#Rhys fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readychilledwine · 10 months ago

Text

Pieces of You pt 3

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings - self doubt, slight manipulation, discussion of moving forward after the death of a spouse, hurt people hurting people, HOFAS spoilers *slightly* (a lot of us had this theory to begin with and I just played with it to fit this)

A/n - It can only be uphill from here, right?.. Special thank you to @honeybeefae and @thehighladywrites for helping me think through how quickly I should let reader and Rhys move on, and for convincing me that I should continue writing this. (Ps friends - sorry I can't tag you. I evidently hit the max tag amount with my taglists.)

✨️ Pieces of You Masterlist ✨️

The 3 month milestone had changed your and Morwenna's lives forever. Rhys had finally convinced you to move into one of his homes. He was insistently whispering to you over and over that the small cabin wasn't going to work anymore, that Cassian and Azriel barely fit inside it, that once his Little Mor and sweet Nyx began to move you four would need more space.

It had been also heartbreaking, entering the home Feyre had crafted, each room so individually thought of for who it was intended to belong to. Above all else, though, it had been lonely.

It wasn't your home. It wasn't the finely crafted wooden arches your mate had assembled by hand. It wasn't the rooms you had spent hours picking colors for. It wasn't cozy. That lack of security and warmth was why you were once again up at 3am. Despite the babies now sleeping for longer chunks of time, you never did. Regardless of if it was a night Rhysand spent at your side or one he spent tucked into the room he had shared with Feyre.

You leaned your head back against the exterior of the home, looking up at the glittering sky, and it finally happened.

3 months of mourning in silence. 3 months of screaming into your pillow. 3 months of stress, of anger, of overflowing love, 3 months of feeling like a shell of the female you were, of feeling as though your body was no longer yours, it crashed into you like a tidal wave. And it swept and destroyed everything in its path.

Rhysand shot awake in bed, feeling something was off. His chest ached, begging him to get up, to move, to search. He pulled on pants, glancing at Nyx and Morwenna sleeping peacefully, but you, once again, had not come to the room. He waited for the wraith to appear, feeling her just moments after he called. “Is it y/n,” Nuala nodded to the question, moving to admire the sleeping babes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. She is mourning. That is her right.”

Rhys sighed, moving to your room without hesitation. He had hoped getting you out of that house would help. He had hoped the luxury he could offer you would have helped. He knocked on the door, listening for the broken come in that followed. “Why haven't you come to bed?” You were taken back by the question, taken back by him holding that perfectly tanned hand out. “Come to bed. Let me hold you until those sorrows melt away for the night.”

He knew you didn't feel it. That soft string that had made him scream, made him question all he knew about love and life. Part of him hoped you never did. Part of him hoped he would never have to explain to his family how it had taken him a miniscule 3 month period to fall in love with you and for a Mother given mating bond to snap. Part of him hoped he would never have to experience losing you, to add you to his list of things he would bury too deeply to properly mourn.

“I was unsure if I was wanted there.” That hand reached for yours, clasping it. He was so warm. Always so warm. You could bask in his warmth like he was the sun if given the chance. You shook the feeling mentally, though. “It is-”

“Our room,” he finished softly. “It is our room. Where our children are sleeping. Come to bed.”

Morning came much too soon for Rhysand. It had come much too soon for you as well. You took both of the babes, laughing as they spoke to each other in a language only they knew. They had begun taking more interest in each other, in toys, in the world. They were making life the greatest adventure, even if a lingering pain came from both of you seeing them smile so brightly.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were holding Nyx, forearm under his little tummy and letting “fly” as he worked so very hard to stretch his growing wings. Rhysand was watching you from the doorway, Morwenna on his hip as she looked up at him. Her thoughts were jumbled baby speak, all so happy. Nyx's were elated and fast. When you looked to the doorway, your wide smile fell as that string finished itself and settled deep into your chest.

Rhysand had never watched someone's mental walls fall as quickly as yours did. The silence in the room almost made the giggles of the two unknowing parties fade to background noise. “I was shocked too, darling. It's okay.”

Rhysand had dinner without you that night. He flew to the House of Wind with Nyx to eat with the Inner Circle. He wanted to give you time. He remembered the moment Azriel and Nesta came home, questioning their bonds after exploring those damned caves with the Quinlan girl and learning how the Cauldron had been corrupted. He knew you needed to process. He had too after all.

He took his seat trying to ignore the one that sat empty next to him. Everynight a plate was still sitting there. Even when you came, that chair sat empty, plate untouched. It was a screaming sign that the Inner Circle had not moved in. That they may never move on.

“It just makes the two mates theory make more sense,” Cassian and Amren were deep in a debate again. “If the Daglan, asteri, whatever the fuck we want to call them, did something to the Cauldron to ensure the mating bonds were taken over by it's creation for breeding purposes, then the existence of a Mother Blessed Bond must also be there.”

Amren sighed, “So which do you two have then?” Nesta stiffened at the question. “A Mother Blessed Bond is meant to be true love. It's who we are technically meant to find as a soul mate. A Cauldron made Bond is evidently strictly for breeding. Which do you two share?”

The table hushed. It was a valid question and point. “To continue,” Amren took a drink from her glass before setting it down with a gentle click. “If we come out and tell other courts about this, how many other fae will begin to question their bonds? Kallias and Vivienne? Tamlin and Briar? Helion and Saraya? Lucien and Elain? How do we even begin to prove which bond is which? Does it mean they love that mate less? Rhysand would not have loved Feyre less regardless of the bond type. He will never remarry. Never move on.”

Azriel flicked his eyes to Rhysand. He knew about the bond Rhysand shared with you. He had given Rhysand his blessing to move on and pursue. He had asked his brother to find happiness again. He watched the words land on Rhysand's features, watched his eyes dull.

“If Rhysand did find a new mate,” Azriel spoke softly. “We would all support him moving forward with the bond.”

Nesta scoffed from next to Cassian. “Imagine being that poor female. Living in the shoes of Feyre Cursebreaker. No one could compare.”

But you did, didn't you? Rhysand's grip on his thigh tightened before relaxing. You were just as special, as kind, as loving. You were beautiful. Gods knew you were absolutely beautiful. You were selfless.

“I wouldn't want to try to sit in her place. I would reject the bond,” Mor sipped her wine, leaned back with one arm across her stomach.

Cassian and Azriel both looked to where Rhysand was dead silent. “I need to take Nyx home. He's getting hungry. I'll be right back.”

When Rhysand came back to the House of Wind without his son, he had no intentions of coming back to you that night. So, he never did.

3 awkward weeks passed between you and Rhysand. 3 absolutely strange weeks of either heated kisses and touches or nothing. Not even a good morning. You sighed as you laid Morwenna and Nyx down in the nursery before taking the few strides to Rhysand's office.

He was avoiding you, and it hurt. It hurt knowing your mate, this beautiful unasked for second chance was avoiding you. He was hunched over his desk, reading over some papers and signing a few. “Are we going to talk about why you are avoiding me?”

“I am not avoiding you. I am busy.”

“Yes, busy avoiding me.” You sat across from him, feeling so cold and informal. It was as if you were nothing more than his employee. “Our children are asleep. We should talk about this while we can. I deserve to know if I did something wrong.”

He didn't even look up at you as he replied. “You didn't do anything wrong. As I said, I am busy.” This wasn't the voice of the male who coaxed you to sleep. The one who whispered his dreams to you. “You can go.”

The dismissal made the bond go taunt, and when he felt the first wave of your confusion and hurt, he locked it down more. “Rhys-”

“I think we should sleep in separate rooms again. Our relationship has crossed some lines.”

You blinked at him. Stunned and almost dead silent. “I don't understand where this is coming from?”

“It's the truth. I am your High Lord. You are my subject.” It killed him to say it. His own heart was screaming to stop, but that first brick wall now stood, waiting for the other 3 sides. “We cannot continue blurring that line.”

“You're my mate,” your broken whisper almost made him stop, but he dug in.

“Something we will need to discuss at a later date and time. Surely there will be away for us to reject the bond without causing a downfall and hurting your ability to nanny Nyx.” A second wall stood in place of you and his heart. He knew it was a low blow, and he watched your brows knit and mouth slightly open.

“Rhysand.”

“High Lord,” he corrected.

“Why are you doing this?”

“The bedroom you were in previously is fine.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I am establishing a boundary, y/n.” He watched as you began to cry, holding in his own tears as he did. “Our relationship needs to remain appropriate.”

"Do you not want me? We are blessed with this second chance, and you are just turning your back on it. Please, is it me? I know I am not the beauty she was, I know I am not as special as she was. But I'd fight to make you happy, for our children-”

"Nyx isn't yours. Stop acting like he is.”

He watched as you crumbled inside of yourself, that last wall forming around his heart by destroying yours. He didn't mean a single word, but how else was he supposed to save you? All the Mother had ever done to Rhysand was take and take.

You recovered from the blow quickly, nodding as you aggressively wiped the tears from your face. "You have the weekend to find someone else to do what I am. Wen and I are leaving.”

"You can't just take her from me.”

"Yes I can," he knew what was coming, that new bond screaming for him to stop this all. "You aren't her father. Stop acting like it.”

You wanted to slam the door as you walked away before his act fell, before he gripped his chest and warded the room to sob. Little Mor had quickly become his everything. That dark hair, that button nose, those deep blue eyes. She looked like his sister, but you didn't know that when you threatened to take her away. Hadn't known why all three winged males so quickly became attached to her.

And now he was losing her. He was losing you. He was losing everything.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @fandomrejects @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @la-petite-lapin @juniperberriesaries @anuttellaa @luvmoo @mirandasidefics @soph1644 @hungryforbatboys @awkardnerd @bruxa0007 @eerievixen @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @ghostlyrose2 @amygdtjhddzvb @marvelouslovely-barnes @batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @miadialila @12358 @blushingfawnsposts

✨️If you are not tagged but your name is listed, Tumblr will not allow me to tag you for some reason!✨️

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #rhys fic #rhysand fic

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 2 months ago

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I have a little request if that’s alright😊

Could you possibly do a like fluffy aftercare fic with Rhys? Like I love the smut but sometimes that really fluffy aftercare with him checking in on you and making sure you are okay is even better. Him getting a bath ready and helping you clean up and him feeding you.

Basically what I’m trying to say is fluffy smut with fluffy aftercare is delicious lol

I absolutely love your Rhys fics!!! I’m DEVOURING Love and War and just your Rhys fics on general lol

I hope you’re taking care of yourself and have a great day sweetheart💜💜

I love requests! Send as many as you like! <3 Rhys doesn't get enough love so I've decided to roll up my sleeves and put out as many fics as possible and it makes me so happy to see other people enjoying them as much as me! I hope you like this one! <3

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Vacation Days

It's the crackling of logs in the fireplace that awakens you; the hiss of flames and the hint of pine that perfumes the air a gentle alarm clock that makes you roll over onto your side to peer out the window to see how early in the morning it is. The sky is still gray, though it could be the encroaching storm clouds that darken the sky and not the time.

You drag the heavy, fur lined blanket up over your head and bury your face in the pillow. Whatever the case, it's too early! And you're too comfortable to get up.

The bed dips beside you, blankets shifting as another body climbs into the mountain of furs needed to keep out the deep Illyrian chill. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a very bare, and very icy chest.

You give a little squeak of discomfort as your mate tosses a leg around your waist, effectively trapping you against his body.

"Rhhhhyyyyssssss," you whine, voice still thick with sleep.

He kisses the top of your head, hands soothing down your back, even as the deep baritone of his laugh rumbles through his chest. "Morning, love."

"No morning. Sleep." You grumble, burying your head in his tattooed chest and squeezing your eyes shut. "We're on vacation. I'm sleeping."

The hand on your back trails lower, until he can, teasingly, give your ass a squeeze. "I can think of a few other activities we could be doing in this bed for our vacation."

In the early morning haze, your shields are completely down, and he slips right into your mind with the ghost of a caress, filling your head with images of your running your tongue along his body, tracing tattoo and muscle as he guides you onto his lap, letting you ride him slowly, leisurely, taking your time until you're both a mess. You can taste the tang of salt from the sweat that clings to his bare skin, hear those soft, breathy moans you love to drag out of him as you roll your hips over his, taking him deeper into your tight heat. Despite your desperate attempts to cling to sleep, heat pools in your lower belly.

"Rhys," you warn.

His other hand slips beneath your nightgown, dragging sensual fingers along your spine as his lips drop to your shoulder and leave slow, deliberate kisses along your exposed flesh.

"I'm not doing anything," he lies, the image he crafts shifting to him rolling you onto your back, his head between your legs, tongue lapping against your center, warm and wet in contrast to the bruising grip his hands keep on your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight; you can practically feel him inside you already.

"You're a terrible liar," you retort. Especially when the proof of his own arousal is flush against your hips.

His teeth nip at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his own hips rocking just enough that he can claim it’s an accident, even though you know it's not. You've been mated long enough now, you know his tells, can practically taste how much he wants you, even if he’s clever enough to tamper down on it through the bond so it doesn't blast you with the strength of it. Sometimes it still shocks you, just how much he wants you. You'd thought it would fade over time, had kept yourself up at night early in your relationship, convinced that eventually the High Lord of the Night Court would get bored having a simple little healer for a mate, but every day he calms those fears and shows you just how much he loves and wants you.

You can't help the little sigh that escapes you when he gets his lips on your throat, head tilting back reflexively to give him more access. Though your mind knows what it wants, your body moves on instinct, melting in his grip. This is as natural as breathing. The proximity of his body is calming, soothing the irritation of being woken up, filling your body with warmth.

His lips trail over your throat, along the underside of your jaw, warm breath caressing your quickly flushing skin, as he trails over your chin. He fills your mind with more images: You on your stomach, body flush with the mattress as his lips trail up your spine, hands caressing your bare skin in heated touches; the two of you in the shower, bodies slick with soap, caged against the damp stones and his chest, hips rutting leisurely into each other. Each image is a little more intense than the last, the bond flickering with the need he's been trying to hold at bay until you were more awake and ready for it.

You slide your hands over his bare chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart against your palms as his lips finally slot over yours. Though he is more than ready for you, there is a leisurely pace to his movements; he knows he has time, days even, to have you. You'd come up to Illyria for a long weekend, and the Inner Circle is under strict orders to not contact either of you until you've returned to Velaris. Things have been tense in the city lately, Rhys' office cluttered with all the paperwork necessary to rebuild after the War with Hybern. Your little clinic has been full to the brim for weeks and weeks. Both of you have spent the better part of three months only seeing each other in passing before exhaustion pulls you into bed with little more than a kiss goodnight. You feel that lack of intimacy in his movements, in the way his body moves against yours. There is an air of desperation, only quelled with the knowledge that he can take his time with you.

And you with him. Fully awake now, your senses on alert, you are painfully aware of the ache between your legs. It's been too long. Far too long without this sort of intimacy. Your hands slide up his chest and shoulders, trailing until you can card your fingers through his hair.

He moans against your lips as you scrape your nails against his scalp. "Tell me..." his voice is a ragged, desperate thing, lips brushing with every word like he can't bear to drag himself any further away from your body. "Tell me to stop and I will."

Sleep is distant memory now, though you no longer mind it like you did a few minutes ago. You adjust the placement of your hips and manage to roll him onto his back, hips flush, his erection heavy and hot between your legs. You give your hips a little roll as you brace yourself on your elbows, brushing your chest against his as you lean down to kiss him once more.

"I've been convinced to get up," you tease.

His hands eagerly grip your hips, urging you to grind down on him as his tongue slips behind your teeth. Your bond hums appreciatively at the contact, the months of stress and separation slipping away.

"Although, I hope this doesn't become a habit of yours, you know I need my beauty sleep."

He releases his grip on your hips just long enough to find the hem of your nightgown and push it up and over your shoulders, letting the silken fabric fall somewhere in the pile of blankets you'd disturbed. Deft fingers trace the swell of your breasts, tweaking over nipples pebbled in the cool cabin air, before skimming back down your stomach until he can once again hold your hips.

"How could you possibly get any more beautiful than you already are?" He says, violet eyes tracing every bare inch of you, narrowing in on the lone piece of clothing separating you from him.

You kiss him again, trying to hide the blush that dusts your cheeks. You know he can feel it through the bond, know he knows just how much little things like that mean to you.

"So perfect," he murmurs, chasing after you when you break the kiss. You'd think you had starved him of affection for years on end with the way he keeps coming back, body shifting and rocking beneath you. Soft, little moans leave his lips every time you grind yourself a little harder against his cock, still separate from you by the thin layer of his sleep pants and your violet colored panties. You hadn't been paying too much attention to them when you'd changed last night, but the color and the little bow along the waistband are fitting now.

You try to pull away to rid him of his pants, too many layers between you, but he keeps you locked in place with a grip on your hips that's tight enough to leave a bruise.

"Want you out of these pants," you insist.

A small wave of his fingers has both your clothes disappearing into a random pocket realm for the time being, leaving his hands free to position the tip of his weeping cock against your entrance.

The first drag of his tip through your folds makes your head lull back, mouth falling open as you moan unabashedly. It has been far, far too long since you've been able to enjoy him like this.

"Look at my pretty girl, all ready for my cock," Rhys croons. "What was that about being tired, love?"

"Don't remember," you mumble, hands splaying across his chest to brace yourself as he slides into you an inch at a time.

He grins victoriously. "I've missed this."

It's always a bit of a stretch, taking all of him, especially after so long without him, but despite the desperation that claws down the bond at you, he takes his time, letting you adjust.

"Me too," you say, voice a breathless rasp as you try to find your bearings again. He's everywhere, filling you up so thoroughly you forget why you had reservations at all. You should have spent the whole night with him inside you, making up for lost time.

He's barely sheathed inside you before you start rocking your hips, forgoing all patience and chasing the pleasure that has started to build at the base of your spine. It's too much and not enough. Everything you need and yet not quite within reach yet.

He tuts at your neediness, holding you in place with a chuckle. "What's the rush, Darling?"

