#amarantha x f!reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Amarantha x cryptid!reader x Rhysand: Big, Bad Wolf[*]

A/N: reader is kind of on the asexual spectrum, except they aren’t sex repulsed? Kind of fun but see you what you guys think. Also, this came about because I saw a comment mentioning this so here you go!

Summary: Rhysand and Amarantha attempt to whip you into obedience without getting any of their limbs snapped off.

Warnings: threesome fmf, pussy eating, rimjob, slight degradation, smut

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A thunderous snarl tears from your chest, shaking the ground of the dungeon.

They’d hunted you. You. A beast among beasts. And then they’d dared lock you up. A room with no lights, solely illuminated by the burning of flame, flame that flickered and slithered over the grim walls.

You take in the two figures as you rise to your haunches, keeping low to the ground, preparing to pounce on instinct, shrinking down to be underestimated. Your claws scrape against the hard stone of the large cell, your four paws could carry you across in seconds, tear them to pieces were it not for the chains shackling you.

“Seems it’s awake, my Queen,” the male purrs. He’s positioned casually against the far wall—a good choice, to be as far from you as possible—long legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded over a powerfully built chest. Jasmine and citrus. A lost hint of sea salt. Your nostrils flare as they take down information.

“Quiet.” Your attention snaps to the female. Stood front and centre, a strong, healthy figure. Well fed, good hunter. Cunning, or powerful? Sharp features, cultivated beauty for fae kind. Poised but laced with arrogance, arms folded. Defence. Your nostrils again flare. Metallic, sharp, the bitterness of poisoned fruit.

The female watches you carefully as you rise to your paws, shaking out your matted mane, clotted with dirt and blood. You lower to your haunches. And pounce. Springing against the constraints with a snarl. You make it a hair’s breadth from her, before you’re locked in place. She doesn’t flinch as her cold eyes pierce into your own.

Your jaws open over her, a roar ripping through the room, shaking the stones as it thunders back and forth. This time, she does retreat, before her hand flicks and magic crackles at her ears—protection. You snarl down at her. She’d make a good few mouthfuls. Drool slips from your lower lip at the thought of devouring her. Two gulps, if you didn’t stretch it out.

“It seems rather lively, considering the circumstances,” the male drawls, making the female narrow her eyes at him. “Give me the whip,” she snaps, “see if some pain lashes some sense into it.” He pushes from the wall with casual grace, limbs moving with lethal elegance toward her as he pulls an empty circle from thin air. Curled leather. Crack.

It snaps against your thick skin—you barely feel it. A light pinching, if anything. Still, you roar, back stretching at the effort as you bare the three rows of razor sharp teeth at her. You could shred her in a heartbeat. If only she was one step closer.

When the whip cracks again, your jaws snap around it, tugging sharply. The female stumbles forward with the force, into your range. You snarl as you surge forward, teeth aimed for the mouthful of her stomach. But then she vanishes. Your jaws snap around air, and you growl. She appears a few feet back, ire blazing in her gaze as she glares at you, lip curled.

“Perhaps it’s not agreeable to a whip,” the male drawls, amusement dancing in his eyes. So blue they’re violet. “I wouldn’t delight in it, no matter how beautiful the wielder.” The female doesn’t take her eyes off you as she gives a sharp order. “Shoot it. See how it likes faebane in its system.”

“Should you wish to strike the blow?” He mocks as he saunters to a rack. It holds a range of miscellaneous sharp metals, bent and wound into a variety of shapes. Your animal mind can’t make sense of them. The female does not remove her attention from you. Cunning. “Fetch the bow, before I send you into its jaws, Lordling.”

Your ears prick at the word.

A smirk slices her blood red mouth. “You can understand us.”

You snarl in response, making her laugh. The male hands her a bow and you puff out your chest, moving to intimidate. “I am your High Queen, beast. You feed, hunt, and fuck on my lands.” You snarl again and she grins. “That’s right, this territory is mine. No matter how many trees you’ve pissed on to uselessly mark your property, it’s still mine,” she snarls, baring her teeth in a fierce smile.

“Now.” Her hand grips the bow, “will you serve me, or do I have to bury this arrow in your chest?” Amusement sparks in your eye. No fae-made weapon could harm you. It would take something ancient, full of malice to pierce your hide. You growl your wordless taunt, and the maddening spark is reflected in the female’s eyes.

She pulls the bow taut, arrow aimed for your chest. “Last chance,” she taunts, grin slashing across her crimson painted lips. Your lips pull back from your teeth, mirroring the vicious smile. Behind her, the male has enough sense to stiffen, yet the female—the High Queen—matches you. She gives no further warnings as she looses the arrow, and you hear it sluice through the air.

And impale your skin.

You rear to your hind legs, jaws opening as a howl tears from your throat, followed by obsidian, iridescent blood. The liquid spills from your maw, wetting your fur as you shrink away from her. She’s still grinning with vindictive triumph. Your heart stutters. The arrow was laced with something—a curse. An old one, strong enough to split your enchanted leather.

Your paws give out as the spell threads around your bones, pumping through your blood as it floods your system. The High Queen grins viciously as you topple over, collapsing to the ground as ragged pants pull from your blackened maw. She walks forward, heels clicking on the stone tile as she lifts her foot, raising it as she sets it on your snout. Proprietary. A show of ownership. A conquered beast.

A weak snarl crawls from your throat, as you feel your power gushing from you. Her brow furrows as you begin to change. Behind her, the male stands straighter, watching with keen, sharp eyes. You feel the shrinking of your bones as they click into a different form, one that will conserve energy to maintain.

The High Queen steps back as your fur fades to skin, snout softens to a feminine mouth, paws shrinking to arms and legs. Her eyes widen at what lays before her. A female. Bare, without clothes, save for the natural hair to your hips, that dusts your legs—between them, too—your forearms and scalp. Her brow narrows, while the male behind her steps closer to view your shape shift.

“Huh,” he drawls, “looks as though it’s a female.” The High Queen ignores him, using her foot to roll you onto your back, your eyes shut. The arrow clatters to the floor with the transformation, but black blood still leaks from your chest. A lot of it. “Call for a healer,” she snaps to Rhys, realising the amount of blood lost in this form is much more detrimental. He nods lazily, and within seconds, the door to the dungeon is being opened.

You pounce.

You flip onto your front, springing from your hind legs, the chains now much too large to hold your wrists and ankles. The nails tipping your fingers sink into the muscle of the male’s broad shoulders. Your jaw drops open and you feel his dark power thrumming, beating beneath his skin but unable to hit your enchanted hide. Your teeth splay over his throat, poised to rip but a fist has tightened in your hair, tearing you away with an unexpected force. Your head is jerked back, though your nails still find purchase in the corded muscle of the male’s torso.

You should have gone for the female.

The next thing you know, a set of hands have landed on your back, where the tail end of the wound lies. The world fades to black as pain explodes in your vision.

————

When you wake, you’re lying in a fae bed.

Your hairs raise at the fabric clinging to your body. No they don’t. They’ve had the hair taken from your body, all but your scalp, and you snarl in anger. It’s uncomfortable. You’re bare in a way that’s dangerous. With a huff and a dull throb in your shoulder, the hair regrows from your skin, coating you in a thin layer of protective senses.

You start with a snarl, but wince at the pain in your shoulder. Fae bandages crisscross the skin, and you growl, nails tearing at the fabric of the fae clothes, removing the strangling material from your form until it lays shredded on the floor.

It’s been a long while since you’ve been in this form, and it’s odd, the layers of information your changed senses bring in. Like the taste of the air, the temperature against your skin. Your eyes are much sharper, scent dulled, while you hear near silence compared to the symphony of noises you would delight in as a beast. It’s so quiet.

You peer about the room, nosing at the sheets, beneath the pillows, through the wooden boxes that contain more ghastly fae clothes. With some difficulty, you move to the door, unaccustomed to the bi-pedal movement patterns of the fae. So unstable. So balanced, you correct. Balance would be fundamentally important to two footed creatures.

When you determine no exit from the large chamber—seemingly a nest of sorts—you return to the bed. It seems you would simply await the creatures arrival. You’ll hardly bother to waist precious energy with the throbbing in your shoulder over needless exertion. So you curl upon the bed, only to shift beneath the covers. How they survive without fur when the cold comes in baffles you. Still, you settle into sleep easily enough, nestling into the too-soft mattress.

A hushed click—familiar—echoes from outside the door, waking you, as they swing open, revealing the female from earlier. Her wretched clothes have changed, though the male still heeds her foot, as though tied to her through an invisible leash. You don’t bother to raise your head for them, even as you recognise the shift in your breathing pattern—one the fae would likely pick up.

“You’re a rather insolent beast, aren’t you?” The female speaks from your side. You huff, shifting so you’re facing her, cracking your eyes open. “Will you not even greet your High Queen?” You huff again, lethargically raising from the bed, sheets sliding back to reveal your naked form. Her icy eyes find placement on your arms, lips curling in sustain, “and after I had you so well looked after.”

“I don’t appreciate you tampering with my body, Lady.” Her eyes glint with surprise, stiffening ever so slightly as you raise to stand on two legs on her bed, towering over her. You set your hands over her shoulders, nails scraping with preternatural propriety. “How would you feel if someone skinned you while you were sleeping?”

The male stiffens as he watches the exchange, hands lifting from the deep pockets of his clothes. The High Queen’s lip curls, and a sudden wave of magic knocks you back, knees buckling as she grips your jaw in her hand, nails biting into the flesh of your cheek as you snarl. You’re still concerningly weakened from the poison coated arrow. “I’m not weak enough to allow that to happen,” she snarls down at you, baring her glinting canines.

She releases your jaw and you settle down onto the bed, rolling your jaw to ease the slight sting. It’s disconcerting, how sensitive your skin is in fae form. Your eyes pierce into her, hateful but curious. She waits for you to ask, making it clear you have to take the step. Your lip curls as you speak, “you said you wished for me to serve you… Surely you don’t expect me to do so from your bed and without my power.”

You don’t phrase it nicely, and you make it clear it’s not a question.

She arches a perfectly shaped brow, “maybe I do expect you to serve in my bed.”

“And what of my power.” You don’t even bat an eye at her statement. “You expect me to perform as I am?” You roll back onto the bed, legs spilling over the edge of the bed, arms propping up your torso. Distaste flashes through her eyes at your shameless nature. Bestial to the core.

She would have to break that out of you. Then again, it could be an advantage to have such an unhinged animal by her side.

“You think I’m foolish enough to return your power to you? Untested?” She enjoys the dissatisfaction that surfaces on your mouth in reply. “Untested?” You echo, raising a brow. You hadn’t expected her to so willingly offer you a solution to your lack of energy. Her lips slash into a vicious grin, one that she only wore when she was about to inflict damage upon something.

“Rhysand,” she purrs. You narrow your eyes on her as the male slinks forward, standing at her side, only looking at her. “Why don’t you give my little pet a demonstration of some of her duties?” A malevolent smile whispers across his mouth, “it would by my pleasure, my Queen.” His hand brushes across her stomach, resting at her waist as he pulls her tight against the powerful lines of his body. You watch, disinterested, as his lips find her neck, the female tipping her head back to indulge in the sensation.

You grow restless when his hand finds the shoulder of her dress, slipping over her arm while unzipping the back, allowing the material to pool at her feet as she keeps her eyes trained on you. “You want me to bathe you, is that it?” You snap, impatiently. You want your power back. It’s yours.

The High Queen’s icy laugh echoes through the room as the male steps back at the push of her hand. “Such a crude way of putting it,” she croons, nails glittering in the light. Your lips curl back. “Tell me what to do, my Queen,” you condescend. Her hand fists in your hair, tugging you back so she can see your throat. She steps forward, until she’s between your legs, yanking your face until it rests between the generous swell of her breasts.

“You’re going to drop the attitude very quickly, or I’ll get you so numb on faebane you won’t even be able to move while I use you.” Ire blazes in her eyes at the blatant disrespect, and she sees red when you grin up at her lazily. “So I get to lie back and do nothing? Sounds rather pleasant, my Queen.” A snarl tips from her throat and the male’s—Rhysand’s—pupils contract at the sound.

You simply grin. “You have to return my powers at some point, if you want me to serve with my strength.” Fury boils beneath her skin as you work her up, maddening her with rage.

“Insolent beast.”

She shoves you back onto the bed, stalking over you until she has one leg either side of your face. “I should have your tongue cut for that,” she snarls, nails raking over your scalp. You barely feel a thing, drops of power already accumulating within. “Then how would you enjoy my mouth?” You return, smug grin tipping your lips.

“There are a plethora a ways to use you while not having to listen to your insufferable tongue.” She growls, lip curling with venom. “Rhys,” she snarls, snatching at your hair, “whore for her.” You can practically hear the arrogance dripping from his voice as his hands drop to the ties confining him. “You wish for me to play a part in her torture, my Queen?” His hands land on your thighs, pushing them apart. “I’m honoured.”

You tense at the foreign feeling of his fingers between your legs. Intrusive. You open your mouth to snarl at him, but the female tugs at your hair, yanking you between her thighs as she settles on your face. At the same time, Rhysand pushes in, a strange heat pooling in your lower belly. “I think you should set to work, little pet,” the Queen taunts.

Right. Your power. She might return it if you follow her orders. You hope you remember the fae anatomy correctly as your tongue unfurls from your lips. You can sense that it takes her by surprise, not expecting you to comply so easily. Yet you seem to be dancing between her legs, nipping at her clit before pressing your wet muscle to her entrance.

‘Very eager,’ a voice drawls inside your mind, making you start. ‘Very eager indeed.’

‘Get out of my head,’ you snarl at him, all the while dragging your tongue over her clit repeatedly, suckling. He hums a dark laugh, drawing his hips back. ‘I don’t imagine you would have engaged in nefarious activities as a beast. Try not to get swept away.’ A growl rumbles in your chest, flexing your inner muscles around his cock in retaliation. He groans, fingers biting into your hips as he pounds into you. Reluctantly, your back arches and you hear the erotic whisper of his laugh in your mind.

‘Careful, or before you know it, I’ll have you kicked out of your rather comfortable position.’ A warning growl echoes from him in reply, and you tighten your thighs around his hips, pulling him flush against your cunt. In response, he slams his cock into your pussy, hands tugging you back against him. A feeling you’re fairly certain could be described as pleasure sparks through you.

‘Pretty confident for a beast,’ he drawls into your mind, ‘especially one who looses her head so easily.’ You realise what he’s talking about. Your eyes snap up to the female atop you who’s icy gaze is slicing into you with frozen ire. “Are you even trying? Or are you waiting for another dose of faebane so you can laze back and let me do as I please.”

You snarl down that mental bridge at Rhysand, who only chuckles, the sound coated with writhing darkness. Your leg curls up his hip, shoving him away violently as you grip the female’s hips, flipping her over until she’s on her back. Rhysand will not get in the way of regaining your power.

The High Queen snarls at the change in position, attempting to yank at your hair with her full strength but a growl thunders from your chest. Your nails dig into the creamy skin of her thighs as you push them open, tongue, teeth and mouth ravishing her. Soon enough, her grip shifts, instead tugging you tighter between her parted legs as she grinds her hips against you.

‘You’re going to pay for that stunt, pet,’ Rhysand growls into your mind. You howl across the bond as he settles behind you, mounting you as he slams his cock back inside. Something about the angle changes the sensations, more pleasure singing through your blood as you concentrate on the High Queen before you.

Her nails rake over your scalp, and you feel it vaguely in the back of your mind, where you’ve locked away all the feeling your fae skin is now so hypersensitive too. It’s your power on the line though, you need to be better. She needs to be gasping and writhing, thrashing and screaming from you to have a chance at returning the sacred energies.

A growl rumbles in your chest, resonating in your tongue as you roll it over her clit. The High Queen’s back arches in response, a snarl of pleasure dragging from her throat. Rhysand continues pounding into you, making it difficult to control your accuracy on the female. ‘Something bothering you, pet?’ He drawls, the silky caress of his voice making your body react, nipples hardening as his fingers bite into your hips.

You roar down the bond at his tone—the male arrogance. You move your rear leg to attempt to kick him away once again so you can focus on the High Queen. He isn’t fooled though, and his hand grips your ankle painfully. A ragged moan rips from your chest as he lifts your leg, and slams in, cock reaching deep inside of you, stimulating something you don’t have in beast form. His laugh echoes in your mind. ‘Act like a beast, and I’ll fuck you like one,’ he snarls, pounding into you, the snap of his hips loud throughout the room.

‘So desperate to remain her whore?’ You bite back, grip tightening around the female’s hips as you pull yourself deeper into her heat. You need to give her more. What can you do? Your nails are too long to push inside of her. You’re certain any chance of regaining your power will disintegrate before your eyes should you cause her pain.

Rhysand snarls down that bond at you, before his hand glides up the spine of your back, gripping your lower neck painfully, pushing you into her cunt. Perfect. You stop the movements of your mouth, ceasing all action. The High Queen growls, bucking her hips, piercing eyes snapping open. You squeeze your own together, imitating pain as you whimper. The Female snarls, nails slicing at Rhysand’s hand that she believes to be the cause of the halt in pleasure.

“You interfere again, unprompted, and I’ll have you flayed alive,” she grits out, fury blazing beneath her tone. ‘Have her whore flayed alive? How lovely.’ You mock to Rhys, feeling the sharp buck of his hips that makes you wince. “Forgive me, my Queen. She looked as though she was resting.” He replies, the erotic brush of his voice soothing the ire in the room.

With his hand removed from the base of your neck, you deliver and appreciative lap to her clit, eyes flicking up to hers with a pleased glint. Good. You seem to say. Her eyes narrow as she glares at you, baring her teeth as you smirk. Your mouth dips lower, hands pushing her thighs back, further apart. She hisses in a breath when your tongue swipes her rear entrance, growling. You shoot her a grin as the pad of your thumb presses over her clit, stimulating her upper half while your mouth takes the lower one.

The High Queen’s back arches at the change of tactic, a growl of pleasure resounding throughout the chamber. You can feel her fluttering against the pad of your thumb, dipping down to collect slick to ease the oscillations over her clit as she comes. ‘How’s that, whore?’ You snarl at him, taking vicious pleasure as he growls in response.

Her pants resound throughout the room as her body goes lax, and you pull away from her. “Both of you,” she growls, “stop.” Your brow narrows. You don’t want to stop. It feels good, like something’s about to break over you. But Rhysand—perfect whore, through and through—pulls out, despite how close he also was.

You snarl, spinning as you pounce on him, pushing him back on the too-soft bed as it’s your turn to mount him. You spread your thighs either side of him, and he snarls at the movement, hands flying to your hips in attempts to stop you. But you slam down on him before he has the chance. Startling, blinding pleasure seizes your body, lightening cracking in your veins as your head tips back, eyes rolling with it. Even Rhysand’s hands drop to his sides with the onslaught of pleasure that crackles and zaps between you.

An angry snarl rips you from the moment, claws tangling in your hair as you’re yanked off him, a creamy liquid decorating your cunt. You land at the High Queen’s side, who snarls her wrath at you, furious at your disobedience. “Did I not order you to stop?” She rages. You stare down at her, “I wanted release, Lady.” You can practically taste the ire rippling from her, and it pleases you. “More than you want your power?” She snarls, and you’re tugged back down from your high.

You bow your head, “no, my Queen.” You lower yourself by her side, moving as your tongue laps at one of her nipples, “not more that my power.” She watches wrathfully as you again settle between her thighs, but your eyes flick to hers. You raise your hand, retracting the claws so only the delicate pads of your fingertips are left.

Your hand snakes between her thighs while your mouth remains pleasuring her, “forgive me, my Queen.”

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Taglist: @myheartfollower

[inkedinshadows]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

Pairing: Rhysand x f!reader

Summary: Rhysand comes home to his mate after 50 years UTM, but he's worried she might not love him anymore after everything he's done.

Warnings: angst, sad boi Rhys, mentions of Amarantha

Word count: 2.2k

Main masterlist | Week Masterlist | Rhysand Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

Velaris was quiet, with only a few faelights shining in the night to rival the stars above. A gentle breeze blew your hair away from your face, carrying with it the scent of salt and spring.

You sat on one of the iron chairs on the rooftop, your head tilted back to look up at the twinkling stars. You'd lost count of how many times you'd wished upon them over the last forty-nine years, and though you'd long since stopped wishing they would return your mate, you had never lost hope that he would one day come back home to you.

But now your wishes were smaller, because maybe then they would be answered. Maybe asking for something too big was too ambitious to be granted.

So you stuck with the little things.

For your mate to be safe, and healthy too. That even if couldn't return, he would know you'd wait for him and love him from afar. That wherever he was, he could look up at the same stars and think of you, and maybe even feel you close to him.

You shivered slightly when the breeze picked up. Goosebumps rose on your arms as if the wind itself was telling you to stop thinking and go to sleep instead.

With a sigh, you finally stood. It was late, and the bed was calling to you with the promise of a sleep filled with dreams of Rhys.

After one last glance at the quiet stars, you headed down the stairs toward your bedroom. You frowned at the light filtering out from beneath the door. You were sure you hadn't left it on before climbing up to the rooftop. But when you pushed it open, your heart stopped.

You recognized his scent before you even saw him.

Citrus and sea salt filled your lungs, and then the door swung fully open.

And there he was.

Rhys was sitting on the edge of the bed, but he shot to his feet the moment you turned the doorknob. He just stood there, posture rigid, as you stared at each other.

His skin was pale—so much paler than the last time you'd seen him. His hair was slightly longer, and his eyes no longer sparkled with life and joy as they once had. He was thinner. And he looked tired—so tired that you wondered when the last time he had gotten some sleep was.

“Rhys?” you whispered. You were still standing in the doorway, too stunned to move. “Is that you? Are you… are you really here?”

Maybe you had fallen asleep on that chair and this was just another dream.

How many times had you imagined this moment, both while asleep and awake? Or was this real and the stars—or the Mother, the Cauldron, all the forgotten gods you'd silently begged—had finally answered your prayers?

Rhys didn't smile. Didn't nod. He just swallowed.

“I'm here, but…”

Your heart dropped.

“But I'm not…” He struggled to find the words. “I'm not the same person you knew.”

Finally stepping into the room, you frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve changed,” he answered. His voice was trembling. “I've… done things, Y/N. I'm not the man I was fifty years ago.”

You weren't surprised—not really. You had changed too. Fifty years was a long time, even for an immortal, and whatever Rhys had been through had visibly taken a toll on him. You had almost expected it.

But you had never once seen him so nervous, so… scared. As if he was afraid you were going to reject him, to tell him you didn't want him anymore. It made you wonder what kinds of things he was talking about.

“What did you do?” you asked quietly.

Rhys hesitated. For a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he spoke.

“Everything she asked me,” he whispered. He didn't look at you. “I hurt people for her. Innocents. And I… I served her.”

He paused again, and you braced yourself for what he might say next.

“In the bedroom.”

The air left your lungs.

Rhys finally looked at you again. His eyes—usually so full of stars and love—were now anguished and scared.

“I promise you, Y/N, it never meant anything.” He took a step toward you, then stopped, as if unsure you would allow him to come closer. “Everything I've done, the people I've hurt… it was all to keep Velaris safe. So that I could come back home… to you.”

“Rhys—”

“And it's selfish, but I need to know if… if there's a chance you could still love me.” He swallowed. “If you only knew what I've done… I'm not the man you fell in love with. Not anymore. And I don't know if you could love me like you used to.”

“Rhys,” you said, and this time your voice was firmer.

He stopped just as he was about to say something else and looked at you, waiting.

You studied him for a long moment. His hands trembled slightly—something that had never happened before. His cheeks were a little hollow, his waist just a bit thinner. You took in every detail, every little change in his body, noticing all of them as if you'd last seen him only the day before.

You didn't doubt his words. He was different, and he was hurting, haunted by whatever Amarantha had made him do. In and out of the bedroom, apparently.

But you had waited half a century for your mate to come home. You wouldn't let anything come in between you and him anymore, even if it was his own fear and guilt.

“Do you remember when we first said ‘I love you’?”

He seemed confused, but you went on.

“We went to that concert at the Rainbow Theatre and then you walked me home, and we kissed in front of my door.”

Rhys frowned. “That was when the bond snapped, not the first time we said ‘I love you’.”

You tilted your head to the side as you thought about it. “Right,” you muttered. “So was it that time we just went to the coffeehouse across from where I used to work because I didn't have time?”

You had always loved your job at the bakery. Cakes and cookies, loaves of bread and rolls, pastries and tarts—they were your element. You thrived surrounded by flour and yeast and chocolate chips. But that first job became more like a prison and burden, where you had to work impossible shifts and run on little sleep.

You had met Rhys when he came in one day to order a cake for his cousin's birthday. Something immediately clicked between the two of you, and shortly after you were going on dates in between your shifts. You sacrificed so many hours of sleep so you could see him in your free time, until Rhys had convinced you to quit and find something better.

Hurt flashed in Rhys' eyes, but there was a hint of frustration in his voice. “That was our first date.”

Though it killed you, you just nodded thoughtfully. “Then when was it? Do you remember it?”

Rhys took a deep breath. You couldn't tell it if he was trying to stay calm or if he was truly that hurt by your apparent memory lapse.

“It was the day before you opened your own bakery,” he said. He spoke slowly, as if it would help you remember. “You were trying new recipes and making me taste all of them until I felt sick. And when you asked why I didn't tell you I'd eaten too much cake, I said it was because I loved you and wanted to see you happy.”

He hesitated before meeting your gaze. “Do you really not remember?”

You shook your head and stepped forward. Finally standing in front of him, the urge to throw yourself into his arms—or to hold him in yours—was stronger than ever. But you held back for now and just looked up at him instead.

“I remember,” you said. “Of course I remember. Our first date, the first kiss, the first ‘I love you’... I remember it all.”

He opened his mouth, but you already knew what he was going to say.

You lifted a hand to his face, fingers shaking almost imperceptibly, and then you were cupping his cheek.

After almost fifty years, you were touching your mate again.

Rhys tensed under your touch, his eyes searching your face, and you had to fight against the lump rising in your throat to speak again.

“I asked because I wanted you to remember,” you murmured. “To remind yourself that you remember all those moments and a thousand more. That you've changed, but you're still you.”

Your other hand came to rest on his chest, right where his heart was. You could feel it, beating wildly beneath your palm.

“In here, you're still Rhysand. You're still my mate. And you always will be.”

His violet eyes shone, silver lining them.

“I don't need another chance to love you, Rhys,” you said, your voice a soft caress, like your thumb now brushing his cheekbone. “Because I never stopped loving you. And I never will. You're my mate, my love, and I'd wait another fifty years for you.”

His throat bobbed, and then tears rolled down his cheeks. You cupped his face with both hands, wiping them away with a soft smile.

It broke your heart to see him like this. To know that whatever he had done, whatever he'd been forced to endure, had been horrible enough to make him think your love for him could ever die.

“Open the bond,” you encouraged gently. “Let the wall come down, my love.”

It had killed you not feeling him for all those decades. When he'd reached out with his magic to warn you, he told you it was for your safety. That if someone had suspected he had a mate, Amarantha would come for you.

And you had understood. You had accepted it—you hadn't had another choice. But it had still killed you.

Sometimes, you would pull on the bond, like you had done hundreds of times before, but you could never feel his presence on the other side. As if he had never been there. As if he were gone.

It had terrified you. You had no way of knowing if he was alright or hurt. Would you know it if he had died? With the mating bond shut, would you be able to feel it, to sense it? Would your heart stop beating without warning? The doubts and nightmares had haunted you for fifty years.

But now he was here. You were together again.

Rhys released a shuddering breath. He searched your eyes again, but all he found there was love and understanding.

A few seconds passed in silence.

And then you felt it—that feeling deep within your chest, like a string tied to your heart, pulling you gently toward him.

The warm, glowing mating bond.

A ghost presence in your chest for almost fifty years, but no more. And never again.

