heads. “I love you so fucking much!”

Laughing happily, Feyre leaned back until her head rested on Lucien’s shoulder while he attacked Rhys’ lips with one of his biting, ferocious kisses.

“As much as I hate to admit it, and despite you still being an incredible pain-in-my-ass, Vanserra, I love you too! You and that unfairly dashing specimen we call our boyfriend!”

They gave her no warning before they attacked her too and kisses rained down on her face, courtesy of two smiling mouths. They giggled and blubbered through their kisses, until all three of them were breathless and exhausted and their bodies lay entangled like one giant pretzel on the couch. Calming her breath, Feyre listened to whoever’s heart was currently beating in the ribcage under her cheek, while nimble fingers stroked through her hair. She could’ve checked, but Feyre was too tired and relaxed to care and her eyes were closed.

“Hey Feyre,” Lucien suddenly asked.

The voice had come from behind her, while the chest beneath her still fell and rose steadily, so it was Rhys she was currently using as a pillow.

“Hm?”

She felt Lucien shift behind her and soft lips pressed against her neck. And then, a sharp, well known canine bit into her skin. Feyre protested with a grumble and Lucien’s laugh washed over the column of her neck.

“When you say a few years, how many years exactly are we talking about?”

~~~

“I hate you. I HATE YOU! BOTH OF YOU!” Feyre cried, closing her eyes and grinding her teeth to fight through the pain that seized her body.

Her jaw hurt from how hard she had been clenching her teeth together to endure the torture her body was currently subjected to.

“Easy now, love. You almost have it!” Lucien said, trying to calm her. Feyre threw him a nasty glare that had him blanch. “Please don’t cry,” he pleaded desperately, when a tear stole from her eye and slid down her cheek.

“It’s your fucking fault I’m hurting,” she spat out before another wave of pain rendered her unable to speak.

She tightened her grip on Rhys’ hand, squeezing his fingers with bone-crushing force. Feyre was sure, she was hurting him, but he endured her vice-like grip on his hand in silence like he had for the last couple of hours.

“Breath, darling. Deep steady breaths. Just a couple of seconds more, and it’s over.” Rhys purred into her ear, wiping some sweat from her forehead with a tissue.

Throwing her head back on the headrest behind her, Feyre closed her eyes and tried to do as Rhys had instructed, but the pain was too much. She was about to faint.

“I don’t know why I ever agreed to this,” Feyre bit out between clenched teeth. “If I’d known how much it hurts…”

“Feyre, love, you can’t quit now! Only one more minute and you’ve done it!”

“You’re almost there, darling!”

“Push through the pain, love. Push!”

“By the Wyrd, is someone giving birth in here?”

The whirring that had been driving Feyre nuts stopped and a dark, rumbling laugh cut through her boyfriends encouraging cries when the white-haired man with the wicked tattoo on one side of his face, who had been silently working on Feyre’s hand, straightened and turned towards a tall, blond woman who had come up to their tattoo station.

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it,” he said and pecked a kiss to the woman’s lips after she bent down and presented her face. Rowan. His name was Rowan, Feyre remembered. The pain of getting a tattoo had fogged her mind to the point that she had forgotten.

“My wife Aelin,” Rowan introduced and then returned his attention to Feyre’s ring finger. “I just need a few more seconds to finish these lines and then we’re done Feyre. Is that cool with you?”

No, was her immediate reaction, but looking down on the work Rowan had done so far, she could see, he was telling the truth. It would take only a few more lines, and Feyre’s left ring finger would be adorned with the same design that Rhys and Lucien wore proudly on theirs.

“I’m good. Keep going,” Feyre nodded and sucked in a deep breath in preparation of the pain that she knew was about to come.

She didn’t remember whose stupid idea it had been, but after getting drunk off their ass on their one-year anniversary as a couple, they had decided to get matching ring tattoos.

Since they couldn’t marry legally, and Feyre also didn’t care as much about getting married in the first place, she had shot down the idea of getting matching wedding bands when Rhys had proposed it. She didn’t want the two of them to be constantly being mistaken as her husbands, only to explain to people how things really were.

Lucien and Rhys, they were hers. Not her husbands, or boyfriends, or lovers−just hers. Her men.

But as much as Feyre rejected the thought of rings, the idea of having a symbol of some sort visibly linking the three of them to each other had appealed to her. So one of her idiots had come up with the idea of tattooing their ring fingers instead. And because she was an even bigger idiot than them, she had said yes.

“Okay, we are done!” Rowan announced after a few seconds and Feyre almost cried with relief.

Rowan’s wife came around the table and curiously watched as Rowan cleaned off the excess ink and wrapped the tattoo. “Ohhh, that’s such a cool design,” Aelin cooed, snatching up Feyre’s hand to inspect the work before Rowan wrapped her finger in clear wrap for protection.

“Isn’t it?” Rhys asked proudly and dropped a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“Feyre came up with it for us,” Lucien explained to Aelin, holding up his own hand, so Aelin could see his wrapped finger.

Aelin’s gaze bounced to Rhys’, noticing that his hand was wrapped too. Nervous anticipation stabbed Feyre in the gut as she waited for Aelin’s reaction. Even after more a year and what seemed like the whole nation publicly discussing their relationship, Feyre couldn’t help but be slightly anxious about how people reacted to them as a couple. It would probably take her a while longer until she’d reach a point, where she’d not give a shit what people thought about her and her men. Right now, she wasn’t there yet, but she hoped, at one point she would.

But when her eyes connected with Aelin’s, the other woman gave her a huge smile. “That’s awesome! Are those your partners’ initials?”

She pointed to the sides of Feyre’s finger, where the ring design was interrupted on each side by a small, ornate letter−R for Rhys and L for Lucien.

“Ah, no, those are for when I get sloppy drunk and can’t tell right from left,” Feyre replied with a straight face.

Rhys protested loudly, while Lucien flashed Feyre one of his trademark sharp smiles. Aelin burst out laughing and even Rowan chuckled quietly.

“No honestly, these are great,” Aelin said, still laughing, but she went back to study Feyre’s finger. “Ro, why did we think about getting ring tattoos?”

Smiling, Feyre bend forward to look at the finished work herself. Two interconnected infinity loops expanded over the back of her knuckle. Contrary to a traditional infinity loop, the loops were uneven: the loop facing outside was bigger than the loop on the inside. Both infinity symbols mirrored each other, making them look like a double infinity loop. One for each of her partners. Where the loops intersected in the middle, the design created a tiny square, that was mirrored by an additional, larger square, cutting through the loops. And either side of the design was framed by an initial, so it was clear to everybody who cared, that Feyre did not have one, but two people to share her life with.

Looking at the finished work now, the pain she had had to endure was immediately forgotten. When she raised her head, she found Rhys looking at her with utter devotion.

“What do you say, darling, was it worth the pain?”

The question sounded innocent, but something in his voice and his eyes told Feyre, Rhys wasn’t only asking about the tattoo.

Feyre thought back to how she and Lucien met. The months of teasing and bullying each other, the taunts and snide and sometimes cruel remarks they subjected each other to, because they couldn’t admit to liking each other. The moment all the tension, attraction and pent-up frustration had finally boiled over and they had gone at each other in the conference room. Finding out, that Lucien had kept from her he was in a relationship with Rhys. The anguish and betrayal she had felt. How she had been torn between the two of them, unsure of her own feelings, of what was right and wrong. The anxiousness that came with being with the both of them at the same time. The longing and pining. The fear of her sisters’ judgement. The fear of her friends’ and colleagues’ judgement. And the moment, when her relationship had been dragged into the public eye, her life presented for all the world to see.

Had it been worth enduring all of that, just so she could be with Lucien and Rhys?

“Every damn second of it,” Feyre replied in earnest, putting all her love and adoration into her reply.

She was rewarded with a blinding, unrestrained smile and an ardent kiss. And then they both turned and smiled at Lucien, who hugged them both and accepted their kisses with a rare, soft smile.

“So,” Lucien said, clearing his throat. “Now that we got the tattoos out of the way−can we finally begin to make some babies?”

A change in the game: request to add players!

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[feyrhycien]

A Change in the Game - Part 23

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 “Fuck!”

Feyre tripped over a pair of heels that had been half hidden beneath her couch and almost face-planted into her hardwood floor. She barely managed to catch herself with one arm. Rubbing her stinging palm on her leg, she sat down on her couch to calm down.

She was nervous as hell, because her sisters were coming over to her place tonight, and her apartment was⸺in lack of a better word⸺a pigsty.

Since she basically slept over at the guys’ place almost every night of the week now, she rarely spent more time in her own apartment than was necessary to grab a change of clothes or something else she needed. Consequently, her apartment looked like a clothes bomb had exploded all over the place. Laundry was strewn all over the place, letters, magazines and documents stacked high on whatever surface available.

Most nights, Feyre simply came home, dropped whatever laundry she had been carrying around in her giant shopper bag for days, and exchanged it for fresh clothes, given she had done laundry and there was actually clean clothing available. More often than not, there wasn't, so she had gotten into the habit of simply buying new clothes. The pile of discarded shopping bags and tags was currently leading the race for the biggest dump pile, with Feyre's underwear hot on its heels.

She really needed to clean up. And preferably not when her sisters had announced their immediate arrival.

Feyre hadn't been able to reach Nesta by phone this morning. When Nesta had called her back during the day, Feyre hadn't been able to pick up the phone. They kept trying to reach each other back and forth, missing the other every time. At some point, Nesta had simply declared she'd drop by Feyre's place tonight, bringing Elain with her. And now Feyre was frantically trying to make her place at least a bit more presentable by grabbing everything within her reach and dumping it into her bedroom.

Exhaling with a sigh, Feyre tried to relax. Her stomach was in knots and her hands were shaking, that’s how nervous she was about her sisters coming over. The whole day, she had been pondering over how to break to her sister that she had not one, but two boyfriends, who also happened to be a couple.

Whenever she had been going over the conversation in her head, it had sounded utterly ridiculous. It also always ended in Feyre imagining Nesta wordlessly leaving her apartment and Feyre reading about the assassination of successful business owner Rhysand Nash and his boyfriend in the news tomorrow.

Her sister was a stellar lawyer, if someone would get away with double-homicide, it was her.

Resigned, Feyre rose from her couch and resumed cleaning. There was no way, she could prepare for this, so she’d simply wing it, she decided. She was just throwing the last pair of heels into her bedroom and shutting the door, when the doorbell rang. With a last steadying breath and her shoulders straightened, Feyre marched into battle.

