#rhys fanfic
Text
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
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
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
--------
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!
#acotar#rhysand x reader#rhysand fanfic#rhysand angst#rhysand fluff#rhysand unrequited love#rhys fanfic#rhys angst#rhys fluff#rhysand one shot#rhys one shot#acotar one shot#unrequited love#acotar fandom#acotar angst#acotarfanfic#sarah j maas#acotar fanfic#rhys x you#rhys x y/n#rhys x reader#rhysand x y/n#rhysand x you#rhysand x oc#rhys x oc
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
I’m half asleep while writing this and laughing my ass off while imagining this lol.
Imagine you’re arguing with Rhys over something stupid and you start to realize you’re wrong but won’t admit it so you just flash him your breasts and his mind just short circuits and completely forgets about the argument.
He wouldn’t know what to do with himself lol
It took me way too long to type this out. I just needed to get this out of my head before I fell asleep and forgot it.
OMG! I actually love this idea and have been thinking about it since you sent it. Like I cannot stop thinking about Rhys and all you all are fueling my LOVE for this male!!!! Send help!!!!
Arguing with Rhysand
to be honest, do I think you and Rhys have arguments over serious stuff frequently? No, absolutely not. For the most part, if you guys have an argument, it tends to be something that is resolved with a short, heated conversation and then hours of you both making it up to each other, especially with him on his knees with your legs thrown over his shoulders.
And you guys tend to agree with each other on the more serious stuff. You work together as a couple and as high lord and lady of the night court to solve some of the most complicated matters regarding the state of your court and inter-court relations.
But!!! I do think you tend to start silly arguments with him to mess with him. Rhys needs to be taken off his high horse, the arrogant male he can be, and who better perfect to do that than his mate, the love of his life, the brightest star in his night sky??
It would kinda go something like this:
"C'mon Rhysie, you can't be serious," with your arms folded over your chest, annoyed at your mate who is settled on the bed, long strong legs crossed with his arms behind his head, a smug glint in his pretty violet eyes.
"Oh Darling, you know I am right." his eyebrows are lifted, urging you to argue back with him, his fucking smirk sending tingles down your spine.
"No Rhysand. Honestly, you aren't," you tilt your chin up, hurrumphing at your mate. You honestly are shocked your mate is arguing with you about this.
The high lord of night court, death incarnate, the darkness of the night, is truly, actually, arguing with you that he cooks better than you.
That fucking feline, arrogant bastard.
"You couldn't even cook until I came into your life," you hiss at him, rolling your eyes at him when he snorts, his face bright as he throws his tattooed forearm over his eyes in obvious amusement.
"And?" he says, peaking out from under his arm with another smile tugging at his lips.
"And???" you gasp. That fucking...
"I cannot believe you right now, my lord," the last bit is muttered mockingly.
His nose scrunches, "Not the 'my lord' darling, it really is not that serious. It's okay my love. I cook better than you and that is okay. You don't even need to cook darling, you only ever have to sit with me while I cook and look pretty, as you always do."
"I just... you are so mean to me. I cannot believe you are even telling me this, like... I obviously cook so much better than you," your foot is tapping on the floor, and you're shifting from side to side, arms still crossed over your chest as you glare over at your mate who is clearly finding this entire encounter far too entertaining.
Rhys huffs out another laugh, sitting up and beckoning you to come to him by tapping at the empty space next to him in your bed, "C'mere darling, it's alright, I just have more of a refined palate than you, and that means that I cook better."
You gasp at the audacity. "Rhysand!" You cannot believe this male.
His eyes twinkle with the stars of his court, "Sweetheart?"
"Take it back. Right now. I can cook better. I have cooked far longer, and I can cook a variety of things. Like roast chicken, and braised beef, and rice, and bread, and- "
"Are you telling me that I do not come home to windows that are open from you airing out the smoke of the bread you quite often burn to a crisp?" He stands from the bed, slowly approaching you like you are a frightened deer about to run off, hands raised like he is all innocent and is not being a complete baffoon right now.
Your mouth falls open, "You did not just go there," -- "Oh I did just go there beautiful" -- "You did not just go there! You asshole!" -- "Am I wrong gorgeous?" -- "I cannot even look at you right now." -- "C'mere pretty girl, I miss you"
"Oh no, you did this to yourself, don't even think about it, Mister." you sneer, backing away until you hit the wall, desperately thinking of a way to get him to take back his words.
"S'alright angel, c'mere. Come to your most handsome, darling high lord and tell him he cooks better than you, it's okay, you can admit it."
THE FUCKING NERVE OF THIS MALE. YOU CANT BREATHE.
And then it hits you.
As he continues to goad you, "C'mon baby, say it, Rhysand is the better cook, your mate is the better cook, your love is the better cook," finally reaching you, placing his hands on either side of you on the wall as he leans down, staring down at your with his heated breathe and pretty smile brushing over your lips.
"that's it love, c'mon, just a simple five words, 'you are the better co-"
His voice trails off into the ether, his pupils blowing, his hands splayed out next to you clenching into fists as he tightens his jaw, eyes utterly entranced by your tits that you decided to flash at him.
You lift up your brow, smirking at him while leaning back to give him a better view of your tits, "you were saying dear?"
He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, eyes not wavering from your pert breasts, the cool breeze sneaking in from the balcony tightening your nipples, "What?"
Your hand comes to rest on his chest, pushing at him with no success, the male stuck in place, the air surrounding you suddenly charged, "What is it you were saying Rhysie?"
"I uhh, I dunno love, I... you... you are..."
"Yes?" you peak up at him through your eyelashes, his chest heaving as he gazes down at you, hooded eyes finally meeting yours.
He hums, "You are exquisite darling," his arm sneaking around your waist to pull you flush against him, your tits rubbing at his bare chest when he presses his lips to your ear, "You are enchanting, and bewitching my mate."
anyway, uhhhh, by the time you are through with him, he does not remember ever saying he was the better cook. But he swears to you and the mother that if it gets you to ride him like that again, he will say it until the day you both become stardust.
Sorry this wasn't that good, but you get the drift I hope
#rhysand x reader#rhysand acotar#rhysand fanfic#rhysand headcanons#rhys x reader#rhysand#pro rhys#rose rambles#rose writes#rose answers#acotar#acotar fluff#acotar fanfic#rhys fanfic
403 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kinktober Day Thirty: Period Sex
Rhys x Female Reader
As Tamlin’s cousin, you never would’ve thought you’d ever leave the Spring Court.
The both of you were thick as thieves growing up, he was like your brother and you like his sister. Your father and Tamlin’s father were brothers. Being the younger one of the two, your father was his father’s right hand once he became High Lord.
During the war between faeries and humans 500 years ago, your parents died. So Tamlin’s parents took you in, they adopted you. Officially making you a Princess of Spring. Unexpectedly one night, you were in the library when you scented blood.
Making your way towards the bedrooms, you saw as your cousin and Rhysand became the new High Lords of their courts. Seeing the power shift into them, changing them. You let out a barely audible gasp, but they both heard. As soon as you and the new High Lord of Night locked eyes, the bond snapped.
Neither one of you said anything but you knew he felt it too. Then he winnowed away.
You never told anyone that he was your mate. Centuries passed and you avoided each other like the plague. Until the events Under the Mountain.
Rhys protected you as best he could. Did whatever he could to make you comfortable during those 49 years.
Once all of you were freed by your cousin’s made mate, Feyre. Tamlin and her winnowed back to the Spring Court. Lucien, your best friend was waiting for you to winnow back together, when he stopped you. You felt a talon scratching softly against your mental shields.
Dropping them enough only to let him in, he finally spoke mind to mind, “Come with me ?” Rhys’s voice was purr in your mind. “Soon-“ you promised “-I just need to talk to Tam.” He nodded his head, took a step back and then bowed at the waist. Rising back to his full height, giving you his signature smirk, he winnowed. Earning a scoff and an eye roll from Lucien, before the two of you winnowed back to Spring.
When you got back to the Spring Court you told Tamlin, Lucien and Feyre everything. They were all quiet as you spoke. Tamlin’s eyes finally met yours as you confessed, “The Spring Court is my home… or I thought it was. Under the mountain I found my real home in him. My mate. The High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand.”
Your cousin only nodded his head at your words before coming around his desk, to hug you. Holding you at arms length he finally spoke for the first time since you told him you had to talk to him about something important. “Go. Be happy, Sunshine.“ The use of your nickname given to you by your parents, making you sob into his chest like a child. “He waits for you. Just know you’ll always have a home and be welcome in Spring.”
That same night, you packed a couple of your things, then reached out to Rhys mentally. “Come to spring.”
You weren’t sure he got your message, until you felt his hand settle on your shoulder. Turning to look at him with red puffy eyes. Something flickered in his gaze, “Did Tamlin make you cry ?” You laughed in between sobs, “No, I’m just so happy.” His brows furrowed, then his gaze softened and his lips were on yours. “You’re coming home ?” He asked with hopeful eyes, you nodded your head.
Months had passed since you’d been mated and became High Lady of the Night Court.
You’d always felt a bit sick and tired a week before your cycle, among other symptoms. But you didn’t want to annoy or worry Rhys with something so trivial.
That’s why when he told you he’d be in Wind Haven for a couple days you told him you’d wait for him to come back, instead of joining him.
He was hesitant to leave you, noticing you were a bit off but he didn’t want to push you.
As soon as you heard the front door to the town house close you dragged yourself to the ensuite bathroom. You’d always hated this part of being fae. The cramps always had you doubled over, clutching your tummy, as you emptied its contents into the toilet bowl.
Forcing yourself to stand, to brush your teeth and then winnowing back into bed. You curled up in a ball under the blankets. Unaware that you were flooding the bond with how you felt.
Rhys nearly fell out of the sky as he felt an overwhelming pain come over him. Free falling for a couple seconds before landing roughly in the middle of the Illyrian forest floor covered in snow. He clutched his middle as he dry heaved. It took him a second to realize he was feeling your pain and discomfort. Winnowing back to you without a thought.
Mor, Cassian and Azriel had stayed in the townhouse the night before and heard you. All three of them had tried getting into Rhys and yours shared room to check on you, to no avail. You’d warded the room, being used to going through this on your own.
“Y/n !” Mor pounded on the door. “Please let me in !”
“We just want to help !” Cassian tried.
Azriel, “Open the door !”
So lost in the feeling of your discomfort, you hadn’t heard the front door slam shut.
Without a word Rhys walked through the townhouse, up the stairs to your shared room, breaking through the wards, getting to you.
He moved the blankets, caressing your flushed cheek, “Darling, why didn’t you tell me ?” He murmured.
All you could do was press your cheek further into his palm, as another cramp over took you, causing you to whimper and writhe in pain. Rhys huffed out a breath, “All right, that’s it.”
You heard his footsteps disappear into the bathroom and then water running.
He threw the blankets off of you and moved you to sit up right, pulling your night slip off of you. Then picking you up he carried you to the bathroom, placing you into the tub. The water was hot, soothing the cramps that riddled your body, relaxing the tension in your lower back.
“Mhm, thank you !” You whispered at Rhys. He was sitting on the edge of the tub peering down at you, reaching out to grab his hand, you tugged “Get in with me ?” He chuckled before taking his clothes off and you scooted forward so he’d fit.
Once he’s settled in he pulls you back against his chest, you grab one of his hands and place it over your tummy. The pressure always helps with cramps. You shift a bit and feel his length harden against your back,
“Sorry.” He mumbles.
You look at him over your shoulder, giggling, “Don’t be sorry.”
You try to ignore it but your hormones are so out of control and now all you want is Rhys. Behind you, you hear him scenting the air, no doubt scenting your arousal. Moving his freehand to play with your sore breasts, “Is this okay, darling ?” You nodded your head yes, then a moan escapes you as he starts tugging your sensitive nipples.
“Rhys ?” You utter breathlessly.
“Yes, darling ?” He rasps out.
“Touch me, please ?” The words die off on your tongue in a whimper as he trails his hand down your front, then starts rubbing tight circles over your clit.
You’re a mess of moans and shaky breaths as he continues playing with your sensitive cunt. He moves to slide his fingers into you but you grab his hand stopping him, “I’m bleeding.”
Rhys chuckles darkly before kissing you temple, “It’s not the first time I’ve had blood on my hands, princess. Let me help you feel good.”
Nodding your head as he slides his fingers into you, thrusting in and out of you. Curling them, making them hit that sweet spot, that has you crying out his name, “Rhys - Rhys!”
He places soft sensual kisses on your temple, neck and shoulders as one hand plays with your swollen breast. The other plunges in and out of you.
Breathing hitching as he picks up the pace, nails digging into his thick muscular thighs. His hand moves from your breast to your clit, pushing you over the edge, crying out his name - “Rhys !” - as you orgasm.
He kisses the top of your head, praising you, “Good girl.”
Still limp from your orgasm, he’s positions you so you’re straddling his lap, facing him. You’re shaking as he buries his cock into your aching cunt. “Shhh, baby. I got you.” He coos into your ear as he rubs his hand soothingly on your lower back. You melt into him as he rolls his hips, his cock massaging your sensitive walls.
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar smut#rhysand#rhysand acotar#rhysand fanfic#rhysand high lord#rhysand smut#rhysand x reader#rhys#rhys acotar#rhys fanfic#rhys high lord#rhys smut#rhys x reader
350 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before You Leave Me - Rhys x Fem!Reader
Link to my masterlist
Chapter summary: After centuries spent by your side, Rhysand withdraws from you.
Warnings: Angst (no happy ending here folks), implied sexual content. Not edited, didn't have the time!
Note: Lyrics from this song, because Alex Warren has held my spotify hostage for too many days and it was an itch i needed to get out.
I'm scared you really mean it, that you're never comin' back
You should have seen it coming, really, you should have. You’d been fighting in a war you hadn’t even known, so focused on surviving Amarantha’s wrath under the mountain. Rhys’ wife and partner was prime meat for that bloodthirsty woman, and you’d let it distract you from what should have been clear from the start.
The comments started off innocent, his intense stare on the human girl shrugged off as concern for someone who couldn’t fight back. That was the Rhys you knew, always looking out for the defenseless. You’d praised his attempts at saving her.
The words of reassurance you’d once said now felt bitter on your tongue when you looked into your husband’s eyes and saw him searching, searching for someone you simply couldn’t be.
See your bag right by the stairs, I guess you already packed.
It wasn’t subtle, and you weren’t convinced that it was an accident. Drawers progressively emptier, nightstand completely clear of all signs of life, most appreciated bathroom products vanishing. Not like he was here, anyway.
You sobbed the day the small painting on the dresser disappeared.
It was a painting of your wedding ceremony.
Know I can't change your mind, but how could you just leave like that?
A mating bond... Words that so often left Rhys’ tongue, spat like curdled milk. Nothing could break your love, he had said, he had promised, he had sworn before the stars themselves.
How horribly had you misunderstood, the design of the stars depicting a very different picture now.
Centuries of ups and downs, of hard moments, of saving each other from death itself, of soft touches given under silken sheets, moments with your family... You had seen it all together. Was it all so easy to dismiss?
Just give me one more night, hold me like you're still mine
Your evening had held a certain finality, every kiss dripping poison down your throat and every moan a cry for his love. You held him tight through every blinding wave, not letting go. Brought his forehead to yours, looked at the face of the man you had loved your entire life. He knew you so well, he knew every inch of your body because you were his.
Oh, love me for right now, before you leave me
You pretended not to hear the name whispered against your neck as he surrendered to his own pleasure.
Betcha didn't expect a fic from me today, huh? I like to keep y'all on your toes. Yes, its a songfic, I am the victim of my spotify playlists and I can't suffer alone
I am working on a Cassian oneshot, a Nesta one as well as the next chapter of BoP, keep an ear open for that!
Also, despite my writing history, i do not hate Rhys. He's just an easy target and I'm a vulture looking for the weakest link.
Banner created by the amazing @saradika!