You gently drag your nails over the plains of his chest. Later, once the bond is satiated a little more, you'll take your time and run your tongue over every swirl of his tattoos. Let the dark ink lead you steadily down between his legs so you can take his glorious cock down your throat, but right now... right now the last three months are obvious in every coiled muscle of your body. You need him to move, hard and fast; to fill you up until the absence no longer feels like such a gaping wound.

"Move, please, Rhys," you beg.

He temporarily lets go of your hips so he can prop himself up on his elbows and kiss you properly, hips shifting upwards, cock driving deeper into your aching core.

You use the freedom to roll your hips, savoring the slight burn as he stretches you out further, body adjusting to his size. It's all a delicious torture you'll come back to time and time again.

You're not going to last very long at this rate, but there's no stopping your body from slowing down, from trying to savor it. The bond knows you still have days left to be slow. When he pulls out of the kiss, your lips automatically drop to his neck, kissing and sucking as many marks into his skin as you can.

One of his hands soothes down your back as the other goes back to your hip, helping you follow the quick pace of his thrusts as he slides almost all the way out of you and then right back in.

"So perfect," he purrs as he hits the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your natural reaction to the stimulation is to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder, and he lets out a groan that makes the coil in your belly even tighter. You love it when he's vocal for you, when he doesn't hold back the obvious sounds of his own enjoyment. Sometimes he gets too focused on your pleasure that he loses sight of his own.

Your bodies find a smooth rhythm, the headboard tapping the wall with the rocking motion of your bodies. The air filled with the sounds of your joining and the soft crackle of flames in the fire place. The flames cast your bodies in an orange halo, you trace the fractions of light across his bronze skin with your lips, just as his hands trace your skin.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, chanted and recited like worship as your bodies meet over and over again. Stars blur across your vision, maybe from your mate, maybe from the bond, it is hard to tell at this point. Not that it matters, as long as the heat coiled in the base of your spine continues to spread and fill you.

Rhys' hand slips between your legs, rubbing tight circles into your dripping heat. He hums appreciatively at the wetness that spills down your thighs, coating his cock in a milky rings as he slides in and out of you.

"'m'close," you murmur into his neck, where you've left a darkening bruise with your teeth. He looks so pretty all marked up by you.

His thrusts stutter at your words, losing the rhythm for a moment as you feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten against your pelvis. "Let go, I've got you," he assures, lips dusting over yours. He won't be far behind.

His fingers rub circles against your clit, drawing that blissful edge closer and closer with every pass. Your breath stutters out of you, hips rocking without rhythm, trying to chase the white hot pleasure that licks up your spine.

His own motions chase after yours, finding the rhythm again, hitting the perfect spot inside you once, twice, and a third before your orgasm crests and washes over you. The clenching of your core around his aching cock drives him into his own release, hips stuttering as he fills you with his own release.

Your bodies slow their movements as you collapse on top of his chest, sticky with sweat and your joint release. His heartbeat slows, becoming steady against your cheek as he catches his breath, hands soothing down your back.

"Did so good for me," he coos, lips pressing soft kisses against the top of your head.

You let your eyes drift shut as you catch your breath, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his body as you come down from your high. The bond finally quiets, content for now, and you stroke a mental hand down it, letting him know just how much he means to you through it.

Once you've both come down from your highs, he rolls you over onto your side so he can slide out of you, lips gently caressing yours when you wince from the over-stimulation. "I'll be right back."

Even though you believe it, it's still a loss, the lack of warmth obvious from the moment he leaves the bed to fill the tub with water. You need him back in your arms immediately and you will not be soothed until it is so.

Like he knows this, he's back quickly, but instead of sliding back under the covers, he lifts you up into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, where the tub is full of bubbles and sweet, jasmine scented oils. He doesn't even try to let go of you, especially not when you have your face buried in his neck, just steps into the tub and settles you comfortably in his lap in the delicious heat of the tub.

A sigh escapes your lips as the heat licks up your aching muscles, body relaxing as you close your eyes again. Rhys' hands sooth up your sides, drawing simple patterns into your skin as he rests his head atop yours.

"Are you all right, Darling?"

You let your own fingers trace the water droplets that adorn his tattooed chest, movements leisurely and slow. You can take your time now. "Perfect."

He leans back against the tub with a hum of approval. A flick of his wrist makes the lights dim and candles along the counter flair to life, bathing the room in a soft glow that feels like it's made to match the flicker of starlight you feel dancing around the bridge between your souls.

"I've missed you," you say as you tilt your head back to look at him.

Rhys presses a kiss to your temple as his magic brings a matching set of champagne glasses and bottle to sit along the edge of the tub. "We've spent too long apart," he agrees as a shadow of his power moves to pour the champagne for him. "Let's definitely not make a habit of it."

You take the glass despite the bubbles that drip from your hands and tap it against his in toast. "Agreed."

To go with your drink, a plate of fruits and pastries appears, the later still warm, a curl of steam slipping out the sides. You raise a brow at him. "Whose oven are you pulling these out of?"

He grins as he takes a grape off the plate and offers it to you. "Maybe I made them before you woke up."

The fruit bursts in your mouth, but even the pleasant flavor isn't enough to distract you. "Darling, you are many things, but a pastry chef is not one of them."

"Fair enough," he concedes, bringing a strawberry to your lips this time.

After months of tending to so many other people, it is nice to have someone taking care of you. Your muscles relax further against his body, letting the gentle lapping of the water soothe any residual discomfort as he feeds you.

"I thought about making you something I could cook, but I didn't want to leave you alone that long. We only have so much time before we have to go back."

You take a sip of your champagne and reach for a croissant with chocolate dripping from the sides, but he snags it first and brings it within reach of your mouth for you.

"Maybe we should extend our vacation," you don't like the heaviness you feel when he sighs, not when you finally have a moment to not think about it. "Just for another day or two?"

He steals a bite of your croissant as he thinks about it.

"Amren can handle things for one more day," you suggest as you drag your fingers between the plains of his chest. "We've earned a vacation and more than our fair share of rest."

He leans down to kiss you gently. "That you have, Darling."

"Both of us," you press. "Besides, I didn't get out of our comfy bed for nothing, I think we still have some catching up to do."

Stars glitter in his violet eyes as he takes his glass from the edge of the tub and taps it against yours in another toast. "Yes we do."

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand x reader fluff #Rhys x reader #Rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #asks #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #acotar smut #pro-rhysand #Rhys fic #rhysand fic #rhysand fluff fic #fluffy #aftercare #established relationship #mating bond

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shadowdaddies · 10 months ago

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Close to You

Rhysand x Reader

A/N: I am exhausted and need Rhys to... comfort me

Warnings: this is mostly fluff but def smut too, cockwarming, somnophilia-ish (that's where this would head if there was a part 2)

The soft rug dragged against your feet as you trudged into your mate’s office, Rhys looking up at you through his reading glasses while you shuffled closer.

A slow smile appeared on his lips, tongue flicking out as he took in the sight of you in your nightgown and bed-ruffled hair. “You are up late, darling,” he purred, violet eyes twinkling like starlight.

A soft, silent yawn left you, limbs stretching as your legs carried you around the desk to where your mate sat. “I missed you,” you admitted, leaning against the desk as one foot crossed over to slide along his thigh.

Rhys swallowed thickly, his power flickering throughout the room as he struggled to control himself. “What do you need from me, my love?”

Suppressing the wicked smirk you felt within, you allowed your eyes to rove over his body. Rhys’s unbuttoned shirt displayed his tattooed, toned chest, his tightening slacks leaving nothing to the imagination.

“I just want to be near you.” The admission left you in a breathless whisper, eyes growing hazy as you straddled his lap, settling over the hardened length beneath you.

Settling against his warm chest, you relished in the feeling of your synchronized heartbeats as your muscles relaxed in his hold. Everything in you felt at peace, except for the ache in your core at his arousal pressing against your own, his scent growing stronger and darker in the air.

Rhys’s arms enveloped you, your arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to attempt to work on the papers laid out before him. Leaning forward to gather ink on his quill, your mate’s crotch brushed against yours in a way that evoked a high pitched mewl from you.

Sharp teeth bit into the skin of your neck, tongue flicking out to soothe the sore skin as Rhys’s voice invaded your mind.

It is very... challenging... to keep my composure, when you make sounds like that.

“Then don’t,” you whispered aloud, leaning back to look in his lust-filled eyes, hands dipping to the waistband of his pants.

Rhys groaned, hips rolling up against your own, head tilting back against his chair. Your face flushed at the sight of his cock as it sprang free, pussy clenching around nothing at the mere thought of him being inside of you, stretching your walls in painful pleasure as he hit the deepest parts of you.

“I have work to do, though,” he gritted out, voice pained as Rhys looked to you for mercy. “I need to feel you, darling, please.”

Hands cupped his sharp jaw, tilting his face towards your own as fingers slid through onyx locks to tug him impossibly close. The tip of his cock rubbed your folds, making it difficult to focus as your own head fell from his lips, collapsing against his shoulder.

One hand guiding Rhys’s lips to your neck, the other slid down his toned chest to his cock, lining him up with your entrance. Sliding down, your hand gripped his neck, his teeth digging into yours at the sensation.

“That’s so good,” you murmured. “So deep.”

Another small yawn escaped you, your desire for Rhys at odds with your own exhaustion.

“Sleep, my love,” he murmured, chest pressed against your own as he picked up his quill to return to his work. “I’ll take care of you soon enough.”

“Mm,” you moaned, half-asleep and warm in his arms, the safest place in the world for you. You felt a kiss press to the top of your hair, love flowing through the bond as you fell asleep with Rhys deep inside of you.

Part 2

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prythiansprincess · 2 years ago

Note

can we please get some rhys fluff?

daylight.

i don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you i don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you i've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night and now I see daylight

author's note: i'm such a simp for rhys it's not even funny. just think about cuddling a soft, sleepy rhys after a night out and tell me you don't want to scream into the void. song inspiration: daylight by taylor swift.

The moon’s glow kissed your mate’s sleeping form with its silver light and enveloped Rhysand in glorious night.

You paused in the doorway, heels in your hand as you admired the High Lord with a small smile. It was nearly dawn when you finally stumbled out of Rita’s from your monthly girl’s night out. You thanked the Mother for giving you the ability to winnow because you sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to survive the ten minute walk home. Especially not in the tiny little dress and ridiculously high heels that Mor had talked you into wearing.

Regardless, it had been a fun outing. But as the bruised violet skies made way for spears of sunlight, you were more than glad to be home.

You padded softly across the wooden floor and slipped into bed as quietly as you could, trying your best not to wake your sleeping mate. Rhys was all but dead to the world, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Propping your head up on one arm, you took the opportunity to admire him in all his glory.

When he was awake, Rhysand was all seductive smiles and sultry gazes and while you certainly appreciated the sensuality that seemed to pour out of him with effortless grace, you’d come to love this softer side of him even more. There was something about these unguarded moments when he was sprawled across the bed, his large body nearly taking up half the mattress as he laid on his stomach, those dark lashes fluttering against his cheekbones, his soft lips slightly parted, raven hair sticking up in different directions as he cuddled against the pillow, his body half-turned to where you usually lay as if he'd sought you out even in his sleep, that made your heart absolutely ache.

It had taken a long time for Rhys to allow himself to be vulnerable like this. When you were first mated, he was often plagued by nightmares, so much so that he rarely slept and spent the night staring at the ceiling. You’d woken up countless times to find him observing you, his fingers tracing mindless patterns on your skin, to remind himself that he was here, he survived, and he had fought for this life with you. You remembered taking him into your arms and holding him, whispering that this was real. That it was safe to sleep because you’d still be there in the morning.

Night after night, you chased away those dark memories together. The nightmares came fewer and farther in between and now Rhysand could sleep through the night without even waking. Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to caress his cheek. You were so proud of him.

This brilliant, selfless, resilient male that you were lucky enough to call your mate. Your heart squeezed in your chest and the emotions poured out of you in waves. You loved him so much that it was impossible to contain. That devotion rippled through your bond and made that connection sparkle in your soul.

Rhysand’s lashes fluttered, skimming the tops of his cheeks as he sleepily blinked up at you. Those violet eyes greeted you like the starkissed night and a slow grin crept across his handsome face. Wordlessly, he tugged you towards him.

You chuckled as Rhys cuddled against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply.

“Did you have fun?” he murmured sleepily. His body was warm as he pressed you against him, his arm snaking possessively around your waist.

“I did,” you confirmed, twining your fingers through his silky locks. “But I think I owe Rita a new chandelier.” Rhys raised a brow in response, waiting for an explanation. “It’s a long story.”

Your mate only chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but I might be willing to risk Mor’s wrath and steal you from your friends the next time they try to take my mate away from me.”

“I was only gone for a few hours.”

Rhys pouted, his lips brushing against your neck. “It was a few hours too many,” he said as he tangled your legs together. “I missed you, darling.”

“My needy, clingy mate,” you teased, poking his nose. Rhys responded by digging his fingers into your side, causing you to giggle uncontrollably. You swatted his hand away and stuck out your tongue. “I missed you too, Rhys.”

Just as daylight streamed in through the windows, Rhysand smiled. A full, bright smile that put the rising sun to shame.

“I’m here,” you whispered. You hadn’t said the words in a long time. Not since the nightmares stopped. But with the dawn of a new day, you felt like it was important to remind Rhys how far he’d come.

How far you've both come.

You weren't just mates. Rhys was your friend, your lover, your anchor to reality when the world fell into chaos. He was the other half of your soul. Your love for each other was a story written in the stars.

Violet eyes filled with emotion as you held him against you. “You’re here,” he repeated.

“This is real.”

Rhys caressed your cheek, anchoring himself to the present. “This is real.”

“And we made it, against all odds." You fought and clawed and bled your way to this moment. Just so you could find each other. You would've done it all over again for your mate. "We made it.”

“We made it, darling.”

Your mate kissed your forehead, the gesture soft and intimate. He opened up the bond and let his emotions spill out over the connection. Rhysand felt cared for and loved. That warm light grew in your heart, twining your very existence with his. All of that love and devotion washed over you like a flood as Rhys let you in. In your arms, your mate knew that he was safe and sound. You held back the tears as you pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I love you, Rhys.”

“I love you, darling.”

#I ONCE BELIEVED LOVE WOULD BE BLACK AND WHITE BUT ITS GOLDEN LIKE DAYLIGHT #i am sorry for screaming but i cannot be normal about this #rhys #rhys acotar #rhys fluff #rhysand #rhysand fluff #rhys fic #rhysand fic #rhys x reader #rhys x you

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divinemare · 5 months ago

Text

Legend of a Mortal Love

┊ ➶ rhys x oc

┊ ➶ part eight

part seven

Rhysand walked into his father’s office with his back so tightly straight his muscles ached. He rarely stepped a foot on there if it wasn’t ordered by his father, for anything, ever.

Maybe because he always feared he would be unfortunate enough to encounter a deeply uncomfortable scene that involved his father and a slave, or slaves. Or maybe because every time Rhysand looked at his father’s eyes, the ones that resembled so much like his own, he saw nothing but disappointment in them.

Or both, really, he just liked to think the first one was the most accurate because it felt way much better than admitting to himself the throat-closing feeling of failure faced by his progenitor.

“I don’t think we had anything scheduled, son,” Rhett did not looked up from the documents he was looking at when his son entered.

Rhysand sent a silent grateful prayer to the Mother that he didn’t encounter any traumatic scene.

“We didn’t,” he answered, keeping his voice even and calm.

“Then you came to visit your father willingly? What a surprise,” the male laughed so coldly Rhysand’s back shivered, but he didn’t make a move to show that.

“I want to take a slave with me to Illyria, if that’s ok with you,” the word tasted bitter in his tongue, something that made him irk every time he even heard it. But now, referring to Ariadne as a slave…

Because she was one. He reminded himself. Ariadne was a slave. And if his father so much as suspected that Rhys considered her anything but…

The thought alone was enough to send a cold tug at his heart.

The High Lord finally turned around to look at him, his thick black eyebrows raised with amusement, while Rhysand did everything to keep his expression completely unbothered.

“A slave, huh? I did not know you fancied human girls, son,” the wicked grin his father gave him made Rhysand’s entire body shiver with disgust, but he did not let the sentiment slip into his expression as much as it was beating in his heart.

He forced himself to return the smile, lowering his head if only for a moment to nod to his father, and to not look at him for a second in order to gain back his calm.

“Then do as you please, my boy, she’s your slave, after all, there isn’t much she can say or do in protest,” Rhett walked to his son and put a big, calloused hand in his shoulder, giving small pats that made Rhysand’s skin burn and his disgust only to increase.

“Thank you, father, I’ll be leaving to Illyria first thing in the morning.”

The High Lord dismissed him with a shrug of his hand and a mumble of something like a goodbye, while not even looking back at him as he went back to the documents he had been staring at before Rhys arrived.

Rhysand didn’t waste another second in getting out of that room, his entire body felt dirty, he felt dirty, wrong.

All while Ariadne’s eyes never stoped burning feelings of shame in his mind.

Just how easy that human girl could alter him, that without even her present, with only the mere mention of her, his heart and mind both reacted against all of Rhysand’s protest.

༺ ♡ ༻

Both Ariadne and Tara were picking up their things as they finished the day with a successful work. They hadn’t spoken in all day, not even Ariadne had said a word yet, and had even focused entirely on the job without drifting away in her own thoughts.

But that was only because both knew what was coming, what inevitably would happen tomorrow, because earlier on that day, Rhysand had come to tell her first thing in the morning that they’ll be leaving the Moonstone Palace by tomorrow morning.

The reality of it all only settled in now, for both of them.

But the silence was killing her, her thoughts were consuming her, and not in the way they usually did, but rather intrusively

“Say something, please,” Ariadne said with a heavy sigh to her friend as soon as they both were entering the slaves quarters of the palace.

Tara stoped walking and so did she, for a moment, neither said anything, and Ariadne was growing nervous of all the silence.