~~~

“Hm. Maybe Chinese? What do you think, Nesta?” Elain shuffled through the stack of takeaway menus, deep in thought. Meanwhile, Nesta kept her gaze into where it had been the last 20 minutes: firmly fixed on Feyre, a predator observing its prey. Feyre swallowed.

Ever since her sisters had arrived, Nesta had been silent, waiting for Feyre's explanation. So far, she had been able to avoid the elephant in the room by engaging in some small talk with Elain and raising the question of dinner, but Nesta’s relentless glare told her, her eldest sister was running out of patience.

Sighing, Feyre put down her wine glass and plucked the pamphlets from Elain's fingers. “Let me just order pizza for us. And while we wait, we can maybe start talking?”

“Okay. Mushroom for me!” Elain said, a big fake smile firmly plastered to her lips.

People often thought Elain simple, because she was easy to be around and smiled a lot, but her sister was frighteningly smart. Maybe even more that Nesta and herself, because contrary to them, Elain knew how to hide her feelings behind a bright, happy facade.

“Nesta, what pizza do you want?”

Nesta merely continued staring at her, a little crease appearing between her brows.

“Okay, Diablo for you!” Feyre decided. After all, her sister could sometimes be the devil incarnate.

Feyre excused herself for a second, ordering their dinner from her favorite pizza place and then braced herself for the long overdue sister talk. Running her hands over her face and hair, Feyre took a couple of breaths and returned to the living room, to find her sisters talking softly between them. When they saw her approaching, they fell immediately silent.

“Okay, let's do this,” Feyre began.

Nesta pounced immediately.

“You introduced the guy I saw you with yesterday as Rhysand.”

There was a slight accusatory lilt to her voice. Feyre felt guilty by default. That’s the effect her sister had on her.

“Yes. That's his name. Rhysand Nash,” Feyre confirmed.

“But Cassian told me, he saw you with a redhead named Lucien two weeks ago. Your former colleague. Cassian claims you’re dating.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Nesta’s steel gaze was getting uncomfortable. Meeting her eyes felt like being pierced. Not for the first time Feyre wondered, if Cassian has a masochistic streak. And then she remembered her eyes were the same color and shape and her boyfriends claimed they got turned by her glaring at them, so she guessed, they were masochists too? Or it was just a guy thing to go for women, whose stares could kill?

“Cassian says, you're dating that Lucien. That same Lucien, you claimed to hate just a few months back. But then I see you with another man and you tell me your dating him. Whom are you dating, Feyre. Or are you two-timing? Do they know each other?”

Feyre took another deep breath. This was it. All or nothing. “Both. I'm dating both. But I'm not two-timing.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand,” Elain interjected. “If you're dating them both, how are you not two-timing. And who is this Rhysand? Where did you meet?”

Feyre nervously wetted her lips with her tongue, preparing herself for the hell that was about to break loose.

“Rhysand is Lucien's boyfriend. And also my boyfriend. We three are in a polyamorous relationship.”

Feyre's sisters just stared at her mutely, Elain's jaw practically on the floor. Feyre gave them a faint smile.

