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historiaxvanserra · 4 months

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.

You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice.

You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory.

“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.”

You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.

“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.

“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”

You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe.

It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think.

“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”

The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red.

Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you.

“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”

Your avenging angel.

Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement.

The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name.

She knows your name.

“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses.

The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here.

“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”

“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.

The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.

You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity.

“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”.

You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.

Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment.

The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.

Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.

The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove.

Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark.

He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.

In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty.

Otherworldly and ethereal.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.

“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.

Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps.

His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes.

The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens.

“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow.

“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.

You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait.

“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.

“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles.

“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again.

Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.

“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls.

This house is something truly breathtaking.

It feels like a home you realize.

“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son.

“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms.

As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother.

It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…

The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.

Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp.

Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it.

“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.”

“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”

That had been long before him.

You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence.

“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense.

“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”

Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark.

The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer?

You want to live.

The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.

“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.

“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--”

“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse.

You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.

Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you.

It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.

“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her.

“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”

“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms.

“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”

“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you, “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.”

The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious.

“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.

“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.

You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye.

“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you.

It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect.

“I don’t think that's a good--”

“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean.

“Rhys--” You warn gently.

“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him.

He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.

Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.

“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.

Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement.

“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand acotar #rhysand imagine #rhys acotar #rhys fanfic #rhysand headcanons

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illyrian-dreamer · 5 months

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Make a bargain with me

Rhys x reader angst/fluff one shot

Summary: Your unrequited love for your High Lord has seen you distancing yourself not just from Rhys, but the entire inner circle. Rhys is concerned, and confronts you.

Word count: 2.2k

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You shifted uncomfortably under Rhys’s stare, keeping your eyes fixed the night’s horizon, still with anticipation of starfall that was yet to begin.

“What’s going on Y/N?” he asked softly.

He had sprung you from your hideaway. It was stupid, really, to think you could escape him, or that he wouldn't follow.

Tonight on Starfall, when your family and friends were drinking and laughing and toasting to a better year ahead, you had held yourself back, observing from the sidelines, longing to partake as you had each year before.

But things were different now, you were different. It had been a stressful year to say the least – too many losses, too many sacrifices made on missions that you couldn’t come to terms with. Choices made, last words said – the turmoil of your mistakes was a constant loop in your mind, each of your missions weighing heavier than the last, a little piece of you left behind on along the way.

And where you would usually confess or turn to your family for the support you desperately craved, it was all skewed by the devastating, gut-wrenching love you had developed for your High Lord.

You wondered what your friends might say – their snorts and sorry smiles as you dreamed of a life with not just any High Lord, but the High Lord of the Night Court, who was only just finding his feet.

It was only shy of a decade since Rhys lost his sister and mother, leaving the male to wade through the trenches of grief alone, which were only deepened by the weight of responsibility as he assumed position as High Lord of the Night Court. You hadn't known him before he recruited you to the inner circle, but in your few years of working for Rhys, he had aged, maturing into his title and proving himself as a true and honest leader.

And in those years, not once had you seen him take to a lover or celebrate romance in his life. You knew that your love for Rhys would be nothing more than an imposition – a burden for him to manage in a world where he was not ready to love again, especially not someone like you.

But concealing your feelings had a very true affect in physicality – you were plagued with guilt, rigid by unrequited, unconfessed love practically bursting to come out. Skittish manoeuvres to avoid his touch, aloofness at times where you were known to share and console – you had done excellent work to distance yourself from Rhys, and with it the rest of the inner circle.

Even the blatant probing by Cassian to open up, or gentle suggestions from Azriel to join them on flights went politely declined as you assured them you were fine. And the times where your work was too much, when you needed to tell your High Lord the burdens you were baring and seek comfort from him as a friend – instead you bottled it up, unsure of what you might confess and afraid of the very real affect of someone who was not yet ready to love.

Rhysand had been particularly observant tonight. Your own behaviour was predictable as of late, but after the first bashful glances to the ground, reddened cheeks where you used to bite back, and the distant, distracted manner in which you watched on – you felt watchful violet eyes on you all evening.

The tipping point had been Rhysand’s speech, a glass of auburn liquid raised high as he spoke to his sincere care and affection for each of you in his circle. He was thankful for all of you, for being the self-made family he could have only ever dreamed of having. But as he spoke to each of the members, starting with his second-in-charge, followed by Mor, Cassian then Azriel, you had slipped from the room before he could get to you.

Because in that speech - he had shown that he still loved, just not in the way that you craved. And if you had learnt anything through both your career at the Night Court and from Rhys himself – it was that happiness could be stolen in an instant.

So you fled, heart thumping as you craved fresh air – overwhelmed with cyclical thoughts and foolish amounts of fae wine.

After a polite ten minutes, Rhys had followed, finding the flattened patch of roof you often sought out after long missions, now stripping you bare under his gaze.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

Rhys winced with worry. “I asked what’s going on with you?”

You forced a small smile, keeping your breathing as even as you could. You were trained to stay calm when interrogated, but somehow this was harder than some of the life threatening circumstances you had endured. It was almost laughable.

"Nothing at all," you forced your eyes to his, your stomach dropping at his beauty.

Rhys’s face remained concerned, completely unconvinced.

“Is it work?”

“No.” A half-truth.

Rhys nodded, a sense of relief that his court was not to blame.

A few moments of silence, you were burning from within, cheeks flushing yet again. You allowed for a moment to imagine his reaction if you were to tell him. Imagined his face as you confessed your feelings for him – your High Lord, your employer. How ridiculous and wildly inappropriate.

Your face flushed a deeper pink at the shame of it. Rhys’s eyes dotted to your cheeks, not missing a thing.

He leveled a look at you. “You can always be honest with me.” You felt a gentle caress on your mental shields, and it was an instinct you cursed yourself for to seize them higher at his touch.

You moved your eyes back to the horizon, sighing with frustration. He was here, he cared – perhaps you could just, try?

“How did you do it?” you asked ominously, a pained frown pulling at your brow.

Rhys shifted at your question, brows raising in surprise. “Do what?”

You cleared your throat. “How did you let yourself love again, when you know how quickly it can be taken away?”

Rhys nodded slowly, violet eyes softening with understanding.

“Would you believe me if I said it was easy?” he replied.

You gave a small laugh, looking down at your hands. “No, actually.”

“Well it was.”

Another beat of silence.

“Opening my home to all of you, creating this family is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, because it was meant to be.”

You nodded back. You would never tell him how easy it is for you to fall in love with him too. How quickly it had happened, how natural it felt for you.

“I would risk everything I have to have to keep you all safe and content, even just for one more day.”

His words struck you. Risk – there was too much to lose.

“I would risk everything I have for anyone I love, I think,” he continued. “I know that now, that it’s important to let go of what I can’t control, and let myself risk it all.”

He loved your family so dearly – it felt traitorous to indulge in the idea that your love could evolve past the sincere platonic form that it took now. You were greedy, spoilt.

“But that doesn’t just apply to my love for my court.”

Huh?

“As you know, anyone I care for is automatically a target beyond Velaris. My brothers, Mor, Amren.” Rhys paused. “And you.”

You looked up at him, his violet eyes unreadable as stars winked in their depths.

“I don’t want you to risk what you have for me,” your voice was barely a whisper, and you wondered if he sensed the deeper implication of your words.

Rhys wore a soft, sideways smile as he spoke. “You are well worth the risk.”

You were sure he could hear your fastened heart, no longer able to conceal your feelings. For a year your secret had lived at the tip of your tongue, threatening to ruin everything you had. It was too much to bare.

Silent tears started to run down your cheeks.

Rhys’s eyebrows clenched in concern, and he stepped towards you, reaching to brush them away with a stroke of of his cool fingers. You tried to step away, turning your face in shame – but he held your shoulders, a gentle hand pulling your chin to face him.

Violet beheld you again, and you forced yourself to not look away. Maybe you could face him, face your truth. Maybe, you could be as brave as him.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N,” Rhys said softly, his hands cupping your face as he brushed away your tears. “I don’t think I need to tell you that I’m very fond of you.”

Your heart thrummed, pulsing with instinct. Say it, out loud, risk it! it seemed to shout.

You bought your hands up to his, holding them as you took a deep breath.

“And I am fond of you.”

Rhys’s face lit up as stars twinkled in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and the smile that pulled at his sharp cheek bones threatened your knees to buckle.

You couldn’t help the tears that kept running. You were given in, risking it all, and there was no coming back.

Rhys leaned in close to your face, his fresh scent filling the air around you. He placed a gentle kiss on each of your tear stained cheeks before licking the salty liquid from his perfect lips.

You stared at him in awe, his beauty enveloping your view.

“Fond, on my behalf, is an understatement,” he murmured, tilting your chin upwards to him.

A gentle hand snaked behind your back, pulling you against his body. The feeling of him softly pressed to you made you throb, and you continued to stare up at his face, unable to hide your own shock.

He brushed your hair behind your ear, before cupping your jaw.

“So beautiful,” he said again, before leaning down and placing his lips on yours gently.

The kiss was soft, more attentive than you had ever experienced. You succumbed to it, letting your body relax into his hold as he pulled you in closer with the arm at your back, strengthening to hold your knees truly gave out at his touch.

You own arms naturally made their way to his hair and neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

Rhys chuckled into the kiss, inhaling as he traced his tongue along your lips, asking for permission.

A moan escaped you as you gained Rhys his entrance, his tongue sliding sensually over yours.

Your skin was alight, senses heightened and perked as every part of you ached and begged to never let go.

But a guilty conscience had Rhys pulling away from your lips, a small smirk pulling at your frustrated moan.

“Y/N,” he straightened, suddenly more serious. “I didn't come here to only confess my affection.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” you hummed, fingers on your mouth as your lips tingled with his lingering touch.

When Rhys chuckled, you swore it pleased the Gods.

“The others are just as concerned as I am. You’re withdrawn, proper sleep has escaped you for months, and–"

Your mouth twitched, before you flew up to plant a quick peck on his lips, silencing him. “And what of you, High Lord? How much do you burry in that head of yours? It is hard to know how much to burden onto you, when you are already dealing with so much.”

Violet eyes danced between yours in thought. “Make a bargain with me.”

Your brow quirked. “Pardon me?”

“Promise me, to share the things with which you need support so you may not burden them alone. And I will promise to do the same.”

“Rhys,” you breathed, honoured yet anxious at the vulnerability weaved into a bargain such as that. “Do you know what you’re asking each of us to confess?”

Rhys smiled, shaking his head. “With conditions, of course. This will be for those things that you know you shouldn’t keep to yourself, the truths you know the other would want to help with.”

You couldn't help the grin that pulled at your cheeks. “You’re mad.”

Rhys flicked your nose. “I know what it is to rot from within, Y/N. And in a world of magic and power and darkness, I will not let you burden it alone.”

“Rysand…”

Rhys all but moaned, pulling you in for a searing kiss. “Say yes,” he murmured against your lips.

With clenched eyes, you nodded, aware of the itching sensation on your neck as Rhys enveloped you with another kiss, the etching of your bargain searing to your skin.

A gentle talon stroked at your mind then, hinting with sensuality.

You opened your eyes, forcing your shields down for the first time in years.

Rhys growled as he entered your mind, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeply. And as the night sky became alive with iridescent streaks of light, the beginnings of starfall went neglected as you and Rhys explored a world of your own.

--------

AN: Hello dreamers, I just had to get out a one-shot, and I had a few requests to write for the most handsome High Lord! I sincerely hope you liked this, I haven't done a one-shot in a HOT minute!! So glad to be back with them. Comment to join my main tag list anytime, MWA!

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azrielsdove · 2 months

Text

Our Secret: Rhys x Reader

Warnings: Slight Smut, 18+

***

His body was pressed tight against yours, his lips hot on your neck. You arched into him as his fingers dug into your waist, pulling you closer. “Rhys,” you breathed out, trying to not lose yourself to his touch. “We have dinner.” He grumbled against your skin, coming up to press kiss after kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t care.” His head dipped back down to your collarbone, one hand sliding down your dress to grab ahold of the bottom hem. Your head fall back against the wall behind you as he dragged the fabric up, fingers ghosting over your thigh as he sucked a harsh mark into your skin. You gasped at the sensation before pushing him off of you, smoothing your dress back down. You hurried over to the mirror in his office, groaning at the bruise he had left perfectly visible.

“Rhysand!” You glared at his reflection appearing behind you, a smirk flitting across his lips. One arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other came up to trace the mark he had made, fingers light on your skin. “We are already running late. I can’t hide this!” Rhys laughed behind you, hand falling away from your collarbone so he could tug you out of the room.

“It’s fine. As if none of them have ever shown up in such a state before?” He wore a teasing smile as you began walking towards the dining room, where everyone else was presumably waiting.

“They weren’t hiding a relationship from all of us. It’s going to look suspicious if we walk in together, especially with this. You go in first.” Rhys was making it more and more difficult to keep your relationship a secret, especially when he was the one who brought up the idea first. As if to prove your point he stopped you just outside the dining room, quickly pulling you close to him as he kissed you. Hard. You debated feigning sick for the dinner and having him take you back to office, begging him to have his way with you.

“You go,” he whispered against your lips, pushing you towards the doorway. “I can pretend I got caught up in paperwork.” You sighed and nodded, taking a deep breath to clear your mind as you walked into the room.

It took seconds for Cassian to notice the lovely hickey displayed above the neckline of your gown. “Who’s the lucky one?” He asked, laughing. You rolled your eyes at him and sat down, ignoring everyone’s eyes on you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You replied, winking suggestively at the male. You were saved from his responding quip by Rhys entering the room, eyes flitting amusedly around the table.

“Something I missed?” He drawled, taking his seat at the head as usual.

“Looks like our girl has got herself a secret lover. Know anything about it, Rhys?” Azriel teased from next to Cassian, the two overgrown bats dissolving into fits of laughter. Rhys’ eyes trailed over the mark on your collarbone, the one he so kindly left there. A smile quirked on his lips, all too pleased with himself.

“A secret lover? How salacious.” You caught the laughter in his eyes, stopping yourself from rolling yours again.

“Oh, leave her alone. As if you three have any room to talk,” Mor jumped in, jabbing her fork accusingly at the trio. You laughed with her, nodding as you sipped from your wine glass. Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender before everyone turned to the meal laid out in front of them. You were going to kill Rhys for this.

***

It had been a few weeks since the “lovebite incident”, and Rhys had let his guard down around you. You had sworn off all sex for a week after his little game, until he promised he would never ever do something like that again. That lead you to now, where you were straddling him on a lounge chair on one of the balconies of the House. You pressed soft kissed along his jawline, nails scratching lightly down his chest.