Then, so unexpectedly that it took her a moment to register what was going on, Tara threw her arms around her, bringing her close. Ariadne didn’t move an inch at first, Tara had never hugged her before, they had never shared a moment like this before, a moment that felt so intimate, so close, so meaningful.

Neither said anything, they only kept each other close for as long as they could, because what they were to each other, what they had meant to each other over the last years, it meant more than anything, they had kept each other alive in more than one way.

They had become the closest thing both had of a family, and the worst thing is that they only really realized it when they were being pulled apart.

After some time holding onto each other, it was Tara who let go first, her eyes were glazed with tears but none of them ever reached the outside, she tried to smile softly to Ariadne, and took her hand to continue walking before a guard came.

“Come on, let this be your last awful meal here.”

༺ ♡ ༻

Ariadne couldn’t even blink an eye the whole night. Anxiety creeping up and replacing any tiredness she might have felt.

So exhaustion naturally followed the next morning when she had to wake up for the day. As if all the events that were to take place weren’t enough already.

Her hands were abnormally shaky as she walked through the halls of the Moonstone Palace being escorted by two guards. She had no idea where they were taking her, they hadn’t said a thing besides “come with us” when they had come to get her at the slaves quarter that morning.

She already knew, though, what would be waiting for her at the end of that hall, who would be waiting for her.

“Gentlemen,” Rhysand’s graceful voice made her entire body freeze suddenly, every hair in her body stood on end, and her heart started beating so fast her cheeks turned red at the embarrassment of knowing the High Fae around her could probably hear it. “Thank you, you may go,” he finally dispatched the guards after a long, agonizing moment of him just staring at her.

Ariadne couldn’t still raise her eyes to him.

She only heard the guards leaving, didn’t take her eyes off the floor. After some seconds that seemed like whole minutes, when the steps of the guard faded in the distance, she heard Rhysand clear his throat, and a slight tug of curiosity made her raise her head even just a little, enough for her to catch a glance of his completely black outfit, and those gorgeous, hypnotizing wings.

“Are you…uhm…” Ariadne didn’t need to look up at him to know he was failing to find his words, which, in truth, did amused her ever so slightly.

The male that always seemed to have a sneaky comment, a witty remark for everything.

“Are you ready?” He finally asked with a sigh.

Ariadne lifted her head, then, showing her troubling, untrusting eyes to the male for the first time. She saw him take a deep breath the moment they met eyes, saw his shoulders roll back and his wings tend behind his back. His eyes roamed her face in a way that made her feel exposed, almost as if he could read her mind, her thoughts.

But wait, he could read her mind.

That only increased her nervousness, Rhysand was the last person she wanted roaming in her mind, especially since most of her thoughts had been lately consumed by this confusing male. He seemed to have read her concerns, for he broke the eye contact, lowering his head for a moment, and smiling in a way Ariadne could see a side of him that did not stopped surprising her; that kindness, that understanding and compassion, not pity, but seemingly genuine compassion.

“You’re gonna be ok, Ariadne, I gave you my word, trust me.”

His word. But what did that really meant? Ariadne’s first principal ever taught by her family, in fact, every human’s first principal, was to never trust a High Fae, ever. But then here she was, putting whatever trust meant in not only a High Fae male, but the Heir of the Night Court.

If her mother were alive, Ariadne would’ve killed her of a heart attack by now.

“I don’t know what trust is supposed to mean,” she admitted with a sigh, fidgeting with the hem of her dirty clothes, but when she looked up again, she found the sweet, understanding smile of Rhysand looking back at her.

“Then let me show you,” he extended a big, tanned hand towards her.

A final offering, a final choice, as he liked to call it.

She could turn around right now, forget all of this, go back to her normal life only daydreaming about a future without chains. Or, she could take her chances with him, let him take her somewhere far away from this haunted place, where she lost everything she once ever loved, including herself.

Her hand was already raising before she even realized it, and once she felt the soft skin of Rhysand’s hand compared with her calloused one, she lifted once again his gaze at him, finding two starstruck violet eyes shining right back at her.

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 9 months ago

Note

What if Fedra and Rhys lost the baby and Nyx did not exist? I want the angstttt

(Also I know this is a sensitive topic, you don’t have to even consider it if it makes you uncomfortable)

Hey there! Thanks for being my first fic request - even if it is a dark one.

To be honest, I've never written angst before so this is new for me and may be very.... not great... but I tried my best at dipping my toes in. I did keep it on the shorter side just because I am learning how to best write angst/despair so feel free to give notes.

That being said, here is my interpretation of if Feyre and Rhys lost their baby and little Nyx hadn't become part of their lives.

Please keep in mind that everyone processes grief differently and this topic is incredibly heavy. Take what you can while taking care of yourself. Be kind and gentle with your mind and body.

Content Warning: Miscarriage/loss of a child

For more fanfics and writings check out my fic blog @a-court-of-fics-and-errors

Feyre sat in the armchair of the sitting room, her chin resting on her knees, curled to her chest. She leaned her head against the back of the chair, her gaze fixed on two raindrops racing down the window. The world outside was still cold as March melted into April, the days blurring together in a relentless, gray march forward. She felt as if time had ceased to hold any meaning.

She watched the smaller raindrop hit a long slide, racing quickly downward. The slightly larger raindrop followed, colliding with the smaller one, absorbing it, and continuing its path until it pooled on the windowsill.

The sitting room was dark, shadows creeping in from every corner, with only the cold, gray light from outside seeping in. Feyre closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in and out, allowing the world to close in around her.

Rhys stood in the entryway to the room, his forearm propped against the doorway as he looked at his mate. She was without color, the soft pinks of her cheeks reduced to a muted gray, her eyes sunken and faded, and her hair lay loosely around her shoulders. Nuala and Cerridwen had bathed her a day or so ago after she’d been sitting in the chair, unmoving. They told him she hadn’t spoken during her bath, only stared ahead, lost in her own mind. He had no doubt she knew he was standing there, but she lacked the strength to turn and look at him.

Rhysand considered breaking the silence, walking in, sitting down, and holding her. But instead, he turned and walked back down the hallway. That's how it seemed they were now, ghosts of each other, passing in the halls and never quite touching.

Rhys turned into his office, papers strewn about everywhere, untidied and listless. He sighed to himself and began gathering papers from the floor, snatching and balling them up, throwing them into the basket. After the first few, the balling and throwing became more intense. He started ripping pages, then stacks of pages, until he was breathing heavily, throwing them across the room, tearing books off shelves in rage, and ripping their spines. He continued until almost every book had been pulled from the shelves, standing in the middle of the room, panting, holding back a sob as he pressed his mouth and chin into his palm.

Azriel cleared his throat, and Rhys whipped around, suddenly aware of his outburst.

Rhys looked around the room and then back to Azriel, who looked nowhere but at him. “Now not a good time?” Azriel finally asked.

Rhys coughed, running his hand through his hair. “No, no, it’s-” he started, “it’s fine.” A pause. “Now is fine.”

Azriel gazed around the room. “You’re sure?”

Rhys moved towards him. “Yes, yes, please, come in.”

Rhys tossed a ripped book off the sitting chair, motioning for Azriel to sit down, which he did. Rhys took his usual spot in the chair across from him, sitting down and leaning forward, his forearms on his knees. Azriel just stared at him. Rhys pulled his lips into his teeth, rubbing his hands together, fidgeting as he waited for his brother to break the silence.

“How are you doing?” Azriel finally asked.

Rhys sniffled slightly before leaning back, running his hands up and down the lengths of his thighs. “I’m fine.”

Azriel looked at him as Rhys continued to fidget. “Are you?”

Rhys sniffled again, his left leg bouncing rapidly as he pressed his hands into his thighs, looking up towards the window where the rain ran down in droves, considering his answer.

Without words, Rhys pulled his lips into his teeth again, looking towards the floor and shaking his head no. Azriel looked at him knowingly. “I know.”

Rhys continued to shake his leg, feeling his eyes burn as tears filled them. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand as he tilted his head to the sky, willing the tears back in and clearing his throat to avoid the sob. “Rhys-” Azriel started, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Azriel leaned forward, bracing himself on his thighs.

Rhysand didn’t respond, still looking towards the sky, pressing his eyes shut as he shook his head back and forth and wiped his eyes.

Azriel continued, “None of us can,” a silent pause, “Losing a child, I-” he paused again, searching Rhys’s face for a response as he continued to bounce his leg and squeeze his eyes shut, “losing a child has to be the biggest heartbreak anyone can feel.”

Rhys, unable to speak, finally opened his eyes to Azriel, who looked at him with such sadness that it caught him off guard. Rhysand sniffled again, trying to find anything to say back. He finally got out, “I just don’t know what to do.”

Another pause, as the world shifted around them and time seemed to stop. “I don’t-” Rhys continued, “I can’t fix this.” He shook his head, casting his eyes to the floor. “I can’t fix this for anyone. I can’t fix it for her. I can’t-” He started to spiral, a sob stopping him as he let his head fall into his hands.

Azriel remained seated across from him, watching the High Lord sob and sob until his cries were merely silent. How could he respond to this? After months of waiting, expecting, and anticipating, of daydreaming and wishing, there had been no babe. Instead, there was a lifeless body, pulled from Feyre too early, and Nesta arriving just slightly too late, only being able to bring back one. No one blamed Nesta. If Feyre had died, Rhysand would have died too. But it seemed as though it was harder to live now than to die then, and Nesta felt responsibility for that, regardless of how much the rest of them had reassured her she had made the right decision.

“There’s nothing to fix,” Azriel finally said.

Rhysand shouted, “There’s everything to fix!” He stared up at his brother, his eyes bloodshot, hands out, almost pleading. “There’s- there’s so many moments I should have done something, said something. I just- it’s my fault it’s like this. I should have said something.”

Azriel never broke eye contact with Rhys as he wailed out the words of blame. “Rhys, you can’t do this to yourself.”

“What else can I do, Azriel? Tell me. What else can I do for her?” Rhysand pointed towards the sitting room where Feyre still sat, hearing the destruction in the office but not having the energy to move and check.

Azriel looked towards the room. “She is grieving. She needs time,” he reassured him.

“She can never forgive me. She will never forgive me,” Rhysand stammered out, dropping his head to his hands once more. “I failed her. I failed both of them.”

Azriel looked at his brother, a father whose child was stolen from him, and would never get to see the world. Rhysand, who had spent every waking moment for the last nine months thinking about this unborn babe, his hands constantly searching for his mate's pregnant stomach, smiling at kicks and praying to whoever was listening at night that both the babe and Feyre be safe. But it seemed the gods had left them.

Rhysand’s frantic eyes looked to his brother for any form of reassurance and Azriel stared back, unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Rhys stood, pushing his palms into his eyes as he sniffled through another sob, releasing a deep exhale. “Azriel,” He finally said, looking down towards him, “How do I move forward? How do I-” he paused, “How do I live like this when it feels like my body is burning alive, and like-” a sob, “like my heart was ripped out of my chest.” He looked towards the sitting room, “I can feel her dying in there, every day. I feel her, her whole body is screaming and tearing itself apart, her mind, it’s-” he brought his hands up, shaking them around his head, “it’s so loud and it’s so hateful, and she blames herself. She’s constantly screaming and she’s shattering and I can’t do anything about it.” He stared at his brother, who remained in the chair. “She hasn’t spoken, she hasn’t said anything since that day and yet inside she’s just screaming.” Rhys pulled back another sob.

“Have you talked to her?” Azriel finally asked.

Rhys looked at him, intensely, “What would I say?” he shook his hands and head in almost disbelief, “What would I say to her?”

Azriel waited, looking around the room before finding his brother's face again, “Anything.”

Rhys shook his head, stifling out another sob and walking to the window to stare out at the rain. From behind him Azriel said, “The world is very bleak for her. And she’s lost, Rhys. And you might not be able to tell her the way back, but you can at least find her in the woods.”

A few tears escaped Rhys’s eyes, sliding down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. Azriel stood, walking towards Rhysand who didn’t turn until Azriel was next to him. Without saying a word, Azriel pulled Rhys into a tight embrace, rubbing his hand up and down his back as his brother sank into him,

letting heavy sobs escape his lips as he choked out wail after wail. Azriel held him, feeling his body rise and fall as he heaved out the incredible sadness kept in the deepest recesses of his body. Azriel held him until Rhys had found exhaustion and had lost all of the tears he could muster. Azriel held him.

Rhys pressed his forehead into Azriel’s shoulder as Azriel pressed a kiss into the side of his head. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

What felt like hours passed in a few minutes before Rhys finally pulled out of the embrace. Azriel took his brother's face in his hands, looking him deeply in his eyes before simply saying, “You have to find her.” Rhys nodded, his eyes shutting as Azriel dropped his hands to his sides, turning and silently leaving.

When Rhys opened them, he was alone in the room, surrounded by the destruction. He wiped his face clean, stifling another few sobs before exiting the office and making his way down towards the sitting room where Feyre sat in the same position he had left her. Mustering up courage, he stepped through the entryway, walking up to her and dropping to his knees in front of her. He reached out to touch her, to take her hand, and when he did she did not grip back.

He ran a gentle thumb down the length of her now bony hand. “I don’t know what to say. And I don’t know what to do.” Rhys finally started after silently searching for the words. Feyre didn’t turn to him, her eyes slowly blinking shut and back open as she continued to watch the rain outside. “I have so many things I wish I could do- I have-” he paused, trying to pull back the tears again, “I have so many things I want to do for you. To help you.” He shook his head, squeezing her hand, “But I can’t. I can’t fix this my darling.” He looked at her, as tears filled her eyes, but she still did not face him. “If I could take away this pain for you I would. If I could do anything, if I could meet with the Mother herself I would fall to my knees and beg her to bring him back to us. I would trade my soul to her just to make this different than it is now.” A single tear fell down Feyre’s cheek as he continued, “I would burn the world for you, my darling, I would-” He paused. “I can feel how you’re breaking, and I know that it hurts. I know that this is unbearable, and I don’t know what to do- I just- I don’t know what to do.” He shook his head, pressing his lips to her hand while he squeezed his eyes shut, tears flowing down them. “I should have done so many things, I should have said something, I should have-” He stopped, “I can’t take it back. I can’t fix it. But my darling, if I could, I would do anything just to bring him back to us. Just to have him here, even for a second.” He let out a sob, which was followed by another and another until he completely let go, “I’m so sorry,” he let out between cries, “I want him back.” Rhys let himself fall back as he pulled his legs to his chest, sobbing into his own hands. Feyre’s hand fell to the chair as tears fell in heavy succession from her own eyes.

“I wish he was here too.” Feyre finally said, her voice cracked and broken. “I want my little baby boy.” And with that she had finally broken. Her body heaved in sobs as she brought her hands to her face. Rhys, eyes wide at her response, finally realized what had happened and rushed to her side, pulling her close as he knelt by her. Her sobs mixing with his as he held her. She continued to repeat, “I want my baby back.”

Rhys pressed his face to her hair as she curled into his chest. “I know, Feyre Darling,” he cried into her quietly, “I want him back too.”

#feysand #feysand fic #feysand angst #feyre fanfiction #rhys fanfiction #feyre fic #rhys fic #rhysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #feysand au #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fic

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starstruckunknown-princess · 2 years ago

Text

The Embers Never Fade - Black Rose Part 5

Summary: Rhysand and Niamh turn a spark into a flame.

Pairings: Rhysand x OC (Niamh, no physical description but AFAB parts are mentioned)

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUTTY SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! A hint of pining, use of mind powers for dirty talk, mention of past SA (not descriptive), fingering/handjob, mild choking, a little cumplay, begging, P in V sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), feelings talk, mentions of complex relationship dynamics. Plus Rhysand is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 3223

A/N: This is my first time posting smut that I’ve written, only my second time writing it so please be gentle! Rhys sure isn’t ;)

All joking aside, since this is a new subject for me I appreciate feedback more than usual! Likes, Comments, Reblogs, Notes, anything!

Title is from “Tonight, Tonight” by The Smashing Pumpkins, Banner made by me.

Enjoy!!

Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

It didn’t take long for Niamh to crave Rhysand in all the ways she used to. Fifty years of absence, then nearly three months of avoiding him had indeed made her heart — among other parts — grow fonder.

The High Lord certainly didn’t help matters.

He was sweet. Thoughtful. When they were apart, he’d send her little missives written on scraps of paper about how boring his meetings were and how much he missed her. He brought her seeds for rare plants she could grow in her garden or greenhouse. He’d even suggested some changes she could make to her small home to make it habitable for him — turning the spare bedroom into a walk-in closet and replacing the tub with one large enough for two.

And yet, he hadn’t made any moves to restore their physical relationship. He’d promised he would let her take the lead on that front, and she had to admire his restraint. He hadn’t so much as asked for a kiss on the cheek or to hold her hand while they were on their various dates.

Together they’d spent an afternoon walking through the Rainbow, dipping into any little shops that caught their eye. He’d taken her to the botanical gardens and listened to her lecture him about the different species of plants they encountered. Her first family dinner back they had partnered for charades and wiped the floor with Mor and Cassian while Amren and Azriel had buried themselves in books.

A few times she’d caught him with his hand hovering near her shoulder or the small of her back, but he’d pull the hand away and bury it in his hair or shove it into his pocket when she noticed. She could tell his patience was fraying.

Niamh’s own patience was wearing thin.

Tonight he’d taken her out to dinner at her favorite restaurant along the Sidre. While walking home, their hands kept brushing against each other until she threaded her fingers in between his. She couldn’t miss the self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face as they approached her front door.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve seen you home safe and sound. I suppose I should take my leave.”

He didn’t let go of her hand, instead raising their entwined fingers to place feather-light kisses along her knuckles. The way his violet eyes locked onto hers, radiating care and adoration and confidence, had broken her.

He wouldn’t be leaving her. Not tonight.

Using her free hand, Niamh grabbed the High Lord by the back of the neck and pressed their lips together, their entwined hands squished between their chests so she could feel both of their heartbeats.

