#feyrhycien fanfiction

[feyrhycien]

mistletoe and frustration

thank u @myfeyrelady for sending me prompts last night 😌 i had very much fun writing this hehe. is fluff!

———

Feyre had not had a good day. Tamlin was setting unattainable deadlines for her pieces and wouldn’t leave her alone all day. She just wanted to come home and cuddle on the couch while eating the takeaway she’d picked up on the way home.

She unlocked the door to her apartment, turned the doorknob, and pushed on the door, only for it to be blocked.

“What the hell?” she muttered, brows furrowed. She tried to peek through the crack in the door to see what was blocking her path, but she couldn’t see anything.

“One minute, darling,” Rhys said, his voice coming from above her head. “I’m just hanging something up.” Feyre rolled her eyes. Rhys had always been far more into the holidays than she was. He’d started decorating for Solstice last week… and it was November.

She shoved against the door again, hearing what she realised was a ladder scuffing against the hardwood. Rhys swore and a moment later he was climbing down the ladder.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Rhys said when he opened the door fully. Feyre huffed and attempted to push past him, but he stood in her way and placed his hands on her hips. “Hey, wait, look up.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes again, Feyre looked up and saw mistletoe hanging at the top of the doorway. She pursed her lips and met Rhys’s eyes with a raised brow.

He grinned and pulled her closer, one hand coming up to caress her cheek gently. The gesture had her melting almost as much as when he pressed his lips to hers a moment later. Her body curved against his as his other hand slid around to rest in the dip of her lower back.

Rhys pressed their foreheads together after a few moments and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Lucien’s been on the couch drinking eggnog while I’ve been slaving away at this mistletoe,” he said with a bit of a pout.

“Has he now?” Feyre said, pecking Rhys’s lips again before pulling away. She slipped off her shoes, relieved to be taking them off. He took the takeaway bag from her hand and headed towards the kitchen as she started towards the living room.

She smiled at the sight of Lucien on the couch with his hair hanging freely and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing some of his warm brown chest. A wine glass half full of eggnog sat on the glass coffee table.

Lucien was already watching her when she entered the room, his eyes flicking over her body. It was both because he knew she’d been stressed that day and he was worried about her and because he liked the way she looked in her work clothes. She knew this because it had always been that way with him.

He stood from the couch and pulled her into a firm yet comforting kiss, his hand cradling the back of her head. Every second longer she was home, she felt herself relaxing.

Lucien pulled back after a few moments and slid his hands up and down her arms. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Better now,” Feyre said, setting her bag down on the coffee table without looking. She had no desire to leave Lucien’s embrace. The smile that appeared on his face was nothing short of wicked.

“Oi!” Rhys shouted from the kitchen. “You two better not do anything without me! I’m serving your dinner right now!”

Feyre and Lucien snickered and Lucien tugged Feyre towards the kitchen. There was another mistletoe in the doorway, which Lucien must have planned for because he stopped abruptly and pulled Feyre flush against him, their lips meeting as he did so.

Feyre huffed a laugh into his mouth and tangled her fingers in his hair. His tongue parted her lips as he deepened the kiss.

“Cauldron boil me,” Rhys muttered before saying, louder, “That’s just not fair. The mistletoe was my idea and my doing. You two don’t even care about the holidays!”

“He’s cute when he pretends he’s mad,” Feyre whispered against Lucien’s lips. Lucien hummed and pressed her up against the doorframe. She gasped slightly and heard a fork clatter to the ground. Lucien hiked one of her legs up and pressed closer as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

Feyre opened her eyes and found Rhys leaning lazily against one of the kitchen counter. They smiled at each other—slow, lazy smiles, but ones full of love.

Lucien pressed his lips to Feyre’s ear a few moments later. “That’s probably enough for now, hm?” Feyre nodded and hummed affirmatively despite part of her wanting him to carry her to bed and have him and Rhys make love to her for the rest of the night. Later.

Lucien lowered her leg to the ground and slipped away from her. “Good evening, Mr. Spera,” he said as he walked over to Rhys and pecked his cheek. Rhys pinched him and kissed his forehead and that was the end of that.

———

@nalgenewhore @city-of-fae @howtotameyourillyrian @ladyhavilliard @hellas-himself @illyrianbeauty

[moononastring]

Barbie & Her Two Kens

Prompt: Feyre being a needy drunk.

Pairing: Rhys x Feyre x Lucien (Feyrhycien) - Modern AU Genre: Just a bunch of fluff. Rating: SFW

Author’s note: My wife @howtotameyourillyrian encouraged me, insisting that we needed more Feyrhycien.

Feyre blinked.

She lifted her head briefly to glance at the two beautiful men sharing the bed with her.  Both leaning against the headboard with their legs crossed, Rhys reading a book, Lucien working on a crossword puzzle. It was peacefully silent.

But Feyre was bored. And a little drunk.

Her feet were propped against the headboard, her head next to their feet and she had been trying to annoy both of them in any way she could for the past ten minutes.

“Why is the sky blue?” she asked, spreading her legs so that they knocked into each of her boyfriends’ heads but they ignored her.

“Do you want the scientific answer or the one we all heard as children?” Lucien asked, eyes still on his crossword. Feyre brought a foot close to his cheek and poked his face with her toe.

“The Lucien answer.”

“I love you, Feyre but if you touch my face with your toe again, I’ll bite.”

“She likes it when you bite her, that’s not a threat.” Rhys said with a snort, putting his book down and watched as Feyre giggled then switched her body so that her head was now in Rhys’ lap and feet settled on Lucien’s.

“If you had to wear one superhero suit for the rest of your life, which would it be?” she asked as she blinked up at Rhys.

“Batman suit.” Rhys replied immediately.

“Suits your color palette.” Lucien said with a snort. “I’d go for Iron Man.”

“But then both of your faces would be covered. I don’t want your beautiful faces covered.”

“We’ll lift the masks for you, darling.” Rhys confirmed, picking up his book again. “What would you wear?”

“Superwoman. She has a cape.”

“DC freaks. Marvel is better.” Lucien mumbled and Feyre narrowed her eyes at him, then poked his crossword with her foot.

“You’re the freak. A freak in the sheets.”

He finally looked up at her with a quirked brow. “Is that a complaint?”

“No.” she said with a childish grin then giggled when he rolled his eyes, going back to his crossword puzzle. She frowned then used one hand to knock into Rhys’ book and one foot to knock into Lucien’s puzzle. Both men lifted their respective material higher.

“Do you want us to pay attention to you, darling?” Rhys asked, eyes still on his book but a smirk blooming on his lips.

Feyre pouted playfully then nodded, sitting up and crossing her legs. “I have two hot guys in my bed and both are doing things that aren’t me.”

Her two men exchanged glances then grinned.

“Aw Fey, you want us to do you?” Lucien teased.

“Yes.”

“What if we started kissing each other?” Rhys asked, pointing between himself and Lucien.

“It’ll be like having my own two Ken dolls and letting them make out.” she said, then yanked the two by the front of their sleeping shirts closer to her. “Kiss, kiss, smooch, smooch.”

Rhys made a noise of protest. “We are much more handsome than Ken dolls.”

“Agreed. Ken doesn’t even have a penis. I’m happy to say we can all confirm that Rhys and I have those.”

“So fancy Ken dolls, then? Special editions with penises?” Feyre asked with a grin.

‘Special editions with special penises.” Rhys confirmed with a nod and Feyre laughed.

“Wow, I’m one lucky Barbie then. I have two of those.”

“So are we going to kiss, kiss and smooch, smooch or just keep leaning uncomfortably close like this?” Lucien asked with a raised brow. “I have a crossword puzzle to finish.”

“I’m also getting to the good part of my book. Lean closer, Lucien.”

“You’re both leaning close to my boobs and that is the response I get?”

Lucien’s eyes dipped to said boobs, Rhys’ gaze following and she rolled her eyes before shoving them both back and flopping on her back dramatically.

“I’m dating two old people. Grandads.” she muttered. “You’re both grandads.”

“Handsome granddads.” Rhys confirmed with a laugh and Lucien chuckled.

“For grandads, we are pretty hot so you really are lucky.”

Feyre pouted then kicked her feet childishly. “Two Ken dolls that aren’t smooching each other and won’t smooch me. I want a refund.”

Lucien smirked as he met Rhys’ gaze. “Someone is needy tonight.”

“I am.” she agreed.

“Very clingy.” Rhys added and Feyre nodded and held a hand up.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Come here, love.” Lucien said, putting his crossword and pencil down and Feyre leaned forward with a smile then frowned immediately as Lucien palmed her face. “Not you, I was talking to the hot guy next to you.”

“Hey!”

Feyre made a noise of protest though her expression was amused as she watched Lucien and Rhys share a kiss that had her entire body heating up.

“You were saying?” Rhys asked with a cheeky grin, resting back against the headboard.

Feyre pouted and crossed her arms. “I’m slightly offended.”

