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bats2102 · 2 months

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ACOWAR set up an Elain+Lucien Book

ACOWAR is Elucien coded. This book lays out all the major plot points, characters, and powers that will shape the relationship between Elain and Lucien. As I revisited ACOWAR, I couldn't help but notice a ton of textual evidence hinting at a final pairing between them.

For those who disagree that Lucien demonstrates any traits that correlate to a mating bond, I encourage you to actually look at Lucien’s behavior and actions through the ACOWAR novel. And if you are not interested in re-reading the novel, that’s okay I brought receipts.

This analysis will provide compelling evidence of the Elucien connection and illuminate how ACOWAR lays the groundwork for their future storyline. Below are the main areas that will be explored, each accompanied by corresponding headers.

Early Mate Behavior

Lucien’s introspection and selflessness

Primal mate behavior and the BOND BONDING

Parallels between their “souls” and characters

Lucien’s Devotion to Elain

The Internal conflict regarding bond

Future plot/story

And for good measure: Amren thinking Lucien is also Hot AF (ACOWAR edition)

Early Mate Behavior

Lucien demonstrates mate behavior early as page 10 in ACOWAR by showing concern and determination to find Elain, whom he believes is being kept by Rhysand. Feyre, however, counters Lucien's determination by dismissing the significance of the mating bond between him and Elain. She argues that the mating bond is merely a physical reaction and implies that Lucien's actions are driven by instinct rather than genuine emotional connection to Elain. Feyre tries to undermine the legitimacy of Lucien's feelings by suggesting that he's being controlled by the bond and doesn't truly know Elain.

In response, Lucien challenges Feyre's perspective by drawing a parallel to her own situation with Rhysand. Countering that if that were the case it would apply to her bond to Rhys as well. He questions whether her relationship with Rhysand a physical reaction is also just, implying that their bond might be more than Feyre is willing to acknowledge.

“Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it (ACOWAR pp.10)”

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?” A quiet, dangerous question. But I made fear enter my eyes, let myself drag up memories of the Weaver, the Carver, the Middengard Wyrm so that old terror drenched my scent. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I said, my voice a rasping wobble. (ACOWAR pp. 12-13)

Lucien's strong commitment to Elain's safety, is not solely driven by their bond it is also powered by his past experiences and concerns about Rhys's reputation. Unable to confirm Elain's well-being, he fears she may be subjected to the Night Court's dark reputation, intensifying his urgency to locate her. We know as readers that elain is not being harmed in her stay in NC, however Lucien has only known NC to be a place of horror thus the inability to confirm Elain's safety leads Lucien to contemplate the possibility that the Night Court's notorious reputation is being imposed upon her, adding an extra layer of concern and urgency.

“She is my mate and in my enemy’s hands—” “I’ve made no secret from the start that Elain is safe and cared for.” “And I’m supposed to believe you.” “Yes,” I hissed. “You are. Because if I believed for one moment that my sisters were in danger, no High Lord or king would have kept me from going to save them.” He just shook his head, the candlelight dancing over his hair. “You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?” I didn’t answer.

If you are going to re-read a portion of the novel, I implore you to read pages 145-150 (Kindle edition) of ACOWAR. This portion of the novel really provides a look at character dynamics, Lucien’s loyalty, themes of trust and betrayal, and foreshadows future conflicts. Lucien argues that he NEEDS TO SEE elain safe, and he was willing to stand up against his perceived enemy the NC to ensure that is achieved. From his perspective, he likely sees parallels between the Night Court's actions and Tamlin's treatment of Feyre. Rather than escalating tensions or reacting rashly to the complexities of the mating bond, Lucien opts for a measured response: "There is a longer story to be told, it seems (ACOWAR pp.146-147). This response defuses the immediate tension and allows for further discussion without further antagonizing Rhysand. Lucien's choice to stand down and patiently await the chance to see Elain underscores his unwavering commitment to her well-being and his understanding of the delicate circumstances at hand, showcasing his loyalty and depth of character.

Lucien’s introspection and selflessness

And you know what Lucien does next, he listens to Feyre’s story. He actively listens to her story, willing to acknowledge and understand her expirences while reflecting on his own role, he doesn’t dismiss her words or react indifferently:

“So, I told him. All of it—the story that perhaps would help him understand. And realize how truly safe Elain was—he now was (p.149)

“I hadn’t realized I was a villain in your narrative,” Lucien breathed. “You weren’t.” Not entirely. (P.150)”

This shows a level of introspection and self-awareness on Lucien's part, as he acknowledges the possibility that his actions may have been seen in a negative light by others. (Which I could argue almost all characters in the series do not reflect on the consequences of their actions and their effect on others. So pro self-reflective Lucien!)

When Lucien request Feyre to tell him about elain. He takes Feyre’s assessment of her sister in this passage “Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that (ACOWAR pp.13)” and runs with it. He LISTENED to Feyre’s description of elain so closely that he knew she would wear gloves when she gardened and considered in the next book (ACOSAF) that it would be a suitable gift to give her gloves, that is thoughtful, and I will not argue otherwise.

Furthermore, when this man is telling Feyre how he was SA during calanmai, rather than focusing on himself in regard to this traumatic expirences, he is worried of what elain will think of this situation. Lucien was SA and his thoughts were still centered to the care of elain.

But Lucien … “You took Ianthe into that cave on Calanmai?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “She insisted. Tamlin was … Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.” No wonder she’d backed off him. She’d gotten what she wanted. “Please don’t tell Elain,” he said. “When we—when we find her again,” he amended. (ACOWAR pp 33)

Primal mate behavior and the BOND BONDING (just evidence of their bond, for those who want to invalidate it)

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him— “Relax,” Rhys said. “Azriel isn’t the ravishing type.” Lucien cut him a glare. (p.254)

“It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.” Elain only stared at him for a long moment. (pp.301)

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. “And?” Mor asked. Lucien ran both hands through his long red hair. His skin was darker—a deep golden-brown, compared to the paleness of Eris’s coloring. “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was. “We can try again—another day,” I offered. Lucien nodded but looked unconvinced. (p.302)

Being the one to trust elain’s visions and act upon them. Also, everyone else being concerned about their bond if something happened to him.