#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar fanfic#rhys fanfic#rhysand fanfic#rhys x you#rhys x y/n#rhysand x y/n#rhysand angst
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Legend of a Mortal Love
┊ ➶ rhys x oc
┊ ➶ part seven
part six
Ariadne had learned long ago that dreams didn’t last forever. But leaving Velaris, it was a different kind of sadness, of disappointment. She had immersed herself in a dangerous bubble of joy and normality, and now that it was all over, her reality made her fall twice as hard.
“I don’t want to do this,” Rhiannon whispered in a sob, the chains that should’ve been with her this whole time now in the female’s shaky hands.
Ariadne smiled sadly, trying hard not to let the tears fall down her own checks. It was enough with all of the ones Rhiannon and Morrigan were spilling already.
“It’s ok,” she whispered, only managing to make her voice stable that way.
Rhiannon raised her violet gaze to her, guilt and shame turning off the usual glow in the Night Court’s daughter’ eyes.
“No, no it is not,” she shook her head, shamefully lowering it to squeeze the chains so hard her knuckles turned white.
A big hand came to rest on top of the female’s small one, Rhiannon did not look up as she sobbed and let Rhysand take the chains from her. Ariadne shifted her gaze from her crying friend to the Heir’s hard expression.
Rhysand did not let a single emotion show in his face, while he gently asked for her hand.
Ariadne did not let the tears fall, did not let her head and gaze falter as she extended both her wrists to the male.
Slowly, very painfully slowly, Rhysand put on the chains on her wrists, slowly brushing the still healing skin with his calloused fingers.
A weight so big it almost broke her heart completely sank into her as soon as she heard the click of the chains closing. Yet she still didn’t looked away from Rhysand’s violet eyes. Not until Morrigan’s arms wrapped around her, almost knocking her off if it weren’t for Rhiannon’s arms that joined the hug soon after.
Both females clang to her tightly, while she could only stand there and pray all this to be over soon.
When they finally parted, Cassian came near to give her a little pat in the shoulder.
“Until next time, little bird. Don’t stop singing, I can’t wait to hear what you come up with next,” despite the tense feelings the big Illyrian male was letting out, he managed to wink an eye at her and smiled sweetly, making Ariadne smile too and nodding her head in only response.
“Do you have it with you?” Azriel asked in a low voice when he stepped over where Cassian had been.
“Yes,” Ariadne nodded again, and the male nodded back.
“Good luck, Ariadne.”
She smiled at him with gratefulness, and at last, not standing a second more inside of that house without the possibility of breaking in tears, alongside Rhysand and Rhiannon, she excited the townhouse, saying her final goodbyes not only to the people she now would never be able to get out of her head, but to the city that would haunt her dreams like a cruel reminder of the life that couldn’t possibly be hers.
༺ ♡ ༻
The melody of her lost dreams drummed in her head as she stared at the infinite night sky of the Court of Nightmares. It was the same sky that she had stared at every night in Velaris, yet it felt so painfully different that it left an aching feeling in her chest.
“Ariadne, not again, please, get back to work!” She was snapped out of her daydreaming by Tara’s whispered voice.
“Yes, sorry,” stepping away from the window, Ariadne had no other choice but to follow her friend’s orders, knowing very well that if they didn’t finished their work, it would be her fault.
Ever since she came back, it had become difficult to follow the rhythm of her life. As if she hadn’t been living it for the past 19 years.
At end of the day they hadn’t reached their mark, so it meant they wouldn’t get their ration of food. Ariadne told Tara to go to at least get some rest while she picked up everything, and while she worked alone, she had the time and space to mumble all the melodies in her head without anyone interrupting.
“I thought working hours were over,” well, almost anyone.
This time, unlike every other time, Ariadne did not jump in surprise at the velvet silky voice behind her, nor was she surprised to find the winged male once she turned around.
“It is, I just didn’t finished the mark today and so I have nothing to rush for, so I’m picking everything up while Tara went to sleep,” she explained absentmindedly without looking up at him from her work.
“The mark?” Rhysand asked with curiosity.
Right. Of course he did not knew what happened in his own Court.
“You don’t finish the mark of the day, you don’t get your night ration of food, so, here I am,” the girl sighed, and straightened her back with a soft moan when her muscles ached.
“You haven’t eaten anything since lunch?”
“Well, they didn’t serve appetizers after lunch break, so no, I haven’t.”
Normally, Rhysand would bite the inside of his mouth to stop the smile on his face at one of her impertinent comments, yet this time there was no hint of amusement in his violet eyes when Ariadne turned to look at him surprised with all the silence, something much more darker lurked in them this time.
Uncomfortable with the new tense silence, Ariadne picked up everything she had gathered from the floor and took a deep breath, anxious for getting out of there as fast as she could.
“Well, if you excuse me, I’m dead tired, I’ll go leave this and-”
“Come with me to Illyria,” he interrupted her so abruptly Ariadne had no chance to get a grasp on his words.
She was speechless for a moment, surely she had to have heard incorrectly because there was no way he had…
“What?” She questioned the male, still stunned.
“Come with me to Illyria, Ariadne, you’ll stay with me. Then we could go back to Velaris, you would be working for me and not my father.”
A sudden rush of uncontrollable anger rushed through the tip of her toes to the tip of her head. She had received tons of improper proposals from High Fae males over the years, some taken without her consideration anyway, but this… it had to be the most shameful one so far.
The equipment in her hands fell to the floor with a loud thud, and despite the heaviness in her chains, she approached Rhysand with an accusing finger pointed at him.
“Listen, you may be the High Lord’s son, Rhysand, and I may be just a slave, but what makes you think you have the right to use me like that? What makes all of you High Fae think you have the right?!”
The male took a little step back with a face so full of confusion Ariadne almost believed him.
“Ariadne, I don’t know-”
“I’m not a toy, Rhysand, I will not be your toy!” With tears burning in her eyes, she waited for the struck, the cruel words, the promises of execution, because this time she had surely, most certainly, stepped over the line as a slave.
But none of those came.
Ariadne stared at the male with her chest falling and rising with so much force it was beginning to hurt. The tears she refused to spill burned her eyes to the point she had to shut them close for a second to send them away. Then she observed with a heavy heart how Rhysand’s face did not twist in anger but in shameful realization.
“Ariadne, I-” he tried to give a step closer to her, but she immediately gave one back.
Rhysand sighed, his head dropped down for a moment and his usually lightened up eyes were so dark they almost turned black. When he looked up at her again, a softness that shook Ariadne’s heart without explanation surprised her.
“I never had the intention to… use you, Ariadne. Not once did it even crossed my head. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, I truly, deeply am. My proposal was not for you to be my mistress in any way, I just… I wanted to do something right, Ariadne, for once in my life, I wanted to do something right.”
She was out of words, so stunned she had to remind herself more than once to breath. Now she couldn’t take her eyes off of Rhysand’s, trying to look for something that told her that he was not being truthful, but she found nothing; on the contrary, only genuine shame tainted the beautiful eyes.
It made her feel weird, like the night in the balcony of the townhouse, or the night in the opera as well. Feelings she still couldn’t recognize flooded her chest with a pressure that was avoiding air to come in.
“Just… think about it, would you? I want you to come with me because you trust me, not because you feel obligated to.”
Ariadne didn’t had the words to answer to that, so she simply stared at the male with a stunned expression.
Rhysand, after minutes in silence, sighed and lowered his head once again. When he looked back at her, his eyes were so off that it made her want to give a step closer to him to see if that way she could catch one of the tiny stars she always saw dancing in his violet gaze. But her feet stayed planted in her place, unable to move, her mouth unable to pronounce words.
He nodded then, putting his hands in the pockets of his black pants and tucking his wings tightly behind him, a movement Ariadne had noticed when he was upset or uncertain, and walked away from her without saying anything else.
She stood there for a moment longer, weighing every single word that had been said in her mind with both a racing and a troubled heart.
༺ ♡ ༻
She hadn’t had a minute of sleep last night, her head spun all night not leaving her alone for one second. Her conversation with Rhysand replaying over and over again on her mind.
How did he do it? She asked herself at least a million times. How did he managed to make her lose her balance, to surprisingly trip on everything he did and said every single time?
She stoped looking for an answer to that question once it was obvious she was getting closer to sunrise without rest than to understanding Rhysand’s mind.
But the thing that scared her the most wasn’t how much space the male took in her head, or the fact that her chest hadn’t stoped pressing her heart with enough force she had to take deep breaths. But the fact she was actually considering his offer, and worse, than a little hidden-under-lock part of her wanted to actually trust him.
Sleep deprivation must have been fucking with her head, because when she woke up, Rhysand and his proposal was everything she could think of the entire day.
She couldn’t even concentrate in her tasks, Rhiannon had noticed it immediately when they were together in the kitchen for their “secret tea spilling session”, or so the female liked to call it.
Rhiannon had asked her what was on her mind, and Ariadne had expertly lied saying she was wondering what Rita had thought about the songs Cassian had delivered for her. Rhiannon had easily bought it, and promised she would soon visit Rita to ask her personally.
Later on that day, and by a miracle achieved with a little cheating help from Rhiannon’s powers, Ariadne finished the mark of the day, and was able to eat the insipid dinner they allowed her to eat.
Sitting at the tired, drained circle of human slaves that had been lucky enough to eat that night, Ariadne was even more attentive than ever.
Despite their horrible, meaningless lives, there were whom mastered smiles to try and keep up the rest of the group’s spirits, others whose eyes were no longer alive, and who seemed rather an empty vessel than a living being. Ariadne wondered just how many time it would take her to become that way.
Then she looked at Tara, eating right beside her. The girl would never admit it, but some nights, Ariadne could hear her praying to the Mother, crying the few tears she still had left, showing anything but the rigorous seriousness she always wore with flawless pretend.
Would Ariadne be able to leave her here? They had been together since both were captured by the High Fae and brought to the Night Court as slaves, could Ariadne leave that last part of her past live behind her?
Ariadne didn’t thought she had the courage.
“Something has been troubling you, more than usual,” Tara’s soft voice spoke slightly beside her, for only Ariadne to listen.
“It’s nothing,” the brown-haired girl shook her head and looked down at her unfinished meal, the cheese and hard-stone bread staring back at her with mocking reminder of the delicious meals she’d had a taste of in Velaris.
“I’m not stupid, Ari, I know you might think I don’t notice your meetings with Lady Rhiannon in the kitchen, or worse, how the Heir always seems to appear right where you are. Or the way you’ve changed since you left the Palace with them. What happened there? Where did you even go?”
Ariadne’s mouth dried and her gut twisted at her friend’s words. She did not answer for a really long time, didn’t even look up at Tara’s eyes because she knew very well that if she did so, Tara would read the truth from her eyes.
“I see something in your eyes every time you look at him, you know?” At those words, Ariadne did look up to the red-head, confusion lacing her face.
“What do you mean?”
“Ariadne, if you don’t accept his offer, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown here, vanish to an empty void where all those dreams that keep you always staring at the stars will be lost forever.”
Ariadne’s heart raced at an unsteady pace, her throat dried again, and she had to swallow two times to get herself to speak.
“How did you-“
“Don’t let them drown you,” but Tara did not let her finish her sentence as she stood up and walked away towards the sleeping area.
Leaving Ariadne’s head spinning with something both similar to dread and hope.
༺ ♡ ༻
Three weeks had passed since her conversation with both Tara and Rhysand. The male had gone to Illyria right after, in the company of his sister and mother. So Ariadne had had time both to miss Rhiannon, and to think throughly about the Night Court’s heir proposal.
Already neck deep in work, Ariadne tried to concentrate all her energy in her tasks, if only to make her friend’s words —and Rhysand’s—, leave her alone for a moment.
“If a male, said, invited you to spend some time at Rita’s even though he had never ever done something like that before, what would you think?” Rhiannon’s voice sounded behind her, entering the kitchen.
Ariadne could not hold back the little smile at the female’s voice, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, and it felt good to have the only good thing in this palace for her back.
“So, Azriel finally mastered up the courage huh,” she smiled sideways to the violet eyed female, watching from the corner of her eyes how a pink flush tinted her tanned cheeks.
“Well, I don’t know, considering Cassian and Mor will be there too, and when Rhys finds out he’ll get all dramatic and say we didn’t invite and come either way, I… oh Mother, if Rhys goes, Azriel will never do anything,” the female sat at the kitchen’s table and dropped her head in her hands.
Ariadne let out a soft laugh, she had never seen someone so smitten over someone else as Rhiannon was over Azriel, and well, Ariadne couldn’t really blame her, Azriel was not only impossibly gorgeous, but with the kindness he had shown Ariadne when they met… she couldn’t help but be rooting all the way for them.
“Relax, everything will be alright, I’m sure he’s just working up his courage little by little.”
“I really fucking hope the Mother hears you.”
Ariadne laughed again and turned around with a little shake of her head while finishing the cleaning she had been doing, but when a male voice entered the kitchen, she almost hit her head with the counter on top of it.
“I knew you’d be here, snatching sweets from Pan again?” Rhysand’s amused, velvet voice rang in her ears and traveled all the way to her stomach, making her have to inhale deeper for air.
He didn’t notice she was there, she thought, since he had yet to make any comments in her direction, so she ever so slowly turned to look at the siblings, only to find out Rhysand had already spotted her and, in fact, was looking straight at her.
He only gave her a soft smile, and that was it.
“Mum’s been looking for you,” snatching the sweet Rhiannon was about to get on her mouth and eating it himself, Rhysand gained a dark look from his sister and a pinch on the arm.
The female stood up with the grace of a princess and, before leaving the kitchen, turned back to look at Ariadne to say her goodbyes with a wink and a smile. Adiadne did the same, and when Rhiannon was gone, only Rhysand and her remained looking at each other, with the sounds of the rest of the kitchen staff seeming to stay behind as they did not looked away.
“You’re back,” she managed to say, standing off the floor and wiping off her skirt, as if that would do anything to help the dirt that completely covered it.
“Only to accompany Rhi and my mother, I’ll be back to Illyria tomorrow.”
“Oh, tomorrow?…” She had breathed the question rather than spoke it, Rhysand only nodded in confirmation, putting his hands on the pockets of his pants and… tucking in his wings.
Silence settled over them either a strange feeling, Ariadne wanted to get the words off her mouth, but her lips seemed to be under a spell of utter uselessness.
“I have to go look into some affairs before parting, I’ll leave you to your work,” with a heavy sigh, as if he too had been holding his breath, Rhysand stumbled momentarily over his own steps while turning around, but tried to act as if nothing had happened to rush out of the kitchen door.
“Rhys!…and,” Ariadne called behind him, and he turned around so quickly when he heard his nickname he again almost stumbled.
But as soon as Ariadne tried to repair her slip adding the final letters of his name, she could almost swear she saw something like disappointment flicker in his violet gaze.
“I…” Now, with his striking eyes looking at her again, she had fallen silent once more.
“If you don’t accept his offer, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown here, vanish to an empty void where all those dreams that keep you always staring at the stars will be lost forever.”
Tara’s words replayed in her mind, like they had done for the last three weeks.
What else did she had, if not for dead parents and a missing, surely dead brother. There was nothing left for her there, if there had ever been something to begin with. Just then did she realized the terrifying truth of Tara’s words; slowly, that place was drowning her, as it had with every human life that had been unfortunate enough to end up there. Her dreams, everything her father had taught her, fought for, and died for, everything would eventually be lost in the sea of darkness that would sooner or later swallow her up.
So, if her fate was already so evidently clear, what could she lose?
“Okay,” was everything she could bring herself to say with a small nod, and prayed her eyes could communicate what she wanted to Rhysand.
The male read it loud and clear, and, if Ariadne’s eyes did not fooled her, sucked in a breath of almost relieve. He was fighting back a smile, and had to shift the weight of his body in his legs to keep from moving too much.
“Okay,” he answered with another nod, and both said nothing after, only stared at each other with that intensity only they seemed to share.
And in those star-filled eyes, Ariadne could’ve sworn she had just sealed her fate.
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acomaf#acosf#acowar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar oc#rhys fanfic#rhys fic#rhys sister#rhys#rhysand x oc#rhysand x reader#rhysand#azriel#cassian#mor#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#rhys acotar#rhysand acotar#azriel acotar#nesta acotar#feyre acotar#mor acotar#heir of the night court#high lord of the night court#night court#legend of a mortal love
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
WIP of Rhysand from my ACOTAR fanfic, Of Hearts and Swords:
Rhys had his hand around Sibila’s throat and had shoved her against the wall so violently, he thought he heard her skull crack.
