#rhys x fem!reader

[surielstea]

First Impressions

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city

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

Word count: 4.8k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

A head popped through the gap.

Gold hair caught the dim light.

My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."

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

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

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

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

She smirked. "Forgot some things."

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

My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"

"I'm getting you out of here."

Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.

—

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

I never believed a word of it.

But Velaris was real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hesitated.

"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nearly choked. What?

"Mor—"

She didn't give me a chance to protest.

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

The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.

Four sets of eyes locked onto me.

Hazel. Silver.

And then—

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

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Rhysand.

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

And he was staring at me.

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

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

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

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

"I'd like you all to meet—"

"She's my mate."

Silence.

Utter, perfect silence.

Then—

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

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

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

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

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

Or have I all along?

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

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

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

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

"Yes, thank you, Cassian."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He liked me.

No—he wanted me to like him.

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

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

—

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

Rhysand hovered nearby.

And I meant hovered.

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

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

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

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

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

I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.

"Would you like more pillows?"

I blinked. "What?"

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

Cassian made a strangled noise.

Azriel coughed into his fist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I did not shove—"

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

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

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

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

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

Because of me.

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

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

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

Rhys's glare could have melted stone.

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

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

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

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

Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.

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

His breath caught.

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

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

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

I wasn't ready to name that feeling.

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

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

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

Not that he'd relaxed entirely.

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

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

But at least he was sitting.

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

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

Cassian perked up. "Of what?"

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

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

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

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

Cassian gaped. "But—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.

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

The door shut behind them then silence settled.

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

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

I nodded, unsure what to say.

She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, "I think so."

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

I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."

She winked. "Get some rest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Starfall?"

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

"You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head.

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

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

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

I blinked. "They fall?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And gods, he was handsome.

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

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

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

It was just a smile. For me.

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

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

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

"Rhys—"

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

"Rhys."

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

I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhys went completely still.

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

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

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

I should have stepped back.

I should have moved.

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

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

We had only just met.

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

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

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

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

I surged forward.

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

And then he was kissing me back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.

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

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

"We should," I admitted.

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

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

"But I don't want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[illyrian-dreamer]

Dance with the devil – Part 1

Rhysand x fem!reader series

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Words: 3.3k

TW: Violence, death

Notes: Morally grey Rhysand below the cuff 😈😈😈

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

Tick, tick, tick.

That stern voice nagged in your mind, laced with forewarning and impatience that only frustrated you further. 

You had just minutes to find the scroll and get out. 

With gritted teeth, you leaned closer, drowning out that voice - likely your mothers - as well as the drumming of your heart, waiting for that final click. 

You were versed in charming locks, picking them when you had to, just as you did now. And what waited on the other side of this door was worth every swallow of bile, every rise and swell of panic that begged you to think of the consequence - of what would happen if you were caught. 

It was only a half-moon prior that you had snuck into the infamous libraries of the Day Court while the city slept, hunting concealed maps and etchings of Helion’s castle. You studied the corridors and winding staircases of the impressive home, squinting through the flickering glow of the small fae light you had allowed yourself to cast, anxious eyes lifting reluctantly every so often, humouring the phantom furl of a page or shiver down your spine. 

So you pressed those routes to memory – sewers, plumbing, hidden passageways marked in some maps and not others. They were your only true salvage if things went wrong.  

Weapons were now strapped to every part of your leathers that would allow, layers of magic shielding your scent and sound so strong it made your joints ache, as if buckling under their weight.

Easy in, easy out, quick on your feet and don't look back.

That mantra was your only comfort as you silently slipped into the lavish guest suite, a breath of relief that its layout matched your efforts of breaking into the libraries. Because although night never found this court, there was only a small window in which the High Lords were away from their suites, and time was a persistent foe. 

It was incredibly risky to break into the guest quarters of the High Lord of the Night Court, especially after Hellion had declared his home a neutral grounds for the High Lord’s meeting. But what Rhysand possessed was invaluable – that scroll of ancient tongue, the only one of it’s kind. It was worth the risk of your own life, of certain death if you were caught.

Careful, gloved fingers sifted through the papers on the desk, making sure not to leave anything out of place. 

The details you had gained on the High Lord were valuable – he was neat, more than neat, really – his room immaculate and organised. A paper left rippled, a chair at a slight angle, even a stray hair on the sprawling marble floor – all were things he would surely notice. 

But you could tread lightly, could play to that game of fine detail. Nimble as a mouse – that’s how your father had always described you, affection warming his face as he compared you to your boisterous brother. 

With a clench of your heart, you forced the memory out. Once you had that scroll – soon. You would be together again soon.

As you crouched low to sift through the chestnut draws, mahogany carved with the kind of finery that made you sick, a hint of gold gleamed from the corner of the room, the light catching your eye. 

Padding with quiet creaks from your boots, you allowed yourself only a moment to admire the array of scrolls that lay in the wooden chest – it’s lid tipped open, beckoning to be explored. In the centre perched the most exotic of the artefacts. Boring rings of gold, it winked at you, a true diamond in the rough. 

With gentle inspection, you traced the characters etched in it’s casing, a cryptic ode of ancient tongue. 

A whisper of magic kissed your face, stray hairs dancing as goosebumps prickling beneath your leathers. It was waft of excitement, danger, magic aged by civilisations – this was a powerful scroll indeed.

With a hand on each end of the casing, you gently lifted the scroll into your satchel, careful not to knock it or disturb the casing. You would return it after all, once traced.

There was a shift in the air then, and a sinking feeling rippled through your abdomen, like a stone dropped into still water.

Get out – that voice urged. 

You had spent too long here already. 

Swallowing the fastening hammer of your heart, you raised from your knees, eyeing the unsuspecting cupboard  – behind it a hidden door, and behind that a winding pathway would lead you clear to the gardens.

You almost scoffed – this was easier than you had thought.

How could the High Lord be so reckless to leave something of this value lying about? 

The pit of your stomach deepened. 

Too easy – much, much too easy. 

An open, gaping well. 

Oh gods, this was a–

And then darkness – everywhere. 

You gasped, catching glimpses of red and blue as you staggered back. Your back hit something solid – no, someone. Strong arms gripped yours wrists, pinning them behind you. You tried to yell, but your breath hitched as violet eyes glowered amongst the tendrils of midnight smog, choking any sound that whined in your throat. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” a sultry voice purred, a refined silhouette emerging from the darkness, tall and broad. 

A gleam of teeth pulled with a feline smile, the figure prowling closer. Dangerous, lethal, ever knowing with a hint of cockiness.

And as tendrils of night magic cleared around their master, the High Lord of the Night Court was revealed.

Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement as he watched realisation set in – your own features taut with horror. 

“Hello, Y/N darling.”

You were dead meat.

A heavy, intrusive sensation caused a shiver to rack through you as phantom claws tore through your useless shields, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of your own fear. 

Rhysand’s pretty grin only grew.

In a hopeless attempt to flee, you barely moved an inch as you tugged against the impossible grip on your arms.

He was closing in, coldness seeping from him as his magic curling in on itself, devouring any hints of warmth from the room, from your own veins. 

And then he stopped, just one agonising pace shy from your heaving chest. 

Here he was – High Lord of the Night Court. Wickedly cruel, arrogant and unnervingly calm, a cat who toyed with its food. The legendary villain of whispered rumours and horror stories exchanged amongst children of your village in the court of Dawn, parents so tired from their youngens loss of sleep that he was a banished name from many households.

Your eyes danced with a panic as instincts forced you to look for any chance of survival. Dressed with finery, but not a weapon on him – that was good. 

But as the shadows began to clear, another male was revealed perching patiently against the wall behind, blue siphons flickering as he stood with wide legs, arms crossed and face stoic. Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster, waited patiently for your attempt of escape, his own shadows at the ready. 

Fuck.

That meant the male that bound you was Cassian – Warlord and Chief General of the Illyrian armies. 

You were as good as dead.

Your breathing stuttered as you swallowed the plea for mercy begging at your lips. They were going to kill you, that was certain. You could only hope they would do it quickly.

“My my, Y/N,” Rhysand drawled, his voice playful and sensual. “We weren't certain if you were going to take the bait.” 

Placing hands on knees, he lowered himself to your level, those violet eyes captivating you, their depth incomprehensible. You tried to break Rhys’s gaze, but you rendered helpless, realising the cruel use of his magic. 

“But I’m so glad this is how we get to meet.”

He was expecting you? 

You glared back, your breaths quickening at the dangerous proximity.

If not at his mercy, you would have spat at his condescending manner. But instead you fought aimlessly against Cassian’s hold, the male pulling you back against his chest with a jarring tug, his grip tightening until you felt your pulse in your wrists. 

Your mind was scattering with each second, frantic eyes dancing at the High Lord before you. You hadn't expected him to be so… handsome. 

“Why, thank you,” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at you, that cat like grin exchanged for a lob-sided one. 

Had he just–? You scowled, cursing him silently. His abilities as a deamanti also deeming true.

Rhysand chuckled at your foul words, his laugh unexpectedly soft. “Such a feisty thing you are,” he commented, raking his purple eyes down your body. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, despite the layers of leathers and weaponry you wore. 

“Let me go,” you spat hoarsely, heaving against the General once more. 

“You’re not in any position to make that request,” Cassian huffed, pulling back on the little distance you had gained. His voice was gruff as it hummed through your back.

You turned your head to look at the Warlord for the first time. He too, like the other males in the room, was noticeably handsome. His long hair fell into his face as he looked down at you, his eyes almost as amused as his High Lord. 

Were you just a joke to them?

“Oh, sweet Y/N, you’re not a joke at all. We’re actually quiet impressed by you,” Rhysand toyed, his eyebrows raised with a mocking tone. “We know you’ve been trailing us for months, Azriel here picked up on your movements in our court a whole quarter year ago.”

You flicked your eyes to the Spymaster, his position and face unmoving at his mention. You couldn't help your scowl at the male who was responsible to securing your death. 

“What we didn't expect, was for you to make it this far,” Rhysand continued with a chuckle, his head shaking in playful dismay.

Great – now on top of everything else, you were completely insulted.

“That’s why we set this trap for you. So we could finally meet.”

You frowned at Rhysand. You had been so careful, so stealthy about all your work in spying on the High Lord, slaving over maps and reports until you could no longer keep your eyes open, using the little money you had to buy off secrecy, and always covering your tracks. But it still hadn't been enough.

“Don’t look so disheartened, little mouse,” Rhysand purred, before he picked a piece of lint off his fitted black jacket. “The fact that you were able to break into my quarters alone is incredibly impressive.”

It had in fact, taken a lot of work. To sneak into Hellion’s home had taken three disenchantment spells, and compromised a suite of his guards who were yet to rise from their enchanted slumber. The locks and spells on Rhysand’s chamber were another thing in itself. 

“What will you do with me?” you gritted, glaring between the males in front of you, desperate to know your fate.

Rhysand dipped his head back and laughed, his posture too calm, too casual. 

“What will we do with you, hmm?” he repeated, and a shrinking instinct finding you, one that you hadn't felt since you were a child.

“Perhaps the question is, what would you like us to do with you?” It was a lovers voice, sensual and suggestive. 

You couldn't help the thunder of your heart as his scent filled your nose, crudely laced with arousal as it found you with a phantom wind.

Rhysand was on you then, his face inches from your own as swirls of night filled your vision, his violet eyes the only light you could see. 

You gasped at the sight before you – it was beautiful, but so, so deadly. 

“I don’t like having my things taken from me, Y/N.” Rhysand growled, his voice now cold, unforgiving. Those same claws that tore your shields now traced the outskirts if your mind, talons sinking slightly in warning. 

Despite the little pain, it was instinct to scream.

You tried to make quick peace at the thought of his violet eyes being the last thing you would ever see.

Open your eyes, he commanded mind to mind. 

Without realising you had closed them, you found yourself unable to disobey.

Rhysand withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, his darkness disappearing with him as he slid his hands into his pockets, rocking on fine shoes. His behaviour was erratic, such a contrast to the moment before. 

“Of course, it would be such a waste of good talent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t toyed with your very consciousness just moments before. 

You watched him pace, your eyes flicking to the spymaster once more, before noting the exits of the room you knew well. 

“You don't stand a chance,” Azriel spoke plainly, his hand fingering one of many blades strapped to his strong frame. A warning, from one spy to another.

Rhysand grinned between you two, running a smooth hand through his black-blue hair. 

Was he entertained by the idea that you were willing to give a fight? 

You felt a low rumble from Cassian’s chest, all three males daring you to challenge them in their own way. 

Azriel was right – it was suicide to try. 

Rhysand hummed with pleasure, reading your submission as your body sagged every so slightly. 

“I’ll tell you what, Y/N. I’ll make you a deal.” 

A bargain, a promise, and perhaps a riddle from Prythian’s deadliest High Lord. 

“I’d rather you kill me,” you said tightly. 

Rhysand laughed again, and you felt the movements of Cassian’s chuckle from behind. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Surely there’s a tad more fight in you than that?” 

You scowled in return. 

Rhysand approached you again, now holding the scroll of ancient tongue. 

“What do you know of this scroll?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

You winced. “I don't know anything.”

Rhysand tutted. “Little liar,” he grinned at you, his violet eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’ll ask one more time,” he sang.

You felt them again, and it took all you had to not crumble at Cassian’s boots at the flooding pain as Rhysand dragged a singular, scraping talon across your mind and back. 

“Resurrection!” you yelped – a half breath, half scream escaping you as your legs gave out. Cassian held you up, your body rigid as Rhysand’s talon pierced your mind further. The pain was blinding, eliciting a howl from you as your vision flashed with white. 

Yet Rhysand’s icy threat cut through. “I have a lot of enemies, Y/N. I don't suppose you are hoping to fetch a pretty penny for anyone who might seek to bring back the rightfully dead?”

“No, n-no!” you gasped, your body spasming and contorting as he continued to toy with you. “Please, it’s for m-my family!”

Rhysand left your mind as quickly as he had entered it. You sagged in relief, Cassian gently setting you down as your crumpled to the floor, your body shaking and twitching. 

You had just enough energy to raise your eyes and meet the High Lord’s stare. Gone was his expression of cruel amusement, it was now replaced with a frown of serious, deep thought. 

He had seen them – your family, their smiles and laughter as your memory flashed at their mention. That meant he had also seen their deaths, their limp bodies piled for you to find in your own home. 

“You wish to resurrect them?” Rhys asked softly. 

All you could do was nod. You were sure you weren't noting a sense of sympathy from the male.

Rhys shook his head, his eyes closing. “If it were that easy Y/N, I’d have the missing kin to my own family here today.”

You looked up at the High Lord through heavy lids, exhaustion overcoming your body with an occasional twitch. 

“I have to try,” was all you could offer, your voice small and unsure. 

Rhysand stared down at you with furrowed brows, serious yet unreadable. After a few moments, he blinked, a few stars returning to his eyes as he raised them to Cassian with a quick nod. 

Strong hands unfurled from your arms, and Cassian stepped back, providing you some space on the marbled tiles as you shook.

Death then, at last. May the Mother have mercy, let it be quick, you prayed silently.

A gentle pull of your hand from your face, and your fingers were forced to close around a ovoidal object. 

Rhysand was crouched in front of you, his face unreadable as his cold hand kept your fingers pressed to the scroll

“I’ll tell you what Y/N. You find a way to decipher this scroll and bring back your family. And when you do, you share that information with me, so that I may do the same.”

You pulled your hand back, eyes darting between his violet ones as if you read the trick that undoubtedly hid beneath his offer. 

“And why in Mother’s name would I trust you?”

He smirked humourlessly. “Unless you prefer the alternative –“ Rhysand’s eyes blackened instantly, and your heart skipped a beat at the promise of death that beheld them. “– I don’t believe you have a choice.”

Make a bargain with the High Lord, or die. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you have predicted an ultimatum so soulless.

“Do we have a deal?” Rhysand offered his large hand as he still crouched before you, his eyebrows raising with a hint of impatience.

You flicked your gaze between Azriel and Cassian. Both of them watched patiently, their stances neutral, obedient of their High Lord’s business. It bothered you – how were both of them so complicit to his evil? 

Looking back at Rhysand – you ignored the voice inside you that screamed at you not to trust him. 

Letting out a short breath, you lifted yourself to your knees and clasped your hand in his. “It’s a deal.”

A gasp escaped you as a stinging heat spread across the hand held in his, and etched it’s way up your forearm. With wide eyes, you watched the burn and itch of a ink-like pattern forming on your skin. Swirls now covered your once naked arm, the picture of one hand shaking another stark on the inside of your palm. It was your hand in Rhysand’s – a symbol of the bargain you had just agreed to. For eternity, or until you deciphered this scroll you realised, with no lack of nausea.  

Rhysand grinned, marvelling the matching tattoo that now tainted his skin. “I’ll be checking in on your progress frequently, Y/N darling.” 

Unable to find the right words for you distaste, you snatched your hand away and pressed against your stomach, willing your self not to be sick.

You were now indebted to this hellish, sinister being.

Rhysand appeared as unfazed. “Perhaps you would consider a job in my court with Azriel?” he mused, flexing his fingers as he continued to take in the impressive detail of your bargain. “Again, we were quite impressed with your work.” 

He was teasing of course, and Azriel’s hazel eyes winced with humour as all three males watched for your reaction. 

You scowled at Rhysand, glaring up at him again. “I prefer my freedom, actually,” you snarled. 

Rhysand laughed in his sensual way, before grinning a wicked smile down at you. “Or what’s left of it. 

He straightened then, his wig men moving to his sides with grace – a practiced dance for all three. 

“I suggest you excuse yourself from my quarters the moment we’re gone Y/N, I’ll know otherwise.”

With a clasp to his shoulders from Azriel and Cassian, the three males were gone in a ripple of odourless night. 

Until then, little spy, Rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind.

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

AN: Ok new series let's gooooo!! Welcome to DWTD! Hello morally grey mosthandsomehighlordofthenightcourt 💞😈 I am so so excited to explore this series with y'all. Pleeeeease let me know what you think of part 1, I wrote this over so many months lol I hope it tied together. General tag list is tagged, but if you'd like to join a tag list for this series (DWTD), comment below! La la love you guys, hope you're all safe and doing ok 💞

[jiarkives]

the 1

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — if your wishes came true, you wouldn’t have been blue.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — rhysand ft. azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst ; talks of wing clipping ; reader is an illyrian ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — welcome to my new series, the eras collection, where i write fics and drabbles based on taylor swift songs from different albums. you may request for this series with a certain TS song and a character! also, my hand was basically on autopilot as i wrote this so idk if it makes any sense lol 😵‍💫

~

You watched as your heart felt heavier and heavier with each second that passes and the bitter taste in your tongue grew more and more apparent.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. It certainly wasn’t theirs. It wasn’t their fault you fell in love with someone who wouldn’t ever look at you like how he looked at her, someone who was so close yet so far away.

You had always been Rhysand’s ride or die ever since he had saved you from getting your wings clipped in a camp. You had been by his side even before Azriel and Cassian became his brothers.

You didn’t mean to, but he made it too easy to fall in love with him. He was everything you had ever wanted, yet he never found himself to be deserving of love.

Then, everything changed after what happened Under the Mountain. He had come back a different male, far from who he was when he left. He was paler, thinner, quieter. He wasn’t the same Rhys who left. He was broken.

But none of you commented on it. You helped him to get back up, to get back on his own feet. You let him come to you, let him speak about everything at his own pace.

Then, he did.

You thought you’d feel happy that he was finally opening up, and you were, but your heart broke further when he started telling you about her, his mate. Feyre Cursebreaker. The savior of Prythian.

You were happy for him, really, but you couldn’t help but feel envious, and angry, and hurt. But you didn’t blame them. You didn’t blame anyone else, not even the Mother, not even the Cauldron. After all, it was solely your fault for falling in love with someone who was never destined to be yours, who was destined to be with someone else.

Then you had met Feyre. And you wanted to scream as you watched how she had treated Rhys, and how he had let her.

You wanted to yell at him that you were there. You were right there as you had been the whole time, that you weren’t going to hurt him like that, that you weren’t going to treat him like she did, but you didn’t. You kept your mouth shut and swallowed the lump in your throat every time.

Then, everything had gotten better slowly. She had started getting along with him and the Circle. You weren’t being left out and pushed away in any means, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had been replaced.

It still wasn’t their fault, though. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but yours when you felt your heart breaking with each step they took away from the crowd and into somewhere more private.

When they were out of sight, you excused yourself and moved to another vacant balcony and leaned against railing as she watched as the bright stars crossed the horizon.

You sighed as you looked down at your clothes. It was blue, making you laugh at the irony.

Amren had always told you that your color was blue. At first, you thought she was talking about the clothes you were wearing at the time she told you, and so you agreed. The color blue did complement you well.

Now, you realized that she was still right. Your color was blue. It was not about your clothes, though. Maybe she was talking about how you had always felt blue as you watched Rhys, as you reminded yourself time and time again that he wasn’t yours, that he will never be yours. You had always felt blue as you watched him worm his way into and break through Feyre’s walls slowly.

Then, you felt a presence join you and you didn’t even have to turn to know who they were.

“Were you bored enough that you have decided to join me, Shadowsinger?” Your tone was light and teasing, a stark contrast to the heaviness you felt in your heart.

“Is it so wrong to keep a lady company?” He fired back, leaning against the railing.

“Maybe not, but it’s not quite like you, is it?”

Then, your eyes caught a flash of blue. His siphons. And you realized.

Maybe Amren wasn’t talking about your clothes or your emotions, but maybe she was right anyway. Maybe blue really was your color.

[rhyrhy]

Never Yours, Always Hers - A.A

Toxic! Abby x fem reader

⚠︎ Warnings: substance Abuse, emotional, psychological, (no physical!) Public humiliation (r!), sexual content!, Grief and trauma, harassment (r!), Manipulation, Wealth & Privilege, Obsession. Just overall darker themes! 10.3k words

✉︎ Authors note: Low-key exposing myself with my guilty pleasure of toxic! abby, But I write plenty others if this isn’t your cup of tea! otherwise enjoy!

⤷ Pt 1/2 - MDNI! - Mlist

Part 2 will be tagged here!

Sweet Abbigail,

A smile of white, her parents adored. Large family portraits of the cutest little girl in the middle, freckles dotting her nose, a Burberry cardigan always a bit too big for her. Abbigail was a mommy’s girl through and through. Her mother, picture-perfect in her small doe eyes, was the epitome of grace. Abby always strived to be just like her. soft, sweet, and always under control. But behind the rose-colored glasses, cracks began to show faster than she’d ever expected. 

✈︎ The first time she saw it, she wasn’t quite sure why her mother would always take so long to make her father’s tea in the mornings. She’d wait her turn at the large dark oak dining table, her small hands clasped together as she watched cartoons, polished silverware reflecting a little girl desperate to have breakfast with her mommy like every other morning. But there was a stillness to the house that morning; Abbigail didn’t understand it at first, not until she noticed the way her mother’s eyes would linger a little too long on the kettle before she’d pour the tea. The silence was only being filled with the sound of a spoon clinking the sides of the mug. Sweet Abbigail learned to stop asking questions before they even formed in her wondering mind. 

✈︎ Her nights were no better. She’d toss and turn in her bed, the muffled screams and quiet chatter from her parents’ bedroom echoing down the large hallway. angry whispers and harsh tones seeping through the walls. It was an ugly rhythm, one she eventually learned to ignore.

✈︎ Growing up, her Elementary school was no better either. The principal stood in front of her, holding up a cut braid. The girl, some brat named Jessica Baldwin, just had to make fun of Abby’s artwork in class. Questioning her choice of colored glitter. 

“I’m just kidding, it’s a joke.” Jessica giggled, turning back to her project. Purple crayon in hand. 

Yeah, She didn’t find any of it funny. Watching Jessica’s dark braid taunt her as she faced forward. Her blue irises darted to the supposed ‘kid-safe’ scissors in her small fingers. That day, in a blur, Abby had absolutely pulled Jessica’s hair, snipping off her braid with said scissors as the class erupted in chaos. Her small hand covered her mouth to hide a small laugh threatening to add to the noise.

“I didn’t do it, Daddy. I swear!” Later that day after two phone calls. Abby begged, her voice trembling as she stood at the principal’s desk.

Her parents barely believed her, but they didn’t exactly punish her, either. They just… didn’t get it.  They never did. Her father’s brow furrowed in disbelief, while her mother’s eyes seemed too tired to even care.

✈︎ The name that had once been laced with sugar felt like a slap in the face. She hated it. She hated how her father would say it with that soft, adoring tone, as if nothing was wrong. Abbigail, he’d coo, always with that gleam of love in his eyes. But that love felt empty now. So, now in her high school years she had zero tolerance for it.

“Jesus… do you need me to spell it? It’s A-B-B-Y” she snapped, her voice sharp, filled with a venom she didn’t even know she had. “Stop fucking calling me that.”