“Maybe, I should start from the beginning?”

 ~~~

“So Lucien is the guy who left you those jealousy flowers?” Elain asked. Her lovely, round face was radiating excited curiosity.

Feyre was completely caught off-guard by her middle-sister’s reaction. Elain was more eager to learn about the dynamic of a polyamorous relationship and her boyfriends than to be appropriately shocked about the fact that Feyre was in a polyamorous relationship to begin with.

“Yeah. He didn't like me and Rhys going on that date we had.”

Feyre's eyes flitted nervously over to Nesta, but her other sister was alarmingly quiet. Feyre was dreading the moment, she'd erupt. It was bound to happen any second now, she was sure of it. As open-minded Elain seemed to be about the whole affair, Feyre was ready to sell her firstborn over Nesta flipping her shit very soon.

She had told her sisters everything, starting from the months of open flirt-fighting with Lucien, how she met Rhys after finally sleeping with Lucien, their dodgy little mess that came after and that had just only been resolved yesterday.

“And you guys really did it in a conference room at work?” Elain pressed on.

“Elain!” Nests sharply interrupted.

Elain turned to her with a pout. “What? Don't tell me, you and Cassian never got it on on your desk.”

“That's beside the point!” Nesta's voice was sharp as a knife. And then she turned to Feyre. “You told me yesterday, this Rhysand isn't your boyfriend.” Apparently, they were back to accusations.

“I told you, it was a misunderstanding. I thought, I wasn't their girlfriend. Rhys and I fought afterwards because of that. He was really pissed at me.”

From the way the corners of Nesta's mouth twitched and the depth of the crease between her brows, her sister was really pissed too. Feyre’s stomach twisted nervously.

“Look, I didn't mean to keep this from you two,” she intercepted any outburst from Nesta, holding up her hands placatingly. ”I didn't tell you two about this, because I was still figuring things out myself. I didn't know what to call this relationship and whether or not it was serious or just a fling.” Feyre avoided looking at them and shrugged helplessly, wringing her hands in her lap. “I was afraid to run around, telling everyone I was in a relationship and then it turned out, it was just a passing infatuation on their part,” she admitted in a small voice.

“So this is serious then?” Nesta’s voice was eerily calm. Feyre nodded in confirmation.

“Do you love them?” Elain asked not unkindly.

Feyre met her gaze. “Yes. Very much.” Turning to Nesta she added, “And they told me, they love me too. They thought of me as their girlfriend from the beginning.”

Elain scooted closer to Feyre and pulled her into an embrace. “I don’t really understand how you can love two people equally at the same time and be in a relationship with them. I’d be so jealous all the time! But I guess as long as you’re happy, that’s fine.”

Feyre let out a relieved laugh that quickly turned into a sob, and before she knew it, she was bawling. Startled, Elain held her closer. “Feyre? What’s wrong?” she asked timidly.

“S-sorry,” Feyre stuttered through tears, wiping away at them. But more followed. Burrowing her face in her hands, she let them fall. Trying to hold them back was futile anyways. “I’m sorry! I meant to tell you! I j-just… I was so afraid of what you’d say!”

“Shhhh!” Elain made, stroking over her hair. She threw a helpless look at Nesta, who stiffly got up from the armchair she had been holding court in and joined them on the couch, awkwardly patting at Feyre’s back. It only caused Feyre to cry harder.

“We love you!” Elain said helplessly. “We don’t love you any less for who you date! Or how many!”

Feyre sniffled and looked to Nesta for confirmation of Elain’s words, but her eldest sister’s face was guarded and unexpressive as usual. Almost absentmindedly, she reached out and brushed away Feyre’s tears.

“Are they treating you right?” she asked.

“They are spoiling me rotten,” Feyre said, smiling through her tears.

Nesta’s nose crinkled in faint disdain and she produced a little snort. “Why are you crying then?”

Strangely, this calmed Feyre down more than Elain’s reassurances had. “Because I’m afraid you’ll march over to their flat and kill them outright.”

Nesta snorted again, this time slightly amused. “Might still happen!”

Feyre and Elain laughed and Feyre snuggled closer in Elain’s arms. “So, you are okay with me having two boyfriends?”

Nesta raised her chin and threw her a haughty look. “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I’m not okay with that.”

Feyre sighed and, to her surprise, Elain did too.

“Nesta, give her a break. She’s happy!” she chided softly. Nesta ignored her.

“I’ll be the judge of that! And right now, she’s crying her eyes out, because she’s stressing over her relationship. Feyre doesn’t look very happy to me!”

Resigned, Elain shook her head and Feyre’s stomach lurched dangerously. She was starting to feel nauseous. “Nesta, please don’t⸺”

“I want to meet them!” Nesta demanded. “This weekend! No skiving!”

“I have to ask them first, if they have time,” Feyre hedged.

“Spare me your excuses. If you’re as important to them as you claim you are, they’ll make time.” Nesta’s tone was resolute. There would be no way out of this.

“Okay. I’ll ask them.”

They would make time, if she asked. They always did. But for once, Feyre wished, they didn’t.

“Good.”

Satisfied, Nesta took up her wine glass and reclined on the couch, content for the moment. Looking for moral support, Feyre turned to Elain, who handed Feyre her own glass.

“Now Feyre,” her sister said, with a sweet smile, “One thing I’m really curious about: who’s better in bed?”

Level 3 of the girlfriend game: Objective stays the same. Defeat endboss Nesta!

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[feyrhycien]

A Change in the Game - 19

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“Knock knock!”

Feyre raised her head from her computer screen when she heard the familiar voice that decidedly didn’t belong into her workplace. Smiling at her with the power of 30 suns was Rhys, leaning into the open doorway her of her office, which was mercifully empty except for her.

“Rhys!” Feyre beamed and got up, hurrying over to him and placing her hands on his chest. He bend down to greet her with a soft kiss.

“Hello darling!”

“What are you doing here?” she breathed, a happy flush overtaking her cheeks.

“Oh, I had some business to take care of at Prythian and I thought, I’d drop by and say hello,” he purred, his eyes sparkling with affection. He looked over her shoulder and glanced around her office. “So this is where you work now?”

“Ah yes! Are these for me?”

Feyre curiously eyed the bouquet of flowers Rhys was holding in his right. Rhys followed her gaze and chuckled softly. “No actually. These are for someone else.”

“Oh!” Feyre tried not to sound too disappointed. After all, Rhys visiting her at work was already nice enough. He caught her slightly downturned lips anyways and planted a kiss to her cheek.

“In a way, they are for you though, darling,” he conceded.

Feyre shot him a confused look. “What do you - ?”

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Feyre stuck her head out of the office, checking whether one of the 3 colleagues she shared her new office with was coming back, but when she saw Tamlin’s blond head skulking closer, a low groan escaped her.

Ever since she had changed departments three weeks ago, Tamlin showed up almost daily around this time, coming to bother her by asking if she wanted to have coffee with him, or asking how she liked her new job. Feyre had guessed that after 3 weeks of constant refusal, he’d take the hint and stop bothering her, but he was persistent.

“Right on cue,” Rhys said amused and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer by a fraction.

“What?” Feyre asked, dumbfounded, looking up to Rhys.

He smiled down at her, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wait and see!”

The closer Tamlin got to them, the deeper his frown got. He came to a stop next to them, his gaze flitting between Rhys and Feyre, who looked way too entangled for anyone to assume a casual relationship between them.

“Hello Feyre,” Tamlin said eventually, shooting daggers at Rhys, who smiled back at him with barely concealed amusement.

“Hello Tamlin,” Feyre replied curtly.

