#something something tamlin being the earth

[toast-com]

Catch me, I am falling.

Bring your love down to me, oh.

Take my heart and carry it, higher, higher.

Romance blooming betwixt the heavens and the earth.

Catch me as I descend, descend.

Descend into your embrace...

Follow me into the sky, I will hold you as I fly.

Romance betwixt the heavens and the earth.

[honeybeefae]

Strawberry Wine (Tamlin x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY ELEVEN: APHRODISIACS

Summary// Calanmai was something you knew about but never took part in, preferring to stay on the sidelines or at home. It would be your luck that tonight, right at the Great Rite began, you would get picked right as you tried to sneak away. Before you can refuse, a sweet-tasting wine is given to you that makes your mind fuzzy, thighs clench, and Tamlin look better than ever. 

(I said I was picking back up on Kinktober and in celebration of Earth Day, why not celebrate with the High Lord of Spring? This is my first time writing for Tamlin, and I’m lowkey excited! I hope you all like it <3)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+. Aphrodisiac Usage (so Dubcon), Biting, Slight Breeding Kink, 

You have attended almost every Calanmai since reaching your maidenhood but always stayed in the dark. Watching your friends and others drink and be merry, giving back to the land and magic was fun, but you were the notorious wallflower. 

Of course, you fantasized just as much as the other maidens about getting picked to help Tamlin in the Great Rite. It was always an honor to be picked, but after everything that happened over the last few years, this Rite was important. It would be the ultimate test of whether Tamlin could remain High Lord. If he could produce enough magic to heal the land…and hopefully himself. 

Working as one of the servants in his house, you saw firsthand how Feyre and Hybern had made him a shell of his former self. Whispers of his weakening power were heard in every corner of the house. You hadn’t been under him when everything had happened, only the aftermath, but it hurt you to see someone so low. 

Even if it were his own choices that led him to that place.

As the drums sound out, signaling the beginning of the Rite, you awake from your thoughts and begin to weave through the crowd. You did dream about being picked, but given the circumstances now, you pity the girl who was chosen. She was as much as responsible as Tamlin in the ritual.

Fire dances along the cave walls as you murmur apologies, trying to squeeze past the crowd that only seems to get louder and louder. A cool breeze whisps past you, almost as if it were trying to whisper something, but before you can focus on it, you feel a rough, calloused hand grasp your wrist. 

“You.” 

Time freezes along with your body as you recognize the rough, low voice. All eyes are on you, taking in every detail of your body as they try to decipher what made you stand out before they all come to their senses and cheer.

Tamlin doesn’t wait for your excuses that were already building on your tongue, turning back to stalk further into the cave that you had only seen in the darkest corners of your mind. You swallow, wondering if you could turn to dash, but before you can, several hands start to push you forward. 

Your stomach lurches, and your vision blurs as you stand before several friends, family, and fellow court members. One of them, an elder, smiles warmly at you and holds up a single gold goblet. She whispers something akin to a prayer, though it is so loud you can barely hear her, before she brings the cup to your lips. 

“Wait, please,” You raise your hand to push it away, staring at her pleadingly. “I’m not the right one. I was leaving. I’m the wrong girl.”

“Fate is never wrong, young maiden.” She hums, her fingers brushing away your stray hairs. “Drink. You will feel better.”

And despite every alarm bell going off in your head, you obediently open your mouth. It was as if she put a spell on you. The drink, a sweet wine that tastes faintly of strawberries, goes down your throat easily. Your tastebuds seem to explode at the richness of the alcohol, craving more as you grab the goblet yourself and tip it all the way back. 

There were chuckles behind you as you frown into the empty cup, looking back up to the woman only to realize she looks slightly fuzzy. In fact, now that you think about it, everything seems blurry. 

A warmth blossoms in your belly that makes you sigh, your eyelashes fluttering as the heat goes further down. You’re distantly aware that you are in public and should definitely not be rubbing your thighs together like you’re doing, but the shame is nowhere to be found. In fact, the only thing you can feel is desire. 

“What’s…what’s happening to me?” You mumble, mouth going dry as the woman takes your hand and guides you to where Tamlin had gone.

“It’s an aphrodisiac, my dear. Something to lower your inhibitions and anxiety. It will allow more magic to flow through you and into the Earth.” She explains. You know it makes sense. A lot of people are held back by their own fears and cannot access their full potential. 

The light dims the further you go until you feel her let go of your hand. You want to protest, to turn and run, but something otherworldly seems to push you forward until you see a small campfire flickering. The people you heard cheering and singing earlier had fallen silent, the air itself stilling as you peek around the corner to see the man waiting for you. 

However, in the state he was in, you would describe him as more savage than man. His clothes were all but shredded, symbols painted onto his skin that seemed to glow as his hair fell out of its braids. You couldn’t see his face but knew his pupils were dilated, his canines probably sharper and longer. 

“I can smell you,” Tamlin growls, turning his body so that his intense gaze meets your eyes. “I picked you out immediately.”

“I can smell you too…” You whisper, the wine heightening most of your senses as the scent of cedar, rain, and faint honeysuckles fills your nose. It makes your mouth water. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this. She gave me-”

Suddenly Tamlin was in front of you, your eyes immediately falling to his hard cock before he grasps your chin and pulls it up so that he could look into your eyes. There is a wide range of emotions, but the most dominant one is anger. 

Anger?

“What did they give you?” His jaw clenches as he turns your face from side to side, taking in your glassy eyes and disheveled appearance. “They gave you the wine, didn’t they?”

“Why are you angry?” You skip over his question, raising your fingers to smooth over the frown lines on his forehead. 

“Forgive me for not being thrilled that you are currently under drugs in order to sleep with me.” He snaps, pulling away from your touch. “I would never take advantage of you like this. And for them to think that you needed this…that no one would…”

You might be out of it, but you could feel the pain in his words. He didn’t know about the wine. His mind was spiraling, not only for your safety but also for the fact that his court members thought no one would want him anymore. That this was something they would have to force someone to do. 

It confirmed all the worst things he thought of himself and his court. 

But you weren’t forced here, not truly. Of course, you were hesitant at the beginning because you had never done something like this before, but now that you were here…you were sure that even without the aphrodisiacs, you would still feel this yearning. 

This was sudden and not how you expected the night to go, but you weren’t upset. In fact, it was something you had been dreaming about. You hated seeing Tamlin holed away, to see how broken he was. You just wanted to heal him. 

“Tamlin…” You say softly, taking the same approach one would do for an injured predator.  “Tamlin, look at me.” 

He does, and it damn near breaks you. All the pain, sorrow, anger, disappointment, grief, it was drowning him. 

“This may not make sense because my mouth feels numb,” You smile, cracking a joke. “But first of all, please understand no one is forcing me here. I know I could leave any time, I know I could have refused the wine, I know what this means, and I chose it.”

“But-” He starts to protest, but you hold up your hand and smush your finger against his lips. 

“Shhh, listen to me,” You soothe. “I cannot imagine what is inside your brain right now. The pressure, the memories, it sounds like hell. Just…let’s just forget about it tonight. Let this be the distraction you need, the healing this land needs, and tomorrow, we can worry about the rest.”

Tamlin gazes down at you, green eyes holding you still as he cups your face with shaky hands. The wind picks up around you, tickling your thighs and arms, before it pushes you forward and up to meet his plush lips.

Somewhere, distantly, you swear you hear fireworks going off as you immediately return the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing your body impossibly closer as his fingers thread through your hair. His warmth only adds to yours, making you feel like an inferno as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip teasingly.

You meant what you said about tonight being a distraction. You are going to take full advantage of sleeping with the High Lord. 

His chest rumbles with a growl that resonates to your core, pulling away for a brief moment to look you over before he claims your mouth once more. This time, it is much more passionate. Teeth clash, his once gentle fingers in your hair become a harsh grasp as he pulls your head to one side to expose your neck and shoulders. 

“Cauldron save me,” He whispers into your skin, peppering open-mouth kisses to the column of your throat. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve craved this.”

“Likewise-ah!” You yelp as he bites down on your shoulder, just hard enough to make you wince. This doesn’t deter him. Instead, it spurs him on as he lifts you up effortlessly and pushes you against the cold cave wall. 

“Look at you, petal,” Tamlin smirks as he cups your face again, running his thumb across your flush cheeks. “And we’ve barely even begun.”

“Please,” Your voice is high and needy as you feel his cock rut up against you, your panties already soaked through. “Please, I need more.”

He clicks his tongue and slips one of his hands between your bodies, his eyes screwing shut as he feels just how wet you are. You moan loudly when he shoves your underwear to the side and teases your cunt, brushing over your clit before shallowly dipping two fingers inside.

“Tamlin!” You groan, resting your head against the wall as he chuckles. 

“Trust me, I want to bury myself as deep as I can inside this delicious pussy,” He moans, pushing his fingers in deeper to stretch you out. “But I have to make sure I won’t hurt you. I want you to take all of me, love. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Hearing him use such crass language only makes your whines increase as he curls his fingers, playing with your body like he knows every cord. You pant as his pace increases, feeling his precum leak onto your thigh as you beg and plead for him to just fuck you. 

It’s only after what feels like an eternity that he pulls out his fingers and nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. You want to close your eyes, to make sure you feel every sensation, but Tamlin maintains eye contact as he presses his forehead against yours. 

“I want to watch your face as you swallow my dick, petal. I want to watch those beautiful eyes tear up from the stretch and pleasure, to feel those little shakes as you take more and more.” He says lowly, kissing you one more time before he starts to thrust into you. 

You couldn’t hold the moan in even if an arrow was notched against your head. Your cries bounce off the walls as he sinks deeper and deeper into you, his breaths coming out in pants as he finally bottomed out. His hands fall to your hips, digging into them with his emerging claws as he looks up at you. 

The pupils were so round that you could barely see the green in his eyes, his teeth clenching as he pulls out slowly and thrust back up. The sensation pulls out a string of curses, and that is all the encouragement he needs to start fucking you. 

He isn’t gentle, not caring that your back was scraping painfully against the cave wall or that his claws were almost piercing your flesh. Tamlin seems to be more beast than man, and you were no better, the wine enhancing everything as you swear you can feel him pulse inside you. 

“Yes, yes, fuck right there!” You cry out, arching your back to try and get closer to him. 

“That’s it, love, scream for me.” He growls as everything around him sharpens. You could feel something tingle in the back of your mind, like a gentle kiss, but he hits your spot, making your mind go blank. 

And you do. You are certain they could hear you all the way in the night court as you feel your cunt tighten around him. Your orgasm had snuck up on you, but now that you were on the edge, you knew it was going to drown you. 

Urgency begins to grow between you as he thrusts faster and harder. It was stealing the breath from your lungs as you chant his name, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him into your sweaty chest. Tamlin waste no time in kissing and sucking on your breasts, tugging on your nipples as his own balls start to throb. 

“Cum in me, please, Tam,” You whimper, grinding down so that your clit is rubbing against his abs. “Fill me up with your seed, please!” 

Before you can even blink, you feel him snap his hips up so sharp that it sends you hurdling over the edge. The tides of pleasure fill your lungs and drag you into darkness as your eyes screw shut, your orgasm so powerful you swear you can feel the ground shake. 

And when Tamlin follows right behind you, his teeth connecting to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you actually do feel it shake. It sends the two of you falling down, but he is quick to catch you, cradling your head while continuing to fuck you full of his cum. 

He pulls away long enough to roar before he kisses you fiercely, your own blood mingling with his saliva as you slowly start to come down. Tamlin rolls to the side and brings you with him, laying you across his chest while remaining inside you. 

The sound of music is the first thing to stir you to look around, realizing the wine is starting to wear off as your gaze falls back to the High Lord. He looks positively sinful, his chest red and sweaty from exertion while his lips hold a playful smile. 

“It’s nice to see that again.” You smile, suddenly bashful now that the liquid courage is gone. 

“I have a feeling you’ll see a lot more of it in the future.” He responds, brushing away the strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Are you okay?”

You look yourself over, noting the bruises and scrapes, but you know they will heal soon. Mentally, you felt…well, those feelings were better saved for another day. Instead, you nod and rest your head on his chest, not wanting to spoil the moment. 

He kisses your head, and when you nuzzle down further, your sensitive sex gives a small clench, and his chest rumbles with a warning. 

“What? Are you already ready for round two?” You tease, lifting your chin to look at him. 

Tamlin smirks again and pokes his tongue against his cheek, giving a weak thrust inside you so that you can feel him harden. 

“You’re in for a long night, petal.” 

[acotarxreader]

Mirror Part Two

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: High angst, drama, fluff, injury, Tamlin

Synopsis: After your abrupt exit from the night court you return to your worldly travels but the rising threat of war with Hybern has Rhysand seeking out his favourite weapon once again

Synopsis: You were gifted with the ability to mirror other fae's magic with a simple touch and your free spirit nature leads you to cross very close to the borders of a hidden city, where your future best friends and soulmate snatch you out of the sky to protect their border.

Inspired by Who's Afraid of Little Old Me & My Tears Ricochet by Taylor M.F Swift

A/N: Welcome to part two of this dramatic guy! Sorry for the lil wait! Let me know what you think friends!

I think I'm gonna write my first Eris fic hehe

Requests Open

Part 1

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

The War with Hybern

You passed through the mist like the shadows of the night that swaddled you, deep south in Prythian, practically in the Mortal Realm. Spring Court had crumbled to the weeds and whims of the High Lady of Night, your mortal enemy that you never met. You drifted from the face of the earth like the ghost Rhysand’s neglect had turned you into, banished to exile from the world that broke your body before breaking your spirit. You adjusted to the loneliness with surprising ease, melting back into the solitary figure you were when taken from the skies above Velaris, your free spirit exchanged for a shattered one. The events of the budding war with Hybern came to your knowledge through the ever-winding grapevine of gossip and tales. The very escapades of your former family and its new members provided you with equal amounts of amusement and worry.

“Bad dog!” You flung your shoe playfully at the great towering beast at the entrance of the cave you were currently occupying, the green-eyed beast released a growl as he dropped the carcass of the freshly slaughtered deer on your doorstep, tracking blood all over the rock. 

“How I love your visits dear YN” He growled before tilting his head slightly and returning to the wild. You and Tamlin now had a shared interest in your hatred of the Night Court’s leadership, his welcome of your travels through the shell of his court for the first time in centuries gave you the flicker of a homily feeling you’d banished from your heart. You used the Spring Court as you had The Middle, as a base of operations before travelling to see every inch of the world you could. He offered to bring you to the countless run-ins he had had with the Court of Dreams as a new war with Hybern began to threaten the peace. You weren’t really sure if it was so much because of Rhysand that it was because of Azriel that you hadn’t returned, the shattered friendship too much to think of. You watched an onyx shadow leak from your knotted knuckles, the last trace of Azriel you had to hold on to. Your shadows pulled along the carcass of the animal, the sight turning something in your stomach. You shuddered slightly, a sense of alarm growing in you at something in your world being tampered with. 

You winnowed to the ruins of the Tamlin’s residence, the shell of once reviled power and grace much like the owner. Traipsing up the steps of the crumbling house, the sound of a male you hadn’t heard from in such a long time rocketed through your system. 

“Rhysand?” You heard your voice speak without making the conscious decision to, Tamlin lifted his head from his hands as he sat at the rotting table, Rhysand spinning with unusual unease at the sound of your voice. 

“YN-” He took a step towards you instinctively, you following your own intuition, stepping back from him. “-You’re here?” “No need for the personal visit High Lord, if you wanted me dead you should have just said” 

“YN, I can’t believe you’re really here” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, his best had tracked your movements to the discarded court. 

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you. Why are you here?” You chewed out, the ghost of a smirk passing Tamlin's face. 

“Just visiting the High Lord of Spring” “Why? Need him as a weapon? Find value in him now you need him for war games?” Your icy words plummeted the temperature in the room, Rhysands wings slumping. 

“YN, don’t be like that”

“You can leave, Tamlin like many others, do not need you to faux interest in our lives for them to hold value” You circled around the table, running parallel to him across the dissolving oak to land next to Tamlin as he sat back in his chair, quietly smug.

“So, are you in love?” You laughed at his question, Tamlin matching the sound. 

“No, I think you took any ability for me to feel that from me” Rhysand searched your eyes for the way you used to look at him, for any semblance of the female who’d cleave the world apart for him, for any leverage he might still have with you. 

“You’ve made your request Rhysand, go” Tamlin found some ounce of long-dead confidence in him to shun the Lord of Night. 