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ Throughout high school, Abby dealt with a lot of internalized homophobia. She would scold herself whenever she felt flustered around pretty girls, her heartbeat pounding in her chest when close friend Nora would redo her hair during class.It only became more apparent after her first time with a guy. They made out for what felt like two seconds until he got way too eager, and let's just say she vowed to never let a man stick his penis anywhere near her again.

✈︎ She knew she wasn't the girliest. She played tennis, had short finger nails, and manspread when she sat. But even with that under her belt, she would dismiss her feelings toward girls as a phase. At least that's what her father called it when she brought home Alessia Forbes, senior year. They'd shared a kiss behind the bleachers in 10th grade, and it forced Abby to face the music. Opening the door to becoming more comfortable in her skin and how she dressed, Abby started to embrace what felt right. She wasn't a fan of makeup or dresses. pants were much more convenient.

✈︎ Alessia, unfortunately, much like most in Abby's life, didn't stick around long. Abby should've known, though. Alessia's eyes always wandered when other girls were around-especially when Ellie Williams was in proximity. At Eastside Preparatory, bullying, fighting, or even petty beefs were immediately reported. They had a reputation to uphold, matched only by the ridiculous tuition parents paid. Abby couldn't stand Ellie, though. She didn't intentionally steer her girlfriend away, but she needed someone to blame.

✈︎ Abby was always quick to anger, and when Ellie-someone who pushed all her buttons— called her out on her behavior, things went south quickly. The two got into a physical fight that was so violent Abby had to transfer schools to avoid it tarnishing her record.

“Abbigail, what the hell were you thinking?!” Her father asked, arms crossed.

“A fight? You think we spend all this money for you to act like a barbarian while you’re supposed to be learning?” her mother scoffed.

Abby didn’t answer. She just stood there, jaw clenched, arms crossed over her chest like she could physically hold in all the things she wanted to say. Because what was the point? They wouldn’t listen. They never did. She wanted to tell them that Ellie started it, that she had no choice but to defend herself. That it wasn’t her fault she lost her temper. But she knew they wouldn’t buy it. Not when they’d already decided she was the problem. So she let them lecture her, nodding at the right times, staring at the floor when they threw around words like disappointment and irresponsible like they were facts written in stone. Flashes of that green-eyed bitch. causing her to dig her nails into her palms. By the time they were done, East Bench, Salt Lake, was already in the past. New York was an adjustment.

✈︎ Columbia was bigger, louder. People walked fast, like they had somewhere important to be, never sparing her more than a passing glance. It was a far cry from the bubble of private school back home, where reputations were currency and whispers traveled faster than wildfire. Abby liked that. She liked that no one knew who she was. That she wasn’t Abbigail Anderson, the hothead who got kicked out of Eastside Prep. Here, she was just another student.

✈︎ Her father had pulled some strings to get her in—of course he had—but Abby actually wanted to prove she deserved to be here. She kept her head down, went to class, and lifted at the gym in the evenings. It kept her from thinking too much. From remembering how things ended back home. She told herself this was good. That it was a fresh start. How much of her life she abandoned like it was nothing. It didn’t matter now.

✈︎ A new group of friends, her gold-plated Cabernet on her belt loop every morning, and hair breezing behind her. It was enough. Until it wasn't. Pushing herself into her studies and sports to keep her parents happy. She wasn’t sure if she was, though.

And that only deepened with the loss of her mother. But it’s what led her to you.

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ Growing up, money was never a concern. Your parents liked to call it being “comfortable,” but in reality, your lifestyle was far beyond that. Their status placed them among the elite, working closely with others in their sphere—the world of wealth, class, and the quiet sin of greed.

✈︎ Your father, a renowned real estate developer, owned Wilson & Co. Properties, a firm responsible for some of the most extravagant hotels and high-rises in the country. Your mother, a former corporate lawyer turned philanthropist, ran the Wilson Foundation, a charity often praised for its generous donations yet quietly criticized for its selective philanthropy. So naturally, you found yourself with a golden spoon resting on your tongue.

✈︎ And then there was Jerry Anderson, a man you’d seen in the circle your father had. CEO of Anderson Biomedical, a medical research company specializing in ‘cutting-edge’ treatments for neurodegenerative diseases. He was as respected, a man who knew how to turn science into profit. The only thing he couldn’t save or hook up to more machines to buy time? His wife. 

“Sarah Anderson dead at 42”

“Anderson Biomedical CEO Faces Scrutiny After Wife’s Shocking Death”

“Gone Too Soon: Socialite Sarah Anderson’s Mysterious Passing Sparks Questions”

It was everywhere. Sarah, She was beautiful; every photograph you’d seen looked almost airbrushed. Probably due to all the Botox, but she was striking regardless. Little did you know she’d passed those beautiful features to a young woman who’d flip your world upside down. A recantation of her flesh. blue eyes that reminded you of the waters of Navagio during your holiday in Greece. Golden brown-blonde strands that seemed to always fall in place. Pink lips that always sat in a small pout. A jawline that you’d probably cut yourself on if you ever got the chance to run your fingers along it. That work of art was His daughter, Abigail fucking Anderson; The first girl your parents approved of, And the worst breakup of your life.

✈︎ You first spotted her in your all-black long-sleeve dress and roses in hand, head hung in respect. Her mother’s funeral. You felt out of place as you’d only met Jerry a few times at galas, but your family went. Everyone did.?It was sickening how many news outlets sat outside, pushing microphones in their faces. They were trying to grieve for God's sake. But conspiracies about their family always ran high. But the rumors had already spread like wildfire. The whispers in the halls, the hushed voices behind gloved hands. Sarah tried to poison him, you know. Slowly. Over months. Some said Jerry caught her before it was too late. Others claimed he staged the whole thing to cover up his own sins. Money laundering, apparently. It was a ridiculous theory—one you brushed off as gossip from people with too much time and too little to lose. But the one that made you pause? Abby’s last girlfriend left traumatized. You didn’t know the details, only that she left town suddenly and never looked back. No one could agree on what happened. Some swore she was just a jealous ex who wanted revenge. Others claimed she was scared. But Abby? She never spoke about it. Never gave the rumors life. You told yourself none of it mattered. Because when you saw her standing there, shoulders tense, trying to keep herself together under the weight of a hundred scrutinizing eyes, you didn’t see a monster. You saw a girl who had just lost her mother. It was ridiculous, you felt. Empathy, something your mother said you held ‘too much’ of. And it’s exactly what led you to next to her, the eulogy ringing out into the large room.

A droplet streamed down the freckled cheeks next to you.

You felt guilty for being so focused on how her brown eyelashes stuck together as they dampened with tears. the whites of her eyes pink. Her jaw tightened, an obvious strain in her body. The way her black dress shirt clung to her toned arms. The small bump on the bridge on her nose. Beautiful. The spitting image of her mother. Sandwiched between your families, Her knee pressing against yours. Yup, Your heart rate was definitely faster than usual. When—Your hand seemed to move on its own.

Her blue eyes flicked over the girl sitting next to her. Her first glimpse of you, a small sympathetic smile on your lips. Arm offering her a Kleenex to dry her face. You tried not to furrow your brows when she just …stared at you. You aren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but your fingers moved. Gently soaking her tears of salt into the tissue. Patting along her sharp features. A small thank you left her lips before she turned back to the next family member speaking.  Later that day. You found her sitting on a bench. Fidgeting with the ends of her hair.

“You look just like her. She was beautiful,” you said, offering Abby another tissue. She didn’t take it. Instead, she exhaled a shaky breath and leaned into your hand.

“She would’ve liked you,” she murmured, voice thick with grief. You stilled, taken aback, a small flush creeping up your neck. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just patted her face dry once more, letting the moment settle between you. One of many interactions to come.

✈︎ You and Abby felt like two magnets, always drawn back together no matter how much space was between you. At gatherings, in crowded rooms filled with bodies, your eyes would meet and every time, she made sure you felt like the only person in the world.

✈︎ She charmed you completely. Abby had a way of making you feel seen, like she was peeling you apart layer by layer just to admire what was underneath. Every compliment was so specific, so deeply personal, it felt like she had memorized you. She gave you gifts you mentioned in passing, sent good morning texts before you even had a chance to wake up, and called you just to hear your voice. “You make me feel normal,” she admitted one night, after sneaking you away from a party into the cool night air. and you clung to it, to her. not realizing how much weight she placed on you. You barely noticed the way she inserted herself into your world—how effortlessly she made you friends with Manny, how she reconnected with Nora and brought Jordan, Leah, and the rest of their circle into your orbit. These were the children of wealth and influence, kids who knew their parents would clean up any mess they made. Late nights blurred into early mornings spent in dimly lit bars, luxury penthouses, and hidden corners of clubs where their last names meant everything.

One night, Abby pulled you away from it all. Away from the noise, away from the people. She kissed you hard against the wall of her apartment, hands roaming like she was trying to memorize you-mapping every inch the way she did with her words. She was intense but careful, treating you like something fragile yet untouchable all at once. It was the first time in a long time that something in her life felt real. And it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

“Abs…” you breathed out. Her body engulfing was heavy like a weighted blanket. The feeling of her hands roaming your body, pure worship. Your head beyond spinning.

But Abby only pulled you closer, like she couldn't stand even a sliver of space between you. Her tongue slid into your mouth, desperate, like she was staking her claim. Fingers tangled in your hair, pulling, twisting— holding you there like she was afraid you'd disappear if she let go. It was heated, consuming. You'd never been tangled up like this before. And you never wanted it to end.

The gifts, the attention, her touch in all the right places. Abby made you feel like the center of the universe. And you needed it. She broke the kiss, panting, eyes dark with something that made your stomach flip. She looked at you like you were something holy, something made just for her. Her hands roamed your back, fingertips tracing patterns, memorizing, claiming.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," she breathed, voice thick, raw. "Now. Like right now."

And later, as she lay beside you, her arm wrapped around your waist like she could keep you tethered to her, she thought back to the past. To the girls who expected her to take the lead, to do all the work, to prove herself in a way that always left her feeling hollow. But this? This was different. You wanted her, you gave as much as you took, and it made something inside her tighten, coil, and refuse to let go.

Not now. Not ever

✈︎ Abby had her ways of getting what she wanted. It was never outright. never something you could point to and call unfair. Just little things. Offhanded comments that made you second-guess yourself. “You still hang out with her?” she’d say, half-laughing, half-serious. “I swear she has a crush on you.” Or, when you mentioned grabbing lunch with a friend she didn’t particularly like; “Must be nice to have all this free time,” Abby mused, flipping through her phone. “Wish I didn’t miss you so much when you’re gone.” It was always playful, never an argument. But over time, you found yourself hesitating before making plans. Weighing whether the fun was worth the look Abby would give you later. The passive sighs. The casual, “Oh, you were with her?” that left you feeling ridiculous for even trying to defend yourself. Then there were the things she didn’t even have to say.

────୨ৎ────

Like the way she leaned into you one night, cheek pressed against your shoulder as you scrolled through your camera roll. You loved moments like these. You just had no idea the chaos it would later awaken.

“Who’s that?” she asked, voice laced with casual curiosity.

“Hm? Her? That’s Dina, I met her through a friend.” You paused your scrolling, finger hovering over the screen.

“Wait—wait, go back. That picture.”

“This one?” You swiped back to a group photo—just you, Dina, and her girlfriend, who had tagged along that day.

“Pfft. Ellie. Offf course,” she scoffed.

“You know her girlfriend?” you asked, glancing at Abby.

“Our fists do,” she muttered. “She’s the reason I had to leave East Bench.”

“Oh.” You blinked, unsure what to make of that. You were years behind that, you felt.

“Just… be careful around her,” she added. “Girlfriend’s a bitch. She might be too.” She teased, bumping your arm.

“Hey! She’s nice. And you need to let that go. Grudge-holding ass,” you laughed, shoving her shoulder.

“Hey yourself, I have my reasons!” she chuckled, shoving you back.

✈︎ Dina was fun, always finding the best overpriced boutiques with hidden gems. The kind of girl who always had a spare hair tie when needed. It was a shame she started canceling on you more often. Eventually, she even unfollowed you on social media. You wanted to reach out. had you said something wrong? Forgotten a birthday? But she was just a new friend. You’d make more. At least, that’s what your doting girlfriend told you when you came to her upset about it.

“Go ahead. Say you told me so,” you sighed after explaining what happened.

“What? No.” Abby tilted her head, her expression unreadable, like she… already knew. She patted your shoulder, then looked up at you with a bitten back laugh.

“I told you so.”

“Abby!” you groaned, rolling your eyes. You two spent the rest of the day joking about it but it still hurt. Lingering subconsciously.

✈︎ What you didn’t know was that Abby had already decided you didn’t need Dina. You certainly didn’t need Ellie, either. Maybe she found Dina’s number while you were sleeping, sent a few texts telling her to stay away. Maybe she didn’t. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was you leaning back into her, letting her hold you, telling her how much you appreciated her. How much you loved her.

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ God, she loved hearing you say it. The way you said it with no hesitation, holding eye contact, voice sending jolts through her body. It also didn’t matter the time of day or what you were doing. she needed to hear it. Yes, even when she was knuckles deep, listening to you whine and moan.

“Tell me you love me, baby,” she murmured, lips brushing your ear.

“Let me hear you.”

And when you did, breathless, pleading, her grip tightened.

“Louder, baby—uh huh, yeah, you fucking do.”

But how could you pick up on small things like that when your eyes were busy rolling to the back of your skull. This was love, passion, protection. she made sure it was drilled into your head.

────୨ৎ────


“No, baby. Not that one,” Abby said, shaking her head as she nodded toward your closet.

This was the third outfit she’d vetoed. You loved your sweet girlfriend—you really did—but moments like this made you want to strangle her. It had become a small pattern, one you were only now starting to pick up on. The way she’d tug down the hem of your skirt, make you do a slow spin before you left together, double-checking that you were covered in all the places she swore were only for her eyes to see. Your lower back. Too much cleavage. A glimpse of midriff. None of that.

And when she wasn’t subtly adjusting your outfits, she was replacing them altogether. Gifts—so many gifts. Gorgeous, expensive pieces that were impossible to turn down. Each one came with a sweet little note, the kind that made you feel silly for even questioning it. “Saw this and thought of you, pretty girl.” Or “Can’t wait to see you in this, baby.”

✈︎ Yes, the skirts were longer. The shirts—silky, high-necked, modest—were all designer.  Chanel, Burberry, Prada. And when winter came, she surprised you with the exact brown and black fur coat you’d shown her on Pinterest months ago. The excitement had nearly erased the lingering thought in the back of your mind. You began to think, maybe it wasn’t about keeping you warm. It was about keeping you covered. Pushing that aside, you’d buy her pretty things in return, but you noticed she preferred more intimate gifts. Like the stocking you made her on your first Christmas together, the one where you said “I love you” for the first time. Or the scrapbook you created, filled with candid photos of the two of you through the seasons. watching the backgrounds change from snow to rain to red leaves and to blooming flowers.

✈︎ She kept all of them. I mean, all of them. Even the tissue you patted her face with after her mother’s funeral. Yes, she kept that too. You didn’t know until one day, while you were cleaning up for her. something you rarely did since she was a bit of a neat freak. You saw the napkin, obviously used. Before you could throw it out, she took it from you. You blinked, unsure, but assumed she was going to dispose of it herself. Little did you know, you had made a much bigger mark on her than you realized. That day, she was staring at you, as if she were seeing her future. Did she ask you about any of her plans? No, of course not. She figured you’d be happy as long as you had her. Thoughts like that felt obscene in her mind. What she did ask, though, was:

✈︎ “You’re happy, right?” She whispered, tilting your face to hers, always satisfied with whatever answer you gave.

✈︎ “Oh, you remembered…?” She’d smile when you recalled even the smallest details of your time together.

✈︎ “You still love me, right? Even if we don’t always talk about it?” Yes, yes, and yes. No wasn't a word you had the heart to say to her. To your Abby? Your sweet partner, it was always yes. Even if you didn’t want to say it. It was never no. So today when she asked you to get dressed to go out with your circle of friends for a night on the water. You did exactly that.

────୨ৎ────

“Seriously, Abs? Do you even want me to go? You keep saying no to my—”

“That one is good.” Abby cut you off mid-sentence, her eyes flicking up and down your outfit, finally approving. You’d been playing dress-up for what felt like an hour, but it was never enough. You’d given in, slipping into something a bit more modest than you wanted, yet you couldn’t fight her.

“I’m convinced you want a nun for a girlfriend.” You sighed.

She stepped up behind you, hands firm on your hips as she leaned in, her chin rested your shoulder. Her voice was low. “Not a nun. Just Don’t want anyone else looking at you like that.” Her grip tightened slightly. She exhaled, her breath warm against your skin. “Just want you for me, that’s all.”

You felt too covered up for a late-night boat ride with friends, though. But you pick and choose your battles, right? If she was happy, you’re happy. You ended up tying the shirt to a crop when she wasn't looking. You loved your body; you were allowed to show it off occasionally.

Hand in hand, you drove to the port in Abby’s Jeep. The ride was quiet, too quiet. The engine hummed beneath the silence, and you kept your gaze fixed on the city lights outside, knowing it was easier than looking at her.

The glow from the dashboard reflected off her jawline, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips when you reached for her hand.

“Damn, what took you two so long?” A voice called out from the dock as you stepped onto the weathered wood. A man waved, his playful grin highlighted by the glow of the dock lights. Jordan, his thick black eyebrows furrowed, watched as you and Abby approached the small group.

You wanted to joke about Abby making you change a hundred times, but you knew better. That would only earn you a sharp look and a night of passive-aggressive silence. So instead, you just blamed it on traffic and stepped onto the Boston Whaler 285 Conquest, once owned by Abby’s grandfather, now repurposed for nights like these. Luxury, fun, and just enough recklessness to remind you all that nothing bad could ever really happen to people like you.

“Hell yeah, I brought the booze!” Leah’s voice rang out from the helm.

“Someone started early,” you teased, watching her twirl—bottles of something dark in each hand, her laughter cutting through the night.

✈︎ They had originally been Abby’s friends, but now they felt like your own. If Abby didn’t approve of someone, that meant they weren’t worth keeping around anyway. So this group of seven was plenty. Loud, wild, indulgent, always pushing the edge just enough to keep things interesting.

✈︎ First-world problems, boring galas, the bullshit drama of people you’d never really have to deal with—it was all fair game for ranting and laughing about, the alcohol keeping everything light and meaningless. Conversations blurred into one another, champagne bubbles mixing with cigarette smoke, the sharp tang of expensive whiskey clinging to every word.Someone was always telling a ridiculous story, exaggerating details just enough to make it funnier. Someone else was always half-draped over another, limbs tangled, faces flushed, a careless kind of closeness that came with privilege and too many drinks. The air smelled like salt water and perfume, luxury cologne, and the lingering haze of a freshly lit joint.

Abby smirked as you clung onto her, sinking into the plush cushions beside her. The boat glided over dark waters, the surface rippling like liquid ink, only touched by scattered moonlight. The engine’s steady hum mixed with laughter, the clinking of bottles, and the occasional squeal from someone almost losing their balance.

Across from you, Leah stood at the bow, gripping something long and thin.

“Is… that a fishing rod?” Abby called out, raising an eyebrow.

“Fishing? Dude, it’s pitch black!” Jordan laughed, shaking his head.

“What? I saw it, so I picked it up. No late-night snack?” Leah grinned, holding it up like she was about to reel in something huge.

“Ha ha,” Jordan scoffed. “C’mon, babe, sit down before you fall.”

“Yeah, Leah, seriously,” you added, casting a glance around. Everyone had collectively coated their stomachs with alcohol at this point. The boat swayed gently, but in your mind, everything still felt steady. Safe.

“Fucking party poopers,” she whined, stumbling as she made her way back.

The music pulsed through the speakers, vibrating under your fingertips as you traced circles over Abby’s knee. Someone passed you a drink, ice clinking against glass. The wind was salty and cool against your skin, and for a moment, everything felt weightless—just another night, just another story to laugh about in the morning.

Then before you could ground yourself, A deafening crack—wood splintering, metal twisting, the sickening crunch of fiberglass giving way as the world lurched violently forward. The force of it stole the breath from your lungs before you even hit the surface.

Bodies slammed against seats, railings, and the deck. Someone cried out—a sharp, guttural sound swallowed by the pure chaos. The boat groaned in protest, the hull splitting open as water rushed in, swallowing everything in its path. The night, once filled with laughter and careless drunken chatter, twisted into something unrecognizable. Screams pierced the air, panic rising like a tidal wave.

Then came the water.

A crushing, merciless cold that seized your body, shocking the breath from your lungs. It pulled you under, the weight of the crash dragging debris and bodies into the abyss.

Your vision blurred—dark water, fractured moonlight, hands reaching, grasping, then slipping away. And then, Leah was gone. But that wasn’t the name being screamed. It was yours. A shaky voice, frantic and desperate—Abby’s. Calling for you over and over.

The cool of damp grass pressed against your cheek, your vision swimming as you groaned and clutched your arm. A deep gash ran along the length of it, a sheen of red seeping through torn fabric, dark and wet against your soft skin. Tears blurred your vision—shock, pain, it was so fast. Overwhelmed. You gasped, struggling to sit up. Every muscle in your body ached, but you forced yourself to take in your surroundings. The front of the boat was completely smashed in, glass and debris scattered across the shoreline. The others were stumbling to their feet, coughing, calling out to each other in shaky voices.

“…I’m here,” you called out. “Abs... I’m right here.”

Abby all but collapsed beside you, grabbing your face with trembling hands, her wide eyes scanning you for injuries. You barely had time to process before she was pulling you against her, burying her face into your hair, the scent of her shampoo thick in your nose. The others were shouting now.

“Where’s Leah?”

“Leah!” Jordan’s voice cracked as he stumbled forward, scanning the dark water. “Leah, where the fuck are you?”

Panic settled over the group like a thick fog, replacing the drunken laughter of earlier with frantic movement. Flashlights from scattered phones cut across the water. Someone ran toward the wreckage, their footsteps crunching over broken glass and debris.

“She was right here—”

“Did she fall?”

“Fuck, fuck—she was just standing here—”

The shouts became more urgent, the terror in Jordan’s voice making your head spin even more. But Abby—Abby wasn’t looking at the water. She wasn’t calling for Leah.

She was looking at you.

Hands gripping your waist, scanning your face, as if making sure you were still there.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, ignoring the chaos, her fingers brushing the blood on your arm. Her expression was unreadable—shock, concern, something else beneath it all. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Abby—” you wanted to bud in but She was already moving, hands fumbling for her phone, fingers trembling as she dialed. You could barely hear her over the panic, but the moment the call connected, her voice was sharp and urgent.

“Dad—” her breath hitched, her grip on you tightening. 

You barely registered the clipped response on the other end before she pulled the phone away, her face paler than you’d ever seen it. It was always the same with Abby. The moment things spiraled, the second the world tipped out of her control, her first instinct was to call her father.

✈︎ It didn’t matter what it was. A failed exam in school? Jerry. A bad breakup? Jerry. Someone disrespected her at some pretentious gala? Jerry. Even when she swore she could handle things on her own, her fingers always twitched toward her phone, her father’s number burned into her muscle memory. Maybe it was because she never really had to deal with the consequences of her own mistakes. Not when Jerry was always there to smooth things over, to fix what needed fixing, to make things disappear. It was almost like magic, the way he worked—whispers in the right ears, money exchanged behind closed doors, a well-timed favor cashed in. And now, even with something as devastating as this, Abby wasn’t thinking about what they’d done, what it meant. She wasn’t thinking about Leah. About the cold, dark water swallowing her whole. She was thinking about Jerry. About how he would clean this up, the way he always did. And maybe the worst part was that she was right.

Minutes later, headlights cut through the darkness. Jerry was already on the phone when he stepped out of the car, his expression unreadable, his voice a low murmur as he barked orders to someone on the other end. The moment he hung up, his sharp gaze flicked over the wreckage and the group of panicked, bloodied young adults before settling on Abby. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, her grip on you unrelenting.

Jordan wheeled around, panic-stricken. “What? No, we have to find Leah—”

Jerry barely spared him a glance. His tone was clipped, final. He turned to Abby. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Someone snapped. “We have to do something!”

But Jerry was already moving, grabbing Abby’s wrist, looking at you expectantly. “This isn’t something you want to be involved in,” he murmured. “Trust me.” The air felt thick, suffocating. Jordan was still screaming Leah’s name. Someone was sobbing. And Abby—she wasn’t arguing. She squeezed your waist, voice soft but urgent. “We have to go.” Your heart pounded as you looked between her, Jerry, and the chaos behind you. It didn’t feel real. None of it did. And then, as if deciding for you, Jerry pulled Abby away, guiding her toward the car. You hesitated—just for a moment—before Abby’s grip tightened on your wrist.

“Come on, baby. Please.”

And against every instinct screaming at you to stay, you followed her. You closed the door behind you. Letting your head fall against the leather seat. 

The car ride was filled with Jerry’s own interrogation.