“You said you wanted us to kiss, kiss and smooch, smooch.” Lucien pointed out.

“Yeah, but I wanted myself to be included in that equation.” she said with a snort and both Rhys and Lucien laughed.

“Fine, come here then, you.” Lucien said with a grin and Feyre scrambled over to him. He cupped her cheeks, leaning in to kiss her furiously. A delighted squeal came through the kiss as she tugged on his hair, pulling her into him. He hummed in content when she pulled away giggling then lightly poked her head so she’d fall backwards and he gestured to Rhys with his chin. “All yours, handsome.”

Rhys’ face hovered over hers and Feyre grinned then pulled him down so that their lips met. It was an upside down kiss that would’ve put Peter Parker to shame as an airy moan escaped their lips, Feyre’s chest arching up and Rhys chuckled when she whined as he pulled away.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this, darling.” he said, and pecked her lips once more. “Now, find something to do.”

“I want to do you both.”

“Later.” Lucien muttered, his eyes and hands now occupied with his crossword puzzle again.

“Old farts.” she mumbled with playful scowl.

“Yup.” Rhys agreed, patting his lap with one hand, holding his book with the other and Feyre immediately rested her head there and let her feet rest in Lucien’s lap.

“Indeed.” Lucien concurred, resting his puzzle on her legs to free one hand to massage her foot gently.

And as Rhys’ hand stroked her head and Lucien’s massaged her foot, she couldn’t imagine a life better than this. Where she had not one, but two loves of her life.  

Tagging feyrhycien people based on my last feyrhycien piece haha: @illyrianrhys | @highlordkaz | @rowaelinsmut | @sassyreads | @fleet-foot-trash | @urbisie | @rhyciensmut

[iambutmortal]

Darling, I'm a Daydream Dressed Like a Nightmare

Summary: When Lucien goes to the Night Court to update Feyre and Rhys the Spring Court, they would like to thank Lucien for his services in the naughtiest way possible.

Written for @sjmkinkmeme​ and also a massive thank you to @separatist-apologist​ for beta reading

Pairing: Feyre Archeron x Rhysand x Lucien Vanserra

Word Count: 4k

Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Explicit Cheating

Read on AO3

Lucien hated the Court of Nightmares.

Rhysand’s underground court made his skin crawl, reminded him far too much of Amarantha. How Rhys could stand it after being trapped for fifty years, Lucien didn’t know. He was surprised Feyre hadn’t ordered it demolished, if only as a favor to her mate.

Still, when the High Lord and Lady of the Night court summoned him there to give his monthly report on Spring, he had no option other than to show up, not while they offered him the only employment he was likely to find.

The doors to the throne room swung open as he approached, and he strode into the cavernous space. His golden eye clicked as he took in the stone walls, the carved beasts and low, flickering light. Mercifully, Rhys and Feyre were alone, none of the other members of their court of dreams hanging around, judging him for his every move.

The smell of sweat and desire hung heavy in the air. Rhysand had no doubt been having one of his famous parties, although those had been notably tamer since Feyre came into the picture. It was hard to host an orgy to rival Helion’s when you had a mate and baby at home.

Feyre and Rhys were still dressed for her monstrous court, scraps of see through back fabric showing off most of Feyre’s lightly freckled skin as she lounged in her mate’s throne. Rhys perched on the arm, his wings nowhere in sight while her own seat remained empty.

“Thank you for meeting us here,” Feyre said once Lucien stopped at the bottom of the dais, her blue eyes keen as her gaze roamed over him. Lucien felt himself stand up a hair straighter as she took in his polished boots, the simple tunic opened nearly to his navel. His hair hung loose around his face, an easier style than tying it back.

Lucien sketched a quick bow, raising one brow in mock difference. “Whatever my High Lady requests.”

Feyre snorted.

Rhys cleared his throat and Lucien straightened. “Your report?” he asked.

“Spring is unchanged. Tamlin remains largely absent, even as his lords work to rebuild. I have concern about Autumn trying to encroach—”

Feyre held up a tattooed finger to stop him. “You’re too far away,” she pouted. She seemed to spread her legs wider, something Lucien would have hardly noticed had that single bolt of fabric not fallen between her thighs, showing off more of that creamy expanse of skin.

Lucien averted his eyes, turning to Rhys, who only smirked.

“Come closer,” Feyre ordered, and Lucien forced down the lump forming in his throat. Hesitantly, he took a step up onto the dais. 

“Closer,” Rhys said. There wasn’t much more closer Lucien could get, but he took another half step forward until he was practically standing between Feyre’s parted thighs.

“Beron seems to be sending patrols closer to the border than he has in the past,” Lucien said, continuing. Feyre extended one bare leg, wrapped it around the back of his thighs, and tugged. Lucien’s mind went blank as he stumbled forward, bracing himself against the arms of the throne to stop himself from falling into her lap.

“You work too hard,” Feyre purred, running one finger down the front of Lucien’s shirt.

Lucien quickly righted himself. “I can prepare a written report if you prefer.”

“We don’t prefer,” Rhys said. Perched on the chair arm, he was only slightly shorter than Lucien, which made it easy for him to lean forward and lick a stripe up his neck.

Lucien’s body went hot, simultaneously tensing and going loose all at once.

“We do however think you deserve thanks,” Feyre added, undoing one of his few remaining tunic buttons.

Hastily, Lucien stepped back. “I think a bottle of your good wine would more than suffice.”

Feyre hummed, looking up at him before reaching out a hand and grabbing the bulge in the front of his pants. Lucien had been so distracted he hadn’t realized he was already half hard, and, now that Feyre was touching him, was rapidly growing harder.

Lucien looked away, staring at a spot on the back wall. “I’m a mated male, I don’t want—”

“You haven’t accepted the mating bond,” Feyre countered, scraping the nails of one hand lightly along the front of his thighs while her other continued to stroke him through his pants. “And Elain doesn’t want you.”

Lucien flinched. He knew, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Elain had no interest in him, actively avoided him. He was keeping himself chaste for her, remaining loyal despite having no proof she expected it. Or even if she bothered to do the same for him. He doubted it.

“We want you, though,” Rhys said, moving from where he’d been watching to stand behind Lucien, running a hand under his tunic and up his chest.

Indecision, and deep shame, flickered through Lucien. He should value that mating bond more. Still, it had been so long since anyone had genuinely wanted him for more than what he could offer them—

Rhys seemed to sense his wavering, was probably poking around in his mind to make him compliant. His hand on Lucien’s chest pushed, shoving him into the open throne.

“We would take care of you,” Feyre added, rising gracefully out of her own seat to stand next to Rhys. They stared down at him with twin predatory gazes.

Lucien swallowed thickly. “I don’t want this.”

“You don’t want this, or you shouldn’t want this,” Rhys asked, his voice teasing.

Feyre stepped forward, climbing into his lap so her legs straddled his hips. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious,” she whispered into his ear, her lips brushing the delicate skin. “Haven’t wondered what it would be like.”

Lucien shivered slightly. He would be lying to himself if he said he’d never thought about it, early when Feyre first came to Prythian. She’d been so fierce, even when she was nothing more than skin and bones and scared out of her mind. But then she’d belonged to Tamlin, and now Rhysand, and Lucien had quickly banished auy thought of it. A part of him privately mused if it was because she looked like Elain, if there was some magic driving him towards the Archerons.

“Thankfully, little Lucien only has to be curious about what one of us is like in bed,” Rhys purred. He stood back, content to let Feyre take control.

“That was a long time ago,” Lucien ground out, as Feyre reached down to fully unbutton his shirt. He hated how turned on he was at the sight, how hard his aching cock was.

Maybe it had been too long.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Rhys teased. “I thought our nights together were special.”

“I was young,” Lucien said defensively.

“Want to see how I’ve improved? Although I don’t remember you ever complaining,” Rhys purred.

Feyre had made it down to his pants, was slowly undoing the laces that were barely containing his cock.

“I would rather not be ripped apart for touching another male’s mate.” It was a last ditch effort, and all three of them knew it. If Rhys wasn’t upset by Feyre draped over his lap, there was little else Lucien could do to provoke him.

“Rhys doesn’t mind sharing,” Feyre said, undoing that final tie. Lucien’s manhood sprung free, long and proud, already weeping slightly at the tip.

Feyre’s eyes went wide at the sight, even as she slipped from his lap and onto her knees.

“Not as little as Rhysand likes to make it out to be?” Lucien asked.

Feyre didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to run her tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” Lucien breathed, arching out of the seat slightly.

Feyre smiled up at him. “Still don’t want this?” Lucien didn’t answer, and Feyre wrapped her lips around the very tip of his head, sucking lightly.

She’d barely touched him, and Lucien was already far too close. His hand paled in comparison to the feeling another body, could never elicit the same feeling.

“Elain never hears of this,” Lucien ordered.

Feyre’s smile was pure wickedness as she winnowed them out of the throne room.

They landed somewhere warm, so at odds with the ever present chill of the Court of Nightmares. 

