#SPRING WAS MADE FOR SOMEONE LIKE ELAIN

[ataraxiasflame]

Some people aren’t ready to face the fact that the reason they think Elain is “boring” is because she’s stuck in the Night Court, entirely dependent on her sister and her sister’s High Lord mate. She hasn’t been given the chance to be who she wants to be, she’s only been allowed to adapt. (It’s almost like being in the Night Court…is sucking the life from her. See what I did there?)

Wishing for her to leave the Night Court is not an excuse to force her into a relationship with her mate…it’s to allow her the opportunity to be who she was born to be and the author made it very clear that it’s not going to happen in the Night Court.

Perhaps a Court that was described as ‘being made for someone like Elain’? Perhaps a court that could provide the sunshine to the seer who requested it at her most desperate and vulnerable time?

Elain is destined for more than just being the High Lady’s sister.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Through Feyre's eyes

This absolutely follows my favorite fic plotline where Feyre and Y/N are childhood best friends and when Nesta and Elain are taken, Y/N is taken as well and Cauldron Made. 

This is Feyre, watching her best friend fall for her brother in law 💙

I def recommend reading The Night Court’s Justice and The Beginning of Your Life with Azriel. I’m pulling stuff from both those fics.  

Feyre truly didn’t know how Y/N would react to this world. 

Y/N hated change, she hated socializing unless she had her emotional support extrovert with her (Feyre or Elain), but, at the same time she loved adventure. 

And this was possibly a bigger adventure than even her favorite books were about. 

According to Rhys’ messages while Feyre was at the Spring Court, Y/N was taking a while to warm up to them. Shorter than it took Feyre (which was surprising) to warm up, but Y/N even left her room after a few hours being cooped up. 

She had helped nurse Cassian and Azriel back to health with Madja, quickly finding her footing even though Y/N absolutely hated medical things. 

When Feyre came back from the Spring Court, Y/N nearly took her out with her new strength. 

“Sorry, I'm still getting used to it. I broke a mug this morning.” She said into Feyre’s hair. Then pulled away from her, “Actually I’m not sorry, you left! Again!” She scolded Feyre, and Feyre had never been happier to be scolded. 

Feyre grabbed the necklace she always wore, the one she had matching with Y/N. “I had you with me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed her own necklace out of her shirt. “Bitch.” 

“Loser.” And you two clinked your necklaces together.

And that was that. 

The first dinner that night, Feyre introduced you to Lucien. She saw the blush on your cheeks and knew you thought he was handsome, Feyre herself thought he was. 

Eventually, everyone had sat at the table, you were in between Cassian and Azriel, almost like you had every dinner since she was gone. 

“Your friend is a horrid nurse.” Cassian wrinkled his nose. 

“Okay listen, I’m not used to this shit.” You said, passing the beets to Azriel. Who graciously accepted it, a light blush dusting his cheeks that told Feyre everything she needed to know. 

She glanced at Rhys who widened his eyes slightly and said in her mind “He’s been pining since she told him to ‘sit the fuck down’ when he tried to get up too early.” Rhys had a hearty chuckle, “Meanwhile I decided I wanted her around.” Feyre let out a small smile. 

“You should not gag when seeing a tendon in your patient's wing!” Cassian declared. 

Y/N gagged at the reminder. 

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

Watching her best friend fall in love brought Feyre an incredible amount of joy. She was a natural meddler and nosey in general. 

She watched as Azriel and you became inseparable. Although she had her mate to thank for that, after all you became the Night Court’s Justice and then you and Azriel began a professional partnership. 

It stressed her out, you being away. You were her emotional support person, even before her husband and mate. But you two would have mental conversations every day if you could. Unless you and Az were deep undercover. 

The secret smiles, the inside jokes, the memories that you and Az shared. She loved witnessing them.

Then, your accident happened. 

She hadn’t felt terror like that since Rhys ‘died’. When Rhys had informed her that you were on your deathbed, and that he had instructed a carriage to come and retrieve you and Azriel, she thought she was going to throw up. 

She insisted on being in the carriage, which then prompted Rhys to insist she take Nesta with her as Nesta had all the training of an Illyrian and could, frankly, kill someone with a single swipe of her hand. 

That worked out just fine for her, as Nesta and you were close as well. Her and her sister were repairing their relationship. What’s a 12 hour jaunt through the forest to retrieve their near-dead friend? 

A lot. That’s what it was. 

They argued, they threatened. But it all came from a place of worry as those arguments would end with hugs and comfort that they both needed. 

They didn’t rest either, not until they saw you. About four hours in, Rhys had reached out and alerted Feyre that you had awoken, you were eating and giving Azriel shit. 

She was so relieved she wept, and when she shared the news with Nesta, she swept too. 

When they arrived at the Inn, and alerted the Innkeeper Esther greeted them and let them know you had just woken up and Azriel would bring you out shortly. She made her husband bring out your belongings. 

He brought out a bag and she could smell your blood on the clothes in them. It made her nearly sick. She knew Nesta felt the same way. They wouldn’t ease until they saw you. 

But they didn’t wait long, once they got your bags put away in the carriage, Azriel was coming outside with you in a bridal carry.

And the best part? You were smiling. 

She let out a breath of relief that Nesta echoed. Then the smell hit them. “Their mating bond has snapped.” Feyre whispered to Nesta. 

Nesta gave her a shit-eating, conspiratorial grin. “Oh, the boys will have fun teasing him.” 

And they did when you all got back and they watched him bridal carry you into your room at the townhouse. They then watched him nurse you back to health, like you did for him many moons ago. 

If she could’ve designed the perfect male for her best friend, it would’ve been Azriel. She had never seen him smitten because she had obviously just entered his life, but she’d say he was smitten for you.

You never lifted a finger. He’d get your doors, push in your chairs, he treated you like a princess. And he was your prince because you gave that energy right back to him. 

You had a habit of rambling. In the past, she watched as your partners would ignore you and the light dimmed from your eyes when you realized they weren’t listening. Azriel however, not only clearly listening, he smiled while you talked as if just your voice brought him joy. He would respond with questions and let you go into another rambling as you explained the answer. 

She watched you become a shell of yourself with your old partners. You blossomed with Azriel. 

You two always had some point of contact with each other. Not in the gross PDA way, but like your thighs touching sitting next to each other. Your foot on his leg. A hand hold. Hand in arm. Anything. 

She was happy to see the changes in him as well. Rhysand felt the same way. He was outwardly smiling and laughing. More affectionate with his friends. Hell, he was more confident in his hands, he allowed others to touch them and even wore rings now that he loved. 

Rhysand had told Feyre “He’s always wanted to wear jewelry but was worried his hands would look bad with them. I will forever be grateful to Y/N for making him more confident and comfortable.”

His shadows even buzzed about more. You giggled because they loved your hair. 

The honeymoon phase wasn't a ‘stage’ for you two. It was the whole relationship. Of course, you two had your arguments, every partnership did. And she definitely heard about them. But you always came back together in the end, you always knew you would. It made her so incredibly happy you had that security and safety with him. No matter what argument, you knew in your soul and bones, he would never cheat, never leave. 

She felt content knowing her best friend was taken care of. She also looked forward to a lifetime of double dates.

[highladyandromeda]

Shadows of the Heart

Prologue

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions. 

Y/n’s powers are inspired by Scarlet Witch from Marvel. She is a sorceress living in Vallahan, with her family hailing from the night court. 

Word count: 1k-ish

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, but nothing particularly graphic

Azriel stood off to the side, quietly observing the cozy scene in the House of Wind's living room. There was Feyre, nestled comfortably on Rhys's lap, her giggles echoing softly as she leaned in to catch his whispered words. In the corner, Amren made an art out of lounging, a smirk playing on her lips as she peered over her wine glass. Cassian had wrapped an arm around Nesta, her head bent together with Gwen and Emerie, engrossed in a lively discussion about their latest read. The ambient buzz of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses filled with Rhys's impressive wine, created a backdrop of contented harmony.

Azriel tried his best to shove aside the twinge of jealousy that crept up on him, watching his brothers and their bliss. He didn't want to feel like just an onlooker, basking in the warmth of their happiness, yet here he was. His mind wandered to Elain, who had opted for an early night. Would her presence have allowed him to drift away from this feeling, to find solace in her gentle smiles and tender gazes? It seemed chasing fae after fae with hearts as bright as the sun was his lot in life. Yearning for a sliver of light in his shadowed existence, a beacon like Elain, or Mor, someone to take him out—that's when he noticed it—his shadows, usually so still, began to stir anxiously around him.

In danger, in danger, they whispered, urgency threading through their murmurs.

In pain. Falling, falling, the ones closest murmured, their voices escalating into a desperate shout.

Springing to his feet, Azriel scanned the room, brushing off the puzzled glances thrown his way. Then, a sharp thud echoed, quickly followed by a cry that cut through the relaxed chatter. In a heartbeat, he was dashing towards the balcony, with Rhys and Cassian hot on his heels, all three propelled by the sudden urgency to uncover the source of the disturbance that had just intruded upon their peaceful evening.

Bursting through the balcony doors, Azriel was met with a scene that defied all expectations. Chaotic runes smeared across the floor in hasty, overlapping strokes forming an intricate magical circle. At its heart lay two figures: a faerie kneeling, her skin so pale it shimmered with almost ethereal light, ebony locks sprawling untidily about her. Her eyes, aglow with an intense crimson, matching the runes surrounding her, pierced through the night. Dark stains marred her robes—wounds, he realized, still seeping blood from her arm and leg. She cradled Mor’s head in her lap, their gazes locking in a moment so profound, that Azriel felt the world around him come to a standstill. He swore he felt his heart stutter, a memory long forgotten trying to urge its way out. Mor, his attention snapped to, was equally pale, her lips tinged a sickly shade of blue.

“What did you do to–” Just as Azriel began, he saw the female look behind him, exclaiming, “Rhys! 

“Y/n?” Rhys ran to her, his hands frantic, unsure of whether to hold her or lean for Mor. 

“Rhys” She began again, her breaths coming out in spurts. She grabbed his hand as he leaned down to hold her, “Poison…she’s been poisoned, needs tonic–”

Barely finishing her sentence, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, Rhys’s hands halting her from hitting the floor. 

“Call for Madja” Rhy yelled. “Mor’s been poisoned and perhaps Y/n as well.”

Before Azriel could react, Cassian stepped up, carefully lifting Mor, while Rhys carried Y/n, both moving swiftly back into the sanctuary of the house.

They found a bedroom with two twin beds, laying one on each. 

Madja, a whirlwind of expertise, raced around both, focusing her skills on stabilizing Mor's precarious state. Meanwhile, Rhys was tasked with a grim duty, pressing down on Y/n's wounds, which despite the salves and a plethora of cloths, continued bleeding relentlessly.

"It's the runes," Amren interjected, her voice slicing through the turmoil like a blade. All eyes, save for Madja's, who momentarily lessened the fervor of her tonic mixing, turned to her.

"She utilized ancient magic," Amren stated, her declaration hanging in the air, dense with implications, yet devoid of further explanation, prompting Rhys to press for clarity.

"And that means?" 

The urgency lacing Rhys's voice caught Azriel off-guard. Who was this female, who seemed so familiar and why was she so important to Rhys? He felt a spark of anger at the way Rhys held her, despite knowing Rhys's heart belonged to Feyre.

"It means she offered her blood as a sacrifice. Likely to transport herself and Mor here. Inspect Mor for runes," Amren directed without pause.

Before Amren's words could fully settle, Madja cut through the sleeves of Mor’s dress, revealing an arm ensnared by crimson runes, mirroring those that marred the balcony. 

It was then that Azriel's senses sharpened, recognizing the scent that pervaded the air—a metallic tang he had initially overlooked in the chaos. Blood. Those runes, those symbols, all wrought from blood. Recollections of the massive circles they had traversed to enter this scene played back in his mind, causing his stomach to churn. It was reflected in Feyre's gasp as she rushed to aid Y/n, while Rhys was overtaken by a wave of nausea.

The room, already tense with fear and uncertainty, was engulfed in a silent horror as Madja's voice, though trembling, broke through the silence. "She's correct. The blood serves as an anchor for Morrigan's soul. The runes must bind Morrigan to..."

"Y/n's," Rhys provided, his voice steady in the thick silence.

"Yes, to Y/n's very essence," Madja concluded. "This means Y/n will continue to suffer, to bleed, until Morrigan shows signs of recovery. In exchange.”

A heavy silence settled over them, punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of Madja grinding her herbs, as the gravity of their situation unfolded.

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

Author's note: Hi everyone! I’ve been a lurker in the acotar fandom for ages, this is my first time writing, so do let me know what you think. I'm not totally sure how far I want to take this series, but I do have longer chapters planned ahead.

[lullabesstie]

YALL?? I just realised that Lucien doesn’t live with Jurian and Vassa anymore????

That would explain THIS

“Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring”

“Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green—the light, vibrant green of new grass—so many birds singing and such warm, buttery sunshine…But Elain…The Spring Court had been made for someone like her.”

“no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…it sucked the life from her”

When I read these lines i was like why would Elain go to the spring court?? no one is there but Tamlin, then i find out that LUICEN LIVES THERE TOO?? 🥹🥹

[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

could you write a azriel/reader fic where he only starts dating reader because elain and gywn are not interested in him and she's available and she overhears someone else talking about it a few months into their relationship but sees azriel being involving in their relationship and deludes/convinces herself into thinking he really likes her, but something happens and they fight(jealousy? you can choose a reason tbh) and he tells her that he only dated her bc elain/gywn weren't interested in the heat of the moment(maybe she brings it up? or he could say it himself tbh, idm) and has to grovel. you can take this whichever direction you want to, if you have other ideas about certain areas!

