#dark! Rhysand

[tadpolesonalgae]

Tag, You’re It[***]

Dark!feysand x human!reader

A/N: I have no words for how much I love this ask

Summary: eenie, meenie, miny, mo, catch a lady by her toes, if she screams don’t let her go.

Warnings: Non-con, smut, breeding kink, mean Dom!Rhys, dark!Feysand, mentions of rape, slight predator play, slight necrophilia (cut off fingers), mentions of torture, 7.5k words

Necrophilia part follows from: ‘He’ll never put his hands on you again.

Well…’

-Part 2-

“I—…what?”

The High Lady stiffens at your shocked tone. Almost horrified. Besides her, Rhysand’s eyes sharpen, piercing into you. She sucks in a calming breath. “We can get rid of your husband, you won’t have to live here anymore. With him.”

Your lips part in shock, both of their eyes following so keenly that you snap your mouth shut. “I love my husband,” you utter. “And this home is one we built together.” Silver lines your eyes as you try to summon anger but all you feel is betrayal. “I understand it’s nowhere near your level of wealth,” you flush, eyes hot, “but my husband and my house are both very dear to me. I will not leave them.”

“Just give us a chance,” Feyre whispers, gently, reaching to settle her palm over yours but you jerk back. Pain flashes through her grey-blue eyes before she smothers it. “No!” You keep your hand close to your chest, leaning away from her in the chair. “I’ve told you very clearly, High Lady—” Feyre stills at the title, in replace of her name, “—I love my husband, and he loves me. We’ve grown together throughout the years and there’s no one I would be happier to spend my life with. Besides,” you add, voice quieting as your eyes pierce into the female’s, “we’ve decided to try for a child. By this time next year I will have a baby to look after.”

She actually flinches at the line. A reminder of how fae bodies take longer to reproduce, how slim the chances are. A private worry she had confided in you, many moons ago. The High Lord’s eyes narrow, thinking about all the ways he could make you submit to them. Rhysand watches as you raise from your chair, tension rippling across his chest as you move to the door. It would be so easy to sink into your mind, slide through your mental shields and force you to your knees.

But his mate is still young and would not approve of his darker methods. He needs to find a way around the obstacle of morality, and quickly. Before you leave and things begin to get messy. Who would’ve guessed you’d be so loyal to your scummy husband? Anger burns across his chest at the thought alone. How you could put up with the man was beyond him. He knew the two of them would treat you infinitely better than he ever could. You just needed your eyes opened, to see their side.

The High Lord is brought out of his mind when Feyre stands from her chair, striding after you on her elegantly fae legs, swallowing the distance. Her movements are sharp, precise. No soft edges to be found. Her mind is hardened and he sends a question across the bond. It rebounds off a wall of glittering, black adamant, so pure his talons hardly leave a scratch.

Her hands land on your hips and you flinch when she spins you around, shoving you against the unopened door. “It wasn’t a request,” her words are lethally soft, warmth freezing over as ice slices through her eyes. “I was giving you an order.” Then her hands pin you to to the exit, holding you still by the sweep of your bones, and her mouth crushes down on your own.

You completely freeze, caught in the crossfire as you still. Your mind blanks with utter terror as she forces her tongue between your lips, tasting you as she growls. The sound has your hairs standing on end, tingling sensitivity erupting across your skin as her mouth overlaps your own.

The High Lord’s eyes widen, shock coursing through his blood as he watches, enraptured. His mate keeps you against the door, taking what she wants. Then she’s pulling back, a silver thread of saliva connecting your lips as you stare up at her. “Rhys,” she commands, and you’re paralysed as the male stands, exuding malice as he prowls forward, settling at her back. He towers over the both of you, and his violet eyes gleam with dark delight.

“Yes, my lady?” He drawls, hands settling at her waist, hunching over as he settles his chin on the elegant slope of her shoulder. Both of their hungry eyes remain on you, pinning you to the door like an insect to a dissection table. “Bedroom. Now.” Her voice cuts through the air, like a freshly forged blade through a narrow sheet of ice.

He presses a kiss to the space below her jaw, hands dancing over the lace at her sides. Violet eyes pierce into you before he vanishes, wisped away in a plume of shadows. Your eyes turn to the female’s, afraid, “Feyre—”

“‘Feyre’, now.” Her expression is stony, blue-grey eyes thunderous. “I thought you were content to address me as High Lady,” she spits out. You cower before her, power straining in the air, the metallic tinge shoving itself up your nostrils.

You swallow, raising your hands slowly in surrender, “I swear, I didn’t mean to offend—”

Her hand grips you jaw and you cry out, her nails biting into the soft skin of your cheek, “don’t back out now,” she croons, “you said what you wanted to. Chose your path.” Silver lines your eyes as terror screams in your blood. Her lips brush over yours as she leans down, eyes hard and unforgiving, “you dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Her lips once again crash over yours and you cry out, tears free-falling from your eyes, pouring down your cheeks as you try to scream. One hand snakes around your hip, keeping you still with her overwhelming strength. Her other snakes between your legs, fingers dancing through the fabric of your skirts, settling against your bare heat. She completely dominates your mouth, even as you thrash, her teeth nipping at your lips, tongue conquering your own as she shoves you into submission.

A growl rumbles across her breastbone as she feels wetness at your entrance. The heel of her palm rubs over your clit as you try to scream for her to stop, to get away from you. Two of her fingers dip into your cunt and you cry harder, writhing against her grip even if it’s utterly useless to attempt to escape her. She’s brilliantly, powerfully fae, and you’re undeniably, detrimentally human.

Your hands slide away from trying to shove her off, instead scraping at the door. If you can just find the handle—

The wood gives way behind you, allowing you to stumble back, crashing to the floor as your legs give out. She’s silhouetted in the frame, unusually tall, proportions too elongated to pass as human. Sharp talons protrude from her fingertips, glinting in the light. She snarls, and all it takes is that first step across the threshold that has you scrambling to your feet, sprinting down the hallways. An animal growl echoes along the corridor behind you, bouncing off the walls as your feet pound against the floor boards.

You swerve left, careen right, hit the stairs. You practically leap down them as you hear her following after you. Her steps are slow, leisurely, but you hear the menacing scrape of claws along wallpaper. It grates on your ears and you’re surprised you don’t trip with how weak your legs feel.

You fling a door open, dashing inside as you search for the final set of stairs to lead you down to the ground floor. It’s another hallway. There’s no time. You sprint down it, feeling the pressure of power in the air as she gains on you. You nearly trip on a rug but keep your balance, zipping down the corridors until you find a set of stairs. They only lead up.

Her footsteps echo on the dark mahogany floors, the deep red rugs doing nothing to soften their harsh thud. She’s practically behind you.

You take the stairs three at a time, breathing hard as you turn right at the top, searching for a place to hide. You run down more corridors with dark floorboards, more hallways with red rugs. Shit. You must’ve gotten turned around. Were you even on the first floor?

Where are you, little traitor?

The High Lady’s voice slices through your mind and you clutch your temples, the sound much too loud. It must mean she’s close. Fuck. You stumble along the narrowing hallways, but trip, sprawling on the floor. Pushing up, you see the loom of her shadow around the corner, lurking just out of sight. You turn on your heel, arms pumping at your sides, heart pounding in your chest.

You round a final corner and you know you can’t continue for much longer. Your throw open a door, spinning on your heel as you make sure to shut it as quietly as possible. You can’t hear it over the thunderous beat of your heart. In your peripherals, you can see your hands shaking as you release the handle, backing up on your tiptoes.

Powerful arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight against a strong chest, “there you are, little lynx.” You scream, pushing away from him as you turn. A vicious grin plays on his hellish mouth, stalking forward until you’re cornered against the wall. Your lungs are burning as you again reach for the handle, but it’s gone.

Disbelievingly, you stare at the flat wood, no sign to be found it was ever there. “What did you do?” You stammer, tears brimming at your eyes as his grin widens. “I didn’t do a single thing. That was all her.” You shrink away from him as he leans down, arms wrapping around your middle, the broad length of his shoulder pressing against your stomach.

Screams tear from your lips as he hoists you into the air with casual ease. You don’t weigh a thing to him. “Let me go!” You cry, slamming your hands into his back, aiming either side of his spine. He flings you down atop a wide mattress. Your marital bed, you realise. “Please, Rhys. My husband! What of my life!?” Your desperate pleas fall on deaf ears as his grin widens with pleasure.

“Keep still,” he drawls, arms folding over his powerful chest and you can’t find the will to move. It’s been taken from you. “I’m sure she’ll be along in a moment to decide what to do with you.” Tears blur your vision, and a moment later, the door swings open. A shiver licks up the High Lord’s spine as he sets his gaze on his mate, who is thrumming with dark power. Embracing the Night.

You scramble back on the bed, up to the headboard, pressing into the corner as she prowls across the room. Her talons glitter in the fading light, the room awash with blues and greys as darkness descends. “You want to make this difficult, little traitor?” She spits, standing at the end of the mattress. You shake your head, mouth trembling as your hands shake.

The grey-blue of her eyes shutter at your answer. “Come here.” One slim finger points to the spot directly in front of her. You swallow, tremors wracking your muscles but you manage to sporadically push forward. Maybe you should listen to her, get her out of that cold, wrathful state. Hands settling shakily into the sheets, you crawl forward, stopping before her as you sit back on your calves, kneeling placatingly.

“Rhys,” she addresses, never taking her cold eyes from you, “sit down.” He follows her orders, taking one of the comfortable armchairs facing the bed. He sprawls across the seat as if it’s a throne, long legs crossing over one another as he settles for the show.

Feyre’s claws retract, hand fisting in your hair sternly. “Eyes on me.” Instantly, you return you gaze to her, and her grip lessens. “Will you be good for me?” The question slices through your tender threads of hope. Your lower lip wobbles, but you nod. You just need an opening. Maybe you can throw yourself out the window.

The High Lady’s eyes pierce into you, staring deep into your soul. “Kiss me,” she commands, and you still.

“W—…what?”

“Prove you’ll be good. Kiss me. Show me you mean it.” Her brow narrows, “unless you’re lying.”

“Fey—” She glowers at the pet name you’ve had for her. “Feyre. Please.” Your hands raise to settle on her hips, holding her in reverent supplication, bowing your head, appealing to the friend you’d once had. “Maybe, if my husband could—”

She snarls, cutting you off as she jerks your head upright. “That useless sack of meat doesn’t deserve you.” You swallow down your tears at the way she speaks about the man you love, heart stinging, wishing he could be here to hold you. You were so close to your happy ever after. “But if he could just come with me! Then…then maybe…” You meet her gaze heart sinking. “You can have me.”

A thunderous growl resonates throughout the dark room and you try to shrink from her, hands pulling away as if stung. “The next time you mention him, I’ll kill him myself.” Despair wracks your heart, shuddering within its boney cage. You fling your arms around her in a last effort to summon forward the gentle friend you’d had, your closest companion, the one who you had thought you’d listen to above anyone else. Her word had been law unto you, until she’d changed.

“Please, Fey,” you sob weakly, shuddering in her arms. She stiffens under your touch, finally feeling your skin against hers as she’d dreamt about for so long. She can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the full press of your breasts against her own, the soft tickle of breath over her shoulder as your arms grip her tightly. As if you’re scared to let go of her. “I know you’re in there…” Hot droplets land on the bare expanse of her shoulder, pooling in the dip of her collar bone. “So please, come back to me. I miss you so much. Come back, Fey…”

Her hands brace your waist, gently pulling you from her. You settle back onto your knees, hands flat against her neck, just below her jaw as you look at her with dim hopefulness. You watch as her eyes glaze, in discussion with her mate. When she speaks, her voice has softened, something of her old kindness lighting the icy grey of her eyes. “Why do you love him?”

Tears spill as hope lights in your chest. “He completes me, Fey. Like how you say Rhys completes you. I can’t—…without him, I… I wouldn’t be me, Fey. He makes me whole.” You look up at her with pleading eyes, her own softening just a fraction. “It’ll pass,” she soothes, hand landing atop your head with a feather-light touch, stroking your hair calmingly.

“What…?”

Sadness lies in the depth of her dark gaze, “you’ll recover from him. Like I did from Tamlin. You’ll get better. My sweet girl…just let us help you.” The spark dims, snuffed out by her words. Then the torrent of emotions rain down on you as your hands fist in the collar of her low cut dress, pulling yourself up until you’re chest to chest. “How would you feel, Feyre?” You shout at her, tears pouring down your cheeks as you feel like you’re being cleaved in two. “What would you do if someone tried to take you away from Rhys? How would you feel if they tried to force you like you’re doing to me?”

“Why have one when they could have both?” She murmurs, looking deep into your eyes. You shake your head as her own hands slide adoringly up your sides, cupping your jaw. “No…that’s not… You’re not listening to me!”

“I drink in every word you give me, treasure every moment of your company in the chambers of my memory,” she breathes over your lips. You’re sucked into her mind, swallowed as she shows you yourself through her eyes. When you and your husband were struggling badly and you’d broken down, crying and shaking in her arms. When she’d tried to leave you alone on your birthday, thinking you’d want to share it with the man you claimed to love. Yet you had snuck out - after dark - to her own mansion in the human lands, where you knew she had made the journey to in order to at least be around to celebrate.

Her memories swarmed your mind, tainting the once dear images with a sinister gleam, a lurking presence waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The High Lady sees that same look in your eyes as the night you’d confessed to skipping meals to ration food over the harsh winter, the despair. The doubt you’d survive. She doesn’t want to hurt you, but she knows you’ll be better away from him. You just need the bandage ripped off, like what Rhys had done for her when he’d saved her from the Spring Court. She’d been dissonant at first, but had come back to life under his care.

And they could do the same for you. Nurture and guide you until you were healed of your husband’s marks. Until you wouldn’t question a lone grave dug in your back garden in the house you would leave behind. For them. They could keep you as you are, take you into their home, welcome you to their bed. She knows it will take a while, months perhaps for you to come to terms, to understand the past, but the time will come. Second by agonising second.

“But he loves me, Fey. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my husband.”

She doesn’t remind you of the threat she’s made. Of the promise she will now fulfil.

“I love you!” She snarls, pressing her forehead against your own. “We…Both of us. Rhys and I…we love you so much it hurts.” You stare up at her with wide eyes, stunned. Your head shakes subtly, trying to deny her. “We do, sweet girl,” she agonises, “you’re everything to us. The sun, the moon, all the stars. They’re nothing to you. Our Court, our people, our realm. We would pick you over them a hundred— forever.”

“No…” you whimper, hands going slack at your sides.

“We’ll take care of you. You’ll never be without a meal. Never sleep alone at night. Never worry you won’t survive a season ever again. We can be your stability. Just let us have you.”

“Fey…”

She pulls you to her mouth, swallowing down your pained whimpers as she drinks you down. Her hand twines around your waist, pulling your middle against hers. Your hands settle just above her chest, weakly pushing away from her.

She comes back harder, making you lean back in her arms, allowing her to splay you out on your own marital bed. When she pulls away, you’re panting, heart pounding. Through teary eyes you peer up at her, “you can’t do this, Fey…” you whimper, voice cracking, “you’re supposed to be my friend… You’re not supposed to…use me, like this.”

“We’re not going to use you, sweet girl,” she breathes over your lips, “we’re going to love you.” You shake your head frantically, attempting to pull away from her treacherous mouth, “but I don’t want that!”

“You will… You just need to understand. See how much better we can treat you. You’ll be bathing in pleasure before you know it. You’ll never want to leave our bed.”