“Hm” Was all he replied, moving to dissolve but stopping to witness a small shadow leak from your fist, a sign you had potentially seen Azriel recently, not the truth which was that you had kept the shadows with you since you fled, the last connection to a feeling of home. He nodded his head, a small laugh leaving him before vanishing. You pushed the back of Tamlin's chair to turn him to face you in his seat. 

“What request?” “Hybern is preparing to rage a war, he needs further assistance” He practically whispered before standing again and crossing the ruins of the dining room.

“So I was right, he did just want you as a weapon” “Actually-” his hand landed on the heavy door “-He wanted you” Tamlin melted into his beast form once again, leaving you to think through the words, your eyes looking down to the scars the last Lord of Night had left you. 

—--------------------------

You winnowed to a high mountain top you hadn’t graced in some time, your eyes looking upon your formerly beloved home of Velaris, the word home like acid in your throat. You looked towards the Town House, the once monument to your love, a mausoleum to it now. You sighed aloud before turning towards the House of Wind, something calling out to you through the night air, an idea growing in you. the sound of your feet hitting the stone gently filled the library. The dark shrouded you with unnatural warmth as you called quietly into the hollow pit for an old friend of yours. 

“Little mirror, you have returned” “Bry, don’t be coy with me” You could hear the creature of nightmares smile through the shadows.

“What do I owe this long overdue visit my little mirror?” You could feel its energy swirling around you but keeping enough distance so as not to risk you mirroring it. 

“Hybern is planning to attack and I wish to know what side of the aisle you find your wonderful self on” You had thought of your old friend as the perfect addition to a team you had no plan on being directly involved with.

“They have not yet asked my little mirror” The chill of its voice met your skin with a flush of contrasting warmth, inspecting you for any trace of harm.

“When they do, bargain for something of little matter to you that they can’t refuse and then once you have completed your task, go free” “Indeed-” he hummed at your self-assured tone “-why bother trying to help them little mirror?” “Let's say it’s out of habit” you laughed lightly, the wisps of dark air feeling as though a grin could be felt in them. You looked up to the mouth of the pit above you, the faint outlines of bookshelves shrouded in darkness haunting above.

“Ask for a window Bry, you deserve to see the world you will once again grace” Energy graced over your hand in thanks so easy for you to capture and yet it had no value to you T when compared to the sentiment of what you had at your finger tips. The sound of footsteps up above had you jolting slightly, retreating further into the dark so as not to be seen. 

“Be safe friend” You whispered softly before winnowing out of the depths. 

—-----------------------------------------

Shadows sank into the cobblestone as you manifested on the singing streets, your feet felt light along the heavy rock, practically levitating towards your old haunt. You stood at the gate of the Town House, the shadows of the residence dancing across the candlelight in the window, happy fae dancing in the streets as if not in the presence of the creature they turned you into. 

The Town House was decorated to within an inch of its life, banners and streamers flowing freely from every corner as music sang through the house to the garden where the majority of the party was revelling in the moonlight. You followed the radiate path to the garden you’d spent years cultivating, willingly ignoring the changes to decor made by the new Lady of Night. 

You watched the Inner Circle at the bottom of the garden, your former family rejoiced in celebration of the birthday of a fae you only knew through stories of the Hybern War. Nesta glowed in the moonlight. You looked among the now expanded Inner Circle, Azriel noticeably missing as you took another step down the path, Cassian swirled Nesta around, you smiled genuinely at the sight, so happy to see him happy. The smile faded as Rhysand did the same to Feyre before they walked hand in hand to the other side of the garden, your once favourite spot, the perfect view of the Sidra. 

You found your feet taking you in their direction, slightly secluded from the rest of the Inner Circle. The sound of your steps on the soft grass made a silent sound that sent shivers down Rhysand’s spine as he turned to see you standing on top of the slope, staring down at them. 

The music seemingly stopped dead, your appearance at the party stopping the revelry like a record scratch as you spoke-

“Doesn’t look much like a war is nigh right now, now does it?” You clasped your hands in front of you, eyes burning into the former love of your life. 

“YN-I-” “This is YN?” Feyre stepped from behind her mate, her beauty illuminating the path up to you and you hated her for it, you looked around at the world you believed she stole from you but realised as quickly it was Rhysand who had committed the theft.  Feyre moved to close the distance between you both, stepping from her mate's grasp to practically square off to you. You could feel the power radiating from her, so tempting to take but would replace the last scrap of Azriel you had access to. Still, you enjoyed the thought of rattling Rhysand.

“Ah, Feyre, Rhysand’s lovely High Lady of Night, I don’t think we’ve had the displeasure of formally meeting” You outstretched a hand, she instinctively went to take hold of it, and Rhysand immediately pulled her back.

“Don’t let her touch you!” He ordered, some fae looking in your direction at the disturbance to their antics. “Who’s afraid of little old me?” You laughed again, it reverberating off Feyre’s chest

“Don’t go near her” “Where is this hostility coming from Rhysand, I seem to remember it was you who made the first act of aggression” You lifted the small cuff of your sleeve, the hint of a small arrow-shaped scar still marking you centuries later. 

“Leave YN” “You sought me out, I’m returning the visit” Feyre’s head darted towards her mates at the revelation.

“Oh? He didn’t tell you? My my always one for secrets Rhysand” you tsked, circling them as Rhysand’s father once had done to you, a hunter and her prey. 

“YN, I’m am celebrating with my family, if you could extend some courtesy and-” “Courtesy!?-” You scoffed loudly “-You crossed out the good years with me, cursed me the moment I treated you with the same respect you’d given me for years, banished me to the same solitude you used me to escape from! So you don’t deserve courtesy! And now, even when you are mated to pure power, I can tell you wish I stayed, you curse my name wishing I stayed! Your favourite fucking weapon!” Years of repressed anger flooded from you to the space between you and the mates, Rhysands face greying as he clutched onto Feyre’s hand like you may steal her away forever. 

“I-I didn’t do anything to you YN, I just fell into this world, this was hard on everyone” Feyre rattled out, your heated gaze landing on one of the most powerful fae to grace Prythian. You took a deep breath in before speaking again-

“Oh boo freaking hoo-” "You found yourself laughing coldly “-Figure out the Hybern thing by yourselves, I’ve already had enough” You span on the ball of your foot, striding up the very path you had designed to get the best view of the garden. 

“And those new curtains look horrific!” You called back over your shoulder to the mates before reentering the house you wished to burn to the ground with your vitriol. 

-

You returned to the now suffocating air of the Velaris streets, feet bouncing off the cobble as you walked down the hill, your muscle memory bringing you down the way to one of your favourite spots in the city. The moment your mottled shaking hands met the cooling brick of the Sidra’s boundary wall, the tsunami of tears you fought every day since leaving flooded your atmosphere. 

“YN?” Azriel crossed the same bridge you said goodbye to him on those years before, the paper bags containing Mor’s favourite alcohol smashed to the stone floor. The stream of oak-coloured liquid flowed to your shoes. Shadows darted around you like dogs flocking to their owner after a long time apart. You laughed at the feeling of them swirling around you, lightly nipping at your face in their own form of pecks to the cheeks, banishing tears. You managed to open your eyes between their displays of affection to find Azriel standing with pure shock on his face, arms hanging by his sides and wings dipping to match. 

“Am I hallucinating?” “No Az-” You smiled wide through tear-stained cheeks “-I came back to take another strip off of your dear brother” You watched him pinch his arm to ensure he was truly awake. Azriel then flew at you in a similar fashion to his shadows, wrapping his arms around you to practically crack your bones. 

“Az-You’re-suffocating-me” You managed, laughing again once he gave enough of a release to allow your lungs to expand. 

“Why is it every time I find you on this bridge you’re crying?” He wiped a thumb across a stray tear, your crooked hands holding his to your face before they could move back away. 

“I love the drama” you laughed through fresh tears.

“Why are you back YNN?”

“Well, Rhysand came to visit me in Spring Court-” an almost growl left Azriel in response “-and he’s in need of his favourite weapon again” A definite growl left him this time, his hands dropping away from you as he turned to look back up the direction of the Town House.

“I told him to leave you alone, I didn’t track you down for you to be used as-” “You what?” He turned back to your slightly tilting head.

“Well…you went radio silent on me, I had to make sure you were okay-” a shadow clipped his ear somewhat sharply “-We, we had to make sure you were okay. You left us” The last three words tinged with undeniable heartbreak, heartbreak you had felt yourself. “Az, I had to leave”

“But you didn’t have to leave without me” an element of anger leached from him.

“Az” “No, you left! Rhysand might have broken your heart but you obliterated mine! Chipped away at it over centuries” A sharpness never reserved for you cut into your skin with similar pain to what Rhysand’s father had dealt you. 

“Azriel I’m sorr-” “-It broke me every time you chose him and all he did was tolerate you! Tolerate the love I so desperately wanted! And now I watch as he gives Feyre even a fraction of everything you deserved and I hate that I didn’t fight harder for you! I hate it! Hate how he  weaponised and ruined the love of my life!” His raised tone bounced off the flowing waters of the Sidra, the sound of his century's worth of repressed resentment tumbling out of him like the small waves hitting the boundary wall. 

“YOU SAID YOU WANTED ME TO BE HAPPY EVEN IF IT MEANT RUNNING AWAY FROM ALL THIS!” “BUT I THOUGHT YOU’D TAKE ME WITH YOU”

“I SHOULD HAVE! I FUCKING SHOULD HAVE!" You roared back, an onyx shadow of your own making curling around your vibrating fists, Azriel’s eyes shot towards them, his hand taking a gentle firm hold on your wrist before you could bolt out of his life again.

“You’re still mirroring me” he whispered so softly you thought you imagined it.

“Yeah… it was all I had left connecting me to you, to my home, to someone who would always do more than just tolerate my love” You returned the words with equal tenderness, eyes fixating on your shadows swirling into his, your eyes illuminating like they hadn’t since first landing on Azriel’s. His hand slipped from your wrist to your hand, chasms and fissures of equal cruelty knitting into one another so the skin may feel whole again.

“YN! You don’t get to leave like that!” Your heads moved in unison to look up towards an enraged Rhysand, you released Azriel’s hand on sight.

“You don’t control where I do and don’t go anymore Rhys” you chewed back.

“I am regretful for what happened and how it happened but don’t let the little incident that happened between us stop you from defending your people!”

“Little incident?” Your chilled laugh returned, a shiver running down Azriel at the sound. 

“YN, be sensible here” Rhysand has his arms out as though trying to corral an animal as he steps towards you, Azriel instinctively standing between the two of you. 

“YNN is entitled to spend the rest of her life how she wants to, she owes us nothing” His hardened stare cut through his brother, shadows swirling around his feet.

“Az, we need her power to-” “-We need her to be happy, Rhysand. That’s what we always should have needed of her, we owe her everything. You took no issue in me destroying those who destroyed me, she should be given that option, even now” Azriel spoke with clear conviction, the words causing Rhysand to purse his lips in thought. 

“If she doesn’t join then she will succeed in destroying us by not helping us” He looked around Azriel to you, your thoughts racing at the words. You stepped back from the two brothers, your shoes crushing the glass of the smashed bottles. 

“Follow your own past decisions Rhys and don’t follow me” You dissolved in front of the two as they began to argue once again. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------

That day you watched Tamlin ready what little forces he had, the thought of your former family defending your homeland without your intervention ultimately being your deciding factor to join. That and the thought of giving Rhysand any semblance of moral high ground. 

You transversed the battlefield in a shielded shadow, blasting the enemy as you flew alongside the Illyrian-winged warriors. A blood-curdling call of a female you didn’t know drew your attention downward as Cassian flew down past you towards her, too fueled with adrenaline to notice you follow closely as sudden strikes of pure cauldron power shot down and destroyed the warriors you had just flown alongside. You landed on the battlefield with such force it split the soil, Cassian’s head turning towards you rapidly locking eyes on you as you both found yourselves smiling at one another. 

“YN, you came!” “I miss you Cass, stay alive” You called back before bolting back into the now-cleared skies as more and more warriors rose to replace the fallen. From above, you covered Feyre unbeknownst to her, the collective goal having more importance in this moment. You watch as she reaches the cauldron with Amren allowing you to double back and continue your onslaught. Rhysand’s true beast form rises from the ground and you feel a bolt of fear at the pure sight of him. You swoop down to meet his side as he tears into the enemy, Helion dashing to join his side as he reforms himself into his beastly counterpart. 

“YN!!!” Rhysand roars down to you as you sprint around him, you leap on top of a razor-sharp talon as he shoots towards the sky, your knotty hand pressing into the scales of the High Lord. The feeling of familiar pure unadulterated power coursed through your veins, never did you think you’d mirror the High Lord again, the traces of betrayal tinging the power as it blasted from your outstretched hands to mist a sizable amount of enemy forces. Bryaxis coursed around you, shielding you from any retaliation as Rhysand and Helion unleashed on the battlefield. 

“I have to get to Feyre!” You hear Rhysand screech out as you cover him along his way towards his mate, the shift in the air undeniable as Amren is released from her bindings. You defend the space the cauldron occupies, allowing Rhysand to rush to Feyre’s side. Something cracks deep in you as you hear the High Lady of Night shriek in pure pain, fearing Rhysand has taken his final breath. You winnow to Tamlin as he sinks tendrils of power into some stragglers of the Hybern arm. 

“Tam! With me!” He has no hesitation in taking your hand, you winnow with him to where the cauldron claimed its price, Feyre begging for help from the High Lords. A chill shoots up your spine, rattling your bones. Your face hardened before you reached for Helion’s hand, mirroring his energy before you sank back into the shadows, following your own thread to land alongside Azriel, his wings in tatters as you dropped to his side. 

“YNN” he writhed out in pain, your arms encapsulating him, you feel Helion's power course through you as you attempt to heal him back to whole, your own body crying out in pain from the events of the war.

“It’s okay Azriel I’m here, I’m here” Your tears fell into his hair as you clung his head to your chest, his own heartbeat struggling to match yours. The light flowed across your disjointed digits, stitching the centuries-old wounds together as it poured into Azriel.

“I wish I didn’t let you leave that night YN” “I wish I didn’t leave you that night” You cried out, gently rocking him back and forth, his hand landing on your forearm to hold you closer. 

“I wish to carry a piece of you with me forever YNN”

“You can have all of me Azriel” You stretched down to meet his lips before he used what little energy he had to lean in, fully surrendering to every dream he dreamt of you from the moment you pulled the knife from his wing centuries ago. The glow that radiated from your energy returned and Azriel once again wished to bask in it for the rest of his days. His torn flesh stitched together as the healing energy flowed between the two of you. The feeling of home you never thought you’d have again blazed through every cell until it was just you, Azriel and shadows of onyx mirroring one another's endless hope for the future. 

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

Whatcha think?

Tag: @saltedcoffeescotch @popcornlauncher @notepaper @panther-girl-124 @mirandasidefics @slightlyjaded @moonlwghts @tsunami-of-tears

[the-darkestminds]

why do you insist that the men of acotar are all gay lol

HAHA bc im being silly but I shall indulge you anon.

okay there's no explicit writing on the page that states these characters are Gay but there are a few curious things sjm included that give me pause (don't take this post too seriously lmao):

-we learn that the bat boys used to have sex with females at the same time, in the same room as each other. so they have all seen each other naked and erect. do with that what you will.

-they hang out in the steam shower together naked. apparently this is a thing straight men do in real life too because of sports or something. idk. but if you're naked with another man, surely the thought has crossed your mind at least once? perchance? ill let you ponder that. at the very least they are looking at each other's junk trying to decide whose is the biggest. (I am a woman so idk i'm just making this up as I go).

-cassian woke up one solstice completely naked with nothing but a wig on. he had been partying with rhys and azriel. there were no females around. this gives me pause. sir, why are you naked?

-they are OLD AS FUKKKK yo come on they must get bored. nothing can phase you after 500+ years on earth. imagine how desensitized they must get. like surely they would do it just to see what all the fuss is about.

-cassian was jealous when azriel's full attention was no longer on him. interesting.......

-azriel whispering in eris's ear. PLSSS ik he said something dirty. anon is it not so much more fun to think he was like "next time choke on my cock" instead of "I am going to skin you alive"? come on. BORING. no more tired death threats!! I need more depth to this feud. get over yourself boo. Ik you liked eris underneath you. who wouldn't

-we learn that rhys apparently taught tamlin how to bed females. how? LOL I know rhys was like "here tamlin let me show you what females like in bed" and took off all of his clothes.

[dawneternal]

A Duckling and a Beast

⚘ Just thinking about Tamlin being a dad and calling his baby 'Duckling'

⚘ Warnings: super fluffy, little bit of angst. Minimal editing.