I see her in the back of my mind

He was a thunderstorm. Lethal yet so beautiful. Like a pyre, lighting up the darkness and calling you in. Calling them all in. Weaving the traps and lurking in his shadows. The unlucky soldier of love. Falling and falling and falling but never finding the right one. Never finding the satisfaction. Never finding that peace deep within. It was that sad part of his that called to you. That made your heart cry out for him. You understood that pain. That need. That desire to have someone. To hold someone and feel them holding back onto you just as tightly.

It was a surprise to you when he sat by your table at Rita’s. For the most part, he had only been polite to you. But his eyes had never lingered. He had been seeing Gywn too at the time. And you weren’t a home wrecker but it didn’t last long. He crawled back to Elain only to be thrown over the curb again once she slithered back to Lucien after a couple of weeks of ruffled sheets with the spymaster.

“You look in need of company”, he mused. Although now that you look back on it. It was his gaze that kept on going back and forth between your table and the one he had abandoned. “You look in need of water”, you chuckled watching him sway even while sitting down. “It’s nothing”, he hiccuped with a smile, “I just had to come to say hi, you had my attention all night”. Your heart had skipped a beat. Who wouldn’t have dreamed of being admired by the spymaster of the night court? “Just pretty words”, you brushed him off. “If I swung over to your shop tomorrow and told you the same thing stone sober would you believe me?” You had thought nothing of it. Nothing until he showed up. And said the exact thing he had promised just hours ago.

Everything that followed suit was a whole mess of everything. Stolen kisses. Long nights spent talking. Hand-written letters. He was there. Always. Everywhere. And innocent touches had quickly turned into racing heartbeats. Sweaty bodies. Cries of pleasure as he unraveled parts of you, you didn’t know existed. It was sweet. Blooming slowly.

“Accompany me to a ball in spring tomorrow night?”, he whispered, kissing your shoulder. “Tomorrow night?”, you gasped, “I have nothing appropriate to wear”. You shook your head. “Don’t worry it’s taken care of”, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, “I wasn’t gonna go, but… plans changed and quite frankly, I would love to show you off”, Azriel smiled at you. How your heart had soared when the thought of being his officially crossed your mind.

But you should have known that it was too good to be true. Should have seen the signs. Should have known. From the moment you opened the box with the dress. To pull out a baby pink gown, laced with flowers. You had frowned slightly, imagining that he would have wanted you to wear something close to his sapphire blue, to the depths of his shadows. But you had pushed it all aside. Maybe it was a themed party in spring. Maybe light colors were a must.

Then there was a whole lot of him being distant. He was close to you, yes but his mind was elsewhere. Azriel’s eyes barely stayed on you. Instead, he was scanning the crowd. Pulling you with him as if you were only an added accessory. “Az, are you looking for something?”, you asked starting to feel frustration bubbling. “No, just… need to see someone”, he muttered. “Can you do that alone? Or do I need to be dragged around like a dog”, you huffed, pulling your hand out of his. “Don’t be childish…”, he grunted.

And then he halted. Making you slam into the side of him. And you wished you hadn’t looked up because you imagined knew who had his full attention. There she was in a yellow dress. Golden curls flowed down her shoulders. She was stunning. You got the appeal. Azriel stepped forward. Your hand was forgotten. A light gasp slipped past your lips as you watched him go. “Az”, you called out walking right after him. But he never answered.

You watched him embrace Elain. Watched her smile at him. A fire burning you from within. You had no idea what part of you possessed you to walk towards them. But you did. “Azriel”, you called out once more. “Elain”, he muttered, “this is yn”. “I’m his girlfriend”, you added, extending your hand to her. She only smiled at you. “Love the dress”, she looked you over. “Azriel got me the same one but I didn’t love the color so I sent it back”, your face fell, alongside your heart. “And the necklace. Didn’t you give this to Gywn?”, she chuckled, before tapping your cheek, “You sweet thing”. Her eyes turned to Azriel for a brief moment, “You know where to find me”, she whispered. And even if Azriel didn’t nod. Even if there wasn’t a single way to know what was on his head. You knew his mind was made. You knew where those late-night calls took him.

You let out a bitter laugh before turning away from him. “Y/n”, he called out but you were done. Done being plaid. “Your bitches shit? Seriously Azriel? You gift me the same shit you gave to other bitches you fucked?”, you hissed turning to face him. “Don’t call them like that”, he muttered. Your wind eyes watched him, “The audacity… You are a fucked person”, you practically spat at him.

“I needed you, okay?”, he hissed, walking after you. “What for? To be your punching bag? A heartbreak fuck?”, you whinnied, pulling at your hair. “I liked you, okay, you caught my eye”, Azriel replied, making you halt. “Past tense. You used the past tense”, you turned to face him, “Liked”, and your eyes looked him over. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…”, he started. “I curse you, Azriel from the night court. I curse you in love”, an angry tear slipped past your cheek, “May you never find peace with any of your future lovers”.

[azrielsdove]

Jealousy, Jealousy: Lucien x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+

***

He had no claim to you, no reason to be so jealous as he watched you with the Shadowsinger. The way you threw your head back in laughter, holding onto his arm. The way he looked at you, like you were the brightest star in the universe. Which, to be fair, you were. Lucien couldn’t deny it.

He wanted you. He’d been obsessing over you for a century now, since the first time you visited the Spring Court. Rhysand had sent you, his emissary, to meet with Lucien. He took one look at you and knew it was over for him.

And now he was mated to someone else. Told by the cauldron that Elain was the one made for him, the one he was made for. Lucien felt that had to be wrong. How could it be true, when he still only had eyes for you? He tried with Elain, he was kind, cordial. It didn’t help that she wanted nothing to do with him.

He watched as Azriel pulled you onto his lap, his fingers trailing up and down your thigh. He watched as you whispered something in his ear, ending it with a kiss to his skin. His hand tightened on his glass, the whiskey burning wonderfully as he sipped it. He felt the fire under his skin, knowing he was ready to burst into flames. It should be his lap you were sitting on, his fingers running up your exposed leg.

Lucien was aware that he was staring, that it was obvious to anyone who looked at him what was wrong. He was past the point of caring. He had wanted you for so long, so long, and was now forced to watch you choose another.

Of course, he had his chance with you many moons ago. Before Amarantha, before the war, before Elain. Her name ran around his head like a curse. He took another drink, becoming lost in his memories.

“Lucien!” You gasped, splashing the water back at him. On your latest visit to the Spring Court he had decided to take you to the pool of starlight. He knew you would appreciate its beauty, especially being from the Night Court. Your eyes had lit up in a most delightful way, Lucien’s heart beating fast at the sight. You wasted no time stripping down to your underclothes, dipping into the stars.

Lucien followed quickly after, pulling his shirt and trousers off. He laughed as you watched the liquid drip through your fingers, a joy he’d never seen shining on your face. If he wasn’t in love with you before, he certainly was now.

He swam up behind you, splashing the water onto you. He melted at your laughter when you turned, splashing back at him. He couldn’t help himself, swimming closer to you. His arms hesitantly wrapped around your waist, his fingers tingling at the feel of you under them.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nose brushing your cheek. You sucked in a sharp breath, a quiet “Yes,” coming in response. His hands had cautiously traveled up and down your skin, pulling you ever closer. Your hands had trailed down his chest, memorizing the feel of him.

Lucien couldn’t stop himself when he pressed a kiss to your neck, arms tensing at your answering moan. He had waited so long for this, so long to touch you. He pulled back enough to look into your eyes, wanting to see you. You looked back with flushed cheeks, mouth slightly parted. “Lu,” you said, gaze flicking down to his lips, “Are you going to kiss me?”

He was. He cupped the back of your neck, angling your head up to his. He leaned down, lips millimeters from yours when a sharp laugh pulled the two of you out of the moment. Lucien looked towards the sound, ready to murder whoever it was.

Tamlin.

“Is this what you do, emissary’s? Use your positions to whore about?” You pulled away from Lucien as though he had burned you, your face pale. He was going to kill Tam, and the look he shot him conveyed that. Lucien swam to the edge, pulling himself out of the pool to stand in front of his High Lord.

“What bother is it to you, Tamlin?” He asked, voice cold. He watched as his friend rolled his eyes, looking back over to you.

“How can you trust that she’s not just using you to find private information? You know how the Night Court is, she’s probably Rhysands own fuck piece sent here to seduce you.” Tamlins words struck Lucien exactly how he intended, anger coursing through him.

“We haven’t spoken about you or this Court. Not everything revolves around you.” Lucien shot back, fists clenching.

Tamlin laughed. “It does when your job is to report about my court to her. I want her gone, and I don’t want her coming back.” He turned to address you. “Tell your High Lord to send someone else next time.”

Then he was gone.

Lucien spun back to face you, apology all over his face. You were already out of the pool, hastily pulling your clothes on. “I should go.” you said, refusing to look at him. Lucien called your name, but you had already winnowed away. He was left standing there by the edge of the pool, feeling the way you slipped through his fingers.

The memory burned in his mind, fresh anger coming to the surface. His gaze flitted back to you and the Shadowsinger, feeling painfully hot as you leaned down to kiss him. He watched his hand thread up into your hair, the other grip onto your thigh. He heard the breathy moans you were giving him, so similar to that day in the pool of starlight.

Lucien couldn’t take this anymore. He stood abruptly, not caring to speak to anyone. He turned and left the room, heading to the kitchen to find something stronger to drink.

***

READER POV

You reached your tipping point when you watched Elain spend another holiday ignoring her mate. You had wanted Lucien since the first time you met him, knowing he was the most handsome male you would ever see. Unfortunately you were there to do a job, not jump his bones.

You enjoyed the way the two of you created a friendship overtime, toeing the line between friends and more. That day in the starlight pool you thought all your dreams were coming true, you finally were going to taste him.

Until Tamlin had ruined everything.

You left before Lucien could say anything, mortified beyond belief. Rhys started sending Azriel after that, since you were basically banned from the Spring Court. Lucien came to the Hewn City from time to time, and you always made sure to be there. Not that the two of you ever got a chance to talk, but it was nice to just see he was okay.

You remembered the pain in your heart at seeing the fresh scar on his face when he came to warn Rhys about Amarantha. You could still feel the anger the coursed through you, the rage that made you want to go Under the Mountain and kill her yourself.

It was shortly after that Rhysand was trapped down there with her. The 49 years after were some of the worst you and your friends had ever experienced. You knew you were lucky, stuck protecting Velaris. Though it didn’t dull the ache in your heart, the worry for Rhys and Lucien. You knew Amarantha wanted Tamlin, and that he had declined her. You had already seen what she did to Lucien once, not wanting to know what else she was willing to do.

You wanted to ask Rhys about him when he came back, but it wasn’t the right time. It never was. You kept your concerns for the Autumn Court son hidden, too much going on to voice them. When you found out he and Tamlin had cursed Feyre and her sisters, you felt like you were being split in two.

No, you had thought, locked away in your room. Lucien would never do that. You were crushed when Rhys showed you his memories of the night, showed you Lucien standing next to Tamlin. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces when he fell to his knees, gasping that Elain was his mate. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and many nights after.

Now it had been some years since those events, and Elain still acted like Lucien was dirt on the ground. You could tell she desired Azriel, your closest friend. This hatched your plan for the coming Solstice.

You had approached Azriel some days before the party, giving him your idea. You were thrilled when he instantly agreed, eyes flickering with the same wicked excitement as yours. If Lucien and Elain wouldn’t admit their feelings for the two of you, you would simply make them so jealous they had to.

That’s what lead you here, sliding yourself on Azriels lap. You loved your friend, but you had never seen him in this way. That’s what made this plan so good, so perfect. You knew you could fuck Azriel and still be in love with Lucien. Not that this would go that far, you didn’t think.

You allowed Azriels fingers to trail up and down your thigh, not hiding the warmth inside you at his touch. You leaned down to whisper in his ear; “Do you see the way he’s looking at us?”, kissing the spot when you were done. Azriel smiled up to you, knowing Elain was looking much the same.

You began to kiss up and down his neck, his hand gripping the top of your thigh. You couldn’t deny that his little groans filled you with heat, but you so desperately wished they were Lucien’s. You made your way up to his lips, allowing his hand to come up into your hair and deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help the initial moan that escaped as his tongue skillfully massaged yours, it having been so long since you were touched like this. Azriel raked his nails across your thigh, a silent Do that again. You allowed more moans to fall from you, realizing it must be driving Lucien insane.

You stopped when you heard the unmistakable sound of someone storming out of the room. You pulled from Azriel, pleased when you saw Lucien was missing. “Mission success, it seems.” You murmured to him, glancing over to an extremely uncomfortable Elain. “You better go help your girl.” You teased, sliding off his lap. He caught your hand, pressing a ‘thank you’ to your knuckles. You smiled, turning to chase after an undoubtedly heated Lucien.

***

You found him in the kitchen, shooting back whatever hard liquor he had found. “Something wrong, Lucien?”, you asked coyly. He whipped around to look at you, shock on his face. You moved closer to him, gaze heavy. “Jealous, perhaps?”, you said, placing a hand on his chest. You could feel his rapid heartbeat under your fingers.

“What are you doing?” He asked gruffly, setting the shot glass down behind him. “You know I can’t be with you, Elain-“.

You cut him off. “Enough with her. Has she even looked at you in the last year?” You couldn’t help the upset tone of your voice. “You need someone who wants you.” You dropped your hand to his belt, pulling his hips flush to yours. “Someone who has always wanted you.”

You watch the internal battle he is having, ever too good of a man. You know he doesn’t want to betray Elain, but is it truly betraying her if she acts like he doesn’t exist? You had waited for him for so many years, cared for him. You would give him a happy life, a life full of love and light. What does Elain have to offer?