You’d never been a witness to the Anderson back-and-forth before. But tonight, sitting in the backseat, still processing the night’s events, you had front-row seats. Jerry’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his voice sharp, slicing through the tense air. “You tell me what the hell happened.”

Abby was hunched forward in the passenger seat, still damp, her blonde hair clinging to her skin. She wiped a hand down her face, her breath unsteady. “It was an accident,” she muttered.

“An accident?” Jerry repeated, voice thick with disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Abigail. Do you understand what’s at stake here?”

Abby’s jaw clenched. “What was I supposed to do? Just let them call the cops? Let them search the boat?”

Jerry exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was holding back from snapping completely. His voice lowered, even more dangerous now. “And what exactly would they have found?”

Silence. Abby didn’t answer. Not right away. Her fingers tapped against her knee, a nervous tic you’d noticed before. You could almost hear the gears turning in her head, weighing what to say, how much to admit.

Finally, she swallowed. “I handled it.”

Jerry let out a humorless laugh. “No, you called me. And now I have to handle it.”

From the backseat, you sat frozen, hands gripping your lap, your own pulse hammering in your ears. Abby hadn’t even looked at you since you got in the car. Hadn’t reached for your hand, hadn’t asked if you were okay. All her energy, all her focus, was on damage control. And maybe that was the difference between the two of you. Maybe this should’ve been your warning sign. You were still thinking about Leah. Abby was thinking about herself.

────୨ৎ────

“Tonight: Leah Cross’ Death—Inside the Boat Crash That Killed NYC Teen”

“Leah Cross’ Family Settles for $15M Over Boat Crash”

“Jerry Anderson Ce—”

The TV screen flickered, then went black.

You turned your head just in time to see Abby hovering behind you, the remote still in her hand. The news channel was gone. Erased. Leah hadn’t just disappeared that night. She’d been thrown into the current. Her autopsy said she most likely died on impact, but you couldn’t shake the memory of her on the boat, twirling on the helm, throwing her hands up and yelling, “This is my shit!” to every song that played. The image wouldn’t leave. It haunted you. Your parents couldn’t get ahold of you that night—your phone had been tossed into the summer waters. But Jerry reassured them you were fine. He didn’t mention the 12 stitches in your arm. He definitely didn’t mention the alcohol, the panic, the way everyone had been too wasted to process what happened. Just fine.

That night never left you.

Maybe it was shock. Maybe fear. But you never asked Abby about the conversation in the car. Your sweet Abby had just been protecting you. That’s what she always said. You both had reputations, things on the line. That’s what she repeated every time you even looked like you were thinking about it. Jerry had shoved money down the Cross family’s throat. And they took every penny. You knew silence had a price. But family?

Abby hated when you brought it up. She made sure your arm was fixed up, kissed over every bruise. Whispered reassurances against your skin. And yet, here you were. Rolled onto your side, away from her Night was always the worst. Too much room for your thoughts to catch up to you. Too much room for questions.

“Abs…?” you murmured, rolling onto your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Yeah?” Her voice was hesitant, guarded. Like she already knew where this was going.

You swallowed. “Do… do you think about that night? Leah, she—”

Abby exhaled sharply, already shaking her head. “Why are you bringing this up again?” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. “We’ve been over this.”

“Abby, we didn’t even stay that night—”

“That was the right call,” she cut in, sitting up against the headboard. “We weren’t gonna stick around for the cops to start pointing fingers. What would that have done? Made you feel better?“

You swallowed hard, something bitter catching in your throat. “You aren’t even listening to me!” You pushed yourself up in bed, turning to face her fully. “You just keep shutting me down like I’m supposed to forget about it.”

Abby’s jaw clenched. “And what exactly do you want me to say?” she shot back. “That I think about it every night? That I see her face every time I close my fucking eyes? Because I don’t. I can’t. You shouldn’t either.”

✈︎ The words hit like a gut punch. Cold. Dismissive. Final. Just like every other time you tried to talk about it. Like your grief—your guilt—was an inconvenience. You stared at her for a long moment, something in your chest curling tight, twisting into something ugly and unfamiliar. Abby wasn’t going to hear you. She never did.

✈︎ And maybe… she never would. That was the moment you felt it. That stiffness inside you. The thing that slowly, quietly, began to push you away from her. She apologized later. Reassured you she was protecting you. But it didn’t feel like it. Her tone, the way she dismissed Leah, someone she claimed to love. it didn’t sit right. That night, you laid there, stiff in her arms as she curled around you, locking you in place. But it didn’t feel like her. The sheets felt cold. Her warmth wasn’t comforting anymore. The arguments only escalated. Until one day, you couldn’t take it anymore. You walked out her front door and didn’t look back. It hurt. Stung worse than anything else. But you had to grieve properly. Refocus on school. Reconnect with your family. Make your own friends. Find mental clarity. Space from Abby. The not-so-sweet Abby you once knew. But you were her lifeline. And when four days passed without a word from you, Abby’s fingers itched to have you back in her proximity. She texted once.

6:10PM Abby: Hey. You good?

Again.

6:40PM Abby: I know you’re mad, but can you just text me back? Please?

Again.

7:26PM Abby: Are you really ignoring me right now? C’mon, babe. Talk to me.

7:28PM You: Need space rn abs.

Then came the desperate text.

7:29PM Abby: Space Tf? Seriously?

7:29PM Abby: You can’t just disappear on me. You know that, right?

7:30PM Abby: I’ve done everything for you. I’ve kept you safe. And now you’re shutting me out?

────୨ৎ────

The messages kept coming. The words more frantic. More clipped. As if she couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere but within reach. She needed you. You couldn’t just disappear. Not after everything she’d done for you. This wasn’t how it worked. You never told her no.

And that wasn’t going to start now.

✈︎ Abandonment. It was the one thing Abby couldn’t stomach. Her mother was gone. Her father was present in name only. And now, you weren’t answering your fucking phone. She gritted her teeth, staring at the ceiling as her phone lay discarded beside her, the last unanswered text staring back at her like a slap in the face. She knew Leah’s death had shaken you. She’d seen it in the way you flinched at the sound of water slapping against the docks, how your fingers traced the scar on your arm absentmindedly when you thought no one was looking. And she got it—really, she did.

✈︎ But what she didn’t understand was why you were acting like this. Like she was the one to blame. She’d explained it to you a million times. She wasn’t trying to be cold. She just didn’t want you getting in trouble, ruining your life over something you couldn’t change. Did you think your parents would still approve of her if they knew everything? If you’d stuck around that night and let the police twist the truth? She had protected you, the way she always would, and now you were punishing her for it.

It wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair. She was in love with you. All of you. That meant it was her job to protect you, to keep you safe, to make sure no one—no thing—could ever come between you. Because you weren’t just her girlfriend. You were hers. So fine. She’d let you have your space, your stupid fucking distance. You’d answer eventually.

You always did. Except you didn’t. And despite how much you hated the hollow, gnawing ache in your chest, you didn’t let yourself pick up the phone. At first, it was easy. Ignoring her texts, pretending you didn’t hear your phone buzzing at night. You told yourself it was necessary. That it would get better.

✈︎ But then came the flowers. The notes slipped under your door. The gifts left where you’d find them, small and expensive. Diamond jewelry – “I hate seeing you upset, baby. Let me make it up to you.” reminders that she was still there. That she wasn’t going to let you go so easily. And the worst part? A small, broken part of you didn’t want her to. But you had to, right? Because if you didn’t, Abby never would

✈︎ So, you started pulling away. Slowly, at first. Ignoring texts a little longer. Making excuses when she called. Telling yourself that if you could just create enough distance, she’d get the hint. She didn’t. Instead, she adjusted. Became more careful. Gave you space but never let you forget she was waiting. That she was patient. That you’d come back.

And your parents? They only made it worse.One night, as you walked into the dining room, your mother’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Honey, these flowers are beautiful.”

Your father barely glanced up from his plate. “She’s a good kid. Second chances are important.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t have to ask where they came from. The same white roses Abby always sent, of course. You gripped the back of your chair. Bit your tongue. They didn’t know the full truth. Maybe they knew about the boat crash, maybe they didn’t, but even if they did, you weren’t involved, so why would they care? Abby was still Jerry’s daughter. Still the golden girl in their eyes. And the comments kept coming. Little reminders, subtle nudges that told you exactly where they stood.

“You never frowned this much when Jerry’s daughter was around,” your mom added, shaking her head. “You two were always so happy together.”

✈︎ Were. Past tense. Like they thought this was just a phase. Like they were waiting for you to snap out of it and come to your senses. It wasn’t like you wanted her to stay away. The notes on the gifts made your stomach churn with guilt. But then you’d remember the red flags being waved in your face, and you’d try to stand firm. try to hold your ground on this. And maybe that was why, when Abby invited you to dinner, you didn’t fight it as hard as you should have. Your mother’s voice in the back of your head, the same tired excuse about your father’s business dealings and not ending things on bad terms. So you accepted. Maybe you thought one last dinner would make it easier. That sitting across from her, hearing her laugh, remembering all the good things, would make it clear if you needed to step away fully. And at first, it was sweet.

The restaurant was dimly lit, quiet. Abby had picked your favorite place, ordered your favorite before you even arrived. She looked good, too—too good. Dark button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to tease the curve of her forearms. For a while, it felt normal. Comfortable. Maybe even right. Until it wasn’t. Until the conversation drifted back to her. To you. To the space you had put between you.

Abby exhaled, swirling her drink in slow circles. “Can we just… stop pretending?” she asked, voice low. “I know you miss me.”

Your stomach knotted, but you kept your voice even. “Abby—”

“You preyed on me, you know that?” she cut in, leaning forward. “At the funeral. When I was grieving.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You saw me at my lowest and took advantage of that. Made me think you actually cared.” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “And then, what? The second things got hard, you ran?”

You stared at her, heartbeat pounding in your ears. It was a trick. A test. Another way to shift the blame. to make you doubt yourself, make you stay. Preyed on her? The self-doubt hit fast and hard. You didn’t intentionally worm your way in. You saw a girl who had just lost her mother. You offered an ear, a shoulder. She kissed you first, for Christ’s sake. You didn’t even know how to respond. But you did know this was only proving that you needed time away from her. From this person she was turning into.

The conversation escalated. Her voice sharper, her expression harder. The way she twisted her face in disapproval when you tried to defend yourself. Finally, you forced the words out.

“I think we should take a break.” Her jaw clenched. You expected a fight. For her to argue, to beg, to do something. Instead, she leaned back, nodded once, and signaled for the check. And for a while, you thought that was the end.

But then Abby stopped calling. Stopped texting. Stopped begging.

No gifts. No notes. Just… silence.

And somehow, that was worse. So much worse. It felt so wrong to not be near her.

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ At first, the silence was a relief. But then the relief faded, leaving something else in its place. Something that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts late at night when you stared at your phone, knowing there would be nothing from her.

✈︎ It felt so , so wrong. Abby wasn’t the type to give up so easily. She fought for what she wanted, always. And that was the part you weren’t ready to admit: some small, irrational part of you wanted her to fight for this. For you. To prove something, even if you didn’t know what. But she didn’t.The silence stretched on. Days turned to weeks. And slowly, that unsettling feeling morphed into something heavier. The weight of your parents’ expectations, the whispers about Jerry’s family, the things left unsaid between you and Abby. it all started to spiral. You told yourself it was for the best. That this was what you wanted. But then why did it feel like losing? Why did the silence feel heavier than the arguments? Why did it twist something deep in your chest, leaving you restless, unable to sleep, unable to think without wondering if you had made the right choice.

You weren’t in the right headspace for this, not really. Not for concerts, not for crowds, not for meeting new people. But when Riley sent the invite, tickets already bought, practically begging you to get out of your own head, you said yes. Not because you wanted to, but because you didn’t trust yourself alone with your thoughts.

The music was loud. The bass pulsed through the floor, through your body, drowning out everything else. Riley dragged you through the crowd, weaving past bodies until you were close enough to feel the heat of the stage lights. And then there was her. A tall brunette, leaning in too close, brushing her shoulder against yours. Laughing at something you barely registered.

“What?” You yelled back.

“I said you’re hot! Love the outfit!” she shouted over the music, leaning down to your ear, breath warm against your skin.

Jessica. She introduced herself at some point during the night, though you barely remembered when. Her body was close, her presence easy, effortless. The kind of girl who knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate to take it. When her hands drifted lower under the guise of friendly, you didn’t stop her. She was pretty. Willing. A distraction.

So you let her press against you from behind, her lips grazing the side of your neck. Let her hands roam, fingers mapping over you like she already knew where you needed them.

✈︎ You weren’t easy. But girls need love too. And maybe, for one night, that was enough. Her touch wasn’t like Abby’s. it was different. More room to flip the script, softer, hesitant in ways you weren’t used to. You had to guide her hands sometimes, shifting her touch when it wasn’t quite right, tilting her chin when she kissed you. But you weren’t sober, so you just leaned your head back against the leather of her passenger seat and tried to stay in the moment. Tried not to notice how it didn’t feel like enough. You groaned in frustration when your orgasm took much longer than it ever did before. Even your vagina had a mind of its own. And it was wondering to the woman you desperately didn’t want to think about.

Afterward, Jessica lit a cigarette, rolling the window down as she stretched her legs out. The orange glow of the ember flickered as she took a slow drag, exhaling into the night. You watched, silent, waiting for the feeling to settle in your chest. Some kind of satisfaction, some kind of relief. It never came.

Instead, she turned to you, smirking. “You wanna hear something funny?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, still staring out the windshield. Praying she didn’t notice that your moans were definitely a bit more exaggerated.

“When I was a kid, some girl cut off a chunk of my hair.” Jessica huffed.

That made you glance over. “What?”

Jessica laughed, tapping ash out the window. “Yeah. Just, snip. Right in the middle of class.” She made a cutting motion with her fingers, grinning. “It was long, too. My mom loved my hair. Always brushed it out for me, made a big deal about it. And then this girl, out of nowhere, just—” She mimicked the sound of scissors slicing through the air. “Teacher freaked. My mom cried. The whole thing was a mess.”

You frowned. “Damn. Why’d she do it?”

Jessica shrugged, flicking her cigarette. “She wouldn’t say. Just sat there, holding the hair like it was hers now.” She laughed again, shaking her head. “I had to get it all cut short after that. Sucked.”

You exhaled through your nose, lips pressing together. Something about the story sat oddly in your chest, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. Maybe it was because you could picture it too clearly the quiet, unspoken possession behind a simple, irreversible act. Maybe it was because, in a different time, in a different place, you could have seen Abby doing the same thing. You pushed the thought away. That would a crazy assumption, right?

Jessica reached for your thigh again, fingertips brushing just above your knee. You let her. Not because you wanted to, but because you didn’t have the energy to move away. The truth was, she wasn’t Abby. She didn’t kiss you like she meant it. She didn’t make your breath hitch, didn’t pull you under in a way that felt intoxicating.

And yet, despite everything, you still felt the pull. Going back to Abby would be a mistake. So why did it feel like you were already slipping?

You let Jessica be enough for the time being. Focused on your own life. Separate from Abby.

She turned out to be sweet. A little clingy, but not in a way that suffocated you—just in a way that made it easier to let her fill the space Abby left behind. And even if the sex wasn’t mind-blowing, it was good enough to make you forget, at least for a little while. You weren’t sure if you were ready for another relationship anyway.

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ Jessica was easy. Simple. No complications, no expectations. at least, that’s what you told yourself. You let her be enough for the time being, focused on your own life, separate from Abby. It was nice, in a way. Being with someone who didn’t come with sharp edges, who didn’t push or pull too hard. Someone who let you lead. Even if the sex wasn’t the same, even if you sometimes found yourself zoning out when she kissed you, even if her touch didn’t spark anything close to what Abby’s did. You made do.

✈︎ You tried. You really did. But there was something hanging over you that you couldn’t shake. It lingered, always present, like a ghost at the edge of your mind. It hindered you from fully indulging with Jessica like you used to, made it harder to pretend she was all you wanted. And she wasn’t stupid.

Jessica laughed, head thrown back as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Wait—you dated that psycho?”

Your stomach twisted. “She’s not—”

“Oh my god, babe.” She shook her head, grinning. “She definitely is. Didn’t she break some girl’s ribs in highschool?”

“That’s just a rumor.” Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Jessica snorted, slumping against the couch. “I mean, I get it, I guess. She’s hot, in a scary kind of way. But, babe, that’s—” She stopped. Her smile faded just a little as she sat up, studying your face. “…Wait.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Is that why you’ve been off?” You stiffened. Of course she noticed.

“Her?” Jessica scoffed, shifting on the couch.

“No—I don’t know—”

“You don’t know?” Her voice toned in disbelief. “I’m all over you, and you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about another girl?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Jessica exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Jesus Christ.”

✈︎ Guilt became your newfound friend. Because you couldn’t deny it. You were thinking about her. And now you were defending her. Even after everything. Even after all the reasons you had to stay away. And that wasn’t even the worst part of it all.

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ Why? Because Abby could hardly contain the burning frustration bubbling in her chest as she tossed the racket aside. The sound of it hitting the ground was too quiet, a dull thud compared to the storm she felt rising in her. Why was this so fucking hard? For the fourth time in a row, the tennis ball hit the net and rolled off, mocking her with its perfect imperfection. She wiped a hand across her face, trying to shake the thought from her mind, but it lingered like a bad taste. You.

Her grip on the racket tightened again, knuckles white, the tension in her body palpable. Goddamn it, she cursed under her breath. A harsh exhale left her lungs as she turned away from the court, storming off without a second glance at Jerry, who called after her with that same disappointed tone.

“The hell was that?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. There was nothing to say. Not when her thoughts were consumed by you, by the space you’d put between the two of you. You were still out of reach, and the thought of you letting someone else slide in made her stomach twist in knots. The anger surged again, hot and sharp. Her visor felt suffocating now, like the pressure of it could crack her skull. It had been months, and you hadn’t come back. Months. And what was worse? You’d moved on. Blocking her was one thing, but seeing you move on? That was the thing that twisted the knife.

She slumped down on a bench nearby, the air heavy in her lungs, suffocating her as she dug through her phone. The screen glowed back at her, an endless stream of images and memories. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, flipping through photos, each one a reminder of a time she thought she still had you. Your laughter, your warmth, your body beneath her hands.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she zoomed in on one picture. You, pressed against her, eyes sparkling. “Let’s see how long you can keep ignoring me,” she muttered, to herself. her finger tapping on the screen. She posted it without hesitation, not caring how it might make you feel. She just needed you to know. she wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

────୨ৎ────

✈︎ You had been getting looks all morning, but not like this. The stares felt different—more calculated, more curious. Something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t place your finger on it. You brushed it off, shoving the unease down as best as you could.

✈︎ Until you finally gotten home, phone buzzing in your hand, and opened Nora’s message. The second you saw the notification, your stomach dropped.

(Pic is not to represent the readers physical! Just for story’s sake)

────୨ৎ────

“Please, tell me that is NOT my ass on the timeline right now,” you said, barely holding it together as the panic crept up your throat. Embarrassment flooded your veins.

On the other side, Nora stifled her awkward laughter, but you could hear the amusement in her voice. “Then I won’t say it.”

The tension snapped. You were dressed, yes, but that picture? It was never meant for the world. Not like this. Not for her followers.

“…It’s a good picture at least?” Nora ventured, trying to ease the tension, but you could hear her holding back a laugh.

You stared at the screen in disbelief as your phone nearly slipped from your hands. Comments started rolling in. Some teasing, others thirsty. Your stomach twisted tighter with every line. And then you saw it—at the top of the post—Abby’s username, clear as day.

You didn’t think. You just pressed call.

The phone rang twice before she picked up, and you didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“Are you fucking serious, Abbigail?!”

Abby’s voice was rough, thick with the frustration she couldn’t hide. “What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Gifts? Ignored. Saying please? Ignored. I’m blocked on basically everything!”

“I don’t know, space! Like I asked?”

“It’s been months!” Your breath caught in your throat as the anger and hurt pressed against your chest, but Abby’s voice dropped, and something softer—something hurt—slipped through. “It’s been months.” She repeated.

The words hit harder than you expected. You could hear the raw edge in her voice, the cracks forming in her tough exterior. “It’s like you hate me now,” she murmured, quieter, almost like she didn’t want you to hear it. “All of me. Us.”

And just like that, you felt your defenses crack.

[lunajay33]

Afraid

•🌌🤍🦇•

Summary: You’re Cassians sister but he hates Eris completely, so how do you chose between them, especially when Eris is your mate

Pairing: Eris x f!reader, Cassian x sister reader, other night court members x reader

•Masterlist•

After finding out Eris Vanserra, the oldest of the Autumn Court royalty, was my mate it was a hard pivot from my usual life, growing up with my brother Cassian was almost like I was blessed by the mother above, he always took care of me and made sure I was always happy, then Azriel and Rhysand came along when we were younger and we became our own little family, they treated me like their own sister and as we grew our family grew bigger, Mor came along and then Amren, it was just us for centuries

But then Rhys was trapped under the mountain and we were locked within the Night Court, no way of trying to save him, it took a toll on all of us but then one day it was like the sky became clear and we could breath again, and it was all thanks to my now sister in law, she saved my brother, saved all of pyrinthian

And just like that we had three new members to our family, even though I couldn’t find it easy to open my heart to Elain and especially Nesta with how she treats my poor knuckle head of a brother Cassian

The house became quickly overwhelming with how big our inner circle grew and it just became too much so I decided to have a get away for a while, I packed a bag and flew off towards the autumn court to a cabin Lucien said I could barrow

~Flashback~

The cabin was lovely, small but cozy, a fire place in the corner as the walls were adorned with fall decor it was very different from how my home is with the typical blues and greys with sparkles and stars, even though it was beautiful and special to me, the autumn court always called to me

I settled in for the night just me myself and I, the quiet soothing over me with the subtle sound of the wind blowing around the cabin rustling the leaves outside, an occasional hoot breaking the silence, it was purely…….bliss

I wake abruptly to the door being opened and a man grunting as the door slams, I peak out the bedroom door to see the man that I’ve always been fascinated by but could never approach because Cassian made it clear his hate for Eris, but I saw past that rough demeanour to what was underneath

In just my rich blue silk night dress I creep out of the room to where he was sprawled out on the couch, getting closer I notice his shape, bloody and bruised and he shudders every time he breathes in

My heart skips a beat seeing him likes this kills me for some reason and I barely know him, I sit next to him his eyes shoot open

“Are you okay?” I gently ask not wanting to startle him more

“What’re you doing here?” His voice calm but tired

“Lucien said I could stay here for a little, I needed some alone time, but that’s not important what happened to you?” He gently smiles before he groans as he tries to sit up

“The usual, made the old man mad cause I tried to protect my mother”

“Oh Eris” I sigh as I brush his silky auburn locks back, I took his hand in mine and channeled my powers not many knew about, my eyes glowing blue like the Velaris stars as I watch his wounds fade away until he’s like brand new even though it drains my energy for a while

“How did you do that?” He asks as he sits up without any pain and it settles my worrying heart

“It’s my gift the mother blessed me with, I couldn’t bare to see you like that” and that’s when I felt it, this snap in my chest like no other that connects me to Eris and I knew that he was the one for me, placing my hand on my chest I look up to see he has the same expression

“I’ve waited centuries for you little star” he smiles that fox like grin that sends a warm shiver down my spine

“My brothers are going to kill me” I laugh a little nervous as he brushes my hair back as he cups my cheek

“We’ll figure this out…..maybe we should just keep this between us while we explore this” I nod feeling undeniable love and joy between our bond

~Present~

It’s been a year since Eris and I became mates and it’s been a rollercoaster of many steamy nights as I snuck out to find him, the lust filled glances at meetings or the gentle touches at court balls, the only down side was having to brush off suspecting questions from my family, I want to tell them so badly they mean everything to me but I can’t bare to have Cassian be disappointed in me

Today was the annual ball that is held here in the Night court where all the high lords and their families come to mingle and just have a good fun time

Feyre and Mor were finishing up doing the final touches on my hair and makeup, as they treated me like a younger sister, I couldn’t stop squirming with excitement, I haven’t seen Eris in a week because of how busy we’ve both been

“What’s got you so happy sunshine?” Mor giggles as she places little gems in my hair

“Nothing just can’t wait to go to the ball”

“Is there maybe someone there waiting for you?” Feyre asks as my cheek rise with heat as I avoid their eyes

“I……I wish I could tell you” they stop what their doing and give me their full attention

“Sweetheart you know we’d never judge you, we’re your sisters we just want you to be happy” Mor said as she came around kneeling infront of me making my lip quiver

“You can’t tell anyone please” they nod

“I’ve found my mate” their eyes explode with shock as they scream and jump around

“How did we not know who is it? When did this happen?”

