#ah yes this is 'rhys getting carried away again'

[nihilara]

@paramythas asked: thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver. (from io)

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. bared his throat, and given her permission to use it. the scar that wraps nearly the whole way around it is still very prominent-even now. a major factor in why he's been so reluctant, keeping it beneath a soft fabric collar. more so he doesn't have to look at it, or acknowledge that it is still a thing. stupid decisions, thoughtless mistakes. it's very difficult to explain away, but it's even harder for him to stop thinking about it after.

the sting ( though dulled ) of teeth popping through his skin, pulls him from his thoughts. suddenly, and sharply, and it feels a bit like a lifeline.

kuro had to sit down for this, it made the task easier for them both. she is settled neatly in his lap, and he tries to keep his hands to himself. it was an equal exchange between them; blood for a chance at true, good sleep. it wouldn't do to take away the professionalism of a bargain like that, right? she makes that difficult too, the nature of her saliva, the pressure of her canines. of her tongue pushing there, to encourage blood to flow freely.

as io drinks, kuro's face grows hot. " little slower... please. "

it's less a pleading request, and more a suggestion. his blood will replenish itself quickly- enough for her to continue as long as she likes. of course, the more she takes, the more difficult it becomes to remain still. he wants to squirm, to move himself. and maybe... maybe he likes forcing himself to wait. to will his body to remain calm. oh, but she can feel his heart beating, a little quicker as his inevitable arousal grows.

perhaps it's the change in location that's made it exceptionally hard. usually they keep these feedings elsewhere. his thigh, his wrists- easily hidden away out of sight.

eventually, right towards the end, his hands to move. they come to her sides, right along the span of her ribs. she doesn't stop him, a kindness he assumes, as the feeling of her beneath his palms helps him somewhat. and as soon as her mouth leaves his neck-- he lets his head tilt back. exhaling a wordless noise, a breath he had been holding. -- kuro is not particularly ashamed of his state right now, she's seen him in a similar way before. albeit, not on top of him.

it takes only another moment for him to speak again. his voice coming out scratchy, and rough ( his throat feels terribly dry... ).

" ahh... are you full? " mm... he's a bit light headed too.

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

[anyoneseenadam]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Azriel x reader where they are cuddling and talking after a long day of work?

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: mental health/anxiety being mean, insecurity, asides from that it’s pure fluff and nice and lovey dovey

a/n: I love writing fluff omg, I went in a slightly different route that I intended with this one but I hope you like it :))))

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

You pushed the heavy wooden door of your home open, dragging your legs in as you fought to keep your eyes open. You pushed the door closed with your back, leaning your head against it, and closing your eyes for a second, before sliding down, still leaning against the door, and wrestling to remove you shoes with a huff.

You heard a cough ahead of you and looked up to see Azriel fondly watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was still in his leathers, so you presumed he had just beat you home, his tired eyes sparkling with humour as he watched you struggle with your boots. You didn’t say anything as you stood and padded over to him on heavy feet, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing your eyes shut.

You didn’t want to think of the long week you had dealt with, you just wanted to bury yourself under a mountain of pillows and blankets and maybe wrap your limbs around Azriel like a koala bear. He wrapped his arms around you, scarred hands rubbing up and down your back as the two of you stood together in silence, simply breathing in the other and allowing your souls to be reacquainted.

When you first met Azriel he had wandered into your shop on a whim, wanting to get Feyre some flowers to congratulate her on the pregnancy and he remembered Elain had mentioned this shop being one of her favourites. He had expected to be in and out, not in the mood for a long conversation, or any conversation for that matter. But as soon as he saw your pretty face, your flowy, dress that stopped just above your dirt covered knees, all his plans were thrown out the window.

“Can I help you?” you had asked, sweet-lipped, your voice sounding the way cherries tasted, sweet but with a deeper richness. A smooth tone that he could listen to for hours.

He ended up buying as many flowers as he could without seeming insane, not wanting you to ever stop speaking, wanting you to explain the meaning behind every flower in your store if it meant he got to stay with you.

You had noticed him as well of course. Who wouldn’t, he was beautiful and carried himself with so much grace and poise that you were sure he was a fallen angel. You had lengthened your descriptions of the flowers, face heating when you realised you were rambling and fighting a grin when he asked you to continue.

You had invited him to sit with you as you were brewing tea and he had accepted, sipping tentatively at the tea you told him you grew yourself, the greenhouse in your garden perfect for the needed flowers. The two of you had spoken for hours before he left, ignoring the confused looks from his friends when he came home with six separate bouquets of flowers. Instead deciding to picture your pretty face as he lay in bed that night, finally getting rest for the first time in weeks.

Now, you were wrapped up in his arms, still not speaking. He didn’t worry too much, he knew that sometimes you weren’t ready to speak, that some days you just needed some quiet to process your day and come back to yourself. When you had first explained the way you would drift from your own mind, feeling as if you were floating above your own body Azriel had almost cried, the realisation that maybe he wasn’t the only one in the world, that maybe there was someone for him after all.

He lifted you into his arms and carried you to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the plants littered around the house, before shifting you onto one hip like a baby, knowing you wouldn’t be letting go any time soon. He set about brewing your favourite tea, smiling as he picked up the pot that you had shared the fifth time he came to visit you.

The store had been closed but you had invited him, so he pushed in, cringing at himself when he realised how early he was but all his thoughts came to a halt when he heard that sweet voice of yours coming from your apartment above your shop.

“My lovers got humour, she's the giggle at a funeral, knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner. If the Heavens ever did speak, she's the last true mouthpiece, every Sunday's getting more bleak a fresh poison each week- AH!” you screamed when you saw him standing in the doorway, pressing a hand to your heart as it slowed back to its regular beat. “Fuck you, oh my.”

He genuinely laughed then, not expecting to hear you swear. The girl who had green stained fingers and who fed stray cats, the girl who always decorated for every holiday and who apologised when she bumped into inanimate objects. Your face was hot to the touch and you wouldn’t look him in the eyes, so he had stopped laughing, moving to up your face, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“You have the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard.” He said sincerely but you scoffed,

“No I really don’t,” you laughed but he saw the insecurities then, “I know it’s whiny.” He frowned; your voice having been one of your most attractive traits in his eyes. He had started to see beneath your cracks then, but now with you wrapped around him he remembered how deep they went.

“Do you want to talk about it baby?” he asked carefully, not wanting to startle you, knowing how deep you could get in your head, tiny noises startling you when you were zoned out.

“Bad brain.” Was all you muttered, and he frowned but just kissed your forehead and continued making your tea. When he was done he carried both you and the tea through to your bedroom, setting the tea down before twisting you again and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you on the side of the bath and wet a cloth, cleaning the makeup from your face, and moisturising your skin before picking you back up and taking you back to your room. You slowly changed into one of his shirts and some loose boxers before crawling under the duvet and reaching your hands out to Azriel who had changed into his pyjama bottoms.

He crawled in next to you, pulling you into his chest, his wings wrapping around the two of you and then his shadows settling over both of you, protecting you from the outside world.

“How was your week?” he asked, one hand coming up to play with your hair knowing how much it relaxed you and feeling his heart warm when he felt you smile against his neck.

“Bit shit,”

“How so?”

“Just rude customers, and this one guy wanted like two dozen flowers which I made up but then he couldn’t pay and trashed the bouquets I had made him. Plus all the noise made my anxiety play up,” you muttered, and he frowned, not liking how put out you sounded.

“Want me to kill him?” he asked, only half-joking.

“I think that’s a bit extreme,” you laughed into his shoulder.

“Lightly maim then?”

“Maybe just a scare, make him think his house is haunted or something,”

“That I can do.” He smiled, kissing you, happy to have you partially back to him.

“What about you, how was your week, I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

“I know, sorry. I’ve been doing some stuff for Rhys.”

“I’m presuming I’m not allowed to hear about it,” you said, well aware of how secretive his job was.

“It’s not a mission per say, I’m just babysitting.”

“Is it fun at least?” you asked, grinning at him cheekily and he scrunched up his face, thinking back over his week of baby sitting two horny Fae’s while he dreamt of being in your little apartment.

“Not the word I would use, they’re too horny for their own good.”

“The babies?!”

“No! NO! They’re not actually children!” he backtracked as you collapsed into a fit of giggles, Azriel joining you soon after. “You know I think they suspect something,” he said once you finally calmed down, “I think they’ve worked out I’m sneaking off.”

“Hmm, guess we have to kill them then.” You mused and Azriel grinned,

“Only reasonable course of action.”

“I mean we’d be fools not to,”

“Clearly.” He laughed, before tightening his grip, “seriously though, do you want to meet them?”

“I mean, yeah. I think it’d be nice,” he noticed your mood had shifted again and nudged you, imploring you to continue, “It’s just you’re all so accomplished and amazing, powerful people and I’m just… me.”

He tried to ignore the pain that stabbed into his heart at your self-deprecating words, having thought them about himself enough times to know how they felt. “Don’t say that, you’re an incredible person. And even if you weren’t the kindest, sweetest person I had ever met, you’re still the girl I love and honestly I think Cassian is one ex-girlfriend away from selling me to the highest bidder.”

You laughed and nuzzled in farther, “Kindest person you’ve ever met?”

“Well asides from the occasional death threats,”

“ah yes, ignoring that. Of course.” He laughed and kissed your forehead, eyes closing as he heard your voice get softer and your breath slower.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair as you felt your eyelids droop, the weight of the week lifted off of your shoulders as you buried yourself in Azriel’s arms, peaceful in his embrace.

“I love you.”

[snelbz]

Life As We Know it {Chapter 15}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta looked in the mirror and figured she looked decent enough. Having not been on an actual date in quite some time, she felt a little off her game, but the dress she had chosen felt better than the others she had tried on.

After admiring the deep, crimson color and the way her breasts looked in the low neckline, Nesta sprayed her hair and slipped on her heels before grabbing her clutch and walking down the stairs.

Nyx was in the living room, bouncing up and down in his exersaucer. When he saw Nesta, he grinned.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and hoping her lipstick hadn’t rubbed off. “Cassian?”

“Kitchen!”

“I’m heading out,” Nesta said, leaning back up.

He was a room away, in the kitchen, making the gods knew what for their dinner. Nyx always ate whatever she made for him, but it was typically a challenge. Earlier in the week, Cass had started deviating from his generic meals for Nyx of jarred baby food and puffs. It seemed like it didn’t matter what the man fed him, Nyx adored it.

She made her way into the other room and stood behind a chair at the kitchen table and cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be home too late,” she said, drumming her fingers along the wood.

Cass glanced back at her and his eyebrows rose. “You sure? You look pretty nice for shouldn’t be home too late.”

Blushing, she said, “We’re just going to dinner.”

He turned back to the stove, where he was sautéing some broccoli and carrots, but she caught the smirk on his face. “I doubt dinner will be the only thing he wants to eat.”

A knock from the front door halted whatever her response was going to be.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Cassian blinked. “Are you going to get that or should I?”

Nesta huffed as she made her way back through the house and opened the front door.

Balthazar was there, that glorious smile plastered on his handsome face. His brown eyes went wide in appreciation. “Wow. You look incredible.”

Nesta looked down at her dress before saying, “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks-.”

“Alright, don’t keep her out too late and make sure she doesn’t drink too much.” Nesta spun around to find Cassian leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “She’s not a pretty drunk.”

She widened her eyes at him, not sure if he was joking or not. The glimmer in his eyes said yes, but she couldn’t be sure.

Balthazar narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze trailing down Cassian’s arms. “Are you Illyrian?”

Nesta swore she felt the tension in the room thicken at the three words.

“I am,” Cassian said, and she wondered if the flexing of his arms was intentional or not. “So I’d be real careful what the next words out of your mouth are.”

Balthazar smirked and unbuttoned one of his shirt sleeves, rolling it up to reveal—

Illyrian markings.

Cassian’s brows shot up and Nesta looked back and forth between the two of them.

“You’re from Illyria?” Nesta asked, once it was clear that Cassian wouldn’t say a thing.

“I am,” Balthazar said. “Grew up in the mountains. Moved here nearly a decade ago, but my parents still live there. I go there a couple of times a year.”

Cassian whistled before Nesta could say anything. “The mountains are beautiful. My mom used to take me up there for a getaway when I was younger.”

“Ah, yeah, I love it there,” Balthazar said. “I’d love to move back someday.”

Nesta cleared her throat, awkwardly. “I hate to break up this bonding moment, but we do have dinner reservations.”

“Right, of course,” Balthazar said, nodding. He stepped back, letting Nesta by. “If you’re ready, we can go.”

“Cass, have a good night,” she said, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

“Yeah, y’all, have fun,” he said, smirking at her as he closed the door behind them.

Balthazar walked Nesta to his car, opening her door for her and heading to his own side, climbing behind the driver seat. They rode in silence for a second before Balthazar said, “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nesta, despite herself, blushed as she looked over at him across the car. “I am, too.”

*

Cassian hadn’t been lying when he told Nesta he wanted her to go out with the doctor. If she had a boyfriend, he’d be less likely to think about sleeping with her again.

But he hadn’t expected to see another Illyrian at the front door. There would have been no way he could’ve known, since Nyx had only had to go to the doctor once while they’d had him, but surely Rhys would have mentioned that his son’s doctor was Illyrian at least once. There weren’t many Illyrians in Velaris, most of them choosing to stay in Illyria, to the north.

He hated that Balthazar was a nice guy.

A great guy.

A damn Illyrian.

While Nesta was gone, Cassian tried to keep his mind off of her on her date. And yet, it’s all he could think about, which was ridiculous. Nesta deserved to be happy, deserved to have fun.

And Cassian wasn’t complaining. He loved hanging out with Nyx, loved doing all the things that uncles did. And yet, Cassian felt off.

Everything was better when Nesta was around.

Nyx whimpered and Cassian seemed to understand as he lifted his nephew out of his bouncy seat and cradled him in his arms.

“Aunt Nesta will be home soon,” he crooned, bouncing Nyx.

The baby still looked around, looking for her.

For the first couple months after the accident, Nyx had constantly looked around, constantly searched for Rhys and Feyre. But recently, he hadn’t been looking around much anymore, and when he was it was for one of them.

Silently, Cassian had hoped it didn’t mean he was forgetting about Rhys and Feyre.

He sighed, carrying him to the kitchen. “Uncle Cass wants some ice cream, how does that sound?”

He clapped once and Cassian chuckled. He got a big bowl, with two spoons and settled back on the couch, Nyx next to him.

Nyx’s bites were much smaller, and Cassian tried his best not to laugh when his eyebrows bunched together, a little brain freeze hitting him unexpectedly. After he’d had a few bites, Cassian set him down on the carpet, letting him crawl over to where his toys sat on the floor.

“When are you gonna walk, dude?” He asked, watching as he banged two plastic blocks against each other.

Nyx had mastered pulling himself up right before he turned one. Yet for whatever reason, he still hasn’t taken his first steps. He and Nesta talked about it a lot, and they’d discussed whether it was something they should ask his doctor about.

He supposed Nesta could do so tonight if she was so inclined.

“It’s about time for bed, you know,” Cassian said, watching as Nyx threw his toys across the living room. “For you and me. Once you go to sleep, I’ll be right behind you.”

Nyx made a noise that nearly made Cassian laugh out loud.

“Exactly,” Cassian went on. “So, let’s get you in your pajamas, then Uncle Cassian is going to relax for a while.”

Nyx didn’t protest as Cassian carried him upstairs and started to get him ready for bed. Cassian gave Nyx a bath and got him into his pajamas before he laid him in his crib. After patting his belly, Cassian went back downstairs and laid on the couch.

He laid in silence for ten minutes before deciding that Nyx was sound asleep and nothing would wake him.

Now, all he could think about was Nesta’s date.

He didn’t let himself think about why that was.

*

Nesta wasn’t sure she had laughed this hard in months. She was actually fairly sure she hadn’t.

Not since before the accident.

“Wait, wait,” she said, using her napkin to dab underneath her eyes, having laughed so hard that tears slipped out. “There were how many people there?”

“At least two thousand at the game and way, way more watching on TV,” Balthazar replied, cringing, reliving the time he’d accidentally been pantsed during a championship baseball game in college.

And had left nothing to the imagination.

Nesta was laughing again, but took a sip of her wine and shook her head. She was having an amazing time. The conversation was coming easily, the food was delicious, and Bal had made a spectacular wine choice.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m having a good time,” she admitted, surprising herself.

He brushed a thumb over her knuckles and smiled. “I am, too.”

Nesta looked down where their hands met. His hands were interesting. Softer than she expected, but strong. Not rough, at all, like Cassian’s were.

Her eyes snapped up to Bal’s.

She wasn’t going to think about Cassian.

“You know, I hear they have amazing desserts here,” Nesta went on, keeping her hand in his.

“I hear the same,” Balthazar said. “In fact, I may have ordered us a sample board while you were in the ladies’ room.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Balthazar nodded with a grin. “I figured why only taste one when you can taste them all?”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Just as dessert came, Balthazar ordered another bottle of wine, and Nesta was blown away. Once again, she knew that doctors made good money, but it was surely the most extravagant date she had ever been on.

Having already eaten the cheesecake and the pavlova, Nesta scooped up a bite of chocolate cake and moaned. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed, delighted.

When she opened her eyes, Balthazar was watching her, intently.

Nesta’s cheeks turned pink.

If she would have been asked to sleep with Balthazar a week before, she would have surely said yes. But now? Even with that look in his eye, she hesitated. He was handsome. Sexy, even, and she was certain that underneath his suit he was built like a Greek god. He was charming. He was kind. He was a perfect gentleman.

On paper, he was complete and utter perfection in every single way.

A part of her — a bigger part of her than she liked to admit — however, couldn’t shake the pleasure she had received only nights before by someone who was very much not the man sitting across the table from her now.

“I’m stuffed,” Nesta said, at last, draining what was left in her wine glass.

“Happily stuffed or in pain stuffed?” Balthazar asked, his voice a little quieter, that look in his eye remaining.

Nesta chuckled, softly. “Oh, happily, for sure.”

“Good,” Balthazar replied, and waved to the server for their check.

They were back in his car within fifteen minutes, and Balthazar reached across the middle console to take Nesta’s hand.

She let him.

“I have to confess,” Balthazar began, his voice just above the soft radio, “that I don’t want this night to end.”

“Does that mean that you’re taking me out again?” Nesta asked, looking over at him.

He smiled, not taking his eyes off the road. “Does that mean you’re saying yes to another date?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” she replied, tracing the line of his long fingers with her free hand. She quietly admitted, “Though, I won’t have another free Saturday for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s okay.” He pulled their joined hands across the console and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I can wait.”

His lips were warm against her skin, and he had just a bit of stubble on his face, enough to tickle, not to scratch. She swallowed roughly, wondering again what he would be like as a lover. From what she knew of him, she was almost sure that he would be sure, slow and calculated. Everything he’d do would be to ensure her pleasure, which she certainly wouldn’t be opposed to, but…

She wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted anymore, not when she knew how amazing it could be to be with someone who was completely unleashed, who was frenzied as he tried to bring her to release, and—

Balthazar said something and Nesta was completely lost in her thoughts. She cleared her throat, grateful he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry, I was out of it for a moment.”

He chuckled quietly. “It’s okay. I asked if you might want to see a movie one night this week, if you had any free nights?”

Nesta thought about it for a moment. “I’m free on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” he repeated, and nodded. “Alright. Thursday. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect,” Nesta said, smiling as Balthazar pulled into her driveway.

He parked, got out, opened Nesta’s door, and walked her up to the front door. “Until Thursday, then.”

“Until Thursday,” she promised. He leaned forward and kissed her, softly.

It was a quick kiss, but it was nice.

They said their goodbyes then Nesta was opening the door, making her way inside.

The house was quiet, as she expected it to be at a quarter till eleven. After slipping off her shoes and setting her clutch near the door, Nesta was tiptoeing through the house, only stopping when she caught sight of Cassian sprawled across the couch.