But Tamlin wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was seizing up Rhys, his jaw clenched. His eyes dropped to Rhys’ hand on Feyre’s waist. When he raised his eyes to Rhys’ again, they were hard.

“Tamlin O’Tool,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“Ah, the reason, Feyre darling was late for dinner that day!” Rhys’ slightly arrogant smirk had Tamlin’s hackles rise. “Rhysand Nash. Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking care of my girlfriend for so long.”

Feyre blinked at Rhys in surprise, but had her face back under control when Tamlin’s eyes fell on her. Girlfriend. He had probably just said it to piss off Tamlin or get him to finally back off, but she still liked how it sounded. If only, it were true!

Tamlin grew still, his frown deepening. Deciding to make use of the situation, Feyre let her hand slide up Rhys’ chest in a proprietary and intimate gesture, pressing even closer to him, all the while looking at Tamlin. After all, Lucien wasn’t the only one, she could play games with.

“You’re welcome,” Tamlin ground out.

“Anything you need from me, Tamlin?” Feyre asked sickly sweet.

“Actually, darling, Tamlin here showing up is rather convenient,” Rhys purred. “Saves us the trouble of seeking him out.” And then, to Feyre’s surprise, he held out the flowers to Tamlin. “Congratulations on your baby! Feyre asked me to bring her the flowers, so she could congratulate you guys properly.” Rhys smile was dazzling.

Tamlin blinked dumbly at the bouquet and then at the two of them. “I’m afraid, I don’t understand?”

Rhys frowned, as if confused, and looked to Feyre for confirmation. “That is the Tamlin, right?”

Realizing what Rhys was going for, she nodded and rose on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Rhys jaw. “Yes, hon, that’s the right Tamlin!” she confirmed, using Lucien’s preferred term of endearment for Rhys. After all, she was currently in need of a pet name for the show they were putting on and she couldn’t call Rhys ‘kitten’ in front of Tamlin.

Turning to her former boss, she gave him a saccharine smile. “I wanted to congratulate you and Ianthe on your baby! I’m so happy for you!”

Befuddled, Tamlin stared at the bouquet. “Ianthe. Pregnant,” he stuttered.

Feyre angled her head in faux concern. “Yeah! Didn’t she tell you? That’s why she excused herself so much. Her morning sickness is very bad. She must be showing soon!”

“And you think I am the father?”

Feyre blinked and shared a seemingly alarmed look with Rhys. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just thought… I mean, people said... ”

Tamlin appeared really flustered, raking a hand through his blond hair. “People, talk about it? Why didn’t she tell me?” By now, he was more talking to himself than them.

“I’m sorry if we misunderstood somehow,” Rhys said, sounding convincingly contrite. He held out the flowers to Tamlin again. “Would you mind handing these over to Ianthe though? As I understand, she and Feyre had a little falling out during that farewell party, and seeing Feyre might upset her in her state?”

Tamlin took the flowers threw them a last blank stare. Then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way down the hallway, clearly shocked out of his mind.

“You know Rhys, that was positively evil,” Feyre remarked, eyes fixed on Tamlin’s retreating figure.

Rhys chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his arm still around her waist. “I told you, the fucker better back off and leave our girl alone.” On a more serious note, he added, “Lucien told me, how distressed you were over him visiting you almost daily, although you changed departments.”

“Luce was exaggerating,” Feyre shook her head, but she was smiling. “You think, he’ll back off now?”

It sounded so hopeful, it made her cringe. She hadn’t realized just how much Tamlin’s advances had actually bothered her.

Rhys redarged her seriously. “He better does. Else, I might need to come up with a slightly more diabolical approach.”

Feyre giggled and squeezed Rhys around the middle. Now rid of the flowers, he finally gave her a proper hug.

“Wanna see my office?” Feyre asked. “Although, there is honestly not much to see.” She pulled him eagerly inside and led him to her desk.

Rhys let his eyes wander around the space and then took a closer look at the other three desks. “You share the office?”

“Yeah” Feyre shrugged. “Although they're not here all the time. Mr. Dawning is pretty relaxed about when we show up, he only insists that we put our hours in. Forcing people to work against their internal clock staunches their creativity, he said. I'm usually the only one in the morning, the others come in late and stay late. Actually, I've only met two of my colleagues so far. The other one, Amren, prefers to work from home or late at night.”

Rhys ran a hand over her desk, leaving smears on the glass. He rubbed them away with the hem of his suit jacket. “Thesan’s always been a sensible man.”

Feyre perked up. “You know him?”

Rhys gave her a little smile. “I used to work at this company before the merger. I told you, I met Lucien during negotiations, right? Most of the design team here belonged to the company I was working at before. So I know quite a few of them.”

“How come Tamlin doesn’t know you then?”

Rhysand shrugged. “I don’t know. He was actually supposed to be the one sitting in the negotiation talks, not Lucien. Lucien was his assistant at that time and had to fill in, because the tool didn’t show up.” Rhysand shrugged again, this time with an nostalgic smile. “Lucky for me. Earned myself a boyfriend on top of an offer for a management position here at Prythian.”

“Why did you quit then?” Feyre asked, suddenly very curious. “Actually, what is your job? You're always home when I come over. And the way you talk about it sounds shady.”

Rhys laughed and sat down on her desk, pulling her close, so Feyre was standing between his legs. “Ever heard of Velaris Inc.?”

“Duh! Who doesn't! It's the biggest start-up turned successful business ever and it's still so new! Some guy started it about 3 years back and - “ Feyre's eyes grew wide and she looked at Rhys speculatively. “Don't tell me - !”

He gave her one of his usual smirks. “Some guy, huh? I would've gone for most handsome guy, or most stunning guy, but yeah. I'm some guy.”

“Wow!” Feyre was blown away. “So you're telling me, I'm dating one of the most successful and influential entrepreneurs within the last decade?

Rhys chuckled. “The press likes to exaggerate, but if you want to phrase it like that…” He gave her a searching look. “Does that shock you? Make you feel uncomfortable? Intimidate you?”

Feyre searched her feelings for a moment. Sure, she was surprised and maybe a bit awed, but that was it. Rhys was still Rhys. What did it matter if he was a successful business owner and rumoured to be filthy rich? He still couldn't get up in the morning if his life depended on it and was a sappy romantic, who got teary eyed over movies like Notting Hill.

“Well, I had actually suspected you were a mob boss or the head of a large crime syndicate, so I’m actually almost disappointed,” Feyre said with a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. But she couldn’t keep the smile from her lips.

Laughing, Rhys hugged her closer. “The syndicate is just a hobby, I swear!”

Feyre was just about to shoot back a funny reply, when her colleague Tarquin walked in, startling at the sight of Rhys on her desk and Feyre standing between his legs, his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulder. Out of reflex, Feyre tried to step away from Rhys, like she would've done with Lucien, but he held her close.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” Tarquin was clearly embarrassed and remained standing in the doorway.

“No, I’m sorry. This is your office too,” Feyre said hurriedly. “Uhm… Rhys, this is Tarquin Summers, my colleague. Tarquin, this is -”

“Rhysand Nash!” Tarquin’s face lit up in recognition.

Rhysand finally released Feyre and stood up, walking over to Tarquin and, to Feyre’s surprise, hugged him, patting him on the back.

“Good to see you again, Tarquin!”

They laughed together and exchanged some pleasantries.

Feyre was perplexed. “You know each other?”