“It’s been a year tonight actually, it’s our anniversary, we’re swapping gifts at the ball” I smile looking at the box I had laid on the counter, a pair of gold rings, a thick band for him adorned with an engraved star and a silver ring for me with a auburn gem and an engraved fox

“Guess we will have to keep an eye out tonight won’t we mor?” Feyre smiles making Mor squeal again making me laugh along

~

Wearing a black dress with subtle rainbow sparkles all along the dress making me feel like a princess as I enter the ball room alongside Cassian, the others already there, the hall was filled with the families of every court, people laughing and chatting as the orchestra played in the corner with drinks flowing

“You look beautiful sis, please have fun tonight I know how much you’ve been doing to help Rhys plan this”

“I will I promise, now go find Nesta before she punches someone” I say making us both laugh

He gives me a gentle hug before he’s off weaving through the crowds

I glance around the room hoping to find my loving Fox until I felt his presence behind me a cunning whisper in my ear

“Now what’s a beautiful little star like you doing all alone at a ball” I turn with the biggest smile just wanting to throw my arms around him, he takes my hand and lead me off to a corner not many are around as he corners me between the walls so no one else could see me as he towered over making my knees weak, the scent of crisp leaves and musk over taking my senses

“I’ve missed you so much Eris” I whisper looking up at him, my hand against his chest

“Not as much as I’ve missed you my love, missed your scent…..your taste” he smirks

“Eris stop not here” I giggle

“Happy anniversary, my gift for you is back in the autumn court, I couldn’t really bring it here but I’ll show you tonight okay?” His hand squeezes my waist reassuringly

“Can’t wait, here’s yours, if it’s not your style I can exchange it” I say nervously as I hand him the box, he smiles as he opens it feeling a thrum of love through the bond

“Oh Angel it’s perfect” he takes mine out and gently slips it over my ring finger I then take his ring and do the same to him

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Eris, always”

“Y/n what the hell is going on here?” I jump looking behind Eris to see my whole family standing there, Cassian looking about ready to rip Eris apart, looking to the others Rhys and Azriel looked unsurprised, nor and Feyre smiling, amren was unbothered as usual

“Umm…..I……we were just…..” it’s like my brain was malfunctioning

“Tell him sweetie” Mor smiles

I look back up at Eris who took my hand his warmth easing my racing thoughts

“Well?” Cassian asks unsettled

“Eris…….hes my mate”

The rage I could see immediately fill my brother scared me, he hates me now

“Cassian please don’t be made I know you don’t like him but he loves me he would never hurt me” I say quickly

“I love her, she the only thing that matters to me” Eris chimes in his hand going to my lower back to pull me close

“How could you, how long has this been going on?”

“Come on Cass go easy on her” Rhysand steps in

“Go easy, she’s with the man that tormented Mor, he’s pure evil”

My lip quivers feeling that weight in my chest again

“Cas I was with you every time Nesta hurt you, I supported you always even though she hurt me so many times, why can’t you just give him a chance” Eris holds me even tighter wiping my tears away

“I don’t even know who you are” I grunts as he storms off Azriel and Rhys quick to my side

“I’m sorry brothers I couldn’t help it I love him please don’t be mad at me too” I cry pleadingly not being able to lose them too

“Oh my heart we could never, we knew for a while we just wanted to wait till you were ready, we just want to you be happy and if that’s with Eris here then we can get use to it” Rhys says rubbing my arm as Azriels precious shadows swirled around my body like little puppies

“But Cassian hates me now” I cry again as Eris pulls me into his chest feeling his worry through the bond

“We’ll talk to him…..maybe you should clear you head and take some time away” Azriel says giving Eris a look

“Come on let’s go home my love” too upset to fly he winnows us back to the cabin we first found out we were mates

I sigh slumping down on the couch

“Still want you present Angel?” I perk up completely forget I nod as he goes into the bedroom and out runs a puppy Doberman with a pink bow around its neck, it hops on my lap licking all over my face

“Mother above she’s the cutest in the world! You got her for me?” I smile petting her as it calmed me

“I know you love them and thought it would be good practice”

“About that……I have another surprise for you”

“And what that?” He smiles kneeling infront of us as he plays with the puppy I’ve decided to name clover

“I’m pregnant” he stops looking up at me

“Are you serious! We’re having a baby?” I nod as he pulls me into a hug placing kisses all over my face

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday, madja did some tests, she said I’m 2 months along” he places a warm hand against my belly

“Let’s get you out this dress and into bed, it’s been a crazy night” he states as we walk to the bedroom Clover jump around at our feet

He unzips my dress letting it fall to the floor, gently undoing my hair and helping me into one of him over night shirts, he got ready and we both laid in bed facing eachother with clover curled up against my belly

“He’ll come around you know, he loves you too much”

“Oh what would I do without you” I laugh running my fingers through his hair

My wings fluttering at the love he sends me

“Get sleep, we’ll figure this out in the morning, in one night our family grew by two” soon I was fast asleep”

~

I wake from a smash coming from the front door frantic footsteps coming straight to the room, I barely had time to react before one of Eris’s brothers burst in dragging me front bed which woke Eris, jumping out of bed clover quivering, Kayden holding my arms behind my back with a sword to my throat

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Kyden” Eris growls his hands glowing with fire

“Father heard your little show last night, he was seething to say the least, really Eris mating with a dirty night court member? Either way father sent me to send you a message just like our dear naive brother Lucien” in one swift motion he raises his sword and with all his strength slash’s down and the pain that rips through my body is too strong I couldn’t even make a noise as I fall too the ground shaking in pain

Clover coming over whining as she paws at my face like she was trying to keep me awake, a ball of fire shoots through the air as Eris screams hearing Kyden retreat

Eris falls to his knees infront of my cradling me trying not to touch my seared open wounds where my wings once remained………my wings the ones I loved dearly, the memories I had with them as I flew with my brothers…..now gone

“Oh my little star hang on okay don’t fall asleep” in a shadow of mist I know he’s winnowing us somewhere but I can barely think the pain all consuming the only thing anchoring me is Clover in my arms and the warmth of Eris and the blood dripping down my back

“Eris” I whisper as the world becomes blotchy

“RHYSAND HELP ME” he screams out, the smell of my home surrounding me, the lavender and mist jolting me

I see Cassian, Nesta, Azriel and Mor come running up behind Eris, then hearing Rhys and Feyre behind me, frantic scared voices coming from all around me, screams or terror, cries for the healers

Cassian takes my face in his hands as I’m laid on my side of some bed but I couldn’t focus, like I was watching everything from outside my body

“You better not leave me, I can’t lose you my sparkle, you’re my little sis, you hold on” I hear clover whine again as she comes and curls up under my chin resting her head against the side of my neck protectively

“I……I’m sorry” I sigh as the world finally goes black”

~Eris POV~

Watching her in pain, feeling her pain feels like I’m being punished by the mother above, seeing her bleed out and lose all color, seeing her wings lay limp against the floor then the screams of her family

I sit next to her as she heals, it’s been a week and I can’t do a thing but watch her, pray that her chest will rise again after ever breath she takes, hope to the mother that this baby is still there and that she’ll wake and not hate me for what my bastard brother did

Cassian has sat on the chair on the other side of the bed, as white as a ghost

“You know she wanted to tell you, I saw the way it bothered her not telling you, she always said “my brother gonna kill me” but then she’d giggle that beautiful laugh and tell me a story where you made her feel special, she loves you”

He sighs resting his head against her hand

“I should’ve been happy for her, I shouldn’t have gotten mad and walked out she wouldn’t…..she didn’t do that to me and what if she doesn’t wake up and I’ll never be able to tell her that”

“Don’t talk like that, she’ll wake up she has to” I almost cry again for the hundredth time resting my hand against her lower belly beside clovers head, she hasn’t left her side except to eat I think she could sense it, I could feel the bond she’s already made with my mate

“No…….shes pregnant?” Cassian asks looking down to where my hand rests, I nod

“She told me the night of the ball, part of her anniversary present to me, mine was clover for her, I thought……I thought everything was finally perfect, I always wanted a child with her and she was so happy, she’s gonna hate me now for what my brother did to her”

“I don’t think she’d hate anyone, she definitely wouldn’t hate you this past year she’s been a beam of star light, always happy and I guess if that because of you I can’t be mad that you’re her mate” Cassian says giving me a reassuring nod

Madja comes in to check on her using her magic

“How’s she doing?” I ask as I pet clover

“She’s healing well, her back has no signs of infection and the babies are growing at their normal rate, luckily you got here in time before she lost too much blood” my heart skips a beat

“Babies? As in more than one?” Cassian asks just as surprised as me

“Yes dear you’re having twins, congrats” she smiled before leaving

~Normal POV~

Gentle voices around me slowly come into focus as I open my eyes as I feel a burning ache along my back, the memories of that night, Kyden taking me, taking my wings who am I without my wings……please mother above let my baby be okay

“Eris….” I whimper as I try to sit up seeing him and Cassian at my sides, my little clover on my lap

He shoots up from his spot coming up to to caress my cheek feeling the warmth I love

“Oh my little star, how’re you feeling can I get you anything?” I could feel his fear through the bond and all I could do was look at him

“I’m sorry……I should’ve locked the door or we should’ve stayed in the night court and now I’m hideous…..my wings….” I cry finally feeling everything

“Oh my love don’t ever say that, none of this is your fault, Kyden will pay for hurting you and you’re still by beautiful mate I’ll be with you every second to heal from this, you’re gonna be a strong mother”

“She’s still okay?” I ask feeling clover place her head over my belly

“Both of them actually….theyre healthy”

“Twins? Oh wow I can’t believe this”

“You’ll be okay sis, I’m sorry I reacted like that but I’ll never make you feel like that again” Cassian sighs placing a kiss to my hand

“I understand, it’s not your fault I’m just happy you’re still here with me” I smile weakly as Eris keeps kissing my face

“You know you scared me, I never wanna see you like that again, feeling our bond weaken was the worst pain” Eris groaned as clover came up to nudge him away

“Everything’s okay now! We can all be a family now right?” I look between them

“Always”

“Always”

~

Healing was hard, having to walk again without the weight of my wings, Azriel helped me a lot when Cassian was busy, he let me play with his shadows when I felt discouraged and I’d tumble over

Rhys made sure I always had everything I wanted even if I didn’t know I needed it, bringing me all the food cravings I wanted, Feyre leaving me my favourite flowers, Mor gifting me with new clothes now that I didn’t have wings and had a baby belly, Clover stayed at my side every moment and she grew at light speed already to my hip, letting my lean against her as I walked, Elain and Nesta still didn’t bother with me which still hurt, and my dear Eris treating me like a speck of a diamond like if break at any moment but I couldn’t blame him, always rubbing my belly, braiding my hair when it got annoying, holding me extra close every night

I’m due any day now and I’m nervous to say the least, I just want to be a good mom and I know how worried Eris is too, scared he’ll become like his father

I wobble my way into the bedroom and change into my night gown, clover helping bump me up onto the bed before she jumps up after me, like always here head lay on my lamp, her puppy eyes looking up at me

“You excited to meet a mini me and Eris?” I giggle when she huffs and rubs her snout against my belly

“If it isn’t my two favorite girls already waiting for me” Eris chimes as he enters the room hoping into bed with us, his strong arms wrapping around me as he pulls me into a passionate kiss taking my breath away

“I missed you my love”

“I missed you more, these babies are little rascals they keep fighting”

“Definitely mine” he laughs as I lay my head on his chest

“Oh I forgot to tell you, Azriel brought me something today, might be strange but he thought it would give you closure” he got out of bed going into the hallway and bringing in a huge shadow box

“Well turn it around don’t leave me in suspense!” He bites his lip before turning it I gasp

Within the shadow box is my wings spread out and framed beautifully, the background black with rainbow sparkles, the wings must be enchanted to stay preserved, walking up to it I lay my hand against the glass

“I want them back Eris” I cry as he settles them down by the wall

“I know my love and if I could I’d do anything to give them back” he says pulling me into a hug

“Come on let’s get you to bed”

“You go on I’m gonna go tell Azriel thanks, I’m be back in a second okay?” He nods giving me one last kiss

Walking down the hall until I get to his room where the shadows come out from under the door curling around my feet and tickling

“Come in” he calls before I even knock

I walk in and go straight to him on the bed where’s he’s sat reading

“I wanted to say thank you for the gift, I really love it to still see them, I miss it though, flying around and feeling the wind in my hair”

“Once you have my darling niece and nephew I’ll take you, I promise” I smile and squeeze his hand until I feel a huge pressure release and then the bed is wet

“Oh gosh Azriel I’m so sorry” he jumps up and scoops me in his arms

“Angel you’re having your babies I think my bed can handle it” he walks back past my room calling for Eris and he was quick on our tail along with Clover following to madja

~

After hours of contractions it was time, screaming I push feeling like I was being shredded until I hear that little cry

“She’s beautiful, she has wings my love” Eris cries as he wipes my head with a cool cloth the rest of the family sat around the room watching anxiously Cassian now holding my little girl in a blanket

“Oh it’s happening again” I whine feeling the push again

“Come on you’re almost there” and finally the pain, the pressure was gone and my babies were here

Eris holds my baby boy up to me, his little wisp of curly ginger hair, his skin adorned with freckles, his eyes a deep auburn

Cassian holding my girl for me, little deep grey wings with a hue of purple, her hair chocolate brown and lilac eyes, I take them both in my arms as the others come around to marvel and my babies

“They’re beautiful” I smile as Eris sits next to me holding me to his chest

“You did amazing my little star, the mother has truly blessed me”

“Her wings…….theyre just like mine” I feel a part of me heal at that knowing she’ll be free like I was and knowing my boy will be strong like his father

“What’re you gonna name them?” Feyres asks

“We’re thinking she’ll be Cassi for my dear brother and he’ll be Aris a mix between Eris and Azriel” they smile as I feel Azriels shadows at my hands

“Don’t worry Rhysand next time I’ll include you” I say making him laugh

“Don’t worry, I’m proud of you Angel, we all are”

“Our little family just got a bit bigger”

[thehighladywrites]

Interview me

pairing: ceo!rhysand x secretary bimbo!reader

summary: life is hard and you need a job to stay alive. naturally, you apply at a simple job at a company you know nothing about. Well, except for the fact that your boss is a smokeshow.

warnings: swearing

amara’s note: i’m so fucking hyped for this series guysss i have so many ideas hihihihihihihi

explore azriel’s bimboverse !

explore cassian’s bimboverse !

“Shit, shit, shit—I’m soooo not gonna make it!”

Your heels clacked dramatically against the glossy, stupidly expensive floors of an even more expensive skyscraper. Ugh, why did life have to be so unfair? You were made for luxury, not working, but apparently, rent and shopping sprees didn’t pay for themselves. So, you had reluctantly applied for a simple, cute little job—being the personal secretary for some CEO.

You sprinted toward the elevator, practically flinging yourself inside just as the doors were about to close.

“No—wait! Please hold it!”

A man’s hand shot out, stopping the doors. You stumbled in, panting, before beaming up at him.

“You’re very nice! Thank you, mister!”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes slowly dragged down your body, lingering on your barely-buttoned white blouse and tight little skirt that hugged every curve.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with something you were too busy fixing your hair to pick up on. “You work here?”

“Oh, um, not yet! I think I’m actually gonna get fired before I even get hired because I accidentally overslept. My alarm is sooooo weird.” You giggled, fixing a strand of hair.

He chuckled, pressing a button. “What floor?”

“The top one! I’m here to be the CEO’s secretary.��

His smirk widened, his eyes practically devouring you. “Oh yeah? Lucky guy. He’d be a damn fool not to snatch you up.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh? I mean I haven’t got much experience, not sure he’s be that lucky.”

His creepy grin didn’t falter. “Yeah. Sure that’s what I meant.”

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out onto his floor, but not before leaning in just a little too close.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and sticky.

The second the doors shut, you frowned to yourself as you went up the floors until a ding took you out of your trance.

A slim, tall, stupidly beautiful redhead stood before you, clutching a neat stack of papers. She looked so put together—her sleek bun, her expensive-looking glasses, her perfectly ironed blouse. Ugh. She totally looked like someone who knew how to do her job.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from the sheer luxury of this office. The marble floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rich people smell. Was this really where you were going to work? Oh my god.

The redhead cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed with your gawking. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Rhysand is ready for you.”

“Oh! Right! Yeah, of course!” You smoothed down your skirt and stepped forward—business wear was so not your thing. It totally oppressed your usual style and it made you look too corporate-y.

The redhead sighed. “This way.”

You nodded, flashing her a big, dazzling smile as you followed her down the hallway.

“Mr. Rhysand is a very busy man who doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

She gave you a slow, judgmental once-over before scoffing. “And maybe try dressing like a professional instead of a hooker.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Oh… is this too much?” You glanced down at your outfit, genuinely puzzled. “I thought it was classy. It’s Massimo Dutti.”

The redhead’s expression didn’t change. “Just don’t waste his time,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away.

Shrugging, you smoothed down your skirt and took a deep breath before pushing open the office doors. Whatever. You looked cute, and that was what mattered.

You stepped into the office, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Your breath hitched as you took in the sheer luxury of the space—floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The furniture was sleek, dark, and expensive, the kind you only saw in glossy magazines.

Rhysand stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, suit tailored to perfection. The late afternoon light poured in behind him, casting his tall, broad-shouldered frame in a golden glow. His dark hair was effortlessly tousled, and when he finally turned to look at you, piercing eyes locking onto yours, your stomach did a little flip.

Oh. Oh fuck.

You were pretty sure you forgot how to breathe for a second. He was stupidly handsome. Very young and very attractive. Sure, he looked older than you but still. You had expected a greying man to be the big boss.

“You’re late.”

His voice was smooth and rich—like honey and sin wrapped in silk.

Your lips parted slightly. Right. The interview. Not staring at your ridiculously gorgeous potential boss.

“You’re… young.”

Rhysand’s brow arched. “Excuse me?” His tone was warm, maybe even amused, but his expression remained unreadable.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean—I just—I meant to say there was something wrong with my alarm. I swear I’m not usually late!”

Heat crawled up your neck. His voice alone had you all flustered, and the way he was looking at you? Yeah, this was bad for your focus.

Rhysand hummed, watching you for a moment longer before nodding toward the chair in front of his desk. “Right. Let’s begin.”

He walked over, effortlessly graceful, and leaned against the edge of his desk—half lounging, half scrutinizing as you sat down, smoothing your skirt.

”So,” Rhysand leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his thighs as he studied you. “Tell me why you think you’re the right fit for this position.”

You straightened, flashing him your brightest, most confident smile. ”I’m very organized! And great at, um… scheduling things and answering phones! I’ll do whatever you want and need.”

Rhysand’s lips curled slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the edges. His violet eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you, head tilting just a fraction.

“Whatever I want and need?” His voice was smooth, dangerously amused.

You blinked, nodding obliviously. “Yep! I’m super dedicated. I’ll make your coffee, organize your files, take notes, remind you of meetings—oh! And I’m a great assistant. I’ll be there when ya need me.”

Rhysand let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good to know.” His gaze swept over you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm before he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest again.

“So, tell me, what do you know about this company?”

Shit. You knew absolutely nothing. His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing right through you. Damn it. You only had one option left. You flashed him a saccharine smile. You’d charm your way out, even if it was tacky.

“I’m sure you’re doing super important work, Mr. CEO. I’m just here to support you in all your very important tasks,” you said, stalling and distracting him with your charm.

Of course, Rhysand saw right through you. He could see right through your game, but he let you believe you were in control. You were quick, clever, and undeniably sweet—something about it intrigued him.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clasping his hands together on the desk, and trying to hide the amused smirk that was growing on his face. “You certainly sound like someone who could handle the demands of my busy days.”

Not really. There were at least a hundred more qualified candidates he had interviewed, all more experienced and better suited for the job. But Rhysand wasn’t interested in any of them. He did what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

His smile softened slightly as he leaned forward again, arms crossed. “You’re hired,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You start tomorrow.”

You blinked in surprise, but then your smile brightened as you stood to shake his hand. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Rhysand’s grip was firm, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect mistakes, nor do I tolerate them.”

There was no malice in his words, just quiet confidence—like he already knew you’d be just fine.

You swallowed, nodding quickly as he slid a sleek manila envelope across the desk, along with a heavy, expensive-looking pen. You hesitated for only a moment before pulling out the papers, scanning through them quickly.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes widened as you reread the number, making sure you hadn’t misread. That much money—for what? Just following him around, keeping his schedule in check, answering a few calls, and being… supportive?

Woah.

Trying to mask your shock, you steadied your hand and signed where needed before sliding the papers back toward him. You stood, reaching out to shake his hand again, this time with newfound excitement.

Rhysand clasped your hand in his, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary. His smirk deepened slightly. God, he’s enjoy this.

“Welcome to the job.”

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Astera, lounging in an armchair with a book abandoned in her lap: If I had a title that didn't directly tie me to my home court or my brother, what would it be?

Cassian, immediately: Shadowfucker

Azriel, after a few moments of contemplation: Lady of Nightmares

Cassian: That one's good. She's terrifying.

Astera, cracking an eye open to glance at Cassian: I'm not that bad, Cass

Cassian, side eyeing her: . . . Riiiiiiiighhhht

Rhysand, smirking:

Astera, with a sigh: Rhys, I swear to gods. . . If you say 'the High Lord's whore'

Rhysand: I didn't. . . Say anything. But you did, darling

Astera, regretting asking the question: Yeah, I won't be the High Lord's whore tonight

Rhysand, gaping at her: Now that's not fair

Azriel, raising an eyebrow at her: Who will you be?

Astera, casually: Shadowfucker, probably. . .

Cassian: Can. . . Can I?

Astera: Maybe

Your honor, they're so silly. I love them.

[batboysanonymous]

Fragile King

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: When Rhys’s walls finally crack under the weight of his own pain, Y/N feels every moment of it through their bond, despite his efforts to keep her from it.

Continue reading below ⬇

──────────────────────────────

The room was too quiet. It was the kind of silence that pressed against Y/N’s ears and made her chest ache. She sat by the fire, a forgotten book in her lap, as the soft flicker of flames cast shadows against the walls of their shared living quarters. Outside, Velaris shimmered in its usual splendor—the City of Starlight carrying on with its peaceful hum, unaware of the storm brewing within its High Lord.

Y/N had felt it all day. It started in the morning with the subtle tension in Rhysand’s shoulders. His smiles had been polite but hollow, his laugh too forced. She had noticed the way his hand lingered on the edge of the table during breakfast, his mind clearly elsewhere. Then there were the small tells that only she, his mate, would catch: the way his gaze would lose focus for a fraction too long or how his fingers would tighten ever so slightly against his wine glass during dinner.

Rhysand was cracking, but he was trying his best to hide it.

The bond between them hummed faintly, a constant thread of connection that usually brought Y/N a sense of comfort and grounding. Tonight, though, it felt muted. Distant. The dull ache of Rhys’s emotions seeped through the cracks in his shields, brushing against her mind like a whisper of a scream.

It wasn’t the first time he had tried to shield her from his pain. Y/N understood why he did it—Rhysand was a king, a warrior, and a protector. He bore the weight of Prythian on his shoulders every day, and he did so willingly. But he often forgot that he didn’t have to bear it alone.

──────────────────────────────

As the hours passed and his absence from their chambers stretched on, the ache in Y/N’s chest grew sharper. Her mate was hurting, and the bond between them wouldn’t let her ignore it any longer.

Rising from her chair, Y/N draped a blanket around her shoulders and padded barefoot toward the balcony doors. The cool night air kissed her skin as she stepped outside, her gaze immediately finding him.

Rhysand stood at the edge of the balcony, his hands gripping the stone railing as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. The soft glow of the city lights illuminated his silhouette, highlighting the broad expanse of his back and the taut line of his wings. He looked like a figure carved from marble—strong, imposing, and unbreakable. But Y/N knew better.

He must have sensed her presence, but he didn’t turn. Instead, his mental shields slammed up tighter, the bond going eerily silent.

“Rhys,” she called softly, her voice carrying through the stillness.

He didn’t respond, his head bowing lower.

Y/N’s heart clenched as she stepped closer, the blanket trailing behind her like a second shadow. “Don’t shut me out,” she said, her tone firmer this time.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his voice deceptively calm.

She stopped a few feet away, close enough to feel the faint ripple of his power in the air. “You’re not fine,” she countered. “I can feel it, Rhys. You’re shielding, but it’s not enough to hide everything. Please… talk to me.”

His shoulders tensed at her words, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out. Instead, he let out a long, shaky breath, his hands loosening their grip on the railing.

“I don’t want to burden you,” he said finally, his voice so low she almost didn’t hear it.

Y/N stepped closer, her hand brushing against his back. “You’re my mate,” she said softly. “Whatever weighs on you, weighs on me too. Let me help you.”

Rhysand turned his head slightly, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his face. His violet eyes, usually so bright and full of mischief, were dull and shadowed, rimmed with exhaustion.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said, his voice breaking. “You deserve someone whole. Someone who doesn’t—”

“Don’t,” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharp as she stepped in front of him. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Rhysand.”

He blinked, his brows furrowing as she placed her hands on his chest.