She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed as she looked at him. He had one of Nyx’s stuffed animals clutched in his hand, halfway behind his head almost as if he was using it as a pillow. One of his legs hung off the side of the couch, his foot pressed flat against the floor, and Nesta couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as she stood there, looking at him. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep, his face relaxed and almost boyish like this. It was so at odds with the smirking mischief she usually saw there. She wondered if this is what he would have looked like if she would have asked him to stay in her bed the other night. Shaking her head, Nesta quickly banished the thought, not wanting to detract from the almost perfect date she’d just had.

Glancing around the living room, she noticed that it was an absolute wreck. Toys were strewn everywhere, as if they’d been thrown as far as Nyx’s little hands could manage them, and a completely melted, but mostly empty bowl of ice cream sat on the coffee table. Unable to stop the quiet chuckle, she silently picked up Nyx’s toys, putting them back in the basket where they belonged. She also scooped up the remains of the bowl of ice cream and carried it into the kitchen.

She turned the water on a low stream and was rinsing out the bowl when she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

“You’re home early.”

The rasp in his voice made her knees weak.

She looked over her shoulder to find Cassian leaning against the doorframe, his eyelids half fallen, one hand scratching the back of his neck.

Nesta chuckled. “Early? Must not be too early if you’re drooling all over the couch cushions.”

Cassian huffed a laugh as he came up behind her. “You don’t have to do that. I was planning on cleaning it.”

“No big deal,” she said, placing it in the dishwasher. “I’m pretty awake, thought I’d take care of a few things anyway.”

Cassian nodded as he leaned back against the island. “So…”

Nesta turned and crossed her arms as she leaned back against the counter. “So.”

“Did you have fun with Doctor Wonderful?” Cassian asked.

“I did,” she said, leaving it at that.

He waited for a moment, but when it was clear that that was all she was going to give him, he asked, “Yet you’re home before midnight and are wide awake enough to clean up after me and the baby?”

Nesta knew what he was asking, what he was insinuating, without voicing the words.

Why didn’t you go home with him?

“It would seem so,” she replied, a hand reaching up okay with the charm dangling from her necklace.

Cassian’s eyes tracked each motion as the charm zipped back and forth along the chain. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip and he nodded. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

She wasn’t sure if she was waiting for him to say something else, but when he abruptly turned and headed for the stairs, she blurted, “How was your night?”

Pausing, Cassian turned back to look at her. He laughed quietly, and said, “My night doesn’t matter, Nes. Just as long as you had fun. Goodnight.”

He didn’t give her a second to reply as he turned the corner and she heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs. A moment later, his door closed.

Nesta spent far too long thinking about his words after he left.

Just as long as you had fun.

Why did such kind, simple words bother her so much?

[bloodycassian]

LEATHERBOUND - Reader x Cassian - (I think I missed this request but I think someone req’d something similar) Reader is a librarian in Illyria when Cassian comes in asking for help finding something.

Cassian's favorite time of year in Illyria was the winter days where the sun was out. The winds were harsh enough to stun his wings, but the rays from the sun were warm enough for a perfect contrast. Not letting him freeze, but not letting him get too hot either. 

The muddiness also became packed ice instead of the mess it had been over the summer. It was still messy in the more trafficked areas, but not nearly as bad. He couldn't hide the joy that rept into his heart at the sight of so many Illyrians taking joy in the season. Small winged children threw snowballs at passerbys from a ledge. A broad winged male scared them off with a flyover. Cassian entered the small shop, the smell of dust and worn carpet whirled around him. It was comforting in a strange way. It reminded him of being a child. Innocent and curiously exploring different shops at his home.

The bell above rang in a dull tone. He looked up and saw the shotty repair job on the ringer. Not exactly as it had been when he was a child, it seemed. "Stay right there!" You called from the back, putting away the stack of books you held. They clattered into the bin loudly. The sound of rustling made him curious.

"I'm just here for-" He called, starting to step further into the room. The books lined the short walls, and the stacks in the middle looked percaiously stacked. They were organized, but the bottom of the stack seemed stained. He doubted the resources for another bookcase were available. 

"I know, just dont move. I just cleaned the carpet." You brought a towel from the front desk over and placed it beside the small outcropping of hard wood you had laid out for anyone first entering the store. "This is the last building in Illyria with carpets. I'd like to keep it that way." You said when the dark haired male gave you a pinched look. He bent and began taking off his boots. Boots that looked far too new for the likes of an Illyrian. 

Watching him do so, you noticed the two Siphons on his hands. Then the one on his knee. Your head went fuzzy. What had you done to deserve a visit from the Lord of Bloodshed? He noticed your stare and gave you a wolfish smile. You didn't flinch away from it. The wind howled at the gaps in the stone, and you cleared your throat.

"So what do you need?" You asked, crossing your hands behind your back. Ready to be of service. Hopefully he wouldn't demand too much of your small store.

"You said you knew. So you tell me." He said with a sly smile. You stammered, sweat slicking your palms. "I didnt mean- We have several ah..." You looked away, at the different categories of spellbooks and history of Prythian. Shame fell in your gut at the bottom layers of books that made the stack in the middle of the room.

"I'm looking for a cookbook. One with Illyrian recipes." He stepped to the carpet, his dark socks immaculate against the worn pattern. 

"Is the high lord a fan of home made treats?" You laughed at the odd request. Then covered your mouth, the embarrassment turned your ears red. "I'm sorry-" "No, its fine." Cassian chuckled, pulling a book off a shelf. It was of the first war, and was bound in dark leather. "He does. But the book isn't for him. The high ladies sister, actually." 

The one of hellfire and stone or the one that seemed to be a ghost? You dared not question him. "A solstice gift?" You asked, showing him over to the small cooking section you had obtained over centuries. They weren't of much use in Illyria, but the few travelers found them fascinating. 

"Yes, she's had a rough year." His voice was somber, but the hope still lingered in his eyes.

You let the words sink in. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, his presence was warm and welcoming, actually. As if he was putting off a vibe of 'I'm safe.' You handed him a complete cookbook full of basic recipes and baking. The cover was so worn the title was unreadable. Dark spots stained the inner pages, you knew because you'd borrowed the book several times. "We all have." He flicked through it for a moment, smiling. His teeth were immaculate, and a bit extra pointy on his canines. The sight of them sent a thrill through you.

"I recommend the sweet dough. It's spice free, the only thing you need for it is pine needles and sap." You flicked the pages to one you had bookmarked. The opposite side was full of different types of cakes to make with minimal ingredients. 

"I'm too familiar with it." He laughed, shaking his head. Some fond memories from long ago lingered there. He could recall the scent of the bread with full accuracy. The way it the needles would char on top of the dough if there were too many. 

"How much do I owe you?" He pinned the leather under his arm and pulled a satchel from his pocket. Your heart raced at the glimpse of so many gold coins there. 

"Ah- it'll be Twenty silvers." You said, embarrassment coating your tongue. He didnt even look like he was carrying and silver. He eyed you speculatively. "Twenty silvers for a full book?" He asked. You nodded, trying not to wring your hands. He fished a gold coin from the pouch and held it out to you. "Let me get you some change... it may take a second." You fumbled to the desk where you kept your coin inside a spellbound box. 

"Dont worry about it. I'll be back another time." He called, setting the book on the floor to pull on his shoes. "Lord Cas-" You began to protest.

"Just Cassian." He corrected, grunting as he pulled on the boots. "Call it a tab." He winked and eyed the ripped, hole filled curtains of the front window. How they swayed in the breeze that drifted in from the rocks. 

"I'll be seeing you." His eyes scanned you, and you nodded. "Be seeing you." You said back, your mouth dry. He was intimidating in the ways you'd never thought of. Not in a scary way, but in a sly way that made your heart race. The bell over his head dinged hollowly as he exited, shoving the book into his backpack. You tried not to stare as he left. 

+ The Solstice party was a success as it normally was. Nesta kept to herself in the corner with Amren while everyone else exchanged gifts. Elain's eyes lit up at the book, and she hugged Cassian with heart. "I'll be making you something tomorrow." She promised. Cassian felt the flicker of cold over him and shot Az a look. They glowered at one another. 

Rhys leveled a look at both of them that got them to straighten up. Feyre handed out mugs of hot cider. Mor brought around a bottle of liquor to mix with it. The night was warm with friends and joy. Besides the cold corner where Nesta sat. Cassian did his best to ignore it. As did everyone else. 

He was nearly the last to leave. The cider had effected him more than he thought. But it warmed his insides against the cold wind of Velaris. He wrapped his wings around himself to shield from the cold. He thought of the librarian who had given him the book. His mind drifted to the rest of that day, how Devlon had even seemed cheerful. 

He wondered if you were doing anything, if you had any family celebrating with you. If you had a mate that spoiled you. His heart kicked up at the thought of it. He hadn't noticed a ring...or any tattoos to signify a mating bond. He couldn't recall much else. He had been stunned by the beauty and simplicity of you and your shop. He couldnt remember if you had wings. 

The frustration ate at him. He had to know more. He needed to know if you had a good solstice. He made a plan. "It would be good karma" He told himself, entering one of the several shops on the way to the townhome. His excitement made it nearly impossible to sleep that night. + "Happy solstice." A voice called from the front door. You hadn't heard the bell chime. 

You rushed to the front, making sure that the carpet hadn't been ruined. The curtains whipped from the wind outside. The enormous Illyrian shut the door with a firm gentleness that made your heart race. His hands wrapped around a small wooden box. Well, it was small in his hands. 

"It's the day after solstice. Happy late solstice." You corrected, striding over to him and giving him a look about the shoes. They looked incredibly clean. "You still need to take them off." 

"I know. You need to open this first." He forced the box upon you and stooped to begin unlacing the boots.  "What-"

"Just open it." He stood and followed you to the counter. Heat flooded your cheeks, you hadn't gotten him anything. Not that you could afford it, or even knew what he would want. "Why did you get this?" You asked, trying to hide the tension in your voice.

"So you dont have to cook that sweetbread again." He said with a grin, staring at you. At how your hands delicately removed the lid from the box. Then at your stunned reaction at the waft of spices that spilled from the box. "Cassian-" You breathed, utterly speechless. 

"I have a request too...So you can't say its too much. It's for me too." He went to the shelf where he'd gotten the cookbook for Elain. "Make us these, and we'll call it even."

"Cassian... I'm not a cook. I dont bake." You laughed when he pointed at the spice cakes in the book. "Maybe ask the sister-" You pushed the box toward him, the heaviness of it screamed 'expensive' to you. Guilt marred the joy of receiving the gift.

He pushed it firmly back to you, locking eyes. He noted the way you tensed at that stare. He eased, trying to ignore the scent mixing with the smell of leather and spice. "I want you to make it, using these." He patted the top of the box. 

You debated with yourself. The male carried around more gold than you'd ever seen. And he wasn't worried about it. You figured if it was a gift then he genuinely wanted you to have it. You sighed and took the box, placing it under the shelf beside your bag. Your wings pinched at the movement. 

You ignored how his eyes lingered on your scarred members. You were used to it from some males, but never one as important and high ranking as him. He shook himself and refocused, pulling himself out of the rage he was feeling at the sight of your ruined wings. 

"Any other requests?" You sighed, feigning annoyance. His toothy grin made your stomach do flips. 

[highfaelucien]

Hmmm maybe lucien and elain playing with nyx and elain marveling at how good lucien is with children...

@bow-dawn also requested "give us elain watching lucien playing with nyx and that warms her heart enough to have a talk about their mating bond 😭" Everybody wants Lucien with babies because they know he's baby catnip. And I have no idea how children work but an attempt is gonna be made!!!!

send me ship prompts! platonic or otherwise!

Elain's arms were starting to get sore. Even with her being fae now. Arms that had stabbed the King of Hybern were somehow unequal to holding one small Ilyrian baby.

He was a very important baby, to be sure. Since he was her nephew. And the son of the two most powerful people in Prythian's history. Or so everyone kept saying.

Maybe he knew that. He was certainly doing everything in his power to make sure the whole of the Night Court, maybe the whole of Prythian, was aware of him right now, with the racket he was making.

They weren't sure which powers of his parents' the babe would inherit yet, he was too young. But he had an incredibly potent pair of lungs, of that she was sure of.

She'd been holding him for what felt like decades, bouncing him in her arms and trying to soothe him. He had managed to wear through her considerable patience, and she was now bordering on the edge of desperation.

This was her first time babysitting by herself. Feyre and Rhys had trusted her with their son, and she couldn't get him to stop crying! She was a terrible aunt. What kind of mother would she be? Unable to comfort her flesh and blood.

That thought made her stomach plummet. Had she lived out that other life, the one she sometimes saw reflected mockingly back at her in mirrors and pools, and married Greysen...She'd likely already be a mother. Would probably have at least one baby of her own.

She pushed that thought away before she joined Nyx in his crying.

"Cauldron boil me, Feyre!" A voice called from the stairs leading up to the roof where she'd taken Nyx hoping some fresh air might calm him. "What in the name of the Mother are you doing to that hellspawn child to make him scream that way?"

The voice was familiar, but unexpected. But she barely had a moment to process that before the door banged open and she found herself staring at Lucien.

"Oh," they said simultaneously.

Then Lucien, his cheeks changing colour to match his hair, said, looking abashed, "Lady Elain, please forgive me. I, I expected to find Feyre up here."

"I can tell," Elain said, giving him a little smile, "By the way you were shouting her name."

"Yes, well," Lucien muttered, looking rather flustered.

She found she quite liked that look on him. She always tended to see him as the polished, silver-tongued courtier, always composed and prepared to handle anything.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be up here. I would not have spoken to you that way if I'd known you weren't Feyre," he said, with a bow.

"Why not?" Elain said, cocking her head to one side, "I'm not some delicate flower that can't handle hearing curse words, you know," she told him, almost defiantly, "Amren has taught me many new ones. Cassian showed me how to do it in Illyrian. Rhys can be quite inventive when he's grumpy. And when all that fails, I can always just fall back on the word fuck."

He blinked at her, then grinned broadly, "Shockingly, I don't make a habit of cursing at people that I don't know all that well. Feyre and I are good friends, so she has earned my fragrant cursing at her."

"She's also High Lady of the Night Court," Elain said, raising her eyebrows, "With more power than anyone in Prythian's history has held in a long time."

Lucien waved an idle hand, "I knew her before she became all Made and Rhysandish," he told her, "Once you've seen someone puke faerie wine into a fountain of the mother at the Solstice it's hard to see them as too grand to curse at anymore."

Elain giggled at that, then winced, as that apparently seemed to upset Nyx even more.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at them, "Cursing aside," he said, leaning idly against the wall, "My question about that one still stands - what by the Cauldron have you done to him?"

"Lots of things!" Elain said, her voice snapping a little bit, "I've fed him, and I've changed him, and burped him. I've tried to put him down for a nap. I've tried to rock him, and bounce him, as swoosh him side to side. I've talked to him, and I've sung to him, and I've begged him and he still. Won't. Stop. Crying!"

Lucien smiled slightly, which made her want to smack him, because this was absolutely not funny, and she felt tears of frustration starting in her eyes.

"Feyre and Rhys trusted me to look after him on my own and I can't get him to stop crying! I don't know what I'm doing wrong," she confessed hopelessly.

"May I hold him for a moment?" Lucien asked.

Elain hesitated a moment. But Feyre had let him hold her son before. She had seen tears in his eyes when he'd done so, and it had bridged some connection between them that had never fully healed since the war. She didn't think her sister would protest, as long as she was still here.

And she was so tired. Her arms were so sore, and Nyx was becoming a very heavy and dense weight in her arms. So she nodded gratefully, eagerly pushing the little bundle into Lucien's arms.

Lucien held him with a surprising ease, as if he'd done this thousands of times before. A broad, genuine smile spread across his face as he peered down at him, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

Nyx peered up at him. Elain expected this to trigger an increase in the volume of his howling, but, incredibly, he quieted almost at once, seemingly entranced by Lucien's face, his glinting metal eye.

"There we are," Lucien said, smiling, but raised a finger as Nyx started grumbling again, "Now, now, we won't be having any of that," he told him calmly, "Ah, you have wings, don't you? Let's see then..."

Lucien carried him over to the table, unwrapped his blankets. Before Elain could protest about the cold, he rewrapped him, but gently extended his wings first, and curled them around his little body, securing them in place around him with his blankets.

"You know about babies with wings?" Elain asked, bemused.

Lucien nodded, "Certainly," he said, then seemed to consider, "Not Illyrians, and not Rhys-spawn," Elain giggled against her will, "But I'm hoping the principles are the same."

He scooped him up and bounced him. Nyx actually giggled at him, the little monster.

"How did you do that!?" she demanded, peering down at the baby, who was now lifting his chubby little hands and grabbing, as if trying to catch the glinting eye above him.

Lucien smirked, "I have a known gift," he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Elain would have whacked him for that, if he hadn't been holding her baby nephew.

"You, you've been around a lot of babies?" she asked.

Nothing in his history, though admittedly she knew little of it, had implied that babysitting had been a big part of it.

"Oh yes," he said, very seriously, "Fae with troublesome younglings came to me from all over Prythian, every court, lesser and high alike so that I could use my gifts and soothe them."

Elain put her hands on her hips and growled at him, "Don't you bullshit me Lucien," she said, as sternly as she could, poking a finger into his chest.

He snickered, still grinning at her, shifting Nyx slightly in his arms as he started to fuss again, "I have a very big family," he said, shrugging.

"I thought you were the youngest of your brothers," she said, frowning.

Lucien nodded, "True," he confirmed, "But I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, and friends," he added, with a flicker of some emotion she couldn't quite read. He took a breath and added, "Regardless, they all felt that, as the Lord's seventh son, I didn't have anything better to do with my time than babysit all of their offspring. I've had a reasonable amount of practice."

"Well you saved me today," Elain said, collapsing into the seat that Rhys always liked to sit and brood in, overlooking the Sidra, "I don't know what I did wrong," she muttered, bracing her chin in her hands and sighing dejectedly.

Lucien cautiously approached, Nyx still cradled in his arms, and sat in the seat next to her, also glancing out over the city. "If it helps," he said, "You did everything right. Sometimes babes are just tricksy little bastards," he said with a shrug,

She frowned, trying to determine if he was patronising her.

"They like to be dramatic and seek for attention," Lucien told her calmly, "Especially when they have Rhysand, Night Discomfort, Death Irritate, the most dramatic bastard to ever spread drama, as their father" he added in a lofty voice that acutally sounded uncannily like Rhys.

Elain stuffed her fist in her mouth to stop herself snorting as she laughed.

"He is very dramatic," she agreed, tickling Nyx's tummy.

Lucien smiled down fondly at the babe, and for all his comments about him being dramatic, there was a tenderness in his face she had never seen before from him.

It made him look younger. His face was still scarred and strange, with that mechanical eye, but there was a gentleness in him she hadn't seen from most fae in her time in Prythian, it made her feel safe and calm.

Nyx started fussing a little again, and Lucien hushed him, and fluttered his fingers in the air above him. Little lights appeared above him, circling like a mobile and flashing different colours.

Elain let out a little gasp of delight watching him, which was echoed by Nyx.

Lucien glanced up at her, a wry smile on his lips as he said, "My magic isn't particularly powerful or impressive, but it's very good for entertaining infants."

"I think it's beautiful," Elain said, quiet, but sincere.

Lucien smiled.

Then he turned his head back to Nyx, tickling him with his free hand while the lights continued to circle, swooping down and booping the child on the nose, causing him to giggle.

Elain felt a sudden pulse of warmth and joy blossom in her chest like a swelling rose, and she let out a little, "Oh!"

Lucien glanced up at her, startled, "Are you alright?"

She put a hand to her chest, without breaking eye contact with him, "I, I fel you," she said quietly.

"I apologise," he said, looking truly sorrowful, "I usually keep better control of myself, but being around you makes that more difficult."

The little river of his joy faded away as he closed off the bond on his end.

"No!" she cried, with a desperation she couldn't quite explain, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm, "No," she repeated, more quietly, "Please don't, don't close down on me."

He raised his eyes, and held her gaze, unwavering, unfaltering. She felt that river again, the joy at holding the babe still there, but also excitement, anxiety, and almost unbearable anticipation. Though she had the sense he was trying to keep her from the worst of it.

"It's good," she whispered, "It feels good. I've, I've had dreams of you," she told him, "So much pain. So much guilt, and sadness, and hopeless need."