You both gasped at the intensity of it. You could sense that Rhys was still holding back, still trying to shield you from the full weight of his anguish and guilt. So you flooded the bond with your love, your relief, your joy at finally being with him again.

Slowly, Rhys leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. “I've missed you, my darling. Every minute of every day.”

A sob tore from you, and then you were crying too. Your arms looped around his neck to pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His hands slid to your back, holding you even tighter.

“I missed you too,” you choked out. “And I love you, Rhys. Please, never doubt that.”

His tears seeped through your shirt, dampening the fabric and your skin beneath it, but you couldn't have cared less.

You were holding him. And he was holding you. Everything was going to be fine.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

You didn't know how long you stood there in the center of the room, just holding each other. Minutes or hours—it didn't matter. You had no intention of letting him go ever again, and you knew he felt the same. You could spend the rest of your life like this and it would be enough.

It didn't matter what he had done, what Amarantha had forced him to do. Maybe one day he would tell you. Maybe he wouldn't. But even then, nothing he said could ever make you stop loving him.

If you had to spend the next few years proving to him that he wasn't the villain he thought he'd become, then so be it. You would show him that, however changed he might be, he was still your mate.

He was still—and would always be—your Rhys.

And he was finally home.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[lunajay33]

Never the Right Time

•🩶💋🦇🍂•

Summary: Living as a single mother in Velaris was difficult but at least she had her family, the inner circle, but the trauma of living under the mountain still lays heavy on her heart, the nights she shared with an heir of the autumn court by force of amarantha leading to the creation of her daughter, will she find love? Was she ever loved? Maybe her childhood best friend will show her

Pairings: Azriel x f!reader, Eris x f!reader

•Masterlist•

I was never meant to go to the party, I was suppose to have a girls night with Mor but Rhys was feeling anxious and asked me to come along and I’d do anything for my brother after everything he’s done for me

After our mother, sister and father passed we were there for eachother, holding eachother as we wept, Azriel and Cassian doing everything they could to cheer us up in their own ways, I cherished my little family but that night under the mountain changed everything

I was played out to be a gathering of high lords and their guests but she tricked us, Amarantha ruined so many lives, she took my brother away from me for 50 years as her own personal play thing and I was banned from speaking to him, thankfully we could communicate through thoughts, but seeing him break slowly was a different pain

Over the years amarantha became more cruel, she picked me and Eris Vanserra, the eldest of the leader of Autumn court, to have forced intimacy knowing his past with my family, she thought it was funny, night after night forcing us to be together while she watched, many tears were shed between the two of us and I guess along the way we bonded over the trauma, after everytime we’d apologize to eachother profusely even though we both knew it wasn’t either of eachothers fault

But when Feyre my lovely sister in law came and saved everyone I thought maybe Eris would want to keep in contact and help eachother being the only two to know what we felt but the night everyone left he was gone not even a word and at that moment I felt a strange tug in my chest, like I lost something

Rhys took us home after his talk with Feyre, our family swarming us immediately, Feyre came into our lives shortly after, Rhys had her and she had him to grow past what happened under that wretched mountain but I was lost, so many nights feeling like dirt until a month after during a cold night in Velaris I felt shadows swirling along my body holding me like a hug

•Flashback•

“You know I’ve always loved these little guys” I whispered knowing Azriel was stood behind me on the balcony

“You need to leave this room angel” his calm but rough voice soothed my soul for a moment until those feelings of disgust came crawling back

“I can’t Az, I feel like scum what she made me do and now…….” My heart felt like led

“What? You know I’ve always been there for you, I remember when you feel and scraped your knee when you were so little chasing after cas and I, but I came back to you and wiped your tears, and I’m here for you know” he said his scared fingers tracing through mine

“She made me do terrible things az, she thought it would be funny since the family and Eris have bad blood……..she forced us to have sex night after night for 40 years Az, I felt so wrong and Eris is the only one who knows what that felt like and I haven’t heard from him since and now…..now I’m pregnant” I gasped finally letting it all out

His face shocked, the first time I’ve ever seen him express so much emotion

“Oh angel, it’s gonna be okay, whatever happens I’m here” and that’s when I felt alive again, a golden string of love connected between us, my best friend

“My Mate”

•Present•

It’s been a year since then, Mor was over the moon to find out, Cass acted like a teenage girl all giddy for his brother, and Rhys was so proud of both of us, but when they all heard my story and finding out about my pregnancy they supported me, and now I have a beautiful little girl, turns out I was 5 months along when Madja checked on me the day after I told Azriel

So now Azriel and i are raising the cutest little girl, her hair as fiery as autumn, her eyes a deep purple like Rhys’ and mine, she’s everything I ever wanted but I’ve had this nagging feeling that Eris is out there and doesn’t know he has a daughter, even though Azriel stood up and took that fatherly role

I was sat in the living room of the house of wind watching Harlow crawl around and giggle at Azriels little shadows, ever since I had Harlow I felt more at home up here and so me and Azriel permanently moved in, it’s been a smooth year with him, he helped me heal as best he could, he went from my mysterious, quiet best friend, to my mate that used every chance he could to touch me either hugging me, running his hands through my hair, rubbing my belly, telling me every second he could how much he loved me or how beautiful I am, I never thought I’d see that side of him but I felt amazing to be the only one to receive his love

“She’s just like you, that’s why the shadows love her” Azriel whispers in my ear as I lay my head on his shoulder

“She’s like you too you know, she’s a little grump when she doesn’t have me around” hearing his laugh rumble under me made my heart swell

It was silent for a while more until Harlow crawled into my lap and fell asleep, her little blue dress sparkling from the fire shimmering in front of us

“I can hear your thoughts screaming from a mile away what’s got you so distressed Angel?” His eyes pierced into mine like he could read every bit of me

“Don’t be upset…….you know I know that you’re Harlows father and I’m lucky enough to have had you with me through everything but…..there’s this nagging feeling in my chest that Eris doesn’t know, that if I don’t tell him I’ll be letting her down and in the future she’ll wonder why she has her red hair and how she was created and I’d be robbing Eris of a pure love that is a child, he’s not cruel Az, not like how the rest of Prythian sees him, he’s kind and selfless………what do you think?” I chewed on my lip anxiously waiting for him to answer not being able to read what he was feeling

He tucked some hair behind my ear holding my cheek tenderly

“I think you’re right, she’s brought so much joy into my life I never thought I’d experience, who am I to stop you from giving our little girl the love and life she deserves, even if I don’t fully trust Eris I trust you”

“I love you Azriel”

“I love you y/n, more than all the stars in Velaris”

Thankfully the next day Rhys had to go have a highlords meeting in the autumn court and it was a perfect moment to try and find Eris and tell him everything

I dressed Harlow in an emerald green dress that had a sparkly black strap around the middle, I wore a ankle length silk dress a dark grey with a black shoulder covering

“Are you ready my lovely sister and adorable niece?” Rhys asked smiling from the doorway of the nursery, it was so nice to see him smile after what he went through

“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be, I’m nervous Rhys” sucking in an anxious breath, all these feelings I’ve been holding in since under the mountain and all the questions gone unanswered when I needed Eris

“Oh my little star, it’ll be okay, one way or another everything will work out” I sighed picking up Harlow as Rhys wrapped his arms around us both in a warm hug

“Okay im ready”

The air was suddenly crisp with a chill nipping at my exposed skin, the light breeze blowing my hair back as the leave rustled along our feet

“You can open your eyes” Rhys chuckled

“Sorry I’ll never get use to that……..well I guess it’s now or never” we both walked into the Vanserra Mansion, maids leading me one way as guards led Rhys another to the meeting

“Umm excuse me is Eris free by any chance?” I asked the maid infront of me

“I’ll check on master Eris, please wait in the library miss” she smiled as she motioned to the two big oak doors to the left of the hall

I always found comfort in reading, many lonely night trying to escape in the words of the pages, but then Azriel became my mate and nothing could compare to the fantasy and romance he gave me

Pushing inside it was huge, walls upon walls covered with books it was beautiful, noticing a comfy burnt orange couch placed infront of the burning chimney I sat down laying Harlow down in her blanket infront of me as she had fallen asleep, she really is the light of my life even if the way she was created was under horrific circumstances I still love her

I hear the doors open behind me and the room gets warmer and I know it’s Eris, after 40 years of being with him I just know

I stood turning to him standing tall gathering as much courage as I could, his pants a dark brown his vest a deep burgundy embroidered in gold thread, finally meeting his eyes

“Eris”

He gasped starring at me almost stunned

“Eris are you okay?” He finally shook out of whatever daze he was in and that stoic expression was back on

“Y/n it’s been a while, wasn’t expecting to see you” he said holding his hands behind his back

“Why did you leave me Eris?” Just jumping right in was all I could think of, might as well get this over with

“What?” He asked suddenly shocked again

“40 years, she made us do things for 40 years and then we were free and you didn’t even stay to atleast say goodbye, I needed you Eris you were the only one who could understand I looked for you but you were gone…..I spent so many sleepless nights just wanting to talk to you” the emotions were finally spilling out to the person I’ve been craving to talk to

“I’m……I’m so sorry my dear I just….i couldn’t bare to say goodbye, to know that after everything you’d just finally be gone so I thought if I never said goodbye maybe we’d find our way back to eachother again” he sighed showing that emotional side to me like he always did under the mountain

“Maybe things would’ve been different but that’s not the only reason I’m here Eris, I didn’t find out until a while after I got back to Velaris and then coming to terms with the decisions of coming here but……just come over here” a lump forming in my throat not being able to say the words, confused he rounds the coach now facing me and Harlow, picking her up I sat he gently in my lap as I eased back down onto the cozy couch

He dropped to his knees infront of us his one hand gripping my knee as the other gently traced Harlows rosy cheek

“She’s mine” it wasn’t a question it was a statement, anyone that knew our story knew that she was biological his

“She’s beautiful isn’t she” my heart settling

“Lovely” he was completely awe struck

She started stirring blinking open her big eyes instantly giggling when she sees Eris

“She has your eyes and your smile”

“Her name is Harlow, Azriel thought it was perfect” his movement stopped as he looked at me tearing his eyes from our giggling little girl

“And what reason did he have to name my child”

“Eris please don’t be like that with me, you have no idea how hard it was to go through being pregnant and lost but he was there for me he’s my best friend and……he’s my mate”

“What? No that’s impossible”

“How is it impossible, I know mates are rare but is it so wrong for me to have found happiness?” I sigh looking back down at Harlow as she plays with Eris’ fingers

“Just forget it, I’m coming back to Velaris with you, father can not know about you or Harlow, I need to make sure you’re okay”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to pretend you want to be apart of our lives if you don’t want to I’d understand”

“No im coming I need to be there I don’t care if Azriel is your mate I want to be apart of both your lives and protect you from Baron” he smiled brushing my hair back making my heart jump

“Okay you can come but don’t go starting trouble with Azriel please” he smirked

“I’ll try my dear”

We winnowed back home to Velaris, Rhys wasn’t very happy about the decision to bring Eris back with us but he’d do anything for me he always has

I gently laid Harlow down in her crib as to not wake her from her nap after her feeding when I felt shadows swirl around my ankles making a sense of calm set over my body

“Mother above I’ve missed you Az” I sighed turning to see him leaning against the door frame

“How did it go?” He asked stepping closer as he placed his scarred hands on my hips

“Better than I thought but I still feel like somethings unresolved, he already loves her though who wouldn’t” at that he smiled

“Of course he would she takes after you” but I know the next thing I say will wipe that smile away

“He’s here…….he said he wanted to come back here for a while to protect us from baron”

“I know can’t say I’m too happy about him being here but I know the past baron has with people involved with his children and I’ll take that extra protection for you both even if it’s Eris”

“Wow I never thought thee shadow singer would be agreeing with me” came Eris at the door way

Azriel growled as he turned glaring daggers at Eris

“Please don’t fight at least not while I’m here I can’t take it right now” I pleaded already feeling a headache coming on

Both their expressions calmed as they looked at me with the same expression……..Love and that’s when I felt it, the same spark I have for my beloved Azriel was now singing for Eris too, making me gasp and clench my chest

“No” Azriel gasped as he pulled me into his chest

“This doesn’t make any sense” I whisper

“How do you think I felt when I find my mate and she tells me she’s already mated” Eris sighs

“Azriel I’m sorry I still love you this doesn’t change anything……oh mother above I don’t know what to do” I panic scared I’ll lose everything I’ve tried to build and heal from

No body said anything making the panic set in more mixing with nausea, I pushed past Eris in the door way and went straight to Rhys and Feyre

Tears were now streaming freely as I pushed open their bedroom door, they looked at me immediately swarming me with worry

“Y/n my star what’s wrong what’s going on?” Rhys asked as he sat me down on the bench at the end of their bed, Feyre sitting next to me as she rubbed my back soothingly

“Eris……I don’t understand it’s not possible Rhys, and what if Azriel doesn’t want me anymore what if I lose everything oh I’m gonna be sick” I gasp breathing quickly

“Shhhhhh you need to breathe and tell me what happened did Eris hurt you?” He asks brushing my hair back from my face

“Maybe somethings wrong with me maybe the mother made a mistake what if neither of them want me”

“What are you trying to say honey” Feyre says calmly

“Two…….how can I have two mates” they became like statues at my words

“What? I’ve never heard of that happening in all my life” Rhys says squeezing my knee

“Do you think Azriel hates me now, what if I’m disgusting to him now and he leaves me and Harlow what if he never wanted me in the first place and he would’ve never loved me if it weren’t for the mating bond” I continued spiraling

“That would never happen Angel” Azriels voice rings from the door way, we all look up seeing him and Eris there looking almost as distraught as me

“We’ll give you some time” Feyre says taking Rhys’ hand and leaving the room

Azriel kneels infront of me taking my hands as Eris takes feyres spot

“I loved you long before we became mates, I loved the way you always tried to play with us as kids, how you always tried to cheer me up, how you smell like a cupcake and the way your hair shines in the sun, I’ve loved you for so long and this won’t stop that, we can figure it out because I’m never leaving you or my little girl”

“Really you mean it?” I sigh relaxing at his heart warming words

“Of course my angel, maybe the mother thought you were so special and so filled with love you were meant to have two mates to spread the joy you give” Azriel rarely got this emotional with me

“I love you Az, always” I lean down placing my forehead against his sending a jolt of love down our bond

“Not as much as I love you, forever”

The moment was interrupted by Eris clearing his throat

“I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble my dear” he said soothingly, he always talked to me like I was fragile under the mountain and I can’t deny how he only treats me with that kindness

“It’s not your fault anymore than it is mine, just give this time for me to figure out how I feel”

“Of course I’d give you all the time in the world my dear……..I’ll go check on Harlow” he said as he placed a gentle kiss to my cheek before leaving me and Azriel alone

“You know I could go to that bakery you love and get you your favorite cookies”

“You read my mind”

[myfictionaldreams]

Light in the Darkness // Feyre/Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn't just Rhys who had been caught in Amrantha's damnatation. For nearly 50 years, you'd suffered with him, in her bed. After years of enduring agony, it becomes almost impossible to resist seeking refuge in the platonic refuge of your High Lord and High Lady. However, after one night of drunken indulgence, you're left wondering if everything you've built to protect yourself is now shattered.

Requested by: ~ ☺ -- thank you so so much for all your support and the request! I absolutely loved writing more acotar/sjm!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, past rape/non-con elements, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, flirting, kissing, drinking, threesome (f/f/m), sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, anxiety, happy ending

Words: 9.4k (lol oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Some aspects of life can be predicted. Happiness, sadness, heartbreak, grief. Death. Every ounce of blessings that had graced your life had repercussions and hardships, something that was always centred around the balance of the world. With good comes the bad.

Years upon years had been filled with joy, laughter, and safety with your friends and family. Naturally, being drawn into the inner circle of the Night Court would bring its hardships, but it would be nothing that your friends or your family could get you out of. From outsiders, you were ranked low within the group, not even having a title to the job you provided; however, you often liked to refer to yourself as Rhysand's conscience.

Where Amren would help make significant decisions for the Night Court as the second in command, you'd be there to offer further guidance daily. Every meeting, every decision, every single day, you would be at Rhysand's side, making sure he didn't make brash decisions and, furthermore, protecting his sanity when, on some days, the weight of the world pressed down on him.

Not only did you save Rhys with your words, but as a high fae, you were blessed by the Cauldron with healing and body manipulation powers. The healing was self-explanatory as to why it could help; there were times you'd been able to bring a soul back, even from the point of death. However, such as life, with life comes pain. A power you used so infrequently due to the distress that you'd often forgotten that it was something you could do. Only on a handful of occasions have you needed to use it against an enemy they begged for death in seconds. It was a strain on your mental health to use this, and with Rhys having his own powers, along with his shadowsinger, there weren't many reasons for you to even be needed for this.

Rhysand would never expect or ask you to use this power, increasing your adoration for him tenfold. To say the two of you were close was a complete understatement. When you both live and breathe the same day-to-day life, the form of friendship is bound to shift into something more. Rhys made you feel safe; the scent of night and Jasmine that accompanied him always wrapped around you like a warm hug.

There was no one you trusted more than him, and when the two of you stumbled into bed years ago, it only helped you discover more of yourself, especially with your powers. Pleasure. You could bestow pleasure onto a person with a single thought. Have their knees wobbling, eyes glazing over and back arching as they orgasmed in a single second. It made your nights with the High Lord all the more entertaining.

Even with the closeness the two of you shared, there was still the label of friendship. You loved Rhysand, and he loved you, but the two of you were still keeping back, aware of the possibilities of mates, and until any bond arrived, the friendship would continue with the thrill of pleasure.

As your role to be by his side continued, this was the unfortunate or devastating mistake of how you were in attendance at the ball that Amarantha had created. All it took was a gathering of high lords and a drink of the magically spiked wine, and the world of Pyrthian would be forever changed. The magic within the High Lords was leashed, and no one was safe from the wrath of the Red-Haired Devil.

You could have driven yourself mad with hindsight, regretting not listening to your gut feeling of not trusting Amarantha. Only the knowledge of being able to keep the rest of your family and friends safe in Velaris was the only blessing, even if it meant a life of agony for 50 years.

Amarantha, in all of her cruel ways, personally picked the High Lord of the Night Court with her need for revenge for Rhys' father, killing her closest ally - Tamlin's father. Rhys had always had a formal villainous reputation amongst the other courts, but now, this is further shadowed by the different courts as Amarantha uses him. To hurt others, break them in a split second, and furthermore, keep him leashed to her bed. He was simply her whore and nothing more to the others throughout Pyrthian. This mighty High  Lord, probably the most powerful High Lord there had ever been, had been degraded and dehumanised to nothing.

Nevertheless, where Rhysand stayed, you were by his side.

Rhysand had protected Velaris, the rest of his friends and family that remained at home, keeping them locked away from Amarantha using his Daemati skills, but could not save them.

The first few weeks of the new reign of the Red Devil, you'd been chained in a cell with only darkness and the drip of the waters running down the walls to keep you company. You'd even convinced yourself she had forgotten about you, willing to let you rot away. However, you were forced to kneel before her, and Rhys stood by her side.

There was never a second where you'd blame Rhys for what happened. In fact, over the 50 years, he had saved you in more ways than you could ever repay him for.

You were forced by Amarantha to admit why Rhys kept you so close by. The healing, the pain, the pleasure. Everything spilt from your lips with a single snap of her fingers. Rhysand was her whore, and you were downgraded to being her Harlot, except there was no exchange between sex and money, only sex and not being killed.

Rhy was forced to control minds and occasionally cause pain before death. You were just there to deal unimaginable pain until death, and then both crawl into Amaranthas bed and pleasure her until she promptly sleeps, wakes and starts the process again.

As the years trailed by, the only sight that would keep you going was the flickerings of stars that would light in the depths of Rhysand's eyes when the two of you were briefly alone for mere seconds.

Amarantha kept a tight leash on the two of you. When in her bedroom, you and Rhys were never allowed to touch, and most frequently, you were forced to kneel next to the bed and watch or tie to the bed with the Red Devil straddling your waist with Rhys pleasuring her from behind. You would watch and watch, and then her fingers would snap, and you were forced to make her orgasm, over and over, even with Rhys having spent hours pleasuring her.

These moments were where Rhys would provide support. Even though your eyes had to remain on Amarantha, Rhys would slip through your mental shiels and make you feel numb whilst remaining mentally close so that you didn't feel alone. Often, you would wake without any recollection of the previous night's antics, all thanks to your High Lord, and you wished and begged to the Cauldron that one day you could repay him for keeping you from slipping into the depressive pit that you would never be able to return from.

Then, at the risk of his life, Rhys admitted to having dreams. 47 years, the two of you had been trapped, and he'd been lost to the Red Devil, but hope came to him with glimpses of a woman's life. Hope. It had to be hope, and even though you could only see foggy images that Rhys would share of this person, the two of you would hope that this was a sign of someone who was bringing salvation.

Nearly 50 years had passed, and Rhysand finally admitted to meeting her whilst visiting the Spring Court, falling for the callings coming his way to draw him closer to her. Nothing came as easy as an overnight saviour, but at least you had a name. Feyre. Sweet Feyre. A human girl who had nearly stolen Tamlin's heart arrived under the mountain to declare her love for him and stand up to the Red Devil.

So young and yet defiant. Despite the pain, the torture and helplessness, she never back down. Something in your heart called to her. Maybe it wasn't right to put so much pressure on her to save Pyrthian, but even if it meant you had to take your last breath, you would try anything within your power to save this woman.

Superficial wounds you couldn't heal, but the pain you were quick to vanish as she was kept in her cell between the trials. Moreover, you were more than aware that Rhys was doing just as much to keep her from losing her sanity by having her close to his side, forgetting the world as she drank faerie wine.

The fateful day came, and so many events spiralled into utter chaos. After the final trial, Feyre figures out the riddle but still dies in Amaranthas's hand. Tamlin finally finds courage and slaughters the Red Devil and the High Lords, gathering to bring Feyre back to life as High Fae.

Freedom was unforgettable, and leaving the depths of Under the Mountain was something you'd only dreamed of, but there was now the weight of Rhys' mating bond snapping into place that had the next chapter in your lives beginning.

There was no time to be happy for your High Lord as the King of Hybern began his war whilst simultaneously trying to prove to Feyre that she was safe within the Night Court and away from Tamlin and that you were thanking Rhys and Mor for stealing her from the dreadful place.

Years continue to fly by. Wars, fights, numerous deaths, including Rhys for a moment and finally, FINALLY, the Night court could be at rest and for once indeed be happy with their High Lord and Lady protecting the lands with the inner circle close by.

Having been in turmoil for so long, adjusting to returning home, being surrounded by friends, and trying to remember what it was like to be genuinely safe was more difficult than anticipated.

It was almost like having to try and learn how to live again. What hobbies would truly distract you? What job could you do from day to day as it wasn't necessarily for you to be on Rhysands' side now with Feyre there to aid in the decision-making? There was also the destruction of having survivor guilt and horrific nightmares that had you afraid of the sun slipping behind the mountains every day and night, replacing the light. No amount of talking, counselling or breathing exercises could remind you that Amarantha was truly dead and that everything was fine.

This was how you began to depend on your High Lord and Lady.  Both of whom were closer to you than it seemed to be anyone else. Most days would be spent around either of them, whether to help with court business or simply sitting next to them as they continued their lives.

You had realised long ago that you were mostly in love with Rhys and Feyre and depended on them more than others. They never made you feel guilty for this. Neither seemed to mind and often would seek you out if you were starting to feel guilty and keep them safe; they needed comfort and support just as much as you did.

The damage and trauma from Under the Mountain also fleeted from just your mind. You couldn't train with any of the others; even the slightest touch against your skin would trigger red nightmares. You were unsure if it was the saviour complex you'd built around Feyre or Rhys, but you'd only allow them through your hard outer shell.

"Come back to me. Come back to Velaris. You're safe; I'm here; take a deep breath with me" Feyre's soothing voice drifted through your tense consciousness as she blew out a long breath so you could hear the steadiness of her slow breaths. The sweetness of her scent, lilac and pear, then licked through the wind across the skin of your cheek as she knelt in front of you, grasping your hand firmly and helping to ground you.

Your eyelids fluttered first, testing the movements as your mind and body began to return from the horrors within. The rich blueness of Feyre's concerned eyes is what you forced on first, then the rise and fall of her chest as you attempted to copy the movements. It was the first draw of breath that you realised just how long you'd been holding your breath as your lungs burned and your head spun.

The air of Velaris tasted sweet, or maybe it was the lingering taste of Feyre in the air as the ache in the centre of your chest eased and you became more present. The trembling throughout your body continued, no matter how many times Fey's thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

"You're always safe here, with me. It's just us together. Look outside; the sun is still shining, and there's no darkness here". Feyre continued to gently soothe you with her elegant voice.

You'd always found it so ironic that a place called the Night Court, the power to bring forth shadows and darkness from its High Lady and Lord, was actually the brightest and most beautiful home. Free. Unlike how it was Under the Mountain.

Tension struck your spine as your thoughts drifted back to the nightmarish place. Feyre's grip on your hand loosened as she shifted closer to cup both hands around your face, forcing your eyes on her again.

"Don't go back there, stay with me. Talk to me, I want to hear your pretty voice, Honey". It was both the use of her nickname for you and the warmth of her fingers on your face that brought you back from the dizzying nightmares.

Opening your mouth to follow your instructions, you were unsure what to say at first, worried that all that would dribble out would be frightened whimpers, but then a little fleck of something at the corner of Feyre's eyelid caught your eye as your fingers hovered above the area.

"You have a freckle right here that I've never noticed before", you say in a whisper before clearing your voice and smiling at your High Lady.

Feyre matches your grin, showing her teeth whilst doing so and tilting her face so that you're not cupping her face just as she was yours. "Do I? I've never noticed before. Guess I'll have to add it to my portraits".

Your index finger stroked over the freckle as your thoughts spoke before you could probably think as you admitted, "It's beautiful". Usually, only her mate caused the pinkness to blush across her cheeks as she tried to duck and hide her face, the golden hair half drawn into a ponytail now curtaining her away.

Instinctively, you brushed the offending pieces behind her pointed ears, giving you a clearer view of the beauty of Feyre Archeron-Moonbeam. As her sky-stained eyes flicked back up to yours, she coyly softened her smile. And you're a big old flirt; she uses her daemati skills as her lips remain still so that only you can hear.

Only for you, my High Lady, you respond similarly. However, the flirtatious talk was then interrupted by a third, more silky, deep voice joined as the scent of Jasmine and the crispness of night wrapped around you in a warm hug.

I object. I, too, think you're a big old flirt to me, too. It could be my handsome good looks and effortless charm. The intense eye contact with Feyre snapped as you both turned toward the doorway where Rhys now casually leaned against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and not a single hair out of place. The hypnotic violet eyes wandered over Feyre's form first before doing the same with you before the tension eased in his shoulders.

Scoffing as you and Feyre stood, releasing each other's faces and turning towards him entirely, you spoke the following words aloud. "Excuse me, Almighty High Lord. I think you'll find that you're older than me and a much bigger flirt".

Feyre laughs as she naturally falls into his side, their arms wrapping around each other's waists and his lips dipping to kiss her tenderly across the forehead before focusing his attention on you with a wicked grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Love. I only flirt with my darling Feyre". His mate gently slaps a hand against his chest. As you all know, that was one of the biggest lies to slip from his lips. Rhys simply grabs her tattoo-covered hand and kisses the knuckles before venturing further into the room, only stopping when toe-to-toe with you.

Your neck ached as you stared up at him, admiring the twinkle of stars in his eyes as he asked, Do you want to talk about it?

You knew he was referring to your momentary lapse in consciousness moments ago. Losing the courage to maintain eye contact, you look across Velaris, noticing how the sun reflected and sparkled against the water flowing in the Sidra.

Suddenly having no energy, your shoulder shrugs nonchalantly, even though you knew the man before you could read you better than any other. "Not really".

