#Rhys

[potatoplace]

Labyrinth: Nest

C3 | C4 : Nest | C5

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader - A Backrooms AU

series masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | AO3 Link

Summary: Nothing feels quite right, until you're given everything you need to build the perfect nest. And even then, it can be a struggle.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, light smut, dub-con cause Y/N is at the start of her heat

Words: ~3.1k

Author's Note: yaaaay I'm so happy to finally have another fun chapter of Labyrinth done!! This is pretty much just puuuure nesting fluff plus some smooching and uhhhh... well I'll just let you guys read 🤭 I hope you guys like this one!! Talk to me in the comments 😁

18+ only pls

🤍🩵💖💜🤍

You drifted in and out of sleep, snuggled in the arms of Feyre and Rhys. It was perfect somehow, with their scents and heartbeats filling your senses. One of their hands was running up and down your spine in a rhythmic motion, and you wanted to arch your back into it, but that would be so much work.

Every now and then your body went rigid when you felt like something was wrong, but that wonderful purr sounded in your ear and you would go limp once more.

You only woke up when you were shifted from being mostly on Rhys’s lap to entirely on Feyre’s, a long whine leaving you when you looked around, and he was nowhere to be found.

“Shh, omega, it’s okay. Rhys just went to grab some things for your nest,” Feyre whispered in your ear, and you went stiff in her hold.

Nest?

Feyre laughed fondly beneath you, pulling your against her more tightly. “That’s right, omega, your nest. You’re going to want to make it perfect soon, I’d imagine.”

You nuzzled your face against her neck, taking in a deep breath of her scent. “What’s a nest?”

“Ah, that’s right, you haven’t had a heat before, baby,” Feyre sighed. “A nest is what an omega builds for their heat, usually with a lot of blankets, pillows, furs - anything soft and comforting, really. And you’re so close to going into heat, I’m sure you must be dying for a safe nest to stay in.”

A contented sigh left you at the idea, of a safe, cushy nest to stay in with the two of them.

“With your alphas, of course we’ll join you in your nest, ‘mega.”

Turning your head to look at Feyre, you whispered, “Alpha?” A deep purr rumbled through Feyre and you collapsed against her, boneless from the wonderful noise. “Alpha,” you sighed.

Feyre stood from the couch a moment later, with you safely tucked in her arms, nose pressed to her neck. “That’s my omega, good girl,” she cooed as she brought you back into their bedroom, settling you on the large mound of furs. “So sweet for me.”

You hummed as you tugged her down, slotting your lips to hers.

What had gotten into you? You weren’t sure, but kissing Feyre, alpha, felt right.

Your lips parted, a breathy sigh leaving them when Feyre gently pushed you down, her body covering yours perfectly. Her soft lips met yours again, sure and confident as one of her hands cradled the back of your head. You melted into her hold, lips parting to let Feyre’s tongue dip inside.

“You got started without me, I see,” Rhys chuckled from the doorway, and you jerked away from Feyre as far as you could, her mouth finding its way to your neck instead. He dropped what he was holding on the ground, the large stack of pillows he’d been carrying falling on top of a pile of blankets, and next to it a pile of plush furs, similar to those you were laying on. “Oh, don’t stop because of me, omega,” he purred, violet eyes flicking to where Feyre’s mouth was latched to your neck, then back to your eyes.

Rhys turned, leaving the room, and you let out a loud keen at the sight, causing him to rush to your side a moment later.

“What is it, omega?” Feyre asked, her worried eyes trained on you as well.

A pout fell on your lips, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to answer, other than you didn’t want Rhys to leave, but…

That was ridiculous.

“No, it’s not, omega,” Rhys reassured you, a large palm cupping the right side of your face. “You’re nearly in heat, and you need your alphas nearby. But don’t worry, I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. Feyre will keep gladly keep you company, I’m sure, or you could start working on your nest.”

You bit your lip but nodded, doing your best to ignore the uneasy feeling in your gut as Rhys left the room, heading somewhere off to the right. The whine that left you was unintentional, but you couldn’t help it.

“Do you want to start on your nest, love?” Feyre asked as she turned your away from the door and towards her with a gentle hand. “You’ll regret it if you don’t, I think. And look, Rhys brought in so many pretty fabrics for you to choose from!” She said cheerily, turning your head now to look at said offerings.

They did look appealing… And it couldn’t hurt to at least pick through the pile, right?

Feyre grinned and moved off of you, standing and pulling you up with her. She gently pushed you towards the piles, and that was all the permission you needed to plunge your fingers into fabric, finding the pieces that felt nicest against your skin.

Soft plush throws and swathes of silk were gently placed on the edge of the existing mound of furs as you searched the pile further, pleased as a peach when you found a thick, down comforter in a sage green - perfect to cover the base of your nest.

You set to it, laying the comforter down over as much of the pile of furs as you could before grabbing pillows, arranging them in a circle around the border of the blanket. From there you added a layer of blankets, making sure the layer was smoothed out.

It was then that you noticed both of your alphas were gone, tears instantly welling in your eyes as you looked through the doorway for them without moving from the pile of furs that you had been rifling through.

“Alpha?” you asked quietly, the tone of your voice pitiful, even to you. When no one answered, you fell forward into the pile, tears leaking onto furs as you cried at being alone again.

You didn’t think you could handle it.

“Hey, what’s this?” Feyre asked from behind you, and you shot up, looking to the doorway, where she was standing, Rhys and his massive wings lurking behind her. You sniffled, wiping away stray tears as she came to you, setting down the armful of pillows she was carrying before pulling you into her arms. “I’m sorry we left, ‘mega, we just wanted to get more nesting materials for you,” she explained as she wiped away one last tear that had fallen.

You pouted at her, annoyed that they’d left without telling you. “Don’t leave again,” you whined when Rhys turned to leave, stopping him in his tracks.

“I only have one more trip of things to bring you, ‘mega, I’ll be back in five minutes, maximum,” Rhys promised you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Hey,” he chuckled when you threw your arms around one of his arms, clutching to him for dear life. “This is very cute, but I will be returning in just a moment, and the sooner you let me leave, the sooner I’ll be back.”

Feyre helped him pry your fingers from his legs, your arms crossing over your chest defiantly as you watched him leave the room. Feyre attempted to coax you into working on your nest again, but you sat, staring resolutely at the door, waiting for your alpha to return. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, the soft kisses she pressed to your neck and shoulder almost having you closing your eyes…

But you resisted, waiting for the moment your alpha walked back in, so that you could relax again,

And finish your nest.

It took Rhys at least fifteen minutes, or that’s what it felt like to you, to return to the room the three of you share, an armful of decorative pillows and extra blankets that he immediately deposited on the floor, quickly kneeling in front of you and pulling you against him. The soothing scent of citrus and sea washed over you, wiping away the anxiety that had been plaguing you while he was gone.

You were only vaguely aware of Rhys speaking to Feyre, and Feyre answering before Rhys gently separated from you, tilting your chin up with a strong finger. “Do you want to finish your nest now, omega?" he asked you, his midnight voice managing to pierce through the trance you were in. A nod and Rhys was smiling at you, and you smiled back, so happy that your alpha was happy with you. “Good girl, go ahead and finish up. Feyre and I will wait outside of your nest until it’s perfect for you,” he said, turning your head to look at the piles of nesting materials left for you to sort through.

“Take your time, omega, you want it to be perfect for your heat, so you’re as comfortable as possible,” Feyre added when you tried sifting through the pile of furs quickly, a sheepish smile on your face at being caught.

You took their advice to make it perfect, taking what you thought was an hour to arrange the nest to your exact liking. It looked perfect by the end of it, layer after layer of blankets, each layer separated at the outside by a pillow, making a nice, safe wall to protect you and your alphas.

The last layer was made entirely of different swathes of silk, in all the pretty jewel tones you loved - sapphire, amethyst, and emerald, making your nest pretty - though you weren’t sure how important it  was for a nest to look nice.

But it made you happier, that was for sure.