He ducked his head, turning away from her, seeming ashamed, "I'm sorry that you-"

"No," she said, quiet but firm, cupping his face in her hand, tracing his scar with her thumb, "No. You don't apologise to me for the things that others have done to you. You never do that," she said, with a fierceness that surprised even her.

"I shouldn't have let that touch you," he said quietly, "I, I don't want anyone to feel that, least of all you."

Elain held his gaze and, for the first time, she tentatively tapped at that string inside her, on her bottom rib, that one that extended beyond her in a way even her newfound Sight did not.

Through it, carefully, she pushed all of the depression, all of the pain, and all of the grief, and hopelessness, and even the darkness that had almost claimed her, caused her to step into it and never return.

He started, and his eyes filled with a thin veil of tears. But not because of the emotions she shared, but the fact that they were twin to his own. The fact that, as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she had felt what he had felt.

"We are the light for so many," she said quietly, "The sun that they grow towards, the thing they reach for in their own darkness, when they need hope, and someone who will always find a smile for them."

Lucien nodded, and picked up that thread she'd left dangling for him, causing one of his orbs to circle close to Nyx. The baby tried to catch it, giggling, and Elain saw that, but also the shadow it cast on his soft skin.

"But where there is light, there is shadow," he murmured, eyes not leaving hers, "That is the quiet burden we bear to be their light."

Elain nodded, and together they looked back down at Nyx, and let the warmth and joy at him flow, tentatively, between their bond.

***

thank you!! I hope you enjoyed!!!

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain pt 11 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10. Just a little more smut, yeah?

Rhys woke up early and traced patterns lightly on Feyre’s skin as she slept.

They had just one more day together before he flew home to New York, but in the pale dawn light and with Feyre’s even breaths beneath his fingers, he couldn’t for the life of him think of why he needed to go back.

After a moment, Feyre stirred.

“Making me more tattoos, are you?” she mumbled, without opening her eyes. Rhys chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Why?” Feyre asked muzzily. She rolled around to face him, all smudged mascara and sleep-swollen lips. Beneath the sheets, Rhys was hard in an instant.

"Because I wanted to let you sleep." “But we only have one more day,” she said, and looked so cute when she frowned that it broke Rhys’ heart a little. He pulled her body over his, loving how soft she was all over, and kissed her nose.

"And what would you like to do with this one more day?" he asked her. Had not meant to add any suggestions of his own, but the way she was nuzzling into his chest, still waking slowly, had his hips sliding under her. Feyre's eyes widened a little, and colour bloomed on her cheeks.

"I could think of one thing," she breathed. "We don't have to-" Rhys started to say, but got cut off as Feyre put her lips on his throat. His words broke off into a stifled moan as the heat of her hovered just below his navel.

Her hands slid over his collar bones and around the back of his neck, and she was so marvelously warm on top of him. Next thing he knew, her tongue had made a blazing trail down his sternum, over his stomach, and around the head of his cock. Rhys gasped, and gripped the bars of the headboard hard enough for them to creak in protest.

When Feyre slid her mouth down over the length of him, Rhys's hips jerked forward reflexively.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to hold still. But Feyre just moved her lips lower, letting him hit the back of her throat and sucking hard on the way back up. Rhys groaned, and the sound seemed to encourage her. She moved her head back and forth and the world shifted in and out of focus.

"That... feels amazing," Rhys told her, watching her move over his body. Feyre didn't reply, just kept up a steady rhythm until Rhys could barely stand it.

"You're going to have to slow down," he managed to get out. Feyre shook her head 'no,' and decidedly did not slow down. "Seriously," Rhys said between gritted teeth. "I'm not going to be much use you you in a second."

Feyre lifted her head long enough to say, "we don't have anymore condoms anyway," and then resumed her motion. Used her hand at the same time to cover the length of him. Rhys's hips arced up off the bed to meet her touch, and one hand moved through her hair before he realised he had reached out.

"Feyre stop I'm gonna come," he said, jaw clenched. But she showed no intention of doing any such thing. "Feyre." His control crumbled, and he started fucking hard into her mouth. She didn't pull back. "Feyre I'm gonna..." And then he was coming and she was swallowing him down and the sight of it was so unbearably sexy that his climax stretched on even after he was empty.

Feyre crawled back up his chest, kissed him with his own cum still on her tongue, and then promptly took a snooze right there on top of him like a cat. Rhys just watched her in wonder, and stroked her bare back while she slept.

Fifteen minutes later, she woke, they kissed lazily in bed and then in the shower, and then they strolled down the road to the bakery. And to the chemist.

On the way, Feyre chatted about Berlin sights she thought Rhys needed to see, iconic street art she could show him, and the best food in town. Rhys nodded along, saying very little and being content to watch Feyre animated and enthusiastic.

And he did want to do all of those things, wanted to go anywhere Feyre took him. Really, he did.

But then they got back to the hotel room, and did not manage to leave it again that day.

Did make love on the edge of the bed, fall off the side and fuck on the floor, get messy and have sex in the shower with their hands pressed up to the glass. Did cover each other's bodies in swirling patterns with black markers and ball point pens found in the hotel drawers. Did take breaks for pretzels and hot chocolate, before beginning again in the tangled white sheets with the 'do not disturb' tag hanging on the door handle outside.

They were just dozing off on the rug, Feyre in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and black ink, Rhys completely naked, when Tarquin rang, and the sharp intrusion of the outside world in their little bubble was about as welcome to Rhys as a kick in the guts.

Feyre groaned. "Don't answer," she said, her head pillowed on Rhys' stomach. His fingers traced around her navel.

"Hello?" "Rhys! It's Tarquin. How are things over there?" "Fantastic," Rhys said. "We've finished painting and are tidying up now. I was just about to call you and tell you the good news."

Feyre took his fingers and guided them lower. She moaned softly as he pushed light circles onto her clit, over her underwear.

"You have? Wie schöne, that's wonderful news," Tarquin said. "I'll come meet you both up there."

Feyre reached out and stroked his cock while he dipped his fingers under her waistband.

"Actually," Rhys said, forcing his voice to come out evenly, "we're just leaving now. But I would still encourage you to go have a look." "Oh but I want to see it with you," Tarquin argued. "Give my thanks to you both. Shake your hands."

Rhys bit back a laugh. "Don't think you could shake out hands right now." Feyre giggled silently. "They're... covered in paint."

"Ah fair enough, but even figuratively speaking, it'd be good to see you both off." "Love to, Tarquin," Rhys said, eyeing Feyre. She was starting to arch off the floor, and little whimpers were escaping as his fingers sped up. He held a finger to his lips. "Unfortunately we actually have an engagement to get to. We're leaving the site now, and I'm going to eat something but I'll put Feyre on."

He handed the phone to Feyre, and at the same time rolled over her. Slid her underwear down and put his mouth on her pussy. She lifted her hips to him, and then mouthed Naughty, while her eyes sparkled above him.

"Hello?" she said. Breathlessly. "Oh, yes Tarquin do come have a look. It's-" here here breath hitched, "well I'm quite without words, Rhys is ve-ery skilled hmmmm I've been so glad to work with him on this project."

Rhys grinned, and reached his tongue deep inside her. Feyre clamped a hand down on the phone's speaker and bit down hard on her lip.

"No, we won't be there but I would love to... ah... to.. mm, to catch up with you later in the week. Sorry, yes I am a bit... uh... out of breath. We're carrying all the supplies back to my... umm.. my car."

Feyre swatted Rhys' head, but he just sped up his tongue on her clit.

"Doyouknowwhat, ah, Tarquin you head up there now, text me what you think and I... I'll speak to you later. Yep. Okay. Yesokaybye."

Feyre hung up the phone, threw it to one side and then moaned so loudly and deeply Rhys felt the vibration in her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his head, put her hands in her hair and pushed herself closer to him. She was hotter than anything, and then Rhys was palming his own cock while he watched writhe on the floor. It wasn't long before she was coming undone on his lips.

When she finally came, Rhys was struck with the desire to draw her, just like this, in gorgeous ecstasy and with the exact colour of the blush across her chest.

The next morning, Rhys was due to get on a plane.

They sat in Feyre's car, with Rhys' bag on the back seat, and sat outside the airport without saying a word. Eventually, Feyre said, "Do you know, I came a long way to get away from my ex, and now all I feel is homesick." "Do you now?" Rhys murmured. "I've honestly thought about moving back to New York. But I packed everything up and left. I have nothing there, I have nowhere to live."

Rhys leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Feyre.

"I'll make you a bargain, Feyre darling," he said. "I'm listening," Feyre replied. "You move back to New York and you can stay with me while you look for somewhere, and then you just move out when you find a place." Feyre considered it. "That would make things easier," she agreed.

"And hey," Rhys continued. "Maybe you like living with me and you never move out." Feyre grinned right back. "Maybe you like me and we live happily ever after."

Rhys shrugged. "Anything could happen," he said. Feyre stuck her hand out.

"It's a deal," she said, and they shook on it. Rhys pulled her in by the hand and kissed her, committing to memory the exact way she tasted.

"Come home soon, then," he whispered. **** Theeeeee end! That's all lovers, thank you so, so much to everyone who has been with me on this super lovely ride. Your comments, reblogs and general love have been deeply appreciated and I am forever grateful. I am a bit sad this one is over.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman (nessian)

a/n: In which Nesta copes and Feyre interjects

hello! again, new here ☺️ this kind of just...happened? the idea came upon me late talking with @harryandmolly​ idk anyways hope you enjoy! if you don’t like modern AUs then this probably isn’t for you, but if you’re into that sort of thing and all the warnings that go with it then I would love to hear what you think!

tw: angst, coping with death, sex work, language

original art by the incomparable charlie bowater

Things were great until they weren’t. 

Nesta Archeron had been engaged. She had a father who loved her and a sister she adored. Until the plane crash. Until a faulty navigational system sent her fiancé, her father, and her sister into the side of a mountain on the way to her destination wedding.

She had gone to Hybern early, to get settled and calm her nerves, to plan around the security that Feyre had hired so that Rhys could attend the wedding. Nesta had told her not to bother, Rhys could stay in Velaris for all she cared. She’d gone and set it all up anyway. But it had all exploded when Nesta got the call that her world had ended and all she had left was a sister she resented and a brother-in-law with too high a profile. She was a tragic headline. A fucking media circus. 

High Lord Rhysand’s sister-in-law left at the altar in tragic plane crash. 

The press camped outside her Velaris studio for weeks. They’d only left when she had thrown a maelstrom of empty glass bottles out of her windows at them. Empty because she’d come back to Velaris and crawled inside a whiskey bottle and stayed there. She might be more whiskey than person now. The days were passing at a rate she couldn’t gauge anymore. Had it been hours or days or months since she’d picked up the phone in the middle of placing name cards on tables in the reception hall? She didn’t particularly care. Everyone who mattered was dead and being drunk was better than counting the minutes since her future had evaporated. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

Nesta removed the eye mask she was wearing and squinted at her phone. 7:15 AM. She’d been up all night again, had just laid down to try and sleep. Who the fuck was at her door at this hour?

She knew but she opened the door anyway. 

Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court, was in the hallway looking worried. Well, Nesta assumed she was looking worried. She could only see Feyre’s furrowed eyebrows between the oversized sunglasses and the wide-brimmed sun hat. She had wrapped her red-gold hair, twin to Nesta’s own color, into a low chignon to hide it away from prying eyes. A disguise. Nesta snorted. Feyre Archeron could be noticed in this city by a blind man a hundred yards down a busy avenue. It was the way she carried herself, the easy confidence. No one could mistake her for anyone but their High Lady. 

“What do you want?” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, blocking the view into her apartment.

“Well, to start, a little respect for the person who has been footing your liquor bill for the last eight months.” Her red lips were turned down at the corners, tight. She angled her head past Nesta’s shoulder and crinkled her nose, “God, I don’t even need to see in there to know what it must look like. I can smell it from here. And I can see you.” 

Nesta kept her face a mask of annoyance but considered how she must look. Compared to Feyre’s heavy cream sweater and perfectly tailored tan pants, anyone would look slovenly but Nesta knew she'd let herself go.

A while ago, she’d taken to wearing Tomas’ shirts to bed. Then eventually she wasn’t getting out of bed so it was all the time, changing only when she found the strength to shower. Today’s shirt—more like this week’s shirt if she was being honest with herself—was an old striped dress shirt, one Tomas had maybe worn twice with a suit. It now had several stains from whiskey and whatever takeout she had ordered last night. She couldn’t quite remember. Chinese? Greek? 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Her marriage was supposed to be one of convenience. They had been friends, had both gotten older and then tossed in the towel on dating. Tomas needed a cover for a lifestyle his parents forbade and Nesta...well Nesta wanted to be comfortable. Nesta wanted her sister to stop meddling and leave her alone. At least, she thought she did. 

But, no one had known. No one except Elain.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. 

Her hair hadn’t been washed in days, it was matted in some places, stuck to her face in others. She knew her eyes were hollow, sunken in and lacking that fire people saw when they looked at her. She’d been avoiding her own reflection for weeks, had even covered the mirror by the door. Months ago, apparently. Eight months. 

Had it really been that long? Had she really been moving from bottle to bottle, takeout container to takeout container, for eight whole months? She’d barely left the apartment, had lost her job, happy to exploit Feyre’s seemingly unending pity. Pity she guessed had run out. 

Today. 

She didn’t care about that either.

“Come all this way to chide me, dear sister?” Nesta curled her lips as she moved aside to let Feyre through. Might as well let her see. 

“Thank you.” Her sister breezed into the little sitting area and stopped dead.

Her eyes scanned the room, marking the recycling bin first, overflowing with empty glass bottles. All different labels. Whatever Nesta could find quickest. Then the kitchen counters, filled with boxes of crackers and empty ramen noodle packages, cans of tuna and an open jar of peanut butter, anything that could be quickly consumed with minimal effort. She didn’t want to die, but she hadn’t exactly been concerned with living either. 

At last her eyes darted to the corner, over by the window, where a white dress hung from a hunting knife that had been punched through the wall. Straight through the center of the sweetheart neckline. Nesta had lost count of the weeks it had been there. A reminder. A memorial. Little circular burns littered the fishtail skirt, remnants of late nights with too much booze and an ashtray full of half-smoked blunts still on the windowsill. 

“Oh, Nesta.” Feyre’s hand came up to cup her mouth. Nesta raised her chin, refusing to feel reprimanded. “I’m sending Alis this afternoon.” 

“I can look after myself,” Nesta hissed through her teeth. 

“Clearly,” Feyre threw her arms wide and turned in a circle, “you cannot. You know I came here hoping you were getting better. I gave you space, knew you blamed me for what happened. At least partially. But it’s time, Nesta. I lost them too. But I don’t have the luxury of drinking and smoking my way into oblivion on my sister’s dime.” 

“Is this just about the money?” Nesta asked incredulously, “I’ll fucking pay you back if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“No, no,” Feyre brushed a lock of hair out of her face, frustrated, “it’s not the money. I don’t care about the money. Neither does Rhys. We just want you to come back to the land of the living.” 

“Ah, yes. The royal We.” Nesta sat abruptly on her sunken couch and leaned forward, not caring that she was just wearing a pair of underwear beneath the oversized shirt, “how is dearest Rhys? High Lording as well as ever I presume. Now with better reasons than ever to hate me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” she said too quickly, wringing her fingers for a moment before she whispered, “we...we missed you at the funerals.” 

Nesta’s blood ran cold. Her eyes swam with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“I know why you didn’t show,” Feyre couldn’t look at her, “I almost understand it...but we still missed you. Father was interred with full honors of the Night Court. I’m having a garden planted for Elain up at the estate. You should come see it when you’re ready.” 

Nesta really needed a drink. Feyre needed to leave. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not today. Not ever. 

“Get out.” 

“Nesta—”

“Get out.” Nesta’s voice was low, lethal. 

“Fine,” the High Lady voice was back in full force, “I only really came to give you this.” She pulled out what looked like a business card from her freshly pressed pant pocket, “this might seem...forward. But, I think it might help you. Rhys and I use the service sometimes when we’re looking for something different. I know you won’t go see someone. This might be a different kind of therapy. Tell her I sent you, she’ll know what to do.”

“Fine, fine,” Nesta took the card from her, hoping it would get her to leave faster, “get out.” 

“Nesta,” Feyre stopped and took a breath, her hand wrapped around the doorknob, “please do be discrete.” 

Nesta furrowed her brow, but nodded. She had been, for the most part. Except on nights she was too blitzed to remember her own name, let alone that her sister was High Lady of this region. 

“I’m still sending Alis,” Feyre wrinkled her nose again as she opened the door and strolled out. And that was that. No goodbye. They hadn’t ever been good at those. 

Nesta blinked at the door, the apartment suddenly feeling small and cramped. She turned over the card in her hand. It had only a name and a number. AMREN. 202-555-0187. She flicked it onto the table. Whatever, she thought as she sauntered over to the kitchen and took a swig from the nearest whiskey bottle. 

↞↠

“Ms. Archeron.”

“Yes?” The tone of the man’s voice made her drop the place card she had been holding. 

“There’s been an accident. A plane crash,” he hesitated. Her eyes stopped seeing. Her body shivered with a bone-rattling chill despite the summer sun streaming into the room through the open windows. They couldn’t be—

“Say it.” Her voice was a breath on the wind. 

“There were no survivors.”

She didn’t hear the rest. Someone was screaming. A crash, glass breaking, warmth sliding down her leg. A sharp, metallic smell in the air. She couldn’t hear them calling her name, couldn’t feel their fingers gripping her skin, feel the pressure of the towel collecting the blood from the gash in her leg. 

A plane crash, he’d said. No survivors. 

Tomas was dead. 

Her father was dead.

Elain…she had just planted flowers for spring. 

A fresh scream ripped from her throat.

↞↠

She woke up with it echoing in her ears, heart pounding. Wrenching the fresh sheets off her clammy skin, she felt for the scar on her thigh, catapulting her back into the present. Nesta hadn’t let them stitch it for days, had wanted to remember. It had almost festered. Feyre had held her down while they numbed and sutured. Most of those days were lost now, either to shock or sleep, she didn’t know. It hadn’t taken long for the drinking to start. 

Her head was pounding. Alis had stormed the apartment hours earlier, tut-tutting about the stale stench, throwing open every window. Nesta actually appreciated the fresh air. She didn’t appreciate the old woman’s silent appraisal of her ruined wedding dress. 

“Don’t touch it,” Nesta had snapped. Alis had tut-tutted some more, cleaning as she went, but she left the dress alone. 

Now, with a clean apartment and nothing to keep her company but her own self-pity, she laid spread-eagle in her bed that felt too big in clothes that felt too clean. Nothing matched her insides anymore. The small, decrepit thing inside of her that shrivelled that day and rejected everything still living. Even herself. She had never been a particularly warm person, but Elain, sweet and beautiful Elain, had made her care about something outside of herself.

She got up to find something to dull her head. A bottle of ibuprofen sat on the coffee table, next to a decanter of scotch. She washed the pills down with the brown liquor and sat on the edge of the sofa, her head in her hands.

The silence pressed her on her eardrums. An oppressive lack of sound, only the barest of sounds audible on the street. Too quiet. For the first time in months it was too quiet. Her head shot up and focused, eyes darting to the card neatly placed in the corner of the table. 

Amren. 

What had Feyre meant, “a different kind of therapy”? Hell would have to freeze over before Nesta crawled onto a couch to talk about her feelings, Feyre had admitted as much. So what was this? 

She picked up the card and flipped it over. Simple, white, just the number in embossed black. The curiosity was going to kill her if she didn’t just call the number. She reached for her phone, hauled out from between the couch cushions by Alis earlier. It had been dead for weeks. She’d given up on ignoring the condolences calls and just let the battery drain. Probably why Feyre had shown up yesterday unannounced. She swiped past all of the missed call and voicemail notifications and pulled up the keypad. 

It only rang once. 

“Yes?” A clipped, cold voice answered the phone. 

“Uhh, is this Amren?” 

“Speaking,” her voice didn’t soften, “can I help you?” 

“My sister gave me your card,” Nesta didn’t like this woman. She wracked her brain to think of how this person could help her, especially when she didn’t particularly want anyone’s help. 

“And who, my dear,” Nesta could hear the snide smile in Amren’s voice, “is your sister?”