Your other hand comes up to trace his arms, traveling up to his neck. You stand on your toes, pressing a barely there kiss to his skin. “Lu,” you cooed, kissing his neck again. “You are too beautiful to be lonely any longer.” You bit down at the end of the words, tongue soothing the mark.

That caused him to lose the war in his mind.

He grabbed your waist, spinning you around to set you on the counter behind him. He knocked your knees apart, stepping between your legs as his hands dropped to pull you tight against him. The heat in your belly tightened when you felt his hard length against you.

“I have waited too long to do this.” He muttered before finally pressing his lips to yours. You opened your mouth to him immediately, years of desire pouring out of you. He brought a hand up to cup your face, taking his time as he kissed you. You tangled one hand in those perfect red strands, wrapping them around your fingers. This felt right, you felt whole.

Lucien increased the heat of the kiss, the hand on your thigh rubbing circles on the skin. You needed him, needed him like you needed air to live. You ground your hips against his, relishing in the soft groan he released. “Do that again,” he spoke against your lips, “and I will fuck you right here, where anyone can see.”

You moaned at his words, not wasting a second as you pushed your hips against him again. The hand on your face moved to your throat, pressing hard enough to cut off oxygen. Lightning shot through you at the heat of it all, at the dominant look in his eyes. “You asked for it.” He growled, the hand on your thigh sliding under your skirt and tracing you over the delicate underwear you had one. You arched into his touch, a soft moan falling from you.

Lucien grinned, pushing his fingers under the lace covering you. He slid them through the wetness pooled there, the evidence of your desire. “Dirty girl,” he purred, dipping his fingertips inside of you. “How many times have you dreamt of me touching you like this?” You whined at his touch and his words, trying to push your hips down onto his fingers. He pulled away at that, tutting at you. “Oh, pretty girl. I have waited decades to have my hands on you. Let me play.”

You snapped at the pure seduction coming from his mouth, fisting his shirt as you dragged his lips back to yours. You kissed him hard, begging for his touch back. He wasted no time in sliding his fingers back to you, bringing them up to circle your clit. You cried out into this kiss, the heat in you building. You felt him smile against your lips as one finger slid inside you. You moaned at the feeling of him, his finger exploring you. “More, Lucien.” You gasped out, other hand coming up to grab onto his back. He obeyed, pushing a second finger into you and curling them deliciously. Moan after moan fell from your lips as he worked you, his thumb coming up to rub you. His tongue was punishing on yours, the years of longing speeding your orgasm up. “Oh, Lu, I’m gonna-“ You mumbled against him, clenching as the pleasure washed over you. Cries fell from you while he pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling as much as possible. You dug your nails into his skin, struggling to remember how to breathe.

He slowed his movements, pulling his fingers from you. He dragged them up to your mouth, tapping your lips. “Suck.” He commanded, pupils blown wide as you obediently pulled his fingers into your mouth. You sucked the taste of you off of them, keeping eye contact the whole time. You licked up his fingers, showing him what you could do to another body part of his. He groaned, throwing his head back as he took his fingers from your mouth. He leaned down to place a kiss to your perfect lips, whispering “Next time” against them.

Lucien dragged you off the counter, flipping you to face it. He put your hands flat on the marble in front of you, kissing behind your ear. “Hands stay here while I fuck you.”

You could have came again at those words alone.

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, trying to turn to see him. He grabbed the back of your head, turning you back to the counter. “Patience.” He said, the pain of his hand gripping your hair turning to pleasure. You pushed your ass against him, desperate for him. He chuckled before sliding the tip of him through your wetness. Gods, he felt huge. “Are you ready, my perfect girl?” He asked, waiting for your permission. You nodded quickly, a strained “Yes, please” coming out.

You gasped as he pushed the first few inches in, scratching your nails against the polished marble in front of you. He stretched you in a most delicious way, leaving you begging for more. “Lu, please. More.” you whined out, moaning as he pushed in farther. You thought he must be in by now, back arching when he went even deeper. He was going to destroy you.

Lucien bottomed out, staying still for a moment. You cried out, “Move, Lucien. Please.” He pulled you up by your hair, the other hand coming to push on your stomach to keep you close. He pulled out all the way, thrusting his full length back in in one move. You gave a scream, hand falling to hold onto the arm in front of you. Lucien growled in your ear, lost in the pleasure of being inside you.

He fucked into you hard, eating up the moans and cries you let out. His hand slid down to circle your clit again, brining your orgasm closer. “I want you to come with me, my love.” He whispered into your hair, kissing any part of you he could reach. You gave a moan of agreement, feeling seconds away from finishing again. “Wait until I say.” He commanded, quickening his movements on you. You felt ready to snap, fighting hard to keep your orgasm at bay. You whimpered at the effort, body clenching tight around Lucien. His groan in your ear let you know he was close, his thrusts beginning to become sloppy. “Now, love.” He whispered, the fingers on you unrelenting. You came with a scream of his name, feeling him spill into you moments later. His fingers rode you through your high, stopping once you were shaking with overstimulation.

You stood there for a moment, the two of you breathing heavy. Lucien slowly pulled out, you already feeling empty now that he was gone. He moved your underwear back to cover you, straightening your skirts. You turned to face him, fixing his pants back. He looked down at you, eyes connecting with yours. You had a million things to say, forgetting all of them as you stared at him.

He leaned down, kissing you softly. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years.” He whispered, your heart soaring. You smiled up at him, bringing him close. “As have I.” You confessed, happy to not have to hide anymore after so long.

A quiet cough sounded from the entry to the kitchen, catching you attention. You peered over Lucien’s shoulder to see Azriel, a cheeky smirk on his face. He definitely heard all of it. “So I take it our plan worked, then?”

Lucien turned to you, a question in his eyes. You twirled a piece of his hair between his fingers, explaining that you were messing with Azriel to make him jealous. His hands tightened on your waist, the ghost of a smile visible on his lips. He nodded when you were done, turning back to the male in the doorway.

“Thanks for making me realize what a fool I have been,” Lucien began, “but if you touch her like that again, I will snap your arm in half.”

***

i loveeeee some good jealousy !!! please keep leaving feedback and sending requests. i hope you guys enjoyed this one <3

[readychilledwine]

Home to Me

Summary - After the death of Beron, Lucien is finally free to move to the Day Court, and he could not be more ecstatic to have you and Elain by his side

Warnings - moving anxiety, Helion being the best father in law, fluff

Prompt - Day 4 - Adventure

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek! I was really excited to play with Elucien and a Spring Court reader. Something about them as a trouple with another flower girl makes my heart skip.

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

Freedom was a concept Lucien so rarely knew. From living under his father's thumb to Tamlin's command to Rhysand's control, it had always felt like a goal, some far-off dream he would never reach.

Until he met Elain, of course. Elain, as difficult as chasing her was, quickly became his light. He had made her chase him in return for the years of waiting, and she had fought tooth and nail for him. He had never met someone with so much love to give, and who wished to give it so freely.

Meeting you just made sense due to that. Elain had met you in Spring as they were helping Tamlin with rebuilds where you personally were in charge of the garden overhauls due to your powers. He would never forget the way Elain ran back into the house, sliding down the wall as she held her heart, and Briar rushed to her as she whispered "Mate," over and over again.

Lucien went to where she had been and stopped. Your kind was rare, but there you were, iridescent wings tucked on your back, shifting yourself to a smaller size to move pollen from flower to flower. “Ah, y/n,” Tamlin had admired you as Lucien did. “She will be fine with all of this. They are all used to marrying in pairs.”

Courting you had been the easiest thing both of them had ever done. Lucien had joked you were a simple female. You were wooed by shiny things, by chocolates left at your door late at night, by long walks through your garden. Elain adored you first, but Lucien fell in love the hardest. You were so kind, so gentle. He could hardly imagine life without you or Elain.

Now, 10 years later, that life could openly be a reality. He put the last of your boxes into the portal Helion had opened from your home in Spring to the home you three would share in Day, clapping his hands together as it closed.

Elain was already there, unpacking and decorating the home. She wanted it to feel as safe and loving as possible for you, seeing as you had never once left the Spring Court borders in your 300 years of life.

You were the most nervous of the 3, moving to Day was a lot to ask of you, but with Beron finally gone, Lucien was free to be with his dad, to be home, and you and Elain both wanted to give him this chance. He deserved it. He had earned it.

He found you in your garden, overlooking centuries of hard work, “Blossom, are you ready to go?” His heart almost sank as you quickly wiped your cheeks before turning.

“Of course!” The lie was so obvious it was almost insulting as he walked to you and took your upper arms in his large hands.

“You're frightened?” You could only nod. “Tamlin promised to care for the home. You will be back here every Autumn and Winter along with the honeybees and butterflies. Your garden will be fine, my love.”

“It's not the garden. This whole thing is just scary.” You both paused as the sound of winnowing came followed by Elain's soft footsteps.

“Tulip?” She ran the distance to you, tugging you into her while being mindful of your delicate wings. “My heart, what's wrong?”

Lucien answered for you, pulling you both to him. “She's a little scared of the move.”

Elain hummed, kissing away the tear that fell on to your cheek. “I can't imagine how hard it is, leaving behind all you've ever known by choice. You are so brave for our happiness. Your fear is so justified, y/n. I can understand that part, trust me.”

“If you want to stay,” Lucien's throat tightened at the thought. “We will make this work. We can-”

“No,” you sighed, heavily leaning into them. “I want to be with you. Both of you. This is just a whole new experience and a new world and a new high lord.”

“If I am what you are worried about, I am pleased to inform you there is nothing to be afraid of.”

Lucien looked down at you two, metal eye whirling as the other rolled. “Dad, we're having a moment here.”

“And I am joining. Come here, sweet pixie.” Lucien And Elain released you, allowing you to move to the Lord of Day. “I know your kind was hunted outside of this court, but I promise you, you and those precious wings will be safe in my home.”

That slow realization hit Elain and Lucien like bricks. They were asking you to leave Spring, a place your kind had been allowed to make a haven, and you had selflessly agreed. “Your new home is within the walls of my palace. No guards or guests will be able to get to you without my approval, and you will have your own guards approved by Lucien and Elain. You will be safe to fly and pollinate all you wish. My gardens could use that.” Helion kissed your hand where the rose gold and pink diamond ring sat. “Give Day a chance. Let it be your first big adventure.”

You nodded at him, letting your father in law take your hand. “My butterflies and bees are already there?”

“They are.”

"And they are happy?"

"They are dining on the most exotic pollen and nectars they have ever had. They were very excited about the move." Helion offered you a soft smile as Lucien and Elain both tugged the bond.

You turned to them, taking one last moment to memorize them in the archway of Wisteria and Roses. “Alright. I'm ready.”

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

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist:

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 2: Mortals and Immortals

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Feyre returns to her sisters from the Spring Court with too many feelings. Rhys fights a losing battle with his family after returning. Feyre and Rhys navigate their emotions when the Archeron sisters become the topic of conversation.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Feyre felt like she was dying as she reached the new residence of the Archerons. A bit of her life leaving her body with every foggy breath. Tamlin had kept his word and provided for her family. A bit too lavishly, perhaps. The residence was a sprawling estate with lush lawns and well-maintained flowers Elain had undoubtedly involved herself in. Feyre had no sense of anything except for the flowers which reminded her of the Spring Court. Of Tamlin.

With Feyre now back, Nesta wanted answers. She had clearly seen the beast take her youngest sister away, citing some Treaty and something else that made no sense to her. Nyra would want answers too. Whatever stunt that the fae had pulled, whatever magic they had cast which resulted in Elain and their father having new memories of a non-existant aunt, Nesta needed answers about all of it.

Feyre was quick to flow away with her thoughts ever since she had returned. Elain was simply happy that her sister was back, safe and sound and was listening to her about her plans for the new flowers she had recently planted. Nesta was suspicious but she did not push much after Nyra's insistence.

The only time Feyre gave anyone her attention to the maximum was when the physician came for Nyra and recorded a very slow but thankfully steady improvement in her health. One thing wrong and the heavily-bellied man claimed it would threaten Nyra's life.

"Let her tell us herself." Nyra had said when Nesta's curiosity grew. "What if it is something she wishes not to recall?"

"Whatever it is, it has affected her. She hardly pays any attention during conversations and mindlessly agrees with everything asked of her. That ghastly shade of yellow does not suit her and yet, she agreed to it before the seamstress without so much as a glance at the fabric." Nesta did not like it when someone wore the wrong shade. It was something their mother had insisted and something she cared for since it was one of the few useful things the deceased woman had actually bothered to teach her.

"How long do we wait before we ask?" Nesta once asked Nyra and when her twin did not have an answer, the interrogative mood of the former awakened. She found Feyre and confronted her and that led to a long story.

Nesta and Nyra looked at Feyre when the youngest had concluded her story and then looked at each other. To be in love with a fae much less a High Lord was unthinkable. Even then, they knew that this sister was a reckless girl.

"And now what? You are here and not there. What is your fate?" Nyra asked. Feyre took her time comprehending the question but had no answer for it even after understanding it. It seemed to her that there were multiple gaps in her understanding. So many things had been hidden from her in Prythian. They had called Amarantha's curse a bloody blight.

The twins knew that Feyre probably did not belong in this world of mortals and maybe, she did belong in Prythian. Every word spoken about this fae named Tamlin was laced with a sort of affection they had never witnessed for any human.

A part of them hoped that Feyre would live with them in the safety and comfort of this estate. That she would lead a normal, mortal life. Another part of them knew that the connection between Feyre and Prythian had yet to be severed. And in pursuance of that connection which she believed was her love for Tamlin, a few days later, Feyre Archeron departed from the mortal lands with a final goodbye.