He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.” Even Nesta seemed relatively concerned. Not for him, no doubt, but the fact that if he were hurt, or killed … What would it do to Elain? The severing of the mating bond … I shut out the thought of what it’d do to me.

Lucien is the one to ask for a healer to see elain, he recognizes that elain went through trauma, LUCIEN WAS the one who verbally acknowledge elain went through trauma.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.” (pp. 288-289)

And you know who thinks Elain’s mate will help her??? MADJA, Why? Because their souls connected

“Does she need further help?” Nesta said through her teeth. The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

What if Lucien was a gift from the cauldron??

“But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?” Nesta’s face drained of color. “What?” Equally ashen, Lucien seemed inclined to echo Nesta’s hoarse question. (p.336)”.

Parallels between their souls and characters

Elain and Lucien’s characters parallel one another and complement each other so splendidly. Lucien being the son of the high lord of day, and elain character first appearing in ACOWAR in a “suite filled with sunlight” in a “chair before the sunniest window (p. 154).”

Elain is further associated with LIGHT and SUNSHINE, through the novel:

“Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees. And yet there was no joy in it. No light. No life. (p.246)”

The frustration. “What can I get you, Elain?” Only with Elain did she use that voice. But Elain shook her head once more. “Sunshine.” (p.302)

Well would you look at that, elain HERSELF thinks she needs sunshine.

They are both social beings who require light to feel alive:

“Weeks of cloistering Elain had done nothing to improve her state (p.248)”

They both have eyes that allow them to see things that are hidden to others:

“What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help” (p.339)

In the following passage Elain displays agency by taking control of the situation and proposing a plan of action to address a potential threat. She actively engages in decision-making and asserts her autonomy by insisting on speaking to the individual herself, despite objections from others. Similar to Lucien, who just left to find the individuals from elain’s visions and serves as an emissary and prioritizes the protection of his people. Elain steps forward with a plan to negotiate with a potential threat to ensure the safety of those seeking sanctuary.

Elain considered. “I can speak to him.” “No,” I said—at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us off. “If—if you and … they”—a glance at Rhys, my friends—“come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs.” “You’re Fae, too,” Nesta reminded her. “Glamour me,” Elain said—to Rhys. “Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate.”

Elain also remembers that Lucien was the one to seek out the individual from her vision: “And even with the truth laid bare … none of us told him that Lucien had gone after her. Elain seemed to remember, though. Who was hunting for that missing queen.”

Both characters' aversion to violence highlights their compassionate and empathetic personalities, as well as their desire for peace and harmony. While they may find themselves involved in conflicts due to external circumstances, they both harbor a deep-seated discomfort with the inherent violence of such situations, reflecting their shared values of empathy, kindness, and a preference for peaceful resolutions. The repetition of this in the interaction where Elain reveals she only stabbed the enemy, not made the killing blow, underscores her aversion to violence and her reluctance to engage in battle, mirroring Lucien's own distaste for violence.

“Will—will many of these soldiers die?” I cringed, but Nesta said, “Yes.” I could almost see the unspoken words Nesta reined in. Your mate might die sooner than them, though” (p.485)

The sound as both armies collided … I didn’t have words for it. Elain covered her ears, cringing.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips (p. 675)”

Devotion to Elain

This man is devastated by Elain's mental state. Since the bond is a profound connection between two souls, and based on the text, Elain currently doesn't know how to block the bond, it's crucial to consider that every emotion Elain experiences is could also be felt by Lucien. Given her current unwellness, imagine the agony of being told she's fine and safe, only to witness her as a mere "hollow" version of the person described to him, likely feeling every ounce of the despair she's currently enduring.

Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her. Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. (ACOWAR p. 156)

(Side note: elain being described as light again when at her best)

He saw her in this state than decided that he would be willing to subject himself to Rhysands control and the NC in order to be near her.

“This house is warded against winnowing, both from outside and within. There’s one way out—the stairs to the city. It, too, is warded—and guarded. Please don’t do anything stupid.” “So, am I a prisoner?” I could feel the response simmering in Rhys, but I shook my head. “No. But understand while you may be her mate, Elain is my sister. I’ll do what I must to protect her from further harm.” “I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words. I simply nodded, loosening a breath, and met Rhysands stare in silent urging.

Lucien is acutely aware that Rhysand intends to exploit Elain's presence in the Night Court to manipulate him. And we know that this is indeed true as evident from Rhysand's own admission, "I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else (p. 195)," which underscores Rhyland’s strategic mindset. Recognizing Lucien's unwavering commitment to Elain's safety, Rhysand leverages this vulnerability to exert control over Lucien's actions. Moreover, Rhysand manipulates Feyre's perception of Lucien, exploiting her concerns and emphasizing his own ability to sway Lucien's decisions. This manipulation is evident in Rhysand's question to Feyre, "If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever … do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? (p.195)." This inquiry serves to sow doubt and uncertainty, further solidifying his hold over Lucien and Feyre's perception of him.

Now from pages p.675-68 there are many important points between elain and Lucien but given how long this already is I will focus on a few. Following the battle, Lucien’s concerns regarding elain’s wellbeing are immediately demonstrated by ensuring her condition. Lucien acknowledges her contribution and shows understanding, indicating a supportive and encouraging dynamic between them. This is shown through Lucien acknowledging that elains visions were correct, the loss of her father, and her contribution to the killing of hyburn. During this elain invites Lucien to velaris (with encouragement of Feyre, she is still the one who said it), and are later seen in close proximity of one another. They are seen walking side by side or falling into step with each other, and there’s an unspoken understanding between them where they seem to intuitively know how to support each other without needing to verbalize their feelings. So, no I do not agree that they are ill suited or do not like being in each other presence, I believe it to be more complicated than that.

Internal conflict regarding bond

To be honest, I'm just going to ask you to read pages 248-254. If you can read this, look into Lucien's thoughts, and believe that Lucien does not demonstrate mate behaviour and that Azriel is the character who understands and has undying devotion to Elain, then you're missing important components illustrated of Lucien's feelings.