“Feyre,” Nesta huffed, “Feyre Archeron.” 

“Oh, Feyre darling! Why didn’t you say so?” Amren warmed immediately. Well, at least to a level above stone cold. “Yes, Feyre told me about you.”

“You must have read—”

“I don't read the news, dear girl,” Amren said, flippant. “I have someone perfect for you. I will send him. Already have your address.” 

God, she really needed to have a conversation with Feyre about boundaries. Who is she sending?

“Who are you sending?” Nesta had not been sober long enough for this. Her brain wasn’t firing quick enough to deal with whoever this person was sending to her apartment. 

“His name is Cassian. He’ll be at your apartment in two hours.” 

Two hours?!

“I can’t have anyone in my apartment in two hours! What is this??” 

“We call it therapy,” just like Feyre had, “you don’t need to do anything to prepare.” 

“But I don’t even—” The line went dead. 

Nesta stared at her phone. How could I prepare if I don’t know what to prepare for?

↞↠

Two hours later, Nesta was pacing. Nervous. She was rarely nervous but she was also rarely unprepared. This felt like a bad omen, like suspense in a horror film. Like this Cassian might jump out of the shadows at any moment from some secret portal. 

She had washed her hair but no makeup. She had put on leggings but no real pants. There were concessions she was willing to make and others she wasn’t. It didn’t matter that they were only concessions to her own pride. Feyre got one opportunity to meddle in Nesta’s life, one opportunity to try and control how she coped with losing everything. Nesta would endure it in her own home, in her bare feet, or she wouldn’t endure it at all. 

An assertive knock at the door made her jump. 

Her heart thundered. She hadn’t talked to a man in months, let alone been in a small space with one. Now there was one at her door. She padded across her expensive rug, smoothing her hair as she went. Her hand gripped the doorknob, giving herself a second to stop shaking. Breathe in, breathe out. She jerked the door open only to be left utterly speechless. 

The most beautiful man she’d ever seen was leaning on the door frame, forearms crossed over his massive chest. 

“Nesta?” one corner of his full mouth curved upward. He inclined his head behind her left shoulder after she nodded. “Gonna let me in?” 

“Why should I?” She challenged, angling her chin up at him. 

“Because,” his shoulder length black hair slid into his face as his towering frame looked down at her. He came closer and held her chin between his rough fingers, “you’re at least a little curious about what I’m doing here.” 

Nesta ripped her face from his hands and took a step away from him. His hazel eyes stripped her bare. How does he do that? He appraised her frankly, taking in her sloppily thrown together appearance. The baby hairs that clung to the side of her face, unable to stay in her top knot. Her soft curves that the oversized t-shirt she wore only hinted at. All the way down to her toes, the cracked polish left over from her wedding manicure, just a couple of splotches of color left. 

His gaze sent a warmth through her. She tried to will it away, send it back to the hell she belonged in. Shaking her head, she stuck him with a glare. 

“Fine,” she stepped aside, “come in and tell me what you’re doing here so I can tell you to get out.” 

He walked in smoothly, his gray slacks gripping his toned thighs with each stride. Too casual, Nesta thought, for a therapist, especially with his white shirt open at the collar and rolled to his elbows. Not that she actually believed whatever this was even approached therapy.

He stopped in the center of Nesta’s living room and turned, giving the place as detailed a once-over as he had given her. His eyes only paused briefly on the wedding dress still hanging in the corner, but he faced her again as if nothing were out of the ordinary. 

“So,” he took up so much space as he spoke, too big, too much life for this apartment that had only contained her hollow soul for so long, “everyone up to this point has referred to this appointment as therapy, correct?” 

“Yes,” Nesta replied, curt. “But you’re no therapist, are you, Cassian?”

He snorted, a challenge to her fire temper. She didn’t like to be mocked and somehow he knew that. “No, I’m no therapist.” 

“I’m what is referred to in the circles you run in as an escort, a friend, of sorts.” He looked her dead in the eye. No shame, no fear. Just a professional. “We call it therapy, first and foremost for discretion, but also because I’m here to make you feel better. Feel alive again. In whatever form that might take.”

Nesta stiffened. Her mouth dropped open. No. “My sister sent me a hooker? You’re telling me that, my sister, the High Lady of the Night Court, sent me a hooker?!” 

She could barely keep up with the 100 mile an hour thoughts racing through her head. It wasn’t long before the pacing started again. Feyre said she uses the service sometimes...with Rhys?! She maybe could have guessed that her sister and her ass of a husband were freaky but prostitutes?! Couldn’t they just ask someone? 

Nesta, please do be discrete, she’d said as she walked out the door. She guessed paying for silence was easier than risking a secret. Money is always the best form of currency. 

Well, I guess I fucking know why. And she set this up for me?! What in hell’s fire did she think she was doing?

Cassian just stood there while her brain worked, while it exploded with all of this new information. So still, a statue compared to her frantic pacing. He must deal with this a lot. But wait, don’t people usually know what they’re asking for?! 

“You’ve never–“ she couldn’t finish the question out loud. Sharing was something foreign to Nesta even when she wasn’t talking about sexual partners. 

“No,” he shook his head, “Amren wouldn’t have sent me here if I had. She just told me the context of the visit.”

“So, you’re here,” Nesta stopped in front of him, “to have sex with me?” The words came out a whisper. They sounded so foreign, so ridiculous. 

“I’m here to help you.” He took a step toward her. The walls came down fast.

“And why do you think you can help me?” The words cut through the space like a knife. Accusatory, incredulous, they almost stung passing over her vocal cords. 

“Because, dear Nesta,” he took another step toward her, and another, “I’m very good at helping people.” 

The warmth in her blood returned and warred with the acid coursing through her veins, the hate. It came raging back from this morning, from the past months, from ten minutes ago when this cocky prick knocked on her door. He was staring again, close enough to have to look down at her, just an inch or two from touching. 

“I don’t need help from a high-dollar whore,” she spat. The only sign that she’d hit her mark was a faint twitch in his eyebrow. 

“I’ve been called worse, sweetheart,” he drawled. “But let’s get one thing straight. I think you need help more than you’d ever admit. I don’t think you’ve taken a breath since then. I read the papers. A beloved dead sister. Absent from the funerals. You blame yourself for not being there, for not dying with them. The guilt warms your bed at night while you lie awake, as much a part of you as the alcohol that twinges your breath. It’s become so familiar you don’t remember what it’s like without it. Who would Nesta Archeron be without that dark stain on her conscience following her like a storm cloud? Will all those liquor bottles I saw outside answer that question for you? Will that tattered wedding dress?”

“How dare–“ she felt the door press against her back, unconsciously moving with him while he lashed at her burning soul, fire for fire. 

“Oh, I dare,” he continued, planting his hands on the door behind her, trapping her with his eyes. “Because take it from someone who knows, when you decide to wake up and live with what you have left instead of existing with everything you’ve lost, there may not be anything left to live with. And trust me, guilt makes a very lonely bedfellow.”

Nesta had barely blinked this whole time, refusing to let him have that victory. Even if everything he’d said had hit home. Even if everything he’d said had flayed her open and raked her insides across the coals. She still burned with that unyielding rage. 

“Is that what you say to all the girls that pay for your time?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. She was close enough to smell him, the warm spice of clove and sandalwood with a distinctly male musk. It was intoxicating. It was infuriating. 

“Some. Some of the men, too. I’m an equal opportunity tough lover.” 

She swallowed hard. He was close enough that if she moved an inch his hair might brush her cheek. “Is that what this is? Tough love? For someone you just met?”

“It’s the truth,” his breath tickled her face, the tension crackling like static electricity around them, “isn’t it?”

He sounded tentative for the first time, like maybe he’d overstepped. Is it really so obvious?

“Did Feyre pay you to say those things?” Or were they just written so plainly on her face?

“Nooo,” he said, lower than before, gentler, raising one of his hands like he might stroke her cheek. She cursed herself silently for hoping. He came closer then, his lips a hair’s breadth away from her ear, “Feyre paid me to fuck you senseless.” 

Goddamn him. Fire shot into her veins. Not the simmering fury of her anger but something deeper, hotter, pooling in her core. Her breath caught in a little gasp and he smiled. A wide, full grin with teeth that made him look more predator than man.

Her body was a traitor, but it made no difference. She was already burning in hell.

Cassian held still, letting her make the next move. Part of her wanted to make him stand there forever, punish him for what he said, what he knew about her, daring to say what no one else would with just one look. A different part of her wanted to rip him apart. 

“Come on, Nesta,” a prince of cats toying with his prey, “show me that fi–“

Her lips crashed against his. God, he was big. She reached around him, fingers tensed to claw at his back, and savored the muscles and sinews that made up the terrain. He pressed her into the door. His hands cupped her face, so gentle for a kiss that was anything but. Flames licked her skin everywhere he touched, at every point their bodies connected through clothing.

He leaned and gripped and suddenly she was taller than him, her legs wrapped around his middle, his fingers pressed into the curve of her ass. She gripped the sides of his face and guided him to the side, forcing herself deeper, her tongue brazenly exploring his mouth. He even tasted wild, like fresh mint and adrenaline. Her heart beat in her ears, deafening over the silence of the apartment. He moaned, so deep it vibrated in her chest.

Nesta broke first, pupils blown and breath ragged.

“Finally shut you up?” she asked, sagging back against the door, her head falling against the wood with a low thud. 

He….well, he growled. There was no other word for the sound that rippled through his whole body and found a home between her legs. Her toes curled and she thanked every god that he couldn’t see. 

“Pretty little acid tongue,” he pushed them off the door and walked her toward the bed, almost tripping twice over the plush rug. Nesta didn’t notice. She was too busy tearing at the buttons down Cassian’s chest. Each one revealed inch after inch of smooth golden skin. Licks of black ink stretched from his shoulders, mostly hidden by more shirt. She huffed, trying to shove it off, but instead caught his nipple by accident with her nails. 

His nostrils flared as he hissed and dropped her unceremoniously on the mattress. She bounced, breathless. Dangerously close to a giggle. Traitor. She schooled her features back to bored disdain. The only hint of lust was the glassy haze in her vision, honed in on Cassian’s bare chest. 

He had removed his shirt while she had been distracted by her traitorous body, discarded it somewhere above her. The black inked lines Nesta had seen stretched around his shoulders and down his arms in dark whorls and spirals. The tattoo was almost feminine in its pure decoration, a stark contrast to his cut biceps. It was beautiful. 

He was beautiful. 

“Careful, Nesta,” he chided, “someone might think you like what you see.” 

She gave him a filthy gesture. A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him as he took a step closer, his fingers grazing the outer seams of her leggings. From her ankle to her knee, where he stopped to make circles. He curved around her knee and gripped her legs, tugging her to the edge of the bed. The palms of his hands burned her skin straight through her leggings. He hadn’t tried to remove her clothes. She couldn’t decide if it was a tease or an insult. Probably both. 

“Are you just going to talk?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, “or are you going to do something productive with that mouth?” 

His eyes narrowed, “are you sure that’s what you want?” 

She wanted him. Damn her, she wanted him so bad she could barely stand to look at him. The guilt roiled in her stomach, that she should take pleasure while everyone she’d loved could no longer. He’d offered her help, but it would be her damnation. No, this was just a distraction. No amount of distraction could bring back Tomas, or her father, or Elain. 

Light from the city outside shifted and spread into the corner drawing her eye. The dress. Her wedding dress. In the night shadows, the blunt burns looked like angry, gaping voids. They whispered to her as she stared. Traitor, traitor, traitor. 

I’m here to help you. His words were poison. Bred from a kind of hope only Feyre, with her perfect life, could ever have again after what they had lost. Her want for Cassian’s body burned her from the inside, stoked the fires of the self-inflicted hell she’d cast herself into. Nothing more than a catalyst. She could take his body and burn for doing so, but she would not accept his help. 

“Cassian,” Nesta’s voice didn’t belong to her. She pulled her t-shirt up to just below her breasts, exposing her flat stomach and drawing his eyes to her waistband. “just do what you came to do.” 

The air chilled as he stiffened. Her heart raced, waiting for him, fingers teasing her bare skin. He didn’t move. She lifted a bare foot and ran it along his pant leg, coaxing him to touch her. He nodded, as if making some decision Nesta wasn’t privy to. His face, lit so beautifully by the moonlight, hardened into a mask. A smooth, smiling mask. Prince of cats no more. 

“Cassian?” 

“Dear Nesta, I do believe our time is up,” he leaned down and reached over her, his chest just grazing her belly, the only skin to skin contact they’d had. She swore she felt him shudder, but it was over in an instant. He quickly retrieved his shirt from behind her and pulled it on. 

She gaped at him, “what do you mean our time is up?” 

“I mean,” his eyes shot right through her with cool confidence, “it’s getting late and I do need my beauty sleep. I must be going.” 

“But–“ she didn’t understand. Isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t this how he gets paid? How can he leave? 

He buttoned up his shirt, swift and efficient. Little feeling or warmth. Nesta wasn’t sure what to do. Confusion quickly gave way to anger, boiling in her veins, flushing her skin.

“So, you’re not just a whore,” she hissed, “you’re a bastard whore that can’t even finish the job.” 

“So lovely meeting you, dear Nesta,” he turned with a sweet smile and opened the door, sending any tension between them out into the hallway. He breezed through the door, clicking it shut behind him so gently he might have been a phantom. 

Nesta slammed her head against the mattress and let out a frustrated scream so loud she had no doubt the bastard whore heard it.

taglist: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron

Cassian’s POV is next ❤️

[much-obliged-timothy]

Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 9

A follow-up to part 8! I finally made a masterpost for this little AU, and you can find it here! 

Rhys knocked on the door to Tim’s house.

As usual, the blinds were pulled, leaving no view to the inside of the house. He waited anxiously until Tim pulled the door open.

“Rhys?” he said, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Fine!” Rhys said, then cleared his throat because his tone didn’t sound like everything was fine. “Uh, fine. I had some things to talk to you about. I ordered dinner. It should be delivered in a bit.”

“Oh, okay,” Tim said, still looking confused but stepping aside to let Rhys in. “A heads-up would be nice in the future.”

“Right, sorry,” Rhys said. “Is this okay?”

“Yea, fine. I just mean if you’d come twenty minutes later, I would’ve already been in the middle of making dinner,” Tim said. “Got a kid to feed, remember?”

Oh, Rhys remembered. It was the whole reason he was here, after all.

Tim led him out to the living room, where Phoenix was sitting at a little table, bent over a piece of paper. His face was screwed up in concentration as he chewed on the end of his pencil.

“I can’t get it dad!” he said, eyes watering. “I dunno how to do it.”

“That’s okay. We’ll take a break for now and try again after dinner. You’re probably just too hungry to concentrate right,” Tim soothed. He lowered his voice so only Rhys could hear him. “He’s been pretty easily upset ever since that whole outburst about missing his mom. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Rhys said. “Hi Phoenix.”

Phoenix wiped at his eyes. “Why’s boss guy here?”

“He ordered dinner for us,” Tim said. “I guess he’s got some things to talk to me about. Keep him company while I get us drinks?”

Rhys sat down as Tim drifted into the kitchen. Phoenix looked at his homework, then pushed it away, looking upset that he hadn’t been able to finish it.

“How’s the reading going?” Rhys tried.

“Better,” he said, picking up his bear to hug. “Dad reads to me every night, but last night I read him a story before bed.”

Rhys couldn’t imagine a child reading a bedtime story to Tim, mostly because Tim looked like Handsome Jack. But he nodded like that was a perfectly normal mental image.

Phoenix hugged his bear tighter. “He said I can read to mom when I see her, and she’ll be so happy that I can read so good.”

“So well,” Rhys said. At Phoenix’s look, he sighed. “Never mind.”

Tim came out, handing a soda to Phoenix and a glass of wine to Rhys. He sat on the couch with his own wine, holding his arm out as Phoenix curled into his side.

“I can have a soda?” Phoenix said.

“Sure, pal,” Tim said, sipping his wine. “Just don’t tattle on me for it. So, what’d you need, boss?”

“O-Oh, um, just that...report,” Rhys said.

Tim frowned. “I thought I had til the end of the week on that? I have a lot of it done, but I’m still waiting on some data to finish it.”

“I know!” Rhys said. “I was just hoping for an update.”

Tim shrugged and launched into an update of the report he’d been working on. As he spoke, Rhys noted the way Phoenix clung to him more than usual, tensing up whenever Tim pulled his hand away from Phoenix’s shoulder to make hand gestures. 

There was a knock on the door and Tim got up to get it. Rhys checked his ECHO, anxiety growing, but there was no new message.

Tim returned with bags of delivery. Phoenix hopped off the couch to help him carry everything into the kitchen, Rhys following.

His ECHO pinged as they were taking everything out of the bags and sorting through it. He checked the message, chewing at his lip.

“Jeez, Rhys, did you buy enough food?” Tim said as he finally got the last of it onto the table. 

There was a knock on the door. Tim frowned from the food to Rhys.

“I-I’ll go see who it is with you,” Rhys said. “Phoenix, mind getting silverware? Please?”

Tim nodded at Phoenix and left the kitchen, Rhys trailing behind him. “Rhys, what’s going on?”

“Uh...me trying to help?” Rhys said weakly.

Tim opened the door, eyes going wide. The woman standing in the doorway smiled at him.

“Ember,” Tim whispered.

The two were hugging tightly before Rhys could even think to greet her. He’d never met her before, and Moxxi had arranged this whole thing, so really, this was his first time ever interacting with her.

She pulled away from Tim, cupping his face in her hands to look him over. Her gaze dropped to his cybernetic hand.

“I’m okay. I’m good,” Tim said. “You look great. Moxxi said you’ve been amazing at getting things up and running there.”

“Of course I am,” Ember said, her voice heavily accented. “I will light that place up! Ah, you must be Rhys.”

“You set this up, Rhys?” Tim said.

“With Moxxi’s help,” Rhys said, holding a hand out to Ember. “Uh, nice to meet you. Rhys. Tim’s boss.”

“Ember,” she said, shaking his hand. “Thank you for arranging this. I’ve missed them both.”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Tim said, a smile touching his face. “Shit, Ember, he’s going to be so happy. Fuck. Thank you, Rhys. Thank you.”

Rhys was a little unnerved by the whole situation, but he nodded. He followed the two out to the living room, Tim stopping Ember.

“Phoenix!” he called. “Come here. Boss guy has a surprise for you.”

Phoenix came out cautiously. His eyes widened, mouth dropping open at the sight of Ember.

“Mom!” he cried, tears coming to his eyes as he raced forward. “Mommy!”

Ember dropped to her knees, catching him as he flung himself at her. She held him tightly as he cried against her, kissing him and whispering something to him.

Rhys couldn’t help but smile as he watched them. Tim knelt beside them, Ember pulling him into their embrace.

They were a weird family to look at. A Handsome Jack doppelganger, a vice district performer, and a little boy who didn’t look much like either of them at first glance. But they seemed happy to be there together.

Finally, Tim pulled away. “Guess that explains all the food.”

“You’re staying?” Phoenix said anxiously, clutching his mom. “You’re gonna stay?”

“For tonight, yes,” she promised. 

His eyes shined with joy. “I can read you a bedtime story! Dad and boss guy are teaching me how to read really good!”

“Well,” Rhys said, unsurprised when Phoenix ignored him.

“I can’t wait,” Ember said, standing up with Phoenix in her arms. “But you know I’m not staying forever, right, Phoenix? We need to put that out there right now. I need to go back to the casino for work. But I can stay for a few days. And I can always come back another time.”

“I want you to stay forever,” Phoenix said, putting his arms around her neck and pressing his face into her shoulder. “You and me and dad.”

“I can’t stay forever,” she said, shaking her head. She urged his head up so he was looking at her. “Your dad and I aren’t a couple, Phoenix. But I love both of you, and I will always come to see you. I hate when you’re sad. But sometimes people have to be apart, even when they don’t want to be. Someday you’ll understand. For now, I need you to trust that we will always do what we believe is best for you.” 

“Besides, if mom and I lived together, how would I sneak you extra ice cream or soda?” Tim said.

“Timothy! You better not be giving him too much caffeine,” Ember said.

“Uh...no,” Tim said. “Never, Ember.”