“You are everything to me,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. “Do you think I care if you’re hurting? If you’re broken? You’ve given everything to this court, to your people… to me. Let me give something back.”

Rhysand’s hands twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to reach for her but didn’t know how.

“It’s not that simple, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice hollow. “The things I’ve done, the choices I’ve made… they don’t just go away. They haunt me.”

“Then let them,” she said fiercely. “But don’t let them destroy you. You’re not alone, Rhys. You never have to be alone again.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his walls began to crack.

The first sob was quiet, barely audible, but it shook his entire body. Y/N caught him as he crumbled, her arms wrapping tightly around him as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her fingers threading through his hair. “Let it out, my love. I’ve got you.”

Rhysand clung to her like a lifeline, his powerful frame trembling against hers. The weight of his anguish poured through the bond now, unfiltered and raw. Y/N felt it all—his guilt, his fear, his endless drive to protect everyone at the expense of himself.

They sank to the ground together, the cool stone pressing against her knees as she held him. Y/N pressed kisses to his temple, his hair, his cheeks, whispering soothing words as he let himself break.

Time seemed to stand still as they sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms. The city below continued to shimmer, oblivious to the High Lord’s unraveling.

When Rhys’s sobs finally subsided, he pulled back just enough to look at her. His violet eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks damp with tears, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said firmly, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You’re allowed to feel this way, Rhys. You’re allowed to let go.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing as he exhaled shakily. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“Stop saying that,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’re my mate, Rhys. My equal. My everything. And I love you—every piece of you, even the ones you think are broken.”

Rhysand let out a choked laugh, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You’re too good for me.”

“And you’re a stubborn idiot,” she shot back, her tone lightening as she cupped his face. “But I love you anyway.”

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her hair.

Y/N closed her eyes, the bond between them humming with a new sense of warmth and connection. “Always,” she replied.

The stars above them bore silent witness as the High Lord of the Night Court found solace in the arms of the one person who saw him—not as a king, or a warrior, but as a man who needed to be loved.

And for the first time in a long time, Rhysand allowed himself to believe he deserved it.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[rhysandsfavwhore]

Poor Illyrian Baby

Rhysand x fem!reader

content; fluff, needy rhys

notes; no because i can imagine Rhys being such a baby when he’s sick, and i’m loving it

———————————————

It was almost amusing seeing the most powerful High Lord in Prythian turn into a baby with the common cold. Rhysand was taking full advantage of your care during this time.

He was shirtless in bed with sweat gleaming his skin when you walked in holding a bowl of soup.

“My head is killing me.” Rhys groaned as his violet eyes met yours.

You places the soup on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom and grabbed a cool cloth. As you walked back to him, you dapped the sweat from his forehead.

“feeling any better love”

Rhys groaned as you placed the cool cloth on his forehead, the relief immediate. The heat of his usually cool skin was a clear sign of his high fever.

He reached for you, his strong, calloused hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you a little closer. “No, not yet. Come here,” he said, his voice hoarse.

You chuckled at how needy he was now that he was sick and sat on the edge of the bed next to him

“come on rhys, eat this and you might feel better”

When you tried to pass the bowl to him, he pretended to be too weak to feed yourself so you lifted a spoon of soup to his mouth.

Rhysand gave you a helpless look, his usually confident and cocky attitude replaced with a childlike neediness that you found both endearing and amusing.

He allowed you to lift the spoon to his mouth, his lips closing around the bowl as he took the soup into his mouth. “Mhm delicious, darling,” he said sarcastically, his voice hoarse.

“Can I have more please?” he asked, putting on a pouty expression.

“you illyrian baby” you giggled but not refusing him and continuing to feed him.

Rhysand let out a grumble at your nickname for him, but didn’t argue. He’d have to save his energy up for that.

He let you feed him spoonful after spoonful of soup, his eyes staring up at you. Though he did feel weak and utterly miserable, he couldn’t help but relish in how you were taking care of him.

Rhysand had finished the bowl surprisingly quickly. His stomach growled in appreciation and it seemed like the soup had brought some life back into him.

“feeling any better?”

He pulled you a little closer to him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Still feel terrible, but you look even more beautiful when I’m sick.”

“Im not sure it works like that rhys” you giggled at his horrible flirting.

He smirked up at you, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t have much energy to flirt right now, but you get the gist,” he said, pulling you even closer against his chest.

His hands roamed your body, caressing and touching you as if he was starved of you.

“Oh my poorly illyrian baby” you cooed up at him with a teasing frown as you held his face in your hands.

Rhysand let out an exasperated huff and attempted to give you a scathing glare, though the effect was ruined with his red flushed cheeks and red eyes.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whined, though deep down, he loved it. Only you could get away with saying something like that without him snapping back.

“oh i know you love it really,” you replied with a smirk

And he did.

—————————————

[utterlyotterlyx]

Cassian and writing prompt #21, “Stay”

I’m desperate for more Cassian x Reader fics!! Thank you :)

Arsonist's Lullaby

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian thinks he knows best when he pushes you away, to protect you, but nothing prepared him for a threat on your life and no one can stop him from reaching you.

Warnings - angst, smut smut smut, fluffffffff, swearing, mentions of death

Word Count - 4.9k

Sunlight speckled over your skin, its warm embrace curling around like Cassian once did, glittering its unwavering love across your paled surface, willing it back to life.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for you and Cassian to fight, but something about that fight felt different. More final in a way.

Cassian was always worrying over you, his mate, and what harm his title could potentially inflict upon you. He had been pushing you away, had been spending more time away from you; you knew why, you knew he was scared of being the reason anything happened to you but that didn't mean that he had to shut you out.

Your mate had done everything to prepare you for any potential attack, any risk to your life, you were a skilled fighter thanks to Cassian, even Azriel broke into a sweat sparring against you and Cassian smirked with pride at the image.

Weakness was not a part of your vocabulary, he knew that, but he still treated you as a fragile swirl of winter warmth and you weren't appreciating it.

Confronting Cassian had ensued an argument that would shatter any unmated couple, you had both hurled abusive words to one another, you had called him spineless and unwilling to fathom your ability to be able to care for yourself like you had during the war against Hybern when you had used your rare gift of Solakenisis to hurtle spheres of radiating flame across the battlefield. In return, Cassian had called you weak and pathetic, he had called you reckless and immature, and landed his final blow of calling you jealous of the other women in your circle for having the freedom and strength that you would never be able to wield.

Such an argument left you both panting, with raw throats and wet cheeks, with snarls of hatred sculpted to your usually attached lips.

Cassian had left you then, had left you alone in your shared home with a bag in his hand without a word of when he would return to you. It felt final. It felt damning.

So you decided to leave yourself, but instead of leaving to escape the too-large-for-yourself home to the sanctuary of the residence of your family, you chose to leave the city altogether and chose to not tell a soul, not even Rhys as he tapped on the walls of your iron clad mind once he had felt your essence float through his wards.

Sunlight continued to kiss your skin as you lay in the familiar comfort of your Day Court bed, in the room Helion had promised to always keep for you. Helion was your older brother, well half-brother, but he wouldn't let anyone mutter a word about your bastard heritage, your shared father had been quite the rake in his prime, and such actions birthed you, his bastard daughter with the power to harness the destructive powers of the sun.

It was baffling for you to comprehend why exactly Cassian was so worried for you when you had the ability to unleash heavenly fire across Prythian if you so wished it. That, and the fact that the bond had snapped for Cassian one evening in Day was why Rhys had lobbied for your presence in his court in the first place all those years ago, long before Amarantha.

Amarantha was intrigued by you, you were the only individual she wasn't able drain power from, your abilities were other-worldly, untouchable. So, she gave you an option, stay uninvolved and advise her or watch your brother perish before your eyes. You chose the former.

All you have is your fire. Use it.

Amarantha erupted into flames when she had killed Feyre, unable to free herself from the bindings you had chained around her limbs. She had screamed, gargled in fact as you stood behind her, hands at your sides and your mind ripping her apart from the inside out. Boiling and burning her alive. Fire danced through your hair, it burned brightly in your eyes, sunlight pulsed around you, a blinding thing, a warning to others.

Your power was not yours to gift, it was not for anyone else to yield but you, Helion knew as much and was stern as he told Tamlin that you were not to offer up any of your power to save the human girl in his arms.

That said human girl, Feyre, now your High Lady, had grown to be a very good friend of yours.

Rising from the depths of the cream silken sheets, you touched your rough cheeks, crying for hydration from the tears you had poured upon them for the eighth night in a row. The bond had gone cold by your own foolish wish, you had locked it off, you had refused any attempts of contact, and Helion had obliged and denied your presence in his court when Rhys and Cassian had reached to him, Helion had even gone as far as to plant a seed in Feyre's mind that you may be in Autumn since Eris was a good friend of yours despite his relationship with the Night Court.

Autumn was the one place they would have difficulty infiltrating, and Eris was more than happy to play along if it gave you some peace.

Eight days was the longest you had gone without Cassian, without anything flowing through the bond, without seeing him, without being wrapped up in his body as he fucked you relentlessly into oblivion.

It was exhausting.

The Day Court sun brought some life back to you, cascading her glow upon you and enriching your skin with her gentle loving shimmer. She had always doted on you, the energy she bestowed upon you was unmatched, and you often found her watchful eye following you wherever you walked, whispering to you always.

The sun had chosen you, her vessel, to right the wrongs of the world, and Cassian always chose to look over that fact.

Your home court was known for its elaborate fashion, the ornate gold jewellery and accessories that you had found wrapped around your hands and feet, and the halo crown caressing the back of your head. The dress you had worn held a solid gold bodice of intricate swirls that allowed your skin to peek out beneath it, that attached to a pale shimmering skirt, and golden chains draped across your collarbones and fell down your spine. It moulded to your figure perfectly.

You were not weak or jealous, or reckless, you were a child of the sun, a strong and formidable creature. No one, not even Cassian, could take that from you.

Cassian had been cursed out by every member of your shared family when he had arrived at the House of Wind looking like shit with a bag between his fingers.

He thought he was right. He thought he was protecting you. But after having his ass handed to him by Azriel and Rhys, and Feyre and Mor's stern words, and Amren's glare of pure disgust, Cassian knew he had fucked up.

Cassian had raced back to your shared home, one that was a harmonious myriad of light and dark, of sun and night, and found it solemn and empty. He had raced up the stairs, he had looked in your drawers and saw everything still in place, then he had headed to your vanity and inhaled sharply when he saw that the small picture of your mother had gone, which meant you had too.

Screaming down the bond, Cassian was met with a stone cold wall of rippling silence, and he broke. Cassian fell to his knees holding one of your dressed between his fingers, it still smelt of you, of hot salted ocean breezes and fresh roses, and he cried.

He had spent the next week trying to locate you, being turned away from every court, even Helion had no idea where you had gone, but had told Feyre that you may have gone to Eris, your friend, as you knew that would be the one place he couldn't get to you.

Rhys had demanded entry to Autumn, which Eris had refused with a sly smirk on the boarder, his hounds circling through his legs. Eris was enjoying Cassian's pain far too much and had the gall to quip, "She doesn't want to see you, Lord of Bloodshed. Perhaps you listen to her this time, considering you have a habit of refusing to."

A spit in the face of his love for you. Cassian had gone to step over the threshold only to be held back by Azriel, Eris' hounds were snarling and barking at the three Illyrians trying to enter their home, "You would risk war?"

Eris grinned, fixing the lapels of his jacket, "A war would take y/n from you forever. I don't think you'd be that stupid," he turned from them, whistling for his hounds to follow, "As long as she's here, she will be fine. I suggest you go home and mull over the ways in which you have failed her."

Missions were the only thing that would give Cassian the opportunity to relent his frustrations, his force was sickening, he broke the bones of their enemies with his bare hands, he ripped them apart with his own self-loathing fury. Azriel had never seen Cassian in such a state, he blamed himself for your disappearance, and rightfully so, any of them could have told him that you were capable of destroying him if needed, let alone anyone else. Though, Azriel didn't blame Cassian for trying to protect you, for believing that your bond could bring harm to you, Azriel would think the same if he were in Cassian's shoes.

"Cass, we do need at least one of them alive," Azriel followed his brother on his war path, he watched him in concern as he drove his sword through the hearts of many soldiers.

Bodies lay broken around them, blood coated the ground and walls, it was a monstrous sight to take in. Cassian's hair lay unbound on his shoulders, matted with sweat that coated his brow, his wings were tense as he swung, they shuddered in fear of his force.

Cassian grunted to Azriel, whipping his air away from his face and facing him with a dead glare behind his hazel eyes, "Fine," he smirked and sheathed his sword, motioning to Azriel to approach the singular male who was moments away from death.

Blood coated his lips, his eyes had dimmed, but he still wore evil like a brooch on his heart, he spat the contents of his bloody mouth at Azriel as he bent down to grasp him by the collar, "You're going to tell me of your plans to attack Velaris, you're going to tell me and I may spare you."

The male chuckled low and sinister, hatred blazed in his faltering eyes and he smiled, toothy, but blood coated the once yellow tinged teeth. There wasn't much time to get answers, "We're already moving, you're too late."

Azriel cocked his head to the side, "I'm going to need more than that. I can make this much more painful for you," Truthteller dragged across the males bobbing throat, he knew of the Shadowsinger, he had heard to rumours of his ruthless torture.

The males gaze flickered to Cassian who stood behind Azriel, leaning against the bloodied wall looking disinterested, "You can thank him for that," his finger twitched in Cassian's direction, "Do you really believe that your High Lord is the protector of your court?" The male leaned forward, "Your greatest protector, the most powerful being in Prythian, is no longer being hidden by your court. She is elsewhere, we have been watching her, preparing for the perfect moment to snatch her away. With her power in our grasp, we will be unstoppable."

Cassian felt panic settle in his soul as the male continued, bitterly laughing as he spoke, "Y/N. A child of the sun, back in her home court, ready to follow her destiny. You can thank your Lord of Bloodshed for accelerating our plans."

Azriel turned to Cassian with wide eyes, eyes that Cassian matched. It was never about attacking Velaris, it was about capturing you, using your power for their own tyrannical plans, bleeding you dry and taking your power from your body.

"Cass-"

But Cassian was already moving, turning on his heels and pelting from the room as fast as he could, flexing his wings to ready them for flight whilst calling out to Rhys to meet them at the Day Court Palace as fast as possible.

Cassian flew as fast as he could, he would never be able to forgive himself if anyone harmed you, especially when he had made it so easy for them to reach you. He had to find you, he had to stop it, he had to save you.

Helion growled at the intrusion of the three Illyrians entering his personal library that was three times the size of the library at the House of Wind, but his snarl faltered when he saw the frenzied eyes and the blood coating Cassian and Azriel's armour. He rose from his seat quickly, not having a moment to say anything when Cassian paced over to him, "I don't have time for pleasantries. She's in danger. Where is she?"

Helion noted the fire in Cassian's eyes, the way his siphons glowered dangerously in awaiting answer, "How do I know that this isn't some elaborate ruse to take her?"

Azriel stepped forward, voice low in warning, noticing Cassian's fists clench and his chest seethe with anger, "Our enemies have been hunting her, they wish to drain her power and unleash it on the world. We need to find her."

Helion's language shifted, he faced Cassian with equal fury, going toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and bit, "If anything happens to my sister, I will end you."

"I will end myself before you ever could, now tell me where she is."

A wild wind bellowed through the open arches, enough for Helion to wince at the forceful impact. That wind swarmed through the palace, it was wild and cold, it was a warning from the world to run and hide. Helion fought against it toward the balcony, his locks whipping around in the tornado that had encased his court, his eyes focused on the forest in the distance and he pointed, "She's in there."

Then, from nowhere, bright thunderous light quaked from the sky as large spheres of sun fire raced past them and slammed into the ground below, where you were. The trees lurched with the impact, splintering and sprouting in differing directions, wailing at their demise, and the ocean dragged itself back to a safe distance. Fire rained from the sky, but the wind was too forceful for any of them to fly to you.

"RHYS!" Cassian bellowed to his brother, their eyes locked and he nodded, catching Cassian with a free hand with Azriel in the other, winnowing them to where they needed to be.

The scene was sickening. Trunks lay cracked and broken, simmering fire trickled along the earth that rumbled beneath their feet with each impact of fire that slammed against the ground. They couldn't see two feet in front of them let alone much else due to the heavenly light that emitted from you, but Cassian felt you, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt you.

Cassian felt your fury course down the bond, it was mixed with fear and guilt, and it lead them straight to you. In return, he threw all of his love down the bond as another sphere of your fire hurtled down through the sky, and he swore he could have heard you gasp and pause.

The light dimmed, and their eyes adjusted to see you in the clearing metres ahead from them, surrounded by bodies, some bloody and other burnt beyond recognition. A dagger was glued between your fingers and you let our a shaky exhale, like you didn't realise you had been holding your breath all that time.

The clearing looked more like a crater, a once plush area of wildlife that you sought comfort in was now a crater of ash and broken souls, and Cassian watched your cracked eyes survey your surroundings, hating what you had done.

Cassian rushed to you, slamming his body into yours and cradling you into his chest, "Are you alright?" He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands gingerly, wiping away the ash that had settled on your cheeks, "Speak to me, my love."

"I'm okay," your voice was hoarse and quiet, your eyes connected and he saw the tears pool in them along with the devastation that coursed through the bond, "I'm sorry. You were right-"

"Don't apologise," he told you, wiping away the tears that spilled down your ashen cheeks, leaving streaks of sunlight flowing down them, "I was wrong, so wrong. You don't need anyone to protect you, you aren't weak or jealous, you are strong and more capable of protecting yourself more than anyone I know. You are your greatest protector, not me. I'm so sorry, I was just trying to keep you tucked away and safe. But you've always meant to shine, I never should have tried to stop it."

"You were trying to keep me safe, Cass," your voice trailed off and you examined the scene, paying no notice to Rhys and Azriel at the edge of your crater, "What have I done?"

Cassian's fingers ran through your hair, "You did what you had to, alright? It's okay. If I hadn't pushed you away then none of this would have happened. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry."

Your hands lay on his chest and you sighed, "Take me home, Cass. I can't be here."

Cassian had doted on you the moment you were back in his arms, he ordered Rhys to winnow you both back to your shared home whilst Azriel stayed to assure Helion that you were fine and in need of some much needed time with your mate.

The searing heat of the tub wound around your muscles and soothed the ache in your soul. The water was far too hot for Cassian to climb into, so he instead sat on the edge of the tub and washed your hair, picking apart the knots within it and allowed his large hands to unwind the bundled nerves in your shoulders.

When the water had gone cold, he lifted you from the tub and dried your limbs, he brushed your damp hair and dressed you in a thin nightgown, and not once did he stop apologising to you, not once did his lips stop peppering kisses along your shoulders and forehead.

You stood before him, needing much more than just sweet kisses and kind words.

"Tell me what you need," he had said when he saw the look in your eyes, one that radiated doubt but also desire.

Cassian stood still in front of you, his hands resting on your hips and you stood on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one that he hummed into, allowing his hand to cradle the back of your head as he deepened it. Cassian had missed your lips too much.

Against his own building desire, Cassian gently pushed you backward, "My love, you're hurting," he didn't want to take advantage of your vulnerability in that moment.

"Do you love me?"

Cassian frowned, and let out a disbelieving scoff, "More than anything."

"Good," you pressed your lips to his again, pulling back slightly and peering at him through your lashes, "Because I need you to fuck me like you don't."

His cock twinged at the words and he closed his eyes, opening them to see you push the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, revealing your peaked nipples to him as it fell down your body. Cassian knew why you needed it, you needed to feel something other than the pain of destroying one of your most sacred places, you needed him in the most passionate way possible.

"Are you sure?" Fire spread through him when you used his forearms as leverage to capture his lips on yours again, in a starving embrace, one that sent blood pooling to his cock that throbbed against his leathers in knowing that where it needed to be was only inches away.

Cassian walked you backwards until your legs hit the back of your bed and you lowered yourself onto the mattress. Fierce lust was laced within you, you propped you heels up on the frame and spread your legs to your mate, that feral animalistic need to be rutted filling the room illuminated by flickering candlelight.

Wasting no time, Cassian ripped his leathers from his body and fell to his knees before you, his muscles contracted in the golden hue of the room, he grasped your thighs and dragged you toward him, his warmth breath fanning over your core as he placed kisses down your stomach and in the creases of your thighs, making you suck in a shaky breath as he placed a final peck to the bundle of nerve that were aching for his tongue.

"I've missed the taste of you so much, my love," the movement of his lips on your skin made electricity course through you, the stubble of his beard scratching against your inner thighs.

Whining, your back arched when he drug his tongue up your slit, the groan emitting from his throat vibrating against you threatening to blind all of your senses. He smiled against your core, winding his tongue around your clit and sucking on the nerves, his fingers dug into your thighs to stop your squirming as his pace became relentless. Sucking, biting, and swirling his tongue in the ways he knew made you turn into a mewling mess, he pumped his cock in his hand to relieve the building pressure, to allow him to focus on you, his beautiful moaning mess of a mate completely at his mercy.

Cassian lapped up your taste, groaning in pleasure at it as he pumped his digits in you, pressing down on your stomach with his free hand to make that rough spot inside of you meet every brush of his touch. He noted the hitch of your breath and the way your fingers found his hair, pushing his face into your cunt, telling him how close you were from falling from grace. Cassian kept his pace, taking your throbbing clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it as his fingers hit that spot again and again until you were crying out his name and tensing around his fingers.

Your mate continued his tirade, pulling two more orgasms from your lips before his pace slowed and he removed his fingers from you. Humming, he sucked your juices from one of his fingers and then slid the other into your mouth as he hovered over you, his cock ready and weeping on your thigh.

He threw your clenched legs apart and nestled between them, "You can thank me tomorrow," he told you, no doubt alluding to the fact that your lips hadn't found his cock yet, "I just need you."

Without warning, he pushed into you, and his delicious cock stretched you out, you threw your head back and moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he lowered himself and captured your lips hungrily against his own, transferring the taste of you to your tongue. He moved, slowly at first, and you met his hips in the rolling rhythm he had created, then he became more desperate and picked up his pace, biting and sucking at the skin on your neck, no doubt marking it for everyone to see once he would allow you out of your bed after fucking you on every surface possible.

Cassian groaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers held a bruising grip on your hip as he slammed into you, the tip of his cock smacking against that rough spot inside of you, "I love you, y/n. I love you so much," his brows were furrowed, like he knew how much force he was using and had to tell you how much he loved you just in case he was taking it too far.

Panting, you replied, "I love you too, Cass. I love you," you were cut off by your own moan, your hands flew above your head encased in his own, he gripped the sheets and snarled and he pulled out of you and flipped you over, pushing your head into the mattress and growling as the tip of his cock teased your entrance again, and you took it in it's entirety, groaning so deliciously that it took everything within Cassian to not explode at the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock.

Cassian bent down, his fingers delicately wrapped around your throat and pulled you upright, his fingers stayed there, restricting your oxygen in the best way imaginable as he pushed up into you, sucking and nibbling on your earlobes and neck between his own rough moans of pleasure.

As long as you had Cassian, there was nothing else you'd ever need to feel fulfilled. He was everything, your life and death, your shoulder to sob upon, your cock to cum on. Cassian was yours, his soul belonged to you just like every fibre of your existence hung onto him.

"Stay. Don't ever leave me again," his voice was full of emotion in your ear as he fucked you into the whispering depths of the ocean that was your bond.

Cassian's free hand twisted at your nipples before travelling downward, resting atop your stomach and pushing your hips backward to meet his relentless thrusts, and you felt the familiar pressure building there, holding on wasn't possible when his fingers travelling further, finding your clit and tracing slow circles into the nerves, smirking into your shoulder as high pitched cries flowed from your lips.

"I'll never leave you," you were breathless, and you hardly felt him pull out from you as he pushed you onto your back again, throwing your leg over his arm and pounding into you until he began to falter. His lips found your nipple again, sucking and biting on the sensitive nub of skin, and his fingers continued to flicker over your clit, "Cass, please. I'm going to-"

"So am I," he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, "Cum for me, my love," Cassian pressed his lips to yours, capturing your orgasm in his mouth before releasing your lips to allow you to scream his name as that searing white heat consumed your entire body.

Cassian could have swore you began to glow as it consumed you, and you basked in that warmth, he basked in the clench of your walls quivering around his cock and milking him until there was nothing left to fill you with. Your mate fucked you through both of your highs, groaning your name and growling as he filled you, panting as he slowed his pace and lay on top of you.

In the comfortable silence, you found him staring at you with wonder, he hovered over you propped up on his elbows, tracing his fingers along your glistening skin, "What?"