You sat back, looking at your nest. The decorative pillows you quickly moved so rest against the back wall of the nest, with two normal, extra fluffy pillows propping them up. Next you pulled the furs you wanted to use as blankets into the nest, an absolutely massive, snow white pelt and a slightly smaller, charcoal grey one. Other blankets… You looked at them, your lip curling in disgust.

No, your nest didn’t need those anymore.

What else is missing?

Your teeth worried your lip as you slowly spun on your knees, looking everywhere for what you were missing, before landing on the obvious.

“Alphas,” you whined pitifully, reaching your hands out to grab for them, so far away, outside of your nest and standing against the wall. “Please.”

That was all the permission they needed to cross the boundary of your nest, careful not to ruin your hard work. Rhys had you cradled against his chest a moment later, your legs hitched over the sides of his, the ends of his wings draping over the side of your nest.

“Did I make it too small?” you asked shyly as you looked up at him through your lashes, heat already beginning to build in your eyes when you thought of it not being perfect - you not being perfect, for them.

“Not at all, darling,” Rhys reassured you, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. “And you are perfect, Y/N, just the way you are.”

“Our perfect little omega,” Feyre cooed as she pressed herself against your back, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them. “Your nest is perfect, I promise, darling. It’s so beautiful, just like you.” She punctuated the sentence with a light nibble on the base of your neck, your body going boneless between them.

You hummed happily, basking in the feeling of being so safe between them, like nothing in this place could hurt you.

This place…

And then you were crying, salty tears leaking onto Rhys’s bare chest as you thought about home, about your things.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Feyre asked softly. You shook your head, not able to say it. “Just think it then, sweetheart, and we can figure out what to do. Can you do that for me, omega?”

You sniffled, but nodded, conjuring up an image of your room in your head, missing your stuffed yellow duck that you’d had since childhood. Not that you knew how they could see it but… This place is strange.

“Oh, ‘mega, do you miss your old room?” Rhys asked, tilting your face so you would meet his eyes. You bit your lip and looked away, not wanting to sound ungrateful…

“It’s not ungrateful, baby girl,” Feyre said. “You’ve had a lot of big changes recently, it’s normal to miss your old things. Do you want us to try to find something similar for you?”

“Not now!” you said, slightly panicked, grabbing Feyre’s hands to keep her exactly where she was.

“Of course, omega, not now,” Feyre agreed, leaning into your more heavily.

You settled back down, relaxing against Rhys again until you thought of your old room, all your soft, pretty blankets and cute stuffed animals, and oh, the silky nightgowns you owned that you would love to be wearing right now. But rubbing your fingers against the soft silks beneath you satisfied that need well enough, and the heat Feyre and Rhys were both radiating was enough to keep you warm.

And as soon as those deep, rumbling purrs made their way through Rhys’s chest, then Feyre’s, you fell limp against him, quickly lulled to sleep.

🤍🩵❤️‍🔥💜🤍

You woke some time later, an aching need coursing through you, and you pressed your hips down automatically-

Oh, you sighed to yourself, rocking your hips again, catching pleasantly on something hard beneath you. You let out a soft breath before continuing, slowly rocking your hips against the hardness beneath you, a fire lighting in your belly when arms wrapped more tightly around you.

The arms kept you from moving as much as before, but you managed to move your hips, your upper body limp against a strong chest as you continued chasing the sparks of pleasure you were creating.

You’d nearly crested when the body beneath you went stiff, relaxing a moment later, a whispered “omega” passing from his lips to your ear, your hips jolting at the title. Hands met your hips a moment later, pressing you more firmly, finding just the right angle to press your clit to -

You came with a cry, muffled by the tattooed skin of Rhys’s chest as he kept moving your hips, seemingly as desperate as you to drag out your pleasure.

Whether it was seconds or minutes later, you came around to the sound of Rhys and Feyre speaking softly, their scents headier than normal, and you breathed in a few deep lungfuls before you managed to crack open your eyes.

“That was quite the show, omega,” Feyre said breathlessly, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “I think you need to sleep on me next.” She shot Rhys a jealous look, but the smile on her pretty pink lips told you she wasn’t angry.

You puckered your lips a few times, making a kissy noise to try and entice Feyre.

“You don’t need to try to entice me, darling, you do it naturally,” Feyre giggled before leaning in, pressing her lips firmly to yours, tilting your head to get better access as her tongue slipped past your lips. A large hand ran up your spine and you shivered, arching your back slightly, pressing you into Rhys. Feyre pulled away, leaving you breathless as you tried rocking your hips again, only for your movements to be stilled this time. She smiled wide when you whined, answering, “You need to eat something before you go fully into heat, baby, can you do that for us?”

You tried pressing your hips down again, much preferring your chosen course of action, only for your movements to be halted once more.

“For your alphas?” Rhys asked with a deep rumble in his chest, and you whined again, a resigned noise. “Good ‘mega, so good for us,” Rhys said, nodding to Feyre to get food for you before he tilted your head to look at him. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, then back to his starry violet ones, and you could almost swear that you saw actual stars in them.

You were so entranced by his eyes that his lips pressing to yours surprised you for a moment, only to have you melting against him in the next. You let him explore your mouth, felt his hands grip your hips before moving to grasp your rear, just slightly rocking you against him once, but it was enough to have you gasping.

Feyre tutted at Rhys, lightly slapping one of his hands after she’d sat down, a bowl of stew in her lap. “We said food, Rhys,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. When you turned to look at her, eyes glazed with pleasure, she couldn’t help but smile. “Though she does look very pretty like this. Open wide for me, ‘mega,” Feyre demanded, your mouth opening automatically for a spoonful of hearty stew.

“You’re being such a good omega, and do you know what good omegas get?” Rhys asked you once you’d eaten half the bowl, your bites slowing as you grew fuller with each one. You shook your head, looking up at him in confusion. “They get their alphas’ knots, sweet girl,” he purred, angling his hips into yours in just the right way.

“Knots?” you asked after your next bite, looking at the stew still in the bowl warily.

“That’s right, baby, you’ll get our knots to keep you nice and full, for as long as you need,” Rhys answered, and you clenched around nothing just at the thought of being filled. “Just finish your food, and you can have our knots whenever you want.”

You huffed out a breath but did as he asked, carefully chewing and swallowing each bite that Feyre fed you until she had scraped the bowl clean. When she got up to place the bowl on the counter, you keened softly at the loss of her, far too far away, just being across the room.

“I know, omega, it’s okay,” she murmured when she returned, laying on her side, with a slight gap between her and Rhys. Though when Rhys turned carefully, moving you to lay down, you were fit snugly between them, a contented sigh leaving you. “See? Isn’t this better? All snuggled up with your alphas in your nest, with a warm belly full of food.”

You nodded in agreement - it was perfect, especially once Rhys had pulled the two spare furs you’d brought into the nest over the three of you, cocooning you entirely.

The hunger you had felt earlier had subsided, leaving sleepy contentment in its place as your alphas stroked your hair, both of them emitting quiet purrs that drowned out any noises, any thoughts that could keep you awake.

🤍🩵💖💜🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

Series Taglist: @kissesfromnovalie @rosecobollway @loving-and-dreaming

[jacksdreams]

“I think my heart knew you were mine long before I ever realized it.”

Artist: @/kiraky.ml on IG

[nikethestatue]

The bat boys

Art: meiflowersketches

[lovelyfawnxx]

baby wake up, new Rhysand art just dropped

🎨 by ignartcio

[nataliedecorsair]

What if there was a Borderlands cartoon instead of a movie? Here's my take on it, I drew some "fake screenshots" showing what it could've been. And there is a hidden frog in there 🐸 It's also my AU stuff mixed with canon, in case you were wondering.

Btw, the loader here is the Loader Bot from Tales. I was thinking how he's slowly started getting conscious, that's why he's looking at Jack like that. Generally speaking, I prefer older Borderlands games, so this art is my ode to them. Hope you like it

I also have other fan art posts dedicated to the early 2000s animation, and Hades + Eris crossover

[surielstea]

First Impressions

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rhys is a bumbling buffoon when it comes to meeting his mate for the first time.

Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city

A.Note: not totally proud of this one since it’s hard for me to write first meeting stories with a concluding ending, but I hope you guys enjoy :)

Word count: 4.8k words

The scratching at my door had me sitting up in an instant, my back pressing against the cold stone wall as my hand slid beneath my pillow, fingers curling around the worn hilt of my dagger. My breath came shallow, controlled, as I listened—waiting for another sound, another shift in the air that might give away whoever had decided to test their luck tonight.

Life in the Hewn City never allowed for restful sleep. Not when shadows slithered in every alley when cruelty pulsed like a second heartbeat through its streets. And especially not now that Morrigan was gone.

Her father's estate had been far from a sanctuary, but at least the sheer power Keir wielded had kept the worst of the monsters at bay. Here, in my apartment on the outskirts of town, I had no such protection. Only thin walls, shattered locks, and neighbors who wouldn't need a reason to break into a young female's bedroom—who wouldn't care that I was High Fae, not when my magic was little more than a flickering candle in the wind.

A shiver danced down my spine as I gripped my dagger tighter, pulling it free just as the handle of my door twisted. My breath stilled.

Wards should have held. I'd watched Mor herself etch them into the worn wood, her golden power laced with every careful stroke. And yet the door creaked open, the darkness beyond bleeding into my already shadowed room.

I made myself as small as possible, the blanket of night cloaking me enough to fool a drunk—most in this wretched place were—but if they stepped inside if they came closer...

A head popped through the gap.

Gold hair caught the dim light.

My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."

I tumbled out of bed, my dagger forgotten as I all but threw myself at her. She caught me effortlessly, her arms wrapping tight around my waist, solid and real, her familiar scent washing over me.

"Oh, I've missed you," she murmured, holding me as if she'd been gone for years rather than two unbearable weeks.

I pulled back just enough to take her in, my hands framing her face, my eyes darting over her features, searching for any sign of injury. My stomach knotted at the gauze wrapped around her waist, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed.

"I thought you got out safe?" I whispered.

She smirked. "Forgot some things."

There was something reckless in her eyes, something sharp and unyielding.

My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"

"I'm getting you out of here."

Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.

—

I had heard the rumors—the hushed whispers exchanged between patrons in dimly lit taverns, drunken murmurs of a secret city our High Lord kept hidden from the rest of us. A place untouched by the cruelty of the Hewn City, a myth spun to keep fools hopeful.

I never believed a word of it.

But Velaris was real.

"The City of Starlight," Morrigan had said, her voice breathless with something I hadn't seen in her since we were reckless, ignorant children. She'd smiled then—wild, unguarded. And I had known, in that moment, that every whispered legend had been true.

The city thrived even in the late hour. Laughter and music curled through the streets, golden lights casting soft glows against dark stone. I had never dreamed a place like this could exist, not outside of bedtime stories and half-formed wishes. And yet, Mor guided me through its winding paths as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing me pieces of the Night Court I had never dared to imagine.

Until, finally, she led me to a small cabin at the edge of a quiet clearing.

Warm light spilled from its windows, shadows dancing against the wood as the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter leaked into the night. It was a thrilling sound—carefree, safe.

Mor stepped onto the porch, her fingers curling around my wrist as she turned back to me with a smirk. "I've been living here for the past few weeks," she hummed, as if it were no great thing. "And I decided I missed my roommate."

Her words barely registered over the clatter of voices inside. I could hear the easy teasing, the playful shouts.

I hesitated.

"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"

"The High Lord's?" I whirled on her, my stomach clenching.

Mor blinked, as if I'd said something absurd. "He's my cousin, you know?"

I did know that. Of course I did. But the knowledge didn't stop the shiver that traced my spine.

I had seen Rhysand twice in my life—twice was enough.

Both times, I had been convinced I would die right there on the spot, crushed beneath the weight of his power. It exuded from him like a second set of wings, dark and monstrous. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his steps. To say he was powerful was an insult to the very meaning of the word. He was terror incarnate, the nightmare that lived in the dark corners of every court.

I had heard the stories—of him reaching into minds and shattering them from the inside out, twisting their own fears into weapons sharper than any blade. He did not need to lift a hand to kill.

My throat went dry. "He's not in there, is he?"

The words were barely a whisper, but Mor only shrugged, far too casual. "Sure he is."

I nearly choked. What?

"Mor—"

She didn't give me a chance to protest.

Her fingers curled around mine, firm and unwavering, and before I could think to dig in my heels, she had pulled me forward—up the steps, through the doorway, past the foyer—until I was standing in the heart of the house.

The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.

Four sets of eyes locked onto me.

Hazel. Silver.

And then—

A violet gaze, piercing and unrelenting, dilated with something unreadable.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Rhysand.

The High Lord of Night. The male who could level entire armies with a flick of his wrist, who could peel apart minds like flower petals and leave nothing behind. The nightmare whispered about in every corner of the Hewn City.

And he was staring at me.

His lips parted slightly, as if words had caught in his throat.

Mor, of course, was entirely unaffected. "Gentlemen," she said, grinning as she strode deeper into the sitting room. "And Amren."

The silver-eyed female merely flicked a gaze over Mor before cutting straight to me, a sharp, assessing glance that made my stomach twist.

I was still trying to school my expression into something other than imminent death panic when Mor gave my wrist a final squeeze and released me.

"I'd like you all to meet—"

"She's my mate."

Silence.

Utter, perfect silence.

Then—

A choked sound came from the male lounging in an armchair, wings draped lazily over its sides. He had dark hair, hazel eyes gleaming with delight, and an unmistakable aura of shit-eating amusement. That one must be Cassian.

Next to him, another male, shadows curled at his feet like living things, merely blinked—slowly, deliberately—before glancing at Rhys and murmuring, "That was subtle." And there's Azriel.

Rhys, for all his legendary cunning, looked like he wanted to launch himself into the Sidra.

"Mate?" I rasped, my stomach flipping over itself.

No. No, surely not. That was—impossible. I would've felt something.

Or have I all along?

"You must forgive our dear High Lord," Amren drawled, sipping from a glass of something dark. "He usually has more tact when announcing these things."

Rhys finally seemed to snap back into his body, straightening his spine with something like composed horror.

"What I meant to say," he amended, his voice dropping into something far smoother, far silkier—too smooth as if he were compensating, "is that it's a pleasure to meet you."

Cassian snorted. "You just said she was your mate."

"Yes, thank you, Cassian."

Azriel's lips twitched. "I think she got the message."

My head was spinning, my throat tight. But my body had stilled—not from fear, exactly, but from something else. Something coiling in my chest, something aware.

Rhys's gaze flicked to mine, and his expression softened instantly, all humor melting into something devastatingly gentle.

"It's late. You must be exhausted." His voice had dipped, his usual charm tempered with something achingly sincere. "Let me get you something to eat. Or drink. Or—are you warm enough? I can get you a blanket—"

Cassian was shaking with silent laughter. Azriel merely watched, like he was filing this away for later use.

Amren, however, had no such patience. "Oh, for Cauldron's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's not a wounded animal, Rhysand, stop circling her like a mother hen."

"I just want her to be comfortable," he argued, flashing her a glare before turning back to me with something so devastatingly earnest that I nearly forgot who he was. What he was.

He liked me.

No—he wanted me to like him.

Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in history, was tripping over himself to win my favor.

And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the rumors I'd ever heard.

—

I wasn't entirely sure how I ended up sitting on a plush couch in the middle of the High Lord's cabin, wrapped in a ridiculously soft blanket that I didn't remember agreeing to. A cup of tea—also not requested—was placed carefully in my hands, steam curling in the dim candlelight.

Rhysand hovered nearby.

And I meant hovered.

He was standing at an awkward, not-quite-close, not-quite-far distance, shifting slightly as if debating whether he should sit or stand or vanish into the floor. His normally easy, fluid grace had been utterly abandoned, leaving him looking... well. Uncertain.