“But you’re gonna stay tonight?” Phoenix pressed. “You’ll stay? And you’ll sleep with me and dad? And I can read to you?”

“Yes and yes and yes,” she said, smiling. “I was thinking we could do a bonfire. It is nice out.”

“Absolutely shocking you of all people suggested that,” Tim said, wincing when she punched his arm. 

“Boss guy’s gonna stay too?” Phoenix said.

“Well, I did pay for the food,” Rhys said.

“You got mom here?” Phoenix said.

“Well, I had help,” Rhys said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But...I knew how much you missed her.”

“Boss guy’s the best, mom! He even let me throw lettuce at his face,” Phoenix said.

“I did not! Your dad is just an asshole!” Rhys said.

“Hear that, Ember? Rhys has a horrible mouth. He’s taught Phoenix all sorts of awful swears,” Tim said.

“Oh, please, Timothy, I know you’re the one who swears around him all the time. My poor boy’s ears,” Ember said, Phoenix snuggling against her as she kissed him again. “But thank you, Rhys. Phoenix talks about you all the time on our calls.”

“Dad said he’s like a uncle,” Phoenix said.

“An uncle,” Rhys corrected. Then the words actually registered in his brain. “Wait! No I’m not!”

Ember laughed and set Phoenix down. “You and your father go get the table ready for dinner. I want to see if he’s teaching you your table manners.” He held his hand out to her, but she waved him on ahead. “I will be right with you. I promise.”

“C’mon, pal, let’s go set the table. And definitely not hide any soda,” Tim said, nudging Phoenix. When Phoenix hesitated, Tim scooped him up, hoisting the boy over his shoulder and grinning at Phoenix’s squeal of surprise. 

“Dad, lemme go!” Phoenix said, laughing as he lightly hit his fists against Tim’s back.

“Nope, gonna drag you along to set the table with me. We’ve got to prove we haven’t regressed into cavemen without your mom around.”

“Dunno what the big word means!”

“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is setting the table and proving I’m a semi-competent parent.”

They disappeared into the kitchen, their laughter trailing out. Ember watched them go with a surprisingly tender expression.

“You know, he has a reputation for being a coward. But he’s not, not really. Running and hiding is how he stayed alive so long. When it comes down to it, Timothy has always stood his ground when he had to,” Ember said. “He never once even talked about leaving me when I told him I was pregnant. He stepped right up to be a dad, terrified as he was.”

“He’s a good man,” Rhys agreed. “And he’s good to Phoenix. I know it’s hard for him. But he tries his best.”

“I know. That boy loves his father. I hope he grows up to be as kind-hearted and loyal as Timothy,” Ember said. “Thank you for bringing me here, Rhys. None of this has been easy from the moment I realized I was pregnant with him. But seeing him and Timothy here, able to play and laugh…” She shook her head. “They are burning so brightly. Thank you.” 

“Oh, um, no, I really haven’t done anything,” Rhys said, shaking his head.

“You have,” she said seriously. “You took Timothy in and gave him a chance when others would’ve turned him away for his face. You let him bring Phoenix into work with him. And you’ve been kind to both of them. That’s something neither of them had for years. Timothy said Phoenix adores you. I’ve never seen him trust a stranger so fast before.”

“Lucky me,” Rhys groaned. “Alright, yea, he’s a good kid. I don’t mind him as much as I pretend to. We should get back to them before he worries.”

They went into the kitchen, Phoenix immediately at his mother’s side. They sat down to eat together, Phoenix looking happier than Rhys had ever seen him as he sat between his parents. 

Ember and Tim were easy with each other, taunting and complimenting and laughing. Phoenix held their hands when he was done eating, and smiled so wide it looked like it hurt. 

When Tim and Rhys got up to do the dishes together, Phoenix crawled into Ember’s lap, hugging himself to her. Tim smiled as he watched them.

“Thanks, Rhys,” he said softly. “I haven’t seen him so happy in a long time.”

“Your, um...that is, Ember isn’t as scary as I thought she’d be,” Rhys said.

“Oh, she’s terrifying if you piss her off,” Tim promised. “But she’s a good person. When she told me she was pregnant, I…” He blew out a sigh. “I hoped she’d miscarry. I didn’t want to bring a kid into that kind of place. But for as much as I wish his childhood was different, I’m so glad we had him. Look at that kid. Blows my mind we brought that kind of light into such a dark world.”

Rhys put a hand on his shoulder. “He had good parents to keep him glowing.”

Tim shouldered him playfully. “And now he’s got a reluctant uncle looking out for him.”

“Shut up,” Rhys said, but found he couldn’t deny it. 

He even scooped a large bowl of ice cream for Phoenix, hiding behind Tim when Ember shot him a look. But Phoenix reached out, pulling Rhys in close to share some with him.

“Thanks for letting me have my mom and dad, boss guy,” Phoenix said, tugging Tim over so he could have them all close.

“You’re welcome, kid,” Rhys said, holding his fist out.

Phoenix knocked his fist against it. The smile on his little face made it worth it, and Rhys realized he was hopelessly entangled with this family, caring way too much about a traumatized kid and his traumatized father.

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 6//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red)

“Are you absolutely sure it's a boy?” Rhys asked me as we lay entangled in bed, his ear pressed against my bare stomach and his hand splayed just below my navel.

I giggled as I ran my fingers through his raven locks. In the week since I announced my pregnancy, he asked me different versions of the same question. His hands also seemed to have become permanently glued to my stomach; along with his ears and lips. Every chance he had, Rhys would try and get as close to the baby as possible—which I welcomed, absolutely content with how devoted he was. The morning after Starfall, Rhys insisted we visit Madja’s clinic in Velaris—determined to learn anything and everything there was to know about pregnancy and what it would entail for me. The healer happily obliged, and informed us both of what the next eight and a half months would look like. Not only was a high fae pregnancy longer than a human’s, but as with other fae ailments, any symptoms and risks I faced might be amplified.

There were the normal symptoms I was already accustomed to: nausea, vomiting, fatigue, and others I would soon face: backaches, swelling in my hands, face, and feet, and occasional headaches. Hearing about those symptoms didn’t cause any alarm, they were common and unfortunately came hand-in-hand with creating a new life. Madja also said that every female experienced her pregnancy differently; some had severe complications and had to be on strict bed rest, while others hardly experienced anything other than a few minor discomforts. I hoped for the latter of the two.

It was hearing about the risks, which included a small chance of bleeding that could lead to a miscarriage while we were still in an early phase, that made me nervous and caused Rhys to enter in a full-blown defensive mode. Any prior protective behavior he was experiencing before now intensified with his innate need to safeguard me and the baby. Madja assured us that this behavior was expected and normal between mates; with females in such a vulnerable condition, a male’s instinct was always to protect his mate and their offspring. To his credit, Rhys offered a sheepish grin along with an apology in advance. Having already witnessed what he was like after we were freshly mated, and how he managed to reign himself in, I knew most of it was beyond his control.

However, I welcomed some of his coddling after my unpleasant symptoms returned a day after our visit with Madja, and fluctuated throughout the week. The extreme fatigue seemed to be a permanent state I would stay in for the duration of my pregnancy, but I pleaded to the Mother that my nausea spells would soon cease. It was torture being unable to leave my room for periods of time throughout the day. Unfortunately, there was no predicting when the queasiness would hit, so for the time being I would have to bear with it and hope none of the others would notice and wonder why my seemingly mysterious illness still remained.

Rhys and I decided to hold off on revealing the news to our friends and my sisters until we were out of the realm of possibility for a miscarriage. Madja reassured me that the chances were slim and divulged that although it was difficult for high fae to conceive, it was also difficult to lose a pregnancy. In spite of my relief, I didn’t want to take any chances and asked the healer for all recommendations on how to stay as healthy as possible.

So, along with the prenatal herbal teas she initially prescribed, she also ordered that I immediately put a halt to my morning training sessions with Cassian—which Rhys whole-heartedly agreed with, much to my chagrin. As much as I enjoyed being active, however, I knew fainting after only a couple of minutes of basic punching forms was a sign that I should be taking it easier. My body was now working overtime to provide not only for myself, but for a baby that was growing more and more by the day. Instead, Madja suggested I take more time to rest and relax, to allow myself more free time for leisure activities like my painting. Knowing my concerns, and guilt, over becoming stagnant, Rhys promised my duties as High Lady wouldn’t be affected—which left me relieved.

However, as much as my mate knew how capable I was of tending to my regular duties as High Lady, I couldn’t help but be amused at how much he insisted on spoiling me. He now reserved the right to tend to my every want and need; whether I was weary or not, Rhys began to wait on my hand and foot under the guise that since I was carrying his child, he would carry everything else. I appreciated it most whenever I was feeling particularly nauseated or drained, but I drew the line whenever he tried to spoon feed me my meals—I still maintained my irritation for it, no matter how much of a mother hen he was going to be for the duration of my pregnancy. I also valued it on morning’s like today when I had awoken with little to no desire to leave the comforts of our bed—whether it was from my overwhelming fatigue or not.

“Yes, the Bone Carver appeared to me as our firstborn. A miniature version of you,” I answered with a sigh of mock exasperation.

“And you’re sure this mini-me didn’t happen to actually have long hair or maybe more feminine features? It is dark in the prison, afterall, maybe you missed a couple of details,” he tried to reason, raising his head to look at me.

“I showed you what he looked like,” I laughed.

“Ah yes, but I saw through your eyes Feyre darling. So to clarify the vision, I have to rely on the original source. In this case, that’s you,” he said, his grin positively feline.

I grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it as I laughed, “Smartass.”

His grin remained as he braced himself against my stomach playfully, “Careful darling, you’ll hurt the baby,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes and hit him again as he laughed, “It’s a boy. Maybe the next one will be a girl.”

“Next one?” He asked, his violet eyes lit up as they met mine with raised and amused brows.

“We’ll see. Let’s focus on our son first,” I said.

His chuckle reverberated through me as he pressed his ear to my still-flat stomach. Despite no growth progress being made on my pregnant belly, he was obsessed.

“I want him to know I’m here,” Rhys answered before I could ask; double checking to make sure that my mental shields were intact.

“He knows,” I said as I continued to brush my fingers through his hair. “He was calling out to you for weeks before either of us realized he was there.”

During our visit, I had Madja explain the mystery behind the faint glimmer that fluttered between us. The ancient inkling that existed between mates as a confirmation that they had successfully procreated. Rhys was in awe of the information, and hoped the glimmer would remain throughout the months. So far, my little glimmering baby was silent—perhaps reveling in finally being noticed.

“Still, it’s never too early to bond with my son,” he said with a grin as he pressed a chaste kiss to my stomach before subsequently moving from his spot and hovering above me. “Are you feeling well enough to have breakfast with everyone, or shall I bring you breakfast in bed?”

I sighed as I held his arms, lightly tracing the pattern of his tattoos as I debated, “I could honestly sleep for another couple of hours. You should go, let everyone know I’m okay,” I answered.

“I’m beginning to run out of excuses to explain why their High Lady has been so inclined to not leave her room.”

I hesitated, realizing how hard it actually was to keep up the deceit. A part of me knew Mor was suspicious of something already, having guessed Cauldron-knew-what on Starfall. The others I couldn’t even begin to guess what assumptions they made.

“Should we just tell them?” I asked. “I know we wanted to wait a little while longer, but it just doesn’t feel right to keep giving excuse after excuse.”

Rhys nodded in agreement, “I’m pretty sure Cassian and Azriel know something, but they have too much respect for your privacy to pry it out of me.”

I laughed and sighed tiredly, “Do you think they’ll be excited?” I asked.

He smirked, “Well I don’t think they’ll be disappointed.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away before sitting up as he chuckled. He caught my wrist carefully before I could get up from the bed, “I think they’ll be more than happy to hear there will soon be a new member of our Inner Circle,” he said.

I smiled, “He’s going to be spoiled, isn’t he?”

“Rotten, my love.” He replied as I laughed.

X

I didn’t realize how nervous I would actually be until we sat down for breakfast. Our morning routine was proceeding as normal—everyone gathering in our grand dining hall, another room I was particularly proud of in the estate. I planned for it to be large enough to fit all of us comfortably, and took extra consideration for the Illyrian brothers and their mighty wings.

I took comfort in seeing everyone in their customary morning moods; Amren and Mor chattering over a new line of jewelry on display at their favorite shop at the Palace of Thread and Jewels, Elain displaying a book of pressed flowers she had been collecting to Azriel—who actually requested to see it the night before, and Nesta keeping a watchful eye on the pair while Cassian engaged her in some kind of boastful conversation. I was actually surprised to see how close they were sitting together without Nesta having a sneer on her face. I tried to remember the last time it was she even looked at him with a sneer at all.

Getting distracted, my love? Rhys asked down the bond.

I glanced at him and took a sip from my glass of orange juice. What, should I just blurt it out while they aren’t paying attention?

Why not?

I paused. Really?

If you don’t, then perhaps I will.

I blinked and opened my mouth to say it, but when the words refused to come out, Rhys grinned mischievously before simply turning in his seat and said, “Feyre darling is pregnant.”

Everyone’s eyes instantly turned to me and I blushed under their collective gaze. There was quiet for little more than two heartbeats before Mor and Elain’s high-pitched squeals met the air and the sounds of chairs scraping the floor filled the room as everyone moved. Mor was the first to reach me as she threw her arms around me in a warm embrace.

“Oh, I knew it, I knew it!” She cheered as she hugged me and my eyes burned as she pulled away, Elain wrapping me in her arms next.

“I can’t believe it, Feyre, you’re going to have a baby!” she exclaimed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Azriel and Cassian congratulating Rhys with clasps on the shoulder.

I laughed aloud when Cassian wrapped an arm around his shoulder and wrestled him around, “I knew you had it in you Rhysie!” he exclaimed as Azriel nodded his approval.

Just as the shadowsinger turned his attention to me and took a step in my direction to congratulate me, Rhys was out of Cassian’s hold and in his path—blocking him from getting to me with a deadly snarl on his lips.

Cassian barked a laugh and slapped a hand on Rhys’s tense shoulder, “Is this a second version of that mating bond rearing its ugly head?” he taunted.

Before Rhys could turn that snarl towards Cassian, I touched his other shoulder gently in an attempt to calm his feral temper. Almost instantly, he relaxed as his gaze drifted to my stomach and shrugged Cassian’s hand away.

“Madja warned us that this might happen,” I said, “But I’d prefer you two not destroy this room.”

“We can always have it out in the training pit later, Rhysie.” Cassian goaded, cracking his knuckles with a wicked grin.

Rhys squared his shoulders as his hand came to rest on the small of my back, “I’m fine here.”

“A typical male guarding his offspring,” Amren said coolly, and I was grateful for the attempt to lighten the animosity that briefly began to brew. “Congratulations girl. It’s about time our group is graced by a youngling’s presence, it’ll be a welcome change around here.”

“How far along are you?” Nesta asked, and I was surprised to see her standing beside Cassian, not realizing she had made her way over during the hostile interaction with Rhys, instead of attempting to shield Elain.

“Almost three months now,” I answered, my hand coming to rest on my flat stomach. “I found out the day before Starfall.”

“Aha! I told you!” Mor cheered as she turned to Cassian and Azriel.

Cassian swore under his breath and Az dipped his head in acknowledgement, and I balked. “What’re you talking about?”

“We all made a bet on how long it would take for you guys to announce it. I gave it a week, Cass bet two, and Az bet you would be half-way along before you told us. Which means I won!” Mor sang excitedly.

“I lost the minute his darkness over here didn’t shout it from the rooftop after you told him,” Amren revealed nonchalantly, motioning to Rhys.

“Wait, you all knew?” I asked, bewildered.

“Are you kidding? I smelled it on you the minute we came back from the mountains,” Cassian admitted, “I’m surprised Rhys didn’t, with him being your mate and all.”

“To be fair, a part of me did know, but until Feyre was fully aware herself, I wasn’t going to raise any suspicion,” Rhys said nonchalantly, and I could feel his attempt to tame his preternatural instincts in order to avoid giving into Cassian’s baiting.

“So, this wasn’t really news then?” I asked, unable to hide my disappointment.

“It was for me,” Elain interjected, grabbing my hands gently with a smile, “I had no idea, and I’m so happy Feyre.”

“I didn’t know either,” Nesta added, and I was astonished to see a formal look of support on her lovely face.

Elain embraced me again as my eyes burned. They were all happy for us, and as Amren mentioned earlier, a baby would soon be welcomed by everyone here. I tried not to let the tears fall as I imagined my son being held in each of their arms. I sniffed as I stepped back from Elain’s arms and blinked in surprise when I saw Amren, Mor, Azriel and Cassian standing together before me and bowed with their hands over their hearts—just as they had done years ago after Rhys and I were newly mated.

“Our vow of service and protection is extended to the child you carry; our future High Lord of the Night Court.” Mor explained before I could question them.

“Or the future High Lady,” Cassian said with a wink.

I glanced at Rhys as he slid his hand back onto the small of my back, and without the need to communicate through the bond we knew we would keep that revelation a secret.

“This is normally a tradition sworn to the High Lord, but seeing as you are our High Lady, and the one who is actually doing all the work, we pledge our vow to you and your child.” Amren continued.

My heart tightened and my face flushed as they all stood as one, their hands still on their hearts. I captured the image in my mind, imagining what colors of paint I would need later and the exact canvas I would use to commemorate this moment forever. Sworn protectors of the Night.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice still thick with the unshed tears.

Mor grinned and came up to envelop me in another hug, “Your emotions are going to be all over the place now! You don’t have to worry about holding back, we all understand,” she crooned and I laughed with a sob.

“I’ll admit, I’ve never really been around pregnant females outside of the ones in the Illyrian camps, but I’m willing to learn,” Cassian reassured.

“We all are,” Azriel added.

I sniffed and wiped at the few tears that escaped, “I guess we’re all experiencing this for the first time,” I said.

“I’ve at least held a baby before,” Mor said proudly.

“Before it burst into tears and reached back for its mother,” Rhys remarked with a smirk, earning a glare from the golden-haired beauty.

“Hey, I’ve held a baby before,” Cassian defended. “You forget, I’ve taught younglings how to fly. Sometimes that required holding them when they cried.”

“Your idea of holding a youngling included patting them on the back until they calmed and tossing them, sometimes in mid-air,” Azriel smoothly cut in.

“That happened once, and it was an accident!” Cassian barked.

“So, you dropped a baby in mid-air?” Mor asked.

Elain gasped in horror at the thought, causing Amren to burst out laughing and Nesta rolled her eyes as Cassian fumbled over his words to try and defend his actions. I squeezed Rhys’s hand as my heart swelled and his eyes met mine with an easy grin, his free hand coming to rest on my stomach—happy to finally be able to do so in front of everyone. I returned his grin when that familiar glimmer fluttered excitedly beneath his touch, our son happy and no doubt feeling right at home with his family.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 3

The battle rages on and gets a little messy.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 27

           Nestle backs away nervously as Jack stands over him, grinning darkly. Then Nestle gets some nerve and squares up.

           “I will not be intimidated!” he barks and fires lightening out of his hand. It poofs harmlessly against Jack’s chest.

           “Is that it?” Jack asks as Nestle deflates like a popped balloon. “My turn.”

           Jack pulls back his fist and punches Nestle right in the face. Before he can fly back from the force, Jack grabs his shirt and backhands him then knees him in the gut. Nestle doubles over, letting out a choked gasp.

           A few flights down, Fiona, Sasha, and Vaughn watch the beating, bewildered.

           “You guys are seeing this too, right?” Vaughn asks, to which the sisters numbly nod.

           Rhys watches too from where he hangs off the broken stairwell, almost too stunned to remember his predicament. But he’s quickly reminded by his aching fingertips and his fear of heights. He grabs onto the railing, giving himself a better grip, and manages to pull himself up. Then he continues racing up the stairs.

           Meanwhile, Skies is having the time of her life. She slices through the Guardians with her newly acquired staff, knocking them down like weeds, and dodges their attacks with swift ducks and sidesteps. And the whole time, she has a wide, unsettling grin on her face.        

           Timothy sticks close to her, covering her back and finishing off any Guardians who linger after one of her attacks. As he shoots one that clings for life on the ground, Skies turns to him.