“Do not make the mistake of thinking that I can’t do this without you, Sibila. We entered into this arrangement because we each want something—something that would be much easier to accomplish if we work our plans in tandem. But—,” he abruptly yanked her forward and then slammed her head back into the stone. “If I have to make other arrangements, I will do so.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “If you so much as touch a single hair on Feyre’s head, I’ll make sure there are no pieces of you left for the Asteri to burn.”
Sibila’s eyes raged, but she said nothing.
He smiled, then released his grip on her throat. Sibila fell to the ground, choking and wheezing as she tried to breathe. Rhys just stepped back and smoothed his hair out of his face.
Sibila coughed and raised hate-filled eyes to Rhys. “You’re—giving yourself—away.”
He smirked down at her. “I don’t care.”
He turned on his heel and strode away, his temper pulsing with each step.
Rage—blind, unending rage clouded his vision, choked his senses. He felt the darkness of his power welling around him, readying to strike. He would kill Sibila—strip the skin from her bones and burn her alive if she so much as threatened Feyre again. She wouldn't touch her. He'd make sure of that.
If anyone’s going to make Feyre wish she were dead, it’ll be me.
Read on AO3
#acotar#fanfic#acofas#acomaf#sjm fanfic#fanfiction#feysand fanfiction#sjm universe#feysand#cassian fanfic#acotar fanart#rhysand fanart#rhys fanfic#fanart#sjm fanart
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Where it all began
How Rhysand's father and mother met: In the story he was 900 years old and his mother 18 years when they met. He’s described as quite a character by everyone, a very cunning and calculative High Lord who didn’t really love Rhys's mother and wasn’t well matched with her despite being mated. I can imagine why, the age gap would have been too big for them to ever find a common ground. He’d lived through many eras while his mother had barely stepped into adult hood so the dynamic between them would’ve been skewed. This is just my version of how they would have met though. Wanted to write because I felt like it.
The air was ruthlessly harsh and strong that day. Winds shrieked like banshees across the Illyrian Camps, ripping at the flimsy tents and threatening to splinter the makeshift houses. The frigid air bit through any gaps, a bone-deep cold that promised a harsh day.
Lryia sat hidden in a corner of her room, trembling as she held up the rag of cloth with blood on it. The dreaded day had finally arrived; she’d bled and her wings; the only freedom and strength she was left with in this life would also be snatched from her.
Shallow pants wracked her body as she darted her eyes around the room, searching frantically for any place to conceal the cloth and scent. There would be no use though; the moment her father entered the house he’d know immediately and her wings would be clipped.
A sudden sound from outside jolted her, fear gripping her heart and she shot up, her knuckles white as she clutched the rag.
Run.
She raced out the door of her small house without thinking. Despite streaks of light breaking through the dawn, training would have already begun in the heart of the campsite and her parents would notice her absence in the family shop if she didn’t immediately leave. The wind lashed her unruly black hair across her face and pierced through the skin visible under her dress as she gasped at the frigid air. The small cramped white houses lined the narrow alleys barely giving any space for the wings to walk let alone run so she would have to make it to the small patch of open space that would allow her to spread her wings and take flight.
Ten steps to go.
“Wait”
A males voice called behind her and she cursed under her breath, shoving a small boy who flapped his wings to maintain his balance. Her scent was too obvious and the space too tiny to go unnoticed. Five more steps.
She heard the thundering steps as he neared but she jumped into a flight early, knocking her left wing into the red roof of on one of the houses, flapping her wings desperately.
“Catch her!”
The shout cut through the air as she flew away, quicker than any female could in the camp from the hours she spent without permission flying in the sky. She gritted her teeth as she fought against the strong winds threatening to break her balance and sweep her away into a different direction.
She cursed her weak form; the exhaustion dripping from her wings so quickly from the lack of nutrition and strength in her frail body.
The sound of wings forced her to spare a quick glance at the people behind and fear clawed up her heart as she watched two males flying behind her, smiles on their faces. She couldn’t outrun them. No, not Illyrian males born and bred to fight in these conditions. A hopeless sob crept up her throat as she sent all her strength into flapping her wings, trying to harness the wind or drift into one of the mountains. Who could help her now?
A large hand suddenly gripped her arm as a cry escaped her lips.
“No!”
Her cry was lost in the sounds of the howling wind as the Males deathly grip dragged her to his body and caged her with his other hand.
“You stupid girl”, he bit out, his eyes filled with anger and disgust at her helpless fight and he dipped backwards to the camp, dragging her along as if she weighed nothing.
Lyria cried, pleaded and fought; trying to strike and bite wherever she could but he was too strong.
They landed roughly on camp grounds, amidst the training grounds and Lyria tried to kick his shins to break free. This time another male caught her easily, picking her up and cursing her loudly as a few more surrounded her, looking gleefully at her plight.
She screamed and jerked to pull her hands free but they dragged her back. Her mind briefly registered they were going to the block where she’d watched other females getting their wings clipped and tears streamed down her eyes.
“Please”, she begged, “please please please!”
No one listened.
Only a little spark in her chest refused to clamp down as it raged with anger within her, forcing her to fight every step of the way. This was how her life would be taken from her. She would no longer feel the brush of air against her face and hair, no longer feel the sensation of butterflies in her stomach, the lightness in her chest and never again experience the pure joy and thrill of flying away from the camp; a destitute place where her life would now be set in stone like others.
Her feet dragged over the steps, the rough cement scratching her skin as they crowded; a mix of wild eyes, teeth and wings surrounding her.
She screamed and screamed at the unfamiliar hands pulling her hands and pressing against her sensitive wings roughly.
She squeezed her eyes shut bracing herself for the impending pain, and then suddenly all the pressure on her wings and hands vanished.
Wet drops of water spattered across her face and dress as she crumbled into the ground, her breath coming in loud pants. She carefully opened her eyes and saw in horror as the cement was now covered with a sheen of red, covering her dress and arms. All the males in the camp stood still, watching her in horrified silence. Her eyes glanced around wildly searching for the source when they landed on the man standing on the corner of the field. Cold, calculative and unyielding.
He was the most beautiful male she’d ever seen; violet eyes on a pale unforgiving face that stared right at her; searing through her soul. Something inside her innately recognized the aura of power rolling off him, stifling the air around as if daring anyone to breath. An unfamiliar sensation crept up her chest; an overwhelming rush of darkness spread her veins; something ancient and powerful seizing her as she watched his eyes narrow before he began striding towards her.
“Who is she?”, his words, soft yet imperious, rang authoritatively in the air as she watched Devon the camp lord, stumble over his words.
“She- she’s Denys’s daughter. She bled today”, he glanced at her before looking back at the Male who continued walking towards her without sparing a glance at anyone. “Her wings have to be clipped.”
Some force returned to Devon’s words as the Male stood in front of her, staring at her from his height before extending a hand towards her.
He looked late in his twenties with a few lines around his eyes but she just knew from his presence that he was ancient, that he had already conquered the world she’d stepped into. Not a single thought permeated through the fog of darkness and fear in her mind as she watched her hand slowly lift to meet his; something inside her recognizing him to be a kindred spirit, calling her to join him.
Their fingertips brushed and his calloused hands sallowed hers. His gaze, unwavering and intense, held hers as he spoke, clasping her hand and drawing her up to her feet.
“You’re my mate.”
#fantasy#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#rhysand#rhys#rhys fanfic#rhysand parents#night court#fanfiction#acowar#a court of mist and fury#urban fantasy#creative writing#writing prompts#rhys father
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 20 - Apart
Heir of Night - An ACOTAR prequel
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
wings
Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, IC (platonic) x reader
Word Count: 3.1K
Warnings: 18+, smut, P in V, lots of fluff
Summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.
"I distinctly remember," Mor began, her voice filled with excitement, drawing not only your attention from the comforting cocoon of Azriel's arms, but also the rooms. She sat opposite you, a slight mischief twinkling in her eyes as she leaned forward.
You were all nestled in one of the many living rooms at the House of Wind.
Under the flickering faelight, you sat beside Azriel– your mate. His large presence ever the comfort, as he enveloped you in his arms. His fingers, tracing intricate patterns through your hair, each touch sending ripples of relaxation through your body.
If it weren't for the loudness of your friends and family, their remarks not failing to echo through the room, Azriel’s touch alone could have lulled you into a blissful slumber.
"It was a surprise for sure," Feyre chimed in, a playful smirk dancing across her lips as she glanced over at your slightly confused expression. Sensing your distraction, Azriel reluctantly released his hold on you, joining the conversation with a gentle touch of his hand settling on the small of your back.
"My experience was quite a shock," Cassian added with a grin.
“Mine, I have to say is one I’d like to forget” Rhys grimaced as Feyre gave him an annoyed knowing look.
Amren, rolled her eyes at her family's theatrics. "You all make such a big deal out of everything," she remarked, her tone dry.
Your brows furrowed as you pieced together the fragments of the conversation, realisation dawning as Mor's words began to paint a vivid picture.
The topic of discussion? The first time they laid eyes on your beautiful wings.
𓇢𓆸
Mor, Feyre and Nesta.
It was one of Feyre’s first nights out since welcoming Nyx into the world; she’d been dying for a night off. Craving the simple joys of the company of her girlfriends. Sensing her desperation for a night to let loose, you, Mor, and Nesta had taken it upon yourselves to orchestrate the perfect girls night out for your High Lady.
The night quickly unfolded into a flurry of laughter and dancing. Drinks were spilled, songs were sung. Rita’s being your chosen sanctuary for the night. You all let yourselves get lost in the music and infectious energy of the bar. Drinks were flowing freely, and the hours quickly slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass.
It wasn’t until the sun had started to rise again that you all quickly realised you needed to get home. You’re not sure how in their drunken states, but Mor and Feyre had successfully managed to winnow you all back to River House, all collapsing in a giggling heap in the foyer.
A fit of laughter overtook the group as you stumbled and pushed, trying to untangle yourselves from one another. You managed to push yourself onto unsteady feet, only to trip over Nesta’s dress and stumble back onto Mor. With your balance faltering, a shimmer of magic danced through the air as your wings burst forth, a kaleidoscope of iridescent pink hues unfurling into the air. Your wings, delicate and light, burst with specs of fairy dust that glowed around you.
The room fell silent, the trio frozen in awe at the sight before them. Then, like a spell breaking, laughter bubbled forth, filling the space with joyous echoes. Mor's eyes sparkled with delight as she pulled you into an embrace, Feyre's lips curled into a grin, and even Nesta couldn't help but crack a smile.
"You sneaky thing," Mor teased, reaching out to brush her fingers against the delicate wings "Keeping such beauty hidden away."
“I bet Azriel loves keeping this side of you to himself,” Nesta purred, her voice laced with mischief as something provocative glinted in her eyes.
You responded with a playful stick-out of your tongue at Nesta, before turning your attention to Mor and Feyre, who were now a pair of mesmerised females, giggling like children as they reached out to touch this new part of their friend they had never seen before.
They had always known you had wings, from the type of fae you were, but you had always kept them hidden and they never dared to ask for you to reveal them.
"Hands off!" you exclaimed, your voice a blend of amusement and mock outrage as you swatted and smacked at their approaching fingers, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls.
Of course, they respectfully obeyed your wishes, but there was a warmth that filled their chests as you all stumbled arms wrapped around one another through the house, enjoying a new part of their friend that had been revealed.
𓇢𓆸
Cassian.
Cassian's mischievous streak knew no bounds, especially when it came to playing pranks on you. He found something undeniably endearing about your reactions, and there was a certain satisfaction when he knew these teasing antics could also annoy Azriel too.
On this particular day, you were busy in the kitchen, practising a cake recipe that Elain had shared with you. Determined to make the perfect cake for Azriel's upcoming birthday, you meticulously measured ingredients, oblivious to the looming presence of your giant friend.
Cassian's eyes twinkled with mischief as he saw his chance to play. With careful grace, he approached, holding his breath before unleashing his voice.
"BOO!" His voice boomed across the room, his figure looming over you with a triumphant grin.
Startled, you spun around in a flurry of flour, heart racing in your chest at the sudden noise. And then, in a moment of surprise, your magic wavered, and your wings unfurled in a burst of ethereal light.
The room fell silent as Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, laughter fading into awe at the sight before him. "What in the Cauldron," he breathed, barely a whisper, his finger pointing at the delicate appendage. "What are those?"
You fluttered your wings away, annoyance evident in your voice as you retaliated with a playful toss of flour in his direction. "Cassian!" you exclaimed.
"YOU HAVE WINGS!" Cassian's excitement was palpable, his grin spreading from ear to ear.
"Of course I have wings, I'm a fairy," you retorted, arms outstretched in exasperation.
“AZRIEL…YOUR MATE HAS WINGS” he screamed knowing his vibrating voice would find his brother.
Azriel materialised from the shadows, concern evident in his eyes as he approached, brushing away the flour that had settled on your face. His expression shifted to admiration as he took in the sight of your wings shimmering behind you.
"Stop tormenting my mate, Cass," Azriel scolded gently, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulled you into a soft embrace, his lips pressing to the top of your head.
"She has wings!" Cassian exclaimed once more, disbelief colouring his tone. There was a touch of annoyance, as he realised he may have been the only one to not know this about you.
Cassian, like a moth attracted to a light, reached his giant hand out again wanting to get close to the wings that were so unlike his own.
"No touching" Azriel growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. Cassian withdrew his hand, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features as he chewed his lip in an attempt to avoid pouting.
"So does this mean... we can go flying together?" Cassian asked as the revelation came to his mind, excitement bubbling in his voice.
Your brow quirked slightly, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as a small smirk tugged at your lips. Cassian watched you carefully, anticipation written across his features, while Azriel pulled away knowingly.
You nodded slowly, a challenge evident in your gaze. "I’ll race ya," you declared, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.
With that, you pushed past Cassian and darted out of the room, your wings fluttering gracefully as you made your way to the nearest balcony. Without hesitation, you leaped off the edge and into the open air, the wind rushing past you as you soared into the night sky.
Cassian was quick to follow, a grin spreading across his face as he embraced the exhilarating freedom of flight. And not far behind him, Azriel joined the fray, his own wings beating with a steady rhythm as he soared through the air.
Together, you three took to the skies, weaving and darting through the night sky.
𓇢𓆸
Rhys and Nyx.
“And stretch them out…That’s it my boy” Rhys spoke proudly as he watched his son in front of him stretch and extend his wings.
You had found yourself in the company of one of Rhys’ flying lessons, nestled on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony, a book in hand as you half-read, half-watched your High Lord teaching his son how to use his wings.
Nyx, though perhaps still a little too young to fly, was eager to learn. So desperate to be like his father and uncles. With Rhys' guidance, he tentatively stretched out his wings, mimicking his father's movements under the watchful gaze of the night sky.
Rhys, a picture of fatherly pride, stood by Nyx's side, his attention unwavering—until a sudden commotion from inside drew his focus for just a fleeting moment. In that brief lapse of attention, the sudden gust of wind caught Nyx and his perfectly poised wings off guard, sending him teetering towards the edge, a gasp escaping his lips.
Instinct surged through you like a bolt of lightning as your wings burst forth in a flurry of motion, carrying you across the expanse with a grace honed over centuries. With swift precision, you swooped in, catching Nyx in your embrace just as he hovered on the brink of danger.
Wide-eyed and breathless, Nyx looked up at you in awe, his innocent admiration pulling at the strings of your heart. "Pwetty," he murmured, his wonder mirrored in the glow of your own wings, illuminated by the moonlight.
You wasted no time in safely landing back onto the balcony, Rhys rushing to your side with bewilderment and shock etched on his features as a torrent of thank-yous spilled from his lips.
As Nyx pawed at your wings, you carefully fluttered them away from his reach, mindful of their delicate nature. Rhys, after the scare of what had just happened, or almost happened. Took a moment to truly appreciate the sight of your wings— beautiful and light, shimmering a pink glow that was a stark contrast to his own.