Warm, calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face back towards Rhys as you find that Feyre is now by your side, her fingers interlocking with yours, both touching you, the only two to have done so since being Under the Mountain, even if they were innocent touches.

"You can always come to us, day or night. You know that, right? Just call out for us, and we will come", Rhys reassures carefully, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

Glancing between the mated pair, you try to ignore the burning behind your eyes from the threatening tears as you squeeze the hand holding yours and smile up at Rhys. "What would I ever do without my favourite High Lady and Lord".

Rhys grins down at you, keeping his hold on your chin as he leans down to kiss your cheek, remaining there for a second longer than socially acceptable as you suck in a quick breath as Feyre copies the kiss on the opposite cheek. The two of them move away at the same time as you struggle to control your pounding heart and ignore the desperate throb that warmed your core from being between them both.

It was always like this with the three of you. The longing touches by both of them. The ones that would fuel the dreams would leave you feeling regret for thinking of your friends in such a way, even if it distracted you from your dark thoughts. 

To everyone else, it seemed that you were all close. Still, when the three of you were alone, something constantly shifted, and as much as you tried to remember they were mates and nothing further would ever happen, the lasting effects of the increased pulse and arousal remained. Even though you would never act on these feelings, they made you feel alive and safe.

You noticed it then, the shadows that creep into their eyes as their nostrils flare, smelling your dampening arousal. Like always, you take a step back and try to regain control over your actions, masking your emotions with humour.

"You two are naughty. Do you often kiss your friends like that".

Feyre's giggle only adds to your body's reaction as she links her arm through yours and shrugs her shoulder, "I don't know what you're referring to. We were just being supportive", her tone was laced with sarcasm.

Rolling your eyes, your arm taps the arm holding yours, "Of course you were". Leaning into her side, the two of you glance up at Rhysand, who is silently watching the interactions. Eventually, his eyes flicked to Feyres, who tilted her head with a knowing smile. Looking between the two, you sigh dramatically, "I hate when you both talk like that. It's like you're showing off that you can speak mind to mind. Some would call it rude to talk like that without including your company".

Rhys finally smirks as you notice the sweet and seedy tang that now invaded your scents, mixing with the smell of your arousal quickly; you take a step back from them, assuming they're both flirting mind to mind as you can now smell how horny they both were.

"Alright, well, now I know what you're both thinking. I'm going to take that as my opportunity to leave, " you explain whilst walking towards the exit like you usually did when the mated pair became obsessed with the other in similar situations. However, a shadow wraps around your wrist and halts your movements, so you must turn back and watch as Rhys' arm secures Feyre's shoulder.

"How do you know what we are thinking about?" Rhys asks casually.

Once more, you roll your eyes in exasperation, "because I can smell it, and you are both anything but subtle".

"Hmm", he contemplates for a second. "And what exactly do you think we're dreaming about?"

Your tongue suddenly lay heavy in your mouth as you look confused between them both, noting that Feyre's cheeks are once more flushed with embarrassment, or was it arousal?

"Is this a fun game for you both? I'm not sure I'm interested in guessing what you two do behind closed doors". A lie, but they don't need to know this as those thoughts had been fueling your quiet nights between your sheets.

The High Lord and Lady's eyes both lower to watch as your thighs squeeze together to ease the worsening ache there, not realising how noticeable your movements had been as you cough to recapture their attention back to your face.

"Maybe I should have phrased my question differently", Rhys begins to say as he licks his lips. "Who exactly do you think we are dreaming about?"

Your frown deepens with the confusion that only seems to worsen with each word Rhys says. Feyre takes control of the conversation as she steps forward and out of Rhys' hold until she is in front of you, looking like the beautiful High Lady that she is. Her shoulders rolled back, her head held high, and the confidence only added to the pulsing and fire between your legs.

Carefully, you watch every single flicker of emotion and movement from Feyre. From the way her lips part to take in a deep breath, the subtle hardening of her nipples beneath the thin blue shirt she wore, to the way her pupils expand to match the sweet scent in the air. "I, for one, was not and am not thinking of Rhysand", she speaks in a lower undertone than usual, not flinching from your unending stare.

It was your turn to open your mouth, licking the dryness while attempting to think of some kind of response, but it seemed that your mind was void of all conventional thoughts. So much so that the arrival of Morrigan as she winnowed into the room had the three of you flinching and jumping to face the new arrival.

The tall blonde's nose wrinkled as she glanced between her cousin and his mate, "By the Cauldron, will you two leave the poor girl alone with your nasty thoughts? It smells like a Pleasure house in here", Mor claims as she flicks her luscious hair over her shoulder.

You take a step back, thankful that Mor only thought the thick smell was from Feyre and Rhys and not you as well.

"Morrigan, a pleasure as always, dear cousin", Rhys drawls as he casually picks off some invisible lint from his shoulder. This sight has you smiling, knowing he was covering his discomfort with the movement.

Mor flicked her gaze over Rhys before dressing each of you with enthusiasm, clasping her hands together, "So tonight I've convinced the others to come to Ritas, and I need you three to also join to have the complete team there".

"I'll be there, " you say quickly, deciding you need something more substantial to drink after this conversation.

"Us too", Feyre answered as she glanced over her shoulder towards you with a not-so-subtle wink.

Hours later, after the sun had set and your anxiety had risen for a moment, you were now encompassed in the inhibitions of the alcohol humming through your veins. Ritas was as busy as always, and being surrounded by friends, good music and even better drinks, you were very much in your element of happiness.

Despite your friends being gathered around the table you always resided at or in the centre of the dancefloor, you were happy in your little corner of heaven in Ritas, where you could sway on the spot without worrying about feeling strangers' bodies knocking into yours.

The conversation continued to play over in your mind as you felt the coolness of the sweat dripping down the middle of your spine. As much as you love Mor, you could have cursed her to prison for interrupting before discovering who Feyre and Rhys were referring to because even though your heart screamed that it was about you, your mind tried to convince you otherwise. There was no way that your mated friends were turned on by you.

You're drawn away from your thoughts as a slender arm slides around your neck, and the sweet smell of Feyre wraps around you, replacing the salty sweat from the room. Her grin matches yours as she tips her head back, swaying her hips in time with yours as your fingers clasp to the thin material of her peach dress around her waist, pulling her closer.

From the way she laughed, you knew she was just as drunk as you but nevertheless still as beautiful as ever, even with the way her golden hair stuck to her face with the sweat and the glassy sheen over her eyes. You were happy to see her letting go and fully relaxing; she deserved it more than most.

You weren't sure which of you tightened your hold of the other, but now your faces are pressed together, her lips hovering next to your ear so that you could hear her say, "We didn't finish the conversation earlier".

Your feet somehow become tangled with hers as you both lose your footing, but a steady hand from behind keeps you both upright as Rhys' chest presses against your back. One of his hands remains on your waist, his thumb brushing in a circle, and the other reaches around your side to grip Feyre, pulling her even closer against your chest until your breasts are squished against hers.

"Wh-What conversation?" you pretend to forget, the rest of Ritas drowning away in the background.

"Don't play coy with us; I can smell your arousal already", Rhys growls into your other ear. You forget to breathe momentarily, so Rhys's tone calms, "Easy, breathe for us, it's ok. This will always remain a safe space". You appreciated his comfort, but for a moment, all you could think about was the way his lips caressed the shell of your ear.

I think you're beautiful, Honey. Feyre speaks dreamily mind to mind as she pulls away to look deep into your mind mesmerisingly. Her delicate fingers stroke down your cheek as her eyes flick between yours and the lips you're biting. I want you. She states this with such confidence and not an ounce of alcohol slurring her words that your knees wobble.

"I want you too", you finally whisper to her, unsure if the alcohol was giving you courage or making silly decisions on your behalf.

"And you know that Rhys wants you too; nothing about that has changed", Feyre continues as you glance over your shoulder to look up at Rhys as he kisses the side of your head. You nod, understanding that she was referring to your past with him.

"I think we should find somewhere more private, don't you?" Feyre continues as you agree with her.

One second, you're in Ritas, and the next, you're in the comforting bedroom in the townhouse of Feyre and Rhys. The instant calmness of the loud music faded, and the delicate touch of the wind as it floated through the open archway to the balcony. Sighing at the coolness as it kissed against the exposed skin of your arms, you let it distract you from the chaos erupting in your heart and mind.

Rhys moved away first, and before you turned to see what he was doing, Feyre stepped back and grabbed your hand. The two of you laughed wholeheartedly while stumbling over to their gigantic bed.

You both collapse into the centre, laughing at nothing as the springs cause you both to bounce before settling and wrapping your arms around each other.

Rhys leans against the bedpost at the base of the bed, smiling down at the two of you, especially as Feyre lifts her feet and wiggles them in his direction. "Come on, High Lord. Look busy", she giggles as Rhys smirks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and dragging her feet into his lap. Carefully, he unbuckled the straps of her heels, dropped the shoes onto the floor and carefully kissed the top of her knee as the dress she wore now pooled midthigh no that she was lying down, and then his sights were set on you.

With long strides, he's around the other side of the bed, now closest to you, and begins to remove your shoes as well, but then your feet remain over his thighs, and the reality of the situation finally dawns on you. Like he had with Feyre, his eyes never leave yours as you forget to breathe altogether, and he kisses your knee delicately.

Feyre raised to lean on her fist so that she could look down at you as your gaze turned from one to the other.

"You'll tell us if it's too much, I mean", she asks, appearing more sober as you, too, notice the liquid courage seems to have disappeared from your system as you nod in agreement at her. She smiles as Rhys' fingers caress from your ankle up to your calf. "I've never kissed a female before", she admits as the hand she isn't leaning on reaches across to run her fingers down the side of your face.

"I think you'd enjoy it", you say, sounding breathless, becoming lost in the desire that darkens her usually bright eyes. You're encouraged to continue as her fingers continue to explore your face and linger on your lips. "Kissing a man is nice and dominant, rough. But with females, they're soft, sweet, gentle but demanding if needed."

Feyre bites her lower lip as she glances at Rhys for a split second before turning her attention back down to you. "I want to kiss you", admits eternally.

"I don't think your mate would appreciate me touching what's he", you say, trying to remain as level-headed as possible, knowing that the mind between mates should not be interfered with.

Feyre's eyes gleam with mischief as she looks down at her mate, who has remained silent so far. "My mate wants to kiss you too", she confirms.

"More than you could know", Rhys then speaks, his tone taunt and deep, like he is trying to hold back, but it is all the confirmation you need.

Reaching up to your High lady, you cup her jaw and pull her close, meeting her halfway as your lips connect. The two of you forget to breathe momentarily, simply remaining in place and allowing each of your emotions to escalate before your movements finally catch up to your pounding heart.

Your lips press more firmly, moving against hers until they relax and open, giving you the perfect position to tease your tongue between her lips. You both moan, especially now that you can taste her, feel her loosening and falling more into the kiss, finding the courage to push your head back onto the bed and become more demanding.

Your fingers slip through her hair as you greedily try to taste the other. She was sweet, oh so fucking sweet you could have drowned in her and thanked the Cauldron for giving you the opportunity. Her full lips are cushioned against yours until you're both starving of oxygen and needing to pull back to breathe.

A second, this lasted before her face wasn't above yours anymore, and your High Lord was leaning over your body, his hand now cupping the entire side of your face as he kissed you with greed. The sensation of nostalgia hit, the taste that you'd grown fond of over the years of intimacy before Feyre crashed through your senses. Yet, there was something new and exciting with this kiss, even as you continued to stroke through his mate's hair and hold her to your side as Rhysand bruised your lips, his tongue entering your mouth for a brief second as you moaned.

Then he's pulling back, and you're welcomed to the beautiful sight of Feyre and Rhys desperately kissing. You'd seen them kiss more times than you could count, but being this close, having each of them still clutching onto your body in some way.

Feyre was the first to ease away, tilting her head slightly so that Rhysands lips could move to the slop of her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses until reaching the strap of her dress on her shoulder and easing it down. Coping his movement, you, too, moved the strap off of her other shoulder and the material pooled below her ribs, exposing her breasts to you. There wasn't a second wasted before you moved to lick one of her perked nipples as Rhys nibbled on the other.

The soft moan from Feyre lit a fire in your belly as you continued to taste the sweetness of her skin, but then your head was moved back as Feyre demanded your mouth with hers once more.

With your back pressed against the bed, Feyre attempts to move over you but then halts herself, "I don't know what I'm doing" Feyre giggles.

Grinning up at her innocence, you admire the way that her eyes are half-lidded and swollen lips are pulled between her teeth as Rhys continues to caress her nipples and breasts with his mouth and hands.

Tucking a stray curl of golden hair behind her ear, you explain, "Touch me like you'd touch yourself. Do you touch yourself?" you ask, clarifying. The apples of her cheeks had already risen from the alcohol and kissing, but now they deepened in the shade as she said yes. Rhys growls against her chest at the thought of her touching herself and then begins to remove her dress further down her body until she's naked. You see, seeing that she'd gone without underwear and reached to touch her now slightly sensitive nipples.

Once more, you admire how she hitches a breath at the touch. She still seems hesitant as her fingers draw your dress's edge against your collarbones. Rhys, also sensing her nerves, lies on the other side of you, resting his head on his fist as he wraps his large hand around Feyre's small one.

"Here, let ms show you, Darling", he explains lowly, and you notice that he's now topless, the muscles flexing with his movements and bat wings flared out behind him, hovering in the air.

You and Feyre watch as Rhys moves her hand over your chest, cupping your breast over your dress and squeezing firmly. You can't help but rub your thighs together as the low pleasure builds in your already aroused body, the air thick with seedy scents from all three of you.

Rhys then catches your eye, winking cheekily with a handsome smirk. Within a blink of an eye, all clothes that remained on his or your body disappeared, and now Feyre's hand was pressed directly against your skin.

Your back arches slightly into the touch, pushing your breast into her hand, and then it's your turn to gasp as Rhys moves her fingers to pinch your nipple fiery, tugging it away from your body and then pressing a thumb against the aching area.

It was a sight you adored watching as Feyre tentatively began to learn how to touch your body. There was so much you wanted to do to both of them, and as much as you wanted to give Feyre a chance to move lower, you didn't like the attention just on you. It was challenging to decide whether to touch him or her, but as it was Feyre's first time with a girl, you wanted to see if she enjoyed your face between her legs.

"Feyre, can I be on top of you?" you ask her with a surprisingly pitched voice.

She grins as her eyes glow ever brighter as she rolls onto her back, "You don't have to ask".

Returning her smile, you slip around Rhys and straddle Feyre's waist, leaning down to kiss her hungrily for a few seconds before moving backwards, lower down her body. "I want to taste you". Your words pressed against her skin as your mouth journeyed south, kissing the peaks of her breasts down her sternum and toned stomach. Her breaths were coming out in quick huffs as she squirmed on the bed, legs spreading as your body fit between them, your face pressing against the softness of her thighs.

Feyre's arousal was evidenced by the wetness that now caressed your cheek as you nuzzled yourself closer, resting your weight on your chest and arse perked in the air as you felt the High Lord move behind you. Blowing cool air over Feyre's beautiful cunt, you loved how responsive she already was as she shivered and gripped tightly to the sheet beneath her, looking down her body at you.

Whilst holding her eye contact, you finally lowered your mouth to her, tongue sweeping over her labia and tasting her salty but uniquely beautiful juices. The High Lady's gasp was like music to your ears, especially as you pressed more firmly, dipping beneath and stroking over her clit and feeling it throb against your tongue. "You taste so fucking good".

Rhys, who was licking his lips at the sight, began to hover over both of you, kissing down your spine, causing goosebumps to rush to the surface of your skin. He, too, began to use his tongue to pleasure as he knelt behind you, flicking his tongue into your cunt and pushing in. You groan, and in turn, Feyre does, too.

"I've missed this", Rhys admits from behind as he circles your hole with his fingers, carefully easing a single digit within. This was the first time you'd been penetrated by anything in over 50 years. Amarantha had often tortured you with your arousal, making sure you were never given anything to ease the ache, but then after her demise, even when you touched yourself, you were so sensitive it would only take clitoris to play for you to orgasm.

Your back arches, pressing your breasts further into the bed and arse harder into Rhys' face as he rocks his finger in and out before adding another and beginning to curl his fingers until your whimpering into his mate's cunt. Warmth flushed over your face as you realised just how quickly you were close to orgasm, so you moved with more enthusiasm as you sucked on her clit and then pressed your tongue firmly against it. Then, for the first time in 50 years, you used your powers because you wanted to, not because you were being forced to.

Rhys and Feyre both moan loudly enough that the bed trembles. You'd caused the sensation for him that his cock was now being wrapped tightly down someone's throat and Feyre to fill full internally, with someone caressing the sensitive nerves within her cunt, both nipples being sucked on by an invisible force.

"What was that?" she cries out as she closes her eyes, her hips now rotating on their own accord as she chases her high. You could have made her orgasm with your powers but didn't want to overwhelm her immediately, so you settled in softly as you continue to circle her clit.

Not stopping to answer her question, you match the sensations you're going through and then as Rhys' thumb pressed against your clit and the hurricane of an orgasm pulsed through your cunt and abdomen, you made sure that both mates also came at the same time.

Rhys grunted, one hand coming to rest on your hip and squeezing the flesh as he humped against the bed, staining the sheets with his seed, and Feyre coated your mouth with her arousal, her thighs almost crushing you in the process, but you would have died happy right there.

While still trying to catch her breath, Feyre suddenly announces loudly, "Sit on my face". You and Rhys' face snap up to look at her, laughing at the crudeness of her words that aren't usually that forward. She appears sheepish for once, asking, "What? Did I say it wrong?"

"Not at all", you begin whilst crawling up her body until you're face to face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

With Rhys' steady hands on your hips, you moved to kneel on either side of your High Lady's face, looking down your body at her excited expression. Still reluctant, it takes Feyre's tattoed fingers to wrap around your thighs and pull your body down before her mouth is on your intimate area. You weren't sure who moaned louder, you or Feyre, as she started by licking and tasting between your folds before building more enthusiasm and dipping the tip of her tongue into your pussy.

"You're doing so good", you praise whilst holding one hand on the headboard of the bed and the other slipping into Feyre's hair. Glancing over your shoulder, you admire Rhys, who was on his knees watching the two of you, his hand wrapped around his surprisingly already hard cock. He looked almost godly in this position, the tattoos of the mountains on his knees gleaming at you for more than one reason, his wings spread wide behind him. "Look busy, High Lord; I think our beautiful High Lady's cunt is looking lonely down there".

"It would be my honour, Love", Rhys agrees, moving closer and easing his mates legs over his thighs as he lowers the tip of his cock over her clit, teasing her for a second before entering her. You could feel the rush of air against your pussy as she gasps, rotating her hips as she rocks against Rhys.

You match the movements, rolling your hips against her face as her nose knocks against your bundle of nerves and her tongue moves ever deeper. Everything felt so good; your body was alive with emotions and buzzing nerves. You could have died happy right there, especially as your face is then tilted back and Rhys' mouth is on yours, kissing whilst fucking his mate.

Even with his tongue down your throat, you wish you could praise Feyre; she makes you feel so good, even though it is her first time doing this. And Rhys, he always knew how to leave you breathless and begging for more.

You weren't even prepared as your orgasm rocked you very well. Rhys had to half hold you up as your body trembled, cunt squeezing and pulling around Feyre's tongue until the sensations lessons at you collapsed next to the pair, trying to catch your breath.

Then you watched, with awe and amazement, as Rhys fucked Feyre, their fingers all over each other, grasping and holding as both of them eased closer to their peak. But even then, when both were breathless and arching their backs, you were still being grabbed and included with kisses and touches until all three were motionless in the middle of the bed.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, having not had two orgasms in quick successions in so long, and the thrill of emotions was enough to have you falling asleep almost immediately. Not before you're checked in by both of them, Rhys wraps an arm around your waist, and Feyre's head rests against your chest.

"Are you ok? I mean - was that alright for you?" she whispers, sounding just as exhausted as you.

"It was perfect", you respond before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Waking up was not the blissful peace you'd hoped it would be. The thrill of the alcohol had completely gone from your body, and all that remained was a heavy sickness of guilt in your stomach. Last night was beyond perfect. Everything you could have wanted and more, but reality was your worst enemy.

Feyre and Rhys were mates, not only this but your High Lord and Lady. A fun night of relieving tensions for them meant so much more for you; emotions that had attempted to lay dormant were now screaming in your mind that you'd made one of the worst mistakes yet. They wouldn't want you. They couldn't have you anyway. No matter how deep the feelings ran, there was no such thing as a mates pair having a third join.

When the pair would wake, you knew it would be full of awkwardness and 'let's never do this again'. So, with great difficulty, you began to untangle yourself from the duo, careful not to wake either of them as you climbed out of bed.

It wouldn't happen again, and the sooner you realised this and came to terms with it, the easier the pain in your heart could ease. Grabbing your dress that was folded on a nearby chair, you slipped it on and, with your shoes in hand, left without glancing back at the sleeping couple.

You had a room in their house, much like the rest of the inner circle, but there was no way you could remain in the same room as them for a day, at least so, after changing into more comfortable clothes and hiding under a coat, you left to go to your own home.

It was on the other side of Velaris, and on the walk there, with the sun slowly beginning to rise and wake up the other occupants of your home town, you had time to overthink every single touch and moan from last night. Eventually, you arrived at your abandoned apartment, having hardly slept here since your nightmares were so crippling that you needed to stay near Rhys and Feyre at all times.

You attempted to distract yourself by scrubbing your skin raw, trying to remove the scents of both of them away, but when that didn't work, you moved to deep cleaning your home, which now had a thick layer of dust and cobwebs across the surfaces. This was until you could collapse with exhaustion into your cold bed.

The nightmares were there, so violently, in fact, that you were startled awake because you couldn't breathe. Your mouth opened to scream for Rhys to save you but stopped, biting on your tongue until blood coated your mouth. Scrubbing a heavy hand down your face as you caught your breath and eased the ache in your chest, you glanced out of the window, seeing the sun high in the sky, meaning it hadn't been that long since you'd fallen asleep.

Your stomach gave a hungry growl as you sighed, collapsing back onto your pillow, staring aimlessly towards your ceiling.

I was going to give you one more hour of rest before coming to find you, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Rhys' voice echoed in your mind in a deep drawl that had a fluttering of pain seep into your chest as you remembered last night. Deciding to do something you've never done before, you tried to ignore him, turning over and pulling your bed sheet over your head and shutting down your mental shields, but he simply pushed them aside with his talons.

Why are you there and not at home?

Without thinking, you snapped back sassily, This is my home.

He didn't comment on your tone as he continued to ask. Why did you leave?

I needed to shower. You answered simply, knowing it was a useless excuse.

We could have showered together. Rhys purred back, and even his tone was your core warming. Unsure of what to reply with, you decide remaining silent was your best option, so he filled the silence with more questions. I don't want to intrude on your personal space but don't block us out. Last night was-.

I know.  You cut off his sentence, not wanting to hear his rejections. It's fine. I'll just speak to you later, Rhysand.

Rhysand? When do you ever call me that? He sounded more urgent with his questions, so you try even harder with your mental shields until a thick wall separates the two of you, and his words are finally silenced. Your emotions finally snap as you sob until you can't breathe.

You remained in this position for the rest of the day. Your hunger is now dormant with the sickness in your chest. The tears would dry and then start again as you feel the ghost of their lips against your skin with the memories that continued to spiral through your mind over and over again. Eventually, the sunset, and you were left with the shadows from the fae lights to keep you company.

Deciding the bedroom only made you feel worse; you move into the living room, sit on the couch, and stare at the wall.

At one point, you could feel the stroke of gentle fingers against your mental shields, but you kept them in place, deciding it was best to ignore Feyre as well. However, a firm knock came on your door late into the night. You wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to leave whoever was there to think you were asleep, but as the knock came again, you decided to just get it over and done with, already knowing who was there.

Opening the door, you're greeted by Feyre and Rhys, holding a plate of your favourite food and both smiling gently towards you, their eyes searching over your body to check you're well but noticing how red and bloodshot the whites of your eyes were.

"A peace offering":  Feyre offers the place towards you, but you don't take it; you step out of the way and allow them to enter your home. Moving further into the room, you returned to the corner of the couch, avoiding their eye contact as you tucked your knees beneath you and hugged a pillow to your chest.

Feyre places the plate on the small table before you and sits to your right, while Rhys sits opposite in the armchair.

"I've never actually been here before. It's cute." Feyre continues trying to cheer you up somehow, but you ignore her.

"I'm sorry", you finally painfully say, wanting to get it over and done with.

"Sorry?" Rhys asks in confusion, leaning forward until he rests his elbows on his knees. "For what?"

You couldn't help but flinch, turning your shoulders in to appear smaller. "For last night. For overstepping in your relationship. I shouldn't have let my emotions dictate my actions. I've- I've just been so lonely, and I trust you both more than anyone, but you're mates, and I know what's happened is unforgivable and-".

A delicate hand covers your mouth, stopping your flow of words as Feyre leans forward with fire lighting her eyes, eyebrows set furrowed. "Would you stop trying to say how me and Rhys feel, please? Because I think you'll find you're incredibly wrong with every single thing that you say". Her hand begins to lower, and you open your mouth to battle what she has said, so she quickly keeps her hand over your mouth. "Nope! No talking, just listen. We don't regret anything about last night".

Without using your mouth, you roll your eyes, but that only earns you a squeeze against your cheeks. Rhys then begins to talk, "She's not lying. There isn't an ounce of regret in my body" his eyes remain steady as he stares at you.

"Yes, Rhys and I are mates, and the thought of someone touching what's mine fills me with murderous rage, but when I watched the two of you touch and kiss, I felt anything but negativity. You've not just been anyone to me; you're special to both of us. More than you could ever know."

"You saved my life under the mountain. Without you, I wouldn't have survived her", Rhys admitted, referring to the one person you hated more than the King of Hybern. At seeing your relaxed state, Feyre finally loses her hand from your face as you stare at the deep, raw emotions on Rhys' face, the sharpness as his jaw tensed.

"You saved me too", Feyre continues as you look towards her now. "In those dark dungeons when you would visit to keep me company or healy my body and mind, there's no way I would have survived it all".

She takes your hand, squeezing your fingers as she talks. "You haven't just been a friend to us. Even now that I and Rhy are mates, I feel this longing to be near you. I often thought maybe we are meant to have more than one mate because the way I feel for you isn't just lust".

Your breath was out heavily, not realising you'd been holding your breath as they both spoke, a lightness filling your heart and mind. "I thought you both would come to regret what we did. That my emotions were just one way because you saved me more times than I could ever begin to list. You're my closest friends; save me from the dark each night, but after what we did, I thought I'd overstepped the boundary, and you wouldn't want to see me again".

"Well then, you don't know me then, do you? Because I don't back down from what I want, and I meant what I said when I said I wanted you," Feyre responds passionately as your gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips before Rhys inches forward until kneeling beside you both, his hand resting over yours and Feyres joined hands.

"This may be difficult to understand. Yes, we are mates, but you have always meant something close to me, and I've known for a long time that Feyre feels similarly. I want you, Love, like I want Feyre. The thought of not being able to have you or someone else's hands on you makes me want to strike everyone down" he pauses to take a deep, steadying breath as he rolls his neck to ease the tension and anger that burst from him as his jealous emotions overtake him. "If you don't want to be with us, we'd understand and return to how we have always been. But we can't lose you, even as a friend".

You scoff, unable to hold back your reaction, as you sit up with a burst of energy, looking between them. "Of course, I want you both! I thought it was obvious. There's no way I'm letting either of you go" Your fingers tighten in their hold as you finally smile. Rhys and Feyre sigh in relief. "I don't understand how this is going to work, though, between the three of us. How do we even explain this to the others?"

Rhys shrugs his shoulders, "It's not for them to get. This will be understood with time, but let's concentrate on each other, being together and learning this new dynamic. It's not anything to rush, just that we each understand that we have each other".