“As I said, most of the design team here is from my former company,” Rhys declared turning to Feyre, but keeping an arm cordially wrapped around Tarquin’s shoulder. “We used to hang together around after work. Young Tarquin here also knows how to throw a mean party.”

Tarquin gave a little embarrassed laugh. “It was only one party and you couldn’t have noticed how it was, because you kept talking with my cousin Cresseida in the corner all night!”

“Do I hear jealousy there, Tarquin? Your cousin is pretty, but between the two of you, you’re the prettier!” Rhys claimed with a smirk.

Tarquin glowed with happy embarrassment over the compliment, but the his eyes flitted over to Feyre.

“Uhm, so, if I may ask, the two of you...?” he inquired shyly.

“We’re in a relationship,” Rhys said the same time Feyre said, “We’re dating!”

Rhys slightly raised his eyebrow at Feyre, who blushed a bit. Relationship indicated more than just dating, didn’t it? Would he call himself his boyfriend in front of Tarquin too? Why though? It was not like they had to proof anything to Tarquin or make him back off.

“Oh!” Strangely, Tarquin looked somewhat disappointed. “Well, I think I left my… something… behind earlier, so I need to go get it. Great meeting you again, Nash!” With a last look to Feyre and a pat to Rhys back, he quickly made his exit.

“Feyre darling, really!” Rhys looked after a departing Tarquin and shook his head with a little rueful smile.

She blinked in surprise, taken aback. “What?”

“Turning heads left and right wherever you go!” he purred and came back over to her.

“What do you mean?”

Rhys cocked his head at her. “Lucien, Tamlin, Tarquin… How many other people in this company are actually in love with you, hm?”

“Rhys, what are you talking about?”

Rhys chuckled softly and pressed his lips to her forehead. “No wonder Lucien was so antsy about keeping you close. You, Feyre Archeron, are a heartbreaker! And you don’t even seem to realize it.”

So Rhys had tried to mark his territory in front of Tarquin. Feyre would be lying if wasn't disappointed. For a silly second, she had thought, he may be had been serious about the relationship thing.

“If Tarquin’s in love with anyone, it’s you. Didn’t you just flirt with him?”

“We were just joking. Tarquin is not interested in me,” Rhys assured her, looking down at Feyre with a little frown.

“But you are? Interested in him, I mean?” Feyre hated how jealous she sounded. But who could blame him. Tarquin was pretty handsome. And he was nice and incredibly sweet. Someone, who’d be easy to love. Not as complicated and messed up as her.

“I’m not interested in anyone else. Not while I’m with you and Lucien,” Rhys declared softy, running his knuckles over her cheek in a tender gesture. “You don’t need to worry about me seeking out Tarquin or someone else.”

Feyre swallowed and nodded, biting her lips. She wanted to believe him, but as confident as she was when it was them or the three of them together, she was really insecure when they were apart. What was Feyre to Lucien and Rhysand?

“Hey!” Rhys put a knuckle under her chin and made her look up. He searched her face. “Feyre, I’m in love with you, you know that, right?”

Feyre searched his face, that spoke of nothing but plain affection, and gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah, I know. I’m in love with you too,” she sighed.

Rhys inhaled sharply, and then a broad, happy smile overtook his features. “Feyre!”

“What?”

Rhys cupped her face with one hand and pressed the softest kiss imaginable to her lips. “You just said, you’re in love with me,” he whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. “That was the first time!”

Feyre’s breath caught and then she turned beet red. It was indeed. The confession had just kind off slipped out. “I thought, you knew,” she said shyly, dropping her gaze.

Rhys response was one of his soul-scorching kisses. Folding her into his arms gently, one hand firmly pressed against the small of her back while the other still cupped her face, he kissed the hell out of her. And Feyre kind of wished that Tamlin or Tarquin or whoever passed right this very moment.

Because right now, they were in love and he was hers and it wouldn’t get any more obvious than this.

Level 2 of the girlfriend game: cleared?

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Surprise! Early update, because I’m busy tomorrow! I also have to apologize, but it seems some of the tags have not been working lately!!!

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[feyrhycien]

A Change in the Game - 22.5 (bonus chapter)

Fic Masterlist

“Hey Rhys?”

“Yes darling?”

“I always meant to ask you: Why do you call me darling?”

Feyre craned her head so she could peer into Rhys face from over her shoulder. They were snuggling on the couch, Feyre’s back connecting comfortably with Rhys’ chest, his legs on either side of her body, his strong arms caging her in.

“Why, cause you are so darling!” Rhys declared, imitating a British accent and failing miserably.

Feyre rolled her eyes in annoyance, making sure Rhys saw. “I thought you’re half Illyrian, not half British.”

“I can be both!” Rhys declared with a wink.

“More like half stupid,” Feyre mumbled under her breath.

Rhys caught it nonetheless and tickled her in retribution.

“No, but seriously,” Feyre asked, blowing a wayward piece of her out of her heated face after Rhys was finally done with doling out his punishment. “Why do you call me darling?”

“I don’t know. It was the first thing that came to my mind when I saw you. It just kinda slipped out, to be honest,” Rhys shrugged, pressing a kiss to the back of her head and breathing in her scent. “So cute and sweet and darling. I also loved how pissed you got over me calling you that, so I continued!” he admitted.

Feyre could heard the smile in his voice and swatted his thigh. Rhys laughed in delight.

“And why do you call Lucien babe?” she inquired curiously.

Rhys let out a sigh that was almost a moan. “Seriously? Just look at him!”

Feyre glanced over towards the kitchen, where Lucien was in the middle of baking some walnut-banana muffins.

Not that Lucien could bake, but when he came home earlier, Lucien had suddenly declared he needed to bake some muffins and shooed Rhys and Feyre out of the kitchen. Feyre might not be a great cook, but she sure could bake, so she easily spotted every mistake Lucien made. Hence, the last 30 minutes had been spent by her and Rhys greatly enjoying themselves, observing a struggling Lucien messing up everything there was to mess up in the great art of baking.

Really, if she weren’t getting the show for free, Feyre wouldn’t mind paying for it. There was something infinitely rewarding in watching her former nemesis and now boyfriend being an utter failure for once.

Just as Feyre and Rhys turned their attention once more to him, Lucien stopped mixing the dubious concoction he claimed was the muffin batter to consult the cookbook, his brows drawn together in the cutest little frown as he checked the recipe again.

He licked his lips, leaving them glistering moistly as he silently read out the recipe to himself.

Staring at his lips, Feyre licked her own. She couldn’t help it. Lucien had fantastic lips, all shapely and soft, very good for kissing her. Not only on her lips.

He bent over the book a bit more and as he did, a strand of hair came loose from the little bun Lucien haphazardly tied his hair off in earlier, the silky, auburn lock falling forward, brushing against his cheek. Absentmindedly, Lucien reached up and tucked the strand behind his ear, never breaking his concentration.

It was such an endearing little gesture, with Lucien so absorbed in his little task, being all adorably concentrated, Feyre’s breath caught.

Well, it also caught, because Lucien, being completely focused on the recipe, hadn’t noticed how far he had tilted the bowl - the batter would pour out any second now, and not necessarily into the mold it was intended for.

Feyre wanted to warn Lucien off, but Rhys, sensing her intention, quickly placed a broad hand over her mouth, shutting her up before she could shoot a warning.

“Shush darling! Don’t distract him yet!” he whispered with glee, careful not to draw Lucien’s intention to them.

So Feyre was doomed to watch a disaster in the making. But luckily, Lucien caught himself in time, and straightened the bowl, his face twisting into the most enchanting little grimace over the almost accident.

