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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

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Practice On Me — Part Ten — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Poor Rhys gets cockblocked. Cassian and Azriel come to blows. Realisations dawn on Az that he doesn’t know what to do with. Kaeda’s not very good with rejection. Reader receives some unexpected support.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Depictions of violence and injury.

The male’s hand has found pride of place in Rhysand’s lap.

Currently, it sits on his thigh, but the temptation to inch it closer — closer — to that sweet prize between his legs is a lusty, burgeoning one.

A shame, truly, that they’re currently fully clothed and in the middle of the busy mead hall.

Rhys chews and swallows a mouthful of his dinner, a smirk toying with his lips as he glances at his most recent sexual conquest.

There’s enough heat in that gaze to set the whole of Windhaven blazing.

Zakai is a very pretty male, indeed, with rich dark skin and thick, long eyelashes for days. His tempting appearance is most certainly exacerbating this current haze of lust that has taken over him as of late, driven by a preference for males. It changes every now and then. Sometimes he favours males, other times he favours females.

Whatever takes his fancy, there’s always somebody to warm his bed.

“I do believe,” the future High Lord purrs, “that you’re trying to distract me from my dinner.”

Zakai’s full lips kick up into a smirk. “Maybe I am.”

“How terrible.” He leans in closer. “Depriving me of a nutritional meal. What of my sustenance?”

Zakai also leans in. “I have something else you can wrap that pretty mouth around. I think you’ll find it to be more than adequate.” So boldly, as if no one else is around, he snaps out and drags Rhys’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Rhys makes a low noise, food all but forgotten—

But a kiss never comes to fruition as they’re shoved apart, and Cassian is slotting himself between them. “Your mother is here.” He steals Rhys’s plate. “Did you know?”

Rhys tamps down on the urge to slam his face into that food. “I would hope so, considering it was I who flew in with her.”

Cass hums. “We’ve been banished from the house for the time being.” He turns to Zakai. “Rhys will have to suck your dick elsewhere. May I suggest the pillory? He could even tie you up. Would be very kinky—”

“Banished?” Rhys quickly interrupts with a frown. “Why? Is my mother alright?”

“Roza’s fine. It’s Y/N. They’re having a serious talk.”

“About what?”

“Serious stuff, I guess.”

Cassian can be really, really frustrating sometimes.

Rhys shoots him a look that communicates precisely that. “What serious stuff? What did they say?”

“Roza called it girl talk.” Cass takes another huge bite, chews — and pauses in thought, “Do you think Y/N has been acting a little strange recently? Not her usual self.”

In all honesty, Rhys regrets not being around more, with all Y/N has had to contend with as of late. But even with him flitting between Windhaven and Velaris, he’s noticed a change.

A change amongst everyone, really. Something is…off.

“She has a lot going on. It’s hardly surprising.” He says, studying Cassian — the male is still in deep thought. “But I think there’s more than she’s letting on. I thought you would know more than I do, considering you’re around her more.”

Cassian says nothing. He chews and chews like he can no longer taste the food in his mouth, and he’s just giving it absolutely anything to do other than speak. Even Zakai shoots Rhys a look that says he’s not buying it.

“Shall I give you two some space to talk?” Rhys’s lover suggests.

Rhys dips his chin in gratitude. Makes sure that a little bit of heat still swims in his eyes — a suggestion of what’s to come, when he’s finished here. “I’ll come find you.” He promises.

Zakai winks. “I’ll be waiting by the pillory.” And with a shared laugh, he’s standing and strolling away.

Rhys turns back to Cass. He’s at least swallowed the mouthful of food, but there’s still a faraway look in his eyes. “What is it you’re thinking so hard about?”

Cassian just chews his bottom lip.

“Cass.” He gives a little kick to his leg. “If there’s something you know about Y/N—”

“I think I may have fucked up. Badly.” Finally, his friend turns to him. The severity on his face is…rare. Worrying. “Maybe I should have told you this before now, I don’t know. But…you see…Y/N and I…we—”

There’s no chance for him to complete the sentence.

Not as the mead hall’s huge wooden doors burst open, loudly and abruptly enough that conversation just ceases. Everyone turns. Azriel looms in the doorway.

He only becomes more of an intimidating figure as he gets older — anyone would be an idiot not to recognise that. But there’s something about him right now, like this, that has even the most steeled Illyrian warriors eyeing him cautiously.

Though his hair is wet-through from the snow, he’s not at all dressed for the cold weather. The casual, tight-fitting shirt and breeches will do very little to protect him from the brutal temperatures, and his tan skin is already pinkened where the icy air has bitten it.

But his eyes — his eyes are a blazing, churning inferno.

He looks huge in the doorway. Bigger than he ever has. His chest falls and rises heavily, and his fists clench at his sides. The firm set of his jaw is a warning. He hasn’t come here to play.

His boots thud harshly against the wooden floor as he storms in, and everyone watches, waits to see who the shadowsinger has a problem with, and what he’s going to do about it. He appears to have no weapons on him — a rare sight that only adds to the rugged, impulsive nature of how he looks right now. Like he forgot all else in his pursuit to come here.

What nobody is expecting is the way his dark, golden gaze zeroes in on Cassian. And the love that usually sits on Azriel’s face when looking at his brother has been replaced with something infinitely colder. Harsher. Angrier.

Dangerous.

Rhysand glances between them, recognising very quickly that something has occurred in his absence. He slowly rises from his seat.

“Az?” He says calmly. “You alright?”

No.

No, Azriel is not alright.

Everyone knows it. Cassian especially.

He’s staring back at his friend, and a thousand realisations pelt him that he genuinely did not consider before now. He’s got a terrible habit of acting first and thinking later. Of not looking at the bigger picture and considering every single person that might get hurt as a result of his actions. He doesn’t mean to be so thoughtless or impulsive. He’s gradually learning.

But as he drinks in the sight of Azriel, he somehow knows the source of his rage without it needing to be said. It never occurred to him before, but it does now.

Both he and Rhys have secretly speculated, over the years, whether something more might grow from the loving friendship between Azriel and Y/N. But time passed, and nothing came of it, and—and—

And with Kaeda on the scene, Cassian had assumed that no romance would be blossoming after all.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t still feelings there. Complicated feelings.

And in that moment, as Azriel stops at the table, the true weight of Cassian’s actions strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

He clears his throat, taking in the sight of him. Even his shadows are staying out of this. “Az—”

“Get up.” Azriel demands fiercely.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told—”

“I will not tell you twice, Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s eyes darken. “Get. The fuck. Up.”

Every single person is watching — waiting. Cassian doesn’t move.

And then he says quietly, “No.”

It’s not that he has any problem getting in a punch up with either of his brothers — Cauldron knows, it’s happened more times than any of them care to remember, where they’ve roughed each other up and resolved things quickly after. It’s just a method of Illyrian affection.

But this isn’t like that. This is hugely, frighteningly different.

This is serious.

Cassian is realising very quickly that he fucked up — not necessarily in the act, itself, of having sex with Y/N. They are both free, consenting adults, after all.

But if he’s guilty of anything, it’s of not thinking about who he might hurt with his decisions. And if he’d bothered to stop and think that night in the kitchen, he’d have known damn well that him having such relations with Y/N would be upsetting for Azriel. At the very least, Cass should have spoken to him first.

And that’s what he wants to do, now. Not fight. Not draw blood and leave bruises. Just…talk. Explain himself. Make it clear that he would never, ever intentionally hurt Az.

“I’m not fighting you.” He says, far quieter than his usual Cassian volume. “We should talk—”

Azriel’s lunging across the table and nipping that suggestion right in the bud. His fist goes flying so hard into Cassian’s jaw that his head snaps back. He barely has a chance to right himself before Az is throwing himself at him fully and knocking him to the floor.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rhys snaps, but neither of them seems to hear, and then the noise is picking up in the room and people are rising from their seats to get a closer look at the fight. Encouraging them with rowdy shouts.

This is no competitive brawl between friends. Through the gathering people, fists are swinging and blood is flying all over the place. Azriel is pummelling Cassian’s face over and over, and choked, angry words are leaving him as he does.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?!” The shadowsinger seethes, throwing another punch. “You know—” Punch. “Know how I feel—” Punch. “And you still had to go and do it.”

Too much is happening at once for Rhys to put the pieces together. All he knows is that this is bad. All he can do is watch.

And Cassian is barely fighting back. He’s not interested in returning the punches. He just wants to put a stop to this.

“You knew. I know you knew.” Az then grabs him by the collar of his tunic, and he’s lifting him and slamming him back down against the floor, so hard that the whoosh of air that leaves Cassian can be heard across the hall. “Fuck. You. Cassian. Fuck you—”

“You—” Cass coughs blood at him. “You had Kaeda—”

“Piece of shit—”

“Perhaps…if you hadn’t been…so blinded by your fucking lust…forgot all about Y/N—”

Oh, that’s entirely the wrong thing to say.

A snarl is leaving Az, or maybe Cass, or perhaps both of them at the same time.

What happened leading up to this point was mere child’s play.

The two of them utterly lose it, and Cassian forgets all about talking and allows his temper to take over, and the real fight begins. Rhys is shoved back, stunned, as people try to push closer. All he can hear is the sound of his friends’ punches landing on each other. With more blood drawn, the noise becomes a sickly, wet one that tells him this is getting out of hand.

He barges his way through people, trying to get to the centre of the fray, but a noise is stopping him in his tracks.

“HEY!”

Somehow, his mother’s voice is loud enough, commanding enough, to reach every corner of the mead hall and wash over each and every occupant. Something about the raw order in her voice has everyone stopping. Quietening.

Even Cassian and Azriel cease their fighting. But they’re still exchanging harsh words that are compromised through split lips and mouthfuls of blood.

“Fucking vile—”

“I’m—sorry—Az—sorry—”

“That is enough.” Roza storms into the hall, a hand resting on her belly. She’s well and truly displaying the façade of the High Lord’s mate; someone not to be argued with. “Stand aside at once.”

If it weren’t for the serious nature of the situation, there might be something amusing about seeing honed Illyrian males slink back like threatened animals. But Rhys can only watch as they back away from Roza and lope back to their seats.

“Mother.” He turns to her, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have no idea what’s going on—”

Roza holds a hand up, cutting him off. She turns to Azriel and Cassian, who are now just staring at each other like sworn enemies.

“Off the fucking ground now.” She snaps.

Azriel’s eyes shutter. He’s breathing heavily. He hesitates, wants to go against the order.

But even through the red mist of anger, he respects Roza too much to do that.

Heaving a deep breath, he pushes off Cassian. Rises to his feet.

Roza jerks her chin at Cass. “Help him up.”

Azriel makes an incredulous sound. “He can get up himself—”

“Help him the fuck up, Azriel, before I bash your damn heads together.”

Az clenches his jaw. It might be childish that he refuses to look at Cassian as he juts a hand out, but he doesn’t fucking care. Nor does he care that he puts the bare minimum of strength into hauling him up off the floor.

As soon as Cass is on his feet, he’s shoving Azriel away from him.

“There are so many things I could say to you idiots right now.” Roza snaps. “But I’m way too pregnant for this shit, and I want to sit down.” She angles herself to Azriel. “You — go spend the night at the dormitories. Clean yourself up and calm down.” She turns back to Cassian, to Rhys. “The two of you are coming back to the cottage with me. I don’t give a shit about who said or did what. Don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you. Do I make myself clear?”

This is just a teensy bit humiliating — the three of them bowing their heads while they receive a scolding in front of their fellow Illyrians. But they’re not stupid enough to argue it.

They are stupid enough not to respond, though, and that only pisses Roza off more.

“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.” She thunders.

“Yes.” All three males intone.

“Good.” She steps back, nods at Azriel. “You first. Go. Dormitories. Now.”

Azriel sends one last, scathing glance at Cassian before stalking off. He limps out of the doors and into the snow — a fact that leaves Cassian feeling just a little smug.

“Get that damn look off your face, Cassian.” Roza narrows her eyes at him, and he quickly corrects himself. “And get moving. If you don’t get your asses back to the cottage this instant, I’m locking you out. Understood?”

Cassian says, “Yes, Roza.”

Rhys mumbles, “Didn’t even do anything.”

Roza looks at him like she wants to throttle him. And that’s enough for him to straighten himself out and offer his pregnant mother his arm. She takes it silently. Cassian moves to her other side.

“When we get back,” she says quietly, “the two of you better start explaining what the fuck has been going on in my absence.”

Neither males are exactly sure.

But they’re both wise enough not to say that.

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The steaming bath is supposed to soothe you, but it does not. Nothing can. Not even Rhys’s sweater that’s currently swallowing you up and encasing you in his scent.

And when you traipse down the worn wooden staircase at the first sound of voices, you feel like crying all over again. You hope for Azriel — hope he’s come back, willing to hear you out. But stepping into the living area, that tiny shred of hope evaporates.

Conversation ceases, and Rhys and Cassian are looking up at you from their respective spots on the couch. Roza is pottering around the kitchen.

At the first glimpse of Cass, your heart drops.

It’s not that you’re unused to seeing him roughed up, but this is…this is different. He’s clearly not riding on the wave of his normal post-brawl adrenaline. He looks downtrodden, hurt — both physically and emotionally.

Blood streaks from his face. He’s cut and bruised in numerous places. A gnarly black eye is beginning to show itself.

He finds interest in his hands. Can’t seem to bear looking at you.

“What—” Is all you’re able to gasp out, before you’re hurrying over, perching yourself on the coffee table before your two friends. You reach out. “Cass…what—”

“Take a wild guess.” He mutters, still not looking at you.

You angle yourself towards Rhys, looking for an answer. And the fact that you can’t read his expression…it threatens to cut you open.

“I don’t have a clue what’s going on.” He says with a shrug. “Clearly, nobody tells me anything.”

“Azriel did this.” You say quietly. It’s not a question.

“Yes. He did. Turned up at the mead hall and absolutely lost it.” Rhysand’s violet eyes flick between you and Cass. “And I’m guessing it has something to do with the two of you. Care to share?”

Your eyes shutter, because having to speak it aloud again might finish you off. But you suppose the worst has already happened. Azriel knows. You might as well share the truth with Rhys, also, and show him what a wretch you are.

You open your mouth, and unplanned words leave you in a rasp, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

Rhys studies you. “Done what?”

“We slept together.” Cassian finally speaks, wiping a strip of blood from his chin. “Y/N and I.”

You can’t stop your eyes roving over to Roza in the kitchen. Even though she already knows, a bolt of shame hits you all over again that she has to be present for this. Not only does she have far more pressing matters to worry about, but you simply cannot bear it — of all people you’d hate to let down, it’s her.

And she may have her back to you as she busies herself in the kitchen, but you know damn well she’s listening to every word.

Rhysand purses his lips, and he sits back, folding his arms. “Why?

“It just happened.” Cass shrugs. “Night we went to Fenlaros. Y/N was upset after the fight broke out, and I was helping her, and it just…happened. I didn’t think there would be a problem, given that neither of us are tied to anyone, but apparently it is a problem. Honestly, Azriel has no damn right. He’s been busy with Kaeda for months—”

“Yeah, Cass, but we also know it’s not a straightforward situation.” Violet eyes dance over to you. Back to Cassian. “Surely you must have known that he—”

“No, I didn’t, because like I said,” Cassian snaps, “he has no fucking right. What reason does he have to be angry with either of us? We don’t owe him shit. Y/N is a grown female. If she wants to fuck any one of us, that’s entirely her choice. It isn’t for him to dictate—”

“I don’t disagree, but—”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s passing these judgements from his cushy little high horse that he’s been fucking Kaeda atop of. I should have fucking given him hell back there, but I didn’t—”

“There’s more to it than that.” You cut in, every word slicing at you. You lower your gaze as the two males turn to you. “There’s…there’s more to it than you realise.”

Cass eyes you. And usually, he would reassure you — tell you not to put the blame on yourself.

He doesn’t.

He knows, just from looking at you, that he can’t.

He grits out through his teeth, “What.”

“Az has a right to be angry.” Your hands shake as you drag them over your face. Your eyes are red raw and sore from all the crying you’ve already done. “Not at you, though, Cass. It’s me. I…I’ve been so stupid.”

“Stupid how?”

“Azriel and I were engaging in sexual stuff, too. Okay?” The admission comes barrelling out of you. “It wasn’t planned. He asked me for…for some help. With his confidence. One thing led to another, and he and I were doing certain things. We didn’t sleep together, but we did other stuff. And it was all intended to help him approach such things with more confidence, but then I realised I wanted more, but he was interested in Kaeda, and I was upset and jealous and I just…I’m sorry. To both of you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Utter silence.

Your friends stare at you. Even Roza turns around.

You think you’d prefer to be shouted at rather than this. They’re looking at you like…like they don’t know what to do with you, say to you, anymore.

And then Cassian laughs. Not humorously, but a bitter, soured laugh. He shakes his head. “So, what you’re saying was that you used me to forget about your feelings for Az?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I…it wasn’t like that. Not intentionally. You and I both know that what happened between us was impulsive…and unplanned…and it didn’t mean anything. It just happened—”

“Because you were upset about what happened in Fenlaros! You instigated the kiss! Am I to believe it was a coincidence that you did so after Azriel had just put on some valiant display of starting a fight over Kaeda?”

“Cassian.” Rhys warns quietly. “Don’t shout at her.”

“I told you,” Your voice is beginning to break, tears heating your eyes again, “that I was feeling shit about myself—”

Another brusque laugh, void of humour, cuts you off. “And what of earlier tonight?” Cassian demands. “When Roza walked in on me kneeled between your damn thighs. What led to that?”

“That is enough.” Roza stalks over, folding her arms. “I’ve been staying out of this so you can have an adult conversation, but I will not tolerate that disrespect under my roof. I won’t have you talking to Y/N like that, Cassian. Or any female for that matter.”

Cassian slumps back slightly, muttering a half-hearted apology. To Roza, not you.