           “Thanks, Tim Tam,” she chimes.

           He chuckles awkwardly and smiles back.

           As the battle rages on, the sound of heavy footfalls and trees falling cannot be heard over the din of the gunfire. That is until Mordecai’s voice rings through everyone’s ECHO communicator.

           “Heads up!” he warns.

           Skies and Timothy look up as a couple trees break down around them, just in time to see a giant, metal foot coming down.

           “Whoa!” they exclaim and dive out of the way. Many Guardians are not so lucky and get squished like bugs.

           Overhead, Gortys has shoved the Prototype halfway across the island. But finally the Prototype pushes back, stopping her in her tracks. It pulls her off its midriff and they begin to mercy wrestle.

           “Wowzers!” Axton exclaims as everyone stares up at the giant robots in awe.

           “Hey!” Lilith barks into her ECHO communicator. “Shouldn’t you guys be keeping your fight on the other side of the island?”

           “This isn’t so easy to control, Lilith!” Athena retorts

           The Prototype’s eye lights up and Gortys barely manages to duck beneath its laser eye as it slices through the treetops.

           “Yikes!” Timothy squeaks, covering his head from the falling branches.

           “Dammit! Could someone help us deal with that laser eye?” August demands.

           “Dibs!” Skies exclaims and runs off.

           “Uh, Skies, wait!” Timothy calls and chases after her.

           She quickly climbs a nearby tree as high as she can go, Timothy following close behind.

           “Hey, August, can you bring it down to its knees?” she asks.

           “Hang on,” he replies.

           With August in control, Gortys grabs the Prototype’s shoulders then kicks out one of its ankles, forcing it down onto one knee.

           “That’ll do,” Skies replies.

           “Hurry!” August orders.

           Skies and Timothy leap off the tree onto the Prototype’s nearby shoulder. But as they do, it shakes off Gortys’ grip and stands back up.

           “Whoa!” Skies and Timothy cry as they rise into the sky, barely clinging to the robot’s shoulder.

           “Didn’t you say you’re afraid of heights?” Skies asks.

           “Don’t remind me,” Timothy whimpers, keeping his eyes pointed up.

           As Gortys and the Prototype continue to smack at each other, Skies and Timothy shimmer across its shoulder to its head. Then they both climb to the top. The Prototype doesn’t even seem to notice them.

           “Hold onto my jacket; keep me steady,” Skies orders. Timothy holds onto the metal plating with one hand and the hem of Skies jacket with his other, holding her steady as she slides towards the robot’s forehead. It just barely catches a glimpse of her peeking into its line of sight before she lifts her staff and drives it through its eye.

           The Prototype lets out a crackling screech as a shock travels from the staff through it eye and its red glow dies out. It stumbles back, disoriented, and fitfully shakes its head.

           “Whoa-aaAAAHHHH!” Skies and Timothy cry out as they fly off and into the trees. They crash through the branches, plummeting quickly towards the ground far below.

           “Tim!” Skies shouts, reaching out her hand. He grabs it and she pulls him in, holding him tight and covering him with her robotic arm and leg.

           They smash into the ground and Skies prosthetics take the brunt of the force, shattering beneath them.

           They both lie in the dirt, groaning painfully. Timothy rolls off Skies, shakenly gets up on his knees, and looks over himself. Other than lots of cuts and gashes, he’s pretty okay.

           “You…saved my life,” he breathes, stunned as he looks at Skies.

           “Pshaw,” she scoffs, “I just made sure you didn’t lose any limbs…like me.”

           She groans as she rolls onto her back, the shattered bits and pieces of her arm and leg poking through the sleeves of her coat and pants.

           “Oh! Your arm and leg!” Timothy cries.

           “Ah, it’s not a big deal,” Skies grunts, waving away his concern with her one good hand. “Just-just a sec.”

           She slips off the right sleeve of her coat, revealing the wires of her arm still connected into her shoulder. With one quick grunt of exertion and pain, she rips them out and shakes the remaining bits out of her sleeve. Then she reaches into her pants and does the same with her right leg.

           Timothy kneels nearby, watching her. “I’m…sorry.”

           “Ah, don’t be,” Skies scoffs, “it sucks that I can’t get back to the fight though. I’m of no use to anyone like this.”

           “I’ll take you back to the hideout,” Timothy says and starts to reach for her, but hesitates. “Uh is it okay if I carry you?”

           “Well, it’s either that or drag me through the dirt. But whatever works for you,” Skies replies.

           “I’ll just carry you.”

           He carefully lifts her up and cradles her bridal style. But just as he starts to walk off, they hear the bushes rustling and turn to see Mick Scabbers emerging with a couple of his bandits.

           “Handsome Jack,” Scabbers snarls, “finally, I will have my revenge.”

           “Ugh, I am so sick of these guys,” Timothy snaps. He carefully rests Skies against a tree and she watches him with surprise as he faces them.

           “You want Jack?” he barks and reaches into his cloak. “I’ll give you more Jack than you can handle!”

           He pulls out what looks like a kind of watch and slaps it onto his wrist. When he presses the display, two Jack digi-clones appear behind him.

           “Wow,” Skies gasps.

           “Get ‘em, boys!” Timothy orders.

           “Hell yeah!” the clones cheer and race forward, firing their guns at the bandits. They try to fight back, but they’re dealt with quickly while Scabbers scampers out of the way.

           “Hey!” Timothy barks and fires his SMG, but Scabbers disappears back into the trees before he can be hit.

           Timothy glares after him but lets him go, sighing heavily. He taps his watch, calling back the clones, and turns to face Skies.

           “Wow,” she says again, smiling at him. “Will you ever cease to amaze me?”

           He chuckles and starts to reach for her.

           “Wait,” she orders and he stops. “You gotta go back to the fight?”

           “What?” Timothy questions. “But what about you?”

           “I’ll be fine,” she sighs, “but they need you. There’s still a ton of Guardians and they could use the help of your clones. Besides, you need to take out that nut sack, Scabbers.”

           Timothy leans back, hesitating, then nods. “Alright. But I’m not leaving you here.”

           As he stands back up, he activates his ECHO communicator. “Claptrap.”            “Huh-yes?” Claptrap replies.

           “I’m sending you Skies’ coordinates. She’s hurt; you need to take her back to the hideout.”            “What!” Skies exclaims and paws at Timothy’s leg. “No, no, not Claptrap! Anyone but Claptrap!”

           “On my way,” Claptrap chimes.

           “I change my mind! Screw those guys! You save me!” she begs.

           Timothy smiles at her apologetically. “I’ll see you soon,” he says before disappearing into the trees.

           “Noooooo!” Skies cries echo after him.

[harmonyindark245]

Secrets [1]

Summary: King's Archeron's kingdom is made up of secrets, which include both betrayal and treason. When the Prince of Velaris and his Inner Circle visit the kingdom, these secrets start revealing themselves. How will these affect the 3 Archeron Princesses, who themselves have a very deadly secret?

Word Count - 1.5k words

AN: All characters belong to Sarah J. Mass

Warnings: A bit of mature language

Hope you all enjoy :)

Masterlist

Rhysand stood in front of the palace gates, gazing at the massive doors and the beautiful carvings on them. He had never seen such beautiful doors in his kingdom. 

Well, maybe that had to do with the fact that his father hated decorations of any sort. Rhysand thought he was a prick.

“Hey prick, you do know you can help us right?” Ah, that would be the other prick, whom Rhysand did not hate that much. Rhysand turned around to see Cassian, his brother of sorts, tugging huge sacks along with him. 

“And you do know that we have servants to help with those?” He pointed out. 

Cassian let go of the sacks and behind him, Azriel very nearly avoided tripping over them. 

“Ah, the most powerful Illyrians in our kingdom and yet they are unaware of the usage of servants and tripping over sacks.” Mor said. “Such a pity. Isn’t that right Amren?”

Amren just waved her hand around. “That isn’t surprising. What is surprising though, is that we have been forced to come here to the land of mortals. Why is that?” She asked, glaring at Rhys.

“We were invited and dear old father thought it would be good to connect ties.” Rhys said, giving the same reason his father gave him.

“That is the job for a Prince and his royalties. Why the hell did you bring me? Or this uncultured brute?” She pointed towards Cassian. He just walked up and slung his arm over her shoulder. She shrugged it off almost immediately.

“Because dear Amren, he needed some source of entertainment for his month-long duration in this colorful drab kingdom.”

“Colorful drab?” Rhys asked, definitely amused by his friend’s choice of words.

“Why yes, isn’t that perfectly applicable here? It is filled with colors, but at the same time, the life here seems so drab.”

From behind, Az spoke up, “I highly doubt you’d be saying that when you meet the three princesses.”

Cassian flipped his head to watch Azriel who in turn was looking at Cassian with careful eyes. 

“Three, eh?” Cassian tilted his head. “Perhaps, I’ll spare one for you and Rhysie each.” He turned around and walked towards the gate. 

Mor just laughed and followed behind Cassian. Amren also moved ahead, leaving Rhys and Az behind. The Prince looked at his Spymaster and said, “You know what to do, don’t you?” 

Az just nodded. “And I’ll also ensure he doesn’t get kicked out of the kingdom.” He started walking away too as Rhys held his hand to stop him. 

“What do you know about these princesses?” 

Az smirked at the prince as he answered, “Each is too much for us to handle.”

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

Elain was pacing in the great hall. She had managed to convince her father to let her welcome the guests from Velaris. Her father thought it was due to her generosity. 

In truth, it was so Elain could avoid Prince Lucien. If it were up to Elain, she would’ve stayed away from him since the first day. Once she had even contemplated slipping a tonic into his potion which would result in him not being able to leave his chambers for more than ten minutes. However, Elain couldn’t. She was supposed to be the nice sister, even though her thoughts ran far more violently than her sisters. 

“Oh do stop pacing. You’re giving me a headache.” Nesta said aloud from her seat without even looking up from her book. 

“Nesta, they were to arrive an hour ago. The sun is about to set, all the preparations! And Feyre! Feyre is not even here!” Elain exclaimed.

Nesta finally kept her book on her lap. “You do realise that I do not believe for one second that you are this frustrated because some Prince is coming to visit. Now tell me what happened, or else you’ll end up wearing down our carpet.”

Elain let out a breath. “Prince Lucien finally proposed.” 

Nesta was taken aback. “He has asked for your hand in marriage?”

“Not exactly. I don’t know.” Elain leaned against the wall. “He said he would be honored if I chose him, whatever that means.” 

Nesta laughed. “I see. Seems like someone fancies you. I bet he doesn’t know you at all.” 

“That’s not all. I keep seeing flashes of this man with a dagger and shadows swarming around him.” 

“Well, if he ever happens to confront you, ensure he can handle his liquor as well as you.” Nesta taunted again.

Elain glared at her. “Make fun of me all you want. Once I meet him, and I assure you I will, he will be the most perfect man to ever be alive.” She raised her chin.

Just then the front doors opened and a group of well dressed people entered. Elain stood up straight as she saw the man standing behind them all. 

Mother’s tits. It’s him.

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

Nesta was very unhappy when her father had told her about the prince’s visit. She knew that he had avoided telling her due to some reason and Nesta was willing to bet it was because he wanted to get her betrothed to the prince and knew that Nesta would strongly object. 

Luckily, Lord Thomas had not hounded her for another chance. She was fed up with being seen as an attainable object. A prize that would lead them directly to the throne.

Elain’s pacing and fantasies did not help at all. And Feyre was infatuated with the Captain and did not see sense regarding him. Nesta obviously despised him. As a child, he had told her that she could not handle swordsmanship. She responded by slitting his tendons, accidentally, obviously. He did not walk for a month and Nesta revelled with pride.

The door opened and five people, two ladies and three gentlemen, entered the great hall. Elain stood straight and stared at the man standing in the back. He looked quite handsome. As Nesta looked at each one of them properly, she realised, all of them looked well, in their own manner. 

The tall man in the back stood in a way that suggested he was carrying much burden on his shoulders. The lady in front of him was in a bright red gown with golden hair. She smiled as if she hadn’t seen a single bad day in her life. Nesta didn’t like her. There was a short lady standing right beside her with short black hair. She had a scowl embedded on her face. Nesta considered her as a potential friend. 

The one standing out the most was obviously the prince. His clothes screamed elegance. If Feyre were here, she definitely would’ve made him stay still until she could complete a portrait of his. 

There was another man. He walked at the head of the group, wearing normal clothes. Nesta couldn’t look away from his unkempt hair, reaching his shoulders, and his rugged face. His eyes were hazel and they clearly spelled out trouble.

The man caught her eye and winked at her.

Oh, Cauldron help her.  

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

Feyre was in the weapons room, polishing her personal sword. She knew Elain would bite her head off for abandoning the so-called ‘welcoming committee’ but Feyre truly did not want to be there. Tamlin’s words from the previous day had not left her mind and the last thing she needed was an arrogant prince commenting on her kingdom. 

She looked at the sword. Holding it as if she were cradling it.  Was she truly not capable of protecting herself? 

Tamlin walked into the room and was surprised at seeing her there. “Feyre, what are you doing here? I thought you had some event to attend.”

Feyre didn’t move her gaze from her sword. “Not an event. I had to go welcome the Prince of Velaris. Not that exciting.”

Tamlin’s expression tightened. “The Prince of Velaris is here?” 

Feyre looked up at him. “You were not aware?”

Tamlin closed his hands into fists. “No. His Majesty never mentioned anything of such.” 

Feyre moved towards him, his expressions unsettling to her. “Tam, are you okay?”

“Feyre, do you love me?” he asked abruptly.

“Of course I do. You know I do.” Feyre said without a hint of doubt.

He looked into her eyes and said, “Then marry me.” 

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

“Your Majesty, you have a message from the mortal lands.” The servant said with his head bowed down.

“Very well. Hand it to me and go back to your position.” The evil king said. 

As the King read the message his spy had sent, a smile formed on his face. 

“Why the smile, your highness?” The lady behind him crooned. 

“King Archeron thinks he can protect his kingdom from us. How naive of him.” The King laughed. “Little does he know that i have been planning this for a very long time and there will be nothing stopping me.”

“It appears he has done his job well. Perhaps, give him a reward of some sort?” The lady now stood beside him glancing at the letter.

“Not so soon, my lady. Not so soon.”

[gvldntrbl]

Home Sweet Home 

Character: River Hartwell, (introducing) Royce Hartwell, Rain Hartwell, (mentions) Yara Hartwell, Rhys Hartwell, Rowan Hartwell, Robin LaFleur

Location: Day Court - River’s Duchy / Estate

“Yazzy!” It was a rarity and a relief to hear that name again. Only one person called River that, her baby sister, Rain. Instantly, it alerted the duchess that the sole reason for her unexpected arrival to her duchy had not been in vain. She deeply hugged Rain, the younger fae towered over her now. A sigh of relief left her at the physical confirmation that her sister was okay. Rain was alive and well and her worry had been for naught. Too much time had passed for Rain to be considered a child. Almost two decades into her first century, she was a full fledged woman. Kind of heart, generous in nature and, dare River even say it, mischievous with a natural charisma about herself. Rain Hartwell was a force. While River was only her sister, she was proud to even have a positive influence in making certain that at least one Hartwell fathered from Royce’s loins remained true to the essence of their mother, Yara. Even if it was at the expense of herself, River knew that selfishly, she would do it again. 

She chuckled, glancing up at Rain and going to hold her sister’s face in her hands. “Yael," She greeted Rain, a soft smile on her lips as she visually took her in. It was a habit of theirs. Began by their mother. Outside of their home, they heavily carried the traditions befallen to all that bore the Hartwell name. Including the ‘R’ letter forenames. But as a nuclear unit, when she lived, Yara called them by their middle names. Subtly reminding them that they were more than that. They could, and should, belong to themselves. If ever they so desired. Somehow, the ritual continued after her, at least amongst her daughters. “I’m glad you’re safe. If you weren’t...” A quiet moment passed between them before River sighed and her hands fell away from her sister’s face. “I take it you’re returning with me to the Golden City?” It wasn’t an inquiry and Rain knew as much by River’s tone. It was far more curious for Rain to have returned home to their duchy alone. “Yes,” River could hear it, the humored eye roll Rain offered in concession. “It was quicker for me to come here than to travel to the palace. I knew you’d come for me.” She boasted, smirking down at River, whom with her own natural height only felt short in the presence of few. Rain slipped her arm into River’s as they walked further into the estate. “You always do, Yaz.”

The two sisters briefly had crossed paths during the Tournament at autumn. The contests were, by far, River’s favorite to spectate. But Rain preferred to venture off and blend into the courts she visited, she said that it was better to experience them like a true member. Or as close to being one as she could get. Now that the worry within River had subsided and they were home, the women exchanged stories of their time in autumn. Clearly avoiding the topic of the final night there. River laughed, listening to her sister’s finishing a tale of out drinking a handsome warrior thrice her size in palm wine. A day court specialty. He thought the drink soft and believed that he could hold the spirit better than she. Especially since autumn herald such alcohol like cider and more unofficially, white spirit. 

“Oh!” Rain exclaimed afterwards, sharp mind already onto another topic already, her sparkling eyes fell onto River before continuing. “The she-wolf!” The ascent of River’s glass towards her mouth of chilled spirits in her hand slowed. “Yes, her! Did you think I’d forget? I saw you. Looking quite cute.” Rain paused, dark eyes narrowing as they scanned River’s face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.” She watched as River calmly sipped her drink. “We’re courting.” She said, the corners of her cheeks upturning in a faint smile. “Officially.” If River couldn’t make her sister believe that her feelings for the lupine fae were genuine then... how in the hell could she truly fool anyone else closest to her of their facetious budding love? “So you may see her attend events with me for the foreseeable future.” A low breeze of laughter left River at the noise of unladylike excitement Rain emitted. “Rain!” She admonished half-heartedly, still chuckling. “If the time comes, you will meet her.”

“Why not now?” The inquiry was uttered from behind the pair. Said by the only voice that gave River Hartwell true pause. The sound of his steps neared before the vision of her father made itself known. The former duke of River’s duchy and once second in line prince to day’s throne, Royce Hartwell. The patriarch of River’s side of the Hartwell line. First born was her, then her brother and clear favorite of their father, Rhys, lastly followed by Rain. River and Rain sat under the refreshing shade of the patio, together on the same piece of furniture. Royce decided to sit opposite them, in the chair closest to River. “Father,” She greeted with a brief nod. “River,” He murmured her name as he sat back, leaned comfortable against the spine of the chair as he looked at her. “You know dislike repeating myself. Why not now?” Brown hands clasped, interlocked above his lap before he continued. “You are, after all, a duchess. Are you not?” The drink in River’s grasp moved to sit, back onto the table top, beside her. The light, pleasant atmosphere evaporating like a weakly woven mirage the more Royce spoke. “And what does she do? ...This wolf. Does she have a name?”

The disdain in his voice was clear. After nearly two centuries of knowing him, River could identify that tone effortlessly. It was one she reacted to without thought. “A huntress for the wild hunt.” River repeated easily, the two did exchange important information with each other. Which was essential for their ruse to work. “Robin LaFleur.” The dark brows of her father lowered, seemingly, with each short word she responded with. “A huntress. ...Does she not have a defined station there? Even among wolves.” Royce blinked. “LaFleur. I’ve not heard of that name within the wild hunt. Who are her parents? What do they do?” River ignored the quiet concern that donned Rain’s face at their father’s barrage of inquiries. Mentioning her would shift Royce’s attention and so the duchess would bear it. “You’ve not heard of them as she has none. Her name is her own.” The high fae was still for a moment, silently retaining the news before once more he spoke. 

“You’re courting an orphan?” His words may have been framed as such but River knew that her father was not asking. He was merely rephrasing her own words. “I did not know that you were so charitable, River. Your mother would be proud.” A quiet gasp exited the younger fae beside her. “Rain.” The instruction in River’s voice was apparent and immediately, quietly, Rain excused herself from the patio at River’s behest. Fortunately, Royce allowed it. In his benevolence, he even waited until his youngest daughter had left to continue. “River.” It was only when her name left his tongue that she truly understood the full weight of utter disappointment upon her shoulders. He sighed and River had the wisdom to bow her head and avert her gaze, trying to ignore the fretfulness that entered her being at incoming sandstorm of emotion within her that only Royce Hartwell could cultivate. For a high fae so lofty, he truly did have a knack for making River feel small.