⚘ Word Count: 655

⚘ Read on AO3

Worry and doubt and guilt had pulled Tamlin from his sleep, ravaging his nightmares and forcing him awake. He turned over in the bed, comforted by the outline of his sleeping mate, painted silver by the full moon. But there was still a restless piece of his spirit, adrift in a churning sea of memory and pain. So he slipped from the bed as quietly as he could to do the only thing that would truly quiet his mind.

He found his baby already awake, staring up at him adoringly with those grey-green eyes. Tamlin could not help his smile as he scooped her up, so tiny in his hands, and held her to his chest. She snuggled in immediately, chubby, pink cheeks against his bare chest. He ran a hand over her soft, golden curls that reminded him so much of a downy duckling. Everything in his mind quieted.

As they swayed in the moonlight, he could feel the infinite potential radiating from her, soothing every fear. The absolute assurance that she would become someone extraordinary dissolved all of his feelings of inadequacy. He would do anything to see it happen. If his mind stumbled, his body would know the path, tethered to this little soul in a way that he could not explain.

After all, if the mating bond was a bridge between his soul and Briar's, how might he be connected to this tiny being that was half him and half her?

His salvation. Those little hands that he was so sure would grow and accomplish such amazing things. She would do everything he never could, have everything he had always wanted, and he knew it because he was determined to make her happiness his purpose. He was no longer a failure. Because she was his gift to the world, and she had righted all his wrongs just by taking her first breath. With only her beautiful existence, she had fixed it all.

Amazing, how it all settled. How the world quieted and the beast in the den of his mind ceased roaring. It had been such a long time since there was such peace. Love had chased away the chaos. Briar had forged the path, had crafted the gates to this beautiful land of calm and bliss. He would make sure they wanted for nothing, his little family. He would fight anything, death itself, to ensure their contentment. He would conquer hell and claw his way out of the earth if he needed to.

The little duckling drifted back to sleep in his arms and his gaze turned toward the window. He thought of showing her every marvel of the court she'd inherit. Golden sunshine on her face, a warm breeze chasing them through the forest. He'd hold her hands under a bubbling brook and let her walk barefoot through velvety soft moss. When she grew older, he'd walk her to every corner of the court, along each border until she had them memorized. The future had not held such promise in so long.

The duckling began to fidget and fuss, to Tamlin set his sleeping darling down into her bassinet. Softly, he picked up his fiddle and began to play. He made the notes gentle and smooth and easy for her ears. Humming the words to the ancient song, he watched the wrinkles between her tiny brows melt away. Her small whimpers and cries turned into steady breaths as she slept, lured into a place of lovely dreams. Such trust she had in him already. He tucked it away into his heart, a thing to be cherished, a thing to fortify him should he ever falter. Her guardian. Her protector. The oath was written on his bones, older than the lullaby he coaxed from his instrument. Like all of the love in his chest was a thread in the tapestry of time, something truly immortal. His gift to the world.

[loneliestluvr]

𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊𝒊𝒊.

i. ii. iii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warnings: beron😒, abuse in general(like triggering af please be warned), me being a rhysand hater, brief suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4.1k— this took me all day to write(from 7-9 am and then 3-now please be thankful😞🙏🏼)

taryn thinks: YES I DID CHANGE THE NAME. IT FITS BETTER. I HAD NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS WHEN I STARTED. HUSH. i would like to choose this very moment to tell you there will be a happy ending and to say they WILL end up with babies. still unsure how many parts this will be though 💃🏼 im just a gorl. @readychilledwine this is my payment for that tamlin baby and domestic fluff(smut if you’d like) bonus chapter for lost bonds 🤗

There was glass shattered on the floor by the windows.

Eris’s head was down as he stood before his father, pieces of deep auburn hair hanging by his eyes as he tried not to move and tried not to let any emotion pass over his face. Just as Beron expected when he took his lashings— whether that be from a whip, his tongue, or his powers.

However indignant, the fact his father had chosen his tongue today was a mercy.

“You are insignificant,” Beron seethed, spit spraying from his mouth as he yelled. The deep, cruel, voice booming off the walls of his fathers study. “—a bastard, truly. A bastard because you surely can not be this stupid and be born of me. A worthless excuse for a first son.”

Eris kept his stature wane, making himself small for his father despite the fact he was a few good inches taller than the male.

Sometimes, he thought the High Lord’s need to belittle and denigrate everyone around him, raise his voice and grow violent, was driven by some sort of lust. For power, respect, whatever it may be. Something he lacked.

That maybe the fact he put energy into minimizing his court, his family, his wife even, was because he didn’t even respect himself. That he needed to create room for his anger and hatred by pushing others down.

What had happened to him that made him so cruel? Is this how his father had been to him? Was this love to him?

“How is it that we’ve only just learned there’s a fourth sister, Eris? Tell me,” Beron’s voice grew lethally quiet as he spoke and Eris forced himself to breathe, bracing mentally. “—tell me so I know who better to put on the throne instead of your pathetic fucking excuse of life.”

His words grated against his ears, voice tight and angry and again growing louder as he spoke.

Another glass was thrown, and shattered. Hitting the wall so close to Eris’s head that a piece flew at him, slicing across his cheek lightly. He barely moved.

The crystal thin enough, knife-like enough, that he felt the warmth of his blood start to slowly seep from his skin.

Like moisture collecting on the petal of a white poppy in the early morning dew when he sat in the meadows by the Forest House, Saydee’s head in his lap as he talked to the earth. A small reprieve from the chaos of the palace.

Eris was there, in his mind.

Petting his hounds grey coat as he whispered, just as he always did when the sun came over the horizon and woke for the day. Like he had since he was just a faeling sitting in his mothers lap as she did the same.

His mother had explained it so gently one morning, sat in the grass, about when the sun comes over the skyline to say good morning. Not to speak too loudly or too brash so that he didn’t startle the earth, because she too deserved kindness. The Mother.

So almost everyday for as long as he could remember, he sat in that meadow, lazing in the tall grasses as those vibrant hues of blue and orange and pink and yellow streaked across the sky— and he whispered to Her.

About his hopes and dreams that would never be fulfilled or sought after, talked of the life he wished to have. That he wished his own mother had. Asked for her days to be gentler, kinder, prayed on every wild dandelion he found, for someone to share his days with, to talk to— however boring.

And he had. He had his dogs, and he had the fields surrounded with the creeks that ran through their property, and he had the sky.

He wished he was there most of the time. So he created a place in his head, to escape in moments like this.

Acres of meadows, full of flowers and taller grass than he could dream of. Up to his hips, his bloodhounds disappearing beneath the blades as he strolled leisurely. Hands wading through the soft thicket. Sometimes he dreamed of others with him, his mother, Lucien, someone else.

Locked away that piece of himself to disappear into whenever being in his body became too much.

It’s where he had spent nearly fifty torturous years Under the Mountain, spending every waking moment protecting the female who had raised him for his father didn’t care to. Spending fifty years away from those grasslands and that beautiful savoy grandeur. His meadows.

Throwing stick after stick out into those pastures as he walked further and further, his best girl running every time he threw— chasing bunnies and jumping into the streams. Getting lost in his mind. When he knew it was morning, which was so very rare down in that dark and decrepit nightmare, he prayed. He prayed for some divine force to step in, for Her to save him and his family. To be kinder. The first time he cried and spoke his despair aloud, Feyre Archeron had come three days later.

Eris was deep in fern grasses as the blood dripped down his face, but he still did not move.

He hadn’t even taken his coat and finery off from Hewn City yet, having told his father he was coming from the lookout on the northern border. He didn’t bring attention to it.

He heard his fathers deep breath and the creaking of the chair behind his desk as he sat, maybe seeing reason now that the heady scent of his sons blood filled his study.

“You will go to Rhysand as soon as possible,” Beron started, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eris still didn’t look up, just blinked at the floor. “—do what you must. Find a way in, figure out what else those wretched girls took from us. I do not care if you kill or maim or whatever else takes your interest these days.”

His voice trailed off as if remembering something significant and Eris heard the wood groan again and then footsteps, his heart remaining steady despite the screaming that filled his head. Then he saw the polished toes of Beron’s shoes.

“You always were the smartest of my sons. So much like me, so brutal.”

Male pride laced those words. Eris wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, and he did want to kill. He wanted to kill the man before him, wanted to kill the ruination that circled this court. That ripped its beauty from her chest, chewed it up, and spat it out.

But he did not move.

A hand gripped his chin, turning his face to the side and up. Eris let his eyes flick to his fathers face and saw the warning there.

“Where did you get this.” It wasn’t a question, Eris knew.

“I was playing with Saydee and tripped too close to a jagged rock, it cut me. It didn’t hurt.”

Beron released his chin if only to land a sharp slap on his other cheek and then immediately grabbed his face again. His grip burned, like molten ire, making the flesh of his cheeks dig into his teeth.

“Where did you get it.”

“I was practicing my swordsmanship with Brenton and he sliced me with his rapier, it was an accident. He got the proper punishment for hurting me.”

Beron released his son’s face and stepped back.

“Get out, don’t let your mother see you.”

Doubtless that the reason he wanted him gone was because he didn’t want his sons blood to drip onto those precious carpets.

Eris didn’t need to be told twice, so he walked. As calmly as he could until he got to his rooms, making sure to take the long way around and avoid where his mother was no doubt waiting by her own door to hear Eris’s footsteps walk by.

To know he was safe, or to know what his father did. Either way, he didn’t want her to see him like this.

Closing the door behind him, he finally loosed a breath, opening his eyes as he shucked off his jacket and draped it over the chaise by the hearth. Walking to his tray of decanters, lightly touching the blood on his face with one hand as he picked a bottle up in the other.

His scarred fingers came back crimson.

A slow boiling rage, like simmering sugar, filled his body. His muscles, gritting his teeth silently. Grip growing tight as he looked at that blood.

And then that was all he saw as the glass bottle shattered into the brick fireplace, sending the flames roaring and him stumbling back a few steps into the post of his bed.

He hadn’t noticed it was lit, vision glazed over.

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide as he watched the flames fulminate, casting an orange glow on his room and his face. So bright and wild he felt the heat from feet away as he watched the fire roar and gutter back down.

Eris thought that maybe he really wasn’t any better than the man that sired him at all.

Spring in Velaris was beautiful.

The mid-day sun warmed the air around the River House, a gentle breeze kissing Blair’s skin and ruffling through her curled hair.

She’d let her little sister braid it back this morning, a thin coronet that made a beautiful pleated flower on the back of her head. Though her loose bangs tickled her eyes, Blair thought she had looked rather pretty.

She wasn’t so outside of her body when she sat in the open air. And she felt… alright.

Though she would have preferred a fir to scale, as they allowed for easier climbing, but the willow she had found herself in made for a good view of Elain working in Feyre’s garden.

It was a welcome change from her window. Like there was no need to run away and hide in the forests of her mind, digging her own hands into the soul of the earth just to make sure her mind didn’t numb away.

She was almost laying down against the bark, the large trunk and spindling branches wide enough two people could have sat up here side by side. As uncomfortable as it may have been, the rough corking crust digging into wherever it touched through her pale yellow gown, it felt like home.

It’d been a week since Starfall at the House of Wind, almost a month since that all too brief introduction she had made to the world in Hewn City on Winter Solstice. Of Prythian’s world, at least.

Blair hadn’t expected anything for it, she had been there for a short half hour and had been… occupied the whole time.

Sometimes her skin still burned when she was alone. In the bath, when she stirred honey into her tea, late at night in the too cool sheets of her bed.

She’d felt her own since Hewn City, able to think and manage conversations, elating to Feyre and Elain and she quite enjoyed conversing with her little sisters now. But she still laid by the fire, night after night just to feel that warmth fill her.

But after that, after the surplus of gifts from their small gathering that followed, presents hadn’t stopped when the Solstice holiday ended— but they weren’t coming from her family.

Baskets and boards and chests and boxes were sent to Rhysand’s palace and then were brought to the House. Welcoming’s and courtiers from every place in Prythian it seemed, branching out to welcome her.

Well wishes, mostly. Some off-notes and letters, claiming that Blair Archeron’s beauty could be used to fix the rifts in this continent and between courts. That had been the most absurd one, a letter for Rhysand asking for her hand in marriage. He laughed as he read it to her, sitting by the window— knees tucked into her chest.

It angered her more than anything. That she was already a prize to be had, or that it was Rhys they were asking.

Slowly, as days passed and she spent more time outside breathing clear air, the anger grew. The realizations came in waves, of things she had missed, times where she should have spoke up and didn’t.

Resentment, frustration, shame, guilt.

She didn’t let it show, bottling it up and shoving it down. Killing the urges inside her to scream at everyone, to bellow and seeth and grow violent. Something so awake in her, gnashing and bloody teethed. The need to give into that voice in her head that told her to let it go.

That she needed to in order to go on, in order to have a sense of normalcy. That exploding was the only was to settle her bones. She felt particularly nasty towards Rhysand.

The betterment he had to achieve and grovel over, should grovel over, was stacked against the High Lord.

The anger was what took her the most, forcing her fingers to loosen the grip she had on her fork at dinner nightly as she listened to him ramble and laugh. Watched Feyre go on like she would not die having his child, closer and closer to being due.

She wanted to watch him bleed as her sister was going to.

Wanted to scream for all he had made Nesta do.

The entitlement.

But Blair buried it.

So she would glare to herself when he wasn’t looking, lip pulled back slightly and passed off as a twitch, before she took in what was sent as an attempt to woo her.

Blair had thought they were for Feyre in all honesty, before Cassian explained that it was bad luck. A few days ago when he walked with her along the Sidra— Elain had dragged her out and in return she made the Illyrian come with her— he had said it was a grim omen and wish of terrible luck to send an expecting mother gifts for a babe that hadn’t yet been born. To the fae at least.

She listened mindlessly. Noting the scent of her older sister that came from him in waves. She needed to talk to Nesta, and soon. A conversation was owed on both ends.

The thin parchment of the book she was reading scraped against the soft pads of Blair’s fingers as she leaned back against the large trunk of the willow.

Vines of cream wisteria flowing in the soft wind that sent the caps of her bell sleeves fluttering, watching Elain out of the corner of her eye as she dug her bare hands into the soil. Choosing not to use the enchanted gloves Lucien had gifted to her as she tended to the flower beds at the back of the house.

Despite the cool air surrounding Blair from the river flowing a few paces away, a warmth bloomed past her skin, not from the sun, but from something else, and her chest melted or sparked or roared as she saw a flash of deep auburn hair— walking towards where she was in the tree.

The second oldest Archeron’s brow furrowed so slightly. That scent— that heated mahogany and citrus, burning embers, floated to her on a soft wind and brushed through her hair in a soothing caress.

Eris’s hand skimmed along the brush of a white rose hedge as he strolled, his gait loose but strong. Blair kept her focus on the pages she was reading, but a sudden pounding in her heart had her unable to focus on any of the words.

She heard him approach, feet light and careless, she wouldn’t have heard it if she were still human. But with her new ears, the new senses she was still getting used to, she could.

The feet stopped, just under her, and Blair flipped the page. The thin and gauzy skirt of her dress draped and hung down the branch she lounged on, leg crossed over the other.

Eris cleared his throat then, and Blair could see his tall stature blurred in the peripheral of her vision. Hands tucked appropriately behind his back.

“I’m shocked Rhys let you come here, especially with my baby sister in her condition.” Blair said without lifting her head to look at him. Eris hid his smile by lowering his head. “Or should I be worried you’ve come to steal Nesta away? She’s not here, by the way.”

The words poured out of her mouth so quickly that Elain lifted her head in wonder, the same furrow as her older sister’s she’d seen play out in her face so many times. Rhys was standing with his arms crossed on the stone walkway when Elain looked to the back doors. Not pleased, but something willing.

“Now, smart, beautiful thing.” He tsked his tongue, amusement lacing every word. “I wanted to see you, and I told you that Nesta was not what I wanted anymore.”

Blair lifted her head at that, looking down at his wretchedly beautiful face and he smiled that wicked smile at her that spoke of pure sin. The level of her belief was in her eyes.

Whatever he offered that was big enough for Rhys to allow him to come to Velaris, she didn’t believe it would be just for her. Eris had given something to gain something— that’s what they all said of him.

“I told him I’d spoil our fun and tell my father of our plans or he could let me see you and I’d send a legion tomorrow for him to direct.” Eris added, as if reading her mind or face or body. She forced herself to keep looking at him.

“I could have met with you somewhere else.”

“Would you have? Left this place?” A raise of his brows.