But he has a point, doesn’t he? Having laid it all out to you like this.

You slept together because you were hurting and wanting to chase away your feelings. And he may have instigated what happened earlier tonight, but you reciprocated — because you wanted to chase away your feelings.

You used him. And the second you truly realise that fact, you feel sick to your stomach.

Tears drop into your lap as your eyes shutter. Shame is ravaging your body like a sickness. You wish you were somewhere, anywhere, else.

Wish you were someone, anyone, else.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and the words alone choke you up even more. “I am so sorry, Cass. I don’t—I shouldn’t have—”

You can’t get out whatever it is you want to say. The emotion is simply too much. A pain that is both mental and physical. It’ll eat away at you until you’re skin and bones. A husk of yourself.

There’s movement, and then someone is perching beside you. Wrapping an arm around you and tugging you into their side.

“Y/N…” Rhysand murmurs, resting his chin on your head. “Azriel should never have come to you for practice to use on another female. Why would you agree to that?”

You know precisely why. But you will not say it aloud again. Choking out those words to Roza was enough. They’ll only hurt even more.

You just cling to Rhys, and you cry harder.

And after a moment, it’s Cassian who’s sitting forward and answering Rhys’s question for you.

“Because you love him. Don’t you?” He’s so quiet. Painfully quiet. “You love Azriel.”

Yes, you want to scream at him, I love Azriel, and I wish I didn’t, because even if Kaeda didn’t exist, I would be the last person in the entirety of Prythian that he’d ever look at. Me with my ruined wings and broken soul. What do I have to offer? What could I ever give him that would be worth sticking around for?

But all you can manage is a soft cry. Rhys holds you tighter as your shoulders shake.

Roza takes the seat that he vacated, next to Cass. Her hand strokes over her belly. “Mistakes have clearly been made.” She speaks. “But believe me when I say that these things are not worth ruining such good friendships over. Ever. The bond that the four of you have is so, so special. Your love and support for each other is beautiful. And so, you may be angry at each other for a while, yes — but it’ll be okay. What you have is far bigger than anger. It’s love.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” You whisper. “I would never.”

A deep sigh leaves Cassian, and he’s leaning forward. “I know that. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

He shouldn’t be. You deserve it. Deserve worse.

“I still don’t think Azriel was justified.” He then says. “He’s being fucking irrational—”

“Yeah, well, he just needs to calm down.” Roza cuts him off. “You all do.”

“And stop sleeping with each other.” Rhys adds. “Definitely don’t do that again.”

Cassian’s response is a mumble, “No danger of that.”

You can only manage to shake your head in response. You’re so very, very tired.

Roza seems to read that on your face. “I think we should all head to bed. Y/N, Rhys, you both go on up while I see to Cassian’s injuries.”

You don’t need telling twice. As Rhysand pulls you up, he damn near supports your whole body weight. It’s like you’re boneless, slumping against him. Exhaustion suddenly smothers you and threatens to drag you down to the floor.

But as Rhys drags you past the couch, a hand catches yours. Encloses around it.

Cassian stares up at you. Looks beaten down and tired and hurt. But he squeezes your hand and says softly, “Love you, sweetpea.”

You run the risk of breaking all over again just by opening your mouth, but you have to get the words out. You swallow down a lump and tamp down on a sob, and you just about manage to return, “Love you too, Cass.”

His answering smile is weak, but he kisses your hand and let’s go. And then Rhys is pulling you towards the stairs.

You don’t deserve a friend like Cassian — someone who can be utterly furious with you but will still break through that anger to tell you he loves you, because you need to hear it. He’s so golden. More valued than he will ever realise.

And Rhysand is, too, as he supports you on every step of the staircase. His arms are firm around you, strong. He’s not letting you fall, even as he stops outside of the bedroom that you always share with Az.

“Will you stay with me, Rhys?” You find your hands bunching the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him with shameful desperation. “Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you, and then he’s nodding resolutely. “Of course, I will.”

The smile you manage to give him is watery and unconvincing, but you force it, anyway. You turn, opening the door — until Rhys stops you. Your tired eyes glance over your shoulder in question.

And the mischief that’s on his face is so normal, so Rhys, that it actually makes you feel better. That look he gets when he’s about to say or do something that’ll earn him a slap up the side of his head. One half of his mouth tilts up, and his eyes are glimmering.

“Out with it.” You say blandly.

“Just don’t make a move on me, okay?” He grins. “Let’s not go for three out of three.”

You scowl, stalk into the bedroom, but in all honesty, you appreciate the humour. It’s far better than the hurt.

And Rhys knows that — which is precisely why he made the effort to crack a joke at all.

When you’re tucked up in bed beside him, his scent and body heat lulling you to sleep, you find his hand beneath the covers and give it a gentle squeeze.

And like always, he squeezes back.

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There’s a new crack in the ceiling.

There were six the last time Azriel counted. A seventh one now cuts a jagged line that zigzags directly over his bed.

This bed, in this room, in these dormitories.

This bed, that Y/N sucked his cock in. That he kissed Kaeda on. With the lumpy mattress and scratchy blankets.

Azriel fucking hates this bed.

He hasn’t slept a wink all night.

He knows that morning must have arrived, because people are walking the halls and readying themselves for training and talking too loudly. Az would usually have been up before all of them, already out there training in the harsh cold. But this morning, he doesn’t move an inch. It has nothing to do with the good few punches that Cassian managed to get in during their fight. If anything, Az relishes the discomfort.

Y/N and Cassian fucked. It’s all he can think about. Plays on a constant loop in his head. The truth is an oily one.

And with that truth comes further truths. Realisations.

The first — that after a night of lying awake and turning it over in his mind, he’s not sure he even has a right to be mad.

Y/N owes him nothing. Cassian owes him nothing. Their choice to lose themselves in each other’s bodies should make no difference to Azriel whatsoever. No promises have been made — aside of Y/N’s agreement to help him build his confidence. And that was a favour. Nothing more.

But those two words — nothing more — keep bringing Azriel to his second realisation. One he’s so fucking stupid for not realising until now, when it’s too late.

It was more — to him. Right from that very first kiss in the mead hall, when heat had surged his veins and he’d been left wanting more, more, more. It was that want, that carnal desire, that had had him coming straight back for further experiences with her. It was easy to say it was all about practice. Easy to pretend it wasn’t the terrifying thing it was. Easy to deny the truth.

Right from that very first kiss, he wanted Y/N.

Wanted to keep kissing her. To touch her. To have her touch him. He didn’t want to experience those things with anybody else, and he didn’t want her to want anybody else, selfish as that may be. That need had overtaken him after one fucking kiss, and he should have realised it there and then.

It was why he’d reacted to Jonan’s flirting the way he had. Why he’d lost his shit in Fenlaros, when Thedis had been ready to drag Y/N off to a shaded alcove and fuck her senseless.

It was why, no matter how damn hard he tried, he couldn’t generate that same desire with Kaeda. Kaeda was not Y/N.

And Y/N was everywhere he looked. In everything he felt. Her heart and her beauty and her laughter and her damn good soul. Her strength. Gods, that unwavering strength.

And that was why he’d reacted so damn irrationally — because he wanted Y/N, and it was his own fucking fault that she’d fallen into the arms of someone else.

He sits up in bed, dragging a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to go to training today, doesn’t want to face anyone—

But a knock lands on the door, and he tamps down on the urge to tell whoever it is to fuck right off.

“Azriel?” Kaeda’s voice comes from the other side. “I know you’re in there.”

He heaves a deep, long sigh.

He really, really does not want to face Kaeda right now, of all people.

But she knocks again, and he finds himself kicking his sheets away in pure frustration and stalking towards the door. He almost yanks it off the hinges.

Kaeda takes in the sight of him, a pinched expression on her face. “You look like shit.”

Azriel really doesn’t have the patience for this right now. His voice is cold, flat, as he bites out, “Why are you in Windhaven.”

“I came looking for you to see if you’d given any thought to my offer, and I found out you’ve been brawling with Cassian.” She reaches out, brushing her fingers over his bruised cheek. “What happened?”

“It was nothing.”

“Clearly.” Sarcasm laces her tone. She rubs her arms. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

The last thing he wants is anyone in his space. And he should stand his ground, tell her that. But he silently steps aside.

Kaeda breezes in, tucking her wings in tight. She turns to face Az and folds her arms over her chest. “Well?”

Azriel kicks the door shut. “Well, what?”

“What of my offer?”

Her offer is the furthest thing from his thoughts. How can he think about a life in Fenlaros when his life in Windhaven is such a colossal fuck up? Not to mention he would never make such decisions without consulting his friends — his family — first—

But things with his friends aren’t in such a good place right now.

“You dumped all of that on me not even twenty-four hours ago.” He points out. “I can’t just come up with an answer for you.”

“What we’re trying to do is important, Azriel—”

“I have other things going on right now. Alright?” He snaps. “Your father’s vision is not my priority.”

Kaeda stills, balling her fists. “What things? Something to do with why you were fighting with Cassian, I presume.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Kaeda.” He pivots, turns his back to her. “I just…need some space.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Az thinks that perhaps she’ll actually listen and leave.

But then he feels movement behind him, and Kaeda’s front is pressing to his back. Her arms wrap around him. He tenses.

“I’m sorry for pushing you.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”

Az’s eyes shutter. Her touch feels wrong. All wrong.”

“Azriel.” She whispers, and those hands travel lower, towards the waistband of the low-slung cotton trousers that hang from his hips. “I can make you feel better.”

The second those fingers begin to slide beneath the waistband, he’s launching himself out of her arms. Stumbling back against the wall.

“No.” He breathes. “I—can’t.”

Kaeda stares at him. Purses her lips. “Why?”

Because you are not Y/N. You’re not her. You’re not, and never have been, who I want.

“I just…need to be alone.” Is all he manages to get out. “You…you need to go.”

The expression on Kaeda’s face tells him just how rarely anyone asks her to leave. He feels rude, and brusque, and unkind.

He can’t bring himself to care.

“…Fine.” The tone of her voice suggests that it absolutely isn’t fine. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin. “I’ll go.”

Az inclines his head. “Thank you.”

She strides towards the door, coldness rippling off her. And when she wraps her hand around the doorknob, she turns.

“When you’re ready to stop being such a fucking coward,” she levels him a look, “you know where you can find me.”

Azriel doesn’t bother replying.

He climbs back into bed. And he relishes in the sound of the door clicking shut.

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

“You’re sure you want to do this today?”

Outside the chipped wooden door of your father’s house a day later, you’re frozen on the spot. Your breath clouds in front of your face, and you wish you’d accepted the coat that Rhys had offered you before leaving.

It’s tempting to turn around and go back to the cottage. Warm yourself by the fire. Hopefully fall asleep and avoid the pain in your heart, at least for a little while.

But you know that now is the right time to do this. Your father will be hard at work in his forge, and you’re free to gather your belongings and turn your back on that hollow home for good. At least it’ll keep you occupied for a while.

So you turn to Roza, and you nod. “I’m sure.”

“I still don’t think you should be doing this alone.” She eyes you cautiously. “Why don’t I send Rhys to help?”

“I’m fine, Roz, honestly. I think…I think I’ll appreciate the space.”

The space to cry and cry without anyone smothering you. You appreciate the love and support over the last twenty-four hours, you do — but being under the same roof as Cass…not knowing what Azriel might be doing, thinking, feeling…it’s all a bit too much.

So, yes, you’ll appreciate the breathing space.

Roza seems to finally recognise that. She nods. “Alright. I’ll come back for you in an hour.”

You lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, and then you’re turning and ripping the bandaid off before you can talk yourself out of it.

The house is as dark and dingy as it always has been. It smells musty. It feels soulless.

You step in and shut the door behind you, and you’re suddenly faced with every bad memory that has ever played out there. The shadow of your child self skitters around on bare, dirty feet, scrambling to get the fire lit, the dinner cooked.

The walls are painted with the hateful, malicious words that your father has spat over the years. Some of them have been punched in his many fits of anger.

This place will always be suffocating and evil. It will always shrink you back down to that tiny, terrified child who just wanted love.

You wrap your arms around yourself and drag your feet through to your bedroom. It’s just as it was before you left. Never feeling personal nor lived in. Certainly never feeling safe.

But you try to block all of that out and focus on what you came here for. The silence is welcomed, despite every little creak and bang putting you on edge, filling you with dread that your father might have returned home early. If you had to face a confrontation with him right now, you wouldn’t have the strength to defend yourself. You’d roll over at the first blow of vitriol.

And so, when you hear the sure sound of the door rattling open, your heart plummets. You freeze, hands bunching the tunic you were folding. Clear, confident footsteps approach.

Azriel appears in the doorway, and you don’t know what to do.

Perhaps facing your father would be easier right now.

He stares at you, his expression guarded. Where he would usually allow you to read his emotions, he wears a cool, flat exterior that even your keen awareness of him cannot get past. It’s deliberate — an act of self-preservation.

It makes you want to cry, just realising that he feels the need to do that around you. He never has before.

“What are you doing here?” You rasp, clearing a lump from your throat. “I thought…I mean…I would have come to find you, but I thought you needed space.”

Az nods. “I do.” He says. “I’m not…not ready to talk about anything yet.”

“Then why—”

“I made you a promise a long time ago.” He steps closer, stares at you in a way that is…quiet. You notice the dark smudges that sit beneath his eyes as he continues, “I made you a promise that I would be there for you, no matter what. And I didn’t keep that promise on Solstice, but I’m keeping it now. Even if I’m not ready to confront things yet…I won’t let you face this alone.”

After twenty-four hours of tears, you were certain you’re all cried out.

But tears fill your eyes again, and you feel like the broken pieces of your heart are breaking even more.

Azriel knows, better than anybody, how difficult it is for you to come back to this house. To face so many of the demons that you fought against with him by your side. He knows that you may have told Roza that you were fine, that you could do it alone, but you’re not, and you can’t.

You never wanted to do this alone. You just didn’t want to do it with anyone but Azriel.

And despite being hurt, and angry, and confused…he’s here.

“How did you…” You clear your throat again. “How did you know?”

“Was flying above. Saw you with Roza.” He strides further into the room and goes straight to one of the drawers in your dresser. “Are you taking everything?”

You’re still a little stunned, but you manage a nod. Your everything is, in fact, not much at all.

Az begins to fold your clothes and sort them into piles. He’s completely silent. Doesn’t even look at you. But a shadow reaches out and tickles your arm.

There’s so much you want to say to him. You also just want to throw your arms around him. Apologise, and apologise, and apologise.

But you’ll always respect his boundaries. He isn’t ready. So you return to the task and work just as silently as he is.

It’s a little while later, when he’s moved on to your small gathering of keepsakes, that he speaks again.

“Do you want to take this?” He turns to you.

In his hand is the little wooden owl carving he made for your thirteenth birthday. The damned thing has seen you shed so many tears, stayed clutched in your palm through so many nightmares. Never will you ever part with it.

“Always.” You answer quietly. “I’ll always take it wherever I go.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and then he nods. Tucks the trinket into the pocket of your satchel. You watch the entire thing with a gaping wound in your heart.

“Az?” You murmur, and he glances at you over your shoulder. “…Thank you…”

His eyes catch yours again, and then he’s dipping his chin. “I made you a promise.” He says again.

You don’t speak another word to each other after that.

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

As soon as you’re finished, Azriel is taking to the skies once more. He doesn’t bid you goodbye.

Roza appears almost immediately, and she takes in your scant belongings with a pitying look.

“Come, little dove.” She reaches for your bag. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

“Let me carry that, Roz.” You say. “You’re pregnant. And the cottage isn’t far—”

But your words cut off when, with a wave of her hand, she’s spiriting all of your belongings away, into thin air. You cock an eyebrow.

“We’re not going back to the cottage.” She says. “I’m taking you to Velaris.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

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bloodycassian · 8 months ago

Text

To be Wed -

Azriel x Reader x Rhysand - NSFW/MDNI 18+ 18+ 18+

Plot - Reader is caught stealing and is being punished in town square when Rhys comes in. He however has another motive, aside from being a sympathetic high lord.

THEMES/WARNINGS - knotting/different shaped Illyrian dicks. Breeding kink (kind of - not mentioned in scene.). ‘Forced’ sex due to circumstance. Voyeur. Cuckholding. Shadow play. Slight anal. Rough sex. Bondage. Public humiliation(slightly). Multiple POV. P IN V. Oral. Body worship. Possible themes of CNC?

Please do not read if you are easily triggered by any of these themes or anything remotely close - make good choices :) skip to ++++++++ for just the naughty bits.

NSFW - 18+ , MDNI

This is my Court. Rhys told himself that over, and over again. He had to be stable to rule. His people relied upon it. Azriel had even noticed his wavering anger and had suggested this. This was for his court.

This was for his pleasure, as well. He fucked into the mouth of the whore he’d hired, and tossed her aside when he couldn’t finish. He needed more, something to get his mind away from the demands of politics and what an open ended rule he had. Something to get his mind off the words Azriel had said.

“A king without heir is what every opponent wishes for. Perhaps it is time-”

Azriel had shut his mouth after Rhys’s snarl. He wouldn’t go about impregnating females just for his lineage. Just to remain in control of his Court. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could have children. After more than a few mishandled one night stands, there’d never been a bastard born prince.

But had Azriel been right? Was it time to try for an heir? Even if it wasn’t with a mate or even a dedicated partner? He’d house the female and take good care of her, surely. His heir would need to be strong, after all. The idea entertained him for longer than he’d like, as he paid the female and dismissed her. His cock was barely hard, still covered in her saliva. He grimaced.

On his walk back to his townhome, Rhys passed the shops, hiding his face from passersby. Some still noticed him. One of them, the punisher on the corner. He tried to slide away, but the male caught him before he could disappear into the crowd.

“Ah, the high lord himself, here to make an example of those whos intentions are against his Court!” The male announced, earning applause from the surrounding crowd.