Lucien was perched on the edge of the most comfortable bed he’d ever felt, a slight breeze blowing through the open arched windows. From the mountains outside, Lucien guessed they were somewhere above the Court of Nightmares, probably in Rhys’ private residences. His people could rot in the darkness, but he was too good for that, needed the open air.

Feyre’s hands were back on him, tugging his pants down his legs and throwing them off into a corner somewhere, her mouth returning to his cock.

Rhys sat behind them on the bed. He ran his hands up Lucien’s chest, divesting him of his open tunic while Feyre continued her ministrations.

“Feyre darling,” Rhys said, “don’t you think Lucien should lie down, since he works so hard.”

Releasing him with a pop, Feyre grinned up at her mate. “I think he’s earned the rest.”

Rhysand pressed lightly on Lucien's shoulder, laying him down on the bed.

Ferye slid onto Lucien’s lap, head between his parted thighs. She ran her tongue along his slit, collecting the drop of precum on his tip.

“Now, now, Feyre,” Lucien said, rising onto his elbows to watch. “You’re not going to tease me, are you?”

“What would you do about it,” Feyre asked, toying with his balls but leaving his shaft untouched.

Instead of answering, Lucien reached out, wrapping Feyre’s long hair around the palm of his hand, tugging lightly. Her lips parted in surprise, and Lucien took the opportunity to shove his cock into her mouth.

Feyre gagged as he hit the back of her throat, her hand reaching out to brace herself against his thigh. Lucien groaned at the feeling, sitting up and burying his other hand in her hair and using his grip to bob her head.

Saliva dripped down Feyre’s chin as Lucien fucked her face. From somewhere above him, Rhys growled. “I believe Feyre darling wanted to be worshiped.”

Lucien glanced behind him to see Rhys watching them intently, his body tense. 

“Feyre, tell your mate this is what you want,” Lucien said, pressing deeper into her throat until her nose brushed against his lower stomach. Feyre gagged, unable to speak with him occupying her mouth. “Feyre,” he taunted. “You asked for this, didn’t you?”

He loosened his grip on her hair just enough for her to nod her head. Rhys relaxed slightly, his hand drifting down to the ties of his own pants.

Lucien tightened his grasp again, keeping Feyre’s head steady as he pulled out to the tip before thrusting back in. Feyre screamed against him and Lucien gave a dark laugh. “Poor Feyre, you thought I was going to worship you?” Another thrust. “That’s for good girls.” Another. “Not sluts who let their mates watch them get another male off.”

Feyre moaned, the sound muffled.

Lucien felt the rough slide of fabric along his back as Rhys came up behind him. “We serve at the Lady’s will,” Rhys snarled.

Lucien looked down at Feyre, spread out on his thighs, grinding slightly against the mattress in search of any kind of freedom. He felt release growing closer, his balls tightening at the sight.

“Then what does the Lady want?”

Blue eyes met his, and Feyre sucked, hollowing her cheeks as she took him impossibly deeper. Rhys reached around Lucien, rubbing his testicles with one hand.

The twin sensation sent him over the edge and Lucien came with a groan. Cum spurted into Feyre’s mouth, and she swallowed it dutifully. Some spilled from her swollen lips, dripping down onto Lucien’s thighs.

“Clean that up,” Lucien ordered, releasing Feyre’s head and running one hand down her exposed spine, the sun and moon inked there.

“Make me,” Feyre said.

Lucien hummed, fully willing to drape her across his lap and spank her for her behavior. She was saved by Rhys, who reached out to lift her off him, plopping her on the bed before taking her place. He looked flushed, his cock erect between the laces of his pants.

“Your mate sucks good cock,” Lucien said appreciatively.

“I know,” Rhys said, smirk firmly in place as he leaned down to lick the cum off Lucien’s thighs, biting softly at the skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucien could see Feyre watching them intensely.

“Something to say, Feyre?”

“Did you truly lie together…before?”

“Five hundred years is a long time to know someone,” Lucien said. “You should ask Rhys what he and his brothers got up to in their youth.”

Rhys lifted his head. “Why talk when we could demonstrate for Feyre darling?”

Feyre made a small whimper and Lucien grinned. He guided Rhys up his body until they were level. Blue eyes met his and Rhys’ brow quirked, daring him to go first.

Lucien took it as a challenge, surging forward to meet his lips in a clash of tongues and teeth. It brought Lucien back to his youth, when they’d both merely been Lord’s sons, messy and inexperienced, eager for release in any way possible.

Rhys’ cock brushed against the skin of Lucien’s stomach, and Lucien reached down to wrap a hand around it. He stroked it slowly, enough to excite but nowhere near enough pressure to bring Rhys anywhere close to climax.

He could hear Feyre whining in the distance, and broke the kiss long enough for them both to look at her. Her legs were parted, a finger running through her slick folds as she watched.

Rhys chuckled. “I promised Feyre there would be two males lavishing attention on her. I don’t think she’s quite getting what she wanted.”

Lucien let go of Rhys’ cock with a sigh. “I didn’t become Spring’s emissary without knowing how to please the people in power.” He cocked his head. “Although it’s hard to do that when you’re both wearing so much clothing.”

Rhys snapped his fingers and his and Feyre’s clothes disappeared.

“Show off,” Lucien muttered, sliding back against the headboard to make room for Feyre to climb between them.

She crawled over, facing Rhys. He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, and Lucien wrapped his hands around her hips, tugging them towards him. Feyre fell onto her hands and knees, ass in the air.

“Poor Feyre,” Lucien said, dragging a finger through her folds, gleaming with her arousal. “You’re practically dripping.”

“Are you going to do something about that, or just tease?” Feyre asked. 

Lucien’s answering spank sent her lurching forward. “If you want to talk, I can put your mouth to good use.”

Feyre turned back to glare at him, but remained silent.

Lucien palmed her ass, admiring the red print his hand had left. He leaned over her, his chest against her back. “I think Rhys should kiss and make it better,” Lucien whispered into her ear conspiratorially.

Feyre shivered slightly, nodding. Lucien sat back up, pulling Feyre with him until. She spread her legs, exposing her pretty, pink pussy to Rhys, who stared down at it in wonder.

“Lick it,” Lucien ordered.

Rhys didn’t need further prompting, falling forward to bury his face in Feyre’s cunt. She moaned, her head falling back to rest in the cradle where Lucien’s neck met his shoulder.

Lucien wrapped an arm around her body, palming her breasts while Rhys lavished attention on her clit. Feyre whimpered, her hands going to Rhys’ hair to hold him against her. 

“I want you to fuck me,” she declared when Lucien flicked his thumb across her nipple.

“Eager, are you?” Lucien asked, returning his hand to the slick pooling in Feyre’s core.

“Please, Lucien.”

He responded by inserting a single finger into her cunt. She clenched around it, desperate for any relief.

“Are you sure you want me in your pretty pussy?” Lucien asked. “After all, it might be hard to explain a little redhead baby running around. What would you tell your family?”

If possible, Feyre seemed to grow wetter at that, her hips grinding against his hand even as Rhys growled low in the back of his throat.

Lucien pulled his finger, swirling it around her puckered hole and spreading that slickness. “I think it would be much better for me to fuck you here.”

Without waiting for a response, Lucien shoved his finger in her ass. Feyre tightened around him, before slowly relaxing as Rhys doubled his efforts on her clit. Lucien dragged his cock through her folds, wetting it as he worked a second finger in.

Feyre was panting, her head still resting against him. “Lucien,” she snapped, clearly frustrated with his slow touches, “fuck me.”

Always one to please his partners in bed, Lucien removed his fingers and lined his slick cock up with the entrance of that hole.

Feyre gasped when he pressed the tip in, so obviously unused to being penetrated there. 

“Relax,” Lucien whispered, hands returning to her breasts, those erect nipples. She did, leaning against him and letting more of his cock in.

“You got a good one, Rhys,” Lucien said. He was going out of his mind, Feyre holding him in a viselike grip.

Rhys paused his ministrations long enough to smirk up at Lucien from between Feyre’s parted thighs. “I know.”

Feyre laughed, body going even looser.

“Is this what you dreamed about?” Lucien asked, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. “Did you touch yourself while thinking about this, my cock in your ass with your mate on his knees?

“Shut up,” Feyre whined, rolling her hips in time with his, “and fuck me.”

Lucien responded with a particularly sharp snap of his hips. Rhys matched him, sucking hard on Feyre’s clit. Lucien felt her body tense, growing closer to climax and Lucien had to clench his ass to keep from coming.

“Are you going to come for us?” Lucien asked. “Show your mate how well you take my cock?”

Feyre let out a strangled cry as she broke, holding his cock impossibly tight. It sent Lucien over the edge, had him coming in her. He rode them both through it, Rhys licking up any of the cum that spilled out.

Lucien collapsed against the headboard when they were done, pulling Feyre down on top of him.

“For someone who didn’t want to do this, you’re awfully bossy,” Feyre said.