You move to protest but a scent catches your attention, deep and musky. The High Lady’s eyes glaze, pausing as she speaks to her mate. You take the precious seconds to prepare yourself for the inevitable. They’re going to take you. On your marriage bed. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to prevent the tears.

Her eyes regain their life, sadness in their depths. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” Her lips brush against yours, a shudder slithering down your spine that she misinterprets. Her nose brushes you own in what’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture.

The High Lord raises from his chair. He’s seen enough. Now it’s time to partake.

You stiffen as he prowls closer, eyes widening as you stare up at the female. “You’re not…” you trail off, looking at her, stunned. “You’re going to let him rape me?”

Her eyes soften slightly. “We love you, sweet girl. It’s not rape.”

“My husband loves me, and yet he—!” Your eyes snap wide, hands slapping over your mouth as you freeze, terror icing your veins as they both still. “I didn’t— that—… I’m sorry…”

“He did what?” Fury sluices through the room as it blazes in her cold eyes. Their lips pull back from their teeth, rage burning in the air. You shake your head desperately, trying to swallow back the words you’ve already spat out. Talons slice from her fingernails as her canines sharpen, pupils slitting with pure outrage.

“I’m going to slaughter him,” she realises, breathing the violent words onto your lips. You flinch. “No…” you whimper, “Fey, you don’t understand…! He was drunk! He didn’t know what he was doing!” You cry. The High Lady moves to pull away from you but your arms grip over her shoulders, legs clasping around her waist. She just pulls you with her as she stands. Feyre barely even registers your weight as she steps away from the bed.

Your thighs squeeze her hips as you try not to fall, burying your face into her hair. “It was only once…he didn’t mean to. I know he didn’t. I don’t think he even remembers it.” Her body stiffens as you cry into her shoulder. Like you’ve done so many times before. And it feels familiar. A warm breath of summer air in the depths of a Winter Court snowstorm.

But your confession plays over and over again in her mind, a curse on repeat. “Rhys,” she murmurs, summoning her mate. They exchange glances, coming to an agreement. Strong arms sneak around your waist, holding your back to his chest as Feyre steps from your arms. Panic tears through you as you struggle against his iron grip. “No!” You rasp, voice breaking, “you mustn’t! You can’t kill him!”

She plants a kiss to your forehead, brushing away free strands of hair. “I’ll be back. Rhys’ll look after you,” she murmurs against your mouth and you cry. “I don’t want him! I don’t want either of you! I want my husband!”

“Don’t say that,” the male speaks from behind you, making you jump in his arms, “you want us to be gentle, don’t you?” The High Lady snarls, shooting him a threatening look. You can practically feel the smirk on his hellish mouth.

“If you hurt her…” Feyre snarls, and for a second, you think you see part of the old her shining through. Then the High Lord presses a placating kiss to your cheek, soothing his mate. “Now, do you want to deal with him, or should I?” He spits, and you know who they’re talking about. You attempt to crawl out of his arms but his head dips again, littering kisses to the slope of your neck.

You whine as you try to scrabble away, out of his dominating hold, desperately trying to escape the invasive press of something hard at your lower back. His hips roll against yours and a startled whimper that sounds a bit too much like a moan flies from your lips. Both of them still. You can feel their penetrating gazes piercing into you, willing you to repeat the sound for them. They’ve gotten a taste, now they want more.

The High Lady steps forward, cupping your jaw as she affectionately lays kisses to your cheeks and nose, as if kissing invisible dots. “Rhys’ going to take care of you while I’m gone. Okay, sweet girl?” You look at her pleadingly. “Please…” your heart pumps as you feel him twitch at the whimper. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone with him.”

Feyre kisses the bridge of your nose comfortingly. “He won’t be mean to you, sweetness. Just try to get along and everything will be fine. He won’t hurt you.” Tears spill down your cheeks as you try to grab for her. It’s a no-brainer to pick her over the High Lord who’s been ruling for centuries. You have no doubt he has near depthless experience in breaking those he views as heretics, bending them to his will.

Despite everything, Feyre still holds an modicum of safety to her person. Rhysand seems to view morality as a loose guideline if it gets in the way of what he wants. And right now, he wants you.

She puts a kiss to your lips and - praying to the mother for forgiveness - you kiss her back, desperately trying to sway her mind so she’ll stay. She moans, but pulls away, leaving your mouth cold. “I’ll be back to join before you know it. But for now,” her eyes turn ice blue, jaw tightening, “I’m going to deal with that man.”

And like that, she vanishes, leaving you alone with the monster at your back. He noses at your throat scenting you, picking up on something he likes. “That was mean, little lynx,” he mutters begrudgingly beside your ear. You shudder, and he forcefully guides you back to the bed. Rhysand pushes you forward, making you tumble down onto the mattress, bent over.

Frantically, your hands scramble for purchase, attempting to wriggle away from him but his large hands grip your hips. “Rhys…” you whimper into the sheets, too afraid to look at him. A deep groan resonates in his chest, grabbing you tight as he lifts you onto the bed, forcefully enough that your arms give out, sticking your ass in the air. You move to lift your upper half from the bed, but something prevents you—a dark power that laces around your muscle and bone, threading narrowly through cartilage.

You’re stuck, face pressing into the sheets, hind perking up.

Hairs raise all across your body as his fingers trail up your calves, catching on the material of your dress as he eases it up over the backs of your thighs. You struggled when he pushes it over your ass, revealing the thin slip of material that clings desperately to your hips.

“Rhysand…” you weep into the mattress. You don’t even know what you’re trying. If Fey hadn’t budged, there’s no way you could convince him. He shushes you—surprisingly gently. Horridly so. He shifts behind you on the bed, and you feel the invasive press of something between you—

“Rhys!” You scream. His hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, pulling you back against his face as he inhales. “Rhys! Stop that!” You cry, hips wiggling as you attempt to squirm away from him. His grip only tightens, and a soundless scream tears from your throat as he hooks his fae fingers beneath your underwear, pulling it away. Then he’s pressing straight back in, nose flush against your slick hole, mouth prone to attack your clit. It flicks out, gently, testing you out.

You feel the serpentine grin on his hellish mouth, before his lips part over you, groaning as his silver-tipped tongue gilds your glossy cunt.

Shame and mortification thrill inside of you at how quickly he has you unravelling on him. Tears wet the sheets, hot and salty. He moans at your taste, finally raising from between your legs, only to mount you like a whore.

A new wave of terror splits down your throat as you feel him against your ass. One powerful arm loops around your middle, the other snaking beneath your jaw so he can brush his words over your mouth. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, little lynx?” He lifts you so you’re on your hands and knees, back curving in an attempt to relieve the press of his skin anywhere from your body.

The High Lord’s grip tightens on your jaw, and you’re worried he’ll fracture the bone. “That damned husband of yours ever treated this cunt so good?” You don’t even try to move, fearful he’ll snap something. You wince as his grip strengthens, and panic floods your body. You attempt to squirm free of his grip, but your ass ends up pushing back into his hips, a growl sounding in his chest at the action.

“That desperate to have her treated well, huh?”

You swallow, jerking away from him. He releases you suddenly, chuckling to himself as you fall forward into the bed. Immediately, you’re rolling onto your back, scrambling up the bed to get away from him. The High Lord prowls after you, cornering you when your back presses against the wall, slotting himself between your thighs. He’s so much larger than your human form, deadly power writhing in the dark halo of shadow that surrounds him.

“Come on,” he chides, cupping your jaw as you squeeze your eyes shut, blocking him out any way you can. He makes a noise of displeasure, before his soft, cruel mouth lands over your own. A whimper slides from your throat as he nips at your lips, tongue flicking out carefully. You try not to thing about what that flavour is. “Open up for me.”

With a shake of your head, the tears fall and you feel the hot, wet trace of his tongue dancing over your cheek, lapping up the salty paths. When he reaches the damp underside of your lashes, you flinch away, peering up at him. “There you go,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the cleft of your cheek. “Stop struggling, and this will all be so much more enjoyable for you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you say nothing. You’ve used up all your pleading words, all your exploring supplications. There’s no way to appeal to them, they’ve set their minds of you. Maybe you should just give up, as they say. Just let them have you. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad…

You hiss as you suck in a breath, realising what he was doing. Before he could fully grasp your mind, you spat at him, aiming just below his violet eye. It widened, staring at you in vague shock. He lifted one hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the saliva as he wiped it away. The trembling swallowed your whole body as his eyes turned back to you, filled with cold violence. No more warmth. No more gentleness.

Good.

You could go down swinging.

A snarl thundered throughout the room as shadows engulfed the bed, obscuring your vision. You screamed when his mouth opened over your throat, viciously biting at the junction of your neck and shoulder. His teeth scrape over your clavicle, menacingly. His hands wrap beneath your ass, tugging you toward him as you’re manoeuvred into his lap, still rendered blind.

Through the darkness, you try to shove at him, at least pierce him with your nails. Maybe if you could find his eyes, you could dig into them. The menacing click of talons could be heard through the shadows, and you nearly froze with petrifaction as the glittering claws sliced, slowly, down your spine. The material of your clothes peel away the further he splits them. A ripping sound comes from behind you and you know it’s the last of your dress being shredded as he pushes it from your body.

Your hands find his shoulders and you raise them to his jaw, nails biting down into his skin, one thumb catching beneath his upper lip—and you nearly slice yourself on his canines. He snarls, and then you’re lifted from his lap, only to be pushed back down.

You scream bloody murder as his cock glides into you easily. You writhe and thrash against him, but every movement causes him to shift inside of you, making your inner muscles flex. He forces you down into the mattress, large hands tipped with glittering talons pinning you painfully. “You were rather cruel to my mate earlier, weren’t you, little lynx?” Rhysand drawls, tone dripping with malevolent vengeance. “Gloating how easily your human body can sustain life?” You whimper at the reminder. “I didn’t mean it,” you sniffle, eyes burning, “it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

“Uh, uh, uh. You said what you said, little liar. You know it upsets her, how slim our chances are, as High Fae.” You hiss as he draws his hips back, rolling them against yours. “So how about I put a baby in you instead, huh?”

————

Every second away from you is another second of torture, but she calms herself by scratching the itch. Her talons are glittering with blood, his eyes plucked clean out, mouth petrified into an eternal scream, a wound in his ribs surrounded by shredded flesh where his heart had been pulled from the cage of bone. His fingers are tucked away in the pocket of her pants.

It made her feel a little better, that he’d never lay a hand on you again.

Still.

She’d been gone too long, enjoying herself too much in tearing the man apart with her fae strength, and had forgotten you’d been left with her mate. The High Lady hisses in frustration. She’d wanted to be there, take part in the first time either of them got to touch you… But she’d had to. She wouldn’t have been able to enjoy you, otherwise, knowing such pain still haunted you.

Feyre would get answers out of you later, about why you hadn’t told her when it had happened. The Mother knows she would have whisked you away faster than winnowing. How long has you been keeping that from her? She grinds her teeth, spitting at the corpse, before leaving him in the chair. For later.

With a fraction of a thought, she’s cleaned the grin from her skin, talons retracting into smoothly padded fingers, slim and delicate. Perfect for you. She winnows to the top of your house, stood just outside, where she pauses for a moment. From inside she can hear the distinctive, pleading whimper of your voice, coupled with soft groans from her mate. The corpse is forgotten, her hand snaking between her legs as she listens.

When she opens the door, fierce arousal smacks her in the face, overpowering from being locked up in this room for so long. The High Lady’s mouth waters as she takes the sight in. Rhysand is tucked beneath you, strong, finely muscled arms set lightly over your hips, brushing over your waist. You’re spread over him, sitting tightly in his lap, chest to chest, your legs splayed out behind him. You’re completely at his mercy, unable to lift or move, just cling to him as he rolls his hips in an erotic lullaby of groans.

“Come on,” he whispers beside your ear, “be my good girl, yeah?” Your hips shift, back curving, breasts dragging over his chest. “Take it,” he implores, quietly, the soft caress of a lover’s voice. You try to bury your face in his neck, hiding from the world, but he doesn’t let you. His hand fists in your hair, tugging you backward, chidingly. His grip changes to your jaw, lifting your eyes to his. “You were so eager before. What happened? Too much?” He taunts, mouth brushing over yours and she watches as a shiver spider walks down your spine. The High Lady takes a step forward and your eyes loll to hers, rimmed with wet lashes.

Shakily, you reach out a hand to her. “Feyre…” you wail, lower lip trembling. “Make him stop…” Rhys’ hips buck and you slump into him, hand dropping as he lets you collapse into the strong lines. His hand brushes affectionately over your hair, soothingly as he basks in the hot wetness of drool spilling from the corner of your mouth onto his skin.

The High Lady coos, moving closer, leaning over to look at you. Your eyes are a little puffy, lips nipped raw, gaze glazed while your chin glistens with… heat licks between her thighs. Rhysand’s been having a lot of fun with you. Your stomach is gleaming with cum, and when he lifts you from his cock, slamming you back down, she sees the creamy ring circling base of his cock. Release has long since stained the sheets beneath you and she wonders how much longer you’ll last with your human strength.

Your head tips back, baring your throat as you flutter around his cock, tears dripping from your sore eyes. How many times has he made you come? On his thigh? On his fingers? His mouth, his cock? You’re on the verge of oblivion, yearning desperately to be swept away from the torment.

“Rhys,” she scolds, softly, helping you to lie back as he draws his hips back, pulling out. He shoots her a wicked grin, “just warming her up for you.” She shoots him a glare before her eyes settle on you. More the thick and constant leak of cum seeping out of your hole. Just how full had he gotten you?

Detecting the direction of her eyes, Rhys smirks, “we thought an apology was in order for how she spoke to you.” His attention returns to your bruised body, making you shrink away, attempting to scuttle up the mattress, but you’re so sensitive. So tired, and worn out.

Feyre raises a brow in silent question. He grins, prowling forward until he’s caging you in. With each movement you make to get away from him, your inner muscles flex, pushing small waves of come from your hole. Rhys tuts, three fingers pushing into you, tucking the creamy liquid back inside of you. “Why don’t you let Feyre what we were doing, hm?” Your lower lip trembles, but you answer obediently, too scared of what he’ll do should you fight back. “Wanted…wanted to put a baby in me.” You whimper, feeling the drag of his fingers against your inner walls. His thumb rubs gently over your puffy clit, making you whine. She wants to be the one drawing those sounds from you.

It’s her turn to play with you. Rhys’ had you to himself this whole time, while she doesn’t even know what you taste like.

“Rhysand.” She barks, drawing his attention. He knows he’s in trouble, but he offers a sinful grin none the less. “I think you deserve a break, don’t you?” She growls possessively, noting how your eyes warm to her with twisted gratitude. His eyes spark with anticipation, waiting to see what she’ll do with you.

Reluctantly, he moves away from you, leaning against one of the broad bed posts. Feyre’s attention switches to you as she coos, crawling onto the bed, ignoring the creamy stains decorating the sheets. Even if she wants nothing more to lap at them. “Was he being mean to you, sweetness?” She murmurs, lifting you into a sitting position as you hiss. She can tell just from looking to your eyes that your mind is muddled, either from Rhysand fucking you dumb for the past hours or from being tampered with. Either way, she’s not too bothered, if it works in her favour.

You nod with weary eyes, looking up at her with lost hopefulness. “Want me to help you feel better, hm? He was so rough with you, wasn’t he?” You latched onto her at the first sign of sympathy, nodding desperately. She kisses your lash line, “it’s going to be okay now. I’m going to take care of you. You want that?” Your lower lip wobbles as you nod.