Life came with its highs and lows. Even at its lowest, the smudging of hope could draw you out and lead you on a whole new path. All those years ago, never would you have thought you could be with two of the most remarkable people of all of Pyrthian, but by the Cauldron, you were going to hold onto them so tight and never let them go.

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again, part one

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: references to utm, war, disease

a/n: sorry for the delay! part two coming in the next few days, if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!

series masterlist

Shockwaves of magic swept through Prythian and the surrounding islands at once. It felt like the ground beneath your feet shifted. Once, twice, three times - and you heard shouts from around you. You took a brief moment to thank the mother that it wasn’t just in your head. 

You picked up the basket, sprinting back towards your home. Herbs flew out of the sides, but you’d go back to collect later. Whatever this was now, it was huge. You felt it in your bones, something in your world was changing, everything seemed to come to a standstill - the rest could wait. 

The entire island was tense for the next few days, everyone waiting to see what did happen. Whispered murmurs of the possibilities, of the could-be’s, of the tentative hope blossoming - a hope nobody let show publicly. 

Secluded by yourselves, the wards you’d collectively put together at the beginning of Amarantha’s reign, near impenetrable, made news difficult to come by. 

Three days later, a tingling sensation on the back of your neck woke you. It was gone by the time you’d rushed into your kitchen, fingers white-knuckled around a dagger. 

Two letters. One addressed to the inhabitants of the town, wax sealed with the stamp of the Night Court. Next to it, one with just your name. 

Shaking hands, unsteady breaths, you ripped it open, ignoring the sting of a small cut on your index finger.

Your eyes flew over the words. The paper began to fold under your tight grip, edges wrinkling. 

Unsteady breaths, a lone tear dripping down your cheek, it took minutes of pacing and intentional breathing to collect yourself. 

Bringing it back to your room, you climbed half under your bed, sliding a loose board aside and shoved the letter inside, sliding a box over it. That couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. 

Grabbing the other envelope, swinging your door open, a cool spring breeze hitting your face, reddening your cheeks and nose, before heading to share the news. 

You ignored the other implication of the situation. The particular scent lingering on the envelope. You hadn’t thought of him in years, and now wasn’t the time to start. 

-

“The High Lord wants to visit,” the older female breathed, eyes wide as she turned her gaze to you, before frowning. “Why would he ask?”

“He could be having difficulty getting through the wards,” her mate said, covering the female’s hand with his own, mouth curving at the corners, a twinkle of pride. Well deserved, he had painstakingly designed them. 

“Or he’s sending this as a courtesy, they got the letter to us after all,” she snorted, but returned his smile. 

You knew who’d sent the letter. The hint of night chilled mist and cedar so unique you couldn’t have imagined it. 

With Madja’s help, you’d gotten permission from Rhysand to leave Velaris sixty years ago, for a while able to visit every few months until…

You subconsciously rubbed the bargain tattoo on your ribcage. Three stars surrounded by a circle, your promise to never reveal the location of Velaris. 

-

Azriel knew his brother needed a distraction, and frankly - he needed to leave the damn city. The once safe haven that had become a necessary prison. He was too self-aware to discount the other reason, the need to lay eyes on you and see that you were safe, at least somewhat. 

Rhys shot him a curious look when he volunteered too quickly - when Azriel had raised the idea. 

“There’s wards surrounding the island,” he schooled his face neutral - the spymaster, doing his job, “are near impenetrable.” Except perhaps by you or me, he didn’t need to say aloud. Yes, he’d sent shadows to scout the area soon after the curse broke, and they’d brought interesting reports in turn. 

Rhys nodded, and Azriel sat across from him as he wrote out two letters, sealing and sliding them across the table. 

One was addressed to … you. His blink of surprise gave him away.

“You know her?” Rhys’s eyes glimmered. He’d been discreet with his lovers, and of course he was aware Rhys knew, but just because he’d thought of you didn’t mean he wanted to share with others. But … the amused expression in Rhys’s eyes wavered, revealing some of the strain beneath. 

A distraction, that’s what his brother and High Lord needed, and perhaps he could do with a touch of vulnerability. 

“We were involved … before she left.” 

“I know,” Rhys smirked. For fucks sake. “Why do you think I let her leave and keep knowledge of Velaris? It was obvious she could keep a secret - she never said a word about your … involvement, to anyone else.”

Again, something he knew, but he had the decency to show a touch of surprise. 

Azriel raised a brow, a gentle nudge against the shields barricading his mind, and he lowered them slightly. 

“You’re willing to make a bargain?” Rhys leaned back in his chair, you seated before him, fidgeting and brimming with energy. 

“Yes,” your voice was strong and firm. 

“Very well,” his mouth turned up at the corners, a smile designed to put people at ease - it worked on you. 

The bargain was fair and concise. You could leave Velaris, and return as you wish as long as you never revealed or hinted to the name, location, or existence of Velaris. 

Azriel pushed Rhys out, slamming walls back in place. “Why are you showing me this?”

“You want to investigate the island, don’t you?” He wanted to slap the smirk off the other male's face. “She’s one person you know intimately,” Azriel rolled his eyes, “who lives there.” 

“I doubt she would speak to me,” he retorted dryly. 

“You’d be surprised what time and distance can do,” he countered. Az shook his head, he wouldn’t let false hope sink in, hope of regaining your … friendship. Maybe seeing you, even if it was just once, would be enough. 

-

A day later, Azriel stood on a cliff, wards pulsing with magic in front of them. Rhys to his left, Mor flanking his other side, they waited for … well, he wasn’t entirely what. For someone who would let them in. Rhys had sent a charmed parchment, designed to deliver their answer immediately, and everything in the letter sounded perfectly enthusiastic. 

Magic parted enough to reveal an older female and male - centuries older than themselves given the wrinkles starting to line their faces, appearing as if they were close to fading. Both carried themselves with confidence, but a warm and open demeanor as they bowed deeply. 

“Thank you for coming to see us,” the male rasped. 

He took brief notes of their names, the introduction, while sending discreet shadows to poke around the rest of the wards and small community. Due diligence and routine instinct now. They eyed him just a touch of caution, but it didn’t phase him, it never had. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “we’ve prepared lunch.” 

“Not at all,” Rhys smiled, the warmth in his tone almost matching the one he used with the citizen’s of Velaris, still laced with subtle authority. 

Less than a quarter of a mile, and they approached a quaint looking town. Stone houses, slightly corroded by salty air, but built sturdily - ready to weather any type of storm. Sure, he’d heard all of this through his shadows but seeing had a different effect. Paved pathways, a few different shops and a tavern. 

“Not much of an economy now,” she was telling Mor, “we trade what we can, all help each other out. Kept to ourselves the last few decades.” Kept to ourselves. 

‘They locked themselves away,’ Rhys’s voice flooded through his mind. “The community is small enough that Amarantha didn’t bother looking.” But they’d been a vital trading port for the Night Court before. He was surprised she’d ignored it. “I was too,” Rhys said. 

Ignored, but she’d considered them anyway. A sickening feeling coiled in his gut. If Amarantha had gotten to you … 

“The healer you recommended,” the male spoke to Rhys, pulling him from his mind, ''saved all our lives when a disease swept through, ‘bout thirty years ago. A great female.” 

“One of the best healers I know,” Rhys replied. It was the truth. As far as healers went, you were one of the best available. He wondered if you knew the other reason you were sent here; If Hybern were to attack the Night Court, they all suspected this Island would be the first target, and a skilled and trustworthy healer was needed on the ground. On the front lines. That sickening feeling returned, and Azriel knew he needed to set his own eyes, not just shadows, on you before he left. 

-

You couldn’t avoid the lunch, not without raising suspicion. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. He was the spymaster, after all, not usually sent to do courtesy visits. Still, this had been the talk of the town for the last two weeks. 

‘The High Lord,’

‘Do you think he’s as handsome as they say?’ 

‘He isn’t mated or married, is he?’ 

Mother above. You had to try and match their excitement, to blend in. They couldn’t know you grew up seeing him frequently in Velaris. All they’d known is you apprenticed with one of the Inner Circle’s preferred healers - and even that was a rumor you’d never confirmed or denied. 

Hand braced on your doorframe, three conscious breaths, and you pushed it open, forcing your hands to relax at your sides, keeping your strides even and steps paced. 

A small crowd had gathered outside of the largest tavern, and you weaved yourself into the fray, balancing on your toes to catch a glimpse through the open doors. 

Hazel eyes connected with yours, and your stomach dropped. 

Just your luck. You couldn’t bring yourself to break the gaze, the way his eyes searched you, the brief hint of relief in them. Why the hell was he relieved? He’d made it perfectly clear you meant little to him, and now he meant nothing to you. 

Slipping backwards, you tore your gaze away and slipped down the street. 

-

“Go ask her some questions,” Rhys had thrown a hint of command into his tone. He wanted Azriel to gain some kind of information from you. It made sense. He wanted, needed, to see you anyway. “I’ll keep everyone distracted.” 

Easy enough for him, Azriel took the next chance to melt into the shadows, to follow you. You led him right to a secluded cliff, sitting a few safe paces back, arms wrapped around your knees, squeezing tighter and he approached from the side - in your line of sight. 

“What do you need?” He wasn’t surprised by the harshness. Pausing a good few paces to your left, he sat, legs kicked out in front of him, bracing his palms on the cold stone. 

“To ask a few questions.” 

“Go ahead,” you muttered, still keeping your eyes off him. 

“How did you remain hidden all of these years?” 

“Magic. Wards. Things Fae more skilled than I created.” 

Truth, a shadow sung in his ear. 

“Who?” 

“You probably already met them,” you groused. He fought back a smirk, he’d forgotten how cute you could be when you were grumpy, and promptly wiped that idea from his mind. 

“Tell me anyway.” 

You listed the two who’d greeted them. Not surprising. It also told him it wasn’t quite a secret, especially with the brief pride flashed in your eyes. 

“Did you have to … give anything to it?”

“Ask them.” 

“I’m asking you,” he countered mildly. You wouldn’t get away with evading his questions. 

“A bit of blood and a bit of magic.” 

He hummed. Rhys would probably ask similar questions, but it was good to hear from another source. 

“Why did you need to come here?” Venom filled your tone. 

“By our High Lord's request,” Azriel said dryly. 

-

By our High Lord’s request. Of course there was no interest in seeing you. You were merely a bonus, a person he could easily ask questions to. You hated yourself for letting the thought cross your mind. 

“I wanted to see you, as well,” you almost missed the softly spoken words. 

“What made you think I want to see you?” You shot at him, finally turning to face him.

“I didn’t say that,” a brief flash in his eyes. “I said I wanted to see you.” 

“You’ve seen me,” you waved a hand. “Any more questions?” Brief silence. “Good. Leave me the fuck alone.” Forever, the narrowing of your eyes said. 

“You should know,” he tilted his head back, this time escaping your gaze. “I didn’t forget about you - I” 

“Just stop,” you hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

The implication struck you - others had forgotten, and he knew that. Azriel leaned forward, eyes on the ocean, knees raising and forearms bracing on them.

“Amarantha may be gone,” a shiver ran down your spine - at the name, and the low and deadly tone, “but Hybern will still cause issues.” War. “Rhys will give the same warning to your town today. Velaris and here may be the safest places in the Night Court.”

“Is he asking us to open the wards?” Because they’d do it in a heartbeat, and you knew that. 

“Perhaps,” Azriel said, and turned back to you, hazel eyes searching for something. “You’d be safe here.”  

“If there’s going to be a fucking war, i’ll be there. Healing.” 

“I know,” an unrecognizable set of emotions flashed in his eyes. “I’d see you there.” 

“I hope not,” you countered, keeping your eyes fixed on the waves, on the white foam topping them. A current so violent only the strongest swimmers braved it. “I might not like you, but I don’t want to see anyone,” you emphasized, “hurt.”

Azriel nodded, and rocked forward, rising to his feet. He offered a hand to you, you ignored it, pushing yourself up and facing the path back to town. 

“Stay safe, spymaster,” you looked over your shoulder, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?” 

A grin crossed your face at the brief ire reflecting on his and you strode off.

taglist: @mellowarcadefun @acourtofbatboydreams @sheblogs @macimads  @sirens-and-moonflowers @tele86 @kalulakunundrum @anxious-study @mika-no-sekai-blog @judig92  @randomperson1234sblog @fightmedraco @caraaaaugh @thelov3lybookworm @tothestarsandwhateverend @fxckmiup @scatteredstardustt @tooweirdtolive-toorareto-die @redcap3girl @boygeniuses10 @anuttellaa @aunicornmademedoit

[readychilledwine]

Hello!! I recently found your blog and I love your writing! I was looking at the writing prompts and I fell in love with the touch starved ones.

I was wondering if you could write a Eris or Tarquin x f reader for “the reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it”? I love both males so which ever one is easier for you. But I love the idea of like a stoic reader but the male knows they like physical affection as long as the reader doesn’t look needy.

Thanks in advance and Happy Holidays :)

Take my Hand

Warning - I changed a little bit of the High Lords meeting because THEY ALL WERE TOO NICE. I love Rhysand, Feyre, and the Night Court, but Kal and Tarquin were way too nice for people who felt their courts were personally targeted by Rhys (Kal especially), self doubt, Beron

A/n - the man in that gift has delicious forearms. I just know it. Ps- I know the fandom as a whole wants to push this narrative that Beron is ugly, but you're calling my book one Lulu ugly when you do that. SJM specifically says Lucien's face in that book is similar to Beron's. I think we all need to face the reality that the man is attractive. He's just a dick and that ruins it.

You were drowning.

High Lord's meetings were not your cup of tea, and they never had been.

Maybe it was your young age, rivaled only by your mate's. Maybe it was the amount of loud males yelling and throwing insults that reminded you far too much of your power-hungry father. Maybe it was just that you were "a sleepy girl," as your mate always so lovingly suggested when you'd rest on his chest.

But this just wasn't your scene.

You rolled your eyes, keeping that bored mask in place as Rhysand went into yet another long dragged out monolog about how he wasn't the monster you all believed he was. It was his third one in less than an hour.

You felt Tarquin look at you from the corner of his eye.

Despite how much you hated being here, you loved him, Gods did you love him. And he needed you.

There were arguments from every delegation of who has the most handsome High Lord. You saw beauty in all of them, though.

Tamlin for his flowing golden hair and piercing green eyes.

Helion for that smirk, his skin that was so flawless you had begged him countless times for his skincare routine.

Kallias was the vision of untouched beauty. He looked like freshly fallen snow.

Thesan for his sharp casual wardrobe, his untouched skill and intelligence, his kind eyes.

Rhysand for being the beauty of night itself. Dark inky hair on golden sun kissed skin. Eyes that held the cosmos like he knew all their secrets.

Even Beron, the oldest of them, had looks that held wisdom as he aged like a fine wine before all of you.

But Tarquin, none of them could hold a candle to. His white hair contrasting against his skin, those ocean eyes, his voice.

You had won the mating lottery with him in looks alone.

But it was his kindness, the one trait so many mistook for weakness, that made you truly fall for him. His kindness and his observational skills.

Tarquin's brows knitted, mouthing a soft "Are you okay?"

You only responded with a smile and small eye roll as Rhys began claiming he had not slaughtered the children in Winter. That another unknown daemati had, and he had convinced Amarantha to do that instead of murdering Kal. All before trying to garner sympathy.

You set your wine glass down a little harder than intended at that. Annoyed that he had an excuse for everything. That he blame shifted everything he had been confronted with so far. Kal rose a brow at you, then smirked. "I believe even, y/n, thinks you are full of shit, Rhysand."

You looked down instantly, cheek heating as everyone's gaze fell toward you. "Would you like to say something?" Thesan spoke gently to you. "Perhaps you can shed some light on the situation in the Summer Court?"

You felt it then. The soft tug on the bond as Tarquin held his hand out to you.

He didn't mean to make you look or feel weak. He didn't mean to make it look like he was reigning you in. He meant it to comfort you. To bring you back to him. Back to this moment. This critical meeting that could decide the fate of your court. Your home. His fae. Fae you two had been spending so much time bring to break the social standards with. Fae you were just earning the trust of.

He offered you his hand as his love, as his support, and as a grounding tool. You took it silently, body easing at the softness and warmth of his fingers and palms.

"You came to our home, and we welcomed you as honored guests," you started slowly, refusing to look at him. "We told you our hopes, the steps we were taking for equality, far taxation, wages, you pretended to care and support us. Then you stole from us. You stole from us when we welcomed you as our friends."

Feyre looked down, guilt now hitting her. You two had grown close quickly. Instant friends who enjoyed each other's company. "We had no choice," Rhysand answered smoothly.

"You could have asked us," Tarquin replied. "You could have told us the truth and asked us. Now you ask us to blindly trust you when you've already done that, and your mate, your Court's High Lady, opened the gate for Hybern to enter my territory out of rage against Tamlin."

Rhys had no response. He was looking to you. "Your only saving grace with me, Rhysand," you felt Tarquin squeeze your hand to calm the wave of emotion going through you, "is the fact that your court is the only one who came when we were attacked. Why did you bother doing that after everything you had done?"

Tarquin hummed his approval softly, another gentle squeeze and tug on the bond.

Rhysand's offer was soft. His voice showing he understood the hurt he had done. The personal damage his actions had caused. "Because that's what friends do."

You sighed, allowing Tarquin to take over as the stoic mask of silence fell back in place. Three squeezed came to your hand. A message you and he had made when you were trapped under that mountain together.

It was a message.

One you felt as you squeezed his hand three times back.

"I love you," it said.

Five squeezes came next, conveying the message you needed, "You are safe. I'm here." You broke that mask. Hand moving up to his bicep and head falling into his shoulder. You didn't listen as Rhys addressed you, your court.

You knew you personally would not forgive them.

But if Tarquin did, you would support him, so long as he kept your hand in his.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

I have an idea!

Y/n has always been in love with Az since they were young (they’re mate but he doesn’t know) but he pushed her feelings aside because he was in love with Mor. Y/n always paid him attention and did everything the would please him. However, she was under the mountain with Rhys for 50 years. When she came back and found that Az is now falling for Elain, she’s changed into a different person. She is cold and tired of chasing after him and now just doesn’t give a fck anymore. Az realizes what he is losing and has to grovel hard to get his mate back.

Im so sorry if this is long😂 it’s just my 4am brain going wild.

Alive.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma, death and scars.

Masterlist

Oof this took way too long to write. I think this is my favorite request. I tried to follow the whole plot. I hope you enjoy it!

You loved your family more than your heart could handle, but you couldn’t go back right away. After you and Rhysand were freed from Amarantha thanks to the human girl -Feyre, you hugged him and said your goodbye.

“Rhys I’m sorry, I can’t go back yet… I need some time to mourn all the years that I lost…. I… I need some time to find myself.” Tears were streaming down your face. Rhys was looking at you with a pained expression, he understood where all this was coming from, he understood your trauma, so with a kiss on your forehead he said his goodbye and winnowed to Velaris -probably.

You were staring at the house of wind, your thoughts running to the past, when you and Rhys separated you found shelter in the day court, Helion was going through the same trauma too, so you helped each other. Another reason why you didn’t want to come back though was the shadowsinger of the night court. You met him a while after he had won the blood rite and immediately fell for him, you thought that you were meant to be together and when the mating bond snapped for you, everything made sense and your feelings towards him only grew. But it didn’t snap for him, and he didn’t have feelings for you… you spent the next years watching him pinning after Mor and when you had enough and told him how you felt he brushed you off and became distant. You kept caring for him though, pleasing him became your obsession, and he would smile at you, thank you and become distant again. You took a deep breath and called Rhys in your mind, in a blink he appeared in front of you and engulfed you in his arms.

“I missed you so much” he whispered.

“I missed you too” your eyes watered.

“Let’s get you to the house of wind everyone should be there at this time” you nodded, and he picked you up, his wings emerging from darkness, and you were off into the sky. You landed and you couldn’t hold the giggles back, it had been a while since the last time you flew, and you missed it. Cassian probably heard your giggles and ran outside, a shocked expression on his face that turned into tears as he picked you up and span you around.

“You’re back” he boomed and tightened his hold on you. “You’re back… you’re back” he repeated. Cassian always considered you his little sister, the friendship you two always had was special. You couldn’t hold back the tears as you kept whispering “I love you” to him.

After a while he let go of you and you walked inside, Mor and Amren were standing, their faces decorated with bright smiles. Feyre was behind them and she stared at you like she had seen a ghost, you had appeared in her cell under the mountain a couple of times to ease her pain and kept yourself hidden in the crowd when she would be let out. You didn’t want her to recognise you in case someone found out that you were helping her, so now that she saw you again, she knew she wasn’t dreaming back then. You glanced at the table, two females were sitting there, one had a hard expression on her face and the other a sweet smile. Azriel was sitting next to the second one his eyes wide as he saw you. “Hey” you breathed and chuckled when Mor and Amren jumped on you, Cassian’s arms were instantly on your waist to keep you from falling backwards. “We missed you so much” Mor cried. What shocked you though was Amren’s teary eyes, you had never seen her showing any emotion.

“I’m glad you’re back girl” she said and hurried off somewhere -probably to hide her tears.

You glanced at Feyre with a smile, you didn’t want her to thank you, so you nodded and she understood, “Welcome back” she smiled.

“This is my oldest sister Nesta, and this is the middle one Elain.” She continued and the girls nodded in greeting. “Nice to meet you I’m y/n one of the bastards in this group” you chuckled and pointed to Cass and Azriel. The shadowsinger was still frozen in his spot.

“Tough crowd” you muttered to Rhys when they didn’t laugh.

“You’re back…” Azriel’s voice made everyone whip their heads towards him.

“I think we established that” you replied, and he blushed. You expected his shadows to appear and cover his face, but they didn’t. Weird. You thought.

Cassian broke the silence “I think we should have a party today, to welcome you back…... like the old days”.

“Oh no, I’m not in the mood for a party” you groaned. “Okay then just us, a few bottles of wine and snacks” he pushed, his eyes were pleading you and your heart broke. “Okay” you replied with a soft smile.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, Cassian and Nesta are mates and Elain is Lucien’s mate?” you asked Mor. She was currently sitting on your bed watching you unpack your stuff and telling you what you had missed.

“Yes, but Azriel is courting her and I think she likes him too” Mor rolled her eyes. You froze. Azriel pinning after Mor was something you came into terms with and accepted as the reason he didn’t have feelings for you. But now… turns out you weren’t enough for him. He wasn’t obsessed with Mor he just didn’t have anyone better to pursue. And that hurt. Fuck him, I went through enough under the mountain I won’t let him hurt me again. I’m done. You decided and ignored the pain in your chest.

“Mor… let’s go to Rita’s tomorrow it has been a while since I had a male in my bed” you told her and she cheered.

You stared at your old clothes, the scandalous dresses you used to wear when you visited the court of nightmares, the leathers you wore in battle, and the leggings and crop tops you used to wear in training. The girl that wore those was cheerful, kind and cared about others so much that she would put them above herself. That girl was dead, she died under the mountain, Amarantha killed her and although Rhys tried to save her, keep her from harm’s way he couldn’t. You picked a tight pair of pants and a crop top. The scars you got from Amarantha’s guards on display, whenever Rhysand wouldn’t do something she asked him to she would torture you until he broke. You didn’t accuse him for it, when he would find you later that day with tears streaming down his face you would tell him that everything is fine and he would fall asleep in your arms, only then he would stop sobbing.

You shook your head and headed to the main room, 4 bottles of wine were placed on the table and bowls filled with snacks around them. Mor and Amren were sitting in front of the fireplace, Rhysand on the armchair next to them with Feyre on his lap, Cassian and Nesta on the big sofa and Azriel with Elain on the ground in front of them. Azriel stared at you, and you ignored him taking a seat next to Mor and grabbing one glass of wine. No one questioned you about where you have been, you saw the glances at your scarred abdomen but still no one dared to say anything. You were talking with Mor and Amren when Azriel cleared his throat, the sound way too close. You slowly turned your head towards him, he wasn’t across the room anymore, he was standing right next to you, so close that you could feel his warmth, you glanced up to him. “Can we talk?” he asked, his hands behind his back and a sad look on his face.

“Yes, what is it?” you replied with a bored look.

“Alone” he was panicking.

“Oh, then no” you smiled.

He blinked, he didn’t expect that, he was used to you saying yes to everything he wanted. And now not only did you say no to him, but you also returned to the conversation you were having with Mor completely unbothered.

“Please” he spoke again and this time his voice was breaking.

“Azriel… as you can clearly see I’m having a conversation right now. Please stop interrupting and get back to your seat, I will come to you when I’m done” The polite smile on your face told him everything he needed to know, you weren’t mad, you just didn’t care anymore, you were done. He gulped and nodded. Cassian placed his hand on Azriel’s shoulder and pulled him back, he guided him to the hall. “What are you doing?” Cassian growled.

“It’s none of your business” Azriel growled back. The shadowsinger’s eyes were challenging him and Cassian pushed him against the wall.

“We just got her back I won’t let you scare her away or hurt her, if you want to get your dick wet sweet Elain will gladly let you. Back the fuck off” Cassian’s voice was lethal, he had never used this tone on his brother. Azriel was fuming, he flared his wings against the wall to get some force and pushed the warlord back.

“It’s not like that and you fucking know it” he hissed. “I just saw her again after all this time… I fucking love her and she is so cold to me that I think I will go mad”.

“Well, it’s too late now, she clearly doesn’t care about you like that anymore so let her go” Cassian pushed him off and left.

When they returned you sent Cassian a questioning look, but he brushed you off, Azriel was seething. When Mor finished the story she was telling you about a girl she met you walked up to Azriel. “I’m available now”.

He got up and gestured you to follow him, Cassian growled. What’s happening? You thought.

He entered his room and waited for you before closing the door.

“Trying to get me into your bed shadowsinger?” you quirked your brow.

“Would you like that?” he asked, and you almost choked on air. “I will pass” you replied.

“How have you been?” he was fidgeting.

“You brought me here to ask that?” you rolled your eyes “Fine I guess, still healing”.

“Did I do something?” he stared at you. “No, why?” “You are ignoring me and whenever I try to approach you I find a cold wall” he replied. “Everything’s fine can I go now?” you shrugged. “Y/n please…” he stopped.

“Please what?” you snapped. He couldn’t look at you, his scarred arms were hidden behind his back and for the first time since you arrived his shadows emerged, most of them covered their master and the rest came to you, slithering around your body and caressing your cheek. “There you are” you giggled and lifted your hand, they happily circled around your wrist and some nested into your palm. Azriel had a soft look on his face at the sight. And then two things happened, two things that he would remember for the rest of his life.

The bond snapped.

And Elain burst in with an annoyed look on her face, making you flinch and then scoff before leaving his room.

You didn’t go back to the main room, you weren’t in the mood anymore, so you entered your bedroom and locked the door. You promised you wouldn’t let him hurt you again and yet here you are alone in your room feeling an ache in your chest. Everything’s fine I will go out with Mor tomorrow and I will forget about him. And with that thought you fell asleep.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Morning came faster than you would like and with a groan you headed to the dining room to get breakfast. Mor, Cassian, Nesta and Elain were already there, you took a seat next to Mor and a plate filled with food appeared in front of you. Elain was glaring at you, you brushed her off and started eating. She scoffed.

“What?” you asked before slamming your fork on the table making her flinch, you smirked.

“Couldn’t you just stay wherever you were? Why did you have to come back and destroy everything?” she asked, her voice breaking and tears streaming down her face.

“Oh please who are you to ask me why I returned to my home? I was here way too long before you, so please shut up. I’m not planning to steal your pretty boyfriend. I couldn’t care less about him or you.” You chuckled and picked up your fork again completely dismissing her.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t want him, he wants you.” She whispered. This piqued your interest and you glanced at her. “He left me yesterday” she continued.

“You will find someone else” you shrugged, and she scoffed before leaving. “Ouch” Cassian said, and you giggled. Nesta had a hard look on her face, but she didn’t dare to speak, she knew what you meant to the inner circle, and she didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Evening found you in your room with Mor, both of you spent the day there with a bottle of wine. You were both drunk so getting dressed for your night out took way more time than it normally would.