Cassian smiled, "I want a baby," he admitted, "I can't stop myself from being scared about losing you, a part of me will always be terrified. But, what I can stop is myself holding back in the life I dream of with you," his hazel eyes scoured your face, and peace settled between you, "I want a product of us, of our love and strength. I want a family with you, a big family full of love and wonder and adventure where you have to tell me off after our fourth for wanting another," you giggled tearfully beneath him and he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb, "The idea of losing you is my greatest fear, y/n. I don't want anything to happen to us, and I don't want us to be left with nothing if-"

"Cass," you cooed to him, pulling him from the devastating thoughts in his mind, "I want all of that too, I want the picket fence and enough children to drive Az insane. Enough cousins for Nyx for them all to grow up in their own inner circle and replace us all one day. I want a life with you void of sadness. I want you, forever, even when our day comes to leave this reality, I will want you and I will guide you to the heavens so that we may live in an eternity of love waiting for everyone we adore to join us."

Cassian pulled you up the bed and encased you in his arms, draping a thin sheet over your forms and running his fingers through your hair whilst you kissed his chest softly, "You found me in darkness and we made our own light. We burn brighter than anything that may await us," he kissed your forehead and gazed into your eyes, a smirk worked its way onto his face, "The sun has nothing on you, you know."

Authors Note

Daddy Casssss

Hope you love it! x

[azrielmasterlist]

His Shadows & Their Starlight

Storyline:-(Ver.2.0) Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You've been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You're a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Word count:- 1.2k

Warnings:- Insecurity, Lonliness, Jealousy, Angst.

Series:- Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 5: Unspoken Words

Isla's POV

The days blurred together, each one more tangled than the last. The weight of unspoken things pressed against me, a silent reminder of the tension that had taken root between Azriel and me.

He avoided me now, or at least tried to. His presence was still a constant shadow in my life—both literally and figuratively. Even when I didn’t see him, I felt him. His shadows brushed against me in moments of quiet, soft and fleeting like they were checking in on me.

It should have made me feel uneasy, but it didn’t.

Instead, it felt like we were speaking a language that only we could understand. A language that Azriel himself didn’t seem to know how to handle.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

One evening, I found myself sitting by the Sidra, watching the water shimmer under the moonlight. The city was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only came when most of its inhabitants had retired for the night.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice him approach me until his shadows brushed against my arm.

I looked up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw him standing there, his wings partially furled, his face unreadable in the dim light.

“Isla,” he said, his voice low and rough.

I nodded in acknowledgement, unsure of what to say.

For a moment, he simply stood there, as though debating whether to join me. Then, finally, he sat down, leaving a careful distance between us. His shadows, however, had no such reservations. They curled around me, brushing against my skin like they were saying hello.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

Azriel didn’t respond right away. He stared out at the water, his jaw tight. “I thought it would be better that way.”

“Better for who?”

“For both of us.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Do you believe that?”

He turned to look at me then, his hazel eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite name. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

“Then explain it to me,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Help me understand why you’re so determined to push me away.”

His wings shifted, the movement agitated. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” I pressed.

“Because I’m not free to feel this way,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word.

The rawness of his confession hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

“I have a bond,” he said, his gaze dropping to the ground. “A bond that ties me to someone else. Someone who doesn’t… who can’t love me back.”

“Elain,” I whispered, the name heavy on my tongue.

He nodded, his shadows retreating slightly as though they, too, felt the weight of his words.

“But she’s not with you,” I said carefully. “She’s with Lucien.”

“That doesn’t change the bond,” he said, his voice filled with self-loathing. “It doesn’t change the fact that I’m supposed to love her.”

Three Sisters For Three Brother

“Supposed to,” I echoed, my heart aching for him. “But do you?”

His silence was answer enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The days after that conversation were quieter. Azriel and I kept our distance, but his shadows were still there, ever-present and watchful.

I found myself studying them more, trying to decipher the way they moved, and the way they seemed to react to my emotions. They weren’t just an extension of Azriel’s power—they were a part of him, a reflection of his innermost self.

And they were telling me a story that he couldn’t.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We crossed paths again a few nights later, this time in the library. I had come to lose myself in the comfort of books, hoping to quiet the storm of thoughts in my mind. But the moment I saw him sitting there, his wings tucked close to his body, I knew it wouldn’t be a peaceful night.

“Isla,” he said, his voice soft but strained.

“Azriel.” I hesitated, then sat down across from him.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was heavy but not uncomfortable.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his hazel eyes meeting mine. “And?”

“And I think you’re lying to yourself.”

His wings twitched, but he didn’t respond.

“You say you’re supposed to love Elain,” I continued, “but your shadows… they tell a different story.”

His gaze sharpened, his shadows curling around him protectively. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” I asked, leaning forward. “They’re always there, Azriel. Always with me. They’re trying to tell me something, even if you won’t.”

For a moment, he simply stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stood, his shadows flickering like a storm around him.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice raw. “I can’t be what you need.”

“Who said I need you to be anything?” I shot back, standing as well. “I’m not asking for your love, Azriel. I’m asking for your honesty.”

He turned away, his wings flaring slightly. “I can’t give you that either.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the shadows he’d left behind.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The conversation replayed in my mind over and over again, each word cutting deeper than the last.

I didn’t understand why he was so determined to push me away, why he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. But I did understand one thing: his shadows didn’t lie.

They were his heart, his truth, even if he couldn’t admit it.

And they were reaching for me.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next morning, I found Azriel in the training yard again. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I marched straight up to him, ignoring the wary look he gave me.

“We need to talk,” I said firmly.

He sighed, sheathing his blade. “Isla—”

“No,” I interrupted. “You don’t get to walk away from this. Not this time.”

His wings tensed, but he didn’t argue.

“I don’t care about the bond,” I said, my voice trembling. “I don’t care about what you think you’re supposed to feel. All I care about is what’s real. What’s here, between us.”

His shadows stirred, reaching for me even as he tried to hold them back.

“You’re afraid,” I said, stepping closer. “Afraid of what this means. But you don’t have to be.”

For a moment, he simply stared at me, his hazel eyes filled with so much emotion that it took my breath away. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” I said, lacing my fingers with his.

His shadows wrapped around us then, a silent promise that we weren’t alone.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged.

Taglist:- @donnadiddadog @onebadassunicorn-blog @wintersquirrel @rcarbo1

[surielstea]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Poly!Bat boys x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a petty arguement Reader gives the three males the silent treatment, they use their best efforts in getting her to break.

Warnings: Smut | Minors dni | Double penetration | oral (both m & f receiving) | threesome | p in v | anal | clit play | nipple play | overstim | controlled orgasm | multiple orgasms | bondage (shadows)

A.Note: Finally another bat boys smut, sorry it’s taken me so long!! Just as a reminder everyone is consenting, may seem a bit dubious due to the fact that reader is choosing to be silent but I promise you she is very much into it.

6.5k words.

I stepped into the house, the familiar sound of my mates bickering reaching me before I even closed the door. Kicking off my heels, I padded toward the sitting room, curiosity already piqued as their voices rose and fell.

Leaning against the archway leading to the foyer, I paused, catching sight of them. Cassian sprawled lazily across the couch, Rhys perched like the picture of regal authority in his armchair, and Azriel sat back with his arms crossed, shadows coiling lazily around him.

"Obviously, I'm the favorite," Cassian declared, his tone smug and entirely self-assured.

"Remind me," Azriel countered coolly, "which one of us has the largest wingspan?"

"That's completely irrelevant," Rhys drawled, looking between them with barely veiled disdain. "Everyone knows it's the charm that matters. And mine is unmatched."

I blinked, taking another step forward, the wood creaking beneath my foot and giving away my presence. Three heads swiveled toward me, hazel and violet eyes locking onto mine as I tilted my head and crossed my arms.

"What are you three arguing about now?" I asked, exasperation lacing my tone as I moved closer. I stopped beside Azriel's chair, resting my hip against its side and arching a brow at them.

Cassian grinned up at me like a cat who'd just found the cream. "We're debating who you love most."

Azriel and Rhys shot him withering glares, clearly not impressed with his confession.

I frowned. "You know I love all three of you equally."

"Sure," Rhys purred, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "But you must have a favorite."

"And it's me," Azriel added, his rare grin making his dimples flash. My heart softened at the sight—until the smugness in his tone caught up with me.

"No," I said, my frown deepening.

"Ha!" Cassian crowed, slapping his thigh. "You hear that, Az? Not you."

A flicker of something like hurt passed over Azriel's face, and I instantly regretted my tone. I opened my mouth to explain, but Cassian cut me off.

"C'mon, sweetheart, you don't have to lie. We all know I'm the favorite."

"No!" I said, louder this time, frustration creeping into my voice. "I love all of you equally. It's not a lie."

They exchanged looks, disbelief written all over their ridiculously handsome faces.

"You three know how I feel," I pressed, my voice softening as I tried to make them understand. "There's no competition. It's impossible to have one of you as a favorite when I love all of you for entirely different reasons."

Cassian, ever the instigator, grinned. "It's just a little fun, sweetheart."

"It's not fun for me," I said, my tone sharpening.

"Darling, relax," Rhys soothed, ever the diplomat. But then he ruined it with, "Some of us are just more lovable than others."

My anger crested.

"Relax?" I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. "You know this is a sensitive subject for me. Yet here you are, turning it into a joke."

"Love, we didn't mean—" Azriel began, but I cut him off, stepping back when his hand reached for me.

"No." I shook my head, my resolve hardening. "If you're going to keep this up, then leave me out of it. None of you will be joining me in bed tonight until you sort yourselves out."

The room erupted in protest.

"Sweetheart—"

"Darling—"

"Love—"

I held up a hand, silencing all three of them. "I don't want to hear it. I'm going to bed. Alone."

The protests followed me as I turned on my heel and marched down the hall, a smug little smile tugging at my lips despite my irritation. By the time I reached the bedroom, the sounds had faded, and I closed the door behind me with a decisive click.

Stripping out of my work clothes, I pulled on a soft set of pajamas and slid into the massive bed built for me and three oversized Illyrian warriors. The empty space on either side of me was glaringly obvious, but I pulled the blankets up to my chin and resolutely closed my eyes.

If they wanted to fight over who was my favorite, they could do it without me.

Tomorrow, they'd crawl back with apologies. They always did.

And maybe I'd make them work for it.

None of them had come to bed last night—or at least they'd found somewhere else to sleep. That was just as well. It saved them from my wrath this morning.

Still, as I woke up in the emptiness of our shared bed, I found myself missing the familiar sensation of warm, strong arms around me. Missing their presence, their scents lingered on my skin.

I huffed, pushing the thought away as I sat up, rubbing at my eyes. The ache in my chest wasn't their problem—not yet. Not until they earned it.

Slipping out of bed, I grabbed a soft robe, tying it loosely as I shuffled toward the door. My hair fell free around my shoulders as I walked down the hall, the faint sound of sizzling drawing my attention. My steps slowed as I turned into the kitchen, where Azriel stood at the stove, shirtless, his shadows lazily curling around him.

The sight was enough to make my breath hitch, but I schooled my expression, crossing my arms as I approached silently.

"Good morning," he said softly, his dimpled smile appearing the moment he noticed me. He leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of my head, his hand finding the small of my back like it belonged there.

I raised a brow at him, pointedly ignoring the way my skin warmed at his touch.

"Breakfast is ready," he murmured into my hair, his hand slipping lower, brushing the curve of my hip.

I stepped back, breaking his contact, my lips sealed shut.

His smile faltered, just slightly, but he recovered quickly, turning his attention back to the pan. "Decided on silent treatment?" he asked, his voice as smooth as silk, a teasing lilt in it. "You know we're sorry, love."

I moved to the counter, ignoring him entirely as I reached for a mug and poured myself a cup of tea.

"Come on," Azriel tried again, leaning one hip against the counter as he watched me. His hazel eyes glimmered with amusement—and a hint of something darker. "You can't stay mad at us forever."

I lifted the mug to my lips, meeting his gaze over the rim as I took a slow sip.

His dimples appeared again, this time edged with a trace of mischief. "You're not even going to tell me if you want more sugar in your tea? No?" He sighed but was far from giving up, turning back to the stove.

I pushed off the counter and retreated to the dining table, plate and mug in hand. Settling into my seat, I found Rhys already there, watching me like a predator sizing up its prey. His violet eyes sparkled with intrigue as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles.

"Won't speak to us, darling?" His voice was rich, a purr meant to coax me. "How cruel."

I arched a brow at him, picking up my fork and taking a bite of my food.

"Really? Not even a word?" He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "You're killing us, you know that? Utterly heartless."

Cassian strolled in a moment later, his hair rumpled, his shirt half-buttoned, and his grin wide. "Ignoring us I hear?" He plopped into the chair beside me, sliding an arm across the back of my seat. I didn’t want to know how Cassian had already found out—Rhys’a daemati powers never ceased to make me shiver. "That's fine. I've got other ways of making you talk."

I ignored him too, stabbing another piece of food with my fork.

"Cold as ice," he muttered, shaking his head with mock disbelief. Then his grin sharpened as he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "Don’t worry, we'll thaw you out, sweetheart."

Azriel appeared then, refilling my half-full mug with a quiet precision that belied the smirk tugging at his lips. He set the carafe down and crouched down beside my chair, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked up at me.

"Love," he murmured, his voice low enough to send shivers down my spine. "You can punish us however you like. But you're making it very, very hard not to make you put that fork down and remind you just how much we adore you."

I swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Rhys chuckled softly, the sound rich and knowing. "You're stronger than I thought," he mused, his fingers drumming against the table. "But let's see how long you last."

The three of them exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them.

Cassian's hand brushed my thigh beneath the table, his grin wolfish as I shot him a warning glare. Azriel's shadows curled around my ankles, cool tendrils dragging up my calves. And Rhys, well Rhys just leaned back in his chair, his smirk promising retribution as his violet eyes burned into mine.

I was determined to hold my ground.

But with these three? That resolve was bound to be tested.

It’s been days and I have not cracked. I refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. It started as a petty game, but after a while, I was beginning to enjoy the yearning in their eyes, the professions of need they spoke into my skin. It was cruel, and I would’ve stopped it a long time ago if I knew some sick part of them didn’t enjoy it too.

I found myself curled up in the library, attempting to lose myself in the pages of a novel. The silence was comforting—until it wasn't.

Azriel's shadows had found me first, curling along the edge of my book and brushing against my fingers like curious cats. A moment later, their master appeared, leaning against the doorway with that infuriatingly calm expression.

"Figured I'd find you here," he said softly, stepping inside. His steps made no sound on the plush carpet as he approached.

I ignored him, my eyes fixed on the words in front of me.

He crouched down beside me, his head tilting as he studied me. "Still nothing?" he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that."

I turned a page, though I couldn't have recited what I'd just pretended to read.

He shifted closer, his shadows swirling lazily around us. "I've never minded the silence," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Allows me to think about things I’d prefer not to be distracted from."

One shadow darted forward, brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, then lower, tracing the line of my collarbone. I held perfectly still, refusing to react, though my heart raced as another shadow slid up my leg, curling just beneath the hem of my dress.

"Oh, sweet girl," he murmured, leaning in so close his breath ghosted over my ear. "I can hear your pulse. I can see the way your chest rises a little faster. You can't hide from me, love."

I turned another page, my expression neutral.

Azriel sighed, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "You're really not going to give me anything?" he asked, his dimples flashing as if he found this amusing. "Fine, I'll be seeing you at dinner then." He leaned closer and pressed a lingering kiss to my neck.

He rose gracefully, his shadows retreating as he disappeared into the hall, leaving me alone with a racing heart and the lingering brush of his touch.

When I finally left the library, I found Rhys waiting for me in the sitting room, lounging on the couch like he owned the place—which, of course, he did.

"There she is," he greeted with a dazzling smile, patting the spot beside him. "Come sit with me, darling. Let's talk."

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms as I leaned against the doorway as if to say he’d be the one doing all the talking.

"Still not speaking?" he asked, his smile softening into something more mischievous. "You wound me, truly. But I have a feeling I know how to fix this."

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the entire room was filled with the soft strains of music.

"Dance with me," he said, holding out a hand. "No words required."

I stared at him, unmoving. This was a new thing he’s been doing. Finding new elaborate ways to spend time with me that didn’t include talking, or sex, which was limited—but it was cute.

He sighed dramatically, rising to his feet and closing the distance between us. "I know you're angry," he murmured, his hand brushing against mine. "And you have every right to be. But I'm going to make you forgive us, one way or another."

Before I could step back, he tugged me into his arms, one hand slipping around my waist while the other cradled my hand.

The music swelled, and Rhys began to sway, his movements smooth and effortless as he led me into a slow, intimate dance.

"You're not even going to react?" he asked, his violet eyes locking onto mine. "No little smirk? Not even a glare?"

I remained stoic, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite my best efforts.

His grin widened, and he dipped me suddenly, his nose brushing against mine as he whispered, "That's my girl."

He dipped closer, his lips pressing against mine. For a moment I melted into it, relishing in the familiar sensation that I hadn't experienced in only a day but it somehow felt like years.

But just as he leaned in I was pulling away. I pushed against his chest, breaking free of his hold as I turned and marched out of the room, refusing to let him see the smile threatening to break through.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was determined to keep my composure. Cassian, however, had other plans.

He cornered me in the kitchen, his broad frame blocking my path as I tried to reach for a glass of water.

"Not so fast," he said, narrowing his brows as he looked down at me. "You've been avoiding me all day, sweetheart. It's starting to hurt my feelings."

I brushed past him, grabbing the glass and filling it at the sink.

"Oh, come on," he groaned, leaning against the counter. "You're really going to ignore me? After everything we've been through?" Cassian was the first I mated with, it was just me and him for a long while. For him to pull this card was unfair, then again I was being unfair just as well.

I took a slow sip of water, my gaze fixed on the window.

His grin turned wicked. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe the silent treatment is your way of admitting you can't resist me."

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, setting the glass down and turning to leave.

He caught my wrist, tugging me back against him with a playful growl. "You can't walk away from me that easily."

His hands slipped to my waist, and before I could react, he hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

I writhed, kicking my legs as he laughed, the sound deep and rich. "Keep squirming," he teased. "Still not talking, let's see if I can change that."

Cassian carried me through the halls like I weighed nothing, his arm hooked firmly around my thighs as I lightly smacked his back. My protests were silent, but the swat of my hand made him chuckle all the more, his laughter echoing through the house.

"You've got fight in you, sweetheart," he teased, adjusting his grip on me. "But I think it's time we settled this like adults."

I didn't bother rolling my eyes again—he couldn't see me, anyway. I let my arms dangle, feigning defeat, though the corners of my lips twitched as I fought the urge to smile.

We entered our bedroom, where Azriel and Rhys were already lounging, both looking up in unison at the sound of Cassian's boots hitting the floor.

"Look what I found," Cassian announced triumphantly, setting me down in the center of the room. His hands lingered on my waist as he steadied me, his hazel eyes bright with mischief. "She's still not talking, but I figured you two might want a chance to plead your case before we make her.”

Azriel's brow lifted, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. Rhys leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable—but his violet eyes gleamed with something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

"Darling," Rhys began, his voice smooth and soft as he rose to his feet. "We owe you an apology. All of us."

I crossed my arms, letting my gaze flick between the three of them as I arched a brow.

Azriel was the next to speak, standing and stepping closer, his wings rustling as he moved. "We shouldn't have joked about something we know is important to you," he said, his tone quiet but sincere. "It was thoughtless, and we're sorry."

My lips pressed into a thin line, but I didn't waver, keeping my expression neutral.

Rhys took another step forward, his hands open in a gesture of peace. "You've always made it so clear how much you love us, and we let our own egos get in the way. We didn't mean to hurt you, darling."

I glanced at Cassian, who was watching me intently, his earlier playfulness replaced by something more earnest.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, his voice dipping into that gentle tone he used only when it was just the two of us. "You've given us so much of yourself, and we've never once doubted your love. Not really. We were out of line, and I'm sorry."

The sincerity in their voices tugged at my resolve, but I stayed silent, letting the weight of their words settle in the room.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Azriel and Cassian before turning back to me. "We don't deserve you," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But if there's anything we can do to make it up to you, just say the word."

Azriel's wings shifted, his shadows curling around my ankles like an embrace. "Anything," he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto mine.

Cassian reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he tilted his head, struck by my silence. "Please, sweetheart. Just tell us what we can do to fix this."

Their pleading was almost enough to break me, but I couldn't resist drawing this out just a little longer. I gave them a small, pointed shrug as if to say, You'll have to figure it out.

Rhys groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Please, love. Don't torture us," he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Azriel's lips twitched in what might have been a smirk, his shadows flaring. "She's enjoying this."

I remained silent, my expression unyielding as I tilted my head to glance at him. The playful gleam in his hazel eyes deepened into something darker, something more determined.

"Alright, then," Casisan murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You leave us no choice."

Before I could react, Cassian swooped me into his arms, lowering me onto the plush mattress with a gentleness that belied the heat in his gaze.

Cassian leaned over me, his hands bracketing my hips as he smirked down at me. "I swear to you, we’ll have you screamin’ by the end of the night."

His lips claimed mine with a fervor that left no room for hesitation, his hands tugging my legs apart so he could settle between them. He kissed me like a storm, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a hunger that made my head spin.

When I refused to make a sound—even as his hand slipped beneath my shirt, brushing over my ribs and upward—his smirk deepened. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered, nipping at my lower lip.

His mouth trailed down my neck, his teeth scraping lightly against my skin before soothing the marks with his tongue. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider as his lips moved lower, leaving a scorching path over my body.

"Still nothing?" he asked, his voice a low growl as he paused just above the waistband of my shorts. "I'll have to try harder."

I didn't get the chance to see Cassian's next move before Azriel stepped in, his shadows swirling around me as he knelt beside the bed. His golden eyes burned as he leaned in, his voice a dark whisper against my ear. "Let me show you what silence gets you, love."

His hands were everywhere—sliding over my hips, gripping my waist, tugging me toward him. The shadow singer's touch was as relentless as the teasing flick of his tongue against my pulse, his teeth grazing the tender skin.

"You can keep quiet all you want," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "But I'll make you beg if I have to."

Rhysand was the last to approach, his movements slow and deliberate as he lay at my side. His violet eyes were molten as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. "Darling," he murmured, his voice like silk. "You've punished us long enough. Don't you think it's time to let us make it up to you?"

He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another to my jaw. His hands were a gentle contrast to the sharp edge of his teeth as he bit down lightly on my neck, his lips curling into a satisfied smile when my breath hitched.

"Ah," he purred, pulling back to meet my gaze. "There it is. That little sound you just made—it's a start."

The three of them surrounded me, a seamless symphony of touches and teasing that left my body trembling, and my willpower dangerously close to crumbling. Cassian's strong hands gripped my hips with an unyielding possessiveness, his lips blazing a hot, open-mouthed trail along the sensitive skin of my thighs. His stubble raked against me, the contrast between rough and soft making my breathing falter. Each kiss he pressed lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin as he traveled upward with excruciating slowness, teasing me with the promise of more.

Azriel's shadows slid over my skin like liquid silk, cool tendrils ghosting across the places left untouched by his hands. They tugged at the hem of my dress, easing it upward until it bunched around my waist. His scarred hand palmed my breast beneath the thin fabric of my gown, his thumb brushing over the pebbled peak before pinching it lightly. My body arched instinctively, the sharp jolt of pleasure making my breath catch. He rolled the sensitive bud between his calloused fingers, his grip firm but not rough, as if he was savoring the feel of me.

Rhysand, ever the orchestrator, claimed my lips in a kiss that left me utterly breathless. His mouth was warm and insistent, his tongue sweeping across my bottom lip before dipping inside to tangle with mine. He kissed like he fought—with precision and control, leaving no inch of me unclaimed. His free hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head to tilt my face up to his. I could feel the smirk against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing my lower lip before sucking it into his mouth.

Azriel's scarred fingers worked my nipple mercilessly, the sensations sharp and electric. I clenched my eyes shut as Rhysand's mouth moved to the sensitive column of my neck, I bit down hard on my lip to keep from moaning. He nipped at the skin, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh before his tongue licked over the spot to soothe the sting. His lips latched onto the base of my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and I couldn't stop my back from arching into him. My hand found its way into his midnight-black hair, threading through the soft strands as if I needed something to anchor me.

Below, Cassian was relentless. His large hands slid down my thighs, spreading them wider as he knelt between them, his broad shoulders keeping me open for him. I felt the heat of his breath against my core, and then he was there—his tongue delving between my folds with a hunger that left me gasping. The first swipe was slow, deliberate as if he was savoring the taste of me. He groaned low in his throat, the vibrations sending a shiver up my spine.

"Already so wet, sweetheart," Cassian murmured against my pulsing core, his voice thick with desire.

He latched onto my clit with a fervor that made my head spin, sucking harshly before flicking it with his tongue in quick, teasing strokes. The pressure was perfect, just enough to push me closer to the edge without letting me tumble over. My hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more, but his hands tightened on my thighs, pinning me in place.

Not an inch of me was neglected. Azriel's lips replaced his fingers, the heat of his mouth closing over my nipple as he sucked and flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak. His shadows coiled around my wrists and ankles like silken restraints, adding to the sensation of being completely surrounded. The combination of his rough hands, his soft lips, and the ghostly touch of his shadows made my skin tingle with a heightened awareness.