She plants a kiss to your nipped lips, before descending between your legs. At first you squirm, hating the idea of having more between your thighs, but she pushes them open firmly. You whimper as her hot breath caresses your slick heat, puffy clit already aching. But when her mouth attaches to you, it’s soft and wet. No teeth to be found, just the gentle tug of tips and the soothing lap of her tongue. Slowly, you stop trying to shut your legs on her, thighs even opening a little wider.

Feyre indulges you, moving so affectionately over your pussy, lapping up the release that’s steadily leaking from your hole, even as she feels Rhys huffing in the back of her mind. “Does that feel better, sweet thing?” She questions, settling a kiss just below your clit, her nose bumping the sensitive nub. “…yeah.” She laughs softly, pulling away from your cunt as she crawls back up over you.

“Did Rhys use your pretty mouth?” She asks, and heat flushes your salty cheeks. You shake your head, tears welling, brimming at the edges. She smiles gently, “I’ll take that first, between us, then.” More tears fall but you nod, obedient. Fearing what will happen should you disobey. She’s being so gentle with you, and you don’t think you can stand another round of Rhysand’s games.

The High Lady swings a leg over your head, hovering above your mouth. The smell of her pussy is overpowering, making you go dizzy. Oh so gently, her arms loop beneath the small of your back, pulling you upward until her back is straight. The tops of your thighs settle seamlessly over her shoulders, baring your heat to her as if you’ve been served on a tray.

“Oh, sweet, sweet girl,” she breathes, pushing her nose to your entrance and inhaling deeply, like the High Lord had done. She seats herself on your mouth, and you can instantly feel how wet she is. You whimper. Her hips roll in response. “Come on, sweetness,” she encourages, “or should I let Rhys join?” Your tongue darts out, licking along to her centre. She moans, happily, basking in the feeling. “Perfect little thing.”

Feyre returns her mouth to your cunt, and for a while, you think you can cope. You think the worst of it has passed. Rhys isn’t able to touch you any time soon. At least, not while Feyre’s keeping him where he is, though you wonder how long that’ll last.

Her mouth disconnects from your cunt, and you almost whine in protest. “I did some thinking,” she murmurs, drawing your attention. “Your husband…” You can tell she still angry even at the mention of him. She takes in a deep breath, before delivering a small lap over your clit, as if to remind her that you are hers now. He’ll never put his hands on you again.

Well…

“I thought you might like to be with him one more time…” Your stomach drops. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out your husbands fingers, cloaked in magic. Even Rhys’ breath catches, before it’s exhaled in a quiet moan. “So I took the liberty of bringing parts of him to you, since he’s now incapacitated.” Pain lances in your chest, and Rhys blankets your mind to keep it from shattering. Dulling the information.

Her hips wind over you, slightly demandingly. “I think I’m being very kind, sweet thing. Show your gratitude.” You’re more or less unaware of what’s about to happen, following her commands brainlessly. He’s keeping you just to the surface of consciousness. Enough to give you breath, but not enough to escape.

Your mouth reattaches to her sex, even if a small part of you screams against it.

She presses the tip of something against your entrance, and you whine, hips bucking upward. She laughs softly, “you don’t even know what I’m doing to you, do you?” She pushes it all the way in, and Rhys’ hand fists around his cock. An open mouthed moan is released onto her pussy at the feeling of the slight, phallic object.

“Oh well done, sweet thing. Taking all of it, aren’t you? So good.” Her mouth reattaches to your cunt, and you release a pleasured moan that you can no longer contain. How did things get so messy? They were your friends. You could trust them. Yet here you are, with Feyre mounted atop your face, Rhys having already had his turn with stimulating your body.

She moans against your clit, lips kissing up and down your heat as she drinks you in until your fluttering on her mouth. Her tongue was a joyous reprieve from the High Lord, pleasuring you enough to gently spin you over that high, but not enough to throw you off the edge to crash down.

You’re swimming in pleasure, so overstimulated, so worn out, that it takes them a while to notice you’ve passed out. When they do, they stop—albeit reluctantly.

Feyre settles beside you, tucking both of you beneath the covers as her arms encase you, leaving her mate to clean up the mess. When he does, he crawls in beside you, his arms pulling both his female’s close to him. His wings materialise, wrapping over the both of you, concealing their crime from the world as they keep you slotted between them. Quiet, peaceful breaths puff from your lips as your human body recovers from the events.

They litter kisses over your exposed skin while you sleep, one for every star they see you in.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

flirting sexual harassment

[desikanya]

What if...

What if the fictional characters think about us too? What if they feel as excited as we are to meet them when we open their book to read? What if they feel empty when we close the book? What if we are their favorite reader? What if they loved us too but we are real for them? What if...

[cozy-brew]

this reminds of ketterdam + the stairs down from the house of wind :)

Source

[belle-keys]

Ember Quinlan is the realest one for stepping into Prythian just for five seconds and realizing how horrifying Rhys and his treatment toward Nesta are.

[potatoplace]

Mastermind - Part 2

Dark!Feysand x Reader

Part 1 | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: non-con, abduction, being kept prisoner, smut, drug use (pot)

Words: ~5k

Author's Note: it's here! Feyre... you live in my head rent free so often... also this is just like a purely self indulgent fic at this point, I think it'll be a mini-series. Please read the warnings!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You woke up with a headache and a confusing ache between your legs.

Your bed was comfier than usual, and so, so warm. Almost like you had a heated blanket going. You mouth cracked open into a yawn, and you stretched your limbs as far as you could-

Which wasn't far.

Both your legs and arms bumped into something solid and warm, surrounding you on both sides.

Your eyes flew open, very, very confused when you saw your friend Feyre laying to your right, and her husband Rhys on your left and-

You're naked.

Completely bare between the two of them, with absolutely no memory of how you got there. Your face flushed with heat.

God, what have I done?

Your tried to wiggle your way out from between the two of them, but one of Rhys's arms merely locked tighter around you, pulling you further against him.

He's naked. You could feel him hardening against you already as he stirred slightly, burying his face in your hair.

You struggled slightly, trying to move away from him, he's your friend's husband for crying out loud.

"What's wrong, sweetness?" Feyre's sleep heavy voice asked from your right. Her hand moved up your thigh and over your stomach, coming to rest between your breasts.

You pushed her hand off of you. "I'm so confused right now, Fey, why are Rhys and I naked? I should go," you said, moving to sit up, but Feyre's hand shot out to keep you down, and between her and Rhys you were powerless to move.

"You're never going to leave us again, darling," Feyre said, wiggling closer to you and pressing her body against yours- she was naked as well.

What the fuck did I do last night?

"Feyre, let me up," you demanded, doing your best to get her hand off of you, but in your struggle you must have woken Rhys up.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" His sultry voice sent shivers down your spine. Your always found it attractive, but now? Trapped between him and your best friend? You wanted nothing more than to bolt out of their apartment and back to yours and never come back out.

"Rhysie, she's trying to leave," Feyre said poutily, hand rubbing circles onto your stomach.

"And why would our sweet little kitten want to leave, hmm?" He asked, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses along the expanse of it. "You were so happy last night, sweet thing, what changed?"

You shook your head- this was wrong, all of this was wrong. And Rhys's lips had brought to your attention something wrapped around your neck snugly.

"This isn't right, I can't even remember what happened last night," you said, tears leaking from your eyes now, and you brought a hand up to your throat, fingering the fabric on your neck. Is it leather? Is it-

"You put a collar on me?" You asked, disbelief in your voice as your fingers attempted to tear the item from your body.

"I figured you might freak out, sweetness," Feyre tutted from beside you, a hand raising your grasp both of yours. "You're ours now, Y/N, you just need a little help realizing that. That's what the cute little collar is for, just to keep you from running away like the silly little kitten I think you might be." Feyre's voice was soft but condescending as she explained it to you, but you were still so lost.

"I don't understand, Fey," you cried, attempting to pull your body out of their embraces. "We're friends, you're married. This isn't okay."

Rhys shushed you, running his hands over your hair. "We might be married, but you're the secret missing piece we've been looking for, kitten. From the moment Feyre introduced me to you, I knew what she meant when she said she had to have you. Neither of us can resist how absolutely sweet and lovely you are." You went to open your mouth to protest, but Feyre's mouth covered yours in a heated kiss. "You'll realize just how much you can't resist us either, soon," Rhys added when he felt you involuntarily relax into Feyre's dominating hold over you.

"As for the not remembering last night..." Feyre started when she finally pulled away from claiming your mouth. "I think I know the perfect way to fix that," she said with a smirk, already moving down below the blankets and between your thighs.

"Feyre stop," you pleaded. "I don't want this, I want to go home," you cried, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Really?" Feyre asked with a smirk, dragging a finger through your folds and collecting the wetness that had pooled there. "Because this sweet little pussy says otherwise."

Tears fell from your eyes faster, shame welling within you as Feyre sucked her finger clean, closing her eyes as she did so. Feyre lowered her mouth to your sex in the next moment, not wasting any time in working you up to your breaking point.

You were still so sensitive from whatever they had done to you last night, and with Feyre’s tongue working your clit like magic you could hardly keep yourself still, even as Rhys pinned down your torso. One of his hands was fondling your breast and keeping you in the bed while the other ran through your hair and kept your face tilted towards Feyre.

You could see her face well again, now that the blanket had slid further down the bed while you twitched and writhed in their hold and against the pleasure Feyre was giving you. Her eyes were locked on your face, taking in every detail as you got closer and closer to the brink with every delicious swipe of her tongue.

To you it was wrong, all wrong. You didn’t want to be reacting, to even be warming their bed at all, yet you were trapped here as the couple worked you into your first orgasm of the morning against your will.

The strangled moan that left your throat was enough to have Feyre smirking up at you from between your thighs.

“See? You love us, and what we can give you. And we love you, Y/N.”

“No you don’t, Feyre, this isn’t love,” you cried softly, too tired and ashamed to put up much of fight anymore.

“It is, darling. We love you,” Rhys reiterated, peppering your neck and face with kisses as if to prove his point. “Now, will you let us feed you? I imagine you’re hungry after all the work we did last night,” he said with a dirty grin, two fingers pinching your right nipple.

Feyre began to move back up the bed and you took the opportunity to roll to your right into the spot that she had occupied while the three of you slept. Feyre sighed.

“Rhys, you can go take a shower and then start breakfast, okay? I’ll get this one into the shower after a little more… persuasion,” Feyre said in a disappointed tone.

Rhys chuckled, but got up from the bed anyway and walked into the bathroom. “Tell me pancakes or waffles after I come back out, darling.”

Feyre’s hands were pulling your back against her front snugly, allowing no room for you to escape the soft press of her body. Once you’d calmed a bit, she let one of her hands snake down between your thighs, gathering a bit of wetness from your center and then rubbing quick circles on your clit.

So sensitive. Her deft fingers brought you to completion twice in the time it took Rhys to finish showering and enter the room for his clothing.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he rounded to the side of the bed you were facing, leaning into Feyre’s embrace as she forced you closer and closer to a third orgasm in such rapid succession.

“I see, you’re just more comfortable with Feyre, hmm?” Rhys asked as he pulled your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I guess I’ll just have to spend every waking second of the next week getting you used to me,” Rhys said with a smile before heading to leave the room.

“Pancakes,” Feyre told him, right as her fingers brought you to your fourth orgasm of the morning.

“Got it, darling. Make sure to actually get her in the shower, okay?”

Feyre’s merely lowered her lips to the left side of your neck, sucking a pair of dark, claiming marks over the spaces that Rhys had left unmarked.

Your breathy, contented sigh shocked you so thoroughly you jerked from Feyre’s hold finally and landed on the carpeting.

“Oh, sweetness, still afraid of liking us?” Feyre asked amusedly, bringing herself to the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over that in a couple of days, I think. Unless you decide to be a brat and fight your fate which, I might add, is useless. Rhys and I love you, Y/N.”

You shook your head at her words. “This is wrong, Feyre, you know it’s wrong. You can’t just keep me here,” you said indignantly, getting up from the floor on shaky legs and attempting to cover yourself with your arms.

“Why not?”

You scoffed. “Because, Feyre, I am a human being and not a pet. I have a life and people that care about me, you can’t just abduct me and get away with it!”

“People that care about you? You have me, Y/N. Your family is mostly dead and the ones that are alive, you don’t talk to! And you even told me that I’m the first friend you made in Velaris, you belong with me. You have belonged to me ever since I first saw you in that coffee shop.”

“What about my job? I have a job, Feyre, they will be worried when I don’t actually start in a few days,” you told her desperately, hoping for any shred of the kindness you’d thought your friend had possessed before today to shine through.

“At the marketing firm? Rhys owns it, sweetie, his cousin Mor manages it. She already knows that you won’t be starting, you have a much better life set up for you now.”

You stared at her in shock. Had everything about your life recently been one big set up?

"What did you do Feyre?" You asked her, despair lacing your tone. If she was telling the truth, then there was no way out of this for you. And-

Oh my god. Your apartment here. Feyre had recommended it.

"I didn't do anything, Y/N. I suggested the job at the marketing firm because you were working yourself to the bone at that coffee shop, dear. I couldn't stand to see you suffer," Feyre explained, prowling across the room to stand in front of you. You were backed against the corner of the room now, with nowhere to go. "And I suggested the apartment here because we have good security, and I've seen the way your regulars would look at you, like they were just waiting to snatch you when the opportunity presented itself." One of Feyre's hands comes up to cup your face, following you as you turned away, still finding its mark. She turned your face back to look at her, and her eyes held such a fiercely protective look, you almost couldn't get your next words out.

"How are you any better than them?" You asked quietly, instantly taking note of how her eyes darkened with anger. "You snatched me away, Feyre, not any of those men. So how are you-"

Feyre surged forward, cutting your words off by slotting her mouth over yours. The kiss was harsh, claiming as she pulled your naked body against hers even as you struggled and tried to pull away.

"I love you, Y/N. And I would never, ever hurt you..." Feyre trailed off as her fingers played with your hair once you'd stopped fighting her. You opened your mouth to refute that claim, but she started speaking before you could. "I am not hurting you, sweetness. You simply don't know what is best for you right now, and sometimes we just need to be shown the right path." You went to argue again- "Now, if you don't shower with me, you won't be given any clothes to wear for the next week," Feyre said with finality.

Fight her, continue to feel disgusting in the off chance that she doesn't still force you to shower, and have no clothes for a whole seven days, or don't fight her, deal with it this once, and have clothes.

You didn't fight as Feyre steered you by the shoulders into their grand bathroom, stopping by the large triple sink counter. She carefully removed the collar from your neck with some type of key, then led you straight into the massive shower that had four huge, separate shower heads- one on each of the three walls, and one overhead.

You turned around right as Feyre started the shower, turning on just the three wall spouts. Water hit you from three sides, and Feyre came at you from the remaining one.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Feyre asked softly as she ran her hands over your body, passing over your nipples far more times than you felt was necessary. You shook your head. All that you could vaguely remember was getting to the bar Feyre had suggested. “That’s too bad, sweetness. You were very eager last night,” she said with a smile, and your cheeks flushed. “Don’t worry, at some point you’ll be able to admit to yourself how much you want us. For now we’ll just keep reminding you how much we want you.”

Feyre gently tipped your head back to wet your hair, taking her time to get it soaked in the warm spray. Her nails scratched lightly along your scalp, and you nearly sighed at the soft gesture.

This is not the same friend you’ve known all these months, you reminded yourself.