Rhys lifted his gaze, waving with a pressed smile. When he spied the male on the raised platform, then looked towards the headstalls to his side, Rhys breath was knocked from him.

His cock surged immediately. A perfect, gorgeous body lay trapped here, craning her neck to look at him. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks rosy and bitten from the cold. Her dress was not nearly long enough for this weather, and a part of Rhys roared at that. In both arousal, and outrage that this male would have her up there-

He was at the podium before he realized, rage lacing his words. “Release her. Now.” His command was final, and the round male only gave him a confused look.

He gestured to her with a paddle. “She was caught stealing-”

“You defy your high lord?” Rhys’s mind-voice broke through the thin walls of his shields, and the male flinched, startled.

She was unbound from the headstock in just a few seconds. He took her by the elbow, and brought her before the crowd. “There’s been a misunderstanding. She was merely acting as a thief, so we could be sure our loyal city guards were following their orders.” He announced, smiling brightly towards the male with the paddle. The urge to rip into his flesh was astounding.

“Thanks to our watchful security, we’re keeping Velaris safe. Thank you all!” He called, waving for a moment longer. He dared a glance to the red faced female at his side, noting her shimmering eyes and the way she stared at him. Gods those lips, the mouth half open in utter befuddlement - he tore them away into a shadow before the crowd could notice the growing bulge in his trousers.

She fell onto the floor the moment they landed in his townhome, gasping for breath and steadying herself before standing. “What- the-” She panted, pushing herself to her hands and knees.

Rhys barely resisted the urge to fold that dress over and take a long look at what he’d brought into his home. To taste what he had imagined on that stage. His hands balled into fists for a moment, his nails biting into the flesh before he helped her up.

“This is the wife you find yourself, Rhys?” Az made his presence known in the doorway, earning a low growl from Rhys.

“Wife?!” She squeaked, her voice breaking slightly. She stepped away, knocking into the couch and nearly stumbling over again.

“Forgive him. Im sorry-” Rhys glared towards Azriel, then took her hand. The shadowsinger grinned, and chewed on another piece of apple while he watched the exchange. “I- my mind is a bit lost at the moment.”

“Clearly.” She snorted. “A high lord’s wife wouldn’t be strung up in the center of town for stealing. Your type are called Rulers for that. Royals.”

Azriel laughed, loud and surprised. “Maybe you should propose, Rhys. She’ll set you straight.”

“We try not to rule in that way.” Rhys muttered. “What were you stealing?”

“Clothes.”

“Do you need clothes?” Rhys took another glance at the exquisite dress she wore, wanting to admire it at the same time as rip it off of her.

She shied, her hands going to cross over her chest. “I dont see why that’s important.” She answered.

“Because he’s looking for a surrogate, of sorts. Someone to birth his children.” Azriel answered quickly, ignoring the deathly look Rhys shot at him.

She flinched, and unfolded her arms, revealing a sliver of a knife in her hand.

“You’d be well paid. Taken care of. You and the child both, for the rest of your days.” Azriel barreled on, pushing off the wall and going to join Rhys. He bumped the male with his shoulder, and took a breath, scenting her. “And, if you’d like-” Azriel lowered his voice, stepping closer to her, despite the knife. He leaned in, closer and closer until he hovered just over her ear.

“You’d be able to have more than just him.”

Her breath hitched. The knife clattered to the floor, and Azriel’s huff of a laugh ghosted over her ear.

++++++++++++

“Is there a contract for this or is it just your word?” You asked skeptically.

Rhys reluctantly looked to Azriel, assuming the male had this planned for much longer than Rhys realized. The male snapped and a pen and paper appeared on the desk you sat adjacent to. Rhys groaned.

Azriel had had this planned for much, much longer than Rhys had given him credit for.

“This agreement will span your lifetime, and the lifetime of the potential heir should they remain loyal to the Court. Should you or the child abandon the Night Court, it will be nullified.” Azriel explained briefly.

You weighed the words, bewildered still at how quickly your day had turned around.

“You don’t have to make a choice now.” Rhys said. But if you denied them, where would that leave you? To be begging and making your money on the streets again? Stealing had been a fine trade, but now because of the High Lord’s announcement, there would be no way any other smugglers or traders would make business with you again.

“I’ll do it.”

“Thank the Mother-” Azriel blew out in a breath.

“I think you should think about this more.” Rhys argued at the same time.

“There’s nothing to think about. I bare your children and I receive a life that I’ve been struggling for since I was a child. I am ready for that life to begin.”

You didn’t care if it was reckless or stupid or outright dangerous. You’d done worse for less. Having a guaranteed way to wealth and power with bearing a High Lord’s heir was the gift you’d been waiting for over two centuries for.

You picked up the quill and signed your name. A dull throbbing erupted along your collarbone, and you pulled back the thin part of your dress to see whirling ink there. “A deal made in truth.” Rhys nodded slowly, and stood from the end of the bed. Azriel seemed to melt into the background as the high lord of the night court approached you, heat flaring from him as he neared. Was he sick? Your eyes darted to his hands, where they rolled into fists at his sides.

Slowly, a tingling in stomach grew stronger. Searing down from your collarbone, into the pit of your stomach, it grew. You rubbed your thighs together in your seat, embarrassed of the scent that you knew was rolling off of you in waves.

As soon as he was close enough to smell it, Rhys was on his knees before you. He gripped your knees and pulled them apart, sending sparks up your spine and forcing your arousal to a nearly painful peak. You panted, curling inward trying to protect yourself from the male you hardly knew.

His hand pressed against your chest, gently holding you back as his other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers dragging over the wetness he found there. A low growl reverberated in his throat. “A deal has been struck.” He said, lifting his chin to watch you as he flicked a finger over your clit.

A jolt of hot, spiked pleasure had you rolling your hips into his hand, wishing you had some kind of power here. Some way to manipulate him just as he was doing to you. You glanced to Azriel, who’d practically made himself invisible in a corner.

Rhys caught the look, and followed your eyes. “Is that what you want?” He hummed, his finger circling you slowly, before dipping down to your entrance, prodding there lightly. You couldn’t help but nod, your throat suddenly dry.

Rhys hummed again, and withdrew his hand from your dress. He hauled you up from the chair by your elbow, and brought you to the edge of the bed where he’d been sitting. He knocked your knees apart and guided you lean over, so your chest and head were supported by the bed. So vulnerable like this, so… deliciously at his will. He must have sensed your spike in arousal, because there was a weight that covered your wrists and neck then - just like the pillory in the courtyard had been like.

“Is that why you picked me?” You questioned, voice rough with dryness.

He stepped away, and you half expected him to bring a paddle down on you. A new rush of desire coursed through your cunt, making you a quivering, wet mess. The anticipation for it, for anything had you arching, wanting - needing so badly. The coldness made your body ache for someone to touch. You nearly pushed yourself up from the bed, but then there was a set of hands on your lower back, tender hands grazing over you there.

Then Rhysand appeared before you on the bed. Your stomach dipped and rolled, surprise rippling through you. Azriel’s cold shadows licked up your shins, wrapped around your immobilized forearms and locked them in place. “Fuck-” You panted, shooting Rhysand a curious - and likely, panicked - look as he watched, eyes dark and hooded while Azriel knelt behind you.

His tongue was immaculate. Your legs nearly gave out at the first stroke, but you resorted to arching, rocking back as much as you could to get him just as you wanted him. He gripped your ass tight in his palms, leaving red marks when he occasionally slapped there. You hadn’t been so fucking desprate for something before. So aching for something inside of you.

All the while, Rhysand watched. He flexed, gripping his cock tight and watched, nearly unblinking as Azriel feasted upon you from behind. The tip of him grew wet quickly, and he used it to wetten the rest of his shaft, from the soft pointed tip to the slight bump near the base where the tie was.

You’d never been fucked by an Illyrian before, let alone two. Your mind went fuzzy at thought of it. There’d always been rumors about how good of a fuck an Illyrian was, but to see the size of them in person… A delicious shudder rolled through you.

A finger dipped inside of you with brutal efficiency, curling and drawing the breath from you. Rhys’s chin tipped up, and he bit his lip. His eyes were keenly focused on Azriel, on the way the male move and lapped at you while he stretched you open with another finger.

You moaned, and moaned as the shadowsinger brought you to near completion, then stopped. You nearly stomped your feet. Your body arched and practically pleaded for him to continue. He removed his fingers gently, then slapped his soaked hand across your ass. “Nice and fucking ready.” He hummed, voice husky and filled with the promise of brutal pleasure.

Rhys pulled the shadow of night over himself, and was behind her in an instant. Azriel had done good, better than Rhys would have done if he’d had the job. He wouldn’t have been able to last as long without delving into his own needs.

His hands ghosted over the perfect ass before him, admiring for a moment. Then Azriel was gripping his cock, pumping a few times. Rhys’s hands bit into her skin, earning a delectable cry that had his cock twitching in Az’s hand. A lick of his fingers and Azriel had his cock soaked with saliva, all the way to the base where the bulging roundness was growing quickly.

“Eager.” Azriel said with a grin.

Rhys didn’t have a moment to bear his teeth at the male. He was gone, then appeared again, fully nude on the bed where Rhys had been. The sight of the shadowsinger’s own reddened, growing knot was enough to send another spurt of precum from the high lord.

He slid in with ease, groaning at the heat, the grip that surrounded him. His toes curled, popping loudly. He tugged on the back of the dress, using it as a handle of sorts to pull her back onto him. Quick, efficient thrusts have him bottoming out, her slickened entrance coating the start of his knot already. His mouth waters at the sight of your bodies slamming together. The sound it makes. He stared down at the way your lips gripped him, enjoying the look of the wetness from both your bodies there.

He panted, nearly ashamed at how much he needed this. He spared a glance to Azriel, at the way the male’s smug gaze took in the entire scene before him. As if to say ‘tell me I’m right.’ in challenge to the pleasure coursing through Rhys’s veins.

His knot was beginning to catch, and he leaned forward, taking a breast into her hand and pulling. He’d have to work her open more, and quickly. He wouldn’t last much longer. He swore at himself, then vowed to make the next time last. He put a foot up near her head, arching over her to get the angle that would have him hammering into her. The moans grew louder, almost frantic. Her muscles flexed and he nearly came at the intense squeezing that her pussy gave him.

“Not yet-” He grunted, placing wet kisses at her ear. He fucked into her quickly, thrusting hard and fast until he felt his knot beginning to catch more, then he nearly stilled. He drew a calming breath, and pressed - more and more until a hiss came from her lips. He pulled out, then pressed in again, and again until the sweet, all consuming heat covered his knot.

“Fuck-” He ground out in a long breath. She was silent, eyes wide and gasping, hands grabbing for the sheets - for anything as her muscles began to quiver. A deep satisfaction took him, made him prideful that he had such a gorgeous female coming on him. He rolled his hips forward, inching in more and more - filling and stretching the pussy that clamped down on him.

Then he was cumming, spilling deep inside her. Her walls milked him, her own orgasm making her legs tremble and nearly collapse. The pull on his cock made the weakness known, and he helped hold her up by the hips. He shuddered and panted, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her hair - anywhere he could reach.

The swelling of his knot was exquisite. The tapered bulge of it fitting easily into your body, as if you were molded for him. And your desire had turned from molten and eating you alive, into a manageable flame with him bottoming out inside you. More than that alone, it was something sent from a god. Intoxicating. Mind blowing. It was a stretch that made words impossible, that made your orgasm nearly instant from the pressure of it. You weren’t sure how many times you’d cum around him by the time he was pulling out.

Wetness dripped from your hole. It dripped down your thighs and to the floor, and embarrassment would have coated you, if it weren’t for the desire still thrumming hot in your veins. With Rhysand pulling free from your grip, your body was at a loss. Greedy for more.

“She’s ready.” Rhys said, voice raspy. Your mind was slow to pick up on the fact that the two Illyrians had traded places once again.

“I thought-” You began, voice hoarse from dryness and moaning.

“You don’t want more?” Azriel asked, and he sounded genuinely confused.

A strange sound came from your throat, and your body arched back to him. “I do.. But the contract..”

His cock was inside you in the next breath, forcing any of your questions out of your mind. All that was left was the need, the overpowering heat that roared inside you. You pushed back to it, eager to take the male.

“An Heir of the night court, and anyone else you’d desire.” Azriel panted in your ear, taking you with slower, more grinding thrusts than Rhysand had. With the slickness of Rhysand’s cum and your own juices already coating you, he slipped into the pace he desired easily. “From how fucking soaked you are for me I’d say you desire me as well.”

Denying it would have been an outright lie. How could anyone not want the shadowsinger? You hummed, spreading your feet farther apart. Azriel was slightly shorter than the high lord, but not by much. The size difference was mostly in their cocks. Even with Rhysand fucking you first, breaking you open, Azriel was still a stretch. His cock rammed into that spot inside you with ease, flicking over it with every thrust.

Your hands clawed at the foot of the bed - not sure if you should cum or not, because he was getting you there quickly. His easy pace was offset with the roughness of each stroke, of how much more solid he seemed than the high lord.

The high lord who now groaned as a shadow pleasured him. Your eyes fluttered closed, trying your hardest not to come undone. Azriel’s laugh at your ear had you tightening on him, earning wet sounds from where your bodies connected. “You like that, how I play with these?” His shadows drifted up your ankles and shins, crawling extra slowly up your thighs until they reached the point where he connected with you.

“They serve you, too. Just as I do.” He said it in a voice that would have you wet instantly, in any other situation. But it was laced with deeper meaning. To serve you. To serve you as what, exactly? As your own pleasure-keeper?

A shocked gasp left you as one of the tendrils of shadow circled your other hole. Your body went taut, arching back and nearly knocking him from your pussy. “Easy-” He crooned, his voice sweet in your ear. The sensitivity was outrageous, an entirely new experience for you. It had brought you back though, to a height where you weren’t nearly on the precipice of orgasm. Your eyes watered with the stimulation, with how much pleasure the shadow brought. He slipped back inside you with ease, pressing in deep - letting you feel the way his tie was growing. The bulb there much larger than Rhysand’s had been.

The shadow circling your ass did not relent, but your body grew accustomed to it’s pressure in time with Azriel’s thrusts. You could tell it was growing larger though, from a small finger’s size to the blunt end of a smaller cock, it nudged at you. You were practically purring, content with the easy way your pleasure grew with each thrust when he pressed deep, pushing his growing knot inside you a few times.

A hum of approval rang from Rhys, who now you noticed was bound by the shadows just as much as you were. His hands were locked to his ankles behind him while he was propped on his knees, that shadow making a mess of him while he dribbled pre come and watched Azriel fuck you. The sight of him - of the high lord bound to Azriel’s wishes made something deep in the pit of your stomach turn from content to ravenous.

Your walls squeezed him, urging him to fuck you faster, deeper - whatever he wanted - whatever he wanted.

Gods, that was what he wanted. He wanted Rhysand like that, to urge you on. To not only see something he liked watching, but to see if you also liked it. Pleasure-keeper indeed.

You rolled back to Azriel as much as you could, nudging that shadow into your hole slightly. You cried out, but He was pushing into you, forcing you down, down. His weight suddenly forcing you to the floor. Your hands still bound, you could do nothing but brace for the impact of your knees against the stone floor, but it never happened. The shadows gripped around your thighs, pulling them apart and holding you there, only a few inches above the floor.

The shadowsinger followed you the whole way down, the move planned and wicked. Heat pumped through you with the adrenaline, taking your arousal back to nearly the edge of the peak yet again.

His knot slid in, this time with much more resistance. “Such a fucking dirty thing aren’t you?” He said, gripping your throat in one hand and forcing you to look up, to watch as his shadows milked Rhysand.

The shadow at your hole left, no longer able to press into you with the new positioning. As much as you missed it, the stretch that Azriel’s knot was providing more than made up for the loss. He fucked into you with determination now, the width of his knot slipping in and out of your entrance with ease. He was just under the size Rhys had been when he’d locked inside of you, and still seemed to have more to give.

“Gods, you’re tight. Rhys didn’t do a good enough job breaking you in, did he?” He ground out, placing bite marks upon your shoulders. One of his hands pressed against your hip, supporting you with every snap of his hips forward. He leaned down slightly, arching over your back and raising up from his knees a bit, then buried himself in you at a brutal pace.

A cry fell from your lips at the intensity of it, at the way he seemed to know exactly what to do, where to press- You were coming undone. There was no stopping it, no way to rock or buck against him differently-

His knot swelled, catching on your lips- rubbing between them until he could no longer pull free. Your pussy sealed around him fully, covering him in your tight heat. You came, and came - knees quivering as he locked inside you. The world was nothing but heat and the crest of your pleasure and the fullness that Azriel provided for your pussy to ride out your orgasm with.

Rhys was groaning - whimpering, really, and the shadows writhed around him in such a mass that it was almost concerning. They’d allowed him some movement, so he could fuck them as he pleased, but within a few strokes, thick white cum shot from his cock. He hissed as he came, his body flexing and rolling with the orgasm.

Then, with a stuttering motion of his hips, Azriel was cumming as well. He collapsed atop you, his orgasm ripped from as your insides pressed on him, taking him for all he was able to provide. He panted, eyes blown wide, his nails leaving deep red crescents where he’d been gripping your hips. He filled you, cum leaking out even around the seal his knot had made.

The only thing he wished was for another body, so he may lick it from you. So he may lap at your clit while still seated inside, to feel how you’d react to such a thing-

Gods his cock was growing hard again just from the thought. No, no- he denied himself of it. He’d have plenty of time, in the future. He took steadying breaths and instead played with your hair,fixing how he’d mussed it and planting kisses along where he’d bitten.

He was unable to move for long, long moments. Not until Rhys broke his mental blankness to laugh - “I think I’ve made a good choice of heir-provider.”