“Oh Darling, please stop teasing,” he groaned. The most powerful High Lord of all time, begging for you? How divine.

“Mmm, but why would I do such a thing when i’m having so much fun like this?” You teased, moving to lightly suck on his neck. His hands gripped your hips tight in warning while you ground down on him, enjoying the way he moaned for you. You knew you would never tire of that sound. You bit down on the spot you had been focused on, relishing in the curse Rhys let out. He quickly flipped you over so you lay under him, eyes blazing as he looked down at you.

“My turn.”

***

After your little escapade on the balcony, it was time for game night. You smiled to yourself as you looked over Rhys, pleased with the little bite barks that littered the side of his neck. You had planned the afternoon perfectly, knowing he wouldn’t have time to check his appearance before you were due to meet your friends.

You entered the room first, smiling at Azriel and Amren before walking to the well-stashed bar cart. Cassian came in not long after, Rhys trailing him. You sat on the plush couch, sipping your drink to hide your amusement. Azriel began chuckling from next to you, shaking his head at his brother. Rhys shot him a look, asking “What?”

Azriel brought his hand up, running it down the side of his own neck. “You’ve got a little…something there.” Cassian whipped around at the words, eyes wide as he took in your marks on Rhys.

“Oh-ho! Now what are you hiding?” He laughed, and you joined in.

“Maybe you should glance in a mirror after your trysts, Rhys,” you teased, hiding your smirk behind your glass. His eyes flashed with realization and he strode to the grand mirror in the living room. His hand moved to touch the bruises, as if he didn’t believe they were truly there.

Playing dirty, are we? He didn’t look at you as he asked the words, instead turning and smirking at his brothers. “I apologize that you two don’t seem to be having much luck in this department.” The boys broke out into loud shouts of laughter, teasing words thrown all around. Not a single one of them looked at you, connecting the incident a few weeks ago to now.

Good.

***

It had been a month since you let Rhys enter game night covered in hickeys, and he had made sure to thoroughly punish you that night. There was no sex ban when it was his call, instead he pulled orgasms from you until you were shaking and screaming his name.

You can’t say you didn’t enjoy his ‘punishment’.

Your game had lit a new fire in him. He loved the public marks on his skin, a silent way to let everyone know he belonged to you. Even if they didn’t know it was you. He had become even more insatiable and risky, taking you anywhere he wanted without care.

That’s how you ended up on the edge of his desk, his head buried between your thighs. You had one hand tight in his hair and the other digging into the polished wood, head draped back as moans of his name slipped past your lips. You were close, so close-

“Hey, Rhys, I wanted to ask about the reports from the last mission Az ran. There’s something- OH. Oh!” You shot your head up in alarm as you took in Cassian’s equally panicked expression in the doorway. The door Rhys hadn’t bothered to fully close when he dragged you in here. “I-uh- sorry. I’ll just, leave you to it.” You went to move away from Rhys, embarrassed by being caught, but he held tight to your thighs.

“You don’t go anywhere until you finish.” He didn’t give you time to protest before his mouth was back on you, sucking and biting just as you liked.

“R-Rhys. Ah! He’s gonna, ugh, he’s gonna tell everyone!” You tried to bite out through your moans, the pleasure Rhys brought to you pushing the thought away. He hummed against you, fingers joining his mouth until you screamed his name, pleasure washing over you. He only stood once you were done shaking, pleased with himself as always.

“I don’t care who he tells. Maybe it’s time everyone knew you are mine,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You sighed under his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You were about to ask him to take you on the desk when the door banged open again, Azriel and Cassian standing there. You groaned, resting your forehead on Rhys’ shoulder.

“Look, Az, I told you!” Cassian said with glee, clearly happy to be the one to have caught you two.

“So it’s true. That explains the hickeys and weird tension.” Azriel mused, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

Rhys shook his head, shooting a glance to his brothers. “If the two of you don’t leave in the next three seconds, you are going to be subjected to watching me fuck my mate in front of you.” You gasped at his language, eyes shooting up to look at him.

“Rhysand!” You chided as the door to the office slammed shut. He turned his focus back onto you, kissing you hard.

“Would you prefer I lied to them?”

***

Here’s a nice little Rhys piece for all my heartbroken love and loss readers!! (and general rhysand lovers hahaha). i hope you enjoyed <3

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

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shadowdaddies · 1 month

Text

Close to You

Rhysand x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2

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illyrianbitch · 1 month

Text

Insatiable

Pairing: College! Reader x Frat Boy! Rhysand

Summary: There are countless reasons why you and Rhysand don’t work… but those reasons don’t seem so important when you’re tipsy in a bathroom with him inside you.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!! drunken lil tipsy sex (between two consenting adults: drink responsibly), fingering (f receiving), p in v. all the funsies

Word Count: 2.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You knew you were a goner when you saw him, your gaze catching his through a gap between the shifting sea of people— a gap just wide enough for your eyes to meet as he grinned, bringing a red plastic cup to his lips.

Now, your hands grasped at each other as Rhysand guided you backwards. The pulsating bass of the music followed you, echoing in your ears as you finally slipped through the door and into the relative quiet of the neon-lit bathroom. It was surprisingly clean for a frat-house. But then again, it was Rhysand’s, and he had an image to maintain. Not that any of it mattered, anyway, not as his hands snaked themselves around your waist, warm and eager to explore you.

The counter was hard against the small of your back as Rhysand pushed himself into you, your hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling at his hair as he kissed your neck. His kisses were hot and wet, soft in a way that made you weak at your knees, practically purring at his touch. Your breathless gasps filled the air, mixing with the echoing music that blared from outside of the door.

"This is a bad idea," you murmured. But you made no move to stop. Instead, you tightened your arms around Rhys, fingers grasping at his hair. He lifted you up onto the edge of the counter, pushing your knees apart in order to slot himself in between them.

His lips trailed along the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he murmured against your skin, "Is it?”

It was. You and Rhysand could never seem to make things work. The fire was there, the chemistry was unlike anything you've ever felt— but it never mattered. Rhysand was selfish, arrogant, and stubborn. He made stupid decisions in the name of good intentions, found no error in spending his fathers money on every whim and desire, and never knew when to leave well enough alone. But from freshman year, to sophomore, and now far into your junior year, you still found yourself in moments like this. Moments pressed up against Rhysand as you told each other that it was the last time, that it would never happen again. You shouldn’t be doing this, you told yourself.

But as you pulled him back by his hair, locking eyes with him in the dim glow of the bathroom, any semblance of rational thought fled your mind. The red glow of the shitty LED strips pasted to the walls casted an almost sinful allure over his features, hair tousled and lips swollen. You wondered if this was how the devil looked, hauntingly beautiful as he lured people to sin.

"We can't keep doing this," you whispered, “We don’t work.”

He moved a hand to cradle your chin, his touch sending a spark of electricity that coursed through your veins. His thumb brushed against your lips. "And yet I heard you were the one looking for me?"

Your breaths were heavy, chest rising and falling with each erratic heartbeat as you looked at him.

"Maybe.”

He placed the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip, giving it a small tug.

"I didn't throw a party just to get a maybe.”

You pulled back slightly, swallowing hard as you searched for the right words. “Did you, did you throw this party for-”

"Yes," he answered before you could even finish the question, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. “I did.”

Your eyes met his. There was a certain vulnerability in his features, in his furrowed brows and parted mouth, as if he was preparing himself for your answer– getting ready for, what he must have thought, was the inevitable dismissal. But no part of you felt like running away, like lying to him as you’d been lying to yourself. Your stomach tightened.

"I was,” you confessed, “I was looking for you.”

In an instant, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a kiss that was pure heat, a firestorm of passion and longing. Even the blaring music faded from your ears as you lost yourself in Rhys’ touch, in the wetness of his mouth and the grip of his hands. There was a faint taste of some liquor on his tongue– what it was, you couldn't tell. It didn’t matter. You were sure your own lips matched the flavor, a hint of whatever was mixed into the drinks you’d taken while you attempted to convince yourself to leave.

His hands were everywhere, one at the base of your neck, pulling you closer with a possessiveness that made you pool at your core, while the other now gripped your ass, fingers digging into the fabric of your tight black dress. The dress you’d worn just for him. You moaned into his mouth as your body responded instinctively to his touch, arching against him, begging to get closer, to feel every inch of him against you.

His lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a searing trail of fire in their wake as you tilted your head back, offering yourself up to him completely. Your breathing was ragged, each exhale coming out as desperate pleas that had Rhysand’s cock stirring in his pants.

With a swift, almost impatient motion, Rhys pushed the fabric of your tight black dress up your thighs, pulling you forward as his hand grabbed a handful of your ass. You gasped into his mouth, fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt as you leaned into his touch. You welcomed the warmth that rippled through your body, the sense of arousal that you felt drenched in.

"Tell me you wore this just for me," he murmured against your lips.

Your heart leapt, a nervousness now filling your veins.

"Shut up," you managed breathlessly, your response drowned out by another searing kiss that left you reeling, pawing at him like an animal in heat.

You could feel it, the smirk that now played on his lips, no doubt relishing in the effect he had on you— the effect he always had. If it was another time, another night, you would’ve been embarrassed, maybe felt the need to gain control. But it wasn’t any other night. It was tonight, and tonight you wanted Rhysand.

A low, guttural moan escaped your lips as his touch grew bolder, his hand dipping between your legs, the heat of his touch setting every inch of your skin ablaze. You arched against him, seeking more, craving the intoxicating pleasure that you both knew only he could provide. Rhys, your body seemed to scream, touch me, feel me, fill me.

You pulled him closer, your hands trailing down his chest as you sought to feel every inch of him against you. You reached forward, hands trembling as you fumbled with his belt. The sound of the metal clinking against the buckle was drowned out by sounds that filled the room– your harsh breaths and the bass of the music pounding against the walls.

He grinned against your lips, his touch hot against your skin as he began to pull your dress up further, exposing the bare skin beneath. With a soft gasp, you pushed yourself farther against him, body trembling with need as his fingers traced along your soaked core.

Rhys groaned as he pushed his hand in the front of your underwear, the material stretching out over the back of his hand as he used two fingers to spread you. You whined as he dipped a finger lower and pushed it inside of you.

Your body immediately clenched down around it, cunt pulsing as you gasped his name, lifting your hips in response. He kissed you as he brought a second finger into your soaked core, the sound of your moan swallowed by his mouth on yours. You were grasping at him, hands in his hair, on his shoulders, everywhere you could reach.

Rhysand’s lips found your neck next, nose running along your smooth skin. He peckered kisses in a small trail, stopping to give a harsh suck that had you murmuring his name once more.

With each curl of his fingers, the coil in your stomach tightened, a deep sense of urgency in your body growing, a need to feel him even more. "Please," you gasped, your voice a broken and desperate plea.

“Please what?" he teased, voice husky with desire as he brought his fingers deeper inside you with each stroke.

"Fuck me.”

Rhysand maintained his rhythm, the heel of his palm brushing against your sensitive clit as he brought his fingers in and out of you. "Patience, gorgeous," he murmured into your ear, “I’m getting there.”

But you didn’t want to fall apart like this, not on his hands. You wanted to feel him inside you, feel him stretching you out with every roll of his hips, feel him come undone with you– inside you.

"Well get there faster.”

Rhysand pulled back slightly, hands still buried inside you, fingers coated in your slick essence. "What's the rush, huh?" he murmured, his voice thick with amusement as he gazed down at you.

You squirmed beneath him, an ache for release burning deep within you. "I don't want to finish on your hands.”

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he withdrew his hands, leaving you feeling empty and achingly needy. "As you wish," he conceded, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

The sight of him licking his fingers clean sent a surge of arousal coursing through you, and you reached forward. Your hands fumbled with his pants, eager to feel him against you, and with a swift motion, he pushed them down with underwear, his cock springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, at the desire to taste him and feel him everywhere. God you missed this, you missed him.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the counter and began teasing you with his length, holding it in his hand as he rubbed it against your folds with maddening slowness, coating the tip of his cock in your wetness. You whimpered in frustration.

"Rhys.”

He grinned against your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a wave of heat through your body. "Yes, darling?"

“Please.” You bit your lip, the sensation of his touch clouding your thoughts, mind hazy with a desire that consumed you. "I need you.”

His movements stilled for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. "Then you shall have me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed himself inside you. You choked on a moan, head dropping forward to rest on his shoulder, fingers clutching at his shirt.

"You’re fucking divine," Rhysand murmured, his voice low and husky as he began to move. "Gods, I've missed this."

You nodded against him, unable to form coherent words as waves of electricity washed over you. Rhysand grunted as he increased the rhythm of his movements, each thrust desperate and passionate.

“Haven’t you missed this, too? Me inside you?”

You pulled him into a deep kiss, feeling his tongue against yours. “Yes,” you whimpered against his mouth, one hand holding his jaw as the other clawed at his bicep. Your voice was barely a breath, barely audible between the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Rhys leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours as you both panted. He looked at you through dark lashes, pupils blown wide as he murmured, “Does anyone else make you feel this way?”

You met his gaze, hands holding onto him as he bucked his hips up into you, feeling the way your cunt massaged his cock from inside. You clenched around him, breathing heavy.

“No.”

No one, ever. And it wasn't for a lack of trying. You’d tried hard, tried your absolute best to get Rhysand out of your system. But no one ever compared. The prick was in your bloodstream, in the air that you breathed. You craved him. Even now, as he fucked you, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more.

Rhysand pulled out for a moment before he pulled you off the counter and flipped you around, repositioning you so that he could enter you from behind. He guided himself inside you once again, gripping onto your hips, the bunched fabric of your rolled up dress above his knuckles.

You arched your back as every snap of Rhysand’s pushed you further onto the counter, closer to the mirror. Your hands desperately searched for something to grab onto as he fucked into you– one hand gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles, the other reaching back to lightly brush Rhys’.

With every snap of his hips, a new wave of pleasure rolled through your body, the sensation of him filling you from this new angle making you feel fuzzy and weak. You met his gaze in the mirror, watching as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. And then his lips were hovering over your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck.

“Does this feel like we don’t work?”

You couldn't answer, couldn’t bring your mouth to move as he held your stare. Your body quivered with each movement, every sensation heightened by the reflection of him fucking you from behind. Rhys moved faster and harder, his hands reaching around to push the flimsy straps of your dress down, exposing your bare front to the cool air of the bathroom. Your nipples peaked instantly, and with a possessive grip, Rhys pulled you up against his chest, one gripping your breast as he claimed you as his own.