Before today, you would have never guessed you would be taking a shower with Feyre. A small part of you had maybe dreamed about it, but never would you have thought it would become a reality. Especially with the added element of you being forced.

Still, you couldn’t help but relax into Feyre’s gentle grasp and she shampooed your hair, then rinsed the lather from it, being careful to not get any suds in your eyes. The shampoo smelled just like the one you used before all of this happened. Strange. When Feyre began putting a thick conditioner in your hair, you realized it.

They don’t just smell like the products you use at home, they are the products you use at home.

Your accusatory glare hit Feyre once she was done rubbing the conditioner in.

“What?” Feyre asked innocently as she wet her own hair.

“Why do you know what products I use?”

Feyre smiled. “I pay attention, dear. I wanted to make the transition as comfortable as possible for you, so I got everything I could think of that you use regularly. Now, will you help me wash my hair?”

You didn’t move.

“Pleaaase, Y/N?” Feyre asked again, a pouty look on her face now, one that you were rarely able to resist.

“Fine. Which bottles?” You conceded, grabbing the shampoo bottle she pointed to and squeezing some out into the palm of your hand. You lathered it up, then set to working it through Feyre’s thick, golden brown hair. When you rinsed her hair, you wanted to let soap run into her eyes, but couldn’t let yourself for some reason. You repeated the process of working the conditioner through Feyre’s hair, and once you were done she turned around to fade you again.

“Time to rinse yours, cutie,” Feyre said, already tipping your head back into the water to rid your hair of conditioner. Again, her nails scraped along your scalp gently, just enough to get your body to relax more. When she finished, she grabbed a cloth and loaded it with body wash, one that smelled of lilacs and pears- very Feyre. Feyre soaped up your body slowly, lingering in the sensitive areas as long as she could before you started to fight her hold again. She helped you rinse off, then extended the cloth to you. “Do me?”

You shook your head. No. “I already washed your hair, Feyre, just let me get out please.”

Feyre sighed, and started washing her body. “You can’t get out yet, you still need to wash your face. I’d suggest it after last night,” Feyre said with a wink, and your stomach churned.

You don’t really want to know what that comment was about. But you wash and exfoliate your face nonetheless, using the identical products to those you had before, finishing just as Feyre was done washing her own face.

She turned the water off, and grabbed two fluffy towels off of the rack for the both of you. She wrapped one around herself, then patted you dry, taking her time to get every inch of skin and dry your hair as much as she could before she dried herself off.

Feyre went to the sink closest to the shower, and you spotted all of your skincare and hair care products lined up attractively behind the middle sink. Feyre was already doing her routine as you examined the bottles and jars, picking out what you wanted to use.

At least they’re giving you something normal.

Once the two of you had finished, Feyre locked the collar back onto your neck, then pulled you back into their bedroom, the massive bed lurking in your vision no matter where you turned. Feyre grabbed two sets of clothing, pulling on her own outfit. First was a lacy black set of lingerie that looked flawless on her, then a pair of black leggings, a rich brown sweater, and slippers.

She then forced you to let her dress you, slipping a pair of blush pink panties up your legs to settle snugly on your hips, and a matching colored bralette over your breasts, which she had for once refrained from squeezing. Your arms were lifted above your head to let a soft pink, long sleeved peasant dress fall over your body, and you were instructed to sit to allow Feyre to put white knee high socks onto your legs and slip your feet into cute pink slipper booties. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Feyre dragged you out of the bedroom. You look cute, if you had to describe the outfit. It’s similar enough to the style you wear on your off time, though everything seems to be made of higher quality materials than what you were able to afford.

The door to the bedroom led to a short hallway, which Feyre led you to the open end of, coming out in the living room. The two of you walked to dining table, near the far end of the open concept room. There was already a good amount of food on the table, and Rhys was just walking away from the stove with a large plate of pancakes in hand, a large smile spreading across his face when he spotted the both of you.

“And I was just thinking I might have to come and get you girls,” he said with a grin. “Come and sit down, breakfast is ready.”

Rhys pulled out a chair for you, pushing you in once you’d sat down and repeated the gesture with Feyre, who was sitting to your left. Rhys then took the seat to your right at the head of the table and began piling food onto your plate. A couple of sausages, pieces of bacon, chunks of cut up melon, and of course pancakes.

You didn’t think you could eat.

If you had woken up in a separate bed this morning, all of this would feel normal enough. Feyre and Rhys had let you stay over once before, and the following morning had a breakfast similar to this.

But everything had changed, you weren’t here because your friends were kind and invited you, you were here because they had trapped you here. You had a collar wrapped around your neck, that alone would be reason enough for you to want to leave.

“Eat up, darling,” Rhys said as he moved on to plating his own food.

You stayed still, staring down at the food that had your stomach turning.

Feyre’s elbow nudged you gently, and you instinctively looked to your left.

“Go ahead and eat, Y/N,” Feyre said gently. When you still didn’t move, she sighed. “Not eating won’t do anything for you, sweetness. Have just one of everything, please,” she begged, using her soft eyes that were so hard to resist.

So, even with your stomach protesting, you lifted a bite of pancake to your mouth, chewing and swallowing but tasting nothing. Maybe if you play along for a little bit, they’ll let their guard down and you can escape.

Feyre and Rhys chatted about their jobs as the three of you ate- Feyre about her studio, and Rhys about the various businesses under the Night Corporation umbrella. You choked down each bite of food, doing your best to keep attention off of you.

A phone ringing cut through their chatter, and Feyre sighed as she picked it up.

“What?” She asked, annoyance clear in her tone. “Can’t you deal with it? I have something important today,” Feyre said, shooting a smile your way. The person on the other end replied with something that made Feyre groan. “Fine, I’ll be there in a half hour.”

Feyre dropped her phone onto the table and ran her hands over her eyes. “Well, I have to go into the studio, apparently the art class has taken a drastic turn that only I can fix,” Feyre whined. “Will you be okay here with just Rhys, sweetness?”

You raised a brow at her. “As though I have a choice?”

Rhys chuckled at your words. “That’s true, Fey, she’s stuck with me for the day. I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry.” Dread pooled in your stomach at his words. You don’t want to know what type of ‘care’ he has in mind.

Feyre was still staring at you, like she wanted to say something, then looked away when she stood up. “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour, but I’ll text you to let you know if there’s anything that will hold me up,” she remarked as she placed a kiss on Rhys’s cheek, and one on yours as well. “Love you guys!” Feyre said as she was walking out of the door, purse in hand.

“Love you darling!”

In the silence that followed the door slamming shut, the dread in your stomach grew.

“So, would you like a little tour?” Rhys asked, already stacking your breakfast plates together.

You stared at him. “A tour?”

Rhys smiled. “Yes, darling, a tour. You need to know your way around now that you’re living here. And don’t say no, this is mandatory,” he added when you shook your head.

He placed the dishes in the sink before smoking back to the table, pull in out your chair and extending a hand to help you stand. You ignore it, standing on your own, which made Rhys sigh.

“Right this way, darling,” Rhys said, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway containing their bedroom. You dug your feet into the ground, unwilling to enter the bedroom with him. Rhys stopped walking and turned to face you. “What’s the problem, doll?”

“I am not going to take this sham of a ‘tour’ if it just means that you’re going to rape me.”

Rhys’s eyes softened at your words, and he pulled you into a hug even as your tried to resist his hold. “Oh, darling. You won’t have to worry about that. I won’t fuck you until you are begging for my cock.”

“Like that will ever happen,” you spat, finally wrenching yourself free of his grasp.

“Oh, it will,” Rhys said assuredly, smirking down at you. “Now, will you let me give you the tour?”

You sighed, but did feel mildly better knowing that he supposedly wouldn’t be forcing himself on you. “Fine."

He continued to lead you back down the hallway their their bedroom resided, but stopped at the doorway opposite it. He swung it open, and gestured for you to walk inside. When you did, your jaw dropped.

It’s as though they had gone into your mind and plucked your perfect bedroom out of it just to recreate it here. The walls were in a soft, dusty pink color with a pale cream ceiling. There was fluffy pink carpet on the floor, looking so soft and squishy you wanted to be barefoot on it. At the far end of the room was a large canopy bed, decorated in hues of pink and purple, with a mound of pillows against the wall. There was a dresser and large closet off to the left, and on the right there was a small sitting area gathered around a table with a tv on it, your favorite consoles already lined up and plugged in, along with stacks and stacks of your favorite games. There was even a cute pink mini fridge and little snack shelf, all filled with your favorites.

“Do you like it?” Rhys asked hesitantly from his place in the doorway.

“Do I-?” You stopped to laugh. “Do I like it? It’s like the two of your read my mind. How?”

Rhys’s cheeks colored slightly as he met your eyes. “Feyre had the idea to look through your Pinterest, and you had a board dedicated to your dream room, so she worked tirelessly to get this ready for you.”

The thought and effort would have been sweet- were they not keeping you here against your will.

You just sighed and shook your head. “Is there more to the tour?”

Rhys nodded and grabbed you by the hand once more. He showed you around to the various guest rooms, the guest bathroom, then to Feyre’s home studio and his office, and finally you were back to the living room. The two of you were stood in front of the couches, looking out at their pool and massive patio.

“Do you want to play a game together?” Rhys asked, gesturing to the double TV and console set up in front of you. “We can play whatever you want, you can even play alone,” he offered.

Strangely, this request put you at ease even more than him saying he wouldn’t fuck you. Almost like it confirmed that the Rhys you had known was still in there, just… different. Darker.

“I don’t know…”

“We could smoke a joint,” Rhys said in a sing-songy voice, having grabbed one out of a box on the coffee table. “Or two. Or three. Just something to help you get your mind of things, maybe?”

The offer was tempting. You could pretend like you were just hanging out at your friends’ house and playing a video game with him.

“Sure, why not?”

The feeling of smoke filling your lungs calmed you down, settling you into a sleepy state where you weren’t thinking about the situation and how fucked up it is, just the passing flow of the river of your thoughts. You and Rhys shared two joints together on the patio, passing it between puffs.

“You know that Feyre cares about you, right?” Rhys asked as he took the second lit joint from you. You exhaled the smoke from your mouth, watching as it was whipped away by the wind.

“I don’t know that I would call this,” you gestured around you and at the collar, “caring about me.”

Rhys sighed. “But it is, Y/N. I know we went about it in a twisted way, but Feyre and I truly want you to be happy and safe. And before you ask, no, I won’t let you go. Just give us some time, you’ll come see how nice your life can be here and how much we care about you.”

You took the joint back from him with a pout, annoyed with him now. Sure, they care about me enough to steal me away and lock me up, but not enough to let me make the choice myself.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Rhys laughed sadly. “No, you don’t. But giving us a chance will make this much more enjoyable for you.”

You took another long drag before passing the joint back to Rhys’s waiting fingers.

“Will you… would you convince Feyre to not… touch me until I’m begging?” You asked hopefully, knowing that that day would never come now.

Rhys eyed you carefully. “I can talk to her about that, if it would make you feel more at ease around us darling."

A weight was lifted off your chest at his confirmation that he would wrangle Feyre in. He let you take the last drag before putting the joint out, and followed you back into the living room.

“Do you have Minecraft?” You asked hopefully, wanting to dick around and maybe build a cute house.

“Of course, darling,” Rhys said, booting up the TVs and consoles, passing a pink controller to you.

Within a couple of minutes, the two of you were as focused on the blocky game as you could be, your minds covered in a weed soaked haze.

Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff (let me know if you want to stay on the taglist for the mini series!)

[dark-romantics]

Me as soon as I come across a morally grey fictional character

[heaven4lostgirls]

sarah j maas consistently acts in ways that negatively impacts minorities and justifies her actions by ways of ‘ignorance’

ACOTAR is not this ‘great’ series of novels that will change the world, most of the content is plagiarized and the most complex of characters are written very surface level.

it is very obvious the books are written from a white woman’s perspective, and is arguably comparable to the writing and idealism of colleen hoover and the author of haunting adeline.

ACOTAR fans that sit back and defend this book when they realize how hypocritical and colonialist all of the novels are, are just as bad as her. the villianisation of tamlin, yet the glorification of rhysand is arguably one of the worst things to come out of the books, similarly with everyone’s excuse that what feyre did in the spring court was ‘excusable’ because tamlin ‘abused’ her.

read the last two posts i reblogged and any of the lovely @sonics-atelier ‘s posts on the critique of the acotar universe before you argue with me. their points are so valid and concise that i was unaware of some of the arguments and criticisms they had delved into.

they are eye opening and so very relevant to current affairs today. i beg if even one or two of you go to read some of these critiques, it would open up discussions about how problematic not only sarah j maas is, but white feminism as a whole, capitalism and colonialism too.

white female authors need to be held accountable to do better, especially those that have big audiences like sarah j maas, colleen hoover and the author of haunting adeline and similar ‘dark’ romance booktok books.

[cafe-viennois]

Feyre & Rhys 🌙

Nesta & Cassian 🦇

A little serie of illustrations I did for Inktober 2023!

[wallflowers-in-the-wind]

Reading Tamlin not holding back on his anger toward Feyre during the High Lord meeting has to be the best form of revenge he can do without causing another full out war. And Feyre and Rhysand deserved every bit of criticism and scathing remark against them.

I still can’t believe people defend Feyre’s actions during the meeting and against the Spring Court. Her problem was with Tamlin. Not the entire court who she previously kept insisting she wanted to help, whose lives she destroyed. She may have sworn to destroy everything Tamlin loves over actions that weren’t even his fault but punishing innocents out of anger is uncalled for.

From Tamlin’s perspective Feyre was SA and held captive by Rhysand. When she was finally home he apologized for what he did wrong and promised to be better and gave her space. He didn’t tell her about his secret about being a spy against Hyburn because he didn’t want to overwhelm her and still had some doubt that she truly was being manipulated and wanted to come back. Yet he still gave her a chance only for the woman he loved to manipulate him and destroy everyone and everything out of some form of sick revenge.

Even his best friend Lucien left him and while some of the reason’s were caused by Tamlin it was due to manipulation by Feyre. She made Tamlin believe she was having an affair with Lucien. Something I will never forgive because Lucien was innocent and was trying to help her ungrateful ass.

Everyone turned on Tamlin yet he managed to earn their trust again after being framed as an abusive partner. A mindset Feyre implanted in everyone’s minds not to mention the mind manipulations she used on Tamlin.

Feyre better thank whatever unnamed god SJM refuses to world build that Tamlin hasn’t gotten revenge against her for everything she put him and his people through and for being merciful enough to bring Rhysand back to life for her happiness. Because if Tamlin ever did decide to get revenge people would truly understand the wrath of Spring.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt II

Part 2 of my Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys fic

Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, mental manipulation, brief mentions of sacrifices/blood

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

“Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

His clawed hand still grips my throat, tight enough to make stars start dancing across my vision. All attempts at pulling him off, pushing him away, fail miserably. 

“You’re shaking, Witchling,” he coos, his breath warm on my neck as he brushes his lips over the shell of my ear, laughing in dark amusement to my plight. “What’s the matter?”

I bash my fists against his solid, and very bare, chest uselessly. “Let go!”

Rhysand, Prince of Hel, hums, as if thinking, then suddenly drops me in a rush, my limp body falling onto the cracked stone floor without the support of his weight. Dried anise and rosemary crushes under my palms--another failed attempt at warding off evil. Our books are clearly outdated. 

My coughing must attract attention, because the door leading down into our decrypt little basement swings open, the old wood hitting the door with a horrendous crack. I glance at the demon I’d accidentally summoned in a panic, if he gets out, I’ve doomed my entire coven!