The kiss was cathartic, passionate, burning with pent-up hunger. He used his free hand to skate down her shoulders to her hips, pulling her against his body. He turned them, lips reacquainting themselves with each other, and pressed her against the front door of her house.

Niamh groped for the doorknob, opening the door and stumbling backward into the foyer with a girlish giggle. Rhys caught her, a rich laugh emanating from deep in his chest. A second later he was pressing her back to him, his nose brushing along her neck, inhaling her scent and groaning. Distantly, she heard her front door slam shut and lock.

“You smell incredible, Sweetrose,” he said, the deeper tone of his words making her shiver. His hands rested on her hips again, the feeling burning through her. Plush lips pressed themselves into the skin of her shoulder, trailing up her neck and finding the spot that made her melt.

Niamh’s head fell back and she moaned, “Rhys…”

“Mmm, I love it when you moan my name.”

His reply made her arousal spike and she pulled out of his grasp, latching her mouth to his. Ravenous, she shoved her hands into his hair while he pulled the short sleeves of her dress down over her shoulders.

His lips parted from hers and attacked her neck and collarbones and the tops of her breasts, sucking hard and then soothing the skin with his tongue. Obviously he remembered how much she liked being marked up by him.

She remembered a few things of her own as well.

“Fuck, Rhys,” she moaned, pulling on his hair just enough to make it hurt. Rhys growled and nipped the plush top of her breast, she gasped in pleasure. Before she could retaliate, his strong arms wrapped under her ass and lifted her so his face was buried between her breasts. Niamh squealed in surprise.

“What are—”

“Bedroom,” was his only reply, slightly muffled by her tits. Niamh couldn’t help but giggle. Without moving his head, he blindly crossed through her living room and turned down the short hall that led to her bedroom. Depositing her on the bed, Rhys then hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her toward the edge.

Niamh sat up and he knelt on the floor in front of her, large hands stroking down her thighs. When he looked up at her she felt the question around the hedges made of adamant in her mind — the ones she’d constructed against his demadi powers.

Are you sure?

She nodded and lowered the walls — the sensations they shared with each other could be downright earth-shattering — leaning forward to press her forehead against his, eyes closed in the sheer bliss of being able to touch him again.

I want you, Rhys, but only if you’re ready.

She couldn’t help the flash of one of his frequent nightmares that appeared — of red hair, a piercing of blood red nails on his skin — then it was gone. Rhys’s hand gripped the back of her head and pressed his head harder against hers. Her eyes popped open, taking in his closed-eye expression and tracing his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

As she opened her mouth to apologize her mind was flooded with memories of the moments like this they had shared before he was imprisoned — Rhys kissing his way down her body, Niamh doing the same to him, every imaginable position, her fingers tracing his tattoos, the way her brow scrunched as she came — on and on he sent her the endless memories until she was flat against her bed. Whether she’d fallen or he’d guided her down, she didn’t know, nor did she have time to ponder it because the second the memories stopped Rhys rose from the floor and tugged at the skirt of her dress.

She propped herself on her elbows and took in her High Lord, standing tall and proud at the end of her mattress, his trademark smirk across his lips. The darkness of the night settled around him, along with the moonlight coming from the windows. He cut an imposing frame in the small room — she was glad he hadn’t unsheathed his wings lest he knock everything off her dresser and shelves.

His hand tugged at her skirt again, the other working the top button of his own black shirt and Niamh got the message before he had a chance to plant the idea in her mind.

I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.

Now take off your clothes before I rip them off.

Eager, High Lord? She teased into his mind and he tore the rest of his shirt off, growling low in his throat.

“You have no idea,” he said, leaning onto the mattress and nipping at her neck. A rush of cold air encircled her entire body. When she looked down, her dress had turned into black mist and was drifting away from her body, now naked before Rhys.

She only had a second to glare at him — You took too long — before his mouth was crashing against hers, his body leading her down onto the bed with his. Her core flooded with heat when his body slipped between her knees, his own arousal pressing against her inner thigh. She reached down and yanked at his belt; she needed him, now.

“Eager, Princess?” he chuckled in her ear, teeth scraping along her earlobe. All she could do was nod, working his zipper and reaching into his pants to reveal his length. When her hand wrapped around his thick cock he groaned, a new wave of arousal making her nearly drip.

“Fuck, Niamh,” he muttered as she squeezed and started pumping him in the way she remembered he loved. Rhys sat up on his knees, tracing his hands along her body and gazing down at her. His eyes were mere rings of violet around dilated pupils, blown out with lust. He looked down at her adoringly, watching her stroking his cock for a moment, then stroked a long line through her folds. She moaned loudly while his fingers worked at her aching sex, spreading her open for him.

“You’re so wet,” he marveled, tilting his head to watch, “And I’ve barely touched you.”

Her hips moved against his digits, seeking friction, and he obliged by slipping a finger in and crooking it, sending a jolt of pleasure ricocheting through her. A second finger joined quickly, slowly pumping in and out of her. She squeezed his fingers with every pass and his breath hitched.

Rhys’s head dropped back and exposed the long line from his throat down to his throbbing cock and Niamh couldn’t resist — she ran her free hand from the base of his cock over his chiseled stomach, between his stunning pecs with swirling tattoos, and let her hand rest at the base of his neck, squeezing lightly.

Rhys gasped out a breath, then found her bundle of nerves and pressed, making her cry out. His free hand came to cup one of her breasts, then he bent and flicked his tongue across her sensitive nipple, all while his fingers still worked their magic inside her. She felt her climax approaching.

“Please, Rhys,” she begged. “I need you.”

Before she finished her sentence he shoved her hand off his purple-headed dick and lined himself up against her entrance. Raising the fingers that had been inside her a moment ago, he held eye contact with her as he licked them clean. She whimpered at the obscene sight and the feeling of him pressing insistently against her wet hole.

He tore his eyes away from hers and looked down at where they were almost joined. Rhys loved watching his cock disappear into her.

So pretty for me, he said into her mind as he slid inside inch by inch, letting her adjust around him. Feel so fucking good. Fuck, I missed you. Not gonna last long…

Me neither, she replied, then out loud she breathed, “Fuck me, Rhys.”

It started slow, allowing for each of them to find their long-lost rhythms, him dragging along her inner walls and her arching against him to drive him deeper, deeper, with every thrust. Once they found it, which didn’t take long, Rhys picked up his pace and it was all Niamh could do but cling to him, nails digging into the muscles of his back and heels pressing into his ass as she moved with him.

His thrusts were deep and brutal and fast, each one sparking waves of flame that tore through her as he hit the spot deep within her that made her see stars. Between the stars and the flame, she wailed with almost overwhelming pleasure.

This was healing.

This was homecoming.

This was reunion.

“‘M gonna cum, love,” he grunted, hand seeking out her clit again. “Cum for me, cum for me.”

She clenched, their labored breathing and his dirty words throttling her toward release. His thumb circled her clit once, twice more, and she was thrown into ecstasy.

Her thighs trembled and her throat went hoarse as he plunged into her again and again, his own pace faltering just as her orgasm was sputtering out. As his release coated her walls, he pressed their foreheads together again, sending her nothing but affection and love and gratitude before sliding out of her which made them both shudder.

He lay back for a moment and they stared up at the canopy of her bed, criss-crossed by a climbing pothos plant. She looked over at him, his stunning profile in sharp relief against the moonlit window. Mother above, he was gorgeous. His eyes were closed, a satisfied smile curving his perfect lips. His ink-black hair was disheveled and a flush crept over his perfect cheekbones, hands resting on his stomach. Satisfaction rolled off of him, invading her own mind for a moment.

Was she satisfied? Sexually, yes, very much yes, but in other aspects? She didn’t know. Niamh didn’t know what came next for them or what this “pelvic reunion” — as he’d jokingly called it — meant for their relationship, or if it even meant anything at all.

They were grown-ass High Fae, however, and the ambiguity between them was frustrating. Niamh couldn’t let herself fully trust his actions. Doubt consistently crept into any sweet moment they shared, like now as they reclined in post-coital bliss.

She shifted to lay on her side, facing away from him. He was quick to fill in the space behind her, wrapping one arm over her waist and the other under her head to act as a pillow. For a moment she allowed herself to savor his closeness, how his sculpted form felt pressed up against her naked back.

If she’d learned anything from her sessions with Hypatia it was that it was always better to ask for what one needed. She needed to know.

“What are we doing, Rhys?”

“Cuddling,” He responded casually as he brushed light kisses along her bare shoulder. The hand of the arm under her head came up and played with a strand of her hair.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Sweetrose?”

“We slept together and you have a mate,” she whispered.

“Ah, that.” She felt him shrug against her back, “The bond hasn’t been accepted, she doesn’t even know what it is. And she still hates me. We have time, Niamh, trust me.”

Guilt welled within her.

“So…what?” Niamh nudged him away from her and got out of bed, yanking on the silk robe that was tossed over the back of her vanity chair. She tied it off with a sharp snap of fabric. “I’m just someone to fuck until Feyre realizes she’s your mate?”

“It’s not like that,” he started, reaching over the space she had just occupied, beckoning her back into bed with him. “Come back to bed.”

“But it feels like that!” She noticed his fist clench in her sage-colored sheet at her words. “It’s all I can ever be to you now, a place holder while you-”

He interrupted her this time, vaulting off the bed with impressive speed and gripping onto her upper arms. He hunched over to look her in the eye, intensity radiating from him in powerful waves. “You are not a place holder. I love you! I have loved you for hundreds of years, despite everything that should’ve kept us apart. You have always had my heart, my very soul, Niamh.”

The adamant hedges around her mind were still down and he took advantage of that, sending her wave after wave of love. It swept through her mind and made it nearly impossible for her to remain rational. She clung to the life raft full of questions she had, arguments to be made. Slowly, she put her walls back up.

“You speak of everything that should’ve kept us apart while ignoring the biggest thing that will for sure come between us.” Niamh pulled out of his grasp and put some space between them, “Even if she doesn’t know, even if she hasn’t accepted it, you’re mated, and I can’t see a way around that.”

She turned around and wrapped her arms around herself, missing his presence even though he was mere steps away.

Over the last few weeks she read more about mating bonds. Everything she read said basically the same thing; mating bonds were rare and sacred. No magic could break it, and denying one would most certainly drive one or both parties mad. Part of her wished that Rhys would move on and forget about her, focus his love on his mate so it would hurt less when they were torn apart by the bond.

“Do you think if I could help how I felt about you that I would be here?” She heard him approach, felt the warmth of his bare body through the silk of her robe when he came to stand behind her, not touching her. “My parents were mates, equals, and they fucking hated each other. I seem to recall a certain Spring Court High Lord and his Lady who also weren’t too fond of one another?”

He was right — she hated that he was right. A Mating Bond, however unbreakable, did not mean the mates would be happy together. Her own parents had given her a grim look at what an unhappy mating looked like; her father, an abusive rageful tyrant, and her mother, a shrinking violet too afraid of her husband’s wrath to defend her children against him.

She turned and leaned her butt against her vanity, arms still crossed and looking up into his violet eyes that brimmed with concern and a touch of fear.

“Don’t you love her?” Niamh asked, not sure which answer she preferred. He’d told her he loved his mate — Feyre, she remembered — when they’d reconciled over tea.

Slowly, Rhys nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I do love her. I also love you, and like you said love isn’t finite,” he explained, closing the distance between them, tilting her chin up with a finger so she had to look him in the eye. “The Cauldron gave me a mate, yes, but thoughts of you, Niamh, got me through every damn day in that prison and most of the days since my return. I love you. I will never stop loving you, even if Feyre accepts the bond.”

“I…I know. But this whole nebulous, complicated thing is difficult. Knowing that you’re going to have something permanent and special and I’ll be alone…it hurts.”

He tilted his head like a confused puppy, “You don’t think we’re permanent?”

“Bonds are intense, powerful magic. Who’s to say that you won’t forget all about me once she accepts?” Niamh shrugged, annoyance with herself rising. Why couldn’t she just accept that Rhys loved her and be happy?

The answer was obvious. She would get hurt, and she’d rather have it be her fault than his. It was easier that way, cleaner. But she felt her desire to keep fighting against herself waning, her impulse to seize the moment with Rhys eclipsing it.

Rhys reached out his hands to her, his sculpted muscles moving under his golden skin as he did. She unfolded her arms and put her hands in his.

“I don’t know what will happen, Niamh, but I need you to believe that I will always come back to you. You will never lose me again, I swear. On my life, my position as High Lord, on fucking Velaris itself.”

His sincerity overwhelmed her. And finally — finally — she let herself believe him.

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elegistnox · 2 years ago

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Hi Han! You seem tired of Aries questions lol so coming here to ask a random one! How many people do you think Rhys has had sex with by the time of ACOTAR? Hit me with an estimate over his 550 years and throw in some names from HoN if you have any! Let's stir up some drams!

Plz say Helion.

this actually made me snort reading it, never tired of the questions! however i do love this question...

ok hear me out hear me out

i dont think rhys has had sex with that many people. sure he was crazy when he was younger but let's be real he slowed down after the war soooooooo

i'm going to say

more than 40 but less than 50. somewhere around 16 or 18 people after the war and the first 30 are before the war when he's young and horny...because i love an even number

to be fair that is not a lot for being 550 years old which is like 1 partner every 13.5 years

math

my reasoning is that i think he's a secret relationship guy. he stays with his partners for a significant enough portion of time where like azriel might be knee deep in a few girlies at a time (horrible reference)

as for who...i don't want to ruin some stuff but i'll throw a juicy bit in bc i like this ask...lilah (obvi), suniva (juicy juicy), cressida (cmon there was too much tension), amarantha (sad)

ok here's my thing about helion. i just truly think rhys's worst quality is that he's too straight

cassian however...cassian would hit

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beautifulsweetschaos · 7 months ago

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They got him 😔 they got Pookie 😫 I’m gonna kms

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thehighladywrites · 8 months ago

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ACOTAR MEN X READER, SITTING ON THEIR LAP

✩ summary: different scenarios where you find yourself sitting on them

✩ warnings: nsfw, 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of self-doubt, kissing, begging, gossiping, fluff, smut, crack, fun times and soft Eris😭💗

✩ amara’s note: the original cassian hc was so long that i had to stop myself bc i was thirsting and it turned into a regular oneshot lmaooo😭 anyways enjoy babes!!!!💗💗💗

reblogs are really appreciated! :D

RHYSAND

No matter how angry you and Rhys get or how petty the fight is, you two always end up holding hands, even while yelling at each other.

Sitting in his lap while you two argue about random, non important stuff is a standard

You guys just don’t do the whole “no touching” thing

Today, the argument was over who cooks better, both of you bickering pettily.

“Listen, I love you a lot, but the kitchen isn’t your best friend. It's crazy how you can burn an empty pot.”

“Maybe you’re crazy,” you retort, arms crossed over your chest as you step closer to him, leaning against his desk in his office.

He keeps arguing with you, going back and forth, while pushing his chair back from the desk to make room for you.

“Whatever, Rhys. I don’t even need to cook when I can summon anything. It’s stupid, and you’re being unfair,” you mutter as you put your hands on his shoulders and plop down in his lap, subconsciously warming at the way he holds your waist and places one hand on your back to keep you steady.

He suppresses a smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks up at your pouting self. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you’re an amazing chef,” he concedes, his tone laced with affection.

“Awww, come with me while I make you something,” you say, flashing him an oblivious smile.

“Oh! Um, you sure we shouldn't order something or..?” he asks nervously, his voice getting higher as he kisses you.

You slip out of his lap and hurry downstairs to plan his meal, assuring him not to worry about ordering anything and to just come down for his favorite meal.

“Dear Gods,” he whispers as he gets up, a mix of worry and fear in his voice.

ERIS

Eris had been stressed out for a few weeks now. Nothing you said seemed to make a difference.

He was dealing with his father’s death, ruling a new court as the heir, and inheriting the High Lord powers. Your heart ached for him. You wanted to be there for him, giving him hugs and words of encouragement, but you were not on that level yet

Today had been the most stressful day yet, resulting in him shutting down and locking himself up in his bedroom.

“Eris, are you okay? Can I please come in?” you knock gently on the wooden door, voice hushed and gentle.

After a few moments of silence, you hear him shuffling behind the door until he opens it very slightly.

He is shirtless, only in a pair of pants. You manage to catch a glimpse of his tired, amber eyes before he turns around to lie in his bed.

The room looks clinically clean, the only disturbance being Eris’s rugged appearance.

Without saying a word, you walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s a long, warm hug that tells him everything he doesn’t allow himself to hear: you’re there for him.

It takes a few moments for him to hug you back, but when he does, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his lap.

Only after an hour of silence does he speak

“I feel like i’m stuck. These powers are killing me, the board is fucking annoying, the folk believe i’m wicked and cruel and i have no idea what to do about anything.”

He looks up at you with desperate eyes, “Do you believe I’m truly wicked?”

You shake your head in honesty. “No, honey. I have not met anyone as smart, kindhearted and brave as you. Others do not know you like I do but they should,” you whisper, hands going through his tussled hair. “You’ve been hiding behind your mask for too long, Eris. Let people see the real you.”

The room goes quiet, the only sound being the beating of your hearts.

Slowly his lips meet yours in a new and experimental kiss. He stares up at you with his pupils blown but before you can apologize and get off his lap, he kisses you again and locks his arm around you

“Thank you,” he whispers between heating kisses, “Thank you, beautiful.”

CASSIAN

“Hi there sugar, what can I do for you?” Cassian asks sweetly as he flicks your nose with his finger, happy that you ran into his office and immediately plopped down on his lap

“Can you fuck me?” you ask, frustrated with the lack of dick lately.

His eyes widen slightly at your words, then he slowly cracks a handsome smile. “Gods. How inappropriate of you,” he teases, the amusement clear in his voice.