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x azriel #abo #abo themes #acotar smut #reader x rhysand #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #reader insert smut #a court of thorns and roses fic #a court of thorns and roses fanfic

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honeybeefae · 1 year ago

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nsfw public sex with rhys 🫣🫣

In Plain Sight (Rhysand x Reader)

BINGO: Public Sex

(Another day, another bingo. This one was super fun and just reminded me of how much I love Rhys. I need a morally grey sarcastic man in my life istg.)

WARNINGS: Smut, Public sex

The lights in Rita’s were low enough that no one could see what you were doing underneath the table at first glance but, if they decided to look closer, they would see your hand wrapped around their High Lord’s cock as he tilted his head back in pleasure.

You had your legs crossed, your sex already throbbing from how thrilling the scene was as you looked around innocently. The rest of your group was out dancing or at the bar, not even paying attention to the two of you. Taking one last look around you finally turned to look at Rhys, squeezing him at the base and making him jump.

“Cruel woman.” He panted, violet eyes full of both desire and humor. “What’s your game here, hm?”

“You promised I could have you anywhere I wanted…” You smiled coyly, burying your face into his neck and biting the tan skin. “And I want you here, in front of everyone.”

His dick seemed to get even harder as he gave a pitful thrust into your hand, his eyes closing as he tried to control the urge to spill into your hand already. You had been a brat all day and when you had suggested drinks tonight he should have known you had ulterior motives.

“I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here, darling.” Rhys grunted, his voice coming out more broken than he intended. You pulled away with a raised brow, glancing down at how angry his cock was for your stimulation, before grinning from ear to ear.

“I believe your right, my lord. Let me remind you.” You purred, brushing your lips over his before ducking at the last second to kiss his cheek. His chest rumbled with irritation but you ignored it, instead choosing to straddle his lap.

To anyone else, it looked like the two of you were simply enjoying each other’s company. There wasn’t any sign to give away that the moment you had climbed on top of him you had stuffed him inside your dripping cunt.

Rhysand hissed through his teeth as you dropped your head and reveled in the stretch and burn. You felt two fingers underneath your chin as he lifted your head to gaze at you, his pupils almost taking up his entire eye. “Naughty girl, not wearing anything underneath this dress.”

“I-fuck,” You whined, rolling your hips to gather some stimulation. “I came prepared.”

He smirked and placed his hands on your hips, helping you rise and fall in a slow rhythm. You were flushed from head to toe, feeling like everyone was watching you though you knew they weren’t. The thought of someone finding you in this position, or even actively watching and enjoying, made you clench even harder around him.

Rhys noticed, of course, and brought your head to his chest. You whined into his chest, already losing the boldness as he easily took back control and started rutting into you. The table moved slightly with each thrust but the music was too loud to notice. He grabbed fistfuls of your ass underneath your dress to hold you still, his teeth baring as you moaned his name.

“You love this don’t you darling?” He whispered into your ear, his voice like hot wax dripping over your body. “That someone might see you like this, taking my cock so well. You want them to see.”

You nodded immediately, taking in a sharp breath when two of his fingers started to rub at your bundle of nerves.

“Mother above, you’re so tight.” Rhys growled, picking up his pace as he started to lose control. “Do you want me to fill you up? Want my cum leaking out of you for the rest of the night?”

“Yes, yes, please, Rhys!” You blubbered, your voice growing in volume. He increased his speed on your clit and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, all of the sensations and taboo feelings coming to a crescendo.

“Let go, darling. Let them see how well I fuck you.”

The command went straight to your sex and you bit down on his shoulder to muffle your scream, enjoying the way his grip got painful on your ass as he thrust a few more times until he stilled inside you. His breath was hot in your ear as he emptied himself into your pussy, already feeling some of it leaking out and onto his balls.

Both of you were catching your breath when you heard someone clear their throat, Rhys immediately tightened his grip around you as he glared up at Cassian.

“What?” He snapped, rolling his eyes at the knowing smirk the Illyrian was wearing.

“When you two are cleaned up you might want to take this party back to your bedroom, not that some of us weren’t enjoying the show.” Cassian chuckled, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “I think Rita was getting some complaints.”

You couldn’t stop the soft giggle that escaped your mouth as you lifted your head, smiling brightly at your mate and kissing his nose. “Oops.”

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

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Poly!Feysand with Rhys as the middle (aka Feyre shifts so she has a dick too) so Rhys is being fucked as he fucks reader and just becomes this overstimulated ball of neediness cuz no matter which way he moves he’s being stimulated (backwards? Prostate. Forwards? Vice-like cunt). N when it gets too much for him to keep up- reader rides him, playing with his wings as Feyre keeps pounding into him playing with reader’s tits. (Multiple orgasms for Rhys pls. Need me an overstimulated high lord)

unraveled

Feysand x f!Reader

Warnings: pure smut, pegging, overstimulation, not proofread

A/N: please bear with me this is new territory, I did my best. Thank you for the request! I need a cold shower now.

One thing they don’t mention when it comes to Fae stamina for sex, is that it’s a double-edged sword. Especially when Feyre’s in a mood. Rhys, although he might not admit it, loved being in between the two of you. You, a babbling mess under him, and Feyre slowly turning him into one. He could feel himself pulsing around Feyre just as much as your walls were absolutely gripping him. It had always been a tight fit, but today it seemed especially so. He groaned as you pushed forward to meet him, Feyre pounding into him and forcing him deeper and deeper inside you. He barely had to move, the two of you doing all of the work for him.

Rhys came, for the second time, inside of you with a groan. His hands braced either side of your head as he tried to catch his breath. Feyre paused briefly. “Can’t keep up?” She teased, rocking into him gently before pulling out. You wiggled away from him, and Feyre turned him - her hands pressing him back to lay on the bed. “Let us do the work, love.”

Fuck, he was more than happy to let the two of you. He stretched out, interlacing his hands behind his head. Feyre grasped your hips, poising you above his cock, already hard again. He let out a low moan as you gripped him tightly, your hand around his base, and slowly lowered yourself. He was pleased to see at least you were breathing a bit heavy. Feyre, however, still seemed perfectly fine. You leaned forward, hands braced on his chest and gently rocked your hips, moving just the smallest amount. He cursed as Feyre propped one of his knees up and slightly to the side, giving her more space to work. She tilted her head, watching as y/n rocked against him, her hips moving in small circles.

“Wait a second y/n.” She stopped immediately, turning to Feyre with a questioning look on her face. Somehow, a pillow appeared and Feyre managed to wiggle it underneath him, propping his hips up. He groaned as she slid into him with ease, her hand tapping y/n’s shoulder, indicating for her to move again. She did, and Rhys was a mess - everything felt like almost too much. He knew all he had to do was say the word and the two of you would stop. But - Feyre’s hands playing with your nipples, your head thrown back against her as she kept moving in and out of him.

Feyre whispered something in your ear, and he saw the glint in your eyes as you leant forward, still moving as your hands traced over his chest, and your nails grazed lightly over his wings. That was all it took for him to let out a strangled moan, spilling inside you again as you clenched around him.

The two of you finally stopped, and he was limp and sated, his chest rising and falling as he attempted to catch his breath. You carefully raised off of him, collapsing on the bed next to him.

Feyre let out a soft laugh as she pulled out and you snuggled up to him. He managed to loop an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you traced lines down his body.

#acotar imagine #acotar smut #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand x y/n #feysand x y/n #feysand x reader #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader

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potatoplace · 3 months ago

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Omega Needs - chapter 3

Feylin, eventual Feysand

Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Series Masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Words: ~2.1k

Warnings: just A/B/O dynamics, Rhys being a bit of a dick

Author's Note: having lots of fun writing this, I'm gonna try to post on AO3 too if I remember. I enjoyed this chapter, I hope you will too!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“It’s… not what I expected?” Feyre admitted, surprise lacing her tone. “It’s a lot less… ominous then I thought it would look.”

Rhysand laughed, a lighter one than he used back in Spring. “You are probably picturing the other half of my court, but no need to worry my darling Feyre-”

“I’m not your anything!” Feyre interjected, moving a few paces away from him. “Do not act like me being here for a week every month gives you any kind of ownership over me!”

Rhysand held up his hands in surrender, attempting to placate Feyre’s still wired emotions. “I meant no claim in my statement, Feyre. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying when you’re here,” he told her, walking in the direction they were facing.

Feyre stared at him for a moment, wondering why he seemed so much more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. She tried to take a step forward to follow him, then remembered that she was still wearing those cauldron-damned heels that were far high and far too thin for her to feel safe in.

Carefully, she lowered herself to her hands then sat on the floor, attempting to reach past the skirts of her dress to untie the shoes.

“Feyre, what are you-?” Rhysand started, turning to face her again. “Oh, Feyre darling, would you like some help taking off your shoes?” He asked in a playful tone, already returning to her side, his citrus and sea scent washing over her in a wave of calm.

Seeing as she still hadn’t managed to get her hands on one of the shoes yet and her hands didn’t seem to want to help now that she’d scented him, Feyre sighed “Yes, please.”

“Good manners too, better than most of the times I’ve seen you.” His voice was full of mirth, but the compliment made her feel more at ease. Her omega was settling down, happy to be acknowledged for something, anything positive. He gently lifted the skirts of her dress, and quickly untied the heels from her feet, his hands lingering for a moment before grabbing the heels and standing up.

He extended his free hand, which Feyre ignored. She managed to get on her knees again, but the weight of the dress and her exhaustion combined was too much for her to get her feet beneath her again. She sighed again, grabbing his hand and letting him help her the rest of the way up, brushing against his chest on accident, getting an even deeper breath of him this time.

Lovely. Refreshing. Safe.

“They really didn’t want you to run away, did they?” Rhysand asked after they started walking.

“Excuse you?” Feyre asked, stunned by the question and her thoughts.

“I just mean that they have you in a dress you can barely walk in from the weight and shape, and shoes that seem a bit dangerous to wear. Especially on grass,” he points out, shaking the heels still in his hand.

Feyre leaned over and snatched them from him. “Impractical is the fashion, it does not mean they want me to be shackled to Spring.”

“Two things can be right at the same time, Feyre,” he said, stopping in front of a door to their right, turning the handle and pushing it open, allowing Feyre to walk in first.

The open wall at the back had silk curtains of different hues of blue covering it and swaying in the slight breeze. The bed was situated against the left wall, also covered in deep blues and purples, and a canopy of fabric above it, with drapes tied up and ready to be let down- perfect for feeling safe in a heat, her omega whispered inside of her, a thought she crushed down deep inside of her.

The bed was lovely though, it looked soft and comfortable and ready for her to take a nap in.

Looking over the rest of the room, Feyre saw a large open archway at back of the right wall, presumably leading towards a bathroom, as well as a vanity with a mirror, a large armoire, and a plush looking chair in the corner. Near the back of the room was a small round table with two chairs, and she knew she wanted to have breakfast or tea there one of her days here and look out at the mountains… she might even daydream about painting them.

Feyre walked further in, wanting to see the bathing room. And she wasn’t disappointed- her mouth fell slightly open, staring at the large tub, nearly the size of a small pond, with an open wall facing towards those very mountains she wanted to admire.

Maybe this was where she would take her tea.

Today, if possible.

She moved back into the main room, back towards where Rhysand was standing in the doorway.

“What do you think?”

“It’s… beautiful,” Feyre admitted reluctantly. She had been prepared to hate her time here. Hate everything here. But so far, everything… even Rhysand has been tolerable. Lovely, even, in the case of her room.

“Thank you, Feyre. I’m glad you like it.”

Feyre chewed her lip, trying to force out the question sitting in her throat.

Violet eyes tracked the movement, his brow cocking a moment later. “Yes, Feyre?”

“Were you…” she paused, embarrassment at the question building. “Were you serious about returning me to Spring if I… gointoheat?” is forced out of her, needing to know the answer.

“Of course, sweet omega. I would never deny you going back to your chosen alpha when in need,” he said reassuringly. Her cheeks flushed at pet name, unable to make herself as mad about it as she should be, since he had taken her away from said alpha and her wedding ceremony itself-

Oh, the anger was coming back. She had been taken from her alpha.

“But you’ll take me from him on my wedding day.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “You were panicking over your wedding day Feyre, shooting all of those emotions right down the bond at me,” he said, waving his left hand at her. “I saved you from having to run away in front of all those guests, from the alpha who still hasn’t claimed you after a year.” His voice quieted at the end, rage pouring into it.

Feyre inhaled sharply, her fear suddenly a gaping wound, she knew it wasn’t right that Tamlin hasn’t marked her yet-

“And while I would love for you to be my sweet, claimed omega, I know that you are very much in love with Tamlin.” Feyre bared her teeth slightly at his words, anger bubbling to the surface over her hurt. “It’s just too bad that there were all those petals everywhere, too bad that your betrothed couldn’t bother to make the ceremony feel safe for you.”

“How dare you!” Feyre yelled, hurling one of the shoes in her hand at his head, striking him on the forehead. She raised the remaining shoe as he opened his mouth again, ready to hit him again if he continued insulting her alpha.

“I have merely stated the truth Feyre.”

The second shoe went flying, disappointingly caught in his hand instead of by his stupid, perfect face. “I did not ask for your warped version of the truth, Rhysand. I also did not ask for you to save me from my wedding.”

He considered her words for a moment, and then the shoe was dissolving into nothing but dust. “And yet I did anyways,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave her room. “Do remember, I gave you a whole year before calling in the bargain. I was simply worried about you, Feyre darling, and decided to pay you a visit.” He picked lint off of his finely tailored suit, before looking Feyre in the eyes again. “I will see you for breakfast in the morning, Feyre. Taking your meals with me will be my one requirement of your time here. Dinner tonight will be on your own, however. Nuala and Cerridwen will be available to help you if you need it-” he paused at her look of confusion. “The shadow wraiths who helped you Under the Mountain,” he explained, and Feyre nodded her head tightly at the reminder.

Rhysand moved towards the door, taking a moment to look back at Feyre, still in her wedding gown. “Would you like me to have them come in now to help you take off that monstrosity of a wedding dress? Or perhaps I could-”

“Rhysand!” Feyre yelled in answer, storming over to the door as fast as she could to slam the door in his face.

Feyre turned the lock on the door, nearly sliding down it before she remembered that she was unable to get up on her own. She trudged over to the vanity, observing herself in the mirror. Her makeup was still alright, but her hair looked worse than before, now a frizzy mess on her head. She began pulling the various pins from her, each one followed by a small sigh of relief. Once she had finished, she shoved the pins into one of the drawers of the vanity, not caring about being clean at the moment.

All she could think about was getting out of this cauldron damned dress and into that amazing tub just a few feet away.

She tried to remember how Alis had put her into this thing, but her memory was of no help to her. She knew it had gone over her head, but she thought Alis had secured it somehow, buttons maybe?

But she couldn’t reach them. No matter how hard she fiddled around, she was stuck in the dress.

If Tamlin were here, this would be so much easier. He would probably rip straight through it and tear it off me, Feyre thought, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. But Tamlin wasn’t here. So she continued trying to free herself.

After a quarter hour struggling with the damn thing, she gave in and reached out through her bond with Rhys.

Could you send Nuala and Cerridwen in to me?

Of course, darling, was his answering, insufferable reply.

A minute later, the two wraiths were at her door, before Feyre remembered she had locked her door, and would take a while to get up alone. “I locked the door and can’t get up, could you come in anyways?” She asked, her voice small.

They passed through the door, becoming corporeal on the other side.

One of them helped her to stand, and the other immediately set about finding the buttons holding her inside of the dress.

They worked incredibly quickly, one twin working on the buttons as the other lifted the layers upon layers off of her body, and within five minutes she was left in just her slip dress and lingerie.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the two.

“Of course, Lady Feyre,” said one of them. “Is there anything else we can do for you before dinner?”

Feyre chewed her lip, then asked “would you get me a pot of tea please? On a tray I can have next to the tub, if that’s possible. Oh, and please call me Feyre.”

“That should be no problem at all, Feyre. We’ll be back in a few minutes, feel free to get comfortable in the bath if you’d like.”

And with that, the quiet and gentle twins left the room, taking the pile of tulle with them.

Feyre looked over to the archway, and like a moth to a flame drifted into the bathroom, landing on the edge of the tub, dragging her fingers through the water. Already the perfect temperature.

Her slip went over her head as she walked back into her room and was thrown onto the large chair near the armoire. She sighed as she slipped off the bra and panties she had been so excited to show her husband fiancé, and tossed those on the chair as well.

Returning to the bath, she tested the water again with one foot, and then stepped in fully, sinking down and submerging herself up to her neck, tilting her head back to wet her hair.

She floated over to the edge of the bath, resting her head along it and looking out into the beautiful, snow capped mountains.

Aside from how annoying Rhysand can be, and how he knows just how to get on her nerves, the Night Court doesn’t seem to be as horrible as Tamlin and Ianthe claimed it would be.

After all, she has a room fit for a queen and a view so spectacular, her fingers are itching to paint for the first time in over a year.

#omega needs #acotar a/b/o #acotar omegaverse #feyre #rhys #feyre x tamlin #feyre x rhys #omega!feyre #alpha!rhys #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar #tato writes

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climbthemountain2020 · 4 months ago

Text

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 9

Part 9/? | Ao3

As always, thanks to my best beta reader @witch-and-her-witcher I adore you!

Feyre was panting, laying on the ground and wishing, perhaps, that she could simply pass out and enter a dream. She was already sweating and frustrated; she might as well see if she could tempt Rhys to appear, too.

Instead, Lucien’s massive shape blocked the sun, reaching a hand out to pull her up.

“You probably should have seen that coming.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She winced, waving him off and holding her ribs as she rose up.

They’d recently begun interspersing their daily physical training with the fire magic, combining the two so that she could double down instead of separating them into different sessions. It was more practical, anyway, learning to use both at once. If she ever actually had to fight, she’d want to know how to use both physical combat and magic to give herself the best chances of survival.

Normally, Feyre loved the practicality of this. She enjoyed working her body, and she was enjoying feeling herself grow stronger in more ways than one. Today, however, Feyre was dragging.