Blair didn’t know, she didn’t know why she said it. Why her tongue just moved before she could think with him. Her eyes said as much and then a sudden, unknown, panic filled her and the life guttered so quickly from her eyes.

“It is safer here anyway.” Eris said lightly a few seconds later, followed by a quiet sigh.

There was a thin white gash along his cheek, almost healed, but it wasn’t there the last time she’d seen him. Blair remembered every inch of his face whether she wanted to or not. A face that followed her.

“No gift to try and sweep me into a marriage with you?” She said as gently as she could, face a bit flat.

“I thought I gave you one.” Eris smiled and at Blair’s squinted eyes, he continued. She closed her book and tossed it to the ground, narrowly missing him as it thudded to the ground. “Our dances, I did give you three I believe. Is that not the correct number in the mortal realm when a male is courting a female?”

The female blinked down at him, pausing as she swung her legs over the side of the branch, face drawing ever tighter and then she couldn’t control it.

It was the wording that sent her laughing she supposed. The sound rich and full of life, not empty and deserted or even strained, a song that skittered over Eris’s skin. Soft and silky as a fawn’s coat, gentle and easy as a gliding dove.

“I suppose,” Blair started, grunting slightly as she slid on her stomach— using the little strength she had in her arms to hold tight to the trunk she was dangling from. “—if we were in the mortal realm.” Blair panted slightly and Eris’s mouth formed a tight line as he watched the female struggling to climb back to the ground.

Her palms quickly formed indents from the grooves and bumps and ridges she clung to, nails digging into the wood.

“But,” Slipping slowly, trying to find a place for her dangling bare feet to land or stick to so she didn’t drop seven or eight feet right to the grass. The thin sleeves of her dress catching and snagging on sharp ribs in the bark. “—I so graciously have the rest of my immortal life ahead of me,”

“Would you…” Eris’s hands trail off as he watched, hands behind his back and head tilted.

“I have choices, to make—” Blair interrupted, toes splaying as she reached and reached for the next thing down but there was just nothing. “So I think it fair I take,” She huffed, hands slipping and sweating as she tried to grapple. “My,”

Eris raised an amused brow to her backside, arms crossing over his chest as he just watched. Her full body dangling there and then Blair yelped, right hand slipping and then she was falling with a gasp.

Eris was there a second later, large hands firmly gripping her waist as her knees bent over something. Scratching up her hands as she went, skin ripping on the rough bark and she grappled for anything. Body twisting.

It was Eris who caught her, who she tangled herself onto so she wouldn’t slam against the ground. Panting, heart beating, arms around his neck before she looked at him.

Blue, rust-flecked eyes met amber ones.

“Time.” She whispered, staring at his face. He’d caught her. She couldn’t tell if it was her pulse she could feel inside her hand, or his, as it held to the junction between his neck and shoulder. His eyes flicked down.

“Yellow was a choice, my dear Blair.” She scrambled from his arms, dropping another foot before touching the ground as she stood on her own again.

“I like yellow.” She spoke quietly, brushing her hands along her dress and halting when it streaked the fabric with a dirty red. Looking up at him with a breath, she crossed her arms instead.

“Beautiful as a rare star, then.”

Blair rolled her eyes.

“What is it you want, Eris?”

The male nearly fell to his knees at the look in her eyes, the sound of his name on her tongue for the first time.

Out loud, that is. He’d rewatched her beautiful lips play with it in his head for the past month, over and over. Kept it for himself, for when he was alone or bored or…

Eris feigned a pout.

“No polite courtier? I just saved you, my fair damsel.” He said, face serious until he smiled again and Blair started walking back towards the house. Rhys mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk as he watched.

“I do not need saving, the worst that would have happened was a few scratches or a bruise. I would have lived.” Even if she didn’t particularly care to. She didn’t say that out loud, though. But the despair seeped into something, she didn’t care enough to stop and think about the feeling.

“Mm,” He hummed, following behind her. “I suppose so.” He wanted to grab her, to touch and feel her beneath the flesh of his hands just because. Something inside his chest dragging him along behind her, he was not himself.

Blair just kept walking, right up the stones and the marble stairs off the back of the house, feet padding to the doors. Eris stopped at the steps where Rhys made him halt.

“Don’t let them hold you.” Eris called and she looked over her shoulder just briefly before flinging the doors open and disappearing inside the house that was warded off. Eris couldn’t follow after her if he wanted to.

“You saw her. For whatever reason you needed, she clearly did not have an interest in the same.” Rhys sighed, stepping in front of Elain subconsciously as Eris stood there— still looking into the House. “Now leave my city before I kill you, you know not to speak of this place to anyone.”

Eris was still staring after her when he disappeared in a rush of wind and warm light.

Elain looked back at the tree where her sister and the male had come through moments ago, only to find a particular trail of higher grass where Blair had walked and suddenly grown dandelions were blooming.

From the slam of the back door seconds later and the vacant yard that Elain was now left alone in, nobody else had noticed.

🏷️: @prythianpages @readychilledwine @impossibelle @anuttellaa @aelincaddel @umgatochamadopercyval @mirandasidefics

[theostrophywife]

mariposa.

i just need a quick fix, i ain't gonna miss this we've already crossed that line before, i won't get addicted tell me lies girl say it softly, you'll be sayin take it off me

author's note: you guys know how much i adore lucien. i'm absolutely unwell just thinking about our overprotective, feisty fox boy. there's also a surprise guest appearance that i think ya'll will appreciate 😏 song inspiration: lacrimosa by matt kent.

The rhythmic pounding of hollow drums echoed throughout the spring manor, its seductive beat beckoning you to come outside and join in on the festivities. Your gaze flickered to the shimmering lock placed on your bedroom door as Tamlin’s warning echoed in the dark and empty bedchamber. 

Stay in your room.

You huffed, crossing your arms. Who the hell was he to tell you what to do? Tamlin may be the High Lord of the Spring Court, but it didn’t grant him the right to forbid you from attending Calanmai. Especially not after you spent the whole day being paraded around the countless lords seeking your hand in marriage only to then be tucked away when your presence was no longer convenient.

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

With a wicked grin, you pulled a rhinestone pin out of your hair and knelt in front of the door. You whispered an incantation and the pin glowed brightly as you rattled it against the lock. With a flick of your wrist, the door propped open. You peered out into the hallway and confirmed that the coast was clear before carefully creeping through the quiet house. 

The spring manor was empty for the night. There wasn’t a single servant present to stop you from making your way downstairs. They were all probably at Calanmai already, dancing and drinking and doing all the things that Tamlin had barred you from doing. He already had the Great Rite to worry about, your brother had said. The High Lord didn’t need his troublesome little sister getting in the way of his duties. 

You would make him regret it. 

The thought put a spring in your step as you strolled through the gardens, taking in the balmy evening and the cool spring breeze. First thing was first, you needed to conceal your identity if you hoped to avoid being spotted by your brother or any of his cronies. With a wisp of magic, conjured an intricate golden mask, its ornate swirls and whorls fanning out into deep yellows and oranges as white spots dotted the edges of the black borders and veins. The accessory matched your copper dress perfectly. As you placed the mask over your eyes, the wings flickered and mimicked the graceful movements of a monarch butterfly.

Donning a satisfied smile, you crossed the clearing that would lead you to the festivities. Your skirts whispered against the earth as you winnowed atop the hill at the edge of the manor. Down below, you watched as High Fae and faeries alike danced around the fires lighting up the lush landscape. 

The savage beat of the drums summoned you across the grassy knoll and you gladly surrendered to its call. Smoke curled through the air and enveloped you in its intoxicating haze as you reached the heart of the crowd. Someone grabbed you by the waist, dragging you into the throng of dancing bodies circling the large bonfire burning at the center of the field. 

There was something magnetic about the movements, a ritual awakening deep within your bones as magic unfurled its golden glow through your entire being. You tipped your head back and laughed, twirling in dizzying circles as you changed partners again and again. One of them—a handsome dryad—handed you a goblet filled with a golden, sparkling liquid. 

The drink was unlike anything you’ve ever tasted before. You could feel the edges of your vision blurring, every thought and worry ebbing and flowing through your mind, and your surroundings turned fuzzy as though someone had placed a lace veil over your eyes. The carefree feeling it brought was delicious and addicting so you drained the drink down to its last drop, greedily licking the sparkling remnants off your lips. 

The dryad you were currently dancing with twirled you across the field and you clumsily stumbled across the soft grass before a pair of strong arms steadied you. 

You looked up to thank the stranger, but the words died in your throat as soon as you beheld the male standing before you. He was the embodiment of sensuality and seduction with raven hair as dark as night and golden brown skin gleaming against the backdrop of the burning bonfire, the flames mimicking the intricate tattoos peeking out above his perfectly fitted tunic. Fine clothing adorned his body, its deep ebony color matching the shimmer of darkness that seemed to waft through his shoulders like the night sky. 

But it was his eyes—those deep violet eyes that shimmered with amusement that seemed to set off your internal alarm. Danger lurked behind that amethyst gaze.

“Be careful, little butterfly.” A voice as smooth as velvet drawled. “We wouldn’t want you flying away now, do we?” 

With feline grace, the male placed one hand on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder as he swept you across the crowd. This dance wasn’t like the wild, jovial traditional dance of the Spring Court. It was smooth and steady, every twist and turn performed with calculated precision. A lethal waltz with an equally lethal partner. 

The stranger spun you around and the silks of your skirts hugged his dark trousers as he reeled you back into his arms. 

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” the handsome male purred. “Where has the High Lord been hiding a treasure like yourself, my lady?” 

You swallowed thickly. The music and laughter echoed all around you, but they sounded slow and distorted as though your mind had been dipped in a jar of honey. Faces blurred in your periphery and dragged across the forefront of your consciousness like molasses, there and gone with the blink of an eye. It took a considerable amount of effort to bring your focus back to the stranger.

“I’m new to the Spring Court.” 

It wasn’t technically a lie, given that you’d only just made your formal debut a week ago. The stranger raised a brow, but if he had any qualms regarding your statement, he didn’t voice them. 

“Allow me to extend the warmest of welcomes, then.” He took a gloved hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles, mischief sparkling in those star kissed eyes. “My name is Rhysand.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhysand,” you said with a shy smile. “I’m—”

“Spoken for,” said a voice from behind you. 

A figure emerged from the trees, tall and lean and all too familiar. A flash of scarlet glimmered in the night as Lucien came into view. 

Of all people, it had to be your brother’s best friend catching you sneaking out of the manor and dancing with the most beautiful male you’ve ever laid eyes on. Still, there was the matter of the stupid little prattling of your heart as you turned to face the handsome red headed male.

Despite the increasing effects of that damned faerie wine, the sight of Lucien never failed to take your breath away. 

As befitting an emissary, he was dressed in fine clothing of a deep, rich green that accentuated the crimson locks flowing behind his back. Intricate braids crowned his head as soft tendrils kissed the planes of his elegant face. His sparkling amber and golden mechanical eye affixed on you. A heated spark flashed through his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher its meaning. 

You’ve fancied Lucien for as long as you could remember. At first, it had been a harmless little thing. You were so young when you first met and he’d always had that older, mysterious allure made even more enticing by the fact that Lucien was forbidden fruit. He was Tamlin’s best friend and constant companion and you were the younger sister with an innocent crush.

But now that you were both fully grown, the tension between you and Lucien was anything but.

“Calanmai is for invited guests only,” Lucien said sharply, his shoulders tensing. "And the last time I checked, you weren't on the list."

A lazy smile tugged on Rhysand’s lips. “Now, now, Lucien. Is that any way for an emissary to address a High Lord?” That violet gaze winked down at you. “Especially not in the presence of a beautiful maiden.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “The lady is spoken for.”

Now that was interesting. Lucien could’ve easily identified you as Tamlin’s sister, but he chose not to. Perhaps he didn’t want word of your escape to reach your brother.

“Stunning creatures, butterflies.” Rhysand said with a knowing smile, reaching out to caress your mask. Lucien bristled, but the High Lord of the Night Court only smirked seductively. “Though I’ve found that they tend to get restless if not properly stimulated.” 

Lucien angled himself between you and the handsome stranger. “My lady has had enough excitement for one night.” 

You frowned, glaring at your friend’s back. You wanted to dance and laugh and drink until dawn. You wanted to feel the wind in your hair and the music in your chest, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body and making you relaxed and pliant, but as Lucien pinned his gaze on you, the fear and concern swimming in his eyes kept you from speaking.

“It’s time to escort you back to the manor,” Lucien announced with finality. He spoke into the smoky night, not once looking at you. An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it as your friend's fists clenched at his side.

Violet eyes met your own as Rhysand dipped into a bow. He kissed your hand once more, making you blush fiercely. “Until we meet again, little butterfly.”

You watched as the male sauntered away, but not before winking back at you with a sultry grin. 

Without a word, Lucien grabbed your wrist and winnowed into thin air. The sudden transition was jarring and you barely had time to gather your wits before you were being ushered through the doors of the manor. The black and white chequered marble floors blurred beneath your feet as you and Lucien passed through like a furious wind, his deep auburn hair nearly whipping against your cheek as he stomped up the sweeping staircase. 

He didn’t look back once. Didn’t speak as he threw the door open and watched you walk through the threshold. Alone in your bedchambers, Lucien whirled around with barely contained rage coloring his handsome face. 

“Are you fucking insane?” The Autumn Court male finally spoke as you plopped down on the bed, the aftereffects of all the dancing and drinking weighing heavy on your body. “Do you know how utterly idiotic it was to venture out alone? On Calanmai, of all nights! You’re lucky that it was me who found you and not Tamlin.”

“And dancing with Rhysand—Rhysand of all fucking people!”

“At least he bothered to talk to me!” you yelled, voice hoarse and strained. “All you and Tamlin ever do is lock me in here like I��m some child that needs to be constantly coddled.” 

“Could you blame us?” he said harshly. “One night on your own and you managed to attract the attention of the most dangerous male in all of Prythian. Rhysand may have flashed you pretty smiles and flowery words, but it doesn’t change the beast that lurks within. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. He could have ripped your mind apart without lifting a single finger.”

You blanched at the realization. “I—I didn’t know.”

“That’s precisely the point,” your friend snapped. “You jump into things headfirst without any regard for your safety.” Lucien released a shaky breath, his hand trembling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “If anything happened to you…”

The worry dancing in his eyes momentarily sobered you. Enough for you to take his hand and squeeze in reassurance. “I’m fine, Lucien. Rhysand didn’t do anything to me. We just danced, that’s all.”

His grip tightened around your wrist. “He made you smile. Made you laugh. And he called you little butterfly,” Lucien said the last word softly, but it laid heavy between you. 

“It was because of the mask—”

A burning fire raged within Lucien. “I don’t give a damn why. He doesn’t have the right.” He titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Only I get to call you that, mariposa.”

You whimpered at the gruffness of his voice. Mariposa was Lucien's nickname for you and he usually said it with soft fondness, but the there was nothing gentle about the way he was wielding it now.

There was a part of you that knew Lucien was angry. His words echoed, but they didn’t fully register and were instead swallowed up by the haze clouding your mind. The only thing you could focus on was how badly the room was spinning and how your internal temperature seemed to spike higher and higher as Lucien pulled back to pace in front of the crackling hearth.

Heat blossomed in your core and snaked its fiery tendrils throughout your body, making you feel flushed and overheated. Your skin felt too hot and your dress too suffocating as you crumpled into a nearby chair. You hadn’t even noticed that your hands were shaking until you haphazardly wiped the sweat off of your brow. 

“Y/N?” Lucien’s voice sounded hollow and distant even though he was kneeling right beside you. You blinked, murmuring softly as he took your face in his hands. Gone was the wrath and fury from earlier, replaced now by worry and concern. “You’re burning up.”

His mechanical eye focused on the golden flecks covering your mouth. Lucien cursed lowly as he wiped his thumb across your bottom lip. The action made you shiver and you involuntarily leaned into his touch, his warmth, his scent. It felt good, so good, to have him touching you. 

“Did the High Lord give you anything to drink?” Lucien tilted your chin and you groaned, lashes fluttering against your cheek as his rough, calloused hands brushed against your skin. “Think, Y/N. I need you to answer me, sweetheart.”

You blinked, recalling the goblet of wine. “No, no, it wasn’t Rhys. It was another male. A dryad. Your fingers brushed against the flecks on your mouth and you furrowed your brows in confusion at Lucien’s deep frown. “He gave me some wine. It was gold and sweet.”

“That bloody bastard.” Your friend’s tone was sharp and biting, anger rippling through him in waves. 

“Why?” you asked as spots blurred your vision. “I feel fuzzy and warm and it’s so godsdamned stuffy in this room. What’s happening to me, Lucien?”