The man ought to be kissed, Feyre decided. Or deserved a fucking medal for being an adorable mess. Really, how could anyone be so charming when failing miserably?

Lucien began pouring the muffin batter into the molds, somehow managing to miss the molds and getting batter everywhere except where it belonged and Feyre, fascinated, watched how a disgruntled Lucien carefully licked batter from his fingers in lazy, languid strokes. Suddenly, what had been a very cute and messy affair turned into hot and slow, finger-licking, very sexual kitchen porn that caused Feyre - and Rhys behind her - to begin panting softly.

Apparently, even when making a beautiful mess out of a simple affair as baking, Lucien and his muffin batter held more sex appeal than a perfectly whipped Mousse au Chocolat. Especially when he bent over to put the tray into the oven, causing his slacks to stretch over his nice, toned ass, presenting Feyre and Rhys with a view that had both of them perform synchronized squirming on the couch.

Lucien straightened and turned to them, flashing them a little triumphant smile while pushing back the one brazen lock that had stolen away from behind his ear again, coating his hair in some leftover batter. Feyre had seldom seen a sexier sight.

“You’re right, Rhys. Such a fucking babe!”

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[feyrhycien]

A Change in the Game - 13

Fic Masterlist

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Feyre was sweating profusely when she rang the doorbell to Lucien’s and Rhys’ apartment.

She and Rhys had agreed that he’d go home to talk to Lucien first, and then she’d swing by later for dinner. It had sounded like a good idea, given that Lucien was prone to being jealous and probably wasn’t too happy that Rhys had stayed over at her place, but right now, Feyre wasn’t sure that she would manage to eat. She was too nervous, her stomach in knots. Feyre was about to ring again, when the door suddenly was ripped open. But it wasn’t Rhys opening the door - it was Lucien.

“Oh, hey,” Feyre greeted him with a nervous smile. She hadn’t received any update on his mood, after Rhys had left her place to talk with him.

Lucien didn’t greet her back, but instead glowered at Feyre. Her smile faded the longer he kept staring mutely at her.

“Lucien -”

The talk must’ve gone bad, because Lucien was very obviously either pissed at Feyre or Rhys or both of them for spending the night together. Feyre kept waiting for him to say something or invite her inside, but Lucien did nothing but stare at her, brooding.

“Should I go?” she asked after a minute or so.

“No!”

And then Lucien pulled her closer by the waist and kissed her. Feyre sighed in relief and placed her hands on his chest, leaning into the kiss. But Lucien broke away before she could deepen the kiss, studying her again. He didn’t say anything, but Feyre could almost hear the gears clicking in his head. He was trying to sort out his conflicting, ambivalent feelings towards her. As she had and still was.

“Is that Feyre darling?” Rhys voice came up from behind them.

Feeling as if she had been doing something forbidden, Feyre wanted to take a step back and get away from Lucien when she heard Rhys’ voice, but Lucien held her firmly trapped in his arms. She frowned at him, but Lucien still had on his observant, albeit dark expression. And then she understood. He wanted to see how Rhys would react to them being close. Feyre relaxed and let him hold her. After all, she was curious too.

“Hey darling!”

Rhys had reached them and smiled down at Feyre. He didn’t seem to particularly mind that she was in Lucien’s arms, although he did throw a quick sideways glance at Lucien, probably to gauge his mood. And then he bend down between them and pecked a chaste kiss to Feyre’s lips and another one to Lucien’s temple. Lucien stiffened slightly, but still remained eerily passive.

“Why are you making poor Feyre darling stand outside, babe?” Rhys asked Lucien, one hand on the small of his back, the other on Feyre’s shoulder.

Feyre searched her own feelings, trying to determine how she was feeling about this greeting, but she didn’t detect a hint of jealousy within her. Only mild concern for Lucien and nervousness.

Lucien turned his gaze to Rhys, finally releasing Feyre. “I was saying hello.”

Rhys’ gaze softened and he placed his hand at Lucien’s cheek for a moment. “Did I disturb you? You need a moment alone?”

Lucien glanced at Feyre, who met his gaze openly and with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but he shook his head. “No, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

He ushered Feyre almost rudely inside and then slammed the door shut before stomping away ahead of them, leaving the two of them behind. Feyre shot Rhys a disturbed look and Rhys shrugged.

“He’s in a better mood than before,” he claimed.

“By the Cauldron’s bubbling contents!” Feyre cursed, already growing annoyed with Lucien.

Rhys pressed a placating kiss to her forehead. “Do I need to separate you already?” Feyre shot him a glare and Rhys gave her a slightly amused smirk in return. “No fighting inside. If you want to hit him, take it outside.”

Feyre snorted and shoved Rhys lightly. “Come on, let’s have our who-gets-to-sleep-with-whom talk.”

Rhys gave her a pained smile. “I hope you brought sharpies and post-its, darling.”

“What the fuck is your problem Lucien? That Rhys has taken away your new shiny toy?”

Feyre put her hands on her hips and glared down at a sulking Lucien, too agitated to sit down. They’d been talking for almost an hour now, but Lucien remained tight lipped and evasive. Feyre had tried, really tried to be understanding and empathic and put a leash on her temper, but she was sick of his behavior. If he didn’t told them his thoughts on the matter and what he wanted, they were getting nowhere.

“You claim to be in love with me, that you want me, and you got me! I return your feelings you dumbass! But you also love your boyfriend and don’t want to break up with him,” she hissed, pointing at Rhys, who shared the couch with Lucien and observed their fight attentively, but without interrupting. “By whatever miracle the Cauldron cooked up, it so happens that neither Rhys nor I give you much shit about it, but we actually like each other quite a lot. So what is it that you want Lucien? That you get to have me and Rhys both and the two shall wallow in misery separately until you grant us your time and attention? Dream on, Vanserra!”

Lucien loosened an agitated breath and raked a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze.

“Was she like this all the time at work?” Rhys asked Lucien suddenly.

Lucien glanced at his boyfriend. “Pretty much.”

Rhys gave Feyre an appreciative once over, leaning back on the couch. “Damn, I’m so turned on!”

Lucien smiled faintly. “Right? Imagine her being like that all day, directing that adorable rage at you, chewing you out whenever she could.”

Rhys returned his smile. “No wonder you had blue balls every time you came home. I’m impressed you held out as long as you did.”

“For crying out loud, can we go back to the topic?”, Feyre bristled, slightly embarrassed to hear them talking about her that way.

Rhys and Lucien both turned back to her.

“I’m sorry darling, but do you have any idea how hot you look being that mad?” Rhys asked, licking his lips. “I mean, it’s Lucien here who’s into the kinky stuff, but even I feel like bending you over my knee right now and give you a good spanking!”

Heat blossomed in her belly and a low throb fluttered between her legs, but Feyre gave Rhys her best scowl. “Not helping Rhysand!”

Rhys made a little grimace at hearing her say his full name and leaned further back, patting the space between Lucien and him. “Sit down, darling, and let’s talk about this like civilized people. Lucien won’t answer you, if you scream at him. The only thing you manage to do that way is making him horny.”

Both Lucien and Feyre shot Rhys a dirty look, but he remained cheery and kept patting the couch. Greatly annoyed, Feyre sat down between then, trying not to get too close to Lucien. Rhys shifted, so he could look at the both of them, his arm on the backrest behind Feyre.

“Look, babe,” he said, addressing Lucien, “We both like Feyre and Feyre likes us both back. So I actually don’t see what the problem is. Can’t we just all be together?”