She had skipped the library this morning to practice shooting with Calla, her arms feeling like jelly and her fingers nearly numb before she even entered the training rings with Lucien. When he’d shot fire from his hands at her face during sparring, she’d been too busy containing that to notice his foot swinging at her torso and knocking her onto her back.

“You‘re distracted today.” She bit back a snarl in response to the judgment on her sparring abilities. She’d been spending too much time around the fae.

“I’m tired. Training from sun up to now has not done me any favors.”

Lucien smirked at her. “Can’t handle it, Feyre?” He knew the taunts would help, and she hated that he was right.

“I can handle it just fine, Lucien.”

He grinned, watching her fall right into the trap. “Line up again.”

She did, dropping into the stance that muscle memory provided her with now. She was annoyed and fired up, but her brain still fought to stray.

She was also not helped along by the fact that every night this week, she’d dreamt of Rhys. Every single night it was the same– light, caressing touches, kisses in the dark, and then she’d abruptly wake alone in her room with nothing but the comfort of her own hands beneath the sheets.

Feyre was frustrated in more ways than one.

She shook herself off and tried to focus, her and Lucien circling each other in the ring.

“Tear him up, Feyre!” She tried not to follow the sound to the edge of the ring where she knew Calla was sitting on the wall eating an apple next to Tamlin, who was leaning in and watching. Tamlin usually just offered constructive, if not bland, criticism from the sidelines while halfheartedly making conversation with Calla.

Feyre and Lucien had both offered to bring Calla into their training too, considering that if she was that good with a bow, she might also be interested in learning how to fight. But she had declined repeatedly. She had no interest in fighting or violence now that it wasn’t something required to survive.

Ever since the day with the naga, things had been a little easier between Calla and Tamlin, at least. They weren’t exactly falling in love, but at least they could be in the same room without everyone being able to cut the tension with a knife. Progress was progress, as slowly as it was happening.

“Hands by your face, Feyre. Where is your head today?”

“Off my back, Lucien. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“They certainly look friendly.” She pretended to widen her eyes at Calla and Tamlin, then swept Lucien’s feet when he looked over his shoulder to see.

“Cheater.” He huffed from where he’d inelegantly sprawled onto the ground.

“Where’s your head today, Lucien?” She asked mockingly, holding out a hand which he took then yanked her to the dusty ground with an oof next to him.

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

They just lay there breathing heavily under the waning afternoon sun. Lucien turned his head to look at her, his voice lowered.

“It does seem to be going better though, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Not great, but better. She’ll need a push, I think, though time is helping.”

“He’s never been good with the ladies. Not everyone is gifted like me.” Lucien’s smile was sharp and feline as he wiggled his eyebrows, currently covered in dust from the ring, at her.

“Gifted with idiocy, perhaps.”

“We’re going in for dinner!” Calla called, rousing the two from their resting places.

+++

Tamlin and Calla walked towards the manor while Feyre and Lucien watched, Calla looking a little shy and uncomfortable and Tamlin looking stiff and awkward.

“Gods, he isn’t doing himself any favors.” Lucien rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Give it a week, then we’re stepping in.”

“Deal. See you after dinner?”

“Of course.”

They split off at the manor, Feyre choosing to eat in her rooms and take a hot bath to soothe her aching muscles.

She eased herself into the near-scalding water, just how she liked it, and allowed her head to tip back against the rim. She couldn’t go on distracted like this. She had to focus, but these fleeting moments with Rhys in her sleep were not enough.

How long would she need to stay here? Until the curse was lifted or time ran out? Either way, she guessed the end was near.

If her theory was correct that the dreams weren’t just dreams, then Rhys was aware something was wrong–different–but did he know she was already in Prythian? Did he have any inkling of what she’d traded? Of what she’d done?

She trailed her hands to the ring on the chain between her breasts, glittering with the light bouncing off the droplets of water.

Soon.

She couldn’t tell him if she truly wanted a chance–he’d never even give her the opportunity to try. He would spirit her away back to the human lands where she would be safe and alone without him forever.

No. She couldn’t even contemplate it as a possibility.

The dreams and evasion would have to do for now.

Instead, she turned her attention to her practicing, much of which she did in the bath these days to ensure privacy. Shapeshifting was proving to be the power she struggled the most with, unable to practice efficiently when she had to do it alone. She didn’t want to commit to any big transitions when she didn’t have help, and she couldn’t have help when none of them knew she possessed magic beyond her fire.

Mostly, Feyre practiced little changes, the bargain tattoo glamour, hair and eye color, and occasionally the position of freckles across her shoulders and face. Once she had managed to mimic Tamlin’s claws momentarily, then panicked when she couldn’t get them to go back in. It had been a stressful two hour “bath” before she exhausted herself, falling into bed and passing out while the claws retracted in her sleep. She was too anxious to try again.

She’d be changing powers and books soon, moving on despite her discomfort with the Spring magic. She needed to keep going and push forward if she was going to get to all the courts with ample time to practice them all. After all, she could always go back once she was done.

Instead, Feyre let herself relax into the heat, the dust and dirt of the day washed into the soapy water already, the magic tub refilling with clean, warm paradise. She might as well get an early night tonight and hit the ground running tomorrow with Dawn Court. In the meantime, she could relax here in the tub, letting her mind and hands wander, and hoping to finally, blessedly, find some reprieve when she went to dream.

+++

Feyre had skipped training the next afternoon, still sore from yesterday’s ass beating. She had spent her morning in the library finishing up what she could, but she still needed to get those final extra shelves from Tamlin to complete her reorganization and cataloging. She wondered if there was something else around the manor that she might do once she finished here, but the thought of not spending every morning in the library made her a little sad. She’d really enjoyed the task, and even more, she’d enjoyed having fairly unlimited access to all the knowledge of Prythian. Every step brought her closer to Rhys, who, notably, she had still not been able to conjure a full dream about again last night.

Feyre sighed, making a mental note to ask Tamlin about those extra shelves when he and Lucien returned from patrolling. Without them there, there was no pressure to train once she’d finished, so she used the extra time to stay in the library and relax across the couches while Calla worked on her writing. Feyre wondered if she should also perhaps pick up another hobby when she was finished with the library and books. Maybe she could start painting again. Certainly the towns nearby had access to lovely paints. She made a note to ask Tamlin about that, too.

She was currently spread across the lush couch with her book on the Dawn Court, speeding through this one, but with no real way to practice their healing magics. She had some minor success this morning mending a scratch she’d gotten from the rose gardens before Calla came to join her, but past that hadn’t had much opportunity and wasn’t sure how she could create one without injuring herself on purpose.

Calla grumbled from the table, and Feyre sat up to pop her head over the back of the couch.

Her reading and writing were improving, but very slowly. Her skills needed more time and attention than Feyre had previously thought, but Calla was a hard worker, and she was throwing herself fully into the task. Feyre was certain that Calla was competitive by nature, even with herself, and she often grew frustrated and snippy as she worked.

Right now, Calla’s brows were furrowed and she had an angry expression as she scraped the pen across the paper, nearly tearing it up in her vigor and rage. She was clearly struggling with today’s sentences. Feyre was watching her, wondering how she might intervene, when she suddenly heard Calla’s voice, unsure and weak as she’d never heard it before, echoing in the air around her.

I’m not good at this, I can’t do this, why am I here, why are they wasting their time on me, what is the point, why keep me here, I have no worth to them, to anyone–

“Okay, enough for today! Let’s go for a walk. I want to show you something.” Feyre had to put an immediate stop to whatever had just happened; she slammed her magic back, pulling at it until she felt it simmer and recoil. Calla looked up, a little surprised as though she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. Feyre grabbed a large, thin blanket from the couch, rolled it beneath her arm, and motioned for Calla to follow her.

She knew there was a stretch of rolling hills lined with massive, ancient willow trees nearby, and what better way for them to take some time and relax? The air was fair, as it always was, the skies shining and blue. There had only been a few rainy days since she’d come to Spring, but most were the same lovely weather and endless cerulean sky. The puffy, white clouds reminded her of her days at the lake at her own home, and her heart wrenched suddenly with how much she missed her sisters. She wondered what they were doing now–how they’d been since her departure. Thinking of them on top of what had just happened was giving her emotional whiplash.

Though Feyre had plastered a smile to her face, her mind was spinning violently the entire way.

Had she been inside Calla’s head? How had she done that? Was she a daemati, the very thing she’d just been wondering about Rhys? Did that mean one of the High Lords was, too?

For a moment, she had a terrifying thought that it might be Tamlin.

Could she try to get into his head? If he was a daemati, would he know then that she could do it, too, if she tried?

She hadn’t seen it listed anywhere in her reading so far, so perhaps it was a secret if one of the High Lords did possess the power.

She shook herself off. She was focusing on Calla right now, and she could worry about the implications of what had just happened later on.

They crested the final hill and Feyre laid the blanket out for them. “I thought maybe it would help to get away from the manor for a bit.” Gods knew Feyre could use some relaxing time to clear her mind, too.

“You want me to just lay here?” Calla asked with a hint of condescension in her voice. She reminded Feyre of Nesta so much sometimes it hurt, but this time it gave Feyre a small smile to hear it.

“Can you just relax? I promise you won’t wither up and die if you do.” Feyre had never really had a female friend, if she could even call Calla that. She thought Calla liked her as much as she was able; she was prickly and somewhat petulant, but Feyre got the impression it was a matter of circumstance and not choice.

After a few moments of silence, she attempted to get Calla’s mind on something other than writing.

“Tell me about your life before you came here,” Feyre asked without opening her eyes.

“You know what it was like.”

“I still would like to hear more about it from you, if you’d be willing to share.” The silence went on so long that Feyre was sure Calla wasn’t going to answer. Finally, when she’d all but given up, Calla started in a quieter but hardened voice.

“We lost all our money when I was a child, like I said. It wasn’t much, but we lived comfortably up to that point, I think. I don’t remember much. I had only just started my lessons when things fell apart.” She paused, and Feyre let her. She continued to keep her eyes closed to give Calla a sense of privacy and comfort if she wanted to go on.

“My parents weren’t bad people, but they didn’t know how to take care of themselves. My father was crippled by the bill collectors when he couldn’t pay. And my mother is….” She sighed. “My mother is a simple woman. She loved me as well as she could, but she was never meant for this life. A local boy in town taught me to shoot a bow and arrow one day, and I sold some of our remaining fine silver to afford my own. After that, it just got worse and worse. We sold everything we could, and my parents began to depend on me to survive once they saw I could hunt. That’s what I was doing in the woods the night I shot…your friend.”

“Andras.” The name still hurt.

“I thought he was going to steal the deer I was about to shoot. We had barely eaten in weeks. We were out of food.” Feyre could still hear that pleading in her voice, that desperation for absolution.

Feyre alone could not give it.

“I know.” She wasn’t sure what to say. “Your parents should have taken care of you. Not the other way around.”

The silence stretched between them, and Feyre knew Calla had spoken all she planned to about it.

“Do you ever think something else is going on here?” The question took Feyre by surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder, sometimes, if they aren’t letting me stay for a reason.” The words stirred within Feyre.

Could she be figuring it out?

“They let me stay, too.”

“You’re only half human.”

Feyre decided to push. “What do you think they’d keep you here for specifically?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid, forget I said anything.” And just like that, Calla was closed again. Feyre wondered, though, if this line of questioning might not be the key. They couldn’t tell her exactly what was happening, but if they could help her figure it out herself? She would ask Tamlin and Lucien what they thought about it when they returned.

In the meantime, she didn’t need Calla thinking that she wasn’t welcome here. Every inclusion was another step forward to accomplishing the goal they all wanted. Another step closer to Rhys.

“Have you considered that perhaps we ended up liking having you here?”

Calla immediately averted her eyes, then turned her whole head another direction. The silence felt heavy, and Feyre wondered if what she’d said had been taken as a taunt.

Finally, when Feyre was about to break and suggest they venture back to the manor, Calla spoke, her voice rough and harsh, as though she were using it to ward something off.

“I am not good at this, Feyre. I have never been able to depend on anyone but myself. I don’t know where to even begin.”

That Feyre understood. She’d had all her basic needs met her entire life, but had she ever been able to count on anyone for anything more than that?

She felt bad for not pushing Calla to seek the truth further, but she wouldn’t do it without discussing it with Lucien and Tamlin first. Even if she’d wanted to, she wasn’t sure she could confirm anything for Calla, at least not in any way that mattered. In the meantime, though, she couldn’t have Calla feeling like she was here as a pawn, even if, mostly, she was.

“We want you here, Calla.” It wasn’t a lie for Feyre, and it wasn’t entirely a lie on Lucien and Tamlin’s behalf either. If she ever wanted to reach Rhys, she needed Calla to believe enough to at least be open to Tamlin’s advances. The least Feyre could do was sow the seeds.

The honest, open look in Calla’s eyes nearly broke her heart. She knew what she was doing was for everyone’s greater good, but as Calla slipped her hand into Feyre’s, she couldn’t help feeling sick as another string in her web of slight deceits fell into place.

+++

Feyre woke with a jump, the vision of the attor holding her down and tearing her flesh still halfway in her mind. She could smell the rot on its breath, the scales of its rough skin. It still came to her from time to time, but sometimes, now, she could fight back. It was never enough to survive, but at least it reassured her that her training was working in some small way.

She wished, as she did every single morning, noon, and night, that she could return to her dreams of Rhys.

One step closer to you, Rhys. Whether I see you in my dreams or not.

She pulled herself up in the bed, rubbing her hand over her face and looking out the windows. It was still dark and the moon was hardly across the sky.

What had woken her?

She pulled herself from the bed, grabbing her clothes off the chair back and stepping into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face before going to investigate. As she was pulling on her trousers, already softening with the regular wear and washing they were getting in Spring, she heard a loud commotion outside. Screaming, so much screaming, and the loud, commanding voice of Tamlin, barking orders.

Suddenly, every part of Feyre was at attention, the threat of horror seeping into her bones as she hurried out of her room, pushing the door shut behind her and rushing down to the foyer. She rounded the stairway just as the front doors burst open, Tamlin rushing in with a blue faerie over his shoulders and Lucien running in close behind.

“Open the dining hall!” Lucien obliged, rushing over, and Feyre sped down the remaining stairs, taking in the huge pools of blood littering the floor. The screaming continued, the walls of an animal not put down correctly, pulsing through the air and grating against her senses in a way that felt primal and painful. She could hear their yelling as she made her way across the bloody room, but it was Lucien who burst out of the doors, slamming into Feyre and knocking them both to the ground in the great hall.

Lucien was pale as a sheet, his hair flopped over his eyes as he looked up and beheld them. She thought he might say something, his lips as bloodless as paper, but instead he turned his head to the side and vomited all over the floor.

She’d never seen him so undone. Not in the days when Tamlin was gone, not when he learned of Andras, never. Her instincts to help him took over, her hand finding his and her other on his back.

“Come. Come on, let’s get some air.” He stood and dazedly walked to the back doors with her, the screaming ripping through the air behind them like knives through a canvas.

As soon as they stepped into the open air of the night, a soft chill dancing on the breeze, Lucien took a deep, gasping breath. He pressed his hands to his knees, bending over as he gagged again. Feyre rubbed a hand down his spine.

“What’s happened?”

“He was left on our borders. She cut his wings off.” He gagged again through the tears.

“Come on. Come sit down.” She led him over to their chairs, wondering why unshakeable, unflappable Lucien was taking this so hard. Had he known the fae? If he had, wouldn’t he have wanted to stay?

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Lucien caught his breath, the gasps evening out.

“It’s getting closer, isn’t it? If she’s getting this bold?”

“Yes, it will be soon.” Lucien’s voice was hoarse.

“We have to do something. I kept thinking we could let it be organic, but it isn’t happening quickly enough. It may never happen if we don’t step in.”

Lucien turned his head to look up at her. “She’s in there with him now.” The shock must have been evident on Feyre’s face.

“I saw her coming down the stairs when we were walking out. I assume that’s where she was going.”

It was quiet for a beat, then another, the crickets chirping the only sound to be heard.

Feyre pushed up, rubbing Lucien’s shoulder once more.

“I’m going to go see what I can. I’ll be right back.”

She went inside, hustling down the back hall from where they had come, the air now eerily quiet around her. The foyer looked like a war zone, the blood pooled and smeared all over the marble floors as Feyre crept around them.

There, right past the still-open doors of the dining hall, were Tamlin and Calla, crouched on the floor in the low lighting. The blue, bleeding fae was dead, his body draped listlessly across the table, the screaming now stopped. Blood had flowed openly over where they ate their meals down onto the floor into a massive puddle the color of an onyx sky.

Feyre, too, fought the urge to vomit.

But there, amidst the gore and chaos, Calla and Tamlin were close. So close, in fact, they could be mistaken for being in the act of a lover’s embrace if one didn’t know what had happened here.

She suddenly felt as though she were intruding on something very private, turning away to go back to the porch. She detoured to the cellars on the way back, grabbing two massive bottles of aged liquor. Feyre doubled back and grabbed a third, thinking of the state she’d left Lucien in.

When she returned to the quiet night, Lucien was leaning back in his chair, eyes on the sky. She handed him a bottle which he graciously took.

“You looked like you could use this.” She sat back into her own chair, turning her eyes back to him as he cracked his bottle open, swigging deeply and cringing.

“Thanks, Feyre.”

“Of course.” The silence stretched on between them, Feyre not sure what to say. She was, as she often found herself, at a disadvantage by having not had many close friends in her lifetime. She cursed that it was so hard for her to find the words to say to comfort a friend. Because Lucien truly had become that to her: a friend.

She was saved by the silence by Lucien, his voice quiet and hoarse.

“When I was younger, I was in love, Feyre.”

She focused all her attention on him, but he was still looking at the sky.

“She had the most beautiful wings.” His voice cracked, ragged with emotion.