You hadn’t noticed the dress you picked until you were ready and didn’t have time to change. It was a short blue dress the same shade as Azriel’s siphons. Your back was bare, and the low cut showed off your cleavage, Mor whistled when she saw you. You liked the dress too, you just wished you could change the colour. You shook your head and followed Mor, everyone was sitting in the dining room, their heads snapped in your direction when you walked in.

“We’re going out” Mor informed them and grabbed your hand. “Byee” you giggled as she pulled you away.

You caught a glimpse of the shadowsinger. He was staring at you, a mesmerized look on his face as he took you in. He licked his lips and you almost moaned. Stop it. You reprimanded yourself. You walked out and Mor winnowed you at Rita’s.

“Oh I missed this place” you said with a sigh and smiled. Mor giggled and walked inside.

The place was still the same and quick enough you found yourself dancing and having the time of your life with Mor. You felt someone behind you and hands grabbing your waist, you leaned back and let the stranger grind on you. Mor winked and took a few steps back, the smile on her face vanishing as her eyes widened and before you could react the stranger was yanked away, and you heard a loud cracking noise over the music. You turned around and were met with the sight of a strong back and huge stretched wings. “What the fuck” you yelled and Azriel spun around, he grabbed you and his shadows engulfed you. When the darkness faded you were on a field.

You knew this field, he would take you here whenever you were sad, the view of the whole city and the sparkling flowers always made you feel better. “What the fuck was that?” you screamed.

“What did you expect me to do when I saw another male grinding against my mate?” he screamed too, his voice so loud that the ground trembled. His eyes were wide, and his body tensed with every move you made.

“Oh that’s what this is all about” you laughed. “Your mate. Not me -your mate.”

“No.” he growled “I have loved you way too long before the bond snapped you can ask Cassian… I tried to tell you but Elain interrupted us and at the same time the bond snapped”.

“Too late Az” you whispered. “No it can’t be… please” his eyes watered “I always loved you but I was scared I would lose you if I told you so I pretended that I wanted Mor and then you told me you love me and I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed you away and then Amarantha took you and I thought I lost a piece of my soul. Every day I tried to leave Velaris to find you, but the wards pushed me back. And then Rhysand came back, and you didn’t. I begged him to let me come find you, but he wouldn’t let me. He asked me to give you space, he told me you needed to heal, and I let you. And then you wouldn’t come back, every day I waited for you, but you wouldn’t come” at this point he was crying, his sobs interrupting him. With a deep breath he continued. “I was losing my mind and when Elain started flirting with me, I decided to give it a try, maybe I could get over you with her… I couldn’t but at least she kept me from losing my mind. And then you came back and at first I thought about not telling you but I realized what I was losing and I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

You felt dizzy, every word hitting you with so much force that it took your breath away.

“I will do anything to make it up to you, just say what you want me to do, and I will… I will give you anything you want, even my life, even my wings” he cried and knelt in front of you. His hands grabbed Truth-Teller and he offered it to you “cut them off if you wish I won’t hate you”.

Now you were crying too. He was kneeling in front of you with his head bowed, his hands offering Truth-Teller and his wings stretched behind him to give you easy access.

You grabbed his jaw your palms filling with his tears, and you lifted his head. You knelt too and stared into his eyes.

“Don’t you ever think like that again. I love your wings; I would die to protect them. I love your hazel eyes, I love your scarred hands, I love your body and I love your stupid face. Please don’t make me regret this.” You said and kissed him.

Maybe that girl didn’t die under the mountain, or maybe Azriel brought her back to life either way you were glad. You were alive again.

Requests are open!

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Fourteen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Mentions of abuse and SA, SMUT (oral f!rec, tiny bit of shadow play), mention of canon level violence, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Feyre arrives at the Night Court, Rhys requests you to stay at the House for the first week.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen

You stayed at Windhaven, Azriel tended to check in on you more often than Cass or Rhys. He even stayed one night last week, you both staying up into the early morning hours talking about your childhoods and stupid things you used to do when you were young. Every time he came to visit, you couldn’t help but want to spend more and more time with him. 

And each week for the following month, you did just what you said you were going to. You joined a new group of Illyrians that were training. You were working on sword training now. You had the blacksmith make a specific set for the females so the males wouldn’t complain or make excuses. 

You did better everyday, and by the time the month was up, you had advanced four levels. In just two more months you would be ready to participate in the qualifying course. You watched males do it every day, the course would change with the males. And some males failed, others succeeded. You marked their wrong doings and thought you could truly do it now. But you wouldn’t try to before you were ready. You didn’t need to fail in front of them. It would only prove what they already think. 

One day, Mor winnowed to Windhaven, calling you out of the ring. You jogged over to her, frowning at her expression. “Rhys has Feyre at the Palace above Hewn City.” She said. “He wants you there since Feyre knows you… just for today,” she said. 

“He called in the bargain?” You asked, glancing back as the males continued their sparring. You were itching to keep going today. But if Rhys needed your help with Feyre, you could sacrifice the afternoon. 

“Yes, he did.” She answered. You nodded, holding out your hand. “Take me there.” You said. You still hadn’t been at the Palace above Hewn City before. You'd only ever been to Hewn City a handful of times when Amarantha was inspecting it. From what you remembered, you hoped you didn’t have to enter the Court of Nightmares. 

Read Feyre Arrives Drabble here

A month went by since Rhys called in the bargain, you went up another three levels in training, and Rhys started talking to you about what was going on with Feyre. He needed someone to disclose his thoughts to, and you were the one who he thought wouldn’t judge him. Or at least show it. And you gave good advice. 

And then Tamlin trapped Feyre in his manor. You were so furious that you offered to go back to the Spring Court and kill him yourself. He wouldn’t even see you coming. Not in the shadows. But Rhys said that would be reckless, not to mention Feyre had a right to it before any of you. And then Rhys after her. 

So you stayed in the House for the week that she arrived, knowing she might want a familiar face around that wasn’t Mor or Rhys. She still didn’t trust you much, that you could tell, but you were friendly to her. You still trained with Cassian, you even saw Feyre come up to the ring to watch. Until she was noticed. Then she would run away like a mouse caught stealing food. As if she wasn’t your High Lord’s mate. She clearly didn’t know yet, and you had your own opinions on Rhys’s choice to keep it a secret, but you wouldn’t say anything to her. 

And maybe you were glad to spend the time near Azriel. He was staying in the House as well and even when Cassian was there to break up the flirting, it was a little disappointing. You wanted to be alone with Azriel. Not with a chaperon. 

Azriel felt the same way. So, the day before you were due to go back to Windhaven, he approached you after your morning training. Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, you felt him studying you as you put on a necklace. “Can I help you, Shadowsinger?” You teased as you turned around. 

“Would you like to go out with me today? Maybe for lunch and then a walk through the Rainbow?” He asked. You could’ve sworn your heart stuttered while your stomach flipped. 

“I would. Very much.” You said and glanced down at the outfit you wore. 

“You are perfect, no need to change.” He said, causing heat to your face. 

“Okay, hot shot. Shall we leave now then?” You teased, laughing when he held out an arm for you to take. You rested your hand on his bicep, not missing the slight flex as you did. You gave a small squeeze as you walked up the stairs to go to the roof. 

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked as he saw the two of you come up the stairwell. 

“Nowhere of your concern.” You said firmly, continuing to walk with Azriel. You noticing a small smirk forming on his lips. 

“I gave you an hour for lunch, you better be back by then.” He warned. 

“I won’t.” You said and nodded for Az to fly up. “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Have fun.” You said before taking off. You giggled as Azriel and you raced down to the restaurant on the Sidra, still laughing as you landed right outside. 

“Lucky I don’t have to pay for that tomorrow.” You said, still quietly laughing to yourself as you took Azriel’s hand and walked in the restaurant. 

You and Azriel were friendly with each other now and weren’t strangers to leaning against the other or holding hands. But being out, where anyone in the city could see you, was a little different. It felt more official. Like you and Az were on a date. 

The realization hit you when you sat down at the table, waiting for your food. “Is this a date?” You asked, needing it to be clear. 

You noticed a red hue flush on Azriel’s cheeks as he took a gulp of his drink. “Yes.” He said. Although he was flustered, he didn’t want to question it. 

“Good.” You said. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.” You teased and nudged his leg with yours, smiling. He was different when you two were out in the city compared to when you were alone in the cabin or the House. You knew he had a reputation to upkeep, but at least he was more relaxed in Velaris than Windhaven. There, if a male so much as looked at you the wrong way he was pushing them into the snow. Or mud. Or wall. It pissed you off a little, but you knew he had his own trauma when it came to Illyrians. Though, if they were going to take you seriously, he was going to have to stop doing that. 

You weren’t together. You weren’t courting or mates. He had no claim to you. And even if you were, he still should let you protect yourself. Especially if you’re trying to show the Illyrians that females are just as strong and capable as males. 

“I suppose I didn’t ask, but I figured it was clear enough.” He said, looking at you for a few moments. 

“Why did you ignore me those first few weeks I was here? Did I offend you?” You asked after a silence fell over the two of you. 

“Offend me? No… you..” he sighed, looking down at his hands. Azriel never had trouble with his words when speaking to the others, but with you, it was different. He stumbled over them much more than normal. Especially when your eyes were upon him. “You had been through so much and I was… I’ll admit I was very attracted to you. You had an amazing personality… this light that I hadn’t seen in some time. And something pulled me to you. The more time I spent near you… the more I wanted to go further. To spend time alone with you.” Azriel said. You looked at him and felt a smile come to your lips as you listened to him talk. 

“But you just got your freedom back. And I didn’t know what you went through Under the Mountain. Only the little Rhys told us. I didn’t want to push you… not so soon after.” He explained. 

“To be honest, I think it would’ve been better if you just talked to me about it. I thought you hated me.” You said. 

“I think what I felt for you was far from hatred…” he said, heat rising to your face. 

“You flatter me, Shadowsinger,” you teased and smiled, thanking the server as they brought your food. You took a bite of the leafy greens, then leaned back. “Will you join me at Windhaven when I return tomorrow? Cassian is coming… but I’d like you there too.” 

Azriel nodded, taking a bite of the meat in front of him. “As much as I despise Windhaven and the Illyrian war camps, I’d like to join you.” He said. “Only to see how many levels you gained this week by training with Cassian, and to see the look on a Devlon’s face when he finds out.” He teased and you laughed. 

“You know, I think I’m growing on the male.” You said and shrugged. “I’m proving to him that I can do it. And it’s not just talk. Plus, the other females are excelling almost more than the males… though they haven’t allowed them to try using their killing power or Siphons yet.” You said. 

“Have you?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“I think I would know if I had killing power..” you mentioned.

“Not necessarily. Have you tried using your shadows as a shield before? That’s how mine first came about.” He said and you shook your head, not even knowing that was an option. 

“I have only ever used my shadows to bind people… or to conceal myself and travel.” You said, smiling a bit. “And spy, of course. But I still haven’t been able to control them fully. Sometimes.. during my bargain with Amarantha, I couldn’t help when my shadows would tell me something. And they would reveal truths about the Fae to me, ones that I had to disclose to her.” You said, shifting in your spot. Talking about her, about that time, was difficult. You’d met with a priestess in the library, one that was available for any of the harmed females to talk to. She told you that if you didn’t talk about it, the hurt would only get worse. The nightmares wouldn’t go away. 

“Did she ever do anything else… besides call in her bargain every chance she got?” He asked. 

You pursed your lips, leaning forward. It was such a public place to be talking about this. But the residents of Velaris wouldn’t tell anyone. And if they did… you were pretty sure you wouldn’t care. “If she was disappointed in my spying, she would have her sentries, like the Attor, spread out my wings. Then, she would take a dagger to them just close enough to the tendons so I couldn’t fly for weeks. Once she laced it with bloodbane, and I was indisposed for a month. And I had hallucinations the entire time. Rhys send Nuala and Cerridwen to look after me when he couldn’t. But that was a horrible month.” You said, shuddering at the memories. 

“I thought your bargain meant she had to keep them intact.” He asked. You could see the growing anger in his eyes, the way his fist clenched around his glass, almost breaking it. 

“She was very specific with how she worded the bargain. All she promised was that she could not clip them, could not make me permanently unable to fly…” You said and frowned, taking a deep breath. “I should’ve made her swear neither her nor anyone on her behalf could even touch my wings without my permission. But I was terrified. And naive… to make a bargain with someone like her.” You said and shook your head. “I’m lucky Rhys was truly as kind as he was… I think I would’ve lost myself there if he hadn’t been.” You said. 

“Did she ever… make you watch them?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“No, but she would have the sentries spread my wings out.., and instead of ripping them to shreds, she would force her hands on them until I…” you trailed off. “In front of her audience. As a party trick. It was amusing to her to see how much touching an Illyrian’s wings could pleasure them.” You frowned, forcing the tightness of your throat to ease as you sipped your wine. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for anyone to touch my wings like that again.”

Azriel studied your wings. The closer he looked, the more scars he saw. They were small, and had repaired themselves. No doubt by Rhys. But they were still visible. The ones from your father were more prominent, but he could tell the ones that were from Amarantha. They were indeed placed carefully close to the tendons, where it was most painful. 

While you thought he would pity you, apologize for what happened even though he had no control over it, his anger only increased. “It’s a good thing she’s dead.” Azriel said. 

You let out a strained laugh, a soft smile coming to your lips. “Yes, a very good thing.” You said and took a deep breath. “Wow… enough of that depressing shit, tell me about your favorite place in Velaris.” You said. 

You listened as Azriel talked about his favorite place, this small tavern in the Rainbow. They had a special set up where one could request the pianist to play a song and you could sing. You learned another new thing about Azriel. He loved to sing, when he was alone. Or in that one tavern. Of course the Inner Circle knew about it, but he went alone most nights. So, you made him promise you that he would take you there someday. Only so you could show him how horrible you were at singing. And maybe so that you could hear him sing. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around the city, tucked under his arm to bring warmth to you from the cold. It was the dead of winter, and it was a nice day out but the wind was a little too brisk to enjoy it properly. Azriel kept you in the city into the night, even taking you to a short play in the Rainbow. He frequented this area a lot, he told you. He loved seeing what the citizens of Velaris created. You noted it, and promised yourself that you would reserve him seats for his birthday, or the next Winter Solstice. 

Eventually, you flew back up to the house. You would have preferred to stay in the skies longer, but there was a storm coming in that made the wind too cold to fly for too long. At least for you. Azriel offered to shield you, but you decided against it. You were tired from training in the morning and spending the rest of the day out. By the time you stopped in front of your door, you didn’t want Azriel to leave. 

You turned to him, leaning against the door. You really didn’t want to go back into your room. Alone. “I really enjoyed spending the day with you.” You said softly. “Maybe Rhys should steal more High Lord’s girlfriends.” You joked. 

He smiled at that, and as he did, his gaze turned into something different. A mixture of lust and fondness. Like he wasn’t ready to leave you either. 

“Care to join for me for tea?” You asked, hand slowly finding the doorknob. He only smirked in answer, and opened the door for you. You stumbled back, reaching out to grip his biceps to steady yourself. 

You let out a silent laugh, then looked up at him. His hazel eyes gazing into yours. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

The next moment, your hands were in his hair and your mouth was on his. You had to go on the tip of your toes just so you could reach him properly. And before you could stumble forward at the effort, he leaned down and picked you up by the thighs. Your shadows guided both of you over to your bed, making sure to push you one way or the other so you didn’t run into chairs. Azriel set you down on the edge of the bed, only bracing his hands on either side of you. You pulled away breathlessly when he leaned down to kiss your neck. 

“Az..” you let out a soft whimper. He found the spot in your neck that made your core heat further. “Please…” you needed him to be touching you with more than his mouth. Your body was on fire. Every drag of clothing or bedding made you shutter. How could he do this to you, make you want him this much? With just a simple kiss? 

“Please what, sweetheart? You need to use your words.” He whispered and you almost finished at his tone. The deep rumble from the back of his throat. 

“I need you to touch me.” You replied, pulling him in for another kiss. You let out a whine when he pulled away, but pushed your chest gently down on the bed. Your wings splayed beneath you, and you watched as his hands slowly ran down to your pants. 

You bit your lip, holding back a moan as he lifted your sweater slightly to kiss your stomach, then began pulling down the pants from your waist. You lifted your hips to help him. 

When they were discarded at the other side of the room, Azriel let out a growl at the thin pair of lingerie you had on. You didn’t pick it because you thought this would happen, but you were feeling a little frisky earlier. 

“You are gorgeous.” He whispered, his scarred hands trailing up your thighs. He gave them a light squeeze before pulling down the undergarments, smirking at how slick you were already. “Just for me, sweetheart?” Azriel asked. 

You whined, squirming under his gaze. “Just for you, Shadowsinger.” You said, reaching down to cup his cheek. “Now have your dessert.” You commanded. You were never too dominant in the bedroom, but you couldn’t wait. 

“Your wish is my command,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your thighs. 

You arched your back, a soft moan spurring from your throat as you felt his shadows pin you down on the bed while his tongue gave a gentle lick of your folds. You’d never thought to use your shadows like that. But now, you’d have to ask him how to. 

His hands trailed your thighs, squeezing them as he devoured your slick. One hand moved to that bundle of nerves, coaxing your climax further. You called out his name, straining against his shadows. Your hands took his hair, tugging on it as you forced him closer to your core. 

He removed his tongue from your center, switching it with two of his fingers. “You like this sweetheart? Having me on my knees?” 

“Gods.. Azriel yes.” You moaned, writhing in the grip of his shadows. 

As he plunged his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly, he dipped his head again, sucking on your bundle to drive you right over the edge. His fingers continued through your climax, his shadows releasing on their own accord as you arched your back. Your wings fluttered beneath you while you let out a moan you were sure could be heard all the way in Windhaven. He coaxed you out of it just as he coaxed you to it. Pulled out his fingers, he slowly licked them, then pushed himself up and kissed you. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue, your moan disappearing when he kissed you again. “You are incredible, (Y/N).” He whispered when he pulled away. You were panting. A slight sweat had formed on your forehead. Your sweater clung to you in an uncomfortable way. 

“You are,” you replied, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “Let me repay you.” You whispered, stroking his chin with your thumb. The slight stubble made your core heat again. 

“Get some rest, first. You’re tired.” He whispered and kissed you. “Tomorrow, we can talk.” He said, planting a kiss on your temple as he stood up. You sat up on the bed and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave.” You said. You weren’t going to deny you wanted to spend the entire night tangled in the sheets with him. 

“If I stay, we’ll be up all night. And you need rest for training tomorrow.” He said and leaned down, pecking your lips. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He said and winked before backing up, his shadows swirling around his feet. Like they knew he didn’t need them right now. Yours were doing the same. They knew you were both comfortable around each other and didn’t need them interfering. 

“Promise you’ll be there tomorrow?” You asked and a side smile appeared on his lips. 

“Promise.” And he left. 

He might very well be the death of you. And you were happy to give in, hoping it was slow and sweet.

A/N: ...I'm just gonna leave this here...

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[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. Violence, mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, curse words, feelings. Not proof read.

word count: 4k+.

Author’s note: Here it is, finally. It sucks, I hope you like it lol 

CHAPTER FIVE

The house was too packed for his liking, when Cassian bursted in through the balcony and set Azriel down by the group of healers already waiting for him, he out right growled to everyone to get the fuck out.

It startled Feyre for a second, the fierceness in the General's face, the worry. Amren's whole demeanor had changed the second she took a glimpse at the state of the Shadow Singer, no sign of you around. She was ready to pounce at the Illyrians demanding answers when Nesta pointed at the darkness in the sky, rushing towards them. Rhysand. Even from this distance, Feyre could make out the utter desperation in her mate's features, he was using too much of his power. 

A cloud of darkness surrounded him like a thick veil, undoubtedly holding you within. Something had gone terribly wrong. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of you in his arms, limbs angled the wrong way, blood leaking everywhere...and your eyes, utterly black and gone. You were spasming against Rhys' chest as if fighting him —his power—as he approached Madja. 

"I didn't know what else to do" The High Lord almost sobbed as he passed you to the healer. 

Madja's face was serious but full of concern, she settled you down by the fire in an attempt to keep your freezing body warm, and run a quick eye over your exposed injuries. Rhysand's power never let go of you. "She started lashing at me with her own magic and when she tried to hold it in her bones started twisting and breaking. I had to– I had to do something so I hold her down, she keeps resisting it" 

The healer only nodded gravely, Feyre could have sworn the old female's face had paled a bit. 

"I need you to keep holding her down. She's lost too much blood. I have to seal these wounds right now. Everyone else out! Except you, High Lady, we might need you here." Madja ordered and got to work. 

Rhys turned to his mate, his wife and the look in his violet eyes told her enough of what was going on in his head. The snap of her neck, and her lifeless body at the hands of Amarantha. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gripped her mate's hand firmly. 

Behind them the Shadow Singer, conscious enough to stand, had pushed himself past the healers still tending to his wounds and now made his way to his own mate. Rhysand tried to stop him but there was nothing he could do to spare his brother from that sort of pain, so he let him through, next to them. 

The cry that left Azriel's lips at the sight of your broken body could have shattered the earth. He clutched his chest tight, face contorting in pain and terror, tears falling freely down his cheeks. In all his years working as a Spy Master, he had never known such horror. The bond tying your souls together had strained thin enough to break, your next breath could be your last and the agony that flooded him wouldn't let him feel anything else, to see anything else but you. 

Madja shot her head up looking straight to him, she was sweating, the wounds weren't healing fast enough. "Listen to me boy, you're her mate, and probably her only chance to live. This is blood magic, an ancient ritual I've never thought I'd see, someone is trying to drain her power, to steal her body. The only way to fight it is the bond in your chest, your souls are the same. So fight it, suck up the tears and make her stay." 

The words knocked him back to reality, ignoring the crushing feeling of his shattering heart, Azriel reached a trembling hand to you. He didn't know what to do, he could feel you dying, slipping away from this world and his very soul wanted to follow you. But he wouldn't let you go, not yet, not like this, if there was a tiny chance that you may live he would make the best out of it. He'd fight for you, always, because if you died...he'd take his own blade and pierce his heart. There would be no life without you, not really. 

Azriel held onto that precious, frail, golden thread inside of him for dear life, and threw his entire essence into it, his will to live, to come clean to you about his feelings and beg your forgiveness, to tell you he loves you. He got a faint hum in response through the bond and almost broke down into tears again. There was a sliver of light, as if coming through a crack in  a door, as if you were actually allowing him into your soul. He followed it inside, everything was blank and quiet except for a figure sitting in the middle of the perturbingly white room. That was you, he realized, with your back turned to him and your head hanging low between your shoulders, you looked defeated. 

"Y/N?" He called. You didn't so much as flinch. 

He walked closer, there were chains around your wrists and ankles, pretty much like the ones from the cave, but you didn't seem to care about them. No, you were too preoccupied watching the reflection of a fae child in the pond at your feet. 

She looked a lot like you, save for the caramel brown eyes. Yours were onyx black. Was she your sister? 

The image of the reflection changed and instead of a sweet little girl, a brutalized body laid. Azriel felt sick at the sight, but your eyes were glued to it, as if in some sort of trance. He hadn't heard them until he touched your shoulder, the whispers. Vicious voices whispering dark things, he recognized some of them, Ajax and Damien, but a particular one knocked the air out of his lungs. It was his own, throwing insults and telling you how unworthy you were. He fell back, completely disgusted with himself. 

"Useless. Whore. Traitor. You're the family's shame. Unworthy. Unclean. You couldn't even save your own sister. You don't deserve to live. " 

All those horrible voices burned him just as much, you had to live with this inked in your soul...for how long? How much damage had he added himself? 

You didn't even blink, you stared and stared at the little girl in front of you, seemingly less alive by the second. What was he supposed to do? How could he put you out of this misery? 

Azriel fought the sting in his eyes, focusing on the bond instead, he could feel your sadness, your hopelessness, your tired soul. So he reached down, sitting behind you and enveloped the two of you with his shadows, hoping to shut down the whispers. You only turned to look at him then, recognizing the cool touch of his shadows. 

"Azriel?" your voice sounded distant. Not quite believing your eyes. 

"Are we dead?" 

He shook his head. "No, we're not." 

"I should be. I deserve it." 

"Don't say that, it's not true. Someone is trying to steal your mind, making you believe such things." 

"You think as much, don't you?" 

"I don't. I'm sorry, Y/N for all the awful things I said, I didn't mean any of that. I swear. I can't even think of you dying... it's just too painful." 

You turned around again, facing the body of water at your feet. 

"She's dead, so why do I get to live? That's not fair." 

The Shadow Singer sat closer, careful not to touch you yet if you wouldn't allow it, and looked over your shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to hold you against his chest, wishing he could make your pain disappear. 

"That's your sister, isn't it?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. You nodded vaguely. "What's her name?"

"Aurora.." you sighed, the pain in your chest making it difficult to breathe.

"I don't know what happened, but I'm sure Aurora would want you to live. For her." 

"I've lived enough." 

"Have you? Have you truly lived? or have you just been existing?" 

"There's no difference." 

"Of course there is. And you owe it to her, to live. Not just exist." 

You grimaced but there was doubt in your tearful eyes. "I don't know how to do that," 

You admitted softly. 

"Well, I'm no expert but we can figure it out, together. I promise to be there, every step of the way." 

"Why?" 

"Because you're worth living for."  Azriel dared to wipe a few tears that had fallen down your cheeks, even when his own were now streaming down his face. When you didn't pull away, he sneaked his other hand around your waist, pulling you to him and mumbling against your hair. "Please, don't give up just yet. Please. Please. Please stay and fight for her. I'll fight for you." 

You never held him back, but your shoulders shook with the force of a harsh breath and he could have sworn the chains clicked open. 

"Alright" you whispered against his neck. He still didn't let go.

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

"She stopped thrashing," The High Lord said. Madja was just finishing healing the broken bones. 

"Mating bonds are very powerful things," she answered, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "But this is still not over, the spell remains. This kind of magic is not something I'm very familiar with, I don't know if you're going to be able to break the spell, Cursebreaker." The healer fixed her eyes upon the High Lady. "We don't have much time, so there's only a way, you’ll have just a minute to break whatever remains of this blood bond between her and the perpetrator.” 

 Feyre gasped realizing what Madja was about to do. Rhysand gave a comforting squeeze to her hand. 

There was only one way in which the spell could be broken by a third party in this situation. Death. 

“You’re going to stop her heart.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks. For three weeks you had remained unconscious, and Azriel had refused to leave your side in your slumber, not letting anyone else close to you. He was on edge, very irritable and prone to violence. 

The first couple of days he had fought Amren and Cassian until Rhysand had to intervene and told them to leave the two of you alone until things had calmed down. He understood, after all, what it felt like to lose your mate. Azriel’s protective and territorial instincts, only increased by the situation, had made him more unstable and ready to pounce on anyone that came too close. He hadn’t been sleeping much, always on alert, monitoring your every breath, the steady rise and fall of your chest. On the rare occasion his eyes fell closed against his will, the nightmares plagued his mind. 

Azriel remembered it all too well, being pulled away from you by some force, your power rising to go for Rhysand’s head and then the deafening thump of your body falling still. The loud silence in his mind, the numbness in his chest, the crack of his knuckles as they collided with Rhysand’s jaw. 

He constantly checked and caressed the now dim lit bond, it was still silent on your end but these past few days it had grown brighter. That gave him some peace of mind, he supposed, although he still couldn’t get a full night’s rest. Madja sent a healer twice a week to check up on you, Azriel had only barely allowed them near you, besides the twin wraiths whom he let in sometimes to help sanitize you. 

He was tired, not fully registering dozing off when one of his shadows curled up around his ear to tell him you had opened your eyes.The Shadow Singer was up in an instant, sleep be damn. 