Lucien chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Then tell me, how may I best serve you, Lady?”

Feyre looked at Rhys, sitting opposite them, his cock still erect. “I think it’s only fair Rhys gets to come too,” she answered, crawling off him and onto Rhys. “Since he’s been so patient.” Lucien watched as she slid onto his cock, admiring the way her slick folds parted to allow him to enter. Feyre rode him, the muscles along her ass and thighs fully on display. Rhys sucked kisses along her breasts, no doubt leaving marks that would make it clear to all of them who Feyre belonged to at the end of the night.

Lucien’s dick was already hard, and he lightly stroked it in time with them.

Rhys and Feyre were both panting when she paused, muscles shaking as she hovered over Rhys, the head of this cock just barely buried in her wet cunt. 

“We brought you here for a reason, and it’s not to watch.”

“Oh?” Lucien asked.

Feyre sunk down on Rhys’ cock. “I was told you fucked like you had fire in your blood.”

“I’m sorry my previous efforts didn’t live up to those claims,” Lucien said, sliding up behind Feyre anyway. “What can I do to please my High Lady?”

“I want you in me,” Feyre breathed. “Both of you.”

Lucien made eye contact with Rhys over her shoulder, who stilled his hips. Lucien slid into Feyre and she gasped at the fullness, the feeling of two cocks in her, only separated by that thin wall of skin. They gave her a second to adjust and then Lucien pulled out at the same time Rhys surged forward, giving Feyre no relief from the onslaught.

She was a mess between them, rolling her hips without rhythm as she alternated between craving more and seeking respite.

Feyre gasped as Lucien tilted his hips to hit a new angle. “Fuck, Elain was wasted on you.”

The mention of his mate spurred him on, driving him impossibly deeper into her. Feyre’s cries were hoarse, broken things as both males slammed into her, and she broke around him.

Lucien kept rutting into her, Rhys matching his effort. Feyre came again, one orgasm bleeding into the next. Her tightening walls had Lucien seeing stars, and he spilled into her at the same time as Rhys, their fluids mixing.

Feyre collapsed on top of Rhys, Lucien lying on his side next to them, the three spent. Cum slowly leaked out of Feyre, marking what they’d just done.

“Should I clean you up?” Lucien asked.

Feyre shivered in Rhys arms. “No more,” she begged.

“Had enough of the fire in my veins?” Lucien asked, rising from the bed.

Rhys quirked a brow. “For tonight. It has been a while since I’ve felt that flame.”

“Then you’ll have to ask me to deliver a report more often.” Lucien gave them both a bow before winnowing out of the Court of Nightmares.

Elain cradle Nyx in her arms, rocking the baby back and forth as she headed towards Feyre and Rhys’ room. She’d agreed to watch him for the night while his parents held court. She didn’t mind being left out, hated the leers that seemed to follow her wherever she went to the Court of Nightmare, its members sizing her up, wondering what advantage Feyre Cursebreaker’s sister could offer them, how she fit into the Night Court.

Yet it was one more reminder that she didn’t fit in among Feyre’s friends. They all seemed genuinely excited every time they had to go down there, no matter how much they tried to hide it, while all Elain felt was dread.

Nyx cooed as they got closer to the door, picking up the scent of his parents. Elain wrinkled her nose at the stench of sex. She could live without the constant reminder of how vigorous both her sister’s sex lives were.

When she picked up another smell, she froze. It was the one that haunted her in her dreams, inevitably led to her waking up with her panties soaked. Lucien, but deeper somehow, muskier. The scent of his arousal. But entwined with her sister and Rhys’. 

Elain chewed her bottom lip as she inched closer to the door, senses straining. She could make out muffled voices behind the it, but none of them contained the timber of Lucien’s, the tone never failing to send shivers up her spine.

She knew it was wrong to hug Nyx closer to her chest and press her ear against the door, but she couldn’t help herself. And really, it was their fault for forgetting to put up a ward.

“It’s nice to know that your recommendation of Lucien’s skill wasn’t exaggerated,” Feyre said.

Rhys’ reply was too soft to make out, not that Elain would’ve been able to hear it over the roaring in her ears. Her stomach felt tight, even as warmth pooled in her core against her will.

It was just the smell of her mate’s arousal, she rationalized, her body being driven by some instinct. It had nothing to do with the idea of her mate being pleasured, even as her mind conjured images of his face screwed up in ecstasy, of what could lie underneath those carefully tailored pants.

Or how he could pleasure her, if Feyre was to be believed.

She should knock on the door, should confront them. But Elain just hoisted Nyx against her shoulder and moved back down the hall, towards her own room where she could take care of her own needs in private.

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} Locked Up

Rating:  G (no warnings) Relationship:  Feyre/Rhysand/Lucien (Feyrhycien) Word Count:  1,983

Here on AO3.

Summary:  

In which Rhys steals things, Tamlin's a dick, and Feyre and Lucien make out. Complete self-indulgent fluff.

__________________

“Rhysand, I am going to kill you,” Lucien hissed into the phone receiver.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” Rhys said, not sounding very sorry at all. “Listen, I’ll pay your bail as soon as I can. Relax. Everything will be fine. I got this.”

“You’d better. You hear me, Rhys? You’d better get me the fuck out of –” Lucien swore violently as the phone went dead. “Fine!” he snapped at it, knowing Rhys couldn’t hear him anymore. “Be an asshole! Let me rot in here! See if I care!” And he slammed the receiver back into its cradle.

Stupid old-fashioned phone. Stupid hick jail. Stupid boyfriend who didn’t bother to let him know his fancy car was stolen.

“Done in there?” It was the sheriff – his name badge said Tom Lint – watching Lucien’s every move. Even more hick than this hick town, with his blond hair and his belligerent attitude and his blustering, as if he’d punch Lucien’s lights out if he set so much as a toe out of line.

“Guess so,” Lucien snarled, storming past the sheriff and into the holding cell himself. In retaliation, the sheriff slammed the door so hard that Lucien fell backwards. Then Sheriff Lint stalked off in a huff.

“Whoa. Careful, there.” Lucien yelped as someone caught him before he could hit the concrete floor and set him on his feet.

“And who are you?” he sniped, brushing dust off his sleeves.

“The name’s Feyre.” Lucien turned around to face a young woman with a spattering of freckles, brown hair coming free from a braid, and a frown. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. “And you might say thanks.”

Lucien gave a grunt that might be interpreted as such, and sat down against a wall. “Lucien. What’re you in here for?”

“Petty theft.” Feyre sat down on the edge of one of the cots stuck haphazardly into the cell and gnawed on one of her thumbnails. “Cops caught me red-handed. You?”

“Implicated in car theft,” Lucien said, another stab of frustration shooting through him at the thought. “Because my idiot boyfriend thought it was a good idea to give me a stolen car. God. I could kill him right now.”

“I need to get me a boyfriend like that.” Feyre snickered. “He gave you an entire car?”

“A stolen one,” Lucien reiterates. “A fact about said car I was not aware of until I was pulled over in this hick town and arrested for possession of stolen property.”

“Was it a nice car?”

“Fancy. Went really fast. Rhys spray-painted a silhouette of a naked woman on the back bumper. I was taking it out for a joyride down the coast.”

“He sounds like a real charmer. Bet you could turn him in and they’d let you go.” Feyre spat the offending fingernail onto the floor and laid back on the cot.

Lucien snorted. “Not only do I not want to turn my boyfriend in, you think that asshole who threw me in here would just let me go?”

“Huh?”

Lucien held one of his deeply brown hands in front of Feyre’s face and wiggled the fingers.

“Oh, yeah.” Feyre let out a gusty sigh. “I’d still rather be in your shoes. This is the third time I’ve been arrested. Don’t think I’m getting off on a few hours of community service this time.”

“You’ve been caught stealing shit three times? You’d think you’d have learned.”

“Fuck off,” Feyre snapped. “Some of us don’t have rich boyfriends to give us Lamborghinis. Some of us are trying not to starve.”

Lucien fell silent. “Sorry,” he said at length. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I have people to support. They probably think I’m dead. Not that they’d care.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure that’s not true,” Lucien protested.

“Trust me. It is.”

“And you don’t have a boyfriend coming to pick you up, a pretty girl like you?” Lucien persisted. He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to make her feel better or make her punch him. Either one sounded appealing right at the moment.

“Just the sheriff, who’s been hitting on me nonstop since he tossed me in here,” Feyre said with a grimace. “Kinda glad he arrested you too. Now if he tries it again I can shove you at him instead.”

“Who, Pocket Lint?” Lucien grinned. “I can flirt with him, if you want. Make him as uncomfortable as he’s making you.”

“Seems a little like playing with fire.”

“Hey, I’m already in the frying pan,” Lucien said. “Besides, if he touches me, Rhys will kill him.”

“Who is this boyfriend of yours?”