****

Amarantha was dead. Rhysand was back. A few days had passed and Azriel had noticed that something was still not right. Something other than the trauma from those forty nine years had been inflicted on his brother. Something that was probably his mate, the newborn fae. He wasn’t exactly discreet about it when he told Mor right after he returned. For the first few seconds, Azriel had hoped to all the spirits that Rhysand was not referring to Amarantha as his mate. But then, Mor had managed to somehow calm her cousin. And then, Rhys told them his story.

Azriel took it upon himself to study humans and fae and trace back records of any transitions as had been the case with the Cursebreaker. He had enlisted the help of the priestesses from the libraries of the House of Wind. Everything was hectic these days. Hunting down the traitors who had joined forces to rebel in the High Lord’s absence. Reviving his network of spies after decades of inactivity. Resuming trade and commerce and travel between courts and with the rest of the world. All of this was just the beginning. He was tired. Everyone was tired. And yet, everyone continued.

The Cursebreaker, he’d learned, was a female by the name of Feyre Archeron. A human who received a kernel of every High Lord’s power to be brought back to life. That itself brought the possibility of her inheriting powers. If she had indeed been successfully revived, then she could probably have a fragment at least.

“She rarely leaves the manor.” Azriel spoke. Cassian looked at him in confusion while Rhys barely looked up from the disturbing amount of paperwork. “Unhealthy and haunted by nightmares.”

Rhysand slammed the pen on the table. That was meant to be a warning but Azriel could care less. Rhys glared at him as though he was ready to rip him apart. “Call in your bargain. Tamlin is making things worse for her.”

To Azriel, this female, his brother’s mate had already become someone to be cared for. On the verge of becoming family. In his eyes, Rhys had to take her from her misery. And he had to push his brother to do that. What would life be worth if not for a mate? He was already waiting for the Bone Carver’s words to come true.

Cassian did not want to say much. He quietly watched as his brothers glare at each other. He knew why this conversation was taking place. He knew why Azriel was pushing Rhys to be there for Feyre. Because they would have done the same thing in case of Azriel and his mate. The mate who was Rhysand’s deceased sister. The mate who would be reborn.

“I will bring her when I deem fit.” Anyone could see how heartbroken Rhys was when he said those words. The beast within him raged at him to stake his claim over his mate. The more rational side of him preached respect. Something his mother had taught him.

“By the time you deem fit, what if it’s too late?” Azriel was quick to ask. The High Lord’s power rumbled before them and they weathered it like any other rainstorm.

“She’s surrounded by the rogue Vanserra and that mannerless priestess who once requested a visit.” The mention of the priestess was made with his own power rumbling. A shadowsinger was a truly mysterious creature. Cassian looked at Azriel in disgust at having even mentioned that female.

“And a High Lord who has no interest helping her settle into this new life.” Cassian spoke. Rhys met the General’s gaze. “This is not just any female, Rhys.”

“She’s the saviour of Prythian. I know.”

“She’s your mate.” Cassian emphasized on that word. “Anyone could have been the saviour of these damned lands. Only she can be your mate. She is family, you stupid piece of shit.”

In that moment, Rhys remembered what he felt back when Feyre had defeated the Wyrm. How he felt Cassian’s spirit manifesting nearby and shouting at him to marry this girl or he would do that himself. He let out a wry laugh. Azriel and Cassian looked at each other, wondering whether their brother had gone mad.

Rhysand stood up and started pacing behind his chair. He stopped and resumed pacing every now and then. “We knew about Azriel and my sister.” He knew he had to tread very very carefully with this. He might be the High Lord but the shadowsinger was not to be trifled with in any manner. He saw how Azriel had stoned his features at the mention of his mate. “So I assumed that we would witness your mating bond first when she was reborn.”

“It could be another century or even a millennia before we meet her again.” Cassian remarked, remembering the Bone Carver’s words.

“You should focus on your own mating bond right now.” Azriel added, not wanting to remember his mixed feelings for his mate.

“I know she’s upset and she has nightmares and she vomits all the food and that ignorant asshole does nothing to help her.” Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and failing miserably. The opening of the door had the three males looking in that direction. Morrigan walked in, ever the picture of power and beauty.

“What are we talking about?” Mor casually sat on the sofa, her legs on the seat with the silk of her dress dropping to the ground like a wisp of magic.

“The Cursebreaker.” Rhys answered. He would call her anything but his mate.

“Your mate.” Mor corrected. Cassian grinned at her and even Azriel breathed in relief at the growing support. “You made a bargain with her. Why haven’t you called it in?”

“None of your business.”

“She is family.” Mor spoke sharply and and her rage began quickly. She had recognised how her cousin was beginning to be somewhat of a stubborn child but this was not a matter which could be addressed with such immaturity. “And her health is our business.”

“You may identify her as family but I have no intention of claiming her.” Rhysand looked like he would vomit at his own words soon enough.

But the High Lord knew what his family felt for Feyre Archeron. They were undoubtedly grateful to her for reuniting them after forty nine years. They were grateful to her for saving Prythian because Cauldron knew how long they could have kept the Night Court afloat in his absence. And they did not even want to delve too long about other courts.

The mortal who was now fae.

The female who was his mate.

The female Rhysand was now in love with.

“You love her.” And that was the truth. Simple and clear. Azriel and Cassian looked at her in mild surprise. They hadn’t known that. And now that they did know that, Feyre Archeron was indeed a person of great concern. “We know you won’t claim her like she is property. She is not family not just because she is your mate. She is family because you love her.”

“Mating bonds are not fairytales. Couples don’t end well. You knew my parents.” Rhysand was not strong enough for this. He could not win this. Not when this was about Feyre. Sweet, beautiful Feyre with her human heart and powerful feelings.

“Your parents had a miserable union. The difference is that you love this girl. And we also have Azriel who waits for her.” Azriel closed his eyes, knowing that Mor would now continue this battle. That she would wield more powerful words for attack. The mention of his own mate was one of those weapons. Mor had just looked at the Spymaster once before he confirmed with a nod that it was okay to speak of his mate. “Your mating bond does not have to reflect what your parents had.”

“That’s it!” Cassian slammed his hands on the table. “You!” He looked at Rhys, eyes focused into a glare before continuing, “are a fool.” Rhys opened his mouth to speak. “Everything you’ve spouted so far has been an excuse.”

“She’s marrying him.” Rhys sounded pained as opposed to the indifference he tried to put forward.

“Just because she’s marrying him doesn’t mean he’s worthy of her.” Azriel was grumbling at this point. None of them cared about Rhysand’s self loathing opinions. They cared about the girl who had no one to help her when she needed it. The girl who was his mate. The girl who was almost family. She was not a cruel person. She was the reason Rhysand was back after so long. And they had a feeling that she’d be good for him and that he’d be good for her. Azriel had suspected as much after his spies from the Spring Court had been planted and resumed activity.

Two days later, Rhys had scheduled a trip to Rita’s with Cassian only to winnow away without prior notice right before they had entered. The same night, Feyre Archeron had been brought to Velaris.

****

It took time before the Cursebreaker had started to warm up to the Inner Circle of the Night Court. One fine night as they lounge around after dinner for a night to drink, Feyre took a few sips.

In her curiosity, Morrigan asked. “How was life as a mortal?”

Feyre looked at Mor for a few seconds, trying to process the question. When she did, she opened her mouth and paused. She began by talking about her early childhood, the days of poverty and how her family was now rich. She had kept her story short, giving nothing more than a summary of her mortal life which couldn't have been more than a paragraph.

“So, you have sisters?” Cassian asked, curious about the people she shared her mortal life with.

“Three older sisters.” Feyre affirmed as she stared at her wineglass. The faint imprint of her lipgloss was there at the edge and she kept staring at it. She took a moment to remember each sister and smiled with such gentleness that made Rhysand a little jealous.

A little.

Just a little.

Not even noteworthy.

Very negligibly so.

An inconsequential bit of jealousy for a smile that was not directed at him.

Mor took extreme delight in seeing her cousin's face. She quietly motioned to Cassian. Azriel and Amren had already noted the change in Rhys's expression.

“And what were they doing when you went out to hunt?” Mor's question brought everyone back to the harsh reality that Feyre went out to hunt for her starving family as a child.

Feyre did not answer. She did not look at anyone. She kept her gaze at the rim of her wine glass where the stain of her lipgloss was from when she’d taken sips of the drink.

“Nesta was angry at a lot of things. Mostly at our father. And then, at me. We were always at each other’s throats. Elain is more of a gardener than a huntress. Nyra has been sick since we were children.” Everything was begining to sound like a poor defence for her sisters.

Mor had sobered up. Cassian and Azriel were quiet. Mostly because they knew that any wrong move or word from any of them and Rhys would rage. His mate had led a life of poverty and had thrown herself into the forest to hunt and free her family from starvation. Her family, incapable in different ways to help her. The youngest who had risked her life over and over again for them.

Rhysand was close to breaking his wine glass. One of those sisters was a gardener more than a huntress. A gardener than a huntress. What about Feyre? She was an artist more than a huntress. And had anger not consumed the other sister enough to do something about their situation? And a sick sister who could do nothing. A burden. All of them were burdens on Feyre. Why save a family like that?

Family was not always blood bound. He knew that. Rhys looked at Azriel, the prime example of someone who had family because he had chosen them and not because he was related to them. Azriel met his gaze, silently questioning him. Rhys shook his head despite the suddenly growing brotherly affection for the shadowsinger.

“Why save a family like that?” Amren finally asked, having spoken for the first time since dinner. Rhys turned to her in mild surprise for having voiced his thoughts.

“Because they are my family. My father who had lost all hope. Elain, who sees good in this world no matter how many ugly sides of it has been presented to her. Nesta, who kept me angry and made me want to fight against circumstances. Nyra, who guarded my heart against all odds.”

A traitorous tear traveled down her cheek. Feyre closed her eyes as another tear made its appearance. At the end of the day, she missed her family. And the Inner Circle could relate to that. They had missed each other for so long and they had just reunited only to be faced with the prospect of war which could ensure permanent separation in the form of death.

“Do you wish to visit your family?” Rhys finally asked. Everyone looked at him in mild surprise for various reasons. At the sight of her tears, the High Lord had softened. The cold fury within him had thawed and nothing but affection and the will to do something to make her happy remained. He took in each of their expressions before explaining himself. “You’re an immortal now, Feyre darling. Time moves slowly for us especially when compared to mortals. They are still human. Surely you must know what that means.”

It only meant that Feyre would live with this young and strong body while her family grew older and weaker and finally died. And Nyra. Mother knew if she would ever live a normal life. Whether her health would improve.

What if something did go wrong?

What if she could never see her again?

What if Nyra...

****

[legionofshaza]

❀The gentleman of❀

🌺Spring 🌺

Lucien week day 1 @lucienweekofficial

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The night was soft and cool as Elain Archeron stood on the balcony of the manor, the silvery moonlight casting a gentle glow across the garden below. The Night Court’s vast expanse of stars glittered overhead, but it was the breeze that carried a hint of spring—a scent that reminded her of home. Of the past. Of peace.

She leaned against the stone railing, taking in the scent of the blooming roses. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the quiet footsteps behind her until a deep, familiar voice spoke, his tone as gentle as the breeze.

“Elain.”

She turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Lucien stood in the doorway, his russet hair catching the moonlight, his golden eye gleaming softly. Yet it was the expression on his face—careful, tender—that caught her breath. There was something about Lucien Vanserra that always radiated warmth. It wasn’t just the color of his hair, or the subtle scent of pine and cedar that clung to him; it was his very presence, as though he belonged in the wild places of the world where things grew and bloomed without constraint.

“Elain,” he said again, his voice a gentle murmur now, “you shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s getting colder.”

His concern made her heart ache, but she shook her head softly, offering a small smile. “I needed some air.”

Lucien nodded, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. He had always been this way with her—careful, considerate, a gentleman in every sense of the word. He never pressed her, never demanded more than she was ready to give. His gentleness had surprised her at first. She had expected fire, given his ties to the Autumn Court. But instead, she found him to be more like Spring: patient, warm, and full of quiet hope.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “I’ll keep you company.”

She looked at him then, truly looked at him. There was something comforting about Lucien. Perhaps it was the way he always seemed to know when to speak and when to simply be there. He never forced himself into her space, but rather, he let her choose the terms of their interactions.

“Of course,” she replied softly, moving aside so he could stand next to her.

Lucien joined her at the railing, his hands resting loosely on the stone, his posture relaxed yet alert. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the garden sway in the night breeze, the quiet sounds of the world around them filling the space between them.

After a few minutes, Lucien spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You remind me of the spring.”

Elain blinked, turning her head to him. “Spring?”

He smiled faintly, his gaze still fixed on the garden below. “Yes. Not just the flowers you tend to, though they certainly remind me of you. But you... you are like spring itself. Gentle, but strong. Full of life and promise.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, at the sincerity in his tone. Lucien was always like this—thoughtful, kind. He saw her, truly saw her, in a way that sometimes left her feeling exposed, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was as if he understood her without her having to say a word.

“I’m not sure I’m as strong as you think,” she said softly, turning her gaze back to the garden.

Lucien shifted slightly beside her, his warmth closer now, though he still didn’t touch her. “Strength doesn’t always have to be loud or forceful, Elain. Sometimes, the strongest things are the quietest. Like the way you care for others. Or the way you’ve chosen to heal, in your own time.”

She swallowed, his words sinking deep into her chest. It wasn’t often that someone spoke to her like this—without expectation, without judgment. Just... understanding. She had grown used to feeling like the fragile one, the one who needed protection. But Lucien didn’t see her that way. He never had.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his golden eye meeting hers now, filled with warmth and something else she couldn’t quite name. “I just wanted you to know how I see you. How I’ve always seen you.”