So that’s what his reaction had been about. She’d read in the book on Autumn what had been the catalyst for his escape from Spring. She couldn’t imagine it–the pain of his own family doing such a thing.

“I read about your escape from Autumn. Will you tell me about her?” Lucien looked at her strangely then.

He told her of how he met Jesminda, the woods singing his name until he came upon her sitting in an old chestnut tree near the farms near the Forest House. He’d been enraptured by her immediately, and every time they met thereafter he’d fallen more and more deeply in love. He told her about how, despite how ready he was to give it all up for her, despite his meaningless place as seventh in line, Beron wouldn’t abide by the shaming of his family line for someone he deemed lesser.

Lucien got quiet again before he finished.

“I think she was my mate. And she died because of me.”

“Lucien, she died because your father is a cruel male. Not because of you.” He shook his head.

“I should have kept her safe–kept her far away from it all. I was careless and reckless, and she died because of me.” The parallels were not lost on Feyre as she set her hand back on his.

“Lucien, I have been dishonest with you, and you deserve the truth from me.” She was an idiot for thinking it, for saying it aloud, for doing it at all. But he did deserve more. She could give him the bare minimum.

“I am here for someone trapped with her, but it isn’t my father. I have no idea who he was, and I likely never will. There is a male there that I love, and I came to Prythian to set him free.” Feyre chose carefully what details to share and how. Prythian was vast and populated with many fae, but she wouldn’t risk sharing his name, holding as many cards to her chest still as she could get away with while still feigning telling the truth.

Lucien’s eyes shot to hers in disbelief. “You’re in love with a fae male?”

“Yes. He came to the human lands, and we promised ourselves to each other. He has no idea I am across the wall, but when I found out how he suffered, I couldn’t let him face it alone.”

“That’s suicide, Feyre. You’re half human. You’ll be killed before you can even blink.”

“I care about him, Lucien. If I do nothing to help him, what does that say about it?”

“You are a brave half-human to risk it at all. Or an idiot.” He chuckled hollowly

“You’re missing the point, you great buffoon.” She whacked him lightly. “She loved you, did she not?”

He sighed, inhaling deeply and loosing it through his nose. “With all her heart. With everything she had. Until her dying breath.”

“Then it was a gift she gave willingly to set you free. It doesn’t change the tragedy of it, but if what you told me is true, she would not have wanted you to blame yourself for a moment. If R–if he knew I was here, he might actually kill me himself.” She laughed a bit, trying to picture Rhys angry. “It’s just like you males to break yourselves trying to keep us safe and a million leagues from harm. But if I did not try at all, I wouldn’t have believed myself worthy of his love anyway.”

Lucien looked at her for a long time, as though he was trying to find an answer in her face to a question he hadn’t asked.

“I meant what I said when I told you I thought you belonged here, Feyre. If you don’t die, of course, you and your male will always have a home in Spring.” He clapped a large hand over her shoulder, squeezing her close while he drained the last drops from his bottle.

Feyre felt as though a weight had lifted off her shoulders. She’d shared just enough of the truth with Lucien to feel like she didn’t have to hide.

When they returned inside, the blood and body were gone, along with any evidence that Calla and Tamlin had been there at all. She bid Lucien goodnight as they ascended the stairs, breaking off to their own bedrooms. Despite the chaos and gore of the night, Feyre felt something at peace within her that she hadn’t since she’d crossed the wall and come into Spring. She didn’t even remember shutting her eyes before she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The following morning, Feyre had sorted out the last of her remaining books, setting aside the three for Dawn, Day, and Night so they didn’t get filed away. The rest of the books lay stacked on the enormous library table, waiting to be shelved. Lucien and Calla were still sleeping off the night before, and Feyre had sent off a letter with one of the staff asking Tamlin to come assist her when he had some time.

He came in just as she was wiping the sweat off her brow and placing the final book, ready to be shelved.

“You’re already finished?” He asked in shock.

“Yes, well, almost. I need a few more shelves for these final books, and I kept meaning to ask you if you knew of any in storage we could bring up. I’ve plotted some room over here by the windows, and thought one or two might fit her nicely for the last of it.

“Of course. If you would like to come with me, we have many pieces of furniture in storage for you to choose from. It might be a bit dusty, though.” He smiled as though teasing, and Feyre didn’t miss that his demeanor seemed a bit more open today despite the events of the night before.

“Sure, I have some time now, if you’d like.”

He motioned for her to follow, winding down the halls of the second floor to an entirely different part of the manor. She’d never ventured this far into the east wing before, but it seemed like more rooms, perhaps for guests or even more studies.

“Any more libraries for me to sort?” She asked lightly.

He chuckled. “No, that’s the only one. But if you must insist on working, I am certain there is more I can find for you.”

The walls here were long and bright, the hall full of windows on one side and letting the warm, Spring sun illuminate the gilded green wallpaper.

As they turned a final corner, coming down yet another hall, Feyre stopped dead in her tracks. A portrait filled the entire wall, floor to ceiling, done in amazing oils that seemed to leap off the canvas, the texture begging Feyre to reach out and touch it.

The painting portrayed a woman sitting on a plush settee, her hair swept back into an elegant, low, braided chignon. Her face was old and weathered, but regal, strong, omniscient eyes seemed to jump from the painting and follow Feyre as she moved closer. The thick paints captured the texture of the old woman’s skin, ridges and valleys deepening and lightening to show the years of age and work that had gone into them.

She held a young boy with green eyes and bright blonde hair, scarcely older than four or five, on her knee. He looked mostly solemn-faced, but with a smirk captured just in the tipping of the corner of his lips that belied his amusement and childlike joy. The woman’s arms were around him, a protective and loving gesture, and Feyre’s heart threatened to jump from her chest.

Tamlin had come back to stand beside her, noticing her pause and returning to her side. He cleared his throat.

“This is me, and my nursemaid, the nanny for our family. She practically raised me from birth, taught me all my lessons, how to not become an entirely wild beast.” He smiled sadly. “She was more of a mother to me than my own ever was.”

The emotion threatened to eat Feyre alive. Those hands, ridged and weathered, were ones she would recognize anywhere, even when the accompanying face didn’t wear the detailed mask of an elegant bird.

“I sent her away, banished her for her own safety, after the blight took hold. It was the only way I could get her to leave for herself. Otherwise, she would have stayed here and died here, and I couldn’t bear it.” He stepped forward, pressing a hand into the painting next to Feyre.

“She sounds lovely. I am sure she is still championing your cause somewhere and wishing you well.” Her eyes met Tamlin’s, the barest flicker of hope set in with his sadness. He cleared his throat again.

“Come, let’s get those shelves. I need to start setting things up today before the sun gets too high in the sky.” They began walking again.

“Setting up for what?” she asked, jogging back up next to him.

Tamlin sighed deeply. “Calanmai is coming.”

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@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @witch-and-her-witcher @yeonalie

#feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #acotar #acotar fics #feyre and rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met #acotar au #fated mates #acotar retelling

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 2 months ago

Text

Things I Noticed While Writing Light The Fuse: Part 10, Episode 4

It's Cop Night tonight!

I don't say this nearly enough, but I really love Ethan lol this is one of the funniest things he's ever said, no more fear of the Ghouls with this guy

Not Matty of all people coming in with the 'okay enough of that please don't start things'

He is thinking :] he just stares for so long trying to think of anything to say that wouldn't also start something and I love him for that

I was just gunna add this cause cute Matty and hot Johnson but as I was rendering this I saw Ethan's face for the first time fuckin lmao I have seen this scene SO many times and never once have I looked at Ethan

I really love soft, apologetic Matty, need more of this guy

I love how you can actually see the switch between Well Mannered Matty and his usual self when being polite doesn't work lmao no one else could've played him for REAL /)w(\ also the smug laugh he does afterwards will be the death of me

In case it wasn't obvious already I have a thing with being intimidated and this is the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life no one else could've played him

This exchange makes me insane. Matty is so hot here I can hardly stand it. This would've been such a good fucking fight, Matty just staring him down not scared at all, the implication of everyone else he isn't afraid of coming after him and he doesn't even care, his hand is shaking he's so strong and brave and I would fight Gary for him even though he could kick my 5'5 ass

Fucking. Same. Ethan.

I just really wanted to say this outfit fuckin eats, he makes me wanna buy him a very expensive beverage and sit with him while he drinks slow and talks about his day /)//w//(\ okay I'm normal again sorry about that back to the post

Hi Angel~ Been watching a few of Rhys' movies for editing and he does this little wave in like all of them and this is just him continuing the trend lol so cute, I might make a lil gifset about it at some point 🥰

Johnson standing there like 'Matty. Pinup. Matty.' like what is that look I'm going insane, he's surrounded by beautiful dancing ladies and he's always looking at Matty or Ethan

Like. Fucking same, Johnson. I am also looking at Johnson like that as well just so you know

lmao at Ethan but I love the amount of detail they put into all these sets like this bathroom is seen only once and they decked it out so damn cool

Whoa I was just gunna screencap this bit and say I could never use a urinal cause guys are just... dicks out next to each other and that's so awkward oh my god so I'm always like looking at the wall during this whole scene cause I'm shy /)~(\ but Matty actually has another moment of misdirection when Ethan gets all still, doesn't change the subject this time, just hammers it home, but he does it in a way that still gets him away from Ethan it looks like so he knows he doesn't have to freak out over being recognized

Serious conversation, dicks just out, all three of them, pissin' away, can't be me. Also love how Johnson isn't allowed in the scene cause there's only three urinals lmao he's saving their table for them it's all good

He's also watching Ethan and seeing how calm he is this time ;w;

Gross. Disgusting. Don't bring your open drinks into the bathroom you heathen Matty did too but at least he like leaves it there cause I saw it in his hand when he walked in and placed it on the top and then he never picked it back up, he's just littering

I think him looking at me like that might fix me 😌 also cop didn't wash his hands yucko everybody shame him aaaaaaaaand I just now realized I giffed Ethan fuckin shakin' it and Matty's just staring at him with that expression as he's doing it I'm going to jump off a CLIFF MEN'S BATHROOMS ARE SO AWKWARD

'Why?' Cutting Matty out of this part in the fic nearly killed me cause I couldn't do this exchange but I'm so happy with him realizing it himself ;w;

Him saying this to me would definitely fix me. Love how he gets one second to be so genuine, his voice is so soft, and then he just laughs cause Ethan has the best reactions and he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen after Johnson

Nearly hit my limit again surprisingly so yayyy I get to talk about my favourite scene with Ethan and Meredith tomorrow, gimme all the friendships with her to talk about! 💙💛

#david dastmalchian #ethan reprisal #johnson reprisal #matty reprisal #Phoenix Details Series

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achaotichuman · 1 year ago

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Angsty thought but like imagine Rhysand and Tamlin got into one of their fights during a ballroom, Tamlin storming out with rhysand following him.

Both of them angry and sad because of what happened, Rhysand angry at Tamlin's nonchalance and how "stone-faced" he was about the whole debacle. Tamlin angry at Rhys when he made a comment that maybe Tamlin really was like his father.

So Tamlin pissed off and was so hurt by this male who was his first best friend whirls around Rhysand and instead of Tamlin's face, Rhysand was looking directly at His sisters face and Rhysand's sister (Tam who shapeshifted) sneered and said "Maybe you really are like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister"

A bit more angsty and dramatic then my usual asks but I was watching Scandal and I thought of this prompt to my two toxic love-birds :3

My first reaction to this was a violent gasp, because yes, this is very good. Very dramatic, very angsty, all things I love. Here's how I think that scene would go.

It was supposed to be a routine get-together, the Courts of Prythian coming together for one night. The Courts were far to separate and to maintain peace two things would take place every decade on a solstice. One, the High lords would gather for a meeting, it was a rare occasion that didn't end in someone storming out, and something getting thrown. Tamlin had to admit he found them amusing. Second, the people of each Court would gather for a large celebration, one Court was chosen each year, there they would open their borders to all who wished to attend, and a large celebration would be thrown.

No one admitted it, but everyone knew, these celebrations had simply turned into a way for the High lords to one up each other. Who had to most money to spend? Who had the most lavish taste?

It was a dick measuring contest, and Tamlin hated it. But had to go anyway, next decade would be his turn to host. That was going to be a nightmare and a half, Andras and Alis were somehow already excited for it, those two loved a good celebration. They especially loved the drama it would cause.

The meeting had gone as smoothly as one could hope for. Poor Nostrus was the one to host this year, the meeting and the celebration were to take place in Adriata. The office Nostrus had led the High lords too once they arrived was perfectly decorated, but quite empty. Only the table and chairs. the edges of the room were gilded with gems and gold, and a large balcony overlooked the sea. Nothing else though. Nostrus had most likely been thinking off the last meeting, that one Tamlin had attended as Prince. Someone had thrown something made of glass, it had shattered all over the floor, a shard nicking Tamlin in the arm.

Even still, the lack of anything to throw did not stop the arguments from pouring out. Tamlin didn't have enough fingers to count how many times he rolled his eyes, or loosened a sigh.

All entertainment from watching six grown men snapping at each other's throats was drowned the second he walked in.

Rhysand was fashionably late, as he always is. He waltzed in, the doors slamming open to reveal his clouds of darkness. His two Illyrian dogs prowling behind him. Rhysand gave some half-assed excuse as to why he was late that everyone had to suppress the urge to roll their eyes at. Rhysand had only been in power a few years, as had Tamlin. Yet he acted as though he had been ruling for centuries.

When they sat down, Rhysand scanned the room, watching everyone like a predator waiting for the perfect time to bite. Finally, he looked over at Tamlin, and that natural predator's glare turned hungry, like he'd spotted a lone deer in a clearing. Tamlin fought the urge to curl into himself, he held Rhysand's gaze with what he hoped was a similar intensity. Those his eyes could only muster hatred, Rhysand's was filled with loathing and lust. When Cassian and Azriel turned their eyes to lock into Tamlin, the Spring Lord slowly and pointedly looked at the Shadowsinger, then the General and back to Rhysand. Tamlin then huffed a laugh and threw them a smirk before turning away.

Tamlin could feel the seething rage coming off of Rhysand in waves even if he was looking away. Tamlin was his chosen target of the night, and damn him to terrors in Hell, but the part of Tamlin that still belonged to his past couldn't wait to see what the Night Lord had in stall for him.

Soon night fell and the Summer Court was in a buzz. Tamlin was led into a large ballroom. Covered in gold and splendor. The sounds of the ocean crashing outside seemed to blend into the music, creating a symphony of nature and man-made creation. The second the notes hit his ears Tamlin closed his eyes for a moment, almost beginning to sway to it. A pinch from Andras had him snapping back to the present. His sentry shot him a look and Tamlin just raised an eyebrow, discreetly flipping him off before striding away from his friend.

Tamlin found a nice corner, where he was away from everybody, and could simply lean against the wall, close his eyes and tap his fingers in time to the music.

His peace lasted for a total of thirty seconds. Then a cold chill spread across his skin, a chill he wanted to forget but his body remembered. Tamlin didn't have to open his eyes to know Rhysand was standing close to him. Rhysand didn't need to speak to know Tamlin knew he was there. Still, Tamlin refused to be the first to talk.

They stayed standing there for a half hour, some secret challenge between them. Who would break the silence first? Tamlin tried to ignore Rhysand's lingering presence, but he couldn't enjoy the music knowing that darkness was swirling so close to him.

Tamlin had never been made to play these games. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to face Rhysand, lip pulled back into a snarl, "What do you want?"

Rhysand's face split into a grin. Ecstatic that Tamlin had been the first to break.

"I wanted to know why the High lord of Spring, is not enjoying the festivities with his people, I thought you of all people would not consider yourself above the commoners?" Rhysand emphasized 'High lord' he knew Tamlin did not want this crown. He loved picking at that, making him feel even more unworthy than what he already was, but never letting him forget that he could never be normal like he so desperately wanted to be.

Tamlin didn't entertain his outright ridiculas question. He simply looked back towards the people of Prythian, mingling, dancing and talking to one another.

Rhysand hated when Tamlin could be more carefree and silent than him. It showed when Rhysand stepped closer, invading his space, crowding around him that forced Tamlin to remember how Rhysand, despite only being a few inches taller than Tamlin, could seem like he was twice his size.

"I've heard the little fox has been prancing around your Court, have you found another so quickly my love?" Rhysand snarled in his ear. Tamlin hated those even more than the comment before it. He hated thinking about what they were. What had happened.

"Answer me, darling." Rhysand hissed.

"Lucien is my friend, Rhysand." Tamlin said, his voice calm and level, unlike Rhysand's.

The bat opened and closed his mouth, face confused, then turning to anger. Hatred reeling in his eyes, Rhysand had always hated when Tamlin could be level and cool. Hated when his venomous words didn't drive him up the wall.

"Friend, lover, whore, who draws the lines." Rhysand shrugged, those damning smirk adorning his face.

"I do, and we have no relations beyond friendship." He was friends with Lucien, had been for a long time now. Since taking on the crown, Lucien along with Jesminda had shown up for him more than ever. He was his friend, a better friend than Rhysand had ever been, it had taken Tamlin far too long to realize that.

"The bounds of friendship stretch, Little Lord of Spring, we would know that wouldn't we?" Rhysand trailed a finger down Tamlin's arm. If Tamlin didn't know Rhysand as well as he did, he would've snapped, perhaps hurt the male horribly. But as it were, Tamlin could have laughed, Rhysand was getting desperate for a reaction.

"We wouldn't know that." Tamlin murmured.

Rhysand went predatorially still, a wolf sitting back on its hunches, preparing to strike. Tamlin remembered the power that had filled Rosehall as two High lords came into power. And the way Rhysand had gone so still. Tamlin couldn't help the fear that leapt up into his throat.

"We would, our... friendship, it stretched a quite a bit." Rhysand said, a growl pressing into his voice.

Tamlin couldn't help it, he huffed a laugh. Rhysand took a hold of his arm, "Don't deny it Spring."

"Deny what, bat?" Tamlin quipped.