“Your proclivities aside, out of all the available fae of equal or higher standing in other, more respectable courts. You chose to flaunt around a foundling lupine. One of which has such an inconsequential station among her own hunt that she wasn’t deigned the responsibility to lead those in whatever she does.” An empty scoff escaped Royce as a glass of ember spirit and ice was placed into his outstretched hand. “Exactly, tell me, what does a huntress do? What does such a profession entail?” He watched, dark eyes on River in expectance of an answer. To which, she gave, watching as he listened disinterested. Royce inhaled, holding a finger up in thought. “So she’s a courier?” He surmised. “You bring this house, this family, the opportunity to possibly one day accept a nameless, lupine courier? A she-wolf whom, by her very nature, cannot impregnate you nor produce heirs.” A tense silence settled among the two as Royce regarded his firstborn. “Must you truly emulate your cousin? Was it not enough for her to pluck her own wolf out of those woods and nearly prowl amongst them herself? But now for you, too, to go sniffing behind one out of some forsaken idealized desire to be her?” With her downward gaze, River felt more than saw her father move. The timbre of Royce’s voice had softened, a hand extended to lift River’s lowered jaw with the crook of his finger, forcing her eyes and attention to rise and land upon him. “Lest you forget whose child you are, hmm.” It was an old favorite retort of Royce’s. Only uttered quietly between them when he deemed that River was becoming too much like a child of his brother, Raymond, than that of one born to him. Decades had passed since her uncle’s passing and quietly, in the most honest corner of her heart, River  believed as though her father competed against the ghost of day’s deceased former high lord. 

Royce waited another moment, as River remained silent while her face still in his hold, before he spoke again in a low voice. “I do hope that my faith in you is not misplaced, River. Or shall I have Rain do what you cannot?” It was the mention of her sister, the knowledge that he would use Rain as a political pawn to advance his selfish agenda had River stubbornly level her gaze with his. “Ah, yes. There she is.” He meant the flash of ire that shone in her dark brown eyes. A gift of equal measure from both he and his deceased wife. “My child. Welcome home.” He pressed an empty, emotionless kiss to the high forehead he’d gifted her before standing to leave. “You have been missed.” Mere steps from the open doorway, River heard him pause. “I take it you and this wolf of yours shan’t be a problem, hmm? We all have desires but we don’t take them home with us. Some pets are only meant for outside, River.” With that, Royce took his leave. 

Finally alone, River breathed her second sigh of relief since entering her own home. She would return to the Golden City with haste and the duchess would certainly take her sister with her. But first, she had her people to tend to. It was still, after all, her duchy.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Rae Watches Torchwood

Children Of Earth Day Five

Thought I’d just go ahead and watch it, @nowhere-dawn-death-phan

Spoilers. Obviously

Love how the thumbnail for this episode is Gwen and Rhys carrying kids and legging it away from soldiers

Yeah, about the Doctor, was Children Of Earth never mentioned in Doctor Who? Ever?

Okay, real talk for a second. I miss the Weevils. I miss the Hub and Cardiff. I know this is Torchwood, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. It’s more Movie than TV Show

God, this message from the Prime Minister reminds me of our Prime Minister and schools and covid and no thank youuu

Does Rhiannon know Ianto’s dead?

Good on you, Rhiannon

“What’s so different about us?” you’re politician’s kids in a fancy house that go to a “good” school, you’re being shielded

Yes, the government is incapable of handling crises

And they’re blackmailing the soldiers

BAM VOMITING ALIEN, WHY DOES IT DO THAT???

I got distracted, they’re talking about the kids as chemicals???

The kids are like drugs to them, and now all I can think about is that alien that fucked people to death in 1x02

Okay, the news clips are a bit....close to home to what’s going on right now in the UK. Uhhhh

I’m going to say it one more time. STOP WITH THE ZOOMED IN NEWS LADY

Okay. Where is Ianto’s body? Seriously, I want to know Is it still in that school gym hall?

Ianto Jones making me cry at the very mention of his name? It’s more likely than you think

Okay. Slightly confused. Gwen and Rhys get to go home. They’re arresting Jack? Okay. I’m saying okay a lot. I was talking to someone, I missed a bit

Alice? Alice, your face is like, frozen

Fake inoculation? Okay

They’re going to give Peter Capaldi’s kids away anyway? 

Oh, so now your kids are in danger you want to tell the truth? You were alright with everyone’s else’s kids being taken

Sorry, I have a lot of thoughts about the politicians in this show [also real life but that’s another story]

“They’re just girls” yes, like all the other girls you’re willing to sacrifice

Okay, I’ll shut up about the politicians now

Last thing! Okay. Do feel kinda sorry? Because he was told they would be safe and now they’re not. Kinda hope he does go on to expose the government like Torchwood were going to though

Because he didn’t really have much choice in any of this, did he. It’s not his fault

ANDY’S HERE! HELL YEAH, ANDY

“Bloody hell fire. Who’s the father?”

Oh jeez oh no. Please don’t have an argument about abortion right now

Break for lunch

I’m back!

Is Bridget Spears going to break Lois out of prison?

Achievement Unlocked: Backstory

Oh shit

Good on Rhiannon and Johnny though

Good on that one teacher that’s asking questions and trying to protect the kids too

Gwen, you’ve fucked up mentioning Ianto’s dad

Evil lady do be breaking Jack out of jail though

Holy shit, they’re taking bloody lorries in to cart the kids away from home

Rhys. Rhys, this is probably something you should tell Gwen about

"We’re playing spies” that just hurt my heart a bit, my god they’re such tiny beans

Johnny Assembling the Avengers

This is bloody terrifying to me, honestly

YES, ANDY

Honestly though, when you tell kids to be as quiet as mice they just start squeaking

Alice. Alice, don’t let Steven out of your sight, they’ll take him

All these kids are being so cooperative

Bridget?

Ah shit they’re going to end up using Steven

What the fuck, someone told the soldiers where they were oh nooo

Oh no they left a little girl behind, she’s so scared

They only have little legs, they can’t run that fast

Ah beans, I’m crying again

Yes, Bridget, drag him

Aand, I’m crying again

If anyone wants me to make Rae Watches posts if/when I watch Miracle Day, let me know!

[msjr0119]

One Temptation

Part 2

*This new series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Warnings: 🤬 swearing, Driley smut 🥰

Tags-if you want to be removed let me know 😊: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @beardedoafdonutwagon @jared2612 @princess-geek

******

Maxwell woke up the next morning, needing a shit ton of caffeine to get him through the day. Riley wasn’t on the sofa, checking the bathroom she wasn’t there. He had hoped that she would meet up with them regularly and that she hadn’t done another moonlight flit.

The room was spinning and his head was pounding. The headache became worse with the loud bang on the door interrupting the peace.

“Li? What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and wondered if you and Drake wanted to do something today.”

Maxwell motioned him into the kitchen. Locking the door, he turned to face the kitchen- noticing Riley’s bra on the floor he stood on it attempting to kick it under the couch. Liam turned around providing a bewildered look.

“Oh don’t worry about me Liam! Too much coffee- the caffeine has given me a twitch in my leg. My body is definitely waking up now Li.”

“Why are you shouting?”

“Me shout? Am I shouting Liam?”

*****

Drake woke up abruptly, hearing Maxwell shouting- wondering where the fire was. One name was constantly repeated Liam. Shaking Riley, he needed to wake her up but not startle her that she would scream. Her eyes fluttered open, “Riley Liam’s here. Hide somewhere.”

“Why do I need to hide? I’m not with him. People can have one night stands Drake.”

“Please, I don’t want you to have another argument.”

******

Liam overheard voices coming from Drakes room.

“Did Drake have a one night stand? Who was the lucky lady?”

“Nooo. Drake isn’t the type to have a one night stand. He will be on the phone to his mom- whispering because he’s hungover.”

Before Liam could respond, Drake appeared in the hallway- Maxwell poured him a black coffee. Feeling relieved that his hysterical shouting had worked.

“Liam, what are you doing here?”

“He wanted us to do something with him later. How’s your mom? Is she okay?” Drake looked confused at first then understood that Maxwell had saved his neck again.

“Sounds good, we could do something in a couple of hours. Erm she’s fine. I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying my heads banging.”

“I’ll pick you both up later then. Are you sure there wasn’t a girl here?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“There’s a black dress on the floor?” Fuck!

“We got that drunk, Maxwell decided to do his best drag impression. It scared Leo away.”

“Ah I see. I wish I could have seen that. See you later.”

*****

Making sure the coast was clear, Drake opened the wardrobe door- he threw her a shirt to wear. Walking into the kitchen, Maxwell wore a huge grin.

“Good job I wore those ear muffs eh?”

“Yes good job Max.” Riley looked at Drake blushing.

“I’ll have a coffee then get off if you don’t mind.” Maxwell poured her a coffee, still laughing at the pair. Excusing himself he didn’t want to play gooseberry.

“Thank you for last night Drake. I really enjoyed myself.” Unable to hide the smile, he gave her a quick hug.

“Me too. You could have chosen anyone for a one night stand- I’m glad someone chose me.”

“Hey guys. Who says it has to be a one night stand?” Maxwell interrupted after earwigging from a distance. Coming closer to them he began blowing kisses- winding the two up- from in the hallway.

Riley prepared herself to do the walk of shame, promising Maxwell to arrange another night out. Drake escorted her to the door, eyes full of desire. Kissing her gently- she smiled and left.

*****

Walking out of the apartment block, she was still shaken up from the mugging- keeping to main roads, she was given a rape alarm for precaution from her manager which she was grateful for.

Liam stayed in the limo around the corner from Max’s apartment, he had an inkling that the dress belonged to Riley. It had her scent on it which he wasn’t going to admit to his friends. His eyes widened when he saw her walking in that specific dress. Following her, he just wanted to talk.

“Riley.” Hearing his voice, she ignored him and increased her walking speed. Forgetting how much of a fast walker he was, he caught up to her immediately, grabbing her wrist- not intending on harming her, just attempting to gain her attention.

“Liam, I have to go. Please just leave me alone.”

“No. Please I just want to talk. I have the limo around the corner. I need to give you some closure. I know you’ve moved on. I know you was in the flat. In drake’s bed.” His face grimaced, at the thought of his so called friend and the only woman he had truly loved together.

“It was a one night stand. I’m sure you’ll understand. I mean you had one of those. Maybe even more. I don’t need to explain myself to you or no one. Are you jealous Mr Rhys?” She asked rhetorically.

“Yes I am. I’m not going to lie. I know I messed up Riley. Please can we talk.”

“No liam. I have nothing to say to you. Apart from thank you.”

“Did you ever love me? Is there a chance you could love me again?”

“I never stopped loving you Liam. I’m a mug for that.”

“I’ve called off my engagement. We could take it slow.”

“Liam, you made your bed. Now lay in it. I have to go.” Turning away from him, she felt guilty- but why should she? He messed up their relationship not her. Hoping he wouldn’t follow her, there were people just staring at the pair. Wishing the ground would swallow her up quickly- she needed to get back to the club as soon as possible.

“Riley I have a daughter.”

“Oh you are unbelievable. You have a daughter, yet you call your engagement off and come running to me. I don’t think so liam. I hope you and Madeleine will be very happy.”

******

Riley returned to the strip club, her mind was all over the place.

“Hey baby. Did you have a good night?”

“Yes thank you. It was good to catch up with some old friends.”

“You’re on the early shift tonight. The girls are practicing some new moves. If you want you can learn with them.”

“Will do. Thanks Rita.”

Needing to do anything to keep her mind off Liam’s bombshell and Drake.

Drake turned to face her, knowing he was breaking the ‘friend rule’- no matter how appalling Liam was towards her, he was still his friend. She was his before. Pulling her towards him into a hesitant hug- he had one night stands before but never had a connection with the women. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she was using him as a rebound. But he didn’t care- if they could both make each other happy for one night- he was intending on doing it. Both their hearts beating faster, he noticed her close the distance, her baby blues contained desire.

Drake crashed his lips onto hers kissing as if their lives depended on it. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, starting off gentle. Rileys arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer- encouraging him to deeper the kiss as his arms found their way around her petite frame. From the kitchen, to the bedroom, they couldn’t get enough of each other.

The kiss became more passionate before Drake pushed her gently backwards laying her on her back on the bed. The touch of his body on top of hers, made her feel loved. Hovering over her, he began to gently kiss every inch of her curvy body- he placed an extra gentle kiss on her forehead- before she dragged him back up to hovering over her- their eyes both fixated on each other.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Riley couldn’t understand why he would apologise. Did he regret the instant connection they had?

“I don’t know. Do you want this? I just need to be sure.”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be here if not. I couldn’t help but want to get to know you when you all arrived.”

Pulling him down back on to her. The slightest bit of stubble rubbed her skin but she didn’t care- he wasn’t her usual type, but he was handsome- there was something about this tall and dark man and his presence made her fell intoxicated as well as the his scent of whiskey that she was inhaling.

“Drake, I want you.” She pleaded with him, he nodded in response. Her heart pounding she stood up, pulling him towards her. Standing on her tip toes she intended on discarding all of his clothes and Maxs top that she was wearing to the floor. Touching his warm muscled abs- he sighed at her soft touch. Working her way down to his zip- he looked bewildered, imagining what it would be feel like to have this gorgeous woman as his.

Biting her lip, she watched him remove his trousers- his erection in his boxers, caught her gaze- quickly she returned her gaze to his eyes. He smirked knowing exactly where her eyes had previously been. Kneeling on the floor, she pulled his boxers down- before licking her lips, she stroked his length, before taking it fully in her mouth.

“Riley... you’re... oh god.” Riley looked up at him fluttering her eyelashes, assuming he was enjoying the pleasure. Feeling his cock move at every move- knowing she was pleasing him, she immediately increased her pace.

“Ri, slow down. I mean, I don’t want you to- I’d love for you to carry on .... but I’m going to cum.” He panted, hoping she wouldn’t think he was ungrateful for the unexpected pleasure she had provided him with. Picking her up- he carried her effortlessly over to the bed. Laying her down, he hovered over her, placing her hands above her head, holding them with one hand- his other hand roamed her body, circled her breasts- before kissing her hard.

“Tell me what you want? Is it me you want?”

“I want you. I want you Drake. Please..”

Drake slid his hand between her thighs- positioning his thumb at her entrance. The slightest touch, made her instantly damp. Kissing her neck and shoulder, whilst working his thumb over her clit in a tantalising rhythm, she tried to remain quiet- not wanting to disrespect Maxwell’s hospitality, “Drake.” She screamed, losing herself in the pleasure. All her muscles began to quiver. Feeling breathless already, Drake pumped his fingers inside her rapidly increasing his speed, making her uncontrollably scream his name. After a while he removed his now coated fingers, replacing them with his tongue instead.

“You taste so good, baby.” He said before plunging his tongue deeper inside. “Fuck! Drake.... oh god. I can’t stay quiet.... Max is going to ...... to... kill me” Riley screamed, as she dug her manicured nails in his back as he continued to pleasure her. Removing his mouth, he smiled at her expression, her whole body trembled.

Before she could recover, he teased her placing his cock at her entrance- gently rubbing against it. “Stop teasing Drake. This isn’t funny. I need you now.”

“I need you too. I know I keep saying it but you are beautiful.” Slowly entering her, he allowed her time to get used to his large girth. Holding that position, their eyes fixated on each other. Drake began to thrust, taking his time wanting to enjoy making love with her. “You feel so good, baby.” He growled before the thrusts increased becoming more passionate, hitting her in that spot. “You feel good too. Don’t stop! I’m so close.” “I’m not planning to. I want you to cum for me again, before I do.”

His thrusts were powerful as their bodies rocked in sync perfectly together. Drake’s movements slowed down, as he released himself inside her. She felt his warm seed spill into her. She would think about the consequences in the morning.

“You are... wow. Thank you.” Riley opened her eyes, as Drake removed himself off her. Holding his hand, she turned to face him. Cuddling into his embrace. Both breathless, they laid in silence- until Riley heard him take a deep breath.

“No thank you. I’ve never had a one night stand. I don’t think I want another one. I don’t think anyone could compare.”

“Boosting my ego slightly there.”

“I mean it Drake. That was amazing. I can’t catch my breath.”

“You took my breath away when you sat on my lap.”

“Charmer. I could do it again if you’d like? Make the most out of tonight.” Drake felt his cock rise at the thought of it- before he could respond she was on top of him teasing him. Holding her hips, he guided her as she began to ride him.

“Beautiful girl.”

“My handsome stranger.”

“Riley? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Sorry Mercy. Are you going to teach me some moves then?”

“Are you sure? You were in a world of your own.”

“My ex caused some trouble last night. I went out with the other guys. Ended up at my old apartment. And slept with my ex’s friend.”

“And?”

“And we had the most amazing sex. Then this morning, I bumped into my ex who informed me that he had a child, called off his engagement but wants me back. I don’t know what to do Merc?”

“What did he do to you?”

“He cheated on me with his brothers ex.”

“If I was You I’d stay well clear of him. How about I teach you a sexy move incase his friend comes in again.”

******

Drake and Maxwell got ready for their afternoon with Liam. The bachelor knocked on the door, both men looked sheepish as Liam broke down crying.

“Li, what’s up?”

“I’ve lost her for good haven’t I? She slept with you Drake. I’m not annoyed, I can’t blame you. It was all my fault. I need to tell you something.”

“Liam I’m so sorry. It just happened. I won’t go near her again.”

“I have a daughter. Myself and Madeleine have a daughter. We conceived her the night I cheated on Riley.”

“And you’re telling us this now? How did you keep that a secret?”

“Money buys you things. A nanny. Drake do you like her?”

“I... I think she’s beautiful Liam, I can’t deny that. But I won’t go near her again. I promise.”

“Hang on, she’s single your single. No offence Liam.” Maxwell couldn’t believe that he would be playing piggy in the middle.

“I’m single too. I’m risking losing my daughter. But I’m winning her back. If you want to fight for her Drake we will.”

“You’re not fighting over her! She’s not some prized possession you can fling away when you get bored Liam.” Maxwell was getting frustrated with Liam- deep down he was thrilled that Riley had come back home, but in a way he wished she had stayed away.

“Liam she was yours. I’m not getting involved in hurting anyone’s feelings.”

“So fucking her, then not willing to fight for her - you’d be hurting her.”

“It was a one night stand Liam! I doubt she even likes me more than that! If she did, you should let her go.”

“I’m not losing her again! Money buys you happiness. And I’m getting my girl back.” Liam stormed out of the apartment not giving two shits about how ridiculously arrogant he sounded. Maxwell slammed the door, before turning to Drake.

“Drake? What the fuck?”

“How can I compete against him Max?”

“He hurt her? And you’re going to push her towards him?”

“I was probably a rebound anyway. No one chooses me for a long term thing.”

“You are unbelievable. I’ve known that girl since we were in nappies. She falls in love easily. I saw the sparkle in her eyes. Stop putting yourself down and grab her while you can.”

Later that night Leo came over to Max’s apartment. The men explained what had happened- Leo just burst out laughing.

“Guys Liam is brother- you shouldn’t bitch about him to me. I’m joking. I can’t believe he has a child. But he will never win her back. Go on Walker. Go and get your girl.”

******

Drake walked to the strip club, not knowing what to do or what to say. Not knowing if Riley would appreciate him ‘stalking’ her. Heading straight to the bar, he saw her.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Where can a guy get a whiskey from around here?”

“Oh I don’t know?” Pouring him a whiskey, they both smiled at each other- providing the star crossed lovers looks.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Erm. Liam knows about us. He wasn’t pleased. He said he’s going to risk losing his child to win you back. I just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

“I know.””He caught me doing the walk of shame. He pretty much told me the same.”

“He also told me that I would have to fight him for you. I tried to explain that it was just a one time thing. But he wouldn’t listen.”

“Would you fight for me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Would you fight for me Drake? It’s quite a simple question.”

“Riley, you are not a prized possession to be won- as Maxwell said defending you.”

“What if I said that you didn’t need to fight for me?”

“I’d ask you what exactly you mean.”