But the violet eyed demon merely grins wickedly as he dissolves into shadow and smoke, taking my grandmother’s tome, and the spell that would rid me of him, with him into the dark recesses of the basement. I can still feel him there, his icy power chilling the room, but he has no solid shape.

“What are you doing down here?” My grandmother, the leader of our coven, sounds worn and tired and she has used that weathered lilt to worm her way into many enemy’s houses, just to smite them with a snap of her fingers. She may look old and feeble, but it is all a ruse to get people to let their guard down, and once that happens, she can pluck whatever she wants from their open hands.

I’d idolized her as a child. I wanted so badly to prove to her and my mother that I could be just as good a witch as them, but I have nothing to show for it but the scattering of obsidian salt and a Prince of Hel I just let into our home.

I scramble to my feet, mind spinning as I try to figure out how I will explain all this. Though, that becomes useless a moment later when the evidence of my transgressions disappears, as if they never existed. All the dried herbs, the salt in the summoning circle, even my chalk runes are gone. It is just me and a couple of candles in the basement by the time my grandmother makes it down the stairs.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, child,” she snarls, her gnarled cane stomping angrily against the final step. 

She can’t see or smell what I have done. Does that free me or doom me? And how the Hel did it disappear like that? It certainly wasn’t me, which means Rhysand, for some reason, is hiding the evidence.  

“I was…” my throat burns, I run a hand over it absently, hoping the darkness hides the claw shaped indents in my skin. There will surely be bruises too. “Practicing! For the Solstice!” The lie isn’t as smooth as I’d like, but it will be better than the truth.

My grandmother’s worn head swivels to look around the empty basement, her wrinkled mouth pinched in a permanent frown that looks extra deep today. “What have you decided to show us?” There is nothing but disappointment in her tone, even though there is nothing here for her to be disappointed in. 

“It’s a surprise,” I say.

Her cane is made from the first tree ever planted in this town, scared with runes and blessings and imbued with enough magic to power the city’s mage lights for a year; she uses it to smack me in the shoulder, her strength still startling even though I know there’s more to her than the slight hunchback. 

“Do not disappoint me as you always do,” she hisses. 

Shame floods me. I am always the disappointment. Always the let down. My sisters are natural talents. My aunts born with such intense magic they have to go on annual retreats to expel it. My mother hunts men for sport. And I am the girl who was so desperate to be something, she went to a book of dark magic for help.

I hang my head. “Grandmother, I have a confession.” I should just get it over with. There is no point in delaying the inevitable. I don’t possess enough magic to send a demon back to its realm. I will need her help. Better to break the bargain I’d made than wait for it to blow up in my face. 

She sighs like this conversation just might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. “What now?”

“I-” I try to tell her, really I do, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. It feels as if something’s lodged itself in my throat.

Shit, maybe Rhysand damaged my vocal chords!

“I-” I try again the words catch as before. It is not as if I am choking, there is nothing redistricting my airway, I’m not struggling to breathe, but no matter how hard I try to admit my sins, the words stick.

She smacks me with the cane again. “Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, I-” A dark, sensual laugh slithers its way into my head, as if he’d done it in my ear.

She throws up her hands and turns away. “I better not see any of this nonsense at the Solstice. Or you’ll be the sacrifice to the Goddess.”

“Come now, Darling, did you really think I’d let you tell her about our little bargain?” Even mentally his voice is a deep purr that makes a shiver run down my spine. He is thoroughly embedded in my head, I can feel the dark shadow of him sitting like a cat curled up in the back of my skull. Every time I try to mention him, his icy power flows through me.

My grandmother slams the basement door shut behind her, and only then does Rhysand materialize from the corner of the room, leisurely stretching out his great wings as if awakening from a nap. Whatever magic he used to hide the room falls away, leaving the salt and herbs visible once more.

“What did you do to me?” I snarl.

He chuckles as he tucks his wings back behind his lythe body. “We had a bargain, any interference with that bargain will leave you in a similar state of discomfort. If not worse.”

I rub a hand over my throat. “You’re a bastard!”

He saunters closer, footsteps silent on the worn stones. I find myself shrinking back against the wall as he approaches again. 

“You summoned me, Darling, this is the bed you get to lie in.”

“You tricked me,” I snarl.

He’s close enough now that I can smell the jasmine and citrus scent of him, mingled with a faint hint of smoke. Close enough that I can read the runes etched into his bronze skin, the markings ancient and sharp. If he was anyone else, anything else, I would be tempted to reach out and touch, trace the swirling shapes over his defined chest and shoulders.

“Tricked you?” He frowns as he braces his hand on the wall above my head, effectively caging me in against the rough stone. “You summoned me, Witchling, and in case you missed that delightful little threat from the crone, I am your only salvation from a Solstice sacrifice.”

“What kind of demon could be my salvation?” I retort.

He uses the hand not bracing himself against the wall to take my chin between two of his claws, tilting my head up to look at him. I have never felt smaller than I do at this moment. 

“You have no idea what I could give you, if you only asked,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes drift to my lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own as he watches the way my breath hitches in my throat when he speaks. “I could show you power you have only dreamed of; offer cities on their knees to you. There is nothing I can’t give you.”

I can see it, as clearly as if it was happening in front of my eyes: Power, glittering and dark pouring from my fingertips, consuming everything in its path; droves of fragile, powerless humans bowing at my feet, their arms laden with gifts and tribute. I didn’t think I wanted things like that. Power was the pursuit of my grandmother, never an option for me. But the feeling of it, even in a vision is enough to make my head spin. Could I really feel like that? 

“You desire power, Witchling, that’s why you summoned me, isn’t it?” He whispers, claws drifting down my throat in a sensual caress.

I nod, too scared to speak, too ashamed to admit that he is right, to admit that I am gullible and weak willed enough to even entertain the possibilities spinning through my head.

“Aren’t you tired of being forgotten? Cast aside? Belittled?”

His hand drifts lower, following the stuttering pulse of my heartbeat down my chest. I should shy away from his touch, but my body shivers under his ministrations instead. I can’t look away from him, from the pretty images he spins round and round in my head like it’s his own personal movie screen. 

“Aren’t you tired of being good and quiet and ignored?” 

He’s so close now if I tilt my head up I’ll brush my lips against his. My own gaze flicks to those full, sensual lips. Perhaps power is not the only thing I want, and I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I don’t want him. It’s like everything has been emptied out of my head except for him.

“Yes,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t sound like mine, like I’m entranced somehow but I don’t know how to break the spell, how to tell if this is me or if it’s him.

“Just a taste is all it takes, Darling,” he closes the gap just enough to brush his lips over mine. It isn’t cold or unyielding like last time, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my suddenly flushed skin. 

My body chases after him like it’s starved, hand reaching up to tangle in the long strands of his dark hair. He lets me pull him back, lets me slot my lips over his. When he kisses me back there is no longer ice in it, only an all consuming warmth that floods my system like water breaking through a damn. 

He kisses like a desperate male; all tongue and teeth, fangs scraping against my lower lip as he takes and takes from me. And I let him. Damn me! I let him push me back against the wall, let his hands slide down my body until he can lift me up and wrap my legs around his trim waist. He tastes like smoke and jasmine and endless possibilities. When his lips are on mine I feel infinite. Under his grip I should feel helpless and frail as I always do, but like this, I think I might just be able to be anything.

A bit of shadow slips from his lips when he finally pulls away, the smoky haze drifting along our shared breath as he puts his lips to my throat. He’s everywhere, in my head and under my skin, everywhere but where I think I need him the most.

His fangs scrape against my throat as I tilt my head back against the wall, letting him have free reign to do with my body as he pleases. “Doesn’t this feel better?” He purrs, the vibrations of his voice against my flushed skin making a shiver race down my spine. 

“Yes,” I gasp when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the coppery scent of blood in the air telling me he’s marked me as his before the pain registers. 

Rhys laves over the wound with his tongue. “Never again will you feel small, or powerless,” he says lowly. “Your coven will bow to you. They will regret ever doubting you.”

I rock my hips into his, desperate for some sort of friction. “You-you could really do that?” Words are hard against the images still spinning around inside my head, competing with the feel of his warm body between my legs and his teeth still nipping at my shoulder.

“You need only to say two little words, and all of it is yours, Witchling,” he purrs, lips making their way back up my throat. 

When he kisses me again, there’s the coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue. “Tell me your mine and it will be done.”

My head is starting to feel fuzzy, the room spinning as the images in my head all start to blur together. The stars in his eyes start to twirl around his irises, for a second the movement takes all the color out of his irises, until there is nothing but black emptiness. I blink away the strange vision.

“I-” Upon my hesitation, his lips are back on mine again, his hands exploring my body, slipping beneath my shirt to trace patterns in my skin. I think his claws might scratch marks into my sensitive flesh but my head is too empty to pay it any mind. What’s a little blood?

“Say it,” he presses, voice a husky whisper that makes heat flare in my core. I want to know what other things he might whisper in my ear with that tone. “Say your mine. Let me give you everything you deserve.”

I do deserve more than this. For too long I have been forgotten and ignored or belittled for being a waste of space. I’m tired of it! For once, I want to make people fear what I am capable of. I want people to regret casting me aside when they see me.

“I’m yours, Rhysand,” I say.

Something hot, like a brand inks its way across my spine. So intense and blistering that I scream. He swallows that sound with another kiss, tongue swiping behind my teeth as my body writhes against the blinding pain. 

“It’s ok,” he coos, “just my sigil, so everyone knows who you belong to. It won’t hurt much longer.”

Another kiss is all it takes for me to forget entirely why there are tears streaming down my cheeks. My head feels so incredibly emtpy. 

He runs his tongue over my cheek, licking away the tear streaks that feel so foreign on my flushed skin. “See, that’s better, isn’t it, Witchling?”

I nod even though I can’t remember what he’s referring to. Of course I feel good, he’s here, holding me, whispering sweet things in my ear while his hands roam over my skin. 

He grins, fangs glinting in the candlelight. “We will have everything we deserve, Darling, and more when we’re done with them.”

“Them?” Were we talking about someone? I don’t remember.

The stars really do wink out of his eyes, the violet rapidly disappearing until there is nothing but unending darkness. His wings flare out behind him, apex talons sharpening until the form points. Shadows seep from his shoulders in rolling waves, until their darkness fills the room. “The witches of course. We have unfinished business with them.”

I think, maybe, there is something wrong with the way he looks, some old instinct in me trying to warn me to run. But I reach out a hand and brush it curiously over the ridge of his wing, feeling the leathery membrane shutter beneath my touch. 

“What do you need me to do?” I ask.

He lowers me onto the floor and places a big, worn tome in my hands. I feel a flash of recognition in the back of my mind, but before I can place it, the memory is ripped away by a tendril of shadow. “Let’s start with burning a few books, hm? Then we have some Solstice sacrifices to make.”

------

Tag List: @girl-math-aint-mathing / @hjgdhghoe / @gloomy-hag / @barb00235

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hey! I love your work so much! I was wondering if you could write a fic about dark feysand being obsessed with a human reader who doesn’t want them

I’m going to post it tonight, and I want to emphasise, particularly for this fic, the importance of clicking off if you aren’t enjoying it. It’s not a challenge to see if you can get through it, it’s supposed to be enjoyed and if it’s not for you, it’s not for you and that’s fine.

Warnings: Non-con, smut, breeding kink, mean Dom!Rhys, dark!Feysand, mentions of rape, slight predator play, slight necrophilia (cut off fingers), mentions of torture.

(Dropping the warning section here so if anyone’s unsure you can think it over and put it on the shelf for a while)

[yourlittlebunnyy]

a court of shadows and darkness

main masterlist - azriel masterlist - previous

chapter seven

summary: Selaene, Rhysand's sister, Azriel's mate runs away after the High Lord of Spring tries to kill her.

warnings: none

enjoy!🫶

Sobs escape the lips of the three siblings before they can even stop them. Cassian is quick to react: he gets up and hugs Selaene, his face wet with silver from happiness. She feels her heart burst as she holds one of her brothers in her arms. She had not realized how much she missed him before. They remain embraced for what seems like hours to her, but at the same time, not enough time. She hears whispers in the background, a female voice asks a certain Feyre who Selaene is, what she is doing attached to her male. The other female shushes her.

She feels someone touch her shoulder, and when she lifts her head from Cassian's chest she meets Rhysand's eyes. The man smiles at her through tears, and she does the same. Cassian pulls away slightly to give her brother space, but he remains beside her, his eyes fixed on her as if he cannot believe that his sister is here, she is alive, she is safe.

Rhysand and Selaene hug each other tightly, almost knocking the breath out of each other. Cassian takes time to analyze his sister's figure, check that she is not hurt. She is the same as before, the same as four hundred and sixty-three years ago. As if it were yesterday. She is wearing a torn nightgown and a coat that looks like it came from the Winter Court. No, he is sure it came from there. He smells of cinnamon and ashes. But under the smell of the heavy coat he can now smell her own smell, the familiar smell of his sister. That too has remained unchanged: cream and strawberries. Strange, he thinks. He and his brother have remained the same, of course, but their appearance and smell in four copious centuries has clearly changed. They have grown, matured, and their smell with them. Before they smelled like little boys, now like men. And it should be the same for Selaene, should have sharpened her features, should look like a female of almost five hundred years, smell like one. But she has remained the little nineteen-year-old she once was. She does not seem to be hurt, he notices with pleasure.

Rhysand finally pulls away allowing the two to breathe. He seems to study her just as his brother already did. He seems to have the same questions.

“Selaene...” It seems surreal to him to have her there, calling her name and not in front of her grave. He is afraid to wake up. He seems to swallow a knot in his throat before asking her, “We were just about to have dinner, why don't you join us?” The question sounds so distant to everyone, though.

Selaene nods, still a little dazed, and finally seems to take in the rest of the room. There is Mor, of course. Four other females and one male. She sniffs the air, the scent of the two brothers imprinted on the skin of two females. The third simply smells of herself.

While the other two Fae seem to be together. Rhysand snaps his fingers and an extra chair and cutlery appears for her. She sits between her brothers, and suddenly feels shy of all the curious looks. Except for one. The female with Cassian's scent on her seems to be killing her with his gaze and seems to want to incinerate her. Selaene does not make herself look smaller, she keeps her chin up and her eyes resting on her with a calmness that seems to reassure her.

It is Rhysand who speaks first again and introduces everyone to her. “This is Feyre, my mate. I don't know- I don't know where you've been, but chances are you've heard of her.” Selaene looks at her brother and later at his mate. She obviously has no idea who she is, but she seems like a nice person. The girl smiles sweetly at her, and Selaene can only reciprocate with equal warmth. She is happy that her brother has found his happiness, but their bond makes the young woman think of Azriel. She can smell him, but it is very faint, and she would not be able to smell him were it not for the bond, which is still dead. A panic creeps under her skin, and her brother looks worried. He lays a hand on hers before asking her if she was all right.

”Uhm... where, where is Azriel?” Rhysand and Feyre smile at her. Does she know her? Has Azriel told her about her? However, it is Mor who answers. “I contacted him as soon as I saw you. He was on a mission, but now he is on his way. He is well, he has... he waited for you, Selaene.” The young woman wants to cry at the blonde's words. She nods gratefully. This time it is Cassian who speaks, introducing her mate. The sister can do nothing but smile, even more than before, unconcerned that the female has given her a glare of lightning. She seems to realize, slowly, who she really is. The gaze alternates between her and Rhysand, and finally, she smiles kindly at her as well. She offers her hand, and Selaene grasps it.