Cassian, sprawled in the armchair across from me, was barely keeping it together. His wings twitched every few seconds, his lips pressed tightly as if physically holding in his laughter.

Azriel, seated beside him, was far more composed—but the slight upward tilt of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

I took a sip of my tea, trying to make sense of all this.

The High Lord of the Night Court—the terror of the Hewn City, the most powerful male in existence—had declared me his mate. And then proceeded to fall apart before my very eyes.

I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.

"Would you like more pillows?"

I blinked. "What?"

His violet eyes were very, very wide. "You look like you could use more pillows."

Cassian made a strangled noise.

Azriel coughed into his fist.

"I—I'm fine," I said slowly, watching as Rhys's shoulders sagged in relief.

Too fast. All of this was happening too fast, I couldn't keep up.

"Are you sure? Because I can get more."

Cassian let out a wheezing breath, eyes shining with unrestrained delight. "Yes, Rhys. More pillows. That's definitely what she needs."

Rhys shot him a withering glare before turning back to me, smoothing his expression into something intended to be charming, but coming across as deeply, deeply desperate.

"Or food!" he blurted. "Have you eaten? I can make you something. Or, well, I can't make you something, but I can get someone to—"

"She has tea, Rhys," Amren cut in dryly. "You shoved it into her hands two minutes ago."

"I did not shove—"

"You definitely shoved," Cassian confirmed, barely containing his cackle. "I thought you were going to spill boiling tea all over your mate."

I flinch slightly at the term as Rhys shoots back with, "I was being thoughtful."

Azriel hummed, taking a slow sip of his own drink, the amber color telling me it was something much stronger than tea. "Is that what we're calling it?"

I had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this.

Rhysand—the charmer, the schemer, the legend—was unraveling at the seams in front of me.

Because of me.

"I can make my own food," I finally said, mostly just to say something.

Rhys visibly straightened. "Of course! Yes, I knew that. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual ease nowhere to be found. "I want you to feel at home."

Cassian grinned. "I think she'd feel more at home if you stopped looming over her like a lovesick bat."

Rhys's glare could have melted stone.

Azriel just leaned back in his chair, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he mused.

Rhys turned his attention back to me, clearly trying to regain some dignity. He attempted one of his infamous smirks. "You must forgive them. They're not used to seeing me flustered."

Cassian clapped a hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's a gift, truly."

Azriel nodded solemnly. "We should savor this moment."

Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.

I just stared at him, still gripping the cup of tea like it was the only solid thing in the world. "Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His breath caught.

And for a moment, the amusement, the chaos—it all faded. His eyes softened, something raw flickering behind them.

"I'm fine," he said, voice lower now, steadier. "I just... I wasn't expecting this."

Neither was I. But still, something shifted in my chest at the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.

I wasn't ready to name that feeling.

But for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel like running.

Slowly—mercifully—Rhys seemed to remember how to function again.

He settled into the chair across from me, still watching me with those impossibly violet eyes, but at least he wasn't hovering like I might vanish if he so much as blinked.

Not that he'd relaxed entirely.

No, because the moment I so much as shifted—adjusting the blanket, setting my tea down—he twitched as if preparing to leap to his feet and fix something.

If I asked for anything, I had no doubt he'd be up and fetching it before I could even finish the sentence.

But at least he was sitting.

Amren, on the other hand, was done with the entire situation.

With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and stretched. "Alright. That's enough of this."

Cassian perked up. "Of what?"

She shot him a withering look. "The two of you sitting here, watching this disaster unfold like it's a theatrical event."

Cassian grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, but it is."

Azriel just sipped his whiskey, but the small smirk on his lips said everything.

Amren turned her glare to them both, then pointed at the door. "Out."

Cassian gaped. "But—"

"Out," she repeated, already making her way toward him.

Cassian barely had time to dodge before she grabbed his arm, yanking him up with surprising strength for someone so small. "Azriel, move," she barked.

Azriel, for all his shadows and lethal grace, barely managed to stifle a chuckle before obeying.

Rhys, looking very much like a male clinging to the last shred of his dignity, just sighed. "Amren, I hardly think—"

"Oh, please." She shot him a knowing look. "You want them gone."

Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced—too quickly—at me.

Cassian cackled. "Oh, this is so good."

"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.

Cassian just grinned, throwing an arm over Azriel's shoulder as Amren shoved them both toward the door. "Love you too, brother!"

The door shut behind them then silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, my mind still spinning from all of this—this place, these people, Rhysand, sitting before me and looking as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Mor, still seated beside me, gave a soft, reassuring smile. "Ignore them," she said. "They're menaces, but they mean well."

I nodded, unsure what to say.

She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, "I think so."

Mor's smile warmed. "Good." She stood, stretching. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."

She winked. "Get some rest."

And then, just like that, I was alone. With Rhysand.

Who, despite his best attempts to seem relaxed, looked about two seconds away from combusting.

The silence stretched for a beat too long before Rhys cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So," he started, voice smoother now, steadier, "what do you think of Velaris?"

I exhaled, my grip loosening on the blanket around my shoulders as I glanced toward the window. The city lights still twinkled beyond the glass, mirroring the stars above.

"It's..." I searched for the right word. Magnificent."

His lips curved. "It is." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not what you expected?"

A soft huff of breath left me. "In all honesty, I didn't even expect it to be real."

Rhys chuckled, low and warm. "Most don't."

I looked back at him. "How long has it been hidden?"

His expression turned thoughtful. "Since the war." His gaze flickered to the window, a distant look in his eyes. "My family—my court—has fought to protect it for centuries. It's the one place in all of Prythian untouched by war, by cruelty." He met my gaze again, and this time, there was something softer there. "Now it's yours, too."

Something shifted in my chest at that. The way he said it like I belonged here. I swallowed. "And the court?"

His smile returned, easy and knowing. "You've already met the worst of them."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "I don't believe that."

"Oh, you should." He smirked. "Cassian and Azriel? Winged buffoons. Mor? Chaos incarnate." He placed a hand on his chest, feigning solemnity. "And me? Well, the stories you've heard don't paint me in the best light, do they?"

A teasing edge now, that sharp, clever humor creeping into his voice.

I tilted my head. "No, they don't."

He grinned, but it softened as he glanced back outside. "You'll see for yourself, though." He hesitated, then added, "You'll be here for Starfall."

"Starfall?"

His eyes lit up, and suddenly, it was as if the shadows in the room no longer existed.

"You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head.

Rhys leaned closer, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial, enticing. "Once a year, the sky does something extraordinary."

I raised a brow, peering out the large arched window to look at the galaxy of stars just outside. "More extraordinary than usual?"

A chuckle. "Much more." He sat back again, watching me with a quiet sort of delight, as if he already knew I'd love it. "The stars don't just shine that night. They fall."

I blinked. "They fall?"

"Mmm." He traced a circle on the arm of his chair. "Not like shooting stars—though it looks similar. The souls of long-lost beings drift across the sky, shimmering trails left in their wake. It's..." He trailed off, searching for the word.

"Magnificent?" I supplied, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Rhys gave a slow, approving nod. "Very."

Something warm settled in my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

And then, finally, I allowed myself to really look at him.

Not the High Lord. Not the nightmare. Just Rhysand.

And gods, he was handsome.

The kind of handsome that made the room feel smaller, the air feel warmer. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, those impossibly violet eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight. And the way he looked at me—like I was something precious. Like he already knew me, in some deep, unspoken way.

I cleared my throat, shoving away the thought. "It sounds magical."

He grinned, and for the first time, it wasn't the grin of a High Lord, or a male who held the power of nightmares in his hands.

It was just a smile. For me.

A slight yawn slipped from me, Rhys was instantly moving.

"Mother above, I've kept you up too late—" He was already leading me toward the hall, his steps brisk, his hands half-lifted as if he wanted to guide me but thought better of it.

I barely had time to keep up as he strode toward a door across from Mor's, gesturing to it like it was some grand reveal. "This is yours—of course, if you don't like it, we can find you another room, or a different house entirely, or—"

"Rhys—"

"I really should have let you rest earlier, I can be insufferable when I ramble, and—"

"Rhys."