His relief was short-lived, however, as it became apparent that Feyre had witnessed the entire ordeal. With a swift scolding, she whisked Nyx from your arms, sending you a silent 'thank you' before retreating inside, cradling her son protectively.
"No flying lessons with Daddy from now on," Feyre scolded directly at her mate before she cooed at her son again. "What would we have done if Auntie Y/N hadn't been here?" she mused aloud, her words lingering in the night air.
Rhys glanced over at you, questions swirling in his head at how you had so quickly been there to rescue their son from danger.
"They may be more delicate than your wings, but I am quicker, swifter, and more agile than you big Illyrian babies will ever be," you teased lightly, your words carrying a hint of playfulness.
"Thank the Cauldron you are," Rhys breathed with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the depths of his gratitude. You gently patted his shoulder before ushering him inside.
𓇢𓆸
Azriel.
“Gods you are beautiful” Azriel groaned, sweat beading down his temple as he looked at you. Your own eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you continued to ride your mate.
You had both finally and officially accepted the mating bond, preparing Azriel’s favourite meal as a gesture of your acceptance. He had eagerly devoured the food, the golden thread connecting you both deeper and stronger than you ever thought possible.
You had felt his emotion rippling towards you that night. There was a sense of overwhelming gratitude, a deep-seated appreciation for finally having someone who understood him in ways no one else ever could. There was a feeling of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing that he had found someone who truly accepted him for who he was.
But above all, there was a profound sense of belonging—a feeling of being chosen, not just as a lover, but as a partner, a confidant, a soulmate.
As the night progressed, things escalated quickly. Your bodies entwined in a passionate frenzy. Finally, after months of yearning and longing, you found yourselves in each other's arms.
You straddled him, your breasts flushed against his hard chest, in an unbreakable embrace as his hands tightly gripped your lower back, moving with you as you rode out a dance of pleasure. His large wings stretched behind him, twitching slightly as a sign of his impending release.
"You feel so perfect, angel," he purred against your neck, peppering it with soft kisses before pulling away to watch your face.
Your features were contorted in a mix of pleasure and desire, moans escaping from your lips as you steadily climbed towards climax. His rhythm became deeper and more intense, bringing you closer to the edge.
"Azriel..." you moaned out his name, throwing your head back and arching your body as ecstasy coursed through you.
“That’s it my love, that’s it…”
Azriel’s words got stuck in this throat as he watched you reach the peak of bliss, the air around you suddenly seemed to shimmer and a soft ethereal light enveloped your beings. Azriel's eyes widened in awe at the magnificent sight before him. Glowing iridescent wings sprouted from your back, their delicate pink hues dancing in the dim light of your chamber. They fluttered gently, casting a mesmerising glow that bathed both of you in a radiant aura of magic.
Filled with wonder and awe, he was sent over the edge, his own release filling you as he held the most ethereal being in his arms.
"So beautiful..." Azriel breathed out, almost in disbelief as he couldn't fathom how you could be any more breathtaking than you already were.
Your wings twitched and fluttered as you rode out the waves of pleasure, the intensity of the moment slowly subsiding as you rested your forehead against Azriel's, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realised what you had just revealed to him in your most vulnerable and intimate moment. The soft glow of your wings gradually settled, the dust they had created floating gently around the room like stardust.
"Azriel... I..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, emotions swirling within you like a tempest.
But before you could find the words to express the depth of your feelings, Azriel's firm yet gentle voice cut through the air, his eyes flickering with warmth and adoration as he spoke.
"Let me say it first," he insisted, his arms tightening around you in a comforting embrace. "You are my guiding light in the darkness, my entire soul's devotion...I..- I love you."
Your wings, now settled and slightly slumped with the weight of the moment, trembled at his words, the warmth in your chest swelling with each syllable he uttered. Tears welled in your eyes, reflecting the tear that had already spilled from Azriel's.
"I love you, Azriel," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I am yours forever, in this life and the next."
Your lips found one another again, bodies and souls intertwining under the soft glow of your wings.
𓇢𓆸
As your friends reminisced about the first time they saw your wings, Azriel, ever the gentleman, only vaguely danced around his recollection. He shared that it had been when you accepted the mating bond for him. The vague blush that covered your cheeks was enough to dissuade further inquiry from your friends.
"Am I the only one who didn't realise you had wings?" Cassian asked incredulously, only to be met with a pillow thrown by Mor.
"You really need to brush up on your Fae race history and anatomy if you didn’t know she had wings" she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"I can’t believe it all had to be so dramatic though," Amren remarked. "I simply asked her to show me the first week we met, and she obliged."
You smiled nervously at Amren's confession, feeling the weight of your friends' stares.
"So you're saying we could have just asked all this time?" Feyre exclaimed.
You chuckled sheepishly. "I only hide them because they’re delicate... and you guys can be, well…"
"We can be what?" Mor's gaze teased as she leaned in closer.
Instinctively, you moved closer to Azriel for protection, but he seemed to find humour in the situation.
"Clumsy... not always spatially aware," you admitted with a sheepish grin.
"Is that so?" Cassian drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced at Mor.
"Show us your wings then," Nesta declared bluntly, slightly frustrated that Amren had gotten one up on her by simply asking you.
"No," you replied firmly, not wanting to suddenly bend to their will.
Cassian and Mor exchanged a knowing look, a mischievous plan forming between them. Without warning, they both lunged at you, their playful attack catching you off guard.
You cried out for Azriel's help, but to your dismay, he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him. Cassian's firm grip on your wrists pulled you closer to him, while Mor's embrace from behind left you feeling both trapped and ticklish.
"Not spatially aware, huh?" Mor teased, her fingers jabbing playfully at your waist, eliciting a cascade of laughter from you.
Your please for assistance only seemed to amuse Azriel further, his smirk betraying the mischief dancing in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he chuckled, his voice laced with mirth. “But the outcome of this is one you know I love seeing.”
Your friends playful assault only continued, your giggles filling the room. And in the midst of it all, your wings unfurled, revealing the delicate, pink membranes that had been the topic of conversation for the past hour.
They fluttered from your back, casting a glowing aura across the room and around you. They resembled delicate petals kissed by the soft hues of dawn, shimmering an iridescent pink that mesmerised anyone who laid eyes on them.
“There she is…” Azriel murmered under his breath. A fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He could feel the pride filling his chest as he watched you, gazing at your beautiful wings in all their ethereal glory.
But it wasn’t just your mate gazing at your with love.
No, your family found themselves grinning ear to ear, looking at you with admiration as they watched you glow.
A glow they were forever grateful for.
a/n: not really my best work, but just some loveliness for you all to read! It was an idea I came up with that I instantly dumped on @illyrianbitch (as I always do) and she thought it was a sweet enough idea to write, so here it isssss!! Enjoy my loves <3
Hopefully will resume series writing soon - Lottie x
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#acotar azriel#acotar fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#feyre cursebreaker#feyre archeron#rhys acotar#cassian#nesta acosf#mor acotar#amren acotar#nyx archeron#acotar series#inner circle
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Dance with the devil – Part 1
Rhysand x fem!reader series
Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.
Words: 3.3k
TW: Violence, death
Notes: Morally grey Rhysand below the cuff 😈😈😈
»»——- ★ ——-«« ★ »»——- ★ ——-««
Tick, tick, tick.
That stern voice nagged in your mind, laced with forewarning and impatience that only frustrated you further.
You had just minutes to find the scroll and get out.
With gritted teeth, you leaned closer, drowning out that voice - likely your mothers - as well as the drumming of your heart, waiting for that final click.
You were versed in charming locks, picking them when you had to, just as you did now. And what waited on the other side of this door was worth every swallow of bile, every rise and swell of panic that begged you to think of the consequence - of what would happen if you were caught.
It was only a half-moon prior that you had snuck into the infamous libraries of the Day Court while the city slept, hunting concealed maps and etchings of Helion’s castle. You studied the corridors and winding staircases of the impressive home, squinting through the flickering glow of the small fae light you had allowed yourself to cast, anxious eyes lifting reluctantly every so often, humouring the phantom furl of a page or shiver down your spine.
So you pressed those routes to memory – sewers, plumbing, hidden passageways marked in some maps and not others. They were your only true salvage if things went wrong.
Weapons were now strapped to every part of your leathers that would allow, layers of magic shielding your scent and sound so strong it made your joints ache, as if buckling under their weight.
Easy in, easy out, quick on your feet and don't look back.
That mantra was your only comfort as you silently slipped into the lavish guest suite, a breath of relief that its layout matched your efforts of breaking into the libraries. Because although night never found this court, there was only a small window in which the High Lords were away from their suites, and time was a persistent foe.
It was incredibly risky to break into the guest quarters of the High Lord of the Night Court, especially after Hellion had declared his home a neutral grounds for the High Lord’s meeting. But what Rhysand possessed was invaluable – that scroll of ancient tongue, the only one of it’s kind. It was worth the risk of your own life, of certain death if you were caught.
Careful, gloved fingers sifted through the papers on the desk, making sure not to leave anything out of place.
The details you had gained on the High Lord were valuable – he was neat, more than neat, really – his room immaculate and organised. A paper left rippled, a chair at a slight angle, even a stray hair on the sprawling marble floor – all were things he would surely notice.
But you could tread lightly, could play to that game of fine detail. Nimble as a mouse – that’s how your father had always described you, affection warming his face as he compared you to your boisterous brother.
With a clench of your heart, you forced the memory out. Once you had that scroll – soon. You would be together again soon.
As you crouched low to sift through the chestnut draws, mahogany carved with the kind of finery that made you sick, a hint of gold gleamed from the corner of the room, the light catching your eye.
Padding with quiet creaks from your boots, you allowed yourself only a moment to admire the array of scrolls that lay in the wooden chest – it’s lid tipped open, beckoning to be explored. In the centre perched the most exotic of the artefacts. Boring rings of gold, it winked at you, a true diamond in the rough.
With gentle inspection, you traced the characters etched in it’s casing, a cryptic ode of ancient tongue.
A whisper of magic kissed your face, stray hairs dancing as goosebumps prickling beneath your leathers. It was waft of excitement, danger, magic aged by civilisations – this was a powerful scroll indeed.
With a hand on each end of the casing, you gently lifted the scroll into your satchel, careful not to knock it or disturb the casing. You would return it after all, once traced.
There was a shift in the air then, and a sinking feeling rippled through your abdomen, like a stone dropped into still water.
Get out – that voice urged.
You had spent too long here already.
Swallowing the fastening hammer of your heart, you raised from your knees, eyeing the unsuspecting cupboard – behind it a hidden door, and behind that a winding pathway would lead you clear to the gardens.
You almost scoffed – this was easier than you had thought.
How could the High Lord be so reckless to leave something of this value lying about?
The pit of your stomach deepened.
Too easy – much, much too easy.
An open, gaping well.
Oh gods, this was a–
And then darkness – everywhere.
You gasped, catching glimpses of red and blue as you staggered back. Your back hit something solid – no, someone. Strong arms gripped yours wrists, pinning them behind you. You tried to yell, but your breath hitched as violet eyes glowered amongst the tendrils of midnight smog, choking any sound that whined in your throat.
“Well well, what do we have here?” a sultry voice purred, a refined silhouette emerging from the darkness, tall and broad.
A gleam of teeth pulled with a feline smile, the figure prowling closer. Dangerous, lethal, ever knowing with a hint of cockiness.
And as tendrils of night magic cleared around their master, the High Lord of the Night Court was revealed.
Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement as he watched realisation set in – your own features taut with horror.
“Hello, Y/N darling.”
You were dead meat.
A heavy, intrusive sensation caused a shiver to rack through you as phantom claws tore through your useless shields, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of your own fear.
Rhysand’s pretty grin only grew.
In a hopeless attempt to flee, you barely moved an inch as you tugged against the impossible grip on your arms.
He was closing in, coldness seeping from him as his magic curling in on itself, devouring any hints of warmth from the room, from your own veins.
And then he stopped, just one agonising pace shy from your heaving chest.
Here he was – High Lord of the Night Court. Wickedly cruel, arrogant and unnervingly calm, a cat who toyed with its food. The legendary villain of whispered rumours and horror stories exchanged amongst children of your village in the court of Dawn, parents so tired from their youngens loss of sleep that he was a banished name from many households.
Your eyes danced with a panic as instincts forced you to look for any chance of survival. Dressed with finery, but not a weapon on him – that was good.
But as the shadows began to clear, another male was revealed perching patiently against the wall behind, blue siphons flickering as he stood with wide legs, arms crossed and face stoic. Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster, waited patiently for your attempt of escape, his own shadows at the ready.
Fuck.
That meant the male that bound you was Cassian – Warlord and Chief General of the Illyrian armies.
You were as good as dead.
Your breathing stuttered as you swallowed the plea for mercy begging at your lips. They were going to kill you, that was certain. You could only hope they would do it quickly.
“My my, Y/N,” Rhysand drawled, his voice playful and sensual. “We weren't certain if you were going to take the bait.”
Placing hands on knees, he lowered himself to your level, those violet eyes captivating you, their depth incomprehensible. You tried to break Rhys’s gaze, but you rendered helpless, realising the cruel use of his magic.
“But I’m so glad this is how we get to meet.”
He was expecting you?
You glared back, your breaths quickening at the dangerous proximity.
If not at his mercy, you would have spat at his condescending manner. But instead you fought aimlessly against Cassian’s hold, the male pulling you back against his chest with a jarring tug, his grip tightening until you felt your pulse in your wrists.
Your mind was scattering with each second, frantic eyes dancing at the High Lord before you. You hadn't expected him to be so… handsome.
“Why, thank you,” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at you, that cat like grin exchanged for a lob-sided one.
Had he just–? You scowled, cursing him silently. His abilities as a deamanti also deeming true.
Rhysand chuckled at your foul words, his laugh unexpectedly soft. “Such a feisty thing you are,” he commented, raking his purple eyes down your body. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, despite the layers of leathers and weaponry you wore.
“Let me go,” you spat hoarsely, heaving against the General once more.
“You’re not in any position to make that request,” Cassian huffed, pulling back on the little distance you had gained. His voice was gruff as it hummed through your back.
You turned your head to look at the Warlord for the first time. He too, like the other males in the room, was noticeably handsome. His long hair fell into his face as he looked down at you, his eyes almost as amused as his High Lord.
Were you just a joke to them?
“Oh, sweet Y/N, you’re not a joke at all. We’re actually quiet impressed by you,” Rhysand toyed, his eyebrows raised with a mocking tone. “We know you’ve been trailing us for months, Azriel here picked up on your movements in our court a whole quarter year ago.”
You flicked your eyes to the Spymaster, his position and face unmoving at his mention. You couldn't help your scowl at the male who was responsible to securing your death.
“What we didn't expect, was for you to make it this far,” Rhysand continued with a chuckle, his head shaking in playful dismay.
Great – now on top of everything else, you were completely insulted.
“That’s why we set this trap for you. So we could finally meet.”
You frowned at Rhysand. You had been so careful, so stealthy about all your work in spying on the High Lord, slaving over maps and reports until you could no longer keep your eyes open, using the little money you had to buy off secrecy, and always covering your tracks. But it still hadn't been enough.
“Don’t look so disheartened, little mouse,” Rhysand purred, before he picked a piece of lint off his fitted black jacket. “The fact that you were able to break into my quarters alone is incredibly impressive.”
It had in fact, taken a lot of work. To sneak into Hellion’s home had taken three disenchantment spells, and compromised a suite of his guards who were yet to rise from their enchanted slumber. The locks and spells on Rhysand’s chamber were another thing in itself.
“What will you do with me?” you gritted, glaring between the males in front of you, desperate to know your fate.
Rhysand dipped his head back and laughed, his posture too calm, too casual.
“What will we do with you, hmm?” he repeated, and a shrinking instinct finding you, one that you hadn't felt since you were a child.
“Perhaps the question is, what would you like us to do with you?” It was a lovers voice, sensual and suggestive.
You couldn't help the thunder of your heart as his scent filled your nose, crudely laced with arousal as it found you with a phantom wind.
Rhysand was on you then, his face inches from your own as swirls of night filled your vision, his violet eyes the only light you could see.