“You drank Amortis,” Lucien explained. 

The mention of the potion sent a course of panic through you, but it was swallowed up again by the flame of desire burning hotter and hotter underneath your friend’s intense gaze. Somewhere in the abscesses of your brain, you knew that this was bad. 

Amortis was an aphrodisiac used as an aid during the mating rituals of Calanmai. You vaguely recalled learning about it during your lessons about the Great Rite, but you’d been too drunk on faerie wine and music for the significance of the drink to register.

“The dryad must have slipped it into your wine when you weren’t looking.” His expression darkened, a snarl rippling through his chest. “I’m going to rip him apart bit by bit. Tamlin can have what’s left.”

His eyes widened. “Oh gods, I have to tell Tam.”

You shook your head and tugged at his wrist. “No,” you pleaded. If Tamlin heard about any of this, he’d never let you out of his sight again. “Please don’t tell my brother, Lu.” 

Lucien softened at your given nickname for him. Try as he might, the Autumn Court male couldn’t deny that he had a soft spot for you. Having known you your entire life, he was just as protective over you as Tamlin was. Growing up with brothers, he hadn’t been prepared for the antics and schemes that you always seemed to get yourself into. You were trouble personified and you had him completely wrapped around your finger. 

Always have, always will.  

So he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine,” Lucien conceded. “But we have to do something. You’re burning up.” 

“A shower,” you suggested. “I need a cold shower.”

Your friend helped you onto your feet and escorted you into the large bathroom attached to your bedchambers. The marble tiled shower hissed and groaned as Lucien eased the handles. Mist fogged up the mirror and you leaned against the countertop, wriggling out of your shoes. 

The effects of the potion reached its peak and took full control of your body. Every sensation felt intensified as you doubled over in pain. You nearly ripped the dress off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your lace underclothes as you stepped into the cold shower. 

Curled up into a fetal position, you hugged your knees to your chest and allowed the freezing water to cool your body temperature. Lucien knelt down beside you and wrapped an arm against your shoulder, stroking your hair and murmuring words of comfort. 

The warmth of the Autumn Court male enveloped you in cinnamon and sunshine. Whether it was the Amortis or your natural attraction to Lucien, you found yourself leaning in closer and nuzzling into his neck. His grip on your shoulder tightened as your lips brushed against his skin. 

“Y/N.” 

A fiery tendril curled around your finger as you looked up and met Lucien’s gaze. Water fell in rapid droplets, soaking through his white shirt and clinging onto his golden-brown skin. You traced the scar above his brow and his eyes fluttered close in response. Lucien’s ragged breathing filled the room as you traced the elegant planes of his face, your thumb brushing against his lips. They looked so lush and inviting, you wanted nothing more than to lean in and take a bite. 

You tilted your chin up, nuzzling your nose against his. An inch closer and his lips would be on yours. Lucien's lashes kissed your cheek as his eyes fluttered open. Meeting his burning gaze was like looking directly at the sun.

“I want to kiss you,” you whispered. 

A flash of something dark and dangerous glimmered in Lucien’s hypnotic stare before he clamped down on your wrist. For a second, you could see the conflict raging within him. He wanted this as much as you did. All he needed to do was give in. The shower above you hissed and Lucien blinked, snapping out of whatever moment the two of you had been in the midst of.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “It’s just the effects of Amortis.” 

“Amortis lowers your inhibitions,” you countered. “But it doesn’t alter your desires, which means I’d want to kiss you even if I were sober.”

Lucien gently removed your hand from his face and set it on your lap. “Maybe so,” he mused before reaching up to turn the shower handle. “But I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Not like this.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Why? Because I’m Tamlin’s pesky little sister who’s had an embarrassing crush on you for centuries?” 

The redhead pinned you against the tiled wall, his stare burning holes into your skin. “Because I care about you. Because the first time I kiss you won’t be because you accidentally consumed an aphrodisiac.” He braced his palms on either side of your head and you swallowed at how much he towered over you, how easily he caged you in. “When I finally kiss you, mariposa, it won’t just be a kiss. It’ll be everything and there’ll be no going back from it. So I need you to be sure.” 

A shiver crawled up your spine. “I am sure,” you said softly. “I’ve always been sure about you, Lucien.”

He smiled. A devastating sort of smile that sent sunlight into the cracks of your soul. “Then tell me in the morning, little butterfly.”

Dawn broke over the horizon as golden rays speared through the bruised sky. Someone had left the curtains in your bedchambers spread apart. Probably you. Or maybe it was Lucien. 

Lucien. 

Memories from the night before flooded your thoughts. After your embarrassing confession, Lucien had helped you get dressed and carried you to bed. You shot up in the large four poster bed, rustling the pillows and blankets that he’d carefully tucked you into. A glimpse of red snagged your attention and you found your friend sprawled across a velvet lounge chair, his long legs hanging over the edge. 

The sound of your shuffling roused the red haired male from sleep. He pitched forward, alarm spreading through his face when he found you staring at him. Lucien crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside your bed. He scanned your features, gently cradling your chin between his fingers. 

“I’m fine, Lu.” 

Relief washed over your friend. There was something endearing about the way he fretted over you. 

“Never scare me like that again,” Lucien said. 

You grinned. “I think that’s the last time I ever drink Amortis. Though I can’t promise to stay out of trouble.”

Lucien sighed deeply, running a hand through his fiery locks. “I’m serious, Y/N. In all of my immortal existence, I’ve never felt terror like I did when I saw you dancing with Rhysand.”

“Is the High Lord truly that horrifying?” 

“I wasn’t scared of him,” Lucien said. There was no bravado in the statement, just pure honesty as he fixed his gaze on you. “I was scared for him. Of what I wanted to do to him for simply breathing the same air as you.”

You swallowed thickly. “What you said last night…what I said last night. I meant it, Lucien.” 

Lucien went still as death, his mechanical eye whirring to life as he scanned over you. Checking for any traces of Amortis. Confirming that you weren’t still under its spell. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caressed his cheek. 

“I’m not under any spell,” you whispered softly. “What I feel, it’s real. I wanted to kiss you last night and I still want to kiss you this morning. I’m sure, Lucien.” 

His slender fingers curled gently around your wrist, his breathing low and ragged as he brought his gaze up to you. There was something primal and possessive in those eyes. 

“I won’t insult you by attempting to describe how I feel about you in words,” he declared, his voice like honeyed wine ebbing through your very core. “I’ll just show you instead.”

Lucien’s slender fingers curled through your unbound hair, tilting your head at just the right angle before he gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss ignited a fire within your core. It was soft and sweet yet demanding and possessive. You could tell that Lucien was barely restraining himself by the way his breath hitched as your lips met. 

You melted into his touch as he brought you closer, setting you on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. Centuries of curiosity was satisfied as you raked your fingers through his hair, the feel of it smooth and silky like you’d always imagined. Shy pecks turned into lingering heated kisses as you explored one another. Lucien groaned when you shifted your hips, greedily leaning down to taste more of him. 

He tugged you by the top of your thighs, placing you chest to chest. The sunlight streaming in from the window crowned him in glorious day, his auburn hair shining brightly like a living flame as though Lucien was the embodiment of fire itself. There was a wildness in him that drew you in like a moth to a flame. 

Lucien stroked your cheek tenderly as though he were convincing himself that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. His features softened as you took his hand and kissed his fingertips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “You put the flowers in this court to shame with the way you bloom.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, filling you with a wave of emotions. It was a rare occasion for you to be rendered speechless, but Lucien was more than capable of stunning you into complete silence. 

You pressed your lips against his in response, the kiss turning urgent as you poured all of the words you weren’t able to articulate into one single action. Lucien groaned as you gently tugged on his bottom lip. He teased his tongue past the seam of your lips and you gladly obliged, welcoming him in. 

There was no trace of his restraint from earlier as Lucien flipped you over, pinning you underneath him as he completely devoured you. It was in that moment that you realized that you’ve never been properly kissed. Because this…this paled in comparison to every other kiss you’ve ever had. 

It nearly knocked the breath out of you. From the way that Lucien’s chest was rising and falling, you weren’t the only one. As the kiss deepened, the desire to feel him, to truly feel him, became overwhelming. You tugged on the hem of his shirt and Lucien pulled away to allow you to pull it off of him. 

He toyed with the straps of the nightgown that he had helped you change into a few hours ago, a question in his expression. You merely nodded and shrugged out of the silky material. Lucien watched as you laid yourself bare before him, his fingers brushing against your delicate skin. 

You tugged at the front of his trousers and he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “Are you sure?” 

“I told you, Lucien.” You said, meeting his burning gaze. “I’ve always been sure about you. I want this. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he whispered. “More than anyone has ever wanted anything in this entire realm.” 

“So take me.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you again but this time it was desperate and full of need. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every line and curve with devotion. Lucien kissed every surface of skin as though he were committing your body to memory. His fingers dipped low as he parted your legs, groaning when he found you wet and ready for him. 

You watched as he lined himself up at your entrance. Every move was filled with tenderness. Lucien teased the tip in, his gaze never leaving yours while he eased his cock inside of you. His length stretched you beyond your limit, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Once he filled you to the hilt, he paused. 

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of red hair from his cheek. “Never better.”

Your friend smiled before slowly pulling out, monitoring your reactions as he established a steady pace. By no means were you inexperienced, but as Lucien rolled his hips into yours, it felt like you’d been starved of touch your whole life. He seemed to echo the sentiment as awe and bewilderment took over his features. 

It had never felt like this with anyone else. 

The way he touched you was full of devotion as though your body was a temple and he was making his burnt offerings upon the altar. Lucien lavished you with worship, his large hands easing your leg up so he could angle himself deeper. You moaned as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Gods, Lucien.”

His forehead dropped to yours, eyes blazing with fire. You didn’t have to say the words. Lucien knew exactly what you meant. “I know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I know, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breathing ragged. His muscles tensed underneath your fingertips as you raked your nails across his back. Lucien growled into your mouth as you dragged him down beside you, flipping positions so that you were perched on his lap. 

His skin glistened in the early morning light, beads of sweat glimmering like crystals along his perfectly sculpted torso. You braced your hands on his chest and rode him slowly, moving your hips back and forth while he watched through heavy lids. A large hand clamped down on your right hip hard enough to bruise, but you kept the steady rhythm as the male underneath you groaned. 

From this angle, the friction on your clit combined with Lucien’s upward thrusts unraveled that familiar feeling in your core. Lucien felt you clench around him and he sat upright, sucking harshly at your neck. 

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered gently. You closed your eyes, giving into the rush of sensations. “That’s it. I want to watch you come undone.”

The impact made your vision blur with white heat. For a split second, you felt as though you were floating above your body, watching as you writhed in pleasure. Lucien’s voice brought you back and you relished the way your name tumbled so prettily from his mouth, like the prayer of a devoted believer. He roared as he finished, his head lolling against the crook of your neck. 

At some point, his braids had come undone and you giggled as crimson locks tickled your cheek. Lucien lifted his head, observing you with a soft smile. Behind him, the sun reached its peak over the horizon and formed a golden crown upon his head. 

You propped an elbow up against your pillow, a small smile spreading across your lips as you admired the male beside you. 

Lucien grinned back, brushing his nose against your cheek. “What are you thinking about, mariposa?”

“I’m thinking that I should endanger myself more often if this is what it leads to.”

The redhead frowned, flicking your nose. “You do seem to have a special talent for attracting trouble.” 

You shrugged lazily. “I attract a lot of things. Including stubborn, possessive redheads.”

Lucien chuckled before pulling you into his chest. His arm snaked around your waist as he nuzzled against the back of your neck. 

“Falling for you is by far the most reckless thing I’ve ever done,” he whispered softly. You turned slightly, worry marking your features. Lucien smoothed the creases on your forehead. “But I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

You sighed in relief, melting back into his arms. Comfortable silence stretched between you as the reality of what you’d just done settled. Lucien was right. There was no going back from this. 

The spring manor came to life, voices filtering in and out as everyone started preparing for the day. You turned to fully face him, speaking the words that you were both thinking. 

“What are we gonna tell my brother, Lu?”

Lucien brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We’ll tell him the truth. That this was inevitable. That nothing in this realm could’ve kept me away from you.”

“Are you sure about this?” Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. “About me?” 

“I am sure,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been sure about you.”

As he echoed your words from last night, you leaned in to kiss him. You were part thrilled, part terrified of whatever came next. 

But as long as Lucien was by your side, you were ready to face the dawn of a new day.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 8

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 7 | chapter 9 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut, domestic arguments, slut shaming, mentions of gore (UTM arm stuff) body shaming, small mention of forced food restriction, this chapter is kinda painful, feylin smut, Ianthe

Words: ~5.2k

Author's Note: it's here! I'm very happy with this chapter- well. I'm sad about it cause poor Feyre 😭 it ended up being more brutal than I had imagined it would be?? So um. Yeah. I hate, hate, hate Ianthe. I hope you guys like the chapter!

18+ only pls

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Feyre was dying.

She was sure of it. She had to be dying, with the overwhelming heat coming off of her and the immense pains in her abdomen.

Granted, Feyre’s thoughts had been very muddled lately, moments in time disappearing from her memory and nothing made sense.

Feyre had realized again that she was back in Spring, separated from her perfect nest she had made before. She wasn’t sure how many days had passed, how long she had been drifting in and out of sleep.

Ianthe visited her far too often, cramming food into Feyre’s mouth and commanding her to eat and plying her with tea that sent her back to sleep.

Tamlin had come to her four times.

Feyre knew that one for sure, she could vividly remember the instant relief she felt when the alpha had knotted her, each and every time.

She only wished it had happened more often.

Right now, Feyre had her hand between her thighs, desperately trying to find some sort of reprieve from the fire ravaging her flesh. She’d been in the same position, hips rocking when she could summon the energy. She wished she had her nightgown still, the one that smelled so perfect. But it had disappeared at some point when she was asleep.

Her bedroom door swung open, and Feyre managed to look towards it, hoping to scent her alpha-

But it was the rancid scent of Ianthe, wilting roses and dirt that got stuck in her nose for hours after she was left alone.

Feyre groaned, turning away from the alpha as quickly as she could manage.

“Feyre, we’ve talked about this. You need to eat, and you need to drink something,” Ianthe scolded. “Now, turn around omega.”

She fought the command as long as she could, but she was already so weak, so tired. Feyre rolled back to the alpha, grimacing as pain lanced through her.

Ianthe attempted to pry Feyre’s mouth open and place a piece of a sandwich inside, but Feyre wouldn’t budge.

The taste of her fingers were like ash, and Feyre nearly vomited, but she held her mouth closed, unwilling to eat the food she was offering. Every time she ate, it meant that Tamlin would not appear, and she needed his knot.

Feyre kept turning her head away from Ianthe’s chilled fingers, until finally the alpha huffed and stormed out of the room.

Finally. The scent of her would linger, but the intensity was already so much lesser…

Her right hand returned to between her thighs, slowly rubbing at the bundle of nerves there.

She wished she still had her nightgown, the one with her alpha’s scent… just the thought of it, so fresh and clean and intoxicating lessened the burning of her body for a moment, before kicking up to a level higher than before.

Feyre let out a wail, in so much pain that she could hardly breathe.

The door opened once more, and the scent of lilacs, cedar and earth filled Feyre’s senses. Or nearly what she needed, but it would do.

She took a few greedy lungfuls before turning her head to the door to watch Tamlin swing it shut.

“Alpha,” she groaned, and she wanted to present for him, if only she had the strength in her limbs to do so.

“Omega. Ianthe said you refuse to eat.” His voice was tense, verging on angry and Feyre cowered into herself, terrified that she made the alpha upset. “You need to eat, Feyre.”

“Pain,” Feyre whispered.

Tamlin gave her a pitying look before approaching her in her nest and sitting down next to her. “You hurt too much to eat, omega?” He asked, and Feyre nodded her head slightly. “Do you need alpha’s knot?”

Feyre moaned at that, the thought of being filled and locked to an alpha just what she needed. She let Tamlin pull the sheets from her body, prowling over her naked form. She was already leaking slick steadily, and he was able to push in in one slow thrust, stopping for a moment to let Feyre bask in the fullness.

Finally. Finally full again.

Feyre came quickly, her body overstimulated from the days on end need that flooded her. Her second came as Tamlin’s knot started to catch, so close to what she needs.

And then they were blissfully locked together, Tamlin’s seed coating her insides. I hope I have a baby, Feyre thought as Tamlin gently laid them on their sides, and arm wrapping around Feyre’s torso. Feyre sighed, the heat finally abating for the moment.