"Because it feels like we were made for each other," he breathed against your skin. Your breath hitched, mouth falling open in bliss as he pushed into you, the warmth of him against your back strong and commanding.

"Rhys," you moaned as he continued to drive you towards the edge of your release. With each movement, each touch, he pushed you closer and closer, a tight coil in the pit of your stomach slowly unraveling.

And then, with a swift motion, he moved a hand from your hip to circle your clit, sending waves of white-hot pleasure rippling through your body. You felt him everywhere, his cock inside you, his hands gripping your body.

Your breath caught in your throat as he locked eyes with you once more in the mirror, his eyes burning with raw desire.

"You're perfect," he said, his words almost reverent, gentle like a prayer falling from his lips. Your heart clenched at his words, now pounding fast in your chest, a fluttering sensation in your ribs. “You look so beautiful like this.”

With one final snap, you felt the tension within you reach its breaking point, pleasure washing over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Your cunt clenched around him, the sensation driving him over the edge with one last harsh snap, his release echoing yours with a loud moan that had his head falling onto your shoulders.

It took a few moments for you both to catch your breath once more, Rhysand pulling out gently, making sure to keep his hold on your trembling legs. His movements were careful, almost tender, as he helped you clean up.

Turning to face him, you found yourself lost in his gaze. You knew that your hair mussed and your makeup was smudged, both things you’d noted as you watched him fuck you, but didn’t quite acknowledge until now. With a soft smile, Rhysand reached out and brushed the skin around your lips with his thumb, wiping a small streak of your lipstick.

"Beautiful," he said, his words a whispered caress that had you blushing and looking down.

He brought you into a sweet, small kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that had your heart fluttering. "You should get back to your party," you whispered.

"I should.”

Rhysand’s hand dropped from your face, your skin now feeling cold and empty, already begging to be touched by him once more. He paused, his eyes searching your face for a moment.

"Guessing this is the last time?"

You stilled, breathless and nervous, knowing deep down that it should be the last time. But the truth was undeniable, your heart was hammering in your chest and there was already a new wetness pooling at your core at the thought of him before you. You wanted to kiss him, to hold his hand, to lose yourself in the intoxicating heat of his touch over and over again.

"It should be." You reached to readjust your straps, a feeble attempt to conceal the uncertainty that coated your words.

Rhys narrowed his eyes for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a small grin spread across his lips. "You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”

As he opened the door, the sounds of the party flooded back into the room, the thumping bass reverberating through your bones. You cringed at the sudden smells and sounds that were now filling your senses. Turning back to you, Rhysand met your eyes one last time.

"You're always worth the wait.”

Despite how low his voice was, you heard him in perfect clarity, the words echoing in your ears long after he disappeared into the pulsating chaos of the party.

Taking one last look around the red- lit bathroom, you gathered your resolve, pushing aside the fluttering sensation in your chest as you straightened your dress and adjusted your hair, setting out to find your friends.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

college bat boys and frat boy rhysand is something i think about daily 💋

i’m in such a writing rut so enjoy this lil one shot that i think is ASS 🧎🏻‍♀️ but it’s okay we ball.

MWUAH

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand smut #acotar smut #rhysand fanfic #rhysand fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar

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azrielbrainrot · 3 months

Text

My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours

Rhysand x Reader

Description: Some foolish males try to seduce you and Rhysand decides to show them who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut, Exhibitionism, Slight Dom/Sub dynamic, Abuse of power, Darker themes (not that much but just to be safe)

Word Count: 4304

Notes: This is just smut, couldn't get Rhys off my mind and this happened. Also I'm terrible with titles I'm so sorry. Enjoy!

You were making your way to your husband's office slowly. It wasn't that unusual for Rhys to ask you to come to his office in the middle of the day, you've shown up out of the blue so many times, for reasons as simple as finding a nice place for a nap or for a quickie on his desk, but something about the tone of his voice has you a bit nervous to find out what he's up to today.

Your suspicions are proven true when you open the door to find two males sitting on the sofa in the corner of his office, tied up in chains and, from the looks of it, under some sort of silencing spell, as they kept opening and closing their mouths to no avail, not being able to make a single sound. Their eyes were open wide in fear, almost begging you with their expression to help them.

You look back to your husband for an explanation but you find him sitting at his desk with a serene smile on his face, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. After a few moments of seeing you frozen in the middle of the office looking between the sofa and him, Rhys finally gets up, walking around his desk to stand in front of you.

“Welcome, my love.” He bends down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, still acting like this is a completely normal occurrence. At this proximity, you can, however, make out a glint in his violet eyes, one you know too well, one that promises trouble.

“What are they doing here, Rhys?” He merely keeps smiling down at you, running his thumb over your plush bottom lip. “What's going on?”

“I've never thought of myself as particularly lenient,” he starts with a sigh and traces a path down your jaw to the column of your throat, then wraps his hand fully around your neck, not pressing down, just holding you possessively, “but it seems some people still need to be reminded not to covet my things.” The new information has you frowning, looking back at the tied up males to try to make sense of it. “We're going to show them exactly who you belong to, darling.”

You remember now. These two males were invited to a banquet up in the House of Wind last weekend, just like so many of the more notable merchants in Velaris were. The economy in the city was thriving and Rhys thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the fae working hard to make that happen. The party lasted almost all night, which was to be expected in Velaris. Towards the end of the night, while Rhys followed through with his duties and entertained everyone in the room, you sneaked off to a quieter place for a moment to unwind. Azriel had sneaked off hours ago so you decided it was only fair that you got a break as well.

Unfortunately, two males, the ones present, had gotten too drunk or were just incredibly dumb and decided it was a good idea to try to seduce you, their High Lord's wife, in his own house. You tried not to cause a scene at the time, only slapping one of them and leaving Cassian to throw them out, but when you got back to the party, Rhys had immediately knocked at your mental walls to see what happened. You managed to convince him not to ruin the night for everyone and calm him down, showing him they hadn't actually done anything besides a few crude remarks.

Later that night, he had made it up to you, even apologizing for letting this happen. Of course you told him it wasn't his fault but you should have known your scheming High Lord wouldn't leave things at that. With a sigh you open your mind to him so hopefully he can show you what's going through his.

Do you trust me, darling? You'd be offended he even had to ask if you weren't so apprehensive about this situation. Every time you think you have a good read on his thoughts, he surprises you.

With anything. His answering smirk almost has you wishing to take the words back. He leans back against the edge of the desk, never breaking eye contact, and pulls you with him by your waist. Dropping a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss you know the meaning of too well. It's a reminder of sorts, of how much he loves you.

Your eyes move from his to the cowering males still tied up on the sofa. You have a feeling you know what he's about to do, what he wants to show them but you've never had an audience before. You can't help the anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

Do you want me to stop? You bite your lip and look back at him. You've never really thought about the possibility of anyone watching you in such a compromising position, but you don't think you're opposed to it at all. They won't do anything more than watch and you know Rhys will fix this if it all goes wrong anyway, one way or another.

No.

The look on his face as he leans down to kiss you again should be illegal, satisfaction and anticipation glowing beautifully on his features. This time there's nothing chaste about the kiss, it's nothing short of passionate. He's unhurried in his movements, letting himself taste you properly. I need you to be good for me now.

Breaking away from the consuming kiss, Rhys pushes you off him carefully to pick up one of the chairs by his desk. He carries it to the middle of the room and sets it back down so the confused males have a great view of it, sitting on it with spread legs, like a king on his throne.

He looks over to where you're standing and holds out a hand, you take it without hesitation, letting him guide you until you're standing in between his legs, with your back to them. You look down to his lap, taking notice of the bulge already waiting for you. He holds onto your waist to get your attention back on him.

“Take everything off first, my love.” You'd probably jump off the window to your left if he asked it in that tone of voice of his. You kick your shoes off first, slowly, while looking straight into his eyes. You know he has the power in this situation but you can't help but tease him at least a little, it'd be no fun if you just followed his every word blindly. He raises an eyebrow at the delay but he knows you too well, knows you don't really mean it.

The simple black dress drops to the floor soon after, leaving you only in your violet lacy panties. He seemed pleased at your choice, reaching out a hand to run his fingers over the hem of your undergarments. You thought he would be when you bought them, you just never imagined anyone else would see them. You suppose they help the point he's trying to make - a happy coincidence.

“I said everything.” You hook both your thumbs on each side of the panties and drag them down your legs slowly, making a show of bending down, letting your chest fall right into his line of sight. As you hear a gasp behind you, you remember they're also getting a show. The thought has you wanting to play into Rhys' idea even more, show them you'd never think of letting them touch you.

“Should I throw this at them?” You taunt as you dangle the piece of fabric from your index finger.

“No,” he reaches out for it and puts it in his pocket, “They don't get to smell how wet you are for me.” His words make you realize that you can't smell them at all, Rhys put up a shield between you. The possessive bastard.

“What will you have me do now, High Lord?” You know all too well exactly what he wants. Still, hearing him order you through it sounds delicious.

“On your knees, darling,” his smirk deepens when you obey immediately, “Take me out. Show them what you can do to me.”

You can see the imprint of his throbbing cock through his trousers. Not being able to resist playing with him a little you gather your hair to one side of your face and look up at him with doe eyes before leaning down to lick his erection through his pants, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the tip.

He hisses and grabs onto your hair, pulling your head away to look into your eyes. A warning. You try to fight your smile by biting your lip. You love when he gives you warnings.

Luckily for him, you can't wait to feel him in your mouth. You're also committed to showing the disrespectful males what they won't ever be deserving of. Reaching out for his trousers, you make quick work of the buttons holding them close. Pulling them and his underwear down enough to let his cock slap back to his stomach, looking painfully hard and absolutely delicious.

You grab onto it, feeling its familiar weight in your hand before wrapping your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around, tasting him. You pull back just to hear him growl and lick up a stripe up his length with a smile. Gods, he's going to wreck you tonight.

Taking him back into your mouth, you start taking as much of him as you can, getting lower with each bob of your head, sucking harder, tightening your hand at the base, just the way you know he likes. His hand tangles back in your hair, softer now. Almost petting your head and caressing your cheek tenderly as he watches you.

“Just like that,” he moans out, “Isn't she absolutely breathtaking?” His heavy lidded gaze moves from the exquisite view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock to the sorry excuses of males that dared to think they could take you from him. “Such a shame you won't ever get to feel her perfect mouth on you. Let me tell you, boys,” his gaze moves back to you, knowing the praise will get to your head, “It feels like heaven, hell and everything in between.”

You take him deeper in response, determined to get everything into your mouth. He rakes his fingers through your scalp and throws his head back in a breathless moan, letting himself get lost in the pleasure, forgetting the show momentarily. His hips start thrusting into your mouth, slowly at first to let you get adjusted but, when it's clear you can take it, he holds onto your hair tighter and takes over, fucking your throat with slow, deep thrusts.

You start to feel your arousal dripping down to your thighs. It seems you enjoy the spectators more than you thought you would, you don't remember the last time you were this wet without even being touched. Reaching a hand down your body, you gather some of your slick and bring it up, circling your clit in small motions, taking some of the edge off, moaning softly.

“Sucking my cock got you that needy?” He can try to tease you as much as he can but you can tell his voice is strained, he's getting close. Being watched is getting to him too, but it's the confirming moan you let out around his cock and whatever picture he finds in your open mind that has him moaning out your name and speeding up, uncaring of the slight choking noises erupting from you, cumming down your throat not long after.

He keeps thrusting into you slowly as he rides his orgasm out, mumbling mindless praise while stroking your head. After a few moments, he pulls you gently away from his sensitive cock and coos at you when you swallow the last bits of his cum without him even having to ask.

Rhys pulls you up and gives you a sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. You wince slightly into his mouth as you take your likely bruised knees off the floor, moving up higher to sit across his lap so you can reach him better. Never breaking the passionate kiss, he starts caressing your sore knees, making you moan in contentment.

You're both lost in your own little world for a while, tasting and touching each other, but it seems like he remembered what you were there to do because he pulls away from you, smirking at the wrecked look on your face and the string of saliva connecting both your lips. You move back to suck his bottom lip into your mouth, licking the string connecting you away, drawing a breathless moan from his lips.

“We're being rude to our guests,” he says as he holds your hand up to his face, the still damp hand you had used to play with yourself before, and sucks the fingers into his mouth, moaning around them at your taste.

“You were the one who invited them.” As his tongue swirls around your digits, you can only think of the mind shattering pleasure he can bring you with that tongue. Your guests could keep watching or take a dive out the window for all you cared.

“And I promised them a show.” He takes your hand out of his mouth to speak and it brings a pout to your lips. It seems you won't get to feel his skilled mouth today. Later. You smile victoriously at the reassurance. So spoiled. That's your fault.

He smiles fondly at you before turning you around in his lap, leaning you back into his chest and spreading your legs over his, making you face said guests. Your eyes widen a bit at what you see, you hadn't looked their way since before you even took your clothes off. Being able to see them, with their faces morphed into awe and horror, and a noticeable bulge on their pants has a tiny glint of fear spark in your body.

Rhysand moves to reassure you as soon as he feels you tense, stroking your body tenderly and kissing your neck, whispering into your ear, “I'm right here.” You relax almost instantly, you don't have to worry about the consequences when you're with him. He wouldn't let either of them hurt you or even get close to you. “Let me take care of you.” You nod and relax further into him, letting him take over.

You let yourself wonder what you must look like in the males' eyes, spread over their High Lord, completely naked while he was fully clothed in his dark suit. One of his hands moves to rest on your stomach and the other grabs one of your legs, spreading them open even more so your guests can have a good look at your wet cunt, all for him.

“Having the privilege of watching is one you don't deserve,” he drops your leg, moving it over his so you can't close them even you wanted to, “But since you were brave enough to try to make a move on my wife,” he drags his hand from your stomach straight to where you need him most, playing around with the wetness, making you drop your head back into him with a soft moan, “It's only fair I show you exactly why you're not worthy of her.” Hearing him use his High Lord voice while he's taking care of you is making you tingly in all sorts of places.

After coating his fingers in your wetness, cursing softly at the amount he finds, he starts rubbing slow circles around your clit, just as you had done before. Letting you melt into him and become more malleable with each stroke.

“Do you hear that?” You open your eyes, not sure if he's talking to you or them but you get your answer when you see them nod with a terrified look on their faces. Seems like your husband got inside their minds. “That's all for me. All of this,” he pulls his hand away to show them the wetness clinging to his skin, connecting him to your pussy, “is mine.” You nudge your hips up, reminding him to keep giving you the attention you deserve after you did such a good job for him. He complies with a chuckle.