You gasped at the sight before you – it was beautiful, but so, so deadly.
“I don’t like having my things taken from me, Y/N.” Rhysand growled, his voice now cold, unforgiving. Those same claws that tore your shields now traced the outskirts if your mind, talons sinking slightly in warning.
Despite the little pain, it was instinct to scream.
You tried to make quick peace at the thought of his violet eyes being the last thing you would ever see.
Open your eyes, he commanded mind to mind.
Without realising you had closed them, you found yourself unable to disobey.
Rhysand withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, his darkness disappearing with him as he slid his hands into his pockets, rocking on fine shoes. His behaviour was erratic, such a contrast to the moment before.
“Of course, it would be such a waste of good talent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t toyed with your very consciousness just moments before.
You watched him pace, your eyes flicking to the spymaster once more, before noting the exits of the room you knew well.
“You don't stand a chance,” Azriel spoke plainly, his hand fingering one of many blades strapped to his strong frame. A warning, from one spy to another.
Rhysand grinned between you two, running a smooth hand through his black-blue hair.
Was he entertained by the idea that you were willing to give a fight?
You felt a low rumble from Cassian’s chest, all three males daring you to challenge them in their own way.
Azriel was right – it was suicide to try.
Rhysand hummed with pleasure, reading your submission as your body sagged every so slightly.
“I’ll tell you what, Y/N. I’ll make you a deal.”
A bargain, a promise, and perhaps a riddle from Prythian’s deadliest High Lord.
“I’d rather you kill me,” you said tightly.
Rhysand laughed again, and you felt the movements of Cassian’s chuckle from behind.
“Oh, sweetheart. Surely there’s a tad more fight in you than that?”
You scowled in return.
Rhysand approached you again, now holding the scroll of ancient tongue.
“What do you know of this scroll?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Try again.”
You winced. “I don't know anything.”
Rhysand tutted. “Little liar,” he grinned at you, his violet eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’ll ask one more time,” he sang.
You felt them again, and it took all you had to not crumble at Cassian’s boots at the flooding pain as Rhysand dragged a singular, scraping talon across your mind and back.
“Resurrection!” you yelped – a half breath, half scream escaping you as your legs gave out. Cassian held you up, your body rigid as Rhysand’s talon pierced your mind further. The pain was blinding, eliciting a howl from you as your vision flashed with white.
Yet Rhysand’s icy threat cut through. “I have a lot of enemies, Y/N. I don't suppose you are hoping to fetch a pretty penny for anyone who might seek to bring back the rightfully dead?”
“No, n-no!” you gasped, your body spasming and contorting as he continued to toy with you. “Please, it’s for m-my family!”
Rhysand left your mind as quickly as he had entered it. You sagged in relief, Cassian gently setting you down as your crumpled to the floor, your body shaking and twitching.
You had just enough energy to raise your eyes and meet the High Lord’s stare. Gone was his expression of cruel amusement, it was now replaced with a frown of serious, deep thought.
He had seen them – your family, their smiles and laughter as your memory flashed at their mention. That meant he had also seen their deaths, their limp bodies piled for you to find in your own home.
“You wish to resurrect them?” Rhys asked softly.
All you could do was nod. You were sure you weren't noting a sense of sympathy from the male.
Rhys shook his head, his eyes closing. “If it were that easy Y/N, I’d have the missing kin to my own family here today.”
You looked up at the High Lord through heavy lids, exhaustion overcoming your body with an occasional twitch.
“I have to try,” was all you could offer, your voice small and unsure.
Rhysand stared down at you with furrowed brows, serious yet unreadable. After a few moments, he blinked, a few stars returning to his eyes as he raised them to Cassian with a quick nod.
Strong hands unfurled from your arms, and Cassian stepped back, providing you some space on the marbled tiles as you shook.
Death then, at last. May the Mother have mercy, let it be quick, you prayed silently.
A gentle pull of your hand from your face, and your fingers were forced to close around a ovoidal object.
Rhysand was crouched in front of you, his face unreadable as his cold hand kept your fingers pressed to the scroll
“I’ll tell you what Y/N. You find a way to decipher this scroll and bring back your family. And when you do, you share that information with me, so that I may do the same.”
You pulled your hand back, eyes darting between his violet ones as if you read the trick that undoubtedly hid beneath his offer.
“And why in Mother’s name would I trust you?”
He smirked humourlessly. “Unless you prefer the alternative –“ Rhysand’s eyes blackened instantly, and your heart skipped a beat at the promise of death that beheld them. “– I don’t believe you have a choice.”
Make a bargain with the High Lord, or die. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you have predicted an ultimatum so soulless.
“Do we have a deal?” Rhysand offered his large hand as he still crouched before you, his eyebrows raising with a hint of impatience.
You flicked your gaze between Azriel and Cassian. Both of them watched patiently, their stances neutral, obedient of their High Lord’s business. It bothered you – how were both of them so complicit to his evil?
Looking back at Rhysand – you ignored the voice inside you that screamed at you not to trust him.
Letting out a short breath, you lifted yourself to your knees and clasped your hand in his. “It’s a deal.”
A gasp escaped you as a stinging heat spread across the hand held in his, and etched it’s way up your forearm. With wide eyes, you watched the burn and itch of a ink-like pattern forming on your skin. Swirls now covered your once naked arm, the picture of one hand shaking another stark on the inside of your palm. It was your hand in Rhysand’s – a symbol of the bargain you had just agreed to. For eternity, or until you deciphered this scroll you realised, with no lack of nausea.
Rhysand grinned, marvelling the matching tattoo that now tainted his skin. “I’ll be checking in on your progress frequently, Y/N darling.”
Unable to find the right words for you distaste, you snatched your hand away and pressed against your stomach, willing your self not to be sick.
You were now indebted to this hellish, sinister being.
Rhysand appeared as unfazed. “Perhaps you would consider a job in my court with Azriel?” he mused, flexing his fingers as he continued to take in the impressive detail of your bargain. “Again, we were quite impressed with your work.”
He was teasing of course, and Azriel’s hazel eyes winced with humour as all three males watched for your reaction.
You scowled at Rhysand, glaring up at him again. “I prefer my freedom, actually,” you snarled.
Rhysand laughed in his sensual way, before grinning a wicked smile down at you. “Or what’s left of it.
He straightened then, his wig men moving to his sides with grace – a practiced dance for all three.
“I suggest you excuse yourself from my quarters the moment we’re gone Y/N, I’ll know otherwise.”
With a clasp to his shoulders from Azriel and Cassian, the three males were gone in a ripple of odourless night.
Until then, little spy, Rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind.
»»——- ★ ——-«« ★ »»——- ★ ——-««
AN: Ok new series let's gooooo!! Welcome to DWTD! Hello morally grey mosthandsomehighlordofthenightcourt 💞😈
I am so so excited to explore this series with y'all. Pleeeeease let me know what you think of part 1, I wrote this over so many months lol I hope it tied together.
General tag list is tagged, but if you'd like to join a tag list for this series (DWTD), comment below!
La la love you guys, hope you're all safe and doing ok 💞
#rhysand x reader#rhysand series#morally grey rhysand#rhys series#rhys x reader#rhys x oc#azriel#cassian#rhys fanfic#acotar fandom#acotar angst#acotar series#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#sarah j maas#rhys x fem!reader#acotarfanfic#dwtd series#the bat boys#a court of thorns and roses#dream big with nic
305 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rhysand x Reader Masterlist
Rhys always takes care of you
Slutty Rhys
Does Rhysand share with his brothers?
Rhys smakin' ass
Rhysie is a meanie
Arguing with the high lord... your high lord
Fashionista Rhys
NSFW alphabet
🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them
Rhysand is a SLUT
Rhysand is a Girl Dad
Rhys' girls always match - Girl Dad!Rhys
Girl Dad!Rhysand x Reader
Girl Dad!Rhysand x Reader pt 2
Best Friend to lovers!Rhys x Reader mood board
Best Friend to Lovers!Rhys x Reader mood board 2
A/N: Hi all! As you know, I have been making updates to my main masterlist and creating specific character masterlists to make things easier on myself. Here is the updated Rhysand masterlist! I have also completed the updated Cassian and Always Masterlists! I do have a mood board masterlist as well if you wanna check that out. I am honestly so honored and lucky that you all are discovering me again. It feels soo so so good as things had slowed down for quite a bit. Still trying to work through an updated Bat boys, Lucien, Eris masterlist's as well. Eris is gonna take a bit as Girl Dad!Eris deserves his own seperate masterlist. I will continue to update the main as I go to make things easier and accessable to you all. Thank you sm again! Love you all sooooo much!!! Thank you for supporting me!!
#rhysand x reader#rhysand acotar#rhysand headcanons#rhysand drabbles#rhysand thots#rhysand x you#high lord rhysand#rhys fanfic#rhys acotar#rose writes#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar drabbles#acotar headcanons
162 notes
·
View notes
Text
Moth To A Flame
Summary - Azriel has a new friend in the form of a diary to talk to, and you are completely enchanted to find out exactly what they talk about.
Warnings - F L U F F F F F F F F F F, pining, wholesome all round
Word Count - 4.1k
Based on this ask
Winter Solstice was a magical time of year, one that had become even more meaningful with the additions of your ever-expanding family.
Before Feyre, it had just been you decorating the house and instructing Cassian to help you, scolding him when he would inevitably pop open a bottle of wine and find a nice couch to perch on whilst he barked unhelpful comments in your direction. The only good thing about Cassian's laziness was that Azriel would always show up to help you, whether that be resting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you strung up the garlands, or getting on a ladder himself to reach the higher points that were beyond your reach, he was always there to assist.
Since Feyre, you were gifted with a band of women who wanted to help, Feyre reached the highest corners of the room, Elain made fresh garland rings from whatever she could find in the gardens of Velaris, and Nesta was meticulous in the placement of all of the decorations. Wine flowed and music played, and your heart had never felt so full and content.
That solstice had marked Nyx's fourth year within your special little family, and each year, the gifts had become more extravagant for the little one.
You had opted to stay in that morning and skip the annual snowball fight, choosing to watch it from the window with Elain as you both spent the morning preparing the meal you were going to feed to three huge Illyrian bats a few hours from then. Lucien had also opted to stay behind, his reason being to make sure that your wine glasses stayed full which earnt him a teasing glare from Azriel before his eyes flickered to you in silent conversation.
Snow floated down softly from the skies and you watched with a quiet giggle as you noticed Nyx reaching his little limbs upward to the sky in Feyre's arms, grasping at the flakes that were just in reach for him to capture. Then your watchful eye moved to Azriel, the male you were so irrevocably in love with who had no idea of your affections.
It was odd, for Azriel, a male who dreamed of a mate so badly, of real true love, to not see what had always been right in front of him. Though you had to give it to him, you weren't exactly forthcoming with your feelings in fear of being rejected.
Presents had been neatly arranged in piles, thanks to Lucien, and you had made sure to make everyone aware that each person had a certain coloured wrapping paper, you had told them it would make life easier since the family was too big now to spend time reading labels. Rhys had rolled his eyes at you, but pecked your cheek with a smirk at your usual perfectionist antics before agreeing and stalking off to make sure it was imperative to your plans that they do as told.
Life hadn't always been so perfect.
You had come from nothing, no family or title were bestowed to you, and you had unfortunately found yourself being sold to the Illyrian camps to entertain the males there before Rhys and his brothers had found you and taken you in. There was something about you that captivated them, and the more time they spent with you, getting to know you, the more they fell in love with everything that you were. Kind. Selfless. Loyal. Fierce. Their family wouldn't feel nearly as complete without you in it.
Azriel had smirked when they had re-entered the house, basking in the glow of another victory whilst you barked the exact place where they all needed to sit in front of their towering piles of presents. You had gone overboard again, you always did every year, showering them all in gifts which you never expected to be returned. That was the gift of you, all you wanted was for everyone else to be happy.
The house smelt divine. Baked chestnuts and cranberries, pine and candied oranges, and whatever honey you had put on the meat. All of their mouths were salivating at the thought of sitting down at that table and turning into feral beasts at the platter you had spent weeks planning and preparing.
A seamlessly planned gap had been created, a perfect moment for you all to sit down together and open your gifts before you bolted back into the kitchen and ordered Rhys to keep your wine topped up. It was the least he could do after all.
Your pile was nestled between Azriel and Mor's separate towers, the space on the deep seated sofa between them left free for you also. Azriel's eyes roamed your figure as you dipped into the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass of red wine, your bare feet padded along the floor and the short silver chrome dress that you had chosen to wear swayed with each step, grazing against your naked thighs.
Azriel thought that you were absolute perfection, to pure for their world, too pure for him to foolishly believe that he stood a chance with you.
Your scent drifted past him as you shimmied through the gap between his knees and the table, molten caramel apples and basil, a smell he could scent from any place he stood, no matter how far or near he was from you.
All of the piles were as you had ordered, in specific coloured papers, and the beaming smile on your face made all of the hassle of running about town worth it.
Everyone began opening their gifts in turn. Mor had flung her arms around you when she had opened a glittering red floor length dress that you had custom made for her. Feyre was beyond happy at the paintbrushes that you had inscribed her name into, Nesta was thrilled with her books, and Elain's bright eyes sifted through the cookbooks and ornate garden tools you had imported from Dawn. Another jewel for the firedrake and she was content, Cassian was audibly grateful for the armour you had gotten him which held a bit for flare than his current leathers, with golden sockets for his siphons which melted into the taut black leather of the skin.
Azriel shouldn't have been surprised when you went as far as to import delicacies from the Spring Court for Lucien, an assortment of baked goods and herbs that almost brought a tear to his eye. You knew how much Lucien missed being able to have a home, and you knew that Spring was the closest thing to a home he had ever had bar Elain.
Rhys howled in laughter when he unwrapped his matte black lint roller with a violet handle, promising to use it often before opening his real gift, a piece of art you had commissioned of himself, Feyre and Nyx at Starfall a year prior, covered in stardust and smiling brightly. Thoughtful as always.
Then you turned to Azriel, noticing he had opened most of his gifts apart from the ones that were clearly from you by the state of the perfectly wrapped edges and cobalt blue ribbons. He felt your eyes on him, pools of adoration he always found himself searching for, and he met your gaze as you handed him a small square box that rested in his palm.
Unwrapping it, navy velvet welcomed his eye and he looked at you with a small frown, listening to your silent urge to open it to find a thin onyx leather bracelet with a hot white glass pendent at its centre. The light swirled and danced like it was alive, growing more active as he inspected it. "What is it?"
Smiling, you took the bracelet from the box and secured it around his wrist, your touch alone sending electricity coursing through his veins, "I've been experimenting with my power," you told him softly as the room continued unphased in its own conversation like neither of you existed, "It's a piece of my soul," your fingers rested on his wrist and he felt his heart thump in his chest, "It's just so you know that you know I'm with you to light the way whenever you need it."
Azriel exhaled with disbelief, feeling unworthy of such a gift. A piece of your soul. So that you would always be with him.
"Y/N," he breathed, "This is- Thank you," he would give anything to be able to lean forward and capture your lips in his, but instead he restrained himself and reached for your own gift from him in your pile, wrapped in shiny silver paper with intricate embellishments of flower petals.
You hadn't opened a single gift yet, too entranced in everyone else to take a moment for yourself, but you obliged the man you adored so much and ripped open the paper that encased a long box.
Opening it, your eyes widened as you took in the blade in your fingers, an exact match to Truthteller but with a hilt of diamonds and beautifully forged embellishments, "I realised that you didn't have your own, I hope you never have to use it but just thought you'd like one," your stunned silence made him fidget with his fingers and he watched you carefully pick the blade up and turn it in your hands, "Do you like it?"
"I love it," it was beautifully lethal, just like you, "Thank you, Az. Really."
The afternoon continued and you couldn't stop glancing to the open lidded box on the table as you sat nestled under Azriel's wing, sipping from your wine as he opened his last gift, from Nesta, who was busy placing the new hairpins you had gotten her into her staple coronet. Azriel tore open the paper and tilted his head, looking up at the eldest Archeron sister who raised a brow and smirked, "It's a diary, Az. People use them to write down their thoughts and feelings, some people draw in them," you snorted at the condescension in her tone to which Azriel nudged your knee playfully before thanking her and thus wrapping up the present exchange.