She had nearly nodded off to the calming sound of Tamlin’s breathing and steady heartbeat when his knot started to deflate, and he moved to pull away.

All tiredness left Feyre’s body, and she was flooded with instant panic as she quickly turned to wrap her arms around the alpha.

“Don’t leave, alpha, please don’t leave me,” Feyre cried pathetically, fat tears already pouring from her eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want please just don’t leave me, stay with me.”

Tamlin let out a heavy sigh. “Feyre, you know I have things to-”

“Alpha, please,” she wailed, grasping tighter to him when he tried to move.

Another sigh. “If you eat, omega, I will stay with you. But you need to eat and drink,” he commanded gently, and Feyre bobbed her head in agreement.

She still didn’t move.

“Omega, you need to sit back against the headboard to eat.” She let go of him with a pout on her face, but scooted back against the wall as he asked. Tamlin moved the tray that Ianthe had brought in onto the bed right in front of Feyre’s crossed legs. “Eat.”

Feyre sighed and picked up the sandwich, bland and ashy on her tongue. She choked it down as quickly as she could, then took the teacup that Tamlin was now offering her and drained that swiftly. Feyre placed the cup back on the tray, and turned her eyes on the alpha expectantly.

Tamlin moved the tray onto her nightstand and moved up the bed, taking Feyre in his arms. He pulled a blanket over them, a pale green and entirely too scratchy on Feyre’s sensitive skin, but it would have to do. Feyre snuggled into his hold, breathing in his scent and relaxing as she listened to his heartbeat.

Tamlin kept his word and stayed with Feyre throughout the night, knotting her a total of five times.

When she awoke for the final time, her mind felt clear once more. Her heat was nearly gone now, only a dull ache and mild fever after receiving the care and hormones she needed.

Tamlin stirred behind her, his arm tightening around her middle before pulling away entirely. Feyre rolled to follow his body, still not ready to be without her alpha.

“Tam? Where are you going?” Feyre asked softly as he stood up from the bed and began pulling his clothes on.

“I have a meeting to get to, Feyre. I’ll have Ianthe come and check on you soon,” Tamlin said stiffly, already fully clothed and walking towards the door. Anger bubbled in Feyre’s chest, overriding any sleepiness she had held onto.

“This isn’t fair!” Feyre yelled at his back. “You barely helped me during my heat, you haven’t marked me, you didn’t think to let me choose how to decorate my nest! It’s like you don’t even care about me anymore!”

Tamlin spun around faster than Feyre had seen him move in a long time, faster than at their wedding. “I’m the one who doesn’t care?!” He shouted back at her, his scent and face flooded with anger. “You couldn’t even make it down the aisle to me Feyre, how do you think that made me feel? And then you run off with him, when you were due for your heat any day!”

“You know that I had no control over-”

“You came home reeking of Rhysand! Lucien said you were clinging to him, like some desperate omega whore!” He spat at Feyre, and she shrank down into her bed.

“Get out,” Feyre whispered, pulling the blankets over her body tightly.

“Feyre, I didn’t-”

“Get out!” Feyre screamed, throwing a pillow at him as hard as she could. A moment later her door opened and slammed shut, rattling in its frame.

Tears streamed down Feyre’s face as she curled in on herself tightly, a pillow clutched to her chest.

Omega whore. That’s what she had been, hadn’t she? She had gone into Rhysand’s room, slept in his bed, ground against him…

Feyre sobbed. Everything Tamlin said was true. She was a horrible, horrible omega. She doesn’t deserve his mark, that’s probably why he hasn’t given it to her yet.

Hours passed, but Feyre stayed in the same position, tears constantly flowing down her face.

The thoughts wouldn’t leave.

Feyre stayed there until the sun had dipped below the horizon, after Ianthe had come to try and force her down to the dining room.

She finally moved to bathe. Her body felt disgusting after however many days she had spent in a heat soaked haze. The warmth of the water did little to warm her heart, which felt cold and brittle at the moment. Like she would shatter with one more vicious word from Tamlin.

Feyre stayed in there until her skin was pruney and the water had cooled, barely managing to wash herself with her limited energy. She dragged herself out, drying herself a bit before stumbling back into her bedroom.

Her nest was atrocious. She could see that now, after having built one exactly how she liked in the Night Court. It was filled with muted greens and browns, colors that she had felt safe wrapped in when she was a human- but now, now she needed vibrancy, a reminder that life is bright and joyful even when she doesn’t feel that way.

This nest, she hates.

Feyre ripped all of the blankets off, the pillows, the finally the sage green sheets, all of them tossed into the corner of her room. Feyre went through her closet and wardrobe, happening across a set of dusty pink sheets and a soft white cotton nightgown.

Better than nothing.

She pulled the nightgown over her head, then put the sheets on as fast as she could manage, feeling her exhaustion creeping back in after all of the movement. She slipped between them, relieved that these sheets seemed softer than the ones before. Feyre sighed, letting the tension leave her body with it as she curled in on herself again.

Omega whore.

Tears trailed down her face again as the insult echoed in her mind.

Finally, Feyre slipped into sleep.

Nightmares found her.

She was back under that mountain, trapped in a cell once more with her arm a broken, infected mess. This time, Tamlin came to see her.

“Does it hurt, omega?”

Feyre’s face scrunched at the title- “What?”

“Your arm,” he said, gesturing to it. Feyre looked down at it, saw the bone poking through skin. She nodded and looked back to him. “Good. Stupid omega whores like you deserve to be in pain.” Faster than she could see, his hand darted through the bars of her cell, fingers grabbing the bone protruding through her skin and pulled.

Feyre screamed, the pain worse than anything she had ever faced, but he didn’t let up. He grabbed her arms with his other hand and twisted, bones snapping further-

Feyre bolted out of bed, barely getting to the toilet in time to empty the contents of her stomach into it.

Knocks were coming from Feyre’s door, had been since she woke, and the door quickly opened after her retching started.

“Feyre, are you okay?” Lucien asked as he pulled her hair away from her face, a soothing hand on her back and she leaned on the bowl of the toilet for support.

“Nightmare,” Feyre whispered once she was certain her stomach was empty. She rinsed her mouth in the sink as thoroughly as she could. “What did you want?”

Lucien looked her up and down, taking in her pale, shaking frame. “I wanted to invite you out for breakfast in the gardens,” he suggested gently. “Tamlin…” Feyre shook harder at his name, and Lucien took her hands into his, the alpha’s scent of autumn leaves and crisp wind and calm soothing Feyre’s omega. “He told me what happened, your fight. I wanted to make sure you are okay, and offer you a way out of breakfast in the dining room if you wish.”

Feyre nodded her head. That sounded nice, better than dealing with Tamlin’s cruel words bouncing around in her head as he and Ianthe most likely ignored her. “I’d like that. Give me a moment to change?”

“Of course, Feyre. I’ll be waiting outside,” the redhead said with a soft smile. Feyre looked through her closet for something to wear-

All of the dresses were far too complex for her to put on herself. They required lacing in the back, both for the corset and the dress. She shuffled through everything, and happened across a few skirts and matching shirts- perfect. Feyre pulled out a pale pink set and quickly stripped herself of her nightgown and slid them on. The fabric was soft and flowy, and the skirt ended at her knees. The shirt had long sleeves that billowed slightly around her arm before coming in to a cuff at her wrists, and buttoned up the front.

How had she never worn this in the past year here?

Feyre knew the answer. She was rarely allowed to dress herself, let alone wake up on her own and not by the bustling of maids entering her room and prepping her for the day. She shook her head. She was allowed to today. Thank the Mother, Feyre didn’t think she could stand to be near Ianthe this early after such a horrible day and night yesterday.

Feyre made her way to the door, before she remembered to grab a pair of slippers to protect her feet. She opened the door, and found Lucien leaning against the wall opposite it. “Ready?” Feyre nodded. “Let’s go then, dear Feyre.” She took his extended arm gratefully, happy to have a calm, kind alpha near her to put her omega at ease. They walked slowly down the halls, as Feyre was still feeling exhausted from her heat and subsequent fight with her alpha.

Soon, they hit the front doors of the manor, the dining room only separated from them by the double glass doors. Feyre could hear the hum of Tamlin’s voice, Ianthe’s grating laughter. She tugged Lucien outside, not wanting to linger in case one of them decided to come to the door and drag her inside.

Lucien led her to a secluded spot in the garden, a table already set for their meal. Feyre was happy to note that there were no red roses in sight, something she was sure Lucien had planned for. Lucien pulled out a chair for Feyre, to which she shook her head but sat anyway.

“You know you don’t have to do that, I’m not lady, after all,” Feyre said as Lucien took his seat across from her.

“I know, Feyre, I just like to be nice and treat you as one,” he replied with a chuckle, and took the lids off of both of their plates. Feyre looked to hers, then at Lucien’s, and back to hers.

“Why do you get more bacon than me?”

Lucien snickered at her before he moved two more pieces of bacon to her plate from his, giving them an equal four each. “I didn’t plate the food, Feyre, otherwise I would have given you ten pieces, knowing how much you love bacon.”

Feyre’s plate was… sad, in her opinion. Two fried eggs, a slice of toast with a small amount of butter, the now four pieces of bacon, and a small bowl of fruit. She had forgotten how much smaller her portions were here, after being allowed to dish food out for herself as she liked. But at least Lucien was kind enough to sacrifice some of his bacon for her, that made a small smile on her face.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, though she could practically feel the questions rattling around in Lucien’s head. “Yes, Lucien?”

He sighed, setting his fork down. “Are you okay, Feyre?”

Feyre blinked at him. “I’m fine, Lucien. Pissed at Tamlin and exhausted, yes, but I’m fine. Why?”

Lucien’s eyes darted away from hers for a moment before meeting her blue orbs again. “You were very distressed when you came home, and I wanted to make sure that nothing…” he paused, searching for the right words. “If anything happened to you while you were away, Feyre, you can talk to me about it.”

Feyre stared at him. That’s what he was worried about? She couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Lucien, nothing bad happened to me in the Night Court, I promise you. Rhys was very proper once I went in to heat, he brought me here as soon as it started.” Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, and it was obvious to Feyre that this had been weighing heavily on him. “If he had had any ill intentions toward me, he could have kept me for the last day of the week that I owed him. But he didn’t, he brought me back here.” Feyre couldn’t help but defend Rhysand, he had been more attentive and caring to her in the five days she had been in his court than the entire last year in Spring. Lucien opened his mouth, but Feyre stopped him before he could disagree with her. “Lucien, I felt safe in his court. He and Mor were very kind to me, and never forced me to do anything while I was there.”

Lucien exhaled heavily, Feyre’s words not what he had been expecting. “I am glad that you were safe, Feyre. I do wish you weren’t bound to him, still. But it is good to hear that you are not in danger of being tortured.”

Feyre snorted. “The only torture I’ve been through is Rhys’s training, though even that was enjoyable.”

“Training?” Lucien asked warily.

“Yes…” Feyre paused, gauging his reaction. His mechanical eye was whirring, looking over Feyre’s form for any injuries. “He asked to help me train my mental shields and…”

“And?”

“And my magic,” Feyre added hesitantly.

“What magic, Feyre?” Lucien asked. “You haven’t shown any signs of magic over the past year, you know that.”

Feyre’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes I have, Lucien. Remember that god-awful dress Ianthe had tried to force me into? The one with red roses stitched all over the skirt of the dress?” Lucien nodded his head the memory coming back to him. “I set it on fire.”

“No, we decided that it had caught fire on the candle nearby, Feyre,” Lucien said as he shook his head.

“Lucien. It was me. The candle was several feet away from the dress. And the first signs of magic normally come in the beginning stages of life then fade, right?” He nodded his head again, confusion in his eyes. “And I was able to conjure wind in the Night Court after practicing, Lucien. Rhys thinks that I am close to my first magical expansion in my body, and that my magic is growing in at an accelerated pace after being Made.”

Lucien looked off to the side, deep in thought for a minute. “If that’s true, Feyre, then you do need training, and as much as possible. Uncontrolled magic is dangerous, especially once an expansion hits the body…” he trailed off.

“Will you talk to Tamlin about it? I would like to train when I’m home, as well. With Tamlin, if he’s willing,” Feyre asked cautiously. The last time she had asked to train in any way, Tamlin had exploded in anger, insisting that Feyre would never need to train, would never be in danger again.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Feyre… You remember how he was when you asked to learn to use a sword.”

“But that was a year ago, Lucien! Things have changed now, Rhys told me that Hybern is planning to go to war against Prythian. I should be training, you even said so!”

Lucien sighed. “Alright, Feyre. I’ll talk to him about it. But I can’t promise anything.”

Feyre breathed out, relieved that she had convinced him to try. “Thank you, Lucien.” He gave her a soft smile, one that she returned. “So… how many days was I in heat?”

“Nine days, Feyre.”

Nine? “What? But they’ve never lasted more than a week…”

“Tamlin was… well, he wasn’t in much of a state to help you, after you returned,” Lucien said cautiously, and his words lit a fire in Feyre’s chest. “You were crying out for your alpha, even when… even when Tamlin was holding you.” Heat moved to Feyre’s ears- had she really, truly been acting like an omega whore, just like Tamlin said? “It’s not your fault, Feyre, you were covered in Rhysand’s scent, and without Tamlin’s mark, well, most omegas normally latch on to the alpha they see when they first go into heat,” he added when he saw Feyre’s face fall.

“But- I don’t understand, why wouldn’t Tam help me?” Tears formed in her eyes, another layer of shame covering her.

“Tamlin was enraged that you had been near Rhysand in that state at all, he… he destroyed his study over the first few days.”

“But did he even stop to think about how much pain I was in? He stayed away long enough that my heat extended, Lucien!”

“He came to you in the end, Feyre. He’s trying, there’s just been a lot to adjust to in the past two weeks.” Feyre tried to let her anger go, she did. She knew that her leaving during their wedding ceremony would have consequences, just not to the degree that Tamlin would ignore her during her heat…

“I can’t… I can’t forgive him for that, Lucien. None of this was my choice, I should not be punished for a bargain that saved my life.”

“I know, Feyre, I know. Please, just give him a bit of time. The two of you can cool down and talk about this when you’re ready.” Feyre nodded her head in agreement after a moment. She would be giving him a wide berth for the next few days- she didn’t think she could see him and not hear the words he spat at her yesterday. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have gotten Feyre to agree. “So, besides the training, how was the rest of your time?” Lucien asked curiously.

“Well… I started drawing again… the view from my bedroom was so magnificent, I couldn’t help but start again,” Feyre said softly, thinking about the many sunrises and sunsets she had seen over that beautiful mountain range.

“Feyre, that’s amazing!” Lucien congratulated, taking one of her hands in his. “So you were truly comfortable there?”

Feyre nodded her head. “Yes, it was a nice experience, actually. Which did surprise me. But Mor, she brought me some catalogs to shop from if I wanted, and…” Feyre paused, not sure if she was willing to share the information, but she was excited enough that she couldn’t stop. “They let me pick out whatever I wanted for my nest, and it turned out… I had never realized that I was supposed to feel completely relaxed in my nest, fully safe. But when I made one there… it was perfect,” Feyre gushed, remembering the soft feel of fabrics between her fingers, the beautiful colors surrounding her bed. When she finally looked at Lucien’s face again, his eyes had softened significantly.

“I’m happy for you, Feyre. It’s beautiful when an omega finally creates their perfect nest for themselves. Is that why you fought with Tamlin…?” He asked cautiously, and Feyre sighed again.

“Partially. I feel like my needs as an omega have been… pushed aside, deemed less important. And I feel like, if I don’t get them met soon, that…” she stopped mid sentence, unable to finish her thought.

“That you’ll collapse in on yourself?” Lucien offered, and Feyre nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. I’m still not fully used to having all of these new urges and desires, and I’ve been relying on all of you to tell me what I need. But in the Night Court… they actually offered it to me, put my omega at ease. Do you know where I’m coming from?” Feyre asked Lucien, tears building in her eyes.

“I do, Feyre, I do. I’ll talk to Tamlin about it, try to get through to him for you. You don’t deserve to be miserable in your new designation. And I’m sorry, that we didn’t help you before,” Lucien said softly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Lucien. I just want to feel safe, cared for-”

“Hello, you two,” came a cheery voice from behind Feyre, but dread filled her stomach as she turned to look at the intruder. Ianthe, dressed in her priestess robes as usual. “I came to grab Feyre from you, we have a lot of preparations to get through for the new ceremony,” Ianthe said, extending a hand for Feyre to take.

Feyre stayed seated, unwilling to follow the alpha anywhere. After all, she was the reason the first ceremony was interrupted.