"I hope you find everything comfortable, but if you need anything—extra pillows, a softer mattress, a different view—"

I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.

His breath hitched, just barely—but I felt it beneath my hand, the sharp inhale, the slight stutter of his heartbeat.

His eyes locked onto mine, the violet darkening, blazing.

I had only meant to stop his spiraling apologies, but now... Now the air between us was thick with tension.

Something unseen curled and tightened, coiling like a living thing beneath my skin.

Rhys exhaled sharply through his nose. Slowly—reverently—his hand lifted, covering mine where it lay over his chest. His fingers curled just enough to hold me there, as if... as if he couldn't bear to let go.

Something between us shifted and I didn't have time to decide if it was for the better or not.

A pull, deep in my ribs. An ache that hadn't been there before.

Rhys went completely still.

Like he was waging some great internal war, fighting against a force that neither of us had yet spoken aloud. But I felt it.

The way his fingers tightened just slightly over mine. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something, only to think better of it.

The way his eyes—those star-flecked, devastatingly beautiful eyes—searched mine like they held the answer to something he'd been waiting for.

I should have stepped back.

I should have moved.

Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of his tunic.

Rhys swallowed, his throat working around the motion, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly over mine like he was grounding himself—like he needed to hold on. I knew I should step back.

We had only just met.

Yet that fact seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the weight of the moment curling between us, thick as smoke.

Because I could feel it—something pulling me toward him, that bond deeper than attraction, sharper than longing. It was in the way his breath came uneven, in the way his gaze dropped, just briefly, to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, a flicker of something raw, something wanting, breaking through his carefully placed walls.

His lips parted, like he might say something. Like he might stop this before it went too far.

I didn't let him. Didn't give myself the chance to second-guess, to think, to reason.

I surged forward.

Rhys barely had time to exhale before my lips met his. Soft. That was my first thought—how soft his lips were, warm and parting against mine as if in stunned surrender.

And then he was kissing me back.

A sharp inhale, his hand sliding up my wrist, curling around it like he couldn't quite believe this was happening—but wouldn't dare let go, either.

His other hand found my waist, light, hesitant, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground me, to anchor us both in the storm of whatever this was.

It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was slow, tentative, a gentle exploration.

His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, his lips parting wider, and I felt the way he breathed me in—like I was something to be savored, something he hadn't known he was starving for until now.

A small sound left me—something between a sigh and a whimper—and Rhys shuddered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into my skin like he needed to remind himself this was real.

We lingered there, caught in something we didn't have a name for, something neither of us had expected but couldn't seem to pull away from.

His thumb brushed along my wrist, slow, reverent, as our lips moved together in a rhythm that felt achingly natural.

Like we had done this a thousand times before. Like we would do it a thousand times more.

When we finally parted, it was only enough to breathe, our foreheads pressing together, breaths mingling.

Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.

"I—" His voice was hoarse, rough with something unspoken. He swallowed. "We should stop."

I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisting the fabric of his tunic.

"We should," I admitted.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along my wrist, like he was memorizing the shape of me, the feel of me.

And then, softer—softer than I'd ever heard anyone speak my name—

"But I don't want to."

I barely had time to whisper, "Neither do I," before he kissed me again.

His lips were still on mine, still moving, still taking, even as he rasped against my mouth, "We can't."

But he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.

If anything, his hands tightened at my waist, fingers pressing into my skin like he was anchoring himself—like he was fighting a losing battle against whatever force was unraveling between us.

I gasped as his tongue slid against mine, slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize me, like he was desperate to learn every piece of me with nothing more than his lips, his hands, his breath.

"Rhys," I whispered, not knowing if it was meant to be a plea or a warning.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants.

"I want to know you," he said, his voice so raw, so gutted that it sent a shiver down my spine.

Then his lips were on mine again, harder, deeper, like he was proving it, like he needed me to believe him.

"I want to know everything," he murmured against my mouth, between kisses that left me gasping, left me trembling, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Another kiss, this one rougher, hungrier. "Everything."

I whimpered against his lips, barely able to think, barely able to breathe with the way he was consuming me, the way his words were carving themselves into my ribs.

He groaned, like the sound was being ripped from him. "I—" He shuddered. "Tell me to stop."

I froze beneath him, blinking up at him, my head spinning, my lips swollen from his kisses.

He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his hands flexing at my sides.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, voice ragged, "because I don't think I can on my own."

His words hung between us, raw and trembling, his breath fanning against my lips. I could still taste him, still feel the imprint of his hands at my sides, as if he had branded himself into my very skin. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body warring between the pull of the bond and the sliver of hesitation curling in my chest.

I slipped my hands from his hair, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Rhys," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

His eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, searched mine. I saw the restraint there, the war he was fighting within himself, the way his hands trembled against my sides.

I swallowed, forcing myself to find the words through the haze of want clouding my mind. "I'll accept the bond," I murmured. His breath hitched, his entire body going utterly still. "I just need some time."

A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then—he exhaled, his forehead pressing against mine, his entire frame shuddering. His hands skimmed up my sides, gentle now, reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me before letting go.

"You could take centuries," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple, featherlight. "Beyond that, if you wanted. I'd wait for you, always."

Something in my chest ached, something too big to name. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the warmth of him, the endless patience laced in every word.

I tilted my head up, pressing the softest of kisses against his lips—nothing like the desperate, fevered ones from before. Just a promise. Just a thank you.

His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go, but he didn't stop me as I pulled away. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, Rhys."

His eyes softened, something almost wistful in them. "Goodnight, my love."

With a final glance, I turned and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. And even then, I could still feel him—like a shadow, like a promise—waiting.

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[rambunctioustoons]

get wrangled and maimed tax. entertaining that clown's gotta be a full time job for real.

[sal-lishhhh]

he is such a cutie :3

[ourhighladysarahjmaas]

Feyre and Rhysand

Artist : frostbite.studios

Instagram

[cinnashroom]

Look, it's just so damn fitting for them also lil @nataliedecorsair Pticenoga reference

[bluepandastarfish]

Bro you made me cry in public 😭😭

A Match Into Water

Feysand x Vanserra!Reader

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | Request

Summary: You fall ill, slowly, until it takes over your life. Your mates watch helplessly as you're torn from them too soon.

Warnings: chronic illness leading to death, seizures, fainting rapid weight loss, let me know if I missed something

Words: ~5.2k

Author's Note: So this is for the lovely 🪐 anon, inspired by the song 'A Match Into Water' by Pierce the Veil - I hope I got the vibes right for it, I went with mega angst 🙏 let me know how you guys like it! I didn't start crying til the end, but uh... yeah this one was tough for me to even write, it just feels very heavy. So read with caution. It's up on AO3 too! 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

It began with a cough.

Not often enough to cause any concern. Not even every day.

And when it did become every day, you had gone to see Madja, who told you to drink plenty of fluids and gave you a special tea to help soothe your throat, which had grown increasingly scratchy.

Of course, you’d done your best to hide it from Rhys and Feyre at first. They were always so busy and stressed as High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, and you didn’t want to burden them further.

But when you had fainted during Starfall, tumbling off the edge of the House of Wind?

Rhys had caught you, thankfully, and you awoke to the sight of his violet eyes filled with worry. When you turned your head to the right, you saw Feyre, her blue eyes sparkling with tears, some of them already pouring down her cheeks.

“Are you okay, baby?” she asked you, one of her hands cupping your cheek softly.

Your head hurt and you were exhausted, but other than that you felt fine.

You didn’t have to open your mouth, Feyre already curled against the inside of your mind just how you liked. “Good, good. Madja’s run all the tests, but she wasn’t able to conclude what made you faint.”

“And, Madja told us that you’ve had a cough for a few weeks?” Rhys questioned, though you knew he was asking why you hadn’t told them.