“Pretty sure he’s a mob boss. Never actually asked outright,” Lucien admitted. “But he once literally shot someone for hurting me.” He pointed at the scar over his eye. “So, like, I’ve always assumed it’s something like that, what with the stolen cars and the briefcases of cash and the shotguns.”

Feyre whistled. “You live a wild life.”

“Sounds like you could use a bit more of that,” Lucien said casually. “When we get out of here, want to come with?”

Feyre’s face turned a blotchy red. “I can’t. My – family. There’s nobody to take care of them but me.”

“I bet Rhys could help with that. He’s loaded. If you really wanted to go to NYC. You could live with me. I have a penthouse on 5th Avenue.” Lucien’s eyes swept over her in a quick motion. The blotchy blush of hers was actually pretty cute.

“Overlooking Central Park?” Feyre said, her defensiveness melting a little.

Lucien grinned, then joined her on the cot. “The very same. Rhys pays for it – I would never be able to afford something like that on a secretary’s salary. Gave me these, too.” He hooked his long, kinky hair behind his ears to display diamond studs. “Don’t tell Pocket Lint, but they’re probably stolen as well. Rhys loves giving stupidly ridiculous gifts. I hate it.” Well, he didn’t really hate it. Only occasionally, when the gift was a little too overtly sexual or a little too illegal. “I’m going to have to have a talk with him about not giving me stolen shit. I don’t want this to happen again. Though,” he added, as if an afterthought, “I met you. So it’s not all bad.” And he gave her the smirk that always made Rhys melt into a puddle.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Feyre said, suddenly all stony stares and prickles once again.

“No,” Lucien hurried to say. “Of course not. That would be –”

“Too bad,” she interrupted. “’Cause it’s working.”

Lucien blinked. “Really?”

She grinned. “Really. Though I have to wonder what your boyfriend would say about it.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Lucien said, imagining Rhys’s face when he met Feyre. He couldn’t decide whether it would be more satisfying if Rhys fell head-over-heels for the girl or if he was utterly shocked and slightly annoyed with Lucien. Either way, he wouldn’t be mad. And Rhys deserved to be a bit annoyed, after this fiasco. Maybe that would make him think twice next time about accidentally getting Lucien arrested.

Feyre made a thoughtful sound. “You know what I bet would annoy Sheriff Pocket Lint even more than you hitting on him?”

“What?”

“Him coming in here to find us making out.”

Lucien’s expression blossomed into a smile. “I like you, Feyre,” he pronounced. “Would you like to kiss me?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask.” And then Feyre’s hands were tangled in his hair, her lips on his, hot and seeking. Lucien had the passing thought that perhaps she hadn’t been kissed in a while, because she was drinking in his lips like they were water and she was dying of thirst.

“Hey – hey! Break it up in there!”

Lucien grinned in delight against Feyre’s mouth. Sure enough, there was the sheriff, right on cue. Feyre ignored his order, instead throwing one leg over Lucien’s so she could sit in his lap and kiss him more thoroughly.

Lucien could hear the sheriff swearing, then, suddenly his footsteps receding. But he dismissed that little detail as unimportant compared to the fact that Feyre had just taken it into her head to start tugging on his hair, and that felt really good.

“Lucien Kelly,” a slow voice drawled. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Lucien jumped, pulled away from Feyre’s impatient mouth. “Rhys!” he said gladly. “Finally! Where have you been?”

Rhys examined his fingernails. “Bribing people, mostly. Driving. You’re lucky I was in the same state.”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to pin this on me. This one’s your fault,” Lucien said immediately. “Also, do I get my car back?”

“I fear I’ll have to get you another. One that’s perhaps slightly less stolen.” Rhys’s expression finally melted into the affectionate smile Lucien knows so well. “Who’s your friend?”

“Ah. Um, Rhys, this is Feyre. Feyre, this is Rhys, my boyfriend.”

Feyre swung herself off of Lucien’s lap and shook Rhys’s hand through the bars of the holding cell. “Pleasure to meet you. Hope you don’t mind me making out with your boyfriend.”

“Not at all,” Rhys said with an elegant flip of his hand. “You coming with?”

Feyre hesitated, glanced back at Lucien. “Well, Lucien did invite me. But my family, I can’t –”

“I can take care of it,” Rhys interrupted. “I owe little Lucien for getting him locked up.”

Lucien gestured encouragingly at Feyre, who finally turned back to Rhys. After another moment or two of looking conflicted, she nodded slowly. “I think… I’d like that. Does he really have a penthouse on 5th Avenue?”

“Overlooking Central Park,” Rhys assured her, with a twinkle in his eye that Lucien knew meant this girl had charmed him already. “If you stay there, one of the perks is that you can make out with Lucien whenever you both feel like it.”

Feyre scrutinized him, her eyes narrowing. “And you?”

Rhys swept her an elegant bow, looking very out of place in the dusty jail. “And I the servant to you both. We’ll see what else.” He gave her a cheeky wink, which made her blush blotchily again and Lucien groan and roll his eyes.

“Get us out of here first,” Lucien said. “And then we’ll see about any of that. You owe me, Rhys.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rhys said airily, unlocking the cell with keys he’d probably stolen from Sheriff Pocket Lint’s belt. “Champagne and oysters on my yacht to make up for it?”

“You have a yacht?” Feyre blurted.

“Rhys, how many times have I told you to stop blatantly displaying your wealth to impress pretty girls?” Lucien scolded, walking out of the cell. “Feyre, ignore him. He’s intolerable.”

“Yeah. Stop showing off.” Feyre stuck her tongue out at him as she followed Lucien. Though from the way she winked at him, mirroring his from just a few moments ago, Lucien had a feeling they would be the ones who were intolerable before long.

“Well, we’d better be going,” Rhys said brightly, tossing the keys onto a nearby desk and leading the way out of the jail. “New York awaits us once more. By the way, Lucien, what were you doing here?”

“What, a guy can’t blow off steam in his stolen car once in a while?” Lucien said, offended. “Or maybe I knew Feyre was here and planned all of this from the start. Which one sounds more plausible?”

“Well, the next time you want to blow off some steam, take me with you to pay off any small-town sheriffs who might need paying off,” Rhys instructed.

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” Feyre said from the door. “You promised New York.”

“Coming, Feyre darling,” Rhys said immediately, and Lucien smiled.

Maybe he should get Rhys to give him stolen cars more often.

[ladyhavilliard]

Feyrhycien College AU where Rhycien are roommates and Feyre spends most time in their dorm to avoid her obnoxious roommate and they all basically life together and is just endless pining

[iezzern-ao3]

The Warrior and His Shadow

Read on AO3

Rating: Mature

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas

Relationships: Azriel/Cassian (ACoTaR) (Main), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand/Lucien Vanserra (Side)

Characters: Azriel (ACoTaR), Cassian (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (ACoTaR), Morrigan (ACoTaR), Amren (ACoTaR), Lucien Vanserra

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rewrite, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, I'm not tagging either Nesta or Elain bc this fic is kinda bashing em, not a nesta positive space, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, ACOWAR rewrite, Slow Burn

Language: English

After what happens in Hybern, Azriel is left wounded and with his old, forgotten feelings blossoming again. While he tries to recover, a war is raging around them; and there's no stopping it.

ACOWAR Rewrite

Read Chapter 1 of 28 HERE

[hellas-himself]

Where There Are Shadows Pt 5

*edited to add title and read more link

Procrastinating on things by writing this instead. lol 

Foxy boy’s POV 

.

.

.

-Lucien-

Rhysand said nothing more of his dream. I was too stunned to say anything else. I sat down as he busied himself in the kitchen, mulling over how he had said it. As if dreaming about me were of no consequence. As curious as I was, I doubted that the High Lord would be paying me another visit with another bottle of liquor.

It was slightly entertaining to see Feyre’s mate busy himself with someone as simple as this. But then, I started thinking about Elain. In acceptance of the bond, she and I would have shared a meal together. However plain, however grand. But I knew Elain would never accept. And I wasn’t sure that I wanted her to. Not now, when I loved her sister. 

“Alright,” Rhysand declared, gratefully bringing me out of my thoughts.

The High Lord walked over…

….and handed me a bowl of fruit.

“Such a complex dish,” I said sarcastically, taking it from his hands.

“Sorry to disappoint. I’m hungry now, and I don’t feel like waiting to be sated.”

He sat across from me, but only after he had brought out bread, cheese, berries, small pastries that I was certain Elain had made. He piled his plate high and was going to eat but paused.

“You don’t like it.”

I couldn’t really explain it, comparing the acceptance of a mating bond to another High Lord serving me food, even if it was as ridiculous as fruit. It had happened before. “Does Feyre know I’m here?”

Rhysand shrugged. “She’s with Mor. I would let them be.”

That was enough for me. So I ate, avoiding his gaze when he wasn’t busy lost in his own plate of food.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked, getting up to get the glasses.

“Water.”

“How dull, however, very wise.”

He even poured the damn water for me. Rhysand drank, watching me all the while. How Feyre or anyone managed to be around him when he was so… “Get on with it,” I spat, and drank.