Rhysand just grinned, instead of answering he asked, "Do you think about me when you fuck him?" Rhysand jutted his head towards where a group of Autumn males were socializing. Tamlin didn't doubt Lucien was among them.

Tamlin finally laughed, a full, genuine laugh. He laughed even harder when Rhysand's face fell from smugness to simmering hatred.

"Lucien is happy in his own relationships." Tamlin said, he would never tell Rhysand about Jesminda, but it made him feel good to know how false Rhysand's little theory was.

Tamlin leaned in close, stepping up onto his tiptoes to be Rhysand's level, like he used to do before he kissed him, "And you and your little wings, are the last things I'm thinking about when I'm fucking somebody."

That 'little wings' comment made Rhysand step forward, pressing his body fully against Tamlin. His eyes full of anger, making the violet a deep purple, "Liar." Rhysand hissed. "You are too much like the dogs to be on a throne such as Spring. You deserve less than a feral animal. We used to call you that, you know, Cassian, Az and I. The feral kid from Spring. You were like a dog when we fucked too. A desperate bitch in heat."

Tamlin had heard enough. Here was the male he had been friends with for decades. Who had taught him to wield daggers and swords. Who had taken him in when his brothers left him bloodied, bruised and broken. Who had brought him up so high when he had felt so low. Who had assured him he wasn't the dog, the beast, everyone accused him of being.

His brothers called him a beast, a dog, a feral animal. Rhysand knew all that, because Tamlin had told him. Rhysand had been the one to tell him he was never that. Had told him he was worthy of being treated like person, had told him that was the bare minimum.

Now, he threw it all back in his face like he never meant it. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

If Tamlin stayed any longer, he was going to lose it. So he turned away from Rhysand headed for the exit, people stared at him. Andras tried to wave him down and even Lucien looked over, but Tamlin passed them all.

He practically ran out the entrance. Down the stairs, going and going until he found an empty esplanade, a road that overlooked the glittering sea. The moon hung in the deep night sky, stars stared down at him as if they were accusing him. Accusing him of the same crime Rhysand was. A crime he didn't fucking commit.

It didn't matter though; Rhysand couldn't be swayed. And oh, how Tamlin had tried to sway him. Had sent him letter after letter after letter. Begging and pleading for Rhysand to listen to him. His brothers had drugged him, he didn't even remember telling them. The whole thing had been a haze, a blur of nothing.

But Rhysand didn't care what he had to say. Just wanted someone to blame.

Rhysand now appeared beside him, had followed him from the party.

The darkness curled around Tamlin's wrists like chains. Would he ever be free of the clutches of Night? Or had becoming friends with Rhysand in the first place trapped him in a cage he could never escape?

"You're a coward," Rhysand hissed, "A good for nothing, waste of space. You're a coward and you're nothing."

"I am worth something-," Tamlin tried to argue.

Rhysand laughed, "Oh you think I was serious when I told you that? I lie Tamlin, and I lied to you. Without me, you aren't worth a drop of anything anyone gives you. Give it time, that fox you love so much will leave. In time everyone will leave you."

Tamlin sucked in a breath, and finally chose to turn away from him. Tears were beginning to form in the Spring Lords eyes, and he wouldn't let Rhysand see them.

As Tamlin turned around, Rhysand delivered the final blow, "Going to run away from this too? Going to pretend none of this affects you at all? Why did I expect anything more? You're just like your father. I hope you never have children, hate for what happened to you to happen to them."

Tamlin's entire world came to crashing halt. He stopped walking as everything he had convinced of himself shattered.

Rhysand's footsteps were the only sound he could hear as the Night Lord came closer.

"Hate that its true Tamlin?"

Tamlin felt his shoulders begin to shake, then his heart racing, and finally his face contorting, his skin changing as anger overrode every rational thought in his mind.

"Come now, little Tamlin, tell me how right I am." Rhysand was right behind him now, so close Tamlin could feel his breath on his neck.

Tamlin then whirled around. He stared right up in Rhysand's eyes and watched as those lustful, selfish eyes turned to horror.

Instead of Tamlin's face, it was Rhysand's sister, Branon, who glowered up at him. And it was in Branon's voice that Tamlin said, "Perhaps you are truly like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister's lives."

Rhysand paled, his whole body beginning to shake. Tears formed in his eyes, and he stumbled back. Tamlin, still wearing Branon's face, sneered, "You have become exactly what you swore you would never be. Selfish! Vindictive! and cruel! I have never deserved your hatred! You know what happened that night! I needed saving too! You let us all drown! I may have never been worth anything to you, but you were worth something to me and now," Tamlin let out a cold, humorless laugh, "Now I feel nothing for you. Your face, your eyes, your voice and your words, mean absolutely nothing to me."

Tears spilled down Rhysand's cheeks, and true to his words, Tamlin felt nothing for him. No remorse, no anger, no hatred. Just plain nothing. Everything emptied out from his words, words that were a long time coming.

Rhysand looked down to the floor. Tamlin wondered if he was remembering his dear sister. A woman who had loved with fire and passion. Who had smiled through flames. Who had fought with power like no other.

Tamlin only felt a little guilty for using her face to put Rhysand in his place. But the guilt was only for her, never for Rhysand.

Tamlin refused to ever feel guilty for Rhysand, for what the Night Lord had brought upon himself by refusing to move on, by refusing to listen to the true story. Instead making up his own and flaunting it to everyone.

Tamlin would be free of him. That he swore. He was worth something. The people in his life would not leave him. Rhysand was wrong.

************************************

Rhysand had been right.

Tamlin laid in the ruins of his Court. He looked up at the stars. Tears spilling down his cheeks, his whole-body trembling as he struggled to keep his cries contained.

Everyone had left him, like Rhysand had said they would. He had succumbed to his own rage, like his father, like Rhysand had accused him of being.

Rhysand was right.

He wasn't worth anything.

I loved this prompt so much! Thank you so much for sharing, I hope I did this one justice!

#acotar #pro tamlin #tamlin #tamsand #rhysand #rhyslin #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #acotar headcanons #sorry for the ending #I couldnt help but make it sad #don't twist my words though! rhysand was not right tam! you are worth something!#anti rhysand

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spirker · 9 months ago

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hi i'm too overwhelmed to watch rhys's murray cameo and i was wondering if you know of anyone who's posted a transcript somewhere? or if there's any chance maybe you would be open to telling us the best bits/highlights of the cameo? (thank you for your post about it with the fotc bloops video btw!!)

Oh hey! No problem, I’ll do my best.

So, Rhys is wearing a very cute Murray style ensemble for this one - beige shirt, Aotearoa themed tie, brown blazer.

He opens by calling ‘band meeting!’

First question is ‘where is Murray now?’

Answer - he’s been working hard, managing a band called Great Big Cow and getting them in to perform at the Troubadour in LA. The room sold out and the band played very well - a big achievement for Murray!

After that, he’s returned to New Zealand. He goes between NZ, LA and NY. FOTC was his heyday.

(I’ve written this next bit in full because I think it is excellent advice)

Life advice to note down: when you find yourself in a scenario you didn’t expect - don’t fret! Could be awkward, could be weird, you might be upset for some reason. Could be job you don’t want to do or could be some place you don’t want to be. But just think in the back of your mind - something good can come of this. The old silver lining.

Murray’s silver lining was that a couple of ‘cool-looking idiots’ turned up on his doorstep. They had a band that needed managing and Murray flourished in this new role!

They brought amazing comedy and music to the world, and there was a sense of sadness when it ended and they had to go back to NZ.

(Rhys gets briefly distracted by a plant in the background)

People related to Murray because he showed ‘fake it til you make it’, make use of any skills you have to level up - life is a ‘big theatrical escapade’, we have to put on a character everyday and pull something out of nothing to achieve in this world and Murray was the embodiment of that.

Murray is awkward, doesn’t quite fit in, but being like that you can still make it. Having a sense of humour is a big one, but you always have something unique about you.

Everyone has a sense of humour, some have a natural gift for it, but everyone has a certain set of skills to utilise.

(Then he talks himself out of giving advice - personally I love his advice and I always want to hear more but I think he started doubting himself here!)

Then he talks for a bit about improvisation in FOTC - a lot of it was improvised! They had so much fun.

Murray’s office particularly was always improvised - they had a goal to get to, a reason for the scene, but you could work anything into the scene. It was hard to stop each other from laughing!

Some highlights: arguing in front of the map, ‘I get ridiculed all the time’, ‘on your way to a dick meeting’, the dad guitar bit, ‘you’d have to be deaf to hear that’, ‘you could have a little bit of hay coming out of your mouth’ (🤣)

Rhys really enjoyed watching it back and he’s really proud of it.

Then he talks for a bit about band meetings and how Jemaine was always corpsing - he would be first to laugh and set Bret off. B&J would often have to leave the room and Murray would do the band meeting to two empty chairs because they were laughing too much.

Rhys would still hear them laughing down the corridor by the monitors so he’d call out ‘I can hear you! You’re gonna have to go back to your trailers!’

FOTC worked so well because of the connections they all had together as a cast and wanting each scene to be as funny as it could be.

You don’t want to rely too much on stuff you’ve written in a script, if you can do it (not everyone can) then improvising can be when you’re funniest. When Rhys gets a script he likes to do a run through where he adds his own stuff and people can see if they want to add in something different that he comes up with.

He then sings ‘Leggy Blonde’ as a thank you. He misses FOTC dearly and hopes they can get together again one day and do something.

(He includes all the parts of Leggy Blonde, including Jemaine’s rap, which had me in fits of laughter)

Wow that was long, I hope that my recap isn’t too overwhelming either! It was such a fun video and brought back so many memories of watching FOTC when I was a teen.

#rhys darby #fotc #flight of the conchords #murray hewitt

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write-for-the-moment · 2 years ago

Text

How would Inner Circle (except Amren) characters react to Reader being dominant in bed.

Warnings: so many kinks, mention of sexual trauma, Amarantha, Azriel’s section has a lot of triggers, same with Cassian and Rhysand. Dom!Reader with different genitals. With Mor I only wrote for female!Reader, so be mindful. Read on your risk.

My note: I do not care if characters act is too ooc. It’s my interpretation of them, don’t care if it’s inaccurate. Don’t like it? Then don’t read it.

Text is under the cut!

Rhysand

Confused and hella conflicted. He was used to be the one to bring pleasure to his partner, to be attentive lover. Not be the one to be on the receiving side. So, don’t be shocked if he will be kinda awkward with you. Ask you questions, like “Do I have to stay still? Or…”. If you like an one-night stand, he’s not gonna be comfortable with this. But if you are his lover…

Please, don’t manhandle him. Amarantha did the same thing with him, so he’s not a fan. Gently hold him. Is not opposed of you touching his wings during the act. Don’t bring knifes/anything sharp into bed, please. Light breath play is okay for him. He uses “Red” as his safe word. Don’t bite his neck, it’s a sensitive place for him and was a favorite place for Amarantha to cut him open. Bite his shoulders/chest. Murmurs a lot your name in ecstasy. After all, really okay with everything, as long you don’t set off his PTSD. Becomes really whiny during aftercare, but will drag you back if you try to stop.

If you a guy or someone with a dick, Rhys is really into giving you blowjobs. Deep throat you and be choked a little bit with you. Just a feeling of you inside of him makes him go a little insane. Grab his hips, thrust inside him, but slowly, without hurting him. If you a gal or someone with vagina, make him beg for permission to eat you out. Softly drag your fingers in his hair, quietly command him. Be patient with him. Gently swap at his trembling hands when he unconsciously tries to speed you up. Rhys will whine, but you can easily shut him up with kisses.

Cassian

Also hella conflicted. Not in a fun way. Had a traumatic childhood in war camp with soldiers older then him. It’s ain’t gonna be happening if your not his lover.

Doesn’t like the idea of being under you, so you have to work with him being un top and still control the situation. Hates you manhandling him in any way, so be soft with him. Has a praise kink. Let him know that he’s doing good, while he rides you in any way. Don’t touch his wings, the soldiers did that to immobilize him. He likes when you leave marks on him: lipstick smudges, bite marks, etc. Smell kink: turns on by the smell of your sweat, after the training. Maybe after a while, he would open up to the idea of being under you, but that’s gonna take time and patience. He uses as a safe word a soldier’s name that he killed. Doesn’t like being vulnerable, but don’t want to be alone after sex. Sometimes cries during aftercare and you have hold him in your arms.

If you have a dick, then that’s gonna be tricky. You need to Cassian to relax, like a lot! Kiss him, use relaxing oil to massage him, work with him physically and mentally. He’s gonna be hella uptight, so yeah, use everything you can to help him not be rigged and afraid. Chokes up a little when you inside him in any way, blinks away tears, feeling frustration from his fear and overwhelming sensation of you inside of him. Let him ride you. Curses a lot, when you speed up thrusts and tries to muffle his voice, hiding face in your shoulder/chest. If you strong enough to pick him up in the middle of the sex while also gently hold him, he’s gonna cum really quickly.

If you have a vagina, it will be kinda easy? Control his thrusts, while praise him for his obedience. Joke with him, let him laugh with you to loose him up a little. If you have a big chest, well, suffocate him a little with them. Force him watch you masturbate, while command him not to touch you. Tickle his wings, but don’t use your nails.

Azriel

…yes. Really into that. Doesn’t really care if it’s one-night stand or what. Although, you need to be careful. Az has some extreme masochistic tendencies from his self-loathing. Thinks that it’s completely normal for him to scream in agony during sex. Doesn’t really understands him using safe word, but complies if you press him. Overstimulation kink. Manhandle him, choke him, be fast and forceful with him, he’s not gonna complain. Do not bring wax play/fire play, he will badly dissociate and have after this a panic attack. He likes the idea of you torturing his wings. Knife play also cool for him. Degradation kink? Just be careful in this part, the guy already has some fucked up mentality about himself. His father’s name is his safe word or word “Fire”. Would try to run away from aftercare, so you have to begin this immediately after sex. The act of taking care of him after intense sex is making Az feel raw inside. It feels wrong for him to feel this good and loved after that. You can trap him with hot bath or gently commending him around.

If you have a dick or vagina or whatever the hell kinda genitals you have, fucking hell… Az is obedient. Like really submissive. Every order you give him, he’s gonna do that to the extreme measure. If you order him to not to breath, then he will likely die from suffocation. He likes rough treatment. Painful thrusts, slaps, etc. You can be cruel to him and he’s gonna be satisfied with that. But if you try to be gentle to his body and mind? Be caring lover? He’s gonna crumble. Slowly, blinking in confusion, as you massage him, readying him from you to go inside him, as you kiss him with passion, as you whisper words of encouragements to him�� He will definitely try to bait you hurt him, in the attempt to not to lose his mind. But if you continue being gentle to him even after those attempts, he’s gonna be so shocked.

Morrigan (with female! Reader only)

Is okay with that, but not used to this role, really. Doesn’t really care also if you want to a sex for one night or if you her lover.

Eat her out. And, if you want, let her eat you out. Impact play? Lay her on your knees and play with her ass and pussy. Slap them with hands, whips and toys. Control her orgasms. Is not into breath play and any extreme kinks. Doesn’t mind light manhandling. Hm, she’s really likes sex, while being fully clothed. Make her climax while she is in her beautiful red dress, when you are in some party. Smudge her lipstick, cover her body with your perfume, make her dishevel before you go to other guests. Really loves the aftercare. Make her a hot meal, green tea, take a bubble bath with her, wash her hair while she sleepy blinks at you with satisfied grin.

Feyre Archeron

Yes, if you her lover. The one-night stand? No.

Feyre is really fucking tired individual. You will be, if you actively participated in two wars (or was the cause of one of them) after being freshly resurrected from the death and turned into the fae. So, she would gladly give away control to you, especially if you two before the relationship were close friends. Feyre need to trust you 100%, like no shady deals with her, no alcohol involved, no fucking magic drugs.

Feyre is really agile, powerful fae, but with her lover she becomes just… her. The girl, who she stiffened during wars, because everybody needed a damn a saviour, a Curse Breaker. So, pumper her up. She loves romantic gestures, like a night dates with candles and wine, stargazing together, painting and drawing together, training together… Then she would gladly jump on you with your permission beforehand.

Consent in everything to her. Please don’t overstep anything without her knowing. Ask if she comfortable to do a new idea in the bedroom. Doesn’t have a safe word, but a safe signal — in panic she becomes verbally mute, so she signals you to stop by putting her hands in X-pose.

Hates extreme shit. No degradation, she had enough of that from Nesta and nasty fae. No pain, please. Her body is immortal, but she won’t let herself feel in the safest environment pain from someone that she deeply trusts.

Also, don’t fucking bite her.

Likes overstimulation, light manhandling, make out sessions that leave her breathless. Also loves sex that started with relaxing massage. Anal sex also cool for her. Loves leaving marks on your back/receive them from you too. Sometimes her magic goes wild during the fun time, so don’t be shocked if all of the sudden you both surrounded with water butterflies or Feyre is glowing like a sunbeam.

The aftercare with her is simple. Hug her from behind and hold her though the night. Her body becomes really sensitive and she doesn’t want to move, and will loudly whine if you try to leave her. In the morning get for her one thing and only — dark coffee with honey and lavender.