His teasing almost makes you sob. This was totally NOT the time. You almost roll your eyes before realizing he will so not give in if you give him that

“Cassian, i’m begging you. I want, no- need to be fucked. Please, i’m losing hearing in my left ear,” you beg as you get closer and sit in his lap, rubbing your hands all over his chest

He looked incredibly good, almost unfairly so. Cassian’s jaw and chin had grown scruffy in a ruggedly masculine way that made him look older and even more attractive.

A week without seeing him had only heightened your weakness for his body, making you throb.

“Losing hearing? You must be really dying for me, huh? Alright then. I’ll let you ride,” he smirks at you while unbuckling his belt.

He finally fucking let’s you fuck, hitting spots that makes you go fuzzy brained.

You make him promise to never be gone again before going for another ride, satisfied when he breathlessly promises.

LUCIEN

There is not a bigger shit-talking couple in Prythian than you two

One look between you two is enough.

Someone’s being annoying? You share an annoyed glance. Someone’s being rude? You share a baffled glance. Something’s juicy’s happening? You share a glance that says you will so talk about it when you get home.

“— and he has the audacity to two-time her? He’s lucky to find even one person willing to date him,” you gossip, lounging in Lucien’s lap, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this isn’t his first time. He did that to Tamlin’s cousin too,” Lucien adds, his tone filled with incredulity.

“No way,” you gasp in disbelief, shaking your head as the gossip sinks in.

“Yeah, apparently this guy fucks around in all courts and cheats on anyone willing to stomach. What a fucking loser, honestly,” Lucien nods in agreement, disdain evident in his voice. “The sick bastard gets off on it.”

“That reminds me, guess what I heard about Rhys in Rita’s yeaterday,” Lucien prompts, leaning in with a sly grin, clearly ready to share some gossip.

“Some males and females were talking about Rhys, saying he's replaced Feyre with a clone,” Lucien whispers, his tone laced with disdain. “And get this— they think her transformation from human to fae is fake and that there is no way she could possibly be the mother of Nyx.”

“A clone? They’ll say anything these days,” you exclaim, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! They're probably just making shit up out of thin air,” Lucien replies, nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn't put it past them,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for a biscuit, happy to be sitting and gossiping with your love.

AZRIEL

Azriel loves when you sit on his lap.

It makes him feel safe and relaxed knowing you're close to him.

It's something he does every day when he comes home - having you in his lap. Sometimes you both sit quietly, other times you talk or fuck or cuddle, depending on how you’re feeling.

Azriel especially likes the fuck part.

He loves the part where you sit on his lap while he works. If you’re good, he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you. If not, he still fucks you but he does it with no mercy

He makes you sit on his dick and tells you not to move and inch or you will be edged for hours, not being allowed to cum once

Fucking torture is what it is honestly

“Stop moving around so much, i can’t focus.”

“Do you blame me? You’ve buried your dick in me, of course i’m moving. Maybe do something about that.”

He raises his eyebrows at your snarky comment. If it’s something he didn’t need today it was sass.

His day was quite shitty and all he needed was his sweet mate who would kiss away his problems and take his dick perfectly

Azriel smiled slightly as he put his pen down. He would take out his frustrations on you today.

“You want to be fucked? Let’s fuck,” he says in a low tone

In the end, all his papers are scattered, all pens on the floor.

He is relaxed and all smiley while you’re on death’s door💗

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lidiasloca · 4 months ago

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meeting the high lord and high lady

nyx x reader - cassian x reader - azriel x reader

PART TWO

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“i’m azriel. nice to meet you.”

nyx groaned at your lack of response. “she is y/n. let’s go to the table now, please.”

rhys chuckled as he escorted feyre to the table, followed by azriel, who gave you a quick, curious glance. since you seemed unable to walk yourself, nyx grabbed your arm, dragging you to the living room. “behave,” he whispered.

yeah—that was your plan.

but fate wasn’t on your side. but do you know who was? azriel. “yeah, sit over there,” feyre told you, pointing to the empty chair next to the shadowsinger.

“great,” nyx breathed. but you could barely listen to him; your ears only cared about azriel’s words directed your way.

“so... how long have you and nyx been friends?”

the way his eyes watched you, expecting an answer... you could barely breathe at the sight. barely function, knowing you had his full attention.

“uhm—”

“hello! hello!” a stranger said, taking a seat at the table. you instantly moved your eyes to him, abandoning the sight that was azriel. but oh gods—

“cassian. you’re late,” the high lord told him sternly.

cassian didn’t pay him any attention. “and you are beautiful,” he said, staring at you shamelessly, as if in awe.

breathe, y/n. breathe.

“thank you,” you said, trying to hold his devouring gaze. but quickly, your eyes moved to azriel’s hand, which was gripping his glass so tightly it looked like it might shatter.

“cassian,” he said sharply, jaw clenched. “why don’t you sit already?”

but the enormous male just chuckled, not caring that azriel seemed close to throwing the glass.

you were far too lost in the beauty of rhysand, who watched the two males in front of him with an amused look on his face, to care about the strange scene.

“it looks like she’s already taken,” cassian laughed, making azriel’s grip harden and rhys’s smile grow wider.

“yes, she is,” rhys said, glancing at azriel as cassian took a seat.

feyre elbowed him, giggling. “can you not talk about her this way? a female is no one’s property.”

“no matter how beautiful?” cassian asked, still looking at you.

you felt like you were about to faint.

the three of them laughed at his words—all but nyx and azriel, who looked at cassian as if they were about to strangle him.

“y/n, we were talking about you,” azriel said, facing you, almost whispering—like he was done with the others’ conversation.

“mmmm,” you quickly replied, trying to swallow the food in your mouth. “yes, well... uh... what was the question?”

“hey, don’t keep the conversation to yourself,” rhys said, his lips grazing his wine-filled glass.

“yes, we want to get to know y/n too,” the high lady added, smiling toward her son, who was clearly bored.

“i,” azriel cut in abruptly, “was just asking about her and nyx.”

“her and nyx as in... dating?” cassian asked, his eyes moving to the boy, who merely responded with a disgusted gag.

“no, no. we’re just friends. very good friends,” you added, trying to cheer up nyx.

“but are you?” cassian asked, eyebrows raised. your confused face urged him to continue: “are you dating someone?”

you thanked the gods you were sitting down—had you been standing, your legs would’ve trembled until you hit the floor.

before you could mumble an answer, you saw azriel shaking his head before replying harshly: “why do you ask that, brother?”

“yeah, cass,” rhys added, though he was holding back laughter. “why would you ask that?”

“exactly,” nyx finally spoke, but his furious tone set you on edge. “why are you two flirting with my friend?”

oh gods.

as cassian chuckled at nyx’s words, azriel regarded your friend in disbelief. “we’re not flirting, kid,” azriel replied.

“yet you just took it personally—and i didn’t mention any names,” nyx retorted, earning another chuckle from cassian.

“well, i don’t expect your mated father would flirt with anyone.”

“you’d be surprised,” feyre responded, eyes filled with delight as she watched her smirking husband.

“ugh, mom, stop. gods, i’m getting out of here,” nyx muttered.

you definitely didn’t want to go. and not just because of how beautiful they all were—but because you were rather enjoying being flirted with by them; it felt like a dream.

“i don’t think she wants to go with you, pal,” cassian told him.

“yeah—y/n,” azriel started, facing you. “why don’t i show you the city? would you like that?”

“no, she will not,” cassian cut in.

“yeah, she will not,” nyx echoed, looking at you as if expecting you to agree.

but you had no time to answer before cassian stood up and offered you his hand. “come on, y/n. let me take you flying. you’ll love it.”

“i...” but looking around, seeing every set of eyes awaiting your call, you didn’t know what to say.

nyx was your friend, yes. but you had every right to choose with whom to spend your time. you really liked cassian—he was straightforward, flirtatious, and clearly interested in you. and azriel... you were very curious about him, about who he was—and maybe he was interested in you, too.

what should you do?

azriel, cassian, and nyx awaited your answer, while feyre and rhys watched, intrigued by how the scene would unfold. it was both terrible and exciting that you were the one writing the the next scene.

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

a/n: emm you can all tell me who you'd rather reader ending up with. i clearly know who i want, but - i will listen to you. and! please loves, send requests, cause ive anwsered them all! (if yours isn’t published yet, it is programmed to be during the following days). i really need fic ideas from you cause i ain't got the time to sit down and imagine haha. so yeah. thankuu :))

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readychilledwine · 9 months ago

Text

Pieces of You pt 4

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings- Mourning, loss of a partner, loss of a friend, loss of parent, babies and the complications that come with raising them, slight neglect, slight angst to wrap it up before Fluff and smut begin, same editing warning (friend is arc reading, Liz will catch any other mistakes when she rereads this with fresh eyes)

A/n - I promised they wouldn't be a part long. What you're all waiting for will happen in the next part. 🫣

✨️ Series Masterlist ✨️ Rhysand Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

This nanny was not you.

You had the left house, as promised, Monday morning. You hadn't taken a single dress Rhys had bought his Little Mor, a single one of her toys, you didn't even take the blanket he had paid for with her name stitched into soft buttery fabric.

He watched as Nyx fought the female he had hired. He would only latch to her for a few moments before wailing, piercing the now all too quiet home with his confusion and frustration. This nanny was not you, and Nyx clearly was not going to accept her.

He had hoped by the afternoon Nyx would have been hungry enough to just latch, to cave, but that was not the case. The young heir was crying again, frustrated and hungry as he slowly wore himself out into another unscheduled nap. Rhysand zoned out the noise, his mind now on you, on the second chance of love, devotion, happiness he allowed to walk out the door.

Nyx had taken to you. He was a momma’s boy the second he was about to show preference. But Morwenna, Morwenna was Rhysand's. His own breathing filled the void of silence that had fall over the house, and as he stared at his paperwork, tears began to fall, he just hoped your mind was on him, or at least Nyx, as well.

His mind went to his Little Mor, his sweet girl. Her eyes always lit up for him, shrieks of joy and excitement were common in Rhysand's office.

You sighed and sunk into the couch, Azriel beside you as you did. “Come home,” he had been begging for the past two hours for you to see reason, to forgive Rhysand. He had explained what happened at dinner, watching as you slowly fell apart all over again. “He didn't mean a single word. I can tell.”

Azriel swallowed before standing, “I will be back. Kiss my niece for me when she wakes up. I'll come back to sing her to sleep tonight.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the couch as you did. “It felt like he did, Azriel. It felt like he just-” you stopped yourself from crying, not willing to hurt over some male who so easily threw you away. “He said I needed to stop acting like Nyx's mom.” You watched Azriel's face fall. Watched as his sun-kissed tan skin paled. “Then tried to tell me I could not take Morwenna with me.”

Screaming. Screaming was all Azriel heard as he walked into the new Riverhouse. Rhys was pacing the floor, bouncing Nyx as the sun fell and Cassian stood there, eyes watering and wide in panic. He took a spot next to Cassian, sharing a look of concern with his brother. “He refuses to latch on to his nanny,” Cassian's voice cracked. “And Madja keeps trying to tell Rhysand it's just going to be an adjustment period, but Nyx is hungry.”

Azriel nodded, mind flashing back to the subtle looks of pain on your face as you so much as moved or held his Little Mor. “And he won't just suck up his pride and take him to y/n?”

Cassian sighed. “He said he can't do that after what he has done. That there is no fixing the hurt he caused.” Anger had leaked into Cassian's soft voice. “I do not get how she can do this to Nyx.”

“You would do it to if you mate ignored your bond.” The weight of those words hit Cassian's chest, screaming in his like an alarm. “What.”

“Y/n and Rhysand are mates,” Azriel went to Rhys, stroking Nyx's back. “Let me take him to her?”

Rhys shook his head, ignoring the tears falling at his son's frustration. “I just need him to adjust.”

“Starving is not adjusting, Rhysand. It is neglect.” The High Lord turned to Azriel, glaring hard. “I know what you said to her. Go there, apologize, and have her feed him at the very least. She loves him.”

As if it was a spell place to curse Rhysand, Nyx must have caught the faint scent of you lingering to Azriel's soft t shirt. The heir calmed significantly, reaching for the material. “Give me your shirt so I can lay him down and we can discuss this.”

Azriel obeyed, hoping just the scent of you would be enough to give him a small nap while Azriel convinced Rhysand to let him take Nyx to you. Just for the night.

Rhysand sighed, laying Nyx down with Azriel's shirt underneath him. He would have been lying if anyone asked him if he had savored that soft scent clinging to the shirt. He walked out of the room and hardly made it 5 steps before the wailing began again. Rhys pulled the bottle filled with the mixture Madja had made from his pocket world before going back in.

Nyx was inconsolable. He had spent the better portion of the morning crying, screaming, refusing to sleep.

Rhysand picked him up, praying to anyone who would listen and wishing on every star that Nyx would just take this bottle. As soon as he latched, Rhysand watched his flawless little face make a deeper scowl before pushing the bottle away. You were Nyx's sole thought. Your smell, your skin under his, your voice. The piercing wail had Azriel and Cassian running up the stairs as soon as they heard.

Rhysand knew Nyx didn't fully understand the noise about to come from his mouth. Nyx didn't know it expressed exactly what he wanted, nor what the sound would mean. He didn't know that it would make his father crawl back to you less than 12 hours after you had left. The heir released a strangled cry over and over again of one of the only sounds he knew to make, "Ma. Ma. Ma!”

"No," Rhysand choked down the tears that were getting ready to fall. "He's crying for y/n. He's crying for his mama.” Rhys didn't wait for them, he didn't even say goodbye, he winnowed into your living room. You were curled up on the couch, instantly awake by the sounds of Nyx's crying.

"Is he crying for Feyre?" Cassian went to take a tentative step forward, just for Rhysand to stand and move quickly out of the room.

Rhysand didn't even have to ask. He didn't have to beg. You took the heir instantly and pulled him to you, placing him in his favorite spot to eat.

His tears had triggered Morwenna, though, and soon her soft cries filled the air. Rhysand ran to her. He ran to his daughter and cradled her tight to his chest. Her bright eyes instantly looked up at him, a smile taking place of where a deep frown was. “Hi baby girl,” her giggle instantly changed his mood. He walked her to the living room, watching as she instantly because to smile and shriek at the sight of Nyx.

“Give him a little bit, baby,” you didn't even look up from the tiny illyrian, stroking his brow as he ate. “He is very hungry and mama needs him to eat.” Rhys sat across from you, holding Little Mor tight to him. “She's been making d noises all day. To me, to Azriel, to no one. Just “dah duh deh” all day.”

“She missed her daddy,” Rhys held her up, rocking her gently side to side, “didn't you Morwenna. You missed daddy? 13 hours apart is much too long, isn't it, my little darling.” You shook your head, fighting the smile as Wen giggled at Rhysand.

You felt your heart skip a best as he kissed her cheeks and then her tummy. Rhysand was a wonderful father, and watching him in this element, this area of self-doubt, he had made all feelings of anger melt away. He looked to you instantly, claws gently tapping on the fortress of your mind before you allowed him in. “Let me take us home?” Home, the word replayed in your mind before you nodded, holding a hand to him. Home sounded so good.

He winnowed you two back to the Riverhouse, making Wen giggle even more at the starlight that surrounded you four. You walked in and stopped dead in your tracks, eyes Azriel up and down. “Where are your clothes?”

Azriel looked shameless, muscled torso on display as he held Cassian in a headlock. “I'm choking out Cassian and your concern is my lack of a shirt?”

Cassian raised a hand to you, face slightly red. His eyes had a hint of guilt in them as he tapped Azriel's abs. “Y/n,” Cassian moved to guide you to the couch, smiling at a still latched Nyx and then moved Rhysand to be next you. “I want to apologize.” You knit your brows at him as he sat and Azriel glared.

“I made some unfair statements without consideration for you and Rhysand. I did not think about how my words would affect your relationship with each other, or how I cheapend the new mating bond you two share.”

Cassian looked raw. Like months of build up and emotion hit him. “We prepared you know? We knew she was going to die, we begged and prayed for a solution, and just when hope came it crashed like a tidal wave. Nesta and I won't even touch each other. The guilt-”

“You have nothing to be guilty for, Cass,” Rhys interrupted him. “I'm the one who had sex with her. I'm the one who-”

“It was an accident,” you spoke softly, pulling the focus to you. “Feyre's death was a tragic mistake and accident. You all did not know the extent of her shifting magic. You didn't know it temporarily changed her that deeply.”

Rhys seemed love drunk as he handed you Little Mor, kissing both babes before you walked away. He was silent until you left, eyes trailing your body. “Cassian, I love her.”

Rhys sobbed softly, hearing words from you many had whispered before felt so different. Like a soothing balm over a wound, slowly healing it. “Cassian, Nesta did not know that the outcome of her bargaining with a God would be a cruel trick. There's no guilt to be had. She gave everything back, made herself the Cauldron’s servant. She was too young to read those unspoken lines.” Nyx finally let go, deep asleep in your arms. “I'm going to go lay him down. There is nothing for me to forgive because you did not intentionally harm me, Cassian, but maybe you three should speak.”

“I know.”

“That doesn't mean I never loved Feyre. Nor that I've forgotten her.”

A second “I know” broke through Cassian's lips, his shoulders falling as it did. “I miss her.”

Rhys felt the tears welling, felt them falling before he could will them away. “I do too. Every fucking day I miss her. I miss her hair, her laugh, her voice. I miss her correcting me.” He watched Cassian fall more, mourning the sister he had lost openly for the first time.

“But when I'm with y/n, it hurts less. When I see y/n smile, I feel more whole again. When I hear her laugh, I feel like I'm alive again. When I see her with Nyx, when I see his smile when she's holding him or playing with them, I feel like Feyre is here, nudging me towards y/n.”

Azriel's voice came, soft and slow. “Feyre would want you to move on, Rhysand. She would have wanted you to find happiness. She would probably fight all of us for being this sad.”

The thought of that made Cassian genuinely smile. His eyes sparkling with fond memories of Feyre Cursebreaker stomping her feet when he'd beat her during a sparring match. “Her and Feyre both do this thing, maybe it's an artistic thing, where they look at things really close and back away slowly.”