Lucien's concern for Elain is palpable as he observes her deteriorating mental and physical state. He feels her pain and suffering deeply, evidenced by his internal turmoil and desire to alleviate her suffering. Despite the risk of facing Rhysand's wrath, Lucien ventures out to seek a moment of respite, yet his primary focus remains on Elain's well-being. In the context of Lucien's guilt regarding Elain and his past relationship with Jesminda, there's a significant emotional burden that he carries. Lucien's guilt could be manifesting in his interactions with Elain, leading to moments of hesitation or emotional distance as he grapples with conflicting emotions. He may struggle with feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness, believing that he's not deserving of a mating bond with elain due to his unresolved feelings regarding Jesminda death, for which he holds himself responsible. Lucien's guilt regarding his mating bond with Elain and his past relationship with Jesminda adds layers of complexity to his character and relationships.

The highlighted passages below offer a crucial moment in the narrative, revealing the complex dynamics between Lucien and Elain and hinting at future storylines. His unwavering belief in Elain's abilities and the importance of her visions is evident as he volunteers to pursue the truth behind her latest revelation.

As they are left alone together, the potential for significant developments in their relationship becomes apparent, as the deliberate departure of the other characters to create a space for Lucien and Elain to engage in a private conversation, the contents of which remain unknown. The deliberate departure of other characters creates a private space for Lucien and Elain, foreshadowing what could happen if provided the space to properly explore their mating bond.

Before departing, Lucien shares a silent exchange with Elain, their gazes locking in a moment with Lucien’s filled with unspoken longing and sadness. Despite the palpable connection between them, neither Lucien nor Elain vocalizes their emotions, leaving the true nature of their bond ambiguous. Lucien's failure to glance back at Elain and Rhys's departure symbolize the unspoken barriers and uncertainties surrounding their relationship. This poignant moment highlights the intricate dance of emotions between Lucien and Elain, setting the stage for deeper exploration in future narratives.

“There is a reason why Elain is seeing these things. She was right about the other queen turning old, about the Ravens’ attack—why is she being sent this image? Why is she hearing this queen? It must be vital. If we ignore it, perhaps we’ll deserve to fail.” Silence. I surveyed them all. Vital. Each of them was vital here. But me … I sucked in a breath. “I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.”

“And for once, my sister rose to her feet and came toward us, the three of us not so subtly heading upstairs. Leaving Lucien and Elain alone. It was an effort not to linger atop the landing, to listen to what was said. If anything was said at all.

Before that dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realized—to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.”

“And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go … He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs—as if she’d speak to him. Stop him. Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him. When I turned to offer Elain breakfast, she’d already walked away.” (p.345)

Elain's conversation with her fiancé Greyson reveals the complications of her feelings regarding Lucien and the mating bond. Initially, Elain expresses uncertainty and confusion about her desires, admitting that she doesn't know what she wanted when she returned to Greyson. This passage with her literal fiancé illustrates her internal conflict (There is no evidence that elain wants to reject Lucien in the text of ACOWAR). Greyson's refusal to accept Elain's bond with Lucien further exacerbates her emotional turmoil, as she struggles to reconcile her mating bond with her desire for a conventional human male.

Elain’s internal struggle to assert her agency and autonomy in the face of external expectations and societal norms will be important in her character development. Elain's initial denial and resistance pave the way for a journey of self-discovery and growth, where she must confront her fears and insecurities before embracing her true identity and forging a deeper connection with Lucien.

Graysen swallowed. “Did you think you could come back here—live with me as this … lie?” “No. Yes. I—I don’t know what I wanted—” “And you are bound to some … Fae male. A High Lord’s son.” A different High Lord’s heir, likely, I wanted to say. “His name is Lucien.” I wasn’t certain if I’d ever heard his name from her lips. “I don’t care what his name is.” The first sharp words from Graysen. “You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—” “You belong to him.” “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.” Graysen’s face hardened. “I don’t want it.” (pp. 499-500)

The following moment marks a significant turning point in Elain's life as she realizes that her connection with Lucien has severed her ties to her previous human existence. Foreshadow the complexities and conflicts that may arise in Elain and Lucien's relationship, as well as the internal struggles Elain will face in reconciling her human past with her fae future.

“So, Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today. That Graysen would still love her, still marry her—and that love would trump even a mating bond. A final tether had been snapped—to her life in the human lands. Only our father, wherever he was, remained as any sort of connection.” (p. 503).

Future plot:

Anyways ACOWAR set up elain and Lucien’s future plot lines. Through introducing koschei, elain’s vision, vassas curse (Lucien=spell cleaver, elain=discovered vassa), Tamlin and spring court (after all elain does think the WORLD needs more garden (p.693)) Eris and Lucien’s dynamic, discovering Helion is Lucien’s father, elain mourning her father (Lucien and him knew each other), elain and Lucien discovering their magic (their eyes) ... ect...

And if you want to argue that Azriel has any major role in these plot lines I encourage you to read ACOSF and HOFAS as there is ample evidence that the characters and plots introduced in those novels are more centre to his and Gwyn’s character (I can bring more receipts... as essentially ACOWAR set up nessian and Elucien, and ACOSF set up gwynriel and Mor+em). It is crucial to analyze the plot lines beyond the lens of mere smut and romance, as this narrow focus undermines the depth of storytelling Sarah J. Maas has woven into the narrative. By broadening our perspective, we can fully appreciate the intricacies of the plot and explore the multifaceted dynamics that extend beyond the relationship between the MMC+MFC.

And finally, while I can acknowledge that all these points are directed to an elain and Elucien book. SJM will still and will always have the final say....

Amren thinking Lucien being Hot AF (ACOWAR edition)

Even fucking Amren thinks Lucien is hot af.

But it was Amren who said from the floor, “You should kill Beron and his sons and set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn, self-imposed exile, or no. It will make life easier.” “I’ll take that into consideration,” Rhys said, striding toward her while I remained with the others. (p.159)

#elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #acowar #acotar #elain archeron #pro elucien #lucien acotar #pro elain archeron #fated mates #elucien #pro lucien vanserra #acotar series

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beingsuneone · 6 months

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Tragedy

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: You hadn’t lived in the Spring Court for a long time, not since the Night Court murdered your entire family except yourself and your brother, Tamlin. You don’t think about it much, except when you argue with Rhysand, when it becomes a threat. You always promise him that you’re sick of him and you’re going to return to Spring but you never do. Until you do.