Her breath caught, and she felt a sudden rush of emotion. This male—her mate—had been so patient with her, so kind. He had never once pushed her to acknowledge the bond between them, never demanded more than she was ready to give. He had waited, quietly, gently, letting her come to terms with it all at her own pace.

Lucien shifted slightly, moving to stand directly in front of her. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was giving her every opportunity to pull away if she wished. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself looking up into his mismatched eyes, her heart racing.

“Lucien...” she began, unsure of what she wanted to say.

But he shook his head, a soft smile curving his lips. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Elain. I’m not here to rush you, or to ask for more than you’re ready to give.”

He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch was feather-light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m just here,” he said softly. “For as long as you want me to be.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by the bond between them. She didn’t feel pressured or frightened. She simply felt... safe.

“I do want you here,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Lucien’s expression softened, and he gave her the smallest nod, as though acknowledging the weight of her words without making it feel too heavy. Then, slowly, as if giving her every opportunity to stop him, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

It wasn’t demanding or passionate. It was gentle, reverent—just like him.

When he pulled back, his hand still lightly brushing her hair, Elain felt her heart swell with something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.

She smiled up at him, her voice steady now. “Thank you, Lucien.”

His smile was small, but it was real, and it lit up his whole face. “Anytime, Elain. Anytime.”

And with that, they turned back to the garden, standing side by side, the warmth of his presence a quiet comfort in the cool night air.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

🌸End 🌸

[elrielffs]

Why is Gwynriel so popular in the fandom? Why do people latch onto Gwynriel so much despite there being hardly any canon scenes or romantic interaction with the two?

Elriel's make no bones about it, it is the least popular ship in the fandom and 1v2 with Gwynriels and Eluciens. (I would argue that outside the fandom proper, in a more generalized book setting and people who don't participate in online fandom, Elriel is the more expected and liked ship.)

Thankfully, SJM doesn't care about any of that and will do what she wants, has planned and set up.

Of course, a part of it is because people don't like Elain. I get it, not every body is going to like every character and Elain hasn't really had time to shine. Some people can't get into a character unless they are in their head, like Nesta was universally hated before ACOSF.

People don't like the soft, quiet, non-sassy, non-warrior FMC. The genre has been dominated by Aelin archetype knock offs for ten years for a reason, though THANKFULLY we are starting to see people grow tired of that.

But why is Gwynriel so popular?

It's because the dynamic and characterization of Gwyn can be whatever they want it to be.

Gwyn has no "negative" traits so to speak. She's never done anything wrong or made a mistake within her power and has an easy personality to project onto. She's nice, she's bubbly, she's understanding, she's a good friend, etc.

That's why "fanon" Gwyn is all that and a bag of chips. She's Starborn, she's a missing Archeron, she's going to be Nyx favorite auntie and Rhysand's best friend, her father is from Autumn/Spring or someone very important, she's going to wield Gwydion, she's going to use the Trove, Gwyn is going to save Illyria and so on and so forth.

Same for the Gwynriel ship itself. Despite what anti's say, Gwyn and Az do not have enough scenes or chemistry together to know how their relationship would unfold or how they would be with each other.

That's why you see such contrasting/conflicting views on that side of how Gwyn will be and how the GA relationship will be--it's people projecting themselves and the relationship they would want onto the characters but Gwyn and the supposed relationship with Az is a blank slate for all their fantasies to come true.

Contrast with Elriel and Elain. Elain has made mistakes, Elain does have a personality that isn't super popular in the genre, Elriel does have an established dynamic that antis like to try to poke holes in or point out how it's wrong and how they don't like it.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

acotar x reader: one day at a time

Tw for death: 

Reader loses somebody and their friends are there to pick up the pieces. A lil sprinkle sprinkle of az x reader bc that's MY BABYYYY

Lotsssssss of acts of service within the group. 

Also bc im a petty asshole i included a snippet of one of my racist aunts who said some wild shit to me at MY SISTERS FUNERAL and just basically dissing her. (literally why would you stare at my poc best friend who's just trying to support me. This bitch stared at MY GIRL?? MY BESTIE???? NUH UH NOT ON MY WATCH BITCH). 

Said best friend was just like “she’s never seen a brown person before marie it's fine.” 

NO ITS NOT. IDC IF THIS IS MY SISTERS FUNERAL WE’LL MAKE IT A DOUBLE FUNERAL. 

I'm petty. 

soooo this is born out of grief for my sister. My sister passed away on 03/11/21 and this is very much catered to my grief and these are my comfort characters so naturally i'm gonna write about them when it comes to helping their loved one grieve. 

and yeah this is gonna be based around the reader's sister dying. what can i say. I'm on brand. 

also reader is feyres childhood friend that got turned into a fae with nesta and elain. i feel like that’s just the staple with my fics. 

---------

When you got notified of your sister's death, it was actually a pretty good day up until that point. Sunny day with clouds, a wonderful brunch date with Mor, adorable children at the studio with Feyre. Afterwards, the two of you began walking back to Feyre’s, content on playing with Nyx for the evening before retiring to your own home. When you walked up, Feyre looked at you and told you about how the Inner Circle were having a meeting inside the office. So you two quickly joined them. 

When you walked in, Rhysand held out a letter, “this was a letter delivered to you.” 

You made a face and grabbed it, “okay, so why are you all staring at me like that?” 

“This person walked into the Spring Court and dropped it on Tamlins doorstep.” Cassian said. “They dropped it in the middle of night, just when he wasn’t prowling like a creep.” 

“What the fuck?” You asked as you analyzed it. 

No name but yours and a pisspoor address. 

Lady Y/N L/N

Night Court

“We didn’t know if it was a…” Azriel trailed off, realizing how silly what he was about to say was. “Hence, why all of us are here.”

“We’re also just nosey.” Mor shrugged, her nose wrinkling. 

You snorted, and tore into it, “you could’ve opened it.” 

“It’s your mail. We may be protective bastards but you still have a right to privacy.” Rhysand drawled. 

Feyre stood next to you as you pulled out the paper, your eyes tracing over it. 

“It’s from my dad.” You said recognizing his handwriting. 

Then, it all went to shit. 

Your big sister was dead, the woman you fought with a lot of the time but yet would take a beating for. Your big sister who helped guide you through life, who would always be there even if she was pissed off at you for some inane reason.

Gone.

You just froze, not knowing what to do. You’re pretty sure Az asked you a question, then Cass, then Rhys. Then you felt Feyre’s hand on your shoulder. 

I need to leave. 

I need to go before I hurt someone. 

You just wordlessly handed the letter to her and winnowed away. 

You didn’t go to your apartment, you didn’t go to the townehouse, you didn’t go anywhere they would find you. 

You went to the middle of the forest. You just picked a random point to lose it.

And you did. 

You didn’t remember much of causing the damage. Only that you managed to stop when Azriel’s arms wrapped around you. You just kept screaming. “I know, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said, his lips against your hair. 

His shadows wrapped around your hands, cool wind kissing away the raging inferno of your cuts. You collapsed, taking Azriel to the ground. 

He just held you as you sobbed. You felt his own tears hit your neck. He usually did a better job masking his emotions, but it was you crying, you who he had a deeper bond with. So he let his emotions run free.

“Y/N!” Feyre called into your mind. Your shields were down and you didn’t even notice.

“Az has me, i’m sorry I-” 

“Don’t apologize. I would’ve done worse if I found out…” Her voice trailed off. 

“I’m sorry I ran off.” 

“Do not apologize.” She said sternly, “After you and Az are done come back to the River House. You can sleep at our house tonight. Guest bed is currently being made up.” 

She left your mind before you could respond. You breathed in the smell of Az. 

Azriel brought you back to Feyre and Rhysand’s home. Rhys had trouble with touch, but never with you. He brought you into his arms instantly. You tried not to let the tears surface again, but it was quite hard when a brotherly kiss was pressed against your head. 

“We got you, Y/N.” He whispered against the crown of your head.

Nuala and Cerridwen made you your favorite food. Which prompted you to start crying again. The twins looked so panicked that it almost made you laugh. Elain made your favorite cookies, which again kept the tears going.

“I don’t know why I’m crying over this.” You said helplessly, you managed to laugh during that. 

Feyre and Elain hugged you from both sides. 

You retired to the guest bedroom, you found a pile of fluffy blankets and your favorite candy. As well as a bouquet of your favorite flowers with Mor’s handwriting scrawled on the note. Amren left you a bottle of your favorite wine too. 

Eventually, after some more tears, there was a knock at your door. You called out for them to come in but saw Nyx. 

The little guy was walking even more, speaking full sentences. It’s insane to you that he grew so fast but it has been 5 years since he was born. 

“Go on like we practiced.” You heard Feyre encourage from behind the door frame. 

“Hi, Auntie.” The little guy mumbled. Holding a glass of water. “I have something for you.” 

“Yeah buddy?” You smiled despite the shitty day. Your nephew made everything better. 

Rhysand walked in behind him, as did Feyre. Rhysand lifted him up onto the bed while Feyre handed you a cup of hot chocolate. 

You were just glad Nyx wasn’t holding the hot drink. 

“Here’s some wata.” He said, his small hands handing you the glass. 

“Oh thank you.” You said earnestly and took a sip. You set it on the table. Then you laid back down and faced him. “Just what I needed.” You were genuine. 

“Auntie, are you sad?” Both Feyre and Rhys froze at their sons question. Clearly, he was going off script. 

You sniffed, “yeah, Nyxie. I’m really sad.” 

“I love you.” His eyes were so big, so genuine. You were going to cry for a whole new reason. 

“I love you more.” 

“Nuh uh.” He said, as a typical toddler wanting to argue no matter what. 

You huffed a laugh and opened your arms. “Come here.” 

He crawled into your arms with no hesitation. You were careful of his little baby wings as you held him close to you. 

You loved this kid. 

Feyre settled in behind you on the bed, Rhysand joined on the other side with his son. 

They held you as you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, hoping to see your sister one last time. 

————————

When it came to planning the funeral, you had to go out to your family’s cottage to help. You said you could go alone, but frankly, good luck telling Nesta and the Valkyries to stay behind when one of their own is in pain. 

So when you saddled up to your family with three warriors behind you, they were scared a bit to say the least. 

Emerie held your hand during the funeral discussion as Nesta watched the director to make sure she wasn’t insensitive to you. Gwyn stood guard behind you. They were protectors, they were not gonna leave one of their girls to deal with this alone.

Eventually, the funeral was planned. The rest of your chosen family came out and surprised you. You sent a notice to them of when the funeral was and told them they didn’t need to come because you knew how busy they were. 

When they showed up on your family’s doorstep to surprise you, you started crying again. 

——-

The day of the funeral, it was the entire inner circle crammed into the living room of the cottage of your mortal family’s living space.  

You felt bad cramming two males with wings into that small space, especially with so many other people. But Cassian and Azriel assured you that there’s nowhere else they would be. 

You slept sharing a flimsy mattress with Elain, since the other two sisters were with their mates. But Feyre and Rhys slept close. So did Nesta and Cassian. Both women facing your general direction. 

Azriel did not sleep. He wanted to be there in case you woke up in tears again. 

Amren slept sitting up against a wall, she wouldn’t admit it but she wanted an eye on you. She only trusted hers. 

Mor was curled on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between her and Elain. 

Emerie and Gwyn slept down by your guys’ legs. Emerie’s head on Mor’s thigh. Gwyn hugging Elain legs in her sleep. 

Azriel chose not to mention what happened when your dad came downstairs in the middle of the night to check on you. 

It was as if he wasn’t sure if you’d really be there. He just lost one daughter, he didn’t want to lose another. 

He nodded at Azriel who nodded back. Assuring him that you weren’t going anywhere. That you always had people watching out for you.  

As everyone got ready, it was a somber moment. Elain did your hair, Mor did your makeup, Amren set out your jewelry and Feyre handled your clothes. They didn’t want you doing anything. 

Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie let your nephew and niece play with their swords. It was the one thing they seemed interested in so they let them do it. 

Rhysand was currently trying to get your dad to accept a check from him and Feyre to pay for everything plus anything else your parents need during this time. Your father was refusing. Rhys spoke bluntly. “Your daughter is my family, please let me take care of her family.” 

Your dad didn’t. But Rhys hid the check in your dads night table. He felt yucky going into their room but did it to make sure they got the check. 

On the way to the funeral, Azriel had offered his arm for you to take, which you gratefully did. Rhysand got the door for you. Az led you in. The overprotective bat boys acted like your body guards, which you appreciated, however you couldn’t help but giggle a little bit at it. 

Nesta told you before the funeral to let her know if you wanted her to intervene to keep some relatives away. 

One of your (racist) aunts kept telling you how you’re responsible for your sister's kids. Then when she saw Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Emerie, she just stared. Before you could intervene, Elain and Gwyn stood in front of them. 

You almost wacked her so hard it was going to be a double funeral. You had prepared them before that some relatives were racist. They didn’t give a rat's ass. 

Oh and then everyone in your party including you were Fae. That also did not help. 

Hence why you lived in Velaris, away from all the bigotry.

During the service, Feyre sat on one side of you, Amren on the other side. Feyre clutched your hand and Amren even held out her hand for you. She always had a soft spot for you. Mor’s makeup didn’t last long throughout the service which is why she did bare minimum on your face. 

Afterwards, you left pretty soon after the service was done. You just had to leave the building. You guys went to a pub in your funeral attire. Azriel sat next to you and Nesta on the other side. Rhys refused to let you pay. But you knew he was trying to get you riled up. It was working. 

He was incredibly happy to see the fire return to your eyes. 

At that moment, with your family, you knew you were going to be okay. 

Just have to take every day one step at a time.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Blossoms and Shadows

Summary: 

Nyx now all grown up decides to introduce his new love Y/N to the Night Court.