Rhys started laughing immediately knowing what his brother meant. “Y/n did it with one of my outfits. She said I looked great as long as she stayed 5 feet away.”

Azriel put a hand on Cassian's shoulder. “This is a roundabout way of us telling you we support you, Rhysand. We support you and y/n.”

“Two mates,” Cassian said slowly. “Imagine having two mates, Az. Two females that you get to love unconditionally and annoy whenever you'd like.”

Rhys and Azriel shared a silent look, a soft, "Not yet” coming through to Rhysand's mind. “We will leave you and y/n alone to talk.”

“There won't be much talking,” Rhysand stood slowly. “I've always been better at expressing my emotions physically.”

General Taglist:

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @demonicbusiness @blushingfawnsposts @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @miadialila @golden-canyon @fxckmiup

@batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @awkardnerd @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @brieflyclassymortal @aspenger @nayaniasworld @nyxbranwenn

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x reader #rhys fic #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand fic #acotar fanfiction

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 9 months ago

Text

Heavy

Summary: Reader's having a depressive episode and needs some comfort from her mate

Content Warnings: Depression

Author's Note: I should be finishing my Vamp!Rhys fic but I got sad and wrote this instead

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Velaris is beautiful at night, from the glittering stars overhead, to the soft gurgle of the Sidra rushing over time worn stones beneath the city’s many intricate bridges. The music makes the whole city feel full of light and laughter, couples often dancing and humming in the streets. It’s one of your favorite places to be.

Usually.

Tonight it’s just… there. Though you stand in the heart of it, everything moves around you, never quite touching you. It’s as if you’re suddenly a stranger in the place you love the most, the emotional distance between you palpable.

You jam your hands in your pockets and keep walking, though you’re not really sure where you’re going, your body moving on autopilot. It’s been like that for a couple weeks now, if you’re honest, you’ll be half way through the day sometimes before you realize you’re not sure how or when you even got out of bed, or gotten dressed. Did you even eat? Kiss your mate good morning? Rhys has been working long hours in Illyria lately, most nights you’re already asleep before he’s even tumbling into bed, but, now that you’re thinking about it, that could also be because you’ve been going to sleep earlier too.

You frown at your boots as you walk, trying to remember when this happened. It’s not new, you’ve had bouts of this since you were a teenager, but they’ve been better thanks to regular sessions with Madja and some other healers. Art therapy in the Rainbow has helped too. Usually you can tell when you’re starting to slip into the darker places in your head, but it crept up on you this time.

By the time your mindless wanderings bring you back to the Townhouse, the light from your upstairs bedroom is already on, meaning Rhys somehow finished his business and beat you home. You’d only planned to grab some takeout so you wouldn’t have to cook, and yet, here you stand, hands as empty as your stomach.

The door opens before you can even reach for your key, soft light spilling out into the entryway. “There you are!” Rhys says by way of greeting, as if he’d been waiting by the door for you. Your mate leans in to place a quick peck on your lips as he guides you inside.

“Did you go to Rita’s with Mor?”

He should be able to tell you hadn’t, since you’re wearing the same sweatpants you had been for a week, but then again, he also hasn’t been home enough to know you haven’t changed out of them.

“No I…” you hate talking about this stuff, hate feeling like you’re burdening anybody with the weight you feel pressing down on your chest. “Uh, went to get dinner.”

Rhys stares down at your empty hands, eyebrows raised teasingly. “Did you forget to bring it back?”

You run a hand over your eyes. Cauldron they’re so heavy! Why is everything always so heavy? Your whole body feels like it’s made of bricks, just the effort to kick off your boots feels like it takes every single drop of energy you have left. “Sorry.” Even speaking feels like too much.

Rhys frowns, “Darling, are you ok?”

“Just tired,” you say, avoiding his eyes now.

He steps forward, placing a knuckle under your chin and tilting your face towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired,” you repeat, but your eyes are watering now.

He stills, violet eyes roaming over you, assessing for the first time tonight how you look, the dark circles under your eyes. He knows you haven’t had trouble sleeping, he’s barely been able to wake you when he comes home at night. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears falling in earnest now.

Rhys’s features soften as he lifts you into his arms, the bond flooding with warmth and understanding as he says, “It’s not your fault. You can’t help it.”

You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you upstairs. “I thought I was doing better… but everything just feels heavy again.”

He kisses your forehead gently as he climbs into bed and settles you down against his chest. Twisting, his wings unfurl so he can curl one around you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. “What can I do to help?”

You wrap an arm around his waist as you settle your face against his chest, his heartbeat steady and even beneath you. Madja had said once that this was helpful if you got overly anxious, the steadiness of his breathing helping yours level out, and it helps now too, gives you something to focus on. It’s grounding and you let your breathing sync up, your chest rising and falling against his own. Madja hadn’t been able to stress enough how important it was to find something to ground you in the present when you got like this, lest your thoughts start to spiral deeper and deeper into the dark.

“Just need you to hold me for a little while,” you say.

Rhys pulls your favorite blanket up over the two of you before wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you,” and the bond floods with more warmth than you think you deserve, but it doesn’t let up when those thoughts sneak in. “I’ll do anything you need me to.”

You place a gentle kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, fingers tracing shapes in your back. “No one has all good days.”

“But nothing even happened,” you protest. “I just woke up one morning and it was just so heavy to be awake.”

He kisses your temple. “We can see Madja in the morning, if you need, but you can’t beat yourself up. You have no control over it.”

You press your temple into his chest and breath in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. “I hate it.”

He places another kiss to the top of your head. You know he hates it too, hates that it’s a battle he can’t fight for you, no matter how much he wants to. “It will pass.”

Rhys is warm, his presence soothing, the darkness that seeps from his skin on the days he hasn’t had the time to expel enough of it, drifting over your body in soothing motions. This is safe and quite and peaceful. Your body starts to settle more and more as time goes on.

“Do you really believe that?” You whisper. “That it’ll pass?”

“Yes,” he says. “It has before, and it will again.” Knowing he’s had the experience himself, you’re inclined to believe he’s right.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” you admit.

Rhys holds you a little tighter, “Till all the stars fall from the sky, my love.” He holds you all night, whispering all the things he loves about you as you start to fall asleep.

You let yourself fall into it, hoping tomorrow will be better.

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #Rhys x reader fluff #rhys acotar #acotar fic #acotar fluff #my writing #my fanfic #fanfiction #Rhys fic

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utterlyotterlyx · 9 months ago

Text

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - The bond snaps after a rather brutal breakup, and after witnessing you with another Vanserra, Azriel is trying to find a way to avoid being hurt once again.

Warnings - fluff, angst, pining, swearing, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad Az, happy ending (yay!)

Word count - 8.4k (oops)

Based on this ask

It had become so intense in the House of Wind that you had little to no choice in moving yourself to the River House. Between Nesta and Cassian's bustling sex life and the constant bickering arguments between Azriel and Elain, you decided that you needed some peace.

And fast.

Rhys had welcomed you at the door that day, his sort-of sister in arms surrounded by brown leather bags that he could almost envision you launching down the House of Wind steps just to escape as fast as possible. Flipping him off and smirking at his chuckle, you slipped around his form stood in the doorway and headed right to Nyx who was more than thrilled to see you, babbling incoherently and grabbing for you the moment you were in eyeshot.

"I take it that it's getting a bit loud over there?" Rhys turned to you, his shirt half unbuttoned and hands burrowed into his pockets. He was lucky. To have a mate and a child. To not have to live with the band of animals currently residing in the Night Court's most opulent residence.

"How am I supposed to get anything done wedged between that lot?" Nyx smiled at your cooing, lapping up all of your love and affection, "I'd much rather be here with my favourite prince."

Within minutes, your bags were taken upstairs by Rhys who was grumbling to himself about never being able to have any peace to which you blissfully quipped that you'd be out of his hair the moment he bought you a lavish apartment in the city. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it after all.

Your position within the Inner Circle was irreplaceable. Not only were you Rhys' childhood best friend, the only one he could truly depend on before Cassian and Azriel flew into the picture, but you were also known as a witch. A powerful celestial being that had the capability to destroy and create as you saw fit with an affinity to sky and water magic.

The scales could have tilted in the wrong direction had you truly taken up Amarantha's offer to be her pet, the only reason you had confined yourself to that chamber Under The Mountain was to make sure that Rhys survived, and you played your part well, just as you always had.

A break was needed, the air in the House of Wind was almost suffocating, and no amount of your power was able to drown it. Elain was spending more time with Lucien, her mate, and Azriel was not happy about it considering that they were meant to be in a committed relationship. The barking insults and shouting had become too much to bare, so intense that your own power was itching for release in order to silence them for at least a couple of minutes.

"They're going to break up, aren't they?" Rhys certainly wouldn't be the first to tell Azriel I told you so, but he'd certainly be thinking it when the Shadowsinger would inevitably return to the River House just like you had to escape the nightmare of his life.

Humming softly, sadly, you looked up at Rhys, your godson in your arms resting his head on your chest, "I think so. Az hasn't been himself lately."

It was true, your friend had become a shell of himself, wallowing in self-loathing and doubt, and you cursed Elain eternally for turning him into such a thing. How anyone could hurt Azriel was beyond your scope of realisation, he was perfect in every way, devoted, kind, caring, and definitely a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom if your ears served you right.

Being attracted to Azriel was a natural bodily response, you had told yourself at least, it was difficult to not want to jump the bones of the illustrious Shadowsinger who kept a watchful eye on your every step. Like he was waiting for his moment to swoop in and save you.

But you had never needed saving, and you never would.

Elain and you had never really gotten along, it wasn't as though you hadn't tried to be friendly with the Made sister, she just couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe her own abilities clashed with yours, perhaps she was terrified of you. You couldn't blame her, the idea of you was one that stalked travellers and gifted nightmares to the young.

A celestial witch. In the flesh.

Anyone who knew you well enough would be able to dispel any wrongful intent, but Elain was not one of those people.

"I did warn him," Rhys' finger drifted to hook itself around Nyx's outstretched hand, and he shook it gently as he continued on, "A mating bond is not something to get entangled with."

"Az needs us to be his friends right now, Rhys. A breakup on its own is awful, but when it's so close, when he's been waiting so long for it, it's bound to hurt."

A firm hand on your shoulder comforted you, you knew how tough it must be for Azriel to go through it, after how painful it was to hold out hoping that he would be enough to suddenly not be, "I know, Witchling," you scoffed at the nickname as you always had and always would, Rhys pressed a dainty kiss into your hair, like a brother to a newly born sister, "Whatever he needs, I'm here, and so are you."

If you had known what awaited you that week, you'd take the telling words back in a second.

Like you had guessed, Azriel moved back into the River House, residing in his own room across the hall from your own. And boy, was he a raincloud if you ever did see one. Even his shadows looked solemn, and they didn't have faces. Azriel looked positively awful, constantly messy hair, large bags of onyx that imprinted onto the skin beneath his usually warm hazel eyes that had turned into nothing but dark pools of heartbroken sadness.

In the night, you had heard him crying, you'd stood outside of his door, not saying a word, but hoping that he knew that someone was there for him even if he didn't want them to be.

You had tried to talk to him, to coax him out of his haze by offering to train with him, or walk with him along the banks of the Sidra, you'd even asked him if beating your ass whilst you wore a mask of Lucien would bring a smile to his face. Unfortunately, everything you had tried had failed you, and you were at a loss as to help your friend.

"Honestly Rhys, how do you reach anything in here?" Rhys was hovering in the doorway, eyebrow raised with delight as he watched you try and scale the countertops to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

There were chocolate chips for your cookies up there, and they had your name all over them.

"It's not my fault you're not Illyrian," his eyes darkened into a smirk, "Why don't you just hop onto your broomstick and fly?"

Even a silent Azriel emitted a gasp from his place on the opposite side of the centre island. If there was one thing you hated, it was being likened to the witches children sang about in their storybooks. It offended you how utterly unalike you were, and it made you seethe when someone, usually Rhys or Cassian, would use that hatred to rile you up.

"Oh," you stood on the countertop, towering over the High Lord by a few mere inches, "Is that why all of the doorways are so wide? Because your fat fucking head needs all the room it can get?"

Rhys stood speechless before you, the room fell silent.

Then a laugh.

Not yours of Rhys', you had to check it wasn't you making any noise before your eyes landed on the owner of the most joyful thing you'd heard in weeks.

A smile. Curled parted lips as a howling laugh ripped through them. Azriel's shadows danced to the sound, and his body shook with it. You could have cried, but you kept it together, you choked down your happiness to witness the momentary return of the one who meant the most to you.

It was no secret that you used to be Azriel's favourite. There was nothing that the two of you wouldn't do together, even if it was a medial task like taking you to the bakery or finding you a new Starfall dress that would make Mor dim in comparison. Azriel was always happy to come along. Until Elain, and then you had stopped seeing another, you'd drifted so far apart that he didn't even properly greet you anymore, all you were adorned with was a curt nod and tight lipped smile before Elain would whisk him away.

The male in front of you was nothing like that one, not in that singular glimmer of hope at least. Once his laughter died down, and a serene smile planted itself on his lips, Azriel opened his eyes and moved them to you, they glowed with something you couldn't quite understand, and then they widened. His eyes faltered. His smile faded.

Azriel gasped.

"Mate."

Darting your line of sight to Rhys, you pointed at him, flickering your gaze back to Azriel who had rose from his seat "Him?"

Rhys swatted your finger away, "I'm mated, y/n," Rhys glanced between you and took a step backward.

"So?" It couldn't be. Not right now. Not now.

"I can't do this," Azriel was struggling to breathe, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat beaded at his brow and his skin had paled.

Scrambling down from the worktop, you went to take a step toward him, one that he mirrored in the opposing direction, furling his wings behind his back and clawing his shadows into submission, "Don't, Az. I can go."

The visible wince of pain that shot through you was enough for Azriel to suck in a breath and disappear from sight. The bond was dull, a golden thread soaring across the night sky to meet a shield of inked darkness. Azriel had closed you off. Shut you out.

Silence befell the kitchen, the chocolate chips you had gotten from the top shelf now scattered across the dark oak wood beneath your bare feet. Rhys had never seen you cry, he almost thought it impossible, but then he saw that single tear roll down your cheek, he could feel the pain radiating from you from finding your mate for him only to run from you.

"Hey, it's alright," he wrapped you into his arms, shushing you softly as he ran his fingers through your hair to soothe the quiet sobs rattling your shoulders, "It's going to be fine, y/n. Azriel's just confused, he'll be thrilled soon. Just you wait."

The snap had been gentle, like you had just come home after a long day, like you'd stepped through the door to see everyone you had ever loved all in one place and he was at the epicentre of it. Safe. Warm. Perfect.

Being a witch, you were never sure how life would look for you. Not even the cauldron understood your kind, you had always thought that perhaps the cauldron overlooked your species for the things most pure, like mating bonds and children. Witchlings were rare, you were the lone example of it, perhaps a part of you thought that you weren't allowed to have any love or joy, that you weren't good enough for it.

And there it was right in front of you, with the male a part of you had always yearned for, dancing in ash.

In the weeks that followed, Azriel did all he could to avoid you. No reason was good enough to make Azriel even glance in your direction let alone utter anything to you.

It had gotten to the point where you had asked Rhys for the keys to the cabin, you packed up your things and stepped through time to stand on that cold wooden floor with moonlight drifting through the small square windows.

You’d never thought that you could ever feel so alone, but as you stood there in a cabin so cold that you could see your own breath, the loneliness certainly began to set in.

There was little else to do other than light a fire to warm the little cabin on the outskirts of the city and run a bath; the tub was surrounded by candles, the ottoman at the foot of it was full of scented oils and salts which made your heart flutter. At least if you were to wallow in your own heartbreak you’d be able to do it smelling like the ocean surrounded by candlelight.

Bubbles crept up your neck as you sank into the wooden tub, it should have been a tranquil moment for you, but it was far from it in reality.

Az, please. Just talk to me. I'm still y/n, I'm still your friend. Things don't have to change.

Instead of enjoying the alone time like you should have considering that it was rare to have a minute of peace in a city full of needy children, you sat and let your mind wonder just how everything had gotten so messed up. You understood his confusion, really, you did, you understood how conflicting it must have been for him to separate with Elain, the female he was ready to spend the rest of his existence with, to then find out he was mated to you, not just you as his friend, but you as a witch.

Talk to me.

Too many tears had been spilled, you couldn't stop them from flowing from your eyes each time Azriel would fumble some excuse to get away from you. The bond was cold, it was like trying to break through a shield, an icy 10 foot deep floor that wouldn't even crack under whatever you would throw at it.

If you need me to leave then I will, Az. I'll leave for you, so you can have space, so you can think.

In the weeks that followed the revelation, you'd done all you could to try and get through to him, to let him know that you weren't expecting him to accept it, that he could take all the time he needed to process everything before speaking to you, all you needed was a sign that he was listening to you, that you mattered. It didn't surprise you that Azriel hadn't exactly thought about you in the predicament, of what it had done to you, and you couldn't even be angry at him over it because you'd be the same.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt though.

Dark skies littered with blinking starlight was cast overhead, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful that you were sure that it was some kind of abstract painting on a black canvas. The cabin used to be one of your favourite places, Azriel and you used to escape there frequently, spending nights upon nights drinking Rhys' best wine and talking about everything and nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from the memories, your eyes drifted to the clock softly ticking on the wall and you frowned, it was quite late. Lifting yourself from the tub, you wrapped a towel around your frame and padded over to the door, your wet footprints embedding themselves in the wood below. Slight disappointment sliced through you when you opened the door to see Mor, Nesta and Feyre on the deck shivering in the brisk breeze.

"We brought supplies," Nesta pushed past you, placing a wicker basket on the table and shrugging off her coat, "By supplies I mean wine, wine, and more wine."

Mor and Feyre entered, sniffing the air with soft smiles, they had always loved your scent, it was peaceful, like ocean waves lapping against the side of a mountain at dusk, airy, blissful, fresh.