FANDOM: A Court Of Thorns And Roses

PAIRING(S): Rhysand x Tamlin’s Sister!Fem!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Cassian, Azriel, Tamlin, Mor, Amren

GENRE/AU: Pre-Amarantha/cusp of, some fluff, some angst, Lost Royalty Au (Tamlin’s lost Sister)

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

WARNINGS: Physical Violence (thanks Tam), mentions of arguments

A/N: the dividers looks best on dark mode, also dividers and header made my me :) also, this is both the first thing I’ve finished and the first fic I’ve posted since last year!! (My old fics aren’t up anymore) I reeeallly wanna write a pt 2.

DEDICATIONS: n/a

CREDITS: n/a

The snow crunches softly under your feet, which are already halfway to freezing and you’re only fifty paces outside of the townhouse.

You’d just had another fight with Rhysand and had threatened— for the millionth time— that you were going to return to Spring Court and live with your brother, Tamlin. The only member of your blood family still alive.

Both Rhysand and yourself know it’s not true. You’ve never made it down the first street in Velaris before you’re crawling back and begging Rhysand to forgive you. (Or visca versa)

Partly because you love him and largely because you’re terrified to return to Spring, No matter how petty your pride wishes to be.

When you were a young Fae, you had gone for a walk in the garden with your guard; It was late at night and you had been up due to nightmares. However, when you got closer to the Manor in Spring you heard a distinct scream and several loud noises, and your guard had immediately herded you as far as he could from the manor. All the way out of spring, and through the wall.

There, you were shunned by humans, and hunted by many; until a small family took you in, not caring about your pointy ears or inhuman beauty. They didn’t mind the flowers you magicked into existence or how you made their human babies laugh by shape-shifting. You were never dangerous to them, so they protected you until the day they died.

That was the day you returned to Prythian, mourning the loss of the only real family you had ever known.

Eventually you ended up in Night Court, wandering aimlessly around the vast nothingness of the court; you wondered why such a large and powerful court would seem to have almost no Fae in it— or even civilizations, for that matter. All you could see for miles and miles was mountains, trees, grass… anything in nature but no Fae.

You settled into a cave on the side of a cliff and foraged whatever food you could find. It wasn’t much but it kept you alive.

Until one day, a large winged man at the entrance of the cave, scared the ever-loving shit out of you.

“Oh- my Cauldron!” You had exclaimed, staring at who you now know to be Cassian.

He had given you a weird look and rudely remarked. “You’re awfully small for a Fae.” Then he amended, “although Amren is much smaller.”

You hadn’t known who Amren was, or what in the world he was talking about. “Who are you?” You asked him skeptically.

Cassian had opened his mouth to reply but then Rhysand walked through the door.

“I feel we should be asking you the same question.” He said smoothly. You had been immediately taken by him, his Deep Purple eyes and shadowy aura.

So much so, you almost hadn’t noticed the Mating Bond snapping into place.

Your eyes widened and one of his twitched as his cool expression dropped a moment. Rhysand, as good as he is at masks, wiped his emotions from his face a moment later.

He said, “Why don't you come along with us and tell us along the way.” He had paused and looked you up and down. “Certainly, it will be better than staying in this cave?”

You had just stumbled to your feet and nodded, taking Rhysand’s hand when he had extended to you.

That’s the moment that breaks you every time, what makes you turn right back around into Rhysand’s arms.

You remind yourself that he’s been with you for centuries now and he’s helped you heal more than you ever could on your own.

He’s the one who told you, despite his history with your family, that Tamlin was still alive; he was honest about his Family’s and his involvement in your family’s murder.

It had been hard not to hold it against him but you eventually forgave the man he is, not the kid he used to be. Besides, Spring had killed his family first, so, you supposed it had become an even playing field.

“Love,” Rhysand’s voice comes from behind you. “Please come back, I’m sorry.”

You turn around slowly, your eyes stinging with tears that threaten to flow. “Why do I do this every time?”

He sighs, and gently laces his fingers with yours. “We don’t think rationally when we’re arguing, Darling. It’s okay,” He pulls you closer and you feel yourself relax.

“Besides,” he continues. “I think you should go visit your brother— as much as I hate the thought of it.”

You pull back and look up at him. “Surely, he can’t have grown to be that terrible, Rhysand, he was a good brother when I left.” You think back to before you’d left but it’s so long ago it feels a bit blurry and out-of-reach. “Maybe inattentive but certainly not mean.”

Rhysand looks into your eyes, there’s an emotion loaded in his that you don’t take the time to decipher it because you aren’t sure you want to know. “My personal feelings skew how I see him, Darling, you have to see for yourself.” He pushes a stand of hair out of your face, and gently kisses your forehead. “Maybe it will be different with his own sister.”

You rest your forehead on his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Can we go back inside now?” You ask quietly. “My feet are freezing.”

Rhysand just chuckles and disconnects from you, save for taking one of your hands and leading you back towards the townhouse. “My love, next time you threaten to run away, please wear a coat and proper shoes.” He says playfully, flashes you a teasing smile.

You mock-glare at him, but can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. “No, actually, I think I’d quite like to freeze to death before I ever make it out of Night.”

“Of course you would.”

…..

“How far you make it this time?” Cassian smiles when you and Rhysand walk in the door, Azriel is already building a fire and Mor is smiling brightly in a chair in front of the budding flame. Amren is sitting in one of the other chairs grumbling about the lack of good blood to drink or something— you loved her but she’d always confused you.

“Didn’t make it down the block.” Rhysand says back to Cassian, before he sits you down in front of the fire to warm up.

You shrug him off, not needing him to baby you. “Knock it off, Cassian.” You say roughly, not actually mad but feeling even colder now that you’re in a warm space. You turn your head back to Rhysand, who's already leaning on a wall across the room. “And you, Mister Automatic-Heater, come back here.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He says as Mor snickers at you. Rhysand sits down next to you and pulls you into him, using his magic to warm you up. You both know the fire never works fast enough.