“I’d never get back into a relationship with Liam. Even if he paid me a million dollars I wouldn’t. So if you want me, you’d only be fighting yourself. Come over to the pole. I’ll do you a little dance so we can talk more.”

Drake gulped, as she seductively spun around the pole.

“Whatcha think? I’ve been practising all day.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“I’ve been practising for you. Hoping you’d come. One of the girls taught me.”

Riley grabbed Drake’s hand, escorting him to a secluded area away from prying eyes.

“I finish in a couple of hours. Rita, my manager spoke to me before. Saying I’ll always have a room here, but I can go as and when I please as long as I turn up for work.”

“What are you hinting at?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you Drake.”

“Really?” Thinking he had misheard her, he couldn’t believe that someone could possibly finally choose him for once.

“Yes really. I like you.”

“I like you too.” Rising on her tiptoes, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Wait for me?”

“I’ll meet you at ours. I’m sure Max won’t mind. I’ll pay for your cab.”

******

Finishing her shift, she was relieved to get out of their. There had been a few creeps; most likely newly married men or men that had been married for years. Mercedes had advised for her to stay behind the bar.

Walking out of the club, she was dragged into the side road next to it. Screaming she didn’t want to go through another mugging.

“Shh Ri. It’s only me.”

“Are you fucking insane? I got mugged the other day and you’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting for you to finish. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay? What did they do to you?”

“Stole my purse, gave me a few punches. Nothing I couldn’t handle but I’m still shaken up. I have to go.”

“Where are you going? Let me escort you there.”

“I’m going home.”

“Home as in Max and Drake’s?” Nodding she felt slightly guilty. Seeing him sigh, she debated about just going back inside the club.

“Liam. There is no way back for us. But don’t lose your daughter. Fight for her. Don’t let Maddy win. Your daughter should be your priority- even if she wasn’t planned. We can still be friends, I won’t hold a grudge against you.”

“I can’t see you with him.” Cupping her cheeks, she wanted and needed to avoid the temptation.

“Li, please. I’ve had closure. I’ve said we can still be friends.”

“So if I come into the club, paying you for a dance you’d do it?”

“Yes. But only because you’re a customer. Don’t be taking the piss and coming all the time.” Liam laughed, regretting losing her in the first place- it would be a miracle if she could ever forgive him.

“I promise. If I can have you as a friend it’s better than nothing. Drake is lucky. Make sure he doesn’t hurt you like I did.”

“We were never meant to be.” Hugging him, she still loved him deep down but she could never forget what he did.

*****

Escorting her safely to Max and Drake’s, he kissed her on the cheek- giving her his blessing. Max opened the door ready for world war three to begin.

“Ri are you okay?”

“Yes Max. Is Drake in?” Maxwell nodded, winking at her as she went into Drake’s room.

“Liam. What are you planning?”

“Nothing. I’m being a gentlemen making sure the lady was safe, did you know she got assaulted the other night? Didn’t think so. Goodnight Max.” Liam walked out of the apartment smirking.

*****

Closing the door, she noticed Drake wasn’t there.

“Max? Where’s Drake?”

“He came back after he had been to see you. I nipped to the store for sleepover essentials. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without informing me.” Ringing Drake, Maxwell couldn’t get through which was unusual.

“He will be back soon, don’t worry Ri. I’ll put Sex and the City on like old times.”

[highfaelucien]

Heyy

90. Dance for Rhycien?

Please send me whump Prompts

(Heck yes, it's time for The Gay. Have some Under the Mountain Angst. Slight warning for mind control/influence (Rhys to Lucien) It's short-lived, demanded by Amarantha, and doesn't last long)

Old Time's Sake

"Ah, Lucien, nice of you to finally join us," Amarantha drawled from her place upon the carved throne, sitting above the writhing fae bodies, watching with that grim pleasure Rhys had come to loathe so intensely.

Turning, he spotted Lucien, long red hair gleaming in the dancing faelight, barely concealed loathing etched in every line of his angular face.

The exiled Autumn prince hadn't been seen for several days now. Not since the brutal whipping at Tamlin's hand that had left him unconscious and, if rumours were to be believed, near death.

From the look of spite in Lucien's remaining eye, it seemed he had spat in death's face for the simple pleasure of being able to glare at Amarantha once more.

"You're looking a little grim there, princeling," Amarantha crooned, "Why don't you join your little human friend? Dance with her."

She gestured towards Feyre, who had drunk the wine Rhys had provided her and accompanied him to the dance as he did each night. Her body moved with surprising grace, considering she was human.

A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw as he watched Feyre. He turned that simmering hatred on Rhys instead, fire blazing in that russet eye. Rhys just smirked at him and winked. Lucien's hands balled themselves into fists at his sides.

It was clearly an effort for him to project even a facade of civility as he turned his gaze back to Amarantha and said, "I fear my skills are not equal to those already here. I wouldn't like to offend you with my display, lady."

Amarantha tapped one sharpened nail on the arm of her throne. Few caught the suppressed flinch in Lucien's body at the sight of it, but Rhys saw, and looked away, disgusted.

"You will offend me deeply if you refuse me again, Lucien," she said, voice soft and dangerous now.

"I'm sure we both know how much I'd hate to do that," Lucien growled, and Rhys found himself closing his eyes.

Lucien never had learned to keep his mouth shut. There seemed to be some self-destructive part of him that enjoyed snapping at those who could snap him in half with a wink.

Silence enveloped the hall for a few, pounding heartbeats. Then Amarantha turned her head sharply, all the false air of a pleasant queen amongst her court banished.

"Rhysand," she said, darkly, "Make him dance for me."

"It would of course be my pleasure," Rhys said smoothly, nudging Feyre to one side and rising from the plump cushions he'd been reclining on, keeping an eye on her as she reveled blindly.

Lucien turned to him, his jaw set, his eyes hard. There was no fear in those eyes. Many here underestimated Lucien, as he didn't possess the same power as his father or brothers. Rhys thought they were fools. It took an extraordinary level of strength and courage to face him that way. Not to mention his return here in the first place.

"Little Lucien," he clucked, aloud, shaking his head, "You know it's not polite to refuse a lady."

Inside his head, he murmured, I'm sorry.

Lucien's eyes flashed, almost giving him away with his moment of confusion. Then Rhys swept away his will, and forced him to perform for Amarantha. Just as he was forced to perform for her.

At once, Lucien's face contorted with pain. He shouldn't have come here tonight. Tamlin had no doubt ordered him, the cowardly bastard, unwilling to come himself to see Feyre. Lucien's magic had been suppressed, and he had been denied any kind of healer. His body had been forced to heal at the rate of a human.

It didn’t take long for the wounds to re-open, blood staining the handsome tunic Lucien wore.

Amarantha underestimated Lucien, too. Rhys could sense he would refuse to give out until this killed him, just to spite the bitch. But she wouldn’t know that. Once Lucien was breathing heavily, and finally cracked to let out a whimper of pain, Rhys enveloped his mind in darkness and allowed him to slump to the floor, unconscious.

“Pathetic,” Amarantha hissed, as Lucien’s brothers, clustered around her throne as usual, sniggered and jeered their approval.

She waved a dismissive hand at Rhys, “Get him out of my sight,” she commanded, already bored, turning away to watch Feyre with amusement.

“At once, lady,” Rhys said.

Snapping his fingers, he lifted Lucien’s limp form into the air then carried him down to the cells, where he would return Feyre to in a few hours.

Setting him down far more gently than he would have dared to under Amarantha’s watchful gaze, Rhys gazed down at the fae male he had almost let himself love, once upon a time.

His fingers traced the scar over his eye with sadness. Then gently unbuttoned the blood-stained, ruined tunic, and examined the mess of his back. Torn, raw flesh, weeping fresh blood once more after Amarantha’s forced dancing.

It would have been worse if you hadn’t put a stop to it when you did, he tried to tell himself. Anger flared as another thought crept into his mind, And it would have been a lot better if Tamlin hadn’t sent him to that fucking party.

The High Lord of Spring had to know how much Amarantha enjoyed using Lucien as her plaything. Torturing him was becoming something she enjoyed almost as much as she enjoyed torturing him.

Sighing, Rhys reached out a hand, magic flaring, but-

Slim, hot fingers wrapped around his wrist, surprising him, which was impressive in itself.

Lucien, remarkably, had fought his way back to consciousness.

Stupid, stubborn bastard, Rhys thought, with fondness.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lucien demanded, spitting blood from a bitten tongue out of his mouth at Rhys’s knees.

“That’s really no way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian, Lucien,” Rhys said, tutting, “I see you haven’t improved your manners since last we met.”

“I see you haven’t stopped being a prick, either,” Lucien shot back, weakly.

“I’m overwhelmed by your wit,” Rhys said sardonically.

“Fuck off and let me bleed, Rhys,” Lucien muttered thickly, body starting to tremble with the pain.

“Is that what Tamlin would do?” Rhys asked, unable to stop himself picking at that old wound between them.

A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw, but for once he restrained himself from answering. Perhaps Amarantha’s eye gouging had changed him, after all.

“No,” Rhys continued, folding his arms across his chest, “No, Tamlin doesn’t even know your bleeding out down here for his foolish command. Or, more appropriately, he doesn’t care.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Lucien snapped, some of that fire flaring in his remaining eye again.

Rhys still wasn’t used to the mechanical one. He’d spent a long time, previously, getting lost in that blazing gaze before. It wasn’t the same now.

Rhys tutted idly, rocking back on his heels, peering down at Lucien, “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, you know.”

“And you do?” Lucien shot back, an awful disdain twisting his face.

Rhys’s jaw tightened, “I didn’t say that,” he said, smoothly.

Lucien laughed bitterly, even though it made him convulse with pain, “You meant it, though.”

He rolled onto his side, snarling with pain as he did, so that he could look Rhys full in the face as he spoke. Lucien had always been far too skilled at reading him, and he looked away, unable to bear that burning gaze.

“He didn’t deserve the sacrifice you made to stay with him,” Rhys breathed.

“Sacrifice?” Lucien repeated, “You mean you?” He laughed, the sound raw and humourless, echoing in the cavernous cell around them. It degenerated to coughing before long. “I owed him. I still do. He saved my life. He took me in after Jes. I pledged my fealty to him. You thought I’d turn away from that for your fucking dick?”

Rhys met his furious gaze once more as he said, softly, “I thought you might have turned away from it for the chance at happiness.” He rose to his feet, staring down at Lucien, something tightening within him, “But you could never let yourself have that, could you? It’s always been your most fatal flaw, Lucien. You don’t know how to let yourself be happy.”

“And you do?”he shot back.

“I could have learned,” Rhys said, very quietly, and he knew Lucien felt the sincerity in it, “For you.”

That actually shut Lucien up, for once. The only times he’d managed to achieve that before had been with decidedly more creative applications of his tongue.

“Don’t return to the party tonight,” he said, “I’ll be back here in a few hours with Feyre, and you can visit her yourself. Lie there and try not to drown in your own blood until then, won’t you?”

He turned, cloak covering Lucien in black for a moment, before pulling away, leaving him trembling on the cold stone floor.

Despite the anger that pulsed in his chest, he couldn’t leave him like that. He waved an idle finger, and Lucien’s wounds sealed themselves. Not fully. Not enough to leave Amarantha suspicious, but enough to ease his agony for now.

Lucien blinked and sat up as Rhys turned away again.

“What will she do to you if she learns of this?” he asked, very quietly.

Rhys forced himself to smile, “I doubt she’ll think of anything new. She’s not particularly creative, you know.”

“It’s still a risk,” Lucien said, gazing at him with suspicion, as if he expected some bargain, some demand for recompense.

Rhys shrugged in response, “Perhaps I think it’s worth it.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Lucien asked, sounding genuinely, heartbreakingly, bemused.

“Maybe I think you’re worth it,” Rhys said, more softly still.

Lucien eyed him for a long moment, pregnant with heavy silence, words they’d never spoken to one another echoing up through the lonely decades they’d spent apart.

“I’ll never understand you, Rhys,” he muttered finally, shaking his head.

“Isn’t that part of my enigmatic mystique and irresistible air?” he replied slyly.

Lucien smirked at that, “Enigmatic ego and insufferable ass, more like.”

“You found my ass quite sufferable, if memory serves,” Rhys smirked.

Lucien grinned. For a moment they weren’t trapped in this foul pit of a place. They were on the borders of Spring, Lucien’s mouth hot and insistent against his, fingers roaming beneath dark Illyrian leathers with surprising knowledge of buckle placement.

“Thank you,” Lucien said, a little too stiffly.

“I do believe that might have caused you more pain than the whipping,” Rhys quipped.

“It certainly is now, with you gloating in my face,” Lucien scowled in response.

“Take care, Little Lucien,” Rhys said, waving an idle hand back towards him as he moved to the door of the cell.

“And you, Rhys,” Lucien said, very quietly.

There was such emotion in that deep russet eye of his, that Rhys forced himself to winnow back to the party, before he did something incredibly stupid. Like kissing him.

***

Thanks for the prompt!! I hope you liked it!

[mmvalentine]

Circus of Dreams, pt 2 | Feysand

Night Circus AU. Part 1 Part 3

Rhys wandered into the admin tent in search of Cassian, in crisp white shirtsleeves and his untied bowtie draped around his neck. After a particularly long day of performing, it was finally Sunday night. And in the circus, that meant the day off tomorrow.

It was tradition that every Sunday night, after the lights had gone of and the patrons had all been sent home, Cassian and Rhys would pass a bottle of brandy between them. Then they would sleep most of Monday, and the circus would be on the road again by Tuesday. They never stayed in one town for more than a week.

Cassian was looked up as soon as Rhys walked in, and handed him an already filled crystal glass. Rhys raised the glass in thanks, and then sat down heavily on one of the folding chairs.

"Rhysand," Cassian greeted him, sitting down next to him. "Happy Sunday." They clinked their glasses together, and Rhys took a long swallow. Cassian always had excellent brandy.

"I know moving is always a pain," Cassian commented, "but I can't say I'll be sad to leave this sorry little town."

Rhys was about to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing behind them. They spun around, and in the entrance way, there stood the girl from the show.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I would have knocked, but the tent does not appear to have a door." Rhys chuckled. "No, it does not. Please, do come in." He pulled up a chair for her, and she sat nervously. "Cassian, this is Ms Feyre Archeron. Ms Archeron, Cassian." Cassian, still wearing his bowler hat but not his jacket, touched his brim to her. "Pleased to meet you Ms Archeron. What brings you here this evening? I'm afraid the show is quite finished for the day." Feyre gave him a wan smile. "Actually, I'm the clockmaker's daughter," she said. She explained further. "I saw your advert on the box office." Rhys raised an eyebrow at Cassian. What advert? "Ah, yes of course," Cassian said. "Well, show him in then." "Oh, no, actually. I'm applying myself. You see, my father is old and doesn't work anymore. But he's been teaching me since I was small. I can fix anything."

Cassian considered her for a moment.

"The position we are looking for may not suit... a young lady," he said carefully. "The show has a number of complicated contraptions that help us to achieve the spectacle you see before you, and we are looking to have someone on staff for ongoing maintenance. Permanently," he added.

Feyre frowned, then said, "I assure you, I am in much better condition to be traveling than my father."

Rhys smirked, and Cassian's eyebrows rose.

"I only meant to say, that not many people are willing to give up the stability of their lives to be on the road with us. But if this is acceptable to you, I have no personal objection."

Feyre thought for a moment. "Will I be able to send a portion of my pay back to my family here?" Cassian shrugged. "It should be no trouble" Feyre nodded firmly. "Then it is acceptable." "Very well then. I'll have you look at a few of our machines, and if you can fix them, you're hired."

And with that, they left the tent together, leaving Rhys to drink alone.

He did not see either of them for the rest of the night. But when he was walking through the grounds the next afternoon, he crossed paths with Feyre, a worn travel bag in her arms, trailing after a stern faced Amren.

"Ms Archeron," he said in surprise. She stopped. "Hello, Mr..." "Rhys," he supplied. "Just Rhys is fine." "Well then I guess you should call me Feyre, too." Rhys smiled. "Alright. Feyre."

Feyre glanced toward Amren, who had started to get away from them, and shot Rhys an apologetic look before hurrying her footsteps to catch up. Rhys followed.

"So, you really are coming with us, then?" he asked, eyeing the bag in her arms. "It wasn't a difficult choice, really," she said. "I'm not particularly attached to this town." "I know the feeling," Rhys replied. "Can I help you carry your belongings?" Feyre held the bag aloft. "This is it," she said. "I only have the one bag." "Then allow me." Rhys held out his hand, but Feyre shook her head. "I'm quite alright, thank you," she said with a smile. "It's not heavy."

Rhys stuck his hands in his pockets instead. Even though Amren's legs were short, she walked fast.

"Were Cassian's machines alright?" he asked. Feyre smiled. "They were quite lovely. If everything I work on here is as intricate, I believe I will quite enjoy myself."

They were stopped short when Amren suddely drew up beside a caravan.

"Right," she huffed. "This one's yours. You'll be next to Morrigan, I imagine she'll want to dress you. No one's working today so you can do as you please, but it'll be a six AM start tomorrow to move out. Hope you're good with horses."

And with that, she spun on her heel and left them. Feyre stared after her. "Sorry about our director," Rhys apologised. "She's always like that. But she's amazingly clever."

Feyre looked up at the long caravan. There were two doors in the side, and large wooden wheels that made the door look too high for her to step up into.

"Ah," Rhys said, sensing what she was looking at. He reached up and pulled the door open, ducking inside and lifting out a small set of steps. He set them against the caravan frame under the door.

"You get used to caravan living," he said. Feyre smiled in thanks, and put her bag down inside the door. Rhys knocked on the other door.

"Mor," he called. "Come out and meet your new neighbour."

A second later, the show's beautiful seamstress popped her head out. "Oh hello, who is this darling creature?" she asked. Rhys grinned. "This is Feyre. Feyre, Mor makes... well, everything. The tents, the costumes, pretty much all the lovely things." "You made them?" Feyre breathed. "I did..." Mor mused, her attention on Feyre's clothing. She looked Feyre up and down, and frowned sadly. "Oh, no. No I don't think so. Do you have anything else to wear dear?" Feyre looked down at her dress, that looked grey but could once have been blue or purple.

"It's pretty much just this," she said.

Mor clattered down the steps, and hauled Feyre into her own room. "Well, we'll just have to see about that," she said. Feyre shot a helpless look back at Rhys, who just chuckled as they disappeared.

"Dinner's at six," he called. And then, still laughing to himself, he headed back to his own caravan.

Over the next couple of days, Rhys did not see much of Feyre. It rained all day Tuesday, so packing down was a nightmare, and the horses didn't want to move in the mud. It was a long, cold, miserable day, followed by a rough night of travel where the wagon wheels stumbled through uneven roads, and no one got much sleep.

Getting up the next day to set up in time for the first evening's performance was a sorry affair, and then he had about an hour to change from his dirt-splattered overalls into his tail coat. By the time he was headed to his black satin tent, he was almost running late.

Rhys was just turning the corner, when he ran into Feyre. She let out a soft oh as they collided, and Rhys reached out to steady her. "Hello, Feyre darling." He smiled at her. "Rhysand. Sorry," she said.

It was then that he noticed her dress. It appeared that Mor had put her in one of her famous creations. It looked like a black ball gown, with a tiny bodice and a long, flaring skirt. His hands, gloved, were on her bare arms. Rhys quickly let go. The gown was strapless, and Feyre had long gloves that came up to her elbow. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but honey strands of it fell softly around her face. In her embarrassment, a faint pink flush had spread over her cheeks. Over her uncovered chest. Rhys' heart squeezed.

"No apologies necessary," he said smoothly. "I see Mor's had fun with you today." Feyre fidgeted with the silken skirts. "Yes, she said as long as the circus was open, everyone had to look the part." She gave Rhys a wry smile. "Even the clockmaker."

Rhys' eyes got stuck on the tug of her soft lips.

"Yes well," he murmured. "You certainly look like you belong here."

Feyre's smile broadened then, even as her blush returned, and she dipped her head to him before she continued on her way.

Rhys stood, dazed for a moment, before remembering that he needed to be on stage in five minutes.

****

Where are we going with this? I'm not in control.

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