The news had spread around the Inner Circle rather quickly thanks to Rhys, he had told Cassian, and well, Cassian wasn't exactly known for holding his tongue. The Lord of Bloodshed had apologised to you, feeling guilty for making things worse between you and Azriel, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was for the Shadowsinger to simply look at you. Anything else was a pointless worry. Not worth your time.

Tugging the towel tighter around your frame, you forced a smile, "This is really nice. Thank you."

Strangely, both Nesta and Feyre had been surprisingly supportive of the bond between you and Azriel. To them it made sense, you had been friends for over 500 years, you both struggled with fitting in, and you only felt truly comfortable to let your walls down around one another. To them, the bond had been there for a long time, waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad that the perfect moment had ended up making feel like the most worthless creature on the planet.

"Has he let you in yet?" Nesta rested her hand on your shoulder, her other hand was busy handing you a goblet of wine which you hugged closely to your chest and shook your head, "I'm sorry y/n. I really thought he would have by now."

"Give it time. He'll come around," Feyre draped her cloak over the arm of one of the dining chairs, smoothing out her skirt. It had always astounded you just how perfect they all were, the Archeron sisters that is, it was hard to understand how any male couldn't be attracted to them. They were quite heavenly.

"You've all been saying that for weeks," you shrugged off Nesta's hand, exasperated, "If anything he's become colder. Azriel doesn't acknowledge me, he looks right through me, he finds any reason possible to not be in the same room as me and when he sees me in the halls he turns on his heels and runs."

"I'm now living in this damned cabin hoping that some space will help him," your shoulders dropped, "I've waited my entire existence for this, I started to think that I wasn't worthy of it, and when it happened and the bond snaps with the one person I know that I could be truly happy with," your bottom lip wobbled slightly, but you choked it down and swallowed hard, "He ran."

Mor leaned forward in her seat, wide eyes under her perfectly sculpted furrowed brows, "It has nothing to do with you, y/n."

"How am I supposed to believe that when he won't even look at me?"

Something thick and fluffy draped over you, Nesta's robe that you always eyed was resting on your shoulders, "Go and get in your comfy clothes, then we can talk and bitch until all you feel is anger."

Amongst the chatter, you spied the three leather bags full to the brim of differing clothes and cosmetics, and then you realised that you weren't alone, not really, not when those three bags of clothes and trinkets belonged to the three females in the cabin with you, clearly ready to move in and stay with you until you were ready to face life again.

Who needed a man when you had three raging bitch queens?

Nesta was right, you just had to get back to work.

If anything was going to be able to distract you from that aching in your chest, then it would be work.

Luckily, Rhys, whilst he loved your abilities greatly, saw you as much more than just a celestial witch residing in his court, he likened you to a sister, blood family, which meant that he trusted no one more than you to act on his behalf when it came to court politics.

Holding such a position meant that you were rather close with the High Lords, they never saw you as Rhys' lackey at all, they saw you as a being that cared greatly about the continent who would stop at nothing to ensure harmony in all jurisdictions. Such a role meant that you were also required to entertain the High Lords whenever they visited Velaris, a place you had extended to them after the war to aid their research and better their own courts, with your help of course.

That particular evening, Rhys had asked you to entertain a certain High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra; he was visiting Lucien and his new mate, Elain, and the entire visit was putting Azriel on edge. So, naturally, you couldn't say no.

"I always love our dinners, y/n," Eris' whisky amber gaze burned into you, searching the supernatural speckles in your own.

It was no secret that Eris had a flame for you, a being he found intriguing beyond belief, in the grasp of the Night Court when Eris knew how much you would thrive in Autumn by his side. The High Lord had offered Rhys pretty much everything he could to try and convince him to let him near you. All attempts had been swiftly denied.

Plates were littered with blotches of sauce and chicken bones, two empty bottles of red had been disposed of long ago, and you were just about to order that sticky toffee slice that made your toes curl when Eris asked, "When were you going to tell me about you and Azriel, hm?"

Candlelight drifted over the side of his face, illuminating his eyes against the darkening backdrop. "What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, swirling the second glass of your third bottle that evening in perfect circles in his palm, "Come on, y/n. You reek of him, that cedar scent that even I have to admit is rather interesting."

In all of your self wallowing and sudden busyness you hadn't realised that the scent of the mating bond lingered on you, entwining with your scent of blissful oceans to create something new, something drowning. Something suffocating.

"I can admit that the news did hurt me, just a little bit," Eris, since the war, had allowed his hair to grow out. It sat just below his shoulders, layered and playful, he had it lazily pulled back low on his head. Something about that hair and those eyes made you question everything you knew, and you did know that you weren't the only one who felt like that when around the High Lord of Autumn.

Fluttering your lashes at Eris, you ran your fingers across the line of your bodice, "I apologise. It seems that fate wanted to lead me elsewhere."

Eris dismissed the waiter, eyes grinning at you through his lashes, "Let's go to Rita's. I need to drink some more, and you," he pointed to you, knowing that he was interrupting a rather important date with a rather important pudding, and said, "Need to loosen up, Witchling."

That fucking name.

You were sure that steam was emitting from your ears, but you couldn't deny that he was right, you couldn't really remember the last time you let loose and danced the night into oblivion. So you grabbed your purse from the table, a ornate gold cage that matched the intricate details of your skirt, and rose from your seat, "I hate how right you are, Vanserra. Let's go."

The High Lord towered over you, like all of them did really, stupid high fae and Illyrians and their stupid perfect genes making them so handsome and mysterious and utterly fuckable.

Stumbling from the restaurant at the edge of the Sidra, you looped your arm through Eris' and he practically had to pull you along the streets of the city or else you'd go and do a ritual in a field or something. Despite his crush, Eris found that part you a bit odd. In a way, you did too.

"When are you going to come to Autumn, Witchling? You know you'd love it there."

Eris propositioned you with the notion every time he saw you, he clearly thought that if he pestered you about it enough then you'd agree to it one day. Even just a fleeting visit would be enough to satisfy him. Just a day or two. You couldn't deny that Autumn piqued your interest, and with everything going on, perhaps a little break would do you some good.

"Maybe sooner than you think," despite the shameless flirting, you were glad that you could call Eris your friend, underneath that mask of loathing, you found the High Lord to be complex, and he appreciated your understanding. You were the only being that had ever approached him with kindness and treated him for who he truly was and not what he displayed. "All of this stuff with Azriel is spinning my mind. I feel like I'm going insane."

Eris hummed, tugging you a bit tighter into his side as he draped his arm over your shoulder, something completely platonic that you knew would send a certain someone spiralling, "That's what mating bonds do, y/n. I know that everyone keeps on telling you that he'll come around, I hope he does. Truly." It was the first time you had seen him say something and know that he was sincere of it "But, for tonight and tonight only, you are mine and we are going to drink and dance until we physically can't anymore, alright?"

Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze, "Alright."

Rita's was packed to the brim, you could feel the music thumping through the air so intensely that the ground beneath your feet was vibrating in time with the bass. Suddenly, you felt overdressed, but Eris commanded that you not think of it as he pulled you through the doors and past the guards who nodded at you with a curt smile as you clicked by.

In Velaris, you were quite known for being the wild one, the entire city was in awe of you and the powers you displayed so beautifully. More often than not, you would be found in the poorer parts of the city enchanting the children with your magic, curls of water would dance along their cheeks, and they would gasp when you would pluck a star from the sky and rest it in the palm of your hand. You knew what it felt like to feel alone and forgotten, being the last existing witch in your coven and all, and you didn't want anyone else to feel like that. So, if some water and a star would bring some form of happiness to those children, then you'd spend the rest of your life bringing them that wonder.

Eris tugged you through the grinding bodies, some of which parted as soon as they saw your eyes glistening in the lights, and stopped at the bar, shouting over the music to order drinks for you both before he turned, handing you a glass of what you could only assume was straight liquor, "To stealing you from the Night Court, Witchling," Eris raised his glass, rolling your eyes, you met it with a clink and wasted no time in downing the liquid, relishing in the burn that travelled down your throat and chest.

"Keep dreaming, Vanserra."

Hand on heart, Eris swayed into you, "Oh believe me, y/n, I do."

If you had known who was staring at you from across the room then you would have taken a step away from Eris, much like if you had seen the shadows followed you since you left the cabin that evening you wouldn't have agreed to go to Rita's. It was too late to do anything when your eyes connected with his, yours widened in surprise and solemn shock as his own narrowed, flickering between you and Eris before softening.

Of course, the first time Azriel actually looked at you was when you were stood beside Eris Vanserra, a High Lord, the brother of the one now laying with Elain.

Fuck.

It was like he didn't even see you really, he only saw Eris standing far too close to the one the cauldron had decided to be his mate. There was no way to be blind to the hatred between them, and with Azriel's temper and Eris' flare for the dramatics, you weren't surprised that Rhys had asked you to entertain the latter for the evening.

Noticing how your body froze, Eris frowned, he followed your line of sight to the Shadowsinger perched at a booth across the room ignoring both Cassian and Rhys who were trying to speak to him, to keep him calm.

Rhys. I didn't know.

I know, y/n. It'll be fine. We can handle Az if you can handle Eris.

Stiffly nodding, you turned to speak to Eris, to convince him to leave and find another place to drink, but he was gone. Then you saw his red hair moving through the crowd and you cursed, colourfully, and you scrambled through the crowd to try and reach him before he did something stupid.

Rushing up the steps to the usual booth reserved for the Inner Circle only, you stopped in your tracks as Eris' voice sliced through the chilled air, "When are you going to give our sweet y/n a break, Rhys? I keep on asking her to come to Autumn but she keeps on refusing."

Stop talking.

"It seems that she could use a break now more than ever."

Stop fucking talking.

"Especially since the bond is unrequited and she's sat in that little cabin day in day out wondering what her fate will be."

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tugged on him, harshly, like you were reprimanding a dog on a leash, "Stop talking."

Little did you know, that one touch alone was enough to make Azriel visibly flinch and shudder with pain. That one act pierced his heart deadlier than Elain ever had or could, the way your fingers rested just over Eris' pulse, the way you looked at him with flame in your eyes, it was too much.

Eris wouldn't hurt you, you were the closest thing he had to a true friend, bit his loosened lips would be the end of you, "You both know that this isn't fair on her. Why is she the one who has to sit in misery and move to the outskirts of this city in order to make your poor Azriel more comfortable?"

Tension bubbled, Rhys was slowly rising from his seat whilst Cassian angled himself in front of Azriel, probably to stop the Shadowsinger from doing something he would come to regret, "Eris, you're making it worse," he finally gave you his attention, "Just wait outside for me, we can find somewhere else to drink, okay?"

It took him a moment, but your pleading eyes convinced him to listen, and Eris moved from your side, disappearing from you and leaving you stood before three Illyrians, all of which you were sure didn't wish to be around you in that moment. Fiddling with your fingers, you looked up from the ground at them, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were going to be here. You told me to keep him entertained, I'm sorry."

Rhys froze, his breath caught in his throat, and Azriel was glaring at him with such intensity that it made even you shrink, and you didn't shrink away from anything or anyone, "I'll go. I'm sorry," your chest ached when Azriel didn't even glance in your direction, instead keeping his gaze trained on his High Lord who simply nodded once at you.

Then you left, you grasped Eris by the lobe of his ear and dragged him away from Rita's before Azriel could make him pay for his words, or even worse, Rhys. It took only a few blocks for Eris to swat your hand away, "I'm not a child, y/n." Eris rubbed the red tinged patch of skin at his ear with a pout.

Velaris watched on as you bundled down a cobbled path toward the bank of the Sidra, a place you went to often to channel your magic, it was serene and beautiful, and had been the perfect place for you to find your calm in the midst of such brutality, "That is my mate, Eris. Do you understand that? Azriel is going through so much already, he lost Elain to Lucien," Eris cocked his brow in warning but you continued, "Elain was meant to be the one for him, and as long as Az was happy then I could choke down everything I had ever felt for him because he deserved all of the happiness possible after everything he's been through. I could live alone for the rest of my days as long as he was happy. Then it turns out that he's mine, that he was always meant to be mine, it should have been the best day of our lives," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you were sick of it, of crying, you had never cried, it wasn't in your nature but it was all you could do these days.

"Azriel can't even look at me, I had to move out of the River House and isolate myself from everyone I love just to give him a moment to think and process everything," you turned to Eris, "You just had to prod him, didn't you? You just had to get under his skin. Do you know how this looks? Elain chose Lucien and then he sees me drinking with you?"

Eris ran a hand over his face and sighed, "I didn't mean to make things difficult, y/n. I just want what's best for you, what you deserve."

"I know and I appreciate that, I really do. I just wanted things to get better, not worse."

It astounded Eris how Azriel wasn't over to moon to have you as his mate, you were elegant and graceful, a formidable opponent, tactical and sharp, and one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk under the skies of Prythian. Perhaps he could have been a touch more sensitive to the situation at hand.

The moonlight waltzed over the rippling waters of the Sidra which acted as a mirror to the sky above, clear and bright, full of possibility.

The bond strained in your soul, empty and unrequited, a lone dying ember searching for its flame, and you knew then that Azriel was going to pull away from you more than ever.

"You should go back to the House of Wind," your voice was small and weak, "I'll see you before you leave tomorrow."

Eris took a step toward you, fumbling, knowing that he had messed up, "Please, y/n."

"Eris," he paused his movements, "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that nothing was going to change your stubborn mind, Eris retreated up the embankment and down the cobbled path, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Pebbles brushed together under your weight, moving flat to accommodate your position. You hugged your knees to your chest, unclasping your heels and tossing them aside, rubbing the skin on your ankles softly to alleviate the pinching that was once there.

How long could you go like this? How long would be able to deal with the rejection before it broke you? How long until you took Eris up on his offer and left Velaris forever?

You didn't have much time to think of an answer, not when a familiar cool pressure coiled at the small of your back, travelling up your spine and over your shoulders. The shadows drifted through your hair and you smiled sadly at them, at the sweet sign to tell you that you weren't alone.

"How did you find me?"

A shuffle sounded from behind you, shoes scraping along the pebbles, "This is our place. Where else would you go?"

You turned then, peering over your shoulder at him, examining him for a moment. Azriel certainly looked better, his eyes had lightened by a couple of hues and his skin was healthy an tanned to perfection, though, sadness and doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Silently cursing yourself, you turned back to the water. It was yours and Azriel's place, it always had been, until Elain came along that is and then it became your place. Whenever either of you had a bad day, the other would bring them there, to listen to the water rushing up on the rocks and watch the stars, and you'd talk, about anything that was bothering you and causing you any pain, and then suddenly you'd be alright again.

You rose from the ground, brushing little fragments of twigs and dirt from the golden swirls of your skirt, and Azriel gazed at you as you did, wondering how his best friend had become a stranger so quickly, "If I had known you were there tonight I wouldn't have taken him."

"I know," Azriel had his hands bundled into his pockets, afraid that if they lingered at his side then he would reach for you and risk a whole other world of pain, "I think we need to break the bond."

The world stopped moving.

"What?"

Azriel repeated, "I think we need to break the bond."

Break the bond.

It writhed in your chest, it writhed in pain and sorrow, striking you so deeply that you thought you may stop breathing, "I can't do it again. I can't be broken like this again, not with another Vanserra, not with anyone."

Thumping in your chest, your heart cried out, lurching around in its cage, and you struggled to form any words, "Az-"

"It's what's best for us, y/n."

No. No, no, no.

"How can you say that?" Azriel frowned, his hazel orbs softening, like he too was in pain, "I have done everything I can to give you space to process this, I moved out of our home, twice, to give you space to process whatever you need to process and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. I have gone 500 years being perfectly content of being your friend and that alone, because that was better than not having you at all. I stood by and watched you pine for Mor, and then her, the one who put such a wedge between us that I was reduced to polite hellos and nods. But I dealt with it, for you and your happiness. I dealt with all of the comparisons and pain, I dealt with the punishment of your feelings for her. I would deal with every ounce of hatred you throw at me if it meant that you would feel better, hoping that one day you'd realise that I have always been here for you, that I have always loved you in ways that no one else ever could."

You were pacing up and down the riverbank, pebbles knocking together as you walked, and Azriel stood before you unmoving, unknowing of what to say and only knowing that he needed it to end, "You never even gave it a chance," your choked whisper put him on edge.

Azriel had never seen you cry, had never heard of it happening, clearly Rhys had negated to tell him just how deeply the last few weeks had impacted you. To the point where you had actually cried. Tears gathered at your bottom lids and he noticed how you looked up at the sky to prevent them from falling.

"You never let me in."

Everything within Azriel was screaming at him to reach for you, the bond that he had frozen in place behind a wall of shadow was battering against the shield like a ram to break free and comfort you.

You were right, you had been his best friend, one of the few he could ever really depend on for everything. Elain had never liked you, she had always blamed it on her abilities not being able to harmonise with your own, but Azriel had always known it was deeper than that. Elain was a seer, and somehow it hadn't dawned on Azriel just how much she could have been hiding.

Elain hated it when he spent time with you, and being as in love as he was, he believed that it was down to some strange jealously that lingered on the surface. No one would have blamed Elain for her jealousy, you were truly a sweet creature, the other half to his marred coin that he had so carelessly tossed away. What if Elain had seen something and had chosen to lead Azriel away from you in order to preserve what she wanted them to share?

"I've given you everything I can," you sounded utterly defeated, "I don't know what else to do, Azriel."

His name was like a sonnet on your lips, one of heart-breaking sadness and longing, and he stepped to it, his shadows swirled around his body and drifted out to you. They had always adored you. They had always sought after you, a stark difference to their hiding from Elain.

"I would ruin you, y/n. You deserve so much more, so much better than me," his fingers twitched for you, he was so close yet so far from holding you, from inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo and the scent of your soul, of soft salted breezes and jasmine, "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you weren't worthy of love, and I'm so sorry for making you think that you were alone in the world," you had cocked your head to the side in question, "Rhys told me."