He speeds up his pace and moves one hand up to play with your nipples, teasing them just as he knows you like. When he starts tracing your neck with sloppy, open mouth kisses, biting you softly every so often, you realize he wants you to cum fast. You almost forgot he was trying to prove a point.

Your hips start chasing his hand, greedily wanting more. As you're moving back and forth, you can feel him already hard and ready for you again. This makes you moan louder and sink your nails into anything you can reach, one of those things being his arm.

“Want me to stop?” He purrs into your ear, slowing down slightly, pulling a growl out of you.

“Don't you dare.” You stab your nails deeper into his skin, smelling blood.

He just chuckles and picks back up the pace. Looking up to watch your guests squirming in their seats and, you assume, to fuck with their minds further. He widens his legs more, taking yours with his, baring you even more to them.

“I'm going to make her cum now,” you let out something between a whimper and a plea, “And when she does, I need you to hear exactly whose name she'll moan.”

True to his word, he speeds up again, touching you exactly how you need him to. You're really getting close, your moans start getting louder, a mix of his name and please escaping your parted lips, until the knot getting impossibly tighter breaks, washing you away in waves of ecstasy, pulling you under until you can't breathe.

It doesn't take you as long to come to, you weren't completely satisfied after all, he was intentionally neglecting your fluttering entrance. When you do, you notice he has moved his hand to cup your cunt. You almost think it's a way to cover you after the show is over but, as you notice the glint in his eyes as he's staring them on, you know it's a way to mark his claim even more.

“Rhysand.” You've played his game and you know the poor idiots more than got the message. You want him now.

“Tell me, darling.” He looks back to you, moving to kiss your neck, biting at the already fading marks he left earlier.

“Want you to fuck me.” He hums, still sucking around your neck, not giving you any indication that he'll follow through with your request.

“We have company.” What an infuriating time to start caring about the males sitting across from you.

“I don't care.” It seems like that was the answer he was looking for since he immediately turns you around and kisses you deeply. You can feel all the self control he was holding onto break as his kiss gets sloppier, more desperate. He stands up, lifting you up with him and walks to his desk, setting you down on the dark wood, devouring your mouth all the while. The room feels different around you and you don't have to look to know he let his power run untamed.

Urgency starts spreading inside you with each stroke of his tongue, moving to all but rip his clothes off him, needing to feel his body against your own, as close as physically possible. He breaks away from your mouth in favor of trailing kisses all over your chest, biting down on your nipples until you grab his hair and bring him back up to crash your lips against his once again.

You let your hand wander down his torso, running your nails just hard enough to leave red marks in their wake. Wasting no time, you grab onto his cock, giving him a few strokes so you can hear him moan into your mouth.

He pushes you down gently onto the desk, laying you down with no care for the important documents still scattered around it. He breathes out a curse as he holds onto your hips and watches your body sprawled before him, he knows he'll never tire of the sight. You take notice of the darkness that set itself in the room, you probably wouldn't even be able to see your guests through it. Not that you'd look away from him for anything right now.

Ever the tease, Rhys starts swirling the leaking head of his cock around your clit, playing with you before giving you what you want. He does this enough times that you were just about to snarl at him, but then he finally circles your entrance, pushing the head in slowly and bottoming out soon after, not being able to resist your sweet warmth.

The pace he sets is messy but you still try to meet him in his thrusts, you're both desperate, having only one thing in your minds. The hold he has on your hips is sure to bruise but he doesn't let up, and you keep begging him not to stop. You try to hold onto the desk, pushing some things to the floor, trying to keep a hold on your sanity as well. Your legs wrap around him, your body urging him to keep going. Not that he would ever dream of stopping.

You feel your orgasm reaching for you fast, screaming out his name in warning. He moves one hand to play with your clit once again, and it doesn't even take two thrusts before you're exploding around him. Your mind goes blank behind your eyes and you barely feel him cumming right after you, filling you up.

This time it takes you both longer to come back down to the world of the living. Mind blowing pleasure still teasing at every one of your nerve endings, your legs still shaking softly. You run your hand over your face before opening your eyes to catch him already staring down at you. He looks absolutely ruined. His hair is messy from both his hands and yours running through the dark locks, there were red marks all over his torso, down his hips and his arms, your marks. You don't have to see yourself to know you match his satiated expression.

Rhys helps you sit back up on the desk, wincing at the papers stuck to you and picking them off with a smile. Your muscles feel like soup but you still find the strength to hug him to you, leaving little kisses everywhere you can reach. You can't help but bite down on his collarbone when he pulls his spent cock out of you gently, burning with oversensitivity. He drops a kiss on your shoulder as an apology, wrapping one arm around you as well.

You're extremely uncomfortable sitting on the desk, you're probably ruining said desk with the cum dripping out of you too, but you refuse to move away from him. As you lean your head on his chest, almost purring at the way he's caressing your back, you look over to the tied up males, noticing they were unconscious.

“They've already seen enough,” he explains when he catches you looking. You simply hum in response, at this point you don't care if they also see you fuck him or hug him. It won't matter either way.

“You'll make them forget about it?” Your voice is scratchy from all the abuse your throat just endured, you could still feel him when you swallowed.

“Of course,” he nuzzles your hair, “Wouldn't want them to remember how beautiful you are with my cock in your mouth or screaming my name in pure pleasure.” The reminder has your thighs clenching. Gods, this male makes you insatiable.

“Was that all for nothing then?” You move back enough to look into his eyes, not resisting giving him a soft kiss.

“Not for nothing,” he pecks your lips again before giving you an impish grin. “Do you realize how hard you just came?” Your body somehow still has the energy to blush a little at his words.

“That's not what I meant.” You roll your eyes slowly, pouting a little. If he makes them forget about this whole situation, they won't learn their lesson. You hope they're not dumb enough to try hitting on you twice but if they did there was nothing you could do to save them from spending the rest of their days in Azriel's dungeons, you probably wouldn't even want to try to help them.

“I'll leave some of our previous talk intact. They can't forget who you belong to.” He looks over to the males with a serious look on his face, seems he's still on the fence about letting them go so easily. Being High Lord must be hard sometimes, having to be the voice of reason. “I'll let them remember how easily I could toy with their minds and have them think the rest was a nightmare.”

“And you're not worried about what your people would think if they knew how mean you can be?” You wrap your arms around his neck again, pulling him closer, always needing him closer.

“As long as you still love me, darling,” he kisses your forehead before leaning back to smile down at you, “I don't care what anyone else thinks of me.”

#rhysand smut #rhys smut #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand fanfic #rhys acotar #acotar fanfiction #divider by saradika

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throneofsapphics · 2 months

Text

the other side

young!Rhys x Reader

Summary: “I hate you” “No you don’t” and “How do you sleep at night?” “I usually go for a bed” with Rhys

Warnings: drinking, bickering

A/N: for this! (continued here)

Through the sweat, liquor, and various perfumes you still managed to pick up on that distinct sea and citrus smell. That scent only meant one thing. He was back, your good mood was about to take a turn.

The High Lord’s son infuriated you. Usually stayed away from Velaris, you didn’t know where exactly he went - rumor had it somewhere in Illyria, but as long as he was away from you, you were fine with it. You’d suffered through lessons with him when you were younger, and that was plenty. The two of you always had it out for each other, bickering over one thing or another and constantly getting in trouble because of it.

Still, each year when winter solstice came around, you mentally prepared yourself to deal with him. Maybe this time, if you stayed in the shadowed corner of the bar, he’d leave you the hell alone. It was a nice sentiment, but he loved tormenting you too much for that and you should’ve known it.

“Fuck off,” you snarled as he slid into the stool next you.

“Charming as always,” he braced one forearm on the wooden bar, angling his body towards you.

Fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass, shoulders rolled back, you turned to face him.

“Can I help you?” you gritted your teeth.

“I can’t say hello to an old friend?” His eyes danced, stars twinkling, and you tamped down the urge to throw your drink at him. Rhysand wasn’t worth getting kicked out or causing a scene

“We’re not friends.”

“An old acquaintance,” he modified.

“That’s better,” you replied, eyes rolling, you shifted away from him and downed the rest of your wine.

“Impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you,” you hissed.

“That’s obvious,” he made a show of running his eyes over your body.

“Mother above, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, darling.”

“Don’t -”

“Call me that,” he waved you off, “yes I know.”

“If you know,” you spat, “then why do you still do it?”

“Because it amuses me,” he shrugged, and stood. Your reactions, amuse him. Theoretically, if you wanted him to stop - you’d just ignore him completely, but there was something comfortable about the routine - the bickering each time you’d see him, so you let it happen. From the little spark in his eyes, he felt the same. “Same time next year,” he winked, before turning and melting into the crowd.

“Fuck,” your hit the table a touch too hard, catching a few wary looks. He’d gotten the last word in. This time.

You should’ve asked more questions. Absolutely should’ve asked more. When your friend invited you, you assumed it would just be a few of your mutual friends, people you ran with regularly.

In the future, you’d make sure to ask exactly who would be in attendance, considering your greatest childhood and now a few times a year annoyance was sitting on a chaise, making it his throne. His eyes gleamed as he saw you.

You were tempted to turn around, to walk right out that door and forget about this, but that would mean he’d won and that was utterly unacceptable.

A few drinks later, the two of, to your mutual surprise, spoke to each other somewhat civilly.

“I’ve been wondering,” he drawled. You stared at him, not bothering to egg him on. He frowned when you didn’t bite, but continued, “how do you sleep at night?”

“Excuse me?” You choked.

“With all of that arrogance,” he continued. “Aren’t you up all night? Thinking about yourself? About how pretty you are?” His words were slightly slurred, alcohol, sounding like he was trying to make a joke that wasn’t quite landing as he wished.

“I usually go for a bed,” you deadpanned, “and you look like you need a rest.”

You scanned the room, aware of exactly who was in here, and who might try to take advantage of the heir in this state. There were plenty of takers. Sure, you weren’t his biggest fan, but you couldn’t let that happen. Maybe there was a lingering sense of loyalty after suffering through the same lessons.

“Let’s get you home,” you finally said, and linked your arm through his.

Taking me home, darling? His voice purred in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. You forgot he could do that.

Getting you away from the vipers, you countered tersely.

Don’t let my father see me like this.

You stopped, sending him a quizzing look, and saw the slight desperation in his eyes. If his father saw him like this … you didn’t try to fill in the blanks. Instead, you were sober enough to winnow him back to your apartment.

The memories faded, and you let out a soft laugh against his chest. “You really love throwing us right back into the past, don’t you?”

“It’s interesting to see me from your side,” Rhys ran his fingers lazily through your hair. “I never realized quite how much I annoyed you.”

#acotar drabble #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine

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harrystylesfan2686 · 2 months

Text

Jealous

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary:Rhsyand reacts to you giving Helion the attention he wants.

A/N: hehe First ask! I hope you like this!! @dragon-grisha-fae

Dialogue prompts Masterlist

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You were at the High Lords meeting with Rhysand. As a part of the Inner Circle, you are to be there and with the coldest persona as a mask of Night Court. Everyone else puts it on, not letting anyone see their actual personality, but not you. No. You are all happy and talking with everyone, still rude to the people who deserve it, but overall, no.

You feel Rhysand's glare at the back of your head while talking with Helion and ignore it. It's the ending of the meeting, several people have already left but you just couldn't leave without talking to Helion first. He is your actual High Lord after all. You having come from Day Court at his command as his emmesary to Nigh Court 'to straighten the bond between the two courts' as he said.

You were angry him at first, almost throwing a tantrum but refrained for for you dignity. You heard all about the cruelties of Night Court and were scared to go there, not that you would ever admit. You had especially requested to saty at Valaris if you had to, and rejected all the options that included going to the Court of Nightmares, which irritated Rhysand.

When you realized that you rather enjoyed the irritated and unhinged look on Rhysand, you made it your life mission to anger the hel out of him. It's not like he could throw you out, you were a important person.

So now, you go against every order he gives. Doesn't matter if he's your high lord, you'll still disobey him. It's how it's always been between the two of you. You never listen to anything he says and he keeps trying to get you to.

Helion and you laugh loudly at his joke, which gains you looks from the other people surrounding the room. You hear someone clear a throat behind you and turn to look at Rhysand who has a weird expression on his face."As sadden as I am to intrupt you two catching up, I'm afraid we have to go."

"Already, Rhysand?" Helion raises an eyebrow at the two of you and you sigh. Rhysand nods and you stay silent, glaring at him as he and Helion exchange goodbyes.

"Alright, then. Goodbye Y/N." Helion turns to you and you instanty beam at him with the brightest smile as he kisses your cheek. You then follow Rhysand to the rest of your group. You eye him from the conner of your eye because he's glaring ahead at nothing.

You try to think back of any moment that would've happened durning the meeting that upset him but can't think of anything. When you are all back at Velaris, in Rhysand's office, discussing notes of the conversations. You try to add something to the current topic and Rhysand scoffs, saying, "I didn't know you were paying attention while giggling with Helion all day."

You are caught off guard and can't do anything but stare at him in confusion for a second but gather yourself quickly and respond with a smirk, "Why? Are you jealous?"

He scoffs but thankfully stays silent for the rest of the evening. When the inner circle meeting is over and every body leaves except for you and him. You are sorting through some papers when you accidentally knock down the pen stand to the floor.

You sigh and bend to clean the mess you made at the same time you hear Rhysand say under his breath, "For gods' sake, can't you do anything properly." You freeze and wonder if he actually said it. You stand and turn to him,"What's gotten into you?" He doesn't even look at you as he says,"Whatever do you mean."

"You have been scoffing and huffing over day when I haven't even done anything to you." Your brows furrow in anger. He rolls his eyes.

"Rhysand!" You yell when he doesn't say anything.

"What?!" He finally looks at you.

"What is your problem?"

You watch him clench his jaw so hard, you think he'll break. After a minute of you keeping your eyes on one another in anger, he closes his eyes in annoyance and finally says,"You- smiled at him."

You blink.

He sighs again and stands up, taking a step toward you, he says in a lot calmer tone. "You smiled at him. You never smile at me." Your eyes widen in realisation.

"No way. You are actually jealous." You can't control the laugh that comes out of your mouth.

"I am not." His brows furrow in annoyance.

"You know I never thought I'd see the day, when you, the High Lord of Night Court would be jealous of Helion." You are still laughing. Rhysand frowns at you. "Not that I'm saying he isn't attractive, he is. A lot but-"

"Stop it." He snaps.

"Will you admit that you're jealous?" You smirk.