You sit there for a long time, just lost in Rhysand’s presence, long enough that the others clear the room and go off to do their own things.

It’s only when everyone is finally out of earshot that Rhysand leans down, brushes his lips against the shell of your ear and whispers, “I love you, darling.”

You shiver and turn your head to face him before you place a kiss on his cheek and whisper back, “I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He shakes his head, pulling your face upwards, with two fingers under your jaw and his thumb under your chin.

You reach a hand over his and brush his hair out of his face, before you push his arm down and settle your hand on his cheek.

Then, you press your lips to his.

…..

“Okay,” Rhysand sighs, you know he’s nervous about leaving you here. “I probably shouldn’t enter Spring, so I’ll wait here. Use the bond if you need me, please.”

You place a hand on his cheek, and get closer to him. “Rhysand, I promise you, I’ll be okay.” You swipe your thumb soothingly on his cheeks. “I have to do this.”

He nods, placing his own hand over yours, while nuzzling into your hand. “I know, my love, you can absolutely handle yourself.” He pulls back, and gives you a reassuring smile. “Alright, go.”

You nod your head once and walk over the border to Spring; before you take another step, you turn back. “I love you, Rhysand.” You say, assuredly. The words have more weight to them than normal, like you’re trying to convince both yourself and Rhysand that everything is going be alright.

Luckily, the Manor rests right on one of the edges of spring, so it’s easy to find after all this time.

After a few minutes, you reach the front gates. A guard tilts his spear into your path so you have to stop.

“What is your business here?” He says gruffly.

You straighten your back and try to find the most regal parts of yourself. “I am Y/N of spring court, High Lord, Tamlin’s sister.” You're sure you said it so demandingly that he’d just let you in but the guard just looks you up and down.

“Spring Court High Fae… In Night Court Clothes?” He shakes his head. “Plus our Y/N died several Centuries ago.”

You sigh. “I don’t need to convince you, I just need to speak to Tamlin. Please.”

The guard stamps his spear, as if to tell you to go away.

So, you pull out your last playing card. “Okay, Fine. As the High Lady of the Night Court, I demand a meeting with your High Lord.” You pause. “Unless you’d like to directly deny both myself and my High Lord?”

This sends the guard into a tizzy. He opens the gate and leads you inside. He abandons you there though, and leaves you with a red-haired man.

“Who are you?” You ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “I am Lucien. Who are you, and how did you convince the guard to let you in?”

You straighten up once again. “I am Tamlin’s sister, Y/n.”

He looks you up and down and gives you a ‘you’re joking, right?’ Look. “You’re in Night Court clothes.”

You throw your arms in the air and let them fall back down. “Yes, thank you for stating the obvious. Obviously, I believed all my family to be dead and sought a home elsewhere.”

“In the Night Court. The home of the people who killed your family.” His voice is flat.

“I ended up there, but it is not where I originally went. My personal guard, Claude, took me to the human world to keep me safe from the previous High Lord of the Night Court. He was hunted down for being Fae.” You stop, feeling the annoyance bubbling under your skin; still, Lucien looks as though you’ve just spun an elaborate story. “Just let me see Tamlin, he will recognize me.”

Lucien doesn’t move.

You continue. “Do not make me use my status again please.”

This catches his attention. “What status? because if you really are from Spring Court, you certainly don’t have any.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull out the ‘High Lady’ card, once again. “If you must know, and I’d much prefer you leave me to tell this to Tamlin, but I am the High Lady of the Night Court, and that is how I got inside.” You stare at him for a moment. “Can I see my brother now, or must I find him myself?”

Lucien practically scoffs at this point. “Now I really don’t believe you. It’s unbelievable enough that Tamlin’s sister would live in Night Court but, High Lady? That is not even a real title.”

You are really starting to get annoyed. “Okay, well, first, I didn’t even know that Night Court was the one to kill my family until I’d already met Rhysand, and second, we’re mates! I don’t really get to choose that, do I?”

You’re about to say something else but you stop. “Why in the world am I arguing with you. I don’t even know you. Where is Tamlin?”

“I’m right here.” A new voice enters the conversation; it’s deep but familiar, and there’s a new edge to it that makes your skin crawl.

When you turn to face him, he stops in his tracks. His eyes widen a fraction, and his lips purse.

“Y/n?” He says, taking a tentative step towards you. “Is that you?”

You sigh in relief. “Yes, it is. Although I’ve had a hard time convincing everyone else of that.” You close the gap between yourself and your brother and hug him.

“I thought you were dead.” He says quietly. “We never found your body. I assumed the awful Night Court took your body just as our father took their wings.”

You freeze at the mention of the wings. They are Rhysand’s Mother’s and Sister’s wings. Then Tamlin seems to notice my attire. The air turns cold, a power you thought only Rhysand and maybe the Winter Court possessed.

“Why are you wearing Night Court clothes?” He says, tugging on your sleeve. You pull away from him, just a few paces.

“When I escaped,” you start, feeling inexplicably nervous as Tamlin stares down at you. “Claude took me to the human world. I lived there for at least a century before my human family died and I came back here.” You stop, gauging his reaction. “Then, I assumed everyone else had died that night and couldn’t bear to come back to spring, So…. I just walked, and walked, and— you get the point.

“Eventually I ended up in the Night Court and I lived in a cave for a long time before Rhysand found me and—”

Tamlin cuts you off. “Rhysand? Why do you talk about him with so much familiarity?” His teeth grind and he looks positively fuming. “You do know that he’s the reason our family is dead, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“You would betray our family like this and become part of the Court who caused our demise?”

“No, Tamlin—”

He turns his face away from you, his fists clenched. “No sister of mine would behave this way.”

Your mouth drops open, but you snap it shut. “Tamlin, when I met Rhysand, I didn’t know who killed our family.” You explain calmly. “I was just a starving woman, living in a Night Court cave.”

He glares down at you, an air of superiority hanging around his head. “And how did you learn that it was Night Court? Who killed them?”