“Feyre, get up right now,” the alpha commanded harshly, and Feyre’s body followed the order instantly, much to her dismay. “Good girl, now come with me.” Feyre placed her hand on Ianthe’s arm and let the alpha lead her back into the manor, away from the kind aura of Lucien. “We need to get you measured for a new gown, I’m sure those heathens in the Night Court ripped it shreds and burned it,” Ianthe spat, dragging Feyre into sitting room where she had spent the majority of her time over the past year.

Ianthe clicked her tongue and a maid entered, measuring tape and full length mirror in hand.

“Do we really need to take new measurements?” Feyre asked. “I’m sure that I am the same size as I was a week ago, Ianthe.”

Ianthe sucked in breath. “I’m not so sure about that, Feyre. How much did food did you shovel into your face?” She asked, a venomous edge to her words. She guided Feyre in front of the mirror and stripped her of her clothes. “See that?” Ianthe asked as she pinched the skin covering Feyre’s stomach. “That’s fat, you silly little omega. You had to have eaten your weight in food there, Feyre.” She gave her a sickeningly sweet smile before pinching the skin on her thighs as well. “Next time, omega, show some restrain, hmm?”

Ianthe snapped her fingers, and maid came over to Feyre and began measuring every part of her body. Ianthe would huff after one, telling Feyre how much she had grown in each area. By the end of it, Feyre was holding back her tears, and could barely look at her reflection in the mirror.

She had thought her body was finally taking shape how it should have over the past year- but she was wrong. Feyre could hardly stand to see the fat hanging off of her, every movement causing it to jiggle slightly.

When Ianthe finally handed Feyre her clothes back, she put them on as quickly as she could, wishing for once that she was hidden beneath one of the ridiculously poofy dresses Ianthe liked to clothe her in.

Ianthe led her to the couches, where a tray of tea was waiting for them, kept warm in the enchanted teacups that Ianthe favored. She encouraged her to drink, so Feyre did, if only to keep the peace. Yea with Ianthe normally ended with Feyre being dreadfully tired, normally retiring to her room for a few hours of napping until dinner.

Ianthe waited for Feyre to finish her entire teacup, and then poured her another from the pot before speaking.

“Now that the… disappointment is over, Feyre, we can begin to work on the theming for the wedding. Again,” Ianthe added, anger lacing her tone. “The ceremony will be in four months. I believe that a lovely, tradition Spring Court wedding is still the way to go, what about you, Feyre?”

Feyre knew it was a trap, knew that anything beyond what Ianthe suggested would simply not do. But she couldn’t help it.

“Could we theme it to the season we’re in? We would be in Winter, by the time four months pass.” A winter wedding would be lovely, Feyre thought. She could almost see it, trees covered in glistening white snow, snow falling over a beautiful wooden archway as she walked down the aisle to Tamlin, using the season that almost killed her to bring to life the beautiful promise of forever that they would make to each other.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Feyre. Tamlin is the High Lord of Spring, he cannot have a Winter wedding.” Ianthe shook her head at Feyre, eyes narrowing heatedly at her. “Spring it is. Any requests for flowers? Roses, of course, will be included, it would be a waste to not include the former Lady’s lovely rose gardens after all.”

“Anything but red-”

“Feyre. It is foolish to ban a color such as red from a Spring wedding that includes roses!” Ianthe hissed at her, her scenting flooding with anger.

But Feyre was angrier. “I do not care, Ianthe, I will not have another panic attack at my own wedding!” Feyre screeched at her, nearly ready to rip her claws into Ianthe’s stupidly pretty face. “This is my wedding as well as Tamlin’s, you would be best to remember that.” Feyre had a growl building in her throat, until she locked eyes with the now fuming alpha.

“And you, Feyre, would be best to remember that you are lucky that Tamlin still wishes to marry you, after the stunt you pulled two weeks ago. And running away with another alpha, at that! Omega whore is right,” Ianthe spat at Feyre before standing from her chair and sweeping out of the room dramatically.

As soon as Feyre could no longer hear her footsteps, she made her way to her room as quickly as she could, choking back tears the entire way.

She reached her door, opening quickly and shutting it softly behind her before sliding down it, tears flowing from her eyes.

Too much, all of this is too much.

Feyre crawled to the bed, hoisting herself onto the mattress after a few tries. She curled up underneath the sheet, holding her legs to her chest as she slowly cried herself to sleep, sunshine still pouring through the windows of her bedroom.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @homeslices

[azzysmate]

Back From the Dead - Part 2

Azriel x RhysSister Fanfic

Summary: Rhaen, sister of Rhysand, was supposedly dead for centuries, but what if she wasn’t? What if she was only trapped by something no one ever dreamed of being so dangerous? And what will happen when she appears at the border of the Spring Court and human lands barely alive?

3rd Person POV

The High Lord and his Spymaster walk down the halls of the clinic in silence until they are certain that the two females will not overhear them.

Rhys, only a few steps ahead of Azriel, whirls around to ask, “What did you find?”

Frustrations rolls off of him waves, almost as visibly as the velvety darkness he wields. “Nothing.”

He had searched all up and down the wall, looking for something or someone that could give him some type of clue as to where she came from. But it was as if she’d appeared in the spot he’d found her out of thin air. She was only a few feet from the wall, and there were no human settlements around for miles. No holes in the barrier, not a drop of blood from her or anything else close by, no other scents, not a trace of any other being.

“She must’ve used what little energy she had to winnow where I found her,” he adds, “Whatever happened to her took place at another location.”

Rhys runs a hand through his inky black hair. “And you didn’t check the Spring Court at all?”

He doesn’t respond, only blinks at his brother. They both know that if he had stepped one toe onto Tamlin’s land, it would’ve started something they weren’t prepared to finish. They couldn’t withstand the repercussions right now, no matter how badly the both of them were willing to risk it. It was the only reason Azriel showed any restraint. That and the fact that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself in time to see Rhaen wake up.

Not that he got back in time to see that anyway. He couldn’t bring himself to be irritated with her at all though, not when she was smiling up at him like that and joking around with Rhys just like old times. Like she was never gone. His heart felt lighter seeing that, but every time she flinched in pain, it struck a match to the boiling rage inside of him. Someone had touched her, hurt her, left her for dead, and he refused to let them continue to walk around this earth as if they’d gotten away with it.

“I don’t think you truly want me to slip into that territory, Rhys,” he finally answers the question, “but I can do anything else.”

With a sigh, he nods slowly, “Right. Almost forgot about how absolutely feral you become when it comes to my sister.”

“What?”

It isn’t easy to surprise the Shadowsinger. He is the Night Court Spymaster for a reason, and it’s because very little can make it passed his intensive attention. He’s also a little too good at keeping things to himself, making it hard for his family to truly see him. He isn’t a vulnerable person, and although he’s shown romantic interest in not one, not two, but three other females since Rhaen’s death, or I suppose disappearance would be a better word now, none of them have made him as weak as she did. Which means he’s never tried to hide something as hard as he’s tried to hide those feelings for her. Especially from Rhysand.

“Azriel,” he says with a bit of a laugh, “I know you. I see more than you might think. Of course, I’m not quite as attentive as you are, or else I would be doing my own espionage. That doesn’t mean I miss the way you look at her, the way the tension leaves your body when she’s near, the playful glances and words you give to her. I’ve always seen it, even when we were younger. I also see how you’re so fiercely protective of her. I saw the way you immediately grasped onto Truth Teller when we came into her room. And let’s not forget how you were barely considered a living being after we heard the news about her. You love her, Az, and not in the same way that Cass and I love her.”

Again, all that Azriel can do is blink at him. Rhys isn’t angry, thank the Cauldon, as made clear by the smile that stays on his lips while he speaks. However, that’s not exactly the reassurance he needs from him in order to pursue Rhaen. He would never do such a thing without his blessing.

The High Lord shakes his head a bit when he realizes he’s not going to get confirmation or denial. Which is really the only confirmation he needs to know his assumption is and always has been correct.

He places a hand on his brother’s shoulder and asks, “You said you’ll do anything I need you to, right?” Az nods. “Okay. What I need is for you to get her to open up to you. You have always been closer with her than anyone else, so I know she’d tell you before she’d tell me. Though that’s never made much sense to me considering you’d do more damage on her behalf than I ever could because like I said, you go feral when it comes to her wellbeing. But I digress…”

“Rhys,” Azriel speaks as Rhys trails off, “I’m not sure what you think she’ll tell me, but I don’t feel comfortable romancing your sister into giving me information.”

“I’m not asking you to report anything back to me. I trust you’ll bring any dire needs to my attention, but what she needs is for you to be her friend. Rekindle the relationship you two once had and get her to share what happened to her. Not for my benefit or yours, but because whatever she went through left a wound that she’ll need to let breathe before it can heal. Feyre told me that when she started to wake up earlier, her hands were glowing purple. We both know that’s a sign of her losing control. It looked like something triggered her, and whatever was going on in her head made her angry enough that she would have turned the whole building into rubble had Feyre not gotten her to open her eyes. Something bad happened to her while she was gone. Something that could cause her to destroy the entire continent if she doesn’t let it out.”

Az takes a deep breath before doubtfully clarifying, “And you actually think I’m the one to bring it out of her?”

A smirk appears on Rhys’ face, as if he knows more than he’s letting on. “I do. Be her friend.”

Many thoughts passed through the Shadowsinger’s mind at his assuredness. Did Rhaen have feelings for him all those years ago? If she did, would she still have them now? So much had happened that irrevocably changed him since she’d last known him.

Then again, plenty of things must’ve played out for her that he had no clue about either, but there was no doubt in his mind about what he still felt for her. Feelings he hadn’t felt in her absence and probably never would for anyone but her. No matter how hard he’d tried.

Either way, Rhysand was right. She needed someone to talk to. Whether or not it was him.

Azriel’s doubts were suddenly clouded by the need to help her get better, so he tucked them away and replaced them entirely with the resolve to be whatever Rhaen needed him to be.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

1st Person POV - Rhaen

Madja said I was healing wonderfully. I only had to stay one more night before we could return home, just so she could be one hundred percent certain there were no signs of internal damage.

Thank the Mother she didn’t possess the ability to search my mind, or she would’ve never let me leave.

Rhys had communicated with Nuala and Cerridwen to prepare me a room at the River House, the new property he’d bought specially for him and Feyre. When we arrived, it was just as lavish as I expected. Night Court colors enveloping every nook and cranny. A huge bed, covered with the most beautiful black and silver embroidered silk sheets. Midnight blue curtains with shimmer that sparkled like diamonds, imitating the night skies of home I’d missed so much. Ornate artwork and vases on all the walls and tabled surfaces.

My favorite part by far was the bathroom. Everything was black marble aside from the cream colored porcelain tub that was big enough for three people and equipped with messaging jets that I couldn’t wait to unleash on my sore muscles. Every type of earthy smelling soap imaginable, along with salts and sprays and lotions. All of my favorite hair products and oils. Everything I used when I was younger.

The fact that he remembered those details from my childhood made my heart melt.

Scents that I favored, books I grew up reading over and over again, pictures of our family, our friends, including the new additions I’d yet to meet. Everything about it screamed home. It was perfect.

The only thing that felt out of place was me. Yes, I loved everything he picked out and prepared for me, but it was more like a shrine built for the little girl I used to be. I felt different now. Rougher. Battered.

Broken.

Even so, I said nothing in hopes that I could readjust. Perhaps living as I used to would bring back that innocent little girl I was. I truly wanted nothing more.

Now, we’re all gathered together for dinner, finally eating after what felt like hours of reuniting hugs and introductions.

“Okay, hold on…” I raise one hand to Nesta, who isn’t nearly as scary to me as they made her out to be. It’s more like she feels everything so strongly, and she isn’t sure how to handle it, and that’s something I can relate to. “You changed her entire reproductive anatomy? And then proceeded to do it to yourself?”

She smirks at me from across the table and Rhys rolls his eyes, surely never going a day without the reminder she saved his mate’s and son’s lives. “I did,” she says.

“You were not joking about the last ten years, Feyre,” I comment, “The Archeron sisters are a different breed entirely. Completely flipping Prythian upside down. A High Lady with the powers of all the High Lords, a death god who can control the Troves, and a seer that needs nothing else to leave me utterly impressed. I’m blown away.”

“Don’t give her a bigger head than she already has, little one,” Cassian chimes in.

Nesta lifts one brow at her mate. “You weren’t complaining about my head this morning.”

Lucien, who I recognized from Tamlin’s court and nearly beheaded on sight had it not been for Azriel holding me back while Rhys explained his presence, spits out the smallest amount of wine and looks around sheepishly. “Apologies. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how you are all so… open with each other.”

Elain, Feyre’s other sister, smiles softly at her mate and pats his shoulder lovingly.

“You’re in and out so much, I’m not sure how you ever could be,” Mor replies to him, “That’s alright though, Luc, now that you and Elain finally accepted the bond, I’m sure you’ll acclimate in no time. Officially part of the family, which means more family dinners, which means more lewd family conversation.” She winks and lift her drink to him.

“Wait, you only just accepted your mating bond?” I blurt out curiously.

Azriel stiffens next to me, and Elain’s eyes widen a bit as they take me in. Lucien clears his throat, and all the others grow uncomfortably quiet except for Cass, who looks more annoyed than anything.

After a moment, Elain sobers up enough to answer me, “I had a hard time coping with becoming fae. Being thrown into the Cauldron was traumatic enough, but as soon as I came out, Lucien was exclaiming that I was his mate. It was all too much for me all at once, so I had a rough time being okay with it for a while.”

I glance around, but they’re all trying a little too hard to avoid meeting my eyes. “So what aren’t you all telling me then?”

“Perhaps yet another discussion to have at a different time, sister,” Rhys declares, “All that matters is that Elain and Lucien are happy together now. You’re home, safe and sound. We all are.” He reaches out to grab Feyre’s hand, and she gives him an intensely adoring grin.

Slowly, everyone began to speak again, picking much different topics to talk about. With the exception of Az and I. When I gather the courage to look up at him, his golden eyes are already on me, and it causes my heart to stutter.

It’s clear to me that something went on between the two of them, and his regret is just as obvious based on the pleading gleam in his gaze. Silently requesting me to let him explain later.

The problem is, I’m not sure why he thinks I’m owed an explanation. We were nothing more than friends before, and for all intents and purposes, I was dead to him for centuries. Even if something had gone on between us, I would have wanted him to move on from me.

However, if I’d messed around with someone’s mate, I suppose I’d want to be the one to tell my friends about it, too.

He’s so blatantly ashamed of it, and I can see he’s worried about what I might think of him. So I reach under the table to squeeze his knee in reassurance and try to convey my own words through our eye contact.

‘It’s alright. I would never judge you. We all make mistakes in our desparation. I know I have…’

I turn back to my plate and continue to eat. As I’m about to pull away, I feel the softest brush of his rough fingers against me, and then his scarred palm settles on top, keeping me there.

Heat flushes across my cheeks, but I ignore it and the reminder of Feyre’s suggestions at the clinic that play on a loop in my mind…

You guys are the most wonderful beings in the universe, and I feel so loved. Thank you for your encouragement. This part is a little shorter, not too much happening, but I’m trying to setup for the good stuff, so I hope you bear with me.

I love you all so much, you’re the best 🤍

@projectcampbell @acourtofsmutandstarlight @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @anainkandpaper @evergreenlark

[acourtofthought]

Feyre told Tamlin he didn't understand what she had gone through those years in the woods:

But she found a connection in Cassian, someone who understood:

Rhys was the one who fully grasped Nesta's trauma:

Rhys also experienced SA as Nesta did (something Cassian did not). Both Rhys and Nesta understood the fear of having an uncontrolled (until Amren taught Rhys) earth shaking power.

Neither Feyre and Cassian or Rhys and Nesta are in love but they share an understanding in how they felt about things in their past.

So isn't it then possible, this scene:

Isn't meant to suggest a love match but simply an understanding between two people who may eventually end up as friends only?

When it came to love, Feyre didn't need someone who understood her childhood trauma, what it was like to be hungry because they too experienced hunger in the way she did. When it came to love, she knew she needed something different.

She needed someone who, as a result of their own past, understood her darkness because they too shared a similar darkness. As Rhys does.

So maybe Elain doesn't need a love match who understands her being confused about her powers.

Maybe she too needs someone whose (in the reverse of Feyre) light matches that of her own.

[foundress0fnothing]

So, pied piper smut you say? Go on....