His lips curl up. Both of you breathing heavy, the only thing you can focus on right now is how close the two of you are to one another. How perfect he looks, flushed with anger and eyes dancing over your face. And then before you know it, Your lips are to his.

You don't know who started it, only that he feels oh so good in your arms as your hands roam over his body as if having their own mind. And before you realize what was going on, you're laying naked in his office, limbs tangled with each other and wondering what you'll do now.

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

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readychilledwine · 2 months

Text

Pieces of You - Prologue

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

Warnings - death, loss of a mate, babies, drug induced sleep

A/N - this one is going to hurt before it feels good, friends. It's gonna hurt a lot. Based on these little pictures I found in a tiktok

Silence had fallen over the house.

There wasn't a single voice whispering, no bells to ring in the celebration of Nyx's birth, no loud pops from corks of champagne echoing in the air.

Just silence.

Madja stood in the doorway, a small bundle of what should have been joy wrapped in her arms. Rhys was sat on the steps, shoulders shaking with anger and sadness.

The Cauldron had refused Nesta's offer. It had instead mocked them, changing Nesta's womb, forcing her to keep the powers that plagued her, and breaking the death bargain.

It forced him to live while his mate died, promising there were no second chances this time. No magic being to bring her back again. This time was for good. It was forever. Rhysand knew life could be a bitter thing, but he did not expect death to be as cruel.

“High lord,” Madja approached slowly. “We need to decide how we are feeding Nyx. The babe needs to eat.”

Azriel appeared besides Rhys, kneeling down next to him as he stared off the balcony. “I.. I don't know,” he finally answered. “We hadn't talked about it. She figured she would just be here to do it.” Azriel squeezed Rhysand's shoulder, handing him a vial with blue liquid in it. “We will have to find a wet nurse. Though, I am unsure how you will find one this last minute.”

“Y/n,” Azriel said softly. “She just had a babe, didn't she?” Madja nodded. “Can she just feed them both?”

“it is possible. Y/n does over produce already and has been storing milk. Newborns need to be fed almost hourly, though, shadowsinger. She'd have to have them both here, or Nyx will have to stay with her."

Rhys just shrugged, uncorking the vial and shooting back the contents. “I really don't care about that aspect, Madja. The house is huge, and I'm alone now anyway. What's the point in caring? She can decide." Azriel helped him stand as the sleeping drought started to work and supported his brother into a bedroom.

He reappeared moments later. “I'll ask her. I know you don't want to burden her.” He reached for Nyx, admiring his perfect face again. “She's a sweet girl, quiet, good listener. She might be good for both of them while he heals.”

Madja just nodded. “Just remember that two grieving widowers will need a village to care for two newborns.”

The small cottage you lived in was quiet. You were leaned against the couch, sitting in the floor with your head laid back. Caring for your daughter alone was a chore, and you knew you should have been sleeping, but something was keeping you awake.

A gentle knock in the door had you cringing, praying Morwenna wouldn't wake up. You moved to the door quickly, not noticing the shadow whisping around your feet and opening it to a desperate shadowsinger. “Az?” You moved for him to come in, stomach dropping at the sight of the babe in his arms. “Please tell me you being here with that sweet little thing doesn't mean what I think it does.”

Azriel just looked up, tears finally falling. “He hasn't ate yet,” your heart shattered at the unneeded confirmation. “Please, help us.”

You took the Illyrian babe instantly, taking your shirt off without question to offer him food. Azriel's shoulders fell in relief as his little cheeks began to move, a small hand and fingers reaching to your pinky.

The two of you sat in heavy silence again. Azriel processing what had all happened that day, and you, aching for a male you hardly knew, and mourning the female that had become a close friend.

You almost laughed at how cruel life could be. To lose your mate before childbirth, and then to lose your friend, the female who held your hand during labor, only a week later.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Rhys taglist:

@tothestarsandwhateverend @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avajustreads

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl

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

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historiaxvanserra · 3 months

Text

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of | Chapter 3

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: A few weeks since making your bargain with the High Lord and he seems to be slipping into a deep sadness and his absence is keenly felt. Nyx has a fever and Rhysand is nowhere to be seen.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

Dreaming comes as easy as breathing there in the darkness of the High Lords townhouse. Hewn City is a dark metropolis; all shadowed emerald light and a cruel chill that seeps into the empty parts of you. You dream shapeless dreams, all plumes of jade light and the cruel laugh of your father as he utters your name like a curse.

A pitiful cry cuts through the echoing antechamber of The Moonstone Palace. A much too tangible thing to be the shadow of a long repressed memory. Another sob bleeds into a wail and your body comes back to consciousness with all the force of a raging tempest.

Nyx.

Instincts you thought had died under that mountain seem to rouse you from your state of misty wakefulness. The dream slips away from you once more and in its place, sunlight -- radiant and topaz as it ribbons into your room -- and shaded by the canopy of cypress trees that flutters against your window in the balmy summer breeze.

The air in the nursery smells like moondust and lavender as you enter and the room is shaded in shadows, a darkness so deep that it arches on oppressive and the heat almost feverish. You can vaguely make out the figure of Nyx in his cradle and as you cross the threshold into the nursery his wails seem to dissolve into mournful little sobs that seem to you almost as rehearsed as his fathers arrogant front that he wears so well. Beneath it all there is a fragility there, in the truth that lies in the darks of the High Lords eyes. The same is true of his son as he casts his deep sapphire eyes, brimming with silver tears, towards you in a plea for comfort.

“Good morning, little bat,” You whisper gently at the infant, languidly stroking the dark onyx curls away from his face and catching his errant tears with the pad of your thumb. Even in the darkness of the nursery you see the deep crimson that colors his chubby cheeks and the bridge of his nose and you can feel the heat coming off him in cruel plumes as he continues to let out broken little sobs. It is almost painful to watch him in his pitiful mood with his ruddy cheeks and dark eyes.

“Oh my darling! are you unwell?” Nyx only sniffles in response, as his chubby fist finds purchase on the neckline of your nightdress and drawing you closer to him. Taking him into your arms you move towards the windows. The wave of fresh citrusy air is a welcome break in the feverish heat of the nursery and the celestial topaz light reveals Nyx to you more clearly. His hair is the same shade of blue-black as his fathers, and his eyes are a deep, captivating sapphire that shine with the same mirth you’d seen in Rhysands violet eyes. The tips of his pointed ears and nose are flushed a deep scarlet and the hue of his golden skin seems almost pallid in the morning light. Pressing a kiss to his forehead has him burrowing further into your chest seeking comfort and giving you a sleep addled, gummy smile as his broken sobs dissolve into deep and chesty snores as you descend into the lower levels of the house in search of his father.

“Let’s go find your daddy, shall we?” you murmur against Nyx’s messy curls.

The house seems to be steeped in a solemn silence as you reach the foyer and round the corner into the large sitting room. There’s a chill in the stagnant air and the room, usually stained in Rhys's distinct scent, is eerily devoid of his presence. It’s been the same for the last few weeks. At first Rhys had been a constant, if not outrageously over protective, presence in the townhouse but as the weeks wear on its as though he is surrendering himself to the darkness that seems to attend him these days. Allowing himself to sink into the vast and starless abyss where no light can reach him. The High Lord you knew in those first weeks seems like a distant memory now; now, he walks these halls like a half-formed ghost in the night, and by morning he is gone. Leaving only the smell of jasmine and mandarin in his wake. Rhysand no longer seems to find no joy in his family, or the son that is a constant reminder of his lost love, and you, once an easy distraction, has become another burden that he avoids like the plague. It wouldn’t be so bad, you think, should he find it in himself to visit his son for more than the mere minutes before he finds rest in the evening. But these days he works too much and drinks more still. So much so that the air in the townhouse around his private rooms has begun to smell more of the woody whiskey that he drinks than his own unique blend of jasmine and citrus that intoxicates you night and day.

What’s worse still is that when you do see him it is when the house is cloaked in shadow and you seek him out only for him to bury himself under a pile of papers and false compliments as though you and he aren’t one and the same. As though you don’t see his vain attempt at wearing arrogance like some sort of beautiful armor.

When you look at him now all the light has gone from his violet eyes and he looks like the errant memory of the Male who had been your dark winged savior in Hewn City. His hair is longer and the ends curl away from his pointed ears in haphazard waves and the scruff around his jaw has mutated into an unkempt beard that ages him.

He looks so much like his father, you think. A thought you’re certain the High Lord wouldn’t care to hear.

“Rhys?” You call out, though the resounding echo is answer enough. As is in response Nyx seems to huff a frustrated sigh as his dark lashes flutter open in the harsh jade light of the living room. The babes wings twitch and spasm as he becomes fully lucid in your arms and he wriggles defiantly against his swaddling.

“I suppose it’s just you and me today, little bat,” again, you think, though Nyx only offers you a high-pitched giggle as he points towards the kitchen where he has learned his breakfast waits.

“Let’s get you something to eat, yes?” You say animatedly, taking one of his curled up fists and placing it to your lips and peppering gentle kisses on his soft skin. He smells like lavender soap and moondust but his usual calm scent is tainted with something almost medicinal that speaks to the extent of his illness. Though it has done little to dampen his spirit you think as he finally breaks loose of the satin blanket you had wrapped him in before leaving the nursery.

“And then maybe we can go into town and get some herbs for that fever, hm?” Though Nyx is much too young to make sense of your words he seems invested enough to mimic the nodding motion you make at him as you place him in the high chair while you move to prepare a selection of mashed fruit that he tastes eagerly.

When Nyx is finished his breakfast he manages to stay lucid enough for you to get him changed into some little blue overalls with silver embroidered crescent moons along the arm straps and leg cuffs. But just as you’re securing him into the navy sling he seems to drift off into a serene dreamstate with the rhythm of your heartbeat, a strong and steady lullaby as you stroll through the streets of Velaris.

By the time you and Nyx reach the main square the sun is at its peak in the sky and the world seems painted in the leonine hues of summer in the mountains. Nyx takes it all in with a sense of awe and excitement. The air is crisp and fresh and the smells of the sweet tarts and jams from the bakeries on Crescent Street are undercut by the salty smell of the Sidra as the wind blows westward. The row houses are hung with ivy and honeysuckle and the patrons of the boutiques and antique bookshops on the main square all seem as though they live in a perpetual state of bliss. Velaris truly is a wonder you think as you approach the yawning sage coloured door of Madja’s apothecary.

“Here we are Nyxie!” You smile brightly at the babe as he squeals and your take his hand in yours and point him towards the sign hung above the apothecary door. The sign is painted gold on a black wooden board that simply reads The Apothecary at Orion Street.

The door is ornately crafted; painted a muted sage and the glass panes are inlaid with beautiful colors making up the components of an emerald bottle, the likes of which line the shelves and window displays, each labeled in elaborate cursive. A small bell rings melodiously to alert Madja of your presence and as the door closes behind you the smell of wyrmwood and heather is thick in the air. The walls are all painted a deep bottle green and the shelves are stacked with ancient bound books and various concoctions in dark jars and bouquets of dried herbs hang from the high ceiling above the counter. In the dim lights its hard to make out Madja’s hunched figure through the plumes of thick smoke coming from the back of the store.

“Madja?” You call into the darkened store, stepping further into the apothecary, “Madja? Hello? Anyone back there?”

“Just a second, my dear,” A loud screeching sends you backwards, a cautious hand cradling the baby content in his sling, and from the back room an old woman appears clutching various glass vials and instruments.

Madja stops abruptly and places the contents in her arms down on the counter when she takes in the sight of you; dressed in a simple dress with the heir of The Night Court wrapped around you chest. Her brows draw together and the lines around her mouth deepen as she regards you both with narrow eyes.

“Is everything alright, girl?” She asks with the faintest hint of alarm, her dull eyes trailing over both you and Nyx as if looking for some injury or illness. “The High Lord is well?”

“It’s Nyx, he has a small fever, is all.” You offer her and her face seems to soften then and she hums lightly retreating into the darkness of the back room again. The sound of her puttering around the small workroom rings sharply through the shop floor as she collects a few glass bottles and salves.

“I thought you’d be able to give him a tonic of some sort for the fever?” You raise your voice above the clatter of glass and utensils until she reamergs from the darkness. When the older woman comes back into view she's got a selection of salves and balms and three bottles of tonic, each filled with a different color liquid. She sets it down on the table and advances towards you with surprising candor and inspects the babe closely, pressing a weathered hand to his cheeks and forehead and inspecting his mouth as he offers her a gummy smile and idle babble.

In those quiet moments while she is checking the babe over you allow your mind to wander. It does not wander far, flicking to images of the High Lord hunched over his desk and his eyes ringed purple in the silvery lamp light.

“A small fever,” Madja’s voice is rich and deep as she hums to herself in acknowledgement, patting the babe fondly on his haphazard curls before collecting a small cloth bag and placing a few salves and bottles inside, “the balm is for his gums and the tonic should break the fever.”

The old woman nods towards the infant as she hands the bag off to you, “he’ll be okay though?” your voice is apprehensive and you realize then the anxiety clawing its way up your throat at the thought of the babe in your arms coming to harm.

“Yes, he will,” Madja says with a deep sigh, running a hand over her brow “Now is there anything else I can help you with?” You decline and begin to collect the bag heavy with various salves and tonics and turn on your heel to the street when a thought occurs to you.

“You wouldn’t have any sleeping tonics would you?” The clinking of glass is answer enough and Madja adds them to the cloth bag with a questioning look in her dark eyes.

“For the High Lord, he’s been kept very busy as of late.” Madja smiles knowingly and pats you on the shoulder and ushers you to the door, the bell chiming as you cross the threshold into the street. Turning once more back to the apothecary, Madja offers you a wave and shouts out “Tell Rhysand he is under strict instructions to get a good night’s sleep…and a shave!”

Madja’s laugh is sweet and rich on the midday breeze and you wave her a final farewell before slipping down the avenue that leads you straight back to the Townhouse.

___________________________________________________________________________

By the time the sun sets over Velaris, Nyx had already had two doses of his tonic. His fever broke sometime after his evening meal and relief floods your heart when you notice the change in his color during bathtime. The babe is lathered in bubbles from his lavender soap and he’s giggling happily and babbling to his rubber bat toys as you run a washcloth over his cherub cheeks that are stained with the delicious remnants of the cherry pastries you had bought from a bakery on the way home. It’s then you notice that the blush tinting his cheeks is a light coral instead of the deep scarlet that had graced his sweet face earlier that morning.

Nyx splashes giddily as you tap his nose and laugh animatedly at him, “Someone’s feeling better! Aren't you, little bat?”