“I am Nesta.” Her grip is firm and her hands are soft but calloused. A warrior, she thinks. Just like Cassian.

“I'm Selaene, Rhysand's sister.” Nesta nods. Amren is introduced to her. She is slightly surprised, and her face hides a slight smile. She is very beautiful, Selaene thinks. Next to her is her male, Varian. And finally Elain, a sweet rosy-cheeked fawn that Selaene finds adorable.

“So you... you and Azriel?” She asks her as food is served from the House. Just like it used to be. The smell fills her nostrils and she smiles. She missed Velaris. She missed everything.

“Azriel and I are mates.” She answers simply, a tone that hides some possessiveness that makes Feyre chuckle. She pretends not to notice the fawn's slightly disappointed expression, but anger mounts inside her.

“Why?” She asks more coldly. Amren seems to care about the turn the conversation is taking, because she straightens up and hides the feline smile that appears on her face with a glass of red wine. Elain blushes.

“No, of course nothing. It was just to- just to know.” Selaene clenches her jaw, the brothers' faces pure amusement. They remember how she was always jealous. Gods, she was jealous even if one of them got too close.

“And you,” the tone is accusatory, ”do you have one? A mate?” She nods quickly.

“And where is he?”

“Far away. We didn't... We didn't get to know each other properly before.” Selaene smiles at her, a double-faced smile.

“But have you had enough time to get to know my brothers and my mate?” At those words Feyre decides to interrupt Rhys's sister's little jealousy tantrum.

“Don't worry, Selaene. Azriel, although he thought you were dead, has always had eyes only for you.” The Fae seems satisfied with her words, and rests her back on the backrest, her posture rigid now relaxed. She even giggles when she hears Nesta say, “ Possessive Illyrian.”

She looks at the three females and realizes something, too: they are three sisters. She certainly cannot blame poor Elain. The Cauldron was cruel in creating three sisters and three brothers and leaving one alone. But there was Selaene before her. And there will always be Selaene.

“We have missed you very much, Selae.” Says Cassian serving himself.

“You have changed a lot.” She responds by savoring some baked potatoes again. She almost groans when she swallows a bite. The taste long forgotten.

“Are you all right?” Feyre asks her, “Is something wrong?” She is worried.

“Yes, everything is great. It's just that I haven't eaten for a long time...”

Cassian laughingly comments, “Hell, Selaene. But where have you been?” The joke, however, does not make anyone laugh.

“I've been stuck in the UnderWorld.”

The table seems to stop breathing at those words. No one has ever returned from there.

It is Amren who speaks first, her voice charged with distrust: “No one has ever come back from there, girl.”

Selaene, proud as any Illyrian is, has no trouble keeping her accusatory gaze. Did she expect that in front of that Fae she would react the way Elain had reacted to her before? Because she is wrong in case she does.

“I did.” She says with a shrug. “It took almost five centuries, but I did it.”

“How did you keep from going crazy? Alone, in the dark, all that time?” Feyre asks while sipping wine. Everyone is incredibly surprised.

“I wasn't alone....” A motion of sadness, remorse, passes through her eyes. “Rhysand. I would like your help. We need to find my friend, Vanessa. She stayed there.” Her brother hesitates, but he can't bring himself to say no.

Cassian opens his mouth for the first time after hearing the news, “Is that why you haven't grown up?” She simply nods.

“It's also how I haven't starved all this time. I'm still wearing -- I'm still wearing the pajamas I had on that day.” Rhysand and Cassian are saddened, however, it is Nesta who asks for an explanation of what happened that day. Selaene dismisses the matter with a wave of her hand, explaining that she does not want to ruin dinner over something that happened so long ago.

“Someday I will tell you all about it. No, in fact, I'll show you, Rhys. But I don't want to think about it for at least a week. I'd like to at least see Azriel first.” He nods. Then he pours blueberry juice into her goblet. Selaene smiles; he is his usual self. He raises the glass to the air.

“Let's toast to Selaene, then."

Dinner proceeds smoothly. Feyre and Selaene seem to have established a great understanding, and her brother could not be happier: his two most important women getting along. Mor and Nesta also seem to adore her, and the latter in particular seems to love hearing all the embarrassing stories from her brothers. Elain, on the other hand, always seems a little down in the dumps when Selaene mentions her beloved mate.

“I swear to you! He came flying past my house with flowers for our mother in his hand, only there was a blizzard, and the porch was frozen, so he slipped and fainted! He stayed in bed a whole week, and all the flowers went on the floor.” The females laugh so heartily at Selaene's gossip, while the two brothers look embarrassed. Rhysand smiles mockingly before pointing out how Azriel had also fallen. And how he had cried out of worry.

“Yes, but unlike you, Rhysie, he didn't hit his head and faint because he has remarkable reflexes. I was worried about his wing.” Cassian snorts a laugh, getting a friendly pat from his brother on the bicep. Nesta would like to ask her to tell more, but footsteps echo in the air. And Selaene knows those footsteps all too well.

next chapter

[desikanya]

🗣️: "It's so boring to read books"

No bro, it's the most wonderful feeling anyone can experience. Watching some of the most beautiful words flow effortlessly on a piece of paper unveiling the most show-shattering storyline with those beautiful beautiful flawed characters who make us feel at home every damn we enter their universe is what not everyone can understand.

[b0xerdancer-writes]

A Second Chance

Dark!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand regretted many things he thought. He regretted telling Tamlin about his mother and sister, he regretted everything he had to do under the mountain, regretted some of his actions during the war with Hybern, he regretted having to treat Azriel the way he did with Elain, he regretted not making the ‘for life’ deal with Feyre, and most importantly he regretted not being able to save Feyre and their unborn child durings Feyre’s rough birth. But he would not regret her or the things he did for her.

Word Count: 7,139

Warnings: Murder, Dark!Rhys, Death, War, Grief, Therapy, Manipulation, not proofread we die like men.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, i took a small hiatus for life stuff going on! Hope you enjoy!

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

Rhysand regretted many things he thought. He regretted telling Tamlin about his mother and sister, he regretted everything he had to do under the mountain, regretted some of his actions during the war with Hybern, he regretted having to treat Azriel the way he did with Elain, he regretted not making the ‘for life’ deal with Feyre, and most importantly he regretted not being able to save Feyre and their unborn child durings Feyre’s rough birth.

It has taken Rhys and the entire inner circle a long time to adjust to her not being around, Rhys even longer so. He had completely put off court duties and public appearances in the recent months, but after an intervention via Amren he finally dragged himself out of the estate and into the city of Velaris.

Amren had been fed up with Rhysand’s antics and had thrown him a card for a grief support group that had popped up after the war, she had declared that if he wouldn’t go for them that he should at least go for Feyre. So here he was, slinking through the streets of Velaris on his way to the damned widow support group.

It was hosted in a small cafe which explained the drinks and snacks provided, the tables had been cleared to one side of the cafe ans a circle of chairs sat in the center, coffee and pastries lined on the checkout counter, a few females and a few males were gathered in small circles. A female in a floured apron came out of the backroom carrying an assortment of pastries, flour in her hair and on her face as she balanced the overstuffed tray.

Rhys had been debating between the caramel coffee or the chocolate coffee, after all caramel was Feyres favorite but Chocolate was his, when she greeted him. “Oh! My lord! Its great to see you! Please pick whatever coffee you like. Feel free to mingle or feel free to simply take a seat and wait for the meeting to start.”

“Oh. Uh. Thank you.” He nodded grabbing the caramel labeled coffee. “You own this place?”

“Own and host.” She nodded.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She smiled back. “And I'm sorry for yours”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with either yet, I don’t know enough people to mingle and can’t sit and twiddle my thumbs.” Rhys shrugged.

“Well you might get covered in flour but you can help me back here.” She suggested.

“I don’t mind some flour, what do you need help with Darling?” The word felt foreign in his mouth but good. Like a step in the right direction.

“Uhhh, if you wanna help me carry the tray of cookies from back there it would be helpful.” She motioned to the doorway behind her with a small smile on her face.

“Gladly.” Rhysand nodded and followed her into the back.

When they returned back upfront, tray of cookies and pastries in hand, the final members of the support group were trickling into the small cafe. Chairs had been arranged into a circle, activities stationed off to one side of the room and stacks of grief management books at a table on the other. She dusted off her hands with her apron and snatched a tea from the counter of drinks and moved towards the group of fae circling around the ring of chairs. Some fae split from the central crowd and split up into smaller groups at the tables of activities and books, Rhysand weighed his options before joining the circular group in the center. Everyone found a seat, a few openings here or there as she had a policy for always having a few extra seats in case anyone found their way into the meetings. The fae gathered around him were from a vast array of characters, and it intrigued him to find all of these people sharing one common factor.

The female he had assisted with the trays earlier cleared her throat before standing and smoothing out her dress and apron, addressing the entirety of the small building. “I would like to welcome everyone to tonight's meeting, a special welcome to those who are just joining us for the first time.”

Her eyes darted to Rhysands figure as she introduced herself to the crowd for those new members, he noted he wasn't the only new one to this meeting: three or four others were new as well. “As many of you know, I lost my mate and daughter to the attor attack a few years back, I sought an outlet for my grief and in doing so found others who had lost their loved ones like myself. So I took to arranging this weekly gathering as a way to help myself and others cope with the loss of loved ones.”

She was a good soul, Rhys thought, every word she spoke conveyed truth and honesty, something in her welcomed him and calmed him. Her very presence calmed the anxious storm in his chest and Rhys welcomed the feeling that had long been absent from his chest. A chorus of replies and greetings echoed back to her, she extended her attention back to the room and offered them a chance to introduce themselves. He recognized none of them, all small shopkeepers and civilians from all over Velaris, all had lost someone close to them.

One girl who had moved up here from the Court of Nightmares had lost her father who was a darkbringer in the recent war. A female who reminded him of Nuala and Cerridwen had lost her brother to an attor. A young male who had lost his baby sister in the attack when a building had partially crushed him and he could do nothing as the toddler female was swept up by the creatures, their parents had long since passed, their mother in childbirth and their father a few months later due to grief.

Then came Rhysands turn to speak. All eyes turned to him, and he felt the prickling of his anxiety nipping at him. He smiled back at everyone sadly with a small wave. “Many of you know me as your High Lord, if you don’t know me by name my name Is Rhysand. I was informed by my closest friends I should attend this meeting as I’m sure all of you know I recently lost my mate, wife, and our High Lady. I lost her to the birth of our son, my heir who passed away as well due to the difficult birth. I lost them both.”

Sad smiles and apologies found his ears as the head female in front of him prompted him to sit again, taking the center of the circle. “I am so sorry you have had to learn the loss of a mate and child, my lord, I am sorry you all had to experience the losses you have but we can work together to get through the pain and grief. We are all here to support each other through this horrible pain. I know many may not want to openly speak about their pain so you are welcomed to partake in the other forms of support we have here.”

With her final comment everyone turned to their projects with a nod and some mumbled thanks. It was towards the end when they spoke about distractions and busying oneself to help cope, it had struck a chord in his brain; distractions could be handy for him he was sure but he couldn’t busy himself with court work or with his close family, he would feel too much of Feyre there. His thoughts drifted to things he could do to distract himself or busy himself, he had lost himself for so long in the thought he had barely noticed everyone beginning to rise and bid farewell to the sweet female who had so quickly accepted him into their small group despite the reason she lost her mate and child being his fault.

He was the last member to rise as she began to clean up the room, gathering the books and journals in her arms; she seemed lost in her own world until he approached her.

“Do you mind if I help with cleaning up?” He asked softly.

“Oh! Of course my lord!” She had chirped back, straining with the weight of the books in her arms.

“Here, let me carry those for you.” Rhysand had taken the books from her arms and hoisted them up against his chest.

She picked up the pens and pencils quickly, throwing them into a small bag. “Thank you my lord, just follow me with those please.”

He had followed behind her with a small smile on his face, she led him towards a small closet that had been filled with cabinets and shelves; she tucked the small box into one of the shelves and began taking small sections of books from his arms, tucking them on one of the many shelves.

He had helped her reset the entire cafe, sweep, wipe tables, and clean up the entire back of the cafe’s kitchen. The moon was high in the sky when she had finally waved him goodbye, the bell chiming above him as he opened the door to step out onto the cobblestone street. The roof of the estate he had gifted to Feyre could just be made out from where he stood outside of her cafe; He had practically abandoned the Estate, instead favoring it for the house at the top of the mountain. It had been awhile since he or anyone in the inner circle had stepped through the doors he considered, everyone had joined him back up at the house or in their own apartments across Velaris.

He had considered something she had said about the memory of the ones you lost, how the only way to cope was to face the memories and accept them. He had taken a deep breath before crossing the street and turning right at the corner where he would have turned left to head towards the steps. The road was quiet and he was a lone soul amidst a sea of grief as the wrought-iron fence that bordered the estate came into view. As if sensing its master the gates slowly creaked open, a picture of stars and swirls that mirrored the tattoos he and Feyre had shared. The fae lights of the estates flickered on as he walked up the small pathway to the grand front door, his breath caught in his throat as his hand made contact with the door handle. As if sensing his hesitation the door opened softly beckoning him to enter, every detail just in the entry hall had submerged him in the sense of Feyre; he felt like he was drowning as he turned out of the doorway and flitted back through the gates, both clicking closed behind him as he manifested his wings and took to the skies above Velaris.

+

Azriel was sitting at the island counter softly sipping on some chamomile when Rhysand had landed on the balcony. He nodded a greeting to the male, taking note of his disheveled appearance and tear stained cheeks. “How was the meeting?”

“I liked it, the host is a very sweet female. I’ll continue with attending.” Rhysand had answered matter of factly.

“She is incredibly sweet, I informed her of your possible attendance earlier this week. She tells everyone her mate was lost in the attor attack and he was but,” Azriel sighed. “He was one of my men, one of my spies.”

Rhysand poured himself a cup of tea from the lukewarm pot. “Sorry Az i know what it feels like when you lose one of your men.”

“It's my fault.” Azriel drew a breath in, “He was trying to get both of them to safety, had his daughter in his arms. I had called to him in a hurry to rejoin the fight. That split second he hesitated at my voice was what landed him in an attor’s grasp.she won't blame me for it as much as I have asked her to and apologized for it, she always says it is no one's fault but the Mother’s and fates. She's a strong female Rhys, I figured you could learn something from her to get you through this.”

Rhys nodded softly, sympathetic for his friend. “I did, even in just one night I did.”

Azriel had turned and raised a brow at him, Rhys just stared down into his cup and watched the steaming liquid swirl in it. “I went to the Estate after the meeting tonight.”

“Oh.” Azriel’s expression turned into one of shock.

“Yeah. She had said something early on in the meeting about only being able to cope with the memory of your lost one is by facing the memory of them. The estate is just down the road from her cafe, you can see the roof from her doorway.” Rhysand tilted his head and Azriel sucked in a breath.

“You went back to the estate?” Azriel whispered.

“I couldn't go inside, I stopped at the door.” Rhysand looked over to Azriel at his side.

Azriel’s eyes held a sad understanding in them as he nodded. “Still, I’m proud of you brother.”

“I think your friend will be a good help to me. I wouldn't have been able to do what I did tonight without her words, her understanding, and her gentleness with me.” Rhys offered Azriel the first genuine smile he’d had since Feyre’s passing.

Azriel offered a smile back and patted Rhys’s shoulder. “Have a good night brother. Love you.”