With the little energy you had, you pulled him into your mind, showing him how worried you’d been for him and Feyre, how overworked they’d been the past few months, and how you only wanted to save them any worry for you, over something as silly as a cough.

Darling, he whispered into your mind, his midnight voice filling your head and washing away the ache that had been building. A cough isn’t silly, when it lasts for weeks. We want to make sure you are healthy, above all else.

You’re our mate, Y/N, a very important piece of our whole, Feyre cooed, climbing into the cot you were on and cradling you in her arms. We wouldn’t know what to do without you. So please, if you keep having problems, let us know?

You hummed in agreement, nuzzling into Feyre’s chest. I will.

Rhys’s head came to rest on your chest, listening to your heartbeat closely, but shot up a moment later when the door swung open.

Madja stepped in, clipboard in hand. “Ah, Y/N, it’s good to see that you’re awake,” she said as she stepped towards your cot, standing at the end of it. “Now, I wasn’t able to find the cause of your fainting tonight with any of my tests. I was wondering if you had any abnormal symptoms before you did? Anything like shortness of breath, lightheadedness, chest pains?”

You bit your lip, your eyes darting between Rhys and Feyre. “Uhm… I started feeling lightheaded when we arrived at the House of Wind, I think?” you said quietly. “And just before I went out my chest started hurting pretty badly so I went to the balcony for some fresh air…”

Rhys inhaled sharply at the news, and you turned to look at him. “You fell from the House, darling.”

Oh.

“Hm. If it happens again, make sure to sit down immediately, and try having something to eat or drink. And I’ll have you come in once a week-”

“Twice a week,” Feyre interrupted as she stroked your hair.

“Very well, twice a week until you’ve had no incidents for three months. I also want you to take more baths, they should help with the coughing you’ve been experiencing, in addition to the tea I gave you,” Madja said, writing out the instructions for you care and passing the paper to Rhys. “If you feel able to have your mates winnow you or carry you home, I think it would be a good idea for you to have a long soak in warm water, followed by plenty of sleep.”

Do you feel ready? Feyre asked softly. You nodded against her, and a moment later you were pulled into her arms and whisked through the fabric of the world, landing next to the bathing pool in Feyre’s old room in the Moonstone Palace. Rhys appeared just after, tugging you and Feyre into his arms. He pressed a kiss to your head, then to Feyre’s before letting his arms fall.

Let’s get you into the bath, love, Rhys whispered, a soft caress in your mind.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

Just like your cough, the fainting only happened every so often.

Until it began happening weekly. And then daily.

Feyre had stopped most of her duties as High Lady, passing all those that didn’t require her directly off to Mor, who was more than happy to help, given the circumstances.

Rhys set foot in Illyria and the Hewn City maybe once a month, with Cassian taking charge of wrangling the war camps and Azriel overseeing Keir’s rule.

They much preferred staying with you whenever possible, taking you on short walks on the edge of the Sidra or snuggling on the couch, reading the latest novels Nesta had recommended together.

That was all you seemed to be able to do these days, if you wanted to stay conscious.

Currently you were sitting on a cot that had become so familiar to you, it was practically your second bed. Madja was standing before you, her hands hovering in front of you as she used her magic to scan your body.

She sighed and lowered her hands, writing something down in your chart. “I’m sorry, dear, but I still can’t find anything that could be causing these symptoms,” Madja said softly, giving your hand a squeeze when your eyes filled with tears.

“Do you… Could the Dawn Court possibly have answers?” you asked, rubbing your forehead to try to help with the pounding headache that had been building the past hour.

“I could ask some of my contacts there, they might have more experience with what’s happening to you,” Madja sighed, and you could tell she wasn’t hopeful. “It’s worth a try. Now… Have you reconsidered telling your family? I’m sure they would care to know, your mother and eldest brother at least.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to burden him, he’s just taking charge of the court now that father’s been eliminated,” you sighed. “I’d like to wait until I’m better.” You stood slowly from the cot under Madja’s disapproving eye, though she didn’t fight you on your decision to keep the news limited to the Velaris, following Madja to the door. It swung open, revealing Azriel, waiting to take you back to the River House.

If you couldn’t go to your appointments with Rhys or Feyre, you preferred going with Azriel. Cassian always had tears in his eyes, and Mor was overly cheerful, to the point your head ached from the positivity. Azriel was a perfect, neutral party. You knew he was worried for you, yes, but he never had misty eyes or tried to cheer you up, instead giving you the space to process whatever Madja had told you that day, usually the same news that she’d found nothing that would tell her what’s causing your health problems.

Today was no different. He let you walk through the clinic and out the door before stooping to lift you into his arms, taking off into the sky a moment later.

Our little secret, he had called it after one particularly bad appointment. You’d barely been able to walk that week, and had been so depressed at your situation. All you had wanted to do was go for a short flight, but Rhys and Feyre refused, worried that it might cause you to faint or have some other problem pop up. But Azriel had taken you to your appointment that day, and after had taken you into his arms, slowly ascending into the sky.

You’d cried in his arms, the freeing feeling of the wind in your hair washing away most of your worries, at least until you touched back down, just outside the River House.

Today, you looped your arms around his shoulders and looked around, gazing with lovesick eyes at the city you cared for so deeply.

The city you’d barely been able to be in, with your condition.

Your eyes traced the path of the Sidra, marked each building that you used to regularly visit, where your friends live.

Until the right side of your body started tingling suddenly, the pain in your head kicking up a notch-

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

“We told you, NO. FLYING. How simple of an ask was that, Azriel?!” Rhys shouted in the distance, loud enough to break through the fuzziness in your ears. “Do you realize that you could have killed her?!”

A voice murmured something softly, and you tried opening your eyes to see what was happening.

But they were so heavy, and you were so tired.

You listened to Rhys yelling for a while longer, drifting in and out of consciousness until you felt a soft hand grip yours.

“Would the two of you shut up?!” Feyre asked angrily, her voice clear and close. “Y/N can hear you.”

An instant later, your other hand was held in between two large, warm ones, and you knew instantly that it was Rhys. Two hands gently grasped your feet, through a blanket.

It took you a few more minutes to muster the energy to open your eyes, blinking wearily up at Rhys and Feyre’s worried faces.

You hated that it was becoming a familiar sight.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Feyre said thickly, tears shining in her eyes as she stroked your hair. “How are you feeling?”

You inhaled slowly, thinking. My mouth is dry, you pushed down the bond, your tongue like cotton in your mouth. Feyre beamed at you, lifting your head gently while Rhys grabbed a glass sitting on the table next to your cot, carefully pouring cool, soothing water down your throat. You finished most of it before you had them pull it back, feeling a bit more awake now.

What happened?

Rhys inhaled sharply, shooting a glare towards your feet. Standing there was Azriel, looking guilty and… scared.

“You seized in Azriel’s arms, mid-flight,” Feyre answered. “He brought you back to Madja’s immediately, but you’ve been out for an hour.”

It’s not Azriel’s fault, you whispered to her. I insist on us flying home, my puppy dog eyes are too good.

Feyre smiled at you, a sad thing. I know, love. Rhys will realize that in a bit too, and apologize.

You gave Azriel a soft smile, hopefully conveying that you in no way blamed him for what happened.

But you knew he would still blame himself.

Madja walked into your room, famous clipboard in hand and an assistant healer by her side. “Y/N, I’m going to be keeping you overnight for observation, just to be sure you won’t seize again without immediate care. Rhys, Feyre, you can stay if you’d li-”

“Yes,” your mates answered in unison, and Madja smiled at them.

“I thought that would be the case. Now, we can get you moved into one of our overnight rooms, the beds in there should be big enough to fit the three of you, but most certainly two of you,” Madja explained. “Now, Norelle will be doing most of your care overnight, but I will still be in the building, available at any moment if you need me. Right now, we still don’t know much about you condition, so tell her if anything changes or gets worse, okay?” she asked, expectant eyes on you.

“Okay,” you agreed, not missing the way your mates also nodded their agreement to her.