Rhysand's teeth scraped along my pulse point, his tongue following the path of his bites as he painted my neck with evidence of his attention. Each mark he left sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs, the sensation only amplified by the wicked curve of his lips against my skin. His voice, a deep, seductive purr, wrapped around me like a velvet caress.

"Still so quiet, darling," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and teasing. "But for how much longer?"

Cassian's tongue thrust into my entrance, and my breathing stopped, halting the desperate cry that threatened to escape. He worked me with an intensity that had my body trembling, his tongue swirling and lapping at me with a precision that only years of experience could bring. The scrape of his teeth against my clit sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, my legs trembling as I fought to keep my composure. I clamped my lips shut, determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

Azriel's shadows tightened around my wrists, holding me in place as his free hand trailed down my side, his touch sending shivers across my heated skin. His lips left my breast, his golden eyes dark and heated as he watched me struggle.

"Let it out," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "We want to hear you."

I shook my head stubbornly, even as my body betrayed me, my hips grinding against Cassian's mouth. His deep chuckle rumbled against my core, the sensation pulling another muffled sound from me. Rhysand's smirk was audible in his voice as he tilted my chin up, his violet eyes glowing with wicked delight.

"Stop holding back, darling," he teased, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "We’ll break you sooner or later, might as well give us what we want."

Cassian's tongue worked me mercilessly, his grip on my thighs unyielding as he kept me spread wide for him. Each stroke of his tongue and suck of his mouth sent me spiraling higher, the coil of tension in my core winding tighter and tighter. Azriel's mouth had moved to my other breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue, while his free hand slipped lower, his scarred fingers skimming over the slick mess Cassian was drawing out of me. Rhysand was still at my neck, his teeth marking a trail up to my ear, where his breath fanned hot against my skin.

My body trembled, overwhelmed by the three of them, every nerve alight with pleasure. The room blurred at the edges, the sensations crashing over me like waves, but still, I clung to my silence, refusing to let them have the satisfaction of hearing me break.

"You're so close, aren't you, darling?" Rhysand's voice was a low purr, dripping with smug satisfaction. His hand slid up my side, his thumb brushing against the swell of my breast, slickness left there from Azriel’s mouth.

I clenched my eyes shut, biting down harder on my lip to keep the desperate moan building in my chest from escaping.

"Not yet," Azriel murmured, his voice rough and amused as his tongue flicked over my nipple. "She can’t come until she begs."

Cassian hummed against my core, the vibrations making my hips buck against his mouth. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. "You taste so good, sweetheart," he rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. "I can feel how close you are. Why don't you use your words and ask for it?"

I shook my head, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Rhysand chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, love, you should know better than to deny us," he said, his fingers tilting my chin up so I was forced to meet his gaze. His violet eyes were blown with lust, and before I could shield myself, I felt his presence slipping into my mind.

He was using his daemati powers, to show me the lewdest things imaginable. Azriel behind me, his shadows binding my wrists as he thrust into me with that ruthless precision that left me shaking, Rhys beneath me, simultaneously meeting those thrusts as both of them worked me in sync, and Cassian, his head tilted back as he shoved his cock down my throat, hand in my hair, guiding me down inch by inch.

Each vision was more vivid than the last, the sensations blurring with reality until I couldn't tell where the images ended and their touches began. My hips bucked wildly, my body desperate for release as the coil in my core tightened to the breaking point.

"These visions, they can be a reality," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft but teasing. "Just use that pretty voice of yours, yeah?"

Cassian's tongue flicked over my clit in a maddening rhythm, his fingers pressing into my thighs to keep me still. Azriel's teeth scraped over my nipple again, his hand continuing its torment, circling my puffy clit, his shadows trailing over my stomach like phantom touches.

I was on the edge, my body trembling violently as the pleasure built and built, but they held me there, refusing to let me tip over. Cassian pulled back just enough to look up at me, his lips curved in a wicked smile. "Just one word, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Say it, and we'll give you everything you need."

The coil in my core tightened impossibly further, my body arching into their touches as my lips parted, a desperate plea hovering on the tip of my tongue. But still, I held back, clinging to the silence even as I teetered on the brink of shattering.

My willpower crumbled under the weight of their teasing, my need outweighing my pride. My voice was hoarse and breathless as I finally broke.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Cassian paused, his grin triumphant as he leaned closer. "Louder, sweetheart. We need to hear you."

"Please," I gasped, my voice louder this time, my body trembling with need. "Please, I need you. Let me come."

The three of them stilled for a moment, their gazes dark and heated as they exchanged a silent, satisfied look. Then they moved as one, their touches no longer teasing but possessive, determined to give me exactly what I'd begged for.

Cassian wasted no time after my whispered plea. His wicked grin turned feral as he tightened his grip on my thighs, dragging me closer to the edge of the couch until I was back on that brink. His broad shoulders wedged between my legs, and his breath fanned over my slick folds, teasing and hot.

Azriel's hands held my upper body steady as I arched into Cassian's touch, his lips capturing my nipple again, teeth scraping lightly. His shadows coiled around my torso like ribbons, pinning me in place even as they caressed my flushed skin. Rhysand leaned in close, his fingers tangling in my hair as his lips brushed against my ear.

"There's our good girl," Rhys purred, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "So loud for us."

Cassian's tongue worked me mercilessly, alternating between plunging deep into my core and swirling over my clit in maddening circles. His hands gripped my thighs tighter, holding me open for him as he devoured me like a feast. His nose pressed against my sensitive bundle of nerves with every movement, and I could feel the growing pressure inside me building to a breaking point.

I pulled at my restraints, needing him impossibly closer. "Cassian," I whimpered, my voice breaking as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it in rapid, devastating strokes.

"That's it, sweetheart," he growled against me, his voice rough and ragged. "Come for me. Let me taste all of you."

The coil in my core tightened, snapping with a force that left me gasping. My release crashed over me, waves of pleasure tearing through my body as I cried out, trembling uncontrollably. Cassian groaned in satisfaction, his mouth never leaving me as he licked and sucked, drawing out every last shudder of my climax.

"Look at her," Azriel murmured, his voice thick with desire as he watched me fall apart. "So perfect."

Rhysand's grin was wicked as his thumb brushed over my parted lips. "She's exquisite when she lets herself go," he said, his voice low and reverent.

Cassian finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a triumphant smirk. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "And I'm not done with you yet."

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged a knowing look, their hands already moving to shift me into a new position, their gazes dark with intent.

"You want that vision, darling?" Rhysand asked, his tone teasing but filled with promise. "Want all three of us at once?"

I looked up at him, legs still shaky as I nodded my head with bright eyes.

The three of them wasted no time shifting me into position, their hands working seamlessly as though they had done this a thousand times before, making quick work of discarding their pants as well as the rest of their clothes.

Rhysand guided me onto my hands and knees, his strong hands gripping my waist as he positioned himself beneath me on the mattress cover. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief and raw hunger as he pulled me astride him, his hard length pressing insistently against my slick entrance.

Azriel knelt behind me, his shadows curling possessively around my body, brushing over my skin like phantom hands. His warm, scarred fingers traced the curve of my hips as he pressed his chest against my back, the heat of his cock brushing against my back entrance.

Cassian stood at the edge of the bed, before me, his thick member already glistening with arousal. He stroked himself slowly, his predatory gaze locked on my face. "You've been holding out on us all day, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice deep and commanding. "But not anymore. Let's hear every single sound you've been hiding."

Rhysand grasped my chin, tilting my face toward him for a slow, sensual kiss. "Let go for us, darling," he whispered against my lips, his tone dripping with authority. "We'll take care of you."

I barely had time to nod before Rhys lifted my hips and thrust into me, filling me completely with one fluid motion. My moan was immediate, loud, and unrestrained as my head fell back.

"There she is," Rhys purred, his hands guiding my hips to roll against him. "So good for us."

Azriel pressed his cock against my other entrance, his fingers spreading me open with slow, teasing strokes. "Relax for me, love," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me in."

I gasped as he pushed inside, the stretch making me tremble as he filled me. The sensation of both of them moving within me was too much, my body tightening around them as pleasure ignited every nerve, a burning sensation ran its way through me.

After not having them for a week, gods it was like the first time again.

"Fuck," Azriel growled, his hands gripping my hips as he thrust slowly, building a rhythm that matched Rhysand's. "So tight, so perfect for us."

Cassian stepped closer, his hand tangling in my hair as he guided me toward his thick length. "Open up, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel that pretty mouth."

I obeyed without hesitation, taking him into my mouth and moaning around him as his taste flooded my senses. He groaned, his hips rocking gently as he set a steady pace, his hand tightening in my hair.

The three of them worked in perfect harmony, their bodies moving against mine as I moaned and whimpered, unable to hold back the flood of sounds that spilled from my lips. Rhysand's hips snapped upward, his cock hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. Azriel's thrusts grew deeper, his growls vibrating against my back as his fingers dug into my skin.

Cassian's hand cradled my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he pushed deeper into my mouth. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with praise. "Take all of us, sweetheart. Let us hear how good we make you feel."

The overstimulation was overwhelming, the constant assault of pleasure pushing me over the edge again and again. My body shook with every orgasm, my moans turning into cries of ecstasy as they drove me higher, their touches unrelenting.

"Look at her," Azriel rasped, his shadows coiling tighter around me. "She's perfect like this, falling apart for us."

Rhysand's grin was wicked as he rolled his hips, drawing another scream from my throat. "Ours," he declared, his violet eyes dark with possession.

Cassian thrust deeper, his cock filling my mouth as he growled, "She's lovin’ every second of it."

My cries grew louder, my body writhing as they pushed me to the brink again and again, their movements synchronized to keep me hovering on the edge of bliss. The floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping the torrent of pleasure and sounds they pulled from me, each one more desperate and raw than the last.

I was theirs completely, and they were determined to claim every inch of me.

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[illyrian-dreamer]

On this day last year 😍😍😍

This was my first time writing for Rhys - had an absolute blast doing it 🥰🥰🥰

18+!!! 🌶️🌶️

Two lessons in one

Rhysand x reader

Summary: You’ve agreed to let the High Lord teach you how to fly. Rhys shows you how your wings have more uses than one…

Warnings: Smut (NSWF 18+, minors DNI), swearing. Let’s get spicy with some wing play and a side of praise 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 

Words: 4k

DAY 3 OF 5 FOR 500! I hope you like it ;)

Thank you to @brekkershadowsinger​ and @sadiebluewin​ for requesting 31. Wing play 👀

——–

Bile rose in your throat as you peered over the cliffs edge. The ground looked further away than before, the trees and and rocks that waited below a painful distance away. You stepped back before your vision rolled further – you were very high up.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turned to find Rhysand watching you with an amused smile, his hands casually in his pockets as he leaned against a large boulder.

“You’re only going to scare yourself further,” he grinned, delighting in your fear.

Prick. He chuckled softly, hearing your curse in your mind.

You took in your surroundings, the wind pushing your hair out of your face as you tried to calm your heart. Rhys had winnowed you both up here with the promise you would learn to fly by sundown.  It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t refuse at the time. But nothing could have prepared you for the terror you felt at the thought of launching into the air, and all you could picture was the free fall that awaited.

“Calm your heart, Y/N. That’s the first step.”

You took a deep breath, forcing your eyes forward instead of down. The sun was strong at the centre of the horizon, and the winds gentle – the perfect condition for flying Rhys had said.

“Perhaps we can try another day?” you asked sheepishly, your wings tucked tight at your back, refusing to open, they felt as heavy as your limbs.

Rhys tutted, shaking his head as he pushed off the rock and strolled towards you. Two firms hands rested at your shoulders, forcing you to face the edge again. You instantly pushed back, but Rhys held you in place. You willed your knees not to give out.

“An Illyrian scared of heights?” he teased, his low voice playful in your ear.

If you weren’t frozen in fear, you would have turned and swatted him. “Don’t t-tease,” you gritted, cursing at the way your stuttered.

Rhys’s laugh sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt him remove his hands and slide up beside you. “Extend your wings,” he said. His voice, while calm, was laced with a command that was impossible to ignore. The muscles on your wings pulled against your will, and you flapped them a few times to stretch.

“Good,” Rhys said approvingly. “Now, do you feel the direction of the wind from here?”

You nodded. “It’s coming from the west.”

“That’s right. That means once you level, the currents will force you east. Remember to tilt left once you stabilise.”

You nodded again. You had been over the theory of flying multiple times – now was the time to execute. You couldn’t help the voice in your head that screamed at you to turn around.

“Could we not launch from a lower height?” you asked, a last attempt to get out of it.

Rhys levelled a look before slinking behind you again. “No,” was all he said before he pushed your back, sending you careening of the cliffs edge.

You gasped, air filling your lungs as wind ripped all around you. After a few seconds your voice finally came through, a shriek sounding as you flapped your wings desperately to try and gain the momentum you needed.

Rhys’s husky laugh filled your mind then. You gritted your teeth, straining the muscles in your back as you flapped and flapped. You wouldn’t die today, if only out of spite of him.

You’re almost there, steady yourself, Rhys coached mind to mind. You clenched your eyes shut, the muscles in your back burning as you strained for that final bit, before you felt the wind underneath your wings begin to work with you. You spread them wide, letting the air push you up as you began to soar. Your breaths were pants and sweat stung at your eyes, your heart pounding with adrenaline.

There you go. Remember to lean left.

You’re a fucking bastard, you cursed back. Rhys’s laugh filled your mind once again, and you tried to ignore how excited it made you feel. The Gods could not save him from the lashing you would give once you landed.

You should try soaring lower, use the trees as obstacle practice.

Without replying, you veered closer to the ground, flapping your wings for the occasional boost. The tall pines became clearer now, and you could see the details of shrubbery and flowers in the fields below. If you only needed one reason to learn to fly, it was for the beauty of it.

You were weaving through the trees now, swinging left and right as you dodged around their branches.

That’s it, you’ve got the hang of it.

You heard the flap of Rhys’s wings as he flew overhead, now lacing through the same trees you were. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, and the cheer that followed. You felt so free, so alive.

Rhys slowed his pace then, falling to glide beside you, his violet eyes warm as he smiled at you with pride. His beauty alone stole your breath away on a regular day, but his expression now, with the touch of passion – he was the most handsome male you had ever seen.

It was idiotic to keep your eyes on the High Lord instead of ahead, and you learned that quickly as you flew straight into a tall pine, smacking your face into it’s solid trunk.

————

You didn’t remember the impact, but the next thing you knew branches were breaking your fall before you landed in the field below with a thud.

Groaning, you rolled to your side as tears stung at your eyes. The grass beneath you was soft, and you quickly realised your body had crushed a blanket of purple that now cushioned where you lay. Blinking as your wings twitched, you looked around you. You had landed in a lavender field.

Rhys soared in then, landing with a soft thud and a howl of laughter that made you see red. Your jaw ticked as you pushed yourself up and glared at the male, your nose throbbing in pain as you bought yourself to your knees.

“Oh Cauldron, Y/N!” Rhys chuckled, clutching at his stomach before bursting into another fit of laughter. You held your glare.

“I’m sorry,” he said between breaths, raising his palms in innocence. “I truly am, but that was the funniest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.”

Pink tinged your cheeks as you wiped the dirt from your palms, your fae blood already working to heal your face.

“What happened?” Rhys toyed, still very much amused with your fall.

“I was distracted,” you ground out, unable to hide your irritation.

“By me?” Rhys placed a dramatic hand on his chest, his eyebrows raised and dark lashes fluttering.

“No,” you lied, and Rhys tilted his head in a way that said he was unconvinced. He threw his head back a laughed one more time, before wading through the tall purple lavender to help you.

“I’m not trying that again,” you seethed, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Perhaps not today,” he grinned, strong arms looping behind your knees and arms as he picked you up. You didn’t resist, but also avoided his eyes as embarrassment took over. Rhys was still smirking when he winnowed you both back to Velaris.

————

It wasn’t until later that night when the High Lord checked in on you again. You had fled to your guest room the moment you arrived, needing the rest of the afternoon to recover, bathe and rest. Even hours after, your muscles were sore and your face stung to the touch. But it was your bruised ego that kept you in your room well past supper.

Rhys knocked gently, and you spun on the stool of your vanity from where you were admiring the splatter of bruises that now painted your body. “Come in,” you murmured, not making the effort to turn your head.

Rhys walked over, his hands in his pockets as you saw him marking the bruises. He sucked in a sharp breath. “That tree really handed it to you, Y/N.”

You spun in your chair, scowling at your High Lord. “I’ll be fine.”

Rhys smirked, stepping closer as he pushed your hair over your shoulder, before gently fingering a bruise forming on you collar bone. “I know you will,” he said softly, his touch sending a ripple of goosebumps all over.

You blushed, looking up at him with heavy lashes. “I’m yet to bite your head off,” you said with an utter lack of threat.

Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“For pushing me,” you confirmed, eyes narrowing. Rhys nodded, knowing this was coming.

“Have at it then,” he said, waving his hand as he casually plonked himself at the end of your bed, throwing one long leg over the other. His utter male arrogance was what fuelled your next choice of words.

“You’re a prick.”

Rhys threw himself back onto the mattress and laughed.

“You are!” you exclaimed, your voice a little louder this time.

“I know,” was his answer.

“I could have died!”

Rhys leaned up on his elbows, levelling a look at you. “You would not have died.”

“I was falling to my death.”

“And I would have caught you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but closed it quickly as his words sent a flutter through your heart, your cheeks heating at the thought of his arms around you again. You cursed yourself for being so hopeless.

Sighing, you turned back to the vanity, eyeing your wings in the mirror. “I’m a sorry excuse for an Illyrian. I can barely use the damned things.”

Rhys stood now, making his way over to you. He lowered himself to find your eyes in the mirror, his expression much more serious. “You’re very lucky to have those damned things.”

“I know,” you sighed, before turning to face him. “I am grateful,” you nodded, knowing how rare it was for an Illyrian female to have avoided being clipped. “But until I can truly learn to fly, they’ve always been more of a nuisance.”

Rhys’s violet eyes lit up, and the start of a feline grin formed at his lips. “You know, your wings are good for things beyond flying,” he said, his voice low.

You frowned, turning to face him. “Really? Like what?”

His grin grew as he leaned down, his face now inches from your own. “Well, they can make you… feel good.”

Your eyes darted across his face, trying to focus through his handsomeness as his fresh scent filled your nose. You mind screamed at you to kiss him, and you had to physically swallow the thought down.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Your own voice was barely a whisper, and you felt your face and chest flush.

Rhys flicked his eyes to your bust, catching the change of colour, which fuelled his cocky smirk. “What I mean, is like this.” He extended his hand, before one sultry finger ran down the length of your wing, his touch feather light. Shivers rippled from the point where he touched you, spreading all over your body. It was impossible to ignore the throb in your core, and you cursed yourself for the soft whimper that escaped you.

Rhys smiled, pleased with the result. “See what I mean?”

You broke his gaze then, feeling shy. “Do yours do that?”

Within seconds Rhys’s wings appeared on his back, night magic swirling his frame as he extended his impressive wing span.

“Why don’t you find out darling?” he winked at you, before taking your hands to pull you up as he stepped backwards to your bed. He sat down, his legs wide as he pulled you to stand between them. Raking his eyes over you, his smile was mischievous as he waited patiently for you to make the next move, his hands resting on your hips. You met his eyes, their violet glow boring through you. Your own hand raised instantly, you just needed to touch him…

Rhys growled as your own fingers ran across the leather-like skin of his wings as you slowly traced its curves and arches. “That feels…” he grumbled, his voice low and thick. “Sensational.”

Rhys grabbed your wrists then, flipping you onto the bed, your own wings splayed against the white silk sheets. Rhys hovered overhead, drinking in the site of you as he leaned on one elbow. While reaching for your wings, his hand paused in the air, violet eyes finding yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked, sincerity swirling in his night sky eyes. Your own flicked down to his lips, before you placed a gentle hand on the side of his face.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Rhys covered your mouth with his. The kiss was soft, testing, even a little shy on your end – this was new territory for you both. While you had spent months fawning over the High Lord, and likely doing a bad job at hiding how flustered he made you, you had assumed his flirtatious remarks and teasing weren’t a true sign of mutual attraction.

Yet here you were, pressed against the mattress as Rhys shifted his body weight on top of yours. The feeling of him on top of you alone made your insides throb, and your breathing hitched as cool fingers traced your wings again. Goosebumps rippled across your skin as your fingers found the roots of his hair, latching on and bringing him closer.

Rhys grinned against your mouth, his rasped laugh like music to your ears. He propped himself up, looking down at you before nudging your nose with his own. You smiled up at him, greedily reaching out and using both hands to run vertical lines along the membrane of his wings. There was a slight pull in Rhy’s brow as he bit his lower lip, a deep hum rumbling through his chest.

“You wicked thing,” he said, flashing a grin before again pressing his lips against yours. His kiss was more demanding now, as his tongue traced the outside, begging for entry. You let him in, and Rhys kissed you with the expertise only Prythian’s most handsome High Lord could. It was strategic, and he hit every point just right. From the pace of his tongue, to the occasional dip to kiss your neck, all while tracing and rubbing the spots on your wings that had you shaking beneath him. You were utterly soaked, and completely at his will.

Drunk in his scent and touch, you barely felt the male undressing you, and you were quickly bare beneath him. His eyes darkened at the sight of your naked body as he drank you in.

“This is unfair,” you complained, throwing a coy smile to him. “Why should I be the only one undressed?”

Rhys flashed a grin before pulling his own shirt off, his muscles straining as he raised his arms to pull it over his head before tossing it to the floor. While making quick work to discard his pants, you couldn’t help but reach out and touch his abdomen, your fingers softly grazing his tight and muscular build.

Rhys grabbed your hand then, kissing your palm. “These hands,” he said, pecking it again, “have far too much power over me.” Pulling one of your fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirled sensually around and around, and all you could do is think of how it might feel against your slit.

He popped your finger from his mouth, sliding down to the edge of the bed, his hands digging into the flesh at your hips.

“Be a good girl for me darling, and spread your legs.”

Gods, that sentence alone could have undone you. You did not need to be told twice, and Rhys’s hands now pressed your thighs apart as he placed gentle kisses along your stomach and thighs, making his way to your core.

You jolted at the first lick, his tongue running painfully slow up your slit before he hummed against you. “You are delicious.” Rhys continued to lick and suck at your core with expertise, causing your toes to curl as you clutched at the sheets.

Bringing himself up to your face now, Rhys kissed you deeply, and you could taste yourself on his lips as your tongues moved together. His hand slowly slinked back up to your wing, while the other found your core as two fingers dipped into your entrance. Your body contorted as pleasure sparked from both ends as he kept his lips on yours, working his fingers and hands in unison.

You were a moaning, writhing mess, and in a state of shock as the High Lord stimulated you from both ends.

“That’s it gorgeous, let yourself go for me.”

Your eyes found his, now wide with pleasure as your mouth formed an ‘o’. He held your gaze, his smile predatory as he watched your orgasm take over. Your back arched, and you felt liquid spill from you as your tunnel clenched around his fingers over and over. Your wings were twitching under the lazy swirl of his hand, and you let out a series of moans you had never heard from your own mouth. “That’s it, good girl,” Rhys coached, slowing his movements as you rode out your orgasm.

Coming down from your high, you were overcome with the need to touch Rhys again, to return the favour. You grabbed his shoulders, flipping yourself on top of him as you closed your mouth of his. Rhys chuckled into the kiss, pulling you back as his violet eyes darted between yours. “What are you doing princess?”

You smiled back knowingly. “Saying thank you.” Rhys raised his eyebrows, an amused smirk resting on his face. He opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t have a chance as you palmed his hardened cock. Throwing his head back in pleasure, you couldn’t help the excitement you felt at the sight of this gorgeous Illyrian who was now moaning under you. You ran your hand along his shaft, using your thumb to apply pressure to the head.

“Oh sweetheart,” Rhys groaned, his hands finding the roots of your hair and pulling you in for another kiss. You continued to work your hand along his shaft, delighting at the liquid that seeped from the tip. You had to taste him.

Sliding down the bed, you grabbed his cock, bringing the tip to your lips and licking the liquid that pooled there. His taste was musky yet sweet, and it drove an animalistic instinct in you. You kissed the tip before running your tongue along his length. Rhys clutched at his own chest, letting out a deep rumble before his hands found the roots of your hair. You closed your mouth over the tip, using your tongue to swirl around as you worked his base.

“Ugh, Gods Y/N,” Rhys grunted, his body jerking in pleasure. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You smiled against his shaft, pushing him deeper in your throat as you sucked and slurped at his base. You could tell your High Lord was doing his best to control himself, but he couldn’t help the small ruts he was making against your face.

Rhys gently pried your from his cock then, pulling you in for another deep kiss before turning you under him. It was a game now – whoever was on top was in charge, and you enjoyed both positions.