I just think it would be neat if Rhys lured Feyre away on Calanmai the same way he lured the naga and then brought her to the CoN to complete the Great Rite with him 🤷‍♀️

And okay, I haven’t gotten to the smut yet (because I am a fool who decided to give this a tiny bit of plot?? I guess?? And that takes me forever), but could I interest you in some Calanmai vibes below the cut?

The music petered out as she approached the edge of a pool, the ending flourish of the melody like a hand extended in offer. The water before her glinted a brilliant silver as it gently ripped in the breeze. Starlight spilled to earth, some distant part of Feyre’s mind thought vacantly as she looked around, slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings: the starlight pool, a copse of trees, and a male, backlit by the Calanmai fires in the distant hills and reclined against a log on the ground with a flute that glinted in the firelight by his side.

“Darling,” he drawled, not bothering to stand up as she approached. “I thought you’d never make it.”

Feyre started. She recognized that voice.

“Piper?” She breathed a thousand questions with the invocation of his title—how are you here? Why are you here? And why did you bring me here? Why did I follow the music?—but only started to ask one: “But I thought—”

“Shhh, Feyre, darling,” he shushed her, lazily hauling himself to his feet. “I’ve come to collect my payment. And,” he continued, moving toward her, flute in hand, “my payment doesn’t need to think. She just needs to follow.”

He held a hand out, apparently waiting for her to reach out and grab it.

Feyre started to back away. This was strange and wrong, and she absolutely would not be the one to take the fall for Tamlin’s idiocy. “But I don’t want to.”

“Don’t worry, pet.” He raised the flute to his lips. “You will.”

And he began to play, the melody the same as it was in the hall and the same as it was that led her to the pool, and she felt like she was falling into something soupy and thick, and she couldn’t remember what was so bad about being here with him after all.

[azziesbattybaddie]

My Masterlist

Last updated: 10/02/24

Requests are: open

The fandoms I write for-

Acotar - Avengers - Xmen - Avatar

Key: 💘 = fluff

🔥 = Smut

💔 = Angst

2024 Acotar kinktober Masterlist

Acotar

Rhysand

Lady in red 🔥

Vampire Rhysand x reader

Kinktober submission

Word count: 1.2k

Rhys is always carful with you and absolutely never drinks from you, but when you finally decided to spend your first night together Rhys has some trouble controlling his hunger for you.

Lavender skies 💘 WIP

Rhysand x fem Reader

Word count: ?

After a particularly hard day at the Illaryan camp all you can think about is getting home to your mate, who is... On the roof?

Azriel

You are my survival 🔥

Azriel x fem Reader

Word count: 5k

You and Azriel are mates. Az knows it, you don't, that is until a particularly hard training session when the truth finally come out.

Cassian

Big Illaryan baby 💘🔥 WIP

Cassian x plus size fem Reader

Word count: ?

Cassian gets the flu and turns from Illaryan warrior to clingy baby, that's it, thats the plot.

Lucien

Long hair and long healing 💔💘

Lucien x fem Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tamlin finally gives Lucian a day off to spend time with his mate due to being snowed in, some times spending time together is also spending time in the past.

Helion

Sinful slumbers 🔥💘

Kinktober submission

Helion x reader

Word count: 2.3

Your mate has been performing his duties as high lord all day. who can blame you for pulling him into bed as soon as he comes back to you...

Morrigan

Nothing yet

Amren

Nothing yet

Marvel

Loki

Your prize 💘

Loki x fem Reader

Word count: 1.3

Loki has always been a shameless flirt but thankfully so are you, and since when did a little flirting ever mean anything, right.

Your ocean eyes 💘🔥 WIP

Loki x plus size fem Reader

Word count: ?

When Loki comes back to earth on probation and is put on house arrest, he has to take interest in something to keep him busy and that something happens to be you.

Bucky

Nothing yet

Thor

Nothing yet

Tony

Nothing yet

Steve

Nothing yet

X-Men

Gambit

Nothing yet

Wolverine

Nothing yet

Erik

Gray's my favorite color 🔥 WIP

Erik Lehnsherr x younger fem Reader

Word count: ?

Your a newly appointed X-Man and teacher, you've always been an overly upbeat and curious person so when you get the chance to go on a mission with a very powerful and very, very enticing magneto, how could you possibly refuse?

Deadpool

Nothing yet

Pietro

Nothing yet

Wanda

Nothing yet

Natasha

Nothing yet

Yelena

Nothing yet

Avatar

Jake

Nothing yet

Neteyam

Mr steal yo girl 🔥 WIP

Neteyam x fem Metkayina Reader

Word count: ?

When the Sully's come to the Metkayina clan Neyetam takes an instant liking to you only to soon find your already promised to Aonung, good thing neteyam doesn't give up easily.

Lo'ak

Nothing yet

Kiri

Nothing yet

[animezinglife]

I really do wish there were more consistency with surnames in ACOTAR.

I love Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra and Eris Vanserra in particular sound so good. While I can't stand him for the obvious reasons, I even like Beron Vanserra's name.

I ilke Berdara a lot, too.

I went on a wild goose chase one day because I saw a fan calling Tamlin, "Tamlin Demeteri" and I absolutely loved it. It sounds great and makes since with what I'm assuming was the origin, Demeter, being an earth goddess (harvest and agriculture, but it's still a nice tie-in).

Maybe some go with more of a title, like Helion Spell-Cleaver. That's cool. That works. Kallias or Viviane Storm-Bringer with the ice they rain down.

But what about Rhys?

What would his surname be?

What if Feyre's been mated/married to him this whole time with a cool name like Archeron and his last name is something stupid like Blinkenpecker?

Also, the Illyrians definitely seem more like the type of culture who'd have warrior titles more than the sensual, intellectual Day Court.

[starsreminisce]

I always find it interesting that E/riels overlook how violent Azriel was towards Elain’s mate. I get that many people don’t think the bond is real (tho I don’t know why you’d think so), we know from canon that the bond is a real thing and it’s sacred and special to the fae. So why on Earth are people so into the blood duel? If Azriel actually killed Lucien, they would hurt Elain too. Even if she didn’t want the bond, it is there and it makes her whole (it’s described this way by other SJM characters anyway). So Azriel having no indication that killing Lucien would hurt Elain is a major red flag for me. It’s arrogant and inconsiderate, not to mention that even if Elain decides to reject Lucien, she might still not want to have him murdered… to me that whole blood duel suggestion seems nuts.

Feyre showed us what it's like when her bond is severed, and it was so devastating that she pleaded with Tamlin - yes, Tamlin - to help bring Rhys back to life. It made her rethink her plans of having kids earlier than she had intended. The thought of losing Cassian prompted Nesta to take action.

Elain seems to feel things more deeply than her sisters. That's why they're concerned about her going to Hewn City and why she ended up vomiting from sheer terror during the cauldron's blast.

This all ties back to some folks being more anti-Lucien than actual fans of Elain. Because no genuine fan of Elain would be thrilled about Azriel wanting to duel Lucien, especially if they understood the impact it could have on her based on past experiences. It's even more amusing because many E/riels are eagerly anticipating Elain's book, and I wonder if they'll maintain that energy when they find out that Lucien is the second person involved.

For my part, I think Lucien is more of a defender than a fighter. He might not actively fight for her, but he'll certainly stand up for her and himself. He might even consider Az not worth the trouble. However, the fact that he's stood his ground against his father, Tamlin, Rhys, the King of Hybern, and Amarantha when provoked suggests that if Az fucks around with Lucien, he'll find out.

I've heard some Lucien stans interpret Rhys's eyes flickering when he agreed with Az as a sign that he's lying and trying not to encourage Az to challenge Lucien. Rhys knows Lucien's true parentage and how Lucien's powers perfectly counter Az's. TOG shows us what happens when fire clashes with shadows. Who knows, maybe just one word from Lucien would be enough.

Plus, even Nesta is concerned about what might happen to Elain if something were to happen to Lucien because of how it would affect her. While the mating bond is considered sacred and unbreakable, it seems that not everyone sees it the same way for Elucien.

[northern-polaris]

Take Me Out

Managed to ground something out for @tamlinweek day 1 so please enjoy Alis getting her not-son to go outside to socialize instead of being cooped up all day. Tamlin somehow manages to fail successfully.

Word count: around 1.2k

Summary: after getting kicked out of Alis' tavern, Tamlin ventures off to a place people tell him he shouldn't go and saves someone people tell him he shouldn't have saved.

“Boy, get out of here.”

Tamlin looked up from wiping a wet rag over the bar and stared at Alis who had her hands on her hips and an exasperated look painted on her face. He would have thought she was actually cross with him if he didn’t spot the slight upward tug on the corner of her mouth. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” Alis gestured with a quick nod to the tavern doors that lead outside, “We’re all set for now, and I won’t need you till later when the night crowd rolls in. Get out of this stuffy, old cellar and go get some sunshine.” 

“It’s not stuffy, and I still have to finish up–” Alis marched over, plucked the dirty rag out of his hands, and began to swat him with it, herding him closer and closer to the doors. 

Every time Tamlin tried to open his mouth to object, he got a face full of the soggy, stained fabric.

“You ain’t ‘have to’ do nothing if I tell you to. Get going!” She accentuated her point by using her unoccupied hand to shoo him off. “Now, I don’t want to see you back here at least until sundown, you hear?” She finally quit her assault when he was over the threshold and onto the street.

“I–” Alis raised the rag, “...hear.” She lowered the rag.

“Good.” With that, she closed the doors loudly, and Tamlin was left standing uselessly in front of the tavern. 

He stood there for a while, not quite knowing what to do with himself, so he just chose to attentively watch the doors as if Alis was going to spontaneously open them and welcome him back inside again. Tamlin knew that wasn’t going to actually happen, but he let his mind hope. 

Eventually, he found the sense and drive to wander off somewhere else when the bewildered looks and judgemental eyes from passersbys felt too heavy on his skin. 

Starting down the road, Tamlin meandered along the path that led towards the village outskirts. While walking, he scanned the ground attentively in case there was an interesting rock on the ground he could bring back to show Alis’ nephews. Those two boys loved rocks, and Tamlin didn’t mind helping them scavenge treasures. Finding a few, he stashed them into one of his pockets and continued on his way. 

Slowly, the path died out, and Tamlin found himself facing the dense forest that surrounded the village. Only a select few actually went outside of the security of their settlement and into the uncharted woods. They were located not far from The Wall, the boundary that separated the Fae lands from theirs, so there was always a chance of encountering something… unsafe outside the guarded townlet. 

With all this in mind, Tamlin glanced around, noted that no one was watching him, and promptly ran into the woods with reckless abandon. 

____

Tamlin always loved being in the forest.

The rustling of leaves, the singing of birds, the smell of the earth. It was all encompassing, surrounding him like a welcoming blanket. It provided a much needed reprieve from rigid civilization.

Following the way he mapped out from countless times before, Tamlin ended up at a small clearing that was lined with a vast river. 

Near the edge stood a lone Weeping Willow; its vine-like branches swaying lazily in the gentle breeze. Moving them aside like a curtain, Tamlin walked underneath the tree’s canopy and made himself comfortable sitting with his back against the trunk. 

He then closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Calm.

Tamlin could feel his mind slowly begin to wander away somewhere else, losing himself in his surroundings in a way he never could anywhere else but here. 

It was quiet. Serene. Peaceful.

…At least it was until it suddenly wasn’t.

Until something violently disturbed the shrubs on the other side of the river, startling Tamlin out of his daze. Bolting to his feet, he staggered through the tree branches just in time to watch someone break through the undergrowth and tumble into the river with a loud splash. 

Tamlin was in the water too a second later, diving after the person with his heartbeat thundering in his ears and not a thought running through his mind. 

He barely registered the freezing water as he treaded through the river after the person. They were just floating along the current unmoving, and Tamlin felt his stomach drop further. Finally, Tamlin managed to catch an arm, pull the person over his shoulders, and began to drag them both towards his side of the shore. 

It was good that Tamlin already knew which rocks were slippery and which were not; he had learned the hard way from the other separate occasions of being in the river.

Underneath the willow, Tamlin laid down the person, rested his own head on their chest, and listened for a heartbeat. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

Tamlin let out a long sigh of relief, willing his own racing heart to slow. Lifting his head up, he got to work scanning over the person’s body for injuries: scrapes along both arms, a swollen ankle, multitudes of forming bruises. He also took in the appearance of the person as well, despite their rugged and worse-for-wear state, the clothes were fine and clearly belonging to someone who had enough riches to waste on stuff like jeweled encrusted knives, ruby cufflinks, and leaves made out of golden thread embroidered on their lapels. Was this person royalty? 

What was a noble doing in the forest this far away from the nearest big city? Badly wounded at that?

What in the ever living fuck happened to them? 

The person coughed lightly, and Tamlin raced upwards to regard their face. Despite it being utterly drenched, their hair was a bright, vibrant auburn. Tamlin moved it carefully aside from where it was previously draped over the person’s face. 

Oh. 

“Good face.” 

Tamlin realized he said his thoughts out loud and clamped his mouth shut, praying that the other wasn't awake to hear him. 

Ignoring his warming cheeks, he checked over the man’s(it definitely looked like a man, a gorgeous, gorgeous–Shut the fuck up!) face for wounds. There was a tiny trickle of blood coming down from the man’s temple, so Tamlin moved to tuck the man’s hair behind his ear—

Pointy ear. The man’s ear was pointed. Not a round ear. Pointy. 

Oh, well shit.  

Shit. Shit. Oh Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fucking Shit. SHIT FUCK SON OF A FUCKING BITCH OH SHIT HOLY FUCK WHAT IN THE SHITTING FUCK—

The man coughed again, stronger this time. The man who was not actually a man. The man who had pointy ears which meant it wasn’t a man but actually a fae, and what in the flipping flying fuck why hasn’t Tamlin bolted for the hills already– 

The not-man’s eyes fluttered open and revealed the clearest, prettiest eyes Tamlin had ever seen in his entire nineteen years of existence and Tamlin couldn’t help himself from opening his mouth and speaking his mind. 

“Your eyes look undamaged.” 

[reblogandlikes]

Question, but what's the actual timeline prior acotar?

Sure, the war ended 500 years ago, but when did it start? How long did it last? Which Court fought for and against human slavery particularly in Prythian and beyond it? Was there in-fighting between the courts prior across boarders and causing political rifts between each High Lord and other nations? Which court did this main war take place? And who used the Cauldron to construct the wall in the first place?

Another question in relation to the characters.

Mor, how does her character work in the context of the book? She was known as The Morrigon, meaning she fought in war. Was cannon that she was there that even the human queens know of her, but why would she be there in the first place when she's Kiers daughter and its told that CoN is pretty misogynistic, so I'm sure there's no way in hell he'd allow his daughter to be a warrior. He still scares her in the present day, so why would he agree for her to join a war rather than staying back with the other women trapped in CoN where she can remain monitored?

Also, randomly, wtf if her power? I don't understand what "Truth" means or how it manifests and displays itself into something concrete/physical or mental.

Moving on...

We're told Tamlin betrayed Rhysand (we don't have Tamlin’s back story yet from his perspective) and that he used the information Rhysand had given due to them being friends at the time. Now, how on earth did this friendship begin? How long were they even friends for for Rhysand to have supposedly taught him about women and how to fight? How solid had the friendship been?

Speaking of these two, when exactly did they become High Lords of their courts? It can't have been for 500 years because that was the end of the first war, and Tamlin was still a child at the time. Has it only been 200 years...300...400 in actuality? 🤔

And then there’s Lucien’s timeline. How old is he? How long has it been since he was basically granted asylum in Spring? Seeming he was banished and would be hunted if he stepped foot back in the Autumn Court, did that mean Tamlin used someone else as emissary if he ever had to deal with Baron? Who is this person? Where are all the other offical delegates and Lords and those who hold some standing in any of the courts?

Speaking of missing people, who is this other daemati? Where is this other daemati? Did he, she, it even exist? Can anyone else, Jurian, for example, point them out seeming he had been attached to Amarantha's finger for centuries and saw/heard everything?

How and when did Amren escape the prison. How did Rhysand come across her? Why did she bother staying in Prythian and not go back to where she originally came from? Is she stuck? Wtf even is she if we now know she's not Asteri?

Wtf is now happening with Hybern? The King's is dead now...so? You're telling me he didn't have a council or others there ready to take over? Is there currently a power struggle? Are they potentially a threat in the future?

Why do so many characters lack surnames and other family members don't exist?

In this world, there's now been 4.5 books. Further world building could have easily been implentated to close a few gaps.

Lots of questions. I don’t care if you're pro or anti for this post. Someone, please provide me with something or theory, because I'm left filling in the gaps. I feel like I'm thinking too hard with these books when I really shouldn't take anything seriously.