"Hey…" he mused softly, not wanting to startle you. 

It was already long into the night, dawn had to be a couple of hours away, the only light in the room being the faelight by your nightstand. You were pale and thiner than he had ever witnessed, most of the bruises and cuts were gone, but the deeper ones would take a while to fully heal due to the faebane and severe blood loss. 

Azriel swallowed thickly when your eyes met his. 

"What–?" you coughed, voice rough and hoarse. 

He quickly poured a glass of water, helping you sit up so you could drink. Three weeks without water, you gulped down the whole thing in one go. 

"Thank you," you murmured a bit distrustfully. Some clarity coming back to you. He ignored the pang in his heart. "What are you doing here?" 

In your room.

"Checking up on you, how are you feeling?" 

"Like I've just had the worst hangover of the century." You answered, wincing in pain when you tried to sit up straighter. 

Azriel huffed a  laugh, almost in relief. It was a strangely nice sound, one you couldn't believe you had missed. You took a chance to look at him, there were heavy dark circles under his eyes and a light scrub had started to grow. He looked tired. 

"How long was I out?" 

He chewed on his bottom lip. "Three weeks," 

Your eyes widened. 

"And you've been here the whole time?" You glanced at the armchair across from your bed, a blue blanket laid lazily discarded on top of it. He nodded slowly. "Why?" 

"What do you mean why?" 

"I put us in danger, it's my fault you ended up hurt. So why are you checking up on me?" 

Azriel looked dumbfounded. "It's not— you don't remember anything, do you?" 

"About what? I remember plenty about the cave, and Damien and…Ajax" 

"Y/N, you…" he stopped himself before he could mutter that damned word out. You died. Briefly, but you were gone. Would it be wise to tell you what happened if you didn't remember it? He didn't want to cause you more trauma. 

"What?"

"You were badly injured, you lost too much blood."

"Why would you care about it? You could've got rid of a problem. It just doesn't make sense."

"You're not a problem. You're my mate." 

You stared at him, fists clenching tight around the sheets. Never expecting to hear him say it out loud.

"It has never meant anything to you." 

"It means everything to me." 

"Bullshit." 

"I would rather have my heart ripped out of my chest, than watching you die," He meant it, every word of it. He knew the feeling damn well, but you didn't believe him. Why would you? After everything he's said and done to you. 

"Do not mock me."

He was growing desperate, he had to get the words out, to tell you how he truly feels. He had to make things right. 

"I'm not. I'm trying to tell you that I love y–"

"Get out." You cut him short, face contorted with anger, refusing to hear any more lies out of his mouth. 

"Y/N…"

"GET OUT." 

Azriel froze at the command in your voice, the hurt hiding beneath. You had every right to be mad at him, to not trust him. What was he expecting? For you to receive him with open arms? That he would tell you how he felt and you would reciprocate? Of course you wouldn't. And he deserved as much. So if you wanted him to leave you alone, he would respect your wishes. He would find a way to make things right, and maybe someday you may be willing to forgive him. 

"I'm sorry." Was all he offered before shutting the door behind him. 

—---------------------------------------------------

For days I have been successfully avoiding the Shadow Singer, spending most of my time curled up in my room or at Amren’s place. It was easier that way, not to talk about it, not to think about the chaotic mess my mind was in, between the nightmares, and the dreams of wildfire and the smell of pine, and those weird marks…yet somehow Azriel’s face always managed to pop up in my head. Either sad, looking down at me with red rimmed eyes, or extremely angry. Sometimes I think I could taste his rage. 

“Don’t give up just yet, please.” “I’ll fight for you.” I kept hearing his voice as well, the same words on repeat for days on end. All these thoughts all at once made my head spin and hurt. 

I didn’t know what to make of it all, in one hand he had indeed spent the last three weeks locked up in my room, looking after me in my sleep — This was confirmed by Cassian a few nights ago;— but on the other hand it was the same Azriel who had hated me the last hundred years or so, making fun of me, degrading me, insulting me. It was hard to believe he actually cared about my well being…maybe it was a thing of the mating bond, but then again, I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. 

“You know,” Amren started from her place on the couch where she was currently honing already sharp looking blades “it’s not that I don’t appreciate my apprentice coming to spend time at my house, but you can’t avoid him forever.” 

I dropped the berry I was about to pop into my mouth and gaped at her. It was the very first time Amren had made a comment about it, she didn’t usually  mingle in other people’s business. 

She rolled her eyes, returning to her work.  “I know he’s been acting like a self-entitled ass around you, but you should have seen the look on his face when they stopped your heart. I don’t think I’ve seen pain so raw in somebody’s eyes until then. And the rage…he split his hand open punching Rhysand for agreeing to it.”

The ringing in my ears was so loud I couldn’t hear anything else, my heart was beating frantically inside my chest and I couldn’t do anything but stare at her, stunned. They had stopped my heart, I had died. 

At my silence, she turned to look at me again, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. 

“You didn’t know…” she mused, “You were gone kid, your essence wiped away. It felt like the whole House had gone quiet, muted, dull. We all felt it, I can only imagine what it must have felt like for him, your mate.” 

“I…” My mouth felt paper dry, my mind dizzy. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. 

“You should talk to him, yell at him for all he’s done if you like, but go talk to him.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Cassian had refused to tell me where Rhys and Azriel had gone for the day, but it was already late and there was no sign of them. I could've asked Feyre but the truth is I didn't feel like visiting the River House any time soon. Not with the memories of the Solstice's party still fresh in my mind. 

Mor had gone out to Rita's again so I found myself alone in the house, anxious and bored. I had planned to talk to Azriel today, not entirely sure how to initiate that conversation and obviously not even damn close to figure out what I felt. But Amren was right, I had to talk to him, it was long due and we needed to get a lot of things out of our chests. It wasn't going to be easy, or nice. 

I needed a temporary distraction, something to get my mind off things in the meanwhile and calm my nerves, so I made myself a cup of tea, grabbed one of those romance books Nesta kept recommending  and wandered to the living room. To my surprise, Lucien was there; had returned from wherever Rhys had sent him last. 

He smiled upon seeing me as I took a seat across from him. 

"Nice to see you recovering well Y/N.'' Lucien offered. "I heard what happened and I'm sorry" 

I waved a dismissive hand at him, opening the book. "I'm ok now, some wounds still hurt like a bitch, but Madja said it was going to take a while for the muscle to fully stitch itself together again." 

"I see,"

No one spoke again for a while after that, I appreciated it. I delved into the book for a good half of an hour, only realizing then that it was much more stemier than I had anticipated. Not really the kind of reading I was in the mood for. I put the book down at my lap and pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping Vanserra hadn't notice my choice in books.

I took a glance at him, already feeling my cheeks heating up. The sight got me forgetting about the book for a moment.

I couldn't help staring, the way the fire light catched on his hair, bathing him in a warm golden glow. Beautiful. Lucien was beautiful. 

He smiled without lifting his eyes from the book, and spoke in a soft, sensual voice; "We shouldn't cross that line again." 

No, we shouldn't. I wouldn't. I thought to myself, but chose to say "I don't know what you're talking about." 

I averted my gaze back to my own reading. He chuckled low. 

Yes, Lucien was a very handsome male and some years ago I even found myself falling for his charm, although my dreams were still haunted by beautiful hazel eyes. It didn’t escape me why someone like Elain would fall for Azriel’s beauty, it was wrong but…there was no comparing them. 

"You're beautiful," he said. 

The bond in my chest tingled, as if in recognition of a presence. Azriel had to be nearby. I went slightly still and out of the corner of my eye I peeked into the darkness beyond the hallway. I couldn't see him so much as sense him. 

"Lucien..." I warned. 

 He still went on, "but you're mated now, and you're avoiding him because he's the only one with the power to break your heart. Always has been." 

I didn't dare look at the shadows again. 

"How long have you loved him?" 

Entire lifetimes. 

I sighed and closed the book, ready to call it a night. When I got to my room he was already waiting, sitting on the floor against my door, hands covering his face. 

"Hey," I greeted, clearing my throat. He shut to his feet almost immediately. His hair was a little disheveled as if he had just flown inside the house, there were still dark circles under his eyes. 

"Hi," he replied, moving aside in case I wanted to enter my room. I didn't, I came to stand next to him instead, resting my back on the wall. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I swear. It's just…Rhys found this and gave it to me, I thought you may want it back." 

Azriel extended the little black box I was supposed to give him at Solstice. The ribbon was gone, so I guessed he looked inside and found the handwatch. It was a beautiful piece, fully black except for its center, blue, the same material as his siphons. The numbers carved in the stone were opac black —obsidian stone—, the only strong enough material to resist the power that would flow through the siphon. I had carved those numbers myself. It was a small carefully crafted fraction of my power. 

"It looks expensive," Azriel added, scratching the back of his neck. I still didn't take the box from his hand. 

"I don't want it back. I had it made for you. It's yours, you can do whatever you want with it." 

At my refusal, he met my eyes again, searching for any indicators of doubt. He lowered his hand. 

"It 's beautiful." He whispered. "Why would you bother with something like this for me?" 

I shrugged. "For old times sake, I guess." I laughed, though there was no humor behind it. "I thought it may be nice. I know you don't like your hands, you hide them all the time, but I don't think you should. What was done to you was a horrible thing, that doesn't mean that your scars are. I think they're proof of your resilience and strength, you survived. And that's beautiful. So I thought I could give you something to help bring out the beauty of your hands, so you could show them proudly." 

Azriel didn't say anything, he just blinked and stared at the box in his hand. 

"Also, it goes well with that navy blue button up you wore to Rhys' birthday." I felt my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "Sounds stupid now that I said it out loud." 

He came closer and looked at me with an emotion I could not recognize, but it made my heart flutter. 

"I don't deserve it, but I will. I promise I'll become someone worthy of wearing it." 

The promise he'd made was of something far greater than the watch, than any gift. He stood there promising to be better, for us. I couldn't even grasp the idea of it, for there was still weariness in my heart. 

I swallowed the small lump in my throat and nodded, wanting to change the subject. "So is everything ok with Rhys now? Amren told me what happened." 

His body tensed for a moment and then he let out a long breath. "Yeah, everything is fine now. We talked it through." He cleared his throat. "Actually, we just came back from the Day Court." 

It was my turn to tense now. I hadn't spoken to Helion since I took the offer, Rhys was probably dealing with it. 

"Was it about me?" 

Azriel nodded. "Helion's been asking about you and insisting you'd be safer at his Court. Rhys told him you needed more time, that as of the time being you were still a member of the Night Court." 

Two heartbeats passed in silence between us. "I didn't know you were leaving." He admitted in a sad whisper. 

"To be honest, I've completely forgotten about it these past few days. It's been kind of a hurricane inside my brain lately." 

"Why did you want to leave?" 

"A fresh start sounded nice. I have no history with Helion so he wouldn't feel obligated to over-pay me for my work. An honest way to earn my living. Plus the library there was breath-taking. " 

"If it is about what I said that time, it wasn't true. Rhys doesn't feel obligated to anything and you do earn every copper you make." 

"It 's not. I've been thinking about it for a while." I took a sidelong glance at him. "What do you think I should do?" 

The question seemed to take him by surprise. "I can't be objective about it." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I don't think I can be away from you." 

There. The words hung heavy between us, the air was charged with emotion and I couldn't breathe properly. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet none came to mind. Did he really mean that? In what way? What about Elain? 

Every instinct in my mind screamed bullshit, a few weeks ago he was oh so enamored with the middle Archeron sister that it made me sick, and now he couldn't stay away from me? And what about before, with Mor? Or when he was too busy to even acknowledge me? 

I took a deep breath. For how long have I wanted to hear him say that he cared? That he wanted me as I wanted him? Centuries maybe. So why did it make me angry now? I felt like suffocating again. I needed to breathe, to calm the raging thoughts in my head and cool down. We were going to have this conversation, but I couldn't do it here when I felt like the already narrow hall was closing in on me. 

"I need some air." I said getting off the wall and walking to the stairs. Maybe the cool breeze of the city would blow some clarity into my mind. 

When I noticed he hadn't moved I asked over my shoulder, "aren't you coming?" 

An open invitation, and a little piece of hope that it wasn't over. That whatever lay between us could be saved. He followed a moment later, no questions asked. 

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

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[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Cassian x F!reader

AN: Thank you to everyone for reading this series and enjoying it! Part 1 now has over 100 notes, which makes me very happy! I hope you continue to like what i have to say!

Summary: Helion comes to check on you in the Night Court. You have feelings about it and Cassian is shirtless.

Warnings: talking about death and expectations and pressures

Word count: 1596

You sat perfectly still in the seat across from Rhysand. Everything in your body begged you to run, to flee this room where the walls pushed in. Suffocating you, trapping you. But your spin was a pillar of steel and your eyes belied none of your discomfort. As far as anyone in the room was concerned you were perfectly calm as you kept your gaze on the High Lord before you.

“Y/N?” The voice came from the seat next to you. A warm, familiar tone that once wrapped around your bones and soothed your anxious heart. Now it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and a muscle in your jaw tic.

“My research is slow moving,” you spoke to Rhysand, your fingers interlaced over your crossed knees, “but it is progressing.”

Violet eyes flicked from you to the male beside you and back again, “Do you require anything to aid you? The resources of the Night Court are at your disposal.”

“A most generous offer, High Lord-”

“Y/N-”

“Perhaps you can spare your Shadowsinger for a few questions,” you continued as if not hearing him speak. “I think he would have some most illuminating things to say.”

Rhysand nodded once, “When Azriel gets back from the continent, I'll send him to you.”

You bowed your head in thanks as you got to your feet, “Until then, I shall return to the library.” You started to leave but paused, “Males aren't allowed down there unless given permission, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Y/N-”

“Good to know,” you turned and left without another word to either male. The door slamming in your wake.

Rhysand turned to Helion, who slumped into his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he started, and the High Lord of Day let out a low groan. “You've certainly managed to piss her off. What did you do?”

“I brought her here,” Helion sighed as he stood to cross the room to the window. The golden rays of the sun seemed to shine even brighter in his presence. “The Grand Library was her home, and I sent her away.”

Rhysand hummed softly, “Why did you bring her here, old friend?”

Helion's amber eyes closed briefly, a shiver of what almost seemed like regret running through his powerful body, “Y/N had a sister. My father's chief advisor and a brilliant researcher. She died defending the library from being looted again just before Amarantha fell.”

“Ah.”

“Y/N hasn't been the same since,” he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “It's as if, because she survived, she feels she needs to live up to her sister's legacy. That she needs to be as good or better than her. But Y/N already was those things, just in a smaller way.”

Rhysand tipped his head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Her sister made miracles, feats of magic that we never could have dreamed possible. Y/N…” he trailed off, turning back to the Night Lord. “Her research was about philosophy. The very concepts of Life and Death. She dove into the essence of Religion and Mythology and the laws of the universe itself. She sought answers to questions no one else in my court would have ever bothered with because they did not affect or change our day to day. And I believe she felt like she had the freedom to do so because her sister's accomplishments shielded her from the competition my father fostered among his Advisors.”

Rhysand steepled his fingers in front of him, “And with her sister dead, her own lack of answers is weighing on her.”

Helion nodded once, “She feels that if she can't provide results, then the wrong sister died.”

“Do you know what she's looking into now?”

“I don't,” he admitted with a sigh, “I've not been privy to her research since coming back from under the mountain. She hides it from everyone.”

Rhysand seemed to ponder something for a moment, “She asked Cassian if he's ever heard a swan song. Are you familiar with the concept?”

Helion turned back to him, “I am.”

“And now she's asking to speak with Azriel,” the corners of his mouth ticked down.

Helion raised an eyebrow, “What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking about death…” he trailed off before meeting his friend's amber gaze. “I'll need to speak to Clotho to verify but…” the two males fell into conversation quietly as Rhysand relayed his theory to Helion. Too engrossed in the debate to notice the slip of daylight that slithered under the door and into the hall.

***

You found yourself not in the library as you had intended after winnowing back to the House of Wind, but instead in the training right above it. You don't know why you ended up here. What force drew you to this place you'd not yet had need of in the two months since coming here. But once you were staring into the wide open sky above, you let out a scream that nearly shook the mountain before collapsing into the middle of the training pit.

Your breath was coming in shaky, uneven gasps as if your lungs were being held in a vice, so you buried your hands up to your wrists into the gravel. Focusing on the cool stones against your skin helped sooth and smother your roiling anger. The burning you felt in your soul dissipating into the mountain below until slowly your breathing evened out and your body stopped shaking.

Your rage was still there. It never left entirely. Like a ball of fire, it squatted in your chest, waiting to be unleashed. Some days, it was the only thing that got you out of bed. Others you had to lock yourself in your room to keep from lashing out indiscriminately. Regardless, it was always there, always prepared for however you would wield it.

“Are you okay?”

The voice came from behind you, and your head snapped up in response. Cassian stood at the edge of the pit. Shirtless and sweaty, he'd clearly been in the middle of training when you'd stomped through the space like a viper ready to strike.

He'd know better than to intercept you. A female with that look on her face was more dangerous than entire armies, and Cassian wasn't stupid enough to think his presence would improve the situation. Especially after he heard the scream that came out of your small frame. Pain and rage and sorrow- he knew that scream. Knew how deep the hurt had to run to be able to produce a cry like that. He'd heard every single one of his family members make that scream and knew what caused it. A wounding of the soul itself.

He'd been about to slip back into the House, intent on giving you your privacy when he saw you collapse into the training pit and bury your hands in the stones. It confused him enough that he lingered in the threshold and baffled him entirely as he WATCHED the anger leak out of your body.

Cassian approached then, not only to make sure you were okay but also because some central part of him wondered at what you had done. How you had leashed your rage.

“Are you okay?”

Your head snapped up to face him, your expression turning weary. He held up his hands to show you he had no weapons and your shoulders eased some.

“Why are you always sneaking up on me?” Your voice was heavy and held none of the bite he imagined you intended your words to carry.

“In my defense” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, “I was here first this time. You just didn't see me.”

You let out a hard breath, eyes falling back to the stones, “Indeed.”

“Y/N,” he said your name so softly, so sweetly, something in your chest cracked in response, “Are you okay?”

You looked up at him again, your gaze crashing into his, and your vision blurred. “No,” you admitted, something straining in your voice, “But I will be. I must be.”

“What does that-”

“Thank you, General,” you silenced him as you stood up from the gravel. Wiping the dust from your hands as you did. “For caring enough to check, but please, let's not fool ourselves into thinking this is anything more than court politics.”

He frowned at that, “Court polit- Y/N-”

“I am a member of the Day Court, your High Lord's closest ally. I was sent here to be kept from breaking under the weight of my role,” you said simply, studying the dirt now crusted under your nails. “I know this, you know this. Your kindness, while appreciated, is not needed or wanted. I will fix myself. I will not break.”

Cassian was at a loss for words, “Y/N-”

“I will not break,” you said again, your eyes flicking to meet his, and he felt his world shift out from under him. He was not in Prythian. He was not in the Night Court or Velaris or standing atop the House of Wind. He was standing on a sunbeam, walking on the wind, fingers trailing through the clouds. And across from him, there you were. Glowing and graceful, a star made just for him.

Cassian blinked, and the vision was gone. He was back in the training pit, his gaze locked with yours. Only you were fading, like the edges of your body were fraying into the wind as you disappeared before his eyes. He blinked again, and you were gone.

Part 5

[poisonedonyx]

Lucien x F!Reader | “Our Story”

just wanna let yall know that requests are open!! <3 tw: unedited, (poorly written) smut, oral (m! receiving), angst at the beginning & end, pregnancy mentioned (not much) wc: 2.5k

[YourName]’s mouth and throat felt dry, she didn’t understand what was happening when Lucien had laid out to her he had a mate, and that mate happened to be Feyre’s sister, and how he no longer wished to have contact with her. “I just don’t see us going far, I want to try with Elain..” Lucien said simply, “She doesn’t wish to even look you in the eyes.” [YourName] barked back, trying to fight the tears that stung her waterline. “I still think if we dropped our physical relationship and showed I wanted to try, it would work.” Lucien pointed out and then there it was, a loud slap echoing the room. “You’re a pig.” Was all [YourName] managed to scoff out before leaving the room. 

[YourName] was not from the Spring Court, she had run away from her original court in order to seek refuge and had found herself under Tamlin’s wing- which is exactly how she met Lucien. Of course, the two never clashed well together because of Lucien’s defensive humor coming up and blocking out everyone who wasn’t Tamlin. But after the masquerade and the curse was implanted into the court, things seemed to settle between the (HairColor) haired girl and the fire-like faerie. Supposedly it dawned upon them that they were truly stuck together with each other and had to be civil at least with each other.

Lucien would have his walls up still, not wanting to be entirely open about his past to some faerie that his best friend decided to take in. [YourName] understood that, deciding she’d be open for the both of them. She decided this because if they weren’t both open, then their friendship would get absolutely nowhere. Unlike Lucien, [YourName] wanted their relationship to at least extend the typical small talk- she didn’t expect her desire to exceed that. 

When Lucien finally opened up to [YourName] about his life before the Spring Court, the female made sure he understood that she was listening. She took in every detail and made sure to lock it away in her brain, safe keeping. After that, things had become physical between them. Tamlin had to act as if he has zero idea that the two share a bed some nights. But the stares at dinner and the giggles and soft laughter that the two share says so much more than what the two seemingly wanted to expose to the world. 

Never once did Lucien and [YourName] confirm their relationship as something real. To each other, they were still friends, friends with benefits. Lucien and [YourName] never thought in a million years of their immortal years that they’d confirm anything, even when Feyre came around. Feyre, who had gained a friendship with Lucien faster than [YourName] had, often asked about the two’s relationship and teased Lucien for never confirming the relationship to be romantic. 

[YourName] had her own friendship with Feyre, but it wasn’t as deep as Feyre had with Lucien- it still stood strong throughout under the mountain and in her return though. As [YourName] was also a woman, she managed to see the red flags that had popped up with her savior when it came to his bride-to-be. So when Feyre wasn’t around to hear him yell or get upset, [YourName] would defend the only other female she knew that was strong enough to take down Amarantha. 

But of course, Tamlin fought back with his words just as [YourName] did and it drew a rift between the two. [YourName] no longer sat close to Tamlin at meals, prompting to sit farther away and when Ianthe came into play- she replaced where [YourName] sat. When asked about it by Feyre, Tamlin brushed it off as a simple argument that [YourName] couldn’t drop. But the only reason [YourName] couldn’t drop such an argument is because she was defending Feyre’s freedom. She knew if she was slowly being shut away from freedom, Feyre wouldn’t ignore [YourName]’s attempts to talk. 

It wasn’t until after Rhysand butted into the wedding and took Feyre did the new faerie realize these red flags that Tamlin were dropping left and right. Lucien eventually stepped in when the tension was getting too high with [YourName] and Tamlin. “You can’t argue with him, that’s something Feyre and him need to speak about.” Lucien explained gently one night as he brushed his hands against his bed partner’s arm. [YourName] remained silent, “I just can’t watch her slowly get trapped, I bet whatever Rhysand is doing with Feyre is better than what Tamlin has planned for that poor girl.” [YourName] mumbled, turning her bare back to Lucien. The male sighed, not knowing what to say- because he had seen the signs but unlike [YourName] he didn’t see the point in arguing with Tamlin and ruining their friendship. 

Lucien didn’t say a thing to counter argue against his friend, because deep down she was right. [YourName] waited until Lucien to fall asleep before she dressed and returned to her own room that night, too disgusted with Lucien to fully share a bed that night. She simply returned to her bed and fell asleep in her cold bed with a sad face on that night. She felt grossed out with Lucien because he wouldn’t speak up about the things Tamlin was doing to entrap the only other female friend she connected with. 

When things went down with Feyre, [YourName] was there to witness it, and alongside Alis begged Morrigan to take Feyre and let her properly taste freedom, get her away from the Spring Court, away from Tamlin. When Tamlin returned, Lucien had pulled [YourName] away and asked what happened and that’s when [YourName] put on a show and acted as if she was in the gardens when it happened. She played dumb puppy dog. She was going to keep Feyre safe from Tamlin. 

Within the time period that Feyre was gone, sure things were looking down for Tamlin- but things blossomed between Lucien and [YourName]. [YourName] was good at advocating for herself and setting boundaries, and Lucien learned well from her. Nights together became more frequent, even despite Ianthe’s attempts at getting at Lucien. [YourName] was starting to believe it was to piss her off because she had caught the two mid-makeout within the library more than once. Ianthe just loved causing drama within the house and when Feyre wasn’t there to be her victim- it would be Lucien and [YourName].

That’s why when Lucien had chosen Ianthe the night of Calanmai, it absolutely broke [YourName]. She didn’t know what exactly she had expected- but she hadn’t expected Ianthe. For nearly three weeks, [YourName] gave Lucien the silent treatment and a blank stare- perhaps it was because Lucien never went over that he was planning to take Ianthe, or was it something on a whim? [YourName] could not tell what was worse, planned or whim. 

When [YourName] finally let Lucien back into her, she went on an hour tangent about how Lucien went along with Calanmai was absolute bull shit. Not because she wasn’t chosen, but because he didn’t run it by her first. “So I need to run my next partner over with you?” Lucien asked, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair he was sitting on. [YourName] paused “Wha-What?! No! I am just saying you should have run it by me because it was Ianthe.” she scoffed, “If this is going to tumble into an argument, I rather not have this conversation. You wanted me to talk to you again and I’m simply explaining why I punished you.” [YourName] states before exiting the room.

Lucien sighed, going after the female. “So because it was Ianthe.. You’re jealous.” he explained. [YourName] huffed “I’m not jealous, I just… I don't like Ianthe that much with you, you could do better.” she says going into the library to find yet another book to read and eventually put back. Lucien chuckled “So, you are jealous.” he said trying to pinpoint [YourName], she simply rolled her eyes. Lucien pressed [YourName] against the shelf of books that was luckily connected to the wall so there was no worry of it falling over. “Lucien..” [YourName] tried to warn, but Lucien didn’t listen. “Just admit you were jealous..” He whispered as he moved a finger down the middle of [YourName]’s neck after moving some hair out the way.

[YourName] shuttered, missing her friend’s touch. [YourName] gasped when she felt Lucien lean down and pressed a kiss to the crook of her exposed neck. “I was not..” [YourName] whispered and that’s when Lucien bit down on the sensitive spot, causing [YourName] to softly moan and cling to the shelf. “I don’t see this going anywhere,” Lucien mumbled, licking where his teeth had made a slight dint in his partner’s skin. [YourName] spun around to Lucien, placing her hands on his chest and smirking. 

“I think you want me to be jealous,” [YourName] points out, “And if I do?” he asked making the female giggle. She brought him in for a proper, more passionate kiss. “I just want to see if you fuck better when you’re jealous,” Lucien whispered against her lips, [YourName] let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head before rolling her eyes and her hips against his own. “So I’m down on my game?” [YourName] questioned, Lucien paused- placing his hands on her hips and picking her up. He spun them around and sat [YourName] down on a nearby table, [YourName] already working her magic with unbuttoning his shirt. 

He groaned softly into the kiss they shared when [YourName] brought a leg up to gently tease his hardened length through his pants. Similarly to how [YourName] had worked to unbutton his shirt, Lucien had worked to undo the corset that pushed her breasts up and together, a view that Lucien had been excited to stare and given affection to after a long three weeks of whatever punishment [YourName] had thought he needed. [YourName] breath hitched when he felt Lucien bend down and press kisses to her exposed chest. 

Eventually, the two stripped of what was most unnecessary, [YourName] had hopped off the table and gotten on her knees to give Lucien the best attention he had received ever. Never in a million years did he think [YourName] had it in her to even think of sucking him off, but here she was bobbing her head, and stroking whatever her mouth couldn’t touch at the time. [YourName] squirmed in her spot. She was becoming needier and needier, the sound of her bed partner groaning and moaning because of her made her feel some type of way. 