Rhysand pursed his lips and shook his head. “I am only thinking.”

“What about?”

“You, staying a bit longer.”

“How much longer? Was today not enough?”

“I won’t be sure until you speak to her.”

“Tell me, Rhysand,” saying his name with a little more bite than was needed, “Would it entertain you to see another Archeron sister reject me?”

He considered me as he drank a little more, with an intensity in his eyes that unnerved me.

“No, it would not.” He set down his glass. He leaned a bit forward, and I was smart enough not to slouch. “I would rather see what happens if she accepted you.”

I was going to shout rather colorful insults at this bastard of a High Lord but the door opened and a very happy looking Elain walked in. Followed by Azriel, who placed a scarred hand on her back, leading her from the doorway.

Rhys turned in his chair. “Are you two following me now?”

“Ignore him,” Azriel playfully said to Elain, setting a basket on the counter. “He’s probably still drunk.”

“Picnic go well?” Rhys asked and Elain nodded. She looked at me and I hated that the sight of me took away the joy that she exuded only moments before. I hated that there was something inside of me that did not want Azriel near her, when I knew, logically, she had no desire to be near me. To know me.

“Hello, Elain.” I wasn’t sure she had heard me. I wasn’t sure why I even said anything at all.

“Hello,” she replied and continued walking, the Shadowsinger following after her as if I weren’t there.

“Still drunk,” Rhys muttered to himself, and poured himself some more water.

“Did you know she was here?”

“I don’t know where they went. I don’t pry into the business of others.”

I laughed at that. Bastard. “Azriel had to know.”

Rhysand shrugged. “I told him to keep her occupied… But I suppose a lady cannot be told what to do. Especially not an Archeron.”

I looked at that smug face, and I realized he was right. Elain may be the softer of the three, but she was still one of them. Beneath that shy demeanor, I imagined was something dark that would have caused her to be my mate… and now drew the Shadowsinger to her.

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Feel the pull to her, and know that she thought nothing of you.”

Rhysand slouched a bit, crossing his arms. He didn’t meet my eyes.

“I drank. A lot. Trained with my brothers until I was exhausted and my body gave out on me. Sometimes… Sometimes I cried. To Mor. They all tried to keep me afloat. Especially when she was hurting.” Rhysand stopped for a while, lost in his thoughts.

I had seen that hurt. Watched her fall deeper into the despair that I had felt for far too long. And I had done nothing when she stopped eating, nothing when she stopped sleeping. Not until she’d come back from Hybern with Tamlin and I.

“I should be glad then, that Elain is… content. Here. Taken care of.”

“It doesn’t make it any less painful.”

The understanding in his eyes made me uneasy.

“I think it’s time I go home.”

“Are you sure? The twins will be preparing a true meal soon enough.”

“Thank you, Rhysand.”

He followed me to the door, going as far as opening it for me.

“Try not to leave without saying goodbye,” he said and I was not sure who he meant.

The walk back to the apartment was a blur. I walked without paying attention to anything. Trying and failing at not thinking about what Rhysand had said. About Feyre accepting me, how I felt. And I couldn’t believe that the High Lord of the Night Court had been so… vulnerable. Especially around me.  

I approached the door to my apartment and reached into my pocket for the key. I managed to unlock it before I heard the sound of footsteps racing towards me. I turned. I couldn’t believe it.

Feyre screamed my name, her voice broken. And then she was flush against me, wrapping her arms around me as if I would disappear if she let go.

[peaches-and-daydream]

I’m definitely asking for an ao3 update to my favorite WIPs when I reach the pearly gates.

[bookofmirth]

Trope: too cold, have too strip down for body warmth. (Made better by the hating each other trope)

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Oh, you mean the time in acowar when Feyre and Lucien had to do this because they had no powers and were stuck in a cave or whatever and definitely had sex? And then they became feyrhycien???

send me a trope

[moononastring]

Ice Cream Delights

Prompt: "God damnit , now all I can think about right now is you licking my cock like it’s that ice cream cone.” for Rhycien that turned into Feyrhycien. Motivated by my dearest @howtotameyourillyrian | I basically wrote this for you Linda lol.

Pairing: Rhys x Lucien x Feyre (Feyrhycien) - Modern AU Genre: Hehehe.

Tagging the feyrhycien crew: @illyrianrhys | @highlordkaz | @rhyciensmut | @rowaelinsmut (I think I’m sorry if you don’t want to be tagged haha)

Rhys watched his boyfriend and licked his lips as Lucien flicked through a magazine, leaning against the kitchen counter in front of a mini fan. He was eating ice cream from a cone. No, licking his ice cream from a cone. And wow, did his tongue work really well.

“Don’t look at me.” Lucien hissed at him. Rhys attempted a pout but Lucien continued ignoring him, licking his fucken ice cream cone.

“I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t care.”

“Come on, Lu.”

“No.” Lucien replied, flicking a page so hard Rhys wondered how it hadn’t ripped. It was almost comical that his boyfriend was this pissed and was just licking his ice cream cone in anger. What a way to throw a tantrum.

“I want to defend myself but god dammit, all I can think about right now is you licking my cock like it’s that ice cream cone.” he finally spoke.

Lucien lifted his head to glare at Rhys in response. “Shut the fuck up. I’m too hot and pissed to be dealing with you right now.”

“You are pretty hot. Especially when you’re pissed.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“I forgot about the air conditioner!”

“I reminded you every day for the past week! Right before this fucken heat wave was supposed to hit! ‘It won’t take me a minute to grab a new one, babe.”  Lucien replied mockingly, pointing a finger at him when Rhys made a noise of protest. “Don’t make excuses. I would’ve gotten it myself but you insisted.”

“I just have to set it up. It’s in my car.” Rhys replied and tried not laugh when Lucien went back to the magazine and licked his fucken ice cream again. “It won’t take long but...I’m distracted with the way you keep licking that ice cream.”

“You can keep thinking about it all you want and make excuses. My tongue is only going to lick this ice cream.”

“Can my tongue lick you instead?” He asked, approaching and leaning against the counter across from Lucien.

“No.”

“But I really want to.”

“Set up the air condition and when I don’t feel like dying, I’ll think about it.” Lucien replied but Rhys wasn’t having it. His boyfriend was too enticing for his own good and the way he was licking that fucken ice cream already had his cock ready for action.

Rhys came around and was on his knees in front of Lucien faster then the latter could protest.

“Think of this as my apology for not doing what I was supposed to do when you first asked me.” Rhys replied, his hands tugging on Lucien’s shorts trying to free his growing erection as quickly as possible. Lucien’s hand shot out, stopping Rhys and he glared down at his boyfriend.

“No.”

Next thing Rhys knew was that beautiful ice cream cone Lucien had been eating was dripping all over his face. Lucien had plopped it on his forehead, the cone sticking up like a unicorn’s horn.

“Oh look, now you have an extra dick.”

“HEY.” Rhys yelped, shooting up from his crouching and quickly grabbed a napkin to stop the dripping and aggressively threw the cone in the sink. “I WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU I’M SORRY.”

“Set the air condition up and when I’ve sufficiently cooled down, you can give me that apology.” Lucien replied with a smirk. “You also owe me another ice cream cone.”

Rhys glared as Lucien walked away chuckling then grimaced at the stickiness on his fingers and face. Not the kind of stickiness he typically liked.

“What’s going on?” Feyre’s voice came through as she stepped into their apartment and shut the door. She blinked then arched a brow at Rhys who immediately pouted.

“Lucien put his ice cream all over my face!”

Feyre’s lips twitched. “His ice cream?”

“Actual ice cream, Feyre!” Rhys clarified and Feyre heard Lucien snort as he came into view.

“Well this one still hasn’t set up the AC. So I had every right to do so.”

Feyre’s amused smile turned into a scowl as she looked back at Rhys. “Still? You promised it would be done two days ago!”

“I forgot!”

“If you’re too busy, I told you to let me or Lucien do it. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“But I like taking care of my two favorite people.” he said, his pouting intensifying and both Lucien and Feyre rolled their eyes with small smiles.

“The sentiment is much appreciated, my love.” Feyre replied, coming to pat his cheek then grimacing at how sticky his face was. Rhys shot Lucien a glare but the latter only grinned and turned his eyes to Feyre.

“It’s still in his car, Feyre.” he said and Feyre’s scowl returned. Rhys threw his hands up with a huff.

“I’m going to go get it now!”

“He’s trying to make us all die from heat strokes.” Lucien continued.

“I’m going to get it now, stop whining!” Rhys replied and playfully shoved him, causing Lucien to laugh. “Instigator.”

“Love you too, babe.” Lucien replied and Feyre grinned.

“This is your chance to make us swoon with your muscles, Rhys. We’ll wait patiently.” she said with a nod.

Rhys squinted at the two of them then gestured with a finger between the two. “Don’t start making out without me. I’ll be right back.”