You take a deep breath. “He told me. Honestly, truthfully, he simply told me.” You stretch your shoulders nervously, and prepare to tell him that thing that you suppose will anger him most.

It's a reasonable reaction, you think; after all, if you’d been in his place, you’d be plenty angry that your sister was conversing with people who killed your entire family.

Before you can get out though, Tamlin speaks again. “You will come live in Spring with me.” It’s not a question, he is telling you what you must do.

Your eyes soften. “I cannot do that.”

“You can and you will.” Tamlin says with a finality in his voice.

You give him a pointed look now and reiterate, “No, I cannot and I will not.” A tug on the bond pulls your attention away briefly, and you realize how sick with worry Rhysand must be. You tug back to reassure him. “Tamlin, I live in the Night Court, that is my home.”

You know sugar coating your situation will not help, but based on his reactions, it’s becoming hard to get out.

“This will be your home again.” He says it so plainly, and though he tries to leave no room for argument, you know that you must argue.

“I’m the High Lady of the Night Court, Tamlin. This cannot ever be my home again.” You say sternly.

He falls quiet and unmoving for just a moment before he explodes.

“Not only have you been cohorting with our enemies, but you have married the worst one of them all?” He roars, you haven’t heard someone yell at you so thoroughly for a very long time. Even when you argue, Rhysand never yells.

“Rhysand is not a bad man, Tamlin, no matter what you may think!” You snap back.

It takes you a moment to register what happens next, but, before you can, you're on the floor and your cheek has a harsh sting.

When you compose yourself and realize what happens, you whisper. “Rhysand was right about you.”

His face goes red once more but he just releases a strained breath and spits, “High Lady’s do not exist, no matter what he tells you, dear sister.” Then with the meanest sneer you’ve ever seen in your life, he says, “Do not come crawling back to me when your life falls into shambles.”

You rise to your feet, dust off your pants, and try to retain your composure. “You are not the brother I remember, Tamlin.” Then, you turn and begin walking to the door. “In fact, I am not sure you are that brother at all.”

The manor’s door shut behind you and you tredge back to Spring’s edge where you know Rhysand’s comforting arms will be waiting.

You see him before he sees you, but his jaw clenches as soon as he does.

“What did he do to you.” He says it so flatly it doesn’t sound like a question; he closes the distance between you two and runs his thumb over what you assume is a mark on your face.

You try to make light of the situation to hold back the tears that are gathering in your eyes. “Things got a bit physical.” You amend, “on his end, at least.”

Rhysand does not appreciate the joke. “I should’ve gone with you, he never would have tried anything in front of me.”

You shrug. “I suppose that shows the kind of man he is.”

Rhysand turns your cheeks to get a better look at the mark. “No, Darling, I think this does.”

He lets his hand fall from your face, and so you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your stinging face in his chest. “You were right, Rhys. I should have listened to you.”

You can feel him shake his head. “No, you needed to see for yourself; I should’ve been there to prevent the worst of it.”

You pull away from him and look back towards the Manor. You spot Tamlin watching the two of you from a balcony, but you are far enough away, you can’t make out his expression.

Rhysand stares back, a silent promise for retribution, one way or another.

“Can we please just go home?” You tug on Rhysand’s sleeve. “I want to rid my mind of this interaction.”

He looks back down at you and smiles tenderly. “Of course, my love.”

…..

You had fallen down into your shared bed with Rhysand and let the tears silently fall while Rhysand goes off to do whatever it is he needs to do.

You had told him you wanted a minute alone; after probably only ten minutes you had drifted off to sleep.

Now, you’re being shaken awake by Mor.

“Y/n, wake up.” She sounds panicked so you shoot up.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You say, as your heart pounds, every fear you’ve ever had races through your mind.

She looks deep into your eyes. “We can’t leave Velaris,” her expression reflects sorrow. “And Rhysand is gone.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

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spideyns · 1 month

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ACOTAR HEADERS PART 1

like if u save/use or credit @evrllarks on tt

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the-lonelybarricade · 1 year

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Feysand Month Day 11 - Pregnancy

It's past midnight here so you'll have to forgive me for no header! This is a loose spiritual sequel to Five Times the Beast Was Subdued (and the One Time It Wasn't) because you all asked for beast!Rhys loving up on his pregnant wife. This is pure filth and it is absolutely not necessary to read the first part lol

CW: Breeding kink, pregnancy kink, monsterfucking

Word Count: 3k

Read on AO3・Feysand Month Masterlist

The meeting was too gods-damned long.

Rhysand knew he was in a foul mood, and everyone else in the room knew it too. If he couldn’t read that in their thoughts, it would have been plain from their shifting glances.

No one would look him in the eye when they spoke. Wise, because he was so riled up that even Azriel had wedged himself between Rhys and the stewards. The siphons remained untapped, but Azriel’s imposing presence, and it’s underlying challenge, rubbed against his nerves enough that Rhys wanted to snarl at him, too. Rhysand had always thought Summer would need to freeze over before the day he saw Azriel defending Kier against his own High Lord.

Objectively, Rhysand was aware that if Keir been deserving of his wrath, Azriel would never stand in his way. Begrudgingly, Rhys knew his brother’s subtle warning was for his own good.

He still held his goblet of wine tight enough that it shattered halfway through the meeting, exploding into a mist of silver and red wine. Most of the nobility in attendance had merely flinched, but some—the cowards—had winnowed out of the room entirely.

They had all been prepared, at least. The throne room Had been emptied prior to his arrival, and though he could shatter it in an instant, Kier’s advisors all sat behind a ward.

There were very few things unanimously agreed upon in Prythian. But among them was the opinion that a male should scarcely be separated from his pregnant mate. And the further along in the pregnancy, the more severely that notion should be heeded.

Everyone knew that the High Lady of the Night Court was eight months pregnant. Madja had advised against winnowing in the final stages of Feyre’s pregnancy and because Rhysand had been worried she would be uncomfortable on the flight to the Hewn City, she had stayed behind in the townhouse manor.

Rhys had assured his mate that he was a civilized male who could handle a few hours away from her without regressing into a snarling beast.

That restraint was more difficult in practice.