It had shaped up to be the most perfect solstice any of you had ever seen.
In the weeks that followed solstice, the snow melted away to give new life to the earth below, and the sun peeked out from the mountains to cascade Velaris in its heavenly glow.
During those weeks, you noticed a subtle change to Azriel, how he would fly away at dusk with his diary secured to his side, to only return an hour or so later seeming lighter and more determined. The subtle changes and the increases of his affection only made you more intrigued to find out exactly what he was writing in that book.
He had caught you far too many times tiptoeing into his bedroom, curtly telling you with a smirk that the diary was nowhere to be seen before pecking your forehead and sending you on your way.
Azriel had been much more attentive since solstice, he rarely took off the bracelet that you gave him, and you liked to think that the glow of your soul coaxed him into sleep, a thing you knew he struggled with often. Even Rhys had told you that Azriel had left his door open one night, only slightly ajar, but enough to Rhys to see him reaching to the ceiling and looking longingly at the pendent which contained your essence atop his pulse.
It was frustrating for your family to see it, to see your mutual pining but watch the other be clueless to it. Azriel had brought you flowers, brought back trinkets from his travels, he would brush up behind you and allow his shadows to feather across your lower back, he'd even cooked for you, something no one had ever seen before. Then there was you, giving a literal piece of your soul to the male, and even that wasn't enough for Azriel to see how in love with him you were.
"I'm calling it," Cassian panted as he rested on the stone pillar of the training ring beside Nesta, watching Azriel jog to catch up with your retreating form and his shadows drawling over your shoulder, "They're mates. They have to be."
"You're too late to that bet," Nesta quipped, wrapping her mate's hands up tighter in the leather straps, "We've all put money in, we bet on how long it would take for them to realise and for the bond to snap."
"And you didn't tell me?!"
Nesta scowled playfully, "You'd cheat," she prodded his armoured chest with her finger, "It has to be natural. They deserve that much."
Weeks ticked by and the group were getting restless, even Nesta, who was stubborn to let the pining play out, was getting annoyed.
Nesta knew exactly what Azriel wrote about in his diary each day, he wrote of you, she had caught a glimpse of a passage when he had stupidly left his diary in the library one night and he had sworn her to secrecy since then, but also sought her out to speak about you, about what he should do.
And Nesta no longer saw a problem in nudging him in the right direction.
"Is she still sniffing around your diary?" Nesta had asked, they were splayed across the seating area in the River House whilst you and Mor had disappeared to Rita's for the evening.
Your essence glowed on his wrist, he heard the whispers of your voice emit from it and sighed with a faint smile on his lips, "Everyday," he told her, looking upward at the ceiling and wondering what you were doing in that moment, "She's too good for me, Nes."
Humming in disagreement, Nesta sat up and craned her neck to look at her friend who was clearly thinking of the woman dancing the night away in the centre of Velaris, "Azriel," she deadpanned, "Y/N gave you a piece of her soul so that she would always be with you. Show her what you wrote. I assure you it can only go in the way you want it to."
Hint? No. Spelling it out for the dumb Illyrian? Yes.
Realisation hit him and he bolted upright, he gathered his diary in his fingers and raced upstairs, stumbling past a confused Cassian who stared after his brother before turning to his mate, mouth full of one of the cupcakes you and Elain had baked that morning with wide eyes and a accusatory tone muffling his words, "You cheated!" Crumbs flew from his mouth and Nesta flipped him off.
"You know the money is ours right?"
Cassian flopped down beside her with a grin, "I knew there was a reason why I loved you."
Painful throbs growled at the balls of your feet as you walked up the path to the house with your heels stabbing at your thigh. Intoxication hadn't found you but you still had an amazing time dancing the hours away with Mor and Feyre, giggling and talking about men until you were all talked and danced out.
Golden firelight greeted you, and your dreary eyes scanned the room to find Azriel sat before the fire but turned toward the door where you stood in a floor length black dress, with two long slits that kissed your mid thigh and a plunging neckline held up by two thin ropes.
Azriel's hair was tousled, his hazel eyes were warm pools that beckoned you to dive in, his skin was golden and glowing in the light, and he sat there with a look of wonderment that you had never seen before.
"Az? Are you alright?" You closed the door behind you and made you way over to him, noticing his neck crane to keep his focus on your face as you approached him.
Azriel had pulled the table toward him and a familiar black leather bound book lay open on the table in front of him, "Come here," his voice was low but soft, pleading but not commanding, he patted the space beside him and you sank down into it, "I wanted to show you something. I know I've been hiding this from you, but I want you to see it now."
The book was soon in your hands, and closed, the thing you had been after for so long, "Are you sure?" The idea of his diary in your hands felt wrong, like a delicious invasion of privacy.
"More sure than I've ever been," he nodded downward, giving you the permission you needed to open it.
The pages were filled with words and charcoal sketched, and you took a moment to flick through the filling book before you focused on certain pages.
Bright eyes, unbound hair, and a toothy smile greeted you over a two page spread, your eyes followed the curves of black, and you gasped when you noticed what, or who, you were looking at. It was you. Azriel had drawn you on the pages of the diary Nesta had gifted him. In the time he had disappeared at dusk to be alone with his thoughts, he had chosen to let them wander to you.
You looked to him and noted how he had shuffled closer to you, the warmth of wing draping over your smaller form and his shadows dancing across your shoulders.
"I think in a way this diary is for you," he urged you to carry on, watching carefully as you flipped through to the beginning and scanning the words he had littered on the pages.
To anyone else, they were just a bunch of randomly littered words across the page, a waterfall of sayings and phrases that had come from your lips. Words and phrases that you said often enough for Azriel to take the time to write them down.
On the next page was two lists, one of the things you loved and another of the things you hated with small scribbled beside certain ones depicting when exactly Azriel had noticed.
Flicking through, it dawned on you that the entire diary was full of you, your jokes and mannerisms, the things that made you laugh, passages of your favourite poetry, drawings of you.
"Az, I-"
"Keep going."
So you did, you kept flipping the pages, allowing your fingers to graze against his written word as you read through his thoughts until you reached one page in particular.
Y/N,
I may never have the courage to tell you how I feel, and maybe writing it down will give me the courage to let you finally see what I have been hiding.
I tried to remember the day when everything in my life began to make sense. I went so long feeling lost and alone, of feeling destined to a life of solitude, and then you happened. You brought a joy to my life, to all of our lives, that we didn't know we were missing. I don't think you realise just how amazing you are.
I am in love with you, Y/N.
When you're around I know everything is going to be alright, and when I'm away, all I think about is you. I look at that damn bracelet all of the time, hoping that it was just some thoughtful gift, but a sign of something more. You are fluent in me, you speak my language in ways that even I cannot, and I can't walk this earth without you by my side. I refuse.
I may not tell you everyday that you mean the world to me but you do. The day you entered my life, even when you were petrified, you changed my life into something so beautiful and meaningful, you make me feel seen. I may not be the first man in your life but I intend to be the last, I intend to be the only one who can make you feel loved to your core.
There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I will love you in your weakest moments and brightest of days, I will love you when you don't love yourself, I will love you even when you don't want me to, I will love you until the earth swallows me and even then I will follow you to the next life. There is nothing on this earth that can take me from you, not even death can force us apart.
Between universes, oceans and moons, I am so lucky that I got to step onto the same land and dream under the same stars as you; and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of any reality, I would find you and I would choose you.
I love you, Y/N. I'll write it and say it as many times as you need me to, whether that be verbal or not, in whatever way you need me to say it, I will.
You have me, until the last star in the galaxy perishes, you have me.
You didn't realise that you were crying until you saw your tears splatter onto the page. In an instant, Azriel was cupping your face in the hands that only you found comfort in, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks as he felt your longing and love flow through him.
Felt your longing and love flow through him.
Azriel tensed, his eyes went wild and wide as he searched your soul for a sign for anything to confirm what he had just felt pang in his chest. The pressure was building and his actions confused you, he was panting, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.
You reached for him, resting your fingers over his heart and feeling the world flip on its axis at the singular contact, energy exploded around your forms, white oceanic waves rippling with intertwining shadow, shrouded in a golden shimmer.
The sight was beautiful, so beautiful that it stole your attention and you watched as your essences danced with one another, and his shadows rallied to join in the celebration. Azriel's breath was warm against your cheek and you tore your gaze away from the display above your heads to meet his tearful eyes.
"We're mates," his voice was soft, so gentle, and he ran his fingers down the side of your face, sighing with a smile when you nodded.
"Nesta is going to be thrilled that she won the bet."
Azriel threw his head back and laughed, tears of pure happiness spilling from the corners of his eyes as he fell back to your level, "Bet?"
"They all betted on how long it would take us to realise that we love each other. They thought I didn't know."
"Beautiful smart creature," Azriel purred to you and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, a blush that was soothed by his shadows curling over it, he slowly closed the gap between you, his lips hovering just before your own. "How rude of us to keep them waiting."
Azriel noticed your line of sight flicker between his eyes and downward at his lips, "Extremely," you breathed and Azriel wasted no time in pulling your face toward him and connecting your lips in something that could only be described as universe shifting, like the entire galaxy was holding a collective breath and watching you fall into one another.
There was a hunger behind it as his tongue danced with your own, you felt those golden threads snap into place, you heard the string connecting your souls hum in appreciation and yearning for what was no doubt going to occur behind closed doors.
Just as Azriel was about to scoop you into his arms and take you somewhere more private, a shuffle of feet and a groan sounded by the stairs.
Pulling apart, you saw Cassian stood there with giddy eyes, "GUYS! NESTA WON!"
The house and its inhabitants collectively snarled, "FUCK!" Rhys cursed from somewhere upstairs followed by Nesta's victorious chuckle whilst Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you both, you buried your head into Azriel's chest to contain your red cheeks.
Azriel shrouded you with his wings, forcing you to look up at him, "Let's get out of here? I'd like a night alone with my mate."
"Say it again."
"Mate," he kissed you, "My perfect, incredible mate," he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk, cradling you to his chest and growling at Cassian for whatever crude remark he had made before soaring into the sky with you pressed to his chest with plans to make you his over and over again.
Authors Note
Got a little carried away but this has given me life x
I'm drafting the next parts to some of my series tonight for tomorrow, what do we want prioritised? New Pages? A Fate Inked In Starlight? Can't Keep My Hands To Myself? When I Kissed The Teacher?
Let me know x
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine#azriel x reader#cassian#rhysand#mor acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#acotar azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#feyre archeron#feyre x rhysand#nesta x cassian#nesta#amren#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#rhys acotar#acotar oneshot#acotar fluff#azriel fluff#azriel fic
542 notes
·
View notes
Text
Untouchable V - Azriel x Reader
Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨
Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.
Warnings: angst, suggestive situations
➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V
➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Part V
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Azriel couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Not when she was wearing those leathers that clung to her frame, highlighting her body from head to toe. Not when she had her wings out, her beautiful, magnificent wings.
She was so effortlessly stunning. The most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He knew no one would ever come close. No one had ever quite captured his attention like she had. His own personal forbidden fruit.
Every night he thought of her as he touched himself, of what it might feel like to have her, to claim her as his. The noises he would draw out of her. How beautiful she would look with a flushed face and swollen lips.
And every morning he thought of what it might be like to wake up with her in his arms, for her beautiful smile to be the first thing he saw every day. He wanted that more than anything, more than even sex. He just wanted her.
A large hand clamping down on his shoulder jostled him from his thoughts. Cassian stood next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop now,” he murmured under his breath. “Rhys looks seconds away from murdering you.”
Azriel’s eyes flashed towards his High Lord, now noticing the piercing stare directed his way. Fuck. Had he been so obvious? He needed to get a hold of himself. It had gotten harder and harder to ignore his feelings for Rhys’s sister after she had confessed to feeling the same way about him.
His eyes went back to watching the female Illyrians go through their training exercises. That's what they were here for after all. To check on their progress. Not to ogle at the High Lord's sister in her tight, enticing leathers.
"He acts like her godsdamn father," Azriel hissed, unable to stop himself.
Cassian gave him a troubling look. "He practically is, Az. He had to raise her himself since she was thirteen."
"And?" Azriel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's not thirteen anymore."
"Yeah, I can tell you've noticed," Cassian bit back, crossing his own arms as he stared at his friend. Azriel felt like rolling his eyes. It was enough dealing with Rhys and his overprotective nature. He didn't need Cassian to join.
"Oh, fuck off. I'm just pointing out how ridiculous he is when it comes to her. She's nearly three-hundred. Do you remember all the shit we got up to at that age?"
"No, I won't fuck off," Cassian snarled, unusually serious for once. "You're walking a very fine line, brother. It doesn't matter how old she is. He will always see her as that thirteen year old girl he found covered in their own mother's blood in the snow.”
“I was there too you know,” Azriel muttered, darkly. “I was the one that found them, the one that scared off Tamlin’s father and brothers.”
Cassian’s eyes softened. “I know, Az. I know. And I know how much Rhys thanks the Mother every day for that. But we made a promise to him, remember?”
Azriel scoffed. Of course he remembered. That day would always haunt him. He hadn’t even known at the time what exactly he had been giving up.
“What are you trying to insinuate, Cass?” He glared at his brother. He could feel his shadows getting riled up behind him—a reflection of his mood.
“I know you, Az. And I know that look on your face. You want to get your dick wet—go find some other female to stick it in,” Cassian murmured under his breath. “Stay away from Rhys’s sister. He might love you like a brother but he won’t hesitate to rip your throat out if you touch her, if you hurt her in some way.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel replied, his face slipping back into a cold mask, his voice flat as he stared down Cassian.
But Cassian only shook his head at him, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away, muttering a small prayer to the Mother under his breath.
Azriel went back to observing the Illyrian females. If Rhys was so fucking concerned about him messing with his sister, than he could excuse him from his duty as her guard.
Besides, none of it mattered. As long as that tattoo was on his body, it didn’t matter how he felt. He couldn’t touch her. And she would never be his.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Ever since that night in the study, you and Azriel had kept your interactions to the bare minimum. He was still your personal guard, which meant you couldn’t just stop seeing or talking to him while doing business in Hewn City. But the wound was still fresh, your heart was still aching, so it hurt just to be around him.
You had put off answering the Prince in hopes that Azriel would start making sense, would give up on whatever weird notion he had in his mind that he couldn’t act on his feelings for you. But he had offered you no more answers to the millions of questions you had. Had refused to even discuss it any further, so there was nothing you could do but move on.
Which is why you and the majority of your family were in Vallahan. Rhys and Prince Cedric had exchanged some correspondence back and forth and while you weren’t accepting any marriage proposals any time soon, you weren’t completely opposed to getting to know Cedric more.
So the Prince had invited you, your brother and a few of his courtiers to visit King’s Cross in Vallahan as his esteemed guests. Rhysand had brought along Feyre, of course, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta. Since Mor was already familiar with the faeries here, she had stayed back with Amren to run the Night Court while you guys were away.
Elain has also stayed back to watch over baby Nyx in Velaris with Nuala and Cerridwen. Some of the Valkyries had agreed to act as guards for the River House as well, to ease Rhys and Feyre’s minds. It was the first time they were leaving Nyx for longer than a day. But they didn’t want to bring him into foreign territory—especially not one across the seas.
You had just finished getting ready for the first formal dinner here, deciding on wearing something from the Night Court instead of something in Vallahan fashion. You didn’t want the Prince getting any ideas that you had made up your mind.
The dress you put on was a dark, midnight blue. It fell to the floor, two slits on either side to show off your legs. The top was cut into a deep v and ended right below your breasts, connected to the skirt with leather straps that criss-crossed over your stomach.
You left your hair down and opted for minimal makeup. Just the usual kohl around your eyes and a dark red lip oil. You looked at yourself one more time before stepping out of your room and into the quiet corridor.
Azriel was already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite in his black Illyrian leathers. His expression was dark, his hair tousled with some pieces falling on his forehead. He looked up at you as your door closed shut behind you. You watched his eyes trail over your form, bringing some color to your cheeks.