Word Count: 724

Warnings: None 

Velaris was as breathtaking as ever, its beauty magnified by the vibrant energy that filled the streets. The House of Wind buzzed with anticipation, its occupants eager for the arrival of Nyx and his guest. Feyre and Rhysand had meticulously prepared the house, ensuring everything was perfect for this significant introduction.

Nyx, now a striking young man with his father’s charm and his mother’s fierce determination, was bringing someone special home. The Night Court was ready to welcome her, though they couldn’t help but feel a tinge of curiosity and concern. She was from the Spring Court—a distant cousin of Tamlin.

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the city, the door to the House of Wind opened. Nyx stepped in, his arm around a beautiful young woman with golden hair and emerald eyes that sparkled with intelligence and warmth.

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Nyx announced, his voice filled with pride and affection.

Y/N smiled, her gaze sweeping across the gathered members of the Night Court. Feyre and Rhysand stood side by side, their expressions welcoming but scrutinizing. Cassian and Nesta were nearby, Cassian’s eyes twinkling with mischief while Nesta maintained her usual composed demeanor. Azriel and Elain were a little further back, Azriel’s shadows curling protectively around Elain as they watched the newcomers.

“Welcome, Y/N,” Feyre said, stepping forward and offering her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Y/N took Feyre’s hand, her smile warm and genuine. “Thank you, Lady Feyre. It’s an honor to be here.”

Rhysand chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Please, call us Feyre and Rhys. No need for formalities among family and friends.”

Nyx squeezed Y/N’s hand, his eyes full of reassurance. ��Come on, let’s sit down. There’s so much to talk about.”

As they made their way to the sitting area, Cassian couldn’t resist a teasing comment. “You know, there’s something about women from the Spring Court always falling for the Night Court. Must be our irresistible charm.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and musical. “Or maybe it’s because you guys keep saving us from all sorts of trouble.”

The room filled with laughter, the tension easing as everyone settled into comfortable conversation. Y/N shared stories of her life in the Spring Court, her voice animated and engaging. Despite her connection to Tamlin, she spoke with admiration for Nyx and the Night Court, clearly enchanted by their world.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found herself in a deeper conversation with Feyre and Rhysand, while Nyx was pulled aside by Cassian and Azriel.

“Looks like you’ve found yourself quite the match,” Cassian said, clapping Nyx on the back.

Nyx smiled, his eyes following Y/N’s every move. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

Azriel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “She seems to handle herself well. And she’s clearly smitten with you.”

Nyx’s smile widened. “I’m smitten with her too. She’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

Cassian’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just remember, we’ll always have your back. But we’ll also keep an eye on her—Spring Court connections and all.”

Nyx laughed, appreciating his uncles' protectiveness. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Meanwhile, Y/N was sharing a moment with Feyre, who couldn’t help but notice the young woman’s genuine affection for her son.

“You seem to care for Nyx a great deal,” Feyre said softly.

Y/N met Feyre’s gaze, her eyes earnest. “I do. He’s everything to me. I know our courts have a complicated history, but I believe we can build something beautiful together.”

Feyre smiled, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. “I believe that too. Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

As the night wore on, the bonds between Y/N and the Night Court members strengthened, the initial wariness giving way to acceptance and warmth. Nyx and Y/N stood on the balcony, looking out over the city, their hands intertwined.

“This feels like a dream,” Y/N whispered, leaning into Nyx’s embrace.

Nyx kissed her forehead, his heart full. “It’s our reality now. And we’ll face whatever comes our way together.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. “Together.”

And so, under the starry night sky of Velaris, the Night Court welcomed a new member into their fold, proving once again that love could blossom even in the most unexpected of places.

[b0xerdancer-writes]

It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 6

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that he's already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander, cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet, alcohol, parental abuse, death, murder, arguing. Not proofread.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 4,644

Notes: Let the ball begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later I awoke to a soft knock on my bedroom door. I had been sleeping soundly with the small hound curled into my side, however the small knock was enough to wake her up. I had named her Brandy like the drink my mate was so fond of, she stretched and licked my face to wake me further just as the door squeaked open. Lucien laughed as I groaned and picked Brandy up off of me.

Wait…

Lucien?

Lucien!

Lucien had been out in Autumn Court helping Eris with preparations for the festival for about a week and a half now. His return was a surprise to me and I shot up from the comfy spot I had created.

“Lucien! What the fuck? When did you get back? You arse! You could have told me you’d be back today, I would have had breakfast made!” I growled at him, had he not had Brandy tucked into his arms I would have chucked a pillow at his face.

He laughed back at me and smiled brightly, his hair pulled up in a messy bun and dressed in  a cream colored sweater, some comfy loose flowy  pants that poofed around his knees from his riding boots, a small tabard for the dagger i had gifted him the first birthday he had that I had seen him since he had escaped to the Spring court. He smiled brightly and looked around my room where gift bag upon gift bag was piled up. 

“We finished preparations a day earlier so Eris sent me back here to make sure everything was good and you were ready for tomorrow, He just got his suit last week and didn't need to get it altered by the way. I see he got a bit carried away with his little gifts.” He scratched brandy behind her floppy little ears and let out a small chuckle as she whined whenever he stopped.

“Honestly these are all from throughout the week you've been gone. I just haven't had a chance to go through all of them yet. I mean do we have anything to do today? You could help me, Luc!” I tilted my head at him and he sat Brandy on the floor.

“Well then let's get to it we have a lot to go through, I’ll go get us some coffee and some breakfast sweets from that bakery you like down the road, while you get dressed and ready for the day.” He dismissed himself from the room and I could hear the click of his boots on the floor as he made his way back to the front of the house. 

“Hey Luc? Can you take Brandy on her morning walk since you're going out?” I yelled down after him and Brandy barked excitedly. 

“Yep! I got you sister!” He whistled for Brandy who raced out of the room after the ginger male. 

I heard the jingle of him clipping her leash followed by the click of the door shut. I forced myself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up for the lazy day, I moved my hair from my face and slipped into my closet. Once I had changed into some comfy clothes I sat criss-cross on the floor and began  digging into one of the bags, the dress I would be wearing tomorrow was neatly hung on my closet door and was a looming reminder of what tomorrow could mean for me and Eris. Lucien returned just as I was beginning to sink into my own thoughts, Brandy was the first to greet me as she climbed her way into my lap.  Lucien sat our two cups of coffee on my vanity table and joined me criss-cross on the floor.

The three of us went through bag after bag of gifts, Brandy helping the best she could by being our clean-up team: Her job? To tear up every loose scrap of tissue or wrapping paper that didn't stay in the distinct pile me and Lucien had created. The gifts were unpredictable, the variety too large to guess, still Lucien and I tried our best. So far it had ranged everything from a bottle of wine and nice glasses to drink from and small pieces of jewelry to toys for Brandy, decor pieces to make the small apartment more obviously themed like the Autumn Court, and some very obviously expensive pieces like the last bag I had just opened. Wrapped in shimmery copper paper and tied with a dark green bow, the box was light and Lucien hummed loudly.

“What do you think it is?” He chirped

“Hmmmm, my guess is going to be something for the dance tomorrow, it's the newest present that just came in yesterday.” I hummed back in response.

Pulling the large bow, it untied itself effortlessly, I removed the lid. Just as quickly as I had peaked inside I slammed the lid closed. Lucien looked up at me startled.

“What is it?” He leaned forward trying to grab the box from me to peek inside himself. I swatted his hand and hissed.

He pulled his hand back with a faux-shocked look on his face as he gaped at me. I opened the box again and stared at the jewelry within it. Lucien stared at me expectantly and I tossed the lid into the trash pile, Brandy growling at it as it almost fell out.

“No… he didnt.”Lucien gasped and covered his mouth, the metal eye whirring as his eyes widened.

My eyes darted between the box and Lucien.

“Oh you have him hooked. Seriously hooked.” Lucien mumbled and grabbed a sip from his coffee. 

“What do you mean Lucien?” I hissed.

“That, sister, is from the vaults of the autumn court. I saw it earlier this week when I went down there with Eris looking for a piece of art he wanted hung up in the main hall for the dance.”

He murmured as he took another sip to be dramatic.

“Oh.”I mumbled, stunned.

“Oh is right, he's wrapped around your finger hun.” Brandy deposited one of her new toys in his lap and he threw it out in the hall for her.

In the box, nestled on a silky pillow the same color as the bow, was a gold diadem decorated in branches and leaves with a ruby in the center of the point that came between your brows and it somehow matched the cuffs and necklace he had bought me earlier. Beside it was a folded note, written in the familiar cursive scrawl I knew as Eris.

“All preparations have been completed for the festival, Lucien has been a major help in setting everything up while I've been in meeting after meeting. I’m sure you are able to recognize this piece is older, I spied it while in the vaults with Lucien, while I admit it was not my intention at the time to be in the vaults for this piece and I was in fact there for an ancient painting that has been passed down in my family. After I had left the vaults the piece you hold now refused to leave my mind, I imagined how well it would match the cuffs and necklace you will be wearing with your dress for the festival in two days time, I would be honored if you wore this with those accessories as well. It would send a message to all my advisors and those I wish to see replaced, I know it seems a lot and it will take everyone by surprise to see you wear a crown from autumn but my mother had it crafted as a gift for whatever female I decided I was going to court, so it will see its use in you. I will be forced to wear my own similar crown due to my duties as High Lord, so it will make us match even more and present a further unified front to the people of my court who doubt me and pressure me into taking a wife. I thank you in advance my dear. Love, Eris.” I read aloud.

Lucien stared back at me with wide eyes as he prompted my response.

I didn't give one, simply picked up the diadem and rose to my feet. I stood in front of the mirror on my vanity and placed the small gold band on my head, then looked at Lucien with tears in my eyes. He smiled sadly.

“You’ll look like a High Lady tomorrow. Mother save him, Eris will have you decorated and on display more than Rhys does with Feyre.” He huffed with the slightest smile.

I took the crown off and gently sat it on my vanity next to the other jewelry I would be dressed in tomorrow. “Honestly Luc… I think I’m okay with that. I mean it will get suspicion off of Eris, and show him the lengths I'm willing to go for him. Fuck, maybe it will even cause the bond to snap for him, a girl can hope right? If it doesn't go well then I still get to have my fun and imagine what it would be like, right Luc?” I mused at him, sadly at first but then excitedly as I processed the information myself.

He simply smirked at me. “Sure thing, Sister. All I’m saying is, I called it~”

We spent the rest of the evening in the living room burning the tissue paper in the fireplace, eventually Lucien stood and announced he was going to start making dinner. Our night stayed uneventful as we both took our places either side of the table to eat, Lucien eventually herding me to his room to show me the outfit he would be wearing and to show me the trinkets he had brought back himself. Brandy eventually stumbled into the room tripping on her own ears with a big yawn, I collected her from the floor and she whined softly, eagerly awaiting bed.

Lucien chuckled as I dismissed both Brandy and myself from the room, he wished us both a goodnight and closed the door behind us. I had installed steps for Brandy, courtesy of Lucien, so she could climb up and down from my bed as she wished; however due to her size and tendency to trip on her own ears from time to time, often enough I just picked her up to help her up and down. I had sat her in a faux-fur blanket and she began immediately curling into a ball. I couldn't blame her, tomorrow was going to be a long day and she would be joining me; Eris had gifted her an elegant collar that had been lined with fur padding, a deep wine red collar that had small maple leaves embroidered into it, and a little copper maple leaf tag hung from it. I changed into a night slip and joined her in the warm covers, the second I laid down she curled into my side and I dismissed the faelights. 

I awoke earlier than I normally did, the dark of the sky just beginning to dim, to find Lucien finishing up his hair in the mirror and he offered to take Brandy out for her morning walk while I got ready myself. Passing him the sleepy pup, he gave me a soft smile and disappeared down the dim hallway, only lit up by one small faelight we used to make sure we didn't trip on any of Brandy’s toys when it was dark inside the house. I  slipped into the bathroom around him and leaned down to draw a bath, only to find the bath freshly drawn and warmed to the perfect temperature. Lucien and I had this habit, since we knew the others daily routine so well, from small things like fresh cups of coffee prepared to the perfect temperature with all the fixings in it we had wanted to things such as this, all in favor of making the others day easier for them; it had come to us naturally being roommates for awhile now and even before that when he was small, we would exchange small trinkets like something he found in the gardens and I would bring him a treat from Night Court the next time I saw him. 

Lucien returned about half an hour later, a few minutes after I had decided to finally leave the warmth of the bath, now feeling clean and fresh enough to look like the soon-to-be high lady Eris was wanting me to play. I wrapped a fluffy towel around me  and slid into my room, slipping on my undergarments and finally stepping into the A-line skirt I had fallen in love with weeks ago. 

Lucien knocked softly at the door. “Will you need any help with fastening the dress closed Sister?” 

Lucien’s new nickname for me rarely caught me off guard anymore unless he was using it to tease me for what he claimed was Eris’s obvious affections.

“Yes please, actually I could use it now.” I chirpped over my shoulder.

The door clicked open and Lucien stepped in quietly and began fiddling with the clasps on the back. “You know all the high lords will be there tonight right? It's the first holiday or festival hosted in the court since Eris became High Lord. All eyes will be on you two.”

I could hear his genuine worry for me in his voice. “I know Luc, I’ll be okay, Eris will be okay. We’ve got this handled.” I smiled over my shoulder at him and he offered me a unsure smile back,

“I know,” he sighed “I just worry about you two, you two are some of the only family I have, save for Jurian and Vassa.”

I raised my brow at him, he hadn’t mentioned any dealings with the two recently, though I knew the affections he harbored for the two when they comforted after Tamlin sent all of his stuff to the manor south of the Spring Court. 