Azriel took another step forward, exhaling with relief when you didn't make a move to get away from him, "Love scares me. Elain had my heart in the palm of my hand and then crushed it, and then the bond snapped with you, with the one person I know would never hurt me, and I just couldn't risk it. I can't risk it. I can't risk being broken again, I can't risk hurting you."

All this time, when Azriel had been wallowing in the loss of Elain, of having to deal with her and Lucien's bond, he had completely neglected you, and your feelings. It was something you had never done to him, something you never could.

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, it carried your scent to him, and on inhaling it, he felt his entire body relax, he felt his aching disappear, and it was as though the world had gotten clearer. You turned away from him, hands folded over your chest and facing the river so that he couldn't see your tears, "I thought I was destined to be alone. The rules of your kind and the fae have never really applied to me, even the Cauldron doesn't understand me. I thought that it took the chance of love from me, but now I see that it was just some cruel joke."

Let her in. Feel her.

The shadows cooed to him, faintly, like a lullaby to a new-born babe.

"If it'll bring you peace," your voice broke, "Then break it. Break the bond. I'll find some other place to be."

Don't let her get away. Mate. She loves you. Love her. Let her in.

As though the world was tilting, Azriel let down that wall, he felt that bond slither over the seam of it to reach you, and then what he felt brought him to his knees.

Love. Wanting. Hope. Pain. Sorrow. Longing.

It consumed him with light, fighting off the demons that had been left to plague him, decimating them with the most pure substance in Prythian. Love.

When you heard his knees hit the ground you had turned and ran to where he knelt on the pebbles, meeting him as you slid onto your own, ignoring the stabbing into your skin, "Az? Are you alright? What's wrong?" You cupped his face in your hands and he felt each one of your fingertips flow life back into him.

The two tethers to the bond were dancing with one another, meeting in the middle and thrumming as two became one, turning dark skies into ones of bright sun and opulent warmth.

It was you. Sweet and fierce you. You who had always protected him, you who had always put him first even when he couldn't return it. You.

"Az? Talk to me, tell me what's happening. Do I need to call for Rhys? I'll get him right-"

Azriel stopped you before you could rise to your feet, the act of wrapping his fingers around your wrists enough to make your words vanish in your mouth, "You love me."

Settling into the space before him, knee to knee with him and his shadows itching to pull you closer, you didn't remove your hands from his, the feeling of it so powerful that it wiped all of your pain away, "I always have."

Walks along the Sidra. Visits to the bakery. The countless thoughtful gifts for Winter Solstice. The nights spent locked away in the cabin talking about dreams and fears.

Azriel's fingers drifted along your cheek before resting there, his thumb softly soothing the tightness in your jaw, "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because you deserve to be happy, even if it isn't with me," Azriel watched your bottom lip wobble, and that stream of love within him rippled with upset. His thumb moved to it, dragging across that plump flesh that he had always wondered of the taste.

Would you taste sweet or of lightly salted oceans? Of the air at dusk perhaps?

All he had ever chased was happiness, how foolish of him to be blind to the fact he had always had it within you.

"I think the only time I've ever truly been happy, at peace, has been with you. You've always felt like home," your eyes met and he offered you a small, genteel smile; his fingers moved to your hair, raking over your scalp and floating to rest on the small of your back, "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

Azriel hummed in admittance, "The worst part of all of this was that I left the House of Wind to be near you, because I could be, nothing was in the way of us anymore, and I knew you'd be the only one patient enough to deal with me. It was selfish, but you've always been the rocks on which the ocean crashes, you've always been the one I can turn to without fear of judgement. You understand me."

"I can still be that person, Az. I can still be your friend."

Resting his forehead against yours, Azriel spoke lowly, like he had just awoken from slumber, "Do you know how hard it is for me to not take you back to that cabin right now and make you mine?" The carnal desire was dwelling within him, a rabid need that begged to be satisfied, "But you deserve better, y/n. Better than what I've done. So if you'll let me, I want to do this properly. I want to court you and make you feel like you're the only woman in the world, and when you're ready, not me, you, then you can accept it for the both of us. Because you deserve the magic of the bond more than me, you deserve this happiness."

"And if you don't want to, then that's fine. I can live with what I've done, and if you want to move to Autumn and find happiness there then I won't stand in your way. In no world would I ever stop you from finding love and passion and joy, because you deserve it y/n, you are everything that is beautiful in this world and then some. Every single part of you is destined for greatness, for a love so powerful that people drown in it."

"I hate what I've done to you, I hate that I've made you feel unworthy of a mating bond and I'll never forgive myself for it. But if you let me, I'd like to show you that I want this, that I want you, and you can decide for yourself if a life with me is something you want."

Silence fell between you but you didn't make a move to pull away, you knelt in place, peering up at him with your hands resting on his biceps, channelling the pulsing energy of the Sidra as it ebbed and flowed downstream, "A life with you is all I've ever wanted."

The bond glowed, golden and blinding, and Azriel was struggling to keep himself together as he basked in the ocean of your love and devotion, "Can I kiss you? Please?"

If he wasn't searching for it then he wouldn't have even noticed the tiniest hazed nod directed at him. Even the stars had stopped their flickering to focus on you, their most prized possession, the only one capable of harnessing their power and turning it into something blissful and good. It was why they chose you.

Closing the gap, Azriel tilted your head upward to give him better access to the lips that had often haunted his dreams; the scent of jasmine entwined with his own and he felt himself hold his breath as he closed that gap between you.

Your lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined them to be, they tasted of fresh saltwater and some kind of sweet fruit from the gloss you always wore that made them shimmer in any light. It stopped the world from turning for a moment, the universe watched on as Azriel sealed your fates. Moving his fingers from the small of your back to your neck and deepening the embrace of your lips, Azriel relished in the taste of you, in your warmth, in the way his soul sang and his shadows pulled you in closer to him. It was a feeling he had waited his entire existence for, one you had also yearned for.

Utterly magical. Soul consuming.

Everything made sense then. How everything you had both endured was meant to be, just so that you could end up entwined in that moment. All of the pain and sorrow, all of the false love and distance, all of the laughter and sweet memories, it was all worth it. It was worth every morsel of agony.

"Such a sweet creature. My sweet creature."

"Yours?" Azriel hummed, pressing dainty kisses to the tip of your nose and cheeks, and you closed your eyes to consume his touch and shuddered when his lips landed on your collarbone, caressing the skin there, "I think I could get used to that."

Authors Note

Hey besties!

I got very carried away with this - sorry if it's not great, these pain meds are really kicking my ass right now so I haven't even properly proof read this yet xo

Taglist

@crazylokonugget @fxckmiup @rogersbarnesxx @emryb

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shadowdaddies · 9 months ago

Text

Overheard

Azriel x Reader angst → smut

based on this request

warnings: smut below the cut, exhibitionism

“Have a good night,” you murmured to Feyre, pulling away from her hug as you gave one final wave to the other females in the room and turned in search of your mate.

Cassian’s deep laughter boomed from the drawing room, and you smiled as you followed the sounds of his and Rhys’s sounds of jest, sure that was where your mate would be as well.

“A threesome?” Azriel’s voice cut through the room, stopping you in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest, your cheeks flushed with deep embarrassment as Azriel continued.

“You think she would be interested in a threesome?” he asked again, incredulous at what seemed to be Rhys’s suggestion by his response.

“I’ve offered the idea to Feyre before - it’s certainly an option to spice things up if you’re bored,” the High Lord purred.

Chest caving in on itself, you could feel the weight of your heart crumbling inward at everything you’d overheard. The thought that you weren’t enough for your mate brought tears to your eyes, guilt and worry wracking through your body.

Azriel was the first and only person you had ever had sex with, but he’d never made you feel insecure about it until now. Biting your lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, you made intentionally loud steps towards the drawing room and listened to the conversation stop.

Peering your head around the doorway, you forced pleasant smile as you tried to look at Azriel and failed, gaze falling to focus on the siphons at his shoulders instead.

Willing your most even voice, you managed to ask Azriel if he was ready to go home in what you hoped was convincing calm. With a subdued nod to Rhys and Cassian, you turned away from them without waiting and exited to the balcony.

The cool night air was a balm against your heated cheeks, damp lashes drying from the gentle breeze. “Is everything alright?” Azriel questioned softly, a scarred hand resting gently between your shoulder blades as he came to stand behind you.

“Fine, Az,” you eked out, granting him a curt nod before turning to help him lift you into his arms. “I’m just tired,” you lied, and while Azriel sensed it, he said nothing before holding you to his chest and shooting into the sky towards home.

Days passed with the same tension, Azriel’s very touch reminding you of how unsatisfying yours was to him. You curled up on the far side of the mattress at night, cold sending shivers down your spine despite the heated hazel gaze at your back, silently begging for answers to your avoidance.

But each time those golden eyes found yours and you found yourself yearning for Azriel’s touch, you were quickly drawn back into yourself and your apparent inadequacy. If Azriel would not talk to you about his desires in the bedroom, then you wouldn’t speak to him about what you had heard.

A week passed of the same routine - mumbled pleasantries and cold bedsheets - when you stood before the mirror, applying the finishing touches to your makeup before family dinner at the River House.

“You look beautiful,” Az murmured shyly from where he stood in the doorway. For a spymaster, he was incredibly clueless as to what he’d done wrong to deserve your distance this week. “Are you alright to go to dinner? We could stay here and talk, just the two of us.”

Biting back the bitter laugh that threatened to bubble out, your eyes slid to his through the reflection of the mirror. “No, Azriel, I’m perfectly happy to go to dinner.”

Your shoulder barely brushed his arm as you twisted through the doorway, slipping outside without bothering to see if he followed. Stepping into the cool evening breeze, you found only a moment of relief before the realization hit you that Azriel would need to carry you to fly.

With a frown, you looked over your shoulder to see your mate watching you with amused interest, hands tucked into his pockets as he shifted his wings playfully.

“Since you’re so intent on avoiding me, do you intend to walk to dinner? It should only take you a few hours... I could save you a plate,” he teased, mirthful eyes glittering in the glow of the setting sun.

“Or, you could let me fly you there?” he asked, arms outstretched, a satisfied smile stretching across his face to match as you begrudgingly stomped toward him and looped your arms around his neck.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, warm breath fanning your neck in a way that reminded you just how untouched you felt. Warm hands wrapped around the back of your legs, and you were lifted effortlessly, cradled into the toned heat of Az’s chest.

Taking off into the sky, Azriel loosed a defeated sigh when you turned your head away from him once more and opted to focus on the burning embers of the sun sinking over the mountains.

With the River House in sight, the tension in your body only grew as you were forced to remember last week - the males’ conversation that was the very reason for your current ire - unsure how you could put on a normal facade for this dinner.

Setting you down gently on the grass, Azriel tucked his wings in behind him, but as you turned to head into the house, his hand wrapped around yours in silent request. “Please talk to me,” he pleaded, voice rough with unspoken emotion.

Turning over your shoulder, you felt his guilt - and furthermore, his need - through the bond, striking you dumb. Gaze focused on you, touch hot against your own, you nearly caved to your desire for Azriel right there when the front door swung open.

“Come on in, we’re waiting on you!” Cassian hollered from the entry, effectively shattering the building tension as you recoiled into yourself once more.

“Come on, Az,” you muttered, locking your fingers with his as you plastered on a fake smile and led him into the foyer where Rhys and Feyre stood smiling.

Giving them each warm hugs, you feigned a pleasant manner as best you could before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s bicep - the most eager you had been to touch him all week - and his eyes flickered with something like anger at the motion.

“Excuse us, we need to have a talk,” Azriel growled out, his attempt at remaining civil much weaker than yours as he pulled you back towards the same drawing room you’d overheard him in last week.

“Go ahead and start eating without us,” Azriel called over a shoulder, just before Cassian and Mor could voice their complaints.

Shadows swirled around you, pushing the door closed with a click as Azriel’s arms caged either side of your head. “You can be angry with me all you want - I won’t stop you from processing whatever you need to feel in your own time - but we will not fake this relationship. I won’t pretend like everything is fine when it isn’t, and touch you in front of my family when you haven’t wanted to be near me all week.”

Your heart tumbled at his words, guilt weighing on you at the thought of showing your mate love that was anything less than the pure adoration you felt for him. But those feelings were quickly quelled as you remembered where you were, and your fierce gaze lifted to the shadowsinger’s.

“You won’t be ‘fake,’ is that it?” you taunted, chest heaving at the sheer anger you finally released after bottling it up for too long. “You won’t touch me in front of your family, because cauldron forbid they know something is wrong, but you would talk to your brothers about our sex life?”

Confusion flashed across Azriel’s face before shifting to anger that matched yours, his hands flexing against the wood behind you in an attempt to leash his ire. “What are you talking about?”

With a disbelieving scoff, you gestured dramatically to the room where he’d sat last time you were here. “I heard you, Azriel. Last week at dinner, you asked Rhys and Cassian if they thought I would be interested in a threesome. You never mentioned that to me, never even hinted that you might be ‘bored’ like Rhys said. You couldn’t talk to me, but you could talk to them?”

Your voice broke on the last words, too hurt to speak anymore. How could you trust your mate if he told others you weren’t good enough, and wouldn’t even tell you?

“Hey,” Azriel murmured, his voice much gentler as scarred hands cupped your cheeks, thumb wiping at a stray tear that had escaped. With a deep sigh, Az bent to press a kiss to your forehead, resting there for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“My brothers are idiots,” he growled. “Rhys and Feyre like to bring others into the bedroom on occasion, and he was only teasing that they’d be interested in joining us.”

Pulling away, Azriel looked down at you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak, one hand tucking under your chin to tilt your face to his. “I have never, ever found sex with you to be boring.” He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him at the thought.

“We were made for each other,” he whispered, lips hovering against your own. He released your chin in favor of sliding his hands down your body, resting on your waist where his thumbs rubbed soft circles against the fabric of your dress.

“You make me feel like nothing, no one, ever has before,” he breathed, the scent of your combined arousals dizzying. Your head fell back against the wood of the door, legs parting in silent plea for more of his touch that you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry, Az. I should have asked you before assuming,” you apologized, lips capturing his in a messy, quick kiss. “And now that you’ve explained, I’m not upset if bringing in Rhys is something you’d like to talk about.”

Shadows swirled erratically over Azriel’s shoulders, grip turning firm on your hips. “I am not interested in sharing you with Rhys, or any other male, for that matter,” he ground out, body pressing yours firmly against the door. “But since Rhys is so interested in our sex life, I’m happy to show him how not-boring it is.”

A knee pushed your legs open, scarred hands lifting your hips to settle your heat across Azriel’s thigh while shadows bunched your dress skirts up to your waist.

“I want you to be loud for me, love. Let them hear those pretty moans,” Az murmured against your neck. Onyx waves tickled your skin as warm lips tracked down your jaw, neck, chest. Pushing down the straps of your dress, he groaned at the sight of your breasts as they sprang free, skilled fingers teasing and twisting your nipples in tandem with your hips rolling needily against his quickly-dampening pant leg.

“Please,” you whispered, hands struggling to find purchase in your mate’s hair. “I need you now.”

“As my mate wishes,” Azriel murmured, undoing the ties of his pants before lining himself up at your entrance.

Cock rubbing through your slick folds, you mewled at the feeling of his tip brushing your clit, breathless as your lips parted at the stretch of him slowly pushing inside of you. Azriel held you suspended against the wall, his length speared impossibly deep inside of you while shadows roamed your body, cool wisps of air teasing places only they and their master knew.

“You are so beautiful,” Azriel whispered, chasing your lips with his own as he pulled out slowly, only to thrust sharply back inside of you.

A moan tore through your body, hand flying to your mouth instinctively to muffle the obscene sounds. Eyes gleaming with feral delight, Azriel tutted in disapproval.

“I told you, I want everyone to hear those pretty noises,” he teased as dark tendrils wound around your wrists and pulled them taut above your head.

“Don’t hold back,” was his only warning before Azriel started pounding up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you bounced limply on him, the pleasure too much to think of anything else.

You couldn’t hear so much as feel moans and mewls leaving your throat, raw sounds of pleasure echoing through the space as you neared your climax. Back bowed against the wooden door, your eyes shuttered at the feeling of Azriel’s thumb on your clit, sending you spiraling into a blinding orgasm.

Legs shook, and you thanked the Mother for a strong mate who held you as the last of your high wracked through your body, leaving you weak and satiated. Azriel moaned, sweat lining his brow as your mate’s cock twitched inside of you, warmth flowing into you when he hit his own high.

Sweaty limbs tangled with each other, euphoric smiles plastered on both of your faces while you collapsed to the floor in Azriel’s arms.

“You’re right,” you whispered softly against his chest. “I don’t know how I believed that could be boring.” Azriel laughed loudly at that, his hand affectionately threading through your hair as he pressed his lips to your head.

“No, I can’t imagine ever getting tired of you,” he swore, voice soft as velvet. Slowly, you both stood and pulled on your clothes, giggling at your weak attempts to look presentable - everyone knew what you did, after all.

Walking back down the hall to the dining room, you turned the corner to find everyone at the table staring at you with varying levels of shock and amusement. Azriel’s hand found your lower back, your mate the picture of nonchalance as he guided you to your normal seats and began loading your plates with food.

You looked around to see they hadn’t eaten much, eyes flicking to Mor who swirled her wine across the table. “You haven’t started eating?” you questioned softly, reaching for your own glass of water.

Red lips curved into a wry smile. “No, I don’t think many of us have the appetite anymore,” the blonde teased, arching a brow as honey eyes flicked between you and Azriel.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you struggled for words when Azriel spoke up for you. “Well, we have worked up quite the appetite,” he drawled, sending you a wink that had the table laughing and silverware chiming as everyone continued with the meal.

Pulling apart a piece of bread from your plate, you felt a warm, familiar hand slide dangerously close along your inner thigh. The scent of cedar and mist invaded your senses as Azriel leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Make no mistake, I will be having dessert when we get home,” he teased, squeezing your skin softly before turning back to his food.

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