The two playfully saluted and Rhys rolled his eyes, stepping out of their shared apartment. Lucien and Feyre shared a look.

“Want to get naked and be distracting so he can suffer some more?” Feyre asked with a grin and Lucien gave an identical grin in return.

“It’s like you’re reading my mind, love.”

[iambutmortal]

^ in progress | * smut/sexual content

Watch Me Burn*^ (Witcher AU)

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Sonder ^*

Read on Ao3

The Honeymooners* (Second Chance Marriage) (Elucien Week 2023)

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Things I Can’t Give Up, Not Even for You* (Mob AU) (Elucien Week 2022)

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How Elain Found Out She Had A Daddy Kink* 

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Into Daylight* (Fairy Tale Paranormal AU)

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This Is the Part You Get Left Behind* (College Revenge Smut)

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What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Want You More* (Beast Calanmai Elucien)

No Slow Dancing in the Dark* (God AU)

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To Tango With the Devil* (Demon Church smut)

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Buckle Up and Enjoy the Ride (Theme park fluff)

Darling, I’m a Daydream Dressed Like a Nightmare* (Rhys x Feyre x Lucien)

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I See You* (Nessian Medusa)

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We’ll Do No More Than Try Our Best* (Gwynriel God AU)

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[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} Corn Chips and Cats (part 2)

Rating:  G (no warnings) Relationship:  Feyre/Rhysand/Lucien (Feyrhycien) Word Count:  1,302

Here on AO3.

Tagging @squaddreamcourt, @thebookwhisperersworld, and @rhyciensmut!

Summary:  

More ridiculous fluff. As always with this series, entirely unedited. Don't judge me.

Also, no, Rhys doesn't love Lucien more than Feyre, but Feyre is still rather wary of him. (He can be scary, okay?)

__________________

“I don’t think she needs us,” Feyre told Lucien in a carrying whisper.

Amren, deadly mob enforcer, silver eyes mirroring the hoops in her ears, was draped with children like a Christmas tree. Mor, in her terribly scandalous silk dress, was trying not to laugh. Feyre and Lucien, skulking behind a car in the parking lot, weren’t succeeding at all in this same endeavor.

“Lovely to see you, Mor,” Amren deadpanned. Her Italian suit was looking decidedly rumpled. “Sorry about the munchkins.”

“Are they… yours?” Mor asked delicately.

“Good grief, no. My sister’s.” Amren raised her eyes to heaven. “She turned up an hour ago with a sob story about her babysitter cancelling last-minute. She gave me puppy dog-eyes. I couldn’t refuse.”

Mor couldn’t suppress a snort, and once the dam was broken, she dissolved into giggles. “Well, luckily for us, I brought babysitters. Feyre? Lucien?”

Feyre and Lucien made a reluctant appearance from behind the car. “I don’t want to,” Feyre complained as Lucien dragged her over. “Kids are so not my thing.”

“Too bad.” Lucien untangled what was either four or fifteen hundred children from Amren and hung them on himself instead. “Ow. Not the hair, please. OW – or the earrings. You owe me, Mor.”

“Thanks a bunch!” Mor said cheerily. Amren straightened her clothes, took Mor’s arm, and escorted her into the restaurant.

“Lucien!” Feyre wailed, holding a small child around the waist. “They’re everywhere!”

“Food – ow,” Lucien said. “Not sushi.”

“McDonald’s?”

“No! Grocery store,” Lucien decided. “We’ll get the gremlins animal crackers and juice boxes. You’ll like that, won’t you?” he added to the children.

“Yay!” they yelled, the one on Lucien’s shoulders pulling on his hair with glee.

“What did I tell you about my hair?” Lucien moaned. “You’re going to get stuck in there.”

“You’re talking about stuck?” Feyre complained. “This one is covered in something and I don’t know what the something is. I don’t want to know.”

“There’s a store around the corner – we can go there,” Lucien said, gathering up the three children in his charge, leaving Feyre with her one. “Thank God. We have to walk – I don’t have four carseats.”

Feyre agree reluctantly, and they towed their tiny charges into the small grocery store. Despite the fact that Lucien had three times more children than she did, she fell behind and had to catch up with him in the soda aisle. He was scowling, and not just because his hair now looked remarkably like an orange bird’s nest.

“Not a single organic option,” he told Feyre. “I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, come on, Loosh, they’re kids, they don’t care,” Feyre said, starting to grab apple juice boxes off the shelf.

“It’s you.”

At the sound of the new voice, Feyre and Lucien turned simultaneously toward the entrance to the aisle. Feyre swore like a sailor, and the kids began repeating it in a loud chant.

It was Sheriff Tom Lint.

[dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn]

Lucien groaned. “Okay, ew. What’s this asshole doing here?”

“Language!” Feyre said. “There are children around!”

“Feyre, you literally just said ‘fuck,’” Lucien countered, causing the kids to chant the word even louder.

“I’ve been hunting you down!” Tom Lint said, pointing angrily at Feyre and Lucien. “You’re wanted in three separate states!”

“Told you,” Lucien said. “Oh, shit, duck!” They both ducked as Sheriff Lint threw a jar of grape jelly at them. It hit the floor and purple went everywhere. Feyre’s charge immediately started smearing the jelly all over her face, making it even more sticky than it was before.

“Run! He’s got a carton of eggs!” Feyre and Lucien took off in different directions, tugging the children after them.

Feyre had just turned down the breakfast cereal aisle when she ran headlong into someone. “Hey! Watch where you’re – oh. Hi, Rhys. What are you doing here?” She tried to brush his suit jacket off and only succeeded in getting grape jelly and egg all down his front.

“Hello, Feyre darling.” Rhys scooped up the child Feyre had with her, heedless of stickiness. “I was keeping an eye on Amren and Mor. And then I wanted to make sure her nieces and nephews didn’t kill you. They’re quite as dangerous as she is. Mind if I ask why you’re hurtling through the cereal aisle and crashing into innocent shoppers?”

“Okay, first of all, you’re not an innocent shopper, and second of all, Pocket Lint somehow tracked us down,” Feyre said, outraged.

At that moment, there came a long, high-pitched yell of “NOOOOOOOOO!” from the front of the store.

“Ah, the sweet sound of Ginny being separated from a head of hair she likes,” Rhys said blithely, swinging the child in his arms onto his shoulders, where she clung to him and babbled an indistinct string of words and sounds. “Let’s go rescue our boyfriend from the well-meaning clutches of small-town hickery, shall we?”

“He’s still mad at you, you know,” Feyre said, following after Rhys. “And the painting didn’t help. It’s terrible. I painted a mustache on it.”

“And improved it exponentially, I’m certain. Well, perhaps little Lucien will forgive me when I swoop in and save him.” Rhys, as he said, swept down the aisle to see a furious Tom Lint towering over a glowering Lucien, a wailing Ginny, and two slightly older children clinging to Lucien’s legs.

“What appears to be the trouble here?” Rhys asked grandly, managing to seem dramatic and imposing even coated in grape jelly and egg yolk.

“He’s trying to arrest me,” Lucien said, poking a finger into Officer Lint’s chest.

“For what?”

“Car theft – bribery – all kinds of things!” Lint blustered.

“I see.” Rhys seemed to consider that. “Where?”

“Where?” Lint repeated, confused.

“Where is he wanted for these things?”

“Virginia, Vermont, Oklahoma –”

“Oklahoma?” Rhys said in faint surprise. “When was this, Lu?”

“Three months ago, when you went on that company cruise, remember?”

Rhys’s expression cleared. “Ah, right. You went to that strip club and ended up calling me at midnight because you missed me too much to enjoy yourself.”

Lint’s face was turning red. “I was talking!”

“And I wasn’t listening,” Rhys interrupted. “Is Lucien wanted for any of these dire crimes in New York?”

“…No.”

“Were you approved to arrest him in New York?” Rhys pressed.

“I suppose not,” Lint said petulantly.

“Then I’d like you to get out of my city,” Rhys said. His teasing tone was suddenly gone, and he looked quite as dangerous as Amren. “And stop bothering my boyfriend, you twit.”

With a growl, Sheriff Lint turned on his heel and stormed out of the store, closely followed by the store manager, who was insisting he pay for the things he smashed and never come back.

Rhys turned to Lucien with a hopeful look on his face. “Well? Am I forgiven?”

In response, Lucien threw his arms around Rhys’s neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ginny shrieked and grabbed onto Lucien’s hair to hold on. Rhys immediately pulled back, lifted her down to join her siblings, did the same with the child on his own shoulders, then swept Lucien into his arms and kissed him back enthusiastically.

“How come he gets the big welcome?” Feyre said, though she was grinning. “Lucien, you still owe me sushi, and Rhys owes me a kiss.”

Rhys broke from Lucien to peck Feyre on the cheek. “Better?”

“Much, but I’m hungry.”

“Let’s fix that, then. Do you think they’d like a boat ride?” Rhys asked, gesturing at the kids. They cheered.

“Amren is going to kill us,” Lucien said.