You started making your way towards the dining chambers, Azriel following a pace behind you as your official guardian. You felt his shadows caress your thighs, cascade down to your feet. You clenched your fists in frustration.
“You cannot deny me and still try to have some claim over me,” you hissed under your breath. “Take your shadows back, Az.”
“I am your guard.” You heard his dark voice from behind you. “And they are simply helping me. It is for your protection, Princess.”
You whirled around at him with a glare. “That’s bullshit and you know it!”
He stared at you with that cold, unfeeling face that only riled you up further. “You can think what you want, Princess. But I am only doing my job.”
You stalked towards him, pushing him back with a finger to his chest. “Send them away. Now.”
“No.”
You released a noise of frustration and pushed him against the wall. “I mean it, Azriel. I’m done playing your stupid games. Call your shadows off.”
“You’ve never had a problem with them before. Why now?” He stared down at you, unflinching. He flipped you so it was you pressed against the wall now. “It is for your safety so you will deal with it.”
“I hate you,” you growled, pounding a fist against his chest weakly. It was one of the biggest lies to ever come from your mouth but Gods, you were just so frustrated.
Azriel leaned down, his hair brushing against your temple. “Hate me all you want, Princess. But if being your guard is the only way to keep you close to me, then I will be the best damn guard in all of Prythian so your brother has no choice but to let me stay near you. The shadows stay.”
“You won’t have me but you won’t let me go,” you whimpered. “How is that fair, Azriel? You said you don’t want to hurt me but this…this is far worse than you rejecting me and moving on.”
“Because I can’t stay away from you,” he hissed back. “I can’t stay away from you, Princess, no matter how hard I try.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest and you opened your mouth to shout at him, to scream and cry and demand he leave you alone but another voice cut you off.
“What’s going on over here?”
You both froze as your brother’s voice traveled down the corridor. You turned your head to see him standing at the end of the hallway next to Feyre, his arms crossed as he stared intently at Azriel, who immediately took a step away from you.
You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the weird tension between the two males. “My earring got caught in my hair,” you lied. “Azriel was helping me untangle it.”
Rhysand didn’t look convinced but he finally looked at you. His face softened and he held out his free arm, the one not linked with his mate. “Come, little dove, walk with me.”
You scurried past Azriel, not sparing him a glance, and took your brother’s arm, letting him escort you to dinner.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
You tried to suppress your yawn but it had been another hour of being dragged around the castle by the Prince and you were so tired. He seemed happy to give you a tour, a tour you swore you had already taken the first time you were here, so you obliged him. But now you just wanted to go back to your chambers, take a nice warm bath, and go to sleep.
Your family departed from Vallahan two days ago, after spending three days here. You had extended your trip to the end of the week by the Prince’s request. Part of you did it to spite Azriel who seemed to detest Cedric and the other, miniscule part of you was genuinely curious about the Prince. But he was turning out to be a total bore. Nice, but dull. He lacked the sort of dry wit you liked in others. He was also extremely soft—too soft. As if he had never had to fight for anything in his life.
“Are you tired, Princess?” Cedric asked, noting your yawn. Before you could even answer the question yourself, he continued. “I only have one last area to show you. I promise I saved the best for last.”
You gave him a half-hearted smile. “Okay, lead the way.”
He extended his arm out to you and you placed your hand in the crevices of his elbow. He led you out of the library he had just been showing you back into the hallway. Azriel trailed behind you, along with one of the Prince’s personal guards, Lasos. Cedric had insisted that the pair of you didn’t need guards whilst together, but Azriel had swiftly rejected that notion and Lasos had joined after realizing that Azriel wasn’t going to let you two be alone.
You didn’t care. If Azriel wanted to be a brooding asshole, then you would let him. You weren’t forcing him to watch Cedric court you, he was doing it all on his own. And maybe you had acted a little extra flirty with the Prince just to rub it in Azriel’s face. If he didn’t want you as his own, then he would have to watch you be with another.
“This is the Queen’s quarters,” Cedric announced as he came to a stop in front of two large double doors. “This is where my future wife would live.”
“The Queen lives separate from the King?” you questioned as he pushed the doors open, revealing a lavish sitting area. The walls and floor were made of white marble like the rest of the castle, gold embellishments decorating the interior.
“If she chooses to,” Cedric smiled. “This is simply a space for her to have all to her own, to use for whatever she wishes. There is a similar area in the main castle where my parents live. My mother uses it as a music room.”
“That’s lovely,” you replied with a bow of your head.
Cedric went to close the doors before either guard could enter, but Azriel quickly stuck a hand out and stopped him with a glare. “It is improper to be behind closed doors with an unwed female,” he growled.
You wanted to roll your eyes. Since when the hell did the Night Court ever care about that? Cedric’s eyebrows rose but he gave the shadowsinger a nod. “Of course, my apologies.”
You turned your back to them, not interested in watching them have another one of their dick measuring contests. It had been like that the whole week so far. Instead you walked towards the window on the other side of the room that overlooked the gardens.
You nearly jumped in fright as two hands ghosted over your waist and a sudden presence was behind you. It wasn’t the first time the Prince had touched you, but it certainly was the most intimate. You had occasionally brushed hands, shared a kiss on the cheek, perhaps walked too close together, and shared some charged looks in the past couple days.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Cedric asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
You blushed a bit at his closeness, swallowing before answering him. “Yes, the gardens here are gorgeous.”
“Not quite as beautiful as you, though,” Cedric whispered, moving your hair to one shoulder. Your eyes widened as he pressed a soft kiss against your neck. And then another. His lips brushed against your ear and you gasped. “Never quite as beautiful as you, Princess.”
“Prince Cedric,” you mumbled. “We are not alone.”
He twisted you in his arms until you were facing him, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Lasos is my most trusted guard. I can assure you he won’t speak a word of our transgressions.”
You peaked at the male in question from over Cedric’s shoulder. Lasos had already turned around, his back facing the two of you. But then you looked at Azriel to see him intently staring at you, anger in his eyes. You were reminded of a time like this only a few weeks ago. Except it had been you watching Azriel and Elain.
So when Cedric asked, “What about your guard? Do you trust him to keep your secrets?” You smiled as you continued to stare at Azriel, whose anger was morphing into rage and whispered back, “Yes.”
And let the Prince crash his lips against yours.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
You hummed to yourself as you brushed your hair, sitting at the vanity in your guest room. You were surprisingly feeling a bit more light after your time with the Vallahan Prince. You two hadn’t gone any further than kissing, especially considering you were never truly alone, but it felt nice to be wanted by someone. You were a bit sad that your time here was coming to an end.
Soon you’d be back home. Back to reality.
You set down the brush and stared at your reflection in the mirror with a sigh. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Azriel started up again with Elain. You had no idea if what he had told you was true because everything he had said to you that night had only confused you. In the few weeks since then, you hadn’t noticed them together but you didn’t exactly go looking for them—not wanting to see something that would further hurt you.
He still made no sense to you. You had seen the way he looked at you, watched you, like a starved male. Seen the anger on his face every time the Prince so much as brushed his hand against yours. His behavior was just so confusing.
You would be returning to the Night Court tomorrow after sharing one last meal with the Prince and his courtiers. You wondered if he would ask you then, about his marriage proposal. Neither of you had brought it up in the time you had been here but you hadn’t forgotten. But you didn’t want a marriage that felt like a contract. You wanted to marry someone you loved.
And you did love someone…just not the Prince. But perhaps you could.
Your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you as you noticed darkness forming in the corner of the room behind you…no, not darkness. Those were shadows. They whirled in a frenzy, spreading into your room.
And then there was Azriel, stepping out from them. His face was cut from stone, his hazel eyes darkened, his hair in disarray. But there was something different about him now…a heavy resolve in his eyes. You gasped and stood, spinning around to face him.
“Azriel, what are you doing here?” you breathed out.
He said nothing as he stormed towards you, his wings spread out behind him. Gods, he looked like a fallen angel. A creature of the night. So beautiful, but so lethal. You braced yourself against the vanity behind you.
“Has Prince Cedric won over your heart then?” he asked, his voice as dark as his shadows. He didn’t stop until he stood right before you, so close you had to angle your head back to look at him.
“What?” You were so confused. What was he doing in your room? Why was he asking about Cedric?
“Has the Prince won your heart, y/n?” He asked again. “It’s a simple question.”
Your eyes narrowed at his tone. “Don’t come barging into my room and act like an asshole. I don’t see why you’re so concerned about me and Cedric. It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business,” he growled. “As your guard—”
“Oh please,” you snapped. “Me and you both know you’re not asking me about this because you’re my guard.”
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then as your friend—”
“Is that what we are, Azriel? Friends?” You scoffed. “I don’t think you want to be my friend.”
“Just answer the godsdamn question,” he snarled, ignoring your remark. “And for fuck’s sake, stop letting these males put their godsdamn hands all over you.”
“No,” you bit back, poking him in the chest. “This shit needs to stop. You know how I feel about you. You know and you’re the one who says we can’t be together. So stop acting like you have some claim to me, Azriel.”
“Do you think I’m happy about that?” Azriel growled. “Do you think I’m thrilled to fucking want you all the time and not be able to have you, to claim you as mine?”
A few frustrated tears escaped down your cheeks. “I offered myself to you. I was ready to give you everything, Azriel. My heart, my body, my mind. And you are the one who rejected me.”
Azriel grabbed the sides of your face and rested his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavily. “You make this so hard when you say shit like that. Please, tell me you hate me again. Tell me you don’t want me.”
“I-I can’t,” you cried out. “Gods, I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t feel anything for you. Why are you doing this to me, Azriel? Why?”
His eyes shut, his forehead still resting against yours. “Because…Because you’re Rhys’s sister. I can’t…We can’t cross that line, Princess. He’ll kill me.”
“I am not just Rhys’s sister,” you argued. “I am my own person, with my own wants, with my own dreams. That is a bullshit excuse, Azriel. Rhys will understand. I will make him.”
“You don’t understand,” he sighed. But he stepped even closer, pressing his body against yours, pinning you to the vanity behind you. His leathers were rough against your silk nightgown, and your body sang at his touch.
“No, I don’t,” you breathed out, closing your own eyes. His scent was so intoxicating; his presence so overwhelming. You couldn’t think this close to him. Couldn’t focus on anything but your desperate need for him. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Azriel. To us. You said you never wanted to hurt me but can’t you see how much you are by doing this? By telling me you want me as much as I want you but denying us the chance to be together? Can’t you see how much it hurts me.”
“I don’t care anymore, Princess. I don’t care if it hurts you as much as it hurts me,” Azriel growled. “I’m done trying to be a better male. I can’t watch you be with other males, can’t watch them put their filthy hands all over you. Not when I want you as my own.”
Your eyes blinked open, staring into the hazel ones already watching you. You could see the pain behind his own eyes, the longing, the want. They were a mirror to your own.
“So have me,” you whispered.
You saw the break in his resolve just a second before Azriel crashed his lips into yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were stunned but as soon as you realized what was happening, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moaned against your mouth, one of his hands sliding up the back of your neck into your hair as he deepened the kiss, so full of passion, so full of love.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fire lit its course through your veins. Kissing Azriel was everything you had dreamed of and more. It felt perfect…it felt right. Like everything in the world had disappeared and it was just you and him.
His hard arousal pressed into your stomach and you gasped at the feeling. He used it as an opportunity to flick his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, with a groan. His other hand slid down to your waist and to the backside of your thigh. He lifted you with one arm as if you weighed nothing and placed you on the edge of your vanity. The bottles of lip oils, the pots of kohl, all clattered to the floor as it shook under you at his ferocity.
His hand slid back to your waist, yanking you closer to him as he pressed himself between your legs. You moaned into his kiss, electricity licking your skin. Azriel let out a growl at the noise you made, his lips pulling away to begin tracing kisses along your jaw, down your neck. You tossed your head to the side, granting him more access as one of your hands slipped into his hair.
His nose grazed the column of your neck as he took a deep inhale, soaking in the sweet smell of you. “Say it again. Tell me you want this.”
“I want this, Azriel,” you breathed out, panting. “I want you. Have me. I’m yours.”
He let out a low growl at your words and sank his teeth into your neck, at the spot of your pulse pounding. You gasped and his lips were on yours again. He let out an almost pained grunt, slipping his hand up your nightgown to grip the soft skin of your thigh. His hard length pressed against your clothed core and sent another wave of electricity up your body.
He groaned again, his grip on you tightening. His fingers were digging into your skin, his other fisting your hair so tightly it caused a small whimper to leave your lips. The pain and pleasure mixed together to create a feeling you wished would never end. But then Azriel grunted again, his hold on you so forceful, you couldn’t help but wince.
He pulled away from you with a pained groan. Your eyes shot open to see the male before you grimacing in pain. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Azriel…Azriel, what’s wrong?”
His teeth clenched, the veins in his arms protruding like he was trying to fight against something. You slid off the vanity to stand, running a soothing hand down his arm. That only seemed to make things worse and he crumbled to the floor with another grunt of pain. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs as he pressed his forehead against them, cursing.
“Fuck,” he groaned in pain.
You knelt on the floor in front of him, grabbing his face with your hands. “Azriel, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
His hands covered your own and gently pried them off his face.
“This…is…why,” he managed to ground out through gritted teeth, “why we can’t do this.”
Your arms hung limp at your sides. “Azriel, I don’t understand. What’s happening?”
He let out a painful sigh and sat back on his haunches, lifting his shirt up. You stared at him in confusion before your eyes fell to his bare chest, tracing over the Illyrian tattoos that curled around until you noticed another, smaller tattoo. Not an Illyrian one. But a…bargain tattoo?
“Azriel? Is that a bargain tattoo?” you breathed out, bewildered. He nodded in answer. “I don’t get it. Why are you showing me that?”
“Your brother,” he grunted out.
“My brother what?” Your eyes flickered back and forth between his own, trying to understand.
“He forced us…”
He trailed off and your eyes darkened. “Forced you to what?”
“Me and Cassian,” he finally said, hanging his head down. “Years after, when you…when you finally matured, I think your brother saw the change in how I looked at you. I think he grew suspicious of my feelings towards you…and he didn’t like that, y/n. You were still just a kid to him…you’ll always be, Princess. And he made me and Cassian promise him that we would never touch you in that way, that anytime we touched you with less than innocent intentions, we would feel the pain of a thousand blades striking down on us.”
Your mouth dropped open, your eyes falling back to the tattoo on the side of his hip. At the Illyrian wings with a blade running down the center of them. Your brother had…What the fuck had your brother done?
“Cassian agreed without any hesitation, Princess,” Azriel continued, his voice full of sadness and regret. “And I knew if I didn’t, your brother’s suspicions would prove true. I knew he’d kick me to the curb, toss me out, if I didn’t. And I thought it was just a crush, something I could get over. So I agreed. But Gods, y/n, I’ve regretted that day ever since. Because it wasn’t just a crush. My feelings for you never went away. Which is why I tried to hide them in others.”
“I-I…” you choked out, unable to form words. This was the last thing you had expected. You knew your brother was protective over you…but to make his friends form an official bargain with him. “So you can’t touch me without…without…”
“Without feeling one of the worst pains I’ve ever known. He made you untouchable, y/n. To us. To me and Cass. It's why I tried to push you away, tried to make you think I wanted others. I couldn’t give you what you wanted, what I wanted.”
“There has to be a way to undo this, Az,” you whispered. “Maybe I can convince my brother to release you from it—”
“It doesn’t work like that, Princess, you know it doesn’t,” Azriel sighed. “Besides, he would never agree. If he knew I tried to touch you like I have tonight, he would sooner stick a dagger through my heart than ever allow you to be with me.”
“I will make him see how wrong he was for doing this, Azriel,” you said with conviction. “He was probably still traumatized by what happened to me…by what those males did to me. We just need to tell him how much we want to be together, how much—”
“It wouldn’t matter, y/n, don’t you see? Your brother might be the most powerful High Lord in Prythian, but even he cannot break bargain bonds. Even The King of Hybern needed to use the cauldron to do that.”