“Good. Now, let’s get you into that other room, it should be far more comfortable,” Madja said with a smile.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

You’d been discharged the next morning, with Madja repeating her instructions to sit down and have something to drink if you start feeling off, as well as having one of your mates call for her or Norelle’s assistance.

Only three days later, you had another seizure, hitting you while you were walking in the backyard with Feyre.

You were kept overnight again, and released in the morning, still with no answers as to why your body seemed to be slowly falling apart.

Five days later, you seized again, this time hitting your head on the living room coffee table when no one was in the River House.

You woke to a familiar face hovering above you, glowing hands tracing over your body. “Y/N, it’s nice to see you,” Thesan said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Your head ached terribly, much like it did before each seizure you’d had, and your entire body was sore.

Feyre relayed the information for you while Rhys carefully gave you small sips of water, his eyes completely devoid of stars.

“Hm,” Thesan hummed. “My magic can’t find anything wrong with you. Madja said that this all started with a cough, correct?” You nodded slightly. “And you began fainting at Starfall, preceded by lightheadedness and chest pains?” Another nod. “Those grew in frequency until you began seizing, yes?”

“Yes. Is there… Do you know what might be wrong with me?” you asked hoarsely.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’ve seen a case similar to yours before,” Thesan answered, somewhat hesitantly.

“And?” Rhys asked shortly, his eyes finally ripping away from you.

“She… It was a difficult road for her, before she passed.”

Feyre sobbed beside you, and you managed to turn your head to look at her, ignoring the stabbing pain in your head as you did so.

Hey, it’s going to be okay, you whispered into her mind. It’s going to be okay.

Her eyes locked onto yours, the anguish in them bringing tears to your own. I know, baby, I’m just scared for you.

Don’t be, we’ve got the second best High Lord helping me now, you told her with a tiny smile.

Feyre chuckled wetly before turning to Thesan. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I’d suggest transfusions of my blood once every other week, and one of yours on opposite weeks,” Thesan explained, and you made a face. Ew. “That should help heal your body from whatever is happening to it, as well as plenty of rest. And since I’m here now, we can start your first transfusion today."

You nodded, ready to get it over with, and hopefully you would start feeling normal again soon.

Maybe you’d even be able to go shopping in the Palaces again, without being carried by one of your mates the entire time.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

A week later, and you’d had no seizures, and only two fainting spells.

Which was perfect, because your brother’s first ball as High Lord of Autumn was tonight, and you desperately wanted to attend.

“Please?” you begged Feyre as you pulled a gown made in autumn colored silks from the closet. “I really want to see Eris be crowned, Fey.”

Feyre sighed beside you as she tried to avoid your eyes, failing miserably. “Fine, but only because you’re so damn cute,” she cooed as she pinched your cheek, pulling you in for a sweet kiss a moment later. “But once we get back, it’s bedrest tomorrow, alright?”

You scrunched your nose, but nodded anyways.

Twenty minutes later, you and Feyre were dressed and ready to leave, meeting Rhys in the living room. He looked mildly upset that you were dressed for the ball, but a moment later he smiled softly at you, likely after Feyre had told him your reasoning. “Are we ready, sweet mates of mine?”

You both nodded before Feyre and Rhys sandwiched you between them, winnowing to the Autumn Court in the next moment and landing in the entrance hall of the Forest House.

Your head went fuzzy for a moment before clearing, and you ignored the worried looks your mate shot you as Eris approached.

“Eri!” you squealed as you flung yourself into his arms, relishing in the way he squeezed you tightly. Before, hugs like these were saved for behind closed doors, one less piece of information for people to use against him. “Being High Lord really suits you, you look amazing!”

“You look lovely as well, sweetheart,” Eris replied, though you could see the worry in his eyes.

You’d lost the smallest amount of weight, you supposed, but it must have been noticeable to him…

“Dinner is just about to start, but once that’s done, I’d like to steal you away from your mates for a dance," Eris said as he led you into the grand hall, the table already set for dinner service, roasts and all.

Dinner was lovely, even with some of the tensions shared between the seven High Lords and their Ladies - or High Ladies, in the Night Court and Winter Court’s cases.

You felt fine all throughout it, and felt well enough to dance once with your brother, after he was crowned with the gold leaf crown of the High Lord of Autumn, adorned with glittering rubies, diamonds, and emeralds.

But halfway through the dance, a dull pain shot up at the base of your skull before spreading further, your body tingling, and you were just able to contact Feyre before all went dark.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

“And when were you going to inform me?!” your brother asked furiously. “She is my sister, I deserve to know if she’s seizing every other day!”

A soft sigh came from your right, a hand gently squeezing yours.

More yelling, but you didn’t care to listen to it, instead shrinking into your mind, where Feyre was curled around you entirely, the inky night cocooning you so nicely.

You’d stay here forever, if you could.

Another hand clenched around your left one, so familiar that you knew it could only be your mother’s.

You drifted off again, coming out of your mind to the sound of more yelling. Your eyes cracked open, moving to the right to meet Feyre’s. Make them be quiet, please, you asked, the pounding in your head only worsened by the fighting.

She nodded, and mere seconds later the arguing ceased, Rhys and Eris making their way to your bed in your old quarters of the Forest House.

“Darling, it’s good to see you awake,” Rhys said quietly.

“Y/N, why didn’t you want me to know you’ve not been doing well?” Eris asked, his amber eyes locking to yours.

Because you would’ve dropped everything to see me, and you needed to secure the court, you told Feyre, and she passed the words on to Eris.

He sighed, but didn’t fight the truth of your words. “Still, I expect to know every detail of your care from now on, and for the two of you to contact me if anything even more serious occurs,” Eris demanded, eyeing Rhys and Feyre carefully.

Rhys nodded, and you knew that he’d keep his word.

“Now, I’m going to have the three of you stay the night until you feel well enough to travel, alright Y/N?” Eris asked, though you knew it was more of a demand than anything. You nodded. “Good. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning. Mother should be back in no more than an hour, she’s off grabbing some tea for you, she insisted on being the one to make it for you,” Eris said, his eyes softening.

“Night, Eri,” you said quietly, watching him leave your old room before looking at your mates. “So… Bedrest?” you asked sheepishly before yawning wide.

“Bedrest,” Feyre confirmed, tears in her eyes.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

The transfusions helped, in a way. You were seizing less, but your appetite had vanished entirely for the first few days following them, no matter how you tried to stop it. You began losing weight rapidly, even as you were feeling slightly better from the healing properties of both Feyre and Thesan’s blood.

But the reprieve it brought you dwindled quickly as your health worsened once more, only two months into the new course of treatment.

Nothing could save you, it seemed.

You tried to keep your darker thoughts from Rhys and Feyre, but you were so exhausted most times that you existed within their minds, leaving your tired, sore body behind for most of the day. So they heard the loss of hope happening within you as you stayed bed-bound for over a week straight, seizing too often to even leave your room now.

Eris had begun visiting at least once a week since your incident in the Autumn Court three months ago, and had been coming close to twice a week for the past three weeks. Your mother joined him most times, but today had stayed home.

“…Going to try that, okay?”

You blinked yourself back to awareness, eyes focusing on Eris’s. “What?”

He smiled patiently at you. “We’re going to try something different today. Thesan believes that you have a blood condition, and that my magic may be able to burn it away,” he explained.

“Okay,” you said, too tired to try and understand his words. All you really wanted was to be in your bed at the River House, snuggled on both sides by your mates.

Instead, you’d been stuck in this room, an overnight clinic room of Madja’s that had been set aside exclusively for you, almost all of your things having migrated here, with how often you had to be here.

Rhys squeezed your hand lightly, afraid to bruise your now-delicate skin. “We’ll be right here, darling,” he said softly, and you could hear how he was fighting tears.

You must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, blinding pain shot through your body, heat burning you from the inside. A scream ripped from your throat and the pain stopped, but your nerve endings were on fire, every inch of your body feeling like a gaping wound as your clothes, the bedding, air touched it.