“I heard he gave you quite the scare this morning,” It’s Rhysand’s voice, a low velvet tenor that sounds so beautiful as it hits your ears.

He’s learning against the frame of the bathroom door wearing his signature lazy smile though you can tell from the redness around his dark violet eyes that he hasn’t slept well. His hair is pushed back from his face though the longer strands frame his chiseled face quite beautifully, you must admit. Though the coarse hair that has grown in around his jawline does nothing for the delicate slope of his nose nor the sharp line of his jaw. He’s since shed his suit jacket and the sleeves of his shirt have been pushed up to the forearms and in this light you can make out the intricate swirls and patterns that make up the inky lines marked into his tan skin.

“It was just a little fever, we went to see Madja,” You say softly sighing as you lift the babe from tub, “he was crying for you this afternoon.” The words come out much too clipped for you to play them off as jest.

When Nyx is swaddled in a plush ivory robe he squeaks in delight at the sight of his father, his babbles devolving into calls of ‘dada’ and ‘dad’ until Rhys takes him in his arms pressing light kisses along the curve of his sons pointed ears and clammy forehead.

Rhysand sighs deeply, inhaling the scent of his son’s lavender soap. Nyx’s curled fists tug happily at Rhys as he carries him from the washroom and into the nursery. The High Lord makes quick work of changing the babe into a dark purple sleepsuit and you catch him checking over him guiltily-- running a thumb over his tear-tracked cheeks and murmuring a muted I’m sorry into his sons onyx hair.

“I’m sorry, Love,” Rhys says quietly as he tucks Nyx into his crib, his voice is hardly more than a whisper and you try to focus on the way his broad hand rubs sleepy circles onto Nyx’s back as he slips easily into a state of dreaming.

The babe is an oddly sound sleeper.

“Sorry that I haven’t been here, it’s just--” Nyx stirs a little as Rhys leads you out into the hallway, “It’s been a rough few weeks.” He huffs another tired sigh and leads you down into the living room.

The emerald light casts the room in a jade glow that reminds you of Hewn City so much that it makes your skin crawl. Rhys finds his place by the fire in the armchair he had claimed that first night he brought you here. This time you don’t wait to be seated and instead take the armchair directly opposite him.

“You don’t have to explain to me, Rhys,” You whisper softly, a hand reaching out to take his in a gesture of friendship and comfort. He takes it without hesitation, with reckless abandon that speaks to how truly vulnerable he is here in this room. Laid bare to you after so many weeks of false pretenses and shameless flirting, “but he cried for you today and you didn’t come.”

The pain that flashes in those violet eyes manifests into a physical ache in his heart, a hurt so deep that you feel it too, somewhere in the cavern of your heaving chest.

His pain is yours. As though you are made of the same darkness. Born from the same star.

“You need to come when he calls.” You stand to your full height and Rhys makes no effort to follow, only sinks deeper into the armchair, his body flirting with sleep. From your pocket your slide a small vial of purple liquid across the end table towards him.

“To help you sleep,” His frown deepens and his brows knit together with a wary concern, “I got it from Madja.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” Rhys eyes it suspiciously and through dark, thick lashes regards you with narrow eyes, “I need…I need a drink.” His hand stretches towards the empty whiskey glass on the dark mahogany end table. His broad fingers flex lightly around the glass in his hand and before he can reach for the decanter of amber liquid your hand closes around his with a fond pressure as your eyes plead with his.

“Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid,” You say lightly, feinging an air of regret in your words as you slide the purple vial closer still, “A good night’s sleep tonight.”

“And in the morning?”

“A shave.” Rhysand’s resounding groan echoes around the dark halls of the townhouse. The sound, like velvet night, becomes the soothing lullaby that sends you into a dreamless sleep.

A thing of lovely beauty.

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

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callsigns-haze · 1 month

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Oh, How She's Changed...

Pairing: Acotar x reader Warnings: Contains mature themes, including violence, romance, and adult situations. Summary: YN, the immortal descendant of gods, reunites with her friends Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel at a lavish gathering in the Night Court's grand ballroom. As they reminisce about past adventures and observe the antics of other courtiers, they marvel at YN's transformation from an innocent girl into a captivating woman. However, their reunion is cut short when one of YN's guards arrives to escort her away, leaving Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel with lingering thoughts and a sense of longing as they watch her depart into the night.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the Night Court's palace, YN, the immortal descendant of gods, found herself ensconced in a lavish chamber. Intricate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of ancient battles and celestial beings, while flickering candles bathed the room in a soft, ethereal glow. At the heart of the chamber, YN stood surrounded by the opulent splendour of her surroundings, her gaze drawn to the figures of Mor and Amren bustling around her.

Mor, her fiery locks cascading in loose waves around her shoulders, moved with a grace born of centuries of battle and camaraderie. Dressed in elegant attire befitting her station as a high-ranking member of the Night Court, she approached YN with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Well, YN," she said, her voice carrying a note of playful anticipation, "are you ready to grace the fae with your divine presence tonight?"

YN, radiant in her own right, adorned in garments woven from the finest silks and adorned with jewels that shimmered like stars, offered Mor a warm smile. "I hope I can do justice to the legacy of my ancestors," she replied, her voice infused with a hint of humility.

Meanwhile, Amren, the enigmatic being of ancient origins, moved with a fluidity that spoke of eons spent mastering the arcane arts. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned forth threads of celestial magic, weaving enchantments into the fabric of YN's gown. Each stitch pulsed with otherworldly energy, resonating with the divine power that flowed through YN's immortal veins.

"Fear not, YN," Amren reassured her, her voice a melodic echo of distant thunder, "with Mor's impeccable taste and my arcane prowess, you'll be the epitome of divine elegance."

Mor nodded in agreement, her gaze sweeping over YN with an approving smile. "And let's not forget your own innate charm and grace, YN," she added, her eyes alight with pride. "You were born for moments like these."

Grateful for their support and guidance, YN felt a surge of confidence coursing through her veins. "Thank you, both of you," she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "I'm grateful to have such wise counsel."

Amren's lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes glittering with ancient wisdom. "The honour is ours, YN," she replied, her voice carrying the weight of centuries past. "Now, let us ensure that you're prepared for whatever the night may hold."

But as YN caught her reflection in the polished mirror, something stirred within her. Gone was the innocent girl she had always been, replaced by a woman exuding an air of confidence and allure. With a subtle sway of her hips and a coy smile playing upon her lips, she realized that with this new look, she was ready for some spice.

And so, as she stepped out into the night, her heart brimming with anticipation, YN knew that she was not just a descendant of gods, but a force to be reckoned with—a goddess in her own right, ready to conquer whatever challenges lay ahead.

In the heart of the Night Court's grand ballroom, the air hummed with the vibrant energy of celebration. The room pulsated with music, the melodies weaving through the throng of fae dancers swirling gracefully across the floor. Amidst the lively festivities, three figures sat at a secluded table, their voices mingling with laughter and camaraderie.

Rhysand, the enigmatic High Lord of the Night Court, reclined in his seat with an easy grace, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Beside him, Cassian and Azriel, his loyal companions and warriors of the Night Court, shared a toast, their laughter echoing through the hall.

"Another round, gentlemen?" Rhysand suggested, raising his glass in a playful salute.

Cassian grinned, clinking his glass against Rhysand's. "You read my mind, Rhys."

Azriel nodded in agreement, his usually stoic demeanor softened by the warmth of the moment. "To old friends and new beginnings," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated with quiet strength.

As they sipped their drinks, their conversation turned to memories of times long past. They spoke of battles fought and victories won, of challenges overcome and bonds forged in the crucible of war. And yet, amidst the tales of triumph, there lingered a sense of longing—a yearning for something—or rather, someone—missing from their midst.

"I can't wait to see YN again," Cassian remarked, his eyes alight with anticipation. "It's been far too long since she graced us with her presence."

Rhysand nodded in agreement, a flicker of excitement dancing in his gaze. "Indeed. It will be interesting to see how she's changed over the years."

Azriel's expression softened with a hint of nostalgia. "She was always a force to be reckoned with," he said, his voice tinged with reverence. "I have no doubt that she's only grown stronger with time."

As they spoke of YN, the immortal descendant of gods, their voices filled with a mixture of fondness and admiration. Though separated by distance and time, their bond with her remained unbreakable—a testament to the enduring power of friendship and loyalty.

And so, amidst the revelry of the Night Court, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel raised their glasses once more, toasting to the promise of a long-awaited reunion—a moment that would soon bring together old friends and new beginnings in a celebration of life, love, and the enduring bonds that unite them all.

As the night wore on and the revelry reached its peak, the grand ballroom of the Night Court was alive with energy. Fae of all shapes and sizes danced in a whirl of vibrant colors and laughter, their movements reflecting the joy and freedom of the moment.

Amidst the swirling throng, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel found themselves drawn into the rhythm of the music, their spirits lifted by the infectious enthusiasm of the crowd. They moved with a fluid grace, their movements a testament to years of training and camaraderie.

As they danced, their thoughts inevitably turned to YN, the immortal descendant of gods they had long considered a dear friend. Memories of their past adventures together flooded their minds, filling them with a sense of nostalgia and longing.

"I remember the first time I met YN," Cassian reminisced, his voice tinged with fondness. "She was like a breath of fresh air—a ray of sunshine in the darkness."

Rhysand chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Yes, I recall that day well. She certainly knew how to make an entrance."

Azriel nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "She was always full of surprises. I have no doubt that tonight will be no different."

As they danced and laughed, their anticipation for YN's arrival grew with each passing moment. They imagined the joy of seeing her again, the warmth of her smile, and the strength of her spirit.

And so, amidst the music and merriment of the Night Court's grand celebration, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel continued to dance, their hearts filled with excitement and anticipation for the long-awaited reunion that awaited them. For in that moment, surrounded by friends and allies, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, united in their bond of friendship and shared experiences.

As the trio continued their animated conversation, a sudden interruption from behind caught them off guard. Before they could react, a voice, once familiar but now tinged with a newfound confidence, sliced through the air.

"Did I hear someone talking about me?" YN's voice teased, laced with amusement and a hint of mischief.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel froze mid-conversation, their heads snapping around to find the source of the interruption. And there, standing before them, was YN—transformed beyond recognition.

Gone was the innocent girl they remembered from years past. In her place stood a woman of breathtaking beauty and undeniable allure. Her hair cascaded in waves of midnight silk, framing a face that radiated with confidence and strength. Every movement she made exuded grace and poise, her eyes sparkling with a newfound fire that sent shivers down their spines.

For a moment, the trio could only stare in stunned silence, their minds struggling to reconcile the image before them with the memories of the girl they once knew. It took them a beat too long to realize that the innocent girl had blossomed into a captivating woman—a realization that nearly caused Azriel to choke on his drink.

Cassian was the first to recover, his trademark grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, well," he exclaimed, his voice filled with playful delight. "Look who decided to grace us with her presence."

Rhysand's eyes sparkled with amusement as he surveyed YN's transformation. "I must say, you clean up rather nicely, YN," he remarked, his tone teasing yet genuine.

Azriel, usually composed and reserved, found himself at a loss for words. He cleared his throat awkwardly, his cheeks flushing faintly as he struggled to regain his composure. "You... uh... look... stunning," he managed to stammer out, his voice barely above a whisper.

YN chuckled at their reactions, a knowing gleam dancing in her eyes. "Why, thank you, gentlemen," she replied, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "I must admit, it's been quite the journey."

As they exchanged pleasantries and caught up on lost time, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel couldn't help but marvel at the woman YN had become. And as they continued to bask in the warmth of her presence, they knew that this reunion would mark the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with excitement, adventure, and the enduring bond of friendship that had stood the test of time.

As Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, and YN retreated to a secluded corner of the ballroom, their conversation took a more relaxed turn. Surrounded by the lively festivities of the Night Court, they observed the arrival of other lords and ladies with a mixture of amusement and mild skepticism.

Rhysand leaned against a pillar, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he surveyed the gathering crowd. "Ah, it seems the usual suspects have graced us with their presence," he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Cassian chuckled, his eyes scanning the room with a discerning gaze. "Indeed. I see Lord Tarquin has brought his entourage of sycophants," he observed, a bemused expression crossing his features.

Azriel's lips quirked into a wry smile as he watched the various courtiers mingling with practiced charm and false pretenses. "And let's not forget Lady Ianthe, fluttering about like a peacock in heat," he added, his voice dripping with dry humor.

YN, who had been quietly observing the scene, couldn't help but join in their laughter. "It's almost comical, isn't it?" she remarked, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. "All this posturing and preening for the sake of appearances."

As they continued to share in their amusement, their conversation turned to lighter topics—old memories, shared experiences, and the absurdities of fae society. They laughed and joked, their camaraderie growing stronger with each passing moment.

But amidst the laughter and light-hearted banter, there was an unspoken understanding—a recognition of the challenges they faced and the dangers that lurked in the shadows. And as they stood together, united in their bond of friendship and shared experiences, they knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together, with strength, courage, and a healthy dose of laughter to see them through.

As Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, and YN observed the arrivals, their conversation took on a slightly more critical tone. They couldn't help but exchange knowing glances and subtle nods of agreement as they assessed the behavior of the other lords and ladies.

"Look at Lord Beron," Rhysand remarked, his voice dripping with disdain as he gestured towards a particularly pompous nobleman. "Does he ever tire of hearing himself talk?"

Cassian snorted in amusement, his eyes following Rhysand's gesture. "I doubt it," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "He's too enamored with the sound of his own voice."

Azriel, ever the silent observer, watched with a keen eye as the various courtiers vied for attention and favor. "And what about Lord Eris?" he mused, his tone tinged with skepticism. "Does he ever tire of playing his little games?"

YN nodded in agreement, her gaze narrowing slightly as she observed Lord Eris' calculating smile. "He's always been one for manipulation and intrigue," she remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of disdain. "But I doubt he'll find much success here tonight."

As they continued to pass judgment on the behavior of their fellow courtiers, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, and YN found themselves sharing in a sense of camaraderie born of mutual understanding. They may have been outsiders in the eyes of some, but together, they formed a formidable alliance—one built on trust, loyalty, and a shared disdain for the superficiality and pretense that often permeated fae society.

And as they stood together, laughing and jesting in their secluded corner of the ballroom, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them with unwavering resolve and the unbreakable bond of friendship that bound them together.

As the night wore on, the revelry continued to swell around them, but amidst the celebration, a hushed murmur reached YN's ears. Turning slightly, she saw one of her guards approaching, his demeanor serious and resolute.

Excusing herself from the conversation with Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, YN turned to face her guard. His presence reminded her of the responsibilities that came with her divine lineage—the duties and obligations that often weighed heavily upon her shoulders.