Lucien stared off at nothing, his gaze directed inwards. After a while, he turned towards them, eyeing Rhys’ hand that was still laying on the backrest, suspiciously close to Feyre’s shoulder.

“I somehow never took the two of you liking each other into consideration. I’m still not sure, how I feel about this,” Lucien admitted with a frown.

“Well, get used to it, cause I’m dating Rhys too!” Feyre clipped.

“Oh, so we are dating now?” Rhys asked, pleasantly surprised.

Feyre shot him a glare. “You claimed we are dating! I’m just going along with it!”

Lucien muttered something under his breath, Feyre couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” she snapped.

“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet, so I wouldn’t say we’re dating,” he grumbled.

Feyre went eerily still, trying to stop herself from attacking him. “I wouldn’t mind dating just Rhys if you continue being such an ass about it!”

Rhys put a hand at her thigh to get Feyre to calm down and she took a deep breath. Lucien had finally opened up and she was ruining it by bitching him out. Trying to calm herself, she placed her hand over Rhys’ on her thigh, but also reached out for Lucien’s hand. To her surprise, he took it without hesitation.

“Look, I get it. I still need to wrap my head around it too. Actually, I still have trouble imagining the two of you as a couple. But can we please try to make this work? Together?”

Lucien shared a look with Rhys behind her shoulder. She couldn’t see Rhys’ face, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly. Lucien and Rhys seemed to converse silently with their eyes and then Lucien looked at her. “So what do you propose?”

“I promised you a date after I had my date with Rhys,” Feyre said. “Let’s have it. Just the two of us. Not weird hate or jealousy sex. A nice, normal date.” Turning to Rhys, she asked, “Would you be okay with that?”

“Of course darling.” He gave her a nod. “By all means, go on a date and for once don’t feel bad about it. I want the both of you to spend time without thinking about me or feeling, like you cheat on my.”

Feyre thanked him with a smile. “And then maybe afterwards, we can go on a date all three of us? Because - just to be clear - from now on, I’m dating the both of you! And the rest… We’ll figure out along the way?” Turning back to Lucien, she said, “If we find we can’t handle it, because we are jealous of the other or feel neglected somehow, we end it. I’ll leave you two alone. You leave me alone.”

Lucien shot her a pained look, but eventually, he nodded. “Okay. If you tell me you want it to end, I’ll respect it. If either of you tells me,” he added, looking at Rhys for confirmation.

“I don’t think I’ll want it to end anytime soon, or I wouldn’t be able to handle it, but yes, I agree to these terms.” Rhys bend forward and pressed a kiss to Feyre’s cheek. “So our dodgy little mess is now officially a Ménage-à-trois?”

Feyre frowned at Rhys. “Gesundheit!"

Lucien snorted and scooted closer, kissing Feyre’s other cheek. She blushed a bit over him being affectionate, but still scowled at him for laughing at her.

“A love triangle. A three-way-relationship,” he explained. “Rhys likes being a fancy, throwing around loanwords. He thinks, it makes him sound smart.”

“Oh, okay, I guess it is,” Feyre said, blushing over the word relationship.

She was dating a couple now. Feyre was pretty sure, that could still be called a dodgy little mess.

“So what now?” Lucien asked, looking at the both of them expectantly.

“Well, first I’d propose you and Feyre darling hash out the details for your date,” Rhys proposed, not in the slightest irritated about the earlier jab at him. “And then we just see how things roll out?”

“I’ll still ask to be relocated,” Feyre announced, giving Lucien an apologetic smile. “I can’t work together with you if we are dating. At least not on the same team and sharing an office with you. I’d get distracted too much.”

Lucien’s face darkened, but he nodded. “I understand.”

“And actually, I need you two to do something for me,” Feyre declared, getting up from the couch and walking over to the armchair, sitting down on it, so she was facing them.

“What is is, love?” Lucien asked.

Rhys blinked at him in surprise. He had probably never heard Lucien use that pet name for her. Turning to Feyre, he mouthed love and smirked. She gave him a pout that only caused his smirk to deepen.

“As I said before, I have trouble imagining the two of you as a couple,” she announced. Her palms were growing sweaty rapidly, so she rubbed them on her pants. “But I need to understand that you are, in fact, a couple and I’m dating a couple. So if you gentleman don’t mind,” she said, running her tongue over her lips to wet them, “I’d like the two of you to make out in front of me.

The look on their faces was almost funny.

Game, set and match. Now dating both of them. New main quest available: Don’t fuck this up, Feyre, and keep it going as long as you can!

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Thank you for the many, many comments, likes and reblogs on this fanfic! Unfortunately, I have to tell you that I'll be off for the next two weeks, as I'm on vacation in another country and don't plan to bring my pc with me. Consequently, there will be no uploads until after May 1st and then maybe (if I can manage to contain myself) also less frequent ones.

I hoped, you have enjoyed reading so far and are excited about how Feyrhycien's story continues. Stay tuned and much love! I'll be back in 2 weeks.

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[feyrhycien]

A Change in the Game - 8

Fic Masterlist

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“Another glass?” Rhys asked, wiggling the bottle of fancy Pinot Noir they had been drinking.

“Sure,” Feyre smiled and held out her glass for him.

Rhys refilled both of their glasses and then settled back onto the couch with her, one arm propped up on the back of the couch, his fingers dangerously close to her shoulder. He could easily touch her, if he wanted.

After they had decided to put the topic of Lucien aside for a moment, they’d hit it off pretty well. So well actually, they didn't want their date to end when it had only really begun at dessert. So Rhys had proposed they come back to his place and talk some more. To her own surprise, Feyre had agreed.

Now they were sitting on his couch, sharing a bottle of wine and insights to their lives, and Feyre felt comfortably drowsy, a bit tipsy, and alarmingly attracted to Lucien’s boyfriend.

With every minute longer they spent sitting next to each other, he was inching closer towards her. Or maybe she imagined it, because she wished he would. At some point, Feyre had simply abandoned trying to think about their messed up situation or the norms society dictated - after all, if she were going by these standards, she shouldn't be on a date like this in the first place. So instead, Feyre just decided to throw all the can'ts and shouldn'ts out of the window and just go with the flow, reacting to his shameless flirting and advances by instinct.

And those, she certainly wasn't imagining. Rhys was flirting with her.

“Are you planning to get me drunk?” Feyre asked coyly, eyeing her wine and then Rhys from under her lashes.

Rhys smirked, inching a bit closer, his fingers lightly brushing over her shoulder. So she hadn’t imagined it, he really had been creeping closer. The light touch of his fingers sent a spark of excitement rushing through her. Her arousal stirred it's head, waking from its slumber.

“Do I need to get you drunk?” he purred.

“Depends on what your planning to do with me,” she said with a challenging smile.

Rhys’ eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. He ran his knuckles up and down her bare upper arm and leaned in.

“I can imagine a great many things I could do to you, Feyre darling. All entirely inappropriate for a first date,” he whispered into her ear.

His voice felt as much of a caress as his fingers on her shoulder, making her nipples pinch. Fuck!

“You and Lucien, you are dangerous,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over Rhys’ shapely lips, pressing the pad of her pointer finger against his Cupid’s bow and then into the dimple on his cheek, that formed as he smirked down at her.

“How so, Feyre darling?” Rhys asked bemused.

“Every sane person would stay away, yet here I am, on a date with the the boyfriend of my office crush whom I had sex with.”