#acotar #feyre #rhysand #cassian #azriel #morrigan #acomaf #acowar #headcanons #tw kink #tw trauma

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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as always cbmthy is so good and i'm so happy reader finally had some good moments with bas and that azriel was finally not being a complete dick. i just need her to keep her toes straight in her shoes now like girl he just smiled please breathe. this is worse to read knowing he can tell all her reactions to him. but i actually like bas, he seems good for her but im scared he might have ulterior motives, az not liking him could be just jealousy or whatever makes him always assume reader is doing something wrong but it could also be his spymaster senses tingling so idk

i didnt expect her to tell azriel about her powers like this honestly but i wish he didn't go full spymaster mode when he heard, he could have at least told "that's cool" or something. and he needs to stop talking to her like a child, boy you had your fingers inside her a month ago please stop. also reading the whole book through just to make sure is wayy too far, i wonder if the ic know he's treating her like this, even rhys would probably think it's too far. but her telling her him about her very important powers and her brain was just going "dick dick dick dick" was so funny. like i kinda get it, being locked in a room with azriel sounds amazing but i still need her to get it together (ik she has a massive praise kink though, good for her me too). im intrigued to see what will happen after the fortnight passes. will she figure something out or tell them or will azriel end up telling them? what if az tells them before the fortnight passes? i'll stab him with truth teller actually.

azriel not even knowing she liked science or that the orrery was hers is such a bitter reminder that he does not give a fuck about her, like his shadows have to have told him something. he gets on my nerves but i think we did see regular az a bit more in this chapter and that gives me hope. especially when he laughed when she said she slapped eris, that's my az but then she kinda ruined it by staring (and im kind of with az on this one because as much as i dont want him to be an asshole to her, every time he's nice she goes crazy and ik that's uncomfortable from personal experience)

also the book at the end is eris isn't it? im excited to see what they get up to, it's also very funny that azriel went through all that trouble and eris still got to her. and now she's not going to tell him about it because he's an asshole, that's what you get 🤷‍♀️

- 🧶

‘i just need her to keep her toes straight in her shoes’

I’d never heard of that before and it threw me for a loop 😭 (good phrase though)

Reader’s strings are gradually fraying and Bas is that last knot keeping her happy 😭

Maybe he’ll have a slightly more prominent role now that things are kind of taking a dip at the HoW and she needs a few more reasons to keep going 🫠

She has a little bit of a habit for understating things. Like, “you’re the only one I’ve ever been interested in, so”—she can hardly breathe when she’s around him🧡💛

Yeah, I also wonder what’s going to happen in a fortnight, because I have 🤭 no idea 🤭

To give credit to Az, Reader really isn’t particularly open about her interests :/

Cassian’s gotten a hint (hence the necklace) but Elain’s the only one out of everyone who actually knows that she enjoys those sorts of books (and Bas, of course😌)

‘but then she kinda ruined it by staring’

I like that you pick up on that; obviously so far we’ve only gotten it from reader’s pov so naturally some things are slightly warped depending on how she sees them?

‘im excited to see what they get up to’

I wonder 🤭🍁🌌

#🧶 anon <3 #🧶#CBMTHY

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mermaidsirennikita · 2 years ago

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Since you were talking about which Kleypas' heroes are conventionally attractive, what is your ranking for how attractive you find Kleypas' heroes?

I mean, I think that physically all the ones I've read are fuckable. But for me personalllly

Derek Craven--always, forever, every day of the week, Monday though Sunday, breakfast lunch and dinner, anytime anyplace anywhere. I love his physicality, I love his competence, I love his inability to love but also his deep capacity for love, I love his trash sense of interior design, I love his gauche new money nature, I love when he tells Sara he wants to punish her a little.

Kev Merripen--big, self-loathing, feels like he's gonna break her with his giant dick.... yeah, I think I fuck with him

Sebastian St. Vincent--also fucks so hard but he has to overcome the fact that he a) is blond and b) can't fight good, big sins in my book, and the fact that he does speaks to how hard he fucks

McKenna--I really like a revenge plot and I also like that he told her to shut up while he was going down on her

Westcliff--ugly hot, as we've discussed, but the fact that Westcliff can show up in the midst of literally any problem and solve it in five minutes makes him hotter; you'd be like "Westcliff I'm so confused I've had this problem for eight weeks" and he'd just press a button and it would be fixed

Leo Hathaway--always in forever in my heart as a hot man because a) he used to be so sad b) he makes the heroine say pussy in a way that is mildly degrading and I'm about it

Rhys Winterborne--NOT FIVE FUCKING MINUTES is pretty hot, though I will admit that his hairlessness freaks me out. He overcomes this admirably by being hot in every other way, and I also like that he's like, a Kohl's King

Simon Hunt--has a foot fetish, gets immense points for this

Jack Devlin--very sexy hot, also did extremely mild butt stuff which is super compelling

Gideon Shaw--he was actually very sad and I loved him, I appreciated the work he did to be a better man and his general guilt complex

Cam Rohan--I have my general fetishism issues with Kev and Cam's portrayals, but I will say that Cam being hyper competent and also like, one of the chillest Kleypas heroes is very sexy of him; he had to be chill because Kev got all the family angst

Keir--I know people have issues with his book and his very existence, but I think the fact that Keir is so hot that he has to grow a beard to be in public is so funny

Gabriel Challon--honestly, a shadow of his dad and not as kinky as he could be (sad :() but still very charming

Devon Ravenel--seduced me a bit with his general douchebaggery I gotta say

Harry Rutledge--should honestly re-read this one, but I think I had issues with his heroine and I liked that he was generally horrible

Nick Gentry--would be hotter if not for some unfortunate implications about his backstory, but I did love how competent he was

Tom Severin--actually pretty hot, hampered by my general "meh"ness on his being paired with Cassandra

Ross Cannon--he was fine I guess but didn't make a huge impression on me, too nice and too staid, also named Ross

Matthew Swift--he's.... fine, but he's too sweet for me

Grant Morgan--I mean, I'm not against the amnesia trickery but I preferred it when Lorraine Heath did this

Christopher Phelan--I need to re-read his book because to be honest sorry to this man I remember like... not much at all besides being a bit annoyed by what he was annoyed with

West Ravenel--controversial but brave, I think West would've been much more interesting if Phoebe had met him pre-reform, as it was he came off as a much more boring Leo Hathaway

Ethan Ransom--I just.... wasn't... that into him

Hunter, Earl of Hawksworth--great name, iffy book, not a huge impression made

#romance novel blogging

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acourtofthought · 1 year ago

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Hi I hope you're doing well :) I just wanted start by telling you that this blog is my daily serotonin boost. I love reading your analyzes so much. So thanks for sharing them <3

Annnnd I have a silly question. I love Elucien and I'm at the point where nothing else in the Acotar universe (or sjm multiverse swh) interests me anymore. I just wanna see their storyline. I've never read Crescent City series and since the next book is the closest thing to getting an update on how our fox boy is doing I'm considering giving it a shot. But I don't what to read a bigilion pages about how perfect and smart and winged and dark and well-dicked some guys are and a little plot that doesn't make any sense by the next book. Do you think I should just stop complaining and give it a shot? Or maybe it won't worth it since the next book won't even mention Lucien 😒 Do you think he will be in it?

Thank you for your message!!!! I'm sorry I've been a bit absent from blogging the last few weeks, I hit one of those slumps where I'm frustrated with the lack of ACOTAR news. Like you, I adore Elucien and considering they have been an unanswered mystery since 2016 (I feel empathy for anyone who has been waiting for answers since then!!), it gets to a point where the not knowing can be aggravating. As to your question about Crescent City, I don't think we're going to see much (if any) Lucien in Crescent City 3. Lucien shares information about Spring and the Human Lands with the IC but we've yet to see that in reverse, where the IC shares information with Lucien. He wasn't included in the discussion about the made weapons, he wasn't included in their plans for Nesta's training, etc. Which I understand because he's not really part of the IC. I think after Bryce's arrival in Prythian, the IC is going to want to keep it as much a secret as they can (for now) until they can figure out exactly what consequences her arrival could have for the rest of their world. Announcing that they had a visitor from outer-space would only cause panic among the courts at this point (the courts are already struggling to figure things out after the war and the wall having come down) and Rhys tends to hold information close to the vest until he figures out the next steps. Maybe Helion will make an appearance in CC3 but I can't see any other side characters outside the NC being brought into the crossover in January. I do think Lucien will eventually learn of everything that happened in CC3 but in a future ACOTAR novel. And I don't think when the next ACOTAR novel starts, it will delve right into the crossover. SF ended with the characters worried about Beron allying with Koschei, with the fae on the continent refusing to sign the treaty and with Spring still in shambles. There are ACOTAR only readers (you being one of them!) and many are not in the fandom so it doesn't make sense to start the next book after Bryce's arrival in Prythian where the characters are discussing an alien visitor. That's much too big of a plot jump forward. To me it would make sense if SJM started the next book sometime between SF and the crossover, then eventually leads up to what happened in it.

Now if you're a fan of Urban Fantasy and looking for a new read, you may want to read the Crescent City series for that fact alone. However, if that's not your thing I think you'll be able to get by on learning about what happens in the crossover through the fandom. I think most would also be willing to share whether there are Lucien appearances (if I'm wrong and he does show up). Personally, I've struggled with CC. I really don't care for Urban Fantasy and I'm not a fan of Bryce. She reads as the most immature SJM heroine to date and though I'm all about feminism and someone being an independent woman, a character constantly having to proclaim herself as such misses the mark. I also think there's just way too much being thrown into the series, sort of like "everything but the kitchen sink" all in one book. I got through book 1 but have only been able to tolerate paragraphs here and there of book 2. But, I think most of the feedback I've seen is in favor of the CC series so I realize I'm probably in the minority! It's funny because I've always loved the bat boys and the IC but at this point, her series feel oversaturated with them which has made me like them less. "Too much of a good thing" and all that. I really would like to see her explore characters outside of the IC to give us a breather. Eris, Lucien, Vassa, Jurian, Helion, the LoA, etc. And Elain of course because she's not really coming off as "one of the IC". She's given us crumbs for these characters for so long without ever giving them a chance to tell their stories and it feels like it's time.

#elucien #pro elucien #eris vanserra #helion acotar #vassa acotar #lady of autumn #jurian acotar

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shallyne · 2 years ago

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Sunshine and Promises

Chapter Two - ✨whoa, double fuck✨

I couldn't decide something so I just decided to turn up the crack a bit. Enjoy. It's still around pregnancy btw, of you don't like trope this is not for you.

Words: 1,762

TW: none

Feyre and Helion go to the first doctor's appointment together.

The last four weeks felt like an eternity and no time at all at the same time. The moment Feyre thought that she was lucky and didn't have a bunch of early pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness kicked in and since then fatigue was a part of her every day, like a thin blanket wrapped around herself. She hadn't told many people about her pregnancy yet, not because she wasn't far into her pregnancy but because she didn't know how to tell her friends. I wasn't careful at my dick appointment and now I'm pregnant was probably the most honest response but she was not ready for the questions. Although Feyre was pretty sure that her friends already suspected something because Feyre had declined every single invitation she got in the last few weeks.

Other than that, Helion had invited Feyre randomly to lunch or dinner and one time he had shown her around his nightclub. Feyre was surprised to stand in front of the most popular club in the city. Her little group of friends had tried to get in there a few times but they were always unlucky, now her baby daddy showed her around on a Tuesday morning. Helion also told her that he met Rhysand and his family, his Inner Circle, here a few years prior. In the two weeks she had known Rhys at this point, he had told her some about his family. She knew that his Inner Circle, as he called it, consisted of his two brothers, his cousin and Amren. Then there was also his mother and his little sister. His father died about three years ago and since then Rhys was head of his company.

Now Feyre sat beside Helion as they were on their way to Feyre's next check up. When they stopped at a red light, Helion turned to Feyre "Are you nervous?"

"No." Feyre answered. "I already know I'm pregnant, what else can the doctor tell me?" she sighed. "Why? Are you nervous?"

Helion turned his gaze away from her and looked at the lights. He stayed quiet for a while and avoided meeting her eyes as he admitted "Yes, a little."

Feyre smiled "I was nervous when I first went."

"Really? You were so calm when we talked that day." Helion said.

"Liar." Feyre snorted. She was sure she looked and sounded like a mess after her first appointment when she found out about the baby. "It will get easier, I promise."

Helion nodded and then changed the topic "Did you walk the last time? To the doctor's office, I mean. It's quite the distance, did you take the bus?"

"I took the subway and then walked a block." she answered.

"Huh." Helion said.

Feyre sighed, preparing for whatever comes next as she asked "What?"

Helion shrugged and then said "I Just- if you need someone to drive you, please call me. Don't take the subway."

Feyre crossed her arms "Why? I always take the subway."

"The subway is dirty." Helion said as he gripped the wheel harder.

"Careful, you sound like a snob."

Helion groaned. "You know that is not what I mean! And trust me, I've been on that damned subway often enough in my life to know how it is. I don't imagine that anything has changed in the last few years."

Feyre huffed, though Helion was right. Of course he was but what was Feyre supposed to do." Let's say I agree and I need to be somewhere." Feyre said. "It's late, you're at the club. I call you. What are you doing then?"

Helion came to a stop and Feyre was surprised when she looked out of the car window to see they already reached the doctor's office.

He turned to her and said "I'll send you a driver." when she frowned he added "Or a taxi. Or an Uber. Whatever you feel most comfortable with, I'll find a way."

"I'm pregnant, I'm not an invalid!" Feyre huffed.

"I know but I still want you to be safe, believe it or not. With or without the baby. Though it also immensely calms me down to know that you are both safe."

"Fine." Feyre smiled. "I'll call you but you better not turn into an overprotective mother hen." she said and stepped out of the car.

Helion was right behind her as she entered the office. He was behind her when Feyre went to the front desk and followed her to the waiting room. He was more quiet than usual so Feyre asked him after a few silent minutes "Do you want to hold my hand?"

"What?" he asked as I pulled him out of his thoughts.

"You look nervous and that usually helps me." Feyre shrugged. Helion looked at her outstretched hand and took it wordlessly. She smiled and then said "I'm so excited for lunch, I'm getting hungry." Feyre sighed and looked around the room. It was more crowded this time than when she was here only a few weeks ago.

"Did you know the baby is the size of a kumquat now?" Helion whispered in her ear.

"A kumquat?" Feyre asked. "How do you know?"

He shrugged, his leg bouncing up and down, and said "I did a little bit of research."

Feyre whirled her head around to Helion, who looked at a poster on the opposite wall, and she smiled. She didn't know why it made her so happy but it was like someone taking weight off her shoulders that she didn't even know she was carrying.

Around an hour of waiting, Feyre squeezed Helion's hand when a heavily pregnant woman entered the waiting room. She hadn't thought as far as that this could be her in a few months. He squeezed her hand back reassuringly as if he could read her mind. It probably wasn't hard to know what she was thinking, especially as she jumped up when a nurse called her name and hurried to the room the nurse pointed to.

"I'm getting kinda hungry, too." Helion said as Feyre looked around the room.

Feyre snorted. "Will you survive a few minutes?"

"I think I can manage that," he replied. They made plans with Rhys to go grab lunch after their appointment and honestly, Feyre was glad. It was ages since she went out just to eat. Either she had ordered in or it was just a quick snack before her friends and her went to the next club. She had loved that life but she hadn't realized that she missed simple things like a lunch date.

A few minutes later the doctor entered the room and greeted Feyre, then Helion. She asked Feyre how she felt and they talked for a bit and everything was fine. Then it was time for the ultrasound and the doctor showed her where everything was and explained until she got eerily quiet and tilted her head.

"What?" Feyre asked, scared, squeezing Helion's hand that he had placed on her shoulder.

"What's going on? Is everything alright?" Helion asked, taking her hand.

The doctor turned and smiled at them "Everything is perfectly fine!" she said. "I was looking at the monitor right here because I could make out two heartbeats. You're having twins."

Feyre stared at the doctor, then she looked at Helion who looked at the monitor, disbelieving, and then Feyre looked at the doctor.

"What?" Feyre and Helion asked in unison.

—----------------------

"No, you don't have to call Rhys and cancel." Feyre said when she felt that Helion was about to say something. He already offered it two times and even though Feyre kept saying that she was alright, he did not believe her. She didn't blame him, they were both in shock. They didn't expect this outcome from the appointment today.

"Okay." he said. Feyre was clicking her nails against the table as they waited for Rhys at the restaurant.

"How are you?" she asked, not stopping the clicking of her nails.

"Great. Amazing." He sighed and looked at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "What about you? You look pale."

"I got that from my mother." Feyre said.

He snorted. "I meant paler than usual."

Feyre shrugged. "Two is a lot. I mean, one is already a lot."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "It's one more than I had expected."

That came so sudden and sounded so ridiculous that Feyre burst out into laughter. She had to hold her hand in front of her mouth when the people that sat on the next table threw them weird looks. "It's definitely two more than planned."

Helion chuckled and nodded. "That it is."

"Hey! I'm sorry I'm late, the meeting took a little longer than anticipated and the traffic was a nightmare. I hope you didn't wait too long." Rhys said as he brushed past them and sat down opposite of Feyre. He smiled at them and then asked her "Are you okay? You look pale."

Feyre rolled her eyes. "We waited half an hour."

"I'm sorry." Rhys repeated. "How was your appointment?"

Feyre took her ice tea and took a sip, so she wouldn't have to explain. Helion looked at her then back to Rhys and sighed. "It was pretty good. Feyre got an ultrasound and we saw the babies, that was crazy but cool." Feyre nodded in agreement.

"Crazy but cool." she repeated as she placed her glass on the table.

They both watched Rhys, witnessing the exact moment as his eyes widened and he realized "Babies? Plural?"

"Two to be exact." Feyre said.

"Twins." Helion added.

Rhysands gaze wandered from Helion to Feyre. "Did you-" he cleared his throat. "Did you know? Did you expect that?"

Feyre shook her head and Rhys loosened a breath. "Wow. That must be quite the shock for you two."

"It is." Feyre said at the same time Helion said "Definitely."

"And now?" Rhys asked.

Feyre leaned back in her chair and said "Now we order, I'm starving."

Helion chuckled, "We don't want that." which made Rhys chuckle in return but his gaze stayed in Feyre.

After they ordered and shortly after got their meals, Feyre was thankful to have both Helion and Rhys at her side. This was a situation she never thought she would be in but they were her friends, she realized, and she was lucky to call them such. Although when it was time to go home and both men helped her walk down two steps, she had the feeling that she now had two mother hens at her side.

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