Partially because of the instincts that remained from whatever primal beasts the fae had once been. A dark creature lurked beneath his skin, burning with loathing at the idea that while he was in the Hewn City, his mate was under the watch of another male. Anything could happen in the time he was away. That instinct to protect, protect, protect wore away gradually wore away at his sanity the longer he was separated from Feyre.

But that wasn’t what put Rhysand in a bad mood.

His mate, in an effort to subdue the instincts that plagued him, had promise she would keep the borders of her mind open, so that Rhys had access to Feyre’s every thought and feeling while he was away.

It will be like you never left, she’d said teasingly.

Except he had left. He was on the other side of the fucking mountain range, and his mate—his mate was whimpering his name into her pillow.

Rhys…

Rhysand set his jaw as arousal flooded through the bond. Was she doing it on purpose? He couldn’t imagine Feyre would wish slaughter upon the occupants of the Hewn city, yet he was moments away from decimating the entire mountain just to have the excuse to leave. Talons prodded at the skin beneath his fingertips, threatening to escape just like the elongated canines that were begging to burst through his gums.

Rhysand calmly readjusted so that his hands rested casually in his lap. Covered beneath the table. Still, the other males must have sensed the shift in him, because Keir stood up, interrupting an advisor that had been stumbling over some report.

“I believe we’ve covered everything for today, High Lord.”

Rhysand wasn’t about to dispute the lie. He only nodded his dismissal, not trusting his own voice—or what they’d see if he stood up himself. They didn’t linger long enough to find out. Even Keir averted his eyes as he quickly winnowed out of the room, leaving only Azriel and Rhysand in the dim cavern.

“You have two minutes,” Rhys choked out. Darkness loomed in his periphery, taking the shape of wings. He laid his taloned hands against the long granite table. The stone screeched, then cracked. “Go ahead of me and get everyone but Feyre out of the townhouse.”

Azriel was gone before Rhys had even finished the directive.

Glaring at the two halves of the Hewn City’s meeting room table, Rhys did his best to the count the seconds—slowly. He timed his breathing just as Amren had taught him when he was just a fledgling Illyrian with far too much power.

Control, he willed his body, concentrating on the raging ocean of magic that flowed deep in his body. He was always on the surface, commanding the tides and currents, siphoning them wherever required. But somewhere he had slipped, down, down, down beneath the surface. Where something cold and dark and ancient slumbered. It was pitch black, like the scales spreading over his arms, and if he could just swim back up to the surface—

Oh gods, Feyre moaned.

It didn’t matter how much time he had given Azriel. Black mist tore open the fabric of space, and then he was standing in the bedroom he shared with his mate. Panting. Drowning in the scent of her desire that hung like a thick fog in the air.

Even as his mind went hazy, every one of his senses seemed to sharpen as he surrendered fully to the beast that had taken over his skin. He tilted his head, watching with predatory interest as Feyre sat up. A rosy flush painted her cheekbones all the way down to the valley of her naked breasts. They had grown in her pregnancy—to Feyre’s behest and Rhysand’s obscene delight—and in her aroused state they had hardened into perfect rosy buds that he was already salivating at the thought of latching his mouth onto.

But what brought Rhysand to his knees—literally to his knees—was the sight of his mate’s round stomach, swollen with their child.

Feyre smiled, the way the Mother herself must have looked holding the weight of creation in her arms. “Mate,” she said.

It was how she always greeted him in this form. Rhysand knew she enjoyed watching the way every scale on his body rippled when she invoked that sacred word. There was no hiding his physical reaction to her when the beast took over.

Evidenced by the way Feyre’s eyes fell between his legs. Hunger spiked down the bond a moment before he could see it in her eyes. If anything, he grew larger knowing his mate felt satisfied, felt hungry, when she looked at him.

“I was wondering when you would come out to play.” She laid a soft hand over her stomach, a habit that she’d taken to absently. Eight months into her pregnancy and Rhysand still felt breathless every time he watched her do it. “Especially after all that talk of breeding.”

“Were you trying to lure me?” He asked, admittedly awed by the thought. Then he growled, reminded of what she’d been up to only moments prior. “I was going to kill those males for separating us.”

“But you didn’t,” Feyre said, voice silken with a pride that had his cock aching. His mate stood from the bed with all the grace and authority that had earned her the title of High Lady. He bowed his head at her approach, and practically groaned when she carded her fingers through his hair.

And pulled. Forcing his eyes upwards, until his vision was eclipsed in his favorite shade of blue. Like the sea foaming where it met the Sidra. Like the Velaris sky on a full moon. Like everything that was good in the world, condensed into two small disks that stared at him with pride and love and something that made it very difficult for him to stay still. Desire.

She could likely feel him trembling beneath her touch as she stroked his hair and crooned, “You’re a good mate, hmm? I trust you wouldn’t have done something to displease me.”

Gods, even his wings went limp in their effort to pay fealty to his mate. To the mother of his child. This close, he could hear the babe’s second heartbeat against his mother’s much louder one. She was the vessel of his family, his court, his life, his everything.

Rhys groaned, and with the beast’s voice it sounded more like stone skidding over gravel. “Never—your pleasure is mine.”

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured, skimming her fingers over the hardened planes of his face, down to his lips which were still soft. Feyre rubbed her thumb along the curve of his lip, grazing the sharp points of his elongated fangs just enough that he could hear her pulse jump beneath her throat. “What have you come here for, like this?”

“To see you,” he ground out. “To smell you. To—”

“Taste me?” She guessed.

“Please you.”

This time, Feyre shivered. She dropped her hands from his face, opening her body to him as though she had freed him from his place at her feet.

Hesitantly—anticipating reproval and only venturing forward when he was met with none—Rhysand raised himself higher on his knees, until he was level with Feyre’s stomach. His eyes fell reverently over her smooth skin, marveling at the way she seemed to glow. Like the magic of their future heir, and of the union of their love, had lit a visible flame inside her.

“Go ahead,” she said.

It felt wrong to touch something so pure with this darkness, but he would obey an order from his mate above all else. He pressed his taloned hand to the large bump, eyes fluttering shut as he listened to that small heartbeat and breathed in the scent of his pregnant mate.