“Night Az. Love you too.” Rhys turned back to his glass as Azriel slipped from the kitchen and Rhys noted that Azriel had seemed to relax, his steps heavier than they had been for several weeks now.

Rhysand with a small smile downed the rest of the tea and slipped from the barstool, climbing up the steps of the hall and slipping into his bedroom. He had actually managed to get some decent sleep that night, he didn't awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and with a throbbing ache in the center of his chest.

+

The next few weeks seemed to fly by as Rhys continued to attend the support group; after each session he would walk to the estate, each time he would make it further and further into the house. On days when they had no sessions or on days, like today, when Rhys just found himself bored but without enough motivation to face the work in his study he would venture down to the streets of Velaris and into the small cafe; extending a hand under the pretense of ‘busying himself for a distraction’ and of course his sweet little shopkeep would accept him in with open arms.

This had become routine now, after several evenings spent baking and making drinks, the first night had set their friendship in motion and both were thankful for the other's steady presence in their lives. The first time Rhys had shown up to the small cafe early in hopes of helping her with setting up, only to find out the meeting had been canceled; she had attempted to inform him but with Azriel gone on a mission and his presence absent at the estate she had no way to inform him without climbing the thousands of steps, yet she gladly offered to let him help her with the evening rush and clean up.

Today had been rather slow, the bell above the door having not chimed for over an hour now, the two of them stood in the back while Rhysand told her stories of the Inner circle. She sat on the metal table, her feet swinging softly and Rhys leaned on his arms beside her; both of them were laughing till the front bell chime brought them out of their little bubble.

“One sec, let me take this order.” She smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder she pushed off the table and slipped through the door separating the kitchen from the front of the house.

Rhys smiled to himself as he heard her voice chime “What can I get for you today?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard the slightest bit of confusion and fest in her voice through the door. “Oh, Eolan! What's brought you in today? The meeting was canceled, I thought I informed you earlier this week?”

Rhys could feel her anxiety and fear in her voice, it made him uneasy and nervous; he knocked softly on her mental shields offering her his concern. ‘Whats wrong?’

‘Eolan, the male who was at your first meeting who lost his little sister in the attor attack, he's here and he seems very angry and on edge, seems to be directed at me. I know nothing further.’ She had answered at his mental caress.

‘Let me know if you feel I need to step in, I’ll stay out of view back here.’ Rhys nodded to himself and pulled from her mind.

He stuck to the wall, and moved slowly towards the door; staying out of the way of the small window he listened in on the conversation just on the other side of the thin wood.

“Are you even listening to me!”

“Eolan, your concerns are warranted and I do hear what you’re saying-”

“No! You dont! How can you befriend him, let him come to our meetings! Knowing what he's done, knowing he has inadvertently caused all of our losses!”

“Eolan, I warn you now. He is still our High Lord. I offer my services to all of Velaris, High Lord included, now Eolan. If you have problems with how I run my business and who I call my friend then you may leave now.” Her voice was firm this time and Rhysand was proud of her.

“You don't get it!” Eolan had barked back.

“I do. But-”

“No. You really dont. You don't hear the talk after meetings, the anger everyone has at you for letting him in. Haven't you noticed less and less coming to the group?”

“It's none of my business why people do and don't come to the meetings I choose to host for the betterment of Velaris, just like how it's none of your business who I choose to associate myself with.” She had gotten snippy with him, clearly losing her patience and it made Rhys smile ever so slightly, plus he had to fight back a snicker at it lest he give his position away.

“Listen Here-” A bang and her yelp blurred Rhys’s vision as he slammed the door open.

He was greeted by Eolan pulling her halfway across the counter, his eyes flitted to Rhys for a split second as his anger turned to fear and he froze. It was easy, Rhys thought to himself, infiltrating his mind, that is; smooth and simple as his claws dug into the pathetic male that saw fit to threaten one of his friends, one of his females with ease.

He raked the talons along the male's mind with the intention of making him let her go, Eolan had begun to tremble as he released the smaller female from his grasp; Eolan found himself frozen in his position and Rhys stalked forward a few steps, his eyes narrowed and she turned to him with worry written on her face.

She took a few steps forward, her hand coming to rest in the center of his chest; pulling him from his anger and making him look down at her in concern. “You okay?”

“I'm fine Rhysand, though I'm sure he's not. You can let him go, I’m sure you've scared him enough to send him running with his tail between his legs.” She huffed looking over her shoulder with a glare towards the other male, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly that it made Rhys note the reaction with the faintest tilt of his lips.

“Plus he’s pissed himself in fear and now I have to clean his mess.” She grumbled distaste visible are her eyes narrowed on the trembling male.

“I'll have it dealt with, we can close the shop for the evening and go have dinner at the house.”Rhys extended the offer.

“I’d love to really but unlike you I can't drop whatever I'm doing, I run the cafe to make money if i close down for the rest of the evening i'll lose the profit.” She crossed her arms, looking up at him with one brow raised.

“You don't have to worry about that, you know? I can order enough food for the house to cover the lost profit if it matters that much.” Rhys countered and she sighed.

“We can have this argument at a later date, when not in front of guests. Seriously though Rhysand you can let him go I doubt he’ll be any further of a threat.” She waved it off watching as the male towering over her pouted like a scorned puppy.

“Fine, I was looking forward to misting him though.” Rhys pouted before turning a pointed glare to the male in his mental grasp.

She rolled her eyes moving around the males towards the doored off staircase that led upstairs to her apartment above, Rhys watched as she disappeared up the staircase until the door clicked close behind her again. His gaze fell back on the male, a darkness lingering there.

“You're lucky she has spare pity for you. Because I don’t. No civilian in my court will threaten another. Ill let you walk this time since you've already embarrassed yourself thoroughly, if this ever happens again though, I look forward to seeing you.” He narrowed his eyes, raking the talons along the malleable thing that was Eolan’s mind, just deep enough that that surface scratches would scar; the slightest everlasting reminder of Rhysand’s threat over the other male.

As soon as Rhys’ talons were out of the other male’s head Eolan took several steps back, eyes wide and his entire body trembling. “You- Your fucking crazy!”

Crazy he might be, but he had taken an interest in the female upstairs and however fucked it mightve been she had struck a chord in him so deeply that the ache of loosing Feyre had lessened. He had lost Feyre, had almost lost both of his brothers to Hybern and other forces on more than one occasion, had almost lost Mor, and had lost Amren for a time; he had almost lost everyone close to him on multiple occasions and was planning on not letting the same happen to her, no matter what he had to do. So if he seemed crazy so be it. If he had to dip into darker places of his own mind to protect her, so be it if she wasn't around to see.

“Well if I’m crazy, so fucking be it, im not letting her come to any harm but you however may for that insult.” Rhys growled, second guessing his choice and Eolan jumped trying to scramble out the front door.

Rhy sunk his talons back into the lesser male's mind, just enough to keep him quiet and still. With a dark grin Rhys stalked across the floor to the closed off stairway, he reached out for the iron door handle, turned to look at the frozen male and called up the stairs; the faint sound of a shower echoing into the empty cafe.

“Darling? How long till you are ready? I want to let everyone know when to expect us.” Rhys called out, holding eye contact with the male across the room from him.

Both males knew whatever her answer was, would be the deciding factor in Eolan’s fate.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, “Probably in about 15-20 minutes.”

Rhys smiled, something wicked and dark in the depths of it. “Alright darling take your time, I’ll be down here cleaning up.”

Rhys closed the door again, a sickly sweet grin on his face as darkness seeped into the cafe from every crevice. When no one could see in or out of the cafe, Rhys took a few steps forward till he was back in front of the trembling smaller male.

“I would apologize for what I'm about to do, but then again I feel it's deserved.” Rhys’s talons sunk their way into the other’s mind and Rhys greeted the other male’s eyes rolling into the back of his head with a sneer.

Misting was never pretty, it was brutal, dark, and savage; but to Rhys it was an oh so welcomed feeling. With a snap of Rhys’s fingers the male in front of him evaporated into a black ash like smoke, Rhys rolled his shoulders and popped his neck; looking at the mess on the floor Rhys simply snapped his fingers again removing any and all evidence of what had happened earlier.

Rhys moved to lean against the counter, finicking with his cufflinks when he heard heels click slowly down the stairs. His head perked up just as the door opened, his darling clad in a shimmery black dress that accentuated all the right curves; Rhys practically purred at the view, she would blend right in with Nesta and Mor at the table, like she had belonged there the entire time.

She took Rhys’s extended elbow, offering him a small smile. Rhys led her out the door, placing his free hand on her own hand clasped on his forearm. “Come darling, I want to show you something before we attend dinner.”

“Alright?”she questioned with a head tilt that Rhys had always found amusing since he had met her all those weeks ago.

Truth be told Rhys had an alternative motive in what he was showing her, tonight had just solidified his train of thought. Rhys took a shaky breath and began leading her down the street.

“Can I get a hint?” She asked softly.

“It's not really a hint but I can offer you an explanation. If that works for you?” Rhys countered.

“I’ll take it.” She giggled.

“I apologize for being the reason you were in danger earlier-” He started

“Rhys-” She attempted to interrupt, but Rhys cut her back off.

“No, let me say my piece please.” He begged softly.

“Ok. Sorry.” She offered.

“No worries Darling, as I was saying. I feel it is my fault you were in danger earlier and I’d like to apologize for that, but I find myself concerned with more than just that male from earlier.”

“Really Rhys, thank you for stepping in but he was no true threat.”she smiled up at him as they turned a corner.

“I wish that were true darling but remember I saw inside his mind, while he might have been trembling in my grasp his true intentions were in fact to harm you if you didn’t comply with his demands.” Rhys looked down, worry on his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought it was simply a childish farce if I'm being honest.” Her breath caught in her throat as she swallowed the breath stuck in her throat.

“Sadly no, and that's why I wish to show you this surprise. It's my fault you have become a target and thus I feel I should be the one to protect you.” Rhys extended his acknowledgement as he came to a stop in front of the estate.

She raised a brow at him as he led her through the wrought-iron gate and up the steps of the porch. He pushed the door open, leading her into a now barren estate. He stood behind her hands firmly on her shoulders, she looked back at him over the left one with a raised brow.

He had removed everything from the estate in the last week or so, moving it all to the vaults in the mountain underneath the House of Wind. He began to tour her through the empty halls, a shaky hand pressed firmly to the dip in her back.

“I've thought about this a bit, tonight was only a confirmation. I was planning to just extend this invitation present combo to you originally as a thank you for everything you have done for me. Now however, I would like to reword my offer.” Rhys sighed and tucked his chin to his chest almost like he was disappointed with himself and had to steel himself for whatever words were going to fall out of his mouth.

“Honestly, with the events of tonight I would much rather change my offer but the idea is nonsensical and this makes the most sense to me.” He shook his head, disagreeing with himself.

“Rhys, darling, you are rambling.” She smiled softly to him and turned to place a hand just above his elbow as an act to comfort him.

“Thank you darling, I’ll get back to my point.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to offer you the estate. I moved everything to the vaults but I’d like to take you either to them to let you sort through stuff you’d like to or I can accompany you on a shopping trip. Now I know it is sudden and you are probably wanting to deny my offer, but let me put it this way: I’ve put lots of thought into this. First off I feel bad that the estate is just sitting there and you are in a one bed apartment above your shop that is also your makeshift office, since you sold your other apartment when your mate died. I would like to keep you safe due to my presence being what has put you in danger and I considered having you moved to the House of Wind I realized you aren’t necessarily close to anyone up there yet, besides Azriel but he will be away for the next few weeks, and would have no reliable way to the shop if I was preoccupied with my duties as High Lord. SO, I thought about what I could do about that little issue and it crossed my mind that the estate I was already going to offer you does in fact have an enchantment on the gate so that no one with ill intentions will be able to pass through, Thus I figured it would be the ebay course of action to move you into the estate.” Rhys smiled brightly having finally made his point.

“Rhys, I can’t-” She had started to counter.

“Sure you can, I’m offering so of course you can.” His smile faltered ever so slightly.

“No, Rhys I mean, There's no way I could pay the rent of this place or eleven pay the utilities on it.” She had begun to fiss over the offer, thinking into the little details.

“I’ll take care of it, it is my gift to you anyways.” Rhys shrugged.

“You can’t possibly-” She had started to shut his offer down again when Rhys squashed her with a finger to her lips.

“I respect you, darling, so I refuse to use any of my abilities on you,”She winced at his words. “Which is why I am hoping you just accept my offer now as is so I don’t have to command you too as your high lord. I truly just want to keep you safe since I can't be here all the time and this would satiate my anxiety.” Rhys smiled brightly.

“I- Okay, out of my respect for you I’ll accept your offer of the estate.” She had seemed shocked or maybe taken aback, Rhys couldn’t quite read the expression on her face.

“I’m not trying to be a dick or an asshole or anything, I hope you understand that I do truly want you to be safe.” Rhys gave her a small smile in offering.

“I know Rhys, just thank you it's beautiful.” She gave him a small smile before looking at the grain of the wooden floor.

“Of course darling, now come, we have a dinner to attend. We can begin moving your stuff over tomorrow and then go shopping or perusing the vaults.” Rhys proudly swept her out of the estate and up into the crisp night air.

+

A weight on Rhysand’s chest had been lifted, he had left one crucial detail out of what he had told her. While yes the gate wouldn’t let anyone with ill intentions pass through, it would also inform him of who it was trying to harm her. That information was an important part of Rhys’s plan to protect this new female that had helped heal the gaping wound in his chest.

The first dinner with the rest of his circle had gone well and several months had passed since, Azriel had been just overall ecstatic to see her. Mor and Amren shared some looks between each other but overall accepted her presence in the dining hall with joy especially when the topic of her no bake cookies were brought up, apparently in Amren’s switch to regular fae foods she had a rough time but found herself able to nibble on the cookies after stumbling into her shop one day. Nesta and Elain didn't speak the entire meal, just sat in silence while eying the female in their sister’s spot. Cassian had been standoffish at first, torn between his brother and his mates reactions but had ultimately warmed up to her engaging in chit-chat and batting away Nesta’s elbow to his ribs.

After he had retreated to his study for the evening and after he had walked her back to the cafe with the promise he would be there early to help with the transition to the estate, Azriel and Cassian had slipped into his office; Cassian with furrowed brows and Azriel with a worry in his eyes.

“What's your intention with her, Rhys?” Was all Cassian had started with.

“What do you mean?” He countered with a laugh at the end of his question.

“Cassian made his point to me earlier and as you know Rhys I feel responsible for the position she is in now. So her wellbeing matters to me more than I would like to admit, Cassian and I would like to know your intentions with her.” Azriel had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright fine, sit down. I’ll explain everything to you two.” Rhys growled and motioned to the two leather chairs opposite his desk.

He had somehow laid out his plan for the other two to dissect, thinking neither of the males before him would necessarily approve but to his surprise they exchanged glances between each other and with a nod agreed to assist him. Thus started the long game of assuring the safety of the female all three were sure would become their next High Lady.

Over the next couple months Rhysand eased himself into crafting a love life with her, subtly protective of her shooting glares to anyone that seemed to give them looks when they would walk through Velaris. Everytime he would feel the gates wards surge, an image of whoever was trying to get to his darling would cross his mind. A quick note to Azriel or Cassian, whoever wasn't busy or on a mission, would have the assailant swept away silently in the depths of the night.

It had been over a year before she made any note of the disappearances, and Rhys’s spine straightened when she had mumbled something to him ,about less attendees to their grief support meetings, one evening after cleaning up.