“I won’t accept this! I can’t, Azriel. Why should we have to! We want to be together and it's not fair that we can’t!”
“I know, Princess, I know,” Azriel grimaced. “And I’m so sorry for making that promise. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. I should’ve left you alone. I shouldn’t have ever—”
“No, don’t say it. I refuse to believe this is it. I refuse to believe we just have to live always wanting each other and never having it. There has to be another way.”
“He did put one condition on it, one way to break the bargain. But…”
“But what? What is it?”
Azriel looked up at you, his hazel eyes filled with such longing it made your heart ache. “If we were mates…if the mating bond ever snapped between us, or between you and Cassian, the bargain would be completed.”
But nearly three hundred years had gone by since then and…and a mating bond had never snapped between you and Azriel.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
a/n: omgggg I hope this chapter didn't disappoint! But now we all know the bargain Az made with Rhys soooo it's gonna be fun to see how this all pans out ;) are they mates? or will we have to find some sneakyyyy way to be together? who knowssss ;)
Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd @mis-lil-red @exhaustedpotat0 @wallacewillow0773638 @elle4404 @bubybubsters @planetwaynez @kemillyfreitas @furiousbooklover @naturakaashi @marina468 @justbattlecriesdear
*if you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, tumblr probably won't let me add it for some dumb reason :((
#acotar#azriel#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#acotar x you#azriel x you#fanfic#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#rhysand sister#Azriel x rhysandssister#azriel fic#acotar series#acosf#rhysand#rhys acotar#azriel x female!reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Legend of a Mortal Love
┊ ➶ rhys x oc
┊ ➶ part six
part five
When Ariadne mentioned Rhysand’s Solstice gift to Mor and Rhi, both females went crazy over who got to pick a dress for her.
“She doesn’t need something so exuberant,” fought Rhiannon against Morrigan’s suggestion.
“And she needs something more bright, that color is going to make her look more pale!” Now it was Morrigan’s turn to fight against her cousin’s choice of dress.
Ariadne sighed looking at both females and the dresses they held in each other’s faces. Mor had a red, gorgeous dress that had a beautiful exposed back. It was stunning, but something Ariadne could never in her life wear. She was way too thin for the back to look nice in her, even tho she had gained some small weight being here in Velaris with everything Rhiannon and Morrigan made her eat.
Rhiannon, on the other hand, had a beautiful long grayish dress that would be perfectly simply if it weren't for the cape that fell down the back that seemed to be made out of a millions tiny stars. Ariadne feared she would fall down for only the expensive weight that dress seemed to have.
“Uhm, you guys…?” Ariadne tried to speak up, but the females were now both giving their arguments as to why their dress would suit her better. “Mor? Rhi?”
When neither of them listed, she stood up with a sigh and walked towards the pile of dresses the females had left scattered in their search for what they deemed the perfect choice.
Ariadne had seen one earlier that had caught all her attention, and once she found it again, she smiled and pulled it out.
“What about this one?” She asked, showing the dress to the other two females and finally gaining their attention.
It wasn’t half as exuberant as Mor’s option, neither half as elegant as Rhiannon’s. Both females looked at each other with sweet smiles, gone were the frowns, and lowered their dresses.
“Do you like it?” Rhiannon asked, her voice toned with honey.
“I don’t know, I think it’s pretty, isn’t it?” Ariadne asked with a little nervous tone, and both females threw their dresses away without another glance.
“If you like it, then it is,” Morrigan said with an excited smile. “Come, we’ll help you get ready!”
They didn’t wait for her response as they grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her over.
༺ ♡ ༻
“I cannot believe how talented I am,” Morrigan beamed, receiving an elbow in the ribs from Rhiannon. “Ouch! Sorry, yeah, we are.”
Ariadne was out of words looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was in a beautiful braid with a pin in a shape of silver wings holding it together, Mor had put a little bit of makeup in her face, some khol on her eyes, tint on her cheeks and lips, and the dress…she let out a long breath when she saw it on the mirror.
Of a beautiful midnight blue, the long dress hugged her shoulders, with bubble sleeves that ended in silver cuffs on the wrists. It hugged her waist but fell to the floor at the hips, making an illusion of a shape she did not have. A transparent fabric surrounded the dress of the same color as it like a beautiful curtain of stars with the tiny sparkles in it.
It was simple, at least way more simple than anything the other two females had chosen, but Ariadne’s heart beat a little too fast at the sight of it, the air getting caught up in her throat with an enamored sigh.
“Isn’t it…too much?” Still she asked in a breathless sigh.
She had never looked this way, neither ever felt as beautiful as she did now. Because she did feel beautiful, and it was the strangest feeling ever.
“Don’t be silly! You look like a dream, and that’s all that matters,” Mor cheered, hugging her shoulders with excitement.
“You’re all set, let’s go make my brother’s life a little less immortal with your gorgeous sight.”
Her cheeks flared up, luckily the tint in them managed to hide it, and Ariadne rolled her eyes without being able to hide a smile.
Rhysand was waiting with Cassian and Azriel downstairs, the biggest Illyrian was teasing the soon-to-be-High-Lord about something, and Rhysand was looking like he was about to kick his friend back to the Illyrian Mountains.
Morrigan bursted into a laugh, and Rhiannon giggled while holding Ariadne’s arm. With their Fae ears, they surely had heard whatever Cassian had said, with her mortal ears, tho, she couldn’t hear anything but their loud laughs.
“It was about time! You ladies took ages,” Cassian got up from the couch he had been sitting on when he heard them coming down the stairs.
Azriel followed suit, then Rhysand.
“Well, not as much as Rhys, I reckon he took at least 4 hours to get ready,” Azriel spoke in his husky low, but slightly mocking voice.
Cassian again bursted a laugh, patting his brother’s shoulder in approval, while Rhys looked at both of them with knifes in his eyes before finally turning to look at Ariadne.
Right there, when he looked at her, Ariadne felt like he was doing it for the first time again. The way his eyes trailed down her body, taking in every little detail of her dress. Then going back up, settling on her face and his eyes looking at her like he was staring at the stars. Ariadne’s breath hitched at the intensity of his violet gaze, not in the way she had done before, instead holding his stare as if she could actually hold her grown in front of him.
This dress, this look, it was certainly altering some kind of alter ego in her.
“You look ravishing, Ariadne. My sister and cousin certainly do have an exquisite taste,” when Rhysand finally talked, his lips curled upwards to the side in a devilishly handsome grin.
“We didn’t picked the dress,” Mor said with a smile, looking at Ariadne with a certain excitement.
“She does have an exquisite taste, that is,” Rhiannon complimented, winking at her.
“Yes, she does,” when Rhysand’s eyes settled again on hers, Ariadne was not able to, this time, hold his intense gaze for too long. “Well, we must hurry now, we don’t want to be late.”
Rhysand offered a hand that Ariadne only took to get down from the last steps of the staircase before dropping it again, and they both left the townhouse with the whispers and giggles of the rest of the group behind them.
༺ ♡ ༻
When they got to the theatre, Ariadne’s hands were sweating with excitement, so many people lined up in the entrance, broad smiles and tickets in hand, with the most beautiful dresses and suits. Inside, the theatre was even more impressive than outside. The chandeliers that hung on the ceiling, fae lights illuminating in variety of shapes that looked like stars. The paintings on the walls portraying different plays and stories, it all seemed out of a dream, one of those she had constantly back at the Court of Nightmares.
“This is…” she didn’t had the words to explain it.
Rhysand turned to look at her, a small smile involuntarily appearing when he saw her eyes sparkle with wonder while looking all around her.
“Impressive, right?” When Ariadne looked at him, his breath got caught up in his throat, she had never looked at him like that before, without judgement, without the small hints of anger that she sometimes didn’t realize she had when looking at him.
He understood her pain, her rage, her irritation towards him, but now, her eyes show a sparkle of life he hadn’t seen in them before, the twinkles of curiosity she so often hid where now exploding without restriction, and it caused his heart to feel a little too tight in his chest.
They walked up the stairs, Ariadne couldn’t stop smiling despite herself, oblivious of the constant look of Rhysand on her.
When they got to their seats, the show was only about to start, the lights went off, and Ariadne’s heart raced with expectation and excitement. A minute later, the stage was illuminated again, and the curtains opened to let it all begin.
༺ ♡ ༻
Ariadne had cried after the show was over.
Rhysand hadn’t noticed until he heard her breathe out through the tears.
He worried at first, but then realized, when she looked at him through her teary eyes, that they weren’t tears of sadness or anger, but of pure joy and bliss.
Claps were still sounding all around them, Ariadne clapped with admiration to the performers standing in the stage bowing to the public.
He couldn’t help it, did not realize what he was doing until Ariadne went completely still. His hand had raised to clean the tears running down her cheeks, his thumb brushing her skin in a contact that felt way too intimate.
“You liked it,” he whispered with a pleased smile, and Ariadne smiled warmly, again, like she had never done with him.
“I loved it.”
The way her shoulders were so relaxed and her eyes sparkled with a life that hadn’t been there before made him wonder if he would ever see that look on her again, if she would ever look like this not only momentarily, but permanently, he wished he could say the answer could be yes, but a dreadful feeling inside of him reminded him that their system, that his Court, his world, wouldn’t allow Ariadne to keep that feeling forever, and somewhere inside him, the shame and guilt about it twisted his gut.
His smile faltered for a second, but it came back again when she unconsciously grabbed his arm to steady her excitement, looking at him as the curtains closed again.
“Let’s go,” Rhys grabbed her arm, guiding her towards the exit.
“Where?”
“To make the stars jealous of your smile.”
༺ ♡ ༻
The next day, Ariadne stared at the notebook Cassian had given her with thoughtful eyes, overthinking her next decision.
She had been thinking about this all night after the show, she just wasn’t sure yet how good of an idea it was.
“You seem troubled,” a grave voice spoke behind her, making Ariadne give a little jump. “Sorry, didn’t meant to scare you,” Cassian laughed, and she just smiled shyly.
“It’s ok.”
“What has you so thoughtful, little bird?”
The big Illyrian male had started calling her like that since he caught her humming to herself, and Ariadne had started to grow fond of the nickname.
“About this,” she raised the book in her hands while the male sat beside her, his weight making the sofa sink in a little, his wings tucked behind the armchair.
Ariadne sighed, thinking, analyzing, weighting her possibilities. They were leaving today, in a couple of hours more. This was the last chance she had to make something, to have something worthy.
“Would you help me with something?” She looked at the male with both hope and fear, and he smiled sideways in a mischievous way.
“Sing the word, little bird.”
And so she gave Cassian her notebook full of her songs, leaving it all up to him. He had promised that, once he took it to Rita, she would soon become the most famous songwriter in all Velaris.
#legend of a mortal love#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acomaf#acosf#acowar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar oc#rhys fic#high lord rhysand#rhysand#rhysand x reader#rhys fanfic#rhysand acotar#rhys acotar#rhys#rhys x reader#rhysand x oc#morrigan#azriel acotar#azriel#cassian#cassian acotar#morrigan acotar
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
ACOTAR MEN X READER, “HE’S THE BEST BROTHER EVER”
ᡣ𐭩 summary: you prank them based on this | prank link
ᡣ𐭩 warnings: nsfw in cassian’s, crack
ᡣ𐭩 amara’s note: help this was so fun to make thank you for the req anon | based on this request
⊹ RHYSAND
"Rhys, come here! I'm making a cute video of us."
He practically runs to you, ensuring his clothes are smoothed out and his hair is laid to perfection.
You step back when you press the record button and then get closer to him, putting your hand on his abs.
"You see this man?" you say with an extra dose of possessiveness in your voice. "Yeah, if you wanna get to him, you have to go through me first."
Rhys looks down at you with a smirk, nodding proudly at the fact that you're claiming him for everyone to see.
Your hands travel from his abs to his neck as you bring him down for a long, sweet kiss.
He grabs your hips, pulling you closer for a heated makeout session, but you pull back before he can take it further
“He’s the best big brother ever in this world.”
Rhys immediately lets go of you, taking a step back with a horrified look before he desperately looks into the camera, then back to you, who can't keep from laughing.
"Out of all your practical jokes, this has got to be the worst one ever," Rhys protests, shaking his head. "No, I'm not her brother. We're mated, and what we do is very far away from sibling stuff."
He says the last bit to the camera with a broad smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
⊹ AZRIEL
"What should I say, sweetheart?" Azriel asks
"Nothing, Az. Just stand there and let me do the work," you reply affectionately.
"I've heard that one before," he says with a cocky grin.
You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile, as you press the record button.
He immediately draws closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You smile up at him, mischief hidden behind your eyes.
“This man is mine, and if you want to get to him, you gotta go through me first, right?”
Azriel is filled with cringe and makes this face😲
“Oh! Um, yeah. That’s right.” he says, voice too high
Listen, he loves you but he is wondering how the fuck you’re not criniging out rn too. Like are you serious?
You squish his cheeks together and plant a dramatic, loud kiss on his lips.
“He is the best big brother ever.”
Azriel smiles, leaning in to kiss you again while casting a glance at the camera.
“No, she’s the best little sister ever.”
Your jaw drops at the sudden twist; he has stolen your prank.
“Damn it Az, you can’t let me have one thing?”
He shrugs, “Says the one with the incest prank.”
⊹ CASSIAN
“Cassie, just stand there, i’m going to record us. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”
“Alright, baby.”
You see Cassian behind you checking out your ass through the camera as you press record, backing into him
“Just a PSA, this is my man and if you wanna get to him, you gotta go through me first.” you said exaggerated with your hands on your hips before kissing him deeply
He smirked suspiciously before soaking up your posessivness. But before you could say your other line, he picked you up with one arm, throwing you over his sturdy shoulder as he walked over to your bed
“Wha- Cassian, we were recording!”
“Okay, we can keep recording. Make a fun little video, just the two of us.” he said with a low, lustfilled voice.
You didn’t even bother continuing the prank as you nodded, intrigued by making a whole different sort of video
You just prank him another time, right now you need big dick hot guy general massive wingspan big tattooed arms deep voice nice abs pullable hair daddy cassian (real asf)
⊹ LUCIEN
He already knows what you’re going to do but he plays along
You tug him to stand infront of your camera
The way he looks at you, makes you want to laugh but you bite your tongue
You pull him in closer by his forearm, holding him as you look into the camera
“This is my man so if you want him you will have to go though me first.”
Lucien supresses his smile at your attempt at a joke
“Yeah, you heard her,” he nods determined at the screen
You then pull him down and just as you’re about to kiss him you burst out laughing
Lucien tilts his down at you in mock confusion
“Is something funny? I thought i was the best brother ever, laughing at me isn’t very nice.”
Your eyes widen at him, jaw dropped. “No way, Luc, you knew?”
“Baby, i’m as chronically online as you are.”
⊹ ERIS
“What is this for?”
“For me, please just stand there and we’ll be good to go.”
He is a bit skeptical but listens nonetheless
“Very well. Go on, love.”
You press record and start the prank
“Hi guys, i just wanted to let you know that this is my man and if you ever wanna get to him you gotta go through me first.”
Eris looks at you a bit weird. He can’t take you seriously. The epitome of this face 😬
You grab his face and press a kiss to his lips. Eris warms at the action, smiling at you before his smile drop instantly
“He’s the best big brother ever.”
His entire face sours, a look of absolute disgust portraying his face.
“That right there is some Night Court shit.”
With that he simply leaves but not before scrunching his face in disbelief, sighing in disappointment
🏷️: @artists-ally @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @clairebear08 @cupidojenphrodite @redbleedingrose @fell-in-luvs
#talkswithamara#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#azriel#rhysand#eris vanserra#lucien vanserra#cassian#cassian acotar#azriel acotar#high lord rhysand#rhysand acotar#rhys acotar#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#azriel x reader#azriel fic#cassian fanfic#cassian imagine#eris x fem reader#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra x reader#eris acotar#eris x reader#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien x reader#lucien acotar#cassian x reader
846 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
gachbonggio
Gạch Bông Gió CTS
nakalkuat7
Untitled
kripencha
kripencha
cockcompendium
The Great Archives
fuckyeahpipesofpan
Pipes of Pan