“Will they be there today or tonight as well?” I offered him the ability to further discuss them.

“They should be, during the day at least. That's why we expanded the festival partially, so Vassa could also enjoy it while it also making a statement about Eris’s dedication to the court.” he seemed to brighten up a bit as he got distracted talking about the two.

He sat on the bed and Brandy scrambled to try and climb up the stairs, but when she failed and tripped over her ears Lucien ultimately ended up moving her into his lap. He continued to ramble about some need to know stuff that was seen as customary in the Autumn Court, amongst other subjects, I slipped on the golden cuffs, clasped the necklace around my neck and straightened it out, followed by the ring Eris had gifted me. I slipped on some surprisingly comfortable yet stylish black pumps that had gold detailing on the heels. I grabbed the collar from my vanity and turned to where Lucien was holding Brandy, he unclasped her old collar with a loud gasp and she leapt from his lap, bounding across my bed we both laughed at her antics until she finally calmed and I was able to slip the new one on around her neck.

Lucien stood and ushered me into the vanity chair, he refused to let me do my own hair for events if he had any say in it. He lost himself in styling it before finally setting the golden diadem on my head with a nod, he picked up the container of kohl I had and began lining my eyes with it. Once he had finished, we clipped Brandy into her leash and I picked her up in my arms, she seemed so proud of her new collar. We slipped from our apartment and the wards of the locks clicked into place behind us, he helped me down the stairs slowly making sure none of the tulle or silk got caught.  Once we were on the sidewalk I realized the many citizens of Velaris that were out walking around, the sun now early in the sky still well before noon, had their eyes on me and were whispering back and forth with each other with eager smiles on their faces. I knew what they were thinking, Lucien had graciously pointed it out to me yesterday, Oh how I was going to enjoy the look on Rhys’s face when he saw me tucked into Eris’s side; Azriel would probably be told to take a breather by Rhys unless they brought Elain, she might be able to keep him calm. 

Lucien tucked me and Brandy into his side, though I could have winnowed us myself Lucien was adamant about me preserving my energy as I ‘have a long day ahead’. Much Like Eris’s winnowing Lucien’s was warm like the caress of heat you would get from sitting beside a bon-fire, but it was unique in itself as it felt like it glittered or shined, that instead of bending the world around him the light and sun rays bent to his whim. Before I could even blink we had appeared in the Autumn Court, the smell of spices and cider filled the air and filled me with a warm familiarity that made my chest ache for Eris. It was only after I stepped out of Lucien’s side that I realized where we stood, the small clearing where me and Eris had once called our sanctuary had been turned into a private garden, a large hedge lined the outer edge of the clearing and led towards the forest house a short distance away. 

Only then as I looked around did I realize Eris had the entire clearing decorated in soft fae lights, a sculpted bench sat in the place the old wooden log had, the sir had a soft chill to it and reminded me why I loved this place as much as I did. Lucien stiffened beside me as I sat Brandy on the forest floor, leash clipped neatly to the padded collar, she barked happily in the way of the opening in the hedge that led towards the house. 

When my attention drifted towards the gorgeously carved archway, there stood Eris wide-eyed in a suit that matched my dress: primarily black, with the same flame effect of my underskirt on his waist coat. I swallowed sharply and smiled at him, my chest pounded and the bond throbbed with how perfect he looked, with how obvious it would be to all others he was mine.

He gathered his composure and stepped forward, hugging Lucien who dismissed himself through the way Eris had just come, then turned to me and brought my hand to his lips and he bowed softly. 

“Cauldron save me, you look gorgeous, just the image I wished to present to my court. Thank you for doing this my lady.” 

I smiled softly, feeling heat begin to creep into my face and a throb in my chest. “Mother above Eris, you call me gorgeous yet have you looked in a mirror? You are the epitome of a High Lord!”

He smiled back at me softly, pulling me into a tight hug he sighed softly. “No I mean it Darling, Thank You, tonight would have been so much harder without you beside me. At least now I’ll avoid having to deal with my father’s advisors barking at me to keep my eyes peeled for a pretty female.”

I leaned my head against his chest and sighed, taking in his warm scent. “No worries Eris, like I promised, I’m here if you need me. No matter what. You need me to face every high lord in Prythian all at the same time while posing as your girl? So be it I’ll deal with their eyes on me, no prob.”

I heard him chuckle softly and relax in my arms, Brandy however was not pleased with the fact she was not getting any attention and was adamant about letting us know it. He released me from his hold and looked down at the small hound, with his hands on his hips.

“I hear you mam!”  He turned back to me again. “What did you end up naming her?” he kneeled down and scratched behind her long ears.

“Brandy.” I smiled gently watching the scene unfold in front of me.

He snorted as he giggled, Brandy moving to nibble at his hand. “Fitting, she's got the spice of a fire brandy. And it's good to see the collar fits her.”

He knelt there petting the small pup, while looking her over. “No health issues? No training issues?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven't had any issues with her at all. She's been well behaved.” 

He smiled and Brandy rolled over onto her belly. “Good, I figured she'd be a good blood line, her sire was Maple’s great-great grandpup.” 

I smiled brightly at the two on the forest floor. “I thought I recognized the spunk.” 

We both laughed and he rose from the floor, Brandy in his arms happily trying to get to his face, tongue lolling out and settling for just licking at the exposed skin of his arm. I took her from his arms and he offered me his arm, I linked mine and in unison we both took a deep breath. 

“To the promise we made all those years ago to never leave the other alone?” He looked down at me out of the corner of his eye.

I nodded. “To the leaves of Maple that were the only beings to hear our promise.” 

He nodded back at me and squared his shoulders. All those years ago, when we had made the deal that initially was just him  asking to never be left alone, I had extended it to be either way: that We would never leave the Other alone. It had been just us and the trees that day, and as we sealed the deal we had spoken those words to each other for the first time; a sharp sting followed by a dull throbbing on my ankle led me to discover the sight of two small maple leaves intertwined with eachother. Eris had grasped at his protruding hip bone just below where his belt was clasped around his waist, the location of his tattoo had caused my face to heat, just the thought of it today caused blood to rush to my face. 

In my dedication to Eris as my mate I had never chased after another male, had no interest in them either really. Of course I knew what would be asked of me as his wife, if had come to that at that time, but all I had ever really seen was my brothers after training, or the low slung pants of male’s at Rita’s that revealed just a little too much for my liking. It had often caused me to lose interest in the current objective that led to me seeing the other males, the bond aching in my chest reminding me of loyalty to Eris, often caused me to return to my room or apartment and escape into the books either within the library or in later years what Lucien and I had collected within our little apartment.  Every time we echoed the promise we had made back in the day, I was reminded very quickly of the tattoo on my ankle and the same one on his hip. I felt the heat in my face extended to my pointed ears as my eyes glanced over where the concealed tattoo would be before I straightened my back and looked forward.

Tonight would be hard, I decided. With Eris looking so perfect, the ache of want that had settled in my chest with a slow throb, and the heat in my face and chest that slowly moved lower and lower every time I glanced at Eris by my side.  The crunch of fallen leaves under my heels drew me back to reality as we neared the gardens of the first house, I could hear music and laughter from within the house. The halls had been closed off in a way Eris and I could make a grand entrance together through the second entrance into the grand ballroom. 

Our steps echoed against the halls as we walked in silence through the now warm halls of the Forest house, till we stopped right in front of a set of large wooden doors. The music and laughter was obvious on the other side of it, two guards looked back and forth between each other and then to Eris.

 Eris looked down at me with a worried smile. “Ready?”

“Ready.”I echoed.

 We both nodded at each other and then Eris nodded at the guards. Two finely dressed males with simple leathers on, a helmet in one arm and a sheathed blade at either side. They knocked firmly on the door once, the music and chatter from the other side becoming quiet as I heard a loud booming voice clear their throat.

“Introducing our High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra,” soft cheering erupted but was quickly silenced again as the male continued, murmurs replaced the cheering. 

“And the female he has declared he will be courting: The Princess of Night Court herself!”  Whoops and hollers could be heard as the doors began opening slowly.

Eris and I took a deep breath, Brandy made herself comfortable yet regal looking in one of my arms. I let Eris lead us into the room of Prythian residents. Eris nodded and mouthed a thanks to the small male I now realized was the announcer.  We came to a stop a few steps in front of the announcer, and Eris  cleared his own throat unlinking his arm with mine. 

“Thank you all for being here, I simply wanted to start this celebration with a quick speech.” The way the light of the grand glass chandelier hit him I was breathless, he seemed like the only male in the room as he drew everyone's attention to him.

“As many of you know this is the first holiday I will be celebrating with you all as High Lord, but I would not have been able to do it if it wasn't for the female at my side and my dear brother Lucien, both of you helped me greatly even if you don’t know it. Secondly, I would like to thank the citizens of Autumn Court for believing in me as their new High Lord. My goal from the second I took over the throne has been to reform this court and with your help and dedication I have been able to begin working in that direction. Think tonight not only as a celebration of a holiday but also as a celebration for your hard work. Now please let me not continue to ramble on because I will with thanking you for every little thing that has made tonight possible, and continue your celebrations.” Cheers erupted and I smiled sweetly at Eris as I extended my hand to him which he took eagerly, Brandy cheering him on with her own little howls and bays.

A servant brought around small champagne flutes, both of us taking one as we clinked them together.

“To tonight?” I chirped.

“To us.” Eris echoed my tone, and we both took a sip from the glasses in our hands.

No, tonight wouldn’t be as difficult as I had thought, tonight would be fantastic. I had Eris at my side after all and if all the eyes on us had any indication how it was going so far, it was working.

Taglist:

@stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbatboydreams @abysshaven

@wallacewillow0773638 @azriels-mate2 @sassyslytherinshai

@sparksandstarss @pandabiiissh @saltedcoffeescotch @cirwin2013

@minnieoo @easchies @melsunshine

@sweetcarolina-24 @florenceivy @inloveallthetime

@azrielsmate3 @witchymomfrien @eternallyelvish

@mybestfriendmademe

[starsreminisce]

LucienWeek2024 Day One Gentleman

Bite Me

Word Count: 3200 Rating: M @lucienweekofficial

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra is up in Velaris for yet another meeting with his High Lord. He has to remind himself that he is a gentleman, and gentlemen act with honor, but that honor is tested whenever he is close to his mate.

Read on AO3

Lucien was decidedly not having a good time as he reviewed his report on the Spring Court for what felt like the hundredth time. He didn’t need to be in Velaris for yet another meeting with Rhysand—especially not when they could’ve easily used daemati-speak. Rhys could also have scanned his thoughts and seen everything for himself.

No, Rhys had another reason for summoning him here, week after week. Lucien wasn’t sure if it was all Rhys’s doing, or if Feyre had some hand in it too, as he skimmed the report again, trying to distract himself.

And, as usual, they were late. Again. As if dragging this out would somehow make Elain do what everyone seemed to expect her to. He knew her routine by now. She’d be coming back from the garden soon, passing the sitting room to pointedly ignore him, on her way to finish baking whatever it was. The warm scent of country bread drifted through the house—simple, rustic, his favorite. Not that she knew, of course. She couldn’t possibly know how much he loved it, especially slathered with Day Court butter and a pinch of flaky salt.

The mating bond flared as she got closer, a familiar and frustrating itch beneath his skin. He gripped the edges of the paper in his hands, trying to shove the feeling aside, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself about what was really bothering him. It wasn’t just the bond. No, the bond beckoned him towards Elain, reminding him what he actually missed the most since Jesminda’s passing. He missed sex. The simple, physical act of it. He missed the buildup, the friction between two people, the release and subsequent euphoria. He missed being inside someone. And Gods, he was stressed enough that made missing it even worse.

Jurian and Vassa weren’t exactly subtle about what they were up to, and their scents had a way of rubbing salt in the wound. And as for Feyre and Rhys—they didn’t even bother trying to hide it. How Elain could stand living in this house with all of that going on, Lucien had no idea.

He let out a slow breath, forcing his thoughts back to the report. Elain was just a few rooms away, and he knew she’d slip out of sight the moment he so much as looked at her.

Still, no matter how much the bond tugged at him, no matter how badly he wanted her, Lucien wasn’t going to act on it. He was a lot of things, but desperate wasn’t one of them.

Lucien reminded himself, again, that he was a gentleman.

He decided then he would leave. He planned to drop the report with an attached note that if Rhys had some follow-up questions, he would oblige him. He finally decided this was the right course of action when a loud clatter came from the kitchen, followed by a sharp, pained “Ouch!”

He was on his feet in an instant, rushing toward the noise. When he entered the kitchen, the warm, yeasty smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of Elain crouched near the open oven, cradling her hand. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to cool the burn.

Lucien's heart lurched. Without thinking, he moved toward her. She instinctively pulled away, but he was faster, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands hovered near hers, cautious, unsure.

“Let me see,” he said, his voice low, almost a plea.

Elain shook her head, turning away as she cradled her injured hand closer to her chest, her breath shaky.

Lucien exhaled, his shoulders tensing. He carefully shut the oven door, ignoring the loaves inside.

“Please,” he whispered, his tone softer now. “Just let me help.”

She stood slowly, her body stiff, her eyes darting toward the door as if she could escape. “I can find Feyre.”

“I don’t know where they are,” he replied as he stood up as well, “but I can help.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Her hand stayed curled protectively against her chest. Then, with a reluctant sigh, her fingers loosened, revealing the angry red burn on her palm. The skin was inflamed, already rising into what would surely be a painful blister. She bit her lip, stifling a small whimper as Lucien gently cupped her hand in his.

Magic stirred within him, and a soft emerald glow shimmered between their joined hands. When the light faded, Lucien lifted his hand, revealing her palm—smooth, unblemished, as if the burn had never happened.