She did her best to please herself using the heel of one of her feet, but when Lucien had taken note of this he yanked her up and bent her over the table. “I see someone’s needy..” Lucien whispered, the pant in [YourName]’s breath was noticeable and she whined, “Please..” she begged quietly, “Please, I need something, anything..” [YourName] went on. Lucien took that and ran with it, snaking a hand between [YourName] and the table and began to stimulate her clit. 

[YourName] let out a sting of moans, trying to ground herself by clinging to the table, a hand eventually dropping to the wrist of Lucien’s hand. She cried out when she felt the knot in her stomach begin to tighten, “I-I’m going to cum-” she whimpered out “I know.” Lucien replied almost immediately with zero pause between. When [YourName] finally felt the knot in her stomach break, she felt the liquid go down her leg. Lucien brought the fingers he used to stimulate her clit to [YourName]’s mouth and without being told what she needed to do, she opened her mouth with a soft gasp and sucked on his fingers. 

It wouldn’t be long when Lucien shoved his sex into [YourName]’s dripping cunt, the muffled moan she let out was just loud enough to please Lucien. [YourName] bit her lip in an attempt to shut herself up, but she knew with Lucien that wasn’t a possibility. The session between the two went on until [YourName] felt the knot in her stomach tighten, only to feel it snap once more when she felt Lucien release within her. The juices mixed to create a mess that dripped onto the floor. 

[YourName] was red in the face, or at least felt like it, when she finally managed to get a breath in. She turned her face to Lucien and both had a matching smile, “Maybe, just maybe, was I jealous.” [YourName] finally announced, making Lucien laugh as the two cleaned each other up as best as they could before redressing themselves and going to the bathroom to make sure cheeks weren’t reddened and sweat didn’t run down their faces. When Feyre did return, [YourName] didn’t join Tamlin and Lucien in getting her back. And when she heard the story of how suddenly with some magical light and snap, Feyre had returned to Tamlin– she knew there was more to the story.

She and Alis would get to the bottom of it together, and that’s how Feyre realized that [YourName] was always on her side and often fought for her freedom. So she tended to open up to the girl, and in return [YourName] opened up in return. That’s when Feyre had told her that the mating bond snapped into place for Lucien for her sister, Elain. Weird, Lucien hadn’t mentioned anything of a bond snapping into place, and he hadn’t touched her much since Feyre’s return either.

But before [YourName] could dread it any longer, things started to spiral into place. After going to the wall and looking for holes, Feyre dropped hints to [YourName] of her leave and [YourName] was to join. If Lucien no longer wanted her then there was no reason for her being here, but then plans didn’t go exactly how they needed to and Lucien was now a part of the pack. 

Once in the Night Court, it was revealed that [YourName] and Lucien had held a physical relationship for years before his bond snapped into place, which led to the exact conversation that led up to this flashback.

“I want to go home.” [YourName] announced to Feyre, “You are home, just because Lucien doesn’t want a physical relationship with you doesn’t erase the relationship you have with me.” the High Lady explained. [YourName] shook, trying to bite back the tightness in her throat as tears formed in her eyes “Don’t remind me. I loved him, and I was foolish to believe he loved me too.” she whispered, taking a seat near Feyre.

Feyre sighed, taking her friend’s arm and holding her close. “What’s truly going on, [YourName]?” Feyre asked, noticing the scent difference, the hormonal peaks, it led to one thing but Feyre wanted her to admit it. The glamour only went so far, and it was starting to break. [YourName] finally broke down, “I believe I’m with child, I can’t stay here.” [YourName] finally said.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dark!Amarantha x Human!reader: Her New Whore[***]

A/N: man, I caved at the end, I’M SORRY.

Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, some specklings of Greek Mythology, pussy-eating, face-sitting, manipulation I guess, corruption kink? 6.4K words

Summary: After the Wall fell, the High Queen easily seized control of the human lands. Every month, a name is picked from the largest cluster of houses—the closest any of your kind have to a city. You manage to keep your head down for long enough, until your sister’s name is read aloud, condemning her—and inevitably the family she’s made—to a tragedy.

“Cynthia.”

You freeze. Eyes slide to the matching pair beside your own, locking onto her widened gaze. No. There’s mirrored terror streaking your faces, and already people are taking precautionary steps back, making sure to distance themselves from the damned.

The guards don’t even have to search for her, the steadily widening circle around your sister condemns her itself. And sure enough, clawed hands are gripping her upper arms, already beginning to drag her away, and you lunge at her, only to be shoved back. You crash to the mud, dress dirtying as the wet cold bites at you, already setting in. “Cynthia…!” You rasp, throat wet with tears, chest tight with grief. “Cynthia!” You scream, pushing up from the dirt, stumbling after your sister as she’s flung to the foot of a stage.

The High Queens’s eyes are sharp, and piercing into her with a strange look. Your sister shrinks beneath the cold, ancient eyes, hands wrapping around herself, as though it will give her a modicum of safety against the innately powerful fae. Her blood red lips open, permanently set in a cruel, hateful twist, as she intends on beginning her riddle. You scramble forward, pushing through the crowd that has gathered eagerly to watch, delighting in her misery. Because they get to live another day.

You race forward, kneeling by your sister’s side, throwing your arms over her protectively, keeping her tight to your form. “I’ve got you,” you murmur, fingers trembling. “You’re safe, I’m here, Cynth.” She presses against your side, shaking badly, cowering before the High Queen. Amarantha watches, her words halting as she takes in the act of disobedience. No one else has dared interrupt a ceremony.

You swallow, meeting her icy, taunting gaze. “Please…” you manage, voice cracking. “Please— She’s my sister, please.” The tears fall and you know you need to do better. “I beseech you, my Queen. Please. She has a family—a husband and children.” You release Cynthia, pushing away from her as you bow, pressing your hands into the mud and lowering your head in derogatory supplication. “Take—… Take me in her stead. I beg you.” Salty tears wet the earth as you shake, Cynthia weeping by your side, copying your movement, and it pains you to see her like this. Splattered with mud. Cowering before a tyrant.

“Rise.”

Immediately, you follow the command, raising beneath her amused gaze. Her long nails click against the temporary throne. She’s no longer watching Cynthia, her eyes have moved to you. “What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?” Terrified relief slides down your spine. She’s directing the riddle at you—not Cynthia. You could weep.

Her brow narrows, “behead the first one.”

Your eyes widen as her soldiers come forward. Cynthia grasps onto you and you to her: nails slicing into thin, worn fabric. “No! Please, my Queen! Please!” You scream, holding your sister tight as the creatures tug away from you. She’s torn from your arms, and you thrash, trying to reach her. You turn your head to the female sat atop her throne born of bloodshed, “my Queen! She’s my sister, please!” The tears are streaming down your cheeks as you writhe against the talons that slice into your skin.

Cynthia is shoved to her knees, more mud saturating the already wet fabric of her dress. The High Queen’s eyes are on yours, paying the torture of your sister no mind, as if it hardly even registers to her. You can’t look away from her.

A guard raises his blade, and ire blazes inside of you, fury at the injustice. Rage at how they’re about to cleave the gentle slope of her neck in two, sever it from her body, then leave her to rot in the piss-coated mud.

“Stop.”

Your breath catches, your chest stilling as the blade halts it’s slicing. The High Queen rises from her throne. A metallic smell crackles in the air and a rug rolls down the steps of the stage—her shoes will remain clean of the filth. She comes to a stop in front of you, and you’re petrified. The Queen, The Conquerer, is stood one pace away from you, and you’re staring into her eyes—holding her gaze as if your life depends on it.

“Release her.”

You’re close enough you can see the shape of the words cutting through her blood-red mouth clearly. Her soldiers release you, so suddenly that you crash to the floor, on your knees before her. You make no move to shift from the placement.

Slowly, she pulls the fabric of her orchid coloured gown upward, revealing a pale ankle, leading up to a creamy thigh—perfect skin. She’s flawless. The High Queen raises her foot slightly, a silent command. Your cheeks flush with hatred. Her lips lift at the edges, her eyes flicking from Cynthia, then back to you. You hang your head in shame, but blink away the tears. If she’s giving you a way to save your sister, you’ll take it.

Reluctantly, you begin to lean forward, but stop. You crane your neck to look at the High Queen, icy gaze piercing down on you. “I do this…and you’ll let my sister go?” You aren’t foolish enough to phrase it as an order. “Indeed.”

“You won’t harm her? Ever?” Her lip curls, a sign she’s already tiring of you, but you need to make sure. “Insolent,” she growls as she glares down at you. It’s difficult not to shrink from her. “If you give yourself to me—” your breath catches, “—and follow through, she will be released instantaneously. Unharmed.”

The word rings through you. Unharmed. She’ll be okay. She can return to her girls, and her husband. She’ll live.

“Whether she remains that way…” she grins, cruelty lighting her eyes, “…is up to you.” You feel the blood drain from your face. Brutality sparks in her gaze as she taps your chin provocatively with the tip of her shoe. “Make your choice, human.”

You refuse to cry. You won’t. Not in front of her.

So you grit your teeth, steel your spine, and settle your lips on the point of her shoe.

————

She didn’t waste a second—by the end of the day, you’d been shoved into the arms of one of her beasts, a weightless sensation had overtaken you, and then your surroundings had completely shifted, the air slightly tinged with a strange metallic scent. You’d been walked through cavernous hallways lit solely by flames that sent shadows flickering along the walls.

Then you were brought to a large chamber, dragged across the smooth stone floor, and tossed onto a wide, circular bed that was lined with various fur blankets and beautifully embroidered duvets. Atop lay a circular instrument, thick, opaque fabric hanging down like curtains to seal the bed from the rest of the room. They were dark velvet, such a deep red they were nearly black, with small tassels weighting the material at the edges.

An unknown amount of time later, another creature enters, dropping new clothes on the bed—night robes—for you to change into. Its eyes run over you with intrigue and barely masked hunger. You manage a quiet thank-you, along with a small dip of your head before it’s stalking from the chamber. You decide it would be best to follow their implied instructions, thankfully left by yourself while you bathe and clothe yourself.

Heat flushes your cheeks as you lift the fabric to the strange lights. It’s almost completely sheer, a failed imitation of clothing. Hardly a breath of thread. You double…triple check the pile, but there are no underthings to keep you hidden. You drop the material as if it’s stung you, taking a step away from where you had dropped it—beside the bathing pool.

“Insolent humans.”

You yelp, spinning around. The High Queen has snuck up on you, silently entering the bathing chamber. You hadn’t even heard the snick of the curtain rings slide back into place. Your hands fly to cover your naked body, stumbling back in fright. You slip, squeezing your eyes tight as you fall backward—into the pool.

When you surface, you hear her laughing, like the ringing of silver bells, warm and amused. You shiver. “I forget how uncoordinated you all are,” she grins, that cursed crimson like a blood-red slash across her mouth. Slowly, you back away in the lagoon-like pit, distancing yourself while keeping your arms across your chest.

A dainty nail points to you, then curls as she beckons you forward. “Come here.” Your arms tighten around yourself, and you’re sure that if the water wasn’t there, your legs would have given out. Her lips twitches, as if knowing exactly what she’s doing to you. “You’ve hardly been here for half a day,” she growls in warning, “and you’re already testing my rather generous patience.”

You tremble, but begin to move toward her. Her growls settle as you draw near, stopping at what you believe to be a safe distance. She almost laughs at your naïveté. She settles by the edge of the pool, “closer.” Her teeth are bared beneath the superficially gentle smile, eyes gleaming with harmful glee as you shudder, but follow her orders.

She spared your sister. She spared your sister. She spared your sister. You can do this for Cynthia. Cynthia and her girls. Cynthia and her husband. For Cynthia, you’ll manage. The High Queen’s hand raises from the carved stone, and you flinch when he cups your cheek, eyes piercing down at you: half-submerged in the pool, the water reaching just above your midriff. “There you go,” she drawls, lips quirking at the terror in your eyes. Her thumb brushes your cheek and you tremble, her sharp nails scraping beneath your lash line, as if poised to dig into the soft flesh that would rupture beneath her claw.

The High Queen must have read it across your features, as she grins wickedly, “your Cynthia is alive.” You don’t allow yourself a moment to relax, not with the Queen of the fae so close. Her brow rises, “no words of thanks? No offers to appease me?” You swallow, inhaling quietly. “Thank you, my Queen,” you manage, voice cracking from fear.

Her hand lowers, and you still as her thumb brushes over your lip, and you wonder if she’ll tear it from your body. She merely lays a surprisingly soft pat to your cheek, her eyes flicking to the mesh robe, untouched, by the pools edge. “Put it on,” she orders, quietly. You double check all of your chest is covered—as much as you can, anyway—before meeting her gaze. “My Queen?” You ask, uncertain. She wants you to wear to robe while in the water? Or to get out, dry, and then adorn it? Her fingers clasp the sheer fabric, bringing it within your reach, “did I stutter?” Her lips are still up-tilted, but ice is beginning to frost in the depth of her eyes.

With a trembling hand, you reach forward, taking the robe from her hand. Your fingers brush, and you flinch, preparing to be hit, squeezing you eyes shut. She merely watches you, marks your reaction with quiet anger. “Put. It. On.” Her voice has dropped, and you flush with shame as you lower your arms to adorn yourself in the dress. Despite being underwater, you push it down, allowing it to rest at your ankles.

The High Queen smiles, though it’s lacking something. “Keep up the obedience and you’ll be just fine.” She gets to her feet, flashing you a snippet of smooth skin as she stands and you feel dirty for looking. Instinctively, you falter a step backward, at last easing a small breath of relief.

It’s cut short as her fingers drop to the buttons of her dress, slowly unpinning them, revealing small glimpses of her porcelain skin beneath. You hurriedly turn away as she undresses, cheeks ablaze as you catch sight of her sleeve descending over a creamy shoulder. You can hear the soft wisps of chiffon falling to the floor, and flashes of soft and supple skin whisper through your mind. You pinch your forearm hard, just one mark among many.

Amarantha scowls at your turned back. Foolish human dignity. Do you not understand she could slice you up in seconds, sink her teeth into the soft flesh of your throat? She swallows, licking her lips as a slow smile lifts her edges.

Silently, she descends into the lagoon, allowing the peacefully warm water to lap over her skin. Prowling up behind your unaware form. The sweetest prey.

Your breath catches as her arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back flush against her front, and you feel the soft pressure of her breasts. She’s naked. She’s completely bare. Your mind short circuits, fire heating your body, licking over you like it’s a phantom touch. Her fingers dancing over your skin, her lips feathering over your own, her—

You dig your nails into your forearm. It must be some faerie magic. Your mind must not be your own to have such horrifically impure thoughts in it. A quiet sound of fear drags from your throat as she noses a space beneath the shell of your ear. “My Queen…?” You stammer, “what—…what are you doing?” Each breath that falls from your lips is wracked with a silent tremor.

She laughs against your skin and you subtly try to squirm away from her. Her arms wrap tighter. “You live such short lives,” she croons, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “yet you deprive yourself of the pleasures the Mother has provided.” A shiver spider-walks down your spine, her fingers beginning to trace circular patterns over the base of your sternum.

“It’s a sin,” you rasp, voice failing you under duress. “It’s an equivalent exchange. Pleasure of unity for the pain of reproduction. My Queen.” You hurriedly add on the title, a way to soften your brazen defence. “If it’s a sin, why are you craving it so badly? The mother wouldn’t wish for her creations to suffer,” she whispers, and her fingers raise higher, dancing beneath the swell of your breasts.

You turn your head, and Amarantha greedily drinks in your mortal beauty. “Is that why you spared her? My sister?” There’s a devastating spark of hope in your eye, looking to her for answer. She blinks, and you quietly await her response. “I spared Cynthia because you promised yourself to me.” Her eyes pierce into you, “equivalent exchange and all that. A life for a life. However fleeting, or pitiful.”

Your brow narrows in hurt, “our lives may be short, my Queen, but it gives us meaning. We are to make the best of ourselves, however slim our chances. It is the beauty of being human.” She smiles, settling her chin on your shoulder, feeling you stiffen. “You are, indeed, quite beautiful.”

You don’t know how to respond. Is it a concealed taunt you don’t understand? Is she using her faerie tongue to deceive you in some way? You can’t figure it out. “You…remember her name, my Queen.” She laughs, but it lacks amusement. “It is not a difficult name to remember. Neither is your bond with her.” She seems sad. A quiet wash of anguish fleeting across her gaze.

And maybe she’d been gentle enough with you, been so unexpected that you reached out. You’ve been raised that it’s a woman’s role to reach out and help others—always. Why would she be any different. You move your hands from where they’ve been suspended above the water, gingerly settling them overtop hers. “Why not?” You murmur, watching her.

The High Queen’s eyes drop to your fingers, and for a moment you’re concerned she’ll see it as an affront—for a human to touch a faerie. But they entwine with your own, keeping as much of you close to as much of her as she can. “My sister was murdered by a human. Tortured and murdered. For weeks.” She hears the quiet gasp you release, and raises her gaze to your own, shocked and wide.

“Her name was Clythia, and I cared for her more than anything. More than I should have let myself.” Her eyes seem to regain their sharpness as they drink in your features. Her arms tighten around your rib cage, “I will not be making that mistake again.” Her words are clipped; pained. You squeeze her hand, “isn’t it lonely?” Her eyes are narrow on you, a quiet warning, but allowing you to proceed. You gulp and you’re certain she can hear it. “As an immortal. With no clear end to your life? You should find yourself a love, take a husband, and—”

She snarls, lip curling back from her teeth, muscle rippling; power thrumming. Your body freezes in response, but she spins you round, roughly. Her nails dig into your hips, pulling you tight against her.

It’s so much worse.

You can see her. See the pale skin of her collar bones, the smooth skin of her shoulders, the feminine swell of her breasts, pressing against your own—

“A husband?” She snarls, watching with fury as you cower, trying to shrink away from her. Your hands land hesitantly—even as you’re terrified—over the top of her chest, attempting to push away. “I treat you as I have, and you tell me to find a husband?”

“I’m—I’m sorry—… I simply mean—” She snarls again, more viciously, cutting you off as she grips you tighter, walking you backward in the pool.

Initially, you’d been wary about bathing, not knowing how deep the pool went. You knew the depth was more staggering at the back, and being unable to swim, you’d kept far from it.

You shove your feet onto the floor, but it’s rough, and bites at the soft pads. She’s so powerfully fae, and has no trouble shoving you further and further back to that drowning depth. “My Queen!” You cry, reaching for her but she keep you at arms length. The water gets deeper, rising over your chest, and you know you’re right over the precipice. “Please! I can’t swim!” You panic, “please, my Queen! I didn’t mean to offend!”

The High Queen shoves you away, sending you off into the deep. That terror again engulfs you as you begin sinking. Your eyes go wide, latching onto her own beseechingly, just before the water’s surface swallows you. It’s suddenly no longer comforting—the peaceful warmth. It feels as the air before a storm, hot and humid, too still to be safe.

You thrash, not knowing how fast you’re descending, but you claw about. Maybe if you can reach that edge again, you can pull yourself up. You stretch out your hands, and they find the ledge. Rough and hewn, but it’s there. You could cry. But then you feel as she presses the heel of her foot down, digging your fingers into the rock and you cry out, releasing precious air as you lose your grip.

You try again, this time taking hold of her ankle, tightly—even if it enrages her. But she holds still, allowing you to touch her as you begin to pull yourself to the surface. Your lungs are burning as you reach her thigh and your hand freezes, realising where you’re going to have to go past. You take too long, strength seeping from your arms as you begin to lose conscious. You practically feel her growl thunder through the water as a force lifts you from the depths.

When you break the surface, your religious worries are far from the front of your mind. Your arms snake over her shoulders, clinging desperately as you splutter, hauling yourself over her arm as you gulp down air, tears of panic spilling over your cheeks. Your legs wrap over her hips, circling tight in fear.

Before you’ve even had the time to regulate your breath, her hand is tightening in your wet hair, pulling you back just enough for her to glare into your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you rasp, tears streaming over your already wet cheeks. “Please,” you plead, brows curving upward, “please don’t kill her.”

The High Queen’s eyes do not soften as she pulls back from the ledge, carrying you up into shallower water. You daren’t tear your eyes away for fear she’ll have a change of heart. “I hold you as I do,” she seethes, “I treat you as one of my own, instead of one of those humans. I touch you as I do— cherish you as I do—” Your lower back presses against the hewn rock of the pool, and you attempt to unwrap your legs from her hips. Her grip tightens and she snarls up at you. “—and you think a husband would please me?”

You keep your lips pressed tight, deciding it wise to not speak anymore. But her eyes pierce into your own, commanding you to respond. Whatever you say, it could be you last. “What would please you, my Queen?” You stammer, softly, trying to banish the tremors from your arms.

Her eyes flicker for a moment, and then her mouth is crushing down onto your own. You seize up, paralysed as one arm snakes up your back, between your shoulder blades, making your back curve, pressing your breasts to her own. You’re all but naked before her, save for the sheer fabric that clings to you relentlessly. A whimper claws up your throat at the sudden move.

She pulls away, eyes dragging from your mouth up to your own.

Then she’s returning, lips warring over your own, teeth biting, tongue slashing as she dominates your mouth. One hand grips your ass while the other tightens around the nape of your neck, crushing you against her, pressing between your thighs as she devours you. She gets lost in your flavour, raising both her hands to cup your jaw, pinning you to the pool’s wall with her lower body.

Her grip slackens as she takes you in, breathing shakily.

You take your chance.

You slam your hands down on the pool’s ledge, lifting yourself out as you kick away from her, panting as you scramble back. You tumble over the lip of the lagoon, falling down onto the smooth rock of the bathing chamber. The High Queen snarls from the pool and your eyes go wide as she heaves herself out of the water with such ease.

Immediately you’re scrambling back, flipping onto your front to crawl away, to stumble to your legs but she catches you on the threshold of the two rooms. Her arm wraps around your hips, once again pulling your back flush against her chest as her hand snakes up your front, gripping your throat. “I thought you wanted to protect your sister?” She snarls, so close to your ear you feel the scrape of her teeth.

You simply writhe in her grip, terror spinning and spinning until you feel dizzy. “You’re okay if she dies?” The High Queen growls, gripping tighter, and you choke. “Maybe I’ll make you watch when I kill her. Nice and slow.” You shake your head vehemently, colours swimming as you splutter. Your fingers claw at her hand but she holds fast, so much stronger than you could ever handle.

Then, she’s picking you up from the floor, your legs pulling to your chest, kicking wildly in attempts to disorientate her. It’s a pitiful attempt. She sets you on your feet before the opening to her bed, turning you around roughly. Then power crackles in the air and you’re completely dry, as if neither of you had even stepped foot in the bathing chamber.

With a hard shove, you’re falling backward, sitting on the circular mattress, clothed in only the sheer fabric and nothing else—no undergarments to conceal you from her hungry and furious gaze. You start crawling backward, but she only laughs, as if delighted by your actions. You understand why when you hit the edge of the bed. Your back collides with something solid, despite it being curtains. She laughs at your confusion. “There’s a barrier around the mattress. Once you have entered, you cannot exit unless I permit it.”

You’re trapped.

“Please,” you whimper, watching as she climbs onto the bed, the curtain shutting behind her, sealing you in a cocoon of dark red light. “Please, my Queen. This is wrong!” She simply grins, prowling closer until her hand wraps around your ankle. You don’t even try to resist as she drags you beneath her, caging you in. “There’s nothing wrong about enjoying the pleasures of life,” she snarls down at you. You shake your head weakly, “no…the first time…” Tears roll down your cheeks and she stills. “The first time should be with someone you love!” You scream at her with a fury you don’t recognise.

Her eyes change, something indiscernible flashing across her features. “Pleasure is for…for man and woman,” you cry, reciting the words that have been flung at you since you came of age. “They couple…and the woman bares his children…and—…and he works! While—…while she stays at home…raising his children, in his house, for him!” You’re sobbing, wanting to scream and kick and just lash out in some way. “It’s the wife’s duty— My duty, to serve my husband one day. And that is…that is how it should be…” you trail off, crying as you push away tears with your fists.

Her hands strangle your wrists, roughly pushing them aside as she glares down at you with renewed ferocity. “So insufferably human.”

“And you’re insufferably cruel…” you weep, though the words lack any bite. “Yes,” she snarls, “I am.” You peer up at her through teary eyes. “And do you see me crying? Do you see me being forced into something I don’t want? Do you see me serving a man in the way you believe is a duty?” You stare at her, lower lip trembling as you manage to shake your head.

“No. You don’t. Because I am High Queen of Prythian. I rule over this land. It is mine. The food, the country, the people. They’re mine. Just like you are mine. At the end of the day I do not submit to a husband, or a father, or a brother. Because I am my own keeper.” She practically spits the last part, dripping with venom as she glares down at you.

Your brow narrows at her anger. The anger that isn’t directed at you, not this rage. Not really.

Her hand again wraps around your throat as she lifts your head from the sheets. “I can fuck you better than a man ever could. Than anyone.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggle as much as you can. “Open your eyes.” You refuse, screwing them shut tighter. “Open your damned eyes before I pluck them from your skull.”

Tears roll as they land on her, working every silent plea you can into your gaze. You would beg on your knees for her to stop. For her to leave Cynthia alive. “That’s more like it,” she breathes, hand loosening around your throat, allowing you to gulp down air. “Now, let me show you what you’ve been missing out on.”

Her mouth reattaches to your own, but it’s softer. Until her teeth nip at your lower lip. You flinch, and it spurs her on, canines tugging relentlessly until you whimper. “Touch me,” she commands, between kisses, “pull me closer.” You remain how you are, hands paralysed at your sides as she pulls you apart. “Reciprocate or I swear on Clythia I will shred your sister alive. Piece by piece.”

You’re trembling, shaking and on the verge of shattering, but you manage to wrap your arms around her neck, parting your thighs to hug her hips. “Now touch me like you mean it. I’m giving you one damned chance.” The snarl is more beast than faerie, but it’s for Cynthia. For Cynthia, you will put everything the High Queen has done aside. For Cynthia, you will commit this sin, that will damn you far below hell. For your sister, you will give in to those desires that have caused the crescent shaped indents in your forearms.

Your vision blurs as you shove it all away, and follow her commands.

Your mouth opens, tongue dancing with her own as she grips your hair, yanking it. A growl of innate satisfaction thunders through her chest and her free hand lands atop your breast, palming it. You want to scream, but force a moan instead. You doubt you’d be able to pull yourself back together if you started screaming.

She thumbs your nipple, and her mouth leaves your own, nipping and licking at your neck as she works lower, ignoring the quiet tears that roll back into your hair, dampening the bed. Her teeth sink into the junction of your throat and shoulder, biting down and you know it’ll bruise. It’s her way of claiming you. To have her scent entwined with yours isn’t enough. She needs to have her bite marks littering your skin, to have bruises of her fingertips blossoming over your neck, hips, thighs— everywhere she can.

Quicker than you can think, she’s tugging the erotically teasing dress up your thighs and over your head, baring you to her. The High Queen doesn’t waste a second: her mouth latches over your nipple, just over your heart, and this time you don’t have to force it. Pleasure sings through you, lighting you up as your back arches. As much as you hate it, as much as you know it’s a sin, it feels undeniably good.

You don’t want her to stop, you realise.

It brings a new wave of emotion looming in the background of your mind. But you cannot allow it to crest. So instead you thread your fingers through her beautiful silky hair, so soft to the touch, encouraging her. She growls with pleasure as she goes lower, sucking bruises into the skin of your stomach as she descends, leaving a trail of obscenity until she reaches between your thighs.

“My Queen…” you whimper earnestly, knowing what she’s planning. “That’s—” She snarls, teeth scraping over your inner thigh.

“Are you trying to stop me?” And you can hear the threatening displeasure coating the question. You hurriedly shake your head, flushing in shame. She shouldn’t be seeing you like this. It should be a man. But you meet her eyes and undeniable arousal flows through you and the possessiveness. Had anyone ever displayed such a strong instinct to protect you? Bordering on fanatic obsession. Infatuation.