With a nod of understanding, YN bid farewell to her companions, offering each of them a warm smile and a promise to meet again soon. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel returned her smile, their expressions filled with a mixture of fondness and admiration.

As YN began to make her way towards the exit, the trio watched her go, their eyes following her with a mixture of awe and longing. It was impossible not to notice how she had changed—the way she carried herself with a newfound confidence, the subtle shift in her demeanor that spoke of experiences and challenges faced.

"She's grown into quite the remarkable woman, hasn't she?" Rhysand remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of pride.

Cassian nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving YN's retreating figure. "Indeed. She's like a jewel—radiant and untouchable."

Azriel remained silent, his eyes fixed on YN with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. He had always felt a special connection to her—a bond forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unspoken understanding. And as he watched her disappear into the night, a sense of longing stirred within him—a yearning to be by her side, to protect her and guide her through the challenges that lay ahead.

As YN disappeared from view, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel turned back to the festivities, their thoughts lingering on the woman who had captured their hearts and inspired their admiration. For in that moment, they knew that no matter where their paths may lead, their bond with YN would remain unbreakable—a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding them through the trials and tribulations of the fae realm.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@kmc1989

@djs8891

@hardballoonlove

@callsign-dexter

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@rosiahills22

#acotar #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #bat boys #bat boys x reader #bat boys x you #decided on something new...

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azrielsdove · 4 months

Text

Love and Loss: Ch.7

Warnings: Mention of Injury, Some Smut, 18+

Ch.6 Here | Ch.8 Here

***

You were not happy about being dragged to the Illyrian war-camp with everyone else. Azriel had demanded it, refusing to go anywhere without you since that night after the Hewn City. He acted as if he let you out of his sight you would disappear from him forever. Nothing more had happened since then, besides his need to be more protective than normal. Even at night you would feel the cool brush of his shadows running over your arms, checking in to make sure all was well.

You didn’t mind any of that, but bringing you out here when you had no reason to come? You were annoyed with him and he could certainly tell. You hadn’t said a single word to him since he had dropped you in this cabin. Not that you particularly wanted to stay at the House of Wind when all the Illyrians were gone, but that was beside the point. You didn’t appreciate him making you come, especially when it meant more time around Rhysand.

Luckily for you, he and Feyre had been gone for a few days. You sat on the plush chair with your feet tucked up under you, a book in your hands as usual. You were pointedly ignoring the shadows twirling through your fingers as you read, even more so ignoring their master in the corner of the room. You could tell he was growing agitated with you, not quite understanding why you were so upset.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asked, voice low. You didn’t look up from your book or respond to his question. “I know you’re mad I brought you here, but I don’t like the idea of you being alone up there. What if you needed one of us?”

You turned the page in your book.

A shadow swirled up your neck and hooked around your chin, forcing your gaze up to the Shadowsinger. He had stalked closer to you, standing in front of you now. “I don’t like being ignored,” he murmured, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. You shoved down the heat that was creeping up through you, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to be angry.

“I don’t enjoy being forced to come wherever you go like i’m your little toy,” you shot back. He leaned down closer, hands coming to rest on the arms of the chair below you. His shadow remained on your chin while the others ran over your arms and legs.

“You’d rather I left you unprotected, stuck miles up in the sky?” His eyes were hard, his breath fanning over your cheeks. You glared right back at him.

“It would have been preferable to being stuck here.” Your disdain for the violent Illyrian camps was not something you hid. You remembered the stories Rhysand had told you of their youth, and how hard he had worked to try to change things. How slow that change was coming.

Azriel leaned down even more, lips close enough to brush yours as he spoke. “Mmm, but then you wouldn’t have me around.” His voice was teasing, a light in his eye. You hated how easily he could bring your brain to mush, turn a bad mood into a good one.

You were seconds away from closing the minuscule gap between the two of you and press your lips to his. A loud bang outside accompanied by yelling tore you from the moment, Azriel running to the door as you stood behind him.

You heard the faint voices of Mor and Feyre, and then Cassian was dragging in a near-dead Rhysand. You despised the way your heart stopped at how he looked, the decades of your love for him making his pain your pain. Azriel helped Cassian pull him onto the couch as you hurried to the kitchen, grabbing any healing supplies you could find.

You ran back to the injured male on the couch, kneeling down next to him as you assessed what had happened. Azriel and Cassian shifted behind you, upset at the state of their brother and unsure what to do. “Go,” you told them, “stand outside. Watch for anyone coming. I can handle him.” The pair nodded at your command, following each other out the door. You knew their anxieties would only make this harder, and sending them outside to pretend to do a task would make everyone’s lives easier.

You undid Rhysands shirt, pulling the blood-soaked fabric off of him. He groaned at your touch, eyes rolling back into his head. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, focusing on the injuries in front of you. You took out a warm washcloth and began dabbing the blood away, trying to find where each wound began and end. You had trained in some healing techniques long ago, a useful tool when you married an Illyrian.

You had been in similar situations, cleaning blood and stitching up your husbands wounds. This time was drastically different, and not just due to the fact you weren’t really together anymore. He was quiet. In the past even his worst injuries he had joked through, lightening the mood as you worked on him. Now, he had nothing to say. He wouldn’t even open his eyes or acknowledge what you were doing. It was like something had been sucked out of him, something had destroyed him.

You finished stitching what you could before moving to his wings. “Rhys,” you said, “I am going to have to touch your wings to help you. Is that okay?” You knew he didn’t deserve this kind of respect from you, not after what he had done. You didn’t need to ask his permission to touch the soft leather you knew all too well. Yet something told you that this moment was not the one to start acting on your hurt and anger.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse, hollow. His eyes stayed closed as you washed his wings with the rag, tears pricking your eyes at the deep slashes through them. You knew how much an Illyrians wings meant to them, how devastating it would be for them to be taken away. You were gentle with them, heart heavy as moans of pain came from Rhysand. You took your time making the stitches as even as possible, spreading a healing balm over them when you were finished. The last thing you did was pull out a roll of bandages, going back over all the wounds you had stitched up. With his fae healing he should be fine in a matter of days, but until then he would be forced to rest.

You had just finished placing the last bandage when his hand shot out for your arm. You startled at his touch, looking up into his now-open eyes. He was staring down at where his hand rested on your elbow, pressing your forearms together. You looked down as well, taking in the sight of your matching marital tattoos. “What I have done is unforgivable,” he murmured, hand tightening on your arm. You were inclined to agree, and you probably would have torn your arm out of his grasp and left in any other situation. The male in front of you now bore no resemblance to the cruel Rhysand of the past few months.

“Perhaps not unforgivable,” you gave, trying to ease his pain in any way. Your gaze caught his, taken aback by the tears lingering in his eyes.

“Do not lie to me to try to preserve my feelings.” His voice was thick, on the verge of tears. “I have treated you in terrible ways. I have said and done truly awful things to you.” He looked down at his chest, at the bandages cleanly placed there. “And yet here you are, tending to me as wonderfully as ever. I never deserved you.”

You sighed. “No, you didn’t.” His head shot back up to you as you pulled your arm from him, cleaning the healing supplies up. “However, that does not change what was done. What we had, once upon a time. Can you truly tell me it was all a lie?” There it was. The question that had been haunting you for months.

He took his time to respond, the silence taking over the room. You carried the remaining bandages and healing balm into the kitchen, putting them away while your question hung heavy in the air. Minutes passed while you cleaned, broken only by the sound of Rhysand’s struggling breaths.

“She’s going to reject the bond,” he finally said, avoiding the question. Your movements stilled, not quite expecting that. “She did enough to keep me alive before dropping me here and disappearing.” Truth be told, you couldn’t blame her. You washed your hands, drying them slowly on a towel.

“So she knows?” You asked, understanding that he must have told her. You walked back to the couch, looking down at him. He nodded, avoiding your gaze.

“She trapped a Suriel, to try to find a way to heal me. It told her. She’s angry that I would hide it.” You gave a humorless laugh, kneeling back down next to him.

“For the most powerful High Lord of all time, you certainly are also the dumbest.” Your blunt words shocked him, making him look back at you.

“W-what?” He sputtered out, not used to you talking to him like that.

“Rhys, please. She is your mate, is she not? You have already devoted yourself completely to her, something she had to have noticed months ago.” You sighed, pulling his hand into yours. “She will come around. Give her time.”

He held on tight to you, the ends of your tattoo lining up perfectly when your hands were connected. That was how it was made to me, to show the unbroken love between the two of you. The love that was now shattered into a million minuscule pieces.

“Remove this bond, Rhysand. It does you no good being tied to me like this.” You knew he still may not agree, that you didn’t not know his true motives behind keeping you around. However, you weren’t sure if there would ever be another chance to ask. When he was vulnerable enough to be kind.

You were pleasantly surprised when he nodded, thumb stroking over your hand one last time before he let go. “Okay,” he agreed, voice weak. “I’ll summon a priestess.” You nodded, standing from your spot next to him.

“Rest now, Rhys.”

***

You found Azriel and Cassian outside, sparring to relieve the tension. They stopped when they saw you, rushing over to ask how Rhysand was. You raised your hands, silencing them before they could even speak. “He will be fine,” you assured. “Feyre found out about the mating bond.”

“Feyre did that?!” Cassian asked in disbelief, eyes wide. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped at his shock, shaking your head.

“No, no, she found out while trying to heal him. Where is she?” You looked around the two males in front of you, catching no sight of her.

“She asked Mor to take her somewhere far away. Where Rhys wouldn’t bother her,” Azriel explained. You can’t help but wish you had thought of doing that.

“I see. He is resting now, but you may come back in.” You opened the door for the two, Mor winnowing back at the same moment. She pushed past you to get to Rhysand, demanding to know what happened. You don’t try to stop her. While you could feel bad for his current state, you couldn’t deny you enjoyed seeing him get a little taste of his own medicine.

You grabbed the book you had discarded and headed upstairs, mind heavy with the thoughts of your conversation with Rhysand. You were concerned he was only being nice due to the possibility of Feyre rejecting the bond, and where that would leave him. A beat of fear ran through you at the thought of Feyre rejecting him, and he decided to turn back to you. You shook your head as you pushed open the door to the room you were staying in, banishing that idea from your mind. You would never let that happen.

***

You had fallen asleep while reading, waking up with a sore neck and a rumbling stomach. You slept right through dinner, if it was even had. You stood from the bed, walking slowly to the door. You cracked it open and listen for any sounds of life before deciding to sneak downstairs to grab something to eat. You rubbed your neck as you made your way down, regretting falling asleep at such an awkward angle.

You enter the dimly lit kitchen, catching sight of Rhysand asleep on the couch in the living room. You say a silent prayer to the Mother that he stays that way. One interaction with him is enough for the day. You turn your back on the sleeping male and browse the cabinets for an easy meal. You begin to reach up for a pack of crackers when a cool shadow brushes against your waist. You smile down at the thing, wondering if Azriel knows one is out.

Your question is quickly answered when a hard body presses against your back, an arm reaching over your head to pull the crackers down for you. You turn your head to smile at your friend, a little surprised to find his face so close to yours. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist, the other landing on the countertop in front of you. “Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, voice low as to not disturb the High Lord only feet away.

You shake your head, a bit lost in his eyes and his proximity. You turn so you are facing him, hands coming up to rest comfortably on his chest. “Midnight snack?” You tease, gesturing to the crackers he had grabbed for you. His eyes darken and shadows swirl around you.

“Something like that,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you. Your heart is ready to rocket out of your chest, knowing Rhysand could wake up any second and catch you.

“Azriel,” you whisper, glancing at his lips. You should stop this, push him off and run back to your room. You shouldn’t allow his hand to move up to your neck, a long finger angling your head up to him while his thumb rests on your throat. You shouldn’t allow your arms to wrap around his neck, hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You definitely shouldn’t lean up and kiss him.

You no longer cared as Azriel’s lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, hesitant. You could feel in the unnatural stiffness of his body that he was holding back, allowing you to decide what happens. You pull him even closer to you, increasing the speed and passion of the kiss. Your body melts into his, the hand on your waist wrapping around and splaying across your lower back. Your hand slid up his head, tangling itself into his soft hair. You opened your mouth for him, needing him in every way. You gasped as he lifted you up onto the counter, pushing your nightgown up to step between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer, closer, closer.

He groaned into your mouth, nipping your bottom lip. The hand on your back dropped to your thigh, running up and down the exposed skin. His shadows were twirling around your ankles, your arms, your hair. Everything about him was intoxicating. He pulled away from your lips, traveling down to kiss and suck on your neck. You moaned lightly as the hand on your neck dropped, fingers sliding ever so slightly under the top of your gown. “Azriel,” you breathed, arching into his touch. He growled against your skin, placing a harsh bite in a spot anyone could see.

Not that you particularly cared.

Your hips pushed against his, desperate for him. Your mind was a blaze of lust, of need, and it could only be sated by him. His fingers dug into the top of your thigh at your movement, a warning to think before you did that again. His lips came back up to yours, kissing you so hard you were sure you would bruise. You felt something cold brush against your heat, an almost embarrassing whimper coming from you. “They want to touch,” Azriel said, his voice deep. You moaned when the shadow ran against you again, teasing the edge of your underwear. “Would you like them to touch, my love?”

He was going to be your undoing.

“Yes,” you gasped out, the shadow delving to where you needed it most. You bit hard onto Azriel’s shoulder to muffle your moan, pleasure radiating through your body. He resumed the kissing and sucking on your neck, hand fully sliding down under your top to cup one of your breasts. You dug your nails into his back, the sensations overwhelming. His thumb ran over your nipple as his shadow gave a delicious twist against you, cries falling from your lips. He pulled his hand out of your nightgown to bring your head to his again, lips silencing the noises coming from you.

The shadow began vibrating against you, your legs falling open to allow it more access. You felt the cool breeze of another one dip inside you, Azriel’s hand on your thigh keeping you available to them. You shook against him, moaning his name into his mouth as he kissed you. You felt the shadow push in farther, the sensation unlike any you had experienced. It stretched you open delightfully, it’s twin increasing the speed against you. You bit down on Azriel’s lip, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. His nails raked down your thigh at the pain and pleasure as you licked over the wound you had made.

You were close, too close. You didn’t want this moment to end, but the shadows seemed to sense the tightening in your body. They held their current speed and movements, bringing you to the edge. You arched against Azriel, head falling back against the cabinets as stars exploded behind your eyes. You shook against him, his shadows working you through the last bit of your release. He hummed in satisfaction as he watched your mouth drop in a silent scream, the sight one he had dreamed about for far too long.

He called the shadows back when he could tell your mind was blank with overstimulation, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. You brought your head back down, glassy eyes looking up at the Shadowsinger. Rhysand had never made you feel that good, and Azriel hadn’t even touched you yet. He smiled at you, brushing your tangled hair back. He took in your swollen lips, spit and a hint of blood glistening on them. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever seen in that moment.

“What are you doing with my wife, Brother?”

***

This is my favorite chapter so far 🫣 Please let me know what you guys think !!!!! I LOVE hearing your thoughts on this story <3

Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters @mybestfriendmademe @thaynarajejheje @brujitafantomatico @justdreamstars @thisblogisaboutabook @lees-chaotic-brain @abeltownshipslittlebitch @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @fxckmiup p @its-sam-allgood @miluiel1 @nickishadow139 @hailqueenconquer @mika-no-sekai-blog @books-hlmc @stonerpersona @starsinyourseyes @meshellexplosionmurder @acourtofbatboydreams @captainsbaby

*crossed out users it wouldn’t let me tag :(

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #love and loss

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shadowdaddies · 1 month

Note

Request ?! Bat boys sucking on readers nipples because they are sore during her cycle🥲😩😩🤌🤌

soo I'm not certain if you meant separate headcanons or all together so I went all the batboys at once😈 hope that's okay

Tender

Batboys x f!Reader

warnings: not explicit smut?, idk maybe. grey area..., okay ya it's smut but it cuts off before the sex

Squeezing your eyes shut, you curled inward on the mattress, tugging the sheets over you as the cramps washed over your body. Stomach churned, your cycle so painful it took the breath from your lungs as you laid in bed.

The door creaked open, Rhysand’s violet eyes studying you with a graceful caution as Azriel and Cassian forced their way around him. Cassian’s nose scrunched at your scent, Rhys cooing as the three Illyrians moved closer towards you.

“Your cycle?” Az questioned, a scarred hand brushing sweaty hair from your face as you looked up at him with a pitifully weak nod.

“Oh, what can we do sweetheart?” Cassian murmured, gruff voice low as he settled next to you on the bed. His weight dipped the mattress, a sharp pain shooting through your sore chest at the movement.

All eyes turned wide at your reaction, a cautious aura blanketing the room. “Did I hurt you?” Cassian eked out, his voice cracking with guilt while he studied you for injury.

“No, no,” you breathed. “I’m just... tender, is all,” you admitted, cheeks flushing a rosy red as your gaze dipped quickly to your breasts and back.

“Oh,” Rhys rumbled, his scent turning darker, muskier. Breathing grew heavier among the group, need rising painfully in your core at the sight of three powerful Illyrians, barely restrained from touching you.

“I- It helps, to massage them, usually,” you breathed, hardly above a whisper. You refused to look at any of them, sure of your own arousal wafting through the air. “If you all would go, I can take care of myself.”

Rhys and Cassian shuffled awkwardly toward the door, but Azriel’s voice cut through the air like a dagger. “Do you want to?”

You resisted the urge to moan at his husky tone, daring to meet the hazel eyes which bore into yours. “Want to what?”

A smirk turned up the corners of the shadowsinger’s lips, gaze turning predatory as he stalked toward you, Rhys and Cassian close behind. “Do you want us to touch you? To make you feel better?”

An involuntary gasp escaped you at the question, wide eyes searching each male in the room only to find desperate need and desire. “Yes, please,” you breathed, chest subconsciously arching toward them.

Azriel was first to reach you, gently grasping the straps of your nightgown as he tugged the silky fabric down to reveal your chest to all three males. They sucked in a collective breath, their scents thickening the air in a way that had your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Please, please touch me,” you pleaded with Azriel, gaze then flicking to Rhys and Cassian as you grew impossibly desperate.

With a grunt, Cassian dove past Az, tongue flicking out against your left nipple as rough hands kneaded your breast. The pain and pleasure mingled with each other in a dance, gasps forced from your mouth, head tilted back in ecstasy at the sensations.

Yet, still you needed more, and begged for such from your High Lord. You swore you could feel approval ripple through the air, Rhys’s long nimble fingers toying with the bud of your right nipple, the feeling so different from Cassian your mind reeled to catch up.

Hips ground against the mattress, your arousal mixing with the blood from your cycle to create a pathetic wetness between your thighs. “Gods, I need more,” you half-moaned, half-cried as Rhys’s tongue flicked your nipple, Cassian’s canines brushing the other as he sucked the bud.

Dazed eyes found Azriel’s, the male standing proudly with arms crossed as you came undone in front of him. “You,” you growled, hand finding the strength to yank him toward you by the collar. “I need you.”

That cocky smirk only deepened, Azriel looking down at you with unconstrained pride as shadows wound up your limbs, sending goosebumps over your skin. “Oh believe me, love. We are nowhere near done with you.”

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coralseacourt · 3 months

Text

Broken Love

🪸@coralseacourt Summery: The youngest Acheron Sister gets rejected for Elain.

Love is sweet but revenge is sweeter. After a broken heart comes a broken court part two of broken love. Warnings: naughty scene

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚 Part 2

He left.

Left me after all this? To find Elain?

The Shame and Embarrassment I felt in this moment was unbearable.

He ran from me like I had infected myself with a deadly disease.

If i could i would just lay here on the floor of the training room and never move again.

I stared still in shock at the ceiling above.

Wow.

After finally regaining some kind of consciousness I got up.

Should I have expected something different?

Probably not.

I knew he had feelings for her, but secretly i had hoped.

I grinched inwardly. How would I be able to train with him or even meet his eyes?

What if he gave up on my training?

With all those questions pounding in my head i went back to my room.

I had to talk to him tomorrow and make sure our training progress wouldn’t suffer.

I could do this. I would keep my feelings to myself.

That night I lay awake staring at the Stars outside of my window, so bright and yet they looked so lonely never quite reaching each other, when I heard it.

A giggle. So melodic and soft. I would recognize her voice anywhere.

I got curious what was she doing here?

She was living in the Townhouse with feyre, she never came up here.

I got out of bed and walked on quite feets to the door, opening it slowly.

My heart was racing, my hands sweating, a terrible feeling was spreading in my stomach.

I peaked out and could see Azriel’s back. His hands pressed against the wall across from my bedroom and in front of him Elain pushed between him and said Wall. Kissing. Touching. Little noises leaving her mouth.

“Listen to your sweet little moans. No one could ever compare to you.” His voice out of breath and dark from lust.

And that was the moment my Heart broke completely.

He had done this on purpose. Took her to the front of my room to devour her.

And for what? To send a message?

To tell me “I m not interested”?

I gasped loudly and tears started to roll down my face.

I would have accepted if he would have kept his distance or told me to leave him alone, but this?

It was intentionally cruel.

He pulled away from my Sister and looked at me over his shoulder.

I could find no regrets in his eyes.

I hastily closed my door and run to the Bathroom .

My Dinner heaving up . I fell to the ground in front of the toilet and threw up while tears were streaming down my face.

I should have stayed invisible.

Time was passing .

I didn’t know how long i had been laying on the bathroom floor before I went to bed.

While the sickness had left a hysterical hiccup had stayed.

Exhaustion had finally overcome me and I fell asleep.

For the next week I barely left my room.

Food magically appeared but I barely touched it. No one came to ask if I was ok, why would they ?

I had to think back about Rhysand’s words before I started training.

“Do you want to be seen?” I thought I did but if being seen meant being hurt then no I rather stayed by myself.

Or maybe it was just the wrong people that saw me.

And that’s were my plan started.

I needed to get away.

Away from everyone and everything that was holding me back. Away from everything that made me weak.

A week after the events in the training room I packed my bag and sneaked out to the 10.000 steps , that i knew i had to somehow overcome if i wanted to get away .

It took me hours.

Hours of sweat and scratched up hands.

Bloody and sweaty but feeling free.

It was still dark outside but barely.

I walked quietly through the still sleeping city.

I could do this.

Be on my own.

And with a last look towards the starlit city behind me i left, in to the woods.

🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚

1 year later

Beron was dead.

Eris did it. He finally was High Lord. And it was time to play.

For the last year I had mostly traveled, until I found myself lost in the autumn Court.

Eris the future heir had found me and offered me his friendship.

Was it a real friendship ? Probably not, but i had stopped caring.

He hid me in one of his cabins. Preparing me for the day that he would be High Lord. And the day was here.

Maids had dressed me in a dark red, long, see through dress with a slit down my left leg.

Nothing was hidden.

My curls running down my back freely. My face only touched by coal dust around my eyes.

“You look magnificent violet, my little nightmare.”

Eris was standing behind me his hands were sliding down my bare arms .

A shiver run down my spine and I closed my eyes enjoying the feeling of skin to skin contact.

“ Tonight I will release you for the first time, and I can’t wait to see their faces when they recognize you, my evil little girl.”

With still closed eyes I could feel his light kisses on my shoulder. “You really think they will care? No one has been even looking for me. “

I turned around and pressed myself closer to him touching his chest with my hands.

“ Don’t worry they will look at you and only you , when they see you in this.” He swiped his finger over my revealing cleavage and his eyes followed.

“ You are Shameless.” I whispered lowly. “ But would you want me any other way?”

He bend down and licked over my sensitive skin right between my Breast’s.

I groaned. Wetness pooling between my thighs. “ You know what’s going to happen if you don’t stop.” I mumbled lowly while trying not to moan.

His tongue wandered to my left nipple that was still wrapped in my silk dress.

The newly crowned High Lord started circling it slowly .

And i couldn’t help but grab a handful of his red hair, close my eyes , lean back to give him better access and hold on for dear life. “Oh I know my sweetness, but who am I to ignore such an invite in front of me.”

I yelped when he suddenly grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder walking to my bed.

“ I will enjoy my dessert first before I release my nightmare at the High Lords Meeting.”

He quickly threw me on the bed where I stared up to him from.

Finally he kneeled and pulled me with a swift move towards him , where he spread my legs giving me a last longing look before disappearing underneath my dress.

With the first sweep of his tongue I could feel my hole body stringing up like a bow ready for release.

His hands holding my thighs tight while his tongue swirled in heavenly ways bringing me to my release and making me moan like it was the first time.

🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚

I was standing in front of the door that separated me from the people i had left behind, that had hurt me.

That made me feel like nothing.

With Eris beside me i entered. My face was still, without showing any emotion or signs of weakness.

The players had arrived and this time I wouldn’t be the one hurt.

This Time they would see me for what I really was.

Taglist

🐚@impossibelle

#acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #autumn court #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm #acotar fandom #maasverse

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

Note

Could I possibly request a fluffy Rhys x reader celebrating his birthday?

I found out that Rhys’ birthday is November 20 and he is one of the very few in the SJM universe where we actually know what their zodiac signs are lol

Happy Birthday

Rhys x reader

A/n: I also just found out it’s Rhys’s bday so cheers to the bday boy!

Warnings: suggestive, fluff

Rhys reached out for you, wrapping his arms around your middle to pull you on top of him. You giggle and place small kisses on his neck.

Your mate squeezes you to his chest. “Good morning my love.” Rhys mumbles out. “Happy birthday Rhys.” You sit up, straddling his hips and tracing his face with your fingers. You look down at him with a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

Love twinkling in your eyes as you drink him in. Your mate. Husband. Love of your life. The most powerful high lord. And he’s all yours. You planned on appreciating him all day making sure he knew how special and loved he truly is.

“I can’t believe the Mother blessed me with you 537 years ago. I love you baby, so gods damn much.” Rhys is beaming up at you with that same soft, loving look. He gently grabbed your wrist turning his face to press a kiss to your palm.

“Thank you darling. I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.” You lean down to press your lips to his full ones. It starts slow, sending an overwhelming amount of love down the bond.

Before the kiss can get heated you move across his cheek, down his jaw and neck. You trail your tongue down his torso, kissing and nipping at him down to the band of his boxers.

—

After your euphoric morning in bed you took a bath together where you pampered Rhys. Washing his hair and giving him a massage.

You had Cassian and Azriel take Rhys out for brunch. You wanted them to avoid the cabin since you were setting up for the two of you tonight.

Elain and the twins were making his cake, Feyre was helping you with decorating, while Mor and Amren went to pick up his gifts.

You paused for a moment to take in the hustle and bustle of the house. Everyone is happy. Like there isn’t a single thing to worry about.

Good. They all deserve peace after everything the family has been through. Especially Rhys. You didn’t think he’d be here for this. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again.

You felt tears pricking your eyes. You wipe them with the back of your hand, placing one of Rhys’s many cards on the mantle.

Feyre wraps an arm around you pulling you from your thoughts as you adjust the other cards. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” You look at her, a wide grin on your lips. “Nothing, I swear. I’m just…I’m really happy. Thank you for all your help today it means a lot.”

You hug each other tight. “I’m happy to help. He deserves a good birthday.” Pulling back from Feyre you give her another smile. “I’m happy you’re here Fey.” “Me too.” She whispered.

—

The boys came home around sunset. From their overly joyous attitude you could tell they had a fun time going on their bar crawl of Velaris.

Dinner was a wonderful time. The twins out did themselves with the meal, Elain’s cake was delicious, and the toast his brothers gave brought tears to your eyes. You could tell Rhys felt loved surrounded by his friends and family.

He wraps an arm around you placing a kiss on your temple. “Thank you. All of you. I am truly grateful for you all sticking by me through everything. And to you, my mate,” he says sweetly staring at you with unending adoration. “You celebrate me every day but today you’ve gone above and beyond! Thank you darling.” His lips meet yours in a soft kiss.

“If anyone deserves it it’s you baby. To Rhys!” You say raising your wine glass. “To Rhys!” Everyone around the table cheers, raising their own glasses and taking large swigs of their drinks.

As the night started to wind down and everyone headed to bed you kept Rhys in the living room. Standing from the couch you hold his hands, pulling him up. You give Rhys a mischievous smirk. “What are you up to my little vixen?” He teases. “You’ll see.” You tease back.

Darkness envelopes the two of you, transporting you through space and time to your home away from home. Rhys looked around seeing the ambiance you had spent all afternoon setting up. He smirks down at you again. “Is this my second gift of the evening?” He drawls.

You let out a hum, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I grabbed a few bottles of the good wine, why don’t you go to the bedroom and get ready for me, yeah?” Rhys growled with anticipation. “Anything you say darling.” Walking down the hall Rhys throws a smirk at you over his shoulder that tells you not to take too long. You smirk back as he uses magic to slowly shut the door. Seductively unbuttoning his tunic as he disappears. You had never rushed through the kitchen faster.

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