Elain blinked, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down at her healed hand, then back at him, eyes wide with something between surprise and wariness.

He inspected her hand for a long moment, making sure the healing was complete. His thumb brushed across her palm—softly, almost absentmindedly. Then he glanced up at her, looking through his lashes. 

“Be careful next time,” he muttered, the words coming out more awkwardly than he intended.

The urgency had faded, leaving behind a charged silence. It was only then they both realized Lucien was still holding her hand—tenderly, almost protectively.

And then his body reacted, betraying him. The scent of his arousal thickened the air between them, impossible to ignore. His breeches strained uncomfortably, his cock swelling before he could stop it.

Elain stiffened, her eyes flicking down for a heartbeat before she yanked her hand away, her face twisting into a frown.

“Of course,” she hissed, stepping back, her voice laced with disdain. “Typical mate.”

Lucien blinked, caught off guard. “Typical mate?” he echoed, incredulous.

She glared at him. “It’s always the same with you mates,” she spat. “You think—just because we’re mates…” Her voice faltered, a crack in her anger revealing something more fragile beneath. “You think it’s always about that.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I just healed you, lady,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

She scoffed. “I would’ve been fine. Feyre could’ve healed me.”

“Feyre isn’t here,” Lucien snapped, his patience fraying. “I am.”

“And yet, you came rushing in here—”

“Of course I did,” he growled.

“—to take advantage of me.”

“Take advantage? Of you?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Typical mate.”

Lucien felt the strain of his arousal like a cruel reminder, his breeches uncomfortably tight, his body betraying him in the worst possible moment. “I am, first and foremost, a gentleman.”

“A gentleman?” Elain's voice trembled, though she tried to mask it with disdain. “A gentleman would have acted with honor. Not suddenly grown aroused by a simple touch.”

Her lips twisted as she wiped the lingering tears from her eyes.

Lucien took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his frustration boiling over. “I’ve been a gentleman long before this mating bond snapped,” he said, voice low and controlled. “My mother raised me with honor. But nothing could’ve prepared me for how that honor would be tested—by you.”

He was close now, towering over her, his gaze locked on hers. Elain glared up at him, her scowl more kitten-like than fierce, though it only sharpened the tension between them.

“That honor,” Lucien continued, his voice dropping to a growl, “grows thinner and thinner every time I’m near you.”

He paused, letting his words hang in the air. “Typical mate?” He echoed her words, but this time, they came out as a challenge.

Elain’s gaze flicked down to the obvious bulge in his breeches before snapping back to his eyes. “You mates are all the same,” she hissed. “With your … longing gazes. Cassian can’t look at Nesta without wanting to tear her clothes off, Rhysand can’t keep his hands off Feyre, and you—” She trailed off, biting her lip. “You barely even touch me and yet…”

The scent of her arousal filled the air, subtle but unmistakable. Lucien could feel his instincts begin to sing. He took her hand again, brushing his lips softly over the place where her burn had been. His voice dropped to a murmur. “A typical mate would have kissed it,” he said, his mechanical eye whirred as it focused on hers. “Shall I?”

Elain didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either. So he did. Slowly, deliberately, his lips pressed against the soft skin of her palm. He felt her shiver under his touch, saw the goosebumps rise along her arm.

Lucien let his lips trail up her arm, inch by inch, savoring the way her breath hitched as he neared her neck. He paused at the curve of her shoulder, breathing in her scent—jasmine and honey, heady and warm. Perfect.

“A typical mate might have bitten you right here,” he murmured, letting his teeth graze her skin just enough to tease, to hint at the primal urge simmering beneath his control.

She exhaled softly, but she stayed perfectly still, her trust evident in the way she leaned into him. His mouth hovered just behind her ear, his breath hot against her skin, and he felt her shiver in response. The effect she had on him was intoxicating, maddening—his instincts clamoring for release even as he forced himself to hold back.

Walk away, he told himself, fighting to keep the warring impulses in check. But with each heartbeat, each whisper of her scent, his restraint frayed a little more

“I could claim you here,” he murmured, vibrating with barely contained restraint. “Or maybe… you’d rather claim me.”

She should have pulled away. She should have stepped back. But she hadn’t. His instincts were overriding his control, drowning out reason. His grip tightened on her, the pulse of their bond thrumming in sync with the rapid beat of her heart.

His senses were overwhelmed by her scent, which was once pleasant and delicate but was now tinged with something deeper, something necessary. His thumb brushing against her skin made his palms shake. His entire being was in tune with hers: the rise and fall of her breath, the electric tension that kept them centimeters apart, and the charged stillness between them.

“You really are a typical mate,” she whispered, her voice threaded with her own heat, her own wanting.

“There are certain expectations of a mate,” he growled. His lips brushed the curve of her neck, just barely. “Shall I fulfill them?”

Her body answered for her—the scent of her arousal growing stronger, filling his lungs, heady and overwhelming. His control slipped, and without thinking, he pulled up her skirt, his hand slipping beneath the fabric. She still didn’t stop him. She still didn’t pull away.

Her breath caught as she pressed closer, a silent surrender that ignited something wild in him. 

Lucien’s heart thundered, his pulse racing. She was soft beneath his hands, warm, and gods, that scent was intoxicating. She was unraveling him, tearing away the last threads of his restraint. The bond pulsed between them, pulling him deeper into the need that blazed in her eyes, urging him to give in.

He pressed his mouth to her neck, the gentlest of touches, as his hand slid further up her thigh, fingers brushing sensitive skin. The little left of his control was slipping, but he wasn’t sure he cared. Not when she felt like this under him, when every pulse of their bond was tethering them together in a way that made him ache with need.

And still… she hadn’t said no.

“Elain,” he whispered. The sound of her name in deep timbre crossed something between them, as if speaking it out loud had broken whatever fragile boundary still existed.

Her reaction was immediate. Her body tense and her lips part in a soft, startled exhale. Her pulse jumped visibly at the base of her throat, quickening under the delicate skin. Her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, as if the weight of hearing her name spoken in that way—by him—had sent a tremor through her entire body.

The bridge between their souls trickled down her need for release, the same stress, the same aching longing that plagued him. But it wasn’t just her scent or the bond that told him. He saw it in the way her fingers curled, gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. In the way her lips parted just slightly, her teeth catching the soft curve of her bottom lip as she stared at him, her eyes dark with want.

“Do you want me to keep being the gentleman I’m trying to be,” he rasped, his voice barely holding together, “or do you want me to act like the mate you accuse me of?”

Gods, he hadn’t imagined it like this—hurried and heated, driven by instinct. He’d pictured something slower, more intimate, with whispered promises and confessions of love.

But Cauldron damn him…

His fingers slid between her thighs as she parted them slightly, inviting him closer. Gently, he brushed aside the fabric of her undergarments, and found her already wet. Elain gasped, her hips instinctively bucking against his hand as he slipped two fingers through her slick heat, teasing the swollen nub of her clit. The soft sound of her moan sent a shiver down his spine, unraveling him.

“Hurry,” she whispered, but it was all he needed.

Lucien lifted her effortlessly onto the table, his hands trembling as he undid his breeches. His cock sprang free, hard and aching. Her eyes widened as she leaned back, watching him. He aligned himself at her sex, teasing with the tip of his length. Her back arched, her eyes fluttering closed.

With one smooth thrust, he buried his cock deep inside her, groaning as her warmth enveloped him fully. He waited to give her time to get used to it and to stop him if she so desired. Rather, she propped herself on her elbows. Her legs instinctually wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Hurry,” she repeated urgently.

Lucien swallowed thickly. “I don’t know if I could…”

“Don't be gentle,” Elain finished for him in a pant.

The last of his control snapped. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer. His thrusts came harder, deeper, more insistent, her body tightening around him with every movement. His thoughts scattered with every movement. The overpowering need to have her, to claim her, eclipsed everything else.

His mind was clouded with the scent of her, the feel of her. Her heat, her breath, the way her body arched and responded to him. 

Mine. I am yours. You are mine. Mate.

Their breathing became one: her soft pants, his low grunts, as the room echoed the cacophony of their bodies coming together in a more and more frantic, urgent manner. He could feel her walls squeeze tighter around him, and soon her panting gave way to louder, unbridled moans.

“Look at me,” Lucien growled.

She did. Her gaze locked onto his, her pupils wide, her eyes softening as they met his. Her full lips hung open as soft gasps escaped from his every thrust.

Lucien watched as her expression shifted—her flushed face tightening, her brow furrowing in concentration. Her lashes fluttering as her eyes struggled to stay open, pinned to his. Her mouth quivered, and he could see the tension building within her, feel it in the way her body coiled beneath him, so close to the edge.

She was so beautiful.

Lucien leaned down, capturing her mouth with his, their kiss as furious and consuming as the rhythm of his body. Her hands clung to him desperately, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, as though it’ll keep her from floating away in this storm of sensation building between them.

Her body trembled beneath him, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Her heels dug into the small of his back, urging him closer, harder—locking him against her as the tension coiled, tightening with every thrust.

Lucien released her from his kiss. He whispered, “come for me, Elain.”

And then, as if time itself shattered, she obeyed.

Elain’s body tensed and convulsed as she reached her peak, her breath catching in a sharp gasp before breaking into a low, raw moan of his name. Her entire body clenched around him one last time, and Lucien felt his cock coated by her release. He could feel it in every part of her—her muscles locking, her back arching, her nails creating crescents into his back as she lost herself in the throes of her orgasm.

But just as she let go, her mouth found the curve of his neck. She bit down—hard.

The sharp sting of her teeth sent a shockwave through him, snapping through his body like lightning, but instead of pain, it unleashed a flood of overwhelming pleasure. The sensation of her biting—claiming him—combined with the vice-like grip of her body around his was more than enough to overshadow any semblance of laughable control he had.

With a guttural groan of her name, Lucien felt himself unravel, his release crashing through him in powerful waves. His hips bucked against her, giving one final desperate thrust. His cock pulsed inside her. The pleasure burst white-hot, blinding in the intensity, spilling deep inside her.

The moment Lucien’s release burst through him, they moved as one, their bodies united in that last, desperate hug. Her heels dug harder as her thighs cinched closer around him, as if she might pull him in any deeper. Two souls intertwined, lost in the bliss that enveloped them both, were perfectly in rhythm with each other in every breath, pulse, and beat of their bodies.

Lucien’s breath came in ragged gasps as the last of his release spilled into her, his forehead resting against hers. His body trembled, tired yet still tingling with pleasure. There was an unmistakable electricity between them, and their bond was more intense than before.

Her bite throbbed in his neck, the bruise a seal of her claim, but he embraced the sting. It bound him to her in a manner nothing else could.

For an instant, the world receded and all that was left was them—them alone—connected, claimed, utterly undone.

For several moments, neither of them moved; the only sound in the space was their heavy breathing as they were still trying to get their breath back from what had just taken place. Slowly, the haze began to lift; the awkward stretch of silence settled in as they disentangled themselves. Not looking in each other’s direction, the weight of realization impaled them—what they had done, and how intimate they had claimed each other.

They muttered apologies, neither of them quite sure what they were apologizing for. But it didn’t change the way Lucien felt. She had been worth the wait—gods, she had been worth every second. And now that he’d had her, the gnawing need to be inside her again was already creeping back, coiled tight within him. The bond thrummed softly between them, as if sated for now, content with their offering but a remainder they still need to pay.

He glanced at Elain, no hiding what had transpired between them on her appearance. He wanted to say something—anything—that might make sense of what had just happened. But there were no words for this, no easy way to explain how different everything felt now.

“I should clean up,” Elain mumbled, smoothing her wrinkled skirt with shaking hands as he pulled up his pants. She glanced over at the oven, the half-forgotten loaves still baking.

Lucien, catching her look, moved before she could. He reached for the oven door, his hands inherently handling the heat she would have burned herself on. He removed the cast irons, setting it down carefully on the countertop.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

And then their gaze met, and in that shortest of moments, the space between them just melted away. Surprised by how close they were to each other, they widened their eyes and almost in a synchronized awkward fashion, both took a step backward.

But even as the distance widened, the bond thrummed—low and steady—a reminder to them both that something had shifted, something that wasn't so easily ignored.

Elain’s gaze jerked to the mark on his neck, her cheeks going a wonderful shade of crimson. She bit a lip and averted her gaze, turned, and retreated in silence. Lucien blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Ah, well. Now she certainly won't be speaking to me.

His fingers moved to his neck, hovering over the spot where she had claimed him. He thought about healing it, erasing the mark she’d left, but… he didn’t. Instead, a small smile tugged at his lips as he glamoured it.

It was, after all, the first thing she had given him.

Turning back toward the sitting room, he prayed that neither Rhys nor Feyre would catch a whiff of what had transpired between them.

He wouldn’t tell. He never would.

After all, he was still a gentleman.

[secretlovelygarden]

Antis: "Elain is miserable in the NC, she hates being there, she looks terrible in black, and she would thrive in the Spring Court."

Meanwhile, Elain:

She's smiling again (her smile bright enough that it lit up even Azriel's shadows across the room)

The light returned to her eyes. (Feyre says: "A light I wouldn't see dimmed further")

She's excited about building gardens. She expanded the garden in the back of the townhouse and is in charge of the garden of the River House.

Made two new friends, who understand her moods and what she sometimes needs. They offer her "companionship, purpose," and presumably "lessons in stealth"?

She's cooking and baking tarts, bread, and heart-shaped cookies!

The IC really likes her. Even Amren likes her.

She's visiting the Palace of Bone and Salt (witchy Elain?)

She believes in love again. She found someone who offers her "quiet" company, someone to share her gardening plans with, someone who's more in tune with her than her mate, someone who's willing to risk his life to save her, and someone who offers her hope, excitement, and unconditional love.

Killed the King of Hybern.