“They’ll be safe,” Rhys reassured him. “In fact, we can return them to her sister tonight so Amren can stay with Mor. Which she’ll want to, I’m sure. Juice boxes and sushi for everyone!”

[ladyhavilliard]

The Moon on a String

꧁Lucien Vanserra꧂ Rhysand Spera

@rhysands-highlady

After reading your first chapter, I couldn’t not repost the edit I made on illyriandragon. Tmoas is beautiful and everyone should read it ♡

[highqueenofelfhame]

For the fanfiction asks, 1, 5 & 6. I love all your work, it's amazing!!

thank you!!!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction? i state’s writing jonas brother fanfiction when i was like 13.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why? IIHASTS. i feel like parts of it are my best writing and i’m just really proud of it.

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why? i’ve actually done this with a feyrhycien piece and i do not want to talk abt it lmaoooo

[feyrhycien]

A Traipse Through the Snow - 2

Part 1

A/N: i uh actually wrote something.... some of y’all wanted more so i wrote more and there will be EVEN more uh rise my friends cause i’m (tentatively) back and ready to Ship.

------

Tamlin called. Again. And Lucien ignored it. Again. He really would’ve quit this job already if it didn’t pay so well. 

“Was that your boss again?” Feyre asked, hands around her mug. Lucien sighed and nodded. 

“You should come work for me,” Rhys piped up. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Lucien had tried not to gape when Rhys had taken off his coat and revealed his muscular arms that were shown off by his form fitting sweater. Don’t even get him started on the fit of Rhys’s trousers. “You’d have to interview, of course, but we don’t make people work on Saturday’s... unless it’s a special occasion.”

“Would you be the one interviewing me?” Lucien drawled, sketching a brow and leaning onto his forearms. Rhys shrugged. 

“I have to admit I’d be a bit biased.” Lucien could’ve sworn Rhys’s eyes trailed over his body as he spoke. He glanced at Feyre, who was sipping her latte and looking between the two men, and back at Rhys. 

“I’ll look into it.” Rhys grinned and Lucien wanted to roll his eyes at how smug he looked. 

Feyre leaned over and cupped her hand in front of his ear so Rhys wouldn’t hear her whisper, “I’d work for him just for the office sex.” Lucien raised his brows at her as she pulled away but then he smiled slowly. 

Rhys cocked a brow. “Care to share with the class?”

Lucien exchanged a look with Feyre before they both shook their heads. Rhys narrowed his eyes and reached for his teacup. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucien saw Feyre cover her mouth as she suppressed a laugh. Rhys watched her as he sipped his tea, his face softening. 

Lucien looked at her as well—her flushed cheeks and crinkled blue eyes. She looked really pretty. A few pieces of her hair had come out of her braid from her running her hand over it throughout their date and she pushed them out of her face as she continued to laugh quietly into her hand. 

“Sorry,” she wheezed, covering her face with both her hands. She peeked out at them between her fingers and her face fell.”What?” Lucien wasn’t sure what she saw on his own face, but if it was anything like the look of soft admiration on Rhys’s face then he understood the deepening blush on Feyre’s face. 

“You’re incredibly adorable, Feyre darling,” Rhys said. He set his teacup back on the table and propped his head on his hand. A smile tugged at Feyre’s lips though she ducked her head down to hide her red cheeks. Lucien simultaneously wanted a pet name and dreaded blushing like a fool if he got one.

“I’d really like to see both of you again,” Rhys blurted, which from what Lucien had gauged of him in the few hours they’d known each other was not a common occurrence. Feyre’s head snapped up before her throat bobbed.

“I’d like that as well,” Feyre said, fiddling with the necklace she wore. They smiled at each other and it made Lucien feel warm inside. He wondered how he’d ended up in the company of two of the most attractive people he’d ever seen. “Lucien?” The two of them were looking at him expectantly.

“I--uh--me too,” he stammered out before he smiled warily. Feyre and Rhys’s smiles widened impossibly. The three of them looked at each other entirely too long before Rhys broke the silence.

“Here, give me your numbers,” he said, taking out his phone. “I’ll make a groupchat for us to make plans and, you know, talk on.” Lucien realised Rhys was a bit of a dork.

They hugged goodbye a few minutes later and went their separate ways. Lucien felt lighter than he had in days.

------

Lucien had barely unlocked the door to his flat when his phone chimed. He closed the door behind him and fished his phone out of one of his deep coat pockets.

Unknown number: So when are you free tomorrow?

Lucien fought the urge to laugh, especially as who he assumed was Feyre replied.

Unknown number #2: Someone’s eager

Rhys: Darling, if you’re not available I can just take Lucien out…

Lucien felt his cheeks heat and set his phone down to take off his coat and scarf. He had more messages when he retrieved his phone.

Feyre: I’m doing brunch with my sisters at 11 so I’m free before that or after 1

Rhys: Hmm, that’s what I thought. 

Feyre: Prick.

Lucien laughed and walked further into his flat.

Rhys: We could do afternoon tea or perhaps dinner?

Rhys: Or maybe dinner’s too much...

Lucien’s stomach growled at the thought of dinner and he headed for his fridge to see if he had any leftovers. He’d ended up going into work after coffee, though he quit at the end of the day. He really hoped Rhys’s offer was genuine. He found fried rice from the night before and put it in the microwave before responding to Rhys’s messages.

Lucien: Dinner sounds nice

Feyre: He speaks!

Feyre: I think dinner would be nice, but nothing too fancy. I haven’t been given proper notice to get a dress suitable enough.

Rhys was typing for a longer time than Lucien was willing to watch the three little dots. His fried rice finished reheating and he took it with him to the living room couch.

Rhys: Thank the mother. Please do tell me if I ever overstep. I’ll make a reservation and send you the details in a bit? 

Rhys: Also I had a very good time at coffee this morning.

Lucien’s heart fluttered. At least he wasn’t the only nervous one in this situation.

-------

I really hope y’all enjoyed this cause i had a lot of fun writing it! if you’d like to be tagged just let me know xx

[feyrhycien]

A Traipse Through the Snow

Inspired by this gif ^^

written by GWYNETH(@rhysands-highlady) and requested by @howtotameyourillyrian aka me mum (💘)

it’s short and sweet. peep the fact that I wrote this in Lucien’s POV bc I am most comfortable with it.

————

Lucien’s day was not going well. No, it was not going well at all.

His boss, Tamlin, had forced him to come in despite the snow covering the ground and the fact that it was a Saturday.

Lucien huffed in exasperation as he stomped down the sidewalk, his gloved hands shoved into his pockets. The beauty of the park he walked through meant next to nothing to him. He’d seen enough snow in his life that the wonder of it was lost to him.

He started down a gentle incline towards the street...and slipped. Slipped and fell onto his back, his head hitting the ground.

He swore and sat up, clutching the back of his head, just as two people hurried over to ask if he was alright—and slipped.

“Are you okay?” They all asked at once. Then they shared a laugh and Lucien actually looked at the people on either side of him. Fuck.

To his right was a pretty girl with pink cheeks and a pink nose from the cold and a puffy black coat. She had a few freckles which Lucien assumed would be more prominent in the sunnier months. She had the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen.

To his left was a man blessed with alarmingly good looks and strikingly deep blue eyes that felt like they were staring into his soul. His coat was clearly designer and his hair was perfectly styled, and, Cauldron, it had been a long time since Lucien had gotten laid.

Lucien swallowed and the man’s eyes flicked to his throat before back up to his face.

“So I guess we sort of fell for each other,” the man said, a silly grin on his face. The girl ran a hand over her face with a halfhearted groan. “I’m Rhys.” He offered his hand to Lucien.

“Lucien,” he choked out. Rhys gave him a quick once over—still both sitting in the snow—before extending his hand to the girl.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, her cheeks more flushed than they had been when Lucien had first looked at her.

Rhys looked between him and Feyre, biting his lip a bit. Lucien found himself staring at said lip. You just fucking met him, Lucien.

“Forgive me if this is too...forward,” Rhys began, leaning back on a hand. “But would the two of you want to get coffee? Like… right now?”

“I—um—” Lucien cleared his throat. “I need to be getting to work.”

“Work? On a Saturday?” Feyre asked, an eyebrow raised.

“My boss is a prick,” Lucien explained with a frown. Rhys shook his head.

“I’m not usually one to encourage ditching work, but…” Rhys glanced between them again, something flashing in his eyes. “I think you’ve found yourself in some interesting circumstances.”

“Are you going?” Lucien asked Feyre. Her blue eyes widened.

“Have you seen him?�� Feyre whispered, though she didn’t try very hard to conceal what she was saying. Rhys snickered and Lucien looked over at him. Fuck, why did he have to be so painfully attractive.

“Hmm, sir, I suppose I’ll come on this coffee date of yours,” Lucien said, attempting to force nonchalance into his voice. Rhys beamed and stood, offering hands to both Lucien and Feyre.

“Come on then, darlings. Let’s go.”