Rhys ran his eyes over you again, his expression fond yet lustful. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, crawling back off your bed to stand at it’s edge. “C’mere sweetheart.” You held his gaze as you moved to him, both of your chests heaving with heavy breaths as you stood before each other, naked. He raked gentle hands over you, starting at your wings before moving to your neck, gently caressing the hollow of your throat before sliding lower to cup and squeeze your breasts. It took all you had to stay standing.

Suddenly, Rhys turned you, bending you at your waist and forcing your chest back down to the mattress. He was on you in an instant, the feeling of his rippled abdomen pressing against your back as his shaft poked at your entrance. Fingers gently stroked your wings, as Rhys whispered in your ear. “Do you want me to fuck you, princess?”

“Please,” was all you could say, your eyes clenched in anticipation as your tunnel begged to be filled.

“What wonderful manners you have,” he teased before placing a gentle bite where your wings sprouted from your back. You yelped in pleasure and pain, and Rhys pressed the tip of his cock into you at the same time. You could feel how easily he slid in, your juices and arousal beckoning him deeper.

“Gods, Y/N. You feel like heaven,” Rhys panted, filling you slowly as you stretched around him. You whimpered back, clutching at the sheets again as he kept a steady hand on your lower back. It wasn’t long until he filled you completely, and you hummed at the sensation of him drawing back before pressing in with a long stroke.

“That’s it, good girl,” Rhys hummed, his voice thick and low as he continued to fuck you, slow and sensually.

You knew it wouldn’t take long for you to find your finish, but you couldn’t anticipate the extent of your pleasure as Rhys moved his hands against your spread wings, tracing and massaging in all the right spots. The added sensation made your eyes widen, and a series of patterned moans escaped you as he began to fuck you harder. The sound of your slapping bodies and unison moans filled the room, Rhys then clutching the base of your wings, using them to pull you into him again and again.

“That’s it, take me Y/N. That’s a good girl.” Rhys’s voice was wild now, more feral as you both chased your release.

And as Rhys circled his thumbs where his hands grasped your wings, it was the final jolt of pleasure that had you cumming on your High Lords cock. You gasped, your mouth agape as a long whine escaped you, your tunnel clenching around his shaft as ripples of pleasure racked through your body. Rhys was not far behind, and he finished inside you with a deep guttural roar.

Your wings twitched as you came down from your high, Rhys now resting against your back as he kissed your neck. You felt him soften before he withdrew, moving to gently lay on the bed, pulling you to him as he kissed your forehead.

“What do you make of wing play, Y/N?” he winked down at you, his grin one of pure male satisfaction.

You bit your lip, smiling in excitement at the new world of pleasure Rhys had introduced you to. “I look forward to doing that some more,” you answered, batting your lashes up at him.

Rhys smiled, his eyebrows raising before he leaned in to kiss your nose. ‘Give me a moment darling, and I’d be happy to teach you all over again.”

You and Rhys made love three more times that night, before finally settling into a tangle of sheets and sweaty sleep. And while you awoke alone in your bed the next morning, your heart was content at the note and fresh vase of lavender at your side table.

Darling Y/N, I have business to attend to this morning. Please enjoy the lavender from the field you so gracefully crashed into yesterday. Practice will resume after lunch – flying or fucking, the choice is yours.

——–

AN: This is my first time writing for Rhys, let alone spicy Rhys! I hope I’ve done him justice. As always, I love hearing your feedback, and comment to join my tag list ❤️

Tag list:@kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies

[yiiyiiwrites]

❄️| Snowball fights |

Summary: Azriel enlists the help of Balto, the winter fox to try and snag the win of the annual snowball fight. (The bat boys telling you what happened on their return). Winter!reader x Balto x batboys.

[Balto fic]

[winter solstice masterlist]

The crunch of snow and the pitter and patter of claws on the decking drew your attention from your book. You marked your page and closed the cover, setting it down.

You heard Balto’s yap before he lunged into your lap, book sliding down the side of the cushions. His fur clumped with ice, but the tinge of red staining his chin and trailing down his chest had you scrambling off the chair.

“What happened, boy,” you said, kicking the knitted blanket tangling your legs and pulled your snow boots on. Balto circled your ankles, matching your steps as you walked down the pebbled path.

The coppery tang of blood grew stronger, your gaze scouring the compacted white snow in search for a red trail. Too focused on finding the source, you’re startled as a large shadowed figure loomed over you. Dark wisps invaded your vision and you sighed, leaning back against the familiar warmth and firm chest.

“Is that for me, Angel?” Azriel’s lips brushed the curve of your ear and his gloved hand trailed up your chest between your breasts. Fingers tapping the erratic beat of your heart.

“Stop copping a feel and get in the cabin!” Cassian yelled in the distance, “blizzards heading this way.”

You elbowed Azriel in the gut and spun around. “You oaf!” You snapped shoving his arm as he tried to reach for you. “Balto came back covered in blood! I thought something had happened.”

His hazel eyes soften, the deep line between his brows disappearing as he caught your flailing hands in front of him. “Everything’s fine, just a minor teething problem,” he said, his gloved hand cradling yours in his as he guided you back into the cabin.

The heat hit you as soon as you entered the hallway. You searched every inch of Azriel’s body, dipping your head to get a peek of his face. There were no signs he’d been harmed, but he was pretty good at acting like he wasn’t in pain that your assessment wasn’t helpful.

Azriel knelt down before you and untied your boots, palm cupping your calf as he helped you remove them. Your fur coat slipping down your arms, Azriel hanging it on the hook.

“What do you mean minor teething…” you didn’t need to finish your train of thought as you turned to enter the large open plan room. A gasp fell from your lips.

Cassian stood beside the dining table, blood sticking the leather to his thigh. A gaping flap of fabric hung loose and you held your hand to your nose as an earthy stench stung your nostrils the closer you got.

“Get that thing away from me,” Cassian said, pointing towards you. It wasn’t till you followed the direction of his finger did you realise he was talking about Balto.

The white fox ever so slowly padded across the room and laid down in front of the crackling fire. His head resting on his paws, onyx eyes on Cassian and tail flicking as if he was waiting to play.

“Gods what is that smell.” You fell back a step, pinching your nose and trying not to blink.

Hot breath fanned against the side of your face. “Had to make a herbal pain reliever, don’t ask,” Azriel whispered behind you, but he remained a step away that you wanted to stumble back and close the distance.

Rhys and Azriel seemed to enjoy whatever had gone on. A smirk playing on their faces, shoulders shaking as they fought back their silent chuckles.

“You lost then Cass?”

Cassian scoffed, “that bloody menace popped out of the snow and bit me.” He slapped a wet cloth to the open wound on his inner thigh. He sucked in a breath, pressing down on the tender spot and clamping his eyes shut for a second.

“You did step on his tail,” Rhys added, petting the top of Balto’s head as he collapsed into the armchair by the fire.

Balto huffed, his head turning to you and he flicked his tail as if asking for sympathy, but you raised a brow at the mischievous fox. He must have thought he was playing too.

“His jaw locked, took both of these idiots to get him off.” Cassian threw the cloth across the table, his fingers dipping into a jar of soothing balm and pasting it on the now visible teeth marks on his thigh.

“Least he didn’t jump a bit higher, brother,” Azriel chuckled, his arm draping over your shoulder as he pulled you closer. His shadows skimmed the nape of your neck and curled beneath your braided hair, the cool whip of wind making you shiver.

Rhys laughed, his gaze flicking down at Cassian’s hands guarding the sacred spot between his legs as if he expected the fox to attack on command. His wings shuddered at the thought.

“I’m sorry Cass,” you said slipping out from under Azriel’s arm and walking to Cassian. You pushed him back gently guiding him to lean against the table. You peeled back the torn fabric of his fighting leathers, fingertips close to inspecting the teeth marks, but cool wisps pushed your hand away.

It was the first time he’d bit a member of the inner circle, well apart from Azriel. Balto seemed to warm to Cassian and Nesta instantly, so you didn’t think he meant to do harm, only wanted to play in the fight like the boys.

You swatted the shadows away swarming your vision. The curved row of wounds standing out against Cassian’s bronzed skin. You winced the moment your eyes fell on the two sharp canines that still wept with blood. Those would take a day to heal, whereas the rest would be gone in a couple of hours.

“You did step on his tail,” Azriel said, pulling you back by your elbow. You smiled against his arm as it wrapped around you again and pulled you flush against him.

“Don’t know why you’re laughing,” Cassian shot back at Rhys, the flames dancing in his gaze. “Warming your cobblers? eh.”

Azriel’s chest rumbled, you felt your whole body shake with his laughter. Even cassian couldn’t keep a straight face. You glanced up at Azriel, brows furrowed as you waited for one of them to explain.

“Rhys took a swim, he tripped over Balto and slammed into the frozen lake.” Azriel smirked, a stray wisp dove for the white fox and it curled around his bushy tail. If you didn’t know any better they’d be whispering praises to the fox.

Limping to the kitchen, Cassian pulled a crate of beer out of the cooling box and set it down on the table. He threw a can to each of them and flicked his open, chasing the foam before it could roll down his hand.

“So who won then?”

The two Illyrian’s in front of you groaned, Cassian crushing his can in his hold and flinging it to the table to open another.

“I did,” Azriel said, his arm retreated from you and he fell back into the sofa. His arm hung over the back of the seat, wings twitching as he looked up at you and leant his head back. “Looks like you owe me, Angel.”

Dammit, you shouldn’t have made a bet against him. You’d be talking to Balto as soon as you got home.

Will have some more winter!reader fics coming soon up until Christmas :) hope you enjoy and thank you for reading/interacting - Yiiyii

[rhyrhy]

Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Mlist | moodboards | prelude (you are here)|

Prelude: Welcome to Utah 🩺

⚕️ summary: At St. Mary’s Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, staying within those boundaries is becoming increasingly difficult under the constant gaze of the head of cardio.

Move to Utah, complete your internship, simple enough. This was your plan for the next seven years, as long as that sounded. It’s what you went to med school for. With a turned tassel and optimism fresh on the brain.

Even your first night was full of being in the arms of a beautiful stranger. You felt bad for not remembering her name, but she probably didn’t remember yours either. Hopefully anyway.

The annoying blare of your new alarm clock let the light from your eyelids pour in. You sat up, pushing hair out of your face, still reminded of last night when you were still sleeping peacefully. Her warm hand on your bare thigh.

You gently lifted her hand delicately and placed it back on the sheets. You scanned over her peaceful form. Face buried into the plush pillow, dirty blonde hair draped down her back as her chest rose and fell. 

It was a complete contrast to last night, with the small blurbs you could remember anyway.

Going out with a childhood friend who helped you move before they returned to your hometown. Home was far behind you now. The fresh air, new faces, and even a wardrobe change.

This was ‘home’ now.

A constant of side glances and winks in the fumes of liquor and neon lights led your slightly inebriated bodies closer together as the night dragged. A whispered question had your fingers laced with hers, disappearing into your new bedroom and closing it with an eager click. The ecstasy of her body tangled with yours was one to remember, blurred, albeit.

The soft thud of your feet hitting your freshly mopped floors echoed out into the mostly empty room. Button ups and bralettes tossed around the wood. Glancing back at the red numbers lettered against the black screen of your alarm, reminding you that today was it. Your first day at St. Mary, known for their cardio teachings. You were going to thrive, you told yourself. This was everything you’d worked for, and absolutely nothing was going to throw you off of your game.

Not even the blonde's gentle grip on your arm as you tried to lift yourself from the edge of the bed. Mumbling something that could have Been a good morning greeting, but you didn’t have time to do the whole ‘morning after’ act.

“Mmm… you sneaking off?,” a groggy voice mumbled.

“Good morning…” Jesus, what was her name? Never mind, just play it off. “I gotta go, big day…like life-changing ‘big’”

Her grip loosened as her hand dropped back to the sheets, which definitely needed to be cleansed before you even thought about sliding back in. The blonde hummed in reply before clearing her throat with a soft rumble.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You guys must not have gotten to work last night; you didn’t have time to explain fully. So, a vague explanation will have to suffice for now. It was the rest of your life, the clack of Ortho cushioned shoes and whatever would keep you awake in the dead of the morning. Though you did wonder what she did for work, even with her disheveled appearance at the moment, she was very ‘put together’ from what you could pull from your previous rendezvous.

You gathered the clothes thrown to nowhere and placed her in the bed next to her stirring figure. The blankets pooled at her waist, dragging down her half-exposed torso before she continued.

“Because…. I thought the first day of the rest of your life was last night.”

You snapped your head back to her lazily getting dressed. She finally cracks that smile that had in-traced you last night, amused at your reaction. The white bone complimented by the pink of her gums.

“You’re awfully chatty for someone who was unconscious five seconds ago.” You replied.

“And you’re awfully dressed for someone who really, really wanted my shirt off last night.” She teased, pulling up the fabric of her jeans.

Yeah, that…tracks. You huff, holding back a smile. You pin the last few buttons of your blouse together and turn back to her before leaving the room.

“Oh, come on. We were, what—three tequila shots deep? Four?” You scoffed, this was just causal fun.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes. Picking up her phone off the large box labeled ‘clothes’ in black sharpie, that was a makeshift bedside table for the time being. A loud sigh fell before she looked back up at you, running a hand through her messy hair.

“Sure you don’t have time for a round two? Or at least coffee?” 

You froze briefly, debating. It was tempting—too tempting. But the red numbers on your alarm clock screamed at you. 

“I really can’t..., but you enjoy your morning.”

“Alright, alright, I’m backing off. I had fun though.” She put her hands up in mock surrender. 

You chuckled, grabbing your bag and heading for the door. Just as you reached it, you glanced back, taking one last look at her—sleep-mussed hair, golden skin against your sheets, a satisfied glint in her eye. Turning on your heels, keys crashing against each other as you padded down the porch steps.

The engine of the car ceased, as you pulled your keys out with a small twist. There it is, large windows, people pouring in and out. You were looking at the next seven years of your life in brick form. You took a few deep breaths and cracked the car door wide. Let’s do this, you repeated to yourself mentally. 

the cold air hit your arms as you pulled the blue scrub top on. The room boomed with lockers open, chatter, and slight anxious glances as everyone sized up one another.

These folks, other surgical interns, weren’t friends; they were competition. most anyway. You were stuffing your bag into the locker when movement to your right caught your eye. 

There was one familiar face in the sea of blue fabrics. 

Jesse.

He was mid-conversation with another intern when his gaze flicked over, landing on you. There was a pause, a brief second of recognition, before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey.”

You mirrored his smile. “Hey again.”

A short beat. You both glanced around at the chaos unfolding—people nervously checking their watches, adjusting their scrubs, some looking like they might throw up right there in their shoes.

Jesse let out a small breath, shaking his head covered in jet black strands.

“Still think this was a good idea?”

You exhaled sharply, closing your locker with a metallic clang. “Hmm, ask me in…12 hours.”

He chuckled, nodding. “Fair enough.”

Before either of you could say anything else, the locker room door swung open, and a voice called out—“Interns! Williams, Woodward!” Followed by your own last name, then surprising Jesse’s. You felt a flicker of relief to have the same resident. Even if you were with “General Marlene,” you weren’t sure if that name was supposed to intimidate you, but as you shuffled behind the small group, you started to feel it just a bit.

“That’s the … ‘general’?” Jesse jokingly asked you to confirm you guys were heading in the right direction. 

“She sure looks like one,” an auburn-haired woman with emerald eyes to your left remarks.

You came to find that she definitely was. As her voice was stern and loud.

“I have five rules. Memorize them.”Marlene crossed her arms as she scanned the group of fresh-faced interns in front of her. The room had gone dead silent the second she stepped in.

“Rule number one: Don’t suck up. I already don’t like you, and that’s not going to change anytime soon. Trauma protocols, supply lists, pagers—you’ll get all of it. You figure it out, or you get out.”

She took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing.

“Rule number two: You eat when I say, you sleep when I say, and you do not whine about it. If I see one of you yawning while you’re holding a scalpel, I’ll personally kick you out of my OR.”

She pointed at the group huddled together.

“Rule number three: This hospital does not tolerate mistakes. You mess up, people die. You hesitate; people die. You’re slow; people die. And when they do, you don’t get to cry about it. You learn from it, and you move on.”

A few interns shifted uncomfortably, but no one dared speak. You weren’t sure if you should be writing her monologue down or not, seeing how the others stood up a little straighter at her tone. She definitely introduced herself to the fellow interns with a no-nonsense attitude. You had no choice but to respect it in a way. She’d clearly been here awhile, her stomping grounds. You almost felt like a guest on the tiled flooring between your feet.

You and Jesse exchanged looks for a brief moment like you were telepathically telling each other to buckle up. Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for the long hours ahead of your first shift. You just prayed you wouldn’t be crawling out the automatic doors and still in one piece. 

You’ve got a more complicated, putting it nicely, patient assigned , a teenage girl complaining of constant side stomach pains.

You did your best to gather information on the clipboard, giving you a run over her charts asking about different symptoms, but she seemed to be a little more snooty than anticipated.

Once her parents came pouring into the room, asking you questions you weren’t sure of the answers to, you scrambled to find Marlene leaning over the front desk talking to the nurse. Her black coils tucked into a head and bun. Glancing down at her nametag, ‘Abel,’ ,huh? You weren’t sure if you even needed to know names yet since you were still basically on trial. Two interns still had to leave so the rest could go through, and you weren’t looking forward to being one of them.

Once Marlene caught sight of you sitting, she came over with curiosity in her gaze as to why you weren’t still busying yourself. 

The explanation was quickly cut off as Marlene told you where to go to find the doctor who could help assist you on your case.

“Yeah, Dr. Jackson is off the case; your patient belongs to the new attending. Dr. Anderson. She’s over there,” she shushes your rambling. as she makes her way back down the hallway, giving you a brief point, leaving you to figure it out for yourself. 

You watch her figure disappear and slowly turn back around to the sea of bodies in the room. Scanning over name tags to find the resident she was referring to.

Only to feel your shoulders tense when you see something that makes you blink a few times. That same sleepy figure that was in your bed seven hours ago. It’s now wearing the same name tag you were directed to look for.

You blink.

You stare again.

But no matter how many times you do it, she’s is still standing there. Not tangled in your sheets, not half-asleep in your bed, but here, in a white coat with a name tag that makes your stomach drop.

Dr. Anderson.

Her eyes flick to yours, and for a brief moment, there’s a flash of recognition. Then—amusement. Like she can’t quite believe it either. She barely gets a word out before you grab her wrist, dragging her into the nearest supply closet.

“Okay,” you sighed, shutting the door behind you. “We cannot do this.”

Abby leans against the counter, arms crossed, that damn smirk still plastered on her face. “Do…what?”

“You. Me. This.” You gesture between you two. “We have to pretend it didn’t happen.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “What, that you slept with me last night or…you ran out of your own house on me this morning?—“

You shush her of embarrassment, reading over her tag name like it would magically change. Nope, still Dr. Abigail Anderson. This just couldn’t get any better.

“You—you didn’t tell me you worked here,” you accuse, arms crossing over your chest.

Abby shrugs, still looking far too amused by all of this. “You didn’t ask.”

You open your mouth but then quickly shut it, heat rising to your cheeks. Unfortunately, she has a point. You guys didn’t talk about it at all.

“Well,” you huff, straightening your shoulders, “we weren’t exactly doing much talking—regardless. Katie, room 107, her parents need you. So can you just” You sighed deeply, collecting yourself and pointing to the door you’d pulled her through.

Abby rolls her eyes, pushing past you and slipping out the door like this is all some inside joke.

And just like that, she’s gone. You took a long needed breath. This was the last thing you needed. You left home for a fresh start, not whatever the hell this was going to be. Pushing out the swinging door a stormy cloud swirling with emotion, hung above you.

Later that night…

You and Jesse find yourselves slumped against a random door in the locker room, scrubs stained, bodies aching, brains mushed to nothing. You weren’t sure how you kept bumping into each other but you didn’t mind the company. Your head tilts back against the cool wall as you exhale.

 “So this is my life now? Tired, sore, and running around in constant …panic?” You asked out loud, to the universe honestly.

Jesse, equally exhausted, pats your shoulder with mock sympathy. “Yep, welcome to Utah.”

The two of you sit there in exhausted silence as the hospital hums around you.

What a’ warm welcome’, sigh.

[lunajay33]

My Princess

•🪽🦇💙•

Summary: You are Feyres sister and have always been shy but when everything happens and you and your sisters become Fae, you find yourself falling in love with the mysterious shadow brother

Pairing: Azriel x Feyres sister

Content: Sneaking around, fluff, smut, getting caught

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about how my life would turn out, living in a run down home with my three sisters and father gave me no hope for what could come, I thought I would die young of either illness or starvation, I always tried to help Feyre when I could just to help and get away from Nesta and Elain, they never liked me much, I am I second youngest and they liked to point out every flaw of mine

But then one day everything changed when we were kidnapped and thrown into a cauldron changing out forms, from human to far, Nesta took an immense amount of power, Elain could feel the future and me, well I haven’t shown anyone what I’ve discovered, I can morphe into the shadows, dissapear whenever I want, it came in hand when Nesta would get in one of her fits with who ever dared step up to her

But then one night as I was slipping into the shadows I met the most adorable little tendrils of shadow that seemed were alive, they were all over me swirling around with what I assumed was joy as they led me to Azriel, he was quiet like me and I found comfort in that silence but never had the never to approach him until the shadows brought me right into his room, as I’m in the shadow of his book shelf

Noticing him straighten up and peer around as his shadows spoke to him

“I know you’re here” my heart leapt, I shifted back into my fae solid form and stood before him nervously

“So you are gifted after all” he stood infront of me, shirtless showing his broad shoulders and ripped body

“Ummm yeah, please don’t tell the others”

“And why not?” I shrugged unsure of why I had to explain my reasonings only making him smirk

“You’re not like your sisters, you’re…….different”

“Different bad?”

“No different good, you’re intriguing and mysterious, you don’t put everyone out there”

•

From that day forward we kept our nightly meetings between eachother and it was sooooo easy, sneaking through the shadows right to his room, we started just talking and getting to know eachother but along the way I fell for him, how could I not he’s so beautiful inside and out and one night when all the others were busy getting drunk at a bar I felt my soul meld with his and his mine

That night we accepted the bond and we haven’t been able to stop, it’s been a week and our hunger for eachother hasn’t been quenched and it’s getting harder to hide this relationship

“Do you think we should tell the others?” I ask him as we catch our breathes, my head resting in his shoulder, his hand dragging up and down my back

“If that’s what you want my angel, but I can’t say sneaking around doesn’t make things more hot” he smirks as he grips my hip

“Maybe just a little longer” I giggle as I turn and straddle his legs laying forward on his chest

“Ready for more already?” His voice got deeper sending shivers down my spine

“Are you able to” I love to tease him knowing he has taken me multiple times in one night

“Please woman” he grabs my hips and grinds them up and down his hardening dick, I’ve heard about the girls talking about the comparison between wingspans but there is absolutely no way Rhys or Cassian could be bigger than my man, he nearly splits me apart

“I love you Azriel” I moan as he slowly stretches me out

“Not as much as I love you Angel, fuck you feel so good” at this angle he was just hitting every part just right it was impossible to keep quiet

“Oh god more I want more” I scream when he thrusts up into me faster and faster

“OH AZRIEL YES RIGHT THERE” I scream not even caring right now who here’s

“So good, mother above I’ll never get enough of you” right as I’m about to be in heaven the door bursts open and everyone in the group is standing there wide eyed and mouths hanging

“Ummmm what the hell is going on” Nesta shouts anger written all over her face

Azriel sits up and holds me closer covering my body

“Can we have a moment to get decent” he groans his shadows pushing the others out and slamming the door

“I’m nervous, did you see the way Nesta and Elain were looking at me?” He pulled out and helped put his shirt on me as he pulled on his own sweatpants

“Don’t worry it’ll be fine come on!” He took my hand and led me downstairs to where everyone was sat around in the living room

“Congrats brother!” Cassian congratulated Azriel patting him on the back

“How long has this been going on?” Feyre asks with a little smile as she sat next to Rhys

“Well we’ve been talking for a while at night but then last week our mating bond happened and we accepted immediately” I say holding his hand tighter

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rhys asked

“Obviously she knows she’s not good enough to be with him I mean look at her” Nesta laughed, I hung my head low before Azriel pulled me in at the waist

“Watch your mouth, don’t think I can’t destroy your life just because you’re the high ladies sister

“She’s not wrong” Elain whispered but we all heard

“That’s enough they had their reasons and it’s their relationship, Nesta and Elain you need to leave her alone I’ve had enough of you two always bashing on her just because you know she’s better than you, I’m happy for you sister” Feyre smiles

“You can go to the family cabin if you wish while still in your mating faze” Rhys adds looking happy for his brother the next instant in standing in the cabin Azriel holding me tight from behind

“You know they’re not right, your as pretty as the stars” he says placing kisses up my neck

“Thank you Az, now how about we get back to what we started”

“Don’t have to ask me twice”