Saying it aloud, it sounded even more bizarre. Rhys angled his head questiongly. It gave him a slightly predatory look. So dangerous.

He and Lucien, they were both like wild animals - deadly, but gorgeous. And if Lucien was a fox - sly and feral - Rhys was a panther: elegant, feline, breathtaking, even while he pounced and sunk his teeth into you, snapping your neck.

Rhys’ broad hand slid around her waist and he tugged her closer. Feyre’s heart pounded so hard in her chest, if you looked closely, you could see the fabric of her dress vibrating with each frantic heartbeat. She was high on arousal and adrenaline. She was a junkie, and Rhys was her next fix.

“Does it scare you?” he purred.

“No. But it should.”

His eyes danced with feline amusement and he leaned in, brushing his lips over her cheek. Feyre inhaled sharply, a familiar dull ache pounding hard in her belly.

“Rhys! What are you doing?” she whispered shocked.

“What does it look like?” he purred into her ear.

“Like you’re kissing me.”

Rhys let out a low chuckle. “Darling, if I was kissing you, you’d know.”

Feyre didn’t know what made her do it: her wish to find out, what Lucien saw in him? Why he loved him? Her petty urge to get back at Lucien somehow; to get even? Or maybe simply the desire to be kissed and to give in to the attraction she most certainly felt for Rhys. Maybe all of it mixed together.

Whatever it was, it made her close her eyes and present her face to him. And then she felt Rhys’ lips on hers.

It was a slow, deliberate kiss, but no less intense than the bruising kisses she’d shared with Lucien. When he exhaled softly into her mouth, it felt like he breathed fire right into her. The kiss was soul-scorching, it made her burn alive from the inside out. Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck - only then remembering the wine glass she was still holding. She hastily broke away, afraid she’d spilled wine on him.

“Sorry, did I go too far?” Rhys asked with quiet concern.

“No. The wine glass,” Feyre explained, putting it on the coffee table. “I forgot I was holding it.”

She turned her face back to Rhys, taking him in. They stared at each other, trying to make out what the other was thinking.

They were undoubtedly attracted to one another, their chemistry was off the charts. It had been, ever since they decided to focus on themselves instead on Lucien. The kiss had been fantastic, leaving Feyre to want more. But they were both also in love with Lucien. And Rhys was his boyfriend and she was… whatever it was that Lucien wanted from her. Or Rhys, it seemed.

“What a dodgy little mess we’re in,” she deadpanned.

One corner of his mouth curled upwards into a crooked smile. “Indeed.”

And then he pulled her towards him and Feyre let go of all thoughts and readily succumbed to his searing kisses.

“Would you believe me, if I say, that, despite how complicated this all is, I greatly enjoyed myself tonight?”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Feyre noticed him shifting towards her in the driver seat, looking at her. They were sitting in his car in front of Feyre’s apartment complex, unwilling to let the evening end. After they had spent a good long hour making out, doing nothing more than sharing slow, blistering kisses that stole her breath and that had her melt her down to the point of being unable to even move a limb of her own, Rhys had driven her home. Now she sat in the passenger seat of his car, slowly trying to come back to planet earth.

“Yes,” Feyre breathed, meeting his violet eyes with hers. “I did enjoy myself, too.”

Rhys held her gaze as he leaned in, hesitating a moment to see whether Feyre would pull away. But when she wouldn’t, he slid one hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and frenched her, very slowly and very intensely. Feyre went pliant and gave herself over to the sensation completely. His mouth was addictive. The way he kissed should be forbidden.

When he broke the kiss, Feyre made a little sound of protest and Rhys chuckled softly, pressing an apologetic kiss to her forehead. The message was clear: this was all she was getting from him tonight.

“I’d like to see you again like this, Feyre darling,” he murmured. “Do you?”

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” Feyre stared up into the violet depths of his eyes. They were flecked with silver. She hadn’t noticed before. They were beautiful. He was.

Rhys studied her face for a moment longer and then gave her a faint smile. “It’s confusing, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Feyre confirmed.

He kissed her eyebrow again and Feyre closed her eyes, letting his scent and warmth wash over her. She wished it were easier. That he wasn’t Lucien’s and that she wasn’t attracted to the both of them.

“Call me, when you feel ready,” he said softly and released her. “I’ll wait.”

Feyre gave him a nod and got out of the car. She didn’t turn around until she had unlocked the front door to her building and waved him goodbye. He took off with screeching tires.

Feyre barely noticed her surroundings while she made her way up to her apartment, her mind still with Rhys. Would she want to meet with him again? Then what of Lucien? She didn’t want to be the reason they fought or broke up. But she also couldn’t stay away from them. They were like the light, and she was a moth. Or maybe the other way round, seeing that both of them were chasing after her? Rhys had gotten his date with her in apology for her sleeping with Lucien. And now he wanted another. What would Lucien say about that?

All these thoughts swirled in her head, while she climbed the stairs and walked down the hallways. Feyre was so lost in them, she walked right past her door. Cursing softly, she walked back - and stopped dead.

Two flowers lay on her doormat: a yellow hyacinth and some pink flower she didn’t know, bound together with a ribbon, card attached. Feyre picked them up and went straight for the card.

Do I get to be pissed about this date?

Feyre flushed, boiling with indignation and looked around, half-expecting Lucien to step out of a doorway somewhere. But of course, he wasn’t here anymore. Feyre eyed the flowers again. So he was pissed about her going on a date with Rhys. She laughed a bit helplessly and felt tears welling up. Feyre didn’t know how she was supposed to feel, it was honestly all too much.

Sniffling, she unlocked her door and unceremoniously dropped her purse right by the entry, before heading into the kitchen and looking for some container to use as a vase. She opted for a big beer mug. And then she stared at the flowers, trying to make sense of it all.

Was Lucien actually pissed at Rhys for taking her out, or at Feyre, for taking out Rhys?

She groaned and buried her face in her arms. She was so confused, her head was about to burst and tears prickling in her eyes. Staring at the flowers, one of them a flower she couldn’t even name, wasn’t helping.  At least, she knew how to settle this problem. Feyre snapped a picture of the flowers and sent the picture to her sister Elain, who happened to be a florist.

Feyre: Hey sis, can you tell me, what this pink flower is?

Her sister’s response came promptly.

Elain: It’s a camellia. You have a guy I don’t know about?

Guess what Elain, seems like I have two, Feyre thought grimmly.

Feyre: No, but why do you ask? Because I got flowers?

Elain: More like, because you got those flowers.

Feyre frowned at the message. She didn’t get it.

Feyre: What do you mean?

Elain: Pink camellia in the language of flowers mean “longing for you” <3

Feyre felt her cheeks heat. Damn you, Lucien. She eyed the flowers again, the pink and yellow looking pretty together. Unconventional, but pretty. Lucien knew her so well.

Feyre grinded her teeth, annoyed with herself.

Feyre: And what do hyacinths mean?

Elain: Depending on the color, they all have different meanings. But yellow hyacinths only have one.

Somehow, Feyre got the distinct impression, that her sister was enjoying herself way too much.

Feyre: Care to share?

She stared intently at the little dots as Elain typed, not daring to breathe.

Elain: Jealousy ;)

Feyre 3 - Lucien 3 - Rhys 3

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early update, cause I got places to be later. guys, I’m attempting this thing called social life. wish me luck!

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