“I’d feel…guilty. Not doing anything, I mean,” you manage. As soon as the words have left your tongue you realise their truth. Nausea roils in your stomach. How sick are you? Could you ever be forgiven? A dark laugh breaks you from your spiralling thoughts and it sends another wave of heat rushing between your legs. You’re practically aching for her.

“Not so innocent after all,” she drawls, and you flush.

“I simply mean—”

“I know what you said.” She snarls, crawling up your body until she’s over you, her deep red hair hanging like the deep red curtains trapping you on the bed. “You want to have your mouth between my legs, don’t you?” Shame sparks in your chest, licking between your thighs as your eyes dart away from her. She grips your jaw, forcing you to look at her. “Say it. Let me hear you beg for it. Beg for me to mount your tongue, like an animal in heat,” she snarls.

For Cynthia, you can do it. For Cynthia—

Fuck Cynthia.

“Please,” you beg, that religious yarn the priests had twisted tight, now unraveling at an alarming pace. “Please, my Queen. I need to know. Let me know what if feels like. What you taste like.” Her eyes roll as she lowers her face to the crook of your neck, burying against you, nosing at the skin as she laps over the erogenous area. Your back arches and you wish you could resist her. Wish you could return to your discipline, and your unruffled life before she came along with her chaos and her fury and her devastating beauty.

“That’s it,” she pants, pleasure flushing her cheeks. “Look at you,” she hisses, “already settling so well into your new role.” And then she’s prowling further up your body, swinging a leg over your head and your arms have already wrapped snuggly over the elegant sweep of her hips. You tug against her but she doesn’t move, keeps herself suspended above you, teasingly. You can’t stand it.

Your nails bite into the flesh of her waist and she keens, hands pushing your thighs apart. When her eyes land on your glistening heat, she growls. You’re hers. “Now, now,” she croons, “see how far you’ve come already? Dying for a taste of a female.” Your hips buck, urging her to devour you, set her mouth on you, anything. “My Queen, please. I need you. Mother above, I need you so badly.” She just laughs.

“Maybe I should punish you for taking so long to come around, hm? Maybe I should bring you to the edge, and suspend you there. Maybe I should—”

You take initiative. Your grip tightens as you raise your mouth to her cunt, lapping all over her, pressing against her hole. Anywhere you want, really. She snarls, but it’s full of pleasure and feminine satisfaction. The High Queen decides she’ll punish you later. Right now, she has you, and she’s in no mood to deny herself of you. Not after so long. She shifts her weight back at the same time she sets her mouth on you and you moan.

Her wet heat encases your mouth, and you groan as you feel her tongue lap over your centre. You flinch when her teeth nip a deliciously sensitive spot between your legs and you follow it on her, locating the small bud. You place a gentle lick to it, and her hips grind over you. Perfect. You focus on that mark, abusing it over and over, occasionally raising your tongue to her entrance, needing to refresh her flavour before diving back down.

Moans echo throughout the room and you feel a tightness in the pit of your belly. “My Queen,” you stammer, confused. She snarls, shutting you up, but the coil tightens— but it feels so good. Like an itch you can’t quite scratch. You just need her to find a spot, a spot that will just get you. Her tongue flicks over that bud and pleasure rushes your veins. You bury your face between her legs as you desperately nip, flick, suck and fuck all of her, memorising her taste as you bathe in the euphoria.

You feel her fluttering on your tongue moments later, your own high triggering hers as she sits upright, shoving you down into the soft mattress. You don’t even try to escape. You relish in her scent, in the wet heat of her, the way she encompasses you as she rides your face, moans spilling from her mouth until she’s ready to leave.

As she lifts from you, you notice threads of slick attaching your mouth to her, and you moan at the sight, already desperate for another taste, but she shifts. And her mouth is over your own. She’s ravenous, tongue licking and lapping, teeth nipping and biting as she drinks down your moans until she’s rolling off you.

Her arms circle possessively around your waist as she tugs you against her. “You’re mine,” she hisses down at you, and no matter how much it goes against the teachings, you can’t bring yourself to repent. She’s sunk her claws into you, and they run deep. Even if you wanted to, she wouldn’t let you go. You nod, pressing against her, melting into her possessive warmth.

She snarls, looking down at you. “You’ll stay here. In my bed. Warming it for me.” You nod again, and as the pleasure fades, as the adrenaline seeps from your blood, that familiar primordial dread begins to surface. You’ve promised yourself to her. You’re bound together. And you have no hope of escaping.

She bares her teeth and you hurriedly reply. “Yes, my Queen.” Her eyes soften ever so slightly. “Amarantha. I want you to call me Amarantha.” Your cheeks flush and you take the time to appreciate her beauty. The glow about her skin, the softness of her lips, the ferocity in her eyes. You feel safe. But maybe that’s just her power as High Queen. Maybe she’s gotten you so far under her spell you’ll never see her commit wrong.

“Amarantha,” you repeat, softly. A small, sane part of you screams at your compliance. But you’re too enchanted by her otherworldly beauty to pay it the necessary attention. To realise what you’ve done. What’s she’s done to you.

You reach forward, pressing your lips against hers, revelling in the plushness of them. You moan, and she’s never heard a sweeter sound. She’ll never let you leave her side. She’ll take you round on a leash if she has to, with chains decorating your wrists and ankles. Anything to ensure you stay at her side at all times. Because she’s never met someone she recognises so instinctually. Like a warped mirror.

If Clythia hadn’t been killed, if the High Queen hadn’t lost that part of herself in the war five hundred years ago, would she be as beautiful as you? She doubts it. You’re perfect. Living perfection. Crafted for her.

Her perfect new whore.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

[aghostwrites]

She knows my desire

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Warnings: oral (f! reader receiving), Lesbian, mentions of sex, overstimulation, NSFW, she/her pronouns, smut

Paring: Mor x f! reader (OC charatcer)

Work count: 3k

minors do not engage.

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Working at Rita’s restaurant under the rule of Amarantha was a curse. Even though most of Velaris had remained unchanged, the frequency of my favorite customer had dwindled. Morrigan. I miss seeing her alluring eyes, I used to love the way the light would catch them. Her hair was always kept in golden braids. 

Until Feyre happened.

The story of Feyre cursebreaker became legendary to those who live in Prythian. Allowing the high lord and his family to once more walk among the people of Velaris, to enjoy the freedom that they were denied under Amarantha. 

It is a regular day at Rita’s, High fae gossiping about what happened under the mountain, each story vastly different from the other. I’m serving a particularly loud male his spiced wine, his boasting of watching Feyre is the loudest among the chatter, “- and then she answered Amarantha’s riddle, you should have seen the look on that bitches face as Tamlin ripped her throat”. I slam down the glass in front of him making sure he cuts the conversation short. Other customers are beginning to look uncomfortable at the mention of Amarantha’s name and I don’t want to lose their business due to one drunken fae. Seeing my harsh actions made the male pip down.

 I began the usual cleaning for the night before Rita intercepted me “Girl, I need you to quickly serve the high lord and his family, everything is free as a mating present to his new high lady” she said quickly before walking away to calm down a fight between other patrons. I can’t maintain my composure knowing the high family is here. That Morrigan is here. It's been fifty years since I’ve seen her. I quickly walk over to their usual table, noting Cassian, Az, Amern, the woman I assume to be Feyre, the high lord, and Morrigan. She is glowing, her smile contagious. Her hair looks the same, in the golden braid. She’s in a flowing red dress that brings out the glimmer in her eyes. I start to imagine what she's wearing underneath before Amern brings me back to reality. Heat spreads across my cheeks for my shameful thoughts.

“Hello?'' growls Amern, “Are you going to take the drink orders or are you going to oogle Mor all night”.

I’m mortified, I’ve always known Amern to be unpleasant most of the time. I can’t bring myself to look at Morrigan, too afraid to see her reaction to my attraction to her. Cassian lets out a boyish giggle, “Do you hear that Mor? Even females can’t take their eyes off you”. I feel tears start to build in my eyes as I start to walk back towards the kitchen, shoulders slumped. I just want to go home, it's been a long night and now with that embarrassing situation, I don’t think I could last a couple more hours. I hunt down Rita, trying to think of some bullshit excuse to end my night early. 

“Hey, Rita?” I sniffle “I think I should go home and call a healer, my nose has been running all day” I finish. Rita gives me a suspicious look 

“Fine girl, but be back tomorrow bright and early, give someone else the high families order and go”. I sigh in relief as I pack up my things and head out the door. As I’m about to quietly slip out, I get a light tap on my shoulder and I feel a hand slide something into my pocket. I turn back around to find no one, no one but Morrigan giving me a sly smile at her table before she continues her conversation with Feyre. 

⟴

I need to take a walk through the streets of silk and thread. The sight of the shops and all they have to offer always helps me clear my mind during distressing times. I stop by a particular favorite of mine. Aili is the fae who owns this shop and has been a friend of mine for centuries. She is one of the most talented females I know, making dresses for every occasion, she also is a great shoulder to cry on. I hastily grab the handle and yank open the door, thankfully the only fae in the store is Aili. I can’t hold back the choking sobs any longer. My friend quickly rushes over to me, a look of concern on her face. “What’s wrong?”. So I tell her the story of my humiliation. I have a hard time forming sentences between my crying and blowing my nose.

“- I couldn’t even finish my shift, I just left”, I finished. Aili gives me a small smile as she tries to soothe me. 

“My dear I know what will make you feel better. A new dress, on the house”. 

“No.” I stammer “These dresses are too expensive for me to just take for free.” Aili only gives me a laugh 

“Well, it’s a good thing you know the owner”. I spend only thirty minutes or so in the store before I finally find something that catches my eye. A short green dress that has silver stitching that glows like the stars on winter solstice. It has a deep plunge neckline that some would consider provocative and completely sheer on the sides. Aili is right, as usual. I do feel better. I’m admiring myself in the mirror when I remember that I still have a hidden treasure in my pocket. I thank Aili for the dress and head home.

The walk is a short one usually if I take cuts through the streets, but tonight I want to savor the warm summer air. I make it to my small apartment in just a couple of minutes and rummage through my pocket to find my keys. My fingers brush a small note. I hastily open my front door, step inside, drop my shopping bag, and latch the locks before opening the note. 

I was oogling you too if you would have looked up you shy girl. Maybe after I’m finished at Rita’s I’ll pay you a visit, only if you want.

-Mor

A pen appeared in my pocket. I don’t know what to write back. I quickly find the nearest hard surface. My hands are too shaky to say anything back. I take a couple of deep breaths and begin my message. 

I would love to see you. I'm in the theatre district in the red house with the big oak door. 

I’m thinking about changing what I wrote before the note disappeared. I’m nervous that I was too vague about where I live or that maybe I should have shown more excitement to the meeting with the high female fae I’ve had lustful thoughts about for years. A new note appears. 

I know that house. I must say, I’m happy Amern said something, I’ve been wanting a private meeting with you for a while.

-Mor

Before I can craft a message back, everything disappears. I can’t help but smile to myself and think of the last line of that message, not believing it to be real. Morrigan didn’t give me a specific time for when she was coming. I began to clean. It's not usual for me to have company over, save for Aili. It’s been centuries since I’ve had a female that I was sexually attracted to in my house. Usually, those females were one-night stands that wanted to come home with me after an extensive night at Rita’s. They never meant anything to me and neither did I to them. This is different, I now have to make sure my house looks fit for the most beautiful woman in the world. I want this meeting to mean something.

After I finish up my cleaning duties, I hurry to my bathing room, showering off the smell of Rita’s restaurant. I struggle with what to do with my hair, usually, when I want to look presentable I put it in a braid. A habit I picked up from Morrigan. I want to impress her. I decide on a half-up in a bun with some strands flowing down my shoulders. I walk back to the door where my shopping bag is and bring out the dress. I had some reservations about getting it at first, I couldn’t think of any place I would ever want to wear it. Now, with Morrigan coming, it was perfect. After putting the dress on, I admire myself in the floor-length mirror. I must admit, I look hot. I do a little twirl in the mirror before I hear a knock on my door that snaps me back to reality. I rush to my door, undo the locks, and yank it open. There she is. Morrigan. 

She changed her dress. The female is now wearing a floor-length blue dress that hugs her body, it has slits on the sides exposing her thighs. The silver stitching is similar to mine. The blue dress brings out Morrigan’s beautiful brown eyes. I can’t help but stare at her the way I did at Rita’s hours before. Her hair is still braided, she painted her lips an inviting brown color. Morrigan must have noticed my staring, her cheeks began to flush.

 “Hello my dear, you look lovely”, she states as if it's pure fact. Her breath has a subtle hint of liquor.  I muster up enough courage before I finally speak.

“Hi, Morrigan”. I hesitantly move away from the door and allow the beautiful fae to walk in. Morrigan gives my home a quick glance before turning back to me. 

“Mor, my friends and lovers call me Mor.” I have known this but I don’t want to push boundaries. I smile as I think of saying her name. Mor. Excitement thunders through my heart that I am now allowed to call her that. I don’t know what to do with myself, the awkwardness settles in as Mor and I glance at each other. Finally, she says, “ I was thinking of having some wine if you’re interested? I brought a bottle over from Rhysands collection”. I give a quick nod and head over to the living room. We both sit on the couch, her thighs brushing against mine. I let out a tiny sigh from the contact, low enough to where I don’t think Mor heard. With a wave of Mor’s hand, two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine appear. Mor lets the glasses fall to the table before she begins to pour. First mine, then hers. 

“I propose a toast” she purrs as she raises her glass, “to meeting each other at last”. I could only give a nod in response as we both clink our glasses together and drink. The wine is warm going down my throat, with hints of berries and chocolate dancing on my tongue. I drain my glass quickly to cancel out the tension that lies between us, Mor does the same. I guess now would be the best time to talk,

“You know Mor, I’ve always found you to be beautiful”. I wanted to tell her more, how I can’t ever look away from her, how her laugh makes my heart fill with joy. Maybe if I ever get the chance another time, I will. A slight grin spreads across her face.

“I know you have my dear. I’ve always known. I was going to ask you out for drinks before Amarantha decided to play the queen of Prythian”. She lets out a deep sigh before continuing, “I’m sorry I never did, it's been fifty years since my family has come back from under the mountain, I needed a little time before going back to the dating scene. I figured it wouldn’t be fair for either of us.” Happiness soars through my body at her words. She has been wanting this as much as I have. I reach my hand to hers as if to tell her It's ok, I understand. Mor lets out a deep sigh “but I know how I can make it up to you”’ a devilish grin spreads across her face. 

She sets down her wine glass and reaches out her hand to my face. Her fingers begin to graze my cheek, working their way to my mouth. A small sigh escapes my breath as she brushes her thumb across my lips. Mor gives me a smirk before pushing her thumb into my mouth “suck”, she demands. I do as she asks, beginning by kissing the tip of her thumb before I part my lips, running my tongue along her slender finger. “Good girl”, moans Mor, I smile at the praise. Mor pulls her thumb out of my mouth and crashes her lips to mine. She tastes divine.

She nips at my lower lip with her teeth, telling me to open my mouth, I obey. A small moan escapes me as our tongues meet. I feel her place her hand on my knee, slowly raking her nails against the soft skin. My head begins to spin as her nails find my thighs, tracing little circles. Mor pulls away from the kiss “So beautiful” she whispers. I involuntarily spread my legs a little more, willing her to go higher. Inviting her to where I want her to be. I arch my back towards her, silently begging her to bring her lips back to mine. Instead, she begins to trail tender kisses on my neck. I let out another sigh. I want this to speed up, I’m impatient. I’ve waited fifty years for Mor and I won’t wait any longer. I push Mor away and unzip my dress, revealing myself to her hungry eyes.

 Her gaze seems to drink in every detail of my body. I blush but Mor pulls me back to her, placing me on her lap. My breasts are at eye level. She kisses each nipple before placing one in her mouth, sending shivers through my spine. I let out a faint whimper. I feel her tongue make lazy circles, the warmth of her mouth is enough to drive me crazy. I want her mouth somewhere else. Somewhere lower. Mor pulls away and gives a soft laugh, “You’re making pools of excitement on my dress, shall I take it off?” I can only give her a nod as she lays me down on the couch and stands up. The movement is almost too fast for me to see before she brings herself back. Bare. Mor knows what I want, I can see it in her eyes. She slowly kneels on the floor, before me. “Put your legs over my shoulders, now”. The aggressiveness in Mor’s tone only makes me wetter. I do as she says. She grabs my waist and pulls me closer to her. My pussy inches away from her mouth, where it longed to be. 

Mor traces little kisses on my thighs, slowly. I can feel her breath on me, making me want her mouth on me even more. I buck my hips up “Please” I beg. 

“Mmmh, my dear” she purrs “I like it when you beg”. I feel a kiss placed on me before her mouth begins its work. I arch my back to give Mor better access as she flicks her tongue across my clit at a steady pace. My breath quickens as she begins to suck on tiny nub sending pleasure coursing through my body. I try to push her away, it feels too good and I’m becoming overstimulated, but she beats me to it. Mor grabs my hands and pins them to my sides, lifting her head from my cunt, “My dear, you will sit here and let me do as I wish. I’ve thought of this moment for too long. Every female I’ve been with for the past fifty years I’ve imagined as you. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long. Now I have you before me, begging for me, displayed for me. You will be a good girl and allow me to do as I want to you, understand? she says. I give her a hurried nod which seems to satisfy her, she brings her mouth back to her meal, stealing my breath away with every lick. 

I can feel my high coming, my thighs tighten around Mor’s head which earns a low groan from her sending vibrations throughout my body. I don’t know how much longer I can last, I take a quick glance at Mor, and it sends me over the edge. The sight is sinful, her eyes watching me, her lips wrapped around my clit, the sound of her sucking, it is too much for me. My back arches.

 “Mor” I scream, “ I think I’m going to”, I don't finish my sentence before she lets go of my hand and slips two fingers into me. Rubbing the spot that allows me to reach my climax. I cum hard, bucking my hips against Mor’s mouth while her fingers work their magic, chasing my high. Mor lets out a little giggle as she takes her mouth away from me while pulling her fingers out. She slips those fingers into her own mouth, seeming to savor the taste of me.

“I can’t tell what's better” she purrs, “You, or the wine”. I smile at her, I feel happy that she seems pleased with me. I always want her to be pleased with me. “Now my dear, it's my turn”. She says with a grin. 

⟴

The aftermath of sex has us both panting. We managed to move our little party back to my bedroom, bathing room, then to my kitchen table. We now lay in each other's arms back on my couch. Both of us grinning ear to ear. I don’t know what is to come of this particular situation but I know in my heart, I will do whatever Mor says, be whoever she wants me to be. I’m deep in my thoughts about the events of tonight and everything that led up to this moment. I meet her eyes again, looking down at her nestled lovingly against my breasts. I want to be with her until the end of time. I want to be the one she thinks of when she is ruling over her court, and I want to be the one she kisses every morning.

“I love you, Mor,” I whisper. She looks up at me and there it is. Like a warm blanket wrapping around me, that smells of nothing else but Mor. The Mating Bond.

[gold-wolf-soldier13]

sorry for ACOTAR posting at 7am on a wednesday but unfortunately this series has given me brainrot even though I hate it💜 anyways my most recent though is (also unfortunately) about R/hysand and how much more I’d have approved of F/eysand if SJM really just had F/eyre go “fuck it, we’re evil now”.

So like, for a bit of explanation- I love the Star Wars series, I have issues with it ofc but who doesn’t rn, and the one thing I’ve been consistent on is that Padmé Amidala is a far better woman than I could ever hope to be because if I were in her position and Anakin Skywalker had come to me and said “baby I made you an Empire” I honestly would have just said thank you and gleefully bitched about the paperwork later. I love that dynamic between characters, and while I understand why Padmé as a character would never do that, I love fic exploring the concept of if she did.

There’s a fic on ao3 called How to Take an Empire that while not exactly the concept I described above is in that same vein of accepting Vader as Anakin and vice versa and it’s a fic I love immensely and highly recommend fans of Ahsoka Tano read at some point. And I personally think it’s very apt to compare R/hysand to Darth Vader (never Anakin tho😤).

R/hysand is introduced to us as a vile, cruel, sadistic man and spends the rest of the series acting in the same manner, just with the authors and characters explicit coddling. He’s spent the last fifty years working as the feared right hand to the woman who essentially made herself queen of Prythian through trickery, deceit and (supposedly) long con type plans. I’m getting a very Palpatine x Vader dynamic from them. R/hysand does all the dirty work (read: war crimes) for Amarantha that Vader does for Palpatine and then doesn’t have the decency to have his own prequel tale (god forbid) to show the inevitability of his fall nor the subsequent redemption through love and compassion.

Where for Vader, redemption = death because some crimes can never be forgiven, for R/hysand we get empty justifications on why he did the horrible things he did and the narrative forgives him for it.

My original point tho, tangent aside, is that if SJM had the balls to actually double down on all of his awful behavior- looked us as readers in the eyes and said “this is your man, these are all the horrible things he’s done, and this is still your man” I’d have been okay with it if F/eyre had looked at that and said “yeah, I’m okay with that actually”.

But she didn’t and now we all have to live with it.

[throneofsapphics]

like the stories part two

Rhys x f!Reader

Summary: Reuniting with Rhys isn't what you'd hoped for.

Warnings: drinking, angst, references to sa

A/N: thank you for all of the love on the first part!

part one

As soon as the door slammed shut, Rhys realized he’d made the mistake of his life. 

“How could you compare to a mate?” 

He hadn’t meant it in the way you thought. But .. how had he meant it? There were only so many ways to interpret what he said. Regardless, horrible words had left his lips and his intentions didn’t matter. 

The door flew open, slamming against the opposite wall as he winced. A dent would be left behind, without a doubt. 

“She waited,” Mor nearly roared, “fifty years. Never looked at another male, stared at your portrait every day.” 

“I didn’t ask her to,” he muttered. You should’ve moved on by now.

“Mother above,” Mor followed the two words with a string of expletives.

She snapped her fingers when he didn’t look up, his nostrils flared but he raised his head slowly. Mor was quick to anger, sure, but he didn’t think he’d seen her look this angry in years. 

You haven’t seen her in years. 

Rhys ran one hand through his hair, tucking the other in his pocket. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

A line straight from one of your books.

“She told me what you said,” his cousin countered flatly. “You really didn’t think that would hurt?” 

“I didn’t think,” Rhys yelled back at her. Yelling. That wasn’t like him, this wasn’t like him. 

A mirror across the room caught his attention. Pale, the illyrian tan gone, barely a star in his eyes, he could still feel the scratches Amarantha would leave behind on his back. No scars - no he was careful enough not to let that happen, not to let her mark him, but they left invisible wounds. 

Would he be able to look at a female who wasn’t his m- … the thought made him recoil. Instead, you popped into his mind, a beautiful apparition, full of light, joy, and smiles. Sunshine pushing out the darkness.

“I know you’re suffering,” Mor said quietly. 

“Do you?” He snapped. 

She ignored him, “but we … it wasn’t easy here for any of us. We weren’t frolicking in paradise.” 

“I never said that,” 

“I know.” 

Mor rounded the table, and he let her wrap his arms around him, let his head droop. 

“What do I do?” 

It was a rhetorical question, but she answered him anyway. “You go after her.” 

Go after her. It would be easy enough to find you, but what if you wanted to be alone? Didn’t want his presence anymore? 

In his gut he knew it was wrong, that was a way for him to escape dealing with the situation. He’d face it, head on, just like he had the last five decades. 

For once, it was easy to shove the former human female from his mind. Like those books you always read, he began the hunt for you. 

-

It really was a pitiful state he found you in. Drunk and alone at the bar. He saw your spine stiffen as you detected his presence. No matter how well he hid you always knew when he was there. 

You didn’t look at him as he slid onto the stool next to you, a subtle shield of his kept prying ears away.

“Hello darling,” he gazed at the several empty glasses in front of you. Maybe the bartender was making a point to you. 

“I don’t want a mated male, and I don’t want your friendship. I can’t do it.”

Fragmented phrases, like you’d had time to think of what you would theoretically say but not time to put it into words.

It was naive of him to assume he’d be forgiven. In all of the trashy romance novels he’d read over your shoulder, the male protagonist was. He’d frequently thought the females were too quick to forgive.

“Then i’ll have to change your mind,” he purred.  

You scoffed, but he thought he detected a trace of amusement in there. That’s the first step. You didn’t know it, but he already had his in. 

“Rhysa-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off. “Please.” don’t say it like she did. 

“Rhys,” your voice softened and he loved and hated it. “You only feel guilty, this isn’t what you want.” 

“And you’re such an expert in what I want?” He kept his voice light. 

Your throat bobbed, “maybe in the past.” 

The past. 

The line was drawn, set to before and after. Before the mountain and after.  

“I’m not the same,” he said cautiously, “but neither are you.” 

“None of us are,” you tapped your fingers against the marble counter, a sign you were putting your thoughts into words. “Thank you for what you did, for us.” 

He blinked. He hadn’t expected that. No, he figured everyone - at least close to him - would be beyond furious. 

“Oh we’re still angry,” you read the words in his eyes, “you’ll still pay for it, i’m sure, but you kept us safe like no other could.” 

You patted his shoulder gently. “Enough ego stroking for you,” you sighed, glancing around the now emptying bar. “I’m going home.” He tried to help you up but you batted his hands away and stood. 

He watched you tilt sideways, a laugh bubbling from his lips before he caught you. “Careful, love.” 

“Not your love,” your words finally started to slur, endearingly, and negated the sting you’d probably intended. “You want to win me back?” You furrowed your brows, eyes not entirely focused. 

“I do,” he murmured. 

“Get me home first.” 

Rhys wrapped his arms around you, winnowing and stifling a chuckle at the yelp leaving you. 

[readychilledwine]

SJM Villain's Week Masterlist

Your sneak preview of the vibes for @sjmvillainweek **masterlist will be edited as ideas become more and more fleshed out**

Day one:

Til Death Do Us Part - Beron x Reader (angst)

Beron had only known love once, and even that was ripped from him.

What We've Lost and What We've Found - Maeve x g/n reader (angst)

Maeve was willing to give anything for power. Including the thing she loved the most

Day two:

Sleight of Hands - Amarantha x Hybern’s Daughter reader (fluff)

Amarantha had always known the power of delicate, beautiful, and kind females, and she wasn't above using her king's daughter to seal deals.

A Burden To Carry - Beron x Lyria (angsty lore) He had given her everything, loved her through all her ages, just to have one fight tear his whole world down

Day three:

Charms and Spells - Amarantha x reader You were far too happy to be Amarantha's test subject. Perhaps you should have thought differently when you saw the brand new spellbook (dubcon smut - sex pollen)

2 Truths and a Lie - Pollux x Hunt's sister reader - Having Hunt in his dungeon wasn't enough for his former friend. He wanted to hit him where it would hurt the most (dubcon smut)

Day four:

A Throne for a Queen - Maeve x reader (f/f smut w. Exhibitionist/Voyeurism elements) Maeve's gatherings always tend to put her in a special mood, you just had to wait in anticipation to get to experience it.

Price Paid In Gold (part 2 of a debt paid in full) beron x reader smut - After 6 months of serving as Beron's whore, you'd learned his most intimate habits and his softest desires

Day 5:

Bonnie to his Clyde - Arobynn X Reader AU - Life as a mafia wife was far more glamorized than reality made it out to be.

Tales and Fables - After his daughter uses her princess status to cause a small amount of harm, Rowan sits down with her to teach her the story of a female who's beauty and magic was used for evil and not the greater good

Day 6:

The In-between - The life after our own was not what Amarantha had expected it to be, making her question everything she had done as she awaits her judgment.

The Fashion of Fear - Villain Style Headcanons

Day 7:

Life as Beron's Whore Headcanons

Eyes on Me ** Maeve x Reader x Connall

Amaratha x reader x dark!rhysand Voyeurism smut (kink bingo)

Gym Bae headcanons with Pollux and Micah