“Have you noticed we have had less people coming to the meetings? I tried to turn a journal into one of them the other day thinking they just stopped coming but even their family said they hadn't seen them for awhile themselves that they had just up and left a note saying they were offered a home in Spring Court now that it's starting to rebuild and needs more citizens. Isn’t that neat Rhys? You never told me that was happening, how could you leave that out of your stories to me? I could have pitched in to offer some of my baked goods for those relocating!” She had scolded as she pushed in a chair and began wiping a table down.

Rhysand’s back was ramrod straight as he let out an awkward chuckle. “Apologies darling, it must have slipped my mind. I thought I had informed you already.”

He was just relieved the lie had been taken seriously by everyone included.

“It's alright darling, you are a super busy and important male you don't need to tell me every detail.” She smiled. “I was just surprised by them leaving without any word.”

He rounded a table and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Here darling let me, I have a meeting with Cass and Az tonight about a debriefing from their most recent mission. Let me walk you back to your estate before I leave?”

She smiled brightly up at him. “Thank you Rhys.”

“Of course Darling.” He smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I'll be right back, I am going to slip into the bathroom for just a moment darling.”

“Hurry,” she chirped with a laugh “I’ll grab our coats from upstairs.”

In the bathroom Rhys gripped at the ceramic sink with a deep breath he reached out to Azriel and Cassian. Hearing their acknowledgments as he slipped into their minds he smiled brightly telling them to come up to his office for a quick meeting tonight. He felt the two agree and retreated from their minds, washing his hands in the warm water of the sink to give the illusion to her he had done exactly what he said he was doing.

+

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood in a circle around Rhysand’s desk. Glasses in hand as Rhys informed them the ploy had worked without a flaw. The three cheered before beginning to talk about the next steps in the plan.

“She's been talking less at meetings, mainly just listening and offering her input to others. She's become more distant with scheduling the meetings themselves, letting more time go between them. I think it's only a matter of time before they stop completely. Once that happens then we move into the next step. That's when I'll confess and offer her the position of High Lady.” Rhys confirmed.

The other two males nodded as well, confirming their agreement.

“I don’t like what we have done to get here, I don’t like the sacrifices made but they were made to protect her and I can think of no better place for her safety than by my side. As my high lady.” Rhys downed his glass and the other two yelled their agreement and followed his action of downing the drink.

+

It hadn’t taken Rhys long at all to saunter down to the estate after the meeting with the other two males had concluded, he would stalk up the stairs of the quiet estate and slip into bed beside her; rousing her from her slumber to show her how thankful he was for her to give him a chance, how thankful he was he would get to love her, just like he had done almost every night like it was a routine.

Rhys however, was surprised to find every light in the estate on and even more surprised to find her sniffling on the stairs. His blood raged for a minute before he calmed himself the best he could as he called out to her. “Darling? What's wrong? What happened?”

“I-I think I want to stop hosting the meetings.” She sniffled.

“Why darling? What happened?” Rhys took a few soft steps forward, joining to sit beside her on the wooden staircase, he pressed her ever so gently into his shoulder, one hand rubbing her back.

“People aren’t really coming anymore for one, two I don't really feel the connection to it I once did, and three is that there will soon be something else that requires the energy and attention I'm giving the group.” She choked on another sob and Rhys pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What's that love? What’s going to pull your attention like that?” Rhys crooned, his voice as soft as he could make it.

“I- it just feels so wrong like this Rhys, I feel like I betrayed them with this.” She sobbed and Rhys shushed her.

“Ssssshhhh, darling, it's okay you’re rambling darling. What has you so worked up?” Rhys ran his other hand through her hair, an attempt to calm her and himself as his anxiety began to rear its head.

“I- Rhys I’m pregnant. I feel like it's betraying our other halves-” another sob wracked her body.

Rhys joined her in crying, silent trails down his own cheeks. “It’s not darling trust me, Feyre made me promise I’d move on with my life after her. It's the only thing that made me agree to attend your group and I thank the mother everyday for putting you in my path, because I know the mother gives those that deserve it second chances and you darling deserve every single one.” Rhys tried to soothe her.

“You really think so?” She sniffled as Rhys wiped her face.

“I know so, cause she brought me you.” Rhys whispered.

So he would have to move the plan up, the mother worked in strange ways sure, but this was an unexpected turn.

She smiled softly at Rhys as he wiped the last tears from her face. “Marry me then, I'll make you High Lady. Both you and our child will be kept safe and away from harm, you will have everything you want or need, both of you. I- I just want you, no need you, by my side. Please darling.”

“O-okay.” She nodded and sniffled, letting Rhys sweep her up in her arms and carry her to the bed.

He tucked her in softly kissing her forehead before stepping into the closet of his belongings to change into some loose sleeping pants. She had passed out when he finally crawled into bed next to her, pulling her close to his chest.

Yes, there were many things Rhysand regretted but this was not one of them. The steps he took to insure a second chance with the female he now held close to his chest was not something he would regret. The lives he had taken and the minds he had misted to ensure her safety were not amongst that list. Yes, he regretted many things, but she would not be one of them

[belle-keys]

A strong suggestion of plagiarism: Detailing the similarities between Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewels trilogy and Sarah J. Maas’s ACOTAR series

Anne Bishop released her The Black Jewels trilogy between 1998 and 2003. It is a dark fantasy book trilogy, part of a larger fantasy saga within the world of The Black Jewels. Sarah J. Maas released the first book in her A Court of Thorns and Roses fantasy romance series, which goes by the same name, in 2015. This popular series of Maas is still ongoing.

For the last decade, many individuals have noticed glaring similarities between Maas’ fantasy series and Bishop’s earlier books. From character names to world-building elements and plotlines, several readers have concluded it is highly possible that Sarah J. Maas has plagiarized major aspects of Bishop’s work in the ACOTAR series. For purely legal reasons, I am hesitant to say outright that Mass indeed plagiarized The Black Jewels in ACOTAR. However, I do believe that there is very strong evidence indicating that Maas may have done so. Please note all my screenshots here are all from The Black Jewels and I can provide more if necessary.

This post presents my observations of the similarities between Maas’ book series compared to Bishop’s trilogy. Indeed, there are several elements that are near-indentical in Maas’ series compared to Bishop’s. Whatever is in brackets is my shabby-MLA-esque way of referencing in which specific book you can find the content I'm talking about. I am aware others have made similar posts on Tumblr and Reddit, and I salute them! Here, I am merely outlining what I have noticed myself, and I imagine there will be significant overlap between his post and others online.

The Eyrians and the Illyrians

The Eyrians are a winged warrior race in TBJ, described as having tanned skin, black hair, gold eyes and "batlike wings". They are one of the long lived races and live thousands of years, based upon a lofty mountain range in their realm. They are a warrior race with a long history of physical fighting, often reputed to be "backward" by aristocrats in their realm (DOTB, HTTS). Their "dark, membranous" wings are the prized physical feature among their race and they have a tradition of turning to militarism and barbarism during skirmishes (DOTB). Cutting off or clipping an Eyrian's wings is the greatest torture and the worst dishonour for a warrior (HTTS). The Illyrians in ACOTAR are a virtually identical winged mountain warrior race with a similar culture and physical features including "black, membranous" wings and tanned skin (ACOTAR). The Eyrians, like the Illyrians, yearn for freedom of their expansive mountains and the war camps within them.

Eyrian males are raised to be warriors in hunting camps in the mountains, while females are forbidden from touching weapons and are confined to domestic pursuits. Eyrian women are often mistreated and are usually expected to be docile and subservient to their militaristic males (QOTD). This is the same gender construct present among the Illyrians in ACOTAR.

The Eyrians in TBJ carry prejudices against half-Eyrians, similar to the Illyrians' prejudices against "half-breeds" like Rhysand in the ACOTAR series (ACOMAF). The word “half-breed” is actually used to describe an important half-Eyrian in TBJ, Lucivar Yaslana.

The Eyrians have a practice known as the "Blood Run" which is a rite of passage taken by skilled Eyrian warriors in their mountains, rather similar to both "Nephelle's Run" and the "Blood Rite" which we learn about in ACOWAR and ACOSF respectively.

Powerful Illyrians, like Cassian and Azriel, use siphons—colourful, jeweled gauntlets that channel and hone their magical power. This is eerily similar to the way aristocrats in TBJ use jewels to channel and concentrate their power. The Illyrians also wear fighting leathers while the Eyrians wear black skintight leathers to go to battle.

Lucivar Yaslana and Cassian

Lucivar Yaslana is an Eyrian male who commands a large portion of the Eyrian troops. He is described as a "bastard", both as an insult and a jest in TBJ, because his father and his mother were unmarried and he did not grow up knowing his father who’s the High Lord. The same situation is pertinent to Cassian in ACOMAF whose "bastard reputation" precedes him.

In QOTD, Lucivar begins training Eyrian females to defend themselves and fight military-style, which is a radical move in the realm and receives a lot of push-back from fellow Eyrian males. Lucivar wants to make sure the Eyrian women tap into their strength, at least a little, to prevent them from being helpless when under attack or in battle. There's a few heartwarming training montages in QOTD where he whips them into shape. Cassian leads a similar initiative in ACOSF where he trains Illyrian women so they learn to defend themselves and some even become respected warriors.

Lucivar has gold eyes, big wings, big muscles, shoulder-length dark hair, and light brown skin. Cassian also has gold eyes, big wings, big muscles, shoulder-length dark hair, and light brown skin. Lucivar ultimately reports to the authority of his queen and serves her faithfully just as Cassian reports to authority of his High Lord and Lady and serves them faithfully.

Daemon SaDiablo and Rhysand

Daemon SaDiablo of TBJ was forced to serve as a sex slave in the court of an evil priestess, Dorothea of Hayll, and he has experienced a lot of trauma and pain for hundreds of years due to being forced to serve in the bedchamber of this abusive enslaver. Rhysand similarly serves as a sex slave to Amaratha for 50 years when she builds her court Under the Mountain. In TBJ, the evil queen who conquers the realm through cruelty and corruption, Dorothea, enslaves multiple males to serve her in bed and she even banishes Lucivar to land's brutal "salt mines" when he becomes disobedient. Daemon is known as "Hayll's whore" by the public in DOTB just as Rhysand is known as "Amarantha's whore" by the public in ACOTAR.

Daemon has jet-black hair, golden skin, and a frighteningly beautiful face. Daemon is also known as a natural Black Widow, one of the one only male Black Widows ever in their world. As such, Daemon is one of the most powerful males in all the realm. Rhysand, similarly, has dark hair, a stunningly beautiful face, and has unique powers making him the most powerful High Lord. Daemon, like Rhysand, becomes the highest ranking male in his "Dark Court" and he is also the main love interest (QOTD).

Daemon has a habit of putting his hands in his pocket when he's nervous and/or trying to intimidate people. Rhysand has the same habit. Daemon is feared for his sadism and power in TBJ but is, deep down, a good person and a devoted lover, similar to Rhysand’s persona being much crueler and sadistic than his real personality (ACOMAF).

Daemon originally starts seeing the protagonist of the series, Jaenelle, in his dreams and he recognizes while enslaved that she is the realm's salvation (DOTB, QOTD). Rhysand also begins seeing glimpses of Feyre in his dreams while enslaved Under the Mountain and he knew she was Prythian’s hope (ACOMAF).

Wingspans

We know that in the ACOTAR world, the wingspan of an Illyrian male is supposedly proportional to their, yunno, male parts. This is also the case in The Black Jewels where, in the second book, we learn a male's wingspan also corresponds to the size of his… down there.

Scents and gender

In TBJ, magical figures have the abilities to identify or smell another person based on his or her "psychic scent", which is their unique scent. The psychic scent also allows them to sense the magical abilities, emotions and traumatic experiences of other persons. Romantic couples also have a keen awareness of their partner's scent. This is the likewise the case in the ACOTAR world where mates and fae can identify and read each other based on specific scents including their arousal.

In TBJ, you can put up a "psychic shield" to stop someone from peering into your thoughts and reading you through your psychic scent. It's the same in the ACOTAR world, a concept introduced in ACOMAF, where you can put up a mental shield or barrier to stop someone like the daemati from breaking into your mind.

The males in TBJ can become quite territorial and possessive over their women and mates, almost animalistic based on their emotions. They purr and snarl and growl quite often, and Sarah J. Maas uses identical descriptive language regarding the bat boys.

Dragons and Amren

There's an older female character called Draca in TBJ who is a dragon in human form, trapped in a human body. Draca, who serves in the main character's Dark Court, has to decipher old texts in the TBJ because she is the only one who understands the ancient languages they contain. Draca is referred to as the "ancient one." This is exactly like Amren being known as the little "ancient one", a powerful angel in human form who is the only one that can decipher the Book of Breathings in ACOMAF.

There is a "creature" deep beneath the Keep and library of the High Lord of Hell in TBJ who, in HTTS, turns out to be a mighty dragon whose name is Lorn. Likewise, beneath the library in Velaris lurks Bryaxis who is a dangerous dragon-esque creature (ACOWAR).

Other worldbuilding plotpoints

There are “High Lords” of various realms in The Black Jewels and High Lord is not a traditional feudal title throughout history or mythology. One major character in TBJ is the High Lord of Hell, Saetan SaDiablo. His court, and that of his adopted daughter, is known as the Dark Court or the "Court of Darkness". Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord who presides over the Night Court which is also, in many ways, Prythian's own Court of Darkness.

The Dark Court in TBJ has a "first circle" that is comprised of the queen's most trusted courtiers. Rhysand's Court of Dreams in ACOMAF also has an "inner circle".

Jaenelle is known as "Dreams Made Flesh" because of her immense power and ability to deliver her lands from evil. Jaenelle was a saviour-figure who was dreamt up by the "dreamers" in her realm who were suffering and oppressed for many years, ruled over by cruel queens (QOTD). Likewise, the Court of Dreams and Feyre's defeat of Amarantha were, more or less, the product of dreamers who wished upon the stars (ACOMAF). Just like how Feyre possesses the power of all seven High Lords, Jaenelle is the magical figure to possess the power of all the various colored jewels in TBJ.

There is a character named Prythian in The Black Jewels who is a powerful priestess, and the main land that the ACOTAR series is set in is called Prythian. There's also an assassin-prostitute character in TBJ named Surreal, and the Suriel is character in the ACOTAR series.

The sigil/seal of Janelle's Dark Court in TBJ, we learn in the second book, is an image of a mountain with a unicorn’s horn above it. The main sigil of the Night Court in ACOTAR is a mountain below three stars. The vastness and freedom of mountains are a motif in both TBJ and ACOMAF.

Conclusion: There are others online who have pointed out the similarities between The Black Jewels and the Throne of Glass series, but it’s been many years since I read Throne of Glass and I’m rusty so I won’t touch it. Did Sarah J. Maas rip off Anne Bishop’s work? I think it could be proven in a court of law, but I’m quite hesitant to say outright that she’s guilty of plagiarism. Is Sarah J. Maas guilty of serious unoriginality? Yes, definitely. A preliminary search online will tell you that Sarah J. Maas has openly praised Bishop’s writing and she has even said that Lucivar is her favourite fantasy man of all time. Bishop's books were released when Maas was a teenager. Make of this what you will.

I’ve used a variety of tags on this post because, honestly, I’m not sure whether it falls into the “anti” category of posts or not. I think this post neutral in tone and exists just to catalogue the similarities between both series. I hence believe both fans and antis might appreciate it... for different reasons.