“What the fuck did you do to her?!” a voice roared from beside you, amplifying the pain in your head until you went unconscious, darkness overtaking you.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

Mount Ramiel quaked beneath him as he slammed his fists into the ground, roaring into the air with a sound of pure pain and rage.

Pain, because his mate was dying, in pain every waking second of every day.

Rage, because the Mother had seen this fate fit for his mate, one of three pieces to a whole, who he could not imagine living, breathing, without.

The creature within him burst through his skin, night exploding around him and covering the mountaintop as he raged, waiting to calm enough to return to her side.

To watch her wither away, losing weight, losing consciousness, losing life.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

Feyre sat at your bedside, quietly speaking to Thesan about any possible treatment routes that they hadn’t gone down.

Obviously, the thought that burning your blood with Eris’s healing fire was a misguided one, one that had sent you into a days long coma, still sleeping beside her. At peace, for once.

“I’m sorry, Feyre, but… I think it’s time to consider her quality of life, how much the treatments have affected her,” Thesan said carefully, watching as Feyre’s eyes sparked with rage, before calming into the numbed acceptance she had been displaying for weeks now.

“What would…” she sniffled, rubbing a few tears from her eyes. “What would you suggest, if we… If she wants to stop treatment? To make her… More comfortable?” Feyre hiccupped, grabbing your hand tighter.

Thesan sighed heavily. “We could give her medicine for the pain, but aside from that… I think the presence of her mates, her family, her friends would be the most helpful.”

Tears tracked down Feyre’s cheeks, and she nodded.

She could make that happen.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

You woke to the sound of quiet chatter around you, your eyelids leaden curtains that refused to part.

Hello, love, Feyre cooed into the expanse of your mind, sinking down next to you on the bed. Can you hear anyone besides me?

Yeah, you replied softly, curling into her presence.

Good, people wanted to talk to you. It’s alright if you can’t answer, they just wanted to let you know that they’re here, alright?

You hummed into your mind, the corners of your lips tilting up when Rhys joined her in cuddling you, physically and in your mind. You let yourself sink into the midnight darkness of them, let them hold you safely as your friends and family spoke to you.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you,” Eris said thickly, and you felt him grasp your shin. “I can’t stop thinking about when you were ten, and you walked around declaring yourself as the High Lord’s heir apparent to all of our brother’s, me included. I’m glad I followed you, or Doran would have thrown you against a wall for it,” he chuckled. “And Lucien-”

“I made you a crown of leaves from outside, and the three of us had a ceremony in the woods, crowning you High Lady of Autumn,” Lucien finished. “It’s one of my fondest memories at Forest House, along with you covering for my dates with Jesminda. It took you an awful long time to learn how to read spellbooks.”

You giggled in your head, thinking of how happy he’d been, winnowing back into your room after seeing his first great love.

“Well I love how you were always ready to go shopping with me, even if you didn’t need anything yourself. We would chat for hours and have lunch and…” Mor sighed. “I loved having that time with you, Y/N.”

“You’re an amazing cook, probably the best I’ve ever met,” Cassian said, earning a few chuckles and a light slap, probably from Nesta. “And I’ve always thought of you as a sister of my own.”

“Y/N, you know that I love how you can beat me in chess, and we both have the same perfect taste in teas. You’re the one that I confide in, and you feel like a sister to me, as well,” Azriel said softly.

“I loved getting to work with you in the kitchen, Y/N, it was so amazing to learn from someone who knows so much. You’re also so kind, and you treated me so warmly from the moment we met,” Elain said with tears choking her throat, and you heard her turn and begin to cry, muffled, likely by Lucien’s shoulder.

“Maybe I didn’t trust you with my sister at first, but you have the exact same taste in novels as I do, and that… May sound silly, but it made me realize that you loved my sister and her mate, even without the bond. And I’ll always love you for loving her,” Nesta choked out, the most emotional you’d ever heard her in the fifty years you’d known her.

“My… My darling daughter,” your mother sniffled. “You have always been there, by my side. You kept my hopes alive Under the Mountain, and seeing you love so freely has brought me so much joy.”

The pain in your head kicked up when you tried to open your eyes to look at her, to see her once more. Suddenly every noise worsened it, before a wave of night washed down your spine and deadened your senses, and you heard almost everyone shuffle out of the room.

Mates stayed, though. Your Feyre, and your Rhys stayed behind, holding you close before sinking into your mind once more. They held you there, the sound of their heartbeats lulling you to sleep as they sent you images of Velaris, as if the three of you were flying again.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

Soft music floated through your mind as you came to, your eyes opening slowly to the sight of your room in the River House, and a careful, slow glance to the left and right let you know that your mates were laying beside you, their arms and legs tangled around you.

Hello, darling, Rhys purred into your mind as he nuzzled your cheek.

Good morning, love, Feyre whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead softly. Are you hungry? Thirsty?

Thirsty, you groaned, letting her and Rhys adjust you and pour water down your throat, easing the aching dryness that had taken root there.

It never seemed to leave you for long, always coming back to make you cough, to make you lightheaded, to make you fall unconscious.

I love you, Feyre cooed when they settled you back against the pillows, letting her lips meet yours gently.

I love you too, Fey-ruh, you said after a moment, your brain working slowly to pull the words together.

And you know I love you too, Y/N, Rhys said before pressing his lips to yours next, softer than ever before, like you would break at the slightest pressure.

Your lips pulled up at the corners, your eyes meeting his blank, teary violet ones. And I love you, Rhysie. You breathed heavily before putting another sentence together. Don’t either of you ever forget it.

Hey, now, Rhys said softly. Don’t be talking like that, love.

You felt Feyre shaking beside you, her grip around you tightening. It’s going to happen. Just… Don’t forget me. But don’t… You coughed, your entire body going rigid until your lungs calmed. Don’t forget each other, you pleaded with them, looking between them slowly, seeing the tears in their eyes. Promise me, you demanded. Please.

You might be leaving your mates, but you would be damned if they left each other to join you, lost each other after losing you.

Okay, we promise. I promise, Rhys assured you, stroking your hair.

I promise, we won’t forget us, but most importantly, we will never forget you, Feyre said, tears streaming freely onto the pillows now.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. Good. I love you, you said tiredly, relaxing as much as you could into your mates’ hold.

You hardly noticed as you went unconscious, the feeling slipping over you with the next push of your lungs.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

“This is it,” Madja said from the foot of the bed.

Your chest barely moved now, each breath growing shallower and shallower. You hadn’t woken in five days, the only liquids your body was receiving being from ice cubes, lifted to your lips to wet them.

Your frail, near lifeless body lay before them, and they could hardly breathe.

The sight of you withering away, the life in your eyes slowly dulling had been difficult, but nothing had prepared them for this.

Your death.

Rhys and Feyre crawled into the bed next to you, and pulled you against their chests, tears freely falling onto your skin, your hair, your nightgown.

They felt as your breath slowed further, your heartbeats growing fewer and fewer as your body finally gave out to the disease that had sapped your life from you in half a year.

When your last breath left you, when the golden thread that tied the three of you together shredded, severed, shattered inside of them…

Night erupted, covering the land in darkness, their anguished cries echoing throughout the Night Court as their mate lay in their arms, dead.

🤍🩵💔💜🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

[jacksdreams]

It’s the legends, the lies, they spin us when we’re children. About the glory and wonder of the mating bond. I thought it was all bullshit. Then you two came along.

Art Credit : laaraklein

[shadowdaddies]

obsessed with this batboys band au

from elenana.art on Instagram

[ljesak]

furry administration in my head

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Cassian: So... I've seen you've been spending a lot of time with Rhys recently.

Feyre: No, Cassian, it's not what it looks like. I swear.

Cassian: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Feyre: No! You're the only one for me.

Cassian: Is that so?

Feyre: I promise. Rhysand and I are just bonded, okay? He's my mate.

Cassian: So there are no best-friend-feelings involved?

Feyre: You are still my one and only best friend! He's just the love of my life, nothing more!

Cassian: But I'm still the platonic love of your life, right?

Feyre: Of course!

Rhys:

Rhys: What the-