He fell forward, unable to restrain himself. His hands roved to Feyre’s waist, displaced by the lips that he trailed over every inch of her skin. He needed to claim her, needed every male in Prythian to know that she was his and that he would tear—

“Rhysand,” she whispered. He immediately froze, darting his eyes back to her face.

She was flushed again. This close to her center, he could smell the fresh wave of arousal flooding between her thighs. The lust that ravaged him could have crippled a lesser male. He wanted to taste her—needed to taste her more fiercely than he needed breath.

Feyre gasped as he swept her into his arms, still careful not to jostle the babe as he carried her back towards the bed and laid her gently atop the silken sheets. She deserved more than silk. She deserved gold and silver and jewels, all the things the more rational part of his brain attempted to lavish her with, and yet she denied the majority of it.

He was ready to lay the world at her feet and all she ever asked for was him.

Even in his cleverest moments, the High Lord had difficulty fathoming that.

It wasn’t something to contemplate now, when his mate could be moaning beneath his tongue. With urgent diligence, Rhysand assembled the pillows around and beneath his mate until she was practically sitting up with her legs off the bed.

By the smile he caught her trying to hide, and the affection he sensed in the bond, he could tell she found the pampering endearing. He stretched his wings outwards, unable to contain the satisfaction that brought him, and when he did he was ambushed by another wave of arousal.

Nothing—not even the Cauldron itself—could have stopped him from unleashing on her like a starved animal. He dropped to his knees, propping her legs over his shoulders as he buried his face between her thighs. The first taste of her was like the first drop of wine at a revelry, the first drop on the water’s surface. Then it rippled, until he was coming back for more and more. Until he was consumed.

Rhysand groaned, half forgetting this was about her pleasure in his pursuit for more. He would never have enough of his mate, or the sound of her stuttered breath as he licked up the center of her with the broad flat of his tongue.

Feyre’s hips bucked, and immediately she was tangling her fists in his hair, yanking him closer. He obeyed—there was nothing inside him that would ever be capable of doing otherwise. He wanted to hear her cry, to feel her body shudder against his tongue.

And because he couldn’t resist—he would never be able to resist—he twined a talon down that short bridge between their minds. She was so open to him, both physically and mentally, that he couldn’t help moaning against her.

Wet for the beast again, Feyre? He crooned. I didn’t even need to touch you.

In response, her fingers tightened in his hair. To the point of pain, which only cycled back to pleasure. There was nothing she could do to him—nothing—that wouldn’t end in pleasure.

Beautiful creature. He tongued her clit playfully, just to get her hips to buck, before he latched his mouth around her and sucked, swirling his tongue around that sensitive bud. The cry she made could have been played from the symphony halls, it was so euphonic. You are so beautiful like this, Feyre.

“It’s your doing,” she gasped, undilated her hips against his mouth. Taking her pleasure, as she deserved. He wanted her to take, take, take until there was nothing left. “You—” she cut herself off with a warbled moan that had him preening in pleasure. “You said you wanted to breed me.”

He could feel his balls tighten at the reminder, suddenly desperate to feel himself sheathed inside her again. To feel that union between their bodies, surrounded in her eat, so he could keep his mate full like she deserved.

Is that what you want? He panted, shutting his eyes as he lavished her clit with his tongue. Coaxing that pleasure he could feel rising through the bond. You want to be kept bred and full? Taken by a beast?

“Taken by—my mate,” she said, each word so rasped that it scraped along every ridge of his spine.

Come, he demanded, so much closer to a snarl than a word. Come, and I’ll reward my pretty bred mate with the beast’s cock.

Feyre whined. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Her legs tightened around his head, trembling as he dragged her over the edge.

If he wasn’t worried about hurting the babe, he would have flipped her over and fucked her senseless right there, so that she didn’t have a chance to come down from the orgasm. Instead he was gentle, rearranging the pillows to support her as he put his mate onto her hands and knees.

It didn’t take away from that first feeling of entering her. She was so tight around the beast’s much larger cock, and he had to go slow so that she could adjust to the new girth. The patience was well worth the way his mate went boneless in his arms, moaning against the stretch that same way he was grunting at the warmth.

Everything about her was warm. And soft. And wonderful.

Feel good? He asked, thrusting slowly. Letting her adjust, even as his muscles shook with the control not to unleash himself. Is this how you like to be fucked?

A moan was his response. A moan, and her soft hands reaching backwards to where his talons held her hips. She tugged them forward, until they were secured around her stomach.

Rhysand groaned. Fuck, Feyre.

He couldn’t help the sharp snap of his hips, but by the sounds she was making, and how fucking wet she was, Rhys didn’t think she minded.

Gonna keep breeding my mate just like this, he groaned, increasing the tempo until he was lost to the sounds of their wet, slapping skin. Keep you so full. All pretty and swollen. Is that what you want Feyre?

She was gasping, face half buried in the pillows to smother the sounds of her pleasure every time Rhys snapped his hips forward.

Answer me, he growled.

Yes, she said down the bond. Breathless and flustered, even in her mind.

Her permission was all he needed for the control to slip. Then he was fucking her in earnest, stranded somewhere between male and beast as he listened to her moan his name over and over. He was saying hers, too, but it was drowned in light that started emanating from her skin, until it merged with the darkness wafting from his. He watched their magic twine together, like the golden cord beneath their souls. His hips stuttered, unable to hold himself back as he felt Feyre’s walls spasm around him. They both came together, screaming the other’s name down the bond.

Rhysand could have stayed like that forever, inside the heat of his mates body as their heartbeats raced in tandem. But it was the sound of that quieter third heartbeat that prompted him to roll off of his mate to help her get more comfortable.

The scales and talons retreated as he climbed into the bed behind her, spooning his body around Feyre’s so they could rest their hands together over her pregnant stomach.

“I love you,” he murmured, directed to the both of them.

Feyre said it back immediately, in that lovely lilt of hers that made him fall in love all over again. And a moment later, he swore he felt something kick against the hand he rested over her stomach. As though their child were saying it back, too.

#feysand month #feysandmonth22 #